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Harper's Tale - Sunday, March 24, 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.
Sikkyen is here.
Obvious exits:
Caverns
Ah-ha, you have discovered a secret corridor.

Lhana slips quietly into the secret passage.
Oliana slips quietly into the secret passage.
Sage slips quietly into the secret passage.
Azia slips quietly into the secret passage.

And who should be bustling about in the shadows but WraithLeader, now smelling of scented sweetsand rather than rotting herdbeast, and busy ladling black- and whitewash into buckets with a great sense of purpose. "Excellent timing," she greets the other Wraiths arriving.

LlamaWraith's here, garbed with silver-flecked black cloak, standing in a shaft of light. An eerie sight, he is, indeed - remniscent of a cross between Darth Vader and Saverill. "Excellent timing, indeed," is gruffly, wryly said.

Out on the Sands, Lylia has disconnected.
Out on the Sands, Lylia falls asleep.

SilentWraith doesn't say anything, just makes an uncomfortable noise in the back of her throat.

Sage goes home.

Slipping through the shadows is BootyWraith, though she doesn't deserve the name now - Her normal, noisy boots are absent from her feet, replaced by a soft pair of scuffed-up workboots that merely whisper as she strides through the darkness. "Yes, it's all about timing.." she whispers to the cavern in general, taking up her place by the others with a single movement of ebony fabric.

PinkWraith looms suddenly out of the shadows where her lovely pink was at least mostly concealed, and gives a high, eerie squeak. "Eek! Ewwww! GetItOff-GetItOff!" She leaps about, frantically flapping her billowing cape about until...a teeny-tiny little spinner floats to the floor and scurries away. "Ewwww," she whimpers again, and quickly checks her cloak again, just to make sure there aren't any more of the WraithBanes about. The Pink One emits a sigh of relief, then sweeps over to the safest perch available, at least moderately far from any cobwebs that may be lurking about. "I wish you guys wouldn't make me go through all the catacombs alone," comes the un-Wraithly whine from beneath the black hood. Wraith-pout.

"It's not /our/ fault you were running late," remarks WraithLeader dispassionately from behind her hood. "Besides, you're here now. And we have pranking to do." A high laugh, not quite a cackle. Leader seeing no reason to keep to character when there's no one to show off for. "You all remember the final phase of our little amusement?"

"Of course we do," Llama replies, just a little bit rebuffed. "Who wouldn't?" Silver'n circlets gaze across at WraithLeader, and he shakes his head half-wryly. Hood shakes at the motion, and shoulders roll. "Guide us, Ohst Wraithly One," is intoned at the Leader.

BootyWraith bobs her head silently, peering out from the shadow of her hood to figure out who's attended. Her eyes, ever-searching, flicker like embers from hooded Wraith to hooded Wraith before returning to the Leader. "What will we do when our tasks are completed, Mi--.. Er, Leader?"

PinkWraith hmphs. A PinkWraith is never late. Nor is she early. She arrives -precisely- when she means to. Arms are crossed sulkily. "Yeah," she replies, rather more gruffly than she intended to.

SilentWraith jumps slightly, dark, simple clothes shuddering. "It's not the ... cleanest of places," she says with a drawl after PinkWraith's performance. The figure stands nearer to the back, as if she's trying hard not to be entirely within the group.

And WraithLeader ignores any ruffled feathers from the PinkWraith, instead bringing forth eight buckets of paint, 4 each of white and black. And paintbrushes. And the two black sacks of dyed and knotted boots. With nametags. "We have here our supplies. Our target is two of the tables upstairs. We go to make a chessboard!" In a fit of inspiration, she hops up on a rock, and declaims with a swish of her cloak. "Any questions?"

SilentWraith clears her throat. "Shouldn't we get some kind of straight guide so that we make the lines straight?" She asks, raising a hand that peeks through the folds of her billowy, almost overly large (perhaps to hide her figure even more?) black get up.

LlamaWraith blinks. "That's a bit overbearing," he comments in his normal tone. "Y'know, the whole swish-cloak-leap-up-on-the-little-pebble-like-thing. Oh, rock." A dismissive motion with his hands, and he cracks his knuckles. "So, who goes to get the tables?" is said in his wraithly-tone.

BootyWraith smothers a giggle deep in the folds of her cloak, fiery eyes dimming as she hides her laughter from the Leader. Ehehe.. Heh. Funny. Composed once more, she nods serenely and takes a bucket in each hand. "Yes, straight lines are important. Don't want to do the job half-well, do we?"

