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Council Meeting: Defense of Vaioa
Topic Started: Aug 12 2011, 02:54 PM (1,547 Views)
Zane
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Wingrider
Despite R’av’s attempt to forestall his attendance at this council meeting, he had still arrived in plenty of time. He didn’t understand why his brother couldn’t just accept that things were the way they were. They were already graduated, they were adults, and yet R’av continued to act like a child. Rowan wouldn’t accept that his twin could be so narrow-minded; there must’ve been some other underlying issues. Either way, he’d get to the bottom of it all, and peacefully at that. The new Weyrleader had been declared, and Rowan thought him to be the best choice out of them all. Lisenyth had surely done right by the Weyr. He wondered if Rhyssone agreed, not that he’d ever even think of asking her. He was sure she did, he’d leave it at that. He was trying to fix the sleeves of his shirt. He’d attempted to dress nicely, wearing a jet black button-down. By the time he approached the Weyrleader he’d stopped fussing with his sleeves long enough to grin and say, ”Congratulations to you, Weyrleader O’zen. Were my dragon not full of so much pride, I imagine he’d congratulate Lenth as well.” At that Rowan could only smirk. The bronzerider hoped that the man could take a bit of light teasing. Sometimes honesty was the best humour of all.

If you so much as suggest that ever again, I’ll eat all of your ballads. Unfortunately Rowan didn’t put it past the sadistic bronze to do so. He tried not to look nervous, wondering if he should wander off to find a seat. He was in the higher altitude wing, with C’amryn and a few other bronzerider’s. He nodded to the women that were present, wondering what they’d been called here for, or had they just come? No, that wouldn’t be right, and with how nervous Zilla looked he highly doubted it. Rakoth had settled himself apart from the others on the ledge, grumbling to himself. He was still bitter about losing the flight. He was recovering nicely from the toll it had taken on his body; Rowan was not at all worried. He didn’t know many of the men in this room well, but he hoped to change that. Might as well start with one of his wing.

”C’amryn,” he addressed the copper-rider. “Likely wondering what this is all about too.” Like the rest he assumed, for it needed to be discussed. The safety of the Weyr was above all the most important thing, save the fighting of thread. That was a given. Rowan looked from C’amryn to O’zen, wondering if the topic of the meeting had already been asked. A brownrider greeted the Weyrleader before taking a seat, but Rowan was still focused on what O’zen had to say. It wasn’t until the Weyrwoman appeared and took her seat that Rowan said anything further. ”Weyrwoman, it’s a pleasure, as always.” He had a gentle smile on his face, moving a hand up to his face to remove a few black strands from his line of sight.

He wished Rakoth would ease up, and at least bespeak Lisenyth. Wasn’t going to happen, but it would’ve been nice!
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Shina
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U Jelly Bro?
Well, now they were doing something that was actually needed some debating enough for. Despite all the hullabaloo of nothing like this happening at the last meeting, X'hic was more than eager enough to help put a stop to whatever crazy plans the rebels had been put up to. They had nearly lost a rider to those crazy Holdless! And seeing the destruction firsthand of what they were capable of, there was no way they couldn't toss the situation over their shoulders and be done with it.

He took a seat, taking a moment to congratulate O'zen on becoming the new Weyrleader. "A wonderful flight. And Rhyssone. A wonderful clutch Lisenyth gave to the weyr. And a queen egg too! Tell her I hope for the best." He might not like O'zen as much as he probably should, but X'hic was one to respect authority. And with the bronzerider as leader of the weyr, he hoped things would start looking up in all the troubles that had suddenly arisen.

You worry too much. Things will be fine. I'm sure of it. If only he had Tonouth's enthusiasm. Lately he was feeling older than his age had suggested. All this drama must be getting to him.

