(no subject)
An actual log of HT to post!
Living Caverns
The rough-hewn majesty of this cavern far outpaces any delight in the multitudes of curves that form its enclosure. The glabrous grey granite is shot through with translucent obsidian, lending subtly-veined sparkle to the walls and the foot-trodden smoothness of the floor that shows centuries-old placements of the scarred trestle tables; carven hollows give homes for the glow baskets and the coat-pegs that line the walls. No mosaics, no painting, no tiles: just a few well-done tapestries mark the pathway that lead to the kitchen to the north and the inner caverns to the west, and frame the nighthearth's stew and snacks, while a heavier strip of oiled canvas shields the unwary from the wind in the bowl.
See that good booze table over in the corner? This month, it is ALL CHEY'S. And Frusha's, but Chey likes to pretend Frusha doesn't exist. Accordingly, Chey has actually appropriated around half of the bottles from the good booze table, and had them arrayed in a little starburst pattern on the table in front of her. Her glass is empty, and she seems content with that. Her head is tilted sideways, laying on the table, and she peers blearily at a lot of fine liquor.
Krummolt strides into the living caverns and starts across the room. He makes it far enough to grab a small bowl and scoop out a handful of nuts. As he goes to pick up a thoroughly common mug of ale, he spots Chey and her astonishing array of alcohol. His eyes narrow for a moment, then he nods to himself and desists with his own drink, bringing only the empty cup and resolving to mooch off the rather drunken looking Weyrwoman. He comes up to the table and drops the bowl with a little thunk. "Hey, Chey. I'll share my nuts with you if you share your booze."
"You propositioning me, Grampa?" Chey asks, tilting her head to grin up at Krummolt. It's a bit of a lopsided grin. "Don't think your nuts'd be worth much if you had much of the booze, really. But sure. Sit. How's... stuff?"
"Hah," Krummolt replies, plopping heavily into a seat at Chey's table and appropriating a bottle to pour a mugful of hard liquor for himself. He lifts the mug to sip appreciatively at the vintage of whiskey upon which he seems intent on overindulging upon and snorts. "Ain't nothin' gonna keep my nuts down for long," he asserts, probably untruthfully. "Stuff's good. I like ordering recruits around all day. You?"
"Weyr's going to hell," Chey answers genially enough. She pushes upright and pours herself another shot of something tequilaish. "My job sucks. Frusha sucks. Everyone sucks. But it's okay. Cause /I/ get the good booze." She downs the shot.
Scan scan scan. "Oh! Hey." Don't mind as Il'ad butts into whatever conversation it is that his sergeant and Weyrwoman might be happen. He has IMPORTANT information. "I figured out who ripped open all those bags in the stores and left a mess. I have his head on a stick outside if you want to see. Seriously. I do."
Krummolt sips good whiskey like bad booze. In fact, it appears to be a bit much at one go even for him, and he has to take a moment to cough discretely into his hand. "Ah, well, things ain't so bad. You get to order bad things for the people who piss you off, right?" Only then does he look around at Il'ad and lift a hand in something between a wave and salute. This far off duty, he doesn't feel the need to rise, however. "Ah, cap'n, you beheaded someone and you didn't call me?" he asks with mock reproach. Probably mocking, anyway, since Il'ad is probably kidding.
Chey brightens at Il'ad's approach. "Really? I -- wait. You killed someone without asking me?" She looks distinctly upset at this. "Captain, you need to ask me or the Weyrleader first! You can't just kill people out of hand!"
"Some--thing, yes. Some big fluffy black thing. Weasel? Or---something? I don't know my animals. I know, I suck. But, it dun' matter cause it's DEAD NOW!" Il'ad even tries one of those evil cackles for kicks but ends up hacking into a fist instead. FAIL. "If you want some mittens though out of it, better get it fast 'fore all those bugs eat it alive--or you know, dead. Whatever. You know what I mean."
As ever, Jesha is completely oblivious to whatever may be going on around her. She trips in on her own plane, head in the clouds and humming to herself. Salutes are, of course, given (though half-assedly) before she taps one of her wingriders on the shoulder. He turns, she steals a muffin off his place. Ha ha, Jesha strikes again!
It seems that despite the warnings from Weyrsecond Shazi to stay clear of the Living Caverns and the central bowl, Hari is risking it, slipping in from the outside, cutting around the edge of the cavern as she attempts to get to the kitchen. Its snack time. Watching those immediately around her every step of the way, she's attempting to make herself seem as inconspicuous as a six-foot and a bit tall girl can do, fingers on her shoulder to hide the white knot that was, in a way, forced on her by Il'ad. Il'ad who happens to catch her attention, causing her to freeze and stare in his general direction after his outburst.
Krummolt rolls his eyes at Il'ad and reaches out to grab on of his whiskey-nuts. His brief foray into the realm of the unsubtle double entendre apparently forgotten, he tosses one of the small, salty nuts at his captain, apparently in protest of Il'ad's sense of humor. "Bah. Maybe good for target practice or something," he says, flipping another nut at Il'ad in apparent illustration.
"Oh." Chey considers this. "Well, killing weasels is fine. But we need to talk to the herders about getting some canines in to hunt them, or... something. We don't need rodents stealing our grain. Are weasels rodents? Whatever. We don't need anyone stealing our -- who is /that/?" Her eyes have fallen on Hari. And she looks displeased.
"It was an easy kill. Thing kind of stopped and stared at me like her," Il'ad points out, staring right on back at Hari, but with pointing! "Waitwait, a little higher." Il'ad apparently wants to catch one of those salty nuts in his mouth because he loooves those salty nuts. "Do canines hunt them or would felines? My canines that I've got in the barracks only wanted to play with them. Or maybe? I don't know. "Her? She's, uh, you know, for Frusha. I gave her a verbatim. Wait, that's not the right word. Hold on."
Pilfered snack in hand, Jesha ambles her way over to generic_empty_seat type thing, stopping only to ruffle her daughter's hair. The generic_seat turns out to be a bench and is thusly straddled (and conveniently not far from the chattering group). Greetings given and she is satisfied to regard Chey with an inscrutiable frown. And a hmm.
Hari is suddenly trapped as there's suddenly a woman looking straight at her. A woman who happens to be wearing the Senior Weyrwoman's knot - which she was definitely told to avoid. As Chey begins to question who she is, she's backing up, back towards the wall, trying to keep moving - if she keeps moving perhaps they'll forget all about her, right?
Krummolt looks around at Hari and frowns. "I dunno, off hand," he admits, though he doesn't seem overly concerned by this particular assertion. "She new?" he wonders in Il'ad's direction. "Reporting to the guard? I ain't noticed her there, but that doesn't mean anything for sure." His next sip of his whiskey is a little more cautious than his first.
