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Dalibor is a semi-canon Dragonriders of Pern site. No knowledge of the series or site is required to join; players of all experience levels are welcome here. Founded in 2008 on Proboards and moved to Jcink in 2013, Dalibor has been running for nine years.

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Autumn, 18th Turn, 11th Pass

Upcoming Flights/Runs:

Upcoming Hatchings:
Copper Laanasuth
Copper Zelsk

With two clutches hardening on the Hatching Sands the big question seemed to be: which will hatch first?

The answer came in short order with Copper Zelsk's clutch breaking shell moments before Copper Laanasuth's. With so many eggs surely the dual hatching offers hope to the numerous Candidates who fill Dalibor's ranks. Only time will show who will come away with a lifemate of their very own...

... and who will forfeit their life in hopes of Impression.
Leadership
Weyrwoman
Rayna of Gold Couineth - Boo

Weyrleader
Z'dyn of Iron Baihujinth - Rhia

Jr. Weyrwoman
Jali of Copper Laanasuth - Rii

Jr. Weyrleader
Os'nin of Blue Alwanath - Aerona

Alphahandler
Norla of Bronze Norsk - Ives

Betahandler
Oreanda of Bronze Osk & Blue Oresk - Ruin
Der of Grey Desk - Rii

Weyrlingmaster
K'ton of Blue Ironth- Jenn
S'vor of Green Absinth - Ruriko
Nia of Pink Koeneth - Catsitta

Wherlingmaster
Ijo of Brown Isk - Rhia
Pavir of Blue Pavisk - Captain
Swithin of Blue Swisk - Ives

Candidatemaster
Ulian of White Rivath - Ruin
Zanii of Black Zansk - Leo

Staff
Admins
Ives
Rii
Ruin

Historians

Rhia
Tobes

Advertisers

Captain
Tigersilk
Credits
Dalibor was created by Bre, continued by Cathaline, and is now owned and operated by Ruin. Most of the information, rules, and graphics were made, compiled, or written by staff with credit given to those whose resources they used. Stock thanks to credited parties. All characters and posts are copyrighted to the members of the game. No material from this site should be copied in any way, shape, or form without utter express permission from the members and staff. All references to worlds and characters based on Anne McCaffrey's 'Dragonrider of Pern' series are copyright Anne McCaffrey 1967-2017, all rights reserved. The Dragonriders of Pern is registered U.S. Patent and Trademark Office, by Anne McCaffrey, used here with general permission for non-commercial purposes without monetary gain.

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 Undercover, SU:17 {PLOT/BY SIGNUP}
Rii
 Posted: Jun 23 2017, 05:12 PM
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Jr. Weyrwoman





Idea Factory


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A/N: See this thread for information. You'll have received your undercover role via PM, so be sure to check your messages!

Their plans were laid, shared, and set in motion. They'd baited the Traditionalists with volunteers from the people of the Western Continent, they'd turned their enemies' recruiting strategies against them, and now it was time. Each of the riders and handlers selected for this mission had been thoroughly briefed on what to do:

Keep your cover persona.

Capture their leaders if possible.

Obtain any information you can.

Damage their resources if it's safe to do so.

Kill no one unless your own life depends on it.

Use your dragon or wher to communicate with the outside.


Each of them were given a time and a location, given by the Traditionalist recruiters to the volunteers they'd recruited, where they would be picked up and taken to the Traditionalists' center of operations. If nothing else, before the first day was over, they would know where it was. Additional riders and handlers were set on standby with their respective bondeds. If something went unsalvageably wrong, they wanted to be able to retrieve their undercover agents quickly.

The game was afoot.

***

Although the exact time of day and the location varies from person to person, you are picked up by a rider and dragon - for half, a green; for the other half, a blue. They aren't much interested in talking, not even answering where you're going. You between and emerge in coastal Tillek, where a small cave system and some huts looked like a minor - very minor - sea hold.

Individually, you are taken aside by a Traditionalist and asked:

Where are you from?
What did you do there?
Do you understand our values?
What can you do for us?
What can we do for you?


It is your first checkpoint. Do you:


Answer as yourself.

Answer as your persona.

Refuse to answer and do nothing.

Attack as soon as you can.


@Ruin @Leo @Lee @Aftershock @Enigmatis @Mopsy93 @Zane @Rowana @Blot @Tigersilk @Boo @Tobes @Catsitta

((Please don't tag me back when you reply. I'm watching, I promise.))


PMAIM
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Catsitta
 Posted: Jun 23 2017, 09:01 PM
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Weyrlingmaster





Eeveelution Trainer


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When they emerged from the in between, the full impact of the situation weighed heavily on L'aars' chest. He was effectively separated from Jaireth until the mission was completed or aborted, his only contact with the iron their telepathic link. It was strange to be so far from His. Quelling the tiny sparks of hesitancy with a steely mental slam, L'aars went over his persona in his mind. Ninval was not so different from himself. Given that acting wasn't his strong suit, it was just as well. Humorless and methodical, the man he pretended to be was a watcher and a planner. Chaos was interesting. He fell easily into the role of silent observer, saying nothing to the bluerider that picked him up beyond what was necessary. Instead he looked around at everything, drinking in the sight of the coastline, skimming his memories to get a sense of where they were. It was definitely the Northern Continent. Outside of Tillek perhaps? He let the image of what he saw pass through his mental link with Jaireth, communicating their location as best as he was able.

The rider landed. L'aars dismounted clumsily, not wanting to betray the fact that he was used to riding dragonback. It was not too long before he was pulled aside by a Traditionalist to be questioned. Here was where the hard part started. Impassively, he stared the man in the eye, arms crossed. He absently spun the silver ring on his hand, a habit of his he likely would never break, as he answered. The first couple questions were easy enough. He was a cotholder from Western. What did he do? He helped build ships. A man of his stature was a natural fit for the heavier lifting required.

Then came the more critical questions.

Did he understand their values?

He paused before answering, his tone hardening, "Yes. I understand...The mutant colors are an abomination. They are not supposed to exist and can only bring harm in the end." His was the response of a man deeply harmed by these non-traditional colors. After all, his wife was killed and his daughter maimed by one of those worthless red whers. Its violent existence should have never come about and all its kith needed elimination.

