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Harper's Tale 2 - Sunday, May 26, 2002, 8:39 PM
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Beach
Ancient dunes have been flattened by the endless parade of people and dragons that tramp northwest across the bowl, leaving a mere skiff of sand here along lake's beaten edge. Footprints litter the curve of beach, some left turns ago and caught frozen in the heavy clay earth near the water's edge. As the sun sets, shadows invade, creeping like fingers across the gently sloping ground and darkening the distant ledges on the far side of the lake.
To the north, dust rises from the redolent pens while the flattened disc of the main bowl is just a step to the northwest.
It is a winter afternoon. The clouds blanket the sky, and snow is still falling relentlessly. The air is cold but not bitterly so, as the cloud cover insulates the earth in the unseen rays of the setting sun.
To the northwest, you see fourteen dragons and one person.
Darting here and there are ten firelizards.
You see Toshiro and Aequitas here.
Obvious exits:
Stables     Feeding Pens     Central Bowl     Lake

Slithering down the straps-ladder, Wyn slides from Vorkoroth's neck and gently touches earth.

Shirasuth clatters down from above.
Zhesteth clatters down from above.

Lhana turns sideways and sliiiides down Zhesteth's conveniently-placed forelimb, landing on the ground with a soft *thump*.

Shirasuth glides in swiftly from the north, suddenly backwinging to land on the beach much to the annoyance of his bundled up rider. "Nono! Shira! It's /snowing/. The lake is cold if not /frozen/! /I'm/ cold if not frozen! I wanted to go to the living caverns...not here..." And the stream of whines follows K'nex and his brown as they appear on the scene.

Dsalth clatters down from above.
Dsalth goes home.

And what have we here, in the shadows of the cliff? Why, movement. Shadowy movement, from a petite figure whose riding leathers are shrouded by a swirling black cloak that would look oddly familiar to one of the erstwhile PrankWraiths. As the omnipotent narrator, however, I can tell you that it's Wyn. A Wyn busily engaged in stacking up a stockpile of snowballs.

Zhesteth makes her entrance known with her most triumphant, fizzly bugle. A chorus of aerial spins and dips follows that, sending the jaunty green careening stee-raight for the icy lake. And sending Lhana into a chorus of, "Noo! Zhesteth, Zhesteth, nooooooo!! We can see the ice later! Zhesteeeeeeeeth!!" But the sugary, jubilant green is not to be deterred...until suddenly, she spins about on a wingtip and finds herself speeding back toward the shore, zooming down toward the ground at breakneck speeds. The shriek Lhana would ordinarily emit at this point is lost in the rush of air, and by the time Zhesteth quite suddenly lurches to a stop, tossing her rider forward against the straps, and lifts a forelimb to help her down, the poor greenrider can hardly get her now gelatin-like body to move. Faranth. Now /that's/ a wild ride.

Lyrida walks in from the Central Bowl.

Nestled on the dusty warmth of Shirasuth's neck, K'nex crosses his arms from way up on his mount's neck. "Absolutely not. I was /not/ sulking. Don't you tell my I was sulking about...Oh, hush." Sulk. Shirasuth bugles at Zhesteth as the green careens over and causes Kez to look up and stare at the flying dragon. "If you ever do that, Shira, I'll disown you," Kez mutters. "That /can't/ be safe. Lhana! Are you ok?" The brown's attention is already distracted, though, by Wyn and her snowballs. "Wha-Oh, I don't know what she's doing...you ask. Fine. I'll ask. What are you doing Wyn?"

Lyrida has disconnected.

Vorkoroth pushes snow carefully around with his claws, attempting to add to his rider's store without much success. After a few moments, the blue abandons that and settles for guarding Wyn's arsenal.

Vorkoroth thinks to you, << What /are/ we doing, Wyn? >>

"Making snowballs of course," replies the dry alto of Wyn, tone placidly bland. "Catch." And the topmost of the white orbs is hefted, and then fired off in K'nex's direction with sruprisingly good accuracy. For an exHealer, anyways. So whether that ends up as accuracy in the general sense is to be determined.

You think to Vorkoroth, >> Planning to hit K'nex with a snowball, love. <<
Vorkoroth thinks to you, << Ah. >>

"Wha...mmmh..." Lhana says, oh-so articulately, after sliding off of Zhesteth to flop onto the snow-covered sand. Oof. And then, all at once, she leaps to her feet, wheeling on Zhesteth. "Don't - you - /ever/ - do - that - again!" she threatens, her words coming out all disjointed-like in her fury. But Zhesteth has only to bob her head oh-so dejectedly before intantly /Lhana/ becomes the apologetic one. "Oh. Oh, Zhesteth. No, no, I'm sorry. No, you're - well, yes, I suppose it was /kind of/ fun." Zhesteth lifts her head, eyes whirling spastically, and with that, all is well again. Aren't short attention spans great?

