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Mission Implausible


Date:  February 16, 2000
Places:  Telgar Weyr's Storage Caverns, Living Cavern, Inner Caverns,
and Southern Bowl, and the Northern Icefields
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:  This was a lot of fun, particularly once we really got
going with it... and naturally, the game decided to crash at that 
point.  Lesigh. :)  Since it was down for so long that we couldn't
really pick up again once it came back, this log is incomplete.  The
ever-twisted I'sai suggested I should write an alternate ending wherein
everyone loses their toes, but I believe I'll pass on that one. ;)

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The Log:

You walk off towards the Storage Rooms.

"Gloves, rope, numbweed, wood, flint; flint, wood, numbweed, rope, gloves,"
Kassima recites to herself as she comes in, hands occupied by holding and
ticking off items on a hide list. "Just need the gloves now." Tucking the
list away, she lifts her head, and smiles at seeing the room occupied.
"Looking for more baby blankets, Ryi?"

Ryialla is sorting through piles of various pillows, tossing the ones she
doesn't like aside. Which seems to be most of them. "No, no, no, no...polka
dotted? I think not. No, no, no...heyla, Kassi. Just looking for a few new
pillows. Maybe some paint. Boxes to put m'clutter in. Maybe some other
cleaning supplies, in a bit. What brings you by?"

Kassima listens to this list, her expression growing a touch more
dumbfounded with each item. "Pillows? Paint? Boxes? Cleaning? You're
scaring me, Ryi. I'm just here after gloves--" She waves a hand vaguely in
the direction of clothes items, then thinks better of it and directs
herself towards the lot rather than just her hand. "Woolen gloves. For
those snow drills tonight. Had the Wing come down here t'be picking 'em up,
and nigh forgot to m'self. Dare I even ask what you're needing *pillows* 
for?"

Ryialla rummages a little deeper. "To redecorate m'weyr with, of course.
And tapestries. I'm sick of the clutter. I need to clean it all up.
Everything up." Run! It's the nesting instinct! "And maybe a cradle, for
th'babe. I don't have one anymore. She'll need to sleep somewhere."

Ryialla adds, with a little sigh. "Wish it was a few months eariler. I'm in
no shape to do those sort of drills right now."

Kassima's eyes widen slightly, and she backs up a step. This is one urge
she usually manages to escape, and she knows well to beware it in others.
"Your weyr seemed nice enough t'me," she offers, in the attempt to be
helpful. "If'n 'tis tapestries you're wanting, though, then I could be
asking after a commission when I go to Weavers t'be getting m'kilt?" She
makes absolutely no comment at mention of the cradle, though the corner of
her mouth does twitch just a tad. "Well... you could be a victim if'n you
wanted, Ryi? And be making it more interesting for the riders."

Ryialla looks most thoughtful. "You know, I hadn't considered that. Being a
victim. That could be interesting."

"You could do a crack-up job of it," Kassima wheedles, looking hopeful.
"I've nay decided whether 'twill be victim or run it as rider m'self, yet;
I could use the practice, too, but Jal might blow tubers out his ear. We
need victims who can be feigning injury and generally making things hard on
the riders--you're a greenrider; you've torment practice, you know how t'be
doing that!"

Ryialla nods, warming to the idea. "I could pretend like they're healers,
an' make their lives miserable..."

Kassima's grin is entirely too pleased, and would make wise maleriders back
slooowly away. "Exactly what I had in mind. Exactly. Make 'em *use* those
ropes and gloves and numbweed and all. What good will this do practice-wise
if'n we're making it too easy, hey?"

Ryialla chuckles. "None at all. As long as I'm not dropped - that would be
really bad for the babe, after all." She rubs her hands together. "And I
can make a scene and enjoy myself in the process...fine. I'll do it."

"Ryi," Kassi inquires in a drawl, as she finally finds and tugs free a pair
of black-dyed gloves, "who would *dare* drop you? Nay only would they be
having you t'contend with, and Pliarth, but then there're the Healers,
I'sai, possibly K'nan, their Wingleader, me for good measure... there'd nay
be enough pieces of 'em left t'be making casserole with."

"Mm. that's quite true," states the other greenrider. "Wouldn't even be
able to make a good mush out of what'd be left. Anything special I need to
be dressing in for this rescue, or...Oh. Wait. Where is this thing being
held, anyway?"

"Something warm," Kassi advises. "Very warm. 'Tis t'be held in the
Icefields just north of the Weyr--point of fact, if'n we're t'fly straight
there, I suspect we'd best nay be too long about it. We'll need an extra
set of gloves for you first, though, definitely. And mint sticks. Makes
waiting for 'em t'find you less boring."

Ryialla rubs her hands together. "The healers would have a fit if they
knew. Good." Setting the pillow aside, she moves over to the section of the
textile storage where the extra winter clothes are kept. It's not far - she
can still talk to Kassi. "I think extra socks, and maybe two pairs of
gloves, if there's a thin one. My hands have been feeling a little cold as
it is." She starts rummaging there, pulling out various pieces of warm
clothing and holding them up. "I've still got a few, but not many.
Mintsticks, that is. We going to raid the healers again? Serves 'em right.
Oh. Maybe I should bring one of those insulated skins, with warm cider. Or
just one with turnip juice. Make juicecicles."

Kassima pokes through the pile near her again, coming up with another
woolen pair, which she tosses over. "Don't want t'be risking frostbite, nay
even t'provoke Healers. We'll go on a quick raid a'fore we go, steal a few
while they're busy, and warm drinks are *definitely* in the cards. Mint tea
here." Is that really any surprise?

Ryialla snickers. "Why am I not surprised?" She pulls out a couple of pairs
of maternity leggings, and slips them both on - although it takes some
doing. "Sharding things pinch." A sweater is tugged on over her top. "I
look like a sausage." And, finally, the crowning glory - a long winter
coat, more feminine than is her usual wont, but made for a very, very large
woman. On the pregnant Ryi, it fits quite well. It's black, of course. All
black. With some sort of fur lining the hood, cuffs and hem. Black fur. "I
think I like this coat, however."

I'sai walks in from outside the room.

Lanryi walks in from outside the room.

I'sai slows, hair wind-tousled and eyes bright from running, "Told you we'd
be in time."

