[Log] Here Lies a Tunnelsnake

[brazenbronzer]

Who: Draila, Nicomerik, Reighley, Salarios, Vendelin
When: Day 21, Month 7, Turn 8
Where: Storerooms, Fort Weyr
What: The candidates go tunnelsnake-hunting.

Dusty storeroom in Fort Weyr.
     Dimmly lit by a few glows, this storage room opens off a labyrinth of corridors in an ancient part of Fort.
     Cloth covered shapes shrouded in turns of dust and crawler webs surrounds the room.
     Lined up before one wall are seamstress dummies dressed in turns past gather gowns line one wall. One chest, the cover accidently pulled off, reveals a colorful selection of clothing, most in forgotten styles, ranging from the demur to the provocative.
     Separate are the men's clothing, carefully stored in aromatic wooden trunks. accouterments ranging from tunics to elaborate gather jackets are all carefully folded and preserved.
     Furniture suitable for unfurnished weyrs, beds, shelves, trunks, tables, chairs, and couches, and clothing presses line the rooms walls. Other finely crafted examples of past artisans lay scattered about.
     Doorways to the north an south yet closed await.
     A lighted hallway leads back to the weyr.

Contents:
Nicomerik
Vendelin

Obvious exits:
Weyrling Barracks Inner Caverns

Nicomerik
     A chiseled physique and sculpted visage are the basic makeup of a brunet adonis who epitomizes tall, dark and handsome. His dark coloring is replete with ebony hair, mahogany eyes and caramel-amber skin. Although he has broad shoulders and strong arms, this young man is neither bulky nor unwieldy. He has a flat stomach, slender waist and muscular legs. The lines of his form are long but purposeful. He is a paradigm of youthful health.
     Nature and life have molded strong features into the lineament of agrarian virtue: stalwart and stolid, angular and agreeable. Molded lines and a strong jaw display character built from a life of hard work. The thick but clean brow line is pensive above large, dark mahogany eyes. An aquiline nose adds a point of imperfection (or perhaps character), arching a bit too high when in profile. Few lines mar the skin along his firm, pink lips: it seems he is not one to display smiles or emotions. It cannot be said that his usual expression is a frown, but instead that he is unflappably composed. Adolescence has left his skin unmarked, but life in the South Boll sun has not.
     Nico seems to cherish his drab colors. As usual, he wears bland colors - a light brown tunic and black pants. For a change, he wears sandals instead of boots.

Vendelin
     Vendelin is a scrawny, tall lad with oily blond hair, sharp and glinting blue eyes, and a hint of a mustache prickling above his upper lip. Acne pocks mar the long face of this older teen, though time may yet smooth his complexion. Bedecked in a mid-sleeve blue shirt with a single breastpocket and a pair of many-pocketed, lightweight and sturdy yet stained tan work breeches, he appears fit for a variety of chores, though the wear at his restless yellowed fingertips hints at tannery or leatherworking by trade. Any pride in his clothing likely rests in his leather boots. While uneven of dyelot, they're well-tanned, and the stitches that join the soles are neat and tidy.

Salarios
     From top to bottom, the young man has a built stature, healthy and impeccably formed with lean and purposeful muscle. There is an average height on the man, probably around five feet ten or eleven inches, nothing that would overtly draw attention away from his overall amiable rustic appearance.
     No matter how his hair falls, his angular face seems to be what is compelling to look at. A rounded forehead leads to a strong eyebrow feature that shadows eyes below; shaped brows set in a constant near-frown are on the boarder line of dark brown and black. His eyes are a faint pale green, looking almost grey in certain refractions of light, outlined with thick lashes. Facial features only grow stronger from there on. The bridge of his nose is slender, and despite it seeming a bit long, for his face it is suiting. The tip of his nose is pointed and drawn back to his face at a near straight line, making his nose on the whole, appear at some crisp degree. His lips are average for a man; toned with shallow reds, the upper lip is thin with bottom lip taking on a fuller look. Jaw structure again is angular so it leads to a semi-rounded jaw which protrudes as much as the bottom lip.
     Hair is a matter of change for this young man, and on this day, his hair is cut about two inches short, is coloured dark brown, and is left in a stylish scruffy spike-like fashion. Dark side burns, trimmed, run past ear length and are a finger in width, following the line of his jaw.
     Attire is simple, although it makes his appearance bold. Salarios is wearing a light but durable black shirt with no sleeves and a low rounded neck line. The shirt form fits the young man and shows off his muscle arms that are tanned from the sun. As well, he wears black pants with various pockets, fastened with a silver square buckled belt. Sandals are dark as well, though not nearly black, and are of a common design.

