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How Woody Would a Wood-Bit Be?


Date:  February 22, 2000
Places:  Telgar Weyr's Skyspace; Keroon's Skyspace and Sandy Beach
Game:  PernMUSH
Copyright Info:  The World of Pern is copyright(c) to Anne McCaffrey 
l967. The Dragonriders of Pern(r) is a registered copyright.

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Kassi's Note:  A bit of beach-bumming fun, this; on I'sai's invitation
and as part of his driftwood-hunting quest, a contingent of Telgar 
riders invades Keroon and meets a Herder Apprentice with great 
potential for evil.  Master Leara must be terribly proud. ;)

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The Log:

<*> Lysseth springs from the ground, the air from her wings churning up
dust as she takes to the skies.

You spring from Lysseth's ledge with one downsweep of your wings, soaring
into the sky above the Northern Bowl.

The rim of the bowl falls away from you and you soar into the open skies.

<*> Miyath flies up from the northern half of the bowl.

Telgar Weyr> Whinde says, "Whatcha doing in Keroon?"

Dragon> Telgar dragons sense that Taralyth indulges the surrounding links
with visions of grassy plains, ocean, and more importantly, -sun-. Keroon 
ho!

Telgar Weyr> I'sai says, "Going driftwood hunting. :) If they don't have a
built beach, it's fakeable. Well, and Is has a day off, so..."

<*> Lysseth skims upwards, clearly revelling in flight, glorious flight,
somewhere *other* than to and from her ledge. Okay, so it's just a bit
above her ledge and later down to Keroon's lands, but she'll take what she
can get, as her brassy, jubilant trumpet to the other travellers suggests.

Dragon> Telgar dragons sense that Miyath's tone is light and airy much like
a breeze that rustles the grass, << We are coming too my rider is ansty and
wishes to fly. >>

<*> Tovith flies up from the southern half of the bowl.

Dragon> Telgar dragons sense that Nraith rumbles his discontent, << This
one sits with his hides all day. If I didn't remind him, he'd forget to
eat. I can not come. >>

Dragon> Lysseth senses that Taralyth visions flight -above- said lands,
even with riders drowsing: no reason -they- can't play.

<*> Taralyth warbles swiftly back, and vanishes before its echoes do.

<*> Taralyth disappears into Between.

Dragon> Telgar dragons sense that Taralyth inquires as to whether a bit of
nicely chewed firestone, properly emitted, might help that nasty hide 
problem.

<*> Lysseth 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...
Black...
Blacker...
Blackest!

You suddenly emerge...

<*> Lysseth emerges from Between with a blast of cold air!

<*> Tovith emerges from Between with a blast of cold air!

Dragon> Telgar dragons sense that Daelyth sends an image of her rider
likewise occupied with hides. << She will not leave to do anything 
anymore. >>

Lysseth> Taralyth senses that Lysseth responds with delight, the pinging of
crystal and lightning caught therein: an elemental concept, dear Watson.

<*> Miyath emerges from Between with a blast of cold air!

Dragon> Telgar dragons sense that Tovith adds his own deep rich tone after
Miyath's, <<My rider wants to come too. See some new places.>>

<*> Taralyth circles a few times as if choosing from a particularly
intricate menu, then finally deigns to fold his wings and drop towards the
beach.

<*> Taralyth veers south and glides down.

Telgar Weyr> Kassima yays. There *is* a beach; my memory hasn't gone
schitzo yet after all. ;)

<*> Tovith veers south and glides down.

Dragon> Telgar dragons sense that Miyath's warbling tones respond to Tovith
with, << My rider has been here before your rider has not? >>

<*> Miyath veers south and glides down.

Telgar Weyr> Jazmin refrains from comment Kassilove. :)

<*> Lysseth indulges in a few lazy circles, flicking wingtips to soar
upwards, downwards, up again, then graciously conceeds to her rider's will
not to be made nauseous and descends.

You veer south, then land at the beach.

Dragon> Telgar dragons sense that Taralyth glints a croon to his dam, along
with the suggestion that if -she- would care for some flame for those
hides, that too could be arranged.

<*> From atop Miyath's Green neck, Arallia has partially disconnected.

<*> Miyath clips her wings close to her sides to zip down toward the beach,
her form zinging through the air as she drops altitude at a scary rate.

<*> Taralyth kneads the golden sand a few times, circles, and - fairly
flattens as Miyath speeds down.

Dragon> Telgar dragons sense that Tovith sends a picture of golden sand on
beach and cool clear water lapping against it. <<No, this is our first
time. It is lovely here though.>>

<*> With a snap of green wings Miyath easily slows her decent enough that
she lands without too much of a problem. Just don't point out those skid
marks in the sand she made when she didn't stop on time. Her rider just
sort of sits there for a moment before she slides down her side, unbuckling
beforehand of course. Perhaps a few words can be heard as Arallia speaks to
her lifemate, "Next time warn me won't you? I wasn't expecting that!" The
green just tosses her head before warbling a high clear note.

<*> Lysseth sends a spray of sand airborne at her own backwinging,
mercifully distanced from Miyath's rapid-fire trajectory. Warmth, it's
*warm* here, and the beach-bum green spreads her wings wide to expose them
to the sun. "Vain, or psycho, I can't decide which," Kassi chides her mount
from on high, working to free herself from the straps.

<*> Arallia climbs down from Miyath's ridges, grinning when she hears the
brassy bugle escaping Miyath's muzzle.

<*> I'sai slides down from Taralyth's neck.

You slide off of Lysseth's neck to land beside her easily. She rumbles,
cocking her head down at you, and you rub her eyeridges gratefully.

Tovith rumbles at Miyath as she dives down toward the beach, zigging out of
her way, then smoothly landing on the warm sand.

