Chess Games (Battlewher Hatching)

Reserving this Post for the Babs

Linah had gotten the message from golden Mialuth that there was a battle wher hatching. And the queen dragon was somewhat excited, because she didn't actually know what a "battle wher" was. She hadn't even met watch whers yet! (Linah didn't want to introduce Linsk yet, as the white was a bit of a temperamental and hostile creature and Linah was afraid Mialuth might get hurt.) So she wanted Linah to go, and then come back and tell her all about everything, because Mialuth was a curious dragon that just wanted to know things.

Of course, actually getting to the hatching was a different story. Linah had tried to get away alone, but that wasn't to be. Ashes swirled around the Immortal as she walked the length of the Weyr to the Hatching Sands, and they formed up into Munchy. Canine, still, and trouble, always.

Nots leave me, Munchy growled. Stupids wench.

The Hatching Sands had their usual dragon eggs in various states of hardening, of course, but off to one side was a clutch of smaller, wrinkled eggs watched over by a creature who was most definitely not a dragon, though she was clearly related somehow. And with her, a brown dragon, and his rider, probably also the bondmate of the probable-battle wher. There was also a nadur present, although Linah couldn't say why.

Linah heard the instructions to bow to the queen. Clearly that didn't mean the queen dragon on the other side of the sands, so she approached the battle wher.

"Lovely clutch you have," Linah informed her, bowing politely.

To the man with the information about whers, she smiled. "I brought my own daggers, it's okay. Trick'll be keeping the cut open long enough. My albin-uh, white, Linsk, had to bite me pretty hard, back in the day. I'm Linah, one of the junior weyrwomen around Haven, rider of Mialuth. Nice to meet you."

That said, she took her place by the table with the blood porridge and the knives that she didn't need (Bronze Age daggers would do the trick nicely, and they were ever-present in her waistband, along with the sword tucked into her coat, although she hoped she wouldn't need that!).

Nots smart place put eggs, observed Munchy, looking between the battle wher queen and the gold dragon that was glaring red-eyed daggers at her for imposing. In theory, there was absolutely enough space on the sands for the battle wher to take a little bit for herself, but in practice gold dragons were strange and jealous creatures when they had eggs on the sands, their usual personalities replaced by paranoia, resentment, and barely-suppressed rage. She nots happy, over theres. Hehehehehehehe. Mad dragons. Fun!

"Munchy, don't be a shit disturber."



Truth informed Aletha about the alternate hatching on the Hatching Sands. Deciding that whers -- watch or battle -- were not child-friendly, Aletha made sure Melorius was safe in Elzathiel's care before she came down from her weyr.

She cut an imposing figure, dressed all in black. She'd foregone her usual armor, knowing that she'd be blind and deaf for three whole minutes if her armor got struck by anything, which rendered it useless. Still, her outfit and cloak were impressive and Poetic Justice was still at her waist, ready to be drawn in flames if necessary.

Aletha strode across the sands with the arrogance of a woman who knew without question that she belonged there. She listened to the brownrider's instructions, of course, she wasn't without the ability to be respectful (and going in uninformed was stupid, and Aletha wasn't stupid).

Shoulders square, chin high, Aletha approached the queen as a regal bronzerider fully worthy of equal respect, and cut a magnificent bow. In silence, she straightened, and joined the errant goldrider at the table with porridge and knives. Because Poetic Justice was a sword, not a knife, and because it wouldn't cut Aletha, the blackguard took hold of one of the knives from the table and cut a line in the side of her off-hand. Not the palm, she needed the palm, but the edge around the side of the pinky.

"You didn't have to do that yet," the curvy goldrider pointed out, tilting her head at Aletha. "They haven't even broken shell!"

"I find it best to be prepared."



You need to get out of your weyr, Mistress. Your pups need you, yes, but you need time of your own if you're to care for them, Teosi pleaded. Pleading was not the Hellhound's usual gimmick, but Melonwei had been holed up in her weyr since Calaeron's death, even going so far as to give birth alone, unaided, to her twins. She had food delivered by dumbwaiter to her weyr from the Kitchen Caverns, every weyr was equipped with a fully functional bathroom, she didn't really need to leave.

Except that she did.

Manaran is literally built for babysitting, you know this. Let me take you to the Hatching Sands, at least that far.

The twins were down for a nap, and Melonwei emerged from the darkness to approach her faithful hellhound. Her mocha complexion was pale, her hair brittle. She'd not been taking care of herself beyond what was necessary to ensure she lactated properly for her twins.

"I cannot stand the pathetic wheedling in your tone, Teosi. Very well, to the Hatching Sands, but no farther. Let this be our golden hour of social revitalization."

She was in Healer Hall green with the shoulder knots of a greenrider, very far from the white robes of a Veiled Sister. White robes would have been cooler, the Hatching Sands were always uncomfortably hot, but folks tended to mind those.

She listened to the instructions, and hopefully the queen wher didn't mind Teosi's presence, because the hellhound wasn't leaving Melonwei's side. To be completely fair, however, he bowed when Melonwei did. He was a respectful creature, after all.

When the time came for cutting, Melonwei had her bone-handled kris in her waistband.



It was not the Dragon Grapevine that got Tamara's attention. Actually it was her Patron, the demon king that gave her power. He'd suggested maybe she find her way to the village, and from the village up to the..."Weyr", they called it? So Tamara had hopped onto Fiadh's back and ridden her way up.

Folks seemed oddly okay with the woman riding a giant wolf. They only started giving her strange looks up around the Weyr-way, and this, Tamara gathered after a few passing comments, was simply because most people...rode dragons here?

Eventually Tamara dismounted and Fiadh simply walked with her, a horse-sized shadow. These are not the dragons of your world, Tamara, nothing so impossibly ancient.
Well, the wild dragons here are a different kind of ancient, but the Pern-bloods...I'll catch you up later. Better yet, ask a Harper.

"I take it from your wholly inadequate explanation that Pern is a place?"

Yes, sorry. The world from which the tradition of the Weyr comes in the first place. And whers, although I think "battle" whers are an off-Pern variant species.

Tamara followed instructions and bowed as indicated, and then took her place by the table. She had her own knife, though. Her vorpal halfling rondel, which never left her side.



Follow me! Xiantun was right happy to lead the way. So happy to, he grabbed Chester up in his mouth and bounded off.

Alxian apologized to Imlueth for leaving her only half oiled and went to chase his errant battle wher down.

At some point, Xiantun dropped Chester, but now it was about retrieving the bastard, so Alxian remained in pursuit. He didn't have to chase long, as Xiantun was only interested in fleeing as far as the Hatching Sands. ...oh.

"You must be the one Xiantun found when he got out," Alxian observed of Akisk, bowing. "Hopefully he didn't cause you too much trouble."

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1317 words Golden Hour May word lists

Whew, got everyone in.