Logs:Trader Dragons
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| RL Date: 25 March, 2015 |
| Who: V'ros, A'rist |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: The bros talk about traders and thieves. |
| Where: Eastern Bowl, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 8, Month 2, Turn 37 (Interval 10) |
| OOC Notes: Super back-dated. Sorry! Mention of all those greens that were rising around when Niahvth rose and mentions of the Nabol thieves. |
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| A'rist swings the sack of firestone back and forth at the length of his arm, testing the weight. "You ever heard of anything like that though? Dragon going around with traders? I mean, should be valuable to them, right? That kind of, like... presence?" The bag, of course, is thrown on that syllable. "Huh?" V'ros had probably been thinking about something else - greens - and surfaces with a properly bufuddled look at the bronzerider. "Dragons with traders.. don't know. Why'd they need a dragon escort? Thought traders were.. hearty?" He shrugs, watching the bag sail through the air. A'rist is probably trying to not think of greens. Exhausting. "Who said it's got to be an escort? Maybe just as like... A trader with wings." His nose wrinkles. "Who eats lots." Grimace. "Too much. You gotta catch it better than that." "How.. how would that.. uh, work?" A trader with wings. A dragon. "Can't negotiate or.. anything.. or.. it'd be hard for them. Zmeyth'd try," is a shade of humor, but V'ros has got to concentrate on catching the bag this time. "Go again." He rubs his hands together and.. waits. "Or," suggests A'rist, "a rider who can negotiate until he just doesn't want to anymore, and then can call in the reinforcements." It brings a wicked smirk to his face, as he turns and goes for another bag of firestone. There are several for the exercise, of course. "Or maybe it's dragon stuff you barter in the first place." The bag swings. "Like... rides and stuff. Or," the smirk is back, "pest control." The bag sails. "Would you want to do that?" V'ros looks up as the bag sails, and sinks low for the catch, with a grunt. "Zmeyth's got.. ideas, but I wouldn't.. uh, do all of them." He shrugs and this time, it's his turn to swing the bag; back and forth it goes, back and forth. "Lythronath?" is a question, slated before the bag goes sailing in the bronzerider's direction. "Can't see travelling either. Kind of like the.. cold? Snow? It's home, anyway." "I-" The bronzerider's face twists, and in the end, A'rist shakes his head, determined. "Of course I wouldn't want to." Steely. There's a grim, satisfied nod, to see the bag caught. "Lythronath..." The thought is never finished, A'rist reaching to nab the end of the bag, and letting his shoulder and arm absorb the swing of it, and then settle it. It's practiced, not natural. "It's not that it's not home, I guess. It's... I don't know. This is stupid, I don't know why I'm talking it." Fling. "You bothered by it?" with a squint of brown eyes. "Why? That.." V'ros rubs his nose with a forefinger, an unsubtle attempt at hiding a smirk. "Igen goldrider? Something else?" He's curious, even as he watches alertly for the bag to be thrown again. When it is, he barely catches, by the ends of his fingers, that sets him off balance a step. A'rist shakes his head "I'm not bothered." But this is V'ros, so he's willing to at least make it more truthful in, "By Irianke or Niahvth. Didn't give it a chance to get bothered, them." The brownrider's loss of balance is used as a break, in which A'rist brings his hands together before his belly, and sets to cracking his knuckles. "It's stupid. Like I said. Was just thinking, that's all. Can't just think stuff out loud to Lynner and get answers back, that's all." The brownrider is pensive as he juggles the bag between his hands, bearing the weight on one side and then the other. "Not stupid if it's a.. thought." V'ros shrugs and takes a step back, pulling his arm back and the sack with it. "What do you think ever happened to those thieves? From Nabol?" Least he forgets. Then, the sack is in the air again, and he's looking upwards, watching its path. "I guess." A'rist's voice still carries something unsettled, but it's not something he pursues." He moves, consciously more than naturally, to get under that bag, to sidestep and swing the catch. He almost drops it, but doesn't. "Don't know. Think they're plundering someone else?" "No. You don't.. remember? They got caught. While ago. Nabol's got them." V'ros rubs his hands together, like to settle any sore spots from handling the bag. "There isn't any.. news, out of there. Wonder if they sent them to the mines." He shrugs, ultimately unconcerned, but bewilderment briefly clouds his face. "No," says A'rist, a final swing of the bag starting to send it around him, where it goes to thump his opposite leg. "Well, maybe, but. You really think they got everyone?" He swings the bag back round, but this time, takes it in his opposite hand. "I betcha something will start happening. Probably not Nabol, but like... what if they go down the mountains to Ruatha, or out to Telgar, or even up to the Hold? Start their own bands. Maybe some of them got know-how, now. Haven't heard anything, but that doesn't mean anything either." He clearly doesn't care if the caught ones are in mines or not. And he flings the bag. Hope V'ros is ready. It's evident from V'ros' stunned expression that he hadn't thought of that, but with a grunt, as he barely catches the bag, "Might, or.. they'll get routed. Somehow." He shakes his head and wipes a hand against his forehead. "We'll be ready.. this time. Not like last." There's still some apology in his frown, but for now he hefts the bag on his shoulder and jerks his head towards the patio ledge, the bar within. "I'll buy drinks, yeah? Had enough of this today and.. need a drink, now." But he's already moving off at a sedate pace, his mouth set in pensiveness, with that firestone bag riding his shoulder up until the patio, where he'll deposit it and, likely, forget it, while he wallows in what fortuitous ale Snowasis has to offer. |
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