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VirtuaPern exists approximately 1,800 turns after the Ninth Pass. We're working under the assumption that all the things in the book did happen and from there the story continues. After the death of Robinton, things took a rather morose twist. The sabotage continued for a multitude of turns, eventually culminating in yet another volcanic eruption that proved to damage Landing far more than any saboteur could have hoped for. With such tragedy hanging over Landing, people gradually drew away from AIVAS and it's knowledge.

The Weyrs, having fulfilled theiir plans to eradicate Thread, fight out the rest of the Pass but with the eventual death of F'lar and the greatly decreasing sizes of dragon clutches, the Weyrs only made a partial attempt to settle in the South at Honshu and Eastern Weyr. Over the next 680 turns the Weyrs diminish as the number of new dragons never exceeded the number of existing dragons, to the point where now in the present only two Weyrs are still open, the rest moving to Fort and Benden to make full sized Weyrs.

Rumors abounded that the clutches at the Weyrs are growing in number and dragonriders once again rise to Search outside the Weyr. It was not long before the rumors proved to be true. Opening a Weyr at Xanadu, the dragonriders started quietly preparing for the return of Thread, hoping to do so without alerting the Holders to their actions - up until now, while not fully supportive of the Weyrs, they did continue to send small tithes of food and supplies in deference to the heroes of Turns past.

In time, the rumors would prove to be true, and the world of Pern was, indeed, once more threatened by its ancient enemy. But the deadly rain that fell upon the lush forests and jungles was merely a shadow of the old threat - the Falls weaker, shorter, and far less thick than their Records suggested they would be. It seemed that while F'lar and AIVAS had failed, in the end, they had at least brought their world out of the shadow cast upon it by the Red Star. Efforts were made to restore the other Weyrs during this time as well, with token forces ultimately setting watches in Telgar, Igen, Honshu, Southern, Eastern, Ista, and High Reaches. During the first 200 Turns of the pass, these forces would grow to be self-sustaining.

Following that brief Pass, however, a thousand Turns of no thread would follow. During that time, agitators among the Holders begin to convince the greater majority of Pern that the very light, short pass of Turns previously was just a fluke - a last gasp from a dying enemy, and when the 800 Turn mark goes by, it is clear they are vindicated in their beliefs. During the remaining 200 Turns prior to the opening of VirtuaPern, the prestige and influence of the dragonriders slowly fades - with less and less of them as time goes on. Even their limited holdings in the South, designed by the forward-seeing F'lar, to decrease their dependence on the Holds have dwindled as daring raids by greedy men have forced them back. Now, they can produce barely enough to feed themselves, bartering the skills only a dragon possesses to bring sustenance and goods into the Weyrs, which are slowly cut back to the original six, plus Eastern and Southern.

Each remaining Weyr, now down to barely a third of the strengths they boasted in the 9th Pass, maintains the pride and dignity of the Dragonriders wherever they can - sticking to tradition as much as possible despite their losses in both influence and purpose. When a balefully burning star appears low on the eastern horizon, the rising of the hair on the back of their necks is the only clue that, perhaps, their purpose is not so far gone as Pern was lead to believe.

Please remember that this is NOT a family or PG/G rated MOO. We deal, as the books did, with adult themes.

Wow...

Looking over these old logs really brings back the memories! I've been trying to dig up old logs so if I find them, I'll be sure to post them!

  --Melissa

Weyr Life Is Complicated...Or Smelly?

(Log from before the Theme Shift, set several turns earlier. A new visitor comes to the Weyr and meets the Bad Boys of Benden.)


Living Cavern
The domed ceiling of Benden Weyr's living cavern is ever filled with a warm and friendly ambiance. Several ventilation shafts open up at the ceiling to allow the passage of fresh air inside, formed from the natural crevices of the ancient volcano, while the walls are brightly decorated with accented designs from colored cements used to fill in cracks in the stone. The living cavern is filled with stout, highly carved tables where riders and Weyrfolk work, talk, and relax. The hearths are always lit and pots of stew and klah are always available, though the klah supply drops dramatically in the mornings. Trays of food are brought in by the drudges every so often, topped with meatrolls (covered so that the firelizards don't get them), bubblies, and other treats.
You see Lost here.
M'sia and Eolin are here.
Obvious exits:
Tunnel Lower Caverns Kitchen Game Room Bowl

Eolin wanders in from the lower caverns, looking freshly bathed with hair still damp from being thoroughly washed. He's evidently been out in the bowl, because he has his net with him, too, as well as some supplies to mend it. Wonder of wonders, he's even got clean clothes on. Yay!

M'sia is relaxing as she nibbles on a meatroll, brow creased in thought.

Lyam has connected.

The boy trudging in form the weyr tunnel could not appear more different, dusty, tired looking,
and sadly smelling of runners is Kyrian. 'Fresh' in from chores in the stables it appears. "Quit ya caterwauling! I'll get you something to eat already!" the teen grumbles to the two firelizards clinging to the shoulders of his filthy and somehow nearly blindingly garish looking tunic. "Gluttons, you're old enough to find your own food." Despite his words, the tone is gruffly affectionate and likely far too indulgent to his little charges. "Oh hey, don't mind me. I'll be in and out quick, soon as these greedy guts are fed." He'll probably put most people off their own food with his stench.

Eolin has himself a seat not too awfully far from the hearth, but as of yet doesn't go for food. He yawns, stretching his arms up over his head and wrinkling his nose as a mouthful of Kyrian wafts by. The blond coughs into his hands, pinching his nose in a most girlish fashion. /Ew!/ "Agh, you smell awful! What /is/ that?" Not the most..erm..polite, is Eo. "Uck!"

M'sia looks up, blinking a little. "What happened here?" She calls out, raising an eyebrow.

Kyrian makes a quick conference with a disgusted looking drudge, quietly pleading for a bowl of scraps to be brought out rather than contaminating the kitchen by walking into himself. The firelizards creel impatiently at the delay, causing him to shush them with a rather embarrassed look on his face. Turning towards the others in the cavern, he flushes red. "Ah, sorry, sorry. It's muck I'm afraid. I'm just a tad clumsy and well..." The stable is not a good place for a bit of slip and slide. "I swear, I'm heading to the baths soon as the 'lizards get fed."

"What the shell's all that noi... Oof, Kyr, you been rollin' in the wrong hay mounds or somethin'?" Lyam waves a hand in front of his face as if to ward off the smell. "Oi, you starvin' those 'lizards of yours?" Never mind that his own are going on as if they hadn't seen a scrap in days. "Now look what's started. Pretty soon every flying stomach in the Weyr's gonna be down here lookin' for a hand out." Pausing to look at Eolin, he smirks. "Nothin' but some runner shite, it'll wash off."

M'sia blinks and crinkles her nose. "That's alright.. just be careful.."

Eolin sticks his tongue out at Kyrian, drapping his net across the table top and leaning over it with a needle and extra twine. The 'lizards are eyed with growing apprehension bordering on annoyance. "Why would anybody want one of those things?" Make it stoooop. Too noisy! Poor blushing Kyrian. Annoyance flickers to uncertainty, and Eo runs a hand through his hair. "Well..I mean, I didn't wanna be /mean/ about it or anything..but..man, that's bad."

Kyrian greets the returning drudge with a heavy of relief. Though careful not to draw too deep a breath himself. It's bad when you smell enough to disgust /yourself/. "I haven't rolled in the hay since..." Since getting drunk with Lyam? Ahem. "I think I would have prefered the 'hay' actually." At least he managed to wash off his hands before coming back inside, grabbing a handful of tidbits and shoving a morsel into each creeling open maw surrounding him and the older bronze that wings in from the dark niches above the cavern. "There food, now shut up already." he grumbles. Giving Eolin a quick glance, he shrugs slightly which springs off more irritated and irritating sounds from the young gold clinging there. "I got my first one foisted on me by my mother. These two were more or less accidental." Enough stray nests to be found in a Weyr after all that such things happen.

OOC: Eolin says, "Roll, roll, roll in ze hay.. ^o^"
OOC: M'sia hehs.
OOC: M'sia sorries... I'm going to have to hit the hay.
OOC: Eolin says, "Not ze hay! ;_; *huggle* Night M'sia. :)"
OOC: Kyrian says, "The hay was at least comfy. ;) Night M'sia."
OOC: M'sia hugs and pats before hitting the hay.
M'sia has disconnected.