Pertor had walked in with a large pile of hides tucked into his arms, and X'hic paused for thought when a flask procured in his hands. Hadn't he... seen those somewhere before? The Masterminer's hiccup shook him from his stupor. He really shouldn't be drinking here right now, but Pertor was more than likely in a foul mood right now. The raid must be still getting to him. "Pertor, I hope you are doing okay. And the whers are well, right?"
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Iradial
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MEDIOCRE
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O'zen smiled pleasantly to those who arrived, taking their compliments and congratulations as gracefully as he could. In a less formal setting, he would have gloated relentlessly about it, probably with A'yar over a mug of ale; but he needed to make a good impression on these people and found himself struggling. O'zen wasn't used to taking things seriously, nor was he used to people taking him seriously. Already he had caught himself starting to slouch back in his chair, all too ready to prop his feet up on the table while he waited.

You will do fine, Lenth assured him, aware of his rider's anxiety even if O'zen was not. The bronze could sense how tense the man was and did his best to convey his confidence and support over their mind link.

O'zen was grateful for his dragon's comfort, but still found it difficult to relax. He eyed the Masterminer as he hobbled in. Even if O'zen hadn't heard the rumor of Pertor's addiction, even if he hadn't been around mind-altering substances his whole life, it was painfully obvious that the man had been drinking.

Ignoring the anger that began to rise inside him, he stood up, ready to begin the meeting. "Thank you, everyone, for attending today. I've called this council to discuss a troubling matter." He paused to clear his throat again. "It's been nearly two months since bandits attacked Vaioa. There has been no sign of them since then, but I do not believe we have seen the last of them. If they attack again, I want to be better prepared.

"Flaming dragons have proved to be intimidating enough in the past, but the bandits are likely aware that they will not attack humans - it's plain to see the Mine Guard isn't enough anymore. Besides, with Thread coming, I cannot spare enough riders to form a good defense. We need to find an alternate way to protect Vaioa."

At this, O'zen turned his gaze on Pertor, his expression cold. "Masterminer, unless you have something important to contribute to this meeting, I want you out of here. I will not allow drunkenness in my council room."

O'zen : Bronze Lenth
Lowen : Beryllium Lerriloth
Jerund : Brown Jerusk
Hama : Green Hamask
Eevai : Garnet Iopeth
Sh'ol : Graphite Hellioth
Kh'sev : Grey Saiyeth
Bervaidi : Blue Bervask
Syrsha : Brown Kalayth
Rosinthew : Candidate
Khola : Weyrfolk
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Rai
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Weyrling
As more people filed into the council room, C'as really began to ponder what the meeting was about. He had only just arrived a couple days ago. Yet the only thing he could think of that would prompt this was the bit of information he'd had upon his arrival. What problems did this Weyr have? Well, there was a new Weyrleader. Could that be it? A council meeting might be called for that, though it wasn't a sure thing. Then there was the other idea. The information he'd gotten was that Vaioa had a problem with bandits. Could that be it? He made a little tower with his hands, watching as each person filed in, and, not recognizing any besides Rhyssone and O'zen very well, decided to pay close attention so he might get names and faces as well as ranks remembered.

Another individual came in, and C'as was quite surprised. Was the man drunk? His behavior and words...he was, wasn't he? C'as was not the sort to judge another for his habits. But a council meeting, and coming to it inebriated as this? He was suddenly quite curious as to who the man was. He came in with a pile of parchments, to boot. He did not have time to be considering when he was listening for names and ranks, however. C'amryn. So he was a dragonrider. A man who looked only a couple Turns older than he was introduced himself as Numael, Journeyman Harper. Then one of the women introduced herself. Zilla, Journeywoman Tailor. So they were inviting crafters to this meeting too, were they? He was firm in his conviction now that it was one of the two things he'd suspected. Then a younger man came in. He had the knots of a bronzerider. Hadn't he participated in the queenflight, as well? C'as didn't know him, but the only way he'd been certain he was a him was because he'd spoken. He'd never seen such an effeminate man in his entire life. It could be said of the young man, likely no more than twenty Turns at most, was 'pretty'. Aware he was looking perhaps too long in his evaluation, he quickly looked way. Hopefully the young man had been too busy speaking to take any offense.

Pertor. The name he got for the man who had arrived drunken to the meeting. But Pertor was whom, exactly? He could not see dragonrider knots. He must have been a crafter, then. Perhaps even a Master! C'as was hard put to believe a Master of any craft, or even a respectable Journeyman, would show up in this state. Then again, perhaps he had not been expecting this meeting? Then if he were bade attend, how could he very well have done anything but? C'as did not like to think ill of anyone else, and was eager enough to think well of the man. Then the Weyrleader began to speak.

