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a desert triumvirate of Hold, Weyr, and Mine. Thread's return and bandit raiding brought strife between weyr and hold, but the bandits' recent defeat has returned the region to an uneasy peace. Now, a shipwreck on a forgotten continent and the decision to settle this rediscovered land has opened up a world of opportunity to Vaioa, if only they can handle the dangers.








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Differences; {{Open}}
Topic Started: Apr 26 2013, 03:51 PM (319 Views)
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The evening after Cirserth's flight found T'ech already fully moved back into the Weyrleader's weyr that had been his home for over a turn and a half, and Tytoth sprawled posessively across the ledge. He'd made a show of sweeping it off with his tail - as if he could sweep away the fact that someone else had occupied it for the last few months - and then settled down in as proud a pose as he could manage to survey his kingdom.

Really, he was actually just napping. But at least he would look regal doing so.

T'ech, for his part, was full of conflicting emotions. The last time he'd been on the successful end of a leadership flight, he'd been terrified. Now, he was...resigned. Not upset, not happy, but ready for the position in a way he had never been before. He knew what to expect, what to do, how to do it. And there were already plenty of problems at the forefront of his mind that he was working out solutions to. Some things needed to change and other things needed to be streamlined. And with Malachite graduating any day now, he had quite a bit of work ahead of him.

Ideas buzzing through his brain like anxious flitters, T'ech made his way down to the kitchens to fill his stomach before returning to Talora to have a rather serious conversation. J'ean was probably living it up already in the larger weyr, enjoying the big bed and the functioning bathing room.

He noticed the difference between this time and last the moment he stepped into the kitchens. Heads swiveled, people stared, but for the most part the looks he received were positive. He wasn't the young upstart anymore, and Faranth that felt great. T'ech loaded himself up a plate of food and sat at his customary spot, letting his eyes sweep across the room appraisingly. Things had changed quite a bit, indeed.
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T’ven trudged down to the kitchens. Faranth he only had a week more, maybe less. Graduation would be any day now. He thought it might get easier, but he had been working longer and harder than ever before. Testing over material, perfecting wing formations, and all culminating to final testing and their permanent wing assignments, his head felt fill to burst. All that and he had just spent two candlemarks scrubbing down Shalagoth’s hide…with the help of a weyrbrat or two. Food had never smelled so good, to think he could be this tired on a light day. Still he kept his head held high, smiling and nodding to those he knew as he made his way into the dining hall.

I should have chased. I could have won. And he had the moping to deal with. Shalagoth had nearly taken off after Cirseth yesterday, but T’ven did not feel ready for such a responsibility. Not when he had yet to graduate. What a farce that would be, pinning on weyrleader knots right after taking off weyrling ones. Smirking at such a thought he replied, remaining patient with Shalagoth. I appreciate your waiting. I promise I won’t ask you to sit out any others. The bronze peered down from his weyrledge, spotting Tytoth further below sprawled in the weyrleader’s spot. Strangely enough Shalagoth did not feel jealousy, despite his pride he could be patient. If T’ven needed him to wait, he would but only for so long. Curling further into his weyr the bronze disappeared from the lip of his weyr. Too tired himself to care about much else. Don’t go rolling in the dirt either, I can’t wash all of your hide tomorrow.

A sleepy hum answered him. T’ven smiled softly, shaking his head as he grabbed a plate and mug for himself. He nodded thankfully to the kitchens worker as she added more to his serving. She smiled back, they had chatted before, and T’ven was always thankful for a gracious helping. Faranth he needed to go see Kari again. Maybe when he graduated he could get a bigger weyr. One where a bronze and green could sleep comfortable. She wouldn’t mind that would she? His eyes scanned the room, might as well see if she was here, maybe bring up the idea. No such luck today, but something else did catch his eye.

Before he knew it his feet took him to where T’ech sat. Maybe it was oncoming graduation, maybe it was the exhaustion in his bones, that or just dumb curiosity, but he hoped the Weyrleader wouldn’t mind company for the evening meal. T’ech was young, younger than him, and this was already his second time in a position of major responsibility. If anything T’ven could learn something from him. Not quite sure how to proceed he paused awkwardly, looking down at an empty spot, and then to T’ech. Maybe he should ask first?

