Logs:Of Growth
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| RL Date: 28 August, 2006 |
| Who: M'wen, R'hin, Satiet |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| Where: High Reaches Hold |
| When: Day 28, Month 11, Turn 8 (Interval 10) |
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| Your location's current time: 16:26 on day 31, month 11, Turn 58, of the Tenth Pass. It is a autumn afternoon.
Maxeoth bespoke Leiventh with « Mine is always up for a trip. » The words are as much M'wens as Maxeoth's. Leiventh> Maxeoth senses that Leiventh is already high in the 'Reaches' sky, circling, waiting for you to join him. « We go, here. » He sends an image of the sky above High Reaches Hold - familiar, for all the errands and sweeps they run past there. Maxeoth bespoke Leiventh with « We are here. » Leiventh> Maxeoth senses that Leiventh's low, bassy rumble greets you, and almost as if by habit - or deliberate choice - he falls into position just to the right of the brown, allowing his clutchsibling to lead. « We go on your signal. » » On Maxeoth, M'wen gestures over to R'hin in signal with a slight wave in greeting as Maxeoth goes between. » Maxeoth disappears into Between. » Leiventh disappears into Between. Between You gasp as the icy black nothingness of Between surrounds you! You hear nothing, see nothing, and feel nothing. The trip takes five heartbeats... Contents: Maxeoth Black... Blacker... Blackest! You suddenly emerge... Sky above High Reaches Hold(#1553RJaeh) This is the sky about High Reaches Hold...the Flagstone Verge, to be exact. Below you is a large slab of stone, with plenty of room to land a dragon. To the north you can see a road leading out to the sea, with a lighthouse near the cove. To the south lie the orchards and fields, as well as the road to High Reaches Weyr. To the east are the Main Gates into the Hold Proper, including the Great Tower and the Fireheights, both of which can be seen from this height. Contents: Maxeoth Obvious exits: Flagstone Verge-High Reaches Hold Sky over High Reaches Area » Leiventh emerges from Between with a blast of cold air! You lower yourself to the flagstone, near the Main Gates. You climb down Leiventh's side to the ground, as the dragon rumbles softly. Flagstone Verge - High Reaches Hold You are standing upon a huge, clean flagstone which is large enough for groups of dragons and their riders to land comfortably upon. A ramp to the east leads into High Reaches Hold, one of the most prosperous Holds on Pern. The stone is shaped in a half-circle which juts out of the rock before the Hold. The colors of High Reaches Hold flank the entrance and a large crest, depicting the nobility of the Reaches, has been carved into the cliff face before you. To the east are the Main Gates. If you head down the path to the south you'll come to the large stable doors. Back to the west lies the River Road. Contents: Leiventh Kienth Obvious exits: Stables Hot Springs River Road Main Gates Maxeoth lowers himself to the flagstone, near the Main Gates. Maxeoth has arrived. M'wen vaults down Maxeoth's side to the ground, as the dragon rumbles softly. M'wen has arrived. R'hin's already divesting himself of flying gear by the time the pair of dragons touch down onto the flagstones of the Hold. Tucking riding gloves and helmet away, the bronzerider offers a sharp salute to M'wen, gesturing down the road, casual in the extreme. "Walk with me?" he invites. M'wen slides down his dragons back, gathering his riding gear under his arm to store in the convient pouch on Maxeoths side. Returning the smile with a light grin, he strides over to R'hin's side. "Sure." Is the only offered reply. With a curve of lips, R'hin begins walking down the road, a distinctly jaunty step to he's walk, veiled anticipation in his mannerism, though for once he doesn't explain. You head west down the River Road. You travel north, toward the LightHouse Cove. LightHouse Cove at High Reaches Hold(#2515RJLa) A small cove off the western edge of the Northern Continent. The sea can be seen stretching north to west, as far as the eye can see, and from the other direction the High Reaches Range stretches from east to south. Waves pound against the rocky coastline, roaring in the background. The lighthouse is built with stones from a local quarry, and has a faint rosish hue, sparkling when the light hits. As you look around you can either go up into the lighthouse, or south back down the river road. Contents: Teonath(#223JOQaep) Obvious exits: LightHouse River Road M'wen arrives from the south. M'wen has arrived. The pair of 'Reaches riders walk in from the road, R'hin - for his part - jaunty, bright with barely veiled anticipation. The presence of the gold dragon is, for him, not a surprise, and he sketches a half bow in the queen's direction. A glance back towards M'wen is given, before he leads the way past to the lighthouse. Leiventh> Teonath senses that Leiventh