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Snakes?  Why Did It Have To Be Snakes?


Date:  November 20, 1997
Places:  Telgar Weyr's Living Cavern, Entrance, and Store Rooms
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:  Ah, an epic battle of legend!  Finally, the Weyrfolk come
to grips with the fact that Slithereth is real... and has apparently 
followed them, somehow, to Telgar--with many of his smaller brethren
making up his entourage.  Who says that truth isn't stranger than 
fiction?  This RP was *great* fun, and my most sincere thanks go to
Jorenan for coming up with and organizing the infestation idea. :)

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

Ofira waves to Kassima, while she says to Emlyn, "How much does the 
terrain differ? I really have just been to High Reaches and back mostly."

Two sets of footfalls--one limping and uneven, the other more regular--can 
be heard as Kassi, trailed by a panicked-looking V'dan, makes her way into 
the room. However, they're almost drowned out by the argument between the 
two greenriders. "You can't *do* that," Chymeth's rider wails, his voice 
actually cracking. "Can so," is Kassi's reply, quite firm. "And *will.* 
'Tis naught but what you deserve, V'da--oh, heya, all." Suddenly realizing 
that there are people in the room, she salutes P'tran, natch, and waves to 
everyone else. V'dan follows suit, rather feebly.

Emlyn answers Ofira, "Well, there's much less farming here. We're 
protecting more space, but fewer people." She pauses, then adds. "I like 
the trees."

P'tran leans forward and raises an eyebrow as he spots Kassima and 
overhears the argument between his Wingsecond and the other rider. "Is 
there a problem?"

Ofira smiles, "It sounds rather nice. Perhaps I'll get a chance to see 
sometime, take a leisurely ride instead of rushing off somewhere."

V'dan, the poor little twerp, gulps and turns faintly white. Kassi does 
her level best not to look disgusted as she carefully lowers herself into 
a chair, mindful of her left leg. "Nay really, sir; V'dan merely objects 
to what I consider a most righteous--" She doesn't get any farther before 
V'dan blurts, "She's going to write a *song* about me, sir!" He must be 
desperate, if he thinks the Wingleader will help him get out of this fate 
most dire. A few riders nearby cast him sympathetic looks, even pitying--
but don't offer to help him get out of this, nope.

Emlyn finishes her klah. "Well," she announces, "if you'll excuse me. 
There's a class." She gives the gold and bronze riders respectful nods as 
she departs.

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

Ofira grins at V'dan, trying not to laugh.

P'tran blinks and then one corner of his mouth turns upward slightly. A 
Telgar rider from another table, the same one that made the greenrider 
comment before, just harrumphs to himself. "Oh, is that all," he says. "I 
would not worry overly much about that, V'dan."

Sandar peers at V'dan. "You're worthy of having a song being written about 
you?"

"But sir..." V'dan doesn't *quite* whine, but he does pull at his hair, 
evidently still panicked. The man's going to be bald within a very short 
span if he keeps this up. "She's going to make me sound *awful*. She said 
so. She," he points a trembling finger that rather looks like limp 
macaroni at Kassi, "takes *one* little slip on my ledge, and all of a 
sudden, it's like I'm the target for some sort of vindictive song spree." 
Oh, yeah. Like this is a surprise, coming from Kassi. "You've never heard 
one of her songs!" he explains succinctly to Sandar.

P'tran sighs slightly, but is still grinning slightly. "Kassima, how about 
you give V'dan a chance to look at the song you're going to write before 
you play it for someone? Might make him feel a little less wary about it."

Kassima hrmphs. "Less'n the little sot deserves, after leaving hide oil on 
his ledge where anyone could slip on it." As V'dan starts to yelp 
something about that being just *one* time, honest, cross his heart and 
hope to die, she shoots the other greenrider a *look.* "But, 'twill be as 
you say, sir. I suppose making a fellow rider sound truly awful in a song 
wouldn't do much for the Weyr's image...." 'No matter how much I'd like 
to' remains unsaid, but anyone could read the thought pretty easily on her 
face.

Sandar looks to Kassi, and then to V'dan, and shrugs with a slight grin.

P'tran nods to Kassima. "Thank you, I appreciate that. Always good to keep 
peace within the wing." At that he frowns a little. He takes a sip of klah 
but finds the remainder undrinkable and puts it aside. "By the way, 
Kassima, I need to speak with you about something when you're, uh, done 
with V'dan."

"I'm done with him, sir," Kassi reports, giving Chymeth's rider a last 
semi-scathing glance. "For now. Is aught amiss?"

P'tran hrms. "You could say that. I'm having trouble with some of the 
newer riders to the wing."

Elese walks here from the Inner Cavern.

Sandar half-listens as he goes about tidying the Living Cavern and the 
kitchen. As Elese enters he gives her a smile as a greeting.

Elese wanders out, working at a knot of yarn in her hands that trails down 
into the sack slung over her shoulder.

Ofira nods to Elese, sitting quietly with her half empty mug. "Evening."

Elese looks up just before she collides with a chair and catches Sandar's 
smile. She nods to him, and Ofira, as well. "Evening."

Kassima immediately surmises, "Such as Candeth's rider? Has he been 
causing more trouble, sir?"

Sandar asks Elese, though still wiping down the counter and not focusing 
his attention directly at her, "can I get you some klah?"

P'tran rolls his eyes. "Faranth, yes," he replies. "I figured it wouldn't 
take you long to figure out who I was talking about." He pauses a moment 
and leans back in his seat. "H'tor is a good rider in Fall, and he has 
leadership potential. But he needs to realize that there's a difference 
between taking initiative and taking over."

Elese stuffs the knot into her sack with a sigh and focuses her attention 
on Sandar a bit more. "Klah? Sure. I'd love some."

Sandar perks up when he hears the name H'tor, then bites his lip at 
P'tran's judgement of the man. He turns the lip-biting into another smile 
for Elese. "Right away," he nods as he pours some klah into a fresh mug 
and brings it to her table.

Ofira watches Sandar, shaking her head slightly and then rises, going to 
the table and pouring herself a glass of wine and taking some cheese.

Elese smiles and accepts the mug with a nod of thanks as she takes her 
seat. "Just what I need..." she murmurs.

Kassima quirks a slight smile. "He's rather hard t'be missing, sir. 
Especially due to his inclination to... ah, you've stated it perfectly. 
There's something about him that rests uneasy with me, certes; the man is, 
I believe, trouble just waiting t'happen wrapped up in one bronzeriding 
package. Still, I suppose I could be misjudging him." Not bloody likely, 
an undertone to her otherwise calm assessment suggests. "Any others? He's 
been the only one t'catch m'eye outright, but I know nay whether 'tis 
saying aught."

Sandar looks a bit guilty for missing that Master Ofira wanted something 
from the counter, but only for a moment, then he gets back to work helping 
others in the Cavern. He'll mention to her later to ask if she needs 
anything next time.

Ofira sits back down, watching Kassima and P'tran, and then she turns to 
Elese, speaking to her quietly.

Elese takes a long sip from her mug before setting it down on the table 
and pulling her yarn out of her sack again. "Why does this stuff always 
have to knot up?"