Chey turns a look of frozen fury on Il'ad. Really, frozen might be the wrong word. Fury is not, though. There is a lot of fury. She pushes to her feet abruptly, her chair crashing to the floor behind her. "Does /no/ one in this place listen when I /say/ something?" She slams her open palm down on the table with a thunderbolt crack of sound. "I said /no/ outside searching. I /meant/: NO OUTSIDE SEARCHING. She is from OUTSIDE. What is /wrong/ with people?" She swivels abruptly. "YOU," she says to Hari. "Get over here. NOW."
Hari freezes tensing and trying to shrink down a little but. And then the full fury of Chey is unleashed and she's slowly turning back, shuffling closer. "I'm.. I'm from here." Hari attempts to to volunteer, though her voice squeaks a little bit, and as she's staring at her feet, she's basically betraying herself.
"Isn't there a word for option that kind of sounds like verbatim?" Yes, Il'ad is still trying to remember his vocabulary words. "Maybe I was thinking of prerogative." Because that rhymes with verbatim now. "Whatever. You know, they key to avoid an attack is to remain very very still." Because raptors rely on movement, right? Something like that. "Don't worry 'bout her. She's not really from outside. Her brother's a rider here. So, that makes her--you know. Uh--afug." Er. "I think it was before you said that, anyway." But, that's about the most he can do to help the girl now. "But see?"
"The hell you say," Chey snaps. Her eyes are on fire, and she advances a step towards Hari, staring her anger into the young woman. "Do you know what I think?" Her voice is oddly gentle here, for a balanced fraction of a second. That second ends too soon. "I think that you are a spy. KRUMMOLT." Her head snaps back to the guard sergeant. "We have a spy here." She turns to stare back at Hari. "Execute her for me. Now."
Krummolt stares at Il'ad. "I don't think I understood a word ya just said," he denies the greenrider with a blank face. Then he gives his head a little shake and looks on towards Chey and Hari with a faintly sadistic gleam in his eyes, dark above the rim of his mug as he sits again and settles in for what promises to be, to him, a satisfying reaming of someone other than him. He is watching with glee when Chey makes her order. The atomization of that much good whiskey is surely a crime in its own right, as the Weyrwoman appears to have caught him thoroughly off guard. Luckily, the spray is only over his own lap. Between a few quick hacking coughs, he manages to get out, "Ex...execute...her?"
Jesha buries her face in her hands, a few crumps dropping from her thin fingers and clinging to hanks of her chestnut hair. "Oh shaards, here we go again." This is, of course, muttered, barely audible through the muffling protection of her palms. Which lasts only a moment before she bolts to her feet. "WEYRWOMAN. At the risk of insubordination, you DISHONOR your dragon and this weyr with your attitude. Execute a young girl chosen on Search? What is going through your head?! Didn't we just get through total lack of logic with Frusha? What are you THINKING, if anything at all?!" Considerable volume: Check. Lack of caring for consequences: Double check.
Hari flicks her gaze to Il'ad, nodding ever so lightly, as if to give a silent, understated thank you for at least trying to stand up for her. But then Chey is stepping after her and she's rocking back on her heels, glancing down a bit at the senior, blinking. "Ma'am.." She starts, before the order is given and her jaw drops, though at least she doesn't cry. Before she can do anything else, there's another voice entering the battle and despite her best instincts, she's turning to look at this new source, wincing a bit, biting her lip.
Feilan wanders right into...an execution? Really, it's a good thing he's not in uniform right now. He's not really big on the whole..punishment thing. It's a slightly unsteady gait that takes him halfway across the cavern, quite possibly in the direction of food before he does finally manage a stop. Redirecting himself, he scurries right around and over to his fellow guards, voice lowering somewhat. "Erm..Captain? Sergeant? We don't actually..uh../do/ that, do we?" Because really, someone should've told him about the execution rule when he signed up! His gaze flickers right to Jesha as she yells, swallowing somewhat. Oooh..boy.
Oh, this is not going good. One hand lifts to rub at the side of his face before being elevated in a 'just hold up a second' gesture. To Krummolt, he says "I don't think I did either." And to Chey, he just says "/CHEY/." You know, in one of those stern fatherly tones. He can do those now! If only Pernese had middle and last names. Jesha's good, which is why he lets her speak before he does. "Think about your reputation if you follow through with this, Weyrwoman." And titles! Oh my! "Do you really want to go down in history like Lord Fax?" Eeeeverybody knows about that loon, right? At Feilan's entrance, Il'ad gives him the 'I'm handling this' gesture before continuing with "Think. About. What. You. Just. Said. You want to /execute/ a young woman without rhyme nor reason."
Chey turns that furious aze to Jesha. She listens without interruption to the wingleader's attack, then turns to look at Il'ad, this time. "And arrest Jesha. Now. I want her /brigged/ for insubordination." Her face is flushed. The flush of anger, for sure, is there. But the flush of drunkenness, too. "And I HAVE reason. She is a SPY. Reputation... I don't care about reputation. People seem determined to let this Weyr collapse in tatters. I /will not have it/. I will /not/. Pern needs to... to /know/. We are /not/ going to lie down and take this. We /will/ fight back. This is a /dangerous/ game. Let's /show/ them how dangerous!"
Chey would give that little "Who's with me!" rallying shout, but some part of her /knows/ the silence that would follow.
Krummolt spends another few minutes hacking, putting his cup down on the table and looking between Chey and Hari. He glances only briefly at Jesha, who, well, doesn't really have the authority to tell him to do anything. Feilan's commentary earns the younger recruit a frown. "Best get used to dirty hands, boy. Oughta make you do it," he says, half in threat, as he rises to his feet slowly, becoming a towering mass of guardly intimidation. For all that he is getting old, he is still in alarmingly good shape. "Weyrwoman, if I may suggest; let me take the girl for...questioning." The little pause before the word is anything but reassuring. "I'll find out who sent her."
"Oh for the love of the first shell, spy on what? I think everyone can see you drink yourself into a stupor, give out paranoid and disconnected commands." Jesha breathes, attempting to calm herself though pink still stains her cheeks with contained fury. "Chey. I have adored you as a good woman with a good head for many turns now. You helped us get past the damage weyrwoman Fruscha's leadership did. You made people calm down and get together again. Do you want to destroy that? You are young enough to be my daughter and I swear by the shell of my dragon I would take you over my knee if that's what it took to knock some sense into that pickled brain of yours."
Is she distracted? As Chey seems to be caught up in "discussion" as it were with the other riders and the guards, Hari's taking that moment to take a slow step backwards, hoping to put a bit of distance between herself and the Weyrwoman. "Not a spy.." She mutters, looking left and right before Krummolt gets a look of shock, and she's shaking her head, though it seems that Jesha is the best one to hide behind, and that's the way she's now edging slowly, silently.