sends his greetings, crimson-draped mental tones alert. Wordless, as is his lifemate, his thoughts nonetheless depict a hint of his rider's eagerness. M'wen raises an eye at R'hin's manner and gives a slight start at the sight of the familiar gold dragon, but decides not to question anything, trusting R'hins judgement for now. Giving a slight gesture of greeting to the queen, he follows after R'hin. You climb up some steps into the Lighthouse. Lighthouse Deck-HRH(#2520RJa) This is the beautiful LightHouse Deck. It is located on the westernmost point of the Hold. From here, the sea can be seen as far as the eye can see in every direction. Boats are milling around far below, working their way around the rocks and crags which litter the bay path. This seems like a very good place to sit and relax with your friends. The air here is calm and refreshing, and smells lightly of saltwater. You can feel cool drafts from the water below. The deep greeny-blue coloured water below you sparkles warmly under the sun's glare. The only safe way off the deck is back down the stairs to the Cove. Contents: Satiet Obvious exits: Cove M'wen climbs up the steps to the Deck. M'wen has arrived. There is no response from the Reaches queen, though acceptance of both the dragon and rider's greeting is found in the lightened hue of twilight to a more dusky grey as crimson counterparts night. Unlike many a drinking well in Pern, High Reaches' lighthouse deck lacks the essential: a large bar and buxom lasses serving them. Instead, those who relax and drink there seem to have either brought their own liquor, or accepted whatever complementary ale or fruit brandy the various kitchen workers have brought out. Seated alone, Satiet's appropriated one of the prime tables and while a high glass filled only partially with some brandy rests near her elbow, a carafe of wine seems to be what the slight woman is drinking from. Reposed, with her legs propped up onto a chair by her, an idle hand leafs through a text that's resting against the bend of her legs. Perhaps it's the knot with how she's gained such a prime spot, or the knot's why the general vicinity around the goldrider is free of the jovial chitchat of hold workers unwinding after a long day. Still leading the way, R'hin climbs the steps of the lighthouse, taking most of them two at a time, slowing only as they reach the top. Pale eyes rove and unerringly settle on Satiet, sly smile gracing his lips as long strides carry him towards the goldrider's table. "Weyrwoman," he greets in a low voice, that subtle intonation in the title audible to the two 'Reachian riders. "You know M'wen, of course." A hand lifts, half turning towards the brownrider, as much to catch the man's reaction as any nicety on the bronzerider's part. Either the intrusion was planned, or R'hin's simply blustering in, which wouldn't be unlike him at all. Staring about him at the people milling about, M'wen acknowledges the introduce with a slight tip of his head in Satiet's deirection. He keeps his reaction uncommited and just maintains a slight smile, though his eyebrow seems to be twitching to go up. Not really knowing why he's been brought here, he retains silence and waits for either one of them to at least give a hint. The rest of her lone elbow along the table's edge keeps the book's pages held flat, the other arm continuing to flip pages over at such a speed that it seems unlikely that Satiet is actually reading anything on them. Learned in the art of making people wait for her however, the raven hair slants forward as the slight frame leans inward to inspect some line written along the sheets, before drawing back once more and lifting her chin to seek out the approaching Reachian pair. She skips past the more familiar face to seek out M'wen and scrutinize the brownrider in aloof regard, and it's while her gaze is latched onto the lanky young man that an equally cool voice remarks, "Anything if not persistent." Fleeting, her gaze shifts to R'hin before pinning back to M'wen. "You're welcome to sit. Brandy? Wine?" R'hin doesn't need an invitation, and in fact moves to seat himself across from Satiet even before her offer, perhaps used to being made to wait, and just as used to ignoring such niceties. Perhaps, though, it's deliberate choice, to force M'wen to sit next to Satiet, either way. Pale eyes shift to M'wen, "I suppose," a twitch of lips, "We ought to go with Tillek wine, support our coverage areas, don't you think?" he suggests, lightly. Satiet's comment earns a flicker of brows, the bronzerider murmuring, "Persistence is necessary, for what we do." Sitting down in the remaining seat, M'wen gives a low chuckle, "Seems the best we can do for them in the interval, but I'll have whatever, I didn't come here to drink." Thinking briefly, "Actually I don't know why I'm here at all, but that's a different matter all together." He settles down into the chair, not talking anymore, awaiting