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Suddenly SuSusan


Date:  February 6, 2005
Place:  Ista Weyr's Living Cavern
Game:  PernMUSH
Copyright Info:  The World of Pern is copyright(c) to Anne McCaffrey 
l967. The Dragonriders of Pern(r) is a registered copyright.

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Kassi's Note:  M'rek and L'vor deserve some sort of award, in my 
opinion, for coming up with such a twisted (I was going to say 
'deliciously twisted,' but that's not such a fitting adjective in this
case) RP idea, and then for finding a way to tie plotfoo into it.  Go,
them!  Ista Weyr has been afflicted by a plague of SuSus, and after 
eating one on a dare from Kassi, M'rek has challenged L'vor to a 
contest to see which of them can choke down the most bugs.  And being
sporting types, they open the competition up to anyone willing to pay
the fee.  We can all guess who decides she can't possibly miss this 
opportunity.

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The Log:

You walk into the huge living cavern.

M'rek shrugs to Jasia and then flashes a smile, "No problem. Dinner looks
good." And then, "I'm expecting L'vor and some others to show up soon."
Both to Jasia and Cailin before he chuckles to the Herder, "I know you're
not. I didn't say you were. I'm just saying you could be in that exact same
situation. Well. Take it from me." He sighs, "He's that talented. Be glad
you haven't seen it. All right then. We'll keep on as we are then, Cailin.
After the eggs crack shell." He glances once to Jasia, but he finishes up
his conversation to Cailin with, "If you stick around, you can watch me eat
SuSu's with L'vor. Have you ever met His nephew?"

L'vor steps in and grins as he spots M'rek, "Well, guess I'm not going to
win by forfeit after all. So your stomach up for what it's about to face,
M'rek?" He flashes a smile and strides over to greet the bronzerider,
offering him a formal clasp.

"Mm. You'd be surprised by the things I've heard in such open places." Tone
airy, Jasia inclines her head slightly towards Cailin, and then she
dismisses the topic -- along with her tablemates -- to focus attention on
her meal. Upon hearing 'Susu', however, she glances again to M'rek, and an
eyebrow rises fractionally in bemusement.

Thiana smiles as she follows L'vor and the others into the Living Caverns.
She seems a tad tired but then when isn't she? Slipping back beside Ngara
she spots M'rek and waves to her fellow High Reachian.

Cynara follows L'vor into the cavern, her hair a mass of untidy curls and
still looking a bit out of breath, for some reason. Glancing around for
somewhere to sit, eyes taking in everyone in the cavern easily, and
sparkling a little bit with bright good cheer.

Fadra enters from the narrow corridor.

Kassima meanders in with her hands in the pockets of her trousers and that
vaguely worse-for-wear expression that might, to those well familiar with
such things, suggest a lingering touch of hangover, but she's still
whistling cheerfully. She's obnoxious like that. "Didn't miss it, did I?"
she asks almost immediately, rather hopeful--and a grin crosses her face as
overheard snippets confirm this. "Oh, good. I'd never, ever have forgiven
m'self. Duties t'Ista and her queens, High Reaches and her queens,
etceteras, etceteras."

Ngara bounds in after L'vor and she smirks at his comment. "It wouldn't've
been any fun if he forfeited." she teases finding herself a place next to him.

Corona , too, follows L'vor and company, a bit bewildered and wary,
glancing around the place. She remains close to those she recognizes and
tries to maintain a semblance of 'I-am-Not-totally-out-of-place-and-lost'.

Public announcement: L'vor announces "The Superbowl of Susu Eating is about
to begin at Ista Weyr. If you want to come by and watch or place bets upon
this gastronomic train wreck in the making, drop on by the Ista Living
Cavern (#1100)"

M'tri walks in from the bowl.

"I know you didn't." Cailin replies with a grin, "And I'm not worried we'll
end up in that place any more than I was ever worried about the Harper. But
he? So Boots isn't Heals? I'm behind again I think." Not too shocking,
"Alright then. But if you want to talk about why you thought otherwise
sometime." She shrugs, "Might give you peace of mind?" Maybe. "You're going
to eat those pesky things? Now that I have to see. And no. I've never
met..." L'vor is given a long look over and then Jasia is gains a grin, "I
rather doubt I'll be -that- surprised."

Fadra, hands in her pockets, strolls into the caverns from the direction of
the lower caverns, looking around quietly, if a bit disgruntled. Another
girl, also wearing the knot of a candidate, stands near her, peering under
tables without all out crouching on the floor and searching. "The li'l
devils," Fadra says quietly - but it is something said with a short
attention span, because the group around M'rek and L'vor causes the girl to
drop her search and scoot closer. "What..." she ventures, slowly, as though
it may be a rediculous question, "is goin' on?"

M'rek waves to L'vor, Thiana and all the others as he gets to his feet, his
most charming smile conjured up with ease. "My stomach left the area after
I drank that rot gut you brewed up on your own before I got here, L'vor.
Brought some help, with you?" He looks to the entourage that seems to have
shown up with the Istan Brownrider. "Now. We seem to be missing some Bakers
of note. But we can send for the SuSu's. They've been in cold storage. Come
you like your insect iced, L'vor old buddy." Then he gives Cailin a wink,
"You don't have to watch. It's going to be pretty gruesome. And that's just
the part where you have to watch L'vor eat."

Thiana curses under her breath as one of the scribe from Ista spots the
Steward and waves to her dragging the High Reachian off for gosh only
knows, "Good luck L'vor and M'rek don't hurt yourself." Ah the somewhat
motherlyness from the younger then him woman who is captured by an arm and
rather comicly dragged from the fun.

Brows knit slightly as the crowd floods in, and Jasia backpedals away from
the group, surrepitiously nudging her chair to one side. "Doubt what you
will," she replies blandly to Cailin's comment, before her gaze turns to
the cavern at large and she drawls, "Shardin' lot of people interested in
seeing two men eat themselves sick. Surely, there must be better things to
do on such a lovely day." A meatroll is twirled absently in one hand, and
then she turns an eye on Fadra and lifts three fingers in greeting. The
girl herself might not be too familiar, but the knot she wears certainly is.

Sirene walks in from the bowl.

Emne enters from the narrow corridor.

Cynara flops into a seat next to Ngara. "SuSu's, even..." She makes a face.
"Eww." But that makes it all the more fun, right? "It's an excuse to avoid
chores and stuff." And visit a place she's never been before...the girl
grins a bit, making herself comfortable to watch.

L'vor laughs a good bit, "Iced is good for me, doesn't matter what it is,
Nezzerth's made the incentive worth eating as many as it takes. Although I
certainly wouldn't object to a few spicy sauces to cover up the taste of
the wings." He smiles a bit as if he's revealing a secret weapon, "You now
how that brown of mine is so competitive, well, he's told me that if I can
win, then the contents of the winner's bottle just don't count, should I
ever want to sip from it."

After espying Cailin and M'rek--and looking momentarily surprised by the
presence of the former, though not unpleasantly so--Kassima snickers to
herself and attempts to filch a seat near the Herder. And, not
coincidentally, the bronzerider. Trust her to try and get a ringside spot
if nothing else. "Wee legs sticking out of their teeth," she comments in a
strange sort of helpfulness. "Probably shell-bits spraying everywhere when
they open their mouths. Fun, fun stuff. Couldn't have missed it for the
world, but I didn't know 'twere into that sort of thing, Cailin. 'Tis still
M'rek and L'vor competing?" Those around are given an interested look, as
if she's trying to tell which others might be participating in the challenge.

Ngara gives L'vor a curious looks then whispers to him.

M'tri seems to be coming to Ista only because he can, for once. No
messages, no hides, nothing is in his hand; he even looks fully slept, a
rarity in recent times. Offering his duties perfunctorily, the Telgari
bluerider dips his head in greeting to those he recognizes, and then scoots
closer to Kassima, holding off on getting food or drink for the time being.
Likely a good choice. He remains standing, rocking back and forth, through
the balls of his feet and onto his heels, then back, while he says, "I'm
going to say now, just to record that it's been said, that this is a
disgustingly wonderful form of entertainment."

Emne flutters into the cavern, muttering under her breath and ticking items
off on a list on a square slate. Green eyes lift briefly to scan the cavern
and a few of the faces there make her brows knit, before quite another has
her blinking in surprised delight. "Why -Kassima- how lovely to see you
here at Ista!" she enthuses and flounces thattaway, face a-beaming.

Kaimi walks over from the Kitchen.

Cailin snorts, "Oh no, Mer. I'm not passing up a chance to see the pair of
you in action. Not for a moment." Jasia's reply draws her attention back to
the girl, "Try living in Bitra. It sort of reduces the shock value of
things over heard at the table anywhere else. I'm ruined for life, I
expect." She turns to Kassi then with a bright grin, "I didn't know I was
in for a show, when all I was after was a few words with our dear M'rek."

Sirene flits into the cavern, some stitching in her hands and looks around,
taking a seat by one of the hearths, quietly watching the goings on.

Kaimi's entrance into the cavern is halted at the gathering seen there.
This Baker almost retreating in the face of the crowd as she mutters, "Oh
shells. They weren't joking." A baker can hope after all.

M'rek takes a step back from where he was sitting, reaches under the bench
and then pulls out a cloth wrapped bundle that must have been right between
his feet while he was working on his letter and talking to Cailin. He puts
the mystery object on the table and then rolls up the letter and stows that
into a pocket. He seems to think a moment and then he takes his light
jacket off and puts it safely off to the side before he retakes his seat.
The shirts he's wearing underneath appears to be an old and worn one, with
fraying around the collar and sleeves. The Reachian bronzerider rubs his
hands together and calls out to L'vor, "Did he now? That's surprisingly
friendly of him." And then in the spirit of competitive trash talking M'rek
tosses in for free, "So, L'vor. How does it feel to be cannibalizing your
own cousins? Eating them with a fork going to be a nice change from poison
or dagger?" His smile is teasingly broad.

Corona takes a place beside Cynara, wordlessly. Her gaze shifts to each of
the spectators in turn, but the most she'll give anyone is a forcibly
polite smile, and a flustered aversion of the eyes. Silly thing.

Jasia draws the 'lizard into her lap, spooning her close to the warmth of
her hip, and carefully tightens fingers around her should she choose to
take offense at the crowd. "Thanks, Beastcrafter, but I believe I'll pass.
Ista's enough fun for me." Her alto is pitched dryly, and her eyebrows are
quirked as she turns briefly to look at Cailin. Then, while her features
smooth back into bland amiability, she glances again to the two
dragonriders. Oh, the entertainments of competition.

Cynara can't help but giggle a bit at the trash talking, then she nudges
Corona, "Hey...nobody's going to get bitten here except the SuSu's," she
supplies in what she /thinks/ is a reassuring tone, but which probably
comes over as waytoocheerful.