"You want me to arrest my mother-in-law?!" Say whaa? "GET AHOLD OF YOURSELF, WOMAN!" Yes, Il'ad is raising his voice nose. He can do that too! "You've gone absolutely MAD!" Srsly. "If you want to justify yourself, then bring the girl to trial if you think she's a spy." Krummolt is nodded at in lieu of his offering. "Find your evidence and /then/, if she's a spy, my guards will be more than willing to act upon your command. And the only way our Weyr will collapse in tatters is by your reigning /right now/. Listen to what you're sharding saying. There is no war here! The only one at war here is yourself You're paranoid!" Jesha is now given the hand. "Please."
Chey's look at Jesha here is scornful, as much as anything. "You could surely /try/," is all she says to this last. Il'ad gets a glare. "You're fired," she says. Krummolt's idea, though, catches on. "Ah. Yes. Good. That's a... good idea. We should find out. Krummolt, you're the new guard captain. Information is a weapon, right? Did someone say that? Once we know, we can make it a public execution. An example."
Chey adds, "And arrest Jesha, Krummolt."
Feilan does give Krummolt a slight frown, brows furrowing just a little bit. He keeps a handle on his own mouth though, sending a quick look between his superior officers. He's off duty, after all, unless they happen to need him, and the teen clears his throat just a little. At least he keeps an eye on Hari as the girl starts to edge away..well, until Chey starts firing and promoting people left and right. "Wha..?"
Krummolt stares at Chey for a moment. Then, "Yes, ma'am." Those who aren't totally pickled will probably be able to recognize that there is a faint ironic tinge to his tone, but he trusts the general deadpan to satisfy Chey, particularly when he turns back to the room. "Come on, now," he says, moving towards Jesha and Hari, his hands spread slightly, but still well away from his knife. "Let's go down to the brig and we'll...get all this sorted out." He widens his eyes slightly at the pair, apparently trying to impart a hint.
One of Jesha's arms slinks behind her to squeeze Hari's trembling hand reassuringly. "Arrest me. Whatever. Like I even *care* at this point. Oh sure, let's jump at shadows and blame the cook and the drudges and send us all into questioning by force. Whoopie /that'll/ accomplish sooo much. You'll end up with sands full of eggs and no one there to stand and Impress. All because you can't get it through your drunken idiotic skull that maybe, just maybe, some of us are confronting you because we care."
"Great. Wonderful. I'll pack my bags now and go retire down at Ista." It's a good turnday gift for twenty nine turns and Il'ad's all about it. His grand exit would be a better show if he were able to unpin his knot easily. It gets stuck.
Chey flings her tequila glass across the room, where it shatters noisily against the wall. "I AM THE WEYRWOMAN!" she bellows at the room as a whole. "No one sharding FORGET that!" And, with that, she turns to stalk (stumbling a little) away.
There is yelling, more yelling, firings, hirings, and then knots are being pulled off, and Hari just stands there, before nodding slowly at Jesha though she looks at Krummolt with wide eyes. And she's slowly backing up further before there's a glass being thrown across the cavern, and Hari is wincing, watching her go, before looking to the other riders, quite unsure of what just happened, or what to do.
Feilan gives a little groan, bringing a hand up to rub at the bridge of his nose. "Of all the.." he mutters lowly to himself, although stands rigidly still as Chey bellows and throws things. He clears his throat then, tongue making a brief pass over his lips, and then turns to look at Krummolt advancing on Jesha and Hari. "Er...you need any help, Serge--er....Captain?"
Krummolt holds his teeth clenched and winces as Jesha continues. "Shut /up/," he hisses at Jesha, Il'ad, Hari and any other riders mumbling in his vicinity, "'til she sleeps it off." He makes little shooing gestures at Jesha and Hari, apparently trying to herd them out of the room without actually grabbing and hauling them away to the jail by force. "I hope not, but come anyway," he says, more openly, to Feilan.
"You." grates Jesha, her eyes aflame, "Are a paranoid drunken sot with less sense than a babe. So help me if you choose to exile me, I will not go down without a fight. Do you even LIKE High Reaches? Do you love your dragon or simply what she represents in the caste of our kind? Let me know when you've decided to scorchin' grow up and act your age and your rank and not sabotage my home and my people." In the meantime, Krummolt is given a salute of his own: One finger. Bing!
"Yeah yeah, you are the Weyrwoman, hear you roar. And we all were quick to jump on the fact that Frusha was the crazy one," Il'ad murmurs under his breath as he finally gets his knot off and waggles it at Krummolt. "Nice knowing you, Weyrwoman. I'm transferring. Have a nice life--as long as it lasts before someone suffocates you in your sleep." It's not a threat, honest. Krummolt is given a grin... and that's it aside from a helpless shrug and a muttered, "I'll be in my weyr."
Chey steps into the shadows that lead back into the Weyr.
Il'ad exchanges the protection of stone for the bowl outside.
Feilan gives his head a quick shake, and a wince as Jesha continues her own tirade. Oi..really, what /did/ he get himself into, joining up here? Hefting a sigh, he gives a nod as Krummolt offers for him to come along. "Yessir." Il'ad's departure is met with a slight frown though, brows furrowing.
Apparently, Jesha's tirade has exceeded Krummolt's tolerance. "Rider," he says softly, now looming directly over Jesha. "Come now." His eyes are cold, hard, unforgiving and angry. "A drunken order's still and order, and I'm taking you back 'til she sleeps it off, or the Weyrleader comes to spring you." He pauses for a moment, then adds, "But you best believe I'll send a runner to 'im." Actually, at that thought, he looks around at Feilan. "There's a job, recruit.
Hari is more than willing to let the rest of them do the talking, instead just standing there as it seems as if the Weyr itself is beginning to come apart at the seams, and sort of because of her. As Krummolt moves to usher them on, she's nodding slowly, just following as she stares at the others, watching Krummolt for a moment, before shaking her head. "Where am I going? Can I tell R'hard?"
Jesha rolls her eyes and steps back to allow Hari to pass in front of her. "Oh, so you're going to behead an innocent kid now too just because Crazy von Crazypants can't stop pouring hooch down her gullet? I'm /fairly/ certain that me opening my big mouth, while awesome, is not against the laws, whatever they may be these day. Crackin' shells, boy, isn't part of guard honor standing up for what's right?" Her face twists at Krummolt, staring him down. "Justice my milky white tush. Good to know y'all are yes-men. At least Il'ad had the stones to tell you to eff off."
Feilan seems to become a little more aware as he's actually given something to do. A quick nod is given in response though. "Right.. Yeah I'll do that." At least it gives him a reason to move rather quickly out of the caverns, despite not eating as he'd come to do in the first place. He can always do that later. Turning on heel, the recruit darts right on out, speeding off as best he can.