When asked what he could do for them, L'aars dropped his arms to his sides. He wondered how Ninval would reply to a question like that. People meant little to him. Introverted with impossible standards for those around him. What could a man like him offer to the cause? "I can do whatever is required of me," he eventually offered. "However, I am best at watching. When you watch and listen, instead of speak, you learn things." Not a direct reply, but befitting his role, he believed. A nudge towards spycraft without being overt. He would lead them to think he was the kind of man who could blend into the ebb and flow of a place and learn its secrets through patient observation.

The conversation then led to what they could do for him. At that, he made a show of twisting the ring on his hand, actually lifting his arm to spin the silvery bit of jewelry with his opposite hand. L'aars fell into quietness, his shoulders tense, before he muttered, "You can succeed in ridding this world of those useless, murdering reds."

.

L'aars attempts to 'Answer as his persona'


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Mopsy93
 Posted: Jun 23 2017, 09:14 PM
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Pridesecond





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Checkpoint #1 Answer as your persona.

Tarele wasn’t quite sure as to how this would go considering how drastic and completely selfish (putting their agenda over the safety of Pern in Tarele’s eyes) and damaging the Traditionalists’ actions had been up until this point. His loyalty meant that he volunteered for the mission regardless of his personal feelings about the subject and he prepared accordingly for the infiltration of the Traditionalists. That included getting used to the persona that he would be using for this, but the day that the operation would start came soon enough and Tarele was picked up by a Greenrider going between to coastal Tillek.

“I’m Hold Guard Remigo of Crescent Hold,” said Tarele deciding to keep things as simple as possible with the Traditionalists for the time being. “That there are too many changes to the ways that Pern has always operated that should be corrected before it becomes too ingrained. I am good with assembling gear and supplies, though I will complete other tasks if the need arises. As for what you can do, make a more permanent solution to all of these temporary solutions the newer Holds and Weyrs are making.”

It wasn’t immediately obvious to Tarele how well received his words were to the Traditionalist that had pulled him aside though for the sake of the mission he hoped that it was to their satisfaction.


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Tobes
 Posted: Jun 24 2017, 04:25 PM
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Wingrider





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X’ror answers as his persona.



X’ror—no, it would not do to think of himself as that now, not if he had hopes of accomplishing his mission—clenched the green neck beneath him. He thought for a moment to ask the rider where they were going, but sensed that such curiosity might stand out overmuch. The Traditionalists had foolish ideals but they had led the Weyrs of Pern on a merry chase for many turns. They were not likely to be so loose-lipped as that. So it was in silence that they went between, the Cyanrider doing his best to not look so comfortable adragonback. It was not as good a ruse as he hoped—the man had lived and breathed dragons from birth. Hopefully it was enough that his adopted persona was obsessed with raising his status in his peers’ eyes. Looking scared or clumsy would lower his status in their eyes, so he could pretend to pretend to not look like an absolute beginner.

As they blinked back into the real world, he made a quick mental note of where they might be, though kept his head firmly trained on the Greenrider’s back. Don’t appear too curious, don’t arouse suspicion. A small seahold, the typical rock crannies to protect from Thread. Did their initiated dragonriders owe all their loyalty to this little place? It would not take so many of them to fly Thread over such a small area. Perhaps some were full-time Traditionalists while others still lived as spies within their respective Weyrs. He sent these thoughts and his view from the air to Belialimoth with firm instructions to project it on to their handlers. She was not especially useful for such tasks though, and he could only hope that a rider or handler with a more competent bonded corroborated his thoughts.

They landed and X'ror let himself be guided down to the Green's proffered elbow. When pulled aside and interrogated by the Traditonalist, he lifted his head and adopted a slightly arrogant, pompous tone. Not the clipped military voice of Fort Hold, but hopefully enough of the nearby Holders' accent was shared between the two places.

“I’m from a cothold near Fort, lived there my whole life. I did what any cotholder does—what needs doing. None of us has the luxury of only doing the jobs we want to do, so I’ve done it all, and I’m good at it too.” He made certain to look the speaker in the eye while he said it. As Deehujo, he wasn’t here to remain inconspicuous. The man wanted recognition and the resulting validation that came with it, so by Faranth he was going to be the sort of person who acted like they wanted to be in charge.

“Of course I understand your values, and I agree with them, that’s why I’m here. All these people trying to be ‘special’ and ‘different’ and not being able to stand on their own virtues. Pulling good hardworking Pernese away from bettering the Holds and Halls just so they can stand out and think they look better just because they’re different.” Deehujo, it turned out, was going to be long-winded. It was easy to run off at the mouth when he was feeling a little nervous. But he thought he had the speaker’s attention now, so he pushed on.

“I’m good at a lot of things—good at running things, too. You always get more people who are better at gruntwork than real thinking, real leadership. I’ll take any project you can throw at me and make it run smoother, faster, quieter, whatever the Traditionalists need. I’ll get the job done.”

“And in return, you—we—can make Pern what she was supposed to be. A home for good, hardworking people to live and make her better. Not just some show for all the weird ones to parade how special they are all the time.” He finished this little tirade by puffing out his chest, posturing just a little so that the speaker could see that he meant what he said about being hardworking. You didn’t get to be as fit as X’ror was without having a certain deal of work ethic. He tried not to think about how he was one of the "special" ones that his persona so detested. In truth, he could not deny that his own mutant of a beast did her color no favors. But not every Cyan was made so, and perhaps she would have come out all the same as a Green or Gold, he could not say. He did his best not to dwell on it, regardless.


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Leo
 Posted: Jun 24 2017, 07:09 PM
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Candidatemaster





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(Zasime answers as her persona.)

Zasime and Tamath were perhaps more excited than they had right to be as Rukbat crested the sky on the determined day. This was, after all, a serious matter and the whole plan could fall apart if they didn't play their role to the letter. However, this was also a game of shadow and secrets and that was exactly the kind of game they played best. The Traditionalists would never see them coming; they would see only the person they expected to see. In the black pair's case, that was Luong, the kitchen drudge, a woman determined to see her own gender returned to their traditional place in society beneath men. The irony was not lost on Zasime, although she had met a few women who thought much the same, meaning there were people like that out there. The black rider aimed to adopt the womens' flawed logic for herself until she could believe it as truth. She couldn't be Zasime or Tamath anymore, only Luong.