Kassima uses her foot to nudge out a nearby chair for her Wingmate, once
she spots him. "I should've known you'd approve," she quips to M'tri. "Want
t'be placing wagers? This is the best event for it I've seen in awhile.
Just think: 'twill be able t'tell your dear Latrine someday that you once
put money on who could eat the most cold, dead bugs. And she'll disinherit
you. Oh, Emne!" The Baker's familiar voice draws her attention, and wins a
beaming smile to boot. "How lovely t'see you! Y'know I couldn't miss a
spectacle like this. Nay after having been witness to the challenge. How're
you? Are you going t'eat, too? Ach, Cailin, you above all should know that
one is *always* in for a show when one converses with M'rek." The
greenrider darts an amused glance towards that personage. "'Tis the very
reason why he's the love of m'life, don't you know. Shells, what a crowd."
The mystery bundle gets a glance, but no comment, since she seems to prefer
to snicker at trash-talk and remark, "Mayhaps I should get some wine or
something. You can't be a good spectator without refreshments. Well,
normally. For this...."

Sirene shifts and blinks at M'rek's comments, eyes wide. Oh my, this is
going to be an interesting day.

L'vor looks over at Ngara and smiles at what she told him, "I might have
bug breath then, you know." But he gives her a wink and then with a certain
sense of purpose looks back towards M'rek, "So, where are the Susus, I hope
they haven't been on ice for too long. They didn't look to bad fresh when
you ate that other one." He rubs his hands together and moves over to the
table in question. He gives a bit of a laugh towards M'rek's comment.
"Well, better me eating them then being eaten alive by them like we were a
few days ago. I see you've come prepared to lose, shirt you're not minding
ruining?" He takes off his own jacket and sets it aside, then seats himself
at the table, "I'm ready, bring on the swarm!"

Fadra notes, for no one in particular, even as she moves towards Jasia,
"That's just disgustin'." Still, she doesn't seem ready to go anywhere
anytime soon. Short stature and all, she edges around, cranes, and does
just about everything to make sure she's going to be able to see properly.
"Whose idea was it t'eat dead bugs?"

Emne laughs as she approaches Kassima, and squints around at the tables.
"No, I shan't be eating any susus today, Kassi, though I might ... liven
them up a little."

Cailin shifts her position so that she might keep an eye on M'erk's jacket,
without saying a word that she does or as to why. "Have it your way." The
herder replies to Jasia with blatant amusement, "Far be it from me to truly
recommend anyone go there to just hear the gossip." It's Kassima that's
given a wink, however, "Aye. Quite the showman our M'rek. And I agree. A
bit of wine might well hit the spot during the show."

Ngara turns to Fadra. "I think it was Kassima at first then L'vor and M'rek
decided to be guys and made a competition out of it." she grins.

M'tri takes the chair without protest, pulling it closer to the table, just
as much a sucker for being as close to the event as Kassi - he shakes his
head a bit, reaching into his pocket and removing a sack of marks while
remarking, "Do I want to bet. Hmm, well, y'know...Latrine wouldn't need to
know. She doesn't have to know her Da did something slightly shady to
support her Mum." He shakes his head, looking hurt while he counts the
marks by slowly, debating on wagers. "He's the love of your life, is he? I
should have known. Then you wonder..." Cailin gets a smile of greeting,
enough to confirm that the man remembers her, at least.

Kaimi moves out of the way of the kitchen doors to allow others passage,
but she just sort of hovers there. Not quite approaching the gathering, but
more waiting on the fringe. The silent observer for the most part. Her
conversation stays limited to comments to a passing drudge.

M'rek raises his voice a bit, "Anyone wishing to also eat Susu's will need
to cough up a mark, entry fee. Winner will take all marks as well as the
bottle of single malt, to be provided later. And this." He pulls the cloth
off the bundle he placed on the table to reveal a statue of a green runner,
it's made of clay or some sort of ceremic and is about the size of a man's
fist. Then M'rek pulls out a mark and flips it onto the table so that it
settles near the runner. "Aye. They've been on ice a few days. Didn't
realize they would die off so quickly or we could have done the competition
that very night, L'vor. Hopefully whatever sauces Emne and Kaimi might have
come up with will help." And he looks for the bakers in the crowd as the
bowls of frozen SuSu's are brought towards the table, hundreds of the
insects all near frozen, "Ladies?"

Sirene moves a bit closer to the group and leans over to someone close by
asking what's going on, then nods, smiling softly as she sews. "We used to
eat them roasted in clarified butter," she notes to nobody in particular.

Fadra remarks drily, "Manly, 'tis." The comment positively drips sarcasm,
but a small, lopsided smirk suggests that perhaps Fadra's more amused by
the entire situation than she's going to stoop to admit. Either way, the
girl grabs up a chair of her own, onto which she climbs, resting her feet
in the seat and her seat on the high back of the chair, leaning forward
with suppressed eagerness.

Ngara scrunches her nose and comments to L'vor, "I may hold off on my prize
for a day or two." she contemplates.

Kassima immediately raises her hand at Fadra's question. She's so helpful.
"Mine, sort of. I dared M'rek t'be eating one. So he did. And now he's
turned it into a way t'win liquor, so I'm hoping he'll remember the part
where I get a cut if'n he wins. Sauces, Emne?" she surmises, grinning at
the Baker. "That's kind of you--if'n they've been dead long, they might
need all the help they can get. I hope the sauces are in bright and
interesting colors so 'twill at least be cheerful when they sick up." With
that sentiment, she abandons the table--a pair of blue 'lizards swooping in
to guard her seat--long enough to fetch wine for both herself and Cailin.
It takes her a bit to find out where it *is*, but her liquor-detection
abilities serve her in good stead. "Red all right?" To M'tri, "He's one of
'em at least, dear wife. Are you going t'place *all* those? On whom?" Oh,
oh, but then she hears that other part. And looks really, terribly tempted.
"Marks *and* liquor *and*...." Pause. "That. What an intriguing notion."

Jasia narrows her gaze on L'vor and M'rek, and as Fadra approaches, she
remarks, "Disgusting is in the eyes of the observer." She pauses to
reconsider, then adds, "To be frank, though, I agree with you." And yet,
despite her admission, she still breaks a meatroll into two jagged halves
and begins nibbling absently at one end. She's not disturbed enough to put
aside her meal, it seems; if nothing else, she's at least practical in some
regards.

Cynara brow-furrows, "Wish I /had/ a mark," the girl mutters. "I'd give it
a go..." But an entire mark? Her eyes flick over the runner statue for a
moment, and then she shrugs, settling back.

Sirene looks between L'vor and M'rek then at Kassima, "Is this competition
open only to these two or to others also?"

L'vor takes out his mark from his belt, where he's had one in waiting. He
flips it out onto the table to land next to M'rek's mark. "I see you're
tossing in a knick knack, that something your sister picked up?" He just
flashes a grin over at the bronzerider, then turns his attention to the
bowls being brought in, "Frozen, well, hopefully they'll thaw quick
enough." Then he too glances around to see if anyone else wants to risk
untold horror by partaking of the bugs.

Kassima points to M'rek in answer to Sirene's question, while, yes, digging
in her belt-pouch, as was probably inevitable. "Sounds like they're taking
others if'n those others want t'fork over a mark for the privelege of
eating dead bugs and probably vomiting all over their fellow competitors."
She produces a mark, and holds it up. "Naturally, I am all over that action."

<Bitra> Kassima says, "Do you ever find yourself reflecting on how badly
your character needs a hobby? ;)"

Sirene nods, then sighs, "A whole mark? What..what's the reward?" She seems
thoughtful.

Emne winks at Kassima and nods, then sets her slate down. "Hold that
thought Kassima ... M'rek ..." she notes gaily and sails into the kitchen
for a moment. When she returns, she's got a tray, laden with six small
dipping-sized bowls. Each one holds a different colored accompaniment for
the susus. "Here's my contribution to the fun," she announces and slides
the tray onto the table where M'rek is displaying the prizes. "Starting on
this end ...we have mint-infused yoghurt sauce, next is a mild
mustard-greenfruit sauce, this third one's got more kick to it -
horseradish and ginger, this red one's got two varieties of red pepper in
it but is otherwise just a simple puree of the peppers, and the last is a
fire-breather: orange-pepper preserve." She beams at both riders, preparing
to bug it up. "Will that do?"

Cailin exchanges a smile for a smile when M'tri looks her way, "Heya.
Didn't expect you see you again so soon." She clearly remembers too. The
mention then of the one Baker catches her attention and Cai scans the crowd
to nod that way, but keeps her ring side seat. "I'll place a two marker on
M'rek to win. If anyone cares to meet it." When Kassi returns, Cai replies
with, "Red will do nicely I think. Which way will you bet Kassi? Or will
you toss down a mark to join them?"

<Bitra> Edris tries not so or I'd realise how very sad she is.

M'tri shakes his head at Kassima. "Your trying to wipe me out of mark and
weyr, y'know." After a brief pause, the bluerider says, casually, for no
reason apparent here - likely the reason is in the bowl, sunning - "Eh,
I've eaten plenty that's just as bad." Pause, with a bit of glazy eyes,
then, "Oh, this is just going to end up bad." And he rescues a mark from
the bunch, which he puts on the table with some reluctance.

<Bitra> Rolan says, "I think about how *I* need a hobby"

<Bitra> Cailin's impressed Cai's offering to bet on something not a runner ;)

Ah, mocking another's family, classic subject matter for trash talking.
M'rek laughs as L'vor takes aim and then he gives a little nod that goes
with the most amazing smirk over his features. "Aye. As a matter of fact it
does so happen that my sister did happen upon such an item. And now we have
a green runner figurine for the winner to take home. Something to display
upon the mantle." His smirk turns full on wolfish, it would seem the
bronzerider thinks he's being very, very bad today. "Now then. Just a mark,
ladies and gentlemen. Just one mark, and you could enter the annuals of
history by eating the most Susu's and take such lovely prizes home with
you. You've nothing to lose but either your lunch or your dignity, and so
much more to gain. Now. This is not a time limit competition. You can eat
until you pop, but only so long as we still have Susu's to devour." So
there may be some rush to it after all if enough people participate. The
Susu's all look rather frozen, dead and stacked into the four huge wooden
bowls on the table.

<Bitra> Rolan says, "I'm not a runner."

Sirene looks at M'rek. "What are the prizes?" And more importantly, "Will
they be cooked or just raw?"

Jasia looks sideways to Kassima -- the rider seems vaguely familiar, and
that in itself earns her a nod -- and then she declares wryly, "The world
has lost its collective mind. Correct me if I'm wrong, but people seem to
be /paying/ for the privilege to down the corpses of bugs." She glances
towards the partcipants, bemusement scrawling across narrow features,
before reaching for a small sack hung on her belt. Fingers snag around the
fabric, and then she withdraws a round disc, a coin she quietly places on
the table. "Here's a thirty-second saying that at least two of 'em here
will toss something up. Any takers?"

<Bitra> Cailin's betting on M'rek. But I'm rather doubting there are too
many that will take her up on the 2 marker bet, heh. If Kassi doesn't ;)

L'vor gives the green runner a bit of a glance, but his look towards the
prizes is definitely more upon the bottle of strong liquor. With the
arrival of the tray of sauces he looks over them and grins, "Any chance we
could get some crackers to go with them, might help get enough sauce for
each one." He takes a long look at the bugs again, rubbing at the back of
his neck as the moment draws closer when he's going to have to actually
start chomping down on them. "So any more takers, to win the bottle of good
single-malt and the green runner thing M'rek has tossed in? Person to eat
the most of these raw Susus walks away with them both."

