Who

Ginger, D'wane, Laevia (npced by N'iel, R'zel, Th'res

What

Everything doesn't go quite according to plan on the last day of Numbweed Harvesting.

When

It is afternoon of the seventh day of the fourth month of the twelfth turn of the 12th pass.

Where

Southern Weyr - Numbweed Camp

OOC Date 22 Oct 2017 04:00

 

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Numbweed Camp

The landscape of the Feline Plains is endlessly flat and shrubby, but in this particular area numbweed bushes grow in profusion. Here, Southern Weyr has set up camp alongside a slow, meandering stream. There's a neat row of tents, a line of tables at which people can prepare the leaves, and a semi-circle of fires, each with a large cauldron suspended from a metal pot-stand. The strong and unmistakable odour of numbweed pervades the camp. The only permanent feature is a near-circular stone shelter roofed over with slate, whose presence shows that the Weyr uses this place regularly. It's almost empty, but then, it's Threadproof and mostly there for emergencies. A watchdragon is situated on a low mound nearby. Work hard, but watch out for felines!

It is the sixty-seventh day of Autumn and 94 degrees. The recent rains have left everything wet and muddy, but Rukbat shines brightly overhead.


The numbweed-picking venture is finally squelching to a close. Unexpectedly bad weather has dragged out proceedings, but today's been decreed the final day. Headwoman Laeiva has assigned another batch of weyrfolk to help out, and requested dragon transport to bring the final batch of barrels and all the equipment back. Work's been in progress since early morning, but when the first of the dragons who'll be providing transport arrive, it's raining again - tipping it down in buckets, in fact - and things are running late. Fire-shelters have been rigged, and there are still cauldrons bubbling under them and a final batch of numbweed being chopped ready for boiling. The little stream on whose bank the camp is placed is swollen from the rain and its edge is now only a few feet from the nearest tent. And the entire camp is fast turning into a sheet of thick, wet, clingy, slippery mud.

Ginger is one of the little band of choppers sheltering under a tent and clustered around a table. They're very very nearly done, and if the last batch of stalks and leaves is cut rather more roughly than it really ought to be, well, blame the weather. Ginger has sensibly tucked her trousers into her boots, but she's muddy to the ankles and wet more or less all over from carrying trays of chopped numbweed over to the boiling tent.

"The sooner we get this done, the sooner we go home!" Laeiva's voice rings out, Southern Boll accent clear and loud above hubbub of the camp. She's sensibly dressed in long boots up to the knee, trousers tucked into these, and a loose blouse with a broad-brimmed hat to keep the sun off her. "Nearly there," she comments to Ginger as she comes to see how the last batch is going. "Hands aching yet?" She asks the girl, a sparkle of amusement in her eyes even if the rest of her expression is business-like.

Somehow, someway D'wane and Rocketh have become part of the dragonrider transport. There's a very high likelyhood they were volun-told by their wingleader. Seeing as the bronze has positioned his rather large self as out of the way as he can be until they're needed again, D'wane is on a mission. A mission to find some klah since there's got to be some somewhere in the camp. He hasn't found it yet, but that's not for lack of effort of poking his face near random cauldrons. That cauldron in the boiling tent that Ginger's heading to is going to be his attempt number thirty-three to try and find some klah.

R'zel and Verokanth arrive, circling the camp before they touch down on the far side from the stream. As soon as his rider's dismounted, the bronze ambles over to join Rocketh, while R'zel attempts to jog towards the scene of the action - or maybe he just wants to get under cover as soon as possible. It's a slippery, slithery, business, though and he's reverted to walking pace by the time he converges on D'wane. "Do you know what we're doing?"

"Yes." Ginger replies without looking up as she'd like to keep all her fingers. "But we'll be finished here in a few minutes. What would you like us to do after that?" She piles what she's just chopped onto a tray in the centre of the table and reaches for another handful of shoots from the rapidly diminishing pile.

