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Harper's Tale 2 - Wednesday, July 10, 2002, 1:33 PM
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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 forty-five firelizards.
You see OOC NOTICE (look sign), Thief, Clothes Mixup Note, It, and Llaammaa here.
Obvious exits:
Bowl     Kitchens     Inner Caverns     Crafting Area

Khena limps carefully in from the Central Bowl.
Sii'kyn strides purposely in from the Central Bowl.
Trajan walks in from the Central Bowl.

Sii'kyn slinks in, cloak tossed haphazardly over one shoulder. Silver eyes roam over the crowds, and the browner seems much more.. jovial than he did before.

Wyn in seated on top of a table in the middle of the Caverns, cross-legged and looking very much as if she's lost in some deep meditation or another, blandly appearing oblivious to the confused mutterings of drudges that the bluerider is dotty. "I." she announces to all sundry. "Am bored."

Khena moves slowly from the cavern's entrance to the Mudslide table, still favoring one leg over the other as she weaves her way through tables and chairs. Pausing at Wyn's statement, the brownrider leans against the opposite table, offering a crooked smile, "ain't we all..."

Sii'kyn eyes. "Bored, are we?" Lightbulb. "Well then.. Lets see. Who says we go to.. someplace? A bar. Someplace. Yeah. Somewhere we haven't gone to before..." Peer. Thoughtful. He joins his fellow Mudsliders with a mischevous grin, settling down to eye Khena. "And somewhere where we can get food."

"Your powers of observation astound me, Ike," drawls Wyn with dry amusement, still sitting in a half-lotus atop the table. "But... a bar we've not been to before. With food. This sounds like a promising idea." Her recently-healed shoulder is rolled. "And, seeing as how the Healers have at last cleared me to between... Do count me in."

"Ale'd be better," Khena notes, letting Sii'kyn have a cold gray stare. "But I could do with gettin' good and drunk now that I'm not grounded anymore." Reason enough to celebrate. Glancing at Wyn, she nods in agreement, let a smile play across her lips, "I'm with you too... Just don't try'n mother me, Sik!"

Saein disappears ::between:: with a burst of sapphire and silver.

Sii'kyn rolls his eyes in exasperation. "If you have ale, you're havin' at/least/ a few meatrolls. Ale on an empty stomach's nothin' but trouble." He grimaces. "Believe me, I'd know. Ale? The best ale.. is Telgari, but I had a run-in with a holder's son there and I really, really don't want to go, y'know, in that direction. Igen's too hot.. How about plain-ole Tillek?" Silver gaze flicks from Khena to Wyn, thoughtfully.

Wyn smirks just slightly at Khena's last comment, before the expression vanishes and bland consideration appears again. "Tillek's paler ales are quite pleasant, if they're served properly chilled," she grants. No way in ::between:: will the ex-Bendenite try any of their wines, mind, but ale is good. "Tillek it is, then. If you've no other preference, Khena?"

Khena shrugs, grinning at Sii'kyn with a warning look in her eyes, "Tillek ale's the best," she says, ignoring his insistance on eating. "'sides, you'll not be dragging me down south just for ale." The brownrider's distaste for the hot climate of the South is notorious, after all. Pushing off the table, the limping rider moves off toward the Bowl, getting a headstart from her wingmates.
Khena exchanges the protection of stone for the bowl outside.

Sii'kyn follows Khena wordlessly. Yeah.
Sii'kyn exchanges the protection of stone for the bowl outside.

Wyn... trudges off as well.