Lyam reaches out to the bowl without so much as a word, then motions for the drudge to bring another. "Not enough she tries to foist everything human on you, she's gotta start with the 'lizards, too? Y'know, if you don't feed 'em straight off they take wild, right? Don't suppose you had the heart to do that, though." Never mind that he has his own. "They're a nuisance when they're young, but the can be right handy if you train them right. Just look at my mom's. ...well, that brush chewing brown of hers aside. They carry messages all over the place without inconveniencing a rider or waiting on a runner."

Eolin shakes his head. "But they're still obnoxious." And they break his toys. Sniffle. He starts working on the rips in his fishing net, wrinkling up his nose. "Sounds like more trouble than useful.." Maybe Eolin's just jealous. Who can say? Cobalt blues eye the squawking beasties with distaste before he leans over his project once more. Pick..stitch..grumble. Okay, it was NEVER said that mending nets was interesting. And he doesn't have a flittering stomach to fill. Haa.

Kyrian rolls his eyes as he continues to feed his charges who have thankfully quieted as they become far too busy eating. "I know, I had snacks with me, next thing I knew these two latched onto me and you know how it goes. Most of the time they're not so bad. Just when they're hungry, they're awful. And don't start on my mom. She might hear you and show up or something." He shivers as if in terror before grinning sheepishly at Eolin. "Seen you about lately. Don't think we've met formally though. I'd offer you my hand, but I think now's not a good time. I'm Kyrian, son of Ky'rin and Arial." Poor kid.

Lyam grimaces as his finger is taken for meat by the green perched on his left arm, which leads to a firm scolding by the gold on his right. "Sharditall, it was an accident, keep it down you annoying females," he orders gruffly before nodding at Eolin. "Oh yeah, I'm Lyam." He leaves off his parentage for the moment. "Say, why're you mending nets in here, anyway? Never mind why you'd have a net at all in this place. Plan on catchin' stray weyrbrats?"

Eolin nods. It's the least he can do, after all, and Kyr's gesture is appreciated. "Eolin," he offers, but does not react to the two names. Hasn't met them yet perhaps? As is likely. "And..there are some really nice fish out in the lake. I was trying to catch a few and some of /them/.." He glares at the jabbering 'lizards, "..ripped it up stealing my catch. So I'm trying to fix the damage." A pause. "My father is Gorrim, and my mother's Unya. They're back in Ista." He grins slyly. "But they are useful for other purposes."

Kyrian gives a wistful smile. "All the way in Ista?" He makes it sound like he's fantasizing or something. "Yours let you come all the way up here?" Here's a boy who's perhaps watched over by his mother just a little too much. "Don't suppose they want a fosterling or two right?" He winks as if just jesting, though a strained tone in his voice suggests that it's not entirely a joke. "Sorry 'bout your nets though, some folks here don't train up theirs well at all, even if they're weyrfolk."

Lyam snorts. "Forget fostering, that's just as bad. Look, you better be careful who sees you usin' a net in that lake. Fishin's fine and all, but the weyrlings bathe there, so they try to keep it clean. There's a beach better for that outside the Weyr. I'll show it to ya sometime. Kyr's right about the 'lizards, though. You gotta have time to keep up their training and there seems to be a real lack of that in general here."

Eolin eyes Kyrian curiously. "Yeah, all the way in..Ista.." Uhm? "I don't..know..if they're accepting fosterlings.." Eo glances toward Lyam. "Nobody told me about the lake..I'll keep it in mind." He lays the mending down, folding his arms in front of him. "Just seems like a lot of work..the lizards, I mean." Then back to Kyrian, and he tilts his head, looking puzzled. "Hey..wait. What do you even, even if they're weyrfolk? Holders aren't that bad!"

Kyrian blinks for a moment, pausing in his feeding long enough that the firelizards complain and forces him to resume. "Eh, what? Oh!" He flushes again, expression startled. "No, no. I meant that you'd think weyrfolk being around dragons and oodles of firelizards would know how to train theirs better, but it's not always the case. Don't get me wrong, I mean both of my parents were holdbred before they Impressed." Weyr blood doesn't run that strong in him, at least that's what Kyrian thinks. He gives Lyam a brief look. "Yeah, guess fostering won't work. Still, think we can get far enough from here on our own though?" The last being said in a near conspiratorial whisper.

"They ain't bad, but like Kyrian said it's just that weyrfolk are around dragons all the time. You'd think they'd have better sense, that's all. ...besides, my parents are craftbred." Kyrian earns a broad grin. "Just leave it to me. I got two plans and one of 'em's bound to work, right?" This, of course, is said as low as possible before a yelp signals that he's been nipped at again. This time it's Sierra signaling that she's had enough, thank you.
OOC: Lyam claims his pose. >.<

Eolin studies the two, succeeding only in looking more befuddled. "Uhm..why do you want to leave?" Does he really want to know? For now Eolin's not paying any attention to his net, because he's becoming more interested in the conspiracy. "What're you gonna do?" He offers a tentative smile, one of those can-I-come sort of things.

Kyrian takes a careful look around before ducking his head low, speaking softly over the sounds of firelizard chewing. "Oh there's a bunch of reasons. Mostly... shall we say, parental pressure and imminent doom as in a certain future restrictive lifestyle." Sometimes Kyrian can get a little carried away with his words, his father's influence surely. "I believe the plan is just to get as far away from here as we can manage. And soon."

Lyam pokes a thumb toward Kyrian. "His mom's a real piece of work, between trying to toss him at anything with a pulse and threatening to toss him onto the sands. My mom's as good as decided that's what she wants to do with me and I want no part of it. You see these full grown dragons and their riders and think it's all travel and glory, but I've seen the work that goes into it." His head is given a firm shake. "You can have it. So, in two days I need to return some runners to one of the outlying Holds and Kyr's gonna help. Should take three days to get there, at least, and three days back assuming we can hitch with one of the traders. I'm to send word if that's not possible so we can get a lift, but..." The trailing off of the sentence says that he has other plans.

[BendenWeyr] Lyam just airs all of Kyr's business.
[BendenWeyr] Kyrian: Lyam just lacks subtlety. ;D

Eolin stares at the two, one eyebrow raised high. He chuckles, shaking his head. "It seems like you both are a piece of work..which means his mom's got to be scary." But then there is Kyrian's comment. "How is being a Weyr resident restrictive? Man, you should try living at a Hold." He scoffs and folds his arms behind his head. "Nothing but work, work, work, and you can't do anything because they're watching you all the time. No privacy, no nothing. At least here I see people doing whatever they want...and the riders can fly! How hard can it be to have a dragon? They feed themselves, and all I see is them kinda laying around sunning all the time. Doesn't look like much work to me..and everybody pays attention to you. Man, some of the weyrgirls, it's all they do is follow riders around." /Smirk/. "Not bad."

Kyrian gives a sharp laugh in reaction to Eolin's view of weyrlife. "Privacy? In a Weyr? With every firelizard and dragon sticking their noses into things? Ain't no such thing here, believe me. And doing anything we want?" He looks down at his filthy state and wrinkles his nose. "You think I was mucking the stables for /fun/? I know you probably think we weyrfolk are an odd lot, but trust me, we're not that different." He nods over at Lyam, likely agreeing to his plan on getting away for a few days. Or longer. "As for the work with a dragon, you've obviously never gotten roped into oiling them. Scrubbing floors is easier. At least it's /flat/. A dragon goes on forever and they /complain/." As for the 'attention' riders get, Kyrian just makes a face. "Just trust me, it's not all it's cracked up to be."

Lyam holds up his now free hand to fend off the newcomer's reasoning as well as give himself time to stop laughing. "You got a holdbred view of the Weyr," he informs. "Ever have to wash a dragon? Oil it? Clean out its tail when its stopped up? How about the weyrlings? You think those dragonets feed themselves? They sure as shells can't between to do their business and who do you guess cleans all that up? Not to mention all of the other work that needs doing around here, even I don't get out of it and I'm the Weyrwoman's son."

Eolin pulls a skeptical face. "Well, if it's not that different everywhere else, then why leave?" he asks, gesturing to Kyrian with angular fingers. This one's yours. "You might as well stay. It's not that great /outside/ the Weyr..." Eyes slip to Lyam, brows furrowing together. "Chopping meat's not that hard...I've been doing it since I got here." He's got the blisters to prove it! "Labor's no big thing." Perhaps he doesn't realize that there's that whole...smell factor. Then again, he is a fisherman's son. "It can't be /that/ hard." HA.

