Difference between revisions of "Logs:Intro to Sweeps"

Grounds, Nabol Hold
A land of gently rolling hills and dark soil, Nabol stretches out across the southern end of High Reaches' territory. Most of the land is devoted to sprawling farms and orchards; even the fallow areas are overgrown forests of apple and other fruit trees. A number of rivers and smaller streams cut across the land, providing excellent irrigation. With the temperate climate and abundant greenery, animals are widespread, frequent visitors to the forests and fields. The main Hold rises abruptly up from the land, a fortress carved into cliff faces that spring from the valley around it.
The morning dawns cool and clear, with the autumnal sun climbing brightly toward a pleasant noontime. The evening settles down a little chilly, but all around fair.

It's almost been a regular day of sweeps, like as if the patrol were one taken by two full-fledged riders. H'kon met with Ghena at the Star Stones, where Arekoth gave Knioth their general route. The brown has been talkative enough, keeping most of his smart comments to a minimum, though there's still something more jovial about him as he carries on his duties, as compared to his rider. H'kon was serious from the get-go of course, but has kept the frowning to a minimum. A quick trip between, and now it's only been about twenty minutes airborne. « There, see that plateau? » Arekoth keeps his glide steady, and still a bit slow, that the blue can keep up, that his rider has time to practice the (rather long) list of observational instructions H'kon gave her on the Stones. « That was where they had all those men camped. » An image comes, plucked from the mind of H'kon, the winter setup as it was then.

Knioth is not as talkative today, rather he seems focused on learning everything the brown has to teach. His rider though, may seem more distracted at best, though she seems to be taking in the information. « Yes Sir Arekoth. » Giving no indication of tiring the beauty of between is that the little beast can cover longer distances without those pesky middle parts. « Does that place bear special significance? »

« Our wing was the one sent them scattering! » It comes with the force of a mental clout to the shoulder, friendly enough, for inward pride. « We still fly Nabol. The new Holder likes us just fine now. » H'kon twists in his seat between Arekoth's neckridges, checking back to the weyrling while Arekoth takes a lazy circle around the grounds - grounds that have all but erased their signs of encampment, except perhaps for the growth of vegetation, not so carefully controlled this far out, let alone in Interval. Arekoth's next words carry a mix of his own intonations, and those more reminiscent of H'kon: « Succession in holds isn't nearly as straightforward as at a Weyr. People get awful big for their britches awful quick. »

« So in essence, everything went back to the way it was? » The audible rumble comes as the blue adjusts his wings to crisply spiral lower, presumably so his rider could get a better look. « Humans aren't so nearly as sensible as dragons, so of course they complicate things. » Knioth's rider clearly included in that. « Mine wants to know if that's dangerous, using the threat of dragons in interval. If someday someone might not have ideas about how to rid themselves of dragonmen. »

« No, » Arekoth answers simply, going for another loop, though he doesn't dip lower. A moment, and he comes with the name, « Tevrane holds now. » The brown beats his wings a time or two. Ghena surely can't see the change, but H'kon frowns and grips more tightly at the straps on Arekoth's neck. « It wasn't a threat, » the brown supplies, proud, ready. « And dragons aren't tools for holders. »

« Is one holder so different from another? » Silver blue shines in the sun, as he wings only a little lower, as he pumps back up look. « Thou must have appeared gallant and fearsome to the tiny creatures, spouting gouts of flame. » Perhaps the blue imagines himself in the role, or doesn't as he does one final sweep before being urged upward by his rider to continue the normal circuit. « Things must be boring now. »

« Our wing went of its own accord. The holders were nothing to do with it. And the holder who tries to kill everyone else is different. » His voice gone dark, Arekoth takes a bit of a faster pace when Knioth rejoins him, slowing only after they've cleared the plateau, and are over the hold proper. It's a more professional, less emotional voice that comes in time with H'kon's point toward the outskirts of the courtyard, « We'll have to talk to them about trimming some of those plants back. Even with winter coming. Do you see? »

Ghena shifts a little in the seat as she places a hand against the blue's neck. « Mine wishes to ask if we ever assist the holds with burning back the green. » The blue relays, before huffing. « I will have to take thee at thy word on holders. Never met one. » The blue seems to continue imagining flames with irritation. Maybe he just wants an excuse to chew stone.

