Ondine
Jr. Weyrleader 
ondct[M:-155]
Posts: 436
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Post by Ondine on Jan 3, 2013 22:34:10 GMT -5
Lyrnn slipped out of his room with something akin to a smile on his face. Things were looking up again. Cases of plague were dropping, none of his Wherlings had died, and he was looking forward to this Wherling lesson. Of course, there were a few downsides. Rakir had died from plague, and Rakisk had been put down before the Wher could make it out of the Weyr. Sad, but necessary. Also, another pair of his pants were missing after his latest night with Kalenna. Which made at least five, maybe even six, over the past year.
But that was a mystery for another day, and if that was the price of being in Kalenna's bed, well, he was happy to pay it. For the time being, he was walking to the Weyr entrance, where Lyrsk was waiting for him. He just had to run back in order to grab the crossbow that was currently resting in its holster, as well as the bundle of bolts that ranged in type from merely lethal to gruesomely specialized. Meeting Damali had broadened his appreciation of bolts that served specific purposes, something that the man was always happy to learn about. That it made his weapon wall seem even more spectacular was totally lost on him.
And these were for any Whers tonight that misbehaved. Of course, the other two fully grown Whers that were coming along to teach should take care of that all on their own, but sometimes it didn't hurt to show your fangs. Spotting the shape of his Blue ahead, he hurried up, nodding to the two Whers that were already here...and the women riding those Whers. He felt faintly jealous of that, but his height and build made that impossible, unless he had Impressed a Gold, and maybe a King. Lyrsk was neither, but he didn't need the color or size.
Wherlings, meet Weyr entrance, now. Best behavior today, or else. There was implied threat in the last sentence as the Wherlingmaster's Wher called the Cyan Class to where they were. If they didn't behave today, he wouldn't be the only one they'd have to answer to. Actually, any retribution from the Bluehandler and his Wher would likely to be entirely tame compared to what Damask and Kalesk would do to them. The two Queens lurked in the shadows of the entrance, and Lyrnn grinned. This should be fun, unless his class tried to do something stupid.
He waved to Damali and Kalenna, both of whom were perched on their Wher's. He noted, approvingly, that Damali had a crossbow. With her along...well, should anyone foolishly think they could avoid that sting, they'd learn otherwise. But really, he wasn't anticipating many problems. Abrask and Burlesk were his two problem children, but Burlesk was coming along nicely. Or, at the very least, his handler was. And while Kalesk might be...a handful, Kalenna was a good handler. Or, at least, that's how he read that situation. But then, given that it was a Gold and a Red...they'd better be good handlers. “Thanks for coming, Damali, Kalenna. Ready to start?”
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Boo
Jr. Weyrwoman
booct[M:-425]
Shirath: THOSE aren't spirit fingers... THESE ARE SPIRIT FINGERS!!!
Posts: 1,917
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Post by Boo on Jan 11, 2013 2:28:54 GMT -5
"La... Hmmm Hmmm ahhhhh..."
Naanell lay on the floor surrounded by hide and writing materials. She had almost perfected her most recent hatching song. Callistath's was one full of wonder with a new female viridian rider and bronze rider. That was a big deal as far as she was aware and just in general. She was not a writer of lyrics but rather of compositions. The lifting and falling of notes and the harmonising of instruments. At the moment she was half way through the pipe part and this was the last instrument. Naanell was determined to get it finished tonight but she also wanted to include a baritone pipe part.
On the table, across from her bed, lay her own instruments which she had been playing to figure out the best notes and how they would work together.
Mmmmm Badummmmmm
Naanesk paused and looked at Naanesk who was lying in the corner. With his deep, baritone tones he had proven very useful and for a while Naanell had been considering pleading his case to Harper Hall so that he could become an apprentice. The wher didn't seem to understand what was happening most of the time but he seemed to be a natural at harmonising.
They had been swimming for a while earlier that evening and before that they had been in the creche for the afternoon shift. As usual, Naanesk had taken the children for rides, helped them with their drawings and just generally been a great help. Naanell had agreed to do a swim around the lake with him which had just about made her pass out but they had gotten there in the end, Naanesk swimming double when he kept coming back to check on her. Now he lay watching her work and supplying notes when he thought it helpful not that he understood but his random sounds seemed to make her happy so he was happy. The wher twitched as a voice entered his mind.
Lesson.
We've nearly finished. We can be a little late I think.
Should go now. Better to go now.
They won't be mad at us.
Have already missed lessons.
We just have a little more to write, it's fine.
Naanesk huffed but subsided, eyes whirling with some concern. He wanted to be the best and for people to see how strong he was now. How could he do that with them in their room? The door was open but that wasn't enough. He wanted all to see him...
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Azhdarchid
Jr. Weyrwoman
azhct[M:-1490]
Totes.
Posts: 1,627
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Post by Azhdarchid on Jan 14, 2013 20:49:39 GMT -5
Tussbuul stirred at the very delicate press of a few long fangs into the shell of his ear.
"Ow," he confessed.
No. Not sleepy.
"No..." Tusk was not merely being insistent, but truthful. The Master Miner was well-rested. Maybe a little more than eight hours today.
