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A Post-Blizzard Rescue At Bitra


Date:  June 16, 1998
Places:  Bitra's Snow Slopes, Courtyard, and Great Hall
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 incident was part of a TP at Bitra that involved
several residents being stranded away from the Hold by a blizzard.
Telgar Weyr was contacted in hopes that it would provide riders to 
search the area by air; it did.  Kassi volunteered her services, as did
several (NPC) members of her Wing.  Some of the exit messages in this
log have been changed, due to the fact that there was no skyspace above
either the Snow Slopes or the Upper Valley, and so I modified the 
messages to ones that would reflect the fact that Lysseth was ICly
flying.  Call it poetic license, if you will. ;)  All things prefixed
by <*> take place away from Lysseth while Kassima was riding her.

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The Log:

<*> Snow, snow, lots of snow. It's white, mostly, any yellow blotches 
pretty much invisible from on high. Nice, smooth, white snow.

<*> The sound of wingbeats registers before sight as a small arrow of 
blue, green, and one bronze dragon, arrayed in the classic formation, 
sweeps high overhead. A small green female looks to be in the lead. The 
dragons are craning their heads about, as though looking for something 
that isn't forthcoming, while the riders call in voices that are nearly 
inaudible from below. "Let's try going farther down," Kassi shouts by way 
of instruction. "I doubt we'll see aught, this high up."

<*> A few snowflakes still filter down through the gusts of wind, 
straggling followers for the main blizzard that had cloaked even would-be 
searchers' trails in its icy, sisal-pure folds. Close overhead, the clouds 
crouch gray featherbeds, well hiding the sunlight above. Beyond the snow 
slopes, promising hills nudge the white upward like knees under their 
blanket.

<*> Lysseth rumbles faintly as she furls her wings, obediant to her 
rider's command, and begins to drop downwards--though one of the wind 
gusts that are still prevalent shoves her and her wingmates a bit further 
off-course. "Sharding clouds," one of the blueriders mutters. "This'd be 
easier if we had light." Nevertheless, she directs the smaller of the two 
blue beasts in the search-Wing to follow his Wingleader down, beginning 
the skim again on a level somewhat closer to the ground. "Hallooooo!" the 
lead rider halloos, cupping her hands to her mouth to help her voice carry 
to whatever ears there may be to hear.

<*> At this point, the dragons are low enough that the words of their 
riders might intermittantly be audible through the occasional howl of the 
winds. "I still think we should keep running over the valley," the 
bronzerider shouts to Kassima. "They could be sheltering under the trees 
there--"

<*> No reply, just yet; the snow flurries faster, but then quiets, 
waiting. Somewhere out there, to the distant northeast in fact, there are 
steeper hills, close cousin to crags; and where there are hills, there are 
hollows; and, in this case, a ravine. And in that ravine there is an 
overhang; and beneath that overhang, which Jack didn't build, are four 
huddled figures. In that distance, 'Hallooooo!' and '...ooo!' and '...o!' 
and with those echoes, piled-up snow slides down one of the valley slopes.

Kassima listens to the soft hissing of the falling snow, and cringes 
slightly; not brought up to a cold climate, she is, perhaps, unaware of 
what sets off an avalanche. "We'll try those hills next," she calls back 
to her wingman, just loudly enough to carry to him and his dragon; 
presumably, Lysseth is silently reinforcing the direction for the others. 
"If'n they're nay there, we'll go back to the valley. Start fanning out, 
you lot." The neat formation widens to encompass more ground as the more 
dextrious dragons make a neat, smooth turn towards the indicated land. 
Bronze Servoth takes a bit longer about it, but his large, bronze bulk 
helps to keep him steady despite the spates of turbulence. The dragonpairs 
begin to sweep over the hillocks and hollows, one or two, perhaps, in the 
vicinity of the aforementioned ravine.