« Riders might, if they were minded, » Arekoth muses. « Though any self-respecting holder would want all the flamethrower action for themselves. But you've got to teach them how to use the things, anyway. Besides, it's good for an 'ongoing relationship.' » That last was definitely an impression of H'kon. H'kon just stays with teeth grit and hands on his straps. Arekoth takes a circle over the hold, adding, « I don't think they'd take too kindly to a dragon just belching flame all over their little holds though. That's more for displays, when they want it for their gathers and things. Those are fun. All the little kids open their mouths big wide as smokestacks. »

Is that chuffing laughter? Hard to tell at this altitude. The idea of flamethrowers seems to deeply bother the blue though. « If they were meant to control flame, they would be able to chew stone. » Ghena makes note of the building shapes as they pass. « That does sound like great fun. Does your wing get to do that often? »

« And if they were meant to fly they'd have wings, right? » With that, a cocky little flash of the view of Ghena on Knioth's neck. « Do you notice anything else, worth reporting here? Or are you satisfied to move on, little blue? » H'kon has lost some of his scowly, features easing into his regular frown Face instead. He waits as Arekoth veers again, content enough.

The image of an awkward Ghena with vermilion wings trying to fly is - well it isn't very flattering to his squire, and probably not wholly intended to be broadcast. « Would they impress us if they were not meant to fly with us? » It's a serious question, before he circles once more about the hold. « Yes Sir Arekoth ready to move on. »

« Would they make flamethrowers if they were not meant to throw flame? » Arekoth's lesson is not without a hint of mimicry. A few more wingbeats for speed as the brown turns northward, and H'kon gestures, this time to have Ghena and Knioth come up alongside himself and his dragon. A few more pumps and and finger-gestures to provide that they are amply spread from each other, covering more ground. « Toward Crom, » Arekoth calls.

Knioth doesn't dignify that with a response, or perhaps he just knows a trap when he sees it. He pulls alongside and fights the urge to race ahead. « We visit all the holds on sweeps? » More Ghena toned than the blue's own brassy mind. « What are we looking for precisely as we fly? »

Arekoth drops down a bit lower once Knioth has matched pace with him, not overly near the ground, not so as to make navigating the terrain difficult, but for a better view. « We just do our route. Most riders and dragons would be too tired to be of any use if they did all the holds at once. » Most. Again, the flight slows. « Like we said at the Star Stones, anything out of place. In a Pass, this would mean looking for burrows, or imminent danger from Thread due to poor groundskeeping. » Arekoth's voice is all shades of H'kon here. « Now, we maintain some Pass standards in upkeep. But mostly we look for trouble. So we saw the holder's army growing. Sometimes, we see signs of fire, or a change in the content of a herd. We'll check in with a cothold to make sure they don't need anything, one of the more isolated ones. »

« Do you often find something like an army growing? » Matching altitude, and moving just a little to the back settling into the place that would be considered the second row of a V formation if this were drills. Easy to see where the leader's leading that way. « Sounds a bit dull otherwise Sir. »

When the blue drops back, the corrective, « Even with me, Knioth, » is all Arekoth, Arekoth the wingsecond, Arekoth in command. H'kon's hand gestures convey the same for Ghena. « It's your duty as a dragon of their beholden Weyr to provide them with services. Besides, » and there's some wheedling getting into the older dragon's tones, « you can fly lower and follow the ground more when you're not so new and inexperienced. When you know what to look for and are actually good at looking for it. And there are lots of excellent holder girls in the little cotholds. »

Moving even with the brown there is isn't any petulance in the lines of the blue, at least not until the wheedling starts. His thoughts become the ordered march of horses hooves beating against the ground, « Perhaps Sir Arekoth, you should announce which formation you wish to use, since the young and inexperienced can only draw wisdom from those with so very many more years of experience. » Browns. « What do we want with holder girls? » Nevermind excellent or otherwise.

« We did. We motioned for you to come up even with us, » is curt and simple, inviting no further argument from the younger dragon. H'kon has turned a hard look onto the weyrling flanking him. « Now focus on your sweep. What do you see? » Nevermind holder girls at all.

Ghena who has more or less been in autopilot, winces at that look. Your getting us into trouble Knioth. Cut the chatter. The blue seems to be content to settle into the indicated formation without much further discussion. « Mine wishes to point out the charring along the edges of those trees, a brush fire perhaps? » No thoughts of his own. Or at least none he's permitted to share.

« Possibly, » Arekoth agrees, amiable enough now that everyone's back in their rightful places. « If it was accidental, it certainly didn't seem to spread too far. Do you think it needs a closer look? Maybe some questions? » H'kon has leaned to peer around Arekoth's shoulder, though he makes no attempt to change the brown's direction. And the brown is waiting on Knioth's answer.