The woman was greeted at the given time and location by a blue and his rider. "Ah good, you're here! Lovely day, isn't it?" The words bubbled from her lips as soon as she could make out the rider's features. 'It's a lovely day for deception, yes.' Her smile broadened with real mirth at Tamath's words, which had to be the dragon's intentions. If nothing else, Tamath was clever, but not even the black could get the foreign rider talking. All of their jokes and lighthearted comments were met with complete and utter silence before they were taken between. Hopefully that was just traditionalist policy and not a sign of her inability to be social. 'Eesh, tough crowd,' she sighed into the privacy of their shared thoughts. 'At least, no one said Luong's jokes had to be good.'

The wingsecond-turned-drudge cast a quick glance around upon their arrival, playing the part of a curious holder who had never been far from her hold. "Thank you for the ride!" She waved to the blue rider even as she was taken aside to be asked questions. The woman did her best to present a friendly, open demeanor with her arms held loosely to either side, a bright smile on her face. She was "happy" to be here where someone would agree with her that chaos ruled the Western Continent and something had to be done- fast. "Why, I'm from Crescent Hold, where I was born and raised. I've lived there my whole life." Zasime was indeed born and raised in Crescent, which made this lie a partial truth. "Oh, I work in the kitchens. It may not be the most appealing job, but I'm quite happy with my role, and I do my duty well. If you ask me what's the best thing to put into a pie...I'd have to say your own teeth!"

She giggled at her joke before moving onto the next question. "Yes, I completely understand as I share the same values." 'Luong' allowed her smile to waver. "Unfortunately, too many of our brethren on the Western Continent have forgotten why we have these values and I cannot stand to see our traditions tossed aside any longer!" She looked the traditionalist dead in the eyes, her smile turned proud. "If you will have me, you will find that I can be very persuasive. I have many friends and am always looking to add more. They simply need a gentle push in the right direction to remember why our traditions cannot be changed to suit the whims of a few."

Her smile widened as the topic turned to what the Traditionalists could do for her. "No doubt, you have heard of the Lady Irohvyne? She believes herself to be more man than woman and has left quite a mess of Western Hold. In fact, she has spread her disease to the south with the founding of Tuana Hold, and she has no husband to mind her! I'm afraid her strange ideas of a woman's role in the household have contaminated the minds of many, including my own hold, to the point that women think they can take on a man's duty and have no need to marry or bear children. Imagine, what will become of Pern if women do not carry out their role as wives and mothers? Could you picture me taking on the responsibilities of a Lord Holder? I think not! The way I see it, we need to end this blight before it spreads even further- and Dalibor Weyr was the start of it all."
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Rowana
 Posted: Jun 24 2017, 08:49 PM
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Wingsecond





Time Lady


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(Wynmuri answers as her persona)

Wynmuri was quiet on during the trip, though she greeted the rider who fetched her with a smile. Her identity, Rasinia, was meant to be a private person anyway and it gave her time to think. Getting picked up had been easy enough, but the first test was still to come. She had taken on other identities briefly before, during some of her investigations, but never on this scale. Fortunately, Rasinia was enough like herself that it shouldn't be hard to stay in character. She just had to be very, very careful not to let anything slip. She could sense Wynsk in the back of her mind, present even when he couldn't be with her physically. It gave her the confidence to keep going forward.

When they arrived at the base, Wyn regarded everything with polite curiosity. A little curiosity would be natural, but she was careful not to look too interested. It didn't take long for someone with the look of more authority to greet her and Wyn smiled wryly. "Nice place."

Then came questions, as she had expected. "From Crescent Hold, Apprentice at the Miner Hall there," 'Rasinia' answered smoothly in a nonchalant tone. "Did good work there making sure mines were secure and stable, not that anyone seemed to notice."

"That's why I'm here," 'Rasinia' nodded frankly. "Crescent is going to the wherries, seems like. I thought a new Lord might finally put folk in place, but he's too cozy with them riders. Rather be here than watch our traditions tossed like trash rock."

"Oh I can do more than just break rocks," 'Rasinia' assured them calmly. "Every problem has a solution and I have a good head for finding them. You need thinkers here, not just followers." She shrugged at the last question. "Just give me the chance to help set folk back where they're supposed to be. Each with their own. None of these rider Lords and Ladies nonsense."
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Ruin
 Posted: Jun 25 2017, 12:55 AM
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Betahandler





Capslock Queen


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She couldn't stop playing with her hair.

A nervous habit she'd developed as a child and never thought to stop.

Braid in, braid out, or curled around her fingers, anything to keep her from needing to look at anyone for too long. It fit around her face and fell down her shoulders and back. It had been sewn into her too-short hair a day prior. Some of the Holders did such a thing, so they could change their style on a whim. Her betrothed wouldn't like to see a boy-ish cut on his bride, she knew that much. It was black as night, or so she'd been told, donated by someone who wanted to put an end to this. It blended out the tan and sun-wear of her face to make her look paler. They'd said that too.

She continued to fidget, formulating waves of nausea and fear over and over again until she believed her nervous habit. Her eyelids remained closed, her feet prancing one around the other like a mare. There had been no few Holderwomen at the Weyr to question. She already acted so weird to begin with, what was a little oddness extra when she needed to appear so...passive.

The Dragonrider had to ask her twice, she made sure to flinch, keeping her arms to her hair and breasts as thought to hide herself more thoroughly in the swaths of fabric that had been tied around her. Skirts, undergarments, something called a slip? If she fell into water she would surely drown. Osk was somewhere, stalking around her head, but she didn't reach for him. There was nothing like a predator to give a person a spine, and she didn't need that right now. She had worked hard to pluck the strength from her vertebrae and become something else. Something soft, something that sort of seemed to sway in the wind.

The Dragonrider didn't speak much, but any answer she gave was soft, probably lost on the wind, and it wasn't long anyway before she was deposited somewhere far away from anything she knew.

She did not click.

And her hands went out with a nervous shake as if she thought she might be lost at any moment.

