Post by Tribal Staff on Mar 20, 2015 19:45:18 GMT -5
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The Brownrider E’zek[/center]
I don’t like the beasts here. They’re scrawny and taste weird.
“You’re not supposed to be eating yet anyway.”
It’s not my fault the fighting took longer than expected. Fighting makes me hungry.
Sharding dragon.
Yes, the fighting had taken longer than expected. Four days to secure the coastal outpost, another five to root out the main Weyr and nearby cave systems. The Southerners had put up a stronger fight, and too many of them had disappeared. Oh sure, my Wing managed to chase a few down before they got too far, but the majority of dragons had escaped. No matter. They didn’t have a home now, and their Weyrwoman had been captured.
Not that anyone told me anything. Just a grunt according to most. I became a nobody the moment Jeslath chose me. A Lord’s son. Impressed to brown. Sons of Lords impressed bronze. The highest I could now go was Wingsecond, destined for a life of boot-licking and ass-kissing.
But here…
“Take a look, Jeslath. We could make our place here.” It was a tempting thought, even if the climate was miserably hot. It was winter in Benden. Why was it so sharding hot here?
Not if the beasts are all this foul, the brown growled, ripping the haunch of his meal off with his metal-tipped claws.
“We could find you a good weyr, one with a view. The Southerners won’t be needing them.” The place was nothing to look at now. Still wild, the land still scarred from the fires of H’yr’s failed Siege, and the air still stank of burning bodies. As if the air needed anything else to sticky it up.
You aren’t seriously considering staying.
“We’ll stay as long as we’re ordered.” Which was true enough, but I wouldn’t mind staying South. If few enough bronzes wanted to linger to keep the jungle Weyr secure, I could slip into leadership, really make a name for myself. “When you’re finished with that, we’re leading a scout of the river.”
Do we have to collect any bodies that got swept downstream? Jeslath groaned, picking at his meal with deliberate care. Bah, reluctant creature. Always afraid to do the dirty work.
“Not if we find them already burned or ripped apart by the weird water predators.” Just another sign of how odd the South was. So many strange and deadly species. It was a wonder the Southerners even survived this long.
I’ll get the firestone, the brown sighed and tossed the cleaned carcass aside before he stood. Don’t forget the numbweed this time. I’ll need it on my claws afterward.
“Anything for you, Jes.”
And stop calling me that.
The Brownrider E’zek[/center]
I don’t like the beasts here. They’re scrawny and taste weird.
“You’re not supposed to be eating yet anyway.”
It’s not my fault the fighting took longer than expected. Fighting makes me hungry.
Sharding dragon.
Yes, the fighting had taken longer than expected. Four days to secure the coastal outpost, another five to root out the main Weyr and nearby cave systems. The Southerners had put up a stronger fight, and too many of them had disappeared. Oh sure, my Wing managed to chase a few down before they got too far, but the majority of dragons had escaped. No matter. They didn’t have a home now, and their Weyrwoman had been captured.
Not that anyone told me anything. Just a grunt according to most. I became a nobody the moment Jeslath chose me. A Lord’s son. Impressed to brown. Sons of Lords impressed bronze. The highest I could now go was Wingsecond, destined for a life of boot-licking and ass-kissing.
But here…
“Take a look, Jeslath. We could make our place here.” It was a tempting thought, even if the climate was miserably hot. It was winter in Benden. Why was it so sharding hot here?
Not if the beasts are all this foul, the brown growled, ripping the haunch of his meal off with his metal-tipped claws.
“We could find you a good weyr, one with a view. The Southerners won’t be needing them.” The place was nothing to look at now. Still wild, the land still scarred from the fires of H’yr’s failed Siege, and the air still stank of burning bodies. As if the air needed anything else to sticky it up.
You aren’t seriously considering staying.
“We’ll stay as long as we’re ordered.” Which was true enough, but I wouldn’t mind staying South. If few enough bronzes wanted to linger to keep the jungle Weyr secure, I could slip into leadership, really make a name for myself. “When you’re finished with that, we’re leading a scout of the river.”
Do we have to collect any bodies that got swept downstream? Jeslath groaned, picking at his meal with deliberate care. Bah, reluctant creature. Always afraid to do the dirty work.
“Not if we find them already burned or ripped apart by the weird water predators.” Just another sign of how odd the South was. So many strange and deadly species. It was a wonder the Southerners even survived this long.
I’ll get the firestone, the brown sighed and tossed the cleaned carcass aside before he stood. Don’t forget the numbweed this time. I’ll need it on my claws afterward.
“Anything for you, Jes.”
And stop calling me that.
Come to Tribal Weyr: Shattered
+ Semi-Canon Dragonriders of Pern Site
+ Newly Opened; Come See our new site!
+ Plenty of Character Options and Choices
+ Wher Clutch in the works
+ Adoptable Dragon Clutch available
+ Intense character-driven plot with player-driven outcomes
+ Semi-Canon Dragonriders of Pern Site
+ Newly Opened; Come See our new site!
+ Plenty of Character Options and Choices
+ Wher Clutch in the works
+ Adoptable Dragon Clutch available
+ Intense character-driven plot with player-driven outcomes