Dragon> Telgar dragons sense that Miyath's tones are quite cheerful as she
says in sassy verdant colors, << That was fun! We should all do that. >>

Tovith carefully folds his wings on his back as Leya unfastens her riding
straps.

Leya slides down off of Tovith, her feet landing on the ground with a soft
*thump*.

Taralyth, at least now that he -survived-, lifts his head in a ripple of
neckridges; his warble's all approval for the show. His rider, meanwhile,
just shakes his head and shrugs off his jacket before turning to work on
the young dragon's straps.

"Welladay!" Kassi says, straightening to sweep an appreciative gaze over
the length of the shore. "Beautiful place--and oh, aye, a nice change;
you're right about *that* much, Lyss--" Said green makes a sound almost
like a chortle as her straps are removed. "Beaches bring out the worst in
her. Or best, depending on your view," her rider explains to the others, a
touch sheepishly. "What kind of wood are you hoping t'be finding here, 
Is?"

Leya pulls off her jacket, tieing it around her waist, then turns back to
Tovith, who is scratching interesting patterns in the sand. "No, you have
to wait until I get your straps off before you can get wet." Tovith looks
longingly on the water, but consents. Leya gets to work removing the 
straps.

Arallia just gives MIyath a look before she waves at her lifemate and says,
"Comeon now bend your neck down so I can get to your straps. I'm not making
you a new pair because you took these in the waters and caused them to
shrink." The dragon just warbles happily once more before she bends down
enough for her rider to unbuckle her straps. What? Did she do something
wrong? Ara just coils the straps up once they're off the hide and gives her
lifemate a slap on the neck, "All right go ahead, go swim or roll,
whichever." A grin tugs at the brown-haired woman's lip as she turns to see
how the others have faired.

I'sai calls over, "Driftwood. Not too big, not too small, no rotten spots,
no bugs, the sort of thing that'll hold a carving without splintering all
over," with the intonation of having memorized the litany. "Now, the
question is, whether we'll get all our straps mixed up along the way? If we
piled them all up together, bet we could make a mound you could see from
dragonlengths up."

Leya finishes unbuckling and pulls off Tovith's straps, wrapping them
around her arm, then sliding them onto the ground. Tovith warbles happily
and immediantly heads into the water, splashing merrily on his way in.
"Tovith and water," Leya shakes her head and smiles in amusement, then
looks over at I'sai.

Leya says "Ooo, driftwood? That does make for nice carvings. Want me to
help you look?""

Not to be outdone, Taralyth plunges after Tovith and into deeper water;
I'sai just shakes his head some more, then realizes - "Yes, I mean. Please.
If it's -interesting-, like a hole worn in it or something, so much the
better. And I'd like it if people hunting, if we find one, could sign a
slate for it, keep the provenance, that sort of thing."

Kassima squints a look at the bronzerider while coiling Lysseth's
black-dyed former accessories. "You've friends at the Woodcraft?" she
hazards. "Or have cheap commissions in mind? Master Hadrina does lovely
things." Lysseth, now freed of restraint, proceeds to roll over onto her
back with wings spread wide and take a moment to streeeetch out in the sun.
Kassi's expression is, unsurprisingly, long-suffering. "You look like a
demented 'lizard," she mutters. "Hope there's some we can scavenge. About
what size d'you want, then?"

I'sai says airily, "Sort of. It's a 'compare and contrast' sort of thing,
does driftwood change much between Boll, Ista, Nerat, and so on. Now, the
sample size is small, with just one piece per, but it takes up a lot less
room that way. ...What should I have heard about Hadrina? The name's
familiar, but ... size, size, about from wrist to elbow? Something like
that. Can be wider, but that long... Leya, what's good? You know 
carving."

Leya unties her jacket from around her waist and drops it onto her pile of
flight straps. "My pile has my jacket on it." She nods to I'sai, "Sure."
She smiles at Kassima, "He does through me. Master Hadrina... I haven't
seen her in so long. She helped me with my first carving at the WoodCraft
Halll you know." She smiles, then sits down to pull off her boots and socks
and roll up her pant legs.

Arallia snaps out of a silent conversatoin with Miyath and just looks
around at the others before she sheds her jacket and trots after people,
"What're we doing again? Are we going to burn this stuff? Did anyone bring
any tubers to roast? Roasted tubers are quite good with roasted wherry. We
should have brought a picnic."

Leya stands up, letting the sand squish between her toes, "Something of
fairly good size. Dry and without too many holes."

I'sai bundles his up as well, along with jacket, tunic, boots and leathers,
leaving him in shorts and the shirt whose sleeves he rolls up. He curls his
toes in the sand, then hears Arallia, "...-Burn-? No burning. Er, not that;
we could burn other things. And tubers... anyone else bring food? I know I
didn't. No wonder you're a wingsecond, with ideas like that," he teases.
Leya smiles at Arallia, "We could burn the driftwood that wouldn't be good
for carving I suppose. And I didn't bring any food either."

"We'd get a lot of strange things washing up on the beaches back at
Greystones," Kassi offers, "but 'tis likely because of that island nearby
that's a bit of a rider refuge... if'n anyone else's jacket can be mistaken
for mine, I think 'twill be afraid." She tosses her own rainbow-dyed item
atop the straps, though not before fishing a mint stick out of its pocket.
"She did a carving of Kimbrith for me t'give Merlath once. Lovely thing.
And Arallia, *please*, nay mention of tubers--I only brought so many mint
sticks." And she proceeds to stick the one she holds in her mouth, the
better to fend off tuber-induced queasiness. "Ugh. I might have a meatroll
or two, but that's nay good picnic food."

I'sai goes wandering along the beach, though he's more watching his dragon
than looking out for wood; he adds over his shoulder, "Bet she liked it.
Not too many holes, huh... well, maybe 'just in time for lunch,' someone's
wingmate will stop by with munchies. We can hope, right?"