Vendelin has a basket over one arm with some glows, a net, a jar with a lid, and balanced up against his side is a spear of a very particular sort. He's taking advantage of the stillness before the work continues and the glows are replenished to rifle through a deck of dragonpoker cards. The pattern of suggests a solitaire-type game, and by the grimace, he's not as ahead as he'd like. He casts sideways glances to see if the party's moving forward, and as it does, the cards slide into his pocket and he takes up the spear. "Dark in here."

Having caught sight of a group of Candidates making their way into the storage room, Draila follows quietly on bare feet that silence her footsteps. She takes a moment to stand by the entrance watching with interest as the group joins the others already here. Finally she makes her presence known with a very soft greeting. "Afternoon Candidates."

The darkness supersedes one of the parties that was there lurking, until his foot falls brings him into the light casted off one of the glows set near by. Wearing black like he was when he first arrived, Salarios considers Vendelin in a moment of silence before he mutters, "Cards?" His voice is a deep resonating bass, a mirthful smile canted on his lips then as he watches Vendelin hide the cards. One arm finds a resting spot on a weaving dummy, holding the bodice of the woman dummy quite easily as he continues to speak to Vendelin, "Play much?"

Mistake #1: giving Reighley a spear. Mistake #2: turning her loose in a dark tunnel with it. On her way toward the group ahead, there are frequent muffled 'ow's, usually accompanied by scraping noises as she bumps into some strange object in her way. The noises culminate in a clatter when she actually drops said spear upon nearly running into one of the back members of the group. "Sorry," she whispers, wincing as she bends to pick it up again. "Who's there, anyway? Draila?" She peeks around to scan the group, brows arching.

"Storerooms," Nico's calm baritone cuts through the dimly lit stores in response to Vendelin's observation. That single word and its inflection is the closest thing Nicomerik gets to smart quips and sarcasm. For the moment, the hunting knife remains sheathed against his side. Though his face is cast in shadow, Nico is likely as expressionless as ever. It's he that Reighley nearly bumps into, and he turns around as her spear clatters on the ground. Squinting, he sees that she's alright, and then he turns to peer at Draila.

Vendelin turns an evaluating yet friendly gaze toward Salarios, perhaps assessing him as a player even in the dim light. "Occassionaly," he casually replies, letting the untruth hang in the air until it sounds plausible. As plausible, perhaps, as Salarios's newfound date. "More than she does," he laughs softly, immune to the scuttling of small creatures in the distance, though he swings the net above his head to vanquish the webs near Salarios and his mannequin-date. "Afternoon, m'am," he calls. "We're hard at work, as you can see."

Draila is thankful she's still standing by the light cast from the inner caverns at the entrance when she hears something fall, turning her attention in that direction. Her warm smile flashes and a nod is given to where Reighley's voice was heard. "I'm here Reighley." Her soft reply fills the darkness. Then another nod is given to Vendelin before she steps further in and sets her glass on the top of a crate. "What are we up to today?" is murmured as she gives each tunic sleeve another roll up her arm in preparation to lend a hand.

Salarios idly brushes the hand that isn't attached to the dummy over his side burns, twisting his head towards the clatter of noise caused by the spear being dropped. There is a moment where he watches a few figures bumbling around back there, although his attention slips back towards Vendelin. "At least someone does," he peers towards his mannequin woman, patting her in an obscene place when Vendelin comments on her, giving Vendelin a grin. Continuing to lean there on the dummy, he offers his name towards Vendelin, "If you get bored, look me up, we'll play a few rounds. Name's Salarios by the way." A brief look given towards Nicomerik, but his gaze leaves the other once again to watch Vendelin vanquish a web near him, unmoving to offer any assistance though.

"Sorry, Nico," mutters Reighley again as she takes the moment to lean the offending spear against the wall, well out of her rang. "Have you caught anything yet?" she wonders, glancing around and worming her way forward until she can see the boys and Draila better. "I've never gone tunnelsnake-hunting before. Mom wouldn't let me. My aunt didn't want me to, either--she made me promise all sorts of stuff before I could," she remarks, wrinkling her nose.

"Tunnelsnake hunting, ma'am," Nicomerik tells Draila before gazing over towards Reighley, "No need to apologize." He takes a few steps closer to the rest of the group to lean against a sturdy table. Incidentally, this also takes him closer to the glow lighting. He squints, glancing at the others in his group.