"That can go in the cauldron," Laeiva says, "and…that should be the last of yours to chop." D'wane and R'zel's arrival is noted then, and the Headwoman looks away from Ginger to address them. "Hello Wingseconds - here to check on the good work?" She'll throw the compliment out there, for the team in this tent have been working hard.

"I'm trying to find klah," D'wane responds to R'zel as he confirms yet another pot is filled with numbweed and not klah and the bronzeirder gives an exasperated sigh as he turns away… and then abruptly spins back around and straightens up as they're singled out by the headwoman. "I… uh… yes." He nods. Cause he was totally checking on the work and not just looking for delicious, delicious (not so delicious cause it's actually numbweed flavored) klah. "That's a lot of numbweed."

"I think you're out of luck," R'zel murmurs to D'wane, then tells Laieva, "We're your transport, Headwoman. Or some of it, anyway. Are you ready for us to start moving things?" The fact that Ocelots are here does not imply that the campers are thought to be in need of rescue, honest!

Laeiva's words promote a final flurry of chopping, and at last there's nothing left to chop! Ginger and the others pile the results onto the tray, then they all look at each other. Someone's going to have to go out into the wet again! Ginger shakes her head in disgust and picks up the tray.

"Hardly matters - I don't think I can get much wetter," she says, before heading out and making her way to the boiling tent as quickly as she can - which isn't very, with a tray piled with chopped and easily wind-blown leaves. If she wasn't drenched before, she is by the time she returns with the empty tray.

Laeiva can see Ginger head off out of the corner of her eye. The girl has a point - how much more waterlogged can she get? D'wane's cover up isn't entirely believed, if the headwoman's little smiel is anything to go by, but she'll let it slide. "It sure is. And you have the honour of transporting it!" Now that R'zel has explained their reason for being here (or R'zel's reason, at least). "The last barrels won't be long - I think the first cauldron is cool enough to pour out now, and I'm sure more hands would make light work with that?" Ginger is caught in Laeiva's look as she addresses not just the riders, but the returning girl, too.

D'wane shoots a look back at R'zel that says he totally agrees with the whole being out of luck thing. The man's been cornered! It's a well known fact that headwomen are chosen for their ability to detect fear or slothiness and will take any opportunity to pounce on either. That little smile doesn't fool D'wane, Laeiva. But he'll nod politely and leave the words to R'zel. The former harper's better qualified to be the mouthpiece for Ocelot right now, right? D'wane is going to be eyeing the cauldrons. All the ones he poked about were still pretty hot. "Which ones were the first?"

R'zel doesn't know any more than D'wane does, and looks to Laieva for instructions. "So we pour it into a barrel, then seal the barrel? Are there some tools for that?" He sounds uncertain about the job. "Or maybe someone could show us how it's done?"

Ginger takes the instructions as including her too. With a nod to the Headwoman, she leaves the tray on the table and addresses the two wingseconds. "The cooling one's in the other fire-shelter, sirs - shall I show you? And we'll need a barrel from the tent by the stream. I know how to fix the top on. There's a gadget for it." And Ginger does like her gadgets. She heads out of the tent towards a fireshelter where there's no longer a fire. "Barrels are in that tent, by the-" She frowns, noticing that the tent that was by the stream is now almost in the stream.

Laeiva looks pleased with Ginger's pro-activeness. Her smile is more true now - even the headwoman can be relieved that the end of the unpleasantly wet time here is in sight! "Ginger will show you what you need to do, gentleman. Now, I must go find Tirsha." The Headwoman's assistant has been helping organise hot drinks and food to keep the workers fed and morale up. The klah is around somewhere, D'wane! Probably in the direction that Laeiva sets off, towards a tent that's steaming with more pleasant smells than boiling numbweed.