Arallia grins over at Kassi before she says, "You'll soon become one of
those mint sticks if you keep eating all of those." QUickly kicking off her
boots she joins the others scouring the beach for good wood, "As for you
I'sai someday when you grow up and become a wingsecond or leader, or
weyrleader you'll have these wonderful ideas as well." There's just a hint
of sarcasm in ther as she grins good naturely at the young man. "But we all
know boys take longer to mature than us girls."

I'sai snorts, he does, and keeps walking. But he's smiling.

Leya grins at Arallia, "Of course they do." She begins to wander around the
beach, digging her toes into the soft sand as she looks for carvable
driftwood, occasionally Kassi's mint out of the corner of her eye.

Kassima quips, flippant, "Can't--y'never see a fat mint stick. Almost a
shame. They'd last longer." Rolling up sleeves, she steps towards the shore
herself, boots squelching lightly once they encounter wet sand. "Oh, and
if'n anyone sees any particularly interesting seashells--I've a cousin who
gives discounts on Weaver items for additions t'his collection. And
Arallia, I'd agree... but I'm nay mature m'self yet, so how can I talk?"
That mint wiggles somewhat as she speaks, but she manages to keep ahold on
it. Leeeeya... the mint addiction is caaaalling you....

"You're special Kassi, really. Special." Arallia replies with a grin before
she dances down the beach, leaving foot prints, "Afterall, isn't that what
all us greenriders are? Special?" Sniggering as she teases she hops a bit
in the surf before hopping back to the wet sand. She doesn't 'hear' the
mint stick calling Leya since well..she's not a mint addict!

I'sai glances back yet again - only to miss a step and have to catch
himself before trying it again, this time from more of a standstill;
"-Discounts-? I'll look... but will you pass on his name, for those of us
with fewer marks than others who can use every discount we can get?"

Leya picks up a smallish piece of driftwood, turning over in her hands as
she inspects it. She shakes her head and drops it back to the sand and
walks on, interestingly enough toward the direction where Kassi is. As she
just /happens/ to be near her, she smiles sweetly, sweet at a mint stick,
at Kassi. "Do you have any other mint sticks?" Her eyes take in the
wiggling stick in Kassi's mouth.

Telgar Weyr> Arallia says, "No! Don't do it Leya Donnnnnnnn't."

Telgar Weyr> Arallia says, "Oh wait nevermind I'ma greenie so I shold be
helping Kassi!"

Telgar Weyr> I'sai's positive it's a ploy, but that's okay. ;)

Telgar Weyr> Leya trys, but, but she can't. "I can't help it... It's
/calling/ me..." ;)

Corla steps onto the beach from the port.

"'Special' being synonymous with 'mental' in this circumstance?" Kassi asks
Arallia with good-humor, grinning back. "Or 'psychotic,' at least?" One toe
extends to prod at a bit of something in the sand, but as it crumbles wetly
on contact, she wrinkles her nose and leaves it be. "Aye, certes, Leya--" A
moment's rummaging, and another fresh, shiny stick is procured from one of
her belt pouches. "Help yourself." Try it. It'll make you feeeeel good.
"Certes, Is--his name's Simian, a Journeyman, and you can't be mistaking
him. Flame-red hair and clothes nearly as bright."

Corla strides onto the beach, looking in shock as she spots all the
dragons, "Beastcrafts duties to," she looks around for a knot, "Telgar Weyr
and her queens,"

I'sai, by now in shorts and rolled-sleeved shirt, bypasses the piles of
dragon-straps and other gear, bypasses the dragons out to sea themselves,
and follows the footprints Arallia leaves in the sand as if they could be
mini tidal pools all their own; "Simian, red hair," he repeats without
actually looking, "Thanks and - huh?" This time he does look, back towards
the sound of Corla's voice.

Leya smiles brightly at Kassima as she takes the mint stick and immediantly
popping it into her mouth. "Thanks, Kassi," she says around the mint stick,
then goes on to continue hunting for acceptable driftwood.

Telgar Weyr> Leya runs off for band. Be back afterwards! :)

Kassima adds as she passes over the mint and stoops to start combing
through a series of lumps in the sand with her fingers, "He makes most of
the things I've worn, but remember t'be specifying *nay* hot pink and
bright blue combinations if'n you commission aught from him." Rocking back
on her heels, she waves a sandy hand to Corla. "Duties to the Beastcraft
and Master Leara, Apprentice, and g'day t'you."

Arallia waves to Corla before she offers duties herself, "Telgar's duties
to beastcraft hall. Welcome crafter. WE're just scrounging for driftwood
don't mind us." As to Kassi's words Arallia just gives her a grin and says,
"What can I say? You know how people view us greenriders. Liek we're scary
or something." She makes a few more footprints as she hops down the shore.
"I'll remember that," I'sai says quite sincerely, stopping where he is. To
Corla, "Ah, what Kassima said. That is, her," and he points. "Not Leya,"
and he points yet again. "But what Arallia said too," and third time's the
charm.

"And I can't *imagine* where they're getting that idea, either," Kassi
drawls, flicking her braid back over her shoulder. To Corla: "I'd be
Kassima, aye, or Kassi--that big green thing sunning itself in a most
deranged fashion is m'Lysseth." The upside-down dragon cranes her head
upwards long enough to wiggle an extended wingtip Herder-wards. Hello.

Telgar Weyr> Arallia says, "Laters Telgar!!!!"

Corla looks at the green, tilting her head slightly before shaking it, "I'm
Herder Apprentice Corla, My less impressive ride, a bay mare named
WindDancer is over at the stables," she grins.

I'sai warns, but smilingly, "They try to foster that behavior, Corla. Me,
I'm I'sai, and I've only but ridden a few times. Runners, I mean; you been
an apprentice long? And how are you for driftwood-hunting? It's all in a
good cause, I assure you; the leftovers might make a bonfire."