« Mine suggests that we should check, a closer look should tell us if it was a deliberate controlled fire or accidental. But you would know best having seen these kinds of damages before. » Meaning Ghena relies on his judgement as much as her own in patrol. At least until she knows a little more of what she is doing. « Even if not perhaps you can point out the markers to look for and how to tell the difference between things we should note and things we shouldn't. » Again devoid of any Knioth flavor.

« If you think we should go down, we'll go down, » Arekoth decides, already tilting his wings and losing altitude. « Best way to learn is to do! » For him, the reproach from before is long gone. And if there's any distaste or frustration with the sudden caution, well... what caution? It's clearly been thrown to the wind, left to float wherever Arekoth once was.

See nothing wrong with being polite. Seriously what is with you picking fights with bigger dragons? The blue rider asks her lifemate, before the beast folds his wings to follow opening sails to only slightly slow the descent. « We are just as good as any of them my squire. » But private thoughts are lost in the whip of the wind, as he moves to attempt to beat Arekoth to a landing. « The clearing over there? » is an after thought to the larger brown.

« As close to the cothold as you can get, I'd say. Unless you think your rider needs the walk. » Arekoth, it would seem, is having a wonderful time. He even pulls up a bit, and watches where the blue will land. Judging? Surely not.

The landing is an efficient one not too terribly close to the cothold, but clearly the spot is chosen with some consideration for the larger beast's size. At least Knioth didn't pick an entirely too small spot, probably after some scolding from his rider. "Show off." She grunts, sliding down from his neckridges. "Do you just not want to get tapped into a wing?" She mutters, waiting for the brownrider to land. When they do, she gives a proper salute, and Knioth just closes a set of lids, and then a second.

Arekoth isn't all that long in landing, after Knioth. Just long enough to take his time, just long enough to land at his leisure. H'kon's dismount, however, is prompt, and he makes his way quickly to Ghena. "Checking in with the cotholds is an important part of our duties. It shows that their contribution to our tithes are not in vain, simply forced by the larger hold. We attend to them as much as to Nabol or Crom or any of the others. Best an investigation be phrased as an offering of services. Ensure they have had no trouble, ensure your services are not required, certainly do not suggest they cannot control their own land... do you understand?" Some riders are more forthcoming, when it comes to mentoring, than their dragons.

Ghena squints, nodding the affirmative. "So I should let you do the talking." Straightening her leathers, slipping the goggles down to hang about her neck, and straightening any flyaway bits of hair. "You like this job don't you?" She muses thoughtfully, considering, "You certainly give them more consideration than I expected." Not judgmental, rather assessing, the tone comes across.

"You will not," is curt and final. "This is for your benefit. Those are your guidelines." And so H'kon nods toward the cothold, and takes up his stride, looking pointedly to Ghena, and careful not to get ahead of her, really. "I should wonder if you think them less deserving of our protection than those who have gathered at the great holds? Which boast better defences against what misfortunes do still fall today?"

"Aside from crazed lords, I just wonder how much the holds actually need our protection." She rolls her shoulders, "I don't know them, never much stepped foot out of the Weyr." Notes in lectures, statistics in reports, they just aren't people with names or faces yet. "You were closely connected with the Raids weren't you?"

H'kon raises his chin slightly, looking, unblinking for the moment and perhaps a bit owlishly, at the blueriding weyrling next to him. "The smaller cotholds will certainly be the more affected by any extreme weather, cut off as they are from the larger stores of food, the more stable shelters. If there are bands of brigands or troublemakers about, it's the smallest settlements that are more likely to be hit, also. They do not have an organised guard, nor always even the men to protect what property is theirs. Their communication with the hold depends on the roads, mostly. What then if they are impassable? Dragons can serve as that connection, if their riders are not too proud." Her next question brings far more succinct an answer: a grim, "Yes."

"So, riders in interval do have a purpose." The affirmation seems warmer even a faint hint of a smile at the edges of her mouth. "So is this what Alpine does? Become the bridge between riders and holds?" She tilts her head falling in step, hands shoved into her pockets.

"This is what all riders should do, in their sweeps. Not all do. We can influence this change in Alpine by virtue of our rank." We, presumably, meaning himself and the brown who has been settling and re-settling his wings into a pristine pose since H'kon had dismounted. "I would have Alpine's involvement limited to that, however. The traditional role of the Weyr, much as it can be without Thread. We've no place in their politics, but when they threaten to have an overt and radical affect upon the region as a whole - even beyond it. Even then, even in the action taken against Rone," and he's willing to address this with a solemn and meaningful look at the girl, "it was slippery ground we stood upon."

"But necessary ground I assume, or else we wouldn't have stood there." Naive, or perhaps just ignorant. Quietly she studies the wing second. Knioth seems content to close the last pair of eyelids and soak up the sunlight. "Search and rescue, messages, that all seems a lot cleaner than to deal with a conscripted army."