Didn't mean he wanted to get up. But Tusk had his ear, and when he sat up her entire head shifted to hang off it like a grotesque green earring. Only when he went to move his legs to the side of the bed did she shuffle out of the way. His firelizard rang him in with a vision of the sunset. "It's a bit early, isn't it?" he wondered at his wher. "Has Lyrsk already made the call?"
No. Tusk had stuck her head and lengthy neck under the bed next to Tussbuul's legs, but pulled it out again to eye him. But far. Yet will be on time. She gaped her jaws at him till the yellowy innards showed, like a grin of determination.
"Oh. Yes I see." He had gone to bed over in his crafter's office, which also coincidentally had a very lush bed compared to what was offered by the barracks. And it was also so private as to be desolate, particularly in the wake of the plague. No pattering of wher or human feet to summon him or Tusk from dreams. How the green managed her intuitive sense of the hour to begin with baffled him. Billy, of course, did not appear to sleep.
So Tusk had predicted the call would come, yet to be in one of their usual lesson haunts on time, her handler would have to begin prepping early. He liked to lounge in his bath, and he walked with great care. "My little girl is so clever," he oozed at the half-a-wher still visible by his leg. He assumed it was not a tunnelsnake she was wrestling with. There would have been a lot more hissing.
And so they were perfectly on time, and a good thing too. Tussbuul, dressed in working leathers with only a mildly fancy jacket over the top, bowed once to Damali, and more deeply to Kalenna, pivoting on his cane with practiced excellence. Earlier he had noticed Tusk bearing something in the fold of one near-white wing, but did not concern himself with the contents even as the green went sidling up to the Wherlingmaster. All he knew was that she had fetched it from under the bed.
Tusk and Tussbuul were, in fact, first. This suited Tusk's interests just fine. As she neared Lyrsk, she twisted her six-foot body to one side, and wiggled the last few steps toward him like a confetti crab. She kept looking away from him, like she wanted nothing to do with the patient blue. But at the last possible second, she gracefully drooped her chest to the ground before him and unfurled her wing so as to place her secret treasure just in front of his toes.
A redfruit. It was dry, and a bit of fungus tufted the left side, but it was stuffed with scrumptious worms and larvae and beetle-bugs. She flicked her wing straight up, then folded it back against her ribs and raised her head as high as it went as she strode back to Tussbuul, leaving her apple for the teacher behind.
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Serah
Wingsecond 
serct[M:-148]
Posts: 358
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Post by Serah on Jan 15, 2013 21:49:33 GMT -5
Pailu no get up? Pailusk tried to ask Pailu. Pailu had been sleeping for longer than normal. She was usually up slightly after Pailusk got up. But today, she had slept well after Pailusk got up. She shook her head and looked around, slightly confused. "Pailusk, I had the strangest dream." She said, stretching. Pailu get ready?
Her whers question got her out of bed immediately. "Get ready for what?" Pailu asked the green wher. Pailu get ready. Was all Pailusk responded. No matter how much she prodded for a more informative answer, Pailu only got that one. She resigned her attempts to get more information from her wher and got dressed. There was no point in arguing if the only answer she would get was one that was vague.
Pailu knew that Pailusk was expecting something to happen today, so Pailu was on alert. Of course, it would have helped had she been expecting her wherlingmaster to call them to the main entrance, but then again, it did make some sort of sense that their wherlingmaster would call them for a lesson. She finished getting ready, and the pair headed out.
They were not the first two there. There was already another wherling pair there. She bowed to Damali, Kalenna and their whers. Whatever it was that they were doing, it had to be quite the task. The Redhandler and Goldhandler wouldn't be here if it wasn't.
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kireon
Candidatemaster 
kirct[M:-191]
Posts: 739
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Post by kireon on Jan 28, 2013 13:43:36 GMT -5
"Y'know, you were a lot easier to deal with when I could stuff you in a bag and walk off." Cilia informed the massive hulking form of a bronze, hands planted firmly on her hips as she and her ever stubborn bonded squared off for yet another confrontation. "Cuter too, what happened there?" He knew the routine more than seven times over, and yet always convienantly seemed to 'forget' if it interfered with something he wanted to do.
In this instance, he wanted to go over one of Lyrsk's training moves for the seventeeth time, primarily because he'd gotten knocked tail over fathead by the older, wiser and probably much less high maintenance wher the last several practice sessions. A matter of pride, he wanted to prove himself to... who, she wasn't exactly clear on, but it was important for him to get the manuever perfect.
