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The Defiance and Punishment of a Bronzerider


Date:  December 2, 1997
Places:  Telgar Weyr's Southern Bowl and Living Cavern
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:  I still rather wish that Kassi had gotten to take a swing
at H'tor--or better yet, castrate him; unlike Mart (maybe), this guy
really deserved it.  I suppose it's all for the best that she didn't,
though.  Dawn sweeps for life wouldn't be the best of consequences to
face for one moment's indulgence.  Anyway, this was a rather interesting
log.  Kudos go to Aph for @emitting H'tor. :)  Things prefixed by <*>
take place away from Lysseth while Kassi is riding her; all other things
should be fairly straightforward.

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The Log:

You fly downwards towards the ground.

You backwing for a landing on sands of the bowl.

<*> R'val hrms, "Can't miss 'em with this color." He remarks, dipping a 
rope.

<*> Above, There are a loud series of bugles and rumbles as Thunderbolt 
Wing returns from patrol. From the timbre of the dragons' voices, all is 
not quite well.

<*> Laerth backwings for a landing.

<*> Emlyn nods to R'val. "And it's a pain to scrub off."

Dragon> Benden dragons sense that Laerth gives a rather irritated rumble 
as he and his rider return from patrol.

<*> Maylia breaks her concentration on the wing for a moment to raise her 
eyes to the returning Thunderbolts, then snaps back to attention.

<*> Laerth gives a very LOUD *rumble* that is almost a roar as he settles 
hard to theground in his rather abrupt landing, sending snow everywhere. 
His rider, virtually red-faced, hastens to remove the straps and jump to 
the ground.

<*> P'tran comes down from Laerth's neck in one smooth motion.

<*> Lysseth lands amongst her wingmates, looking about as peeved as a 
dragon can. Eyes whirling with streaks of red, she flips her wings back to 
allow her rider to dismount. Those who get a good glimpse of Kassi's face 
might be able to see that the Wingsecond looks... annoyed. Even angry. 
Very rare in a non-proddy Kassi.

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.

R'val nods to Emlyn with a wry smile, "The harder it is to scrub off, the 
more of an object lesson it is."

Nraith cranes his neck to watch the Thunderbolt wing.

Sionelle looks up for just a moment at the returning dragons, and then 
inclines her chin to A'lex and Maylia. "Have they all chewed stone? And 
have you stocked enough for the drill in the sacks at their necks?"

P'tran looks over. "Where in Faranth's name is ... " He looks up in time 
to see one of the Telgar bronzes landing, namely Candeth, giving his own 
*ROAR* as he lands, almost in challange. "H'TOR, GET OVER HERE!!" the 
Wingleader bellows at the bronze's rider!

A'lex just glances at the wing, silently asking the same question of them.

R'val glances startledly at P'tran.

Those Weyrlings who AREN'T startled to death by P'tran nod affirmatively 
to A'lex and Sionelle.

A'lex says "Yes, ma'am, chewed, stocked and ready."

Sionelle eyes P'tran from the side, and her eyebrow stays right where it 
is-- up. The man can certainly -yell- better than K'tyn.

H'tor hops down from his bronze, fuming. His fists clenched, he storms out 
of the bowl and into the LC.

Emlyn peers at the weyrleader, her face mirroring the surprise on most 
other people's faces. She scowls as she notes that her distraction has 
resulted in some drips of red dye on the toe of one boot. 

Maylia nods crisply to the Weyrlingmaster, the weyrlings in their section
have filled sacks of stone. "All ready, Weyrlingmaster." She affirms.

"If'n that man weren't a rider, I'd wring his stubborn neck with m'bare
hands!" Kassi mutters, none-too-quietly as her eyes locate and fasten on 
bronze Candeth. Wincing at the Wingleader's bellow and the resounding roar 
that her own Lysseth echoes it with, she actually scowls at the man. And 
she isn't alone. Several of the Thunderbolt riders nearby look none-too-
pleased with their bronze wingmate... in fact, that may be an 
understatement.

Sionelle nods, returning her attention to the class. "Good. Then mount up. 
Emlyn, R'val? Have you got those ropes dye--" The weyrlingmaster pauses as 
she turns to face her assistants, and finds Emlyn with the red liquid on 
her boots. "I see. The ropes and yourselves. Good enough." She holds out a 
hand for a clump to carry.

