[Log] Playing Catch
Who: A'son, Emilly, I'daur, Imena (NPC), N'thei, Talien
When: Day 6, Month 12, Turn 12
Where: Weyrling Barracks, High Reaches Weyr; Feeding Grounds, High Reaches Weyr
What: I'daur takes the kids out for their first hunting attempt.
Weyrling Barracks, High Reaches Weyr
This is a large, high ceilinged cavern cut from the rock. There are rows of depressions on the floor, couches for the young dragons; the weyrlings sleep with their dragons. The floor is stone, which helps ease the inevitable task of cleaning up the muck left by the dragonets.
The cavern has been decorated with old dragon tapestries hung on the walls, their colors slightly faded. A threadbare rug in the middle of the room bears the emblem of High Reaches Weyr, a mountain range in black on a dark blue field. A few low tables, chairs, and pillows have been scattered about the room, and baskets of glows placed strategically throughout the room keep the place well-lit. An opening in the southwest leads out into the Bowl.
Contents:
Emilly
N'thei
Nikoth
Talien
Wyaeth
Obvious exits:
Weyrling Training Room Bowl
In the afternoon, after the weyrlings have gotten their lunches and rested a while after morning's classes, I'daur makes his way on into the barracks to gather them up again. "Everybody," is his terse greeting to gain their attention. "This way. Bring the dragons, too." He gestures them to follow him, and then he limping leads the way out, toward the feeding pens.
Busily cleaning up some mess or another, Emilly, gives the spot she was wiping down a final swipe, then nods as the Weyrlingmaster reels off his instructions. "Right then, off we go to the feeding pens!" says Emilly brightly apparently just a little more verbose than her boss. "Don't dilly dally Imena, brig Wajath along with you too," she scolds the greenrider gently and hangs back a little until the stragglers are on their way out as well.
There is no bringing Wyaeth. He's bringing N'thei. The bronzerider, who had been writing letters based on how he sits on the end of his cot with a few hides and a pencil, looks up as I'daur enters and wears a crooked brow. He dumps his feet into his boots, laces them quickly, and strolls out without a word after the impetuous bronze.
Rest would be nice, and for all of five minutes Talien did indeed rest before spurred into an impromptu oiling. Svodriyth is sprawled across their couch, leaving little room for Talien. She manages, by the grace of sheer luck and the one paw Svodriyth has hooked behind her, to stay atop the couch. That is until I'daur and Emilly's orders are received, and though Talien's hands are drenched in oil - and Svodriyth himself likewise drenched in oil - the pair obey and head on after all the others exiting the barracks.
A'son is just finishing lacing up his boots when I'daur arrives. When the order is given to head outside, he and Nikoth are up and on their way out the door also. The weyrling looks particularly amused by something that the bronze seems to be informing him of.
Feeding Grounds, High Reaches Weyr
The wall of the ancient caldera arches upward and outward in a graceful curve here at the eastern edge of the bowl, where the weyr's flocks and herds are corralled for the dragons to feed upon. The air here is relentlessly dusty due to the the lack of true pasture necessitated by Thread; what little grass does manage to grow is either grazed or well trampled by the herdbeasts. Cow herdbeasts lead their calves to drink the clear water of a tongue of the weyr lake which extends into these fenced off grounds, and feeding troughs ring the perimeter of the paddocks. A group of wherry hens, wings clipped, squawk noisily under the natural overhang which shelters the creatures during bad weather; the wherries' cries reverberate against the stone walls around you. Behind you is the gate that leads west, back to the bowl proper.
Obvious exits:
Bowl
When everybody's assembled, I'daur takes up a lean against the fence of the feeding grounds, letting the weyrlings and their dragons group up around him. Some of the beasts, older or unwanted beasts, are already set aside in one pen, and Zunaeth is loitering nearby to eye them, keeping them a little uneasy. "All right," says I'daur, pitching his voice to carry. "Going to be hunting for the first time now, two at a time, and on the ground. These animals shouldn't be /too/ hard to catch and all the dragons are big enough now to take one down if they can catch it. We'll start with..." He hesitates, glancing over faces, and finally says, "Wyaeth and Svodriyth."
Talien is in the process of rubbing still oil-slicked hands over her pants; Svodriyth assisting in the mucking of her clothes by walking close enough that the excess oil he carries is transferred to Talien. All in all, the pair are both caught off guard by I'daur's statement. Whereas Svodriyth gives himself a little preparatory shake, Talien scrunches a doubtful look in her Weyrlingmaster's direction. "Uh," she hesitates, "Can someone else maybe go first?"
N'thei waits to get a bead on the situation before he makes himself as comfortable as can be, climbs up on one rung of the fence, leans his hand on the post, hooks his feet on a lower rail. Hearing his name, Wyaeth is far less casual and swaggers right up to the front of the group, flicks his wings at a brown looking equally anxious. With a laugh, N'thei addresses Talien's question; "I don't think that will be a problem."