Kyrian continues to feed his little trio, even though bellies are becoming notably distended by now. "Everywhere else might not be so different, but once you've Impressed, you can't just go and change your mind about it. Like if say someday you don't want to be a fisherman anymore, you can go do something else if you really wanted to. If you're a rider. That's it." He gives the other two boys a rather uncertain look. "I just don't know what I really want to do yet, or if I really belong here." He's not really much like either of his parents, other than some glaringly obvious traits, like taste in clothing. "And Lyam's probably gonna always hear about how his mom's a weyrwoman and have folks wonder if he's gonna do as well as that. Nevermind if we want to or not."

OOC: Eolin says, "People wonder if Lyam wants to be a weyrwoman? ;)"
OOC: Lyam says, "Nah, Kyr'd make a much better Weyrwoman than me. "
OOC: Kyrian :P

Lyam nods at Kyrian's words. "And if we do get tossed onto the sands and don't impress? Or don't impress what people thought we would? No thanks. I'd rather be sent off to a craft. Anyhow, it don't matter if you agree or not. That's our view of it and we'd rather have none of it, so that's the plan. Well, one of 'em, but if I hear you've gone blabbing and we get stuck here, I'll see to it that you get the worst end of Weyr life possible."
Eolin has the grace to look nicely indignant. "I'm not a blabbermouth!" He slaps a hand on the table, sticking his chin out defiantly. "And anyway, I'd like to see you try!" He must have a short memory as to /who/ he's dealing with. "Bet you couldn't even." He glares down at his net and the work that still hasn't been done. Siigh. "The Weyr's not bad, anyway."

OOC: Kyrian says, "Oooh Lyam being all manly and threatening. ;)"
OOC: Lyam flexes.

As the current badboys of Benden, these guys have a reputation, probably one unknown to Eolin though. "Exactly, with two rider parents, I wouldn't want to be anywhere near here if I get left standing on the Sands afterwards. I'd rather not be out there in the first place. I wouldn't mind going off to a craft either, rather than get stuck with every odd job in the weyr. I'd even consider going to my dad's old Hold or something." Except he heard they were nuttier than the folks here in Benden. Great choices he's got. "And don't underestimate Lyam, for your own sake. Tis obvious ya haven't heard what he did to Aoifen." That bit gets a smirk.
OOC: Kyrian says, "So sayeth Kyrian. :P"

Lyam laughs. "Good you're not or I'd have as good as a target with the way you stick that chin out." Mention of Aoifen earns a bit of a smirk, but those are beans he's apparently not going to spill right now. "Well, good luck on your net. I got things to do before I get caught slackin'. Remember you volunteered to help with them runners, Kyr. I'll tell your mom it'll do ya good to get out amongst holder girls, bein' from a Weyr and all."

OOC: Lyam has to go hit the hay. The stuff's being abused all around tonight. n.~
OOC: Eolin hugs! Thanks for the scene!
OOC: Kyrian snugs!

Eolin blushes and grits his teeth, hands flexing into fists, but it probably wouldn't be a bright idea to go for the weyrwoman's boy. He snorts and turns his attentions to Kyrian, scowling. "Yeah, well, crafting's not all that great, either. You should try being a fisher." As much as he loves the craft, there's a lot of resentment there. Or maybe he's just mad Lyam threatened his manliness. Sniff.

Lyam leaves for Lower Caverns.

Kyrian finishes up feeding his brood and gets up from the table, leaving the empty bowls for the drudges to rescue later. "I'm sure it's not fun and games, don't worry there Eolin. Just keep it all hush hush and I'm sure we can all be friends here." He gives the other boy a careless grin and a wave before turning towards the lower caverns and more importantly, the baths. "I'm going to go soak this stink off, see you around!"

OOC: Eolin says, "Awww bye. *huggle* it was fun ;)"
OOC: Kyrian says, "Unless you wanna follow me into the bath, but that might be taken the wrong way. ;)"
OOC: Eolin grins! Unfortunately, no...I'm very tired. I need rest. ;) *snug* See you around.
OOC: Kyrian snugs! ^^ It was fun!
OOC: Eolin says, "It was! I look forward to more. :)"
Eolin goes home.
*** Thank you for playing - See you next time! ***

Blasts From The Past - Post Firelizard Hatching

(Actual firelizard hatching removed from the log due to sheer amount of spam. Available upon request.)

Hidden Valley
Despite being so close to the cold regions, there is surprising lush greenery and warmth. The warmth, it can be guessed, is due to the geothermal vents that release steam into the air from various fissures scattered around the valley, also providing the concealing cloud cover above. From here, caves entrances can be seen, and rocky outcroppings line the grey walls of mountain, perfect for the winged denizens to perch upon. The shore of the lake is soft volcanic black sand, the waters of the lake chill, but not bone-chillingly so, heated by the fires of heart of Pern.
The calm, pleasant weather of late autumn sees a hive of activity as people and animals prepare for the monsoons of winter that are to come to the southern continent. Buildings are lashed and boarded and much of the fauna starts their annual trek south to more peaceful climes.
Diar is here.
Obvious exits:
Sky Trail Lakeshore

Diar is sitting perched on one of the rocks, eyes closed and seemingly asleep. He's keeping away from that sharding 'lizard hatching in case one of the stomaches decides to chase after *him*.

Fynelox comes dashing up from the lakeshore, and oddly the usually quiet and taciturn boy is...shrieking his head off. Something slimy and green is clinging to his shoulder and shrieking just as loudly. "Ahhhh!!!! Git away! Git away!!"

OOC: Diar ROFL!

Well, okay. Diar /was/ asleep. He's not anymore. Jerking away with a snort, he leans up, blinking towards Fyne in confusion, and calls out, "What in Faranth's name-- Fyne? What's wrong?" His soft tenor voice is concerned, and confused, still slightly sleep-fogged.

Fynelox starts running in circles around the rock his brother is on, still yelling and sobbing at the same time. "Git it off! Git it off!" the youngster screams, his 'assailant' flapping her wings excitedly and hissing. The less flighty Neko is on his other shoulder, chirping almost happily in contrast, wings also spread but just to help with balance in this case as his humanpet wobbles about.

"Shards..." Diar slips to his feet, and grabs for the 'slime', his brow furrowing, "What in Faranth's name...did you impress this beast? It looks as bad as mine...let's hope she doesn't like chewing firestone, too..." Then she'd be worth. Faranth Forbid.

On his next loop around the rock, Fyne latches onto his brother, still crying and shrieking, matched by the green thing from hell with talons stuck into his tunic. Slime hisses at Diar and bobs her head, half dried egg goo still dripping off of her wings as she flaps, splattering. She snaps at fingers reaching for her, then tries to back away, ending up half lodging down the back of the poor boy's tunic. "Ahhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!"

Unable to prevent a laugh, he murmurs, "Take off the tunic!" As he speaks, he reaches around, and pats the boy's back, trying to dislodge the squawking green, his voice half-amused, half-concerned. "Just take off the tunic, she won't have anywhere to hold on, then." Unless she goes for his pants, let's hope she doesn't.

Fynelox tries to peel off his tunic. It needs to be washed pretty badly anyhow. Neko makes a disgusted sound and takes off to perch on a rock. Slime on the other hand is tangled and heaved along with the garment as the boy manages to get it off and tosses it aside. Scratches on his shoulder is all he's gotten, but the tear streaked face and the trembling shoulders says far more. "She's scary and she won't leave me alone! I wasn't feeding her! I was just eating stuff at the party and she dove at me and and and...*sob*"

"I'm afraid she's decided to go and Impress you." It's pretty obvious, after all. Shaking his head, Diar digs into a pocket, and pulls out a handkerchief. Carefully, he begins to clean the young boy's scratches, then wipes at his tears, "Just relax, Fyne, it'll be all right. Hopefully we can get your Neko to keep her in line. If not, I'll ask Molten to. /He/ will, if he has to burn her to do it..."

Fynelox pauses in his crying (thank goodness) at the mention of impressing. Is that what it was? With Neko it was a much calmer moment and not to mention he wasn't as scary as Slime is. That's at least the name that the youngster is starting to think of her as she manages to get her head out of his tunic, trailing the last of the goo over the cloth as she peers up at the boys. *Hiss* "Ahhhh!!" Sadly, the boy runs around to the otherside of his older brother and clings like a limpet. "AHHHH!!!"

Again, Diar can't help but laugh, handing the handkerchief over to Fyne, behind him. Shaking his head, he murmurs, "Just relax." He heads towards the "Slime", and grabs Fyne's tunic, tossing it behind him. Kneeling to look at the green, he says, "And what're you going to do, little one?"

Bad idea.

That's probably Slime's cue to leap up and bite Diar on the nose. *Hiss!*

Diar sends Molten winging off his shoulder.