Said ruffled feathers are quickly smoothed at the remembrance of the intended prank, and PinkWraith stands eagerly, affecting an overdramatically sinister pink pose. LlamaWraith gets a glare, which he shouldn't be able to see due to the concealment of her hood, and she continues to loom, ignoring all the questions about straight-edges. They'll just have to cross that bridge when they accidentally make a squiggly line on it. "Right! To the Living Caverns!" And...she just hopes everyone will follow her as she turns toward their Ultra-Secret Exit.

WraithLeader shrugs. And hops off the rock. "I thought it made for good dramatic effect," the petite wraith muses to the LlamaWraith. "Not like I can really throw my weight around in any other sense." Oh. And then back to character. "We will work directly in the caverns, trusting our disguises to protect us. And I shall trust that you, my fellow Wraiths, will be skilled enough to paint straight lines. Take two buckets, two brushes, a bag of boots, and let us fly!"

Sikkyen has disconnected.
Sikkyen falls asleep.

PinkWraith was very nearly out the door, but seems to have returned at WraithLeader's request to take something with her. So she carelessly picks up what she deems to be the lightest of the two paintbrushes and turns back around. It's not like anyone could expect her to actually carry something half-way -heavy-, after all. "Come on!"

Lhana slips back around the shifting stones and out.
Azia slips back around the shifting stones and out.

**TRAVEL SPAM**

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-four firelizards.
You see OOC NOTICE (look sign), White Clay Egg Pot, Thief, Vtol, Boy, and Siren here.
Lhana and Azia are here.
Obvious exits:
Bowl     Kitchens     Inner Caverns     Crafting Area

WraithLeader steps out of the shadows in a conveniant spot, beckoning to her fellow wraiths with a spare hand after she selects a worthy pair of tables, and lowers two buckets to rest atop of them. "Here, my Wraithsss... Thessse onesss"

PinkWraith, as the first one here, glides across the ground purposefully, sliding her paintbrush onto a handy table as she waits, lurking about gracefully. And pinkly. Hooded head turns, regarding the hearth. Maybe she has time to sneak some klah before she - oh. Drat. WraithLeader is here, and it's time to get back to work. Oh, it ain't easy being Pink and Wraithly.

One black-robed creature slithers after her Leader, buckets held in one hand, a lumpy bag dangling from the other. A silent nod goes to WraithLeader as BootyWraith deposits her baggage beside a table and straightens, an image of silence, respect, and elegance. Or so she hopes. Really, she's just a short little thing wrapped in a length of black cloth. But shhh...

Azi SilentWraith makes a strange noise, probably of agreement, and begins to take the mugs and plates left on it, off. Then, with a bit of black rag produced from somewhere within the folds of her outfit, she wipes off a sticky spot. Hooded head bobs as if in silent aknoledgement of a job well done, then backs up.

Oliana returns, sending a firelizard off to deliver the message.

WraithLeader nods approval, and pulls a charcoal pencil from some pocket of herrobe, black gloved hands tracing the outline of a series of sixty four squares on the tabletops, all about 1x1 feet, and all touching eachother in a grid. "Excellent..." she hisses. "Now, quickly, let usss paint."

BootyWraith jumps to the task at hand, snatching up a paintbrush and a can of blackwash. These in hand, she selects a corner and begins painting every other square, never straying from the lines - That would be totally uncharacteristic of this Wraith, after all. In the corner of each square she paints, she smudges a little pawprint with her thumb and fingers. Her Calling Card, as it were.

Kythe glides in from the Central Bowl.

Laytai arrives from deeper in the Weyr.

PinkWraith regards the drawn squares idly, then dips her brush into the blackwash. Less likely to dramatically change the color of her cloak, that. So she starts at the opposite corner from BootyWraith and commences painting some of the squares black. No calling-card-type-things for her, tho - no getting paint on her hands for -this- Prankwraith. "I'll paint," she volunteers in a low voice, belatedly. "After all, if I can paint a dragon, I can paint a chessboard..." A low, snide giggle-cackle.

SilentWraith goes about ... well ... silently. No use talking too much and get recognized by one's voice. Silent grabs a paintbrush, black as well, and starts on one of the tables, painting every other square black verrrry carefuly. Once in a while, one hand slips out of the black folds of her robes to pull at her hood, making sure it's covering her face utterly to onlookers.

