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The Klash of the Ks


Date:  April 7, 1999
Place:  Telgar Weyr's 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:  Once upon a time, there lived two greenriders, Kassima
and Kena by name, who were usually good friends.  However, when
Lysseth and Cymrith started glowing, Kassi suddenly found herself the
target of horrid allegations... and the fight begins!  This could be 
called round two of the Greenrider Battle Royale--and yet again, Kassi
forgot to sell tickets, shardit.

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The Log:

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

Pierron humphs thoughtfully as the Wingleader of Thunderbolt arrives.

Kena shakes her head and strides purposefully to the meal table. "It would 
be my pleasure, Trila." She brings over the whole tray of meatrolls. "Will 
this be enough? Winter's coming on, you know."

Wince. Trila's gaze turns to'ards her wingleader, and she looks about to 
hide -- before there's a tray of meatrolls in front of her. "Well... this 
is a little much, you know. I can just take two, if that's okay with you?" 
she asks, curling her lip in a hopeful smile, backed up with a nervous 
laugh as the bluerider carefully takes Two Meatrolls.

Ominous music doesn't *really* play as Kassi stalks into the room. It's 
just your imagination. However, her barked words to Pierron are certainly 
real enough: "Stick it in your ear, you--ach, never mind. 'Tis nay worth 
the brain power t'be thinking up a good enough insult. Feh! And where's 
the bloody *klah*? It'd better be better than that dishwater crap they 
served this afternoon, or I swear, there'll be the Red Star t'pay." Now, 
there's a cheery greeting for you.

Dossa wanders into the living cavern from the kitchens, just happening to 
be carting out several large klah pitchers. "Afternoon, all! I..." She 
spots Kassima and looks a shade paler than horrified.

Run, Dossa, run. Trila sends a pathetic glance Dossa-wards. Two of them. 
Two proddy riders. Will the torture never end?

Telgar Weyr> Kassima says, "You reminded me of the Count from Sesame 
Street in that last pose, Trila. ;) "Two! Two proddy riders! Ha ha ha ha 
ha."

Telgar Weyr> Dossa says, "Oh, good heavens. Kassima -and- Kena?"

Telgar Weyr> Trila giggles.

Telgar Weyr> Trila says, "The K-team has gone proddy."

Telgar Weyr> Trila says, "Run."

Telgar Weyr> Saskia says, "They were just waiting for Trila to 
graduate ;)"

Telgar Weyr> Trila is a stud?

From the kitchen, M'rgan peeks out of the kitchen door, spies Kassima, and 
wisely goes back to hiding in a storeroom.

Telgar Weyr> Trila silenced the knot with that tasteless comment. Whee!

Telgar Weyr> Dossa snugs a Trila.

Telgar Weyr> Saskia giggles "Nah, we're too busy swooning." ;)

Kassima would indubitably make chicken noises at Mart, as well as 
screaming epithets, if she realized his cowardi--err, wisdom. The lack of 
such suggests that she hasn't. This is probably because she seems intent 
on the klah, sniffing the pot with all the disdain she might show for 
porcine swill. "Who made this?" she demands. "They need t'be taken out to 
the Bowl and *shot*. That absolutely settles it: I'm going t'have t'start 
trying t'figure out M'kla's recipe in a *hurry* if'n I want something 
t'be drinking around here. Is there at least *wine*? Decent wine? First 
person t'point me towards Tillek Swill gets it spat back in their face, 
needless t'be saying."

Kena takes the tray away once Trila has taken her two meatrolls. "Oh, 
Dossa, here, put these away for me, will you?" she requests. When she sees 
Kassima, her eyes narrow. "Wingleader."

"There's wine over there, Kassi," Trila mutters, pointing a finger where a 
few wineskins are propped up. "I think it's Benden." So there.

Kassima gives Kena one of those glares she's been parcelling out so 
freely. "Wingrider," she replies, deadpan, before giving Trila a brusque 
nod of thanks and wheeling to snatch up a 'skin of the wine. "If'n the 
beast doesn't rise today, I'm going t'make a *cloak* out of her, so help 
me Faranth."

Dossa looks completely horrified now. Eyes wide, she stammers a moment 
before articulating, "W-wine is freshly brought up from stores last night, 
Kassima. And the klah was made by one of Ofira's best journeymen. It 
smells j-just fine..." She quickly backs towards Kena, white as a sheet, 
and fumbles with the tray the woman offered to her. "Yes'm," she says 
quickly.

Kena retorts, "I'll just be happy to have to stop making such a mess of my 
caverns, Wingleader." She waves over another of the cavern staff (someone 
who is used to Kena's proddy ways) and instructs him to be ready to clean 
up after Kassima.

"Welcome," Trila mutters, placing elbows on the table and propping her 
hands up. She mutters something that sounds oddly like 'So will the /rest/ 
of us.' But no one can be sure.