As the green leaps at Diar, Molten *hisses* and glares at the green. It's the battle of the stares, even as Diar staggers back, just avoiding losing half his nose, "Ack!"

More shrieks from Fyne, "She's scary!" the boy yells, half hiding behind the hanky. Of course that's when the green backs off from Diar and goes fluttering back at /her/ humanpet, looking vicious and monsterous for all her tiny size, which sets off the boy running again, the green taking to air and following. *GLOMP* He ends up attached to his brother's leg, green firelizard diving in to land in his hair. You can see Neko laughing his little bronze ass off can't you?

OOC: Diar certainly is laughing *his* arse off.

"And that she is." With this Fyne leans to Diar, and Diar laughs, "Ack..." He looks to Molten, and asks, "Can you /please/ get rid of her?" Molten hisses, and flies towards the girl, and with a loud squawk, lets out some flame. Unfortunately, the green is in Fyne's hair, and /Diar/ acks and pulls Fyne away, though perhaps it scared the green. Diar says to the bronze, "NOT /THAT/ WAY!" Damn pyromaniac 'lizard.

Fynelox yips with fright, Slime shrieking back at the bronze, then dives around the boy's head and wraps herself about his neck. From under his chin, she hisses at Molten, tail tightening it's hold. "*gurgle*" That's when Neko decides that enough is enough. After all, if Slime kills Fyne, who's going to feed him? The bronze zips in to land carefully on the boy's shoulder, making persuasive chittering sounds to the green who loosen's her hold. Fyne gasps, going from slightly blue to back to normal. His hand comes up and pulls the green off his neck by the tail and he dangles her out in front of him. "You nearly choked me!" Her tail wraps about his wrist, her claws latching to his arm and sets him off screaming again as he tries to shake her off. "AHHHHHHH!!!" Back to square one.

"Damn Lizard!" Diar reaches out to divest Fyne of the 'lizard, but Neko beats him toit. Frowning as the 'lizard latches onto his arm, Diar reaches out, again trying to grab it. Of course, Molten takes a hand, and starts chasing them, trying to ... well ... char the green. Poor Green. Not. More likely, poor Fyne.

Fynelock starts running again, with another shriek as Molten comes in for another flaming pass. "We're not thread! Stop flaming!" the boy yelps, ducking as he takes off trying to dodge the nutty bronze. Neko's about ready to give up the pair as a loss, particularly as Fyne trips and goes flailing to the ground. Incidently he lands ontop of Slime. *squish* The sudden silence from the once shrieking green brings panic to the boy's face as he rolls back to his feet and scoops the dazed firelizard up into his arms. "Ack! Did I kill her?"

Trying to stop Molten, Diar calls out, "Stop! Stop, I say!" The bronze lets out one last thread of flame, then slips back to land on Diar's shoulder, /glaring/. It's now that Fyne falls, landing on the green, and Diar slips towards him, kneeling, "I don't know, get up and see?"

Fynelox prods the quiescent green carefully as if he expects her to suddenly explode in his face. Which she does. With a fury of flapping wings and creeling like a banshee, the dazed green awakens and latches back onto the one thing she has bonded to. So the boy ends up with a psychotic firelizard once again wrapped around his head. "AAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!!!" It's going to be an interesting life with this one around. "Diar!!! How do I stop her????" Maybe if they like stuff her full, which the boy didn't get a chance to since he took off running, then she'd be too sleepy to be such a terror. ;)

Perhaps. Diar will actually think of this. After a bit. But for the moment, he reaches out and tugs. Tugs again. Which will probably piss off the psychotic green. Finally though, he manages to think of this, and digs in his pack, coming out with a small wrapped bundle, "Feed her this." He quickly gives it to Fyne in case she attacks *HIM*.

Fynelox takes the bundle from his brother, frantically unwrapping it to find what he hopes to be the usual firelizard scraps. "Feed her? I want to get rid of her!" Too late Fyne, too late. He figures that if at least her mouth is stuffed with food, then she can't be shrieking in his ear. Still, when he shoves the food in her face, she's taking bites without nipping him. She's not../mean/. Slime's just a nutty little monster. He was right though, it quiets her down. "Whew." Sure enough, once all the scraps are gone, she yawns and goes limp around his shoulders. A soft almost..purring sound emulates from the firelizard and Fyne peers at his shoulder warily. "I didn't have this much trouble with Neko!" he protests, the bronze in question agreeing as he flys in and perches on the boy's other shoulder. "Ow! Watch the nails, I don't have my shirt on." This is probably the most Fyne has ever spoken in one afternoon.

Probably. Diar shakes his head, and says, chuckling, "I think you're in for a surprise. Just wait till Master Lasarah sees you with /that/ creature." Voice amused, he stretches, and murmurs, "We'll have to clean your shirt and jacket, so you can go between when we return to the Hall."

Can you imagine Lasarah trying to deal with a teary eyed Fynelox who comes running up to her with the psychotic green? It's just as well the boy found his brother first. Leaning against his sibling, the boy nods, going back to being quiet again. "It's all messy." And not just from firelizard goo. He's just not a very neat eater, which is how Slime zeroed in on him in the first place. ;)

Diar chuckles softly, and murmurs, "That we will..." Shaking his head, he gestures with a hand, "Let's go." He turns to follow, and help Fyne wash his clothing.

(End)

Theme Shift!

It's been 50 turns since Moreta's fateful ride and the plague that depleted the populations of Hall, Hold, and Weyr. Outbreaks of plague continued up until recent times, putting yet more stress on an already limping world. The long journey toward rebuilding has been going on for some time, but it will take generations to rebuild areas to what they once were.
Each Weyr has been encouraged to take as many from their own lower caverns as possible for the hatching sands in order to relieve the burden of Hold and Hall, but those numbers hardly seem enough with the large clutches being produced. In order to solve this problem, Fort Weyr has begun to place girls on the sands to fill out the ranks on fighting dragons, drawing ill-favor from those who think women should stay in their place and do their part to produce future generations.
OOC NOTE:VP takes place 50 turns after the events in Moreta. Women are being increasingly kept out of anything aside from marriage in most of the world, but this doesn't mean they cannot be crafters/riders. It's also important to remember that certain crafts do not exist within the theme: Dolphincraft is not available.

Please remember that this is NOT a family or PG/G rated MOO. We deal, as the books did, with adult themes.

Downtime!

Virtuapern is experiencing some downtime. We anticipate it returning on Aug 31st and apologize for any inconvenience.

Benden Weyr Hatching- Gold Mizuth by Bronze Sameth

Tomi has snuck in, or at least tried to as much as a newly graduated queenrider can sneak. It helps that she doesn't look or act much like a goldrider, she even refuses to wear a knot. And with that streak of dirt across one cheek, she might as well be yet another weyrbrat shirking her duties in hopes of catching a glimpse of the hatching eggs. "Good timing as always," she comments to her lifemate with a bemused shake of her head. "How do you always seem to know when things are happening?"

F'ox walks in.

N'ico isn't far behind Tomi, though the timing is purely coincidental. With a cautious eye of Campeoth, the bronzerider is quick to catch up with his classmate and insistently gestures toward a few empty seats nearby. "Seems like we're all here to watch, aren't we Tomi."

From the Hatching Sands, The eggs have been in various states of rocking for some time, but show no signs of hatching just yet. Lyllya, already rushing to her dragon's side, looks around. "Well, it had to happen sometime, right? At least you'll be out of the cavern after this."

From the Hatching Sands, T'on rambles onto the hot sands of the Hatching grounds.

From the Hatching Sands, Solaris walks onto the hot sands of the Hatching grounds.

From the Hatching Sands, Moriya walks onto the hot sands of the Hatching grounds.

From the Hatching Sands, Ancair wanders onto the hot sands of the Hatching grounds.

From the Hatching Sands, Kyrian walks onto the hot sands of the Hatching grounds.

M'dan mutters to himself, glancing at a number or copper rings tied to a leather thong on his belt. His attention is directed suddenly to the sands as he hears Lyllya's voice, though faintly. He watches as the candidates enter.

From the Hatching Sands, Piea walks onto the hot sands of the Hatching grounds.

Kaisha heads up to the viewing ledges.

"N'ic," the weyrwoman startles slightly before shooting her clutchmate a rueful grin. "Guess Campeoth has a feeling for these sort of things, too." Glancing towards the gestured seats, the teenager nods and settles quickly before adding nostalgicly, "This brings back memories, doesn't it? And yet, it's so odd to be just a spectator. I can-" whatever the blonde was going to say is suddenly interrupted as the candidates make their way out onto the Sands. "They're such a diverse bunch, aren't they? And look... is that Ancair, from our Weyr?!" Chuckling to herself, the goldrider unapologetically smirks. "Serves him right. He's nothing but a troublemaker."