the reason for this visit, knowing very well it isn't one of their usual hold visits. "High Reaches Hold," Satiet's alto begins, feigning the drone of a bored instructor, "Produces some of the finest fruit brandies in Pern." Showing her own vein of persistence, a hand lifts to flag one of the kitchen workers down and with a beatific smile that fails to touch her cheeks let alone her pale eyes, a silent query is made with the gesture falling to indicate her own glass and then lifting to indicate two more for her companions. As for the carafe of wine at the center of her table. "There's Benden white if you prefer." Innocently spoken, the comment is nonetheless punctuated with a wicked curve that rests crooked on her lips. "You are here-," the young weyrwoman, with reluctance in her languid movements, drops her feet from the fourth seat at the table and regains some propriety in her posture. "-Because R'hin would like to discern whether I pass judgment in your eyes. Whether, you would find me an acceptable companion for your treasonous friend." A glint of eyes veils R'hin's initial reaction, though he takes Satiet's instruction with apparent ease, amenable to the suggestion of brandy instead. Pale eyes settle on the carafe of wine, with a low voiced chuckle, "I always prefer Benden white, lady of the spires. But not, I think, apt for today." The amusement, however, fades rather rapidly at the weyrwoman's words, countenance cool all of a sudden, as if he finds the woman's words distasteful. "We're here," he disagrees, mildly for all that, "Because I trust M'wen, and he wished to know who our weyrwoman is. Should he not know the woman he will serve?" Taking R'hin's words in stride, he grins slightly, saying conspiratively, "If you knew some of the people he associates with...well I doubt you would cause him to end up in any immediate physical harm." Returning to the friendly pleasentries, he nods appriciatively, "A Bendan white is always welcome whether they are in our coverage area or not." With the ease of practice, Satiet reaches forward for the carafe of brandy and fills one glass with it deftly, then slides it to R'hin, then repeats the action for the brownrider. Reclaiming her own glass and lifting it, her expression as silken as her cool voice, the weyrwoman slants M'wen a smile touched with dry charm, "Oh, believe you me, I do not doubt that I could cause our illustrious bronzerider immediate physical harm." The glass lifts higher. "To causes worth serving." Deliberately, R'hin himself avoids the Benden white, reaching for the brandy when it's slide towards him, offering a bland sort of smile to Satiet. "Do not judge so swiftly, my friend. Our lady of the spires has weapons of her own; her words are sharper than any I've met." It could be taken as backhanded compliment, but then, given the person it's directed to, it's probably a simply compliment in and of itself. His eyes are on the goldrider as he lifts his glass, voice mild as he counters with, "To the future." He takes a gulp. "To good friends" M'wen toasts, then looking at the other two at the table he raises the glass again, "I guess 'To the future' is more fitting here." Taking a brief sip, he returns his attention to the table. "I wouldn't doubt that. I meant that in comparison of course, a sharp tounge will sting, but a blade between the ribs will cause a bit more trouble then that." A pointed look is given R'hin's way as he mentions the last part. "Words can destroy a man," opines the weyrwoman as she takes a taste test of her brandy by wetting her lips. "As certainly and swiftly as a blade might." Pale eyes latch onto R'hin a long moment as well, in conjunction with M'wen's look towards the bronzerider, and while she speaks in generals, the intensity of her gaze lingers on Leiventh's. "You have grown," she notes casually, at first seeming to R'hin, "Since your Impression to Maxeoth, M'wen." The pointed look earns a sharp one in turn, the bronzerider's eyes narrowed briefly as he focuses on the brownrider. There's a hint of curtness in R'hin's words, bespeaking veiled anger, "The visionary may die, but his vision would live on, if there are those that believe in it." A beat, then, "That, I have no control over." A slow exhale of breath follows, as if something in Satiet's words earn a hint of relief, carefully held until now; he says nothing more, eyes flickering to study Satiet in turn. Leiventh> To you, Leiventh's a rumbling presence, crimson splashes soothing anger. He is confident, unconcerned by your talk of death; for he knows it will not happen, despite your concerns. "And you have not." The casual words are met with his own, holding a similar tone. "You must deal with the weak-willed, if your jibes and insults can deal the same destruction to the mind as a knife can do to the body." He takes a sip of his drink, seeming to have not even registered his harsh words, even with their light tone. "If being a