“Mind if I join you?” Sharddit did he need to add a sir to that? He hadn’t graduated quite yet after all. This isn’t Kari or some fool you want to impress. Relax, he’s not going to bite you for informality. The edge left T’ven, nervous voice replaced with an air of calm. “I had some questions with graduation approaching.”
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T'ech swatted at his fire lizards as they inched towards his plate. Fardles gave an indignant chirp and crawled up his arm to perch on his shoulder and stare longingly at his meal. Samus simply remained where she was and gave him a look of quiet condescension. He'd cave eventually and part of that roast wherry would be hers. All she had to do was watch and wait.

"Mind if I join you?"

The voice jerked T'ech rather suddenly from his quiet reflection and he looked up to find the young bronzerider staring down at him. No, he corrected himself, T'ven is older than me. And jays, that was a bit weird, wasn't it? Having half a decade's worth of riding experience and over a turn of being Weyrleader and still being younger than this weyrling bronzerider.

It wasn't very often that the elder candidates Impressed, most around T'ven's age gave up or aged out. But he was quite glad this lad had. He seemed to have a sturdy head on his shoulders and Shalagoth would be a huge boon to the fighting wings.

"Of course," he said, offering the bronzerider a smile. "I don't mind company at all. It's T'ven, right?" T'ech offered the taller man a hand, quietly pleased that he hadn't had to seek him out. It had been his policy as Weyrleader to try and get to know the young bronze and copperriders as best he could and, if he could manage, get on their good side. Better they know they could always come to him with problems, then for things to stew quietly and breed discontent among the ranks.

"I'd meant to have a word with you at some point but things got...busy." He gestured at his eyepatch with his other hand. The end of his last reign as Weyrleader had not left him much time for socializing and teambuilding exercises.
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T’ven nodded, taking T’ech’s offered hand with a smile. Inwardly breathing a sigh of relief. He had heard rumor that T’ech was approachable, normally friendly, but T’ven had bad luck with weyrleaders turns back. Good to see that here he could be welcome. Setting down his plate he took a seat across from T’ech, appearing much more at ease. Maybe graduation wouldn’t be so bad, if only he could just get those tests done and be through with it. Practicing with the wings felt right, he felt confident there, but when he sat down and had to peer over records and charts…best not let his worries itch at him.

He didn’t mean to be rude, but he did grimace as T’ech pointed towards his eyepatch. The weyrleader looked just fine; it was the thought more than anything that made T’ven uncomfortable. To think of thread eating through your eye, trying to get in you skull… He shook off the brief moment of unease and nodded, “Oh, yeah, no hard feelings there. I’m sure the recovery wasn’t pleasant, the fact you went to leading a wing soon after is admirable itself.”

Strange to think he could be leading a wing by now if he had impressed sooner in his candidacy, but he didn’t often dwell on such thoughts. He knew if another candidate would have been foolish enough to tear an egg apart to impress. I’m sure others might, but even with your strength it was close. T’ven knew a rider would do anything for their dragon, come to think of it most candidates would probably act so rashly if they heard a voice in their head. Being successful might be another story, How do you remember any of that? The bronze rolled, answering sleepily, I don’t need to. You do it for me. It was close I know that.

Well best not trouble with such thoughts now, T’ven didn’t care that it took him turns to impress. Shalagoth had been worth it. Couldn’t see himself with a different dragon. The weyrling turned his attention fully on the weyrleader, “I remember, shaky with the injury at the end, but I was in the pits when you first flew against thread. Remember those first tithes coming back and you stepping up to work with Talora.” He shrugged, “Figured if there was anyone to go to for advice it would be you. Even with graduation so close…I feel like I have a lot more to learn.” Hopefully that didn’t get him held back, but how could they cover everything within eighteen months? Especially when most of that time was taking care of your dragon. Being a wingleader or a weyrleader seemed to require a lot more as well. Maybe T’ven could be content as a wingrider, but he already knew Shalagoth wouldn’t be, and the weyrling didn’t want to be caught unaware.
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A couple turns back, and T'ech would have laughed if anyone had come to him for advice. Sometimes, despite the turns of leadership under his belt, he still felt very young and uninspiring. It was so easy for him to tear himself down, to brush off compliments as "I just did what needed to be done" and believe that anyone would have done the same. It still boggled the young bronzerider's mind to find out that there were people out there who genuinely looked up to him. People who were, in fact, actually older than him.