Bundle up 'gainst snow or sun! The bowl is open to seasons' wrath.
Central Bowl
Seven spindles brush the clouds overhead, displaying a jagged, spired cotillion grey-stoned majesty. The bowl from here is expansively large, extending a full half-mile in both directions, and though a bit of a stretch at times, 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 within the middle of the otherwise vast emptiness. .
The hatching grounds and leadership weyrs are located to the north, while the lows of herdbeasts noisily allude to the feeding pens slightly east of there. Constant traffic marks the entrance to the westward living caverns, whereas a glance southeast reveals the glittering, cold lake.
It is a summer midmorning.
To the northeast, you see one person.
To the north, you see a gold and a green dragon.
To the southeast, you see three dragons and one person.
Clinging to footholds in the boulder-mound are twenty firelizards.
Green Kelitath, green Zoryanth, brown Revnath, bronze Telynth, bronze Jhanath, brown Sevareth, green Vespurath, brown Uzasnyth, gold Ysbryth, green Zaqith, brown Druseth, brown Mneoth, blue Vorkoroth, and brown Sidramuntalath are here.
You see a wagonmaster, The Wagon of Death; Doom; and Ultimate Destruction, George Dubya bush, Hanabi's Order Board, Shafirah, Aiolos, and Thunder Wagon here.
Khena and Sii'kyn are here.
Obvious exits:
Pens Northern Bowl Caverns Ground Weyrs Lakeside Guard's HQ

**Travel Spam**

Courtyard of Tillek Hold
Wind-swept cobblestones pave this courtyard's broad, single-terraced expanse, walled 'round by a stone wall a full four meters in height and inset with two watchtowers. The larger, to the south, spans the second in girth and mass both and has a groundfloor entry in the courtyard. Connecting the two is a rampart walkway wide enough for two men to pass. Stone tables and a myriad of benches scatter about it, although the treading of many feet has shaped distinct pathways; what little greenery has been left out is in large clay pots, all the easier to drag beneath the metal awnings that jut from the walls. The Hold's sheer palisade rises high, a salt- and air-polished gray, pocketed by narrow windows and shutters patinaed with darkest bronze, the carving over the doorways worn away to uneven smoothness by the effects of time, although its grandeur is ever unfaded.
Doorways lead off in all directions; each marked by a different series of craven bas-relief. The smaller kitchen courtyard is walled off from the main, accessible by an archway wide enough to cart through. The Great Hall and entryway to the Hold itself lies to the northeast, with the entry to the Vintner's Hall in the corner adjacent. Similarly carved doors lead to both the guards' barracks and office, which is seated in the base of the largest tower. The ramp onto the terraced fields beyond and away from the Hold is to the southwest, passing underneath the watch rampart and the two towers.
It is a summer midmorning.
On the perch is a bronze firelizard.
Blue Vorkoroth is here.
You see Crescent and Hanoven here.
Obvious exits:
Kitchen Courtyard     Greater Doors     Vintner Hall     Guards Barracks     Ramp     Guardoffice     Stairs to Lower Courtyard

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

You set off up the ramp, heading through the wide set of doors and into the Great Hall.
You open the ship hatch-doorway and step into the salty, marine-like atmosphere of the Shipfish.

The Singing Shipfish
There's a distinctly nautical atmosphere to this tavern, complete with authentic marine smell--although this is more likely due to the patrons, some of who have been there for sufficient hours to start walking as if they really were on a storm-tossed ship. The stone floor and walls have been covered over by wood paneling with portholes inset, displaying painted seascapes. Scattered around tables and bar are barrels with thin cushions affixed to the top, while benches fold down, bunk-like, from the sides of room and semi-private booths. Storm lanterns have been converted to glow baskets and attached to walls which also play host to a wide assortment of fishing memorabilia, each piece of which, as the locals will tell, has its own tale that beggars belief. Most impressive of all however, on one of the stronger rafters is mounted a head, one that could rival the largest of terran sharks in both gape and fang. Somewhat moth-eaten and lizard-worn, it is at least the size of a small-boat. Its gaping mouth is turned cheerfully towards the door, giving entrants a warm and very toothy, Tillek greeting.
On the perch are five firelizards.
You see Pin the Tail on the Dragon here.
Obvious exits:
Kitchen Door     Great Hall
You stand in the salty-smelling, marine-like atmosphere of the Singing Shipfish.

Khena steps through the hatch, coming from the Great Hall.