Lanryi hurries after I'sai, "What are you talking about?" she asks catching
her breath.

Kassima manages, somehow, not to drool at Ryi's sausage-esque state. Not
that she finds large women or any women at all that appealing--she's just
had this craving for spiced pork products, you see. With mint sauce. "It
suits," she decides, giving a thumb's-up of approval. "Shall we swing on
out to the Bowl, then, t'be getting ready? With a stop by the Healers for
mint sticks. Mayhaps we should be poking the sticks at the rescuers,
pretending the cold has snapped our brains--" And then in come a dastardly
duo, and she must needs refrain from spilling further Greenrider Plots.
"Heya, I'sai, Lanryi--good t'see you again--in time for what, the drills?
Or some wicked and devious thing of your own devising?"

I'sai openly grins at the wingleader in red, showing a few nice white teeth
while he's at it. Not that he says a word to her, nor to Lanryi, just -
gestures, more or less towards the other greenrider.

Ryialla is currently resembling a black sausage, with a bit of a blue
skirt. She's dressed for some very cold weather, in double leggings under
the skirt and a black, fur-trimmed coat over. All the extra clothing hides
the fact that she's too thin - but she's still tired looking. "Lanryi.
You're...hello."

Lanryi looks at Ryi and smiles with a short, "Hi" then she offers a quick
hiya to Kassi before turning to I'sai and says, "She kind of looks like a
big stuffed sausage, but what's the big deal?"

Kassima eyes that tooth-baring grin with a wariness that only partially
disappears when he gestures to Ryi. Oh, look, here's a kilt amongst that
disturbed clothes-stack. She'll just tug it over here to keep in hand, just
in case. "Remind me t'get *sausage* a'fore we head north, too," she
mutters. "Sausage and mint sauce. And mint tea."

I'sai folds his arms. "So she's here. You're here. That's good." So mote it
be - he could wish.

Ryialla manages a small smile, but it quickly disappears when Kassi
mentions sausage, and mint sauce. "Ugh. Kassi. Awful, awful, awful." To
Lanryi: "I'm going to be a victim."

Leya walks in from outside the room.

Kassima quirks a brow at I'sai, briefly puzzled-seeming, but does set the
kilt down. Convinced, it would appear, that evil is not in the works. "Nay
anyone can make a job difficult like pregnant greenriders," she agrees,
rather brightly. "And 'tisn't as bad as that *turnip* sauce you drink, Ryi.
I mean, 'tis *disgusting*."

Lysseth> Ularrith backwings for a landing.

Leya smiles at Kassi as she walks in, "Hey, you have any of those min..."
She trails off as she spots Lanryi, "Lanryi! You're here!"

Lysseth> Atop sturdy Ularrith, M'rgan carefully checks over the various
gear tied and clipped to his lifemate's straps once the dragon is firmly
settled on the ground. Ularrith adopts his Threadfall posture, all stiff
and tense with his eyes searching the skies.

I'sai mentions, "And I'll get her back after, too. Safe and sound. Or if
she's not, it won't be my fault."

Lanryi says "You're not helping me figure out what's going on. I thought I
was just stopping by for a short visit, are you guys planning a trip north
or something?" she asks then turns and waves to Leya, "Oh, Hi Leya. What's
happening?"

Lysseth> Arallia is leaning against her lifemate's side and happens to
catch the familiar brown settling the ground, "G'day M'rgan!" The greenie
shouts before waving a hand over Miyath's neck, the dragon's head and neck
low enough that Ara can actually see over it.

"Mint-sticks?" Kassi fills in, ever helpful. "Certes, or 'twill after I
raid the Healers--which, shards, I'd best run and do. 'Tis nigh time for
the drills. Best everyone hurry; the Wings will be assembling shortly!"
With that, she dodges and ducks her way back out of the room--though not
without snagging that kilt and managing to hop her way into it along the
way. Extra layers mean extra warmth.

You follow your nose down the hallway and into the kitchen.

You walk into the Living Cavern.

Pierron humphs thoughtfully as the Wingleader of Thunderbolt arrives.

Lysseth> Atop sturdy Ularrith, M'rgan unclips and then re-secures a rope,
though in the opposite position, before returning Arallia's wave. He digs a
toe into a D-ring to steady himself as he tosses his leg over his
lifemate's neck and starts the climb down. "All ready?" he shouts back.

Lysseth> M'rgan hops down Ularrith's side to the ground, using his straps
as handholds.

Lysseth> Taralyth backwings for a landing.

Lysseth> Taralyth finangles a tidy landing, droping down by others of his
wing.

Kassima doesn't walk into the room so much as she scrambles, still working
on fastening that kilt and making tracks at the same time. She skids to a
halt by the food table and immediately takes up a carry-sack, the better to
start filling it with... sausage? And pots of mint sauce? Weird. "If'n any
of you lot are going t'be helping out with the snow drills," she calls to
the Cavern proper, "then best head outside. We'll be going North soon."
With that, she runs out again--but not Bowl-wards, Inner Cavern-wards. She
must be up to something.

You walk towards the inner cavern.

Lysseth> "So it would seem, sir." Arallia says to M'rgan before she turns
her attention toward the young bronze settling on the ground, "Good day,
I'sai." she calls out loudly as she continues to lean against her
lifemate's side.

Kassima sprints through with a large sack of sausage and mint sauce. It's
probably better not to ask why.

You walk off towards the Outer Infirmary.

Lysseth> Leya walks here from the north.

Lysseth> Taralyth indulgently lowers his head to sniff at the wingsecond's
hair; his rider, having been leaning along his neck, clutches at the straps
as he goes horizontal and then past.

Lysseth> Ryialla comes out of the short tunnel from the living cavern.

Lysseth> Lanryi comes out of the short tunnel from the living cavern.

Telgar Weyr> A'ser trundles about sedately. "What goes on?"

Telgar Weyr> Kassima says, "Okie, all--people who want to participate in
the Snow Drills, either as rider or victim, should start assembling in the
Southern Bowl. Dragons without the rotating room's dbref can get it by 'dtu
learn <Alias>=Lysseth' :)"

Telgar Weyr> Leya says, "Snow rescue drills."

You walk out into the bowl.

