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Be Vewy, Vewy Quiet....


Date:  October 21, 1998
Places:  Telgar Weyr's Central Bowl and Skyspace; Sky Over the Telgar
Plains, Picnic Knoll, and Leeward Side Of the Knoll
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-hunting we will go, a-hunting we will go; hi, ho, the
merry-o!  A-hunting we will go!  Okay, now that I've gotten that out of
my system, I'll note that this TP was conceived and worked on by A'lex
(thanks, Purple-Man), and was a good deal of fun. :)  In summary:  
Telgar riders head off to the Hold to do some thinning of their stock.
Much bloodshed, unsurprisingly, ensues.  But what does sharp, glittery
underwear have to do with all of this?  Do you really want to know?

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The Log:

You backwing for a landing.

<*> Lysseth backwings to a neat landing, the wind stirred up by the 
motions of her wings stirring the sand that lines the Bowl floor. From her 
neck, Kassima calls, "Ahoy, hunt leader! Nay too late, are we?"

<*> High atop Nraith, A'lex laughs, "Not at all! We've still a few to wait 
for..."

Telgar Weyr> A'lex waves to anyone who wants to hunt... we're in the 
Central Bowl...

<*> Xylath backwings for a landing.

Kassima nods, settling back on Lysseth's neck and fingering one of the 
knives at her hip with fondness. "Hunting is always a good evening's 
occupation," she comments. "Think we'll be able t'take aught down 
ourselves t'be bringing back to the Weyr?"

<*> Ularrith backwings for a landing.

<*> High atop Nraith, A'lex nods, "They said that would be fine."

Telgar Weyr> Jannea pulls out a little hunting horn and tootles.

Telgar Weyr> D'thon puts the 'Hut on Fowl's Legs' on the stereo.

<*> Wroxath backwings for a landing.

<*> Ularrith's chest heaves a bit as he settles to the ground and his 
breath sends the dust of the bowl floor scattering.

<*> Nraith rumbles in greeting.

<*> Astride Xylath, Neliea smiles as Xylath lands, giving another tug on 
her jacket as she looks about. "I'm not too late, I hope?"

<*> Wroxath spreads his wings to deposit himself amidst a minor and (very) 
localized dust storm.

Kassima flips a knife from somewhere--her sleeve, probably--and salutes 
the new arrivals with it. "Hail, fellow hunters!" she greets cheerfully. 
"According to our esteemed leader, nay. Ack! Lyss!" The green has reared 
back on her haunches, and is fanning her wings to ensure that all of the 
stirred dust stays a decent distance from herself.

<*> From betwixt Nraith's neckridges, A'lex coughs, "Nice Lysseth."

Telgar Weyr> A'lex says, "Anyone else coming along, or is this it?"

Telgar Weyr> A'lex says, "Residents are welcome to join... there's a 
picnic area...."

<*> From Wroxath's back, D'thon leans back to check the various items 
hanging from Wroxath's harness, dusting his hands (and the rest of him) 
off.

Telgar Weyr> Jorenan would come along, but he's watching the Borg grow up.

Telgar Weyr> D'thon nodnods. Have fun and try not to hurl when the dragons 
get busy hunting. :)

Telgar Weyr> Dossa would come along too, but the sight of blood makes her 
squeamish, so ;)

Telgar Weyr> Neliea chuckles and snugs Dossa.

Telgar Weyr> Jayna likes the sight of blood, but can't come, alas... ;)

<*> Atop sturdy Ularrith, M'rgan ducks to hide behind the neck ridge in 
front of him as whorls of dust swirl all around him. "You had to go and 
start it, lump," he murmurs to his lifemate with exasperation.

Kassima asks with avid curiousity, "Did the rest of you bring hunting 
implements? We're t'be allowed t'hunt on the ground, too, apparently." Ah, 
so *that's* why she's so cheerful.

Telgar Weyr> Jannea says, "I don't think you want a kid there. Not that 
messy dragons bother Nea. :)"

<*> Seated atop Nraith, A'lex says "I, for one, don't plan on hunting... 
I'm going to relax while lump does."

<*> From Wroxath's back, A soft *click* sounds by way of answer, coming 
(apparently) from a last-minute check of a crossbow.

<*> Astride Xylath, Neliea checks the sizable pouch of stones next to her, 
looking over to Kassima with a smile. "I have a sling and a crossbow if 
that helps," she calls over to the greenrider, indicating the latter 
securly strapped in next to her.

Kassima sticks her tongue out at A'lex. "What's more relaxing than 
hunting?" she wants to know, letting her hands fall to rest on the hilts 
of two of her knives. "Very good hunting weapons, those. Especially the 
sling."

<*> High atop Nraith, A'lex says "Are we ready?"

<*> Atop sturdy Ularrith, M'rgan shifts slightly on his lifemate's neck, 
one leg dipping down to hide a bulging pouch from Kassima's view. If she's 
hunting, he isn't. Isn't it nice how simple his life has become since he 
moved to Telgar. He just waits for Kassima to make a decision and then he 
does the opposite. After a brief consultation with his brown lifemate, he 
signals his readiness to A'lex.

<*> From Wroxath's back, D'thon carefully stows the bow and gives A'lex 
the all-clear signal.

Telgar Weyr> Kassima says, "Hey, Mart, I've decided to be alive at the end 
of today. Does that mean you have to die? ;)"

Kassima yodels over, lifting both hands in a double thumb's-up gesture, 
"Ready as we'll ever be, O Ye of the Unmentionable Purpleness!"

<*> High atop Nraith, A'lex nods, "Everyone have the visualization?"

<*> Astride Xylath, Neliea makes sure that her gear is stowed securly 
before signaling to A'lex her rediness. Xylath on the other hand bugles 
his eagerness to go.

<*> High atop Nraith, A'lex doesn't wait for a reply....

<*> Nraith takes flight, using the thermals rising from the bowl to carry 
him aloft.

<*> Ularrith takes flight, using the thermals rising from the bowl to 
carry him aloft.

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

You spring into the air and catch the thermals rising from the bowl floor 
to carry you aloft.

<*> Xylath rises up from the bowl.

<*> Wroxath rises up from the bowl.

<*> Astride Nraith, A'lex gives the signal to go *BETWEEN*...

<*> Nraith disappears into Between.

<*> 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!

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

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

<*> Nraith spirals down to the picnic knoll.

You spiral down to the picnic knoll.

<*> A'lex slides down Nraith's riding straps and lands carefully beside 
him. Nraith rumbles quietly as A'lex pats his side in thanks.

<*> Over the plains, Xylath spirals down to the picnic knoll.

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.

Nraith leaps into the air.