Kassima sets the mark piece down on the table. "I'm in," she confirms for
Cailin with a grin, "but 'twill still put... a mark on M'rek and a
half-mark on L'vor. Nay offense," she adds to L'vor, somewhat sheepish. "I
just haven't had much chance t'gauge your bug-eating capacity. And... an
eighth on Trii. If'n anyone wants t'meet those. Because that way, I win nay
matter what, and that's important when one is considering sticking SuSus in
one's mouth. Mint-sauce!" She brightens at this news and turns a beam on
Emne. "Bless you. Bless you, bless you. That should help immensely. M'rek,
you are a horrid man," although just why, she will not say. Jasia gets a
nod and an offer of, "'Twill take that wager." Of course.

Sirene ergs. The word "raw" sweeping over her consciousness. She shakes her
head and takes a seat nearby, resuming her stitching. Looks like she's
working on a new dress.

M'tri grins at Cailin. "I didn't expect to see you either - especially not
to see me in such an undignified event." M'tri looks at that mark again,
almost prepared to pull it back and bet instead on someone to win. The mark
isn't removed, though, and Trii pushes it to the center of the table, .
Kassima earns herself a slanted look and a bright grin. "Hey, you know...my
dragon is cruel. You know what he wants? That." And he points to the
statue. "I'm going to throw up one of the only meals I've eaten slowly all
because he wants to have that thing. What a bad idea."

Emne returns to where Kassima sits and perches on the table itself, eyes
dancing with amusement once her tray o'sauces has been delivered. "Now
let's see if sauce makes those little pretties go down any easier!" She
takes up her slate again, ticks off another box, and sits comfortably, legs
swinging back and forth off the table's edge as if she were a lass a
quarter her age. "Crackers L'vor? I think that might be cheating ... I was
only asked to make sauce," she wags a finger at the rider.

Fadra grins at Jasia, leaning forward enough to stand and dig through her
pockets removing her own mark. "I'll bet a half on M'rek." After a bit more
shuffling and surveying what comes up with pocket lint, Fadra adds, "And
I'll meet you, Jasia." Obviously *she's* not planning on eating anything,
not even with mint sauce.

Ngara quirks and eyebrow and digs in her pouch. "Well I'm betting on
L'vor." she says defiant of all the bets to M'rek. She offers a winning
smile to the brownrider next to her and gives his hand a squeeze for good luck

"And that," Jasia remarks in M'tri's direction, "is why you get up now and
leave. I'm sure you can find something else to amuse your dragon, rider." A
brow rises fractionally as she regards the Telgari man, and then her lips
curl back, a grin that mutates into a smirk bestowed upon both Kassima and
Fadra. "Mm," is murmured, a quiet self-satisfion.

Cynara searches her pockets and frowns. Nothing to bet...ah well. She can
still just watch...and she can't help but giggle at the poor rider who's
dragon is making him enter. "Dragons seem to be in charge around here," she
notes to Ngara. "Some of them, anyway."

M'rek looks just, way too smug for his own good. There's something devilish
in his eyes and he gives the runner statue an absent sort of polishing rub
while he looks at L'vor. Then there's a glance around, "M'tri and Kassima.
Well, well. All right." before he takes a deep breath and nods, "Emne, I
think you outdid yourself with sauces, those all sound good. I think I'm
going to have to start with the hottest sounding one. Kill off the taste
buds early and go for the long haul." Now M'rek rubs his hands together,
eyes eager for..something. "Anyone else? Last chance to join in and take
home the prize. Er, prizes."

Kaimi's own contributions are brought out after, more reluctantly than
Emne, she introduces them as they are set out, "A mint and chili sauce, for
something with unusual flavor to go with the unusual feast. This one a
citrus, sweet and sour and the last a creamy cheese sauce." (think blue
cheese dressing) Fro her part she steps back then as if to distance herself
some from the spectacle.

Sirene looks between the contenders and puts a half-mark on Kassima,
smiling and getting some klah before heading back to her stitching.

"That," M'tri says for Jasia, flashing a half-smile at her, "is not going
to work. You don't know Daikoth." That said, the bluerider turns back to
face his opponents, smiling a bit wider at M'rek's strategy. "I imagine the
insides'll be the worst part," he comments, not sounding have as smug as
he'd probably wished to. Even a bit of a shudder. Sauces or not.

Emne gives Cynara a sympathetic look and rummages in her pocket, flipping a
half-mark piece the girl's way. "Here you go lass - if you win, pay me back
... if you don't ... bread-making duty with me one morning? That means
crack of dawn by the by."

L'vor grins a bit and gives a nod towards Kaimi, "Thanks, sweet and sour,
now that sounds like a sauce that might cover up the taste of Susu." He
looks around at the other three entries, then looks towards Cynara as he
hears some conversation of someone else putting together the entry fee now.
"This is going to be quite a challenge, we may run out of Susus." Then he
laughs a bit, as the bowls are rather big and full, "Then again, maybe more
is better, so I don't have to eat a whole bowls worth myself."

Cailin nods to Kassima, chuckling, "Thought you might be." But to M'tri she
turns, "Ahh, well. Who needs to be dignified all the time. But speaking of
dragons. My son's not let that carving out of his sight. Thanks again for
that." Fro M'rek she laughs, "Oh no. There has t'be someone to pick you lot
up when your done. and collect the marks. I'll watch I think."

Cynara catches the mark, then sighs. "I can't. I don't live here, and my
mother would not let me come here at the crack of dawn..it was all I could
do to get her not to freak about me being here /now/." Thus...she can't.

Kassima, gambler's soul itching at all these calls of bets, digs through
her pockets until she comes up with a folded piece of hide and a stub of
charcoal. "We'll make a pool out of it?" she suggests. "Call out your
wagers and 'twill take 'em down? Admittedly, if'n I collapse t'curl up on
the floor in a little, nauseated ball, it might take me awhile t'dole out
the winnings, but. Your dragon wants the statue, Trii?" She seems, for some
reason, rather amused by this. "Cruel. Aye. Cruel's a word. This should be
such an adventure." She gives M'rek another look with laughter behind it,
and encourages, "Aye, M'rek, go for the Istan pepper sauces. Do. That
should be lovely. Another mint sauce! Kaimi, Emne, I adore you both.
Although... mint *and* spice. I don't know how 'twill ever choose. Mayhaps
'twill try both."

Emne considers Cynara for a moment then shrugs. "Well then, it's on me,
lass." The Baker, pulls another half marker from her pocket and dimples at
Kassima. "On Telgar of course!" and tosses that over into the pot o' bets.
"Glad you like the array of sauces folks - should make for some flavor at
least. I can't imagine susus taste like much. More a question of texture
there!" and her eyes roll towards the ceiling a little.

Kaimi's smile in return to L'vor's comment is brief, but bright enough,
then she's wrapping her arms round herself to watch with the air of one not
sure to look away, get out while the getting is good, or tough it out with
a detached fascination. "Well I just hope you like the sauces at least."

"Oh, that. Well, that's why I'm eating bugs now." M'tri flashes a smile
that's not at all remorseful. "I'm glad he likes it. Even if he thinks it's
a bronze carving." A wink for that, then, "He seemed like a good lad. High
strung, but good nonetheless." He, for one, seems to have little to say
about the sauces. He's looking at them, of course, but he's not commenting
while he contemplates them. As for bets, "I'm hurt by your lack of faith,
Kassi," he says. "An eighth. Pffth. Glad to know you think I'm capable." He
laughs a bit, but says, "I'll bet an eighth on you. And take up her," he
points at Jasia, "on the fact that at least two of us'll lose our meals."

Sirene takes her time putting some cinnaminoid bark into her klah along
with some cream, getting the flavor just right before settling with her mug
and stitching to watch the grossness begin.

Jasia looks out again to M'tri, and after a pause for consideration, she
dips her head in assent. She'll concede that point; she doesn't, indeed,
know Daikoth. "If I had any more coins, I'd gamble 'em on you," she
observes mildly, brows lifting in the bluerider's direction, and there's
wry laughter tracing her voice. "Seems your dragon's a pretty convincing
force." Then her attention shifts briefly to Kassima, and she says, "I've a
1/32 saying that any two of the contestants will loose their meal. I have
two taking me up." When M'tri speaks, she amends, "Make that three."

M'rek looks over the sauces that Kaimi has produced and grins, "Too bad we
aren't eating something better than SuSus. Ah well. Hmm, that's a good idea
Kassi, mixing sauces." He rubs a hand over his shaved head as if trying to
pick which sauces he'd like to mix. In the meantime, helpers bring each of
the contestants a napkin, a bowl, and a fork. There's a bit of time given
for more bets to exchange hands, though oddly enough, M'rek doesn't place
any bets himself. "Hmm. We shouldn't wait too much longer, they're starting
to look less frozen. They might have less taste while they're still icy
cold. Is everyone ready yet?" M'rek looks to M'tri, Kassima and L'vor as he
asks.

Fadra chuckles, saying, "I've got a half on M'rek, meet Jasia..." and she
trails off, looking at M'tri. Another dig through her pockets comes up
blank, and she says, "I'd bet on ya, but I'm out...'less I took m'half offa
M'rek..." she offers a consoling shrug. "Sorry." That said, the girl leans
forward once more, all the better to cheer on the competetors.

Jocairo walks in from the bowl.

L'vor gives a nod back towards M'rek, "I'm all ready to go, I'm all for
them having less flavor myself." He eyes the bowls of susus skeptically,
the longer he looks at them, the more he's worried about just how many of
these things he's going to have to force down. "Alright then, if no one
else is going to join in, it's the four of us for it, Kassima, M'tri, M'rek
and myself." He reaches over to move the sweet and sour sauce over closer
to himself.

Kassima reasons to M'tri, if it can be called that, "A man who could down
his weight in bugs would never wear That Hat. Your confidence in me warms
m'heart, though." Her quick fingers jot down each wager as it's called to
her, in a scrawled shorthand that it's doubtful anyone save her will be
able to read very well. "Likewise your faith in us, Emne." When she's got a
hide full of notes and all the wagers down, she tucks the hide back away
where it'll be safe from bug-bits, and places the napkin over her lap,
quite proper, as if she were a Lady at feast. "*Mixing*...." That must not
have been what she meant, but now she sounds intrigued. "Aye. Mixing. Why
nay? 'Twill kill the taste if'n aught will. I'm ready as ever 'twill be."

Cailin laughs softly, "I'll put a mark on you, I think. In Cain's name,
M'tri. And aye. He's still calling it Ulf, but he calls all dragons that
just yet. He's seen his M'rek's there the most after all." She nods, "Hmm.
Willful to be sure. Gets that from both sides of the family I'm afraid.
Let's just hope he doesn't out do his parents." All should probably hope that.