"That's it." Krummolt reaches out to grab for Jesha's upper arm with a powerful, ham-hand intent on squeezing too tight. "We're going to the /brig/ where you two are going to spend the night for the crime of getting our Weyrwoman to embarrass herself in public. Where T'ii can get you out whenever /he/ wants. If you shut up, I coulda got us outta here quiet like, but NO," he grumbles as he goes to lead Jesha and Hari out. "When Feilan gets back, he can run to let R'chard know what's up. Or another recruit. Whatever. Just come ON."
Hari takes a deep breathe before she's slowly trudging along, biting her lip. Thankfully, there are still no tears. Instead it seems that she's decided to deal with whatever she managed to get herself into. "Yes sir.." She murmurs, barely audibly as she looks almost wistfully over her shoulder at the others who are left to do as they want, as it were.
"Yeah, /we/ did that. She wasn't totally embarassing herself in the first place." A few truncated attempts by Jesha are made to reclaim her arm, but to no avail. "I swear on the life of my dragon, though, if you harm that poor scared little candidate I will find some way to ... do ... something. Just don't. She's innocent. Take it out on me. And I ain't gonna just not say somethin' when someone I care for like a daughter, rank or no, is acting the fool."
"I'm not going to do /anything/," Krummolt informs Jesha with some exasperation. Nothing like the protestation of innocence of a man habitually guilty but presently innocent. "Faranth's aching egg hole, I just want to get you two out of sight for the night!"
Snrrrrk. "That's a good one, Guard. Faranth's aching egg hole." The words roll around in Jesha's mouth and the remainder of her fury dissipates into just a slight seethe. "Got any others you can teach me while I have to deal with gruel and uncomfortable mattresses?"
Hari seems to relax just a little bit as Krummolt says there's not going to be any actual harm, at least for the time being, and she's nodding slowly, though she's stealing sidelong glances at Jesha, letting the older rider rant all she wants, she'll just float along. Please, forget about her?
Ground Weyrs
Once a mere overhang in the bowl wall, this arched stone enclave was deepened eons past to provide shelter for injured dragons and their riders. Once past the bowl's entrance, the cavern widens and climbs dramatically. The craggy walls loom high to dwarf rider and dragon alike, darkening slowly towards the back, ending at the large doors of the infirmary and the dragon-sized tunnel leading to the enclosed, inner ground weyrs. Off to the right is the dragonhealers' enclave with its supplies and small handful of dragon couches.
Small cave-like weyrs of various sizes dot the rocky walls of the large cavern at close intervals, giving the area its name. Heavy lengths of wherhide, providing both privacy and increased shelter, curtain off the weyrs' openings.
You see The Brig here.
"Before you lock me away, Guard... I've gotta ask." Jesha tips her head and regards Krummolt with a serious gaze. "Do you believe in what you're doing here? I mean lockin' up folk what speak their mind or just are in the wrong place at the wrong time like the lil' mouse over here (I never did catch your name, darlin'.)?"
Krummolt leads the group in the brig. "Faranth's farting fork is one of my favorites," he informs Jesha, more genially. Apparently, her appreciation of his skill in crafting curses mollifies him. He directs them into a cell and closes the door. "I also like 'hatching sands in your loincloth' but I don't get to use that one much. Who was that you wanted, girl? R'chard, you said?" He pauses for a moment as realization strikes him. "Yeah, what's your /name/?" He realizes he has no idea. Back to Jesha, he looks more seriously, but his shrug is off handed. "Chey's drunk. She'll calm down in the morning. But better drunk discipline than sober chaos, fer my money."
Hari is trailing along just a step behind the, but given the look on her face, it should be pretty evident that she's not going to run - not when she could likely be stopped and have worse happen before she'd taken five steps. Meekly heading into the cell, she nods slowly. "R'hard.. Dickie.. My brother. Brown Innath's.." She offers softly, before looking from one to the other. "Hari.." She offers after a moment, apparently deciding there's no harm that could come from it.
Jesha's free hand makes a noncommittal gesture. "Ah well. As long as you're not going to behead a kid on whim. Sooo, do we get blankets? Pallets? Klah?" If you're baffled by motives, might as well not take them seriously. "Though I'm not kiddin' I'm gonna stage an intervention at this point, like folks do with fellis abusers. She don't got the luxury to cuss and make accusations and down the sauce in her position."
Krummolt gives a little snort that probably indicates agreement with Jesha's sentiments, though he doesn't actually state that theoretical agreement aloud. "Blankets, pallets and klah, I can do," he assures his pair of prisoners. "I'll send in a recruit with 'em. And send another to find R'chard. Hari." He repeats the name to be sure he doesn't forget it, then looks abstracted. "Maybe I can sneak those bottles off Chey's table if I hurry..." he says aloud, but probably to himself, and heads for the door without bidding his prisoners a further goodbye.
Hari is content to stand there, arms folded across her stomach as she looks, before moving to lean against the wall of the cell, nodding slowly. "Thank you, sir.." And then, with a shake of her head, she's going to sigh. "He's going to say I never should have come here..." And then her feet are more interesting, though she watches Krummolt disappear again.
With a flump Jesha sinks to the floor of the cell, sending up a small cloud of dust. "Well...at least the weather is nice? And please, Hari -- that was your name, right? -- don't take this as an indicator of how it usually is around this place. We're crazy in a TOTALLY different way." A silence descends and Jesh taps her toes against the ground idly, blowing a puff of hair from her cheeks. "So uh...like it so far? Other than threats of bodily harm?"
Message 24 of 24 on *High Reaches (#3155):
Date: Sat Sep 27 19:24:04 2008 CDT
From: Chey (#25855)
To: *High Reaches (#3155) and *TinyPlots (#2060)
Subject: ...Did that just happen?
Rumors abound, but they seem... a bit implausible. Don't they?
Chey, apparently, in a drunken rage, accused a candidate of spying and ordered her execution. When a Wingleader and the guard captain protested, she fired the captain and arrested the wingleader. The poor candidate was hauled off for "questioning" that some say is probably near to torture.
It seems improbable, but there are witnesses aplenty, and it cannot be denied that Il'ad is unknotted and Krummolt given his place. Exactly /what/ is going on at High Reaches?
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Message 25 of 25 on *High Reaches (#3155):
Date: Sat Sep 27 20:13:02 2008 CDT
From: Krummolt (#25572)
To: *High Reaches (#3155)
Subject: More strange doings
The new guard captain? Krummolt sidled briefly back into the living caverns, after Chey, Jesha, Hari and Il'ad all left in varying states of disgrace just long enough to pack up the remaining bottles from the Weyrwoman's table in a sack and go back to the barracks, where he disappeared into a private room. A variety of strange thumpings, curses, laughter and breaking glass was later reported from inside, but the door was locked, and Krummolt was quite insistent that he did not wish to be disturbed.