P'tran looks thoughtful for a moment. "Well, we have one other, Shiara, 
but with her it's overeagerness. She's under the impression, I believe, 
that we're hear to convern Telgar into Benden 2, and that's not quite what 
we're supposed to be doing. However, I prefer that over H'tor's attitude. 
H'tor has yet to openly defy me, so I'm trying to deal with the man as 
much as I can."

Ofira mutters to Elese, "... ever have... with... riders here?"

Elese looks up at Ofira, fingers still working at the knot. She mutters to 
Ofira, "Only some... the..." 

Ofira blinks, She mutters to Elese, "... Benden?" 

Elese nods. She mutters to Ofira, "... grew... here. I know most of... 
Most... them... to me.... the Benden... in...manners." 

Kassima folds her hands on the table, lacing her fingers together. 
"Shiara," she repeats thoughtfully. "She'd be... Riatth's rider. Aye, I 
recall her. Such eagerness will be a great asset, if'n she can only be 
persuaded t'turn it in the right direction. She'd be in that first group 
Tinya was mentioning, I think... but H'tor's harder to catagorize. What 
would you say is chances are of coming around and settling into the ways 
of the Wing?"

Sandar slumps down onto a bench, and sighs, running his finger around the 
rim of his glass of juice, but doesn't say anything.

Ofira hmmphs in surprise, She mutters to Elese, "The reason I ask... 
the... to... the... riders, but one... your... the... pinch... the..." 

Elese raises an eyebrow. She mutters to Ofira, "... or..." 

P'tran runs a hand through his hair, which only makes it look even more 
disheveled than when he came in. "I certainly hope so," he declares. "The 
man is fantastic at Threadfighting from what little I've seen. His bronze 
has a lot of staying power in a Fall."

P'tran adds, "But I won't go out on a limb and try to guess his chances."

Ofira replies with a hint of anger in her voice, "Bronze. Imagine! I 
haven't been treated with such disrespect since....since I don't know 
when!"

Elese mutters to Ofira, "... do..."

P'tran overhears Ofira and glances over to her. "Beg pardon?"

Sandar mumbles from his corner, "H'tor was G'mort's favorite." But it 
really wasn't said loud enough for anyone to hear.

Ofira grins at Elese, "Oh, he had the poor sense to do it in the kitchen 
where I had my cookware. Knocked him out cold. But still. It's the 
principle of it." She looks over at P'tran, "Oh, just discussing a rider."

Elese tries really hard not to burst out laughing. Really hard. "Uh...
well, that's the way I would have handled it. Complain to his wingleader, 
too. I doubt his wingmates will let him live down the fact that he got 
nailed by a frying pan."

"Bronzes do," Kassi agrees amiably enough. "'Tis what makes them such an 
asset to the Wings. And I would imagine that H'tor would be a very strong 
Threadfighter. He has all of the fighting instincts. Still, what makes a 
good Threadfighter and what makes a good Wingman are two different things, 
a'course; 'twould be a good thing all around, should he prove to be both." 
She swivels her head around to look at Ofira in surprise, which only 
lessens slightly at the Baker's reply.

Ofira sighs, "Perhaps I should have given him the benefit of the doubt. He 
couldn't see my knot from behind me I suppose."

P'tran ums and nods at Ofira. "Well, if you do have any problems with 
Thunderbolt riders, please let me know." He turns back to Kassima. "He 
tends to stay with the Telgar riders that he knows in Thunderbolt, and 
until recently I've been letting him do that. Getting the Wing retrained 
for Telgar winds took enough time, I didn't want to deal with any, ah, 
incompatibilities he may have with former Benden riders."

Elese shrugs, lowering her face to her hands and the knot of yarn 
entangled there. "It shouldn't matter. We aren't here to provide 
entertainment for every lonely rider."

Ofira nods, "Well, that's certainly true! I'd hate to see one of my 
apprentices get involved inappropriately."

Elese nods. "It happens alot here, actually. I think some of the Telgar 
riders could use a few lessons in...manners."

P'tran hrms to himself as he catches bits of conversation between Ofira 
and Elese.

R'cas, an elderly Telgar rider who is sitting beside Sandar, his large 
hands absent-mindedly shuffling a dog-eared pack of dragon poker cards, 
nudges Sandar. "She talks about Telgar riders showing manners," he snorts 
quietly to the Assistant Steward. "Maybe the Benden riders could learn 
some better manners than to come here and insult Telgar riders here in 
/our/ Living Cavern!"

Ofira nods, "Well, I doubt it's going to happen in the kitchen again," she 
says firmly.

Kassima nods, tilting her head a bit. "He's nay precisely the sort that 
many folk would warm to right away. Especially those who don't share his 
views in some things. He'll have t'learn t'trust his Wingmates and be 
trusted in turn if'n he's to fly properly in 'Fall, though, sir. Having 
the Wing split to two factions in the middle of a 'Fall would likely have 
disastrous results, as I'm certain you can imagine."

Elese lifts her head and gives R'cas an eye. "Maybe Telgar riders should 
learn where not to put their hands, eh?"

R'cas raises an eyebrow, not realizing his comment had been overheard. He 
doesn't reply, and instead continues to quietly shuffle his worn cards.

P'tran nods to Kassima in agreement and then looks past Sandar at R'cas. 
His expression is carefully neutral as he replies, "If you're talking 
about my conversation with my Wingsecond, that's between us. If there are 
any Benden riders that are openly insulting Telgar riders, if they're in 
my Wing, I won't tolerate it."

Ofira muses to herself, "Next time maybe I'll just cut it off. The hand I 
mean." She looks around the living cavern. "/Our/ living cavern," she 
corrects.

Jorenan walks here from the Inner Cavern.

P'tran then adds, "Nor will I tolerate any Thunderbolt riders - Benden 
*or* Telgar - that don't show respect to the lower cavern folk and the 
crafters and staff."

Jaeleka walks here from the Inner Cavern.

Jaeleka skips in after Jorenan, humming to herself.

Jorenan trudges on through with a wave. He skids to a stop at P'tran's 
words, and then goes on. He's got stores work to do. Cataloging, cleaning, 
yeah that.

Jorenan walks off towards the kitchen.

Ofira looks over and waves to Jorenan and Jaeleka.

Sandar sinks down on his bench, not wanting to be in the middle of this 
argument, where he has unwillingly found himself. R'cas, on the other 
hand, stands up. "Well, the way you're talking about it, it's /your/ 
Living Cavern," he replies. "Happily, I've been accepted a transfer to 
Ista. When I'm there, perhaps I'll try to get to know the Istans, instead 
of badmouthing them behind their backs."

Jaeleka stops and considers Ofira. She approaches the woman, and stares at 
her.

Elese finally unknots the yarn with a little smile of satisfaction. 
"There. Now I can get to knitting again."

Ofira looks back at Jaeleka and smiles.

P'tran raises an eyebrow slightly at R'cas' words and considers for a 
moment, the expression on his face slightly tinged with anger. This fades 
a bit after a few moments, and he says simply, "I wish you luck at Ista, 
then. They're a fine Weyr." But then he can't help but add after a beat, 
"They have been very close to Benden in the past."

