Who

Zida, Madox, D'wane, L'xan, N'tash, Rhuysarr, Taythes (NPCed this time by Sebastian), Va'os, Yfana, Refugees/Lord Warder Keiron (By Zida)

What

Trying to get some answers out of the Volcano refugees SBH's Lord Warder is accused of being the one to put the people in danger.

When

It is evening of the first day of the seventh month of the eleventh turn of the 12th pass.

Where

Living Caverns

OOC Date 22 Jul 2017 06:00

 

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"AYE! IT WAS 'IM!"


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Living Caverns

Grand and spacious, the cavern curves high aloft in naturally-vaulted ceiling that soothes any sense of claustrophoba. Rich woods line the cavern floor, varnished and stained a rich mahogany, while round tables scatter about candlelit and intimate. The largest table lies southerly next the sideboard, long trestles that seem oriented to providing for the weyr's youngest. The rich blue of Azov can be seen from a distance in good weather, when the heavy stone doors covering the entrance are allowed to stand open.


Gathered, the fifty-odd refugees are a VERY ODD sight. They range in age from old to young, the youngest holding onto her mother's skirts tightly as she sucks her thumb. Men and women they all have one thing in common - poverty. In the north they were no ones, and here in the South they are… still pretty much no ones. Paired off each small family unit has been assigned a Southern resident - holder, crafter, rider, wildling, doesn't matter. They have one task, TRY to figure out if anything these people know.

D'wane has gotten thrown into the 'try to figure this shit out' duty because someone from Ocelot needed to be involved as so the newest wingsecond was offered as tribute. Or something. The big man is currently rubbing his hand across his face as a pair of older sisters are bickering about the same minute detail for about the seventieth time. "Ladies, ladies. I really don't need to know what you were wearing that day. Or if it was her dress or your dress." He honestly doesn't care. He just wants to figure out anything important.

Suck it, Bailey, guess who's here? Being thrown out of the Weyr isn't enough to keep Rhuysarr away. The wildling man may not technically be a resident of Southern proper, but he's here on behalf of several of the jungle clans who are hoping for some answers as to the invaders in the midst of their jungle. "I couldn't hear any useful information even if you did have any," he mutters under his breath as he sends another man along on his way.

Va'os isn't having much luck either and this IS part of his duties. Kind of? And even with his amount of patience, it's starting to wear thin. Really, really thin. "Okay," he tries not to sigh with exasperation as he levels a look to the older man he's been saddled with questioning. "Can we try, again, please?" And please no long winded, back-tracking, life story! Of course that means that's exactly what he gets.

Know what old buzzard doesn't need to be interrogated? THAT'S RIGHT BUCKO, ZIDA BABY. The old woman works her way through the crowd and many give way to her, probably because of her age and wisdom. The two sitting before the hot bronzerider gets THWAPED on the back of the head lightly. "Be nice to the rider girls, you're still landless, and he has a dragon." IT IS A MATCH MADE IN HEAVEN.

N'tash ends up being a recognizable face for a number of these displaced individuals, since as an Ocelot rider, he has brought a few of them in, and he has been asked to search for missing family members on sweeps. A young girl still latches onto him whenever she sees him, and her mother is talking to him about her missing husband. "Well, is there anywhere he might go, if he is still out there and doens't know where you are? Does he have any contacts in Southern?" N'tash asks. The woman just shakes her head, near tears. He shoots a "help me" look at D'wane, his wingsecond, but it looks like the man has his hands full on his own.

So everyone knows that harpers sing and teach and marry folks and stuff. Those are the easily identifiable aspects of the job. While Madox might not specialize in arbitration, surely some of those classes about interviewing folks will help with this, right? That was what he thought when he started out bright eyed and bushy-tailed with notebook in hand, but even try as he might ask the questions, he's just not getting answers. "So really, you don't remember anything about the person who helped you move south?