Kassima replies in an amiable tone, shifting in her sand-crouch to better
face the Herder, "M'cousin's wife who's of the Craft would likely disagree
about the impressiveness ratio. I have to admit a preference t'dragons--at
least you're nay sore for a sevenday after being on one's neck an hour!
We're looking for particularly weird bits so someone I'sai knows can be
carving 'em. Is, you don't want rotten things, right? This piece is
*weird*, but I don't think it'd carve well, somehow."

Corla waits until all the questions have finished before replying, "I've
been an apprentice a turn or more i think and i can't say i've ever hunted
for driftwood," She chuckles to Kassima, "I guess there is an advantage to
a ride that doesn't talk back," she quips before looking around at all the
driftwood.

"Right, no rotten parts. Maybe those'd burn all right, though," I'sai asks
on a questioning note. "A Turn... that's about how long I was apprenticed,
before Tear, so you're already ahead of me. No rotten spots, no bugs, not
lots of splinters or holes."

Kassima hefts the soggy, seaweed-stranded lump of thoroughly rotten black
something from the water, and never mind the muck now coloring hands and
spattering down to mar boots. "If'n it dried out, mayhaps--" And she lobs
it to a patch of dry sand for that purpose. "Yuck. Wouldn't *want* t'try
and carve that. Nay talk back? Believe me, Apprentice--Lysseth talks back.
Frequently. Incessantly." A snort ensues from the dragon's direction. 
"See?"

I'sai takes his own chance to eye the green wriggler; "At least she looks,
uh, ... comfortable? Well, as if she's having fun, anyway. Good wood." He
wanders on, nudging one lump with his toe, only to have to scrub his foot
in the sand after bugs start scuttling out. "'WindDancer.' Quite a name."

Kassima confirms without even glancing towards her dragon, "She is. Very
much so. If'n I could bottle the waves of giddiness coming from her right
now and sell 'em, I'd make a fortune." This said as she flops to sit in the
sand this time, the better to pull off boots and roll up pantlegs for
wading purposes. Standing, she ambles on into the shallows. Squish.
Squelch. "Do all runners have names like that, I wonder? Many seem to.
Mehlani's was Nightsong. M'second-cousin's husband has one called Slow As
Lightning."

"Better luck next time," I'sai teases, burying one foot in the sand with
the aid of the other foot and perching there. "And I'll defer to you two
about the runners' names; the one back at the smallhold was just 'Brownie,'
but that isn't near so harperly. Or interesting, really. Except that really
he was more of a gray."

Corla nods to Kassima, "And some even stranger, I've seen one called Pink
Dragon before now," she chuckles.

Kassima crinkles her nose at the tease, pulling something--seaweed--from
the shallows to heft as though considering tossing it. "So why *was* he
called Brownie?" she nevertheless has to ask. "T'me, 'brownie' means Mart,
and Mart as a runner--a gelding?--is a bit of an odd picture. Pink
*Dragon*? Was its owner, by any chance, drunk?"

"I was -just- about to ask if it had anything to do with a drink," I'sai
confesses, blinking out into the sunshine reflected off the water:
Taralyth's far out there, by now. "And yeah, gelding, and ... maybe he used
to be brown? As a what do you call them, foal? Or maybe that was the name
of the runner before him, and so it made it easier to remember... dunno."

Corla laughs, "Maybe, I think it's one of the ones we were trying to sell,"
she laughs, "Who's Mart?"

Kassima lets the seaweed fall from her hand with a wet *splat*, meandering
through the water and kicking lightly at sand-lumps thence. One such kick
dislodges something, which she stoops to lift and check--then flings away,
disgusted. "Dead fish. Eeeyurgh." The 'lizards are entirely too happy to
fly after the soaring corpse, however. "Foal, and colt for males, isn't it?
Mart's M'rgan, brown Ularrith's rider, I'sai's Wingleader and the bane of
my existance."

Corla nods, "That's right, " she pauses, "Are you allowed to talk about a
wingleader like that?" Of course, she never talks about her masters like 
that.

I'sai's nose just wrinkles, and he turns the other direction, away from the
greenrider and further back along the beach, Corla's way. "Talk about - oh,
she _is_ a wingleader, so she gets away with it. Though don't ask her about
a certain Weyrsecond... What's the name for baby-girl-runners, then?"

Corla smiles to I'sai, "A filly," before pausing until temptation takes
over, "What about a certain Weyrsecond?"

"Filly," Kassi echoes, scrubbing off hands on trouser-sides. "Aye, he has
the right of it. Though I'd likely talk about Mart that way regardless. I
do about 'Lex and Tas, after all--Jal, well, I'm too afraid of his leather
collection t'be saying too much about him. Is he the Weyrsecond 'twere
meaning, I'sai?"

I'sai ill-hides a smile, though his, "Thank you," is dulcet enough. He's
just wandering, just looking for driftwood, really he is. "...Hm? Oh, yes.
Now that you mention it."

Kassima casts her eyes skyward. "I'm *much* more apt t'be teasing Tas, the
other Weyrsecond," she confides to Corla. "He's a bronzerider, and bronzers
make better taunt-fodder than greenriders--greens get *revenge*, y'see.
Whereas if'n I took some of this abundant seaweed and put it down a
*bronzer's* shirt, just say, purely hypothetically you understand, I'd be
much more like t'be surviving the experience."

I'sai, around now, happens to walk more quickly across the beach and away,
as if the sand were ever so hot from the sun. "About that -driftwood-...
either of you found a decent piece yet?"

