Logs:The Search For Thedrin
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| RL Date: 3 January, 2012 |
| Who: Cadejoth, E'gin, Riorde, K'del as ST |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Tillek's heir goes missing. The wings are sent out to search. |
| Where: Tillek, High Reaches Area |
| When: Day 7, Month 9, Turn 27 (Interval 10) |
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| It's a quiet afternoon - the seventh day of the 9th month - when the frantic, unhappy voice of green Psavanth reaches out to anyone - everyone! - she can possibly find. « The Lady's son has gone missing, » says the green, who has most recently been serving as Tillek's watchrider. « He's gone missing and no one knows where he is. » There's a sense of uproar and terror that is carried along through her words; not hers, not originally, but a palpable force nonetheless. (Psavanth to all High Reaches dragons) To all High Reaches dragons, Awakened from a doze, Vysravth is quiet as the ancient machinery in his mind wakes, the slow turn of metal clogs becoming dileberately louder, « Missing? Is he old enough to wander off by himself? » A pause, « Can we help look? » (Vysravth to all High Reaches dragons). To all High Reaches dragons, Sforzath's sweeps have carried him out over Tillek's harbors and coastline today in a long, lazy flight broken up by the coastal breezes coming in off the ocean. Close enough to be found readily, the brown registers awareness, the heavier density of changing air pressure. He doesn't respond immediately, checking first and elsewhere. « We're here. » After all, this is what sweeps are for. « What are we looking for? » Brief flickering images of what he's seen today: pinpoints that must be sailors, fishing boats, a few shepherds tending flocks. To all High Reaches dragons, Psavanth is too wound up and unhappy to have coherent answers, though she tries (flailingly). « I think... they let him go and play, and then he didn't come back. » But she's not certain, not really comfortable with this telling; her mindvoice quavers and twists, rattling like a tiny button in an enormous box. « He's little. Not... little-little. » Her mental image of the boy is scratchy and peculiar, but it's clear even from her wavering lines that the boy must be at least six or seven, perhaps older. He wears a blue shirt: that much she seems sure of. Uncertainly; « Cadejoth? Iovniath? » Those at the weyr might have seen Cadejoth's instant lunge into action, his rider barely strapped on behind him. He appears above Tillek a few moments later, and uses his chains to twine about Psavanth, soothing, albeit in a metallic kind of way, as he says, « Glacier and Avalanche, report. K'del will see to the lady. We... look from above. The guard will look from the ground. He can't have gotten TOO far. » Right? RIGHT? (Cadejoth to all High Reaches dragons) « Here. » Sforzath is prompt now, crisp and staccato. A response echoed in the body as he picks up speed-- a useless response, since a moment later he's gone between and reappeared over the Hold in an airspace rapidly filling up with dragons. (Sforzath to all High Reaches dragons) To all High Reaches dragons, Vysravth is quick to join Cadejoth above Tillek, « We are here. Should we start the search while K'del meets with the Lady? » As all those dragons begin appearing around him, Cadejoth drops to a startlingly quick, stomach-dropping landing in the courtyard. « Yes, » he agrees, answering Vysravth, a stuttering rattle echoing his words. « Fan out. Search. » He has a better image than Psavanth, crisper: young Thedrin is probably closer to eight than six, with inky dark hair and light freckles. « Sweep low. If he's been-- » Hesitation. « Taken, there may be people hurrying away. » At land. On the sea. The could be /anywhere/. « Talk to anyone you can. We need to find him! » (Cadejoth to all High Reaches dragons) After Cadejoth gives his orders, Glacier's wingleader, Oranyuth, gives out directions - by chance, Riorde and E'gin are both sent inland, north-eastwards. Perhaps it's intentional. The land around Tillek becomes increasingly turned over to vines - one row after another, after another, after another - the further inland one goes in that direction. A road winds onwards between them, and perhaps ten minutes later: there. Is that a caravan? Neither Vsyravth or E'gin have made any noise about the pairing. There is a complete focus on their orders, the mission, find the boy. « There. E'gin thinks we should question them. What does your say? » The pair has slowed enough to keep from over taking the caravan. The steady tempo of Sforzath's mind has quickened with excitement and adrenaline into unintentional mimicry of the drumbeats rolling out of the heights. It's formidable, knowing no barriers, though