R'val passes Sionelle a clump wordlessly, without mentioning that there's 
not a drop of red dye on him.

Benden LC> H'tor, the surly Telgarian bronzerider, storms in from the 
bowl, expression dark. He barely keeps from glowering, and manages a 
somewhat curt salute to the Weyrleader that borders on insolence. He 
ignores everyone else as he strides for the hearth, pouring a glass of 
wine, and growling under his breath to let everyone know how displeased he 
is.

Maylia nods to the weyrlingmaster, but remembering that A'lex is 'in 
charge' this time around, she looks to him for the mount-up command, to 
pass along to the wing.

D'thon watches quietly, readying himself.

Emlyn plops a clump on top of R'val's clump. She meets Sionelle's eye for 
a second before moving toward Pleiath. A trail of red drops marks her 
passage.

A'lex signals the Weyrlings to mount-up. "Let's do it."

P'tran goes starkly red-faced. "Oh no you don't ..." he mutters, and runs 
in after him.

P'tran walks beneath the lintel and disappears into the living cavern.

Benden LC> Elese raises an eyebrow at H'tor. "Evening."

A'lex steps up on a forelimb and climbs up between two of Nraith's 
neckridges.

Maylia passes the signal down the ranks, before turning to Tierth. "Ready, 
dearest?" She asks, rubbing the green shoulder before mounting.

Kassima stares after H'tor as the man disappears into the Living Cavern. 
Without a further word, she sprints after the Wingleader.

You walk past the lintel and into the wide living cavern.

Davidon smiles as he wanders in, pushing damp hair away from his face. 
"Howdy."

P'tran tears his helmet from his head and slams it down on atable. "H'tor, 
don't you *DARE* walk away from me when I'm talking to you!" he shouts, 
pretty much at the top of his lungs, soemthing that is very rare for him 
outside of shouting orders in Threadfall.

Tarvin smiles at the many new arrivals, and waves to those that he knows 
in particular.

K'tyn looks at the pies. "Good ones," he says shortly, blowing breath into 
his mouth to cool it. "If you mean flavors--it looks like blue and red 
berry." Kiat nods at P'tran, Kassima, Davidon and at H'tor, eyeing the man 
carefully as he comes in. "Huh," he mumbles.

Tarvin blinks, still not used to dragonriders arguing in public.

Davidon jumps at the sound of P'tran's voice and peers around. "Ah...??"

Elese jumps in her chair slightly, fork poised in her hands. "Ah ha..."

Kassima sprints into the Cavern a few steps behind P'tran, her expression 
stormy and her fists clenched. "How *dare* you--" she begins to ask H'tor, 
sounding rather enraged, but she bites back the rest when P'tran beats her 
to it. Fuming, she snaps a curt salute to the Weyrleader and stalks over 
to where the bronzerider is sitting. She looks downright homicidal. This 
can't be a good sign.

H'tor abruptly spins about, regarding P'tran. He no more wants to be in 
P'tran's wing than P'tran wants him in Thunderbolt - that much is obvious.
"Wingleader," H'tor drawls, contempt for the other bronzerider barely 
hidden in his voice, "I must not have heard you." And added mumble under 
his breath, "Just like I didn't hear you defend Telgar!"

Tarvin winces as he gets a good look at Kassi's expression. This is not 
going to be pretty.

K'tyn drops both pies to the table, the sweet forgotten as he stares, 
almost shocked, at P'tran's exclamation. His black brows pull together as 
he tries to assess the situation.

Cerilla walks in from the bowl.

Davidon mutters a soft 'whoa' under his breath. Dark eyes flicker to 
Kassima worriedly, he's never seen the greenrider so upset when her 
dragon wasn't proddy.

Tarvin very carefully focuses his attention on his pie, but his ears are 
perked. His little blue curls his tail tightly around Tarvin's neck, to 
the point where Tarvin has to reach up and loosen it, a bit.

Cerilla gives her boots a stomp on the threshold as she quietly enters, 
her dark glance sweeping over a few riders in the cavern. Stripping off 
her gloves finger by finger, she tucks these deftly under her belt.