Corla shakes her head, starting to look again, "I could try and get my
flits to help if you want?" she offers, grinning, "Though they'd be more
likely to fly off with it than hand it over,"

"Nah, don't bother, it'd probably be too heavy anyway if it's a decent
size." I'sai's keeping a wary eye on both females no doubt inhibits his
hunt, but he gives it a shot anyway. "Unless you have hordes, and then
they'd likely drop it on our heads, and then where would we be."

Kassima's shoulders aren't shaking from suppressed snickers. Surely not.
"This section seems t'be too rife with dead things for good wood," she
decides, backing away from it to seek out a new hunting ground. "Might be
something in deeper waters, but Lyss would have m'hide if'n I swam and then
tried t'get home in wet clothing. I'm thinking we'd be unconscious and
eventually buried alive by playful Holdbrats."

Corla laughs, "I have five, i wouldn't call it a hoard." she paces along
the beach, spotting what looks like a bit of wood. Though when it starts to
crawl into the water she takes a quick step back and starts searching
somewhere else.

I'sai slants another look to see -where- she might be backing; "Buried
alive. Well, I suppose that's better than burned alive," he says
philosophically. "Unless that just comes next. -Apprentices- wouldn't do
anything like that, would they, Corla? Just Holdbrats? ...Were you a
Holdbrat once? I was. And five, that doesn't sound so bad, for all that I'm
quite happy with the one."

Corla chuckles, "I was sort of a holdbrat at Keroon though i grew up
looking after runners so it doesn't really count," she starts hunting
around for more seaweed...i mean driftwood.

"Death by fire elicits lots of screaming." Let's just not ask how Kassi
knows this, all right? "'Twas a Holdbrat m'self, and *we* would certes have
done that. Come t'think of it, methinks we did. I wonder whether that guy
managed t'free himself ere the tide came in?" She quite carefully covers
any sign of facetiousness by bending her head to the searching task.
"Five's a good number. I've nay had just five in ages, and methinks I'm
sorry--hey, Is, what about this?" She hauls from the shallows a
black-barked branch, about an armlength long and nearly as thin, with a few
bedraggled leaves still clinging tenaciously to a twig or two. "Don't know
what you could carve from it," she admits, turning it over speculatively.
"Nay very thick, 'tisn't."

I'sai by now doesn't miss a step at the tale, just grins, and once the
branch's displayed wanders over to look - if, cautiously, not within
branch-hurling distance. "I'm looking for more ... more a real driftwood,"
he says. "You know how it gets all smooth and sort of silvery? That. But
it's a start."

Corla scouts around the beach, "How big a piece are you looking for?" she
asks, hovering over one part of the beach.

Kassima agrees, standing to hurl the hapless branch back into the sea to
drift again--kersplash!--"Could likely recognize what you meant. The
kidlets have found random bits t'bring and show me when I take 'em t'Boll
now and then--though naught large. Don't think aught silvery's apt t'be
found in the water." So she slogs back to the beach, with more squelching
noises and damp footprints left in the sand behind her. "What're you going
t'be having this carved *into*, or d'you know? Just abstract things, or a
dragon, or...?"

I'sai pushes his sleeves back up over his elbows again and shows, "About
from wrist to elbow? Only," he adds self-critically, "A little wider
around. Lugging firestone and climbing dragons and so on, they give you
some muscle, but think of more of a smith's forearm. ...Oh, we'll see. See
how all the pieces look together, too."

I'sai adds, "But probably not a dragon. I'd guess."

Corla hefts a piece up, "Is that one good? It's a bit silvery but that
might just be water slime," she chuckles, passing the piece from hand to 
hade.

Kassima offers, in a tone brimming with innocence, "Breaking 'stone is a
great way t'be building muscle, too. Particularly in the Bowl. And
shirtless. Because then you build up leg muscle, too, running from the
Caverns lasses when they throw themselves at you--oh, that looks a fair
bit, Corla. At least from here."

I'sai just doesn't look at Kassima any. No, he's headed Corla's way, to
look, "Let's clean it off? I like how it looks really ... really ... really
woody, which is a good thing, because it -is- wood and... uh, -never- 
mind."

Corla would just happen to have a piece of sea-weed in her hand at this
minute and wouldn't you know it....It slips down the Bronzeriders
back,....How did that happen?

Kassima is grinning the grin of a woman whose mental scoreboard has once
again been updated. Kassima: 42,859; Bronzeriders: 0. "How woody would a
wood-bit be if'n a wood-bit would be wood?" she sing-songs, before breaking
off into helpless snickering at this stealth attack.

I'sai just doesn't even -try- for an impassive look, not with his spine
arching as the slimy thing slithers down it, his eyes bulging, and his
mouth gaping in horror as he plucks frantically at his shirt.

Howl. Oh, *howl* with laughter does Kassima, landing firmly on her seat in
the sand and wrapping arms around her midriff as hoots of mirth escape her.
"Priceless! *Priceless*! Good work!" she yells to Corla between guffaws;
even Lysseth indulges in an amused rumble or two. "You look as though you'd
a tunnelsnake down your pants!" That, presumably, to I'sai.

Corla quickly shifts the wood into both hands, putting on her perfected
innocent look.

Nor does I'sai appear to notice the innocent look, nor even the greenrider
- aside from her admittedly notable noises - in favor of finally wrenching
the shirt free of his shorts so the seaweed can slurp to the sand,
sputtering indecipherable but quite polysyllabic noises of his own.

Telgar Weyr> Leya's back! :)

Corla stifles a laugh the innocent look completely faded, she just looks at
the sea-weed grinning.

Kassima cuts her laughter short--or quieter, at least--long enough to
listen to the noises with some interest. "I'sai, we've got t'be teaching
you how t'be cursing better'n *that*," she decides. "Can't half make out
what you're saying, and if'n nay, what's the point?" Getting to her feet
and dusting off the seat of her much-abused pants, she says quite
sincerely, "Corla, I admire you. You'll do well as an eventual
Emasculator-wielder with such talent for evil at your command."