Hands to help her to where she would be interviewed were met with a warm, if shy, smile and a soft murmur of gratitude. She made no move to explore, to seek things out, she already trusted these people. Was already going willingly into their arms. She waited patiently and without complaint until someone came to ask her questions, and those she answered with a bright, honest voice.

"Oh, my name is Ashford, I'm from Western," she said softly. "Where the Dragonriding Lord Holders were," and then she blushed something furiously, her head lowering down as if looking at her hands, as if she knew how humans did things. The Traditionalists wouldn't know that she had been thinking of an entirely different Lord Holder to summon such a flush to her face. They would only see an embarrassed young woman thinking of course they know Western.

"I'm to be married soon," her head tilted up again and she smiled brightly, though her fingertips strayed to her hair to curl it around her fingers. "My parents say he is a good man, but I have not met him yet. I weave," not a lie and she could prove it. "I make rope for the Fisherfolk, baskets. I can't, well, I live with my parents and it's very hard for me to do a lot of normal things because of my blindness but I try very...I try very hard. I hope I won't disappoint you."

Her smile had crumbled and again her face fell.

"I do understand them. They shouldn't have been at Western, either of them. So many bad things happened, and maybe they wouldn't have if we'd had a pair of people whose only concern was their people...I think. I mean, I met this nice woman named Luong, and well she had a lot of very good things to say about what could've been different and it made sense to me. Lu, well she has a good head on her shoulders," her head bobbed, "if I may say so." She gave a soft sigh into her hair, keeping her back straight and her ankles neatly cross beneath her seat so that her skirts fell around her delicately.

She began to hum softly as she undid the braid she'd placed in her hair.

"I think maybe I can help you find other people who feel the same way. No one really thinks much of me, they don't think I'm capable of much. And, maybe I'm not, but I can listen. Oh, I can...also make baskets...if you need them. Or to sell, or barter with." She could be very industrious, she was willing to work, and her face and posture would convey that, even if her eyes could not.

The final question elicited a nervous response, her fingertips in her hair, her lap, and finally her arms wrapping around herself. "Oh I shouldn't...speak of such a thing..." she said softly, a whisper, her hand fluttering to her mouth before delving into her hair again. "As I said, I have...never met my husband. If...I have known very little kindness in my life. My parents might be willing to...barter me away to the first. If he is not a good man, or sympathetic to this cause, or both...I shall perish. I am not a strong woman, though I try to be. Oh..."

A frown fell upon her lips then scuttled off as she tried to show some resolve. "I would like the opportunity to wed within those of our ideals...if...if anyone were to find me suitable. I want to serve a husband with values worth serving, not one who fantasizes the lives of the former Lord Holder of Western...I...hope I have not said too much," her words ended in a whisper as her head lowered, her hands falling into her lap as she willed them into stillness.


*Persona*


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Lee
 Posted: Jun 26 2017, 08:59 AM
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Answers as persona

Fastidious.

For all that the man’s hands were calloused and worn, the rough-hewn sort of appearance where dirt would not be amiss, they were spotlessly clean. The dark, somber neutrals of his trousers and shirt made a striking combination with the dark hair and tanned face, for all that they were a sturdy, strong material over flashy and fancy fabrics.

A faraway mind, a part that belonged to a different man who missed his wife and his children—and not merely the ones born to him—but wanted them safe, had to admit that part had been rather easy; for it was all that was in his wardrobe anyway. But that man was not really much of a man, but more the impression of one, dull and average and perhaps a little overly fond of klah, and so it had been easy enough to overwrite him, temporarily, with another.

Miiiiiine. Hey, hey, miiiiiiiiiiiiine.

Bihaiwen did not give the impression of being pleased to be interrogated, but he appreciated the desire for safety, for security, and acknowledged to himself that had the tables been turned, he would question a stranger as well. His disliked, however, that the person who had pulled him aside was a woman. What business did she have questioning him? In deference to the thought she might be a mother—he remembered another, flour on her round cheeks, arms soft as he wrapped around them—worried for her children among a stranger, he answered, though curtly. “Western Continent.” A small grimace, then a regrouping. What was lost was lost, fussing would not bring it back. Careful prevention for the next time would. He seemed almost offended by the second question, and answered with a dry tone that suggested the girl was a fool for asking, for what else would the answer be? “I paid my tithes to Hold and Weyr.” There was a carefulness to the way that last word had been said, as if he was scrupulously trying to not appear as though he were hiding something about the word. Wouldn’t do to be open with his disdain. “Through farming,” Grief and bitterness suffused his tone next—didn’t need to fake the grief, though the bitterness was not for who Bihaiwen claimed it for—“Until Threadfall took the most of it, four turns back, summer of 13.” The hard, thinly concealed rawness, the tight, sharp clipped sounds of the vowels suggested more had been taken from him and his cothold than crops.

How many tithes had been sent in exchange for a promise of protection that had been broken?

We rebuilt. As was our proper duty.” He would do no less. But it was clear there were ill memories, and as soon as the building was done—four long, hard turns, to come back from such devastation—he had left them behind.

MIIIINE. F'dren-Mine!

Do you understand our values? He was asked, and while he had looked slightly offended at the first, now he openly frowned, scolding the girl for her shamelessness in asking, “I follow the values of Pern, those passed down by our harpers and in our ballads for generations. Do you?” That sounded too much like a teacher, though the kind of one the faraway man feared becoming, and there was suspicion as he narrowed her eyes at her.

F'dreeeeeeen!

What could he do? “I will do my duty to Pern and her teachings.” A stern, gruff answer, followed by the slightly contemptuous, “As you can do for me as well. Get you back to your children or work, girl, we’ve both been idle from it for long enough, haven’t we?

Miiiiiine.

For shells sake, what?

I miss you.

His throat ached, parched for klah. I miss you too. Hush, now. The scantest sip from his provisions--water, not klah, as klah was a frivolous waste of resources that could be stored and bartered when times were hard. Watch over them, Mifth.

Far away in the Weyr, the chubby, enthusiastic dragon was uncharacteristically solemn as his snout lowered to touch a child's head, fast asleep in his front paws, whirling eyes watching a wife whose gentle mouth was set in a determined line, but whose hands kept brushing off flour that wasn't there from her apron.