martyr is your goal, then I assume I wouldn't be able to stop you." "Ah-." It's an exhaled phrase, noncommittal, that Satiet seems to have picked up recently, her eyebrows pitching upward with askance reflected in the surface of her gaze. Beneath it, however, as keen as the edge of a sharpened knife, lies interest as the goldrider studies M'wen. "The visionary must die in order for his vision to fulfill fruition. It's the way of history, the way of time. But perhaps-," a stolen glance to R'hin causes pale eyes to traverse across the bronzerider's features, before returning to the table's center, "You do well with surrounding yourself with those more intelligent than you. Touche, brownrider." With a smile that deepens in its crooked set, ice eyes of respect level onto M'wen. R'hin's eyes swing sharply towards brownrider, surprise evident at the retort M'wen sends Satiet's way, before a low chuckle follows, the bronzerider clearly amused by the unexpected comment. "Oh, ho. Well said, my friend." He seems oddly pleased, almost as if he couldn't have engineered it better himself. His finger traces the rim of his glass, the faint squeak audible as he counters easily, "It is not my goal, but it is one outcome that is not beyond the realm of possibility. And it would help, not hinder, to my mind." A crooked curve of lips bespeaks his response to Satiet, tones dry, "I seek yet more still, my lady." "You are aiming to achieve something that has never been done in the history of pern-A plan with so many problems and needed contingencies from the start that it's coming into practice is doubted by its ardent supporters, and you haven't planned a way to do it without killing yourself along the way?" M'wen looks ready to continue, but returns to his drink with a troubled look in R'hins direction and an overinterest in the dull intricities of the table. Satiet also seems taken with the intricacies of the table, drinking as if by rote rather than enjoyment of the lush fruity flavors inherent in this blend. Though the amusement that hangs still lingers from M'wen's prior assessment, it's muddied in the reflective shade of her eyes as she further watches the younger of two men. "Rest assured, brownrider," she begins flatly, a touch of color flushing the high set of her cheekbones, "The well-being of R'hin is foremost on my mind if not his own." It's to brandy, once again, she takes refuge. "You require a diplomat." "It's a possibility, not a necessity," R'hin counters, swirling some of the dark liquid around in his glass before taking a sip. "As the lady of the spires says, intelligent people surround me. I believe in all of you, and I believe we will find a way." A pause, pale eyes on M'wen, even, untroubled, as if his decision and the outcome has been made through his strength of will alone, "Don't you?" A sidelong glance is given Satiet, a curl of lips offered, "Indeed. Have you gone to see the Telgarian yet?" M'wen sighs in resignation, "I'll make sure the burial's extravagant." A slight smile is given to Satiet, as he turns his attention back to R'hin, "Have you even brought to this telgarians attention the important role she plays in all this? In fact, have you brought to her attention the plan at all? I'm not doubting your diplomacy skills-well those that exist anyways-but what if we build a plan around her and she ends up refusing or dying in a tragic wagon incident?" The last one is said incredulously, with a slight rise of his brow, as usual for him. "There are other diplomats." That Satiet discards the usefulness of one Telgari is typical, and works as a response for R'hin's inquiry. "That one is expendable should untoward accidents arise." The flush of prior hasn't receded completely yet, though it may be the effects of the sips of brandy she takes, punctuating her words further with a longer gulp. "And why is it-," the glass waves to indicate M'wen, "That you have not considered yourself a plausible diplomat? Your way with words is- adequate." "I've told her nothing. I wish your counsel on her first, M'wen, and--" R'hin's eyes shift to Satiet, lips curving, tone indulgent, "--The lady of the spires wishes to make her own assessment of the woman." He drains the rest of his brandy, brows flicking upwards at the mention of a tragic accident, "I will continue searching. If we find more diplomats, I can always put them to good use." His own account slightly more polite than Satiet's, but not in disagreement. The weyrwoman's comment earns shifting interest, pale eyes flicking to M'wen, oddly silent. "Then we must invite her at some point to make our assessments. It would seem odd to me to have multiple riders from different weyrs approach me and attempt to gather my personality from useless drivel and trivial matters. You seem to have taken a liking to this woman, invite her to a gather or something, I shall make it my duty to decide." M'wen nods at R'hins mention of more diplomats, "We can