Khena enters the Shipfish, squinting slightly as she moves to the bar, ignoring stares from people at her limping. "I'll have a jug of ale and three mugs," she tells the barkeep, leaning against the top, turning back toward her wingmates. Or wing/mate/. "What happened to Sik, Wyn?" she calls out to the bluerider, a frown deepening on her forehead.

"Best make that two mugs," corrects Wyn's calm alto, from somewhere behind the brownrider. "I'm not quite sure what's delayed him, but Vorkoroth reports that Ram is still back at 'Reaches. Not distressed though." She settles into a perch on the nearest seat, raising on leg to rest her chin on her knee. "He /may/ have just stopped to collect Trajan or something."

Khena hms, collecting the two mugs and a large pitcher of foaming ale, bringing it with her to the table selected by Wyn. "Well, he knows where we are," she mumbles, filling one mug and then the other, pushing it across the table to the bluerider. "Enjoy," she says, grinning crookedly as she lifts her own mug, toasting the newest Mudslider.

Wyn stops the sliding mug deftly, before taking a long pull of it that could probably qualify as a mild chug. If this weren't Wyn. "Ah, fine stuff this," she approves. "Although I think I'll keep that opinion from my father..." she trails off to take in the decor of the 'Fish with a curious grey gaze. "Interesting place this. You come here often?"

"Best on Pern," Khena notes, grinning over the rim of the mug as she follows Wyn's act and swallows quite a large mouthful of ale without coming up for breath. "Well, I usually come here when P'rru brings me on his wine-runs.. He goes down the cellars and I come here for a mug of ale," the brownrider explains, with a wink to the wingmate. Doing a double-take of Wyn's earlier comment, she lifts and eyebrow, settling the mug in front of her while she leans forward a little, "why wouldn't you tell your father 'bout Tillek ale?"

Wyn takes a moment to apply herself to her mug again, half-draining it with a calm relish, before letting ir rest on the tabletop as she returns to resting her chin on one knee. "Well, primarily for the reason that the dear man is Benden Hold bred and raised, and rides for Benden Weyr. To M'ral, there is no other brewing of wine, ale or spirits that is drinkable. And I would dearly love to let him and P'rru debate the point some time."

"Ah," Khena says, smile slightly more crooked as she drains another quartermug of ale. "I know all about those opinionated people.. My father was like that. Wouldn't let me out on my own, so I ran... Just count yourself lucky that your not from a clan-family." The brownrider points a finger at Wyn, the smile disappeared now as she clutches the mug with her other hand. "They're very possesive of their children." Shaking her head, she lowers her eyes to the mug checking the contents and deciding that a refill is needed. Reaching for the pitcher, she looks up at the bluerider again, letting out a sigh, "never mind that. It's all in the past," she says, and fills her mug to the rim.

"Oh, believe me, I do" agrees Wyn, with a touch of a smile. "I have three full siblings and around 12 to 15 half-siblings, thanks to a father who's been paired with a randy brown for 30 turns, and refuses to take the contraceptives. I do believe I'd smother if a family that size were determined to stick together too closely..." She trails off to repair to her drink again, before flicking an eyebrow. "Sounds like an interesting sort of past, though... My own is rather typically normal."

Khena nods, reverting to sibbing her ale now, elbows placed firmly on the tabletop and the mug held up against her lips, "I had maybe... Eleven or so uncles, and a whole pack of cousins, who're all boys," she says with a wince, her eyes narrowing at the memory of those boys. And the one who'd shown up at the Weyr not long ago. "One of 'em even dared to come to Reaches," she continues with narrowed eyes as she leans further across the table, "no doubt he'll have half the others chasing after him." Not a prospect the brownrider is very pleased with, by the look on her face.

Wyn now has her ale mug balanced on her raised knee, rather than her chin. Seemingly oblivious to the precariousness of its' perch, she gives a little nod. "Perhaps... Or perhaps he is simply like you, and wished to find himself a new life... Ah, who is he, by the by? I ran across a fellow lurking in the Catacombs a while back who resembled your facial features slightly."