"Yeah?" Vendelin smiles, his blue eyes bright even in the semi-darkness. "I'll do that. Always up for a game. And if you're bored, bring her." He does a quick brow-waggle, the extent of his sense of humor stretching there in bemusement at the patpat of the mannequin. "Everyone all right back there?" He wonders of the rest of the group, then ahhs as the juice-carrier moves into the light. "And other vermin. Whatever we can find, actually. Would you like a net? A jar? A spear?" He freezes, then winces. "Something just crossed my foot. Tell me it was Reighley." Unlikely.

Draila's voice vanishes as her lips move to echo 'Tunnelsnake hunting?' Then the smallest of squeaks is heard from her as her eyes close and she takes a deep calming breath. When they open again a quick look is cast back the way she entered, wondering just how quickly she can escape but instead of doing that the head of a tunnelsnake peeks out from a crack in the wall and her hands lift to quickly shoo it back to safety. "I see." She finally manages to whisper turning back to the group and lifting an eyebrow over Salarios' choice of companions. Adding for Vendelin. "Umm.. a net.. I suppose."

"Yeah," Salarios replies with a nonchalant tone of voice, a smirk then tracing his lips, "I just don't think I'll work between her and I though," his arm dropped from around her, "sorry doll-face, maybe next time." Then with another grin, the young man wanders over towards the rest of the mingling group. He some what idles near the next resting post, watching though as something creeps away from Vendelin, "I think you know what that was. It's going over there," he points in the dark, oh, helpful isn't he?

Nicomerik watches the exchange between Vendelin and Salarios (and Salarios's interaction with the mannequin) with pursed lips, but whether he's hiding amusement or disapproval is indiscernible. He glances again towards Draila at her squeak, doing little more than blinking, before glancing back towards Vendelin. Squint. "You're wearing boots, right?"

Reighley glances around at Vendelin, grinning. "Nope, not me," she tells him cheerfully. "I haven't moved." Pause. Realization of what that means is slow in coming, her eyes gradually widening as she jerks back from him toward Salarios. "Was it a tunnelsnake? I bet it was a huge one down here! It's so dark and icky and no one ever comes down here, I bet they're as big as dragons!" Which is probably not comforting.

Vendelin smiles warmly toward their coordinator, mischief in his eyes as he passes over the net. "She's a little...overstuffed. Wooden. Mechanical," he comments, making certain the words are directed toward the abandoned mannequin rather than toward the weyrwoman. He grits his teeth, however, as Salarios points out where his toe-tickler took off. "Of course I'm wearing boots. I'd like to keep my toes." With a breath, he takes several steps toward the darkness, spear at the ready.

Salarios doesn't seem disturbed by the fact that it could be a tunnel snake, slumping more up against the wall than before, his eyes turning towards Reighley when she nears him. "It probably was, though it couldn't be as big as a dragon. Unless they're the underwater kind that lives in the ocean," a mischievious smile creeping up onto his face then. He can't help but chuckle at Vendelin's comments about the mannequin, shaking his head a bit as he peers at the other folks in the room, not really knowing that the weyrwoman is amongst them.

Draila begins to giggle as she takes the net then turns about to make her way over to the crate she left her glass on. Lifting it as well she takes a seat on the cover and pulls her legs up in cross-legged fashion to keep her own toes bite free. To her delight a spinner is crawling along the rim of her glass and she smiles at it as it moves. "I don't believe I've met all of you. I'm Draila." She offers in her soft spoken manner.

Nicomerik's lips twitch ever so slightly at Reighley's commentary - genuine amusement, if anyone was lucky enough to catch it. He squints at Vendelin again, nodding but now silent about the boots. He pushes away from the table and shuffles closer to the group. Pressed by courtesy and Draila's introduction, he says (as he stuffs his hands into his pockets), "I'm Nicomerik - call me Nico."

"They /have/ those?" Reighley says, turning quickly to gawk at Salarios. "I've never seen the ocean. Have you? What's it like? Have you ever seen one of those kinds of tunnelsnakes?" During the rapid-fire questions, she turns back around, eyeing where Vendelin's beastie supposedly ventures to. She wanders a couple of steps in that direction before scuttling back to the others. "Are we gonna kill it now?"