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Living Caverns
The rough-hewn majesty of this cavern far outpaces any delight in the multitudes of curves that form its enclosure. The glabrous grey granite is shot through with translucent obsidian, lending subtly-veined sparkle to the walls and the foot-trodden smoothness of the floor that shows centuries-old placements of the scarred trestle tables; carven hollows give homes for the glow baskets and the coat-pegs that line the walls. No mosaics, no painting, no tiles: just a few well-done tapestries mark the pathway that lead to the kitchen to the north and the inner caverns to the west, and frame the nighthearth's stew and snacks, while a heavier strip of oiled canvas shields the unwary from the wind in the bowl.
See that good booze table over in the corner? This month, it is ALL CHEY'S. And Frusha's, but Chey likes to pretend Frusha doesn't exist. Accordingly, Chey has actually appropriated around half of the bottles from the good booze table, and had them arrayed in a little starburst pattern on the table in front of her. Her glass is empty, and she seems content with that. Her head is tilted sideways, laying on the table, and she peers blearily at a lot of fine liquor.
Krummolt strides into the living caverns and starts across the room. He makes it far enough to grab a small bowl and scoop out a handful of nuts. As he goes to pick up a thoroughly common mug of ale, he spots Chey and her astonishing array of alcohol. His eyes narrow for a moment, then he nods to himself and desists with his own drink, bringing only the empty cup and resolving to mooch off the rather drunken looking Weyrwoman. He comes up to the table and drops the bowl with a little thunk. "Hey, Chey. I'll share my nuts with you if you share your booze."
"You propositioning me, Grampa?" Chey asks, tilting her head to grin up at Krummolt. It's a bit of a lopsided grin. "Don't think your nuts'd be worth much if you had much of the booze, really. But sure. Sit. How's... stuff?"
"Hah," Krummolt replies, plopping heavily into a seat at Chey's table and appropriating a bottle to pour a mugful of hard liquor for himself. He lifts the mug to sip appreciatively at the vintage of whiskey upon which he seems intent on overindulging upon and snorts. "Ain't nothin' gonna keep my nuts down for long," he asserts, probably untruthfully. "Stuff's good. I like ordering recruits around all day. You?"
"Weyr's going to hell," Chey answers genially enough. She pushes upright and pours herself another shot of something tequilaish. "My job sucks. Frusha sucks. Everyone sucks. But it's okay. Cause /I/ get the good booze." She downs the shot.
Scan scan scan. "Oh! Hey." Don't mind as Il'ad butts into whatever conversation it is that his sergeant and Weyrwoman might be happen. He has IMPORTANT information. "I figured out who ripped open all those bags in the stores and left a mess. I have his head on a stick outside if you want to see. Seriously. I do."
Krummolt sips good whiskey like bad booze. In fact, it appears to be a bit much at one go even for him, and he has to take a moment to cough discretely into his hand. "Ah, well, things ain't so bad. You get to order bad things for the people who piss you off, right?" Only then does he look around at Il'ad and lift a hand in something between a wave and salute. This far off duty, he doesn't feel the need to rise, however. "Ah, cap'n, you beheaded someone and you didn't call me?" he asks with mock reproach. Probably mocking, anyway, since Il'ad is probably kidding.
Chey brightens at Il'ad's approach. "Really? I -- wait. You killed someone without asking me?" She looks distinctly upset at this. "Captain, you need to ask me or the Weyrleader first! You can't just kill people out of hand!"
"Some--thing, yes. Some big fluffy black thing. Weasel? Or---something? I don't know my animals. I know, I suck. But, it dun' matter cause it's DEAD NOW!" Il'ad even tries one of those evil cackles for kicks but ends up hacking into a fist instead. FAIL. "If you want some mittens though out of it, better get it fast 'fore all those bugs eat it alive--or you know, dead. Whatever. You know what I mean."
As ever, Jesha is completely oblivious to whatever may be going on around her. She trips in on her own plane, head in the clouds and humming to herself. Salutes are, of course, given (though half-assedly) before she taps one of her wingriders on the shoulder. He turns, she steals a muffin off his place. Ha ha, Jesha strikes again!
It seems that despite the warnings from Weyrsecond Shazi to stay clear of the Living Caverns and the central bowl, Hari is risking it, slipping in from the outside, cutting around the edge of the cavern as she attempts to get to the kitchen. Its snack time. Watching those immediately around her every step of the way, she's attempting to make herself seem as inconspicuous as a six-foot and a bit tall girl can do, fingers on her shoulder to hide the white knot that was, in a way, forced on her by Il'ad. Il'ad who happens to catch her attention, causing her to freeze and stare in his general direction after his outburst.
Krummolt rolls his eyes at Il'ad and reaches out to grab on of his whiskey-nuts. His brief foray into the realm of the unsubtle double entendre apparently forgotten, he tosses one of the small, salty nuts at his captain, apparently in protest of Il'ad's sense of humor. "Bah. Maybe good for target practice or something," he says, flipping another nut at Il'ad in apparent illustration.
"Oh." Chey considers this. "Well, killing weasels is fine. But we need to talk to the herders about getting some canines in to hunt them, or... something. We don't need rodents stealing our grain. Are weasels rodents? Whatever. We don't need anyone stealing our -- who is /that/?" Her eyes have fallen on Hari. And she looks displeased.
"It was an easy kill. Thing kind of stopped and stared at me like her," Il'ad points out, staring right on back at Hari, but with pointing! "Waitwait, a little higher." Il'ad apparently wants to catch one of those salty nuts in his mouth because he loooves those salty nuts. "Do canines hunt them or would felines? My canines that I've got in the barracks only wanted to play with them. Or maybe? I don't know. "Her? She's, uh, you know, for Frusha. I gave her a verbatim. Wait, that's not the right word. Hold on."
Pilfered snack in hand, Jesha ambles her way over to generic_empty_seat type thing, stopping only to ruffle her daughter's hair. The generic_seat turns out to be a bench and is thusly straddled (and conveniently not far from the chattering group). Greetings given and she is satisfied to regard Chey with an inscrutiable frown. And a hmm.
Hari is suddenly trapped as there's suddenly a woman looking straight at her. A woman who happens to be wearing the Senior Weyrwoman's knot - which she was definitely told to avoid. As Chey begins to question who she is, she's backing up, back towards the wall, trying to keep moving - if she keeps moving perhaps they'll forget all about her, right?
Krummolt looks around at Hari and frowns. "I dunno, off hand," he admits, though he doesn't seem overly concerned by this particular assertion. "She new?" he wonders in Il'ad's direction. "Reporting to the guard? I ain't noticed her there, but that doesn't mean anything for sure." His next sip of his whiskey is a little more cautious than his first.