Khena mutters a few colorful oaths under her breaths, knowing without getting Wyn's confirmation that the 'lurker' would be her cousin. "So he's still here, eh?" she says, getting more ale inboard. "His name's Nathaniel, but I always called him Nag, cuz he likes to talk so much." Looking rather displeased, the brownrider, shakes her head refilling her mug again, though it's hardly needed. "I bet he was there looking for something to steal." Shaking her head once more, she swallows a large gulp of ale, then leans back in her chair with a sigh. "I /had/ hoped he'd moved on now summer's here..."

Wyn, being a good bit smaller than Khena and still unaccustomed to drinking, is taking her ale a little more cautiously, still only 2/3rds done the mug. She gives a nod. "Yes, that sounds rather like the boy. Distinctly fond of the sound of his own voice. But from what I observed before he spotted me, he was more likely looking for a place to hide from chores, if I can still read body language. He might very well be changed slightly from when you knew him. After all... I'm rather willing to bet that you are not the same person you were when /you/ were with your family."

Khena snorts, turning the mug around with her fingers, grinning lopsidedly as she tilts her head at Wyn, "y'know.. That's exactly what /he/ said to me. That he's changed. And when I wouldn't believe him he said, that /I/ had too," she says, chuckling as she lifts the mug to her lips once more. Getting plenty of ale inside of her, and none of Sii'kyn's meatrolls to counter to alcohol. "I dunno," she continues, her voice somewhat more melancholic, "maybe you're both right.. I mean, I /have/ changed, maybe it's not so hard to believe that Nag has too..." Eyes falling to the table top, the brownrider, lets out a sigh, followed by a grim smile crossing her lips. "It's just not easy to trust anyone coming from that family.. My uncle once came to the Weyr to 'collect' me, y'know.. To take me back to the family. So I wasn't really happy to see my cousin." Even though she hadn't recognized the boy at first sight.

Wyn finally reaches over for the pitcher of ale, topping her own mug to brimful, and sucking the foam off the top before it can bubble over. Somehow, she manages to remain looking dignified and intelligent, even as her blood alchohol level rises. "We could be," she intones gravely. "And logically, I think you agree with us. But the one thing I know is that getting your heart to support what your head knows is true is often a fiendishly difficult proposal."

Khena nods, quietly draining the rest of the ale in her mug and puts it aside, watching the tabletop with intense interest. "He was never even my favorite cousin," she begins, her voice kept low and measured, dispite the ale getting to her head. "Maybe if he /had/ been, things woulda been different." Letting a shrug roll over her shoulders, the brownrider raises her eyes to watch Wyn drink her ale, then lets her gaze wander to stab the patrons watching them with an icy glare. "They're getting curious," she notes of the Tillekians occupying the tavern.

At the last statement from Khena, Wyn likewise casts a glance around the room. Her response, however, is slightly different: a slight, bemused, smile touches her lips, and she lifts her mug in a toast to the room. "Yes, it's a pair of dragonriders!" she notes, in a bland attempt at a showman's tone. "Rare and mysterious creatures are we. Careful... /she/ has been known to bite." And then, apparently ignoring the Tillekians after that, she returns to the conversation with a shrug. "I don't particularly care. And yes, you're likely correct in your theory. We tend to be most forgiving of those that we care for."

Khena chuckles, baring her teeth for just a moment to get the last of the Tillekians to return to their own conversation rather than stare at the riders. "Aye, I s'pose so.. Not that there's a lot of the family I care for," she says, taking her mug and turning it upside down, letting dripples of ale run out on the table, watching it with detached interest. "Anyway.. How're you settling in? P'rru didn't give you too much hidework while you were grounded, did he?"

"A pity, that. My family may be far-flung and a little absent at times, but we all tend to get along fairly well. Of course... my family is quite a bit different from yours, if the tales I hear are truthful." Wyn seems to be getting more and more conversational as her ale level decreases. Another sip, for good measure. "Settling in just fine. P'rru gave me a fair bit of hidework to do, but I think he was more concerned for my mental well being. Nice, in a way, that. And in any case, I doubt he could equal the amount of hidework I had to do while at Healer."