Since he's finished checking the gear on Ularrith's straps, it's now time
for M'rgan to check the gear he's wearing and carrying. The brownrider
starts to slap at pockets and now and then peeking into them or poking a
finger in. He bobs his head as he does this as if counting off items on a
mental checklist. "Just remember we have to look better than Thunderbolt in
this."

Ryialla waddles out, looking like a black - and slightly blue - sausage.
All dressed up in inter garb. She heads over to Pliarth and checks over the
straps.

Telgar Weyr> Keara says, "Don't suppose it's +watchable."

Telgar Weyr> Kassima says, "Nope, but FLs can be sent to #7772. :)"

Telgar Weyr> I'sai says, "Don't want to be a victim? ;)"

Telgar Weyr> A'ser is always a victim.

Lanryi follows Ryi out tugging on warm clothes and says, "I'd like to
follow along, and it looks like I'm trapped here anyways."

"Oh, you *wish*," Kassi catcalls to Mart as she runs from the Infirmary.
Literally runs. The reason for this might be connected to the large jar of
mint-sticks tucked under her arm. Kilt a-flaring in the breeze--worn,
thankfully, over pants--she dashes for her lifemate to stow her goodies and
begin putting on extra winter gear.

I'sai finally gets himself rearranged and drops down the rest of the way;
"Hello," he returns to Arallia more verbally this time, and goes about
collecting some of the more unusual gear as well.

Telgar Weyr> Keara is eating an orange. Not conducive to good keyboard
health to RP while dripping juice.

Telgar Weyr> Arallia says, "I wanna be a victim!"

Telgar Weyr> Arallia says, "What am I beng a victim to?"

Leya walks quickly over to Tovith, her arms full of blankets. She stuffs
them under Tovith's flight straps, then readjusts them until they are just
right. She grins over at Kassima, her eyebrows raising a little at the mint
sticks. "I see you got the supplies!" she calls over to her.

Telgar Weyr> Kassima hees. Victims are the ones who get 'rescued' by the
Wing-types. Ideally making it as much of a challenge for them as 
possible. ;)

M'rgan rolls his eyes as he spots the Thunderbolt greenrider run past. "The
Healers are going to figure out you're the one stealing all those mint
sticks," he calls out after her while shaking his head with bemusement. As
more dragons land and riders converge, he pulls his fur-lined gloves out of
his belt and tugs them on.

Telgar Weyr> Leya says, "Where are we going to do the snow drill? It's
summer here."

Telgar Weyr> Arallia dangles upside down in a snowpile and gets rescued? ;>

Telgar Weyr> A'ser says, "Yasinth wants to be a victim. Is that workable?"

Telgar Weyr> Kassima says, "In the Telgar Icefields north of the Weyr,
where it never ever gets warm. ;)"

Arallia just watches Kassi and M'rgan for a moment before she grins and
begins settling the gear on Miyath's neck.

Ryialla nods, back to Lanryi. "We've got to fly straight, but that's good -
I may need help getting up and down Pliarth." She shakes an insulated
wineskin at her daughter. "Besides. I've got cider." She cups her hands
around her mouth and yells, "Kassi? Let me know when you are Lysseth are
ready. We'll be your escort."

Telgar Weyr> Whinde unidles and has been a human popsicle before, rescued
by K'ryo. I'll pass on this one. :)

Telgar Weyr> Kassima grins and suggests that any riders (well, non-preggers
non-grounded riders) who'd also like to be victims @pemit NPCs, perhaps.
NPCs that make it difficult for whichever Wing you're not in, say. ;)

Telgar Weyr> Whinde says, "To be honest, I just can't keep up right now. :P
But if I get undistracted, I'll be sure to join ya. :)"

Telgar Weyr> M'rgan doesn't think the things we've been learning and
practicing apply to dragons. It'd be a little hard to secure one in 
ropes. ;)

Telgar Weyr> Leya says, "Cool. :)"

Telgar Weyr> A'ser says, "All right. But you tell her she can't be a
victim. I certainly ain't gonna. She'll whallop me one."

Taralyth twists all of a sudden with a lash of his own tail, wings lifting
high as if he'd leap skyward already; his rider, still on the ground, ducks
past Ularrith in dashing back his direction.

Lanryi grins, "Oh, cider's always good. And I'd be happy to help if you
need me."

"Aye," Kassi shouts back, as she fastens the full-length black cloak with
its embroidered red trim about her. "Mint, food, gloves, numbweed, rope,
warm clothing, blankets," she recites, eyeing Lysseth's filled
strap-pouches. "And others have the wood, flint, extra food, and warm
drinks." Craning her head to peek past her lifemate, she yells to Ryi,
"Whenever you're ready. We'd best get flying if'n we're t'meet these
Skyfirean slow-tails in good time." And, grinning innocently towards all
Skyfireans present, she proceeds to climb onto her dragon.

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.

<*> Ularrith lets out a loud rumbled smug harrumph as Taralyth twists and
I'sai runs back towards him. That took care of that.

<*> Leya gets puts all the rest of the stuff required in a pile at her
feet, carefully find a place for each item. Tovith watching curiously and
giving some directions. Lastly, she pulls on her fight jacket over the two
sweater she's wearing. "All right. I think I'm ready." She wipes the sweat
from her forehead and climbs onto Tovith.

<*> Leya uses Tovith's leg to climb up, then sits between his neckridges.

Dragon> Lysseth bespoke Telgar Thunderbolt Wing with << Kena would ICly be
here to lead the Wing in this, I figure, since Kassi's going to try and
make Skyfire's job difficult by being a victim. ;) So if need be, you can
probably refer vaguely to her and/or Cymrith giving directions. :) >>

<*> Arallia easily climbs up to Miyath's ridges with the help of a forearm
and a strap.

Dragon> Tovith bespoke Telgar Thunderbolt Wing with << Ok. :) >>

<*> Yasinth lumbers here from the north.

<*> M'rgan wraps his scarf around his face twice until only his eyes are
showing and then he puts on his goggles and plops on his helmet. Once he's
made sure that little of his skin will be exposed to the cold he shouts,
though it is muffled by the scarf. "Mount up!"

<*> M'rgan climbs up onto Ularrith's back, using his foreleg as a step.

<*> Yasinth slinks along the walls of the bowl, swinging her head lazily
from side to side as she watches the hum-drum curiously.