ZIDA IS NOT HELPING THIS AT ALL!!! D'wane was already facepalming before the old woman's imput. And since the pair seem to take her words to heart and start eyeing D'wane in a manner he feels will not help get any more useful information out, he's going to abandon this conversation. "Thanks, you've been great." And he's just going to get up and leave. Look, he's got a wingrider to see to. "N'tash, how's it going?"

While some of the weyr folk might have better luck bribing the littles, they're going to have a hell of time getting anything out of the obstinate elder folk. One well tanned man in particular with a very bushy unibrow has a look fixed on these weyrfolk that could make milk curdle. He licks his lips while in thought, quite noisily, perhaps that twinkle on his chin is a little bit of saliva escaping from the corner of his mouth but no one would dare get close enough to find out with the rank scent of decay emanating from his mouth. Quietly, the chuckle begins with gnarled teeth of various hues grinning at anyone unfortunate to sneak a glance. "So," the refugee begins, interrupted by a fit of a hacking cough. Once the spittle stops flying, he clears his throat and continues to anyone willing to listen. "Ye wanna know some things, eh?"

Yfana is holding down her own corner of the room, though not so much in the interrogation department. Instead she's taking on a more care-for-them-by-way-of-stuffing-their-mouths kind of deal. Rhuysarr gets the first delivery of some watered ale and bread/cheese/stuffthatiseasytoeat, before she moves along to others.

"Maybe another lad lasses, I hear the harper over there is very free and very able if you take my meaning." Zida winks saucily as she sends those ladies RIGHT towards Madox and swishes herself around the room. "Now you are a strapping lad," coming up beside Va'os the older woman eyes him.

Va'os pinches the bridge of his nose while also pretending to just idly scratch the side of it as the older refugee he's supposed to be interrogating has gone on one of those tangent stories that keeps fragmenting. "Yeah, I get that… That's great. Listen, I've taken up enough of your time…" More like the other way around! "Why don't you go grab a drink?" Yeah, the bronzerider is totally sending the guy off to Yfana, if Yfana is offering refreshments. Sorry, not sorry? It all but jumps out of his skin when Zida ghosts up on him. "Ahh, thank you?" Cue a slightly crooked grin while he's eyed like that. Umm.

N'tash has an eight-turn-old girl clinging to him, and her mother near tears. "Things are just great," he says to D'wane. "This woman's husband is still missing. Have you heard about any contacts in common these people might have had? Somewhere someone might go if they were separated during the disaster?" The woman looks hesitant, then says, "My husband was the one who knew someone who could get us down here. That man arranged it all for us." Convenient, since the woman's husband might not have made it out alive.

Rhuysarr eyes Yfana like she's offering him some kind of poison when that plate comes his way, bewilderment mixing with suspicion. Still, he takes that offering, setting it aside for those clustered in his area to pick at. "Why don't you tell me why you were living in the jungle and not at the Weyr?" He can't quite keep the accusation out of his voice, because that jungle belongs to the wildlings, and not random strangers from the north.

Madox totally did not hear Zida's comments towards those two ladies or else he'd probably be running and hiding from the older woman. Even if he didn't hear it, the effects of the comments are noticeable as those two ladies do come up to the harper right as he sighs and sends the woman he had been talking to off to Yfana for some of that bread/cheese/stuff. "Hello. And what did you two do before coming down here." Which probably wasn't the right question as it gets giggles and eyelash batting.

"There we go, a lad who knows how to take it standing up. None of this false modesty nonsense I say." Zida settles herself down in front of Va'os and looks him up and down. "Now, a lovely lass named Iska was out searching for my children, and that some bodies were found. When will I get to see them?"

D'wane will pat the little girl on the head. Patpat. "I haven't. I heard about dresses, but I don't think it was seamstress that we're looking for." Quick glance at the crying lady just in case it might actually have been a seamstress as improbable as it sounds. "Any word on what they thought they were going to be doing aside from living?" People gotta do something to make a living. Not just pick fruit of trees and stuff.

Yfana pauses to drop off the stuff at Madox's table and eyes the two ladies who are trying to talk him up. "I think they are looking for something other than to tell you their life story." She gets a glare from them before the wildling is off again, delivering a tray to where D'wane and N'tash are talking to the people.