He had noticed Rhyssone enter. She was a pretty enough woman, even without the rose colored eyes of flightlust. He was the kind of man to take a note of something, but he did not let himself linger on a simple thought like that. There were plenty of pretty women in the Weyr, and they received likewise notices. A notice and no more, as C'as did not really seek out 'romps in the fur' as was the way with some. Nor did he seek out a relationship of any kind other than friendship. He was a sincere believer in the fact that there was someone for everyone, and if it was meant to be it would be. He did wonder how the Weyrwoman felt being forced into bed and a working relationship with O'zen. He knew the man was a Bitran, and not much else. Bitrans had a reputation. C'as did not like stereotypes, however, and did not judge O'zen by where he was from, whether or not he was aware of the stereotype or not.

He listened to the bronzerider and Weyrleader, glad to finally know what this was about. So, he had been correct on one of his guesses. The bandits. C'as was not one for violence. Any suggestions he might have had, he curbed his tongue. Bandits were not shy about harming and killing people. Not even children. Candidates. Weyrlings...no one was exempt. Yet he disliked violence, even if Charth in the back of his mind was sending forth the idea that it was necessary at times. He knew the dragon was right. But what to be done, if dragons were not enough to deter them? O'zen was right. Dragons would not attack humans. Canines, perhaps? Then he caught the rank of the man named Pertor. Masterminer? Well, that was...interesting. To say the least. He somehow felt that drunk or no, the man had something to contribute today. All those parchments...what were they for?
[align=center]Wingrider K'ion of Copper Tribayth
Wingrider C'as of Brown Charth
Wingrider Raine of Grey Mysth
Wingrider Cayden of Grey Fidaeth
Wingrider Skyelir of Blue Leoth
Wingrider Alexias of Blue Hadeth
Wingrider Faile of Green Bayluth
Dragon Candidate Ryn
Wher Candidate Ryodan[/align]
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Bramble
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Tis the season for santa dragons
Zilla directed her attention to the head of the table as O'zen stood and began to speak. She listened closely as he spoke. She had heard of the bandit attack, though she had not realized greater action toward defense of the Hold had yet to be taken. She frowned slightly in thought, then her eyes widened as O'zen directed his attention to the Masterminer. The man did seem well a bit drunk to say the least, not exactly the sort of state one attends a council meeting in. She chewed a lower lip contemplating the current situation regarding the Bandits. She was a tailorcrafter, this was definitely a bit outside the normal bounds of thought for her.
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cheddarness8
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Weyrsinger
Pertor raised his head when the Weyrleader snapped at him. His expression, which had been fairly muted considering the influence of the massive amount of fellis he'd consumed so far, suddenly turned rather sour. A prickly mood passed over the Masterminer suddenly, something the Weyrfolk and Riders hardly ever saw out of the glib man. Most days he was simply intoxicated to the point of bubbly cheerfulness, but right now he was brooding and irate. A sharp tongue complimented his mood.

"I'm not drunk," protested Pertor, as if O'zen's use of the term had stung him terribly. "I've had a lot of fellis today. In case some of you couldn't figure out the obvious from the cane that I carry, I have a bad leg."

He leaned forward with a sigh to sort through the scrolls which he had deposited on the table. Clearly the new Weyrleader had said the wrong thing to Pertor.

"If I didn't have anything to contribute, why in Faranth's name would I haul my bum ass up your fardling stairs with a pile of technical drawings, Weyrleader? Also, you'd be wise to watch your tone with me," said the Masterminer. He took a moment to look O'zen right in the eyes.

"I've been working in my craft since before you were broth in your daddy's stones. I have earned my respect, and I don't immediately kowtow to a man just because he's had a roll in the bedfurs with the Werywoman," remarked Pertor with a very matter-of-fact tone as he slid several of his scrolls around the table, making sure to pass one to each of the Weyrleaders. The Masterminer was good at multitasking.