Nestled on the dusty warmth of Shirasuth's neck, K'nex squeaks and /clings/ to his dragon's neck to avoid getting hit and almost succeeds as the snowball nips his shoulder. "Don't /do/ that...," he whines from atop his dragon, who seems mightily interested in the snow. The brown flicks the white stuf with his tail, sending some of it flying. Look, he can fling it too! "Shira, don't start a fight..." Because Kez'll end up being hit with snowballs and then he'll be cold. Well, colder. "Don't let her push you around Lhana...or you'll end up like the rest of us." Yes, slaves you their dragon's wishes.
Nestled on the dusty warmth of Shirasuth's neck, [OOC:] K'nex's head is somewhere else today. 'Slave to their dragon's wishes'.

Vorkoroth watches Shirasuth flicking the snow around, gaze brief but intent. The pint sized blue then ducks some of the flying white stuff and sends more into the air with his own tail. Purely to see how well it travels, of course. And every experiment requires repeated trials, which is why Vor launches another round a moment later.

"Don't do what...?" comes the maddening reply from Wyn, tone somehow managing a sing-song quality despite being more bland still. Perhaps it's only a mental tinge. And another snowball arcs towards the brown and brownrider. Oh yes, Wyn was a former weyrbrat, all right.

Lhana doesn't need to 'end up' like anything. She's already a slave to Zhesteth, even if neither of them seem to know it somehow. The greenriding weyrling turns about to give Kez a reply, but is quickly distracted by a batch of flying snowballs. "Hey!" she protests, quickly dashing behind one of Zhesteth's expressively furling and unfurling wings. "Vorkoroth!" Well, if they're just going to be like that...she won't play! And so, Lhana turns right around and climbs back up onto Zhesteth's back. Fine then. And Zhesteth, though obviously reluctant to go and casting rueful glances at the impending fun(?), takes off - headed for someplace more peaceful, no doubt.

Lhana scrambles up Zhesteth's eagerly helpful forelimb to a spot betwixt her neckridges, most likely winding up in a most undignified position.
Zhesteth goes home.

You think to Vorkoroth, >> Oh! Good shot, love, good shot! <<

Shirasuth is in agreement with Vorkoroth there. It's an...experiment. So he too uses his much larger tail to fling more snow, adding to the stuff that's already falling from the sky. "Don't throw sno-" Splat. "..throw snowballs at me," k'nex finishes lamely, snow dribbling down his front. "That's not funny...See? You scared off Lhana, now just stop it. All /three/ of you." Yes, Shirasuth, Vorokoth. That includes you too...mad snow flingers.

Vorkoroth thinks to you, << Likewise, my dear. >>

Vorkoroth cocks his head slightly, peering at K'nex. Eyes whirl innocence while his tail works its way beneath his next shot. A moment later, like a catapult, that appendage springs up and sends yet more snow flying. Blue face remains impassive as his head swivels toward his rider.

Vorkoroth thinks to you, << /Three/? You might tell Shirasuth's rider that /I/ am merely experimenting. >>

Wyn emerges from the shadows, no longer aiming snowballs at K'nex, but instead juggling three of them, her expression bland throughout. "Vorkoroth," she notes, forming the words with a dry over-precision that speaks of carefully concealed merriment. "Informs me that I am to inform you that he is not throwing snow, but conducting a series of experiments."

Duck and cover! "Stop. That. Right. Now." K'nex shouts, not that /anyone/ is listening to him. Not even his own dragon, who seems to feel the need to defend his rider now. "Of for goodness sakes...Let him flings snow all over /you/ then," the brownrider says as he slips down his dragon's side. There's more cover over here, thank you.

K'nex climbs careflully down from Shirasuth's neck, using the bulky brown's extended limb, and steps safely onto the ground.

Wyn continues to juggle her snowballs. "Stop it? Certainly, sir," she agrees, sounding downright meek. Until. "Ooops." Oh my. It looks like her juggled snowballs have all /somehow/ manage to end up in a trajectory pointing them towards K'nex. "Sorry, I could have deflected them if you'd given me some time..." Innocence.

Vorkoroth intrepidly continues his experiments, sending snow in all directions. It must simply be a feature of the wind that most it comes out sailing towards K'nex and Shirasuth. Don't you just hate that wind?

K'nex ducks behinds his dragon who doesn't seem to mind being hit with snowballs. After all, he just uses his tail to fling snow back at Wyn. Lucky little bluerider. "Don't you oops...you did that on /purpose/," Kez says, starting out angry and just ending in a sad little whine. "Hey...stop that....I mean it!" Because Kez is oh-so-threatening. The brown dragon doesn't seem to mind that wind, his rider though...