<*> The hills are, in the main, the smooth curves of a smith's dream. 
Trees stipple some, and others are creased where land had slipped and snow 
only covered, but in general it's regular in its irregularity: patterns 
might develop, to observers, those who look closely at the play of Bitran 
land. Down in the ravine, they're oblivious, quiet as the wingbeats are; 
Bahlt's huddled against his neighbor, cap incongruously bright even in the 
close, dim quarters of rock and insulating snow, gray eyes closed. 
Reminded by perhaps nothing more than the beats of her heart, the lone 
woman sits up to a near-crouch and pokes out the breathing holeagain, and 
snow filters down - and, above and now unsupported, larger chunks fall.

<*> Above, one of the Wingriders--a bluerider--who was flying over the 
ravine signals over to her Wingleader, who has turned her head to watch 
her--at a prompt from her dragon, perhaps. The bluerider seems to feel 
that the ravine might be worth investigating. Directing her green to 
circle beside Miryenne's Guarith, Kassi instructs, "You, Ylysse, C'row, 
and S'cot should keep searching over the rest of the area. V'dan and I 
will check here for signs. Have Guarith alert Lyss immediately if'n you 
find aught--and that goes for the others, too!" With that, the greenrider 
signals for her lifemate to begin sweeping low over the crevice--something 
which, as one of the agile greens, she can do more readily than the bronze 
or blues. V'dan's Chymeth follows her rider's orders and sweeps at an 
equally low level, beginning at the other side. The other dragons resume 
formation and continue onwards.

<*> Hills and snow, snow and hills, humping their bulk in ridged ripples 
as far as - but for the Hold - eye could see, and as lush as newfallen 
ice-white could ever be. Still, there are cracks in this debutante's skin, 
and one such is that narrow ravine, more so with the extra fallen snow; 
and, down below, beneath the overhang... the woman hisses through a dry 
throat and burning eyes, for it takes life-energy to heat the snow to 
melt, "I thought I heard something." Bahlt's still quiet, quiet as he has 
been; but one of the other men grimaces and bites out, "Nothing." Still, 
she turns from him, risking an avalanche with her rasped, "...'lo? 
Someone! Help!" Quiet, through body's used-up reserves, but desperate, and 
perhaps those more sensitive than humans might hear.

<*> The response to the cry for help might be surprising. It is the 
'lizards--for an impressive array of the small creatures fly near to green 
Lysseth, doing their loyal best to help with the scouting effort--who hear 
first, and an arrow of gold darts into the area to investigate. Her 
whirling eyes pick out the forms of other living creatures, and her piping 
call summons others of her kind, blue and green... banded, one might see, 
with white and black, red and green. Telgar Weyr colors with peculiar 
accents besides. The fuss they make draws some attention--and the slow, 
rhythmic sound of wingbeats can be heard nearby as one of the riders flies 
over to investigate. "Anyone down there?" Kassima calls, trying to keep 
her voice moderated enough not to send any more snow a-tumbling.

<*> Ninya shrugs as Firebrand takes flight from her shoulder.

<*> Firebrand squirms out of a small hole in a pile of snow, bugling 
frantically. He flies for the riders, continuing to make a racket.

<*> Down in the ravine, under the overhang, there's scuffling as awkward, 
near-frozen joints try to bend again. The third man elbows his contrary 
companion and says, "S-she's right. She's right!" before clutching at the 
groggy fourth of their company. "Give me that," and he yanks the bright 
red scarf from around Bahlt's neck, and shoulders up to Ninya as best he 
can to push it out, so it might show against the white.

<*> Ninya waves, half to get the greenriders' attention and half to call 
back her little bronze hatchling before he hurts himself. Taking her cue 
from her companion, she unties her hat with stiff fingers and waves it. 
Her fair bugle and chirp, and the puppy curled under her cloak starts to 
bark. For those next to her, it's almost unbearable. But will the 
greenriders' notice all that?

<*> "Should have known," V'dan remarks in the faint disgust of the 
'lizardless as his Chymeth glides over to join the Wingleader and her 
green in their investigation. "They've just found another 'lizard--" He 
breaks off when Kassi gives him a *look*. "Try nay t'be denser than usual, 
Val. Land Chymeth over there--" She points towards one edge of the ravine. 
"We're going to check this out. Hear that, little one? We're going to 
look, you'll see--hah! V'dan, look there!" The male greenrider is startled 
at the momentary flash of red, and he follows Kassi's lead in landing 
without any further complaint.