Jaeleka smiles back to Ofira. "You don't 'member me, do you?"

The elderly R'cas quiets down again, his grizzled features show the 
appearance of a kind, gentle man. He sighs and sticks his cards into the 
pocket of his wherhide rider's jacket. "My apologies, Master Baker," he 
finally says. "It's a hard time for all of us." With that he gives an 
honest salute to the riders and walks sadly out the door.

Sandar watches R'cas go, and sighs.

Kassima opens her mouth to answer R'cas with some sort of retort, but 
snaps it shut as the Wingleader beats her to it. "I've nay heard of such, 
sir," she instead reports. "Open insults, I mean. I won't vouch for what 
anyone says to others in the privacy of their own weyrs, but there's been 
nay open conflict I'm aware of as yet." R'cas's second comment does earn 
him an arched eyebrow from the greenrider. "Clear skies, rider," she calls 
after him. "Fair be the winds t'you at Ista. They've some sharding fine 
riders there." She smiles a bit at that, for no apparent reason 
whatsoever.

Ofira sighs, watching the older rider go, shaking her head. "I suppose it 
is," she murmurs. She looks back at the girl. "You have the look of 
someone I know..." she says, rather baffled.

P'tran watches R'cas go and sighs softly. He turns to Kassima and 
comments, "I hope we don't have much more of this. Again, I'm still 
thinking in terms of two Weyrs instead of one sometimes."

Elese pulls out a pair of knitting needles, barely paying any attention to 
R'cas.

Jaeleka puts her hands on her hips nad tells Ofira in a rather matter of 
fact tone. "You don't like me. Cause I broke a bowl in your kitchen making 
cookies."

Sandar stands up, and gives a little stretch, before walking over to 
Jaeleka. "Can I get you some klah?" Then to Ofira beside her, "Master 
Baker, do you need anything?"

Jorenan walks in from the kitchen.

P'tran glances behind him as he sees a line of people heading through on 
their way to the storerooms and raises an eyrbrow. "Something up?" he asks 
of no one in particular.

Ofira glances at Sandar, "Oh, thank you no," she smiles. She looks back at 
the girl. "I don't? You did?" she says, genuinely puzzled. "You look like 
a perfectly nice girl."

Jorenan dashes into the living cavern and skids to a halt. He looks a 
little pale.

Jaeleka gives Ofira a clearly shocked look. "I am not a nice girl." 
Bluntly honest.

Sandar opens his mouth as though to say something to Jorenan, but then 
stops, and looks at him with mouth still open from across the room.

Ofira looks up at her apprentice, "Not the ovens?" she says, distressed, 
seeing his face. "I thought we had time before one of them exploded!"

Kassima flicks a stray lock of hair from her eyes, nodding a rueful 
assent. "'Tis mutual. I think, in a way, that there'll always be 
differences--there's nay denying that some of us come from, or are at 
least used to, a different culture and way of living. 'Tis also truth that 
there are those who'd like to retain as much of that culture and the 
traditions they're used to as they may... m'self included. I've little 
doubt 'twill continue t'be so for quite some time, if'n nay always--but 
such thoughts can't be allowed to interfere with the efficiency of the 
Wings. So long as they don't...." She shrugs, and turns to get a look for 
herself. "What's with the storerooms all of a sudden?" she wants to know.

Elese raises an eyebrow, needles hovering in mid-stitch. "Explode?" she 
echoes.

Jorenan waves away any thought of the ovens. "M-ma'am, they're not usually 
that big, are they? The snakes I mean. They don't usually eat felines, 
right? Could we maybe do something about these? I think there's more than 
I can handle by myself. Maybe we could bring along some flamethrowers?" 
He's babbling.

Sandar makes a muffled eeping sound at the concept of exploding ovens, but 
Jorenan's reassurance that it's only huge tunnelsnakes reassures him. But 
only for a moment, at which point he erks at the concept of giant feline-
eating tunnelsnakes.

Elese lowers her needles, winces. "Not those sharding tunnel snakes 
again."

Ofira gives Jaeleka a final, puzzled glance and then says firmly to 
Jorenan, "Apprentice! Get hold of yourself! There are more snakes?"

P'tran nods to Kassima. "I don't know, maybe part of the solution is 
trying not to harp on the idea of 'Benden' anymore. I hate the idea, since 
its been my home even before I Impressed." He turns around again and 
blinks at Jorenan. "If you're talking about tunnelsnakes, Jorenan, you can 
certainly handle a problem like that without, er, flamethrowers. I'm sure 
we'd all like the Weyr intact."

Jaeleka boggles at Jorenan. "Maybe Yazric could help," she offers 
hopefully. "Do they eat big boys?"

Ofira's mouth drops open slightly, "Now I know who you are!" she declares 
to Jaeleka, smiling, not yet grasping the severity of the tunnel snake 
problem. She hugs the girl, "Oh, you broke that bowl when you were still 
just a baby!"

"*Flamethrowers*!" Kassi exclaims, surprised. "In the *storerooms*? What 
in the name of Faranth's great golden gizzard and gall-bladder's going... 
wait a second. Tunnelsnakes?" She just shakes her head, by now thoroughly 
confused. "I suppose 'tis so, sir. But I can't help but oppose the idea 
that to integrate, we should all forget where we came from and the Turns 
we spent there entirely."

Jorenan shakes his head. "Oh no. We need the flamethrower, sir. Big ones. 
Maybe the whole queen's wing. Could the dragons come, too?" He then shakes 
himself and tries to be coherent. "Ma'am. We need a lot of people, ma'am. 
There are hundred of tunnelsnakes in the back of that stores cavern I was 
working on. I stepped on a whole nest of them. One of them crawled up my 
leg, ma'am, and there was another one that reared up to my height!"

Jaeleka hugs Ofira back, nodding happily that she's been remembered. 
"Un-huh. I got a scar and everything." She giggles at Jorenan.

Elese just stares at Jorenan. "You want to use a flamethrower? In the 
lower caverns??"

P'tran nods briefly at Kassima's final comment in the Benden-Telgar 
discussion but now appears to be grateful at least a little for the 
distraction. "I don't think any tunnelsnake problem would be large enough 
to warrant a panic, Jorenan." He stands and stretches a bit. "We had a 
tunnelsnake problem at Benden after that big storm we had some Turns 
back."

"Slithereth followed us from Benden?" V'dan pipes up. "You mean he really 
is *real*? Shardit! Now I'll have to pay B'ald a half-mark!"

Ofira turns, still patting Jaeleka on the back gently, "On your foot...
/flamethrower/? Just how big are these snakes? And how many?"

P'tran gapes at V'dan and then turns to Kassima. "You haven't been telling 
people here that story, have you?"

Sandar is not greatful for the distraction, because it probably means he's 
going to be crawling around hunting for tunnelsnakes of the huge variety.

Kassima delivers a swift and discreet kick to V'dan with her good leg, 
ignoring the dirty look he gives her in return. "Well, nay for a long 
time, sir," she temporizes, "but once the story *started*, it kind of 
became something of a legend...."

Jorenan holds up his hands. The width he indicates, about the width of a 
person, doesn't seem that long. Until he says, "The biggest one I saw was 
about this wide, ma'am, and about as long as a dragon's tail."

