Who

Rh'maz, Th'bek, Rocio, L'dyd (NPC) & dragons

What

Arroyo riders find some desert wreckage and remedy the situation. Th'bek also has a mandatory request for Rh'maz.

Minor profanity.

When

It is the thirteenth day of Summer and 98 degrees. It is hot. Hot, hot, hot. Rukbat bakes the desert. Temperatures soar.

Where

Great Central Desert

OOC Date 18 Nov 2016 05:00

 

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"I am as ruthless as I am corrupt, and I will hide all your misdeeds."


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Great Central Desert

A sea of golden sand stretches as far as the eye can gaze in all directions, marred here and there by the rough scars of granite and sandstone outcroppings of various lengths and widths. Scorching by day and bitingly cold by night in most months, the Great Central Desert is not a place one ventures without a firm plan or a quick exit (such as a dragon). The winds that whip mercilessly across this sandy expanse on some occasions can create colossal samiels and dust storms that block the sun for candlemarks at a time. Other days find the desert sitting amidst an immense calm, the sunlight painting dunes and bluffs in ever-shifting colors and the moonlight turning gold to pale silver beneath nearly unblinking stars. It is a place of great danger and beauty all at once, to be sure.


A red sunset bleeds out across an eternity of sand. The daytime sweeps are ending, and a pair of Arroyo dragons have come to light on the crest of a dune. Loose grains sift away as their riders stretch their legs, readjust, and take water from their kit. The blue and green nose at the metal remnants of a thing uncovered in the lee of the dune, the useless metal bits all that's left of some caravan. Rh'maz jaunts bow-legged over the sand, chatting amiably with L'dyd, a friendly young man who holds a companionable silence.

A marauder takes shape above the horizon line. From the southeast, the dark flight form looks like a condor of antiquity, a portent of dark deeds. Truly it takes the shape of Tavuqth, the brown giving up altitude as they approach their wingmates. He lands in a flurry of fierce sand and claps his jaws to Izeztomath and Xalatonth. Th'bek releases the straps and gets to the ground, uneven sand making him catch himself. "Locals said they saw two dragons out here, I had a hunch they were 'royos. Men! What boon did you find," he comes closer, knows wreckage when he sees it. "Or lack thereof."

Twin salutes from the pair of riders. L'dyd already had his hand near his face, shielding his eyes from the blowing sand of the brown's backwing. Rh'maz's face is already covered, in the way that he does, a wrap of blue fabric the color of Xalatonth. The cobalt blue trills a greeting. He looks in good spirits, and his wing has mended well. He seems to have taken a shine to Izeztomath, who, despite the power of flame and flight, is as delicate and nervous as an ancient gazelle.

"We've got some metal bits, sir," reports Rh'maz. "Thrilling, I know. I think they might be the fixtures of an old caravan wagon, eaten by Threadfall." He rolls one such finding about in his glove. "Nothing to report from sweeps. The first seven of summer is hitting everyone hard. Izeztomath did find a stray caprine down in a dry riverbed, however. You should have seen L'dyd wrangle her up to safety. The villagers were very impressed."

L'dyd smiles and looks away. A fair-skinned young man of not yet twenty-five, a runaway from Far Cry Hold, he has always been a shy one with a hidden reserve of strange talents.

When he isn't communicating directly, Th'bek's face is protected by two layers of lightweight material, the extra weight and restrictions of a flight helmet back in his weyr. "Looks at least partially redeemable. See if it can be freed, and offer it to the Ebura for salvage. That may help make up for H'terk's little transgression." That involved a young Ebura woman five months prior. And of L'dyd's feat? The fabric hides blatant amusement. "I have half a mind to plant another caprine in the same spot, just to see it again, L'dyd."

The greenrider smiles. The sun has burnt his face and brought out a riotous smattering of freckles, despite his best efforts to shield himself with a striped scarf of local make. "I stand ready, sir."

"Counterpoint, we could also offer up H'terk for salvage." Rh'maz must be smiling beneath his mask. "Provided they don't string him up, I'd love to be a guest at an Ebura wedding. Entertainment either way."

"Oddly, I've never been invited to a wedding yet. Think I oughta pull rank one day?" Tavuqth bears his head around to see the half-buried havoc of the trader wagon, physical weathering having taken its toll on the pitted panels. "Hm, maybe you should have kept it. I could eat a caprine right about now— split my rations with two Ebura youths watching over their stock." Good people finish last and hungry. "That could be an option…" One of Rev's hands scratches his scalp through the head scarf. "Can you two handle the excavating, or should Tavuqth and I remain?"

In a plucky tone, Rh'maz replies, "Why sir, as a ranking dragonman, tradition permits you to officiate." He looks among the pair of dragons. "Xalatonth can manage, I wouldn't want to deprive Tavuqth of all the fun. I know how he is. I think that Izeztomath will be needing water, though. She's had a full day."