P'tran literally doesn't even see who else is in the room. Other 
Thunderbolt riders come into the room, most staying a good distance back. 
His eyes are blazing as he faces H'tor. "I told you back there on patrol," 
he starts, "That is was not a matter of who is right or wrong. I will 
*NOT* have riders being pitted against other riders in my Wing over 
*any*thing, under *any* circumstances!"

Sandar smiles a greeting to the newcomers.

Sandar stops smiling as P'tran explodes, his mouth open as though he were 
about to issue a greeting, but no sound comes out.

Tarvin glances over at Sandar, his expression shocked.

"Then I *suggest* you get your hearing checked, *bronzerider*," Kassima 
snarls. "Your attitude has put you in hot water enough tonight without 
adding insolence to it as well!" Oh, yeah, she's peeved.

Cerilla's fluid steps take the muscular woman to a table near the group, 
and this she perches on with a quiet, watchful air. Raking slender, 
calloused fingers through her grey-touched dark hair, the woman narrows 
her gaze on H'tor.

"P'tran," K'tyn says intensely as he gets to his feet and moves for the 
older bronzerider, shooting a quelling glance at Kassima. "P'tran!"

H'tor completely ignores Kassima; for him, she doesn't exist. He takes a 
gulp of his wine, looking completely at ease despite his words, held low a 
bare step from a growl. "It /is/ a matter of who is right and wrong. That 
is why you sharding Benden riders think you know everything, but you 
don't! You come in here with your /tactics/," He drawls, lip curling, "And 
look what happens! A burrow, right under Benden's noses!" He completely 
ignores the fact that the burrow was on the border; it makes no difference 
to his indignation.

J'lyn walks in from the bowl.

"Riders who know their duty," Cerilla drawls, her blue eyes sharp on 
H'tor, "Know to watch their own rather than everyone elses'. Or did your 
WeyrlingMaster not teach you that H'tor? You're so busy watching Benden, 
your duty flies beneath your dragon's wings. You watch your space, we'll 
watch ours. Simple."

P'tran steps up to H'tor. "H'tor, there is a lot bigger issue here than 
just this burrow," he says, his voice a little more even-tempered, but 
still very much angry. "You talk about throwing weight around. That's 
exactly what you've been doing in this Wing, H'tor, from day one! I am the 
Wingleader of Thunderbolt, and *not* you. Kassima and J'lyn are my 
wingseconds, and they are in command when I am not there. You obey their 
orders," he says, emphasizing each word loudly of his last sentence. "They 
told you to stop, and you ignored them completely!"

J'lyn wanders in, slowly stripping his gloves off, eyes taking in the 
entire cavern.

Elese rests her chin on her fist and nibbles on her dinner, silently 
watching the scene.

K'tyn strides forward, stepping in between the combatants to try and take 
control of this volatile situation. "CEASE!" He shouts, glaring at H'tor 
and at P'tran. More moderately, he says, "Cease this argument now, or be 
grounded until I say otherwise!"

H'tor spares a glance for Cerrilla, and snorts. "I know my duties, 
brownrider. It's hardly my fault that Benden Weyr doesn't know theirs." 
Attention refocuses on P'tran, eyes narrowing at his words. "I have been 
doing merely what I've been taught and trained to do. To lead a wing. You 
want me to follow those greenriders," A wrist flickers, barely, in the 
direction of the two wingseconds. "They can barely keep themselves from 
jumping into bed with everything that moves, let alone /lead/ a wing!"

J'lyn jerks his head back at that remark, his eyes turning to shards of 
green ice at the upstart young bronzerider. Saying nothing, his gaze takes 
in Kassima and P'tran, then finally settle on said upstart.

K'tyn looks at H'tor, his face an expressionless mask. "That's it. 
Grounded until further notice!"

Kassima grits her teeth, visibly fuming at the Weyrleader's glance. She 
doesn't look pleased in the least about being silent. *Especially* not 
when H'tor spouts that last bit of verbal sewage. "If'n you ever say that 
again," she grates, green eyes afire, "I...." Again, she snaps her jaw 
shut at K'tyn's latest edict--but if she could make things spontaneously 
combust with her glare alone, H'tor would be a living torch.