The toothy refugee glances around the room and sits himself down on the floor, pulling off his sweat soaked shirt. It's clean, technically, right? He sweats water so the water cleans his clothes and the dirt dries! Didn't y'all know that? In any case, he sits there in a sorta criss-cross applesauce kinda deal and he proceeds to inspect his feet. Spreading long hairy toes apart, he hums a bit, cleaning underneath the dark nails with a long fingernail. "Ye know, the weyr still doesn't look as nice as we was told when we decided to take up a little trip out to dis place out there. I still says we shoulda stayed, ye never know. Our boon might'a still been there, just hadta do a little diggen, but no. No one has the dangly wagglies do stay there and protect what's his! Mewlin and cryin' like the wimmin folk. If I be turns younger, m'dangly wagglies would'a stopped that fire dat come down."

"Ah — haha, right. Yeah, that'd be me…" Va'os is NOT PREPARED at all for Zida. Which is not to say he's thankful he isn't saddled with Mr. Toothy or that other elder either. Truthfully, the bronzerider is wishing he had an excuse to 'nope' his way right out of this cavern. So many people! It's starting to remind him of the cramped working conditions in the mines… "Sorry." What? He blinks, refocusing on the woman now seated in front of him. "Want to see them? The remains?" What's left of them.

At the doorway there's a bit of a commotion, a group of four people entering all at once. For those living her in the Weyr it isn't an unfamiliar sight, Lord Warder Keiron of Southern Barrier Hold. Because of it's location the hold has always had a close relationship to the weyr that helped it get established in the first place. Those with him include two riders and the Steward of Southern Barrier. In the doorway they pause, Keiron leaning over to whisper in the steward's ear.

N'tash glances to the woman, who looks like she's just on that line between nervous and frightened. The woman says, "I… I don't know. My husband handled all of that. He said this was his chance to work." The little girl looks between her mother and D'wane, then ducks away from N'tash to cling to her mom. N'tash frowns, torn between not wanting to interrogate the mom in front of her daughter, and wanting to shake down the kid to see if any truth will slip out. "Look, we're just trying to find out if there's someone who might have been in touch with your husband. Is it possible he got transportation back up north?" The woman looks horrified. "And leave us here?" she says.

"N'tash, why don't you and the girl go and get some refreshments for her and the lady here?" D'wane's going to try and give N'tash an opening to get the girl a little away from the mom so that he can ask the kid some questions. Under a pretext of being useful, right? "And ma'am, what is it that you said your husband did for work? I don't think I caught that?"

Madox totally realizes that this girls have some ulterior motives for trying to get interviewed by him. He's going to flag down one of the lady harpers to trade places with him under the guise of they might be something they'd tell a woman they wouldn't tell him. He's shameless with trying to get away from them. But, he'll take one for the team and go towards Mr. Toothy. "Wait, so you're saying your dangly wagglies could stop a volcano if they were only younger?" Okay, probably not the most useful topic, but he wants to see where this goes.

Do we want to know what dangly wagglies are?

"Yes. It's been long enough right? Either they are found or they are dead. That's what they told us about Southern's jungle, especially when they warned us not to run away." Zida leans forward to pat Va'os like she's attempting to console him even as she asks for the dead bodies of what she assumes will be her children and grand children. Her eyes don't stay fixed on Va'os though, but circle around until they fix on the group at the doorway. Reaching forward suddenly she'll grab for his shirt to drag him towards her, deceptively strong for all her age. "THAT MAN. WHO IS HE??"

D'wane knows what dangly wagglies are.

Yfana has seen the Lord Warder enter also and sets aside her tray to go to his side. Settling her weight from foot to foot she'll wait for his attention with some message to pass on of her own, probably to her grandmother and aunt.

N'tash nods to D'wane and offers the little girl a hand. "Come on, will you help me get some snacks for your mom? I think she'll feel better if we get her something to drink. Come with me and show me what she likes." With some reluctance, the little girl goes with N'tash to get a plate of food and cups of juice.