<*> Down, down, down and under the overhang, Bahlt half-opens unevenly 
focused eyes whose lashes had been frosted near-shut, muttering something 
unintelligible, a collection of raw syllables that probably translate to 
either 'neck's cold as between now' or 'please, don't let the canine piss 
in here again.' Or worse.

<*> The melee of Telgar-banded 'lizards streams up from the ravine with 
several thin bugles of triumph, resettling on the larger of the two greens 
when she lands. There's a faint *whumph* when the two dragons settle 
themselves as daintily as possible on the snowy surface--and indubitably, 
some snow is probably dislodged by the motion, too. "Hang on down there," 
a female voice can be heard to call, with a distinctive, lilting brogue. 
"We're coming! V'dan, get out your rope--the dragons will never fit in 
there."

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.

Down in the ravine, heads duck back from the falling clumps, and then shaky 
laughter spirals up, up into tenor and nearing hysteria. "We -thought- we 
weren't going anywhere, all right!" the third man calls.

Kassima secures the long, knotted rope she's hauled from her dragon's 
strap-pouch to one of the D-rings on the straps themselves, making sure 
that it's fastened tightly. "Hold onto it for good measure, Lyss," she 
instructs. With the snow creaking beneath her boots, she edges towards the 
side of the ravine, and tosses the coil of rope down. "Just goes t'show, 
you should never assume!" she calls back, sounding cheerful, of all 
things. A second rope falls beside the first as V'dan copies her motion. 
"Are any of you injured?"

Echoes singsong up from the crevice, their origin unclear, but surely 
there must be several voices: "Thank you, thank you!" followed by a tenor 
mutter, "Do th' thanking when we're out, snow could come down," and as the 
ropes go taut the third man calls back, more loudly, "Don't know. Don't 
feel so hot," punctuated by broken laughter from the others. "Come on, you 
lot, let me talk! ...Well, so we don't move so right, the one fellow's 
talkin' funny, but no blood or nothing, that I can see."

And then appended, "Maybe he's like that all the time, for alla I know."

Kassima laughs lightly, leaning over to peer down into the ravine. "Good, 
that's great... can you climb up yourselves, or d'you need help? V'dan 
and I can come get folk if'n there's need; our dragons are holding the 
ropes. We've blankets up here, and Benden wine t'warm you." Nothing like 
Benden wine to provide a good incentive, or so Kassima's logic seems to 
run.

Ninya seems to agree with Kassima's logic, for she calls out for ropes. 
Her puppy squirms under one arm as she helps her fellow snowbound up with 
the other.

Down in the ravine, the tenor passes Ninya the ropes he's got, "You first, 
you and your livestock," this with a chapped-lips grin. "I'll get the 
other two, eh?"

Ninya nods, shooing away frantic and "helpful" firelizards as she tucks 
one cold and squirmy canine under her arm and inches her way up to the 
safety of the dragons. As she assends, she can be heard muttering 
something about being glad she didn't wear a skirt.

"Kassi, y'know Rennick's gonna be livid when he finds out you took wine 
from stores, and--ow!" The babblings of V'dan are mercifully cut short by 
a well-applied kick to his leg. "Shush, wher-brain... all right, c'mon up, 
then. We'll be here t'help you up when you reach the edge." The two ropes 
hanging over the edge of the vine have been knotted to allow for as easy 
climbing as possible.

Down under the overhang, Bahlt can by the remaining two be heard quite 
clearly to mumble, "Rainworms -with- the sweetrolls. 'll have some, 
Vittle, believe I will." At the tenor's direction, he tips - is tipped - 
forward enough to crawl towards where Ninya's disappearing.

Ninya scrambles onto the green, never realizing quite how /big/ dragons 
were until now. Her puppy shies away as much as possible.

Ninya takes hold of Lysseth's riding straps and climbs aboard the green 
dragon, who keeps a wary eye on her all the while.