P'tran very nearly explodes when he hears H'tor's response, but at the 
loud voice of K'tyn, he stops himself short. He turns on K'tyn, his eyes 
still blazing with anger, though not directed at the Weyrleader. He takes 
a deep breath and says more evenly, and in a more normal tone of voice. 
"Apologies, Weyrleader." When he hears K'tyn's pronouncement, he turns 
back to H'tor with some satisfactions. "I had the exact same idea, 
Weyrleader, and I completely concur. He has shown my Wingseconds and other 
wingmates disrespect for the last few sevendays."

H'tor's head whips around at K'tyn's words; this time, all traces of 
casualness are gone from his stance. "WHAT?!" He glowers at the 
Weyrleader, barely keeping back some more choice remarks. "You can't /do/ 
that to me!"

P'tran says "I will *not* have him up in the air with Thunderbolt another 
moment longer."

Cerilla's critical eye passes over the egotistical Bronzerider, her 
expression suggesting most Weyrlings know their duty better than he. She 
doesn't speak up though, K'tyn having taken the scene firmly in hand. She 
watches him studiously, an almost imperceptible smile appearing on her 
lips.

H'tor shoots a glare at P'tran, not even bothering to keep his voice low 
as he answers with indignation, "And I would not fly with Thunderbolt, 
either! Not given who leads it. And /how/ it is lead."

K'tyn nods at P'tran, then turns to regard the Telgari bronzerider. "I can 
do it. I just did it." His eyes turn icily vague for a moment as he relays 
the message to H'tor's Bronze--and to the other dragons in the weyr. 
"You'll not fly. In fact, I think that you'll be mucking out the infirmary 
until Jerissa has no need of you. And then, I think the latrines will need 
your muscles."

Davidon perks up at someone -else- needing to help clean the infirmary. 
Already he's plotting a vacation.

J'lyn mutters to Kassima, "... those muscles... his... muscles."

J'lyn whispers "Hopefully those muscles won't include his jaw muscles."

K'tyn pushes his heavily muscled form up to H'tor's. "And you'll do it all 
with a smile on your face. Is that clear, bronzerider? Or do you have any 
other comments to make about the leadership of Thunderbolt...or this 
Weyr?"

Telgar Weyr> K'tyn hisses happily.. :) I've been /waiting/ to do this. :)
Thanks Pete.

Davidon rubs his chin as he stands up, giving the bronzerider a look over 
his shoulder before he hurries off.

Davidon walks towards the inner cavern.

P'tran was about to interpose himself betwene K'tyn and H'tor, fearing 
that H'tor might try something stupid. However, K'tyn steps ahead of him, 
and P'tran eases back instead, seeing that the Weyrleader has this under 
control. "Weyrleader, I will be disciplining the other riders that were 
also involved in the altercation."

Telgar Weyr> P'tran grins :) Fun, eh? :)

Kassima clenches her fists, plainly wanting to sock H'tor--or perhaps even 
knife him, knowing her--for that last comment. "Disrespect is a rather 
mild term for it, sir," she informs the Weyrleader in clipped tones. "If'n 
we were Holders, 'twould have had countless occasions to cry insult, I 
assure you." Something about her nature doesn't seem to agree with being 
called, in essence, a lightskirted tramp. Go figure.

Telgar Weyr> J'lyn would like to see him staked out for a while. 
Preferrably under a fully Telgari native wing flying Thread.

Telgar Weyr> Kassima sighs remorsefully. I didn't even get a chance to hit 
him first. :)

That lazy smile appears across Cerilla's lips again, her manner almost 
bored. "P'tran has had fifteen turns experience leading wings," she says 
coolly, the tone a contrast to her languid expression. "And his wing has 
been known for its successes. Few injuries, good teamwork. To say you can 
do better..." She shakes her head ruefully, a sly smile emerging. "Well, 
that's quite a proposal."

H'tor's jaw clenches, visibly restraining the urge to act. "This would 
never have happened under G'mort's leadership." The veiled insult is 
tossed to the living cavern at large. "Bronzeriders are meant to lead! 
Not.. not.." He trails off, unable to finish. Not clean latrines, maybe? 
Hands clenched at his sides, he narrows his eyes at K'tyn, but hisses out 
an answer. "Yes. Weyrleader." It's perfectly clear he's not in the least 
happy about it.. and will no doubt be having words with anyone who will 
listen.

J'lyn says softly, "No, good riders were meant to lead."