Vendelin pauses a moment to smile toward where Draila is, murmuring, "Is she talking to us, or the spinner?" before he pushes past an antique clothes press and a three-legged chair, peering into the darkness with the glow basket behind his back. "Kill it? I hope so. The eyes usually shine back, show where they're hiding. But I don't see where this one went. Maybe around the back and..." He turns toward the party, "and under that rug." A point toward one, then he ohs, adding, "Vendelin."

Salarios tilts his head back so that some light can find Reighley's face, enough so that for a moment, he can see it without it being masked in complete shadow, "Yes," he responds easily to the first question, the second also given a blase response, "yes." Though at the more in depth questions he shrugs, "Lived by it at Ista, so yeah, I've seen the ocean. It's endless water with bottomless depths. You can tell where the dark parts are by the colour of the water. But as for me seeing one of those snakes, I haven't, but I heard from a sailor that he's seen one as big as the ship itself, crashed up the ship it did." He easily takes the rapid-fire questions at hand, answering what he can of them. A chuckle to the girl when she asks if they will kill it, "Let the girl kill it. Wasn't she saying she's never done it before?" A shrug at the matter at hand, eyes turning towards the figure on the crate, but he doesn't offer his name at this point.

"Nico.. Reighley I know.. Vendelin.." Draila nods as she matches the names to the faces but not catching the last one's name. The spinner crawls onto her hand and she moves it to offer a level path for its creeping. "Kill it?" Her voice raises just a touch as she continues. "Can't they just be caught and taken outside?" She asks the group in general.

Nicomerik glances to Reighley and then to Vendelin, to whom he says somewhat grimly, "Too many places for 'em to hide in here." He's frowning as he glances over to Draila, shaking his head. "No. They'll just find their way back in here. A few 'snakes are fine, but too many is a problem." With that, Nico glances back over to Reighley, somewhat echoing Salarios's sentiment as he asks her, "You like to do the honors?"

"Reighley," she corrects Salarios. "My name's Reighley. And you have to kill them, or they come back!" That to Draila, sagely. "I'll do it, if you don't wanna. Where'd it go?" Bravely, she glances at the darkest corners again, taking a few steps toward them again and then waving the others to follow.

"The tunnelsnakes?" questions Vendelin incredulously. "Sure, we'll chase it out, and you capture it and--yeah." He shakes his head, laughing as Nico provides explaination, and continues the fruitless search, though he does manage to locate a spring hanging in its curly loop once it clings to and stings him. "Ouch," comes as he smacks his neck, distracted. "Reighley, right. If you see it, give it a good one in the side. With your spear." In case there's any doubt.

Salarios nods at Reighley, "May as well go do it Reighley." He gives a yawn in the darkness, rubbing his eyes for a moment. Pushing away from the wall, he moves towards the light at the exit, regarding Draila once before stepping outside. No excuse given, the young man in black just leaves. He pauses once at the entrance, looking both ways before wandering out of sight.

Salarios steps out into the Inner Caverns.
Salarios has left.

Draila turns completely pale as she listens to the plans being laid out to end the life of the tunnelsnake. Though her mind knows the tasks needs doing her fiber still tries to talk the Candidates out of it. "They wouldn't return if taken a good distance away.." But her words even sound hollow to herself.

"Oh. Spear. Right," Reighley says quickly, glancing around. "Where'd it go? Oh, there!" She hustles over to grab her spear again, without dropping it this time, and then scurries back toward the corner, slowing up when she gets close. "Here, tunnelsnakie," she pleads with it quietly, biting her lip as she looks for it. "Do you see it?" she asks the others, glancing back. It's about that time that the creature in the shadows moves, and Reighley, catching the movement out of the corner of her eye, squeals and jerks around, clumsily waving the spear at the shape.

Vendelin halts to regard the woman with the wispy hair for a solid moment as though aiming to figure out if she's for real. "I'm afraid they would, m'am. To Fort's storage caverns, or someone else's. Leastaways this way, some of the wild creatures can eat them, and people in the weyr are safe." Aiming to make the destruction palatable, he smiles, scratches his neck, then is back to work, trying to chase out the 'snake. Then there's a scream, and he's moving closer, protective but encouraging. "You get it, I'll get you a new ribbon for your hair. Deal?"

"Won't work, ma'am," Nico tells Draila. It's lucky that he adds the 'ma'am' in there, as it might otherwise have sounded too terse and harsh. Seeing that Reighley and Vendelin seem to have things covered, Nico bows out, "I'm gonna go see if they need any help in one of the kitchen stores." He inclines his head politely to Draila as he passes.