The Lord Warder's appearance gains Rhuysarr's attention momentarily, as the man watches the arrival of the attache from the hold with moderate interest. But there are more pressing concerns, like the woman in front of him who's bumbling her way through an answer which seems obviously false. "Is that what you were told to say?" Conspiracy! Or she's just lying to save her own skin, but the wildling man is always suspicious of those northerners.

Their whispering done Lord Warder Keiron nods sharply once and the group turns and exits again. It was a short introduction, quickly come, and quickly gone. Yfana exits with them, the tail end of, "Lord Warder K…" being cut off when the doorway shuts behind them. Most likely they are headed back to the Hold, whatever conference that brought them to Southern in the first place ended.

What's this? This poor lad, lookit him worshippin this spry ol man! "Aye, that's right. Me dangly wagglies would stop a volcano and make a bridge outta it from where we came to where we be. Aye, thems were the days. Come in have a sit!" And by sit, the man is patting the mold ridden leg of his shorts for poor Madox. Might even be a little bit threadbare in the worst of places, but hey! It still serves it's purpose, right? That unibrow is doing some weird undulating wave. Perhaps if it was disconnected in the middle somewhere, it might be an impressive waggle of brows. Right now, though, it appears to be doing the worm while the man grins his multi-colored (maybe oozing) toothy grin.

Va'os is cursing his luck right about now. "Well," You see… "That'd be something I'd have to clarify with my—-" Thankfully he's saved (or not) by the arrival of four more people. You'd think he'd take the chance to try to evade Zida but no. She grabs a hold of him and then loudly exclaims while gripping his shirt — leaving him no choice but to just roll with it. Since him shoving at her in a room full of people watching is likely a Very Bad Idea. "Lord Warder Keiron," Va'os supplies but in a much calmer tone, once his shock wears off.

Yeah, no. Madox totally is not going to be sitting anywhere near the toothy old man. He wasn't that curious. And okay, those teeth need some proper hygeine care. "So since you are no longer young, what brought you down South? Southern's got a ton of dangers. Felines, volcanoes, fires, pirates, the Weyr doesn't cover all the land since there are grubs." It's quite a list.

Va'os' shirt is going to get even more wrinkled by the end of this, because Zida has a DEATH GRIP going on. "It was him! I'd swear on my beloved husband's grave, the man who brought us all down and promised us land! Taythe!" Zida calls out to Mr. Toothy, "Wasn't that him? THE ONE WHO JUST WALKED OUT."

D'wane isn't really getting much from the lady even with her daughter gone. "Was he a miner? A farmer? lumberjack?" He's just going to ask some leading questions because all other questions seem to get NOWHERE. But lady's attention is more on the scene that Zida's causing over there. "Who just walked where?" Dang it, D'wane's back was turned.

Va'os was half way to trying to gently quiet Zida. He had his hand raised to make that 'shushing' gesture when — "What?" Cue a heavy frown there and a darted look to whoever else might be looking their way. He can ignore any wrinkling to his shirt! "Just… calm down, ok?" No need to start announcing this LOUDLY, right? And maybe it'll give time for Va'os to flag a few folks, riders, Harpers… ANYONE, his way. Don't trust him guys to not fumble this! "Explain everything you can remember about this… Taythe? And his promises."

N'tash belatedly starts paying attention to the scene that's unfolding not far away, though he does his best to keep the little girl distracted by the food, even as he tries to slip in questions. "So, ever see your daddy talking to anyone you didn't know? Before your trip down south, or after? Did your daddy have any Craft experience?" But then the little girl finds a tray of cookies, so no answers are forthcoming for a moment or two.