Over the plains, Yasinth spirals down to the picnic knoll.

Over the plains, Ularrith spirals down to the picnic knoll.

Over the plains, Wroxath emerges from Between with a blast of cold air!

Neliea nimbly climbs down from Xylath's neckridges, pausing to gently 
brush a hand along her lifemate's muzzle as he turns a large light blue 
muzzle to his lifemate, wuffling her hair gently in return.

A'lex heads down the hill.

Atop Yasinth, A'ser stops for a moment, searches for his gloves, fishing 
through his pockets, a look of complete puzzlement on his face.

Down there, A'lex says "Problem A'ser?"

Over the plains, Nraith circles the pastures.

Atop Yasinth, A'ser laments sadly, "I lost my gloves, sir!"

Kassima vaults down from Lysseth's neck, straightening at once. It can be 
seen, once she does so, that the greenrider is almost *festooned* with 
knives; it more than borders on the edges of ridiculous, but she doesn't 
seem to care. "Weaponry, check; game bag, check; extra straps for the 
carcasses, check," she checks with satisfaction. "All right, Sky-Lady; hop 
to!"

Xylath leaps into the air.

Down there, A'lex laughs, "You lost them *BETWEEN*? That's rather 
careless!"

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

Lysseth leaps into the air.

Ularrith follows the others down, settling behind a blue dragon. His rider 
strips goggles and helmet from his head and tucks them into a pouch on the 
dragon's straps before swinging a leg over the dragon's neck and climbing 
down. "Good hunting, lump. Try not to get the straps too bloody."

M'rgan clambers down Ularrith's side to the ground, as the dragon warbles 
a greeting.

Ularrith leaps into the air.

Atop Yasinth, A'ser rubs at the top of his black-haired head laughing. "I 
guess I'll have to do without them; or just take yours!"

Neliea jumps down from Xylath's neck, bow swung over one shoulder, sling 
over the other as her blue launches back into the air. Shielding her face 
from the rush of air, she joins everyone else as she listens and glances 
towards A'ser with a grin.

Down there, A'lex laughs, "You can use mine, that's fine. Get them from me 
before it's time to go."

D'thon slides off Wroxath's back to the ground, landing lightly.

D'thon heads down the hill.

Neliea heads down the hill.

You head down the hill.

Wroxath leaps into the air.

M'rgan's blue eyes track his lifemate through the air and he nods with 
satisfaction as the dragon easily catches up with the others. "Looking 
good, lump," he mutters to himself before turning his attention to the 
conversation between A'ser and A'lex.

Kassima shoots A'ser a bewildered look, and then discreetly twirls one 
gloved finger around her ear in the ages-old sign for 'Here be a looney.' 
"What should we go after first? Wherry? Caprine?" she asks the other 
hunters eagerly. Is that a knife-hilt glinting in her *hair*?

Atop Yasinth, A'ser doesn't seem to understand why Kassima thinsk that 
she's crazy. She may be a knife-throwing maniac, but she seems to have her 
wits....grinning a little, he hops free of his green's side, hands in the 
air.

A'lex smiles at D'thon, "And how're you?"

A'ser comes down the hill.

M'rgan comes down the hill.

D'thon shrugs. "Good, I s'pose," he replies phlegmatically.

Lysseth> Lysseth circles rather lazily over the fields, indulging herself 
in an aerial dip and sway pattern rather akin to a waltz. After all, she'd 
be going much faster than the others if she didn't try to kill time, and 
that wouldn't be in the spirit of companionship at all. She doesn't 
*quite* drool as she scans over the herd, though her eyes do turn a deep 
shade of garnet red. Mmmm. Lunch.

A'lex nods, "Good!"

"What do you need gloves for?" M'rgan asks A'ser as he slips up behind the 
younger man. He has already stripped off his own gloves and stuffed them 
into a pocket. Possibly a very wise decision.

Lysseth> Nraith circles around again, and makes a swooping dive for a nice 
fat herdbeast. Catching it in his talons he jerks it skyward, snaping it's 
neck. With a hop, he lands and starts diging in, big amounts of flesh 
ripping from it's hide and sliding down his throat.

Neliea shrugs slightly removing a smooth pebble from pouch, giving a small 
expirmental toss. "Anything that doesn't eat me is okay," she comments 
Kassi-wards.

Kassima fidgets idly with the small dagger tied to the back of one of her 
gloves. "Gloves have their purposes," she observes absently. "If'n we're 
taking carcasses back to the weyr, I'd rather nay scare the drudges again 
by walking around with blood all over m'hands. So strange, the way they 
don't seem t'care for that."

A'lex looks at A'ser, "How's the hair growing back?"

A'ser blinks. M'rgan, sneaky man, nearly makes him jump out of his skin. 
Without turning around, he says, "It's the principle of the thing."

Yasinth leaps into the air.

D'thon quietly turns the crank on his bow, drawing a quarrel from a 
waist-pouch. "Anything that doesn't eat me fast enough is okay," he notes 
by way of reply.

A'ser stops to slap a hand over his slightly-bald spot. "It's fine," he 
mutters.

A'lex grins, "Good, and the rest of you?"

A'lex says "And strange how you DO care for it, Greenrider."

At the mention of gloves and blood, M'rgan immediately stuffs his own pair 
deeper into his pockets. A nod of understanding is directed to A'ser 
though from the narrow-eyed expression on the man's face it's fairly 
obvious that he doesn't understand it a bit. "Right. The principle." His 
eyes go vague as Ularrith touches his mind. "The lump wants to know what 
he's allowed to eat."

Lysseth> Xylath circles the plain in a seemingly lazy pattern before 
finding something attention getting. It's a good sized meal for a dragon 
at least, catching a heardbeast with his outstreached talons. Jerking 
upwards, the beast's neck snaps soundly before the blue settles for a few 
munches.

A'lex spreads his arms, "Whatever he deems worthy, they've pulled in the 
prize animals."

Lysseth> Lysseth would tsk, if dragons could tsk. Such a lack of style. 
Bronzes have no finesse at all. Snapping back her wings, she allows 
herself to drop from the sky at a rather alarming rate, landing right on 
the back of a charging bovine. Ker-*snap*! The spinal cord is the first to 
go, and she tears it out with her talons to display the neatly broken 
vertebrae before tossing the bones aside and biting off a drumstick. See? 
Now *that's* finesse.

Lysseth> Nraith munches happily, not caring alot for those foofy Green 
table manners.

A'ser runs his hands, one after another, over and through his hair, 
standing it all on end. What's wrong with the way he cares for it. The 
greenrider tips his head and face upwards, looking at the small flock of 
circling dragons. "This was alot of trouble for them to go through for 
us...." he murmers softly, of the holders.