Kena pats Dossa on the shoulder. "Don't worry, dearie, I'll make sure you 
have nothing to worry about with Kassima," she says in reassuring 
confidence. But who will save her from Kena?

Dossa smiles reassuringly at Kena, taking the tray away to the places 
where trays go. She actually returns to Kena's side afterwards, inquiring 
quietly, "Anything else I can do for you, ma'am?" She seems to think 
Kena's proddiness is considerably more tolerable than Kassima's... at 
least, for the time being.

"Good t'be hearing about the wine," Kassima grouses, "but that Journeyman 
needs t'be reassessed if'n *that's* the best he can do. You could wash 
with that stuff, 'tis so weak. And Kena, for Faranth's sake, get over it." 
No sympathy here. "As if'n 'twere making most of the mess that gets made 
in here daily. As if'n what mess I *do* make spreads across the Cavern 
rather than being confined to, mayhaps, a drop of wine where I'm sitting. 
*Jays.*"

Grouse, grouse, grouse. Blah, blah, blah.Trila lets out a gusty sigh, 
pouting and putting her head on the table, a hand rested over one ear as 
casually as she can, though her intent's probably clear.

Malachai walks here from the Inner Cavern.

No, no, run, run. Proddy greens. Trila, with her head on the table and a 
hand draped over one of her ears, manages a sigh in Malachai's direction.
Malachai strolls into the living cavern from the inner caverns, rubbing at 
a sore muscle of his hand as he walks along - head down, not particularly 
looking where he's going or what he might be wandering into.

Sage flits into the room from the Inner Cavern.

Proddy greenriders, one could more accurately say. The black-clad Kassima 
being one of them. Low, evil mutters can be heard from her direction, 
calling the world foul names. A vague grunt of what might be greeting is 
directed towards the arriving Malachai.

Sage chirps rather loudly and starts to do lazy circles above Kassima, 
completly un-aware of anything.

Dossa looks up and bites her lip. "Oh no. Don't bother her and make it 
worse," she mumbles. Getting out a handcloth, she waves it at Sage. "Shoo! 
Go on, shoo! Go to your perch!" Oddly enough, she's inviting death and 
destruction upon herself, as the proddy Kassima is likely to 
misinterpret...

Malachai's gaze flickers upwards at the vague grunt, and he cheerfully 
replies, "'Afternoon, Kassima." Still rubbing his hand, he wanders along 
towards the klah pots. Just act natural and you'll be safe.

Sage looks up at the strange pink thing waving a cloth, but pays no heed.

"Yes, dearie," Kena says to Dossa, "what can you tell me about the stores 
of preserving spices?" When she spots Malachai, she pipes up, "Malachai! 
Just the man I needed to see."

Kassima does give Dossa a rather sharp look, but then seems to notice that 
there's a creature circling over her head much like a vulture over a 
carcass. "That had better have been intended for the 'lizard," she warns. 
"Faranth's fecund feces, Malachai, what's got you so fardling cheerful? 
You're about t'make me puke."

"/He/ is in a good mood," Trila snaps, lifting her hand off her head and 
letting it plop to the table.

"Well if I do, Kassi, just make sure to hit a bucket or something instead 
of the floor.." Malachai looks up from pouring himself a mug of the 
steaming liquid, uh oh, "What can I help you with, Kena?"

Sage shreaks and flits over to Dossa and cowers, obviously feeling the 
force of Kassima's last statement.

Telgar Weyr> Malachai fears no proddiness!

Dossablinks at Kassima and nods quickly. "Of course! I'd never speak to 
you like that, ma'am!" She pales. "I mean, Kassima!" She sighs, looking 
defeated as the defiant firelizard ignores her, so she slinks back over to 
Kena. "What was that about preserving spices? Like salt?" She asks the 
other greenrider. Then, she nearly topples over in shock, shooing Sage 
away from her again.

Kassima flips Malachai a rude one-fingered gesture. She's apparently in 
fine proddy form tonight. "There's nay such thing as a good mood," she 
snaps back at Trila. "Only a wish t'irritate others with bubbliness. Gag 
me with a spoon, say I." A grudging nod is awarded Dossa, and the ma'aming 
is ignored... just this once. "Just kindly see that you don't."

Kena gives Kassima a look of disgust. To Malachai, she says, "One of the 
cabinets in the kitchen has a door that is cracked. Can you replace it?"
Sage's eyes turn yellow mighty fast, obvious that no one is going to 
protect her she hides in a corner like a scared wherry.

Malachai doesn't seem to much be bothered by Kassima - his mother was a 
greenrider, you don't think he's used to this by now? "Certainly can - 
right after my afternoon meal I'll take care of it. Which cabinet might it 
be?" He moves along to go search out some food.. mm.. roast wherry, sounds 
good.