Okay, Mine.
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Enigmatis
 Posted: Jun 26 2017, 03:27 PM
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**Answering as Persona**

Kellel let himself talk. Not that the rider particularly seemed to care or gave many responses, but Kellel was friendly none the less. Kept the conversation light and casual, nothing serious. Praises to the dragon, mostly a simple walk around with a touch of admiration and then a few light hearted jokes about the weather and day. Because that was what Gaaniaco would do. What he would do, because that was who he was now. Gaaniaco. The Wherless Journeyman Healer he could’ve been, oblivious to the life he was missing by not having Kellesk at his side.

Not that the rider said much back. And Kellel didn’t press any questions either. Gaaniaco would’ve been just as aware as he was that he was going into the maws of danger - but Gaaniaco would’ve thought it worth the risk, because he believed in what he was doing.
Just as Kellel believed in his role as well.

It was a little disconcerting how easy he had slipped into the persona. Like he wasn’t actually a different person… Which he feared meant he might slip up. Discomfort and pressing anxiety had their place, especially on an assignment like this. He needed that. And so he focused on the growing distance between him and Kellesk to keep him grounded as the dragon took flight.

As they broke from Between he shuddered, a slam of panic hitting his brain as his Wher reached for him. I’m fine, stay calm. I’m alright. Talking was going to be an issue once they hit ground. That glassy eyed look… He gritted his teeth, bracing against the wind and cold. He’d need to take care with that.

He took a moment to survey his surroundings. It was a long way down. His grip tightened just slightly around the rider’s waist a fraction, but he didn’t look away. ”Wow. Ever still get to you mate?” He asked, not even sure his voice was carrying across the wind. He still inclined his head downward. ”If either of us fell from this height we’d probably be thinner than a hide by the time we hit. One way to lose weight, eh?” He laughed, having no trouble sounding nervous.

Gaaniaco dumb. Kellel now dumb. Kellesk not Gaaniacsk.

Okay, so jokes weren’t Kellel’s forte, but Gaaniaco could’ve probably made the room laugh. And Gaaniaco wouldn’t have stopped talking just because he was apparently scared of heights. Shard it. This was embarrassing. He’d never be able to live with himself if he shat himself on assignment. He stared down at the land again. Coastal. But he didn’t recognize it, shards nothing looked ‘right’ from the sky. Just weird specks and dots that stretched for an eternity around them. He was relieved when they landed. If anything, as he dismounted he was sure he cemented his lack of familiarity with riding dragons to the uttermost perfection. No one could’ve mastered the entire lack of coordination and grace like he did as he near face planted into the ground. Farnath, this was why he’d become a Handler.

“I now firmly believe I was built to keep two feet on the ground,” Kellel said, shooting the rider a sheepish grin. Any tint that raised in his face from embarrassment was more him than his Gaaniaco persona. ”Thanks for the ride, mate.”

He followed as he was directed to another individual who promptly began the questioning.

“I’m from a bit of everywhere,” Kellel said. “Go where I’m assigned to go. Been stationed mostly on the Western Continent though.”

The questions didn’t just end there, not that he expected they would.

“Hm… I would hope that I understand your values, otherwise I wouldn’t be here,” Kellel said, letting a soft touch of a smile trace his lips but not his eyes. “But I’ll be honest, I’m not just here because of shared values. I’m here for Pern. I’m here because whether the Weyrs want to face it or not, Pern is in trouble. There is a plague spreading through the Weyrs, a plague that should’ve been stopped the moment the first mutant touched the sands. But now it has spread. It is weakening the pure blood lines, weakening our defenses, putting all of us at risk because the Weyrs are afraid to do what must be done.” Maybe he was pushing it too hard. He cleared his throat, wishing he had something in his hands. Something to busy himself with. Instead, he rubbed a loose thread on his sleeve with his fingers, plucking at the fabric as his voice continued on levelly. “I’ve heard that you have other interests, a desire to purify all of Pern or something like that, and I think that’s all fine and well but my priority is with the Dragons. If we don’t cure them, and cure them soon, I’m afraid that everything else you’re fighting for isn’t going to matter.” He paused for a moment. “It only takes one carrier to spread a plague across all of Pern, killing thousands in its wake. And now we have hundreds.”

He dropped the edge of his sleeve, looking up and meeting the other’s eyes. “What you can do for me, for all of Pern, is to do everything in your power to stop this plague.” Gaaniaco, it was turning out, was a bit of an extremist. Which was maybe all and well, considering the things the Traditionalists had done to the Weyr.

Kellel rested back on his heels, a soft pulse of fatigue pressing behind his eyes. Daylight hours. Meh, he’d need to find a way to get some Klah. “What I can do for you… I have access to the Healer’s records. And stores, even knowledge on some shipments. And I, myself, would be happy to offer my services to your people.” He decided not to mention any work with Whers, given most of that had come from working with Kellesk. He shot the tradtionalist another pointed look. “And Healers… Let’s just say we know herbs and salves not just to heal, but understand which to… ‘avoid’. And which are harder to trace.”

^
Rii
 Posted: Jun 26 2017, 06:36 PM
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Jr. Weyrwoman





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L'aars/Ninval (@Catsitta)


"I understand your pain, brother," the man nodded sympathetically. "These 'mutant' colors are broken, unstable creatures and that they're still allowed to exist and breed after all these Turns is a stain upon the Weyrs. We're still striving to gain traction in the Weyrs, but once we do, we will force them to right their wrongs as a whole. Pern will once again be the home of the colors given to us in our harper songs of old."

"But first, we need traction. And you can help, my friend. One of our recruiters is going to meet our contacts from Fort and we're looking to send a couple of people with him. Would you be willing to go? As an observer, mainly - an outside pair of eyes might help us see who is truly for our cause. And if needed, your story might be powerfully convincing."


Will you:

Agree to go with the recruiter to Fort. (Potential to connect with X'ror)

Decline and suggest a different task.

Disable this Traditionalist and strike out on your own.


***

X'ror/Deehujo (@Tobes)


"You're a strong speaker, brother. We need people like you - people who aren't afraid to speak their minds, people who can help us expand faster." It seemed that the one doing his onboarding was familiar with the type, the kind of person who talked louder because they needed to be recognized. There was lots of soothing attentiveness, the flattery laid on with a trowel.