Kassima grins and wiggles her un-bloodied fingers at A'lex. "Someday, 
bronzer, I'll tear out your still-beating heart and let you gaze upon it 
a'fore you die, and *then* I'll have blood all over m'hands. But nay 
today." She straightens, then, and gives a faint groan. "Lysseth, don't 
*play* with your food!"

A'lex shakes his head, "Well, it's less they have to kill themselves and 
send up in the Tithe trains, A'ser." So what if he has no clue what he's 
talking about, A'ser doesn't know that. Kassima just gets a shake of the 
head, "Yea, right. Nraith will probably HELP you too... that's the 
ticket!"

Lysseth> Wroxath banks into a quick sideslip, culminating in a rather 
sharp impact against an unfortunate herdbeast. He sits down, slitting its 
throat with a foreclaw, and loud bone-crunching noises soon can be heard.

Lysseth> Lysseth lifts her head, entrails dangling from her mouth like 
cheese-noodles. Who's playing? Just because she *happened* to bat the 
bovine's head out of the way with her tail, and it *happened* to hit a 
wherry in the skull and kill it... that's not playing. That's a trick 
shot. Appertif in the corner pocket!

Lysseth> Ularrith bugles with delight as he swoops down towards a few 
ovines that have banded together for protection. This cry causes the 
beasts to flee but the chase is over before it has even begun as the brown 
dragon lands with an earth-shaking thud just in front of the ovines and 
partially on one of them. The squished ovine slides easily down his throat 
after only a few extra chomps.

Neliea gives her own gloves a final tug before one comes off and quickly 
tucked into her jacket. One-gloved hunting? Hey, it works for some. "It's 
actually easier this way," she comments to no one in particular about 
their reason for being here.

Kassima bobs her head enthusiastically. "He will! And then I'll buy him a 
dragon-sized kilt as a reward, and he'll join the line of male kilt-
dancers that I plan t'form for the entertainment of women who go for that 
sort of thing. I bet they'd pay lots of marks t'be seeing that. Their 
dragons would convince them to, if'n they were greenriders and there were 
a male involved, I'll just wager you."

A'ser stuffs his hands in his pockets and looks at A'lex admiringly. 
Golly. Someday, A'ser old boy, someday.....

A'lex looks at Kassima, "You're whacked Greenie." He pulls his gloves from 
his belt and hands them to A'ser, "Here, so people stop being afraid that 
you'll steal theirs..." He smirks at everyone who'd been stuffing gloves 
into pockets.

D'thon leans back against a tree lazily, running his fingers over the 
loaded crossbow. Looks like he should be a bit more careful where he's 
pointing it, in fact.

Lysseth> Xylath proceeds to make short work of his first buck, 
disregarding neatness as he takes his time regardless. One should never 
rush through a good meal and there's another bite gone...

M'rgan stares at Kassima for a few seconds before giving her a sad shake 
of his head. "I would've thought having a chance to hunt animals would've 
made you less likely to hunt people." Another sad shake of his head at the 
greenrider and he stumbles up the hill a little ways to a shady spot 
underneath one of the trees.

A'ser takes the offered gloves reverently. "Thanks!" Green eyes sparkle. 
A'lex gonna be lucky if he gets THOSE gloves back. Ever. Then, dourly, he 
adds, "I wouldn'ta stolen anyone's gloves, you know...." Just for that, 
M'rgan gets a Look.

Lysseth> Lysseth crunches the last bones of her first kill, giving a deep 
rumble of satisfaction. Mmm, mmm, good. (You'd think this was Campbell's 
Field.) Leisurely, she strolls on over to where the wherry struck down in 
the prime of its life by a flying cow's head lies, and proceeds to make 
relatively quick work of it. 'Relatively' being the key word.

Lysseth> Nraith slowly extracts a leg bone from his maw, having sucked it 
clean. He wings it into the field, then starts in on another leg...

A'lex laughs, "I know that... but you know how paranoid some people 
are..."

Kassima seems rather preoccupied by something--visions of gore courtesy of 
Lysseth, no doubt--so it's little wonder that her reply to A'lex is a 
touch belated. "Aye, I am. Just see that you don't forget it. Greenriders 
are better at being whacked than bronzers... wouldn't you all agree?" A 
*look* is shot back to Mart, one of mock-annoyance mingled with amusement. 
"Don't tempt me, brownie. Just don't tempt me."

Lysseth> Wroxath espies an approaching wherry squawking in fright as it 
tries to run from Ularrith... straight past him. Quite deliberately, the 
dragon steps on the wherry's tail, pinning it down. The bird's legs 
continue to windmill, digging deep furrows in the dirt, but its panicked 
squawks are soon ended in a crimson haze.

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

A'ser knows. "I don't blame them. It must be hard." As he stuffs the 
gloves over his hands, he notes how many *looks* certain people are 
getting from the green section today. You'd think they'd learn!

Neliea chuckles quietly as she listens, moving towards a line of trees 
with a careful glance towards D'thon. She's out of crosbow range, right? 
Of almost some things as she just nods with what Kassi just said. Safer 
that way, even if she missed part of that commment.

Lysseth> Ularrith's throat ripples and his neck ridges tremble as he 
continues to sit in front of the puddle of blood that is ever so slowly 
being absorbed by the cool earth. With a sudden loud belch an ovine leg 
appears between his teeth and he rolls it back and forth, lightly gnawing 
at it like it was a tooth pick.

Lysseth> Chezroth rumbles a greeting to the other Telgarian dragons.

Lysseth> Chezroth spirals down to the picnic knoll.

S'dar hops off of Chezroth.

A'lex laughs at A'ser, "Do they fit?"

S'dar comes down the hill.

A'lex waves at S'dar, "Heyla...."

S'dar salutes his Wingleader and the other riders. "Good evening!"

D'thon pokes at his gloves. Best to keep them on for now. "Evening," he 
replies, raising his (loaded) crossbow by way of a wave.

Lysseth> Lysseth licks a few drops of blood from her muzzle, and favors 
Ularrith with a look of reproach. Males are *so* uncouth. With neither a 
belch nor a reappearance of choice food-bits, she springs into the sky 
again, circling perhaps half a length overhead to choose her target. Which 
shall it be? Which *shall* it be?

A'ser shoots off a salute to S'dar, A'lex's gloves swinging loose and 
baggy around his thin hands. "Sandy!" he calls cheerfully. To A'lex, he 
smiles. "They fit perfect!"

Neliea looks over and waves to S'dar with her gloveless hand, the other 
holding a sling and a smooth stone. "Hey S'dar," she calls over to the 
bronzrider cheerfully.