Kassima and V'dan help people up onto their dragons as they reach the edge 
of the ravine, Lysseth for once not bothering to complain or even so much 
as eye the passengers with her usual wariness. Each dragon is equipped 
with enough passenger straps to take on three people, but no more. "If'n 
any of you get airsick, let me know, and I'll call C'row and Servoth 
back," Kassi advises. "Things're still windy enough that the green ladies 
are going t'give us a bit of a bumpier ride than that big bronze barn 
would."

Seated on Lysseth's neckridges, Ninya shakes her head in reply to Kassima, 
although her grip tightens.

Chirper takes off from its perch on Lysseth, as the green dragon watches 
warily.

Bahlt's first seen as a red hat crushed over black hair, backgrounded by 
soggy brown hiking gear; teeth gritted, he not-so-successfully attempts to 
'walk' his way up the ravine, stabilized by the rope looped and knotted 
around head and shoulders, and eventually staggers up towards the top, and 
the pair of dragons. The other two men follow with somewhat swifter 
success, the tenor even bringing the sacks after a muttered 'we'll never 
find them otherwise - like -we- never would have been!' exchange, although 
the fourth, gruff man's limp bespeaks a twisted, perhaps broken ankle.

Chirper scolds the rescuees as they assend the rope, squeaking and 
seriously considering helping them along with her talons before her 
humanpet calls her to order. "Sorry!" Ninya calls through chattering teeth 
as she silently scolds the little green.

Kassima grimaces in sympathy at sight of the broken ankle. "You should 
likely travel on Chymeth, sir," she suggests. "Her movements are somewhat 
more fluid and easier on the rider than Lysseth's. Val, get the man a 
wineskin, would you?" The mop-haired young rider obediantly complies. An 
armful of 'skins is offered to the recently-snowbound people, each looking 
to indeed be stamped with the Benden mark. Once the last of the people 
have reached the surface, Kassi begins to untie and recoil the ropes. 
"Everyone up and aboard, and we'll get you back to the Hold in a 
twinkling."

Some grimacing - mostly the broken-ankled man - some drinking - mostly the 
tenor, although the others can't be faulted - and some rambling - 
definitely Bahlt, although now it's about green and woods-green and 
marsh-green and whatever happened to the blue? it's all white! - and a 
whole lot of stumbling, and eventually they get themselves sorted out and 
at even longer length mounted. Or, at least, atop.

Bahlt takes hold of Lysseth's riding straps and climbs aboard the green 
dragon, who keeps a wary eye on him all the while.

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 climbs up herself once the last of the rescuees have gotten 
themselves seated on one of the two dragons. "All right, here we go," she 
says over her shoulder to Lysseth's passengers. "Everyone buckled in?"

Ninya gathers Chirper in her arms, looking apologetic. She grips tightly 
with white-knuckled hands, never having ridden a real live dragon. "Yes, 
please. Let's get somewhere warm."

Bahlt sneezes into a sleeve, at least he's remembered that much, and his 
knees around Lysseth's neck shake from his shivering. "Th'nk?" Good 
enough.

Kassima smiles at the green 'lizard, her own fair still chirpling from 
where they perch on the green dragon's back and upper neckridges. "Good, 
then," she replies, turning to face forward. "Hold on tight!" With a wave 
to V'dan to signal that she's ready, she nudges her dragon, and the green 
springs into the air with a flurry of wingbeats.

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

You fly up into the air.

You soar back towards the Bitra Valley.

You fly over the Central Bitran Valley.

You descend to the Bitra Hold Courtyard.

Ninya clutches tightly, shivering in the cold air. She watches gratefully 
as the ground comes nearer, and yet is sorry to leave. Her puppy has no 
such feelings, for she, unlike her human, does /not/ like dragons one bit. 
Ninya struggles to hold onto her as the green flies through the air.