Jaeleka nods at Ofira. "Yep." Then wonders aloud "Are they really gonna 
burn the snakes out?"

P'tran smirks at Kassima. "Uh-huh," he says simply. "Well, im either case, 
this is more excitement than I need for one evening. I think this is a 
good excuse to turn in."

Ofira finally manages to make sense of all the talk. "Hundreds?" she 
whispers, going quite pale. "/Hundreds?/ Are you /sure/?"

Elese purses her lips a bit. "You're kidding?"

Sandar mouths, "hundreds?" but no sound comes out.

Jorenan takes a deep breath. "Ma'am," he says slowly, "have I ever 
exaggerated in the entire time you've known me?"

Sandar gives P'tran a nod. "Good evening, sir. Sleep well," though he 
doesn't add 'knowing there are tunnelsnakes about'.

Kassima nods, saluting sharply at once. V'dan stops rubbing his kicked leg 
long enough to follow suit. "Aye, sir. Fair be the winds t'you and 
Laerth." To Ofira, she repeats with a frown, "Hundreds? Such a number 
might be difficult for even fire-lizards to handle efficiently."

P'tran leans over to Ofira, Sandar, and Kassima and says quietly and 
half-jokingly to them, "Please make sure he doesn't burn down the Weyr. 
K'tyn would likely be a little upset over it."

P'tran grins slightly and then heads out

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

Kassima grins up at the Wingleader. "I promise, sir. If'n there's any 
Weyr-burning t'be done around here, then *I'm* going t'do it." She hastens 
to add, just in case her light tone didn't give her away, "Just kidding, 
mind."

Ofira looks at Jorenan, hard, for a moment. "No. No, you never have." She 
looks at P'tran, rather desperately, "I know, but what are we going to 
do?"

Sandar can't help but grin. "Him and me both," he says to himself.

Ofira takes a deep breath, "Alright," she says, her voice cold as she 
tries to master her fear. "This is what we do. Get everyone you can find, 
with their firelizards, felines, canines, anything. Glows, clubs, 
knives..."

Jorenan looks after P'tran with a slight frown on his face. "The place is 
made of stone. It's not like it'd burn -fast-. I'm sure we'd have time to 
put it out again after the snakes were gone."

Sandar says "unless the smoke got us first."

Jaeleka tugs on Ofira'a sleeve. "But I dont want Mud chasing them if 
they're that big."

Kassima shrugs to Ofira, looking towards the direction of the storerooms 
rather thoughtfully. "Kill 'em, I imagine. If'n you don't mind, Bakers, 
I'd like to help with this. I've a bit of experience killing snakes. 'Twas 
m'main exercise while 'twas carrying Kay, and m'fire-lizards--those left, 
anyway--are trained to it, too."

Ofira pats Jaeleka on the shoulder, "If there are a lot attacking at once, 
he should be okay, but if you're worried leave him behind."

Ofira nods to Kassima, "Please! Your help would be welcome!"

Jorenan nods to Kassi, too. "The more the merrier," he agrees. He's still 
a little white around the eyes. "I wonder if we herded 'em out to the bowl 
if the dragons would help."

Elese shudders. "I'm allergic to anything that slithers, crawls or can 
swallow me whole."

Ofira blinks. "Herd them? Herd them?" she seems to be having trouble 
hearing tonight. "Where's Caitria - she knows about herding..."

As if on cue, eighteen fire-lizards--a paltry number compared to the Swarm 
Kassi had at Benden, but still a remarkable fair of gold, blues, and 
greens--fly into the Cavern to settle somewhere around the greenrider. 
Stiffly, she pushes herself up onto her feet, balancing most of her weight 
on her right leg. "Dragons? Dubious. Nay guarentee that they could catch 
all of 'em, even if'n they'd be willing to help."

Jaeleka says "But if they eat felines, what are they gonna be afraid of?"

Jorenan grins at Jaeleka. He's calming down some. "More felines," he says. 
"And canines and people with clubs. And firelizards."

"But not dragons," the apprentice Baker agrees with Kassima. "We'll keep 
'em in the store rooms and not let them escape into the rest of the Weyr."

Telgar Weyr> Kassima is rather reminded of the whole 'Kill the Beast' song 
by this. "Kill the snakes! Kill the snakes!"

Jaeleka frowns. "But, how'd they get there? Maybe they're all hiding and 
crawling all over nad will just sneak off?"

Telgar Weyr> Maarie was thinking more 'Kill the Rabbit'....

Meanwhile, no one has actually /entered/ the storerooms ;)

Telgar Weyr> Elese says, "Kill da wabbit! Kill da wabbit!"

Sandar heads off to grab some instruments of destruction to help battle 
the tunnelsnakes.

Sandar walks towards the inner cavern.

Telgar Weyr> D'ton says, "Kill the snakes! Drink their blood! Gain 
potency! ;)"

Jorenan blinks at Jaeleka slowly. "Well. We'll just have to cross that 
snake when we come to it." He hefts one of the extra clubs that's been 
brought down, and takes a deep, cleansing breath. "Ready?"

Drawn by the discussion of the storeroom dilemma, several more riders and 
weyrfolk who look like they at least know which end of a knife to use 
gather around to offer their services. "Ofira," Kassi inquires, while 
looking over the wherry-skewer and belt knife in her respective hands to 
be sure they're as razor-sharp as always, "would there be any way t'poison 
these creatures?"

Ofira looks around at the crowd amassing and nods, moving to the front of 
the angry mob. "Let's go."

Ofira walks off towards the kitchen.

You walk off towards the kitchen.

Jaeleka enters the kitchen from the living cavern.

Jorenan enters the kitchen from the living cavern.

Ofira picks up a heavy cast iron frying pan in one hand and a rolling pin 
in the other and marches grimly into the pasageway.

Ofira pushes her way past scurrying kitchen girls and into the storeroom 
passageway.

Kassima marches after the Baker, knives in hand, as V'dan behind her 
starts whistling a suitably martial tune.

You push your way past scurrying kitchen girls into the storeroom 
passageway.

Ofira hesitates, looking at Kassima. "I suppose they're not very hungry. I 
mean, they've been eating all the stores."

Jorenan makes his way down the tunnel out into the entrance hall.

Ofira peers anxiously down the passage in the direction of the storerooms.

V'dan continues whistling his war-tune, eliciting much eye-rolling from 
those of his wingmates along on this slaughtering soiree. Kassi just 
cheerfully ignores him. She's had lots of practice. "They'd likely nay 
want to *eat* us," she agrees, striding over to the storeroom doors as 
fast as her leg will allow. "Attack is another matter--but eat? Nay." Yes, 
she's very helpful tonight.

Rennick makes his way down the tunnel out into the entrance hall.

Ofira swallows, "Attack...." She squares her shoulders, going yet another 
shade paler. "Alright. Go in smashing everything that moves."

Even from here, it seems that there is a dry rustling noise underpinning 
all the noises the people are making.

Jorenan takes a deep breath, glances at Ofira, and then goes first. He 
grabs up a glow basket on his way.