"Go ahead and kick me out still if you want to, but it would only further my point that you're still a-" he broke off his speech to take another drink from his flask. "-petulant Weyrbrat. But what do I know? I'm just an old man who thinks that if you had a wher ground troop, bandits would be a little less of a problem. They can patrol in and out of the Weyr, like a Wing, and..."

Whatever had been sober about Pertor during his tirade was quickly leaving him. He took another drink from his flask. Luckily, he could let his sketches and notes speak for themselves.



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Wher Troop with bronze Troopleader
Saddle for handler-rider, collar for extra control, and a hood to protect the eyes
With handler guidance and use of their hearing and smell, whers can function normally without sight. Use troops to protect Weyr from attacks and patrol outside looking for bandit groups. Make point of flirting with X'hic at meeting.[/align]
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Shina
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U Jelly Bro?
Just fardling great. O'zen just had to pick a fight with Pertor and now the Masterminer was going off on his drunken tirade. He leaned his head on the palm of his hand, shaking his head mutely to avoid being seen at the turn this meeting was taking. Better not to make things worse by appearing to be annoyed at them all. Respect was key at this moment.

He rose both his head and his eyebrows when Pertor mentioned an ever familiar word to the dragonhealer. Fellis? X'hic had always figured something was with the man ever since he had first met him and the gait he had walked in. So fellis for a leg problem wasn't unheard of... And yet... Something just seemed to be very amiss right now in this situation. Fellis could act as a painkiller, and a very effective one at that. But the aftereffects could be an issue if you weren't careful. It was very addictive if taken in large quantities. X'hic hadn't seen someone in his lifetime as a dragonhealer be addicted to the stuff, but he knew the symptoms. Could... Pertor actually be...?

And there goes the tirade again. It was becoming painfully obvious the Masterminer was long gone with no way to get to his head. He made a quick mental note to have a chat sometime with Pertor after the meeting was adjourned. X'hic couldn't get his mind off of what the Masterminer had said.

A scroll was passed to him by said miner, and he took a glance at the notes he was given. This... this wasn't actually a bad idea. The bluerider's knowledge of whers was rather limited, since Yaela was the healer for the dragonlike beasts. The plans that Pertor had meticulously made (and it was clear he had spent quite a bit of time on it) were rather well thought out. If the whers could be trained enough to the ability that Pertor wanted them, it could actually work.

Flirt with? He shook his head, though an embarrassed light blush spread on X'hic's face. An interest in him? He felt rather awkward at the moment.
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Iradial
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Not drunk? O'zen just stared at the man, working hard to keep his expression neutral. Perhaps Pertor had not consumed any alcohol, but he sure as Thread wasn't sober. He glanced down at the man's flask. Fellis was a good painkiller, yes, and O'zen was no healer, but he was fairly sure that it was only supposed to be taken in small quantities. Certainly one shouldn't consume enough to be as bloody mad as Pertor was now.

He felt himself tense as the man's rant continued, which had turned from defensive to a pointed insult at himself. I don't care if you're old and respected, you're also belligerent and high out of your mind. O'zen's temper was flaring, but he held back - this meeting was too important to start fighting now. Gritting his teeth, he grudgingly endured the Masterminer's lecture.

However, once O'zen received Pertor's sketches and notes, the man's drunken tirade was forgotten. He looked over the scrolls in interest, sinking back into his chair as he read them. Dragons may not attack people, but whers were ruthless. To have a patrol of them... he smiled at the closing note and shot a glance towards X'hic. Poor man.

"This could work," he breathed, reading over the notes and studying the diagrams for the second time. Never mind that Pertor was drunk and never mind that O'zen didn't like the man - he had provided them with an excellent idea, a very viable solution.