"Won't you help us? One of our recruiters is going to meet our contacts from Fort and we're looking to send a couple of people with him. Would you be willing to go? It will be a good introduction to seeing how we work from the inside, and you know what arguments might be the best for the people of Fort. Everywhere's a little bit different, so it can be a little tricky to strike the right note."


Will you:

Agree to go with the recruiter to Fort. (Potential to connect with L'aars)

Decline and suggest a different task.

Disable this Traditionalist and strike out on your own.


***

Tarele/Remigo (@Mopsy93)


"A guard? Splendid! Yes, yes, you might be just the kind of professional we need." The onboarder seemed to be massively enthusiastic to meet Remigo. "You must understand better than most the need for structure and organization..." he leaned in, his tone conspiratorial, "Now I'm not saying that we're disorganized, but we've had some drudges in that just don't care what state they've left equipment in as long as it's put away out of sight. Can you imagine?"

He gave a cheery, winning smile. "I've got a few lists here. They're supplies and things that we need to send out to three of our outreach teams, but goodness only knows which storage they might be in or if they're in good shape. Could you help track them down and put everything on each of the lists together? And if anything looks like it needs replacing, let us know. That would be wonderful. Don't worry! We'll try to make sure you're not doing this alone."


Will you:

Agree to help reorganize and inspect equipment. (Potential to connect with F'dren)

Decline and suggest a different task.

Disable this Traditionalist and strike out on your own.


***

F'dren/Bihaiwen (@Lee)


The onboarder seemed slightly offended with Bihaiwen's attitude. "This is my work, cotholder. I have no children - the Weyrs have stolen them, to be little more than drudges, waiting to be eaten or murdered by the next red that hatches. I might not be in time to save them from their folly, but there are others." This was said in a tone of righteousness. "Until then, I will do what I must to help our cause."

She flipped a hide, her mouth primmed up now in distaste. "Can you read? No matter. We'll manage either way." Her lips curved upwards. Something pleased her. "Some of our storage spaces for equipment are in a sad state of disarray, and it makes it difficult to send supplies to our outreach teams. Perhaps you could help organize it and make sure nothing's damaged." There. Insult your superior, get landed with a heavy lifting job.


Will you:

Agree to help reorganize and inspect equipment. (Potential to connect with Tarele)

Decline and suggest a different task.

Disable this Traditionalist and strike out on your own.


***

Zasime/Luong (@Leo)


The Traditionalist seemed quite happy to laugh along with Luong's joke. "True, very true! You have a good outlook on life." She leaned in, listening to the younger woman's values. "Now you see... we are of like minds. My children are so very important to me, and I want them to grow up in a world where they can be proper young ladies without this nonsense of riding a man's dragon or starting their own hold."

"You understand our position so well, Luong. We need people like you to just... not teach, exactly, but as you say, give people a little push in the right direction. To coax them into our values. We have a small group with us here now, just ten or so from nearby cotholds and sea holds, who are even newer to the cause than you are. Would you be willing to talk to them and help them understand our ways and why we must do what we need to do to save Pern? It would be so helpful to us."


Will you:

Agree to speak to the new potential Traditionalists. (Potential to connect with Oreanda)

Decline and suggest a different task.

Disable this Traditionalist and strike out on your own.


***

Oreanda/Ashford (@Ruin)


The Traditionalist woman was on her feet the minute that Ashford was led in. "Oh, you poor dear... come, you sit here with me and we'll have a little chat." Settling the apparently fragile girl in a seat, she moved another around next to her and sat down. "I know it's probably terribly confusing for you here right now, but we're here to help you, and I know you'll be able to help us. Your friend Luong is here now too, you may even get to work with her. Would you like that?"

"Because those ears of yours, those might be the most help of all. You see, Ashford," she patted the young woman's hand, her voice taking on a confidential tone, like this blind woman was the only one who could help her, "we have so many new people coming to our cause, that it can be hard to really get to know them. Why, just today we've had two groups in, one local and your one from the Western Continent. And the local people are even newer to our ways than you are. You understand us. We're going to have a little talk for them shortly, and I was wondering if you could sit in on it and just... listen, perhaps, for how they respond and if there's anyone that you think might be a problem for us. Could you do that for us? For me?"

Will you:

Agree to attend a talk with new potential Traditionalists. (Potential to connect with Zasime)

Decline and suggest a different task.

Disable this Traditionalist and strike out on your own.


***

Wynmuri/Rasinia (@Rowana)


"It's good to meet you, oh, so very good to meet you," the enthusiastic onboarder greeted her. He bobbed his head at Rasinia's words. "Now see, safety, that's a high priority. It sounds like you have a sharp eye and good attention to detail. Fresh eyes for problems, that's the ticket. People who do good work rise high here, Rasinia. We won't let your accomplishments fall by the wayside."

"Would you be able to do something for us? We were supposed to have a couple of smiths coming today, but one's not coming and I thiiiink the other might be running late? Anyway. We have some armor and things that are overdue for inspection, and I know it's a little outside of your scope, but if you could check for the obvious sorts of things - fastenings being broken, stitches unraveling, rust on the metal, that sort of thing - whenever our smith gets in he could handle the more finicky smith bits. Will you?"


Will you:

Agree to help inspect the Traditionalist armory. (Potential to connect with M'teng)

Decline and suggest a different task.

Disable this Traditionalist and strike out on your own.


PMAIM
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Catsitta
 Posted: Jun 26 2017, 09:16 PM
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Weyrlingmaster





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L'aars agrees to go with the recruiter to Fort.


They needed traction. Recruiters. His task was to help find sympathizers and possibly even convince them to join through his 'story'. Jaireth's mind touched his with an inquisitive nudge. He was one of those terrible mutants the Traditionalists wanted gone. Beyond that, he was a King that would chase the 'proper' golden queens and could potentially sire mutant offspring on them should he win the Flight. His heart, his soulmate, His, was something these people wished gone. And until this mission was over, he did too. Because Irons were no better than Reds to them. They were freaks. L'aars would do everything in his power to make sure His never felt an ounce of pain from these Traditionalists.

Which was why he nodded to the man, arms crossing against over his chest. He showed no expression. But if there was anger or sorrow glinting in his gaze, one could easily mistake it for the anguish of the broken man he pretended to be.