toned down slightly--slightly--after what must be Riorde's reminder. « There. » The brown's mindvoice overlaps Vysravth; he sees it, too. « Yes. Go! » He dives with an eagerness that will surely startle the beasts pulling the caravan. Both beasts rear back in horror, and might well rampage on ahead-- but their driver is a steady man, and he reigns them in, pulling the whole caravan to a stop. Several sets of eyes lift to regard the dragons with-- not suspicion, as such, but certainly disapproval. The driver steps down from his wagon, putting both hands on his hips as he waits for their riders to approach. "This," he says. "Better be good. What if my beasts had bolted, mm? What if they'd tramped Holder Barran's vines?" Vysravth circles down slowler than his clutch-brother. Landing with as little ado as possible, well as little ado as a large brown can make. E'gin is practically already dismounting when Vysravth's claws scrape the ground. "Sorry about that. If you'd be so kind as to just hold up for a minute." The boy carries a ring of authority in an otherwise diplomatic tone. « E'gin asks what our approach is? Straight up questioning or should we fish for details incase they are involved? » Vysravth, despite his calm landing has snaked his way behind the cavaran, lest anyone think of trying to run, bulky frame providing a barrier to the vines in back. "Sorry." Riorde tries to sound it too, as she lifts her goggles onto her brow. Sforzath has settled into a crouch with muscles bunched, tail twitching, and eyes spinning a vivid orange. « Stupid beasts, » he confides to his clutchmate with a disdain that sounds uncannily like his rider. More amused, « She forgot. » How's she to remember, when she never knew beasts before? "It is -- it's important. There's a boy run off. We need to check that he hasn't slipped into your caravan." The tactic appears to be benefit of the doubt, though Sforzath wafts smokier, with intrigue. « She says watch them. Maybe they didn't do anything. But watch them. » A pause. Meaningfully, « Riorde has a knife. » The trader - we'll call him Kaspar - glance from one rider to the next, arms crossing in front of him. "There's no boy in our group except my own, and I'm right sure you're not after little Mederin." He's suspicious, Kaspar is, and perhaps that's not surprising-- not everyone trusts trader folk, after all. "But--" He glances up at Sforzath, not making any attempt to turn and seek out Vysravth. "Marla? Everyone out." One by one, they all troop out: a handful of adults, a larger handful of children, though, as promised, only one could be considered a boy - and he's blonde. "Happy?" Vysravth projects the image of the boy they are looking for as E'gin scans the crowd of those assembled, "I'm E'gin." He comments as he stops at each child to inspect them, just to make sure, "Not really. I was really hoping he'd just wandered off." The brownrider's eyebrows have pulled together as he turns a frown to the trader. "Would you mind if we had a peek in your wagons. Children are known for hiding and all. I don't want to sound the alarm that he's been kidnapped unless he really has." He glances at one of the women, "Marla, was it?" Turning back to Kaspar, "Could she just show us the inside she can an eye on us." There is the slight forced grin of people caught in an awkward situation for the trader before he glances at Riorde and gives her a nod. To look at, Sforzath does not exactly inspire confidence; the dragon, all smoke and fire, looks ready to blow. Riorde's struggling herself to contain the tension billowing out from her dragon and bleeding into her, but manages to smile. "Thank you." The ground is close, with Sforzath low as he is, and while the caravan empties, she dismounts, landing on bent knees. "Thank you," she repeats as she scans the children. E'gin's remarks are along the lines of her own thoughts, though she grimaces slightly when he mentions the word 'kidnapped' and shoots him a warning look. Sforzath speaks for her: « Don't accuse them, idiot. » That definitely sounds like Riorde. "Not that we think he has been. Most likely he's just gone off playing. We just want to be thorough," she adds aloud. 