M'rgan haplessly waves to all the greenriders that have started eyeing 
him. He's dead. But despite this apparent deadness, he seems alive enough 
to settle down in the grass, crossing his legs in front of him. He starts 
to look over his shoulder at D'thon. "You know it would be nice if for 
once...Is that thing loaded??"

Kassima waves a stray knife at S'dar by way of greeting. It might be noted 
that the woman looks like a hedgehog, almost; there're knives at her belt, 
knives in her boots, knives strapped to both legs, knives tied to her 
gloves, at least one knife in her hair somewhere... and those are just 
the ones you can see. "Going to hunt with us, Sandrina?" she asks 
chipperly.

A'lex just shakes his head at the young Greenrider, then turns to M'rgan, 
"So has the change been difficult, or is Telgar being nice to you?"

S'dar nods to Kassima. "Sure," he agrees. "Sounds like fun."

Lysseth> Xylath finishes his first buck, bored with the remnants of what 
is left (if anything) before launcing towards a wherry that came the wrong 
direction. Ever hear of the 'wherry in front of a dragon' look? That's 
about all the startled creature can do before it's silenced by the blue 
muzzle...and his rider's comments to keep the straps clean.

Lysseth> *Crunch*Crunch*Crunch* Ularrith shatters his makeshift toothpick 
after one too many gnaws and swallows the remains. His glittering eyes 
turn towards a bovine that is pressed against the stone fence and 
trembling with fear. Talons digging deeply into the earth, the brown 
dragon languidly rises to his feet.

A'ser stops his riduculous waving to peer owlishly over A'lex's shoulder 
at M'rgan, who he considers to be quite the....fellow. Actually, he wants 
to be there when the first greenrider makes the first move, so that he can 
join the vicious pack..... All smiles, he waves a hand up at Yasinth, as 
if she were watching him. She can be so picky about what she kills 
sometimes.....

Lysseth> Nraith leaps skyward again, circling once, then swooping down 
upon another large buck, bringing with him huge splattering death. Landing 
in the middle of a wherry flock, he bugles as they scatter.

Lysseth> Lysseth apparently favors prey that's trying to escape, because 
she snaps her wings wide open to swoop after a fleeing bull bovine in full 
bellow. He's bellowing even louder when a fully-grown and rather large 
green dragon lands on his hind end, that's for sure. Whaddya know; greens 
really *can* be a pain in the butt. A hooked talon torn across the bull's 
throat silences his cries, and Lyss snakes her head around to munch on the 
tender and blood-filled hollow that marks where the esophagus used to be.

D'thon nods. "I should think so," he replies, still leaning against his 
tree.

Telgar Weyr> Kassima beams at A'ser. You've learned the first rule of true 
greenriderdom: Always Torment M'rgan. ;)

Telgar Weyr> A'lex says, "Second rule: Kiss A'lex in the LC... :D"

Telgar Weyr> Kassima says, "But only if you're going to get paid for it!"

Telgar Weyr> A'ser doesn't think it took special skill. There's a glowing 
neon sign over his head that says...../no/, A'lex, dear, you're done now, 
shhh!......that says 'hurt me; I need it!'

Telgar Weyr> Kassima beams. I put that there last month. Isn't it shiny?

M'rgan continues to eye D'thon worriedly, his gaze following that crossbow 
whereever it points. "Just don't aim that thing at me, all right? Hmmmm?" 
He barely flicks a glance in A'lex's direction as he hears his wingleader. 
"We're settling in fine. There were some unexpected complications and I 
still can't find my way around the Holds and Halls here but it's going 
fine."

D'thon shrugs. "Don't worry," he replies. "It's perfectly safe."

A'lex laughs, "Shards, *I* still can't and I've been at Telgar since I was 
a Weyrling."

Telgar Weyr> A'ser wonders where you got it, K-chan....

Neliea runs a careful hand over the stone resting in her bare palm before 
placing into her sling dangling in her gloved hand. Slowly swinging it 
into a pendulum motion, she doesn't look ready to aim at anything. Just 
testing everything before things get intresting as she looks over to 
S'dar. "What did you bring to hunt with, Sandy?"

Telgar Weyr> A'lex says, "K-Mart perhaps?"

Telgar Weyr> Gwina chuckles

M'rgan gives D'thon a dubious look. That sounds like something he'd say 
right before he accidentally pulled the trigger and shot his weyrmate's 
favorite dress. Lifting a leg, he casually props his elbow up on his knee. 
"I hate looking like a fool in front of Holders though. And today, when I 
was trying to find my way around Bitra, I did."

Telgar Weyr> D'thon hmms. If Ularrith caught Lysseth and their riders 
produced a spawnling, what would they call him/her...? *peers at A'lex's 
comment*

Kassima actually sobers somewhat at this mention of unexpected 
complications. Putting the knife away, she walks over and kneels beside 
the playing-dead brownrider for a minute. She mutters to M'rgan, "... so 
you know,... me t'speak... Jannea about... plan... nay... up... far, 
but... there've... rumors about him and... You... especially wide..."  
Warning delivered, she stands and asks her companions, "Think wherries 
would make sufficient hunting targets? Bovines are a bit heavy t'be 
hauling back. And who *can* find their way around Bitra? The place is a 
bloody labyrinth."

Telgar Weyr> Kassima says, "Armageddon? ;)"

S'dar hmms? to Neliea. Then, "Oh." He pulls back his jacket to reveal what 
looks like a *HUGE* curved knife of some sort. It looks absolutely 
dreadful, and wicked sharp, even cutting small withers in its hide 
holster. S'dar casually pulls the jacket back over him and the weapon 
disappears from view.

Lysseth> So frightened is that bovine that it doesn't even move as 
Ularrith stretches out his head and gives it a nudge with his muzzle. He 
starts to push at the beast more firmly now until it's far enough away 
from the wall that he can get his head into place. *snap*MOOOOO*snap*

A'ser stares at S'dar, before he coos, "Oh, that's so wicked, Sandy...."

Neliea eyes that knife, no...blade as she nods slowly. -Very slowly- in 
thought. "Hmm, taking lessons from Pierron, Sandy? Or did you borrow one 
of his?" Funny, she's not swinging her sling anymore either.

All the blood rushing out of his face, M'rgan stares up at Kassima with 
fear-filled eyes. "/Why/ did you have to tell me that??? Shards, Kassi. If 
you thought that was going to make me feel better..." Feeling awfully 
woozy all of a sudden, the brownrider places his head between his knees, 
trying to calm down. Trying to stop the stroke he's about to have.

A'lex looks at S'dar, "You're going to hunt with THAT?" What did they 
teach that nice little steward boy at the 'Reaches... sheesh!