Chey turns a look of frozen fury on Il'ad. Really, frozen might be the wrong word. Fury is not, though. There is a lot of fury. She pushes to her feet abruptly, her chair crashing to the floor behind her. "Does /no/ one in this place listen when I /say/ something?" She slams her open palm down on the table with a thunderbolt crack of sound. "I said /no/ outside searching. I /meant/: NO OUTSIDE SEARCHING. She is from OUTSIDE. What is /wrong/ with people?" She swivels abruptly. "YOU," she says to Hari. "Get over here. NOW."
Hari freezes tensing and trying to shrink down a little but. And then the full fury of Chey is unleashed and she's slowly turning back, shuffling closer. "I'm.. I'm from here." Hari attempts to to volunteer, though her voice squeaks a little bit, and as she's staring at her feet, she's basically betraying herself.
"Isn't there a word for option that kind of sounds like verbatim?" Yes, Il'ad is still trying to remember his vocabulary words. "Maybe I was thinking of prerogative." Because that rhymes with verbatim now. "Whatever. You know, they key to avoid an attack is to remain very very still." Because raptors rely on movement, right? Something like that. "Don't worry 'bout her. She's not really from outside. Her brother's a rider here. So, that makes her--you know. Uh--afug." Er. "I think it was before you said that, anyway." But, that's about the most he can do to help the girl now. "But see?"
"The hell you say," Chey snaps. Her eyes are on fire, and she advances a step towards Hari, staring her anger into the young woman. "Do you know what I think?" Her voice is oddly gentle here, for a balanced fraction of a second. That second ends too soon. "I think that you are a spy. KRUMMOLT." Her head snaps back to the guard sergeant. "We have a spy here." She turns to stare back at Hari. "Execute her for me. Now."
Krummolt stares at Il'ad. "I don't think I understood a word ya just said," he denies the greenrider with a blank face. Then he gives his head a little shake and looks on towards Chey and Hari with a faintly sadistic gleam in his eyes, dark above the rim of his mug as he sits again and settles in for what promises to be, to him, a satisfying reaming of someone other than him. He is watching with glee when Chey makes her order. The atomization of that much good whiskey is surely a crime in its own right, as the Weyrwoman appears to have caught him thoroughly off guard. Luckily, the spray is only over his own lap. Between a few quick hacking coughs, he manages to get out, "Ex...execute...her?"
Jesha buries her face in her hands, a few crumps dropping from her thin fingers and clinging to hanks of her chestnut hair. "Oh shaards, here we go again." This is, of course, muttered, barely audible through the muffling protection of her palms. Which lasts only a moment before she bolts to her feet. "WEYRWOMAN. At the risk of insubordination, you DISHONOR your dragon and this weyr with your attitude. Execute a young girl chosen on Search? What is going through your head?! Didn't we just get through total lack of logic with Frusha? What are you THINKING, if anything at all?!" Considerable volume: Check. Lack of caring for consequences: Double check.
Hari flicks her gaze to Il'ad, nodding ever so lightly, as if to give a silent, understated thank you for at least trying to stand up for her. But then Chey is stepping after her and she's rocking back on her heels, glancing down a bit at the senior, blinking. "Ma'am.." She starts, before the order is given and her jaw drops, though at least she doesn't cry. Before she can do anything else, there's another voice entering the battle and despite her best instincts, she's turning to look at this new source, wincing a bit, biting her lip.
Feilan wanders right into...an execution? Really, it's a good thing he's not in uniform right now. He's not really big on the whole..punishment thing. It's a slightly unsteady gait that takes him halfway across the cavern, quite possibly in the direction of food before he does finally manage a stop. Redirecting himself, he scurries right around and over to his fellow guards, voice lowering somewhat. "Erm..Captain? Sergeant? We don't actually..uh../do/ that, do we?" Because really, someone should've told him about the execution rule when he signed up! His gaze flickers right to Jesha as she yells, swallowing somewhat. Oooh..boy.
Oh, this is not going good. One hand lifts to rub at the side of his face before being elevated in a 'just hold up a second' gesture. To Krummolt, he says "I don't think I did either." And to Chey, he just says "/CHEY/." You know, in one of those stern fatherly tones. He can do those now! If only Pernese had middle and last names. Jesha's good, which is why he lets her speak before he does. "Think about your reputation if you follow through with this, Weyrwoman." And titles! Oh my! "Do you really want to go down in history like Lord Fax?" Eeeeverybody knows about that loon, right? At Feilan's entrance, Il'ad gives him the 'I'm handling this' gesture before continuing with "Think. About. What. You. Just. Said. You want to /execute/ a young woman without rhyme nor reason."
Chey turns that furious aze to Jesha. She listens without interruption to the wingleader's attack, then turns to look at Il'ad, this time. "And arrest Jesha. Now. I want her /brigged/ for insubordination." Her face is flushed. The flush of anger, for sure, is there. But the flush of drunkenness, too. "And I HAVE reason. She is a SPY. Reputation... I don't care about reputation. People seem determined to let this Weyr collapse in tatters. I /will not have it/. I will /not/. Pern needs to... to /know/. We are /not/ going to lie down and take this. We /will/ fight back. This is a /dangerous/ game. Let's /show/ them how dangerous!"
Chey would give that little "Who's with me!" rallying shout, but some part of her /knows/ the silence that would follow.
Krummolt spends another few minutes hacking, putting his cup down on the table and looking between Chey and Hari. He glances only briefly at Jesha, who, well, doesn't really have the authority to tell him to do anything. Feilan's commentary earns the younger recruit a frown. "Best get used to dirty hands, boy. Oughta make you do it," he says, half in threat, as he rises to his feet slowly, becoming a towering mass of guardly intimidation. For all that he is getting old, he is still in alarmingly good shape. "Weyrwoman, if I may suggest; let me take the girl for...questioning." The little pause before the word is anything but reassuring. "I'll find out who sent her."
"Oh for the love of the first shell, spy on what? I think everyone can see you drink yourself into a stupor, give out paranoid and disconnected commands." Jesha breathes, attempting to calm herself though pink still stains her cheeks with contained fury. "Chey. I have adored you as a good woman with a good head for many turns now. You helped us get past the damage weyrwoman Fruscha's leadership did. You made people calm down and get together again. Do you want to destroy that? You are young enough to be my daughter and I swear by the shell of my dragon I would take you over my knee if that's what it took to knock some sense into that pickled brain of yours."
Is she distracted? As Chey seems to be caught up in "discussion" as it were with the other riders and the guards, Hari's taking that moment to take a slow step backwards, hoping to put a bit of distance between herself and the Weyrwoman. "Not a spy.." She mutters, looking left and right before Krummolt gets a look of shock, and she's shaking her head, though it seems that Jesha is the best one to hide behind, and that's the way she's now edging slowly, silently.