Cynara smiles at Emne. "I'll pay you back somehow...and it's on L'vor."
Why? Because he's her ride home, of course. The mark is flicked towards the
betting pool. And she /will/ pay Emne back, win or lose, she'll find some
creative way to do so within her mother's rules.

Jocairo makes his way through the throng of people present, keeping to
himself as he scans the faces and looks to see at what point of the contest
he's arrived.

M'tri drops a mark for himself, since no one else seems willing to, and
then nods, looking beratingly upon the crowd. "I see, you guys watch,"
M'tri spouts. A laugh for Cailin, and, "Thank you. At least someone's here
to help me." He shakes his head at Kassi, defending, "That Hat is brilliant
and you're nothing but jelous." As he speaks, he straightenss up and
squares his shoulders, wrinkling his nose. His winnning grin has faded
plenty. "We're eating bugs...that are dead...and cold. I don't think there
is a ready...however, you're more than welcome to serve them up."

Emne grins Cynara's way. "As you wish, lass, though there's no need to.
It's a fun game we're all playing, that's all!" she notes cheerily and then
beans Kassima's way. "Whom else would I bet on, eh Kassi?" And she resumes
swinging her legs back and forth off the edge of the table, eyes bright on
the proceedings.

Shenanigan enters from the narrow corridor.

Jasia leans back in her seat, shifting more comfortably as keen eyes narrow
on the contestants. She's impatient for the competition to start, and
there's already some amusement seeping across her face.

M'rek sweeps his eyes over the crowd and then touches the figure of the
green runner on the center of the table once more, pushing it so that move
people can see it. "All right then. Why don't we get started?" Just as he
moves one of the prizes he also closes the entry taking part of the
competition. And then he just says, "Go." And reaches to pour off some of
the spiciest pepper sauces into his bowl without looking to see if the
others even heard him. If he's gotten a half second start, he doesn't seem
to be moving particularly fast.

Sirene smiles and moves over, making room for others beside her so they can
get a prime viewing spot too.

Cynara watches intently now...and she makes an exaggerated grossed-out
face, but then at her age...she can't be more than eleven or twelve turns.
"I know. SOmebody's going to hurl," she predicts cheerfully.

"Ahh well. I was never one for placing all my bets in one lump sum on a
single outcome. I've won a prize runner, fit for a Lord by spreading the
bets around before." Not that Cailin elaborates on the matter. "You've as
good a chance as any I expect, M'tri."

L'vor reaches out for the nearest bowl of Susus, taking three in each hand
and dipping them all into the sauce he's pulled closest to him. "Maybe if
they soak in a bit they'll pick up more sauce and less bug." He pushes them
down most of the way, all head first so none of them are looking at him out
of the bowl of sauce. Then he pulls the first one out and puts it into his
mouth, crunching down on it and making a face as he has to chew a bit
before he can swallow it down. "Can we have something to wash them down?"
He looks longingly over at the cask of ale, even as he pushes the second
around in the sauce, trying to get more on it than the first.

Kassima reaches out to snag one of the bowls of mint sauce and, because she
is a stupid, stupid woman, that spiciest sauce too when M'rek is done with
it. Both get added to her bowl, and then she's plucking up the first SuSu
and dunking it liberally into mint. She pops it into her mouth. Chews.
Immediately regrets it, by her expression. Swallows. Announces, "Ulgh." But
for all of that, she still grabs another to test in spicy sauce--her
response to *that* being a rather more pained-sounding, "Aiyeeurgh!" And
then, "Eww, eww, eww, its *guts* are squishing in my *mouth*." Maybe making
somebody else throw up first is her strategy.

Sirene giggles at Kassima, watching all the participants carefully.

Emne watches with a strange sort of fascination on her face. Part of it is
professional interest - she's watching which sauces the contestants choose
and perhaps waiting to see which ones they say work best with SuSu. "Do
tell me if you need any milk when you're done with that orange-pepper
sauce, M'rek," notes the Baker. "I wasn't kidding about the heat on it."
She tilts a look Kaimi's way. "Have we got something better than ale to go
with these beauties back there d'you think Kaimi?" There's rampant teasing
in her tone.

Jocairo gasps and pushes suddenly at the person in front of him to get
closer to the table. The man's eyes bulge a little bit, but he's too late
to compete and so falls back a step, muttering a sibilant apology before
slipping back towards the edge of the crowd, wondering who will win.

M'tri saves his hesitancy for later; he easly reaches out and plucks up one
of the sauces without second thought, or even really looking at what it is.
He pours some into his bowl, and stirs with unexpected cheerfulness, and
then spears the first bug, intent on at least getting a couple bug head
start before everyone gets a pace. It works quite well, when he plucks it
up and pops it in his mouth. After a full three or four chews, the
bluerider swallows, coughs once, and pops another one in, saying for the
benefit of all, "It's more the texture than anything. They don't *taste*
terrible." Swallow. And in goes the third. A few more chews are rendered
before the bluerider tries to swallow and fails the first two times.
"Ugh... I've got a wing stuck in my teeth."

Stavren walks in from the bowl.

Between the healthy flow of marks going around and the unattractive
prospect of consuming unattractive insects; Corona's expression alternates
between one of amusement and one of revulsion; though at Cynara's quip she
nods agreement, snickering. "Without a doubt," murmurs, wincing and
watching the consumption underway. A shudder wracks her momentarily, then
it's back to making horrified faces at the competitor's task.

Sirene heehees at the wing comment, suddenly wishing her drink was more
than just klah.

Stavren follows a sandy-haired Telgar greenrider, saying something about
"thanks for the lift" that's more or less lost in the chatter and commotion
filling the cavern. Not quite sure what's going on, but more than willing
to find out, he wends his way through the crowd in the direction of the
buffet tables. Each time his gaze lights on a face he knows--Corona,
Kassima, and M'tri, he smiles and even tries to wave.

"Oh I expect we do." Kaimi replies, then gets a slightly brighter look
about her. "Yes, in fact. I think I'll go look, Emne." And then she's
sneaking away.

Kaimi cautiously pushes through the Kitchen door, careful not to run into
any of the drudges, cooks, and cooks assistants bustling about in there.

Ngara watches with rapt attention. "C'mon L'vor." she urges, not letting
her eyes wander to anyone else. "Just swallow them." she suggests.

M'rek gives Emne a little wave of recognition for her words and nods. He
reaches out and takes a handful of cold Susu's out, dumping them beside his
bowl. Then, one at a time he slowly dips them into the sauce and pops them
into his mouth, chewing just enough so that he can get them swallowed. As
the burn on the sauce starts to peak, the bronzerider starts to thump the
flat of his hand on the wood of the table, his head slowing reddening. The
fourth Susu in his pile goes, not into the hot sauce, but over into the
cheese sauce, is completely coated, and then is devoured quickly.

Sirene suddenly looks a bit green around the gills and does stand, putting
her stitching down to get something with a bit of kick to spice up her
klah. heh

Fadra shudders, making a gagging sound. "Oh, shards, we're gettin'
commentary! What a terrible idea...just eat 'em, don' *tell* us." She's
grinning widely though, saying, "C'mon, keep it up."

L'vor keeps working on his Susus, finishing up his first bowlful of six.
Then he looks at the sauces and reaches for the two pepper one, "That sweet
and sour is a good sauce, but it's just not enough to hide them enough I
think." He makes a few swallows and breaths through his open mouth, trying
to convince himself that he really doesn't feel queasy. He pours up some of
the spicy sauce and gets another half dozen of the Susus to soak in it,
twirling the first one before he pops it into his mouth to make sure it's
fully coated. After swallowing it he flashes Ngara a grin, complete with a
leg peeking out where it's stuck in his teeth.

Jasia watches lazily as the consuming begins, an idle smirk playing at her
lips. There's something amusing about the entire fiasco, and though she's
far from vocalized humor, she's certainly finding entertainment at the
expense of the four contestants. "Y'know," she remarks thoughtfully halfway
through Kassima's beetle, "I'd probably have fared better wagering that
three people total'll lose their lunches." She slides a glance towards
Corona and Sirene, and her smirk becomes more conspicious. "Considering the
looks of some people here, I'd have a better chance of leaving richer."

So bound up in whether or not Susu makes a good dish, is Emne, that she
starts barraging the contestants with questions. "Is the sauce too spicy,
Kassi? M'rek? Does it suit the bug-flesh? M'tri ... how's yours going
along? Texture you say? So I was right about that anyway," she remarks with
a chuckle and starts taking -notes- on the back side of her slate. "Do try
the mustard-greenfruit sauce. I'll bet it would stick body parts down
together nicely." M'rek's nod and then the thumping, send her hopping off
the table to fetch a pitcher of cold milk. This she deposits where both he
and Kassima can reach, since they seem bound and determined to burn off the
roofs of their mouths.

Kassima mutters under her breath at the talk of wings, "You're a gross,
gross man, M'tri," because *her* talk of guts was so much better. She
delays to lick drips of mint sauce from her fingers, but apparently SuSu
guts got on those, too, because her expression is not one suggestive of
pleasant taste. It's testimony to her strength of will that she gets
through the next bug, unwisely dipped in two sauces, with a stoic face and
just a *little* gagging. A fourth, she tries with no sauce at all, but that
must not be an improvement since the fifth is rolled around in mint until
it's completely dripping with green. "I've eaten worse," she mumbles
inbetween bugs. "I've eaten worse, I've eaten worse. Chutney and liver and
blueberries with steamed asparagus. I've eaten worse. The tears in m'eyes
from the sauce are at least keeping me from having t'*look* at 'em, Emne--"
She's swift to grab for the milk, not about to look a gift chaser in the
mouth.

Sirene eeps as Kassi looks like she's folding. "You can do it!" she cries
out, sipping at her spiked klah.

M'tri has no time for waving. Maybe he's gotten over flavor, but the
texture is still working him over - hard. He glances at L'vor, shaking his
head and fetching another sauce for himself. Six. Seven. Ei--wait...eight,
there it goes. Nine. Ten. He grins at Emne, shaking his head. "They're
terrible. Kind of explode when you bite into em. And you just don't want to
imagine what they'd look like." He glances at the milk but takes no pause
to get any. Instead, he says, for Kassi, most likely, "Just wait 'till you
get one of the shells stuck at the back of your throat. That's what a
couple of 'em have done. Terrible, isn't it Kassi? I'm sure you haven't
eaten *worse*. I'm debating if I have." Now he's just playing with her,
trying to keep up with, or ahead of, L'vor. "What a terrible idea," he
repeats.

Cailin just shakes her head as she watches the event and then glances about
the room now and again, keeping an eye on the others as they move about as
much as the competition. A crooked grin crosses her features, "Come on now.
I know none of you are done just yet, eh?" Encouragement from the herder.
Isn't that nice?

"They were better live." M'rek offers as he reaches for another set of four
bugs and sets them beside his sauce. He reaches out and takes a swallow of
milk, right from the jug, not too concerned with sharing cooties at this
point. The bronzerider is still moving with maddening slowness. Each bug
rolled into the sweet, sizzling sauce and regarded before it's popped into
his mouth. While he chews, M'rek watches L'vor and then someone else as
well with occasional sly darts of his eyes. The Reachian is now up to six
of the bugs, and would seem to be way behind the others.