"AYE! IT WAS 'IM!" Mr Toothy (aka Taythe) scrambles rather clumsily and points his long gnarly fingers in the general direction of that person or another that vanished before their very eyes! "Aye! T'was him! He was wanting us to to do the work in 'change fer living without bein' bothered in the jungle! Said I can have me dangly wagglies whereever I wanted!" Thankfully, still inside his shorts. Taythe begins to cough once more, this time hacking horribly with spittle flying and at the tail end of it, he straightens up with a look of relief on his face. Not because of the fit of his lungs but more pungent matters. "He owes us fer that! We be bothered by ye weyrfolk! Fer tha, I say we keep the uh, cargo we had to put to the ground fer keepin'"

"Wait, wait, wait. There was cargo? What was it and where? And by him, were you talking about the Lord Warder or his steward?" This has totally gotten Madox's attention considering he had been one of the closest to Taythe. Interesting enough he's willing to put up with the dubious hygiene of the old man for a little longer.

Conversation in the area is dragging slowly to a halt as two of the oldest people in the room are taking the floor of attention. The accusations are flying from both of them, pointing at the recently-departed Lord Warder Keiron of Southern Barrier Hold as the man who organized these refugees down where they were found. "Exactly, you have to go get him back! He has to tell me where my children are!" Zida releases Va'os and makes like she will run after the man except she trips, sprawling down onto the ground between where D'wane, N'tash, and Rhuysarr are.

Well, that's a development. Rhuysarr gives up on his interrogation when it becomes clear that the attention is now focused elsewhere, and there's something worthy of interest happening. "Unexpected," the wildling man muses as Taythe and Zida begin yelling after the Lord Warder's company. As the old woman goes sprawling, the man abandons his post in favor of moving to Zida's side in order to help her up. "Are you alright?"

Hold up, these are some serious accusations that probably go well above anybody here's paygrade. And so, D'wane's going to have Rocketh pass on a message to Nokteryth. He'll just excuse himself from the mother he was talking to while he goes and does that.

There are some rumblings in the tropical jungle paradise. Not a full blown volcano explosion again, but warning signs. « Mine thinks yours should get to the living caverns. Something about the Lord Warder being involved with the refugees and smuggling. » Okay, maybe Rocketh isn't the best messanger, but that was the gist of it. (From Rocketh)

Consider Va'os as confused (or not) as Madox is! His attention is drawn long enough to Taythe that he's completely unaware that Zida has let him go and is planning to make a break for it… until she's confirming things. "Cargo? What cargo! And you can't just —" And there she goes! Tripping and falling and the bronzerider winces. Shit! He won't just stand there idly either and goes to Zida's aid, only to have Rhuysarr beat him to it. "Here." He can help too! Maybe?

L'xan probably wishes that it was above his paygrade as only moments after that canny summons he arrives. Of course Nokteryth… isn't the most reliable messenger out there. "SILENCE!" The Weyrleader roars, it's quite impressive considering it reaches all the nooks and crannies in the cavernous… er cavern. "Whats this about smuggling refugees?" Yep, chinese whispers bronze-style, never a good idea. "Madox, a summary please?" L'xan continues a little more quieter, calling on the Harper to do some harpering

"Oh, ye wanna know ye pretty man. It's gonna cost ye a moment of yer time in me lap! Just like the youngin's when I tell 'em stories of how we made it cross the way from the great beyond! Ye… wouldn't mind humorin' ol Taythe, would ye lad?" The wormbrow is doing it's little hypnotizing dance over the man's dark tanned face, his little beady eyes sparkling. When Zida hits the floor, Taythe winces, hissing through those gnarled teeth. "Ye not gonna be able to catch 'im with the way tha man runs! Ye mention pay or anything 'yond work and he flees faster than them veiled wimmins they got in that one sparkly smellin' place where ye pay to get in. When they sees me, they dun take my marks, they give 'em to me to leave! Think they know ma dangly wagglies." Don't worry, Madox. He didn't forget about you. Back on the floor he goes and that moldly bony lap is still there a'waitin'. "How much ye say was in tha cargo, las-" SILENCE?! Taythe's bony shoulders sag and he groans, shaking his head at the sudden arrival of the noisy L'xan. "Ye know! If ye used yer ears and stopped that belly achin like some old auntie, ye'd probably find out!"