Jorenan walks off towards the Telgar Weyr Storerooms.

Ofira bites her lip and goes.

Ofira walks off towards the Telgar Weyr Storerooms.

Rennick walks off towards the Telgar Weyr Storerooms.

Kassima salutes Ofira with her wherry-skewer, the blade flashing in the 
light. "Aye, aye, ma'am." The greenrider doesn't seem fazed. In fact, if 
anything, she looks like she's looking forward to the challenge. "Onward, 
men! And women!" V'dan cries behind her. Kassi follows the others in only 
after whapping him upside the head.

You walk off towards the Telgar Weyr Storerooms.

Ofira coughs, "It smells foul back here!" She jumps as something slithers 
by and brings down the frying pan with a loud thwack, trying not to 
scream.

The floor.... isn't solid. It seems to shimmer in the faint light. As eyes 
begin to adjust, the shimmer becomes a writhing. Hundreds of tunnelsnakes? 
Perhaps that was a low estimate. Wherever they came from, they've come 
with a vengeance.

Jaeleka walks in from outside the room.

Ofira gasps as her eyes adjust. "Faranth!" She begins backing up before 
she can think about it. "We do need the flamethrowers!"

Jorenan gulps. He came down here by himself before? Never again.... Ever. 
He lashes out at a tiny snake hard enough to crush it flat.

R'val walks in from outside the room.

R'val pokes his head into the store rooms, looking for Ofira.

Rennick takes a step into the storerooms, then stops. He blinks in 
amazement as the floor seems to move. "What in Faranth's big toe is that?" 
He starts as the sound of frying pan coming into contact with the floor. 
"There shouldn't be this many in here!"

Even Kassi just has to stare in fascination at the mass of 'snakes for a 
moment before instinctively sweeping her skewer through the body of one 
that thought to come too close. With a cacophony of shrieks, the fire-
lizards flit into the fray, too. "What, and burn up what stores may still 
be here?" the greenrider demands, dodging one of V'dan's club-attacks in 
time to stab through another 'snake. The greenrider is finally in her 
rather bloody--ichory?--element.

Ofira's hand flies to her mouth as she gags, the other hand bringing the 
pan down again, waving it indiscriminately.

Rennick looks at Kassima, hearing her comment. "Who's burning up the 
stores?" he asks, a touch of fear in his tone. He hangs back, keeping away 
from the tunnelsnakes. "Nobody's going to burn them up!"

An older rider, a tall, gaunt man who's seen a lot, calls "Spread out! 
Attack from the edges and don't let 'em get into the corners and away!"

R'val runs to Ofira's side and kisses her cheek, "Allo love! Just popping 
by. how's the slaying going?"

Ofira jumps and shrieks piercingly as R'val touches her and turns, about 
to bring the frying pan down on him.

"Ow!" V'dan yelps as he gets clanged upside the head by a rather 
enthusiastic resident's frying pan. He's going to have a heck of a time 
getting those ichor stains from his hair. With a vengeance, he starts 
clubbing down any serpent within reach. "Take that! And *that*! And tha--
oh, sorry!" he cries as the rider whose foot he just bashed hollers in 
pain.

Most of a wing of riders spreads out along one side of the room. They 
start the sort of methodical slaughter that brings to mind precision 
Thread flying. Which is just as well, since everyone else is inflicting 
friendly-fire.

R'val yelps, "I'm not a tunnelsnake!" and ducks as Ofira swings her pan.

"They were saying," Kassi explains between knife-strokes, both of her 
blades rapidly becoming stained with green, "that the flamethrowers should 
be brought down here to roast these buggers." Stab, slice, stab, slice, 
dodge V'dan, slash, stab. Some people are just born to kill. "A shame 
K'nan isn't here!" Kassi can't help but remark, shaking a stray bit of 
'snake from her skewer. "He'd love this!"

Rennick's breath comes loud as he stays back, watching the slaughter with 
a nervous expression replacing his normally irritated one.

A huge tunnelsnake rears up in the midst of the hundreds of smaller ones. 
It lunges at the source of its pain: A firelizard who's pecked at its 
side.

Tinya walks in from outside the room.

Ofira flings herself at R'val, once she sees it's him and not a nasty,
slimy tunnel snake, sobbing. "There're hundreds of them!" She tears 
herself away, trying to hold back her crying and smacks at the snakes as 
best she can with her pan.

R'val holds Ofira as best he can, patting her on the back gently, looking 
distressed, "There there, Oira love, we'll slay 'em all, you've nothing 
to fear!"

Kayvist screams defiance at the huge sharding snake--could it be? Is it 
really Slithereth? Streaking away with the speed he's known for, the 
little blue apparently decides it'd be prudent to do as the rest of his 
fair-mates are doing and pick on prey more their own size. "Faranth's 
fardling liver! Look at *that* one!" Kassi yells, sounding almost... awed.

Rennick swallows, "Don't hurt any of the supplies!" he calls out to the 
riders and others who are engaged in the melee. "I'll sling your hides up 
on the Star Stones if I see but one rivergrain laying on the floor!"

Ofira wails as she flattens a disgusting snake, "They're going get slime 
all over everything and then eat us!" She bashes a rather large one 
against the wall.

Jorenan glances at Ofira, and then takes yet another deep breath. As if it 
helps any in the stench of this place. He watches the line of riders on 
the other side of the mess, and then begins his own methodical 
destruction. If he placed himself close to Ofira and might be looking to 
keep most of the snakes away from her, well, that's an apprentice's duty.

Ofira glares at Rennick, whom she hasn't even formally met yet. "Sacrifice 
the rivergrains if you must! Save yourselves!" Now, this is a master baker 
talking, remember.

Tinya wanders in, looking vaguely curious, then stops short and looks 
extremely taken aback as she catches sight of the infestation. As an 
enthusiastic pursuer chases one in her direction, she yelps and stamps on 
it. "Shards! Where did they _come_ from?" she yells.

The older rider who's taken charge of the one group that's making headway 
gives Rennick a disgusted look. Then he wades into the midst of the snakes 
and, with a lightning move that reminds several of his mates of the knife 
duels he fought in days gone by, slashes the huge snake across the eyes.

Rennick glares back at Ofira. "Those are tithes!" he calls back, ignoring 
her dangerous weapons. "We need them to eat this winter!"

R'val watches Ofira vehemently slay snakes and blinks, "Dear me, Ofira, 
you're doing quite well!" He removes his dagger from its sheath.

Now, unfortunately, Kassi's injured leg isn't really helping her agility-
wise. So once she cuts a swath in the first rush, it becomes apparent that 
going any farther into the melee might be tricky. Still, she's willing to 
give it a try. Half-hopping, half-skipping, she jabs her knife into the 
maw of a leaping snake. It gets stuck there, of course. "Oh, bother. 
Ofira, they're *nay* going to eat us! Nay when they've been feasting on 
stores all this time!" Shaking her skewer at Slithereth, she draws another 
blade and hops back into the fray.

V'dan, having lost his club somewhere along the way, has come upon the 
bright idea of using dead tunnelsnakes to whack the live ones and thus 
stunning them enough for him to stomp on their heads. A rather messy 
method, but surprisingly effective. "Die! Die! Die! Die!" he chants.