Telgar Weyr> P'tran blinks at Cerilla's statement about his experience. 
Good lord, 15 Turns? That long? I'm old :p :)

Telgar Weyr> J'lyn peers at P'tran. "I've been a rider for over 20 Turns, 
P'tran."

Telgar Weyr> Cerilla snickers.

Telgar Weyr> Cerilla almost fainted when she looked at Varquith the other 
day, yup. :)

Telgar Weyr> Kassima grins wryly. Lysseth is nine Turns now... I 
definitely feel old. :P :)

Telgar Weyr> Cerilla nahs. Babe inna woods. ;)

P'tran turns to Cerilla with a look of appreciation for her comments, and 
then over to J'lyn, nodding his agreement. "Kassima and J'lyn are my 
Wingseconds because they demonstrated they can lead.

K'tyn nods at P'tran, not looking away from H'tor. "Actually, I think I 
will change your sentence." That slight, icy smile is in place on his 
face. "You'll be alternating drudge duty--for Kassima. And for J'lyn. And 
for, I think, every other greenrider that is here. You'll do what they 
say, when they say it." He bends down, slightly, his breath hot on the 
other man's face. "And if I hear of the slightest word of complaint, I 
will see that you never fly that bronze of yours again."

Telgar Weyr> J'lyn woohoos! Goooooooooo Kiat!

Telgar Weyr> K'tyn wonders--too harsh that sentence for H'tor?

Telgar Weyr> P'tran winces at K'tyn. Ouch! Nice touch! :)

Telgar Weyr> Kassima yays!!!! I have another slave! ;)

Telgar Weyr> J'lyn still says stake him.

P'tran raises an eyebrow at K'tyn and stares at him for a moment, then has 
to cover his mouth with his hand to hide a slight grin. He coughs briefly, 
possibly hiding something else as well.

A swift look of disapproval crosses Cerilla's features, quickly 
surpressed. That kind of sentence could mean more trouble than it's worth. 
Carefully schooling her features, she watches the pair.

K'tyn leans back a little, arms crossing before his chest. "Unless, of 
course, you'd prefer to muck the infirmary and the latrines?"

K'tyn raises a brow. "Your option."

J'lyn keeps the grin from his mouth, but not from his eyes. Almost. 
Turning his back on H'tor, he looks towards Kassi with the biggest grin he 
can fit onto his face, then wipes it off again and regains his composure. 
Turning around, green ice still where his eyes should be, he just waits 
for H'tor's answer.

Kassima blinks at that, actually losing a measure of her anger in 
surprise. "Drudge duty? For us?" she repeats, not quite smiling but still 
giving the impression that she's pleased by that alteration. It might be 
noted that several other greenriders in the room are grinning outright. 
"Nice touch, sir," V'dan speaks up. He's one of the grinners. In fact, 
it's more like he's beaming from ear to ear.

H'tor's glance flickers to several others from Thunderbolt wing; they're 
standing roughly behind him and backing him up. All are original Telgarian 
riders, and most stiffen slightly as they hear P'tran's words. The 
bronzerider snorts at J'lyn's words, but his gaze snaps back towards 
K'tyn, jaw dropping. Eyes blaze, and he opens his mouth - abruptly 
shutting it again at the Weyrleader's last remark. His lip curls slightly, 
and he glances towards the greenriders. "I will do as you requested, sir." 
Perhaps he figures he can get out of it. Especially with the reputation 
that he himself has attributed to the greenriders. "Maybe they'll learn 
something from /me/." He adds in a mutter under his breath.

Telgar Weyr> J'lyn says, "Read: SH**-eatin' grin. :)"

Jehrina walks in from the bowl.

Pierron gives a small bow to the weyrwoman.

P'tran only now notices that he still has his riding gloves on and 
proceeds to pull them off as he watches the two bronzeriders carefully. He 
opens his jacket a little, feeling the warmth of the caverns getting to 
him, only noticing now now that his adrenaline levels are settling back to 
normal.

J'lyn snorts. Suuuuure he'll learn something.

Kassima winks discreetly at J'lyn, then folds her arms and continues to 
eye H'tor. "I'm certain we will, bronzerider," she replies sweetly. Like, 
oh, how far to stretch the definition of proper drudgery, or how much fun 
it is to watch uptight prigs haul furniture and traipse all over Pern in 
quest for bizarre foodstuffs.