"I will assist your recruiter," L'aars said, no reluctance or hesitation creeping into his tone. Ninval was a watcher; he would not back away from a chance to observe, especially if there could be interesting things afoot. One could even argue he would be almost eager to see the faces of uncertain as his bloody tale filled their minds with further unease. But he didn't show any eagerness either. Just bland agreement, as if they were discussing going for a noontime stroll.


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Lee
 Posted: Jun 27 2017, 08:35 AM
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Agree to help reorganize and inspect equipment. (Potential to connect with Tarele)

Stolen. Stolen?

Is that what they believed?

It was F’dren’s aghast horror that colored Bihaiwen’s face. Get it together. Yes, that was what Bihaiwen believed. For the first time, he looked at the woman without the thinly veiled sense of superiority, grief coloring the solemn, smooth features of his face. “My dear girl, I am…I am so sorry.” A woman’s place was to be a mother, and that had been stolen from her. Fury distorted the grief, “They take so much. They take everything. All that is precious to us.” And fail them in turn.

Too much talking. It was so much talking.

Shells but he wanted a cup of klah to soothe his throat.

No—no that was someone else.

His brows knit once more, the deep sympathy replaced by something else. “Disarray?” that wouldn’t do. Hi tone returned to scolding, “Proper planning—” Too much! Too much like a teacher, to finish that, “—is essential to being prepared. I will organize your things.” A good task, for him. Clearly it was too much for the poor, distraught girl. But Bihaiwen like everything to be in its place, a surplus of supplies.

And someone else was curious just what all would be found.
^
Leo
 Posted: Jun 27 2017, 09:57 PM
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Candidatemaster





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(Zasime agrees to speak to the new potential Traditionalists.)

Well, so far so good, Zasime thought to herself. The female traditionalist had laughed at her joke and was now inviting her to help out further, a sure sign that the blackrider had passed their initial test. Luong had won the other woman over with her zeal and outgoing personality, which made the brunette's smile grow considering her own rather introverted personality. As to whether or not she would bring in others to the traditionalist cause..."Oh of course, it would be my pleasure!" The woman placed a hand over her heart as if she was deeply touched to be given such an important role. "Please, just show me the way, and let me do the rest."

Of course, she had to think about if it was truly wise to spew these bigoted values. Would these ideas stick into the poor holders' heads? Would they actually choose to join up with the traditionalists if push came to shove? But at the same time, if she dared sour her words with the truth of what she believed, she would also be threatening the completion of her mission. If Luong was to make it all the way to the top - to speak to the Traditionalist leaders - then she would have to be nothing less than a perfect traditionalist. Like they wanted her to be. 'For the good of all of Pern,' she mind-whispered. 'For the beliefs we hold dear. For us.'
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Tigersilk
 Posted: Jun 28 2017, 03:43 AM
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Wingleader





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M'teng answers as his persona, Samakyll.

Journeyman Smith "Samakyll" ran up to the waiting Greenrider, seemingly out of breath. "My apologies for the delay, rider. Had a new apprentice thinking he was more knowledgeable than he was about the craft ordering the others about, and had to set him straight on the matter. Plus give him extra chores to keep him out of trouble for a bit."

He smiled warmly at the rider; a man, of course. "You and your dragon were well taken care of while you waited?" Very important that a rider was well taken care of whenever he visited a Hold. Duty to Pern's protectors and all that. Samakyll looked the Green over with admiring eyes, taking in her form, and any markings she might have, then clapped the rider on the shoulder. "She's a fine looking dragon, a beautiful girl," Samakyll told the man. "You're lucky to have her."

A pity the Green was bounded to someone who would willingly ally themselves with people who thought stabbing baby dragons in their eggs was a heroic action, worthy of becoming a great Harper's ballad someday. But I.D.'ing this rider and his home Weyr was not Samakyll's mission today, it was information gathering. It was finding out where these Traditionalist leaders were headquartered, and eventually capturing them if possible.

And M'teng would play the role assigned to him for as long as possible, to learn as much as possible about the enemy. Those who would strike at his dragon solely because of his mutant color, and had no qualms about breaking the bond between rider and dragon (as they did to poor Elidora; was she targeted for that based on her dragon's color?), had to be stopped. Unfortunately for the Traditionalists, M'teng had few qualms himself when it came to defending those he loved and those who earned his loyalty.

And it seemed like Samakyll/M'teng would get little more information about this riderpair past what he could observe; the man said nothing to him beyond a word or two to get on the dragon. Samakyll obliged, though he made it clear in his demeanor that he was disappointed in the other man's silence. He loooooved to make new friends, and who wouldn't want to be friends with a friendly rider? Though he hoped that this trip between wouldn't be too scary; he'd heard stories about that strange place. Bad stories.

Emerging from between, Samakyll held the other man tight, as was appropriate for someone who'd never been adragonback before. Not that that prevented him from looking down and memorizing the key structures needed for a fast jump between, in case he needed a fast exit from this place. Szolath picked the information out of his mind, and transmitted it to someone to copy down on a piece of hide, for future reference.

Once on the ground, Samakyll thanked the rider for his help, and waited around for someone to notice him. It didn't take long for someone to approach him and ask him questions. As expected, since there would have to be someone to screen new people to make sure their enemies didn't infiltrate them like they were doing with the rest of Pern.

"Where am I from? Crescent Hold, spent most of my life there," clapping his greeter on the shoulder, "though I wasn't born there. I'm a Smith by trade, willing to do my part to keep my family, Hold, and Weyr supplied with the best work I'm capable of. Make swords and knives for the guards, shoes for the runners, parts for the flamethrowers, plows, wagon fixtures, you name it I've likely made it at some point or another. Don't matter the rank of who's asking for my help, if I can help them I'll do it. Also know how to do a good massage with the right oils, if anyone has sore muscles they want gone."

Did he understand their values? M'teng did, but saying that believing things like Thread was simply Faranath's tears over the birth of the mutant dragonkins was beyond stupid. This was the 11th Pass happening now; what was Faranath crying over during the first 10 then? Stubbed toes?

What Samakyll actually said to his inqisitor was, "Yes, I understand them. All these new colors, trying to be different from what's always worked before. Nothing was wrong with the original five colors, don't see the need for double or triple that amount now. The first five are more than adequate to get the job done. Different isn't better, is all I'm saying."