<*> Lysseth and Chymeth land together in the Courtyard, furling their 
wings tightly to their sides to take up as little room as possible. Great 
clouds of snow are stirred up by the backwinds created by their landings, 
as careful as they were. "Welcome back to the Hold," Kassi says with a 
chuckle as she begins to unbuckle herself. "All safe and sound? Watch your 
step on the dismount... it looks slick down there, which isn't any 
surprise." Lysseth turns her head to regard the passengers with dimly 
luminous blue eyes, her breath fogging in the chill air.

Ninya unbuckles herself from Lysseth's straps and climbs back down to the 
ground, looking a little disoriented from the flight.

Bahlt's head caves back at the landing, still - even if he weren't so 
groggy - unused to this sort of thing, even despite some eight, nine Turns 
of occasional rides from Vitya's parents. Reminded, "This isn't home," he 
says after a moment, half-focused eyes caught by Lysseth's.

<*> Ninya climbs down, landing neatly on the Courtyard floor, then 
promptly falling down. She picks herself up and, looking very much ashamed 
to have slipped in front of a dragon, and runs into the hold. At the 
entrance, she stops, waving and calling an apology, although her eyes stay 
on the gorgous dragon.

Bahlt unbuckles himself from Lysseth's straps and climbs back down to the 
ground, looking a little disoriented from the flight.

Kassima's black eyebrows arc upwards, and she pauses in her own 
preparations to dismount. "Is there somewhere else I should be taking you, 
then?" Over by Chymeth, V'dan is following this same proceedure, 
dismounting as soon as all of his lifemate's passengers have disembarked.

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.

Ninya enters the hold doors.

Lysseth rumbles again, sounding perhaps a touch amused, and not at all 
chiding. "Be well, lass!" Kassima calls, waving after her... belatedly, of 
course. Argh. "Why," she mutters, "do I *always* do that...."

Bahlt stumbles down, even so; he looks to Kassima, silently pleading, gray 
eyes to green. - And it's just then that, again, the tenor saves the day: 
half in apology, "New fellow, rider. He's been out of his head, some. 
'Least it's funnier than when he's thinking straight."

Kassima ahs and clicks her tongue faintly, perhaps in sympathy. "Thankee," 
she calls to the tenor. To Bahlt, she offers a smile. "'Tis all right... 
if'n you wish t'be going home, I can take you, but only if'n you wish it. 
C'mon... you should all get inside, methinks, where 'twould wager 'tis 
much warmer." Of the group in general, she inquires, "Will you be needing 
aught else from us--and is anyone else out there? If'n nay, I should call 
in the rest of m'riders."

"All of -us-," the fourth man grunts out even as the tenor heads inside 
after Ninya, "Don' know about anyone else. Didn't expect it to pick up 
like this," this said with some slight weather-directed offense: he's been 
around, he thinks, he should -know- better. Bahlt just sways on his ice-
encrusted feet, and at last says something quasi-coherent, if faint, to 
Kassima. "Warm. Warm is ...good. Thanks. I like warm." A bob of his head 
Lysseth and Chymeth's way, or maybe it's towards the watchtowers, and he 
stumbles inside.

Bahlt enters the hold doors.

Kassima nods to the fourth man, sobering somewhat. "I'll advise the riders 
to remain on the lookout, then, and send more t'refresh 'em at need until 
'tis certain whether there's anyone else t'be found. As for me, I'd likely 
best get back t'write up m'report... unless," she asks, almost wistfully, 
"you think there might happen t'be warm cider or mulled wine in the 
Hold...?" V'dan perks up at that, and starts doing his best to look 
pitiful. Poor widdle fwozen gweenwider.

The fourth man tugs up his coat collar and says as he's heading in, 
"Shards, yes, there better be, 'specially with you saving us and all. Me, 
I'm for warm, and I'll toast you, too. Toast you all!"

Kassima laughs, the tips of her ears reddening a bit. "'Tis part of what 
riders are here for," she demures. "But thankee, nonetheless. I see that 
V'dan's making the pitiful faces again, so I suppose for his sake if'n 
naught else, we'll head in for a drink." She beckons the other greenrider 
over as she starts to walk over that way. "And there are a few more 
questions I'd like t'be asking about this situation besides...."

You enter Bitra Hold.

Zynassa comes out the double doors on the balcony, and descends the steps.