Ofira swings her pan, internal organs oozing out of her unfortunate, 
smashed victim. "Titthes won't do us much good in a snakes' belly!" she 
yells back.

R'val swings his arm downward, sending his knife into the midsection of a 
snake that slithers by, "Take that, Slithereth!"

Rennick still hangs back, muttering under his breath about the useless 
fools who were supposed to be patrolling the caverns to make sure nothing 
like this happened. "Must of been out drinking in the beasthold." To 
Ofira, he replies, "Nor will they do any good crushed into a pulp on the 
floor!" One may note that he has not, nor seems to have any inclination of 
doing, entered the fray.

The line of riders has probably killed several hundred snakes by now. The 
stench of ichor, and live snake, and terrified human, combines into a 
miasma that not even the heartiest would want to associate with food.

Ofira turns and is ill, right on the storeroom floor, continuing to wave 
her pan about all the while, occasionally, getting a tunnel snake.

"Nay, R'val--Slithereth's over *there!* That big one!" The big snake which 
Kassi, the suicidal fool, seems to be *trying* to cut her way towards. Not 
an easy task with bunch of corpses and living baby Slithereths in the way. 
"Want t'cut the complaints about food that's likely already been eaten, 
Steward, and start hacking? Just a suggestion, min--ick! Hey! Get *off* of 
me, you *thing* you!" She pulls off a particularly mobile snake who's 
attached himself to her boot, and throws him over her shoulder.

Rennick doesn't look much better than Ofira. In fact, he looks very pale 
in the dim light in the caverns, but he does manage to roll his eyes and 
mutter, "I hope somebody cleans all this up. And certainly isn't going to 
be me."

Ofira groans, tears running down her cheeks and continues to methodically 
wield her pan. "Is this what it's like in threadfall?" she moans.

Rennick also shoots Kassima a dark glance, but she's already engaged with 
another of the slithering monsters. He makes no indication of following 
her suggestion.

R'val catches the live snake that Kassi tosses over her shoulder, and 
slices it's head off before dropping it at his feet, grimacing in 
distaste, "This place is going to need to be watered somethin' fierce!" He 
declares.

Tinya wrinkles her nose with disgust, and swiftly finds a place to ditch 
the mug of klah she'd carried in with her. She pulls her knife and joins 
the line of riders attacking the vermin, swiftly falling into a pattern of 
stamping on the head of a snake and dispatching it with a jab of the 
blade.

Jorenan just kills the things. He seems to have made an alliance with a 
canine someone else brought. The canine grabs, Jorenan stomps and slices 
and crushes. It works fairly well.

Kassima reports absently, "Thread's a bit less slithery, really, and tends 
t'come from above rather than below. Frying pans don't have much effect on 
it, either. Hi-ya!" With a triumphant whoop, she slashes her serrated-
edged skewer through the neck of a leaping 'snake. Said head bounces 
towards the entranceway as its body joins the piles on the floor. Really, 
Kassi would make a truly marvelous snake-slayer if it weren't for that 
ludicrous hopping gait she's been forced to adopt. Instead, she now looks 
like someone dancing a lethal form of the Hokey Pokey.

Ofira takes deep breaths, starting to get into a pattern: swing, smash, 
step over, swing, smash, step over, starting to calm down a little, until 
something moves up her leg. She hisses, "Not now, R'val!"

A tunnel snake slips past the front lines and runs across Rennick's boot. 
He gives out a high pitched, terrified shriek and starts stomping. "Off my 
boot, shaffit! Get off me!" Stomp. Stomp. Stomp.

Telgar Weyr> Kassima ROTFLs at Ofira!

R'val promptly reaches for Ofira's leg, pulls the snake that's twining 
around her off, and whips it around head first into the wall. *squish* 
"That wasn't me, Ofira my love!" He says, dropping the corpse, "I'm not 
/that/ cold and slimey."

Telgar Weyr> Jorenan hee hee hees. "Nice one, Ofira."

Ofira stares at the snake R'val pulls off her and sways a little on her 
feet. "Ohhh..."

Telgar Weyr> Ofira grins ;)

R'val hugs Ofira tightly, "It's quite allright! It's dead now, dear."

Tinya _would_ shriek with laughter, if she could bear to take a full 
breath in here. As it is, she just snorts and half-chokes.

V'dan swings his collection of corpses with enthusiasm. He's now got about 
nine of the critters, and is holding them by the tail to use as a weapon. 
'Course, as they get beaten, they start losing their effectiveness. "Hey! 
Someone toss me some more dead 'snakes!" he shouts, garnering a few very 
odd looks from those who have the time to spare to glance his way.

Ofira clings to R'val, sobbing, until her sense of duty forces her back 
into the fray.

R'val strokes Ofira's back calmingly until she breaks away, and he follows 
her back into the fray, whipping his dagger again down into a snake, and 
piercing it through the midsection.

Rennick continues stomping, despite the lone tunnelsnake having been 
crushed into a rather disgusting pulp. Stomp. Stomp. Stomp.

Swing, chop, strike, slash, stab, hop. Swing, chop, strike, slash, stab, 
hop. Slowly but surely, Kassi slaughters her way towards the giant 
Slithereth in the middle. "On guard, foul creature of legend! We have 
slain your legions, and now we have come for you!" Oh, dear. Someone's 
been listening to a few too many bad Harper ballads again.

The canine Jorenan was working with is attacked from the side. It gives a 
piteous help as a middling large tunnelsnake takes a huge bite out of its 
side. Jorenan shouts, "No!" but too late. The poor thing goes down. In a 
flash, ten more attack.

Jaeleka walks off towards the Entrance to Telgar Weyr.

Slithereth, seeing its true enemy, does what every snake would do. It 
doesn't understand. In the midst of not understanding, the thing lunges 
and attacks one of its brethren.

Ofira bites her lip, murmuring to herself, "If they were whiteroots, you'd 
chop them to bits in minutes..." She flings the frying pan, as if it were 
a spear and pulls a cleaver from her belt, moving in, grim faced, to chop, 
the blade flashing.

Rennick stops his insane, terrified stomping as he hears Jorenan's yelp. 
"What? What's wrong? You didn't puncture one of the wine casks did you?" 
he shouts, sounding absolutely horrified.

Off in one corner of the infested cavern, Darvan and Koreyn scream and 
squabble over a much-abused 'snake corpse. Only when the thing is torn in 
two by their tug-of-war do the two 'lizards turn their attention back to 
the real enemy--ignoring Rhiannon, who has given up the fight to settle in 
for the feast of her life.

R'val watches Ofira proudly for a moment, and YELPS as a snake sinks its 
fangs into his boot. He kicks out, sending it flying into the wall, "Ugh! 
Dirty beast."

Kassima just... blinks. And kind of stands there, knives poised, one foot 
on the ground, the other held at an odd angle. "Uh..." is her first, 
articulate reaction, until the attacked 'snake squeals and tries to hide 
behind her. He manages to climb halfway up her leg before she can pick him 
up and throw him at Big Papa Snake. "Die, you serpentine scum!" she 
shrieks, lashing out at the huge creature. Yes, this confirms it: she *is* 
insane.