P'tran overhears a little of H'tor's final comment and guesses at the 
rest, but careefully chooses not to react to it, lest he break the uneasy 
calm that's already settled over this. He stuffs his gloves into his 
pockets before saying to H'tor in an even voice, "H'tor, your Thunderbolt 
knot, if you please."

K'tyn steps back from H'tor, a slim, determined form catching his eye. He 
bows graciously as Jehrina enters the LC. "Weyrwoman," he says quietly, 
eyes flicking from her to the bronzerider who's being castigated.

Jehrina steps into the cavern, eyeing the group oddly. She nods politely 
to K'tyn, and smiles slightly at P'tran.

Telgar Weyr> J'lyn read that as castrated, Kiat. My bad.

P'tran blinks at K'tyn's words, fairly embarassed that he missed his 
weyrmate's entry into the room. He turns and smiles to her slightly, but 
there is still an edge of tension to it.

Telgar Weyr> Kassima says, "Most of the women of the Weyr probably wish, 
J'lyn. :P ;)"

Telgar Weyr> Jehrina will vote for that. :)

Telgar Weyr> J'lyn grins and prays H'tor does NOT breed.

Telgar Weyr> K'tyn will make sure that one does not reproduce.:)

Telgar Weyr> Kassima offers her Emasculator for the task, Kiat? 0:)

H'tor tears the knot from his jacket, thrusting it at P'tran 
uncerimoniously. "With pleasure." He mutters something disparaging about 
Thunderbolt, but luckily? the words are too low to be heard properly - 
although one or two of the riders standing behind him snicker quietly to 
themselves.

K'tyn looks at H'tor compatriots, then at P'tran as he speaks 
conversationally. "You choice to deal with them, P'tran. I have to say 
that the bowl outside the Living Caverns was looking quite dirty. Perhaps 
a good scrubbing might be in order. With a toothbrush, hm?"

If the Wingleader heard anything that H'tor said, he does not show it, and 
takes the knot from the bronzerider quickly, as if trying to avoid any 
contact with him. "Kassima, J'lyn," he calls out, his eyes never leaving 
H'tor. He doesn't trust H'tor enough to let him leave his sight at the 
moment. "We'll need to arrange some double-duty for the others involved in 
the altercation. Whether they were originally Benden or Telgar."

J'lyn nods. "Aye sir."

P'tran nods to K'tyn and smirks slightly. "That might not be a bad idea. 
H'tor was not the only one involved in the fight, Weyrleader, as I 
mentioned."

Jehrina steps over and She mutters to K'tyn, "Should I speak with..." 

Tarvin sits completely silently, eyes the size of saucers.

Kassima salutes Jehrina sharply before informing H'tor, "The pleasure is 
ours." Without further ado, she flops into her chair, abruptly looking 
rather tired. "Naturally, sir. Might I suggest more straight-flight 
sweeps, across the farther reaches of the range? As 'twere saying 
yesterday, enough ice can cool the hottest head."

Aforementioned riders, standing behind H'tor, shift slightly, and grumble 
beneath their breaths, though they make no move to be as outspoken as 
H'tor was. Not if their going to end up as drudges, as well.

K'tyn mutters to Jehrina, "... her--I've... that... nods... not... 
help..."

P'tran tucks the Thunderbolt knot he received from H'tor in his pocket and 
finally turns his eyes from H'tor to look over to Kassima. "That would be 
a good idea as well. That can be part of their extra duties. I want to 
make it clear that I don't condone this sort of thing no matter who does 
it." He looks over to some of H'tor's buddies still un Thunderbolt. "And 
if any of them have any problems taking orders from greenrider 
Wingseconds," he calls out loudly enough for them to hear it, his gaze 
cold. "I want to know about it *right now*."

J'lyn calmly watches each of the wingriders to catch any reaction, his 
shoulders bunching as his hands turn into massive fists.

Jehrina nods at K'tyn, and then looks at each rider in the group, marking 
names mentally. "As if a dragon would defy the Senior Queen."

H'tor casually drains his glass of wine, for all the world appearing as if 
nothing's amiss as he announces. "If that is all, I would like to attend 
to my dragon, now." There's silence from behind him; some of the riders 
look uneasy, but none offer a answer to P'tran's statement.