Wyn suddenly goes diving madly out of the way of the wave of brown-propelled snow, most completely undignified motion accompanied by a sound "Ooof!" She emerges from behind Vorkoroth with a faceful of the flaky white stuff, but a feral grin nonetheless. "Sir," she notes. "Why don't you just throw some /back/?"

Vorkoroth is perfectly willing to put aside the high standards of scientific integrity in order to avenge his rider, and so his snow flinging efforts adjust to concentrate solely on Shirasuth and K'nex.

"Because then I'd be partaking in this silly excuse for getting cold and wet and I'd loose whatever dignified upper hand I have right now," K'nex states clearly, peaking out from behind one of his dragon's forearms. "And you...Behave," he says, looking up at the brown dragon. Shirasuth simply blinks down at him. Whaaat? He have to practise his aim, after all. And as if to prove just that he flicks his tail forth to send more snow over towards bluelings and then flicks it back at...his own rider? Wait! What happened to protecting Kez?

Wyn's flash of wicked amusement at Shirasuth's sudden double-agent ploy is kept carefully hidden behind a wall of bland politeness totally at odds with her continued Cold War stockpiling of nuclear arms... er, snowballs. "It appears to /me/, at least," she drawls. "That you are already well on your way to becoming cold and wet as it is. And I do believe that the fact that you've been /whining/ rather damages your upper hand." Someone smack her. Please.

Vorkoroth studies Shirasuth briefly, decides he's an ally, (at least for the moment) and turns the full force of his snow catapulting on K'nex. Upper hand? Since when has the only one /not/ flinging snow had the upper hand?

Shirasuth looks down at his Rider, innocent as ever. See? Now you're already coverd in snow, all the more reason to join in. K'nex, however, just stands there, mostly hidden but his dragon, hands in fists at his sides. "Don't you tell me /that/! Just because I'm now covered in snow is /no/ reason that I should pitch snow around..." Not that Shira's listening to his Rider's arguments anymore, he's already back in the game. No no. His rider. Only /he/ gets to dump snow on him. And with that in mind, the brown dragon uses his tail to send yet more snow at Wyn and Vor. Haha. "I have not been whi-Oh, shut up," the brownrider grumbles, finishign his sentance with a snowball aimed at Wyn. Oh well, he's given up.

"Ah-hah!" notes Wyn triumphantly, even as the snowball splats across her chest. "/Knew/ you had it in you!" Wait.. is this all some twisted form of therapy? Wyn'll never tell. And in fact, she sends a creeping barrage of snowballs back at Kez, by way of distraction, ducking behind Vorkoroth's forelegs when cover is needed. Of course, thanks to Shirasuth, the blueling is /also/ soon nicely frosted.

Vorkoroth has a sort of rhythm going, lobing snow at the other pair and making (rarely successful) attempts to dodge incoming fire. Or, rather, ice. The practice has even taught him to give the snow a slight roll, turning it into more compact units before sending it flying.

Twisted form of therapy? And why does Kez need therapy? "Oh, shut /up/!" K'nex grumbles back, althought the likelyness of him actually being mad is slim. It's Kez, after all. "Oof..." He grunts as he's hit with a snowball and ducks behind his dragon after retaliating with a few of his own. Ha! Shirasuth, on the other hand, doesn't mind being hit at all. In fact, he rather seems to enjoy it...almost as much as he enjoys sending messy clumps of snow back at the blueriding pair. Gotta love those combative sheilds-er...Dragons.

Oh, don't get us started on Kez's need for therapy. Wyn pops up from behind Vorkoroth, gets clipped on the ear, and goes down, lobbing a pair of spheroids as she does so. "Make me!" she calls back, cheerily blithe and not the least bit studious and reserved.

Vorkoroth just keeps right on chucking snow, tail flipping forward and back like a catapult. It's Vor, the medieval war machine! Snow war machine, at the very least.

K'nex does /not/ need therapy! At least, you'd never get him to admit he does. "I /will/!" He shouts, peeking out from behing a ruddy forearm to stick his tongue out at Wyn. So dignified. Shirasuth bugles loudly, snapping at snow mid-air and throws his whole body into sweeping snow at the Enemy. Well, those nice folks throwing snowballs. Kez squeaks and falls over, not that that keeps him from attempting to pelt Wyn. Noooo.

Nylca escapes the redolent dust of the pens.

Nylca grins and waves. "Hey Wyn!"

"Hah!!" comes Wyn's reply to K'nex, immense dignity forgotten in the midst of the heat (Or is that 'cold'?) of the snowball war. "You and what Guards?" Cue another double-handed barrage of snowballs, before she dives for cover again. This is truly where dragons come in handy. And if a few snowballs stray over towards Nylca, well, that can't possibly be Wyn's fault, can it?

Eyes widen at a few stray snow balls, and she ducks to miss. "Eep!" wrong place, wrong time? Perhapes, but who didn't like a little fun with snow! Nylca deftly scooped up a few snow balls and launched them in the general direction.