"You want me to arrest my mother-in-law?!" Say whaa? "GET AHOLD OF YOURSELF, WOMAN!" Yes, Il'ad is raising his voice nose. He can do that too! "You've gone absolutely MAD!" Srsly. "If you want to justify yourself, then bring the girl to trial if you think she's a spy." Krummolt is nodded at in lieu of his offering. "Find your evidence and /then/, if she's a spy, my guards will be more than willing to act upon your command. And the only way our Weyr will collapse in tatters is by your reigning /right now/. Listen to what you're sharding saying. There is no war here! The only one at war here is yourself You're paranoid!" Jesha is now given the hand. "Please."
Chey's look at Jesha here is scornful, as much as anything. "You could surely /try/," is all she says to this last. Il'ad gets a glare. "You're fired," she says. Krummolt's idea, though, catches on. "Ah. Yes. Good. That's a... good idea. We should find out. Krummolt, you're the new guard captain. Information is a weapon, right? Did someone say that? Once we know, we can make it a public execution. An example."
Chey adds, "And arrest Jesha, Krummolt."
Feilan does give Krummolt a slight frown, brows furrowing just a little bit. He keeps a handle on his own mouth though, sending a quick look between his superior officers. He's off duty, after all, unless they happen to need him, and the teen clears his throat just a little. At least he keeps an eye on Hari as the girl starts to edge away..well, until Chey starts firing and promoting people left and right. "Wha..?"
Krummolt stares at Chey for a moment. Then, "Yes, ma'am." Those who aren't totally pickled will probably be able to recognize that there is a faint ironic tinge to his tone, but he trusts the general deadpan to satisfy Chey, particularly when he turns back to the room. "Come on, now," he says, moving towards Jesha and Hari, his hands spread slightly, but still well away from his knife. "Let's go down to the brig and we'll...get all this sorted out." He widens his eyes slightly at the pair, apparently trying to impart a hint.
One of Jesha's arms slinks behind her to squeeze Hari's trembling hand reassuringly. "Arrest me. Whatever. Like I even *care* at this point. Oh sure, let's jump at shadows and blame the cook and the drudges and send us all into questioning by force. Whoopie /that'll/ accomplish sooo much. You'll end up with sands full of eggs and no one there to stand and Impress. All because you can't get it through your drunken idiotic skull that maybe, just maybe, some of us are confronting you because we care."
"Great. Wonderful. I'll pack my bags now and go retire down at Ista." It's a good turnday gift for twenty nine turns and Il'ad's all about it. His grand exit would be a better show if he were able to unpin his knot easily. It gets stuck.
Chey flings her tequila glass across the room, where it shatters noisily against the wall. "I AM THE WEYRWOMAN!" she bellows at the room as a whole. "No one sharding FORGET that!" And, with that, she turns to stalk (stumbling a little) away.
There is yelling, more yelling, firings, hirings, and then knots are being pulled off, and Hari just stands there, before nodding slowly at Jesha though she looks at Krummolt with wide eyes. And she's slowly backing up further before there's a glass being thrown across the cavern, and Hari is wincing, watching her go, before looking to the other riders, quite unsure of what just happened, or what to do.
Feilan gives a little groan, bringing a hand up to rub at the bridge of his nose. "Of all the.." he mutters lowly to himself, although stands rigidly still as Chey bellows and throws things. He clears his throat then, tongue making a brief pass over his lips, and then turns to look at Krummolt advancing on Jesha and Hari. "Er...you need any help, Serge--er....Captain?"
Krummolt holds his teeth clenched and winces as Jesha continues. "Shut /up/," he hisses at Jesha, Il'ad, Hari and any other riders mumbling in his vicinity, "'til she sleeps it off." He makes little shooing gestures at Jesha and Hari, apparently trying to herd them out of the room without actually grabbing and hauling them away to the jail by force. "I hope not, but come anyway," he says, more openly, to Feilan.
"You." grates Jesha, her eyes aflame, "Are a paranoid drunken sot with less sense than a babe. So help me if you choose to exile me, I will not go down without a fight. Do you even LIKE High Reaches? Do you love your dragon or simply what she represents in the caste of our kind? Let me know when you've decided to scorchin' grow up and act your age and your rank and not sabotage my home and my people." In the meantime, Krummolt is given a salute of his own: One finger. Bing!
"Yeah yeah, you are the Weyrwoman, hear you roar. And we all were quick to jump on the fact that Frusha was the crazy one," Il'ad murmurs under his breath as he finally gets his knot off and waggles it at Krummolt. "Nice knowing you, Weyrwoman. I'm transferring. Have a nice life--as long as it lasts before someone suffocates you in your sleep." It's not a threat, honest. Krummolt is given a grin... and that's it aside from a helpless shrug and a muttered, "I'll be in my weyr."
Chey steps into the shadows that lead back into the Weyr.
Il'ad exchanges the protection of stone for the bowl outside.
Feilan gives his head a quick shake, and a wince as Jesha continues her own tirade. Oi..really, what /did/ he get himself into, joining up here? Hefting a sigh, he gives a nod as Krummolt offers for him to come along. "Yessir." Il'ad's departure is met with a slight frown though, brows furrowing.
Apparently, Jesha's tirade has exceeded Krummolt's tolerance. "Rider," he says softly, now looming directly over Jesha. "Come now." His eyes are cold, hard, unforgiving and angry. "A drunken order's still and order, and I'm taking you back 'til she sleeps it off, or the Weyrleader comes to spring you." He pauses for a moment, then adds, "But you best believe I'll send a runner to 'im." Actually, at that thought, he looks around at Feilan. "There's a job, recruit.
Hari is more than willing to let the rest of them do the talking, instead just standing there as it seems as if the Weyr itself is beginning to come apart at the seams, and sort of because of her. As Krummolt moves to usher them on, she's nodding slowly, just following as she stares at the others, watching Krummolt for a moment, before shaking her head. "Where am I going? Can I tell R'hard?"
Jesha rolls her eyes and steps back to allow Hari to pass in front of her. "Oh, so you're going to behead an innocent kid now too just because Crazy von Crazypants can't stop pouring hooch down her gullet? I'm /fairly/ certain that me opening my big mouth, while awesome, is not against the laws, whatever they may be these day. Crackin' shells, boy, isn't part of guard honor standing up for what's right?" Her face twists at Krummolt, staring him down. "Justice my milky white tush. Good to know y'all are yes-men. At least Il'ad had the stones to tell you to eff off."
Feilan seems to become a little more aware as he's actually given something to do. A quick nod is given in response though. "Right.. Yeah I'll do that." At least it gives him a reason to move rather quickly out of the caverns, despite not eating as he'd come to do in the first place. He can always do that later. Turning on heel, the recruit darts right on out, speeding off as best he can.