Nicomerik steps out into the Inner Caverns.
Nicomerik has left.

Draila listens to first the scream then Vendelin's words. With a sigh she quickly stands and makes her way out, unable to witness what will follow. "Need another drink.." She whispers before departing from sight.

Draila steps out into the Inner Caverns.
Draila has left.

"Deal!" Reighley says at once, spear wobbling in her grip as she stares down the creature warily. When it moves, she mimics it, gradually pinning the tunnelsnake in a corner, where it hisses at its attackers. It's a fortunately small one, and Reighley kneels down, inching the point of the spear closer to it until it snaps. Then, she jerks it back and turns to stare at the remainder of the group. "What do I do now? Just... stab it? But it's cu...alive," she changes her wording, brows knitting.

Vendelin partway notices Draila's exit, though most of his attention is on the tunnelsnake, and mostly in keeping Reighley from being hurt by it. "Look out for the teeth," he needlessly mother-hens, then one hand raises the glowbasket to give her plenty of light while the other has his own spear ready. "Stab the thing, before it bites," he encourages. "It won't be so cute then. C'mon, or I will."

Reighley grimaces, glancing back at the tunnelsnake and staring at it. "I've never killed anything before," she admits. Then: "You do it!" she pleads. She stands quickly, backing away from the cornered tunnelsnake.

Vendelin purses his lips, then steps forward and simply stabs the creature abruptly in the side. Wounded thusly, it is pinned down, but it still thrashes and hisses quite irritatedly. "You've got to put it out of its misery, now. Stab it there," a gesture, "either just below the first set of legs, or in the neck. Hurry, or it'll suffer," he encourages.

Reighley turns away quickly when Vendelin takes over, covering her face with her hands and cringing at the sounds emanating from the injured animal. "No, no," she refuses. "I /can't/. Just... can't we really let it go? Don't just hurt it. Just... get it over with already," she begs without ever looking back. "I can't do it."

Vendelin regards the pigtailed girl sternly, though she's not looking his way. He waits, leaving the hissing to drift toward her ears for a long few seconds. "They're pests, Reighley. They hurt people. Even kill littles sometimes. We're doing the place a service, and this is a task they can call on us for again." After stepping forward and dispatching the creature with a well-placed stomp of his foot, he rolls it in a cloth for easier carrying out, leaving her to cope uninterrupted for the moment.

Reighley shudders, not turning back around until Vendelin silences the unfortunate tunnelsnake for good. Uncertainly, she eyes the bundled-up corpse, biting her lip. "We have to bury it now," she decides after a moment.

"Bury?" the man grunts, shouldering the tarp wrapped snake and wiping the last bits of ick off of his spear and his boots. "We leave it outside, in the fields, for things to eat." He shifts the burden to not stain his shirt, then hmmphs. "They benefit from it. Besides, where would we bury it?"

"In the bowl," Reighley decides. "That's what we always did when something happened to /our/ animals. Well, actually, only the one canine, because the others were for food, but still. Who would want to eat a tunnelsnake, anyway? I bet there's a shovel in here somewhere." Determinedly, she turns about, beginning to peek onto a few nearby shelves, looking for just that.

Vendelin gets that patient, oh so patient, or maybe impatient look on his face of one dealing with a ridiculous request. "We can't bury every tunnelsnake someone finds in stores, Reighley," he sighs. "Why do we need to bury this one? If you understand things that are for food don't get buried," he starts up and out of the store room, bumping the dangling 'snake on cloth-coated objects as he goes, "then just think of this one as food. For wherries, VTOLs..."

"Can't we just bury this one? Pleeease?" Reighley pleads, pausing in her search to give Vendelin her most woebegone look. Like most young girls, she's very good at it. "I won't ask about the other ones, promise. This one can.... can... it can stand for all the others! Like, a memorial for all the poor tunnelsnakes that have to die! It just seems... mean to just kill it like that, when /we're/ not going to do anything with it."

"Sometimes people are mean," Vendelin flatly replies, unscathed by her heart-melting look. "And sometimes, we do things that don't seem to have a point." However, he's moving a little more slowly as he leaves the storage room, suggesting he might be melting just the eensiest bit. "A memorial," he scoffs. "Silliest idea I've ever heard."

"You're mean," is Reighley's rejoinder, lower lip poking out as she turns, leaning the forgotten spear in her own hands against the wall before she scurries away.