"I'm happy to help in any way that I can," he said with real warmth to his voice. He flicked a hand at Samus, who had been trying to sneak under his arm to get at his meal again. "Are you looking for just general tips and warnings, or did you want help with something specific? You know we've been keeping an eye on you. You show real promise."

He wondered if the boy was aware of the scrutiny that young metallic riders faced from Weyr leadership. Even the ones that at first seemed completely ill-suited to leading roles were looked at very closely. Any bronze or copper rider could potentially be Weyrleader someday after all; it was best to make sure they were prepared just in case.

Or they might end up like me when I first started.
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“Knowing what needs to be done is what’s problematic.” T’ven mumbled almost reflexively. Taking action had never been his issue, figuring out what issues needing seeing to did trouble him. Should he step in when classmates are having an issue, or simply back off and let them sort it out? Things were supposed to be black and white, Shalagoth helped with being decisive at times, but it didn’t make things easy. He picked away at his meal, listening as T’ech answered, watching with a smile at the gold. Dimly he could feel Nim and Artorias in the back of his head, but they had already decided to take their spot in his furs. Bellies full from some other meal they’d stolen from.

T’ven nearly choked on his food at the mention of eyes watching and showing promise. He took a moment to clear his throat and take a drink after that. Feeling a bit flustered as he answered. “Didn’t think nearly failed candidates were ever looked at.” He finally said with a breath. T’ven had been so focused on just passing. Just trying to memorize the charts and wing formations he needed to. Didn’t think he had to worry about other responsibilities when he had nearly aged out of candidacy. Nonsense. Shalagoth huffed with a disapproving tone, Of course he’s watching you. We are competition.

No we’re weyrlings, new riders. He’s the weyrleader. Obviously the bronze didn’t think so, and seemed honestly perplexed by T’ven’s outlook on the whole thing. One flight could change that. You should prepare. At least they had some breathing room, considering Cirseth had just flown, thank faranth for that. T’ven kept his attention on T’ech, he did have questions, too many of them in fact, but this whole ‘prepare’ bit from Shalagoth had him curious and perhaps a bit worried. “They prepare us as best they can for Threadfall, but I know there’s more than that, and we’ve had some lessons with it. But honestly, I mean you would know, I don’t want to end up…well,” it felt odd saying it but it was his chief concern. Felt a bit too proud perhaps who was he to think he would ever be fit for weyrleadership?

“I don’t want to be unprepared if Shalagoth ends up catching Cirseth one day. I know it’s a stretch, but the weyr doesn’t need any weak transitions. Wanted to know how…you dealt with it all…I guess, if that’s not too bold.”
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"Every newly Impressed Weyrling is looked at, believe me." T'ech smiled a bit wryly. No one really understood the work that went into his position and the thought that went into weyrling placement. "But the Weyrleader and Wingleaders, along with your weyrlingmasters, keep a close eye on ranking weyrlings. The great majority will probably end up as wingriders, but every last one of them stands a small chance of eventually rising to leadership in the Weyr; we like to make sure they are prepared."

It amused and dismayed him that T'ven wanted to know how he'd personally dealt with his initial ascension to the Weyrleadership. T'ech debated whether or not to give him a general answer of I just sucked it up and powered through or tell him the truth. In the end, he wanted T'ven to trust him, and one did not lie to a future associate if they wanted any sort of loyalty at all in return, so he said, "I wasn't at all prepared. I wasn't even prepared to Impress Tytoth. I was nearly a failed candidate as well, you know."