'Kidnapped' makes Kaspar jump, and narrow his eyes. Riorde's amendment doesn't seem to do much to sooth him, because he notes, through clenched teeth, "We're honest traders, lady, and I resent the implication." Maybe he's simply not talking to E'gin, now. Marla is, however, and though she keeps glancing at Kaspar for direction, he doesn't seem to be giving any. So: "If you like? There's really not much in there... there's nothing to find. We have some lovely fabrics to trade, though..." She falters, at the end of that, and one of the other women steps on her foot, hard. Shut up, Marla. « He wasn't accusing him. He was saying that if he was here, he probably had gone off. » Though as the trader reads his words the same way that Riorde does E'gin offers an explination. "I apologize, sir, I was saying that if he was here, he'd probably just gotten in on his own, but if he isn't here and he isn't any where else that we've been searching then our search might become something else." Riorde is the receipent of a half hidden sneer at the 'idiot' remark but he turns back to the trader, "However, we are on official business, and I believe that we've been quite willing to explain our actions so far, though it is not strictly required of us." The woman's faltering sentence draws the male's attention, "Fabrics? I'm sure Riorde would love to see them. If you'd be so kind." He crosses his arms, "I'll stay here, to answer any questions." And make sure no one runs. "There was none made." Assurance isn't Riorde's strong suit, but she tries in light of E'gin's blunders, taking a step forward with a smile at the ready. Maybe what will help more, though, is how she reacts to how E'gin continues. The smile's gone, replaced by an annoyed frown. "E'gin," she says sharply, bluntly. "Don't be an ass. You go look. Marla said she'd show you." Since apparently, in her view, he can't be trusted to speak to the traders without the situation escalating further. Sforzath conveys the why: « He's pissing them off. Make him go look. Riorde'll be better with them than he will. » "Sorry," she's apologizing to Kaspar, again. By now, Kaspar is beginning to get red in the face, his annoyance far from invisible. "Show him the damn wagon, Marla," he snaps at the woman who is probably his wife. She jumps to it, opening the door of the first wagon to indicate that E'gin can go inside. "We need to get to a good camping point before dark, and I won't-- we've done everything we can to help you. I want you to remember that. There's no need to talk to us like that. We are not criminals. Hurry up and look, so that we can get on with it." "I appreciate it." E'gin follows after Marla, his coldness to Riorde palpable. Taking his first look in side he replies to the woman, "I really don't think any of you are, but kids are known for crawling places they should be. Yah? And for being too scared to come out when called." He finishes his climb inside, he peers as much as he can without touching anything, before whispeirng, "Thedrin? You here? You won't get in trouble if you come out now." He points to a large basket, indicating that he going to peep inside, "Thedrin?" Is asked in a sing-songy voice as he peers inside. "I know. I do. I'm sorry, he talks to everyone like that." The solidarity between the two riders, thin to begin with, is fast disintegrating. "He'll be quick, and we'll be out of your hair so you can be on your way." She continues speaking while E'gin investigates the wagons, now turning toward Kaspar fully. "If you don't mind, would you keep your eyes out for the kid? Seven or eight, dark hair, blue shirt. Thedrin. Missing from the Hold." Thedrin. It makes Kaspar freeze: it's a name that even traders recognise. "Lady Edeline's heir," he says, quietly, and with a sick and unhappy kind of tone. It makes him all the more discontent with how things are going: both riders get fairly poisonous looks. There's no Thedrin in the first wagon. Nor in the second or third. In fact-- there's nothing. Nothing but, as previously mentioned, fabric. E'gin returns from the last of the wagons and gives Riorde a quick shake of his head, indicating the all clear. "Well that's all then, we appreciate it." He turns to Kaspar, "I apologize for the hold up, but considering the child missing I hope you'll understand. Back to the search then." With that E'gin departs from those gathered and is pulling himself back onto Vysravth's neckridges. Riorde nods, some of the immediate annoyance sloughing off to show a graver expression. "Yes. Everyone's worried." She's otherwise quiet as E'gin finishes searching the wagons, lips thinning into a frown when he reemerges and shakes his head. The frown stays as she listens to the other brownrider, and after he's turned back to Vysravth, Riorde addresses the trader again. "I'm sorry for the way he spoke to you. If you've seen anything, when we fly back this way, will you give us a wave and a yell?" She waits to hear his answer before she too gets ready to resume the hunt. Kaspar hesitates before he gives a short, somewhat reluctant nod towards Riorde. It's some time after the two riders have left that the caravan gets moving again: onwards, further away, gone. |
Comments
Comments on "Logs:The Search For Thedrin"Evali (Evali) left a comment on Wed, 04 Jan 2012 17:43:46 GMT.
This log is really, really awesome, guys.
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