<*> Ryialla climbs up Pliarth's extended foreleg, giving her an
affectionate scritch as she settles between her neck ridges.

<*> Lanryi climbs onto Pliarth's lowered foreleg, then clambers up the
riding straps to settle among her neck ridges.

Kassima, after buckling herself into place, yells over, "Ready, Ryi?"

<*> Astride Taralyth's neck, I'sai, once re-mounted, helmeted, goggled, and
all the rest, runs a gloved hand across the neckridge before him; he
whispers quietly to his young dragon, then both turn an attentive stare on
Ularrith and his rider.

<*> Atop Pliarth, Ryialla gets herself situated - scarf, goggles, daughter.
She signals over to Kassi. She's ready. "Let's go!"

Kassima signals back, and then wastes no time nudging Lysseth aloft. Let's
blow this popsicle stand!

<*> 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.

<*> Pliarth rises up from the bowl.

<*> Tovith rises up from the bowl.

<*> Ularrith rises up from the bowl.

<*> Miyath rises up from the bowl.

<*> Taralyth rises up from the bowl.

[Editor's Note:  Ryi and I cheated here, having our dragons @tel, since
the Icefield Skyspace couldn't be manually reached.  But ICly, we flew
straight.  Really.  Scene picks up again in the Icefields.]

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.

From above, Ularrith emerges from Between with a blast of cold air!

From above, Tovith emerges from Between with a blast of cold air!

From above, Taralyth emerges from Between with a blast of cold air!

From above, Yasinth emerges from Between with a blast of cold air!

From above, Yasinth snorts loudly and balks to avoid the back of a brown
too close to the place where she'd emerged from Between. On her back, her
typically idiodic rider scrambles to wrap his scarf around his neck. He
hasn't even gotten his coat button up yet.

From above, Once the Skyfire dragons are out of *between*, Ularrith
trumpets, the signal to spread out, fly low, and start the passes across
the icefields. The brown dragon lingers behind the others, sliding up
alongside Miyath.

Ularrith glides down from above.

Taralyth glides down from above.

Miyath glides down from above.

Tovith glides down from above.

From above, Atop Yasinth, A'ser manages to hook his goggles over his eyes
and bites on the hem of his glove to pull it on. Yasinth, herself, tilts
into a lower glide.

Yasinth glides down from above.

Tovith jerks to down and to one side as he nearly get run into. Leya stares
back in disbelief at A'ser, shakes her head, then turns her attention back
to the drills. Tovith flies among the other dragons of Thunderbolt,
scanning the icy ground.

Ryialla quickly slides down Pliarth's foreleg and jumps to the ground. She
turns to pet Pliarth's muzzle and grins as she gets soundly whuffled.

Lanryi clambers down Pliarth's riding straps to her leg and slides to the
ground.

Ryialla follows Kassi's directions, getting set up in 'victim' mode.

Miyath slows her descent as the older brown dragon wings up beside her, her
rider cranes her neck around from glaring at A'ser before she turns back
around in M'rgan and Ularrith's direction. A gloved hand goes to the side
of her helmet in a classic, "What?" signal.

Telgar Weyr> Arallia really didn't say Ularrith was old, really! ;>

There's little sound up here in these frigid wastes; little movement, save
for the wind and the occasional warning puff of snow from the heights.
There are, however, a lot of places for 'victims' to be hidden: rocky
crevasses, ledges, groves of scrub-pines clinging tenatiously to the
mountainside. Lots of places for wicked, crafty greenriders to have hidden
themselves.

Ularrith slows his wingbeats so that he is matching Miyath's pace. His
rider follows Yasinth's path across the skies before turning his begoggled
eyes back on Arallia. "The wing is yours!!" he calls over to her.

Yasinth glides sleekly into her place in the wing, fanning her wings to
avoid a spray of small ice particles thrown up by passing dragonic bodies.
For the most part, her rider has composed himself into that nasty, chilly
little beast he becomes when he actually must be reliable. He's got his
gloves on, his jacket open, and his goggles down, and he's tilting his
uncovered, wispy black head to the side, squinting at tree lines below.

Lanryi tags along with the same evil greenriders pulling up her scarf to
cover her nose.

Taralyth dutifully flies at a low altitude, if one more conservative than
that of his smaller wingmate a few lengths over, especially missing the
nearly-running-into-Tovith portion. This close to sundown, he casts a long
shadow over the sun-reddened ground, further darkening those many crevices.

Miyath swings her green head back toward the brown before her rider nods
and shouts back, "Aye sir." The wing is hers, suuuuure, not that she really
has a clue what to do. Or at least feels comfortable in ordering the wing
about.

A little while eariler, Ryialla had motioned to Lanryi - telling her with
gestures what to do - pointing out good places to hide. Can't stay
together: too obvious. Herself, she breaks off a bit of pine, using it to
wipe her tracks, making it look as natural as possible. And then, she finds
her spot, and the wasteland is empty once more.

Telgar Weyr> Arallia says, "So who all is being saved anyhoo?"

Tovith slowly flies over the ground, the sound of his wings and the wings
of other dragons beating through the air the only sound, save for the
occasional shouting greenrider. Leya rubs as her goggles as they begin to
fog over and adjusts her scarf so that she isn't breathing up her face.
Tovith dips a little lower as they continue to watch the snow coverd ground.

Lysseth merely casts sour looks towards those who get to fly and search in
this little adventure. *She* doesn't. *Her* rider's gone off to hide,
probably planning ways to make rescue difficult on the riders, and that
means she doesn't get to play. It's just not easy, being a grounded green.

Telgar Weyr> A'ser says, "Actually, we're not going to be saving any of
you. We're gonna all fly away now and enjoy popcorn and SpaceGhost in the
LC while we laugh about the cute little prank we just pulled on you. ^_-"

Telgar Weyr> Arallia says, "SPOOON!"

Telgar Weyr> Kassima says, "Kassi, Ryi, and Lanryi, methinks. :) And Ash,
do you really want a squid dumped down your pants?"

Telgar Weyr> Leya lols at A'ser!

Telgar Weyr> A'ser says, "It might feel squishy and weird and neat, so, I
dunno until I've tried it."