"Could whers actually be trained to do this? And does Vaioa even have enough to form a troop?" The only wherhandlers he knew of were Yaela and Chrys; this would be a time-consuming, dangerous job and, to him, neither of the women seemed like they were capable for it. If there were other whers, surely they were needed in the Mine.
O'zen : Bronze Lenth
Lowen : Beryllium Lerriloth
Jerund : Brown Jerusk
Hama : Green Hamask
Eevai : Garnet Iopeth
Sh'ol : Graphite Hellioth
Kh'sev : Grey Saiyeth
Bervaidi : Blue Bervask
Syrsha : Brown Kalayth
Rosinthew : Candidate
Khola : Weyrfolk
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Kolstoi
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Schweedish Ambassador
Moderator
A'yar watched the masterminer worriedly, brows creasing and mouth pulling into a frown. As he raved, A'yar kept whatever thoughts he might have had to himself, instead deciding it would be best to just keep up a front of concern - maybe he could catch the attention of one of the healers and discretely alert them to Pertor's potential problem. It seemed like the man was hurting mentally, and may even be dipping into insanity (he'd been yelling about breakfast earlier, A'yar noted to himsef).

The brief moment of intense sobriety was startling, and A'yar's concern only doubled, though he reached out for the documents he was being given all the same. The slander against O'zen earned Pertor a disapproving look, and the Copperrider decided it might be best to gather a healer's opinion after all. Pertor was typically a jovial man, though with his ragged edges. This new development made A'yar uneasy, though he was able to appreciate the man's ideas as he read them over. Wher troops, surging out of the mines into the daylight with guarded eyes, their handlers riding on their backs? Whers, who had no moral or bred code against killing. "...Would their handlers be armed as well?" He asked after a moment, glancing to the side at O'zen. He, too, thought of Yaela and Chrys, the tiny women seated on their whers and armed to the teeth. It was disconcerting.

Heliodor wasn't sure if she was amused or concerned. She also wasn't sure how necessary it was for her to be here. The Glasscraft Hall had little to do with the Weyr or its safety, though she supposed that she owed it to her craft to be current on all news. The diagrams that were laid out before her were interesting, but as Heliodor had little knowledge or care for whers, she focused more on the reactions from the people around her. The Weyrleader seemed intrigued, and had a good question - did Vaioa even have enough whers for this troop? Maybe they could buy the whers from elsewhere, if the security of the Weyr required it.
♥ Marble Wingleader Bryn & Garnet Izaxth ♥ Shale Wingrider A'yar & Copper Sith ♥ Ruby Class Weyrlings Ayanna & Copper Acosezeth ♥ Sandstone Wingrider Gwen & Brown Eamith ♥ Dragonhealer/Amber Wingrider T'ian & Blue Kyzzith ♥ Shale Wingrider H'ic & Green Cearth ♥Marble Wingrider L'aal & Graphite Aelith ♥ Steel Squad Tosst & Grey Tosk ♥ Brass Squad Heliodor & Green HeskAilwyn, dragon candidate ♥ Black Weyrling B'wen & Black Tristonth

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💕Plotting Masterpost💕[/align]
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Zen
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also, i can kill you with my brain
C'amryn didn't try to ignore Pertor. How could he? The man was a mess, and C'amryn wondered how he'd even made it this far without being found out or something. But his drawings were fairly accurate. People brought up points about there not being enough whers. Faintly, C'amryn remembered hearing that Pertor himself had once had a wher. Maybe that's why he knew so much about them.

The designs were impeccable, and the whers could surely help them in their endeavors of keeping the Weyr safe. C'amryn didn't necessarily like whers, but they were just as much part of the Weyr as dragons were. They just weren't as up front as dragons were... and they were smaller. They were also brutally savage when need be. He'd seen the whers who'd come to the aid of the candidates that day during the bandit attack. Whers had ripped people to shreds. And they differentiated between the people, too. How they did that was a mystery to him.

"I don't see how it'd be a problem, A'yar." He spoke, leaning forward in his chair, placing his elbows on the table. He was clearly interested. "We are armed, too, when we guard. I've seen whers work, back when the mines were attacked during the candidate lesson. Whers can do a lot of damage by themselves. Perhaps their handlers could carry swords to keep away bandits that the wher isn't killing at the time. Or maybe they could use bows and arrows."

But still, there was that thought of not having enough whers to even form troops. That was a problem. But it was one they could easily overcome... but only if enough people were willing to devote their lives to whers, not dragons. Whers were always a delicate subject. Some people thought they just weren't as good as dragons. C'amryn knew better.
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