Towards the back of the group, Emilly nods a little as Imena eyes the feeding pen with wide eyes. "You mean, they get to eat by themselves today?" the relief on her face might almost be comical, clearly she's thinking about all that meat she won't have to chop up if this works. "Yes, that's it precisely," says the assistant weyrlingmaster with an encouraging smile. Find a partner and we'll get started."
A'son leans somewhat against Nikoth another grin, maybe more like a smirk this time, crossing his face before the nudges the bronze. "Ha, I think so too." He comments both taking a glance at Wyaeth before turning their attention to I'daur.
"Suck it up," is I'daur's advice to Talien, the old man looking more pleased by her protest. "I don't think Svodriyth minds, and it's not like you have to do anything, weyrling. Except cheerlead if you want?" he amends, with a duck of his head. And then, aloud, musingly almost: "Why don't we make it more of a... competition. The best hunter gets to bewingleader next time around, when A'son's had his chance at it."
Svodriyth holds no hesitation and in fact acts a little insulted that he wasn't first off the line. Already quite adept at putting the full weight of his not-so-great bulk into his swagger, the young blue slides up alongside Wyaeth. He's close enough that the bronze could easily be clipped should he extend his wings any further, though for now Svodriyth simply looks his clutchsibling over. Talien, at I'daur's handy bit of advice, narrows her eyes and stubbornly crosses her arms over her chest. "Just didn't want him makin' all the others look so bad," she mutters, half under her breath. Svodriyth, on a hair-trigger, switches his attention from Wyaeth to one of the beasts and waits for the word.
After aiming a glower at the back of I'daur's head, N'thei turns his eyes toward the feeding grounds where Wyaeth starts after a fat old buck with a tremendous limp. Were it not for the limp, the ensuing capture and chase would probably take the better part of the afternoon for all the strategy the bronze shows. He bum-rushes the herdbeast, pummels headlong toward the creature, body-checks it, and takes it down before the beast has time realize this ridiculous-looking dragonet is after him. Amid screams and scraps of flesh, Wyaeth happily enjoys his first meal; it's less like a hunt, more like a messy messy vivisection.
Imena casts about for a partner and sidles up to A'son a bit shyly. "Hey A'son - need a partner?" she asks after a moment's reflection. Wajath has nosed up to the fence and is watching Wyaeth with rapt fascination. Emilly nods in satisfaction as Imena goes to find a partner and she walks among the remaining group making sure everyone's hooked up before going to lean against the fence to observe the proceedings. "Oh this is going to get messy," she murmurs under her breath.
"Well, that's... efficient," says I'daur of Wyaeth, eyeing the bronze and snorting. "Let's hope they all run like me." He just shakes his head, though, and allows a bemused smile before glancing to see how Svodriyth is doing.
A'son looks surprised when Imena is next to him. "Uh? Oh! Yeah, of course." He smiles at the girl and gives his dragon a pat before pushing off. His eyebrows lift at Wyaeth's technique for catching and eating a herdbeast. Nikoth seems calm, except for the swish of his tail and swirl of his eyes. Getting a little anxious.
Wyaeth looks immensely proud of himself, sits on his haunches amid the blood and guts that used to be a herdbeast. N'thei looks impassive, only going so far as to relate, "He's a little disappointed that they aren't much sport, sir." Not so disappointed that he can't eat, now holding a femur between his jaws and cracking noisily through it.
Talien pales sometime between Wyaeth's vivisection occurs and when Svodriyth launches himself at his chosen target - a buck that's considerably more gangly than he is plump - she finds a convenient perch to lean against in her neighbor. As for Svodriyth's bull: he goes down under the bulk and force of the blue's straight-arrow attack. Pinning it between himself and the fence, the bull has nowhere to go and as Svodriyth closes in, the doomed beast attempts a headbutt that does little to deter Svodriyth from closing teeth around and just under the beasts throat. All sorts of nummy squishiness follows as Svodriyth sinks to the ground alongside his meal.
"Tell him to pick one that can run next time," says I'daur to N'thei. "And he'll have more fun with it. Though, can't say it's not a good idea to get a slow one today, considering we got everybody to get through. Ask them," and he adds this to Talien, too, "to pull it a little out of the way if they can, so everybody else isn't tripping over them." He's already cueing the next pair, though, a couple of the other blues who do exactly as he just advised not doing: they charge straight in after healthier prey, and just scatter the herd everywhere. I'daur sighs but manages to not say anything until they've finally caught something. Then a couple more pairs--a brown and one of his quick green sisters manage some nice teamwork in catching their meals--and finally, toward the end of the groups I'daur calls, "Uh... Nikoth, and--Wajath? Right. You two now."