Trila lets out another one of those gusty sighs, pushes back her klah mug, 
and rises. "Think I'll go for a flight," she mutters, and stalks out.

Trila walks down the short tunnel and out into the bowl.

Kena answers, "The one we keep the kniv..." she turns her attention back 
to Kassima. "You wouldn't know what happened to that cabinet, would you, 
Wingleader?" she asks accusingly.

Telgar Weyr> M'rgan cries out, "Cat fight! Cat fight!" ;)

Telgar Weyr> Dossa whimpers.

"Chick-*ken*!" Kassi yells after Trila, of course. "All maleriders are 
chicken! Lily-livered, spineless, brainless, ba--" Thank Faranth that Kena 
interrupted her. "I should think nay, Wingrider. I stick to m'own knife 
cabinet, which has much better weapons than any other."

Dossa blinks wide-eyed at Kassima's recent raving.

Malachai, wisely, just nods to the identification of the cabinet and stays 
out of the whole argument. Finishing piling a plate high with food, he 
sweeps away and over towards a table where he can sit and watch all of 
this amusement.

Kena doesn't look terribly convinced. However, she's not in the mood to 
argue with the lunatic greenrider. "Dossa, dear, why don't you go check on 
those spices. And maybe clean up around the serving table."

Dossa nods quickly at Kena. "Of course. I'm sure we have plenty of salt 
and basil and whatnot. I'll ask a kitchen girl to check up on it while I 
tidy." She smiles, then quickly makes her way to the kitchen, where she 
speaks with a pair of kitchen girls in hushed tones.

Kassima harumphs, finding nothing now to argue about. How disappointing. 
She takes a few sullen pulls at her wineskin before it occurs to ask, 
"Speaking of knives and spineless maleriders, what happened to that 
weyrmate of yours, Kena?" Eyes actually sparkle with a hint of interest as 
she wonders, "Did you kill him? Put him in the stew, perhaps?"

Dossa sends the two kitchen girls on their detective work, and then turns 
to begin some work on the serving table, where she spots a glipse of the 
aforementioned M'rgan. She careens her neck to get a clear look, blinking. 
"What are you doing back there?" she wonders aloud.

Malachai settles down upon a bench, and sets the tray of food and klah 
before himself - just casually going about his business eating his meal, 
his eyes gleaming with barely-surpressed amusement as he gets comfortable 
to watch the day's proceedings.

Fiton walks here from the Inner Cavern.

Fiton strolls in, hair slightly damp, "G'Evening."

Fiton looks around, eyeing Kassima and Kena in a "Did I miss something?" 
Sort of look.

From the kitchen, M'rgan, still hiding in that storeroom, shakes his head 
at Dossa and puts a finger across his lips. His eyes flick once in the 
direction of the living cavern and a mock-shudder rocks his shoulders.

Dossa smiles, and stifles a giggle. She gives M'rgan an a-ok sign common 
amongst riders, with a wink, and then begins sweeping away crumbs and 
straightening around the serving table, just looking absolutely smug.

Kena continues to give Kassima a cold, smouldering look. "Just because 
you're jealous that he's my weyrmate and not yours is no reason to 
denigrate him, Kassima."

Telgar Weyr> Kassima just *howls* at Kena.

Telgar Weyr> Malachai giggles.

From the kitchen, Abruptly there's a clunking sound from that storeroom. 
Possibly because a brownrider just fainted.

Dossa frowns, dropping her handbrush and wipes her hands on her apron. 
"Keysa? Nilly? What'd you drop?" She shakes her head, going to check on 
her kitchen girls.

Dossa walks off towards the kitchen.

"Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaat?" Wow. It's amazing how shrill Kassi's mezzo-soprano 
voice can be when it shrieks. Did a few glasses on the sideboard just 
shatter? "What in Slithereth's shell-blasted name are you *talking* about, 
you mentally disturbed creature?" Yo, Kettle! Pot calling! "I denigrate 
him because he deserves t'be denigrated, nay for whatever sick, twisted, 
illogical reason you've concocted in that warped grey pudding that's your 
excuse for brain matter."

Malachai cranes his neck over to peer towards the kitchen at that audible 
thunk, and mms softly to himself. Was that a brownrider's head he just 
heard hitting the floor? Sounded kind of like it. Chuckling, he takes 
another sip of klah and looks back over to the screeching proddy 
greenrider. Oh, this should be fun.

The look of satisfaction on Kena's face goes well beyond smug. "The more 
you deny it, the more obvious it is, Kassima. Everyone knows it. Right, 
Malachai." Let the handiman earn his entertainment.

From the kitchen, Dossa looks about. Of course, her girls are nowhere to 
be seen. "What was that noise I heard? Sounded like a few sacks of tubers 
falling over..."