I would have found you no matter what, Tytoth said sleepily as he always did when T'ech doubted his past. It baffled the bronze that after everything they'd been through, leading a wing, leading a Weyr, T'ech still doubted his decision.

"I was mauled terribly my first hatching, nearly gave up, and only just decided to stand again before Tytoth found me. It was a close thing, and everyone - myself included - had me pegged for a bluerider at best. I wasn't...really bronzerider material. When Tytoth won Lisenyth's flight, I'd only been graduated for a little over a Turn and a Wingleader for six months. I was terrified."

The Weyrleader finally relinquished his dinner to his begging fire lizards with a sigh and studied the stone of the table as he continued. "You have to put the good of everyone else before your own, make decisions that seem impossible. Choose the lesser of two evils sometimes. And you have to realize that no matter what you do, there will always be people who think you're doing it wrong, but you need to just suck it up and keep your head up and do what you think is best."
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T’ven couldn’t help but doubt himself. Sure he had tried to help and lead as a candidate, but that had been due to his experience and time as one. Dragonriding still felt new to him, there were moments he doubted he’d remembered to strap up Shalagoth correctly. As T’ech mentioned all ranked weyrlings being watched he couldn’t help but shiver. Maybe he would need to step up, if only to keep others from doing just that. He didn’t think he could bear to see someone like K’mor in charge, not after what Kari had told him and he had seen for himself. That small chance that Rileth could catch Cirseth terrified him, almost as much as the thought of Shalagoth doing the same.

As the thought drifted in his head he couldn’t help but feel Shalagoth’s mood over such a situation. Didn’t need the bronze’s words to know his dragon would do his utmost to not only win, but defeat Rileth. That did make T’ven smile, petty as it might seem, as he listened to T’ech tell of his own candidacy. T’ven’s face registered mild shock as the weyrleader mentioned nearly failing candidacy himself. He supposed he had never heard of it since T’ech hadn’t impressed at Vaioa. Come to think of it, he didn’t know anything about T’ech beyond the man being weyrleader and wingleader of Granite. He did grimace at the mauling, had seen enough of those for his mind to give fairly gruesome images of what that might have been like.

Bleeding out on the sands did not seem such a glorious death when you actually watched it happen to someone. Amazing to know that T’ech had risen through the ranks so quickly, with barely any experience the man had lead a wing, and soon after an entire weyr. That had been during Vaioa’s first Threadfall as well, no small feat for a rider freshly graduated to bring a weyr successfully through its first fight against Thread. He continued to listen, comforted to know that T’ech had not been as confident as T’ven had thought. To know that this fellow bronzerider had been terrified and had second guessed himself, it made the weyrleader more human. And made the prospect of being in T’ech’s position one day a little less frightening itself.

T’ven mulled over the last of the weyrleader’s thoughts, doing his best to commit them to memory. He didn’t want to forget that piece of advice. It sounded difficult, facing opposition when there seemed no clear answer, putting everyone else before yourself. T’ven found that easy enough already, he had never been inherently selfish, but he didn’t think he could put the good of ‘others’ before those special to him. Shalagoth came first of course, and then there was Kari followed by all the rest. He picked at his meal for a moment, gathering his thoughts for what he wanted to say.

“Faranth you’ve been through a lot in a short amount of time. It’s comforting to know that I’m not alone in being worried though. And returning to the sands after a mauling is no small feat.” Returning to the sands after pummeling the face of another candidate was certainly unorthodox as well, but T’ven did his best to forget his grievances. The more he worried over that, shaffit he didn’t want T’ech to hear about that now did he. “I could sacrifice what might be best for me for the weyr,” and he could say that truthfully he didn’t see any issue with it, “but I might get selfish when it comes to protecting those close to me. I mean do you have to make that impossible decision? I would want to ground Kari if I could to keep her from Thread.” Childish as it might seem that would certainly ease many of the worries plaguing him. Everything else would be so simple if he didn’t have to be concerned over that. “Must be more difficult for wingleaders when you get so attached to your wingriders too, see people you’ve been with through weyrlinghood getting scored around you. Wondering if it’s your fault you put them there.”