Telgar Weyr> I'sai *laughs*. A'ser... :)

Pliarth sulks near Lysseth. She gets dragged out here, rudely awoken from a
very lovely nap, and now all she gets to do is...sit. Wait a minute. She
can sit. Suddenly looking much happier, she lids her eyes and settles into
a nice snow wallow.

Ularrith's head hangs down like a canine that has just been reprimanded for
a bladder mistake though in this case the brown dragon is merely searching
the ground below him, his sharp eyes able to pick out details in the fading
light. His wings are slightly cupped so that he glides across the ground,
banking slightly as his right wing nears a stone overhang. Now and then he
whuffs, letting the 'victims' know that he is there.

Towards one narrow end of an eastern crevasse, one might, perhaps, notice
that a thin pine is swaying where there shouldn't be wind to sway it. A
faint shower of snow trickles down from the disturbed upper branches before
the foliage is once more still.

Yasinth bites at the tops of the trees she dusts over, bending them in a
tumbling cascade of snow and glittering white particles. Her rider is being
daft--hooking his foot in a strap so that he can lean just a little further
over--either for fun, or to look. It's hard to tell, sometimes.

Miyath darts ahead in the pack, her little compact frame coasting quickly
on the frigid winds as she swoops lower to the ground. The green darts
toward a copse of trees, her green frame hanging in the air for a few
moments before she offers a muted bugle - no one is there.

Taralyth drifts into a glide-wingbeat-glide-wingbeat-glide sequence, which
gets his rider rubbing the small of his back even as he leans out to look;
the dragon's nostrils have flared, checking for human scent on the wind,
particularly that of his recent passenger.

Tovith slowly turns and comes back around in the opposite direction,
crossing new ground this time, though it's hard to tell sometimes. Leya
holds tightly to the flight straps as she leans out so she can see around
Tovith's bulk down to the ground. Tovith whuffles at a small clump of trees
as they pass over, causing a small shower of snow off of their snow laden
branches.

Off somewhere to the east, as a dragon shadow passes overhead, the darkness
cast melds with a touch of feathery ebon - a lose bit of fur drifts for a
moment before being swallowed by the icy wastes.

The wind from Ularrith's passage stirs up some of the snow on the rock
outcroppings and overhangs. While much of it whirls into the air, a little
tumbles down in tiny avalanches only to be caught in a drift on a lower
rock. His rider lies close to the dragon's neck, searching the ground as
well though his eyes are now match for the brown's.

Yasinth is occasionally worse than her rider. Veering off in a direction
that is as yet unsearched, she seizes the top of a tree with her foretalons
as she passes and tears it smartly out of the ground in a spray of frozen,
powdery earth and snow. A'ser begins to scold immediately. Yasinth, duly
reprimanded, tosses the tree at a rocky little formation and stops that.

The thud of a moved rock may be heard from underneath a small rock ledge
that could be providing a 'victim' shelter from the wind.

As the snow is tumbled from those treetops, there's--is it the sound of
cursing? Briefly, if so, and muffled. It might only be the wind, though the
wind does have a creative vocabulary if so.

Sassy, naughty wind. I'll bet it sings raunchy songs in public, too.

Miyath darts down to another clump of trees and dips her muzzle into it and
promptly sneezes. Darn that evil powdery snow. With a draconic sniffle
Miyath raises her head and cants it left to right, searching for any
tree-people.

Telgar Weyr> Arallia giggles.

Because of his size, Ularrith, though he banks and twists as sharply as he
can, takes a long time in turning around to seek out the source of that
thud. The dragon approaches the rocks as near as he dares, until his
wingtip is mere inches from disaster and flares his wings to slow him down.
As ponderously as he's able to manage, he moves across the rock.

Taralyth casts a look more easterly from under his wing, that dark but
slight movement having caught his peripheral vision; he veers slightly the
other way, to consult with older Yasinth: did -she- see it, is it real?

Yasinth may have already killed all thier victims. If so, she's quite
willing to go home, take a nap, and leave A'ser to deal with all of the
uncomfortable apologizing that comes with that sort of thing. As for
Taralyth: she twitches her tail at him, coasting low over the snow. I
dunno. Did -you- see it?

Lysseth is still curled up quietly, if boredly, rather than shrieking and
disappearing *between*. So it's a sound bet that Kassi's not *quite* dead
yet. Sorry, Yasinth.

Miyath stretches her wings upward and once more she's in thte sky and
slowly begins to veer toward the east, voice bugling a bit as she skims
toward a few outcropping of rocks the big boulder kind. Hovering close to
the ice covered rocks she settles a forepaw on it and tries to peer behind
them. Anyone back there? Her wings begin to create a small snow-devil the
little ice-creature whirling around like a mini hurricane.

Telgar Weyr> Arallia sniggers.

Yasinth tried, and that's more than most dragons in the weyr can say for
themselves.

Tovith keeps going despite the wind's creative vocabulary, the noise of his
wings covering up the interesting words. He peers over Yasinth, then
decides to fly a little lower, causing Leya to tense and grib her flight
straps even tighter as they barely miss scraping the top another clump of
trees and rocks. She glances back over her shoulder to see Ularrith land.
Well, someone must have found a victim.

No, no one in those eastern rocks. But if the wind's just right, one might
be able to catch the faintest whiff of sausage from a skinny copse of trees
nearby. Sausage and mint, no less.

A bit of snow slips from a group of pines near a large eastern crevasse,
falling on top of a natural, wind protecting hollow. Was that a hint of
warmed cider from within that hollow?

Taralyth snorts back at his flaunting wingmate - that low, he daren't go -
and once his rider's glanced this way and that to get a rough gauge of
where they left off, takes his own long-radiused turn back towards that
might-have-been-fluff to see. Worst that can happen, he'll run into someone
else.

For a moment it almost looks like a foot pokes out from underneath a rocky
legde slightly to the north for a moment but it dissapears quickly after.
Was it really even there, or was it just a clump of snow?

Dragon> Lysseth senses that Taralyth glints thought to thought, diamond to
crystal: << The sooner your rider is found, >> he speculates, << The sooner
we can go -warm-. >>

Yasinth is beautiful, sometimes. The way she twists in the air. The way she
-drops- into the snow suddenly. The way she throws her head down and her
shoulders up at the same time, pitching her rider into the snow before her.
The way she bugles demandingly at him, apparently ceasing an arguement.
Here. She saw something there, and now you will look.