Emne resumes her perch on the table, and writes down M'tri's opinion. "Hmm.
I wonder if baking them would improve that ... or a good grilling at any
rate and a marinade ..." muses the Baker and her eyes go vague as she
considers the possibilities.

Stavren looks up from the buffet tables (rum, mmmmm. And fortunately, he's
not driving home!) just in time to see L'vor with a leg stuck in his teeth
and Kassima eating something virulently green. He may--just may--have
gotten himself into something dangerous. Keeping his mug safe, he sidles up
near poor Corona and asks in a slightly bemused voice, "You'll correct me
if I'm wrong, Lady Beachholder--but are they all eating things with legs?
And shells? And if I'm not wrong, then /why/?"

L'vor finishes off the second half dozen he had in the spicy two pepper
sauce, swallowing just a few more times to make sure that what went down
stays down. He gets some more of that sauce and a bit of the citrus sauce
to mix in with it. He reaches and grabs a third half dozen of the Susus,
his eyes going a bit wide as he picks them up, all of them starting to
defrost now, bending and looking rather slippery. He drops them into the
bowl of sauce and gets them covered, picking up and forcing down the three
that seemed most frozen still first, his eyes watering in an almost pained
expression. Then he puts his elbows on the table and slaps both hands over
his mouth, eyes just looking into the sauce bowl where the other three he'd
picked out have defrosted completely, turning into just a liquidy mush of
sauce, melted bug, and a few wings and legs sticking out. He just sits
there, rocking a little and keeping his mouth covered tight, stuck at
fifteen Susus and making no move to reach for another.

Kassima turns on her seat to give M'tri a *look* just brimming with
disgusted ire. The response she makes to him isn't verbal: it's to stick
out her tongue, as far as it will go, and thus putting some bug guts on
display. She at least has the grace to not be facing most of the spectators
while she does so. Taunting would seem to energize her somewhat, since she
downs her next few bugs rapidly, barely pausing to dip them in various
sauce, tearing them asunder with her teeth. Easy to do now that they're
thawing, unfortunately. "Mayhaps in twenty Turns 'twill find out whether
you're right about that," she quips to M'rek, picking shell out of her
teeth and popping her twelfth bug into her mouth. It gooshes between her
teeth. She does not look thrilled. She in fact looks so unthrilled that she
pushes her bowl away rather violently, swallowing hard a couple of times to
keep the gooshed bugs down.

Sirene uh ohs and cranes her neck around, eyes on Kassima nervously. After
all, a half-mark is a half-mark.

Greech enters from the narrow corridor.

Greech shambles in, smiling good-naturedly at all the occupants in the
cavern. He pulls up in front of a buffet table, takes several meatrolls,
then breaks one in half and offers part to the empty air above his right
shoulder. "C'mon, Akka, I know you like them". Sighing audibly after a
moment, he takes a chair at a mostly empty table and steadily works on the
meatroll supply.

M'tri stares at Kassi bluntly, shakes his head, and says, "So...that's what
they look like. Thank you for enlightening me." If his voice is a little
strained at this point, he's doing a decent job of expelling the tautness.
Instead, he stares down the next bug, takes a few breaths, and keeps on
truckin'. He's resorted, at this point, to sticking as many as he can in
his mouth. Three at a time, at least, chewing the melting, deformed
creatures with a grimace that is akin to all out agony. He sticks a
fifteenth and sixteenth in simultanously, chewing as quickly as he can and
forcing them down. Just as he's reaching for another, though, the sight of
the now-melted creatures wins him over. "Oh, I'm done. Really, this is
rediculous." And sixteen it, is, no more for the bluerider.

Cynara grumbles a bit...as L'vor appears to be bailing first. She doesn't
answer Stevren, because he didn't ask /her/. Rather, she continues to watch
the competition. Now to see who actually /does/ take the ale home.

Ngara squeezes L'vor's arm. "C'mon, love, you can do it..." she urges softly.

Cailin gives a slight shake of her head, "So soon? Surely just a few more
bugs, eh?" Teasing in that ever helpful way. "For such a prize as this,
you'd let it slide by?" But just who is she encouraging?

Lirit walks in from the bowl.

Lirit scampers through, likely unnoticed in the crowd.

Lirit walks down the corridor.

Fadra has taken to laughing. A lot. Between the commentary and the look on
the four riders' faces, it's rather hard not to. Grinning widely, raising
herself up to see who's ahead, who's quitting and all the likes. But most
especially, "So, which one of y'needs a bucket?"

Corona turns to face Stavren, a bit troubled with the whole spectacle
herself, though she does manage a faint smile at the title. "They /are/,"
she manages, shaking her head. "For... marks, and honor, and glorious
prizes, I guess." A flick of her hand at the statue and the cask of ale is
all she'll give for that sentiment. She twitches. As if she'd /ever/ pop a
susu in her mouth for /any/ reason! Leaning to Cynara she asks, "You placed
a bet on L'vor, right?" She eyes the brownrider, shaking her head and
looking back at Stavren. "I can't say I think it's worth it, though." Ugh.

Greech cranes his neck a little to see what is causing all the fuss, but
soon gives up, as he can see nothing interesting. He leans back and murmurs
to the air above his shoulder, gesturing occasionally towards the bowl.
Nodding his head finally in apparent agreement, he grabs a mug of klah,
puts his feet up on a nearby bench, and idly stares at the far wall.

M'rek pops a bug into his mouth, winks at Kassima and then his face does a
most curious contortion as the insect doesn't get chewed so much as melts
in his mouth into the most unimaginable slush. M'rek swallows, and in an
automatic motion plops the last of his susu's for the next many turns, in.
He has to cup it in his hand as it starts to decompose in route and then
it's in. The spice of the sauce might help but it's hardly enough. M'rek
fumbles for the milk pitcher, sucks in a huge mouthful and that's his final
downful. The bronzerider clamps a hand hard over his mouth and flips back
off the bench and turns around only to throw up upon the shoes of whoever
was unlucky enough to be behind him. Yum. Milk and bug guts.

Amazingly enough, Jasia's been finishing off her own meal as the SuSu
disappear, and now her plate sits empty by her elbow. "Done already?" she
asks of the riders, fingers absently tapping along the rim. "I'd've
thought...oh, shards, that's nice." Goad cut off by M'rek's movement, the
candidate peers forward, then chuckles softly. "One down."

Stavren must take a swallow of rum (a large one) to fortify himself. He's
not green /yet/, at least. "Marks I might be able to understand. Prizes,
perhaps. But the honor in eating...whatever the shell those are escapes me.
The last time I ate a bug was when I had four Turns, and I don't recall
winning any prizes for it." He winces as M'tri bows out, then resolutely
turns his head away as M'rek bows out in a much more spectacular fashion.
"I suppose I'd better cheer for Kassima. I wonder if she'll explain the
significance of the statue to visitors if she wins?"

Emne is, fortunately, perched on the table, so no puke on her shoes. She
looks away from M'rek's sudden effusion with a green-about-the-gills hint
to her face though. "Ugh ..." she says distinctly. "Note ... too much spicy
sauce and SuSu do not mix." Scribble scribble.

L'vor raises his hand as soon as someone comments about a bucket, getting
up from his seat to get himself to it faster than waiting for it.
Fortunately for someone's shoes, he manages to get his hands on a bucket in
time for M'rek's acrobatic spewing, and he hides his face in the top of the
bucket, only the sounds of quite energetic upchucking comes up from it,
saving everyone the view of all those bug guts as they make a second,
unexpected, appearance.

"One more," Kassi informs Cailin succinctly, "and they're going t'be all
over M'tri's shirt--and while that'd be upholding a fine Thunderbolt
tradition, vomiting on each other, 'twas never one of m'favorites. I'm just
going t'hope Learan will let me drink his good liquor without making me eat
melted bugs that've been dead for days t'do it. Don't know how 'twill live
with the loss of the statue, though." She starts to reach for the pitcher,
but M'rek's got it, and--is not putting it to good use, apparently. Kassi
just stares at the bronzerider, the vomit, and the shoes, looking rather
decidedly green, and then twists away quickly and clamps a hand over her
mouth to swallow very hard. Several times. Such a happy camper, she.

Jocairo is leaning towards the table, avarice burning in his expressive
eyes as the contest seems to reach it's disgusting peak. "Who won? Who
won?" A hoarsely voiced question that the stranger repeats as he looks
around, "Who ate the most bugs?"

Having finished his dinner and his idle study of the far cavern wall,
Greech views the crowd with little interest, occasionally pointing
something out to his right shoulder. He finally gets up, threads his way
through the residents, and disappears into the lower caverns.

Greech walks down the corridor.

Nightwatch appears suddenly from the ice of *between*, circling to a landing.

"Aww shards, M'rek I was going to clean up betting on you." Good thing for
Cailin, she wasn't behind him or she'd be doing cleaning of a different
sort. As light as that sounds, she winces for both him and L'vor as they,
well, lose it. "Don't worry, Kassi. I'll see Learan doles out a share you
and our M'rek both for the try, eh?"

Sirene cringes, thinking she's about to lose her half-mark on Kassi. "You
can do it!!! Don't cave in now, Kassima!" she cries out.

M'tri turns round in his seat, just enough to lower his head beneath his
knees and lace his fingers at the base of his neck. "Kassi, don't throw
up," he intones from that position, letting it muffle for fear he'll ruin
his own encouragement. "Show 'em how Telgar does it." Pause. "Especially
don't throw up on me." Yeah, Telgaris make it habit to only vomit on thier
own riders in thier own caverns. In public it's terribly uncouth. It
doesn't seem like this particular rider is going to be going anywhere
anytime soon, though. Yeah, he's not. "Oh Faranth above," he groans.

The bowls of remaining bugs are all a really horrifying soup now, as they
defroast completely into goo. M'rek is given a bucket, better late than
never maybe and finishes up there. The Bronzerider looks green as he lifts
his head back up, and yet his eyes are definitely watchful, and he
immediately reaches for the jacket he put aside earlier and pulls a flask
out of the pocket. Half a flask later he doesn't look so green anymore.
"Sharding susu's. I guess they don't freeze so well. That last one was the
single worst thing I've ever eaten." The man shudders like a little girl
and then turns to look around, "I got in eight before they went south."

"I'm nay going t'throw up," Kassi eventually manages to croak. "Vomit and I
are old acquaintances. I've some experience with fighting it off."
Evidently so. She tips her head back to stare at the ceiling, the better
not to see--or smell--too much of the melted SuSu or vomit all around her.
"I am *nay* eating any more," she announces firmly. "Twelve is *enough*.
More than enough. Nay more."

Cynara just ewwws. "What a mess." And she makes a rather more genuine 'ick'
face at what's going on...and looks away firmly before she loses what
remains of her appetite. Just ick.

Sirene stays far enough the smell doesn't bother her too much, particularly
since she's half-snockered from her drink.