He scratched at his head, pushing his plate away. “I’ve hurt too many people before, don’t know how I could deal with feeling that responsibility. ” You would suck it up, and keep your head high. Just like T’ech said.
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"It's hard," T'ech said rather quietly in response to T'ven's proclamation that he would rather keep all his loved ones from harm if he could. "It's hard to send the people you love into battle, knowing that they might not come back. Hard to have your weyrmate under your command and know that if you make a small misstep in your planning, they could pay the price. But it's part of the life we live. It's not an easy one."

He drank, giving T'ven an appraising glance. This young bronzerider was a perfect example of why T'ech preferred older candidates to younger ones on his sands. If he could somehow raise the age-limit without causing an uproar with hide-bound traditionalists, he'd do it in a heartbeat. They needed mature men and women with a good head on their shoulders. It pained him to see boys and girls as young as sixteen turns thrown into threadfall. They just weren't ready.

"Responsibility is a heavy burden to bear, for sure. I'd give my life for any one of my wingmates in a heartbeat, and I like to think that they know that. That they'd do the same for me. I've lost enough people to know that you just have to keep your head up and push through the bad times. Oftentimes your only reward for the work you do is your own life and a tiny bit of self satisfaction."
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T’ven took a moment to get a drink as T’ech spoke. The quiet tone bringing a somber mood to the conversation. Just thinking of making such decisions made T’ven’s skin crawl. It would be best, if he ever did come into a leadership position that Kari not be under his authority. Faranth he didn’t know if he could be strong enough to deal with that. To be dealt that responsibility. He would want to put Seliath right next to Shalagoth, and he knew he would fret and worry. As much as it pained him he knew his mind would be on protecting Kari, not with leading and protecting the wing. Hand tight on his mug; he nodded at T’ech’s words. Not an easy decision in the least. Thinking about someone else watching her, maybe not giving her the protections he might need…faranth better not to think on it. Seliath and Kari are both competent in threadfighting. I would have no worry over them. Shalagoth’s rumble comforted T’ven, at least he didn’t have to deal with it now.

“With the amount of time I spent on the sands…I saw two candidates die.” It bit at him. One had been when he had been no more than thirteen, already big for his age, but too shocked to do anything but watch in horror. That second time…he didn’t like thinking about that second time. The shame of his actions after such a tragedy still stung. “Faranth I tried to get there, tried to help, and I was too fardling slow.” But he had done as T’ech already suggested. He lived on, kept working, even if the memory stung.

It made him ponder just what he would do for his wingmates, and he felt surprised by the conclusion he came to. You can’t be serious… Shalagoth probed, easily picking up on T’ven’s thoughts. “I won’t make the mistake I did on the sands that day.” The misake had not been with trying to help the dead candidate, he had done all he could there. The mistake had been turning on a fellow candidate, weyrling, rider. Attacking weyrfolk out of anger, nearly killing him. That had been the mistake. Even if D’vel was a bastard, T’ven needed to be there for him. For him or K’mor. “Words mean little coming from me. But I hope I have the courage to do the same as you did for O’zen.” Oh you would, and you would drag me along with you.

T’ven smiled at that, though his mood remained somber. Tiny bit of self-satisfaction, maybe your own life. To think he had been excited to be born during a Turn. Made him wonder just how things might be without Thread taking the lives of friends and scarring those you loved. “I’ve learned my mistake with hurting a fellow rider.” He hesitated to even mention the incident from Benden, Talora had come from Benden, she might recognize him, know of what happened. They might transfer him on the spot if they heard; keep him from doing anything to help the wings. He didn’t want that anymore. The thought of responsibility frightened him, but he wanted to do things for the weyr. Felt the riders around him expected things of him. Shalagoth had given him that. “I’ll make it up someday.” He muttered into his mug, still uncomfortable with the whole thing after T’ech had been so open with his own struggles.
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