From the Hatching Sands, Hroswitha walks onto the hot sands of the Hatching grounds.

From the Hatching Sands, Angharad walks onto the hot sands of the Hatching grounds.

From the Hatching Sands, Zasey walks onto the hot sands of the Hatching grounds.

From the Hatching Sands, Solaris manages to restrain the urge to bolt across the stands to find the perfect spot and instead, the girl walks alongside several candidates as the emerge onto the hatching sands. As she approaches Mizuth and Lyllya, she affords both a graceful bow and as the eggs continue to shake, she breaks from the group and stands at the outer edge of the eggs.

"He says that it is our duty to observe each and every hatching,

From the Hatching Sands, The eggs begin to rock in earnest, their dam settling to one side as she watches them and the candidates. "Well, but you can't expect much. They're candidates, dear, they get to wear something other than white once this is over," Lyllya points out. Leave it to her dragon to be all for a change in candidate appearance.

"He says that it is our duty to observe each and every hatching.

From the Hatching Sands, Moriya walks on the Sands, dutifully following the Candidate in front of her. Remembering to bow to Mizuth, and making a graceful leg to the queen, she quickly fans out in the semi-circle, heading for the far wall, ending up next to Solaris at the outer edge of the eggs. The heat from the sands has already caused some perspiration to bead up on her forehead.

"He says it is our duty to observe each and every hatching," N'ico says with a brief glance toward his bronze, who thrums alongside the Weyr's dragons. "Otherwise we'd be at home doing drills."

From the Hatching Sands, More Than Meets The Eye Egg rocks slowly, one way and then another. An epic battle drawing nigh as expectations rise. But then it settles and it's as if it never moved at all.

From the Hatching Sands, Kyrian follows the progression of Candidates out onto the Sands, hovering towards the tail end as far as he can manage without being completely left behind. Showing only a grimace at the heat under the soles of his sandals, he strolls in slowly but does not skimp on paying homage to the towering forms of the watching dragons. A bow to Mizuth in particular and then he's off to hide in the back of the throng of white clad bodies.

From the Hatching Sands, Piea steps out onto the Sands, smoothing her hands over her somewhat rumpled robe, tugging a fallen sleeve back up onto her shoulder. Looking around her nervously, she bobs in a tense bow to both clutchdam and sire, then to each of their riders, before finding her spot near to the eggs. She runs a hand through her messy hair, which is wet enough to suggest she's come straight from the baths, and waits, anxiously biting on her lip.

From the Hatching Sands, T'on stumps over to Lyllya, grimmacing slightly at the heat eminating from below. "Figures. Mizuth must talk to Kyrith too much for her eggs to be ready to hatch right as Kyrith and I were returning from between." He didn't even have time to change out of his riding leathers. So he's a little warm right now.

From the Hatching Sands, Ancair follows the rest like a herd of herdbeasts. All he has to say now is 'mooooo' to make it all fit in. But follow he does, giving a bit of a flutter to his robe to get some air between skin and cloth. Suppose there is something good in wearing a robe. By rote, he gives a bow or somesuch to the gold, and then decides maybe he should go stand in the back. Best escape route direction. At a bump from another candidate, he turns to look at Kyrian, and smirks faintly. "Coward," he whispers harshly.

From the Hatching Sands, Birthday Cake Egg's top begins to crack, then simply slides off. There's a momentary pause, but then a bronzed head peeks through and the rest of the shell flakes away. It doesn't take much time for the stumbling dragonet to make his way toward a young man from Benden Hold. Unfortunately, he knocks the lad over and nearly sits on his lap. "Danceth! C'mon, get offa me!" And so it is that the first Impression is made.

From the Hatching Sands, Melissa picks up Birthday Cake Egg.

Torikan sits, watching the hatching as his duty to the Weyr as one of it's beholden. He sits next to the Lord Holder of Lemos, and the two chat softly, pointing out both eggs and candidates to each other.

From the Hatching Sands, Baby Blanket Egg rocks, but wastes no time in preliminaries.

From the Hatching Sands, Baby Blanket Egg rocks ever so slightly, echoing its previous movements as if it were trying to roll out of the sandy impression that is its bed. Minute cracks form along the shell, giving it a fuzzy appearance that then begins to fall away. The progress is slow at first, then becomes a mighty *CRACK* that splits the shell in half, leaving behind a dragonet that seems to have been caught in the midst of his evening nap.

From the Hatching Sands, Pirate of the Caribbean Blue Dragonet

From the Hatching Sands, Deepest cobalt coats the diminutive 'knobs and blunted wedge-shape of his head, the color interrupted only by a lining of charcoal that surrounds each slightly slanted eye. Spirals of near black trail along his neck, curling about each sloped 'ridge like mystical writing from some far off time, there and then gone again before they can be deciphered. Midnight unfolds along his flanks, where the scribe's hand is seen once again fading in and out of shadow until it is wiped away along the quiet gloaming of his under-belly. His wings appear just large enough to lift his form to the air, their veined expanse shading into sunrise aqua. His limbs are a stocky affair, each paw tipped in scimitar talons that find echo in the slightly curved tip of his ink stained tail.

Torikan adds, since the one egg was impatient and hatched before he finished, his voice raises a little bit as he exclaims to the Lemosian Lord: "Shells! A bronze! Tis a good omen for the Weyr!"

"Each and every one," Tomi raises a brow and then reaches over to offer the bronzerider a sympathetic pat. "Campeoth certainly takes his duties seriously. And with Zinia at Igen now, that's just one more Weyr you'll be visiting in the near future. After all, if my calculations are correct, Aevaleth should be due to rise soon." As should be another certain gold, but this little weyrwoman's deep in denial. "Oh look, bronze first. And a quick Impression too. That's got to bode well. And hmm... that blue. There's something a little effeminate about him, isn't there?"

From the Hatching Sands, Solaris's expression brightens at the first impression, nudging a smaller candidate in the ribs to note, "You know what they say about bronze impressions being first." The rest of her chatter comes upon deaf ears as the other candidate is focused on the newly arrived blue and quickly, Solaris is as well. "He is lovely, isn't he," she mentions, shifting her weight to she is leaning more toward Moriya with the comment.

From the Hatching Sands, Moriya claps her hands in delight as her fellow Benden Holder Impresses to the bronze occupant of the Birthday Cake Egg. "Good for you!" she calls, then focuses on the other eggs. Suddenly, a mighty crack heralds a gorgeous blue dragon. "He's just so, beautiful," she says in awed wonder. "I didn't know they were so beautiful when they Hatch." She aims this last remark towards Solaris, smiling in delight.

From the Hatching Sands, Lyllya grins at T'on. "Well, girls do tend to conspire. I'm sure that she waited until the last possible minute to let Kyrith know. How else to drag you in here in leathers?" She's amused by this, but then a bronze hatches, followed by blue. "Well, there you are. Looks like another interesting group of Weyrlings from the start."

From the Hatching Sands, Kyrian knocks shoulders with Ancair and scowls at the other boy. "Oh really? What, you too busy oggling your impending doom to watch where you're walking?" he growls lowly, barely audible in the large cavern. The back of the crowd should have been far less occupied by this and so he casually reaches out and shoves the other boy further away from himself. His attention is then drawn to the first crack of the shells, making him start a little nervously, letting out a breath as the dragonet finds his victim quickly. "One down."

From the Hatching Sands, Pirate of the Caribbean Blue Dragonet staggers forward like a drunkard, knocking into one candidate only to pin-ball into another. A croon issues forth that seems somewhat slurred as he makes for the ladies. Ah, perfume. Or sweat. One way or the other, these ones are more pleasing to the eye.

The first impression brings a peculiar look to N'ico's otherwise stern features and like many riders, he glances toward his lifemate on the ledge nearby. Tomi's response lulls him back and with a shake of his shoulders, he quietly states, "Yes, Campeoth and I have already talked about that. Hopefully we can just keep to Fort." Although the bronze has other plans.

From the Hatching Sands, T'on looks at the blue. Then he looks back at Lyllya. "Mizuth is never allowed to clutch again." He says, before rubbing his face with one hand, starting to strip his jacket off with the other. "I'm going to go crazy. Maybe I should go down south with Sabria."

From the Hatching Sands, Piea squirms a bit at the hot sand squishing up through her toes. She seems totally absorbed in the fact that she is in the middle of this gigantic cavern, with all these people and eggs. Overwhelming situations call for drastic measures, so she stands where she is and just looks at everyone else.