"How will I officiate if I'm three sheets to the wind from celebrations the night prior?" A wisp of wind rattles the scarf over his face, yielding a cad's eye. "Rh'maz," he gets close to the bluerider, shoring against any eavesdropping from L'dyd. "I want you to know I've selected you for extra wingsecond coaching. There will be one or two others, but you're my primary pick." Oh, the prestige.

As Th'bek pulls closer, Rh'maz responds with a frisson of intrigue. This ought to be good. And verily, it is! "A fine choice, Th'bek, sir. I'll have you know, you can count on me. I am as ruthless as I am corrupt, and I will hide all your misdeeds. No one even approaches my level of blackmail. I'm so glad you see it my way." His eye dances. "It was the dick thing, wasn't it?"
That is probably the only part of the whispered conversation that reaches L'dyd. He trades a look with Izeztomath.

Rocio has been summoned by Th'bek via the RP Invite command!

Th'bek's expansion of wingseconds is nearly complete: Agertha the Den Mother, R'bior the Grizzled Keeper of Tradition, and Rh'maz the Harper with the Dick Jokes. The brownrider slaps the bluerider on the meat of his mid-back. "See, we need the smiles. And thank you for your support in my misconduct. R'bior and Agertha just don't understand me. L'dyd!" Spell broken between them, "make sure you water your green."

L'dyd clicks his heels together in an acknowledging salute. Somehow he manages to look sharp even standing on sand. He's always a good pick for official functions in the holds where he can be made to stand about, looking distinct and saying nothing. Dismissed, he nods his goodbyes to Rh'maz and Xalatonth, and makes for his delicate and long-necked green. Izeztomath takes wing.

Xalatonth is a great thrumming purr given form. His tail lashes in the sand, and then he sets about to free the broken metal frame out of the dune where it has rested.

Speaking of greens, here comes a rather sparkly one now~ Niamyth circles the sky overhead and then dips gracefully downward to land some distance away from the Arroyo gathering. Astride the sparkles is Rocio taking off her helmet, hooking it, and sliiiding down with a gritty scratch of her rugged boots. Once the dust settles a bit, the huntress jogs toward Th'bek and Rh'maz, meeting both men with a salute. "Checkin' in to see if ya need any help."

Well if this isn't an impromptu Arroyo assembly! Th'bek installs a hand over a gap in his head scarf allowing light in, seeing Niamyth and Rocio join them as L'dyd buzzes to either an oasis or the Weyr's lake. "Hail Rocio, that is for Rh'maz and Xalatonth to answer as they recover unclaimed wreckage." He points to the sand-swallowed wagon. Tavuqth pays Niamyth instant notice, arcing a serrated neck and looking supreme.

The glittery spectacle of the green is not lost on the cobalt blue. Everything seems to go his way today, doesn't it. Rh'maz levels a death stare upon him, and Xalatonth purrs intensely all the more. "Thanks for that, Rocio," the bluerider greets her. "A moment's assistance. If Xalatonth digs back, could you have her pull it from the hill?"

"Unclaimed wreckage?" This piques Rocio's interest. "Where?" She peers in the direction her wingleader is pointing and squints, holding up a hand over her eyes. "Like, did he find buried treasure or somethin'?" Because he better remember his loyal wingmates! Niamyth extends a glimmering wing and begins to preen in the sunlight like it's nothing new or special. Work? She's being asked to work? Rocio adjusts the very pink bandana protecting her blonde head before nodding at Rh'maz. "Can do." A beat, "Ain't that right, Nia?" Hollered, that. The green snorts her response.

Th'bek does not expand his line of sight far, the collective reflection of sun off the barren ground a brutal way to suffer. "If you think of metal as treasure, in a sense." Weathered though it is, it will still deter Thread. "I will leave you two to it. And drink!" Water people, water. Tavuqth does not wish to leave Niamyth to Xalatonth's company, but his rider is in no mood to deteriorate in the desert sun. The great brown stretches his straps and considers an act of rolling on his back would quickly end the dispute of wills. But with a groan that vibrates his teeth, Tavuqth uncapes his wings and lurches into the air to shortcut between.

Rh'maz salutes, and holds that hand to the length of fabric that forms a headdress and a mask. It serves to shield him from the sand, the sun, and the uncomfortable stares of the holdfolk. "Thank you. Izeztomath had to return for want of water. Th'bek would like us to bring the metal salvage down to Ebura village. I'm sure they'll be happy for it."

Xalatonth responds after a few moments of his rider's snapping fingers. He shakes out his wings, resettles them, and sets about to pull up the sand around the remnants of a metal frame. It looks to have been the skeleton of some wagon, the parts left over from thread and the elements.