"P'rru tends to worry a lot," Khena says, tracing circles in the puddle of ale coming from her upturned mug. "It's a strange enough thing, y'know.. T' have someone worry 'bout your health and such." Looking up, the brownrider lets a warm smile play on her lips as she goes on, "P'rru's been kind to me ever since I came to the Weyr some... Seven or so turns ago. Been kinda like a father to me. Odd, really. I never saw my own father as a.. Well, father figure.." Pausing, she rearranges herself in the chair, hefting a leg over one armrest and crossing her arms in front of her. Snorting, she shakes her head, giving Wyn a grim smile, "I shouldn't drink.. I get sentimental.."

Wyn nods. "He takes his job above and beyond the call," she agrees with a soft smile. "It's... rather nice. He reminds me a lot of my father, actually. Although P'rru's a bit more of a prude, I think." she muses, before offering a wry little look. "And when /I/ drink, I first begin to ramble, and then after that, proceed to go pounce unsuspecting males. Sentimental isn't bad at all."

Khena laughs, turning her mug rightside up again filling it with more ale from the pitcher emptying that in the process. "I think I'll have s'more," she says with a sly grin, "may I'll graduate from sentimental to melancholic." Putting the mug to her lips, she drains half the mug, eyes glinting at the bluerider across from her. "So you had to read a lot as a healer? Y'know.. I never really learned t' read properly till I got to the Weyr. My father didn't believe in letters and stuff like that..."

Wyn tugs at the sleeve of a passing specimen of drudge and orders "Another round, thank you," in a cultured tone that's aided /just/ a little by the alchohol before she gives Khena a nod. "Oh yes. Textbooks and scrolls, and archives hides. And then with the amount of copying of records apprentices are stuck with, one has to have fairly good writing skills as well. Fortunately, both my father and his dragon were quite pesky about seeing that I attended the Weyrharper's lessons..."

Khena grimaces, thinking about all that reading and writing required by apprentices. "Glad it's not me," she says, followed by a slight burb which she attempts to suppress by pincing her lips together in a thin line. "I keep a journal now, but I'm still not too good at spelling and writing. Ele tried to teach me some, but we don't see each other anymore," the rider says, eyes glazing over in a way that's not assosiated with communicating with one's lifemate.

Wyn's sips of ale have been decreasing in frequency, as she attempts to tread back a little ways along the road to sobriety while still appearing properly sociable. She chooses not to pry into the further half of Khena's comments, instead settling on the first, where she can actually offer something useful. "If you'd like..." she offers, a trifle hesitant. "I'd be happy to give you a few tips, wingmate. Once you get to a certain point in being able to write and spell, really the rest starts to just come on it's own."

Khena hiccups, giving Wyn a rather silly grin, jabbing a finger into the table top a couple of times, "oh, I can read and write a little," she says, her voice firm and convincing and only sligthly influenced by the alcohol in her body, "it's just gettin' the words spelled /right/ tha's the prollem." Winking, she nods in the direction of the tavern's entrance, the smile on her face fading. "He comes more of 'em to look at the drunken riders," she notes, emtying her mug and setting it down with a loud band. "What d'you say we find another place to leave our marks?"

"Wobbly spelling." agrees Wyn gravely, normal solemnity aided by the three pints of ale she's just quaffed. "The letters jump around when you're not looking..." She trails off enough to flash one of the onlookers a sudden, teasingly come-hither smile, before returning to grave discussion. "By all means... but I think we'd better fly straight... Don't want t' end up in the middle of a rock, or back in the 1st Pass or something."

Khena chuckles, lifting herself carefully out of the chair while at the same time digging a few quarter marks out of a pocket, leaving it on the table for the barkeep. "Back to 'Reaches, or d'you know some other tavern with great ale?" she asks of the bluerider, looking back over her shoulder as she limps out of the Shipfish.

"I think back home..." agrees Wyn sagely. "Only place I know've with better ale is this little cothold in Telgar, and I don't think I can envision it just right, right now." And so, with only a little stagger in her stride, she ambles out the doors.