A'son gives the bronze another nudge, looking as if they're silently communicating with one another before he laughs. "Relax, don't go after the fiesty ones today. What do you have to prove? Just eat." Nikoth snorts, before he takes off into herd. Whatever their arguement was, he picks his target fast and takes down the nearest, and rather slow looking, herdbeast. When he knocks it to the ground, it tries to kick and roll away. But one well placed foot, and his jaws to the neck take care of that. He's going to need a bath later.
Imena looks vastly relieved at A'son's acquiescence and beans a smile A'son's way. She corrals Wajath away from the railing and into the pen proper, looking a little nervous again. "Yessir!" she salutes I'daur a bit sloppily but very enthusiastically and follows A'son and Nikoth onward. Wajath is distracted again, watching the large bronze take out his beast. A look of keen determination crosses the little green's face and she starts bunny-hopping after a very scraggly looking animal trying to herd it into a corner.
Wyaeth has such a mess on his hands-- talons that he can't move his beast very efficiently. Instead, he noses some of it out of the main thoroughfare and returns to gobble through entrails in all haste. N'thei says nothing more for now, just settles quietly to watch with bland interest the various ways unskilled dragonets dispatch half-crippled herdbeasts.
It takes every bit of I'daur's weyrlingmasterly patience to not say anything when Wajath takes off hopping after a beast. Instead, he just doesn't watch that, glancing around instead to nod toward Nikoth as the bronze manages a decent catch. "You two will finish us up," he tells the last couple remaining, "soon as Wajath does... something." He chances a look back at the green.
Silently obeying I'daur's command, Talien's features are twisted as though she's got hold of something she doesn't quite like - Svodriyth has hold of something he very much enjoys and though there's a bit of grumbling on his end, he does his best to drag the remainder of his dinner out of the way. Tough though it is, the blue methodolically works his way through the beast but still manages to smear a good amount of blood and gore over himself.
Imena's hands come up to her mouth and she stands there looking stricken by Wajath's chosen strategy. "Get him ..." she murmurs out loud under her breath and finally the green adopts a different strategy, rushing the shambling beast. She overshoots though and winds up colliding with the animal. The both go down in a flurry of straw and dirt, wings and hooves, but when the dust clears, Wajat is sitting proudly atop the beast, looking around as if to say "SEE! I can do it!" It takes some more prompting from Imena, but the green finally gets down to eating, surprisingly neat and efficient about that part at least.
N'thei scoots along the rail of the fence, careful not to get splinters in his butt, with an eye for the look on Talien's face. "If you're going to get sick, may I suggest doing it on the other side of the fence? These boots don't even have a full winter on them yet." Over yonder, Wyaeth finishes eating and mosies back toward the cluster of weyrlings, passes Nikoth with a grunt that sounds like amused disapproval.
I'daur's smile is dry, and he shakes his head at Wajath and just gestures for the weyrlings to come back over and join him by the fence. "All right. So you got the first taste of hunting for yourself today. And it went... They get better," he decides tactfully. "You'll be doing this a couple of times a day for the next couple of months, until they can fly--and then you'll be doing that from then on, though they won't need your supervision once they've mastered flying well enough for me to feel safe about leaving 'em alone."
"Exactly why--" N'thei hops off the fence, pushes himself away from it with his hand on the post, lands next to where Wyaeth is giving I'daur a quizzical look. "Exactly why do we need to supervise them, sir?"
Wajath is totally engrossed in finishing off her beastie now that she's got 'im, leaving Imena faintly grossed out by the look on her face. The young greenrider clusters in with the other Weyrlings, listening attentively. Emilly leaves her spot at the fence and murmurs a few words to Imena and slips her a ginger pastille and offers one Talien's way for good measure.
"Is this somehow worse than handling all the meat and cutting it up yourself?" asks I'daur, but his tone's not so brusque as it can be. "But pretty much, yeah. Some of 'em are always messy about it, and some of the beasts don't make it real easy." He smirks slightly, then shrugs. To N'thei: "Because they're reckless, clumsy, inexperienced, and they're still growing so fast their wings and elbows aren't going to be in the same place tomorrow morning that they are tonight. On the ground, even with these animals--" a gesture encompasses the somewhat shabby herd "--they can get hurt and I'd rather you were close by if something does go wrong--even if me or Emilly's here, too."
"Yeah," Talien says quite vehmently, "'least when I get it it's mostly dead and I don't-" She trails off as the pastille is offered, and just as quick as she is to look away from it she waves it away. Wrapping both arms around her middle, Talien studies her feet while listening to the remainder of I'daur's explanation. Svodriyth watches I'daur as a pale pink glob of /something/ slowly drops from the corner of his lip to his chin to the ground.