"That's it." Krummolt reaches out to grab for Jesha's upper arm with a powerful, ham-hand intent on squeezing too tight. "We're going to the /brig/ where you two are going to spend the night for the crime of getting our Weyrwoman to embarrass herself in public. Where T'ii can get you out whenever /he/ wants. If you shut up, I coulda got us outta here quiet like, but NO," he grumbles as he goes to lead Jesha and Hari out. "When Feilan gets back, he can run to let R'chard know what's up. Or another recruit. Whatever. Just come ON."
Hari takes a deep breathe before she's slowly trudging along, biting her lip. Thankfully, there are still no tears. Instead it seems that she's decided to deal with whatever she managed to get herself into. "Yes sir.." She murmurs, barely audibly as she looks almost wistfully over her shoulder at the others who are left to do as they want, as it were.
"Yeah, /we/ did that. She wasn't totally embarassing herself in the first place." A few truncated attempts by Jesha are made to reclaim her arm, but to no avail. "I swear on the life of my dragon, though, if you harm that poor scared little candidate I will find some way to ... do ... something. Just don't. She's innocent. Take it out on me. And I ain't gonna just not say somethin' when someone I care for like a daughter, rank or no, is acting the fool."
"I'm not going to do /anything/," Krummolt informs Jesha with some exasperation. Nothing like the protestation of innocence of a man habitually guilty but presently innocent. "Faranth's aching egg hole, I just want to get you two out of sight for the night!"
Snrrrrk. "That's a good one, Guard. Faranth's aching egg hole." The words roll around in Jesha's mouth and the remainder of her fury dissipates into just a slight seethe. "Got any others you can teach me while I have to deal with gruel and uncomfortable mattresses?"
Hari seems to relax just a little bit as Krummolt says there's not going to be any actual harm, at least for the time being, and she's nodding slowly, though she's stealing sidelong glances at Jesha, letting the older rider rant all she wants, she'll just float along. Please, forget about her?
Ground Weyrs
Once a mere overhang in the bowl wall, this arched stone enclave was deepened eons past to provide shelter for injured dragons and their riders. Once past the bowl's entrance, the cavern widens and climbs dramatically. The craggy walls loom high to dwarf rider and dragon alike, darkening slowly towards the back, ending at the large doors of the infirmary and the dragon-sized tunnel leading to the enclosed, inner ground weyrs. Off to the right is the dragonhealers' enclave with its supplies and small handful of dragon couches.
Small cave-like weyrs of various sizes dot the rocky walls of the large cavern at close intervals, giving the area its name. Heavy lengths of wherhide, providing both privacy and increased shelter, curtain off the weyrs' openings.
You see The Brig here.
"Before you lock me away, Guard... I've gotta ask." Jesha tips her head and regards Krummolt with a serious gaze. "Do you believe in what you're doing here? I mean lockin' up folk what speak their mind or just are in the wrong place at the wrong time like the lil' mouse over here (I never did catch your name, darlin'.)?"
Krummolt leads the group in the brig. "Faranth's farting fork is one of my favorites," he informs Jesha, more genially. Apparently, her appreciation of his skill in crafting curses mollifies him. He directs them into a cell and closes the door. "I also like 'hatching sands in your loincloth' but I don't get to use that one much. Who was that you wanted, girl? R'chard, you said?" He pauses for a moment as realization strikes him. "Yeah, what's your /name/?" He realizes he has no idea. Back to Jesha, he looks more seriously, but his shrug is off handed. "Chey's drunk. She'll calm down in the morning. But better drunk discipline than sober chaos, fer my money."
Hari is trailing along just a step behind the, but given the look on her face, it should be pretty evident that she's not going to run - not when she could likely be stopped and have worse happen before she'd taken five steps. Meekly heading into the cell, she nods slowly. "R'hard.. Dickie.. My brother. Brown Innath's.." She offers softly, before looking from one to the other. "Hari.." She offers after a moment, apparently deciding there's no harm that could come from it.
Jesha's free hand makes a noncommittal gesture. "Ah well. As long as you're not going to behead a kid on whim. Sooo, do we get blankets? Pallets? Klah?" If you're baffled by motives, might as well not take them seriously. "Though I'm not kiddin' I'm gonna stage an intervention at this point, like folks do with fellis abusers. She don't got the luxury to cuss and make accusations and down the sauce in her position."
Krummolt gives a little snort that probably indicates agreement with Jesha's sentiments, though he doesn't actually state that theoretical agreement aloud. "Blankets, pallets and klah, I can do," he assures his pair of prisoners. "I'll send in a recruit with 'em. And send another to find R'chard. Hari." He repeats the name to be sure he doesn't forget it, then looks abstracted. "Maybe I can sneak those bottles off Chey's table if I hurry..." he says aloud, but probably to himself, and heads for the door without bidding his prisoners a further goodbye.
Hari is content to stand there, arms folded across her stomach as she looks, before moving to lean against the wall of the cell, nodding slowly. "Thank you, sir.." And then, with a shake of her head, she's going to sigh. "He's going to say I never should have come here..." And then her feet are more interesting, though she watches Krummolt disappear again.
With a flump Jesha sinks to the floor of the cell, sending up a small cloud of dust. "Well...at least the weather is nice? And please, Hari -- that was your name, right? -- don't take this as an indicator of how it usually is around this place. We're crazy in a TOTALLY different way." A silence descends and Jesh taps her toes against the ground idly, blowing a puff of hair from her cheeks. "So uh...like it so far? Other than threats of bodily harm?"
Message 24 of 24 on *High Reaches (#3155):
Date: Sat Sep 27 19:24:04 2008 CDT
From: Chey (#25855)
To: *High Reaches (#3155) and *TinyPlots (#2060)
Subject: ...Did that just happen?
Rumors abound, but they seem... a bit implausible. Don't they?
Chey, apparently, in a drunken rage, accused a candidate of spying and ordered her execution. When a Wingleader and the guard captain protested, she fired the captain and arrested the wingleader. The poor candidate was hauled off for "questioning" that some say is probably near to torture.
It seems improbable, but there are witnesses aplenty, and it cannot be denied that Il'ad is unknotted and Krummolt given his place. Exactly /what/ is going on at High Reaches?
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Message 25 of 25 on *High Reaches (#3155):
Date: Sat Sep 27 20:13:02 2008 CDT
From: Krummolt (#25572)
To: *High Reaches (#3155)
Subject: More strange doings
The new guard captain? Krummolt sidled briefly back into the living caverns, after Chey, Jesha, Hari and Il'ad all left in varying states of disgrace just long enough to pack up the remaining bottles from the Weyrwoman's table in a sack and go back to the barracks, where he disappeared into a private room. A variety of strange thumpings, curses, laughter and breaking glass was later reported from inside, but the door was locked, and Krummolt was quite insistent that he did not wish to be disturbed.
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