P'tran turns to H'tor briefly, then looks over to K'tyn. "Unless you need 
him for anything more, Weyrleader?"

K'tyn smiles faintly, nodding at Jehrina. "Exactly, Lady."

J'lyn mutters to Kassima.

J'lyn whispers "Someone ought to."

Elese watches the scene with a dark expression. "Idiot..." she mutters to 
herself.

Kassima laces her fingers together, eyeing the wingriders behind H'tor 
steadily. It's not exactly a happy sort of look, but she's managed to tone 
it down a few degrees from the instinctive, 'If you say yes, I will 
personally tear out your entrails and feed them to my fire-lizards for 
lunch.' "I quite concur, sir. Even if'n 'twere nay for the unfairness of 
doing otherwise, now would be an ill time t'stir up further resentment." 
J'lyn's mutter elicits a slight nod of agreement from her.

"Me?" K'tyn seems disinterested in the bronzerider. "Only if he gives 
anyone any trouble. Then, I'll make sure to need him." His hands curl 
unconsciously into fists. "I'll make sure to find something to need him 
for."

P'tran nods to K'tyn and then turns back to H'tor. "I suppose you're 
dismissed, then," he says.

H'tor straightens, offers a sharp salute to mid-air - not directly to 
either his former Wingleader or Weyrleader - and makes his way outside.

P'tran turns back to K'tyn and takes a deep breath. "Apologies for yelling 
back there, before, K'tyn."

Jehrina snorts softly.

Telgar Weyr> P'tran says, "It was fun, all. Thanks to Aph for doing a 
great job @emitting H'tor :)"

R'val walks in from the bowl.

Telgar Weyr> Kassima had a blast, and snugs an Aph in thanks. I never knew 
you could RP someone so utterly annoying so well! ;)

P'tran places a tired arm around Jehrina's waist as he comes up to the 
Weyrleader and Weyrwoman.

"Yelling? You were yelling? I tohught you were merely being...emphatic." 
Kiat grins as he makes obeisance to Jehrina, nods to P'tran and salutes 
the rest of the room. "I've got to pass the word of this on to others who 
don't have dragons. Good evening."

R'val walks down the short tunnel and out into the bowl.

Telgar Weyr> Aphrael had fun. Never get the chance to be a visciously 
annoying person. ;)

Telgar Weyr> Sionelle never gets a chance NOT to be.

P'tran smirks at K'tyn and manages a weak chuckle. "Thank you, and good 
night."

K'tyn walks down the short tunnel and out into the bowl.

Kassima salutes the departing Weyrleader, of course. "G'night, sir." To 
P'tran, she grins. "Y'know, sir, I'd nay be surprised if'n they could've 
heard you halfway to Keroon."

Tarvin swallows hard, glad to have escaped notice.

P'tran gives Jehrina a hug and heaves another sigh as he turns his head 
towards his wingseconds. "I'm just sorry the two of you had to put up with 
him for so long. I should have dealt with him before this."

Elese walks towards the inner cavern.

Jehrina eyes her weyrmate, "There's problems everywhere. Nothing new. This 
is just one problem taken care of."

P'tran nods to Jehrina. "I didn't think K'tyn was going to ground him," he 
says softly. "I was all prepared to if he didn't, though."

Kassima lifts her shoulders in a weary shrug. "Eh, 'tis naught, sir. 
'Twill nay pretend t'be *pleased* with aught of what he said," she adds, a 
touch grimly, "but he'd nay truly stepped over the line until tonight."

Jehrina smiles slightly, "Kinda hard to ground someone without the Senior 
Queen's knowledge, hm?"

J'lyn smirks. "I'm just glad you did take care of it. If Kassi didn't get 
after him with that squadron of firelizards she's got, or that rackful of 
cutlery, I was gonna have to pound some sense into him. He was getting a 
little out of hand, but you took care of it nicely."

P'tran runs a hand through his hair. "I will *not* be accepting him into 
Thunderbolt Wing again. Ever. No matter how much he's disciplined." He 
grins slightly at J'lyn. "K'tyn handled things well also. I had almost 
forgotten what it was like to have to defuse situations like that."