N'thei sets his palm gently between Wyaeth's shoulders when I'daur talks about fast-growing wings, his fingers measuring out the span between the bronze's wings. "That wasn't for my edification, sir, but thank you." A told-you-so look passes between the weyrling and his dragonet, leaves the latter to issue a snort of disapproval that encompasses both N'thei and I'daur. But, by now, N'thei takes note of Talien's discomfort.
"Well. I'm sorry," says I'daur to Talien, but that's about the most he can do about it. "Svodriyth did a decent job, though." And, to N'thei again, mildly, "Why's that?"
Talien is vain enough about Svodriyth that I'daur's compliment has her perking considerably. The blue in question is scritched fondly, Talien not seeming to mind (as much) the bits of blood that've mixed with the oil still coating Svodriyth's side. For now, she listens to the banter between I'daur and N'thei but still avoids paying direct attention to either.
N'thei indicates Wyaeth with a tilt of his head, the dragon far into the realm of boredom now that everyone is just standing around talking; "Because if I tell him that I have to watch because you said so, he'll suggest I tell you where to..." Throat-clearing time. "But consider the point made, sir."
At that, I'daur grins. "Where to put that?" he finishes for himself. "I'll keep it in mind. Tell you what, actually--we can revisit the whole supervision issue when he proves he's smart enough to actually /hunt/, and not just charge in there and hope he's bigger than whatever he's facing. And not today, either," he gives the bronze a look, perhaps anticipating his next move. "Goes for the rest of you, too. Now, there was a little matter of our wingleader for the month after this...?"
Emilly smiles just a little at Talien's refusal and retreats back to the rear of the cluster of Weyrlings. Imena meanwhile has turned her back on the mess Wajath makes until the little green returns to her side and utters a loud and satisfied belch. Supervision? Bah.
Already on the verge of swinging around toward the scattered herd, Wyaeth screeches to a halt when he hears I'daur's well-timed addition. N'thei just shrugs at his dragon, helpless but not worried about it.
"Svodriyth /so/ didn't get messy like Wyaeth and was lots quicker than Wajath." Talien seeks fit to point out. Included is a look toward N'thei, as though to emphasize that with him in particular. Svodriyth stays still, his attention mostly fixed on the bronze half of that pairing.
I'daur glances around the weyrlings a moment, lips pursed as though he's not yet made up his mind. But then he nods once, to himself, and announces, "Talien and Svodriyth. You'll do us the honors? I think Svodriyth proved himself well enough today."
N'thei talks out of the side of his mouth. He mutters to Talien, "... suck-up comes... mind." He salutes toward the bluerider then, thick with irony. Wyaeth looks fit to be tied, rocks onto his haunches and sizes Svodriyth up with a conclusive snort.
Imena looks bummed but resigned. After all Wajath really wasn't efficient at all at the /hunting/ part. She's also a little distracted trying to wipe spatters of blood off of the green's muzzle.
Talien quite happily accepts the promotion with a small pump of her fist against her hip. Svodriyth is far more dignified and doesn't react as though /his/ promotion is anything of a surprise. Quickly too, Talien accepts the proposition with a nod and a (first ever), "Yes, sir." What comes from N'thei, however, earns an instant scowl. "'cause I'm the Wingleader... I get to punish people, right?" to I'daur, presumably, as he is the one with the call. Meeting ire for insult, Svodriyth unfurls his wings to gain a little bulk on the bronze.
"Not 'til next month," says I'daur to Talien's excitement. "And--with my approval, of course." He offers her a dry smile, and then, to the class at large, "All right, dismissed." A lazy salute follows, while most of the weyrlings head their separate ways, or hang around to let the dragons finish eating.
"Next month." N'thei avoids gloating, though a smirk verges on the corner of his mouth. "In the mean time, you might want to work on getting the brown off your nose? Just here?" He indicates the tip of his own nose with a brush of his forefinger, follows the gesture up with a salute to I'daur, recalls Wyaeth from snorting his ridicule at Svodriyth.
Emilly takes a deep breath and lets it out, then makes a face as one of the younger Weyrlings finally loses his stomach over the feeding and she moves to help the poor laddy out. Her head lifts even as she soothes and provides a supportive arm, watching as some of the others go, the byplay between Talien and N'thei and her lips purse, clearly not approving.
"Ooooh." Talien, unhappy and irritated, glares one last time at N'thei - and I'daur for good measure, then turns to Svodriyth, "C'mon. We got work to do." Work of the utmost importance if Talien's hastiness is any indication, though the weyrling doesn't leave without first offering a crooked salute to I'daur and Emilly.
N'thei lets Talien have the lead. He lingers to make sure that she and Svodriyth are well on their way before he and Wyaeth head to the barracks.