"I know nothing. I am no kind of rider whatsoever, and merely go about my 
duties with no concern for the people around me." Malachai intones in a 
grave voice at the question, then ducks his head back to eat some more 
wherry. Like he's getting involved in this?

From the kitchen, M'rgan's hands and boots scrape against the floor of the 
storeroom as he pulls himself back to his feet. If anyone was to look into 
that storeroom they'd see a stunned, beaming, wow of a smile on his face. 
He tiptoes back to the storeroom door and cracks it open, his head cocked 
so that he can hear every delicious word.

Red, white, red, white, red, purple, white again. If Kena was trying to 
see how many colors she could make Kassi turn, she's up to at least three. 
"You--you--" she splutters, at once for a total lost for words. "That's 
absurd. That's *beyond* absurd. That's ridiculous, preposterous, and 
illogical beyond all bands of Greenriderlogic." Green eyes narrow, 
dangerously. "Did A'lex put you up to this? T'get revenge on me for 
revealing his neverending passion for your weyrmate?"

Telgar Weyr> Kassima racks up another star by her name on A'lex's 'People 
To Kill' list. ;)

From the kitchen, "Be careful in there," Dossa says to the air as she 
brushes some crumbs away from the breadrack. "Tunnelsnakes, and all." 
Giggling, she heads back into the living cavern, not before giving a quick 
grin towards the storeroom.

Dossa walks in from the kitchen.

Kena doesn't say a word. Let Kassima bluster. She knows what she knows, 
even if it is lifemate addled at the time. Ah, life is good. That is until 
she has to explain herself to her Wingleader in a few days.

M'rgan walks in from the kitchen.

Pierron raises an appraising eyebrow at the Wingleader of Skyfire.

Kena sees M'rgan and suddenly throws herself at him. "Mine! Mine! Mine! 
And not yours, Kassima," she chants girlishly before planting a very wet 
kiss on her befuddled weyrmate's lips.

M'rgan can't take it anymore. Kena's words have inflamed him and he rushes 
out of the kitchen and into the cavern, making a VTOL-line towards her. 
"That's the best thing...I can't believe you said...Wow."

And until Kassi puts her on dawn sweeps with L'cher for a few weeks in 
revenge? Taking a deep breath, she grates out in her best 'reasonable' 
tone, "Look. Kena. I realize that your lifemate is proddy and currently 
damaging your ability to *think*. I should say abolishing it, but I'm 
trying t'be kind." That clearly required clarification, given her tone. 
"But just *one more word*, and I'll--so *what*? I know that! Fardles!" She 
throws up her hands in the air and decides the safest thing to do is plunk 
right back into her chair. "I can't believe this. Can you believe this? 
'Cause I can't believe this."

Telgar Weyr> Kena figures to have dawnsweeps for the next three turns ;)

"Wow" is repeated by M'rgan when the kiss ends. And again. "Wow." He 
twines his arm around his weyrmate's waist much like Ularrith twines his 
tail with a green's.

A proddy greenrider.. is yelling at another proddy greenrider.. for being 
proddy. It's just too much for Malachai, who promptly buries his face in 
his hands to muffle the helpless chuckles rising up from deep in his 
throat.

Telgar Weyr> Kassima says, "And latrine duty for the next five. ;)"

Kena keeps her arms around M'rgan's neck. She mutters to M'rgan, "... to 
our... me... Kassima... really... loverboy."  She turns and sticks her 
tongue out at her Wingleader. Proddy indeed!

Kassima favors Malachai with a snarl and that flipped finger again, then 
subsides to drinking wine. Drinking *lots* of wine. Quickly. Maybe she can 
just pretend this whole day never happened if she gets drunk enough.

Dossa sighs, straightening the serving table a bit. One of the girls skips 
up to Dossa and whispers to her. Dossa smiles, and nods. "Of course. Thank 
you, Nilly. Oh, be a good girl, and find your sister." The girl 
curtseys -- where'd she learn that? -- and scampers back into the 
kitchen.

M'rgan doesn't have to be told twice and he scoops Kena into his arms to 
carry her off. And he does this without grunting or complaining about her 
weight. His eyes are fixed on his weyrmate right now and all that he sees 
and hears is her.

Telgar Weyr> Kena snugs everyone g'night. Wheee :)

Kena is carried off chanting, "Nya nya nya."

Kena walks down the short tunnel and out into the bowl.

M'rgan's final "Wow" lingers in the air behind him as he carries Kena off.

M'rgan walks down the short tunnel and out into the bowl.

Kassima decides that's about as much of that as she plans to take, and 
jumps out of her chair, snatching up the wineskin. "Shard you guys! I'm 
going home!" And she does.

Malachai takes a deep breath and regains control of himself.. glancing 
after Kena and M'rgan with a faint smile before shaking his head and going 
back to eating. It's just the safest thing to do right now.

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