Jorenan shakes his head. He knows a little about animals, and he knows 
when one just wants things to end. He pulls out his belt knife, and bends 
down over the canine. Soon there is a little more red blood mixed with the 
green ichor. Then he stands up again. He turns to look at Rennick, and 
shakes his head. "No. I had to help someone who had a little courage, is 
all, get done with a task. More than -you- can do, Steward." His tone is 
scathingly cold. Later, he'll get in trouble for it. For now, he's just 
furious, and turns back to the slaughter.

Rennick blinks at the Baker apprentice. "What?" he demands. "I killed 
one!" His boots are spattered with ichor. "Jays," he mutters. "Uppity 
apprentices."

The little snake doesn't have much of a chance. Its tail, all that 
survives, curves off into the line of riders who've moved considerably 
closer to the other side of the room by now.

Ofira breathes heavily, eyes wide with fear, but keeps hacking. She says 
sharply. her voice as sharp as the cleaver. "You have a problem with my 
apprentice, steward? You tell me then! All I see is that he's doing his 
duty!"

Telgar Weyr> Rennick grins as he continues his process of alienating the 
Weyr. :)

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

Telgar Weyr> R'val says, "Uhh...Go Rennick? ;)"

V'dan whips his head around at Rennick's proclamation, his ichor-stained 
hair thwapping wetly against his cheek. "Where? Where?" he asks excitedly, 
then makes a face as he sees only pulp beneath the Steward's boots. 
"Blast. The corpse is just *ruined.*" Heaving a long-suffering sigh, the 
geeky one starts picking his way gingerly through the mess to find more 
usable corpses.

Rennick shakes his head at the Baker Craftermaster, then is distracted by 
V'dan. "What? What do you mean ruined?" he calls after the rider.

Jorenan just slashes through a pair of snakes, his strokes coming faster 
and more accurately as time goes on. Soon he is chopping as quickly as any 
of the riders.

Slithereth seems to have decided the little snake was a good appetizer. 
Kassima will make a wonderful main course!

Ofira mutters to herself amidst the blood and mayhem, "Tell...Bryena....
Lathen...never believe....Marissa....turning over in her grave...."

Kassima seems to be relishing the battle with Big Papa Snake no end. It's 
the sort of duel a Harper would die to see, were it not for the fact that 
there are people whacking each other accidentally with frying pans in the 
background. That sort of ruins the view. "Diiiiiiiiiie!" she shrieks, eyes 
flashing an unholy shade of green as she aims one of her throwing knives 
for the critter's throat. The question is, who's faster: bloodthirsty 
greenrider, or rampaging killer snake from hell?

Several firelizards, chittering and shrieking, whirl about the cavern, 
looking as if they're having the time of their lives as they divebomb the 
slithering creatures along the floor. One, claws extended, brushes too 
close to Rennick, leaving a rip along the left shoulder of his tunic. 
"Ack!" he cries uselessely. "Watch what you're doing!"

V'dan pouts. Yes, pouts. "I can't bash anything with *that*," he 
complains, pointing to the pulp and hefting the nine dead 'snakes he's 
been using as a weapon ever since some wise person decided that he'd be 
less dangerous to his cohorts without a stick in his hands.

The snake lunges at what's moving fastest; the hand Kassima's got the 
knife in. As she brings her arm down, its teeth flash towards her arm. The 
whole of its body flexes as it moves with blinding speed.

Rennick blinks at V'dan as he straightens back up. Just blinks. Rather 
dumbly in fact. "Uhm... uhm..." he flounders, the words of a man who has 
just realized that perhaps he's encountered a dangerously insane person 
and doesn't want to say anything to cause that person to just snap.

R'val places his dagger away after wiping it off, and grabs a handy stick 
that someone else has stopped using. He /whaps/ a nearby snake, which 
squishes heavily.

Ofira whimpers, chopping away, muttering madly to herself, "Tunnelsnake 
pie, tunnelsnake pastry, tunnel snake stew..."

Snapping her wrist forward, Kassi sends her knife streaking towards the 
snake in a flash of flickering silver. Kassi is a trained and well-
practiced knife-thrower. Her aim has been commended by K'nan himself. 
However, that doesn't mean she's all *that* quick; Faranth only knows 
where her knife went, but it apparently didn't kill the critter in time to 
keep his teeth away from her arm entirely. There's a horrendous *clang* as 
tunnelsnake teeth impact with wherhide jacket, metal wrist-guard, and 
maybe some small space of greenrider flesh. See, paranoia *can* come in 
handy sometimes!

Rennick winces at Ofira's muttering as he watches the mayhem. "I'll have 
cookies, thank you," he mutters back, trying to pitch his voice low so it 
doesn't carry over the sound of combat.

V'dan stomps in a brief fit of pique, which is abruptly halted as he finds 
a usable corpse after all. His shout of triumph is audible as he starts 
brandishing the thing, doing a little happy dance amidst the squished 
'snakes. Which, of course, sends the thing flying right out of his hands. 
Look--up in the sky! It's a wherry! It's a dragon! No, it's Super Snake!

The knife, well aimed indeed, is sticking out of the giant's eye. He's 
dead. He just doesn't know it yet. His body flails, but his teeth are 
still clamped down on Kassima's arm. And wrist-guard, and jacket. Smaller 
snakes are crushed in the giant's death throes.

Ofira hacks and slashes, the number of snakes thinning, but she keeps 
hacking at the dead ones.

Kassima yells, stabbing at the thing with the wherry-skewer remaining in 
her free hand, "Get off, get off, get off!" She thankfully has the sense 
of mind not to try and shake Big Dead Papa Snake loose with one or two of 
his teeth clamped in her arm, but that doesn't mean she's necessarily 
*happy* about the fact. Some helpful wingmates are kind enough to slice, 
dice, and julienne the snakes around Kassi while she extricates herself 
from this predicament.

Jorenan finds the time to pause and look around. Most of the snakes are 
dead. There are still pockets of living ones. But for the most part, there 
are just many, many corpses. And the smell. And the ichor. And the mess.

Slithereth, as big dead as he was alive, becomes very, very heavy. He 
probably triples Kassima's weight.

Tinya pauses in her pattern of stamp, stab, stamp, stab, to watch Kassi's 
battle with the enormous snake. Too long, for one of the littler ones 
that's escaped her colleagues starts climbing her boot. She shrieks and 
kicks out, slamming it into the wall.

Rennick wrinkles his nose. "Jays, I've not seen this many dead 
tunnelsnakes since ... well, ever."

Ofira is shuddering violently, laying about with the cleaver blindly.

Telgar Weyr> J'lyn eeks! Is tonite the big Storeroom thingy?

Telgar Weyr> Jehrina ?

Telgar Weyr> Jorenan nods. That it is. Goo and nastiness.

Telgar Weyr> Emlyn says, "Death to tunnelsnakes!"