Leya comes back up from the far side of the beach with a armload of
driftwood which is trying valiently not to drop. "I got some really good
driftwood way down that side of the beach," she says gesturing with her
head, "I'sai? Swearing? About what?"

Corla smiles, sweetly, to Kassima, "I have been fully trained in the use of
the emasculator," she completely leaves out the fact it took an angry
master to get her to use the thing, "I could demonstrate," she sends a
glance to the squirmed Bronzerider.

Leya blinks, carefully sets her armload of driftwood down on the sand in
front of her feet, then straightens back up. She eyes Corla, "I don't
usually bet, but if you ever get searched I'd bet several marks that you'd
get green."

Kassima does not fear the sweet smile, but rather returns it with one of
her own. "'Twas nay *trained*," she admits. "I had t'be learning how t'use
it on m'own, but Master Caitria got me one, and I had m'cousin put m'name
on the handle--quite an interesting item of decoration it makes for m'weyr,
too. Shells, Leya--looks as though you met with more success than us!" She
even whistles at the armload of driftwood before answering, "Oh, Corla put
seaweed down his shirt. Isn't that lovely? You're definitely learning which
odds t'be leaning towards in betting, too."

I'sai, by now, has his formerly pristine shirt off and with the dirty parts
scrunched to the inside, and is fastidiously scrubbing his back with the
once-white material. Finally, as he stalks over to his straps and sacks,
"That had better be some good driftwood, Corla - " and only then spots
Leya, "My hero. If too late to save me the rest of the way."

Driftwood? The piece was all but forgetten in Corla's hands, "Oh, this bit
you mean?" she asks, hefting it between her hands.

Kassima shakes her head at I'sai, still amused. Still snickering, in fact,
if more quietly. "Nay need t'be so put out, y'know--the shirt'll come
clean; just be taking some sand to it. Or soapsand, in a pinch. I'll swear,
Leya, you never *saw* such entertainment. Such an expression! Such noises!
Good thing I'd finished m'mint-stick by then, or I'd have choked t'death."

Leya shakes her head, only smiling a little, just a little as she looks
over I'sai. She quickly looks down and pokes at the wood with her foot to
hide it, "There was a whole lot around some big rocks farther down the
beach." She manages to suppress the smile and looks back up at I'sai, "Are
you all right?"

I'sai returns with slate and stylus, the latter of which he employs to
scribe 'KEROON' on the former before handing it over; "Write your name and
rank there, and then give 'em both back to me." The first one's Tillek with
Lady Selchin and apprentice harper Alysia, second one Boll and apprentice
weaver Kayley, third Ista and candidate Keira. "And yeah, I'm all right. It
was just ... just ... just -slimy-," evidently a heinous crime in his book.

I'sai adds, pained, "And it smelled. Stains aside."

Corla looks over to the slate before quickly writing her name down, "Herder
Apprentice Corla," she speaks as she writes it down before looking over,
grinning before handing the slate back.

"Feh," Kassi chuckles, flopping to a seat next to her still-basking dragon.
"A'lex didn't panic half so much when I threw the squid at him, that
once--though I do believe he *screamed* more. Where's next on the list?"
Without really waiting for an answer, she leans back against her green and
laughs quietly for several minutes more. "Squeamish bronzers. Who'd have
thought it. But if'n you want, I've mint-scented hide oil you could be
borrowing, for the fair." This mint obsession is perhaps starting to carry
a bit too far.

Corla blinks to Kassi, "You threw a squid at the Weyrleader?!" her voice
rises in pitch.

"Thanks," I'sai mutters as he takes it back, if not as graciously as all
that; "And the wood? ...Here, Leya, this slate's for you, although I only
need one piece of what you've got, the one you like best." He slits another
glance at Kassima and sun alike, "The fair?"

Corla hands over the largish chunk of wood, "There you are," she wipes her
hands quickly on her tunic after touching it.

I'sai retreats to dump the wood in its sack with slightly happier thanks,
then advances on Leya and her load.

Leya steps around her pile of driftwood and steps closer to I'sai to look
at his shirt. "Huh. The lower caverns women won't be happy having to get
the shirt white again." She shrugs and digs her toes into the sand. "Just
be glad you don't live in Ista then. Kassi would probably find some more
seaweed for you." She takes the slate from I'sai, "All right. I'm sure I
could find a use for the rest." She signs her name and rank under Corla's
then hands if back over.

"He wasn't Weyrleader *then*," Kassi hastens to assure. "Either Weyrling or
full bronzer only--but come t'think of it, I *should* do that again if'n I
can drag him to a beach. Nay as though he could ground me right now." Ah,
the prospect of crime without punishment. Watch her face light up. "Mmm,
aye--" A finger is flicked towards the fire-lizards sporting in the surf,
squabbling over various fish dead and live alike. "The fair. They're
usually bathing in the oil-bin, but now and then one wants oiled right
*now*, so I have t'be carrying the stuff."

I'sai dutifully thanks Leya as well before returning the slate to its pile
and coming back for her own wood-block: "...Oh. So you're saying, slime
-plus- mint."

Kassima sticks out her tongue at I'sai. The epitome of maturity, she. "Wash
*off* the slime, rub in the oil, then you'll just have mint and nay
slime-scent. Though you might want t'be staying away from Leya, then. She
might drool on you." She closes one dark green eye in a teasing wink to the
other mint-addictee.

Leya kneels in the sand next her pile of driftwood, pulling up several
pieces on inspecting them closely, before standing back up. She holds a
longish piece of driftwood with smooth grain and one interesting hollow
spot near the end. "I think this is the best piece, but you can look at the
rest if you want."

Telgar Weyr> Kassima acks as she realizes the vague surreality of what she
bought at Village Pantry for dinner. Sausage and a York peppermint patty.
Life is imitating art again.