From the Hatching Sands, Lyllya laughs out loud, forgetting the heat of the sands momentarily. "I'm sure that will put a stop to this mess altogether," she agrees, leaning against her lifemate who is watching the happenings with interest. "Go? Why, T'on, do you mean to imply that you're anything but?"

From the Hatching Sands, Ancair stutters a step to the side, only managing to catch himself on yet another candidate. Naturally, that rather plump gives Ancair quite the look, possibly something of a growl and shoves him right on back towards Kyrian. Mmmmmm, candidate pinballs. Temper, anyone? "The only thing I've oggled lately is that Telgar girl's ankles. Get off, will you? Stop crowding me, Kyrian." Push.

From the Hatching Sands, Pirate of the Caribbean Blue Dragonet staggers just a bit more, landing his nose right into the hem, then under, of Ancair's robe. Staggering back, he gives the most offended look possible for a dragonet before moving on. It's then that he spots it, a bastion of calm in the sea of heat and moving candidates. Or perhaps that's only his hazed perception. At any rate, he's definitely found that special person. Piea.

From the Hatching Sands, "I always thought they'd be...." Solaris throws her hands into the air, unable to come up with the right words, "But still, they are gorgeous, aren't they?" She looks to Moriya, quickly distracted by the blue that is headed toward Piea and as the impression occurs, a small squeal escapes the candidate: "Piea!"

From the Hatching Sands, Bronzed Shoes Egg begins to stir, the sound of cracks forming along its surface echoing through the hatching chamber like far off thunder. It shifts, tilting to the side at first, then begins to fall apart until that which was held captive within is freed.

From the Hatching Sands, African Goddess of Storms Gold Dragonet

From the Hatching Sands, African moonlight dances to a silvered tribal beat along a slender, sylph-like spine, each supple curve hauntingly highlighted with the faint, hazy glow of white gold. Darkness engulfs sensitive paws, midnight tipping each lethal talon, before climbing higher up delicate limbs lightening until it blurs into a burnished, near bronze. Near-mocha accentuates the fey upward slant of her eyes and the exotic curve of her teacup muzzle. Sea-soaked golden sand mottles her prideful chest and vulnerable underbelly, varying little as it dapples over the vast expanse of fragile sails.

From the Hatching Sands, Moriya can't help but grin as the little blue swaggers around the Sands, bumping into the candidates. "Y'know, I get the feeling he's doing that on /purpose/," she remarks to Solaris, wiping absently at the beaded sweat on her brow. "Don't you?" She shifts slightly, the first indication that her feet are beginning to get overheated on the hot Sands, then sucks in her breath as the blue Impresses. "PIEA!"

Arching her brow some more, Tomi casts a speculative glance towards her clutchmate. "You've talked about these things, have you?" One of their previous conversations echoes hauntingly inside her head as she asks, "Just this side of graduation and you're already plotting world conquest, huh?" Smirking, she turns back to the eggs on the Sands and adds under her breath, "Still, if you're planning on waiting for Fort's next flight, you could find yourself waiting a very, very, very long time." Or so she hopes. Haseth's not yet two. She's got at least four months of freedom before her.

From the Hatching Sands, Piea stands stock still, with an expression of complete shock on her face. "What did you thay?" She looks around then down, her blue eyes meeting those of the blue dragonet, before she bursts into tears of happiness and crouches down to throw her arms around her new lifemate's neck. "Oh. Oh I oh, Korsanth!" Through happy sniffles and tear-wiping, she manages to speak the dragon's name once more, so that the rest of the people gathered around can hear. "My lifemate's name is Korsanth!"

From the Hatching Sands, Kyrian hisses quietly, an eye flicking towards the weyrleaders before shoving Ancair back and nearly into the passing blue. "You can have all the room you want up there! Go on closer, no one says you gotta hover back here, git off!" As the dragonet then acquaints himself with Piea, he lets out a relieved breath and manages a cheer for the girl's 'good' fortune.

From the Hatching Sands, Pretty My Little Pony Egg moves ever so slightly, making the ponies dance. After all, what are little ponies if not playful.

From the Hatching Sands, Moriya can scarcely tear her eyes away from Piea's Impression, but she does at last, in time to see the little gold Hatch. "Solaris, look at that lovely gold!" she says, her eyes widening. "I'd say she'll be one who knows what she wants, don't you think?" One of her favourite eggs moves, and she keeps watch on it out of the corner of her eye while she watches to see which way the gold is going to go.

From the Hatching Sands, African Goddess of Storms Gold Dragonet comes forth from her egg nearly standing, her wings outstretched to give them the best opportunity to be seen and to dry. The candidates are looked over with near disdain, but she moves forward to inspect them all. This one? No. That one? Maybe. Up her nose goes as she approaches near where Kyrian stands, shoving her head under the hem of his robe and whuffling. A boy! Stepping back with an offended whuff, she tips her head for all the world as if she were putting her nose in the air and then stumbles off.

From the Hatching Sands, Solaris, though she tries not to, gasps as the gold emerges. Stubbornly, she remains in place, shifting only slightly onto her toes as the heat begins to penetrate through her thick-soled sandals. Her eyes dance toward the remaining shards of her favored egg, though it doesn't take long for her attention to go toward Piea as she proudly announces her dragon's name. "Korsanth, Piea!!!" Hands clasp together before her chest and her eyes warily drift to Moriya. "She is, isn't she, I never imagined them to look like tht."

From the Hatching Sands, Ancair is stumbling once more as he is shoved. He really needs a few more turns on him to be able to hold his own against the older candidate. He nearly falls to a knee, but instead grabs right onto Kyrian's wrist to try to hold himself up. "I'm not going up there! You go up there." So lame. He flickers a glance to the recent impressions, and smirks. And when that gold goes Kyrian sniffing, the boy bursts into laughter. "Not much up there, huh?"

From the Hatching Sands, Back Yard Egg bursts into life, then simply bursts. A plump brown nearly rolls out of the shell and then into a boy from Beastcraft. "Rolth? Get up, you're gonna... wait. His name is Rolth!" B'hal embraces his lifemate, egg goo and all, forgetting the heat under his sandals.

From the Hatching Sands, There is a time when the flights of fancy that young girls possess must fade away into the dust of time, toys of childhood placed on shelves, taken out again with fondness after years pass. But then again, sometimes little sisters break said toys. In this case, the Pretty My Little Pony Egg seems to take a deep, shuttering breath, then cracks and crumples to the ground, revealing....

From the Hatching Sands, Elven Princess Green Dragonet

From the Hatching Sands, Regal curves and elfish grace form sleek lines along verdant hide, creating an image of speed and immortal power. Evergreen fades to smoky quartz at the tip of each neckridge, their gently sloping form drooping ever so slightly as if expressing some hidden sorrow. Her features lose none of their draconic grace for all that they are reduced into pixie-like appearance--Her torso is long, giving her a somewhat waifish appearance that takes nothing away from her fairy tale splendor. Her wings are voluminous, held with ethereal beauty, wan sails dappled with gold like sunlight through leaves that create shifting patterns of dancing light between dark green spars. Limbs that speak of hidden strength have been coated in brilliant emerald, each chalcedony tipped talon echoed by the be-jeweled tip of her ever so slender tail.

From the Hatching Sands, Melissa picks up Back Yard Egg.

"Of course we've talked about these things, don't you and Haseth discuss things..." N'ico stops mid-sentence and eyes Tomi, "Nevermind, sometimes I forget that not everyone is as.... /obsessed/ as Campeoth is." Obsessed is putting it nicely, really. Bronzerider looks to the sands as the impressions continue, nodding approval before looking to Tomi. "Thing is... are you ready for this?" He gestures toward the sands below and smirks.

From the Hatching Sands, Kyrian turns from his little disagreement with the other candidate just in time to get a crotch full of gold dragonet. "Hey! No looking! Shells! Not for you! Git!" The sudden embarrassed flush that flashes over his face counters the rough stammering words, but it turns to the red of anger at his neighbor's laughter. "I have nothing to hide! (anymore) Maybe you're the one who's got something to prove." With that, he reaches over and flicks up the hem of Ancair's robe in retaliation.

From the Hatching Sands, Fireflies in the Evening Egg begins to rock, fissures forming into cracks along its dark surface. Bits of shell begin to flake away, but nothing is yet revealed.

From the Hatching Sands, Moriya stops in her tracks, the gold dragon completely forgotten as a little green emerges from the pretty egg. "Oh!" is all that comes out of her mouth, for she stands stock still, the heat from the Sands seeping unchecked into the sole of her sandal.