L'vor finally lifts his face out of his bucket, actually looking a bit
better than when he ran for it, if a bit pale now. "I managed to get
fifteen down, at least for a little while. Shells they turned bad in a
hurry once they went soft." He reaches for the nearest drink, taking it
from whoever is close at hand, swishing out his mouth and making use of the
bucket again to try to clear out his mouth. "No sauce could save them then,
so much worse than worms."

Ngara jumps up to support L'vor, rubbing his back and supprisingly
unperturbed by the vomit eminating from the man.

Jasia may be the only one, but she certainly seems smug as she reclines in
her chair, one ankle rising to prop on a knee. "'A mess' is putting it
mildly," she observes, glance cutting towards Cynara, before she turns her
gaze upon the competitors and nibbles idly on her lower lip.

Emne finishes taking notes and swings off the table once more. "Well then.
I think we need to chase down that good stuff Kaimi went for ..." and she
trots into the kitchens briefly, then returns with a bright blue bottle,
which she sets down on the table, with glasses. She's got another tray too
and this she uses to start clearing away the remains of the 'meal'. "All
done M'tri?" she queries brightly of the other Telgar rider.

Since M'rek is the closest, it's he that Cailin will reach out a hand to.
Setting it on his back. or an arm if he doesn't turn away in the process,
just to rest there as she asks, "Going to live there, eh?" She glances at
the others then, "So fifteen for L'vor? How many Kassi? M'tri?" She smirks
slightly, "I wouldn't count on Kai returning. she didn't look to thrilled
to be in here before."

Stavren wonders out loud, "Is drinking stuff that comes in a bright blue
bottle immediately after eating a lot of sauce-covered bugs really wise?"
Rum is much safer. Good rum.

"Okay, if you're sure," M'tri groans, coughing again. He's not quite ready
to come up for air, but he does announce, "I got sixteen, and if Daikoth
ever wants another statue I'm buying it, not eating bugs for it." Emne
earns herself a *look*. "Oh, done is not even the word. I need liquor to
justify my actions now. A lot of it. And to get the nasty feeling out of my
mouth." His entire body convulses at that, and it's only a matter of time
before he, too, is grabbing up a bucket, holding it at the ready and taking
deep breaths.

Sria walks in from the bowl.

M'rek nods to Cailin, grinning over at her for a mere second before his
eyes move back to the crowd again, watching someone without trying to look
as if he is. "Sixteen?" He turns and gives M'tri a surprised, almost
shocked look. "M'tri. You won." There's a glance at L'vor and then he looks
over at Kassi and then to the green runner on the table before he says,
"Wow. Congratulations. "

Kassima repeats in a rather wretched voice, "Twelve." Deep breaths. Deep
breaths. She's too late to win it, but she might not be too late to have
the dubious pride of being the only one not to ralph in a bucket. As M'tri
joins the bucket brigade, she mock-whimpers--but only half-mock--"I want
t'die now, please. Please? Somebody? Anybody? So *gross*." Despite her
distress, she still lowers her head at the news to give M'rek an
inscrutable, but probably somehow meaningful look. "I'm sure you'll enjoy
those prizes, Trii."

Sria murmurs a pleasant, "'Reaches duties," for all that it's doubtful to
be heard, and she glances around to get a tally on the situation before
moving too far into the crowd.

L'vor flashes a smile at Ngara, but he keeps both his hands on the bucket,
keeping it close at hand as the sounds of his belly churning about can be
heard by those standing too close by. He looks back over towards M'tri at
hearing the count and just groans a bit, "Beat me by one? Just one? Oh
shells..." Then he hides his face in the bucket again.

Emne pops open the seal on that dangerous looking blue bottle and pours out
at least one glass of heady-scented liquor. "Anyone else for Istan liquor?"
she asks blithely. "Should clear out that nasty SuSu taste quite nicely, or
the smell of er ... that, if you didn't eat any." She nods towards M'rek's
'accident' briefly and passes off the tray off bug remnants to one of the
kitchen assistants to deal with.

Sirene sighs as folks begin to yak and then stands, bringing her mug to be
washed, then taking her stitching back with her toward the caverns - no
need to be around the lovely stench beginning to permeate the air now that
she's lost her bet.

Sirene walks down the corridor.

Shenanigan goes into the lower caverns.

M'tri doesn't seem much comforted in his win. As a matter of fact, he
doesn't seem to care at all. "Oh, how nice." That look appears to be
transferrable to anyone who talks to him, because he passes it to both
M'rek and Kassi in turn, but doesn't quite chuck into the bucket. Instead,
he drops into a seat on the ground, backs against the nearest wall, and
makes the bucket his best friend. "By one," he confirms, without smugness.
"One."

Ngara teases L'vor, though she looks concerned at his getting sick.
"Told'ya you shoulda eaten one more..."

Cynara shakes her head. "Gross." Fresh air. She stands and moves to over by
the bowl entrance, breathing in air from outside rather than the smell
of...vomit and other stuff.

"Good for you, M'tri! Good on you. One is all it takes. And good for me
too, covering my bases." Cailin gives a wink, "For Cain's sake of course."
Her hand slides back to her side and she turns to face the quiet greeting,
"Ahh, Sria. Just the person. Did you hear what they were about this eve?"
M'rek is given a smile and a concerned glance that soon is wiped away for a
easier expression.

M'rek looks like he really feels better for having regurgitated, and the
green hue fades more after he knocks back the glass of whatever it is Emne
is hawking. Once his hands steady he reaches over and pushes the four marks
to M'tri, along with the nice looking bottle of single malt liquor that
M'rek and L'vor went in on, and then the green runner. "Congratulations,
M'tri. You'll want to take good care of all of your loot." M'rek smiles and
then gives Kassima a most pointed look, as this outcome doesn't seem to be
one that he was prepared for.

L'vor finally finishes with his bucket and looks at it. "Someone want to
take this out and dump it where it won't kill anyone?" He looks like his
romance with the bucket is over and he wants it far far away now. He
glances at Ngara and barely cracks a grin, "One more... one more would have
done me in, I'm sure... I feel all tied in knots now."

Slight survey, counting, and maybe the murmurred question to a
disgusted-yet-enthralled-looking onlooker, and Sria has enough information
to make her smile slant sideways, and then to make her way over to Cailin
without tripping over any buckets. "I heard, yes. Nice to see you made it
out to watch the, ah, event, Cailin. I'm sure your support didn't go
unnoticed." There's a grin as she attempts to locate green-tinged M'rek
among all of it - and those prizes earn a passing glance - and a smile when
she spots Kassima, too. "Quite the turnout," she says to the Beastcrafter.
"And I'm not sure I need to know what exactly I'm 'just the person' for."

Jocairo makes his way through the crowd until he appears smoothly at
M'tri's elbow and is about to speak when something makes him change his
mind and he steps back, withdrawing the way he came.

Cynara is still trying to get something other than susu-milk-vomit smell
into her lungs. She finally seems to succeed, stepping to the side of the
entrance. "Eww. Maybe I should have stayed at Igen."

Kassima may have her dignity, but she still looks wretched, as the SuSu
remains in her system. Who knew having to actually digest twelve bugs would
be the price of pride? "Daikoth will probably make sure you take good care
of the statue, at least?" she hazards to the bluerider, glancing at the
runner. "I recall you saying that he's the one who wants it." Even though
she's speaking to M'tri, her eyes are back on M'rek, now looking, for
whatever reason, somewhat concerned. Sria gets a smile back, but it's a
slightly nauseated one.

Jasia turns slightly as Sria enters, a brow arching at the presence of
another stranger. Then, unfurling from her seat, she says to the room at
large, "As fun as this has been, I really should be going now." She waves
airily -- her gaze seems to rest more on M'tri, Kassima, and Fadra -- and
off she saunters, moving easily into the lower caverns.

"Aye. Didn't know I was in for a show when I turned up. But how can I walk
away?" Cailin says to Sria as she turns her attention from M'rek then to
the brownrider. "Put a two marker on him, but at least a mark on the winner
too, eh?"

Jasia walks down the corridor.

Stavren overhears Cynara and manages a smile. He's keeping his nose fairly
close to his mug, so the fragrance of hot buttered rum overwhelms...other
scents. Mostly. "No bug-eating contests at Igen? Sounds very peaceful and
pleasant."

Corona looks over to the victorious rider. "Congratulations," says she. How
sweet, winning the statue for his dragon and all. At Cynara's departure
from the nucleus of activity, though, she rises and makes to follow suit
but not before a few departing words. To L'vor, "Great job. I couldn't have
eaten one, let alone fifteen." Turning to Stavren, she says, "I've got to
get a bit of fresh air so I'm going over," and she points to the entrance
where Cynara has based herself, "there." The fragrance hanging in the air
has succeeded in making her quite pale, and her stomach is
none-too-compliant, either.

Emne passes 'round glasses of the liquor to whomever wants it, then catches
up her slate of notes and retires to the kitchen itself, where dinner is
checked on and then some further assistants corraled to start working on
something special for the contestants.

"No...L'vor talked me into coming with him...I guess he wanted moral
support or something." She turns down any liquor with, "Mom wouldn't like
it," but does snag some juice, which she sips at rather slowly.

M'tri hmms, gets to his feet - albeit unsteadily - and retrieves his marks,
and the liquor, leaving his bucket empty in favor. "Thanks," he murmurs,
looking less green but still blanched at the task he's just completed, and
then says, "If I never see another bug, of any sort, it'll be too soon." He
too, takes a glass from Emne, knocking it back and deciding, when he's
through swallowing, "Aye, I think I'm going to go get drunk, then explain
that *that's* the reason I ate sixteen bugs for a statue, four marks and
some liquor." A pause for Kassi's comment, then, "How much do you bet he
tosses it off the ledge when we get home? Just to taunt me?"

Snap flits out, flying through the opening leading deeper into the Weyr's
lower caverns.

Lysseth> Ulfianth senses that Lysseth's prismatic thought reaches out just
as her rider gives his that worried look, which is likely no coincidence;
however, there are no words immediately, only a sense of polite waiting as
if she's waiting to see whether the bronze is one, awake, and two, willing
to acknowledge her existence.

"Do you mind if I join you? Breathing's becoming an issue." Stavren even
proves himself useful by clearing a path for himself and Corona through the
crowded cavern to the area near the entrance. Being overly tall and large
has /some/perks.

L'vor finally finds a kind person to dispose of the bucket, and slipping an
arm around Ngara's shoulders, he nods to Corona, "Thanks for cheering me
on, even though I didn't quite make it to the end." Then he turns and makes
his way towards a bench to sit again, looking over towards M'rek and
shaking his head. "Next contest you suggest, remind me to sit it out, please?"

Ngara grabs two glasses of the strong alcohol and knocks back a drink,
determined not to leave L'vor standing there alone. She offers the second
glass to him, but keeps it from being too close just in case.

"Smart betting, then," Sria says to Cailin, and she's sympathetic for a
moment once she darts another glance around the victims, participants,
death-defying artists? "Just chance then," she adds, a little distractedly,
"That you got to catch the fun."