Tovith snufles the air as he flies toward the east. He peers closer at the
ground and Leya leans over even farther, moving her scarf away from her
nose. Yes, the air does seem to smell somewhat odd over here. Tovith
backwings and lands on a bare snowy hump, a cloud of white stuff rising
into the air as he lands. Leya stays on him, sniffing at the air and
waiting for the cloud of snow to settle.

Miyath turns her snout toward the peculiar scent of sausage and mint, how
odd. With a little warble she begins to flit her way toward the pines along
the eastern crevasse. Hulllo? Anyone in there? The green warbles over to
Tovith as if to say: YOu smell it too?

Lysseth> Taralyth senses that Lysseth brightens perceptibly at this
thought, spires and facets lightening from their smoky sulk. << In the
trees, to the east, at the edge of this crevasse *here*. >> She's a dragon
of priorities, she is, and warmth is right up at the top of that priority
list. So what if Kassi will probably yell at her again later?

That hollow is empty, once the snow settles enough to see - but there's a
ragged bit of pine branch there, and part of an impression of a booted foot
that looks like it slipped. That cidery smell is a little faint, but
careful noses might be able to detect it more northwards. A brief glimpse
of azure, dark against the white, slips behind a clump of rocks up there.
Perhaps it was mere illusion.

A'ser fluffy tumbles, but rights himself soon enough. After all, he gets
thrown off all the time--it builds character. After shouting something
postively naughty at his green for her behavior, he pulls his goggles down,
letting them hang from his neck, and trudges like a bearcreature through
the snow, kicking sourly at the drifts as the stuff filters out of his open
coat.

Taralyth, fluff-hunting - as it were - stalls his swifter pace: might the
feathery-fur-bit have come from the same place that Tovith and now Miyath
are homing in on?

Come to think of it, those trees from whence the sausage-and-mint smell are
coming *were* disturbed earlier, to judge by the lack of snow on their
crests. Maybe that really wasn't the wind. Though there's no verbal answer
to the whuff-query, the lower branches do rustle, and the very keenest of
ears might pick out the crunching of a mint stick. Either there's a victim
in them there trees, or the mint addiction has spread even to the wild
wherries of the north.

Ularrith snakes back around again, making another low pass across where
that foot seemed to be. Then, with a single forceful beat of his wings, the
dragon swoops upwards, black talons reaching for the large overhang forty
feet above where that foot was. An overhang large enough to support a 100
foot long dragon. A little snow trickles down from the overhang as he lands.

Dragon> Lysseth senses that Taralyth sends, yes, warm encouragement for
Lysseth, so good and so wise. Pity -Miyath's- nearing that territory, isn't
it?

Tovith spreads his nostriles and whuffles at the air, then looks over at
Miyath. Yes, the odd smells are from around here. He decides to check out
the opposite direction, wandering over to a mishapen pile rocks. Leya peers
around his neck as he sticks his head around the haphazardly piled rocks.

Yasinth sits pretty as she waits for her rider to throughly search the
snowbanks she's commanded him to look at. And adds the occasional,
impaitent sigh as she waits.

M'rgan clambers down Ularrith's side to the ground, using his foreleg as a
step.

Miyath soon finds herself settled near Tovith and then swings her head
toward the sound of..crunching? Could it just be the snow compacting
beneath their large feet perhaps? Miyath snorts toward Tovith as Arallia
shouts ot thte brown's rider, "Why don't we get down and take a look, the
trees and rocks look to be our best chance."

M'rgan clambers down his lifemate's neck and approaches the very edge of
the overhang so that both he and Ularrith can peer down at the rocks below.
"Anyone down there?" he calls out.

Taralyth banks away as the two pairs appear to have that territory covered;
his rider may wryly shrug his shoulders, but only for a moment before the
wind catches them and he hunches back down in the lee of neckridge. Off he
flies, a swifter pass only to slow and steady again where he'd left off
before.

A muffled cough can be heard from underneath the small rock ledge which was
just invaded by trickles of snow falling from above.

From atop Tovith, Leya leans forward to better catch the greenrider's
words. She waits until she's sure she's heard her right and nods, "Good
idea. Tovith seems to think that there might be someone over here." She
shrugs, "Might as well check it out." She unstraps herself, then slides
down onto the snow, sinking down to her knees.

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

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

Lysseth> Taralyth senses that Lysseth basks in the glow of that warmth,
silver sparks flaring from spire-tips in appreciation. Or preening, one or
the other. Thank you, thank you; you're too kind. Pity, though? One way or
another, she'll still get home sooner if *someone* finds--though, she
conceeds with a hint of sisal-smoothness, Miyath's rider probably wouldn't
be as efficient about the recovery task. Of course.

Nothing around those rocks, but the cider smell is much stronger - and
there's a sound of swallowing - round abouts near a tiny crevice just a bit
to the west. The snow there looks freshly fallen, as if a pile just fell
off an overhang. There's also another bit of fluff, over there. That same
black furry fluff.

Oh, yes, the unmistakable scent of sausage is *much* stronger from the
ground. And it's just possible, perhaps, that one of those drifts of snow
underneath the trees might even be moving a bit. Crunch, crunch.

Arallia slides quickly off her lifemate only to land in hip-deep snow;
how..fun. With a curse she pushes her way out of the snowbank and waves to
Leya, "The trees first?" Miyath's snout lowers down toward the ground and
points toward the trees, as Arallia says with a bit of a glazed look,
"Miyath says she smells something odd taht way?"

Arallia points as she says that way.

Ularrith exchanges a look with his rider and as the dragon whurfles M'rgan
grunts. They know what they have to do. The brownrider leaves deep
footprints in the formerly fresh and unsullied snow as he strides quickly
back to his lifemate's straps and starts making preparations. It isn't long
before there's a pack on his back and a rope that snakes from the dragon's
straps to his forehand and then around the brownrider's waist. M'rgan
starts back to the edge of the ledge, preparing to climb down there.

Pliarth pops open an eye, then quickly closes it again. Just us green lumps
over here.

Leya frowns as she pulls her boots out of the snow, pulls out a blanket,
and throws it over her shoulder. "Should've brought snow shoes too." She
nods to Arallia, closing her eyes for a few moments. "Tovith thinks so
too." She sniffs at the air, "I think I might be smelling something too..."
She adjusts the blanket, grabs a skin of warm cider, then begins to wrestle
her way through the deep snow.

