Logs:Of Selective Searching
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| RL Date: 31 October, 2006 |
| Who: M'wen, R'hin |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| When: Day 28, Month 8, Turn 9 (Interval 10) |
| Your location's current time: 18:56 on day 28, month 8, Turn 59, of the Tenth Pass. It is a summer evening. You vault down Leiventh's side to the ground, using his straps as handholds. Road Outside Nabol Hold(#814RJ) This stretch of road runs in front of Nabol Hold. Busier than other sections of the road, you see people moving between the gather fields, and the orchards, and the beast pens, and the Hold proper. The warm overtones of summer color the Hold and its surroundings with rich earthy tones and deep shaded greens. Far off in the distance the white dots of ovines can be made out against the mountainsides, even the distant bleats can be heard. Closer in, the rustling of the huge stands of apple trees in Nabol's orchard fill the air with a gentle restfulness. The same aura seems to extend outwards to the Hold, its residents sleepily going about their tasks in the midday heat, or more briskly come dawn and dusk as it cools. If you follow the road long enough to the north, you'll reach Crom Hold in a few days. To the south the road leads towards Ruatha and Fort Holds, also many days away. Contents: Leiventh Obvious exits: Road to Mountains Beast Stalls ORchards Gather Grounds Ramp Maxeoth backwings to a landing. Maxeoth has arrived. M'wen vaults down Maxeoth's side to the ground, using his foreleg as a step. M'wen has arrived. There haven't been many search wings heading out of High Reaches Weyr - with so small a clutch, there's not a great need. But duty, as well as the Weyrleader's own wishes, has seen that each of the major holds, as well as some of the minor ones, within the 'Reaches' sweep area has been visited. Today, it's Nabol Hold, and the wing of six - all of them browns, blues and greens - are joined today by a lone bronze. Leiventh hasn't shown any inclination to search, so it's likely pure indulgence that sees the Weyrleader riding along with the wing. The dragons settle in the road outside - the courtyard to small for all the dragons - R'hin watching with glittering, interested eyes. Landing softly to the ground, the leading brown gives a small rumble to the other dragons, though it's purpose is unknown. Giving a small hand gesture which the other riders know to be dismount, the brown's rider slides down the dragons side, stripping off his riding jacket as he goes. Most of the other riders hitting the ground soon after, though most not taking such a direct route as the brownrider, M'wen gives a smile and nod to all present, a small affectionate slap on his dragons flank. Striding over to R'hin, a quick salute is given before, "You know Nabol more then I do, where should we be heading?" R'hin returns the salute, sharp and respectful, pale eyes lingering on the brownrider as he approaches. "The courtyard I'd imagine - though there isn't much room there. Perhaps you can send some of the riders to gather those of appropriate age and bring them out to the road? That way all the dragons can have their chance at them." A faint curl of lip is given, hands casually in his pockets. He's deliberately gone without his knot today, perhaps in deference to M'wen's leadership of the wing, or simply to avoid being recognized by those living in Nabol. Said riders have moved in slowly behing the brownrider, catching a few of the words mentioned. Turning to face the assembled riders, M'wen gives a faint fake cough, eliciting a small chuckle from a rider or two then saying loudly, "You heard the man." He pauses, pondering, "Well if you didn't, go gather up those of adequete age to stand the sands and bring them back here. Try to be nice about it though, we don't want any holders at our door protesting our treatment of their young ones." As he turns back to look at the weyrleader, the other riders fan out sightly, heading towards the hold proper. "Was your knot getting a bit heavy for you?" The brownrider asks, tone indicating jest. "It was weighing down my writing arm," R'hin agrees, small twitch of lips given as he steps to M'wen's shoulder, watching the riders disperse. Only once they've gone does the bronzerider note, in low, bland tones, "So I hear Maxeoth searched Bayan. Should I consider pulling him off the search roster?" It's hard to tell if the Weyrleader's being facetious or not, and it's likely that even he doesn't really know. The comment gets a small chuckle out of the brownrider. "They probably didn't think that through when designing it then." M'wen's expression takes on a slightly guarded look at the bronzeriders comment, taking a small step back. "I will not pretend my dragon didn't say someone should stand the sands because a personal dislike of the person someone I know has. If he does something that deserves him to be removed, so be it, but Maxeoth wouldn't do this withouta reason." "Maybe that's exactly what we -should- be doing," R'hin says, and once more, it doesn't sound as if he's jesting. "Do you think we ought to put someone like him on a dragon, and trust that he won't ruin us-- ruin High Reaches?" His voice remains low, intent, not quite