Lysseth> Wroxath is now flapping after the ovine that (almost) got away. 
As he swoops down on it, claws strike sparks from the stone wall nearby, 
and with a *fwhoosh* the beast's hind-end catches fire. If anything, the 
ovine now runs faster, trailing thin smoke in the dragon's face.

Lysseth> One lone bovine seems to stand out amidst the herd, like a 
Monarch of Moodom. He moos, they must fight! Escape, or they'll die! Cows 
gathered around, 'cause the steaks were so high. Bad cow pun. But before 
this rebellion can get anywhere, Lyss puts a neat stop to it--and stomp to 
it, for that matter--by squishing the leader. Run, cows, run! Moos resound 
as the herd scatters, drowned out only in part by the sluuuuuuurp-smack-
crunch-crunch-crunch of a feasting dragon.

[Editor's Note:  Credit goes to Dana Lyons for the 'Cows With Guns' lyric
borrowed in that pose. ;) ]

D'thon's eyes widen slightly. "Nice," he comments quietly.

S'dar shrugs a bit. "It's been lying around," he says off-handedly. 
"Haven't had much use for it, 'til today."

Telgar Weyr> M'rgan laughs! Wroxath smoked an ovine. ;)

Telgar Weyr> Jannea says, "Who did what?"

Telgar Weyr> A'lex says, "Doesn't that cause lung cancer?"

Chezroth leaps into the air.

"Would you rather you *didn't* know what sort of man she hangs around 
with?" Kassi asks, tilting her head. "'Tis nay so serious as all of that. 
He *can* behave himself. Just keep your eyes open when they're together, 
eh?" She starts flapping one of her sacks in the air in a rather ludicrous 
attempt to fan the man and help prevent said stroke.

Lysseth> Xylath moves settles in to have a wherry snack, sending feathers 
about the blue hide, tinged with a bloody muzzle. Quite an impression, eat 
a meal and get self amused at the same time by feathers floating about. 
Even the constant stampeeding is intresting.

Lysseth> Lysseth manages to finish off this last beast, and instead of 
leaping up to go after another, she's content to lounge in the grass near 
what little remains of her kill. She looks for all the world like someone 
who had just a *bit* too much turkey at Thanksgiving, and has somehow 
gotten the notion that laying about aimlessly for awhile will help.

Lysseth> Baa, baa, baaaaaa goes the combusting creature in its panicked 
sprint around the field. In the end, Wroxath catches up with it and neatly 
snatches it into the air. If anything, the ovine baaaaaaa's even louder, 
until it's dunked into a nearby stream - baa*glub* *glub* *blorb*. The 
blue dragon then fishes his rather waterlogged snack out, slitting its 
throat. Not surprisingly, as much water as blood comes out.

M'rgan's shirt collar flaps against his neck in the breeze caused by 
Kassima's fanning. After a few more deep breaths, the brownrider manages 
to lift his head without spots soaring before his eyes. "He'd better not 
touch her," he says vehemently, fire coming into his eyes. "He'd just 
better not touch her."

Lysseth> Nraith pitches leftover bones and tendons into the grass, 
scattering more Wherry. He belches happily and heads in for a nap.

A'lex looks concernedly at Kassima and M'rgan. "You're not disturbing 
members of my wing, are you Kassima?"

A'ser smiles. Now he sees. Telgar isn't really a weyr. It's a home for 
criminally insane riders. And now, if you don't mind, he's going to go 
stand behind A'lex, away from S'dar and his pet Blade, and away from 
M'rgan and his spotty-visioned near-swoons, and away from Kassima and her 
sharp, glittery underwear.

Neliea nods to S'dar as she holds the sling pouch in her other hand. "I 
can see why, Sandy," the bluerider says slowly as she looks over to Kassi 
and M'rgan. The latter gets an eyebrow raised in an unspoken question: Are 
you okay?

Telgar Weyr> Neliea pouts. What about /me/, A'ser? I'm not insane?

Telgar Weyr> S'dar says, "only at Telgar would you hear a pout like that."

Telgar Weyr> M'rgan pouts. I haven't had Ularrith eat anyone in...Sheesh, 
it must've been weeks now. That's not very criminally insane.

In fact, A'ser might do well to stand away from D'thon and his fully-
loaded crossbow too - but perhaps that isn't as much of a danger as sharp, 
glittery underwear.

Telgar Weyr> Neliea giggles.

Telgar Weyr> Gwina snickers.

A'lex cranes his neck to look at A'ser behind him, "Ummmm, see anything 
you like?" He winks, "You all right?"

Kassima soothes, sitting back down on the ground (a difficult task when 
there are knives hidden in every inch of your clothing, but she manages), 
"He won't, Mart. He won't. And Jannea's a smart lass. She's just got 
t'know t'be careful." She favors A'lex with a heavily ironic glance. 
"'Lexie, my life is devoted to disturbing certain members of your Wing. 
Nay t'mention you."

Telgar Weyr> <Kassima> Lysseth picks her teeth with one of the Jell-O 
drudge's leg bones. << Not to mention negligent. >>

A'ser scritches at the side of his face with a now-gloved finger. "Just 
hiding, sir," he chirps.

A'lex nods, "Okayyyy..."

Telgar Weyr> A'ser sees nothing inaccurate about his poses, thank you.

Telgar Weyr> Kassima says, "I do *not* have sharp, glittery underwear!"

Telgar Weyr> J'lyn says, "LIAR!"

"She'd probably do it just to get back at me," M'rgan mutters sharply, 
shaking his head ever so slightly as a chuckle of irony escapes his 
throat. "Nothing's wrong," he says, lifting his gaze towards A'lex. "Just 
that unexpected complication. It starts with R and ends with L." He peers 
past A'lex at A'ser, giving the young man a curious look.

Telgar Weyr> A'ser chants, "Prove that you don't, prove that you don't!"

A'ser meeps, very Neliea-like, and disappears behind A'lex's shoulder 
again.

A'lex blanches, "Oh, dear..."

Telgar Weyr> M'rgan quickly covers his eyes. That is something that he's 
seen twice and doesn't dare see again for fear of blindness.

S'dar peers at M'rgan... "Starts with R... ends with L..." he murmurs to 
himself. Then, comes up with... "R'val?" And rumors are born.

Kassima informs her archnemesis, "Kena suggested she be made t'watch a 
woman give birth. I can probably arrange that with Shiara, whenever the 
woman *finally* gives it up and spawns." She follows Mart's glance to 
A'ser, and arches an eyebrow. "A greenrider, hiding behind a bronzer? 
This'll never do."