Niamyth ruffles her glittery wings and lopes toward Xalatonth when he begins to dig back the sand. It takes a her a moment of positioning, but the dainty green is able to grip the metal frame and puuuull from the desert earth while Rocio steps a bit closer to keep watch. "When'd ya found this thing, Rh'maz?" It's quite a sight to see the dragons working at removing the piece, though she says nothing for a moment as she concentrates on her bond's efforts. Little and lacking the strength of a blue means that Nia could strain herself depending on the size of the wreckage.

"With the sun going down at such an angle… we could see a little flash of metal picked out in the sand." Though he remains grateful for the young woman's assistance, there is, without question, a shadow in his voice of having been left with a green in heat. In the midst of a trackless dune sea for all that. Thank you, Th'bek. "It'll be dark soon, so if we can't remove it, Xalatonth and I will return in the morning. Have you seen anything interesting on your patrol?"

Rocio nods after the explanation and folds her arms across her chest. "That makes sense. Nia and I usually have the early mornin' sweeps near the Keroon border." It's been quite a chore trying to find any remnants of the missing herdbeasts from Igen. "Ain't much outta the ordinary." A hand lifts to scratch an itch on the side of her chin as she observes the green's efforts in lifting the metal frame. It takes a few pulls and a little more sand removal, but she's able to successfully remove the frame from its rest place. Niamyth warbles and drags the metal backward, only to drop it down onto the sand with another ruffle of viridian wings. "Good job, Nia!" Rocio pivots toward Rh'maz. "Now what?"

Rh'maz , standing a smart length from the green's efforts, looks in with interest then. "Thank you, Niamyth," he tells her. Up close, in the red setting sun, he can see the detail of firefly-gold across the dragon's verdant jungle hide. He makes one last sweep of the sand bed, picking out a few scraps of a finer size than a dragon could manage. Afterward Xalatonth lets the sand drift back into place, and there it settles, clean and erasing.

"You know, I'd wager this happened only in the last pass," the former harper muses. "You can sometimes tell the age of a wagon by the length of its axles. They're intended to be a set length, to manage the wheel ruts in the roads— but now and again, for whatever reason or pique, a lord or harper-master will have them changed. It will only take me a moment to bind up the loose pieces, and then we'll lash it all to Xalatonth." And if it should make him heavy and ungainly to fly, all the better.
« You could tie two wagons to me, » Xalatonth tells him, « And I'd still catch her. »"

Niamyth warbles again once the metal frame is settled and then snuffles at it, catching its scent until she sneezes away some of the sand. The action causes Rocio to roll her eyes and unfold her arms — no one ever said the sassy green wasn't awkward. "D'ya need some help hitchin' Xalatonth up? 'Cause I could help. Otherwise, Nia an' I will make a trip to the Keroon border again before Rukbat sets." As part of her 'punishment' handed down by the Weyrsecond. "We got some time left." Her other hand shields the sunlight from her eyes as Niamyth trots in their direction.

"We'll be fine, thank you. He's done this half a dozen times." Rh'maz, after a moment of reflection, ensures with all his harper training that he can instill a timbre of kindness into his voice. "I'm grateful for your help." This isn't personal. "I had a few ideas toward what you're looking for, I think, if I'm guessing correctly. The lost cattle incident. I don't think we'll find them from the air. Perhaps when Niamyth is.. more comfortable, you might consider a different sort of approach."

It takes a moment for the statement to sink in when it hits Rocio like a ton of bricks. Oh. Right. Niamyth halts nearby and Rocio glances over a shoulder to catch sight of the glowy tinge to her lifemate's hide. "Flying does us good right now. I'd track 'em on foot, but I've been given orders to keep our search efforts in the air." Stepping backward, the huntress gives Rh'maz a salute before bidding him farewell. "Glad we could help. We'll see ya soon, 'kay?" Probably in the next day or so if Niamyth has anything to say about it. With that said, Rocio pulls herself up to viridian neckridges and secures her helmet just before Niamyth leaps skyward with even more sparkle than before~

Astride the metal contraption he buckles to his dragon, Rh'maz shows her a friendly look, as best he can manage through his desert mask. He returns her salute. "I'd be interested in returning to this topic," he tells her. "Clear skies, Rocio." A nice young woman. After they have gone, he pulls a strap snug and cants his head toward the feline blue. "Xalatonth. My brother. My love. We've talked about this. I know that you enjoy your sport, and you're the very best, but I don't think the soul of romance is to be found in a nasty trackless dune, surrounded by nothing, fucking a burnt stranger with half a face, and getting sand everywhere. I'm sure you could form a pearl out of it… egh."

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