enough to pass to the nearby dragons. His demeanor remains casual, hands deliberately still in his pockets to disabuse any notion of argument from any watchers. "Perhaps what we need -is- selective searching. What if S'din had never Impressed. Or Melata?" his eyebrows twitch upwards, as if expecting - or daring more likely - contradiction from his companion. "I do trust he wouldn't destroy the High Reaches, though you may findthat hard to believe." M'wen replies, tone even, maintaining nonchalance. "How do you think you would've made it past selective searching? If that existed, you would still be here at Nabol, or wherever your traders would have taken you and none of this situation would've arose." He looks to the ground, almost looking to regret his just spoken words, "What makes you think S'din and Melata were like how they are now when they impressed or were searched? They could have been mild mannered and, dare I say, possibly rebellious, but changing times has -forced- on them reticence and such conservative behavior?" He leaves the questions hanging, gazing at the Weyrleader. "I wouldn't have," R'hin answers, blandly. "And that's part of my point." It's the latter comments that earn a sidelong look, sharp, speculative - and finally, troubled. After a moment, he exhales slowly. "M'wen, my friend, your insight is disturbing indeed." Silence for a moment, then surprised, "You -trust- that he wouldn't destroy the 'Reaches?" A few of the younger children begin running out of the courtyard towards the road, delighted by the presence of the dragons. Leiventh's still, watching with disinterest, his impassive demeanor discouraging the approach of the enthusiastic younglings to him. "How can you judge someone, then go back and tell yourself that you would have failed the judging? I'm not sticking up for Bayan, he's a manipulative sneak, but I -do- trust that he won't destroy the 'Reaches." M'wen replies after a brief spell of silence. "He would have too much to lose and nothing to gain, I trust he has an attachment to certain 'things' about the weyr as well." He stops, not elaborating, looking down towards the dragons. "How can I not, with everything we have riding on what we do?" R'hin answers, clearly unhappy. He too, is silent, watching the older people walk out from the Hold to join their younger counterparts. Eventually, "Maja said much the same thing. What things, exactly?" A beat, then, "I don't trust him. But I'll trust your opinion of him." He reaches to clap his hand against M'wen's shoulder, silent apology as he nods towards the people. "I should let you do your thing. I think I see Lord Tyrie, too; I ought to pay respects." M'wen remains in silent contemplation for a few seconds, trying to make his words express his thoughts, "Maybe he really wishes to make the weyr a better place, but for whatever reason hides behind what we see of Bayan." He turns to regard the Bronzerider, answering only, "You may be in my confidance, but for the best of everyone, it would probably be best to just trust me on this one." Giving a small twist of his lips, "My riders have to gather most of the young ones of the hold, this may take quite a while, I will accompany you?" The last part is part statement, but out of respect for the rider, it is still posed as a question. "It troubles me that you hold things back from me, wise man," is all R'hin says, quietly, the confession given with the title on purpose. As to the latter, there's only the briefest of pauses before he nods in assent, setting an easy pace along the road. "Lord Tyrie. It's good to see you again. Have you met M'wen, Maxeoth's rider? He leads the search wing today. I hope we've not come at an inconvenient time." He's polite enough, and there's maybe a hint of respect in his tone for his former Lord Holder as he goes through the pleasantries. M'wen gives a polite half bow to the Lord holder, "Good day to you Lord, I as well hope we haven't caused you any undue problems with our visit, and any problems you have will be attempted to be fixed." He turns to the Bronzerider, muttering slightly so that the Lord holder cannot hear, but so it doesn't look impolite, "I'm not holding things back from you, I'm holding them back -for- you. It is for the best that you just believe in Bayan just this once." "I'm sure there won't be any problems," R'hin says, blandly, though there's a twitch of lips as he speaks. "Ah. It looks like J'mian's Arneloth has found someone of interest." He draws the pair's attention to the blue, who seems to be staring intently at a younger girl. "We should go and oversee - I'll come and speak to you before we leave," he says to the Lord Holder, a respectful nod given as he begins to walk in the dragon's direction, giving a dry, sidelong look to M'wen, though pointedly, and unusually for him, not commenting. "Good day to you Lord Holder." M'wen parts with, following after R'hin. Catching up with the Bronzerider, M'wen gives an apologetic look, "I'm sorry, but with your dislike of the itinerant, you have a bias that really hurts the decision process and, though I will tell you eventually, I don't want you using anything against him." When reaching the blue, the Brownrider raises a brow, face drawn, though hoping for a decision from