Telgar Weyr> Kassima calmly eviscerates Mart, then informs A'ser that 
she's not proving any such thing, thank you.

Telgar Weyr> A'ser ROLLS, S'dar!

A'lex looks at Kassima, "Rider hanging behind Weyrleader, Kassima..."

Neliea actually /twitches/ an ear at the sound of something like a meep 
before looking discreetly towards S'dar and filing away information for 
later, of course.

A'ser pipes up loudly, "I am NOT hiding behind a bronzer!"

D'thon rubs at his chin. "R'val?" he wonders. "'Tis not impossible..."

A'lex nods, "True, it's not hiding when there's a hand on my rump... it's 
something... more."

Kassima chides A'lex, "You are *nay* Weyrleader, Fish-Mouth. And riders 
don't commonly hide behind their Wingleaders. Well, except for R'ehn, but 
he's entitled after his brave defense of me from the rump-fetish people--
ewww, 'Lex, I did *nay* need t'know that."

"Watch a woman giving birth?" M'rgan gulps, turning all woozy again. "Do 
you think anyone would object if I just laid here for a candlemark or 
ten?" The wooziness ends a second later as he winks. He's not quite as 
much of a doofus as he pretends to be. A wide-eyed glance is shot between 
A'lex and A'ser at his wingleader's last words but for once M'rgan doesn't 
inquire further.

A'lex blushes, "Wishfull thinking... Wingleader, Wingleader..."

Telgar Weyr> J'lyn says, "You people are weird."

D'thon gulps and appears glad that there're several people between him and 
A'ser.

Kassima hastily assures Mart, "Wouldn't mind at all. I brought a spare 
dress, even, just in case you decided t'fall asleep on us. 'Tis pink this 
time, just as I promised... wait a moment. Surely you've seen a woman 
giving birth a'fore?"

Telgar Weyr> <A'lex> @name A'lex=Kettle @name J'lyn=Pot

Kassima grins at A'lex then. "Good thing you're *nay* Weyrleader. I 
imagine that I'd have been demoted ten ways from seventh-day and then hung 
out on the Star Stones t'dry. And you can't *imagine* what sort of revenge 
I'd have t'wreak for *that*."

A'lex laughs, "No, not demoted... demented maybe..."

S'dar listens to the conversation idly as he watches the dragons in the 
sky. R'val... Kassima... woman giving birth... gratuitous rump-grabbing... 
hung from the star stones... he shakes his head, rubbing his eyes with an 
ungloved hand.

A shudder runs across M'rgan's frame. "Of course I've seen a woman giving 
birth. I just don't want to see it ever again." Daringly he reaches out to 
touch one of Kassi's knives, giving it a tap. "Weren't you going to go 
hunting?"

"You mean she isn't already?" D'thon wonders to A'lex.

A'lex shrugs, "Well..."

Telgar Weyr> J'lyn says, "Yeah, blahblah, 'Lex..."

A'ser looks at his hand in bewilderment. He hasn't been errant and 
naughty, has he? Oh, my. He didn't think so, but if A'lex said so, then it 
must be true. So he apologizes and stuffs his hands in his pockets as he 
continues to hide. This way, you see, if anyone throws anything, it should 
hit A'lex first. Then A'ser will run, and trip M'rgan (Fresh meat, 
freshmeat!), and hopefully make it to Yasinth whole..... Meekly, he asks, 
"Does anyone know if M'kla could make it?"

Lysseth> Ularrith licks at his chops, wiping up every speck of blood, bit 
of wool, or chunk of meat that clings to his maw. Slowly he lumberfallumps 
across the field, heading in Yasinth's direction.

"Better t'see it than be it," Kassi points out drolly, "which is why I 
wish the Water worked on men. 'Twould serve you right. Even the broken 
hands that the men get are naught in comparison." She gives a noticeable 
shudder. "Hmm? Oh, aye, I suppose 'twas. Aren't you? Though I suppose," 
and now she's taunting, "that brownriders aren't any good with weapons."

Lysseth> Wroxath looks vaguely full, sitting back on his haunches with a 
self-satisfied sort of expression.

Kassima calls over to A'ser, "Nay clue, though I doubt it. The Healers are 
likely still keeping her under wraps."

Telgar Weyr> A'lex waves at Maylia as his sinuses pop... I have to get my 
sick self to bed kids... Hunt well without me...

Eyes narrowed in a lusty look, M'rgan stares at Kassima. "I didn't hear 
any complaints from you about my weapon-usage after Lysseth's flights." 
Not really able to keep up this sort of banter for long, he is easily 
distracted by the conversation involving the Healers and he once more 
looks up at A'lex. "I heard that N'ren was out of the infirmary and is at 
Igen Weyr now." His tone makes that a question.

Lysseth> Yasinth favours Ularrith with a *look*. A curved necked, 
whirling-eyed, talon-tapping don't-you-dare *look*. She doubts very highly 
that she shoulder get such a thing on her shoulder.

Lysseth> Xylath sits back on his haunches, looking about emincely pleased 
that he had another meal so soon. But then he's always been the one who 
still wanted more. Settling back and away from the herds (which are going 
in the other direction), he curls up in a nap, sunning or both.

Lysseth> Ularrith rumbles to Yasinth with a 'have a nice day' tone as he 
wisely passes her by. He tromps further across the field towards another 
green, intent on trying out his line on her. If you ask enough greens, 
you're bound to get lucky.

Kassima turns a truly remarkable shade of red, as she always does when 
such subjects are brought up, but at least she manages to think of a 
comeback this time. "Anyone can manage adequately if'n they've an 
appropriately skilled person t'guide them," she replies, attempting 
blitheness. Before anyone can start laughing themselves sick, however, she 
springs to her feet and asks with a touch too much gaeity, "So! Who's up 
for slaughtering things?"

D'thon makes a swallowing noise and gets to his feet. "Don't mind if I 
do," he replies.

Lysseth> Yasinth may not be the expirienced beastie that some others are, 
but my goodness, even dragons can have subtlty. She might have offered to 
let him scrape the rider off of her shoulder, if such was the case, but 
for some reason, /no one/ ever offers to get that annoyance off of her.

Neliea slowly smiles, which is covered with a simple nod in Kassima's 
direction, "I don't mind. Though 'hunting' has a better sound to it...."

Kassima replies with much more geniune breeziness, "Hunting, 
slaughtering... both good words for their purpose. And I can just hear the 
wherries calling me, can't you?"

A'ser listens, then slowly, carefully replies, "N-no.....I think that's 
A'lex. He sounds like he's gotten his finger caught in a cinch again...." 
Do the wherries call her often, he wonders?