Zynassa peers out the door to the little's hall and then moves out into 
the main hall.

Kassima and V'dan sigh in unison with relief as the warmth of the hall 
envelopes them. Stripping off her gloves, Kassi begins to look for the 
nearest person she might ask about cider. "This'll give the rest an extra 
incentive t'find someone," she can't resist quipping. "A pleasant change 
'tis from the out of doors!"

Zynassa skips over to the serving table, singing a little teaching song 
with much enthusiasm and little talent.

The rescued people get shuffled off to Buff- that is, to one of the 
smaller rooms off the Hall and changed into clean clothes, this while one 
of the holdfolk crosses to the riders with tall, steaming mugs of 
something that's by the fumes undeniably alcoholic. Someone's been 
preparing, efficient as usual, and in this distraction, two other people 
cross behind those that just entered and start mopping up the floor before 
Norri comes down.

Kassima certainly has no protest to an alcoholic drink rather than cider, 
and in fact flashes the generous person who brought it such a grateful 
smile that it would suggest she considers this even better. "Thankee, most 
kindly--oh, shells, I'm sorry about that," she apologizes to the floor 
mopper-uppers. V'dan, by contrast, is content to guzzle his mug while 
Kassi does all the formality things. She's better at those anyway. "Duties 
t'Bitra, her Lord, and her Lady," the Wingleader belatedly offers with a 
nod to the room in general and a hint of a grin at the singing of the 
oddly familiar-looking child. She finds herself and V'dan a pair of empty 
seats and settles into one with a sigh, letting the vapors of the brew 
warm her hands and face as she waits for the rescuees to return.

Zynassa scoops a plateful of tubers off the serving table, turning to 
regard the riders, her expression lighting up as she figures out that they 
are indeed riders, "OOOOOH! Gons!"

"Don't you worry about that," the second floor mopper-upper says spryly, 
"Just let us get it done before she's back... and we did get a peek of 
them outside, girlie." This while the woman who brought the drink's still 
smile-stunned, though she does bob a curtsey and then retreat. And, at 
length, the travellers return in clean clothes, and are positioned near 
the fire; buckets of water are brought, not hot but warm, for frostbittedn 
hands and feet.

V'dan looks thoroughly bemused. It's not hard to tell that he doesn't have 
any children of an age to begin speaking. Kassi, though, is another 
matter. "Aye, we have dragons," she tells Zynassa, her smile broad and 
warm. "I'm Kassima, green Lysseth's rider. This lug here is V'dan, green 
Chymeth's rider."

Zynassa practically dances, "Can I see 'em later? Please please please? I 
MISS gons!"

"A'course, lass," Kassi assures the girl, her smile turning into a grin. 
"Lyss likes children. Have you been around dragons a'fore?" When the 
travellers come into the room, the greenrider turns some of her attention 
to them. The seat she chose is fairly near to the fire also, enough so 
that she can speak without needing to resort to a yell. "Pardon, sirs and 
madams, but would you mind if'n I asked you a few questions about this 
blizzard?"

The tenor's quick enough on the uptake, his formerly snowy hair hidden in 
a towel, "Go right ahead. I won't pretend we know much." Cowled in 
blankets as if he were an Igenite and dutifully seated with the others, 
Bahlt - given those buckets housing his extremities - doesn't dare move 
except to shiver, and say, "...Uh-hunh." The third man just grunts.

A harried looking young girl captures Zynassa and sets her to fetching and 
carrying warmed bags of sand for the rescuees. The little girl happily 
carting them around.

Kassima nods, pausing to sip from her mug of heated liquor--the taste of 
which causes both brows to arch in appreciation. "M'compliments to 
whomever brewed this," she murmurs. In a more carrying voice, she 
explains, "Aught you can tell me might be of aid in narrowing the area 
which the Weyr's riders will need t'search. This blizzard--was there 
enough warning t'get t'*some* kind of safety, like that overhang you lot 
were underneath, or was it sudden enough that people could be anywhere? 
Are there many places around the Hold apt t'be offering shelter? And, 
perhaps most importantly...." Her eyes trail down towards the buckets of 
hot water. "What condition d'you think we should expect survivors t'be in 
at this point, assuming that they reached some sort of shelter like 
yours?"