From the Hatching Sands, Solaris's eyes widen in horror. "Did she just? She did not?" She nudges Moriya insistently, pointing toward Kyrian as the gold brushes out from beneath his robe. "I didn't know they did that either..." It would seem that today is full of new discoveries and though she drops both hands to her sides, a look of pure disbelief still remains on the girl's face.

From the Hatching Sands, Ancair is rather busily laughing at Kyrian's distress and embarrassment, because... well, it isn't him! He sniggers, and abruptly the world goes white before his eyes, and things get drafty down below. While that is delightfully comfortable, but also leaving him frontal and back flashing the entire cavern. The boy literally squeaks before pushing his robe back down. Bright red in the fact, he immediately turns to try to shove Kyrian as hard as he can. "Fardling dimglow!"

From the Hatching Sands, African Goddess of Storms Gold Dragonet moves on with as much dignity as she can muster. Each girl is looked at and then passed by, though one is raked by an inexperienced talon as the young gold shoves the girl aside. Healers move to the fore to take the unfortunate away, but still the dragonet moves on. This one? No. That one? Shiny, but no.

From the Hatching Sands, T'on looks over the sands, grinning as Kyrian is...put on display. But then Ancair's antics come to his attention, and the Weyrlingmaster starts to growl. "If they Impress I'm going to have no end of peace." He says, glancing first at Lyllya. "And Arial's son or not, if those two don't knock it off, I'm throwing them both off the sands."

From the Hatching Sands, Lyllya turns her gaze toward the bickering candidates, her expression becoming stern. "Give them until they start to put themselves or others in danger. If that happens, toss them into the candidate barracks and they'll be on drudge duty." The last words are said loudly. "For life." Beam.

"Of course Haseth and I discuss things," Tomi refutes quickly, perhaps a tad too quickly to be absolute truth. "It's just... well-" Whatever she was going to say is interrupted by the gold dragonet hatching and her subsequent antics. "Oi, Benden's going to have their hands full with that one," she predicts before turning her attention back to the rider beside her. "Ready for... " Blink. Blink. Flush. "Of course we're ready," she replies hotly, though a telltale flush colors her pale cheeks. "After all, Haseth's gold. This is what she's born to do." Or so she tells herself time and time again. Doesn't mean that she's not in denial about exactly /when/ Haseth will add her progeny to Fort. "Look at those two," she quickly changes the subject, pointing towards the shoving candidates. "D'you think that's just nerves or-" Cut short, Tomi can just flush as she ends up seeing far much more of Ancair than she bargained for.

From the Hatching Sands, "They should really just get out of her way," Solaris imperiously states, "Then they wouldn't get hurt like that." Though clearly inexperienced with hatching etiquette, she stares toward both Kyrian and Ancair, unable to cover the chuckle that spills from her lips though she stops the minute T'on speaks, accentuated by Lyllya's statement. With an almost guilty look, her gaze returns to the hatchlings upon the sands, nervously tugging at the hem of her robe from time to time.

From the Hatching Sands, Elven Princess Green Dragonet steps away from the shards of her former home, turning her graceful neck for a moment and sniffing sadly at the wreckage. It had been such a pretty place to live, but now it is no more. And so she turns back to the array of white before her. She must choose, she knows, but before she gives her heart and her pledge for life, she would like to make sure she can trust the one who she'd give up immortality for.

From the Hatching Sands, African Goddess of Storms Gold Dragonet pauses as her sentiments are echoed in a voice, though she can't really understand the words just yet. A demanding creel as well as a tug that adds to the hands already upon the hem of the white robe is sent upward. Hello? Yes. She's down here. Within seconds, another paw reaches up as if to steal Solaris for her own, which is just what she intends.

From the Hatching Sands, Fireflies in the evening egg begins to shake to a rhythm of its own before toppling over onto its side. A moment of stillness precedes a loud crack that splits the egg in half. It's then that the shell falls away to reveal a dragonet that looks for all the world as if the act of hatching has interrupted a nap.

From the Hatching Sands, Spirit of the Fox Green Dragonet

From the Hatching Sands, Blood red springs betwixt pert 'knobs before curling softly along the base of her delicate skull and sweeping downward to tease the base of her elegantly curved neck. Each expressive eye is limned with this vibrant color, the unique shadow resting coquettishly beneath dainty eyeridges. Fairy-dusted emerald supplies the shimmering backdrop of the masterpiece that is this green, from the delicate lines of her elongated neck to the length of her slender torso and tail, both coated in moon-touched verdancy that only deepens as it trails down her limbs and becomes near-black upon each curved talon. Wings and 'sails take on the appearance of dew drenched spinner's webs, catching and reflecting the slightest light in a rainbow of hues only to be tempered by the presence of each 'spar.

From the Hatching Sands, Moriya glances away from where the green dragonet just Hatched, glancing towards Kyrian and Ancair for a moment - not quickly enough, mind, to view the offending, er, well, anyway, and she just shakes her head. "Does this happen at every Hatching?" she wonders softly, subtly pulling her own robe in so that a crucial fold is tucked between her knees. As the queen arrives, and picks Solaris, there is no doubt and she claps her hands for her friend. "Bravo, Solaris!" Turning back to the sands, she gasps as another of her favourite eggs splits in half to reveal another lovely green dragonet. "Oh!" she says, again transfixed.

From the Hatching Sands, The sands, candidates, and hatchlings all seem to disappear as the small gold approaches Solaris and with an astonished gaze, the girl drop to her knees to cradle the gold's small wedged head. "Yes, I know you, Jahzarath. I know you very well." A moment of recognition hits her as she blinks to those around her and repeats the name in amazement, "Jahzarath!"

From the Hatching Sands, Kyrian only has a moment to stare and snicker himself. "In a hurry were ya, Ancair? Forgot to put something on under the robe? Ha-hey!" He staggers and almost falls over his own feet. "Git over yerself wherry legs!" he snorts, rushing back to elbow the other boy in the side. "You're going to get us thrown out." Oh wait, wasn't that the plan in the first place? Maybe he should have just sucker punched Ancair instead. However he'd like to avoid that whole drudging for life bit. "Just stay away from me. Go watch the gold or something. Supposed to be a momentous time or something." But really, it's hard to concentrate on all the dragonets wandering by when you get shoved around a lot. "Oops, too late. Congratulations Solaris!"

From the Hatching Sands, Ancair immediately puts on his best innocent look. All wide eyes, deliberate deepening of his single dimple, and hands at his sides. Look, the very picture of a perfect candidate. Or something. He turns those big eyes upon T'on, and then Lyllya. But in the next breath he is rolling his eyes at Kyrian, and hopefully under the cover of the other candidates, jabs a finger out to poke Kyrian in the side. You know, just to do it. "Yeah, congrats, he adds rather slowly afterwards after prompting. If you can call getting saddled with a dragon good.

From the Hatching Sands, More Than Meets The Eye Egg still slumbers in the dark emptiness of space, biding its time until the critical moment appears.

From the Hatching Sands, Spirit of the Fox Green Dragonet is suddenly freed, too bad she's not more graceful. Then again, she just woke up, give her a few minutes to get it together. Those minutes, unfortunately, are spent curled up in the remains of her shell as if he weren't yet ready to get out of bed. That near nap is interrupted by a wake up call from her dam and, with sluggish movements, the green begins to search out the ranks of candidates.

From the Hatching Sands, Elven Princess Green Dragonet moves with uncommon grace towards the sea of white, trying to, for the moment, figure out where the faces begin and the cloth parts end. But she first stops at a young man, hiding his face in his hands, terrified that something Awful is about to happen to him. She pokes at him with her tiny, delicate snout, but then moves on, seeking her partner for life.

From the Hatching Sands, Moriya can't decide which of the two green dragonets to follow, so she swivels her head from one to the other, obviously intrigued by the movements of the little ones. No longer rooted to the Sands, she shifts from foot to foot, back and forth, swaying almost hypnotically as she seeks to lessen the burning in her feet. "C'mon, little greens, find your lifemates," she chants under her breath, eager to see who is chosen this time.

From the Hatching Sands, Kyrian has settled down as well, at least keeping to the occasional poke and sandal kick whenever people's attentions are drawn to the antics of the young dragons instead of the two idiot boys in the back. At the very worst, they'll just be rather bruised by then of the evening. "Huh, get a load of that green, still tucked in like she doesn't even know to get going." He shakes his head and has to look bemused at the terror from another boy candidate. He's got the right idea.