Tears are now falling down Zida's face, dripping onto her clothing as she allows Rhuysarr and Madox help her back to her feet. She'll cling to the wildling man's arm, "He can't get away with this, is the weyr going to let him get away with this because he's important?" Even L'xan's yelling can only silence her a little as she continues to mutter about justice into Rhuysarr's sleeve.

Madox clears his throat and steps up since he was called out by name. He'll keep his voice low enough to only be clear to those immediately around the weyrleader. No need for him to project to all corners. "During the interviews, the Lord Warder and his steward appeared. This woman and that man," He'll gesture to both Zida and Taythe "identified him as the one who asked them to come South to work. Apparently there was also some cargo that they put in the ground for him in exchange for something." It's been a very interesting couple minutes.

"No one is going to let him get away with anything," Rhuysarr assures in a low, gruff voice that suggests he's more affected by the old woman's tears than appearances let on. "Even if the weyr doesn't take care of it." There are still wildlings willing to take justice into their own hands when it comes to trouble in their jungles. He pays no mind to L'xan's yelling, intent upon comforting the old woman while Madox reports to the Weyrleader.

N'tash is absolutely torn between wanting to stand here by the food tables as the best spot in the house, and ushering the little girl off to a quieter spot, because she seems decidedly unfortable by the displays from the old woman and the toothy-grin man. He tries escorting the girl back to her mother, since D'wane has likely given up talking to her. "I don't like that man," the little girl comments quietly to N'tash, pointing a small finger at toothy-grin.

With Zida seen to, Va'os takes a half step back. He might 'pretend' not to have overheard a snippet or two of what Rhuysarr says but by that point, L'xan is calling for silence and Madox is doing a good job at recapping what was learned. The bronzerider is going to take that moment to try and slink a little towards the sidelines… and probably with a wide enough berth given to Taythe.

When Madox chooses that loud man instead of ol' Taythe, he doesn't take it personal. A wide grin finds it's way on the old refugee's face, letting everyone have a proper gander at all of those lovely teeth. Some of them are golden! Not metallic, but the color is close enough, right? Some might be missing, but don't fret, ladies. There's a little jar in his pocket where the rest are kept safe. He still has all of his teeth! It's true! He's holding the jar up to Va'os, rattling the dark pieces of decay to play a nice little tune. You know, like the rattling sound in horror films before something truly horrible comes out for all to see.

D'wane is just going to go and loom over Taythe in case that old man decides to make a run for it. Or in case his cooperation is further needed. He'll just guard this witness.

L'xan is a listening old man! However he's relying on Madox to provide the facts without all the emotional jibber-jabber. It is perhaps a skill he has always had, but it takes him all of a moment to start asking futher questions. "Where's the paperwork if this is true? Even as his attention is drawn to Taythe, all unknowing. "You must be mistaken, the Weyrleader of Southern Weyr does not 'belly ache like an old aunty." It is equitable enough, not that it isn't immediately apparent L'xan is Important. But he is waiting to see what other little nuggets of information are forth-coming from the previously taciturn refugees.

Some talking is happening back in the corner among a knot of refugees staring towards Zida and Taythe. A bit of shoving and a middle-aged man gets pushed forward. "He looked a little familiar to me too, Weyrleader? I can't say for sure but Zida here has been helping us all since we arrived…" Speaking more to add validity to to the claim as well as bolster Zida's claim to honesty.

Zida throws her arms around Rhuysarr when she's given the slightest of comfort until L'xan's words penetrate. Then she's the irate grieving old woman again who pushes away from the wildling to advance on the Weyrleader with her finger waggling. "That's all you important folk do! Make excuses for other important folk so those of us just looking for honest work can be kept down! You pulled us out of a VOLCANO. Are we suppose to just pull out paperwork that's burned! We came with nothing!"

Va'os visibly shudders when Taythe goes shaking that jar! It IS a thing of horrors! That sound is going to haunt him for awhile… especially if Tsiroth keeps picking up on it. Ugh, can this get any worse? Thankfully, he'll have plenty to distract him for the time being, though his attempts to fade bring him to closer to N'tash's side.