Arallia grabs a few more blankets as well before she trudges after Leya,
eyes focused upon the pines in front of her, "Definitely something..odd.
What is that? Mint? Who's eating mint at a time like this?" The greenie
asks before she wrinkles her nose slightly, mint. Ew.

Taralyth twists another under-the-wing glance Yasinth's way, but then he's
back to methodically searching the wider territory while the others
more-or-less focus: sweep up, shift to the side, sweep back. Repeat. All
this with the stars beginning to shine overhead, bright Belior lending its
luminescence to the snow while Timor sulks.

Telgar Weyr> Arallia is gonna have to bamf soon :/

Get close enough, and it may become evident that the snow-lump that was
moving is vaguely greenrider shaped, with the tip of a black braid poking
out of it, and, yes, a mint stick sticking from where its mouth should be.
At least all that snow-displacement afforded this particular victim a good
disguise. "Is someone out there?" she croaks, in an exaggeratedly quavery
voice. "I'm afraid I can't see. I'm snowblind. Oh, and I broke m'leg, and
m'fingers are all numb, and methinks some of m'toes fell off, and I'm
almost out of sausage." No, nothing's really wrong with Kassi, or Lyss
would be throwing fits, but the greenrider *did* want this to be a
challenging exercise.

Leya grins at Arallia, "I think I might know." She stops and sniff the air,
then her skin. "Is this thing leaking?" She shakes head as it's still
safely stopped up, then turn her head toward the west. "There is another
smell from over there. Like cider," she says points toward some fresh
looking snow and a rocky crevice.

Dragon> Lysseth senses that Taralyth glitters dancing glints on the heels
of that flare, green and violet and around, around and around. Kind - in
turn - for Lysseth to believe so. And Miyath will cope, and in the
meantime, the good thing about flying, it has a certain warmth of its own.

Arallia's nose wrinkles, mint and cider definitely not her combination of
fun, but then she hears Kassi's voice and hurries her pace, "We found one!"
Her mouth quirks faintly at the bit about her toes falling off but at least
it's a lifelike situation?

Leya grins over her Wingleader, she eyes the mint stick longingly, but she
straightens up and looks at Arallia, "You think you can deal with her? I'd
like to check out where that other smell is coming from."

Lysseth> Taralyth senses that Lysseth subsides once more into grumbling,
though halfhearted, as a measure of her attention remains mesmerized by
those twirling glints. Warmth. Flying. A Lysseth has not these things, and
he *would* have to remind her, wouldn't he?

Once again the foot appears from underneath the rock ledge for an instant,
aparently the 'victim' is getting re-situated in her space.

Telgar Weyr> Leya pictures Leya snatching the mint stick from Kassi's
mouth. Ha ha! It's mine now! ;>

Arallia tromps toward Kassi the snow-covered greenie and pauses as she
tries to assess the damage, "I think, if not I'll give a holler." Squating
down toward the snow-queen she asks, "What hurts again?" Quickly she begins
dusting off the elder greenrider and pulls her blankets off of her
shoulder, "We'll get you warm in one moment, ma'am." She sticks ma'am in
there for good measure.

Ryialla decides, at this point, that she is tired of sitting still - the
baby is kicking and making her uncomfortable. So she flops a black-gloved
hand out, and starts in on some theatrical moans. She's under that snow,
near the tiny crevice.

Telgar Weyr> Arallia giggles

(OOC) Ryialla Gotta go. Hubby's here. :)

Taralyth veers abruptly out of his course, his rider having to hurry to
gauge position this time, angling towards Ularrith's perch to hunt out a
safe landing spot: the outcropping may hold one, but he doesn't chance two.

Telgar Weyr> Arallia must get going as well :P "Someone wanna take over in
helping poor toeless Kassi out? :>

(OOC) Ryialla gives Kassi permission to spoof. :) Nini.

Telgar Weyr> I'sai grins. Trade and let Arallia get Ryialla? ;)

Telgar Weyr> Arallia says, "Sure! M'rgan can spoof me all he wants. That's
who you're going after right M'rgan?"

Telgar Weyr> Arallia says, "Just don't drop me? hee hee"

Telgar Weyr> A'ser says, "Let's drop her on her he---eh...."

M'rgan starts the laborious process of making his way down to the ledge
below though it's made much less dangerous by Ularrith, who is controlling
the rope from above. He dangles ten feet down, his boots groping for
purchase on the slippery stone.

Telgar Weyr> Arallia sits on A'ser. "Hush you."

"Is someone there?" Kassi repeats, shaking snow from her person now that
the need for disguise has past. Really, with that orange kilt and rainbow
jacket under the red-edged cloak, she's not just a snow victim, she's a
fashion victim. And she's tied a scarf around her eyes for good measure, to
help this whole snowblind effect. "Everything," she groans, with every bit
as much melodrama as her counterpart. "Oops. There went another toe."

Telgar Weyr> A'ser says, "..."

Telgar Weyr> Kassima says, "Trade sounds fine by me. I'm afraid to spoof
Ryi. I'd give into the temptation to have her do something evil and get
killed when she got back, I just know it. ;)"

Dragon> Lysseth senses that Taralyth sends with some regret that he must
land as well. Eventually. He's being -such- a well-behaved dragon, for all
that earlier Miyath had mentioned wherries.

Telgar Weyr> Arallia grins at Kassi.

Telgar Weyr> Keara decides she should have been a victim after all, *lol*.

Telgar Weyr> I'sai says, "Victims sound like more fun, I tell ya. ;)"

Telgar Weyr> Kassima is having fun with it. Kassi's insisting that all her
digits are falling off and she has snowblindness and frostbite and a broken
leg. Just to make it challenging, you understand. ;)

Telgar Weyr> Keara noticed. Highly amusing.

Telgar Weyr> <M'rgan>  B'rt, the former Herder, takes one look at the
injured Kassima and pulls out his crossbow. "Don't worry, you poor thing.
It'll all be over in a second."

Telgar Weyr> Arallia LAUGHS!

Telgar Weyr> A'ser DIES! a;lkdfj asdf !!!

Telgar Weyr> Kassima laughs!!