not expect one woman to handle the entirety of pern, that would be too much to throw onto the shoulders of anyone." He turns an empty expression to Satiet, "I have my reasons, but if being a diplomat is what you'd have me do, I...I could make an exception." Still unfinished, the brandy is set to the table, the wine forgotten and left for those remain, and Satiet gathers the closed book on her lap and the satchel that rests just by her chair. Briskly, she begins, "I will meet with this woman again. There will be no need to escort her to a gather." Flat, her gaze on R'hin, it turns into one that gains faint warmth when it cuts across to M'wen. "I would not ask of you what you do not wish for yourself. But think of it. It's been turns since anyone's taken the initiative in attack than defense first." And from the blithely spoken comment lies delighted pleasure that trembles beneath the surface of her calm facade. "But I leave you men to your plans, and must prepare myself for this- ah, diplomatic visit." With a nod, grace in the way she rises, the raven-haired woman pauses long enough to allow niceties of all parties. "That will not be difficult. She does seem a social creature, after all," R'hin allows, lips curling as he reaches for the carafe of brandy, this time doing the honors of serving the others, refilling glasses where necessary. The bronzerider seems to be regarding M'wen anew, surprise flickering in pale gaze at his offer, though his expression when eyes flick to Satiet is even, guarded. A sharp nod is given, perhaps enough to telegraph odd anger, veiled beneath pale gaze. "Have a pleasant evening, lady of the spires." M'wen gives a slight bow of his head to the departing weyrwoman, the smile playing at the corner of his lips returning. "I'm sure it will take copious amounts of preparation. Clear" He looks up, "skies to you." Turning back to R'hin, he regards him curiously, not taking it upon himself to break the brief silence. Satiet climbs down the stairs leaving the Lighthouse. Satiet has left. Though he would ordinarily take the opportunity to watch Satiet's departure, this time R'hin avoids watching the goldrider, taking a gulp of his brandy, allowing the noises of the lighthouse to cover the silence that follows. Eventually, voice guarded, he asks, "And what, exactly, are your reasons for not wanting such a role?" "I...I am still not comfortable around people." M'wen admits slightly sheepishly. "And I did not wish to display such a weakness in front of our illustrious weyrwoman." He returns a hard look to R'hin, but with no guarding to it. "It is as hard for me to change as it is for you, do not hold this against me..." "I do not think her any more comfortable around people than you, M'wen," R'hin confides, with a dark curl of lips. An even look is given, anger sliding away, and he says, "I do not hold it against you, friend. In fact, I resist the idea of you taking the role of diplomat. I find I... have a reliance on your counsel. If you were put in that position, there would be things I could not tell you, could not ask your advice on." A beat or two, then flatly, as if forcing the proposition despite his dislike of it, "But it is your decision to make." M'wen nods slowly, a look of gratitude on his face. "We both know I am not a diplomat, and will serve my purpose through council and leadership, two traits I hope and feel that I have. I don't have the killer instinct needed for a diplomat or the ruthless strak required to take advantage of a situation. I have made my decision long ago and I will stick by it!" "I am glad," R'hin says, an exhalation of relief audible, that rare uncertainty quickly sloughing away under M'wen's reassurance of his position. "Thank you, friend," he says, quietly, lifting his glass in toast to his companion, taking a gulp, before curling fingers around the glass. "So, what -did- you think of our weyrwoman?" "I hope i'm not being arogant when I say I'm a good judge of character, or at least can make adequete impressions of people. She is like you R'hin, and we all know how famously you get along with people like yourself." M'wen pauses, a grin flitting across his face. "I wouldn't say its a -secret- but Satiet hides behind cold indifference for a reason, and I hope i'll figure it out eventually, as with you." His expression dares R'hin to contridict him. R'hin certainly doesn't seem apt to contradict M'wen's assessment, and in fact, if the curve of lips is anything to judge by, he doesn't disagree. "She is like me in certain ways," he agrees, "Though I think we've managed to find a balance of sorts - for now." As to the latter, he nods slowly; if he knows the reason, he doesn't seem apt to share, perhaps another of those things he believes better found out for himself. "I am certain you will find out, eventually. You've a way with that sort of thing." A beat or two, then the important question, the bronzerider leaning forward to