A sneaking suspicion tells that there is a ShyWraith lurking about. Yes indeedy, the familiar blue spotted robe is seen once again, with white paintbrush in hand, coming right behind SilentWraith. A silent hiss of greeting to her fellow Wraiths is offered, although chores will soon be a-callin'.

Oliana steps away for a moment to scrawl out a message to someone.

And WraithLeader too, paints, with a rapid speed and precision hinting that, just possibly, they may have done this before. She takes up a bucket of whitewash, and begins tracing an outline of white around the grid of the board, her hood casting her identity, like that of the other WRaiths, into a proper shadow.

With a flourish, BootyWraith finishes up yet another inky black square. She takes a moment to adjust her robes, fixing the hood much like SilentWraith and keeping her face hidden. She observes her work thus far with a detached pride, peering closely at the pawprint-smudges and giggling. Thus, she resumes her work, painting swiftly as though she is eager to be done.

Oliana returns, sending a firelizard off to deliver the message.

Laytai goes home.

PinkWraith just keeps right on black-painting, though with this many people painting in black, the job ought to be finished soon. Quickly and carefully, she paints away, precision-work seeming to be her forte when she dealing with these kinds of things. Not a smudge outside the lines, she's quite certain of that. "We mussssst work quickly..." she hisses, smoothly reinstating her WraithVoice.

SilentWraith finishes a black square at the edge of one of the tables before exchanging her paintbrush for a white one, filling in the still table-colored squares between the black ones she and others have already painted. She's more careful now, if that's possible, trying not to drip tell-tale white on her lovely black shadow cloak.

Kythe whistles softly at the Wraiths, sensing that wandering weyrfolk are about, as always. Quickly, quietly, he leans down and inspects work with an imperious eye. Hurry it up!

A ShyWraith peers at Kythe, informing him that little firelizard paw-prints are /not/ to be tolerated. Or someone will get soap in their eyes when bathing time comes about. Finishing up her white squares, she moves to the next table, whitewash bucket carefully in hand and shadows over face in the proper style.

WraithLeader finishes her border, and begins to fill in the white squares with steady flicks of her brush. "We Ssshall have to let it dry a ssshort while firsssst," she cautions. "Otherwissse, the piecesss will ssstick to the board."

Oliana has disconnected.
Oliana falls asleep.

Azia has disconnected.
Azia falls asleep.

Azia has connected.
Azia wakes up.

PinkWraith lets out a low, giggly cackle at that idea - how very diabolical! Then they could -never- get their boots back! But she's not about to go through with that bit of the deal, lest any punishment on her part be compounded too much. Giving a little, pink-edged yawn, she goes back to painting.

The housekeeper arrives to cart Oliana off to bed.

BootyWraith nods silently, finishing up her last square with a showy flourish of her brush. "Sssstunning.." she hisses, voice undertoned with suppressed laughter. She stamps her pawprint mark in the corner with an air of great satisfaction and sits back, eyes going to WraithLeader. "How long shall we ssssit? I am impattttient.."

WraithLeader laughs quietly, a semisinister cackle. "Patiencccce, my Wraiths, Patience. All will assemble itself in time."

PinkWraith has no patience. And no sense of cleanliness when it comes to public rooms, apparently, as she impatiently takes her black brush and...plops it down onto the cavern floor, walking away from it carelessly. Ah, what's a little black paint on the floor? Other than a good way for a PinkWraith to leave her mark, that is.

Laytai arrives from deeper in the Weyr.
Laytai exchanges the protection of stone for the bowl outside.

A low hiss emerges from BootyWraith's hood at PinkWraith's disregard for cleanliness, and the black-cloaked fiend swoops down upon the brush and snatches it up. "Messs isss uncalled for. We mussst be neat and tidy.. Sssuch uncleanlinesss iss disssgusting." Hrmph.

Kythe agrees but won't nark. He's trustworthy, sort of.

WraithLeader agrees. "Precisely, my Wraithsss. We mussst leave no trace of our passssage..." She looms over towards the chessboard again, and one gloved finger reaches down to touch the whitewash. Coming up dry, the hooded one nods. "It isss time. Open the sssacks."

PinkWraith waves a gloved hand at BootyWraith's concern. So? -She- stole her hiss. And she glances about, heaving a shuddery, scary sigh. "Well...I'd bessssst be on my waaay..." Doing something eerie and mysterious and Wraithlike, of course. But...since she's going...she'll ignore WraithLeader's censure as well. She dips a brush into the whitewash and happily splatterpaints the floor, then braves discovery by pulling her hood back far enough to stick her tongue out at the cleanliness-concious Wraiths before dropping the paint and looming off...very quickly.