I'sai squints momentarily at Kassima with a, "We'll see. ...An' I trust
you, Leya," reaching out for the wood, "Uh, for that, anyway. She's trying
to make me suspicious; -you- wouldn't do that, would you? Drool?"

Telgar Weyr> Leya laughs! "You're planning on going out in any snow are 
you?"

Telgar Weyr> Meli says, "You're not /really/ having twins, are you?"

Telgar Weyr> Kassima says, "If the weather gets bad here again; you never
know. ;) Nope, Meli. I can say that with a great deal of safety and
assurance."

Leya glares half-heartedly at Kassima, then looks over I'sai. "I won't
droll, I promise." She grins mischeiviously,"Though I might go off and dry
to find myself a mint stick before I start licking the oil off."

Corla laughs, "What it is with mint at the moment?" she asks, "You riders
seem obsessed by it,"

I'sai's eyes just widen to show their whites as well as irises' outer
rings, and he stumbles back a few steps, dropping the last wood-piece on
the heap before deciding, "I'd better... better go wash Taralyth. Right
-now-," and hurries out into the water to join the dragons.

Leya grins at Corla, "Not all of us. Just Kassi, and myself. And it's her
fault about me, she got me started on it." She just laughs as I'sai
stumbles back and runs off. "He's so funny..."

"Licking the oil off," Kassi repeats, thoughtful. "Sounds like something
you should do in a less public place, if'n you catch m'meaning... I've more
mint-sticks if'n you want. The Healers still haven't caught me." Shoulders
shaking again with silent mirth as I'sai flees--brave Sir I'sai ran away;
bravely ran away, away!--she rests a hand on her stomach and admits, "'Tis
the craving obsession of this spawning-round, 'twould seem. Leya, now, she
doesn't have any excuse. But mint-sticks *are* highly addictive."

Corla shakes her head, "Never tried them myself, Guess there aren't many at
the Herder hall," she shrugs, watching the Bronzerider run, letting the
sea-weed that happened to be in her hand drop to the sand.

Leya rolls her eyes, "I don't think I'sai was planning on rubbing any of on
himself and besides, I didn't mean it /that/ way." She grins and holds out
her hand, "Hand one over then. I really ought to get myself me own stash."
She smiles at Corla, "Ask your healer. She'd probably have some."

Kassima is more than glad to fish two more mint-sticks from her belt pouch
and offer one to each woman, then tug out a third for herself. "They're
wonderful things--the only good thing Healers do for us. Leya, I devoutly
hope nay. Nay *here*. I mean, I'm just nay into watching that sort of 
thing."

Corla takes the mint stick cautiously and starts to chew on it, "Strange
flavour," she comments, before grinning, "I've never needed a healer yet
myself,"

Leya takes the mint-stick from Kassi with a smile, then gestures at Kassi
with it, "And I'm nay into doing that sort of thing. So stop worrying." She
sticks the end part of the mint in her mouth and sucks on it. "I'd much
radder eat it dis way, than 'ave to lick it off," she says with the
mint-stick still in her mouth.

Leya takes the mint-stick out of her mouth the wag it a Corla, "Oh, just
wait, you will. You trip, sprain you ankle, a healer will find out and next
thing you know you can't do anything for three days."

Kassima chortles around her own mouthful of mint, leaning back against
Lysseth and wiggling her toes absently in a sort of beach-induced
contentment. "Methinks I'm inclined t'be agreeing with you," she tells
Leya, "especially since mint-scented oil wouldn't *taste* good--I usually
don't, but now and then they pounce on me. Comes with the pregnancy
territory. At least you don't have t'be dealing with Ushu and his Rose
Petals of Doom."

Corla looks worried, "I've got thrown from a runner a couple of times but
never bothered to see a healer," she sucks some more on the mint stick,
"Rose petals of doom?"

"Kassi will have to answer that. Thankfully, from what I've heard, I
haven't had to deal with that certain healer." Leya puts her mint-stick
back in her mouth and smiles, "Just Jenren."

"Got bucked off a bronco in a rodeo once," Kassi mentions, "but I only went
to the Infirmary t'be seeing how Auri faired with her broken wrist and t'be
getting numbweed for m'injured... ah... dignity." Her expression turns
momentarily sour at mention of Jenren, but it's gone in an instant, and she
proceeds to explain indeed. "Ushu's this Journeyman Healer who does
research--good research, must be, but he's *hopeless* at practical things.
He sees rose petals as the cure to every problem. He's been at two of
m'spawnings, and fainted both times, but E'vrin wouldn't let me kill him
last time."

Corla blinks, "Rose petals? I didn't know they were any good for healing,"
she chuckles, "I don't see the craft healer around much, from what i heard
he spends most of him time visiting some girl at Keroon," Corla shrugs,
sucking some more on the mint stick.

Kassima confirms, with considerable disgust, "They're nay, or so
Kyssia--another cousin, a Journeywoman--tells me. But they smell good, and
so Ushu puts 'em in possets and fusses over making sure the cool cloth for
a spawning woman's head is rose-scented. He may be better with certain
other things--did well enough with Auri's wrist in the end, I suppose--but
he's another of those banes t'my existance, if'n nay so much so as Mart."

Corla laughs, "My Ma always told me healer stuff was supposed to taste and
smell bad, to stop you getting sick in the first place,"

Leya grins, "Maybe I could get him to put some in a nice bowl for me and
set them around my weyr so it'll smell nice. Tell him I'll keep well that
way." She nods to Corla, "I think they do it as a kind of punishment for
getting yourself sick."

Kassima admits, "He likely *would* do that, but then he'd want t'be
examining you now and then t'see how it affected your health--in the name
of research, y'know... that goes with what other things of the Healers I've
had. Potions, powders, teas, yech. Naught as bad as the hangover remedy,
though, and that's made by someone who's *nay* a Healer."