lower his voice, intent, "Do you support her, as I do, then?" Treating the leaning in as a conspiratory gesture, M'wen glances about, giving a slight glare to a pair of people who's gaze happened to be in this general direction at the time. Turning back to R'hin, "The second you said a goldrider was involved, I instantly thought of Satiet. For some time I was in doubt considering the conflict that seems to be between the two of you, but it seemed the only logical explanation. If I doubted your decision, I would've spoken earlier, not waited until it'd be too late to go back." R'hin's lips curve, gesturing briefly in the direction of the recently departed goldrider, "Whatever else we might be in conflict in, we are agreed that change is necessary, and that it -will- happen. That's the only thing that's important." Again, there's that edge of relief, as if M'wen's confirmation of his decision is the veritable rubber stamp on things. Draining off the rest of his brandy, he nods at the latter words, approval glimmering in pale eyes. "Then all is as it should be." In stark contrast to his dispirited demeanor of yesterday, he seems almost boundlessly full of enthusiasm. "Indeed it is" M'wen confirms also draining his drink and staring off over the water. "Maybe change is happening elsewhere, we can't believe no one has ever thought the same as you...well in this subject at least." He continues staring out across the water, "Maybe we just need to be the catalyst, and the rest will speed up and the pockets of forward thinkers will gain the control we are desiring for?" "Maybe," R'hin concedes. "There does seem to be others out there, in other Weyrs, who think the same. I don't--" he pauses, less interested in the view, but following M'wen's gaze to the water as he confesses, "--I don't care about them. All I care about is High Reaches. Whatever else happens, happens." M'wen looks shocked, but then gives a slight nod, "I never thought you one to not aim for the highest you could, but it's understandable. I...I agree that the biggest goal here is to change our home, the High Reaches, and to make it the best it can be!" He then pauses and looks thoughtful, "Weren't you the one who said that the Istans were wrong in only liking Ista and not thinking of others...?" With a wry twitch of lips, R'hin says, "I'm not blind to others. If they asked for help, and we were in a position to give it, we could. But for now, until we're in a solid position, we can't look outside. We can't -afford- to, or we risk losing everything. Besides, Ista's problem is more that they think they can't improve on themselves, that their way is the right way. The -only- way. I just hope none of their line ever catches a High Reaches gold, because the last thing we need is that violent tendency that their dragons show, in our future." "Well that just leads back to whether the female actually does have a choice in the matter or if it's the 'right place, right time' theory. Though it has been brought to my attention the Istan theory, maybe you just notice it more when there's an Istan gold or sire?" He hmms softly, "Well we won't let the Istan state of mind befoul us then." "Maybe," R'hin answers, though he doesn't sound all that convinced. "But I'd like to make sure we don't put that theory to the test in High Reaches." Fingers tap briefly against the empty glass as if in thought, before he exhales, gaze going distant for a moment. "I'm being called back. I wish they'd put us into wings already. Being summoned by every rider for any little duty's beginning to get on my nerves." Frustration leaks into his voice, sharp shake of head given. M'wen gives a brief nod of agreement, "Well we can be sure that it'll happen before the next queen rises..." He says this a bit depressedly. "I'll come with, I have no reason to stick around here if you and Satiet leave on me. We have no way to stop it if they have no choice, so be prepared for the worst." He rises, a tilt of his head towards R'hin. "There may be a way," R'hin's gaze is dark, speculative. "If you wanted it badly enough-- wanted to -stop- it badly enough, could you influence your dragon? After all, it's not unknown that the males jostle and fight, push each other out of the way..." he rises, glancing sidelong at M'wen to get a measure of the brownrider's reaction to such words as he heads for the exit. "...if having a particular dragon -lose- was more important than whether you won, I wonder." M'wen's face twitches slightly and only responds, "Would you risk your dragon that way?" Following R'hin towards the exit. "What difference this, than risking our dragons every day facing Thread?" R'hin counters, as he heads for the stairs. You climb down the stairs leaving the Lighthouse. You leave the deck. All of a sudden, a whole bunch of cheerleaders hop over the railing and start drinking beer with lucky ones who stayed! You leave the cove heading up the River Road. You head east