Neliea chuckles as she lowers her hand, sling and stone ready beside her, 
"Slaughtering is what Xylath did. Hunting is hopefully neater than what 
the dragons did. So...where do we start?"

M'rgan slumps back to lie in the grass and stare up at the sun, his 
crossed arms pillowing his head. "You all can go on without me. After the 
day I've had all I want to do is rest for a little while."

Telgar Weyr> M'rgan waves to everyone. I've gotta return to RL work.

A'ser looks down at M'rgan, and then up at Kassima. Wow. She killed 
'im.....

D'thon blinks. "If you like," he replies.

Kassima assures A'ser, "This is purely a mental calling. They're yelling, 
'Eat me! Eeeeeeeeeeat meeeeeee!' Or something like that, anyway. Mayhaps 
over that rise?" She gestures with a knife, then makes a face at the 
brownrider. "Suit yourself, lazy bones."

A'ser chews on the finger of one of A'lex's gloves. "Gosh, I guess I just 
don't hear their keening little voices like you do, Kassima...."

Kassima shakes her head sadly. Some people will just never understand. 
"Shhhh," she warns. "We don't want t'scare 'em. We'll have t'creep up." 
That said, she drops to a crouch, and makes her way very carefully through 
the tall grasses. Whatever else she may be, Kassi *does* have some 
experience with hunting.

Telgar Weyr> S'dar sniffs, and has to go to bed. And wanted to splut 
something with my huge dreadful knife, too.

A'ser looks over his shoulder at the other riders there. She is crazy, you 
know. "Sandy," he whispers, "Wanna go first?" he gestures for the bronzer 
to follow Kassima.

Telgar Weyr> Neliea awws and snugs S'dar.

Telgar Weyr> Kassima awwws! I wanted to see the huge dreadful knife in 
action.

Telgar Weyr> S'dar says, "You'd have loved it. But, perhaps next time :)"

D'thon nods. "Good idea," he notes as he stands.

S'dar smiles at A'ser. "After you," he gestures.

Telgar Weyr> A'ser thinks the huge dreadful night had something to do with 
Kassima's underthings.

Neliea follows Kassi, lowering herself to a crouch. "I'll go, A'ser if 
you're afraid to..." she states in a low whisper, of course teasing but 
she can't pass it. Men, sheesh.

Aurian slides off Kvasith after unfastening her riding straps. She lands 
neatly on her feet this time.

Kvasith leaps into the air.

Telgar Weyr> A'ser Ahems. KNIFE. Huge....dreadful...knife...

Telgar Weyr> Kassima gets out a giant fly-swatter to whap A'ser silly 
with.

Aurian comes down the hill.

Kassima loosens a throwing-knife from her glove as she continues to stalk 
the somewhat calmed herd. Now that the dragons aren't wreaking bloody 
havoc, the dumb critters have settled right back to their normal everyday 
lives. "See any you particularly want?" she murmurs to her companions.

Aurian clutches the knife she so recently pulled out of her boot. She 
looks vagely annoyed but not too much so.

D'thon shoulders his bow. "H'm," is his only response as he looks over the 
herd.

Neliea scans the herd, kneeling with one knee to ground as she nods to 
Aurian with a light smile. Drawing her gaze a relaxed wherry gets her 
attention. "What about that wherry over there," the states, tilting her 
head to the slight right of the crowd.

D'thon shrugs. "Sounds as good as any other," he responds.

Kassima glances back and nods to Neliea, edging back a bit. "Go ahead and 
take him. Methinks 'twill try... that one." She makes a minute gesture 
with the knife to indicate another relatively docile-looking bird. But 
then, let's face it: all wherries are docile-looking.

D'thon simply takes aim, slowly circling the flock. A couple of the 
creatures eye him warily, but none bolt - yet,

Neliea nods, watching her selected wherry carefully lowering her sling 
beside and to an angle behind her. Swinging the stone in a pendulum 
motion, she uses the momentum build to a full circular motion for a few 
moment before flicking her wrist and sending the stone towards its 
target. Almost silently hitting the bird at the base of the neck, it falls 
and a few twitches of legs and wings can be seen before it stills 
permanently.

As the flock starts to squawk and panic, running in all directions, a 
few stragglers head towards D'thon. Raising his crossbow, he fells one 
with a bolt through the heart, and now the wherries are running the other 
way.

Kassima's glance at Neliea is one of approval, before she concentrates on 
her own task at hand. She considers her target for several moments; her 
expression does not change at all from that careful consideration as her 
wrist snaps out to send a the silver knife flashing towards the wherry. 
With the throwing-blade through its eye, the creature collapses in a 
feathered heap on the plain.

Aurian looks a bit squeamish about this whole thing. Sure stitch slashes 
together remove little growths. SHe can do alll those things but jeeeez 
kill something? Can't dragons do that.

Neliea reaches into her beltpouch, fingering another stone that she places 
into the sling by familarity and chooses her next bird. In the moments 
between choosing and actually swinging, she peers over at Aurian, "Are you 
okay? You don't have to do anything if you want." One particular bird is 
practically in her sights as she winds up the sling, sending her stone in 
an almost repeat performance. It's not as bloody, but it gets the job 
done.

D'thon cranks his crossbow into a reloaded state, loading it and taking 
careful aim at a fleeing wherry. The dissonant twang of the instrument is 
overpowered by the terminal squawk of the bird as it slides in the dust 
with an arrow through its head.

Kassima presses her lips together in a thin line, considering the depleted 
flock. "Just one more for me," she mutters. "Nay use taking more than we 
need." Before she's even through speaking, a second small knife has flown 
towards a running bird on the edge of the cluster; it gives an abrupt 
burble of pain--a burble, because it's hard to squawk with a knife through 
your jugular. The creature's death is swift, however, and with that, Kassi 
seems satisfied.

Neliea nods slowly, resetling and folding her sling into her belt. "Two 
should be enough for me as well. So, we're bring back two apiece," she 
wonders, reaching for her other glove from her jacket pocket.

Aurian peers at Neliea, "Just never did this before. Y'know...Minerbrat at 
Teglar Hold till I went to healer. I never got to hunt... I mean I never 
really killed anything even when I was hunting tunnelsnakes as a 
candidate. The all managed to kill themselves."

Kassima rises to her full height, agreeing, "The Bakers would likely be 
pleased enough with that. Shall we collect our loot?"

D'thon nods. "Sounds about right, Neliea," he replies. As if in response, 
Wroxath gets up with a vague grumbling noise and pads over to the 
carcasses to sniff them.

Neliea nods to Aurian in understanding, "I prefer something that doesn't 
spatter blood all over myself and the bird. It's less cleanup for 
everyone." Looking over to Kassima and D'ton, she stands, streching out 
her legs with another nod. "Sure." Pondering something she asks thr 
brownrider, "Do you want to take one of mine back to Telgar?"