Leya wrinkles her nose, "Maybe I could just sneak in and get some with him
knowing then." She brightens, "Or send someone else to get them for me."
The joys of delegation. "Why would take something that tastes awful if it
wasn't from a healer? Does it work?"

Corla shakes her head, hiding a grin, "I've never had a hang-over myself
though i know a few apprentices that could do with that,"

Kassima offers, entirely too eagerly, "I could be trying t'snare some on
m'next trip t'steal sticks? Aye, it works--which is precisely why I still
take it. Tastes even worse than the tincture of asparagus Salless used t'be
making. Horrible, icky, goopy green stuff... but it takes down the headache
and handles the nausea."

Corla pauses, "Though if you have flits why not send them in to snatch some
sticks," she shrugs, "Not many healers can tell who owns the flit just by
looking at it,"

Leya smiles at Kassima, "Could you? Thanks!" She wrinkles her nose,
"Asparagus? It's worse than that. Yet another reason not to get drunk. Even
though avoiding spawning is a even better reason."

"They keep 'em in a large glass jar," Kassima explains. "So I steal the jar
and then return it later, empty. I've enough 'lizards t'be taking the whole
jar, but they might drop it and that'd be trouble. Easier this way.
Le-*ya*," she then groans, rolling her eyes, "nay everyone spawns when
they're drunk! Look at me. I've been sloshed countless times, and only
spawned as a result twice. If'n you include this time. I blame it on
drinking with psychotic greenriders whose names begin with J; avoid that
and you'll be safe."

A small blue flies over to Corla, hide held in it's talon, Corla unfurls
the note and then grins, "That's my reminder from a friend of mine i've got
a class later," she chuckles, "Thank you for your company," and with that
she turns in the direction of the stables.

Corla walks over the hill to the port.

Leya frowns down at her sandy toes, which she wiggles in the sand. "But you
never know /which/ time you get...sloshed that he might spawn." She looks
up and holds out her hands, "And it's just you that needs to avoid
greenriders with J names. Maybe with me it's, it's /blueriders/ with S
names! And I won't find out until it's too late!" She doesn't notice until
it's too late that Corla has gone and sends a belated wave toward her back.

Kassima waves after Corla likewise, calling after her, "Duties to the
Beastcraft and her Masters!" Back to Leya her attention then goes. "This is
a good point," she admits. "With me, it's been... well, shards, nigh every
time I slept with someone outside a flight. Likely would've spawned with
E'vrin, too, if'n I hadn't been spawning with him already." There's a
statement as clear as mud. "It could be brownriders with M names? So just
don't ever sleep with *Mart*...."

Leya folds her arms across her chest, "See? So I think I'll just avoid
drinking. I'd avoid flights too if I could." She sends an annoyed look over
at Tovith who is having a wonderful time playing in the water with her
firelizards. "I doubt you'll have to worry about that. I doubt Kena would
like it too much."

"Flights aren't *so* bad," Kassi remarks, tipping her head back to peer at
her own sprawled green hellbeast. "Though, i'truth, I have to admit I'd
like 'em better if'n 'twas guaranteed a dragon with a male rider would be
catching--nay offense t'you and Tovith meant. Doesn't worth that way, alas.
Though I did forget t'be congratulating you on Tovith's catching Tierth;
apologies for that breach of manners." She raises an imaginary glass to
pantomime a toast to the brown. "You may have a point. You could spawn
with... mmm... A'ser? That'd work."

Leya nods to Kassi, "I'd prefer not to catching, no offense to you or
Lysseth." She smiles wanely at the congratulations, "You'd think I'd get
used to waking up next to anyother woman like that by now. Tovith seems
like to greens with female riders. Oh well, at least I can't spawn with
them." She chokes, her eyes going very wide. "A..A'ser?!" she finally spits
out. "You're kidding! Right?" She rubs her temples with her right hand, "Me
with A'ser spawn..." she murmurs under her breath.

Kassima observes, not at all unsympathetic, "Lysseth's first three flights
were all won by blues with female riders. And I'd nay other... experience,
as 'twere, so 'twas a bit dismaying. I quite understand. She still gets
caught by women-ridden blues or browns frequently enough, but nay *always*,
for which I'm grateful." And she reaches back to slap the green hide behind
her fondly in an expression of that gratitude. "Why nay?" she asks then,
all innocence. "'Twould be an interesting child. Maybe then he'd decide
t'gift *you* randomly with underwear rather than me."

Leya nods and blushes as she looks at the ground, "Yeah, M'dei was my
first, uh, experience with a male rider." The color on her face deepens,
though for a different reason as her eyes jerk back up to meet Kassi's.
"But I don't want to be given underwear!" she wails.

Kassima grins faintly at the admission. "As T'lar was mine, but don't tell
him so. I don't think he ever realized." That grin turns to something
considerably more mischievous as she suggests, "Mayhaps he'd give you lacy
dresses instead, then, if'n you'd rather?" Yep. She's in a wicked mood.

Leya smiles at Kassi, "I won't." Any friendly companionship she might have
felt at the first part is lost by the 'lacy dress' comment. "Yick." She
glances over at Tovith and her 'lizards. "I think I'm going to follow
I'sai's example and go wash Tovith before you come up with any more plans
involving A'ser and myself."

Kassima chortles, only chortles, and nods agreeably. "Aye, I should likely
be getting back t'be oiling Lysseth m'self. She's starting t'complain about
that sand itching on her wings--and why you *sprawl* in it like that if'n
it bothers you so, I don't know, wench." Lyss only grumps a reply.

Leya nods to Kassi, still eyeing her warily over her shoulder as she walks
over toward Tovith as he swims back toward the shallow water.