IF ONLY D'WANE HAD KNOWN TIRSHA HAD THE DRINK SITUATION UNDER CONTROL!!!! He looks a bit crestfallen at the fact that someone was actually organizing the food and drink situation and he somehow missed it. There's a mutter that sounds pretty close to something like 'sharding numbweed smell…' But now they actually have a specific task to do. "Barrels." He nods. Moving barrels doesn't seem that hard, especially for folks that sling large sacks filled with rocks around on a daily basis. "You mean, that tent?" He's pointing to the one that's just starting to sail away. Luckily, there are enough dragons around that not all of them are fitting comfortably out of the way. Rocketh's managed to snag a spot for most of himself, but his tail is totally in the stream.

"I think we're going to need to strike that tent, or at least get everything out of it," R'zel says. "Is there much in there now?" The question's addressed to Ginger, but in fact he trots over to see for himself. He vanishes inside, and emerges quickly, manhandling a wooden barrel whose top seems to be loosely fitted. "Is this what we want? I thought they'd be like wine barrels, with taps, but…" But, no, numbweed salve is thick and sticky, R'zel.

"That's it," Ginger says. "And we're going this-a-way." She continues to head towards the fireshelter, which fortunately isn't far. By the time she arrives, rain is streaming from the ends of her hair, which is that annoying length that's almost long enough to tie back but not quite. Under the fire-shelter, the fire is out, but there's a cauldron of numbweed salve - the thick, really gloopy kind - hanging from a metal potstand. It looks quite heavy. Fortunately, it has handles, and there's a scoop affair with a long handle nearby.

Yeah the life of a Weyrling, Th'res had just finished a lesson on riding his dragon in the mud which he survived only to be put into a storm of water and mud again. Being dropped off by an Ocelot rider that was asigned with extra barrels and look R'zel he brought Rope! He makes his way through the muck his thick boots designed to give traction in mines where water sometimes turns stone to slop. He snapps a salute to the first rider he sees which is probably R'zel saying "Reporting as Order, Wingsecond"

Well, Ginger and R'zel may be going that-a-way, D'wane catches sight of another tent that's in a rather precarious state as one of the tent poles has come loose and the weight of the rain trapped on the canvas is bulging down. That's a time bomb that could possibly ruin any salve that was waiting underneath! "I'm going that way!" D'wane's just going to yell and run over there. Ginger and R'zel surely got that moving of the empty barrel under control.

R'zel returns the salute. "Hello, Th'res. We're just going to fill this, and then…" 'This' would be the barrel, but R'zel interrupts himself to call, "All right!" to D'wane. And after that, it's the tent by the stream that distracts him as water is now lapping around its walls. "I think we need a change of plan." He hastily rolls the barrel to where Ginger is. "Can you find someone else to do that with you? Th'res and I are going to rescue the stuff in that tent."

Ginger nods. "Good plan!" She runs off to round up the rest of the former weed-chopping team for barrel-filling duty.

Th'res turns and looks at the tent in question as he takes off at a jog, "Lovely Weather today, Sir" he quips as he works the the older rider. Being short sucks as he is aready soaked from the knees down in mud but hey that is life right. "Are we going to shore the tent or just relocate it?" because he doesn't fancy swimming today.

"Neither;" R'zel answers as he folds back the flap of the tent and enters. "We're going to get the last few barrels out and then strike the tent." There are actually only about four barrels left in the tent, all empty, so that won't take long, and R'zel sets to, taking hold of the first and largest. Presumably the filled ones are somewhere else. "All these tents will need drying out when we're back at the Weyr, so we can just take it down, fold it and bag it up - I think those canvas bags are probably the tent bags." He sets his barrel in motion, taking it well away from the stream.

Th'res nonds and is used to rolling barrels, and maybe just maybe that little blue of his is awake in the back of his mind, as he starts to roll it but not slow in he is going fast and kicking up mud with a grin. Who ever said the devil on your shoulder is red was wrong, he is blue and it is a dragon. He laughs at the wingsecond as he will pass him because if he is stuck in the rain why not make it fun right Jed!