Bahlt's quick enough to say, "Real fast," and blink rather slowly at them: 
good answer? The third, blunt man lifts a dripping hand and thumps the 
poor fellow on the back, and say between chattering teeth, "You don't 
know shards from s-smoke, man. No offense, eh, but N-nerat boys aren't 
like us. Right, so the f-first part, it came up right enough, but we were 
a ways out, and then the second blizzard blew in, at least, that's what we 
could tell." Which isn't saying a whole lot. "Don't know about anyone 
else."

"Nay, I'd imagine nay," Kassi drolly agrees. "I'm from a Hold closer to 
Nerat than here m'self, and even after all these Turns at Benden and 
Telgar, some things about the weather never fail t'surprise me. Two 
blizzards? Huh." She considers this for a moment, then shrugs. "I'truth, 
I'm nay certain that tells me much, but we'll keep looking. I'll include 
what you've told me in m'report; it may be of aid, at that."

The tenor implores one of the other holdfolk, "Share the wine, woman?" but 
gets boxed - gently - on the ears for it. "None of that for you," she 
says, "Not till the Healers have a chance to look at you. Water, yes, but 
slowly." He grimaces: water?

Zynassa shoves a heated sandbag into Bahlt's lap, "It's warm." she informs 
him.

Bahlt caves with a gulp. "Warm," he repeats thankfully, even his bristly 
eyebrows sagging. Warm, and heavy. "Bigger'n'a baby."

The other fellow says, "Well, so maybe not second -blizzard-, but a break 
in the snow, thought we could get out but -I- wasn't one for betting, not 
like -some- people." Here, a look at the tenor.

Kassima shudders faintly at the very mention of water, and takes a longer 
drink of her heated liquor. "We should likely be going," she says rather 
reluctantly, and much to V'dan's disappointment. "Thankee for what you've 
told us. With luck, we'll find anyone else who's out there shortly." She 
gets to her feet, then grins over at Bahlt. "Aye, but at least a sandbag 
doesn't cry at all hours, demanding t'be fed... ah, so." This latest 
statement attracts her attention. "Then mayhaps others might've tried. 
That could be useful t'know."

Bahlt absently pats the sandbag, as if he'd burp it, even though the 
thing's on his lap rather than his shoulder. "He did, no question. An' I 
owe you, riders. Vit, gotta see my Vittle." The tenor says, airily enough 
for all his red nose and chin and cheekbones, "That's our Bhalt for you. 
Me, I'd like some food... not that I'm not thankin' you myself, and we 
would -so- have made it, if it hadn't been for your doing in your ankle, 
fellow... Right, right, don't know about no others, but right pretty day 
it was, before."

Zynassa grins to the man, "I can get ya tubers." she offers helpfully.

Kassima grins at the rescuees. "Aye, well... when the Healer pronounces 
you sound, come up t'Telgar sometime, and you'll get a meal worth waiting 
for; there're benefits t'having a Craftmaster at one's Weyr. I can point 
you towards the best food. Just ask for Kassima, green Lysseth's rider." 
Thoughtfully, she adds, "I'll have t'advise the next team t'bring food 
along for whomever they find. 'Tany rate, I hope you'll all be well--and," 
she adds with a wink, "have better luck in the future. Lass, did you still 
want t'be seeing the dragons?"

Zynassa turns to the rider with a bounce and an excited, "Yes please!'

Bahlt pipes up, "Squoosh. Fingerroots," and gets a withering look for his 
trouble and the tenor's explanation, "He kept nattering about it, and I 
dare say it's your fault, Zynassa... not that I don't want some, mind!" 
and all three men reply with thanks and a wave to Kassima, in unison but 
for Bahlt lagging a breath behind.

Zynassa protests to Bahlt, "It's goood!"

The rest of Bahlt's face reddens to match his nose. "No, liked it. Just 
not enough."

Bahlt says "...Of it."