Cilisk's expression was one of polite indignancy. 'Cute' was never to be used to describe him. Ever. It was beneath him to even consider the word applicable to someone of his noble bulk and grand stature. A huff strong enough to blast the hair away from Cilia's shoulders, he raised his thick neck high in pride. Cilia easier deal with when worry,[/color] he retorted, by far and large entirely too used to arguing back and forth with his entirely too stubborn and ill focused- in his opinion- bonded to be surprised by anything she said. be more,[/i] the king faltered, struggling in his limited though impressive vocabulary thanks to Cilia's influence. Cilia be more Alpha when worry. More challenge, work hard.[/i]
Iron gray eyes narrowed at the wher. Hard to believe this is the same fatheaded little hatchling I could carry around like Vak when he was a pup. I didn't even feed him anything different than anyone else did- and look at 'im! He'll end up being dragon sized at this rate and about fifty times more impossible to move than one! The mental image of Cilisk as big as one of the dragons gave her goosebumps and a full body shudder of revulsion. He was impossible to deal with on a daily basis as it was, and if he got to the size of a dragon- even one of the tiny ones like the Grays she'd occasionally seen- she'd be at a total disadvantage.
...not that she was at a disadvantage now or anything.
"So, you're telling me that you liked me being out of my head worrying about whether or not my sister was going to die because I'd work myself half to death?" Wouldn't surprise her if he said 'yes' on the matter, that fatheaded wher of hers had an ego to match his massive size.
Cilisk considered that. Not like Cilia fear,[/i] the bronze admitted reluctantly as she reached out to playfully tug on the knobby protrusion on the right side of his mouth. He tolerated it, barely, and turned his head to try and catch her hand in his jaws. It was a small, very private game he would only play with her in the comfort of their own room. like Cilia ambition, will to be Alpha-like. Alpha Cilia good Cilia.[/i]
Lyrsk's interruption and call to arms didn't go unheard by either of them, the bronze stiffly looking to Cilia. Lesson now. Best behavior Cilia, no bad, put in corner like Burlesk.[/i]
Cilia slapped the back of his knobby head for his sass and headed out the door. "So not cute," she complained as he lumbered after her, taking his place appropriately at her side. His shoulder was up to her sternum now, she realized and forced back the urge to groan. He was a friggen Turn old, there couldn't be that much more he could grow, could there?
Cilisk leader, leader not cute.[/i] Cilisk informed her in his typical grave, entirely too serious manner. Leader noble, strong. Cute be,[/i] the bronze actually had to think on that one. Cilia, prone to sarcastic comebacks, actually held back, wanting to see what fell under Cilisk's rigid definition of 'cute'.
"Cute be?" She prompted after her wher's silence had gone on for too long.
The bronze's lips curled back to expose fangs, he gave a cough. Pailusk.. Mysk... Bifrosk?[/i] He offered uncertainly, swinging his massive head up to look at Cilia to confirm if his choices were correct- which, they were, there was no doubt in his mind that there were, after all.
"...that's your definition of cute." Cilia's voice was oddly strained as she tried to keep her tone flat and matter of fact. It failed, and Cilisk was far too attuned to her to know when she was holding back laugher and bared his teeth at her again, a silent display of displeasure.
Not wrong,[/i] he insisted. but wher not cute, wher for protect and guard, fierce. Cute not fierce, not good protect.[/i]
"Whatever you say there, Fathead, whatever you say." Cilia shook her head, raising a hand in greeting to Lyrnn and Lyrsk as she caught sight of the particularly troublesome pair. That man needed to spend more time with Kalenna, as far as Cilia was concerned. More time with the goldhandler, much less time being a busybody and turning her into one as well. Her expression was appropriately startled for all of a handful of seconds as Cilisk abruptly straighted himself up and began walking in a manner only reserved for showing off and presenting what he felt was his 'best' stride. What's your damage?
Kalesk, Damask. Best behavior Cilia.[/i] He informed his handler tense, but excited. Not only was his dam there, but the other Red Queen was there too. Vresk might not like it, he realized after a delayed reaction, but he would make sure things went smoothly there and reached out to the Orange, en route as he was sure she was. Vresk, lessons start soon. Best behavior, Kalesk and Damask here. Show Vresk best side with Cilisk, best leaders.[/i]
He rumbled a greeting to the three older wher, showing the older Queen and subqueen the proper amount of deference and respect their roles entitled- if a little bit more, since he was a bronze, after all... even if he didn't act like one as far as bronze's natures tended to go. Cilisk greet Kalesk, Damask, Lyrsk. Good hunt, good patrol? He inquired.
Kalenna and Damali? She liked the redhandler quite a bit, hadn't gotten a good enough read off Kalenna to say one way or another- other than Lyrnn had fine taste in bed partners. The crossbows in the ladies' hands gave her reason for pause, if Kalenna could do half the things that Damali could with that crossbow...
Well, this was going to be one of the more unique lessons in their Wherling class.
**
With an incident involving a bucket, a chalk-like substance, and an entirely too flexible for his chubby self black wher, Impa and Impask arrived as quickly as the could to the lessons. Impa's clothing had a few clawed prints of what looked like flour streaked on her back... and a snout print on her backside. Impask still had traces of whatever the substance was around his nostrils and lips, his jagged fangy grin in place as he lit up at the sight of his dam and Damask. A chortle began to bubble forth, spilling out unbidden as ideas and plots began to build in his brain.
New shadows he could be. He would be the best shadow ever. Orisk would be forever proud and-
Thump.
Oh. Impask meekly sat beside his handler, barely having felt the impact of her fist between his shoulders. The chortling immediately ceased.
Impa was reading his mind now. Scary Impa.
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