towards the Hold. Flagstone Verge - High Reaches Hold You are standing upon a huge, clean flagstone which is large enough for groups of dragons and their riders to land comfortably upon. A ramp to the east leads into High Reaches Hold, one of the most prosperous Holds on Pern. The stone is shaped in a half-circle which juts out of the rock before the Hold. The colors of High Reaches Hold flank the entrance and a large crest, depicting the nobility of the Reaches, has been carved into the cliff face before you. To the east are the Main Gates. If you head down the path to the south you'll come to the large stable doors. Back to the west lies the River Road. Contents: Maxeoth Leiventh Kienth Obvious exits: Stables Hot Springs River Road Main Gates M'wen arrives from the Flagstone Verge. M'wen has arrived. "Because thread threatens the entire world of Pern and we are trained our whole lives to defeat it. I would never risk Maxeoth so that we don't have a violent clutch!" M'wen says vehemently. "And what if," R'hin persists in that interminable logic of his, just as venhement, "Violent dragons begot violent dragons. What if, when Thread returned, half of a fourty-egg clutch resulted in death? Or even a quarter? How could we fight Thread, if hatchlings injured their riders so badly they could not do what they were -bred- for?" M'wen just stares at R'hin, "So what you suggest is not let any Istan dragons breed with golds forever? You don't even know if it's true!" He just contines staring. "No, I don't. But the next few Turns will prove me right or wrong. If I'm right-- and believe me, friend, I hope I'm not-- I would do what is necessary to ensure it doesn't continue." R'hin's determined in the fact of M'wen's shock, resolute. "It may just be that one line. It may be only a few within the Istan line. But it bears keeping an eye on." M'wen looks resigned, sighing slightly, "If you feel this is worth putting resources into, so be it, but if your wrong, this could breed some bad blood between the reaches and Ista...As if we hadn't already done enough to start that," "I'm not about to act prematurely, but I am concerned about it," R'hin confesses, expression shifting into a wry sort of smile at M'wen's latter words. "I imagine I'm already poorly thought of there, regardless." "It seems the only place you aren't thought of poorly is the High Reaches, lucky you get to live here." M'wen adds, finding at least some comedy in the situation. "Oh, I heard you went to hte Fortian hatching...Did you get lynched?" "I wouldn't go so far as that. There are plenty of people at the 'Reaches who think poorly of me," R'hin counters, though he's grinning quite a bit as he does so. As they reach the flagstoned area, his eyes automatically drift to Leiventh, the bronze cracking an eye to watch the approaching pair. The latter comment earns a hearty chuckle from the bronzerider, eyes glimmering, "Almost. I did try my hardest, but to no avail. Perhaps next time...?" M'wen lets out a hearty laugh as he grabs his riding gear from the pouch on Maxeoth's side, "Next time we go to Fort, I'll be sure to go and help you intimidate all the little weyrbrats, will be a nice change of pace." He gives an uncharacteristic wink and he throws on his riding jacket. The comment, so unlike what R'hin is used to hearing from the brownrider, earns a startled look, before he breaks into laughter. "Oh, I certainly won't say no to that. There's this one girl who's definitely already scared of me. I'd welcome the company." Where M'wen might be joking, R'hin's probably slightly less so, reaching for his riding gear before climb atop the bronze's neck. You jump up onto Leiventh's back, using his foreleg as a step. » M'wen hops up onto Maxeoth's back, as the dragon rumbles softly. R'hin, as he seems given to do, defers to M'wen in all things flight-related, waiting for the brownrider's signal to take off. » On Maxeoth, With a jovial flick of his arm, he signals the ascent of the two dragons, the brown under him springing powerfully off the ground with a beating of wings. You send up a swirl of dirt as you take flight. Sky above High Reaches Hold(#1553RJaeh) This is the sky about High Reaches Hold...the Flagstone Verge, to be exact. Below you is a large slab of stone, with plenty of room to land a dragon. To the north you can see a road leading out to the sea, with a lighthouse near the cove. To the south lie the orchards and fields, as well as the road to High Reaches Weyr. To the east are the Main Gates into the Hold Proper, including the Great Tower and the Fireheights, both of which can be seen from this height. Obvious exits: Flagstone Verge-High Reaches Hold Sky over High Reaches Area » Maxeoth leaves a swirl of dirt behind him, as he lifts off the ground. » Maxeoth flies southeast, high over the mountains surrounding High Reaches Weyr. » Leiventh disappears into Between. |
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