Telgar Weyr> J'lyn fears goo. Nastiness, I can deal with, but not goo. :)

As Big Dead Papa Snake's weight grows, his teeth finally tear free of 
Kassi's jacket and arm with an earsplitting screech of enamel on metal. 
Before she even has time to assimilate the fact that her beautiful jacket 
is pretty much ruined (to say nothing of the fact that there are teeth 
marks in her left arm), Kassi loses her balance and falls right on top of 
Monster Snake and the little snake corpses. "Ewwwwww," she can be heard to 
say.

Tinya shudders violently and stamps on another snake. She doesn't make the 
mistake of looking up again, though most of the snakes in her vicinity are 
dead, but calls over to the greenrider, "Kassi! You okay?"

R'val glances concernedly over at Kassi, and yelps as a snake attachs 
itself to his trouser leg. He slashes the top of it's head open, and it 
falls off, twitching.

Ofira is silent, shuddering, bringing the cleaver down, over and over, 
hacking all the dead snakes around her into unrecognizable pulp.

Big Dead Papa Snake shudders once more, and then is still. There is a 
sudden quiet, as people all over the stores look at each other, and then 
at the floor. It's not moving anymore.

"I'm fine," Kassi grunts, struggling to get to her feet. "Or *would* be, 
if'n I could get up off of these things. Eyuch!" Bringing up her bitten 
arm for inspection, she shrugs at the admittedly gory-looking wound. "Just 
a flesh wound. Remind me to kill the next person who calls me mad for 
wearing arm-guards though, would you? Are they all dead?"

Tinya pokes at a snake with the tip of her knife. Dead. So's this one. 
That one, too. She straightens and looks around. "Dead or fled, I think," 
she affirms.

R'val snatches Ofira's arm and stops her from continuously chopping at 
dead corpses, "Ofira! It's over, love!"

Ofira stomps over the masses of dead snakes, hacking methodically with 
the cleaver, "Tunnel snake pudding..."

Ofira stares at R'val, "We have to kill them!"

R'val kisses Ofira lightly, "They're all dead, hon."

Tinya makes a dreadful face. "Ofira, that is _completely_ _disgusting_," 
she says. Presumably meaning the 'tunnel snake pudding'. Probably.

The gaunt older rider (remember him?) is leaning against the wall looking 
tired. Maybe he's still as fast as he used to be, but the endurance isn't 
quite there. He stands away from the wall, finally, and then gestures to 
two of his mates. "We're going to need sacks," he says. "And shovels."

Ofira shudders, trying to free her cleaver arm, "Kill them..." she 
mutters.

R'val plucks the cleaver gently out of Ofira's hand and shakes her 
lightly, "Ofira, snap out of it love, they're all dead..."

"Leave some for the dragonhealers t'use," Kassi suggests, finally pushing 
herself free of Big Monster Snake. "And the fire-lizards. There's enough 
here for every one in the Weyr t'feast." Carefully extricating her knife 
from the 'snake's eye, Kassi stands on one foot, left arm tucked close to 
her body, and gazes down at her fallen foe. "So that was Slithereth. 
Y'know, I have this incredible urge to make a trophy from his head for 
m'weyr wall."

Ofira's hand is cramped in the shape of the cleaver handle, and she looks 
around confusedly and then at her gory self, covered in blood and ichor. 
"Bath..." she says, teeth chattering. "Now..."

A healer who'd taken part in the battle begins collecting good corpses for 
their purposes. And soon young staff members have been set to work 
collecting the rest of them into some kind of order. The worst of the 
ichor and goo, though, will probably wait until morning. It would seem 
that most of the folk agree with Ofira.

R'val slides his arm around his unsettled mate, and guides her towards the 
door, "Good idea love. Let's head to the lake and wash up..." He kisses 
her cheek gently, "You'll feel better afterwards."

Kassima, with the help of V'dan, manages to clean up her throwing-knife 
and use the skewer to saw off Slithereth's head. Said head goes into a 
bag, which is in turn looped over Kassi's right wrist. Awash in ichor and 
blood, her riding gear scratched and torn in places, Kassi just shakes her 
head. "If'n that Steward thinks I'm eating aught that comes out of *this* 
room, he's got another think coming."

R'val walks off towards the Entrance to Telgar Weyr.

Ofira lets R'val pull her out of the storerooms, still shaking.

Ofira walks off towards the Entrance to Telgar Weyr.

Jorenan looks around the stores. And shakes his head. "No one will," he 
says quietly. "Not any of it." He gives one last, massive shudder, and 
then begins helping the rest of the staff.

Tinya looks at her knife with disgust, then wipes it on an empty grain 
sack. "Shards," she mutters. "I'm _never_ going to get all the ichor out 
of the wrapping." She sheaths it, shakes her head, and heads over to help 
with the cleanup.

Sack after sack is filled with corpses. One or two living snakes still 
remain, but are dispatched quickly. Five of the riders together lift the 
giant's corpse and take it out towards the bowl.

Kassima rolls her eyes, sliding the last of her newly-recleaned knives 
back in its sheath. "Tell me 'bout it. I'll have t'get a new jacket, I 
think... shards, I hope K'ti's nay upset with me, getting her Turnday gift 
ruined like this." She raises her right hand to wave bye-bye to the big, 
dead snake whose head is now in a bag at her side. "Fare well, worthy 
adversary!"

Jorenan shakes his head. "I'm never going to get it out of my hair." And 
indeed, somehow his hair has gotten matted with the stuff. "Yuck." He 
tosses load after load of little snakes into sacks.

V'dan helps with the clean-up crew, albeit somewhat mournfully. "If only 
I'd found these sooner," he sighs every time he tosses a semi-intact 
corpse into a sack.

Tinya says severely to the greenrider, "You're unreasonably lucky if 
that's _all_ you've ruined. You'd _better_ go get the Healers to see to 
that arm -- tunnelsnake bites fester in the worst way."

Kassima blinks, and looks back down at her arm. It's almost as if she'd 
forgotten the injury at all. Battle euphoria, dontchaknow. "Um... aye. 
That might be a wise notion. I hope 'twill nay take long to heal; I'm 
grounded for quite long enough as 'tis!" Muttering epithets to herself, 
she starts to limp out of the storeroom, studiously avoiding splotches of 
ichor. "Now, where t'find someone who'd be willing t'stuff this head for 
me...?" she can be heard to mumble as she heads outside, V'dan dropping 
his corpse-cleaning activity to help the other rider. Maybe, if he's 
really, really helpful to her, she'll forget all about that nasty, 
vengeful song she was planning to write about him.

You walk off towards the Entrance to Telgar Weyr.

Tinya walks in from outside the room.

Tinya starts to go back the way she came, then stops short. "S'pose I 
_shouldn't_ go through the kitchen this way, hmmm?"

Kassima scratches Lysseth's eyeridges affectionately, glad that her 
lifemate is with her once more.

Kassima shakes her head, even as she reaches up for Lysseth's straps. 
"Probably nay a good notion," she concurs. "Might make a few folk lose 
their lunch, and Rennick would never forgive you."

Since her boots are completely covered in ichor, her pants also well above 
the knee, and her sleeves to the elbow, this is a pretty wise estimation.
Tinya grins. "Aye. And since I for one am on as much of a good side as 
he's got, I'd better not risk it. Long way around for me."

Jorenan walks in from outside the room.

Tinya heads down the passage towards the bowl.

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.