Aurian shakes her head, "Quite alrigte Neliea."

Kassima retrieves her knives from the eye and neck of her two kills, 
wiping them briskly against a cloth to clean them. They are replaced on 
her gloves before she hefts the two carcasses and, with a grunt, slings 
each over a shoulder and tromps back towards the knoll. "Think we should 
troop through the 'Cavern with these? It might raise a few eyebrows."

Neliea chuckles as she hefts one wherry, then the other over her shouders. 
"Could be fun, but will Rhiallya like us doing that?"

D'thon nods. "That's part of the idea," he grins. Retrieving the bolts 
he'd shot earlier, he looks them over. Unfortunately, if you were forced 
to punch through a wherry's skull at high speed, you'd be in no position 
to go back either. He just tosses the bolts over his shoulder with a sigh, 
then grabs the wherries and starts hauling them towards Wroxath.

Kassima lays the two birds back down, and whistles sharply. "Lyss! Get 
your lazy green tail over here, lump!"

Lysseth comes down the hill.

Wroxath comes down the hill.

Kvasith comes down the hill.

Xylath comes down the hill.

Lysseth grumbles faintly, but plunks down close to her rider and lowers 
her neck. "Mmm... the straps are mostly clean," Kassima notes with 
approval. "Good job. Now, just hold still while I strap these on."

D'thon fastens his two kills to Wroxath's harness by their feet, carefully 
lashing them there.

Neliea fastens the wherries to the uppermost side of the straps, not 
wanting to get any blood, dried or otherwise on herself. "Not bad, Xy, but 
I'm still going to have a time cleaning these..."

Aurian pulls herself up onto Kvasith, carefully. Her fingers grip at the 
straps as she eases herself onto his back.

D'thon takes Wroxath's offer of a leg as assistance, climbing up onto his 
back.

Neliea easily climbs up Xylath's back with the help of a forearm as she 
takes hold of the straps, settling down between his neckridges.

You place one hand on Lysseth's neck and she warbles down at you fondly. 
You grin and scratch her eyeridges once before climbing up onto her lower 
neckridges, using the riding straps and Lysseth's thoughtfully offered 
foreleg.

Kassima reaches back to pat the secured corpses fondly, before buckling 
herself into place. "Ready?" she calls over to the others.

<*> From Wroxath's back, D'thon nods. "Ready," he replies.

<*> Astride Xylath, Neliea secures her straps, and herself before looking 
over to Kassima. "Ready here too."

<*> Lysseth spreads her wings to their full extent, bringing them down 
with a rush of wind as she leaps nimbly into the air.

<*> Xylath rises up from the picnic area.

<*> Wroxath rises up from the picnic area.

<*> Kvasith rises up from the picnic area.

<*> 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!

<*> From the North, From the Telgar Star Stones, Kl'loh's brick-brown 
Yoxath rears on hind legs and bugles a greeting to green Lysseth and her 
rider, Kassima, welcoming them home.

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

<*> From the North, From the Telgar Star Stones, Kl'loh's brick-brown 
Yoxath rears on hind legs and bugles a greeting to blue Xylath and his 
rider, Neliea, welcoming them home.

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

<*> From the North, From the Telgar Star Stones, Kl'loh's brick-brown 
Yoxath rears on hind legs and bugles a greeting to brown Kvasith and his 
rider, Aurian, welcoming them home.

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

<*> From the North, From the Telgar Star Stones, Kl'loh's brick-brown 
Yoxath rears on hind legs and bugles a greeting to blue Wroxath and his 
rider, D'thon, welcoming them home.

You fly downwards towards the southern end of the bowl.

You fly downwards towards the ground.

You backwing for a landing on sands of the bowl.

<*> Xylath backwings for a landing.

<*> Kvasith backwings for a landing.

<*> Wroxath backwings for a landing.

<*> Neliea nimbly climbs down from Xylath's neckridges, pausing to gently 
brush a hand along her lifemate's muzzle as he turns a large light blue 
muzzle to his lifemate, wuffling her hair gently in return.

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.

D'thon slides off Wroxath's back to the ground, landing lightly.

Kassima slides down from Lysseth's neck with a thump, immediately working 
at the straps that hold the wherries in place. "Aye, Lyss, I know they're 
dripping all over your shoulder; I'll have 'em free in a moment. Don't 
have a bovine." One bird-body and then another falls, to be caught by the 
greenrider and slung over her shoulder again. "Oof. I will be glad t'let 
the kitchen deal with these things."

D'thon nods. "Agreed," he replies, shouldering the catch of the day.

Neliea removes the carcases from Xylath's straps as the blue turns his 
head about, to peer at the feathered wherries. "No Xylath, these are not 
eatable. For you that is..." she murmurs, looking over to Kassi, birds in 
hand (or shoulder) nodding. "I'll third that comment."

Kassima bobs her head once, nearly getting a mouthful of wherry-foot in 
the process. "Ugh," is her succinct commentary as she makes her way 
towards the LC.

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

Pierron humphs thoughtfully as the Wingleader of Thunderbolt arrives.

D'thon walks in from the bowl.

Neliea walks in from the bowl.

Kassima troops through the Cavern, dragging two wherry carcasses over her 
shoulder, which annoy Pierron no end by bleeding all over his nice clean 
floor. When a serving-girl stops the greenrider at the entrance to the 
kitchens, she quite happily passes the birds over. "If'n you won't let me 
in, carry 'em in yourself, with m'compliments to the Bakers. Thankee most 
kindly!"

Neliea trundles into the cavern, minus the bloody wherry syndrome to some 
extent but the same glare from Pirreon as she makes a faster line for the 
kitchens. Glares and drudges trying to stop you isn't the best thing but 
people /do/ move quicker.

D'thon trudges into the cavern with two not-so-bloody birds in tow, 
evading drudges, Head Cooks and other miscellany.

Aurian walks in from the bowl.

Kassima takes up a wet towel from another helpful serving person, and 
stoops to start wiping the trails of her passage from the floor. "Happy 
now, Pierron?" she demands; the man isn't about to answer that, of course.

Aurian stretches as she enters.

Neliea makes her way into the kitchen and out, wherry-free as she keeps 
going towards the bowl. "Birds all accounted for and I'm going to turn in 
for the night," she replies, waving over her shoulder and walking towards 
the bowl.

Kassima finishes her task, tosses the towel wherever such things go, and 
dusts off her hands. "My work here is done," she informs the room in 
general, and turns to stride right back out again while whistling a 
cheerful tune. Greenriders. Go figure.

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