"But what proof do you have? Contracts or there was cargo that was mentioned? If you tell us where that was stored, there's a chance that it survived and we can trace it back to its origins." Madox will respond to both the middle aged man and Zida. "It's not just important folks. Anyone making accusations against another needs to have proof to back up their words."

Rhuysarr just freezes when Zida throws her arms around him, but at least the wildling doesn't push the old woman away. He relaxes only when she releases her hold on him, only to realize what she's about. He's off after her quickly, laying a hand on her arm to keep her from finger waggling the Weyrleader to death. "She does have a point." Helpful, as always.

Oh, ye wanna loom? "Ye get any closer than tha, then yer gonna have to marry ol Taythe and I dun think ye kin handle that kinda ride." Taythe hears the Weyrleader's words and he straightens up, feigning disbelief and trying to make himself decent by slobbering into the palms of both hands to clean his fair and slick back the matted little tuft of hair clinging to the top of his otherwise shiny head. He dramatically comes to the position of attention, offering a salute with over exaggerated movements. "She be right, ye know! Ye want us to go back to diggin out there at the volcano for paperwork? Ye might as well let us all go back to the jungles to do tha. Might take 'yond yer turns, Weyrleader. Would be faster ta find the paper ye wipe with than any o'tha!" His words are slowly drawn, with extra pronunciation to anything that would produce even the slightest bit of spittle while he speaks. "And what more proof ye want! The bones o' them folk that didn't make it out alive? We was settlin at a foot of a volcano and ye know no one in their addled salt filled brains would be daft enough to do that fer FREE."

D'wane has had turns of practice dealing with belligerent folks, so Taythe's words won't make a dent in his stony guard face. "It doesn't have to be paperwork from the volcano. You give us more contacts of who was involved, we'll investigate that as well. Right now, all we have to go on is you all saying that it was the Lord Warder and he can just as easily say he's never seen you before today." And he may think this old man is exactly daft enough to settle at the foot of an active volcano for FREE.

"SILENCE!" L'xan roars again, shooting quelling looks at both of the elders seemingly stirring the pot. "Harper Madox is correct. This is not something that can be persued by emotion alone. We need facts people." His attention shifts to that knot of refugees and their spokesman. "I'm going to assume that you've recovered sufficently to speak individually to Harpers. There is always a paper trail. The fact that your own papers are lost doesn't mean that the official versions are…" That is of course if there is official versions. "But for now, this is accomplishing nothing." The former Parhelion rider declares, he's at least experienced in investigation. That's HANDY. "I suggest we all take a moment to find somewhere quiet and do some reflection. Any small detail may be the clue that gives us answers we can act upon." This last is given to refugee, rider and the other assorted folks hanging around in this little drama. "Especially you…" He points out Taythe, with a slight flicker of distaste. "You can go outside if you like, but I suggest you don't wander too far."

N'tash shoots a glance over at Va'os, who's suddenly nearby. He doesn't feel like he's all that helpful as this story unfolds. He can watch the room, though, and if anyone who seems important tries to slip out, or any suspicious activity in general. He leans over towards the other bronzerider and says quietly, "Do you suppose this discussion will help jog anyone's memory?" For sure, some people know more than they're saying.

"More like an icebreaker, than a memory jump." Va'os mutters under his breath to N'tash, while the others hash things out under L'xan's orders. He'll give the other rider a quick side glance and a grim smirk before looking back out over the crowd. Probably keeping track, too. Just in case~

If there was ever a time for jokes, the solemn look on old Taythe's face might indicate that time has come and passed. "Ye want paperwork. Between with yer paperwork. We lost lives. We can't go to a Craft and commission for some trees to be made into friends and family that're there amongst the ashes and fer what? Yer paper trail? Ye honestly think there'd be a paper trail when the very trade goods are the blood, sweat and tears of mere people? Men, wimmin and their get with their names and lives down on yer shit paper by a man who can't even be here to say this whole thing is honest. We was brought here with honesty, and clearly… Weyrleader ye can see how cheap that shit of honesty is worth." Taythe holds his hands up, those black beady eyes glancing around the room to meet with as many eyes as he can possible capture in his gaze. "Ye don't want ol' Taythe ta go far, fine. I'll be here if ye wanna replace my wimmin so I can replace me get."