Lhana has disconnected.
Lhana runs off into Lullaby-Land, where it's Christmas this time of year and she'll get presents a-plenty.

Laytai walks in from the Central Bowl.
Laytai opts for broad stairs that lead up to the Crafting rooms above the inner caverns.
Laytai comes down from the workrooms above.

Sikkyen arrives from deeper in the Weyr.

Laytai steps into the shadows that lead back into the Weyr.
Laytai arrives from deeper in the Weyr.
Laytai releases Emeri, who launches into the air.

BootyWraith emits a long, soft sigh, ember-like eyes flickering to WraithLeader in some sort of resignation. "Sssshall I clean it, or sssssshal I paint thessssse bootssss?" Her head whirls around as another Wraith enters, bowing slightly in welcome before turning back.

LlamaWraith sweeps in - dang chores - with irridescent glimmers of striking silver against the pure ebon of the rest of his cloak.

The housekeeper arrives to cart Lhana off to bed.

Laytai decides not to ask, not to speak, not to even look...just keep going!
Laytai exchanges the protection of stone for the bowl outside.

WraithLeader eyes the paint splatters with a disapproving set to her stance, although the expression is necessarily shrouded. "Leave them," she decrees in a resigned tone. "We ssshall focussss on the bootsss insstead." LlamaWraith is beckoned to. "Your presssence wasss ssorely misssed, but you are yet in time." And the pair of sacks are opened, revealing a myriad of... boots!

"Sorely missed, hmm?" LlamaWraith doesn't speak with the sickly slurring of 's's -- his deep, growling voice is good enough. "We are dying boots?" is half-growled, half-inquired, as silver circlets twist underneath hood to peer at WraithLeader.

Laytai walks in from the Central Bowl.
Laytai steps into the shadows that lead back into the Weyr.

BootyWraith yanks a boot from the back, paintbrush hovering over the leathery surface for a brief moment as she pauses to consider the boot itself. Looks like a woman's boot, and a small one at that. Shrugging, she takes a load of blackwash to the boot's back panel, slathering the color thickly so no brown shows through,

Emeri suddenly disappears ::between::!

"Touching up the bootsss," replies WraithLeader. "They have already been dyed... Inssspect them, and if they pass, arrange them according to their knotssss." She demonstrates, placing the black and white dyed boots belonging to G'deon in their proper places.

LlamaWraith proceeds to snag Jesha's boots, touch them up, and scavenges to blink out knots. He places them down in the respective places, and works on doing pairs in like fashion.

BootyWraith was touching the boots up, of course. Not painting them. Eheh. She drops the female boots on the table and riflings through the bag for another, coming up with a pair that she recognises as a certain Bluerider's. A quick touchup covers a small patch of brown showing through before these, too, are set on the table.

WraithLeader smiles, unseen beneath her hood, and pulls out the boots bearing Weyrwoman knots. Specifically, Pyrene's. With a reverent air, she moves around the massive chessboard, and nudges them into proper placement.

LlamaWraith tugs out one of the last boot-pairs, and touches it up. "So.. what are we going to do, after all of this is set up?" he finally queries.

Another set of boots falls subject to BootyWraith's critical gaze, before she finally decides they're okay and she sets them on the table-turned-chessboard. "Yesss.. What are we going to do...?"

You remove Giant Boot-And-Table Chess Board from Grey Leather Satchel.

[OOC:] Azia dies laughing.

You set down the Giant Boot-And-Table Chess Board,

[OOC:] Sikkyen rolls.
[OOC:] Miralwyn sketches a board.
[OOC:] Miralwyn says "Bow!"
[OOC:] Azia points out a typo. Eheh.. Ehehe..
[OOC:] Miralwyn thbbts.

Sikkyen eyes the board conteplatively.

Laytai arrives from deeper in the Weyr.

Emeri blinks in from ::between::!

WraithLeader muses contemplatively. "I believe that once the board is assssembled, we ssshall withdraw. And return later in another form to obssserve the ridersss' disscovery of their bootsss..." A wraithish cackle, and she places the final pair of boots with care. Lorsalia's. Formerly pink.

LlamaWraith smirks triumphantly at the boots, and bows his head. "It is done," is whispered hoarsely, a hint of pride around the words.