"There can only be so much independence among interconnected bodies," H'kon decides. "No. If it were not necessary, if it would not have prevented more strife than it caused, certainly... we'd not have participated." With a sort of tested pride, "Not all the challenges of dragonriding can be met with ease. And while an Interval may have made danger less imminent, it has also, in a way, made our tasks more difficult." Now, he raises a hand to mark out the cothold they're approaching. "The head of the family here is Ceison. It will be him you'll wish to speak with."

"You are doing the talking sir, remember." She points out. "I don't do diplomacy, I am lucky If I manage to keep my dragon's ego from getting me into trouble remember? There's a reason I'm not in the silver thread program anymore."

H'kon stops walking, and pins that sharp look of his directly on the weyrling. "I am not. You suggested you would let me talk, and I told you 'no'. You were the one who chose to investigate this. And so you will. There are very few riders who were in the silver thread program. All must fly sweeps. Now. I have given you your guidelines, and you will complete your task."

Pale as a sheet, the answer is a quiet one. "Yes Sir."

And so, H'kon gestures up the rest of the path to the hold, ready to follow - but only once Ghena has taken the lead.

Audibly that little gulp may go unnoticed, but it doesn't change the look of the person who moves as though she's on her way to the gallows. « Just be polite, my squire. » The sleepy blue comments from his eavesdropping. Carefully she strides in the direction of the cothold under the watch of the Alpine Wingsecond.

And quietly, H'kon follows, just back of her, and off to the side. There's the smoke and smell of cooking coming up from one part of the house - modest, though certainly not the smallest that a rider might come across on sweeps through the northern part of Pern. But those, those ones are much more difficult to spot from above. The caprine outside gives Ghena, and then H'kon, each long, generally unworried looks. H'kon returns the same to it.

Slow steady breaths are drawn as Ghena's lips seem to move in a silent mantra. Shoulders back, hair straightened as neatly as she can manage with her fingers, she approaches the front door with a firm but polite knock. The carpines are eyed as she waits a bit impatiently from the shifting of her weight from foot to foot.

« Tell her to hold still and not freak out the holders, » Arekoth offers, helpful. H'kon simply takes a deep breath and lets it out, slow and steady, an example of calm. The cotholder that comes to the door is an older man, though there's the sound of others behind him, women, a child, a young man. "Dragonrider," he greets, once he's got a look at Ghena, eyes flicking to H'kon on briefly. "What can I do for you?"

Ghena says, "Holder," She returns with her best smile which probably is just as akward as she is. , "Sorry for the intrusion, we saw signs of fire nearby, and wanted to make sure that everything was ok, and offer any assistance if needed." There's even a bow thrown in she is at least trying her best.

That cotholder flicks his eyes over H'kon again, who stays quite still. He then looks back to Ghena, nodding slowly, and reaching to rub his hand over his chin, eyes tracking out toward that tree, even if he can't see it straight on from his doorstep. "The tree." That tree. The rubbing of his chin turns into a rubbing of his hand up and over his balding head. "Right. That must look something strange from way up there, eh? No, no, nothing wrong with it. Just," another glance to H'kon, "a fire gone wrong. Never have boys, dragonrider."

After a statement like that, who would want to have boys? Or children period. Ghena isn't really able to mask the suprise in her features, instead she gives H'kon a look, it may be a what do I say to that? look. "I hope everyone is ok." she manages instead.

"I wish they'd had some sense singed into them," the cotholder grumps. "But yes, everything is fine." He looks again at H'kon (who's offered Ghena little in the way of help). "We do appreciate your checking in, though. Not all riders would." And if it sounds contrived, well, maybe he's used to these visits. He offers a little bob of his head back, and closes with, "Make sure your dragon doesn't eat any caprines on the way out," just before the door shuts.

Her eyes may get wider but she nods, and after the door shuts, she exhales anxious. "Back to the dragons?"

H'kon simply nods in answer to her question. But on the way back, he adds, "Not so bad. And now they know we're here to attend to them, if the need should arise. No visit is wasted."

"Right." She halfheartedly agrees, eagerly making her way back to Knioth and familiar ground. Every once in a while H'kon gets a glance, before finally she ponders. "I gotta wonder exactly what those boys did though."

"There are ample reasons in a small cothold such as this for fires. Likely, they simply tried to make it impressive, rather than useful. Moderation is a necessary thing in many areas of life." As they reach the dragons, and he grips Arekoth's strap, "We are nearly done. But do not allow that to make you shirk any duties, if you see anything worth investigation." And up he hauls himself.