From the Hatching Sands, Spirit of the Fox Green Dragonet stops long enough to stretch, but just when it looks like her head might follow the actions of some of her clutch sibs and go under a hem, she stops to yawn. Watch out for those delicates. The movements from the back catch her eye and she toddles back to see what all of the fuss is about. There's trouble, and perhaps she's drawn to it, but then that sand kicking seems interesting. It is, therefore, with a few kicks of her back legs to send more sand onto other candidates that she heads off to the fussing boys.

From the Hatching Sands, Elven Princess Green Dragonet stops at one particular candidate, one who seems to be watching both her and her sister. It is not that this candidate is praying desperately to be the one selected, no, it's that this candidate is so filled with concern for the two dragonets, she wants them to pick soon. Which, for the Elven Princess, is just, true, and fair, to be concerned with others before yourself, to be a king, or in this case, queen, among her own kind, if not dragon kind. And so it is that she croons softly and presses her nose gently against Moriya's chest. She has chosen her lifemate.

From the Hatching Sands, More Than Meets The Eye Egg suddenly shivers with renewed vigor, a surprise attack on the opposition.

From the Hatching Sands, Solaris stands as the sand's overwhelming heat begins to sink in and even the thick cloth of her robe can protect her so much. "Yes, you do need something to eat, don't you Jahzarath?" Excitement tints her voice as she says the name and drapes her arm across the gold's neck, guiding her toward the many bowls of food prepared for the newly impressed. As she walks away, she looks over her shoulder, keeping a careful eye on the two greens upon the sands, pausing to watch as one moves toward Moriya and impresses. "Moriya!!"

From the Hatching Sands, An age-old conflict comes to a head as crimson and azure seems to brighten and then explode as both sides collide in the final battle. A supernova explosion rocks it, shards exploding to finally reveal the dragonet that was nestled within its core. A cherished new life and yet there seems to be something not quite right with him.

From the Hatching Sands, Ravages of the Beast Bronze Dragonet

From the Hatching Sands, Burnt umber sinks into deeper midnight shadows, the true brilliance of this hulking dragon lost amidst the veiling darkness of gloomy fog-enshrouded sails that conceal his grotesque form. Smoky bronze shoulders sit solidly below a startlingly hunched spine almost deformed in its severity, each vertebrae ruthlessly delineated by the wicked slash of mottled ridges. Lighter copper slashes violently across a blunted muzzle that lacks any form of beauty before falling into the shadows of overly exaggerated eyeridges that jealously guard the expressive orbs hidden within their mysterious depths.

From the Hatching Sands, Ancair darts a wary glance around the area, having completely forgotten that... you know... there are dragonets around here, and they are doing this thing called Impressing. He warily eyes the greens, and then flickers a glance to Kyrian. Shuffle. He gives a good kick to the sand to the other teen, and then tries to maneuver behind him. "She's lookin' at you." Warily.

From the Hatching Sands, Spirit of the Fox Green Dragonet is, indeed, looking at Kyrian. In fact, she gives a near insulted cry at the sand being kicked in his direction. As if on a mission to rescue the young man, she reaches out to tug at his robe and bring him closer, crooning with joy. Of course, by tugging on the front of his robe, there's a good chance that the back might just slide up, but who'd be paying attention to such things when an impression is going on? For she has claimed Kyrian as her own.

From the Hatching Sands, Moriya feels the loving touch of the little green, and before she has a chance to think, she is on her knees doing homage to her own beautiful lifemate, hands moving to caress the dragonet as if they have been doing so all of her life. "Oh, Ceridwyth you /have /found me," she says, tears slipping from her dark eyes unheeded, "Is it really you?" For the former holder girl now turned weyrling cannot quite believe that she is linked for now and for ever with the dainty green dragon.

From the Hatching Sands, Lyllya pokes at T'on's arm to get his attention. "Last one. You ready for this?" Is that mocking in her voice? Oh, no. Of course not! She's the picture of niceness and innocence. Yep.

From the Hatching Sands, Ravages of the Beast Bronze Dragonet unfolds from his cramped confines and growls roughly, rather irate with the entire hatching process. His frustration is taken out on a nearby cluster of candidates whom he bowls over with nary a second thought. Bowling for candidates, what fun! And yet, there's an imperceptible feeling that draws him towards another gaggle of white. Not sure what calls to him, what bewitches him so, he markedly limps forward, each movement excruciatingly painful to watch.

From the Hatching Sands, Kyrian grimaces as he gets a bit of sand in his eye, which is plenty enough as he reaches up to rub it out. Looking in the direction of the greens, he resists the urge to scream like a girl or something and yell 'she's coming right at us!'. Distracted by Ancair's movement, he squawks ungainly for a moment as his robe takes a downward yank. All but crashing forward on his knees, there's no choice but to look dead on into whirling eyes and fate is sealed. "Pretty?" K'rian flushes but his hands come up gently touch the green's cheek. "No, you're the pretty one Kitsuneth!" Sucker.

From the Hatching Sands, The Weyrlingmaster sighs softly, glancing at the Weyrwoman with a long suffering look. "Well, I guess I'd better get started sorting out this new bunch." He says, stepping forward across the sands. "Weyrlings, over this way, please. Moriya, would you and Ceridwyth come this way? Solaris? Jahzarath is lovely. Piea, you and Korsanth need to follow me. And Kyrian...would have to Impress. I think it's his mother getting back at me for all those flight's Zyelth lost. K'rian, you and Kitsunueth, this way. And don't worry, tell your new lifemates that we'll be getting them food directly."

From the Hatching Sands, Ancair is immediately scampering away from Kyrian as he is captured! Oh My.... It can happen to anyone! Even idiot dimglows! He falls back a few more steps just to make sure he is well and away from them. He isn't sure whether to mock with laughter or not, mostly because he is rather stunned at this turn of events. "Heh." Weak.

From the Hatching Sands, "Yeth, thir!" Piea complies, raising her hand to her forehead in a salute. "We'll be right over... c'mon, Korthanth, you'll be able to get thomething to eat right now..." She caresses the blue's head, grinning stupidly still from the shock of it all. Korsanth flips his wings before following his lifemate in the direction of promised food.

From the Hatching Sands, Moriya tears her eyes away from her Ceridwyth as she hears T'on's summons from across the Sands. Rising from her adoration of the little green, she gently strokes Ceridwyth's headknobs as the pair head off towards the Weyrlingmaster. To her chagrin, as she takes the first step, her stomach begins to rumble very loudly, in time with the inner churnings of her dragon's digestion. "Ooooo, I can feel that you're hungry," she says to the dragonet. "There's food over there, I promise."

From the Hatching Sands, Ravages of the Beast Bronze Dragonet stumbles forward awkwardly until the feeling solidifies. There. That one. Wait, what's with this weak, stunned attitude. Surely this isn't the one who compels him forward, the ray of hope that will warm his rather dismal existance. This boy. Surely he's not the one. Yet no matter how much he fights it, there's no mistaking that Ancair is indeed the one. Rather put out, the little bronze grabs the hem of his candidate's robe and riiiiiips.

From the Hatching Sands, "She is, isn't she?" Jahzarath doesn't need to remarks as she already overly confident as is but still, the young gold nudges Solaris insistently. "My dear, I know, and we'll take care of that immediately." A usually self-centered Solaris is suddenly very compliant and smiles broadly to the weyrlings about her as she ushers Jahzarath toward T'on.

From the Hatching Sands, Lyllya claps her hands. "Congratulations, weyrlings!" Those left on the sands are ushered toward the candidate barracks with a warm smile. "I want to thank you all for agreeing to Stand. You're all welcome to stay here at Benden should you wish to, but let's go get changed so that we can attend the feast!"

From the Hatching Sands, K'rian is reminded by mental advisement to yank down the back of his robe as he straightens up, smoothing the cloth in a distracted manner. "Yes, you're hungry. Of course, and thanks for the reminder." he murmurs to his dragon as the two of them follow the weyrlingmaster's instructions and move off to the side with the others. Glancing back at another round of cheering, he stifles laughter. "Congrats Ancair."

From the Hatching Sands, Ancair was pretty sure he was gonna get out of this thing with all of his limbs intact and free as a bird or whatever. He was rather hoping on it, but when confronted with a certain dragon, the kid squeaks again, backs up a space as if to fend this thing off, only to hear his robe shred. Oh fardles.... "Seishitsuth...." Beat "I'm gonna need that piece of robe."

From the Hatching Sands, T'on sighs softly, "Figures both of them would Impress." The Weyrlingmaster can't wait to get started on this bunch, yep. "Ancair, congratulations. Would you and Seishitsuth please join us?"