Duck. Throw. Duck. Taunt. Throw. Duck. "I don't /need/ any guards....but you might!" K'nex retorts, scooping up some snow and aiming in Wyn's general direction. Of course, if any of those end up near Nylca, it's not Kez's fault either. Shirasuth is happy to spread the love-er...snow around certaintly. With a swish-swish here and a swish-swish there of his tail there's plenty of it falling from the sky.

"Heh" is Wyn's reply, her taunts getting shorter as the petite blueling discovers one of the sad limits of her size. Namely, stamina, or a lack thereof. Not that that's going to stop her, mind. She retreats behind Vorkoroth's bulk, all going quiet on the Wynnish Front as some mental plotting ensues.

Nylca has no dragon to hide behind, so she gets the brunt of all the attacks, taking it with laughing joy. "Hey! And big pretty dragons want to help me out???"

You think to Vorkoroth, >> Love... if I fashioned a truly gigantic snowball, say a Weaverlength across... how accurately do you think you could throw it for me? <<
Vorkoroth thinks to you, << I cannot say for certain, but likely well enough to hit at least some part of Shirasuth? >>
You think to Vorkoroth, >> Hmm... I'd really prefer to get K'nex. How about dropping it from above? <<
Vorkoroth thinks to you, << I believe I could have better accuracy that way, yes. >>

Shirasuth will help Nylca! Help...cover her in snow, that is. Whoosh! See him make people disapear! Well, at least blend in with the rest of the area since they're covered in snow. Heh. "Pah!" K'nex doesn't have that size problem. He's big! Well, tall at least. Although, that probably makes him easier to hit when he's not hiding behing a certain brown bulk. "Wait...It's quiet over there, what are they doing?" The brownrider wonders outloud, whispering to his dragon.

Nylca eeps as snow is dumped on her. "AHh! I'm being burried alive! Silly brown!" She shovels and digs her way out of the snow and shakes her head, though flurries of snow flakes cling desperatly to her hair. Snow balls are made, and flug at...Shirasuth!

Muahahah. Who knows what evil lurks in the hearts of 'lings? Well, actually no-one but the 'lings themselves. K'nex will soon be finding out, though. Because Wyn and Vorkoroth have a Plan. The bluerider remains hidden, odd sounds of snow being packed going on for far longer than any snowball could possibly demand, before she leaps up the riding straps with a "Vor, /Now/!" urging the blue aloft, where a final parting gift can be offered.

With the courtly offer of a foreleg, you alight upon Vorkoroth's neck. Good to go.
Vorkoroth [Beach]
Sleek, clean lines are traced in tarnished steel, gleaming bright against the secretive navy of his hide. Form follows function in the simplicity of his face, neither overly snub nor equine-long, eyeridges hooded slightly over unsettling gaze and headknobs contoured close to a short, broad neck. A noble filigree, feathered like a crest of honor, hides in the surreptitious shadows of low-dipping neckridges and sneaks across boxy shoulders and swell of breast. There is only slight narrowing at his waist, leaving his short tail to taper abruptly to its fork, efficient and slick. Thickset limbs plunge into polished boot-black around his paws, silver starlight in his talons tiptoeing in the comet-streaked heavens of wings.
The faint glitter of oil gilds the glossy darkness of a fine pair of riding straps. Looped securely about neckridges, and fastened with military precision by gleaming polished steel buckles, the leather is dyed in a deep and unrelieved shade of midnight blue, wool padding dyed cromcoal black and fitted with a uniformity that speaks more of a desire for symmetry than a need for protection from the supple hide. Straps in the colours of High Reaches deserve the full appearance of livery, after all.
Vorkoroth seems to be listening.

Vorkoroth waits until Wyn is properly settled in, then takes to the air.

Nylca looks up at the rising blue and rider and sighs. Well, now she was really out numbered down here! "Thanks!" she said sarcasticaly as she looks for cover.

Shirasuth isn't silly, he's quite serious and such. It's a test. What happens to people burried alive in snow? Since he must test, the brown flings more snow at poor Nylca, even using his nose to nudge snow at her. Actions that leave K'nex to deal with Vor and Wyn...which leaves him simply staring upwards. "What the...." He starts, and his eyes widen as the pair takes off. Uh-oh.

Nylca eeps again as she's burried under mounds of snow. Shards that's cold stuff! Nyla shovles herself out and retreats to a farther end of the lake. "And I was going to lavish you in scritches too!"

Bombs Away!!! As the blue and bluerider skim low over the ground, a massive, three-foot-across snowball can be seen in the blue's talons. Gaining altitude, Vorkoroth hovers a moment over K'nex and Shirasuth, dropping their goodbye present with a mingling of wicked human and draconic cackling, before hightailing it back to their lair.