Bahlt says "Not enough of it t'last us."

Zynassa nods, "Okay.:"

Kassima repeats 'Squoosh' silently to herself in puzzlement, but decides 
it's best to simply nod. "Quite welcome," she calls back to the men. "And 
g'luck also in finding something you like for dinner!" That's said with a 
wink to Bahlt before she turns her attention to Zynassa. "All right, 
then," she says with a near-silent laugh. "They're out in the courtyard. 
C'mon, V'dan! Duties t'Bitra, and clear skies, all!" The woman strides out 
towards the Courtyard, with her hapless greenrider lackey trailing along 
behind.

You walk out the main doors, to the courtyard.

Zynassa comes out of the hold.

Zynassa races out into the snow, ignoring the lack of coat or mittens in 
her excitement, "Ooooh, you're a pretty gon."

Kassima stops short just beside her green, the larger and less... well... 
homely of the pair currently in the Courtyard. Lowering her muzzle to give 
her rider's shoulder a light nudge, the dragon turns her head to watch the 
little emerge from the Hall with eyes of slowly-whirling sapphire. "She's 
a scrawny bag of bones, but aye, she's pretty," the rider agrees with a 
grin. "She says t'thank you for the complimenting."

Zynassa beams to the dragon, talking to the green directly, "You's 
welcome. Do you know Chae?"

Kassima calls over then to V'dan and his Chymeth, "Head on back to the 
Weyr with the others, Val, and get yourself warmed up. I'll meet you there 
ere too long." The other greenrider nods and takes off, disappearing 
*between* within a few breaths. "Chae... Chaeth?" she asks Zynassa with 
interest. "Aye, she knows him. As do I--he was the brown who Searched me. 
I take it you know Jazmin, then?"

Zynassa nods brightly, "Uh hunh, she's my Mummy."

Kassima snaps her fingers as realization sets in. "So that's why I thought 
I recalled you! You're Zynassa, aren't you? Shells, it *has* been 
awhile...."

Zynassa watches the greenrider, "Are you /another/ person that held me 
when I was a baby?"

Kassima chuckles, scritching Lysseth's chin absently. "Oh, once or twice. 
During a knife-throwing contest here, I think 'twas. But don't worry; I've 
nay an intent to start clucking over how cute you are and how big you've 
grown, unless you really want me to."

Zynassa giggles, "it's okay, I /know/ I's a big girl, I'm almost six."

Kassima groans good-naturedly. "Faranth, time has gone by faster than a 
sick man running to the necessary. I suppose it shouldn't surprise me, 
though, with m'own Kaylira being four now. M'sincere congratulations on 
having nearly reached such an age."

Zynassa grins proudly, "Thankyou!" she looks curious, "You've got a little 
girl?"

Kassima nods, holding up two fingers. "A pair of 'em, actually. Kaylira 
and Kharisma, though Khari's only near two--both beautiful lasses, and 
both as prone t'getting into mischief as they are t'breathing."

Zynassa sighs in understanding, "They grounded forever too?"

Kassima shakes her head. "Nay, nay... Simaeva--that's their foster-mum--
does ground 'em sometimes, but usually nay for too long. They're good 
girls. Just a bit too adept at causing chaos." She grins wryly. "They do 
help t'keep our lives interesting!"

Zynassa nods, "Papafel grounded me forever."

Kassima confides, looking serious, "I doubt 'twill be forever. You'd be 
surprised what softies parents can be sometimes." Patting her dragon's 
muzzle, she sighs. "Anyway, I've got t'get back. Would you kindly tell 
your parents heyla for me when next you see them?"

Zynassa nods, "Un hunh, all of 'em?"

"Jazmin, Alyssa, and F'nar, anyway," Kassi replies, reaching for her 
lifemate's straps. "It's been a real pleasure speaking with you again, 
Zynassa. Clear skies and fair winds t'you."

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.

<*> Zynassa waves, "Byebye pretty gon!"

<*> Lysseth warbles to the girl, her breath clouding in the cold air, then 
spreads her wings in preparation for takeoff.

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

You fly up into the air.