L'xan is saved from more finger wiggling by Rhuysarr's quick intervention. Anger spots rise on her cheeks as the man keeps pressing for proof. "Taythe's got the right of it. If we were official you lot wouldn't have been so surprised when that mountain blew itself up and we got dumped on you." Turning away Zida is just going to stalk away, heading towards a far doorway unless she's stopped. "None of us are going nowhere." Bitterness, yes? Passing by Va'os she'll pause, "Those remains?" Because he was totally in charge of that… right? Zida is WASHING HER HANDS of L'xan and the weyrleadership.

About the hall the other refugees mutter to one another but if Zida is allowed her escape they'll start to trickle away too in small clumps, afraid, unsure, and not one of them certain about what tomorrow will bring upon their heads if it really is the Lord Warder who put them in the dangerous spot in the first place.

Madox sighs. And since he seems like there's not another higher ranking harper present…. "I'll get with the Weyrharper and make sure a roster is made for further interviews." Surely the harpers have records of all the refugees they currently have so they can make whatever schedules are needed. So that's one item L'xan can take of his possible to-do list.

Don't mind Rhuysarr, the wildling is just going to quietly tail after Zida. It's possible he just wants to ensure that the old woman didn't crack her hip when she hit the floor — but it's more likely that he's there to offer the support of himself and his allies, whether or not the Weyr sanctions it.

"I'll have to see about them," Va'os' is quick to give a super vague answer to Zida's request, a somewhat pained look on his expression. Sorry, his hands are tied? Not to mention he doesn't even know where to begin with that! He's probably going to end up on her black list at this rate. Especially when his attention darts to the other refugees as they begin trickling out.

"If you have a better idea then just marching up to someone with no proof by all means share it. During a properly scheduled interview." L'xan folds his arms, and the palpable icyness in his grey eyes promises that there will be NO 'wimmins' for Taythe to get his 'get' upon anywhere near that. "For now, you are dismissed." It sounds like a suggestion but really it's an order. He nods his head at D'wane to make sure Taythe finds himself somewhere safe, preferably with a bath…and a derth of not-very-bright women.

Something tells me Taythe would like that.

Can D'wane just toss Taythe into the runners' trough?

N'tash gives a nod in parting to Va'os, then starts to head out himself, following that little girl and her mom. Something is making him worry about her, and if he can get her to open up and actually admit what she knows, it might go a long way.

RIP Runners

"Ye know… there's a problem with the men o' the weyrs these days. These fermalities and paper work. They spends so much time 'hind them fancy workin tables, stampin their stamps and flyin on them beasties, that they ferget what it's like to grow from the ground up instead of them fancy knots up. These be dark times." Taythe pantomimes the Weyrleader's dismissal and he pushes himself to his feet with a groan and the audible sounds of joints popping and cracking from the old refugees movements. Wonder if L'xan's mum is available.

OH SNAP.

Get it, Taythe.

Dangly wagglies.

L'xan's mum is meaner than he is fyi

D'wane will escort Taythe out, heavily suggesting the door to the baths after sending someone ahead to clear it out (maybe N'tash or some other Ocelot). They're not going to Igen, so L'xan's mom is safe.

Taythe will follow D'wane with heavy feet, until he thinks about it for a moment, then a wide semi-toothy grin forms on his face. He licks his palm once more to smooth back that little tuft of hair and there's a little bit more pep in the refugees gangly steps, with toenails scraping across the floor here or there. He grabs the rope belt holding up those moldy shorts and he wiggles them a little bit. Down here, they all float.

L'xan continues to stand, arms folded until the impromptu gathering finally disperses. Then he relaxes with a fair few muttered expletives. Washing his face with both of his hands, he almost looks defeated, but that's not going to excuse him from duty. Snatching some flaky pastry from the stands he also leaves, presumably to find the next fire he needs to piss on. HIS JOB IS NEVER DONE GUYS

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