J'lyn grins. "As did our illustrious Weyrleader."

Jehrina snorts, "As if you're incapable."

Tarvin gets to his feet and slides unobtrusively towards the inner 
caverns.

P'tran chuckles at J'lyn, then hugs Jehrina lightly with his arm. "Well, 
love, you didn't see how angry I was when we first landed. I don't think 
I've ever gotten quite that angry at someone before."

Jehrina smirks, "You have."

Kassima states emphatically, "*Thankee* for that, sir. Perhaps I'm rather 
biased, but I don't think an attitude such as his is needed in the Wing in 
any way, shape, or form." She snorts to J'lyn. "You would've gotten 
t'pound him. I'd nay soil m'knives with his blood, even were he nay a 
rider."

J'lyn mock pouts. "See that, P'tran? I've not gotten to pound someone in a 
very long time. And now it's all ruined."

P'tran looks puzzled for a moment and then nods slightly. "Yes, I think I 
know what you're talking about. Definitely not something I'd want K'tyn to 
go through." He turns back to his Wingseconds. "H'tor's been dealt with, 
and hopefully this will be an example to the others as well. The Benden 
riders involved didn't handle this very well either. They did not have to 
respond to the jibes. I personally don't *care* who was responsible for 
that old burrow."

"Dead's dead, whoever was at fault, and there's nay point worrying over 
what can't be changed," Kassima intones, sounding like she's quoting 
someone. Sure enough, her next remark is, "Or so Da always said. I think 
'twill suffice as an example, sir; few riders I know would be willing to 
risk the idea of prolonged drudgery, much less the latrines. 'Twas a 
rather clever punishment, and I'm nay saying that only because 'tis such a 
beneficial one."

Jehrina nods, "Aye. Benden came here because it had it's own problems. 
It's time the 'Benden' contingent remembered that as well."

J'lyn quietly excuses himself.

Tarvin walks towards the inner cavern.

P'tran grins slightly at Kassima. "I have to admit, I hadn't thought of 
that punishment myself that K'tyn came up with," he comments. "I had ever 
intention of grounding him but I wasn't sure what to do about him beyond 
that."

P'tran hrms at Jehrina's words about the Benden contingent. "That's a good 
point. Some of the riders in the Wing would remember that."

Jehrina says "Most, I think"

Kassima looks downright cheerful as she notes, "I *do* hope the man is 
good at locating certain fruits. I've been meaning to ask V'dan to get 
some kiwi from down south for me for ages, but that seems more a job for 
H'tor, I'd say." There can be absolutely no doubt that she's enjoying 
this.

V'dan looks rather glad to hear this. "Remind me to thank K'tyn," he 
murmurs under his breath.

P'tran smirks. "Well, just be careful, Kassima. He's still rather 
volatile, and I don't exactly trust him, not with the comments that he 
made before about greenriders." He gives another sigh and runs his hand 
through his hair. Now that the tension is gone, he is looking mighty 
exhausted. "It's time for me to get to bed, I'm worn out."

"If he thinks *I'm* going to hop in bed with him just because he moves," 
V'dan can further be heard to mutter, "he's got another think coming." 
Stifled and rather indiscreet snickers are audible from those of his 
wingmates sitting within hearing range.

Jehrina says "No point in rubbing it in. Remember that you're better than 
that, and you are here to help Telgar. Not to foster resentment further. 
Being demeaning isn't going to help the situation, even if they deserve 
it."

Kassima has to hide a grin herself, and nods to the Weyrleader with an 
expression of perfect innocence. "Oh, I'd never bait him, sir! Wouldn't 
dream of it!" Chuckling, she nods and salutes as crisply as ever. "In all 
seriousness, I *could* use some help with things, but I'm nay a sadist. 
G'night, sir, and clear skies t'you."

P'tran gives his weyrmate a hug. "I'll see you later, 'Rina. I need to get 
to bed."

Jehrina nods, "Night, get some sleep."

P'tran bids goodnight to the others and heads out.

P'tran walks down the short tunnel and out into the bowl.

Kassima glances out to te Bowl, and hrms. "Actually, I should head out 
m'self. Clear skies, Weyrwoman, all." With another salute, she stands and 
strides towards the exit.

You walk down the short tunnel and out into the bowl.