Telgar Weyr> <Arallia>  Someone whispers: "Don't save the creature's pelt,
burn it!"

Telgar Weyr> A'ser says, "If you find any of the lost didgets in the snow,
save them for my scarf, please."

Telgar Weyr> Arallia offers snugs around before she bamfs, "Ewwwww, that's
okay A'ser ;>

Telgar Weyr> Leya snugs Arallia! "G'night!"

Telgar Weyr> Arallia snugs!

Telgar Weyr> A'ser fanoodles saucily on Arallia's arm.

Taralyth lingers in the sky above Ularrith, then at Miyath's further
instructions, flies on over to swap places with -her-: never let it be said
he wasn't, ah, versatile.

Yasinth is not quite as versatile. She plods through the snow, her rider's
scarf in her mouth and he dangling from the end of that, as she goes
towards the small grouping. They may have mis-guessed, but they sure won't
miss out on the show.

Taralyth lands, as daintily as beasts his size can, and then it's his
rider's turn to go tromping.

I'sai slides down from Taralyth's neck.

Miyath is quick to land next to Ularrith but it takes a few tries, three to
be specific before she can find enough room to land and stay stablizied.
Her rider is quick to scurry off her neck to help assit M'rgan in his
duties of saving whomever is stuck down there.

I'sai tromps, tromps, then hails once he's closer, "Heard there's some
ma'am out here?" Meanwhile, Taralyth twists a glance over his wing at
Yasinth: has she yet tried swinging him by the scarf?

"I'm nay a ma'am," our blindfolded, kilted damsel in distress replies
around her mint-stick with all the dignity one can muster in such a
situation. "I'm just a poor Holder lass, caught out in the snow with only
m'mint sauce and sausage t'be fortifying me. Ooh, and methinks I have
hypothermia, too. What were the symptoms for that again? Whatever they are,
I have them. Along with the broken leg and numb fingers and missing toes
and snowblindness." She's getting the hang of this recap thing.

Leya watches Miyath fly over to join Ularrith, then turns to wade through
the snow toward were she saw a flash of boot, smelt cider, and now hears
growns. "I'm coming!" she calls, as she hurries as best as she can through
as high as thigh deep snow.

Yasinth has, in the past, swung her rider in such a way. Right now, she's
having more fun listening to the 'ommph--fklsdfwah!' noises he makes when
he trips or thwaps his head on the things beneath the snow that offer
resistance.

After a long, slow, and careful climb, M'rgan is now just six feet above
that snowy ledge and as he dangles in mid-air he surveys the area below
him, searching for any sign of that victim. Were he and Ularrith mistaken?
He glances up just as the brown whuffs to direct his attention below again.
"Where?" he queries the dragon.

Lysseth takes a moment to hide her head under one wing. She doesn't know
that crazy woman; she has nothing to do with her. That's the green's story,
and she's sticking to it.

"Whine, whine, whine," I'sai sighs as he tromps, though he does keep an eye
on his footing just in case. "Insert comforting words here. We're coming to
get you. Yes, we are. You're safe now. Just as soon as we drag you back to
the Weyr, and dump you in a vat of boiling - what, that's not the remedy?
Fine. Anyway, so you're also shivering and lethargic, which means you don't
want to do much, and if you rub your numb parts, you could thereby cut
yourself on all the ice crystals under your skin, and isn't -that- a fun
thought."

I'sai clears his throat. "'Lacerate.' Isn't it a great word? Learn it, live
it."

Telgar Weyr> Keara says, "Remind me never to get lost in the snow when
you're around, Is."

Telgar Weyr> M'rgan peers at I'sai. It's too bad Pern doesn't have DNA
testing. I think you've got a lot of greenrider genes in you.

Lanryi pokes her head out from underneath the ledge. Feels an inclination
to act the part of the victim and calls out, "Oh, help me I'm freezing to
death!"

Taralyth, meanwhile, looks from Lysseth to Yasinth's rider, head bobbing
with every trip or fall or slip or suchlike.

Telgar Weyr> A'ser sighs and has to run. Sassy children.

Telgar Weyr> I'sai says, "Ma never said... er. ;) The lacerating part he
even remembered back from that Benden Gather when all those healers gave
their own talks. It sunk in, apparently... bye, A'ser!"

Telgar Weyr> A'ser hops!

Telgar Weyr> Leya giggles at I'sai, "And he never believes me when I tell
him he's evil..."

Telgar Weyr> Leya snugs A'ser!

Telgar Weyr> I'sai -isn't-, Leya. ;) See, part of the earlier rp spun
around the difference between lacerate and macerate, a baker word...

Kassima has to stifle the urge to laugh, as that wouldn't be in character,
but still snow-dusted shoulders do shake silently for several moments
before she gets it under control. "You aren't a very sympathetic sort, are
you?" she wants to know. "Just wait until my father, the Lord... uh... Lord
Greenfields, right, just wait until he hears about this. He'll make himself
a bronzerider rug. With *tassles* on it."

M'rgan gives Ularrith a thumb's up sign as Lanryi makes her presence known.
"Arallia? Bring some glows with you when you come down." He manages the
last six feet at a much faster pace than the other thirty-four and he's
soon on the ledge, his feet wide-planted to keep him steady as he slings
the pack from his shoulder and starts to dig into it. A blanket makes its
appearance after a couple of seconds.

Telgar Weyr> Keara perks up. "Macerate. Oo."

I'sai argues as he walks deeper into the grove, "If I leave you here much
longer, it'll sure be hard to marry you off, because you'll have stubs for
hands and won't even be able to sew, and what good is a Lady then. That's
assuming I bring you back at all, instead of being 'sadly too late,' sob
sob. And if you're blind, I'm a bluerider... safer that way, anyway." Note
that he did not choose to list irrational behavior in the signs of
hypothermia; instead he reaches with gloved hands to try and brush her off,
"Let's get that snow off you. Just don't fall anywhere bad and make things
worse."

[Editor's Note:  The log cuts off here due to the crash.  And here I 
had this lovely pose with Kassi protesting that she'd run away from her
arranged marriage when she turned sixteen to go into hiding as a drudge,
be Searched, and Impress a gold dragon--but not before secretly getting
her Journeywoman Harper's knot--all ready to go, too. ;) ]