"Don't let him do *that*, Trii. The poor thing doesn't deserve such a
fate," Kassima protests, starting to shake her head, going just that much
greener, and quickly rethinking the idea. "I swear, m'stomach's going
t'crawl out through m'mouth and storm away in protest... 'tisn't such a bad
little statuette as that. If'n he doesn't want it after all, I'll take it."

M'rek muses, "You know. That sauce was really good. I'd eat it again. But
not on bugs. We'd have to think of something else." A hand rubs over his
head before M'rek nods back to Kassi as they seem to have an understanding,
and then he's looking to Sria in surprise, "Sria! Nice to see you, did you
get to see the, ah, festivities? Watch your step." Spoken even as the floor
is mopped and M'rek offers the mopper, "Sorry about that. My stomach isn't
as tough as it once was."

Lirit enters from the narrow corridor.

Lirit swoops into the Living Cavern and heads straight for the serving
table, humming contentedly to herself as she picks up a serving platter and
loads it with meat and cheese and bread, enough to feed a small army.

Carrying the tray in front of her, Lirit weaves through the crowded cavern,
oblivious to the goings on here as she heads out the bowl.

Lirit walks outside, into the bowl.

Jocairo walks outside, into the bowl.

"Something like that. A trick I picked up back at the Hold." Cailin gives
Sria a wink and then shrugs, "Had a few things to talk about with our
M'rek. Managed to cover a few before." She waves a hand at the table then,
"So aye. I stayed for the fun."

L'vor takes the glass that Ngara offers to him, tossing it back and giving
a bit of a shake, then he mutters softly, 'that does not count as one, it
was medicinal in purpose.' With a glance out towards the bowl for a moment,
then he makes a slight chuckle, "This will be something funny to remember
in a turn or two. I hope no one brings it up before then though."

After getting things organized in the kitchen, Emne returns to check on the
status of the liquor bottle. "Hmm. Lots of this going down!" she remarks
and catches M'rek's commentary on the sauce. "Liked that did you? It goes
best with a good side of herdbeast I think. Or grilled porcine and a lot of
mashed tubers."

"Not at all, and I doubt Cynara'll mind," Corona says, taking advantage of
the path out of those still mingling, towards the entrance. She turns and
looks back, noting Ngara's still aiding L'vor, and finally does reach the
entrance, nodding once to Cynara and inhaling deeply. "You had the right
idea," she says, savoring the fresher air. Glancing back at the goings-on,
she asks of Stavren and Cynara. "What did you think?"

Dragon> Lysseth senses that Ulfianth gives a faint rumble of
acknowledgement at first, and then after some time comes the dark thunder
of his voice with a message, << Mine believes that one who watches wishes
to have the statue. Keep close watch upon it until you are back to Telgar.
Does M'tri have a ground level weyr? >>

"Unfortunately not," Sria replies to M'rek, "But the aftermath's almost as
interesting. Everyone all right, then?" With a lifted brow. "Can't imagine
why. Think this sort of thing toughens it up or weakens it for further
contests?" Because -that's- what everyone wants to think about at the
moment. To Cailin, she only smiles, nods her head, "I see."

"I'll kill him if he does," M'tri assures Kassi, reassuming a seat near the
table. "I don't want to eat anything for a sevenday." A glance is given to
the statue, then he snatches it up, rising again and saying, "I'm going to
give it to him. I don't want to look at it until I am not ill anymore."
That said, the bluerider gets to his feet and nods. "Get some fresh air,"
he adds to the list of reasons as to why he's leaving, and then he does
just that, not saying whether he'll be back.

M'tri walks outside, into the bowl.

Lysseth> Ulfianth senses that Lysseth's mind-pattern, which takes the form
of a forest of crystal spires lit in all the cool colors, flashes
acknowledgment: message received. << Mine wished me to ask you to ask yours
whether our Wingmate would be in danger for having it, >> she says. 
<< Perhaps he would be. They go now, but she will ask him what he has done
with it--although she thinks he will not do anything foolish with it. There
is no ground access to his weyr, no. >>

Kassima presses the back of her wrist to her still-pallid brow and cheek.
The cleaning of the various puddles and buckets has relieved her distress
somewhat, but not entirely. "Ulp," is her weak protest when Emne starts
talking about food. Her eyes follow M'tri and his prizes out through the
door, taking on, for a moment, the glazed look that suggests she's using
dragon eyes for some purpose, and at length she relaxes. A small nod is
directed towards M'rek, should he be looking. "I did like the sauces well
enough," she ventures. "As sauces. On something that wasn't *vile*, I'm
sure they'd be grand."

Stavren steps aside for M'tri, and finally sums up his thoughts with
admirable brevity. "I think they're all certifiably insane."

M'rek looks over his shoulder at L'vor and says, "Aye. I'll remind you.
Likely won't stop you any though." Then he's grinning briefly at Cailin and
finally looking to Sria last to say, "Everyone all right, save but for the
bugs and they were already dead. I'm sure my stomach will be the hardier
for the experience." And then M'rek looks vaguely distracted a moment
before he grins again. "I think I'm due for some juice or something."

Dragon> Lysseth senses that Ulfianth rumbles clearly from his position on
the sands, << Yes. He may be in danger for the owning of the object. Mine
suggests that he drop it and let it break on the way out so that the others
can see. Otherwise, some will come looking for the runner. >>

Fadra rises as M'tri departs, shaking hear head and wrinkling her nose up.
Without much more comment, save for, "I need some clean air," the girl
disappears deeper into the caverns.

Cailin meets Sria's gaze a moment and then gives the barest shake of her
head. Denying something that isn't voiced it would seem, "There's time
enough to wait on some things, I think." And there she'll return M'rek's
smile with an easy one of her own.

Fadra walks down the corridor.

Emne hooks a thumb kitchenwards. "Got pastries in progress should the
stomach be up for them in a bit," she says gaily. "And there's juice
aplenty on the sideboar. THAT you can help yourself to."

L'vor looks over to Emne and gives a little grin, "The two pepper sauce was
plenty spicy, I'm glad I didn't go for that other one. Things could have
been a lot worse. The sweat and sour though, it was a little thin, didn't
coat very well. Though that might not be a bad thing for something other
than, those bugs." A slight pause as he avoids even naming the horrid things.

Cynara mmms. "Hey, I would have joined in, but they were asking for a full
mark. I'll /never/ have that kind of money," she predicts, although it's
more cheerful than real whining.

Lysseth> Ulfianth senses that Lysseth's facets shift into a rather stormy
blue, lightning crackling from spire to spire. << We will not allow them to
harm this one who is ours. >> There's a warning in that, but none of it for
him or his. << If he has taken it home, it is too late for that, but mine
will see what she can do. Would it be ill or well for Daikoth's to be told
that there may be danger? >>

Sria watches M'rek a moment and then suggests, "'Or something,' I would
think. After -that-. Eight, was it?" Cailin gets an equally-cryptic,
"Usually," but there's a smile behind it all the same. "I'm sure you know."
All the talk of sauces draws her interest toward Emne, "How many sauces
were there?"

Dragon> Lysseth senses that Ulfianth is quiet as he waits for the relay and
then he shares, << Mine believes that Daikoth's should be told about the
danger. He can give the runner back to M'rek if he desires, in a public
place so that it will be witnessed. >>

"Nine," provides Emne helpfully for Sria's benefit. "Six of mine and three
of Kaimi's. I'll let her know about the sweet and sour L'vor, and make note
that Susu eating requires -thick- sauces."

Corona shakes her head, laughing. "That was a pretty crazy competition,
I'll admit." Her eyes widen, though, at Cynara's comment. "And you would've
eaten sixteen of those things?" She pauses, giving this thought. "Though if
I had a dragon and it wanted a statue, I might /try/, I guess..." She makes
a face at the thought, regardless though.

Lysseth> Ulfianth senses that Lysseth's thought ripples with accord. 
<< That is good. It makes it easier to arrange things. Kassima says that 
she is willing to make a show of purchasing it from him, if that would suit
best; but she will recommend your own instead, if it would better serve the
purpose. >> After a pause, she adds, wryly, << Not that she is entirely
certain what the purpose *is*. But she trusts him. >>

M'rek chuckles at Sria and gets to his feet. "Only eight, alas. But
sometimes things don't always turn out the way you planned them." His eyes
search the crowd again and then M'rek says absently, "I need to go and
brush my teeth. I'll see you Ladies around later."

Cynara browfurrows. "I have no clue whether I would have or not. It's not
like I've tried anything like that before." A pause. "And yeah. Dragons
seem to be...well...they seem to tell their riders what to do a /lot/."

L'vor raises a hand towards M'rek, "Clear skies M'rek, you'll have to come
by soon and help me finish with the pipes and the condenser, since neither
of us won that bottle."

Dragon> Lysseth senses that Ulfianth takes the idea, shares it and then
responds, << Mine thinks that should be fine. So long as it is public
enough to be seen and yours does not mind the risk. Mine was going to offer
yours one of the runners before today, anyway. >> But he doesn't seem
either willing or able to explain what the exact strategy is.

"Clear skies, M'rek," Kassima bids, summoning up a wan smile for the
bronzerider. "Better luck twenty Turns from now. 'Twill be here t'challenge
again if'n 'twill." She pauses. "I can't *believe* I just said that. Ugh.
What is wrong with me? I need that liquor, clearly--Emne, is there any left?"

"Oh, is Kaimi around?" asks Sria, the question voiced both towards Emne and
Cailin. "Nine, shards, how long was this project in planning?" Though
there's a grin, there, "And do you really think it's going to - well, you
know, I'm not sure I'd be surprised if it did turn into a trend. All
they'll need to fight off infestations are the hardy stomachs of the
bettors." - "You do that," she tells M'rek, smiling, this time with a
question left unvoiced.

M'rek doesn't waste any time, but trots quickly towards the bowl, almost as
if he hopes to catch up to someone, but maybe it really is just to brush
his teeth.

"There had better be," is Cailin's reply to that single word. "But then,
I'm not known for excepting less, I suppose." In anything? she nods, "I'll
see you, later then M'rek."

Stavren shakes his head adamantly. "My dragon would have to get a statue
some other way. No force in the world, and no sauces, could get me to eat
those things." Chuckling a bit, he adds "M'tri's right, though--his dragon
probably bullied him into it. He says Daikoth likes shiny things and
collects them." He eyes tiny little Cynara. "You really think you could eat
sixteen of those?"

Cailin adds for Sri's sake, "Kaimi ducked out into the kitchens mid way."

Sria glances after the bronzerider and then turns, completely, back to
Cailin. "Well, that's no bad thing. - Hm, perhaps I'll find her later. I
don't think I can blame her, with all this," and she lifts a hand, palm-up,
as if assessing the damage.

Emne checks the level in the blue bottle and nods. "ANother two or so
glasses left I'd say Kassi ..." she waves cheerily after M'rek as he
excuses himself. "ANother one who'll miss the pastries!" Her hand flutters
vaguely cavernsward. "Kaimi went off a bit ago. Probably around in Stores
or somesuch. As for the sauces, most of them were simple enough - didn't
require much advance notice to whip up. But it seems that the group liked
spicy. The orange-pepper sauce was the most used."