the bluerider. A nod is all the answer R'hin gives to M'wen's comment, his attention more on the bluerider, himself. "Arneloth wants her to stand, sir," he says, the title directed to M'wen as much as R'hin, the bluerider looking pleased. "I told you he'd have a nose for search." R'hin, too, looks happy. "Excellent. And what about Maxeoth, has he picked out any likely candidates?" The other dragons are examining the crowd, those of suitable age roughly lined up, watching the dragons in a mixture of nervousness and excitement. Leiventh's settled down, eyes lidded, deliberate disinterest in the process. As R'hin asks, Maxeoth, just having been looking over a tall, lanky lad with jet black hair, turns to look at the pair, an inaudible rumble emitted. "It seems he has R'hin, though whether his searching skills are optimal, we shall have to wait for the hatching to see." Nodding to the blue rider with a grin, "Well done rider, let's see if he can rustle up any more candidates from this lot." Maxeoth has since turned from the now candidate, to look around at another small knot of girls, who look quite nervous at the dragons moving about. J'mian pats Arneloth with pride, nodding sharply, "Yes sir," he answers, pacing his dragon as they move along the line. Only one of the other dragons picks out another potential, an older girl who looks about at the upper limit of search. R'hin looks over Maxeoth's choice, approving, and notes, "This will bring us close to thirty, I believe. I was hoping for most out of Weyr than we've had so far. But I suppose we can't influence the dragons, as much as I might wish to." A wry curl of lips follows. M'wen lets out a genuine laugh, finding the Weyrleaders comment amusing. "You would, wouldn't you? Some people just aren't made to be searched and that's probably what dragons look for..." He pauses, "Thoguh this could be an add on to the right place at the right time theory. We can't really know until one of the search dragons let slip." Looking towards his dragon, the brownrider shrugs, "So we should have enough now? When do we go back to the weyr?" "I wish I -knew- what the dragons looked for," R'hin says, tone darkly vehement a moment, though he releases his breath slowly and it dissipates. He, too, looks towards Maxeoth, as if he hopes for a forthcoming explanation, but doesn't expect one. "I'd say so. I've two more wings scheduled to go through Ogren and Keogh, but they don't always produce candidates." A beat, then, "I'll assign you to lead the Keogh run, though. They've... produced some interesting results on the past, and I'll be interested in your report of it." The respective searchriders set about shooing the new candidates to their homes to pack their belongings, before speaking to their parents. J'mian seems more confident than normal, buoyed no doubt by his blue's success. "Another draconic trait we don't happen to have the priviledge of an explanation for." M'wen replies with a shrug. "I'll make sure to see if anyone of interest is hiding about Keogh, and I'd be happy to report back any results. Though may I ask why?" He starts walking slowly towards his dragon, body language inviting the Bronzerider to follow if he wishes to. R'hin accepts the unspoken invitation, pacing M'wen towards Maxeoth. "Personal reasons," is all he says, about to add more, but apparently thinks otherwise. "Good job today, my friend," he says with a nod, the praise delivered with smoothness before he spins on a heel to make his way towards the Lord Holder. His chat is brief and, to all appearances, amiable enough, shaking hands with the man before angling back towards Leiventh. The newest candidates race back out, headed for their respective search dragons, looking excited. M'wen gives a small nod, "I kept things from you, it's only fair if you do likewise, point taken. Leiventh's brood will have quite the choice for who to impress to." As the Weyrleader goes to say the farewells to the Lord Holder, M'wen scans the search riders and the candidates, sizing up a few of the smaller ones. Wlaking up to the side of his dragon, M'wen tilts his head in R'hin's direction, looking to know whether they were leaving right now, or if R'hin had other business to attend to. It's a subtle tip of head from R'hin, but M'wen knows the bronzerider well enough by now to read it as readiness. Like the other searchriders, he, too, waits for M'wen's signal to mount up, though pale eyes seem to drift towards the three Nabol candidates, speculative, thoughtful, as if coldly calculating their usefulness. Grabbing his riding jacket, M'wen throws in on, looking about at those in his line of vision. Not seeing all the riders, he hops up Maxeoth's leg onto the dragon's back before giving the signal for all the riders to mount up, most doing so immediately at the order. "Let's go home!" Is called out through the road, M'wen giving the signal to liftoff, riders with candidates making sure they are all tightly in the straps. R'hin follows suit, swiftly mounting Leiventh, a salute given to the Lord Holder before the bronze lifts off, falling into place at the rear of the formation. You clamber up onto Leiventh's back, the dragon's sparkling eyes watching closely. |
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