And the mud. Don't forget the mud. By the tent, it's now quite squelchy, and getting wetter by the minute as the stream gradually rises. R'zel's manhandling his barrel in the upright positions. "Uh, Th'res? They may still need to put numbweed in that, so can you try and keep it clean?" He leaves the barrel by one of the fireshelters that's still in use; by the time he gets back to collect another one, there's water inside the tent. He splashes out with a second barrel.

Th'res nods on the return turn trip "Yes sir, sorry sir" he says a little embarrased he let his blue talking him into doing something. » I told you it was a bad idea« He goes to get the next barrel and makes sure there is no water in the barrel as he goes. The Water in the tent makes him have to wade deeper and gets his foot stuck in the mud momenarill, as his shorter legs can't make the long strides to stay out that R'zel can. He will free himself from the grounds stick embrace before moving to put the barrel with the others.

R'zel doesn't have far to go with his second barrel; at the first fireshelter he passes, they've salve ready for pouring,so they intercept him and take it. He heads back to the tent and retrieves the canvas bags which are now floating inside. There's a wooden mallet in one of them, so that'll be the peg bag. He starts knocking out pegs, leaving only the ones on the main guy ropes so that the tent doesn't fall down just yet.

Th'res has a bit farther too go, but gets his barrel delivered in time to get back to the tent and start collecting stakes behind R'zel. Good thing they float as he says "Has it been like this all day?" because it just strikes him as a bit insane to be working like this for longer than they have too. Once the stakes are packed away that have been removed he goes to the otherside of the tent ready to start taking the canvas down.

"The rain? I don't know, but I expect so - and if not here, then wherever the stream's coming from. It's rising really quickly - it's higher even since I got here." R'zel flags down the nearest person who seems to be at a loose end, and gets her to hold a tent pole while he loosens the main guys. "Th'res, can you grab the other end, please, and both of you lay it flat away from the water as soon as the rope's off? Then we just need to pull the poles out and fold the canvas to fit the bag." He frowns as he contemplates the mud.

Th'res nods and moves to the desired location and looks about "We are going to have to clean these good when we get back" And by we he probably means him and his fellow weyrlings because hey free labor! He nods to the extra person and gets ready to move it way from the water which really means they are going to have to take it rather far..

"You're right." They'll have to move it several yards, and the ground will be muddy even then. R'zel removes the remaining ropes, then coils them into hanks and puts them in the tent bag while Th'res and his helper deal with the tent. The water's lapping over his toes by this time. He retrieves the bags and follows the tent.

IT is heavy and stubborn, and just awkward, oh and the tent is annoying too, as Th'res gets a move on with the folding of the tent for the bag. once they are ready and starting to pack it away he will ask "Who is in charge of getting all this stuff back to the Weyr?" hey this is only his second huge thing with the Weyr so he doesn't know.

R'zel retrieves the poles, takes them apart and stashes them in their own separate bag. From a mound in the canvas comes, "Half Ocelot is here." He emerges, and bags the pole segments. "We are, of course," R'zel smiles. He crawls i

R'zel retrieves the poles, takes them apart and stashes them in their own separate bag. "Half Ocelot is here or on the way, and some riders from other wings too. We'll be transporting the kit and the people - and not a moment too soon, I suspect." There's another tent that'll be in danger shortly, and riders and weyrfolk are now converging on the line of tents to remove kit and take down the tents.

Th'res nods and will move with the rest of the workers taking down tents, at one point he mis judges a step and ends up waist deep in the mud. It would be funny if people weren't busy working so he just looks annoyed till a few people help him out, now he is walking around minus a boot and sock but he just rolls up his pants and keeps working till it is time to go.

Some more of Ocelot arrive at this point, and R'zel heads off to assign them jobs. Eventually the tents and fireshelters are down, the final copper of numbweed has been boiled to the attending healer's satisfaction, and barrels, workers, tents and all that kit are shipped off to the Weyr, where all the tents will have to be washed and hung up to dry. Ah, the lovely fragrance of damp canvas! But it beats boiling numbweed in the caverns.

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