Lysseth> Daikoth senses that Lysseth sends a lance of thought towards your
mind, crystal-bright and keen-edged--although what cut it may have is not
directed towards you. << Kassima would have you and yours know, >> she
shares, << that the little green runner statue-- >> There's a brief
image-flash of the object in question, lifted from Kassi's mind. << --Is
not a safe thing to own. There is danger that comes with it. Would you be
willing to give it up, at least for a time? >>

"Maybe. I wouldn't know, anyway," Corona says in response to Cynara's
comment on dragon agendas. "The sauces looked pretty good, but the bugs
were a huge turn-off." She contemplates for a moment. "Yeah though. I mean,
it's not like you couldn't just /buy/ a statue, or whatever else. But I
don't know." She pauses thoughtfully. "/Sixteen/...ugh."

"That's not the point," Cyn supplies. "It's a /game/. And yeah, I'd
probably have lost..." She is ittybitty, after all. "But that's not the
point either. Having fun is the point." Ugh. She thinks of that as having fun?

Kassima holds up one finger. "One, please?" she asks Emne, still not
sounding too well. "Just enough t'drown the little buggers and convince 'em
t'stay down there. The spice sauce was good, and the mint sauce was good,
but for the record, those two mix *horribly*."

"It is what it is." Cailin replies cryptically and then arches a brow, "You
know my cousin then as well, eh? She might be off with those kids of hers
by now. Who knows." She sends a glance towards Kassi then, "I don't think
I'd have thought to mix them in the first place. More like begging for
trouble, eh?"

Emne pours a glass out for Kassima and chuckles softly. "Well ... I
wouldn't have ever recommended putting them together actually ... but it
was interesting to see people trying out ... new things," muses the Baker.
She sniffs the air experimentally, then shifts back into the kitchens.
"Begging your pardon - need to see to those pastries," and she vanishes.

Emne cautiously pushes through the Kitchen door, careful not to run into
any of the drudges, cooks, and cooks assistants bustling about in there.

Stavren directs toward Cynara the unmistakable look of Big Brother
Tolerance. The one that implies he's going to let that slide because she's
clearly too young to know any better. He's had a lot of practice with that
look. "Not my kind of game. Drinking contest, sure, bring it on. Or an
eating contest where there's actual food, like roast herdbeast or bubblies.
But no bugs." He squints to where the statue in question is still waiting
to be picked up by the ostensible victor. "Is it a statue of one of those
susu bugs? Hate to have that in my weyr."

Dragon> Lysseth senses that Daikoth's mind jumps in surprise, the shallow
and content lake in which it had become rising into a tsunami of burnished
gold around the image he's maintaining - the same image flashed at him,
coincidentally. Frustration roiling beneath the surface, incarnadine
flowers blooming in the fading serenity, he responds, << It is a statue.
How can a statue be unsafe? >> and then, on second thought, << And it is my
statue. >>

Sria nods to Emne, as well, "Thank you - oh, mint and peppers, no, I can't
picture that together very well," for Kassima's last, and something
overheard elsewhere prompts a wry, almost rueful sort of smile which
spreads more genuinely for Cailin, confirmation: "You're not the only one
for whom I've played messenger."

Lysseth> Daikoth senses that Lysseth doesn't flinch back from all that
gold, fierce though it may be. There's a hint of steel at the core of all
her crystal, a touch of the Wingleader green, although she does not yet
slide fully into the mode of command. << The statue itself is not
dangerous, but a dangerous person looks for it. Ulfianth's rider believes
that person was there when your rider won it, and knows that he has
it--they may seek harm to your rider. >>

"I thought it might work the way pain does. Y'know--you can have a sprained
ankle, but if'n you slam your thumb in a door, the thumb will hurt enough
that your ankle will seem completely pain-free," Kassima attempts to
justify to both Emne and Cailin, none too well. "One kind of gross t'cancel
out another. I'm used t'mixed-foods gross. You should see what I eat when
I'm pregnant. It didn't really work, though. More compounded the grosses
into one great, unbearable sort of grossness." She rests the small glass of
liquor against her forehead a moment before finally, gingerly trying a sip.
It stays down, which is something.

Corona twitches. "Some game, gorging on bugs and then... ick." She makes a
face, but brightens rather quickly at Stavren's query. "It's a green runner
statue," she says fondly. "I doubt I'd keep it if it was of one of those
horrible bugs. Wouldn't want to be reminded." She grins at Cynara's
confidence. "Fun times, right."

Cailin snorts to this, "My sister, obviously. But for Kai as well? I
wouldn't have thought it, Not unless it between those two?" She pauses a
beat, then smirks, "Still need to ask about what we talked of last. I get
the feeling half Pern knows it now and it's still kept behind a curtain
from me." She chuckles and nods to Kassima, "There is a thought there, in
that. Even if it didn't work. And I can't say I craved any of the weird
stuff when I was expecting, but everyone is different, eh?" The greenrider
is given a concerned look, "You going to make it?"

Dragon> Lysseth senses that Daikoth humphs, giving the wave extra force. It
smashes into the shores of his mind with surprising viciousness, though not
fury. Frustration; irritation. The crimson has spread, tinged the note of
his voice with his emotions. << It is a terrible idea, to give a prize away
that may cause its winner harm, >> he intones, his own dagger a real image,
a replacement for the gold. For now. << A foolish idea...but what will you
do with it? Not give it to yours, I hope? That would be just as bad. >>

Cynara shrugs. "Besides. L'vor didn't tell me he was hauling us here for a
/bug eating/ contest." She giggles a bit. "All worth it for the trip
dragonback, though." Her grin widens just a bit.

Ngara glances at Cynara. "Sure he did. They've had this bet on for a while.
So close he was too." she comments, directing her attention back to L'vor
once again. "Y'all gonna be ok?" she asks gently.

L'vor grins just a bit as he gets back to his feet and comes over to rejoin
Ngara, "Yeah, I think I'm going to be okay, I think all the bugs are out of
my system now."

Stavren has to grin back. "Yeah, riding a dragon is...something. Wind in
your hair and all. If you've got hair." He scrubs a hand through his own
cropped burr in wry illustration. Then a sandy-haired fellow ambles past,
taps Stav's shoulder, and jerks his head toward outside. Thus summoned, he
makes his apologies. "R'maas is my ride--I'd better get going. Nice to meet
you, Cynara, and nice to see you again, Corona. Despite the circumstances."
He finishes the last of his rum in one long swallow, sets the mug aside,
and ducks out.

Stavren walks outside, into the bowl.

Sria nods, "Right, between those two. Though I've not made it back to visit
your cousin as much as some others." There's a flicker for Cailin's next,
veiled, and her tone remains light: "I've little reason to keep it that
way, but even fewer details, see." The brownrider listens to Kassima's
explanation as well, with a faint grimace at one corner of her mouth for
that 'compounded'.

Lysseth> Daikoth senses that Lysseth is a moment in replying, turning over
this idea and not finding it completely wrong. << My own says, >> she
finally replies, << that it was probably unforeseen that yours would
compete. Ulfianth's did not wish harm upon yours in the least. He is
concerned for yours, as we are; he suggested to mine that yours might make
a public show of giving it back to him, only my own offered to take it on
herself. Yes. >> That risking her rider is a wise solution isn't something
that she can agree with. Simple crystals branch and split into increasingly
fractal patterns, reflecting some inner pensiveness. << Mine says that she
would like to make a large public show somewhere of buying the runner from
your rider. Yours is capable of protecting himself, she knows. But she
knows what she would be facing, and has no weyrmate to share the risk; and
she is, herself, somewhat dangerous. >>

Kassima is slow to answer, and nursing the drink might have something to do
with it. So might that slightly glazed look that suggests conversation with
her dragon, which flickers in and out of her eyes at intervals. "Every
pregnancy's been different for me, worse luck. Some new craving, some more
vile than others... I should at least survive, although if'n truth be known
'twould probably have been better if'n I'd thrown up too." Her eyes slide
towards the Herder and brownrider, attention lingering there; any bets on
whether she just might be eavesdropping? She waggles her drink glass after
the departing Stavren, but misses.

"Then mayhap the question should be. Do I ask you directly, or corner the
man about the rest?" Cailin asks, though she allows a slight smile, "Ams
always has to know, doesn't she?" That said softly, then she turns to
Kassi, "I'd heard that as well. I expect I'll find out if I have another
someday." Eaves dropping there, the herder doesn't seem to question if noted.

Sria shakes her head to Cailin, no help for that particular decision - and
the lack of words is likely not due to any eavesdropping, noticed or un-,
as there's a smile between Kassima and Cailin's end of the conversation.
"Not so much recently, your sister. It was quite a while ago that I
actually brought any messages as first purpose. It seems to be more
returning with them, now."

Dragon> Lysseth senses that Daikoth is still pondering, solidifying his
image then shattering it completely. It was only a matter of time, really,
before the gold reigned again. He is silent for a long time, save for the
gentle spiralling and solidification of the polished glittering of his
thoughts. When he speaks, it is slowly, pensively. << Mine agrees. He does
not think it is right, putting yours in danger, >> there he allows a spark
of disapproval - silver impurities - to flash, << but if it is what she
wishes us to do, as his friend and wingleader, mine will allow it. >>

Kassima smiles a little and nods her agreement to Cailin, then braces
herself and gulps down the rest of the drink. "Methinks more liquor may
after all be in order," she murmurs, sliding down from her stool. "And
fresh air. If'n 'twill excuse? Lovely t'see you again, Cai, and nice t'see
you too, Sria."

Ngara walks outside, into the bowl.

Jillah walks in from the bowl.

"I can understand why," Sria says, for liquor - or fresh air. "Clear skies,
Kassima." Genuinely, "Take care."

Jillah skirts around the folks still lingering in the cavern, smiling
slightly and nodding if looks come her way, but not stopping to speak.

Jillah walks down the corridor.

Lysseth> Daikoth senses that Lysseth allows relief to touch the matrix,
shimmering softly blue. << Try keeping mine *out* of danger sometime, >>
she suggests with a flare of real if sardonic humor. << She would rather
that she be in danger than him. You are our Wingmates. Our Wingriders. It
is our duty to protect, as we may. >> This is neither pompous nor
condescending. The tone is calm and matter-of-fact, and the light threaded
through it shines steadily. No flickers. << She will ask Ulfianth's when
she sees him again where the best place for this exchange would be; she is
thinking of our *Living Cavern*, if the man would follow you to Telgar. In
the meanwhile, she asks that yours take care of it. And himself. >> A
moment's pause follows. << She also says that depending on what happens, it
may be possible for you to have it back when the danger is over. It will be
harmless then. >>

Cailin sighs, murmuring, "Shards I wish he'd just had a chance to tell me."
She glances between the two rides she speaks with, but then just nods,
"Sounds a good plan, Kassi. Clear skies."

Kassima nods to both women, with another wan smile of thanks for the
sentiments, and starts for the Bowl. She pauses long enough to give more
nods to those she passes, amiably, and to snap L'vor a salute for his
valiance in the face of bugs before she finally exits.

You walk outside, into the bowl.