"All the people I've met that've spent time at Dalibor Weyr, they all say that they're proud of being different from the other Weyrs. That they're proud of being the birthplace of so many new colors. Those new Blue female dragons, those new male Greens, that male Red they got, and now this new wher color that showed up a few months ago?"

Samakyll spread his arms as if appealing to the heavens for strength. "It's like the Weyr is doing nothing but admiring itself in a mirror while ignoring the raging fire happening right behind them. By Faranath, where will it end? Pride goes before a fall, as my dear grandmother taught me, and Dalibor is headed for a major one soon, if they can't ignore what makes them 'unique' and concentrate on doing their jobs again. My fear is that if and when they do fall, they'll take my home with them, and everything everyone put into making Crescent into the viable Hold she is now, not to mention their lives. I'd like to do anything that I can to keep that from happening to my family and friends there."

"As for what specifically I'd like to see done, well, that usless woman, Lady Irohvyne, that one who thought herself strong enough to lead a Hold by herself without a man to run it. I hear she's pretending to be in charge of a new Hold in the South now, again without a man to properly lead it. The folks at Western were smart enough to finally drive her out of there, but this new place will need to be liberated from her ignorance as well." Samakyll gave a small laugh. "Once a few other things get done first. Like convincing the Weyrs to do their duties to the rest of us again."

"What can I do for you? Well, I'm more than willing to do my duty to the rest of Pern to get rid of all these new different mutations the Weyrs have allowed to live. As I said earlier, I'm a Smith so I can do whatever metalworking you need done done. Plus, if you need muscles for anything, well, I got plenty of those I can put to use for you guys." Samakyll smiled warmly at the other person, happy to finally find those who shared his values with him.

And hopefully they wouldn't notice the tunnelsnake in their midst until it was too late to do anything about it. Faranath willing.
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Mopsy93
 Posted: Jun 28 2017, 11:13 AM
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Pridesecond





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Checkpoint #2 Agree to help reorganize and inspect equipment.

Remigo was rather surprised about the onboarder’s enthusiasm though he wasn’t sure how much of that was a ruse, regardless of what Remigo thought he tried his best to keep himself from showing his real thoughts on this visibly. After all he had to keep up the façade that he was a fastidious Hold Guard of Crescent Hold rather than a stanchly loyal Dalibor Weyr Brownhandler. “Bad of the drudges to leave things in such disarray,” said Remigo before looking over the lists.

It wasn’t something that was beyond him handling, considering his actual upbringing as a Trader organizing supplies was well within his capability of doing without having to try and explain away things that his persona should know. “I’ll have to get on this to make sure that these drudges have done at least a halfway decent job of it then, if you want a job right you have to do it yourself after all.”

With any luck, the person that he would be working with would be another one of the infiltration team rather than a real member of the Traditionalists; though he wouldn’t as it stands now have much of a reason to interact with them in any familiar terms. He quickly sent a mental image of the list to Taresk, it wasn’t a whole lot to go on but at least it was something, and while he was at it he sent it to Girsen, Tienna, and Imalven seeing as they were the most reliable of his firelizards and had a better memory than Taresk.


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Rii
 Posted: Jun 28 2017, 10:59 PM
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Jr. Weyrwoman





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M'teng/Samakyll (@Tigersilk)


"That's exactly it," the onboarder nodded solemnly. "Different isn't necessarily better, and these radicals in the Western and Southern Continents especially are invoking change after change without thought of what they're doing. It has already proven disastrous - imagine what will happen as they have the time to spread what they're doing. By the time the world understands their mistake, it could be too late."

"We could really use your skills here, if you're amenable to the task. We have some armor and weapons that are overdue for inspection - and no smiths present at the moment to make sure everything's in good working order. They may have sent someone ahead to start on the simple bits, I'm not entirely sure - but you, if you could lend your expertise to the job, it would be very helpful."


Will you:

Agree to help inspect the Traditionalist armory. (Potential to connect with Wynmuri)

Decline and suggest a different task.

Disable this Traditionalist and strike out on your own.



((More responses after work tomorrow!))


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Tigersilk
 Posted: Jun 29 2017, 12:58 PM
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Wingleader





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M'teng agrees to help inspect the Traditionalist armory. (Potential to connect with Wynmuri)

Inwardly, M'teng smiled coldly. They seemed to accept him as one of them. Good. He didn't relax, though. One of the things he learned growing up in the Bitran underworld was that the decievers could be easily deceived themselves if they got too complacent in their roles. The man before him could still be setting him up for...'questioning' by the others. If he kept on his toes and took nothing for granted, he would increase the probability of actually surviving this mission.

Outwardly, Samakyll smiled warmly at his interrogator and smiled warmly at him, clapping him on the shoulder. "Yes, show me your armor and weapons and I'll take a look at them." He was genuinely curious to see what they had and in what shape, if for no other reason to get an idea of if they were seriously planning an armed takeover anytime soon. "Have you a forge or a workshop around here someplace, in case I need to do any major repair work on your stuff?"
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Tobes
 Posted: Jun 29 2017, 09:52 PM
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Wingrider





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X’ror/Deehujo declines and suggests a different task - going to whoever is in charge and personally offering his services.

--

X’ror--Deehujo—wavered at the suggestion that they go along to Fort, although for rather different reasons. Hopefully to their audience, it would appear as though Deehujo were simply reluctant to be put to tasks meant for underlings. Never mind that he was an underling. But for X’ror it might well be a matter of life and death. Would he be recognized at Fort? He had had few enough occasions to visit the Hold, but so did most riders. Should a chance encounter happen with, say, one of his old wingmates, out on Weyr duty or even, Faranth forbid, recreation… And that was to say nothing of his objective. Going back to Fort meant putting distance between himself and his true target, the leadership of the Traditionalists.

He would have to trust his gut. He knew there was some risk to it, but even if he should blow his cover here, it was surely better to risk that than hundreds of miles away. He straightened up a little, staring down his nose at the man giving orders. It wasn’t a hard look, for the man had given him many compliments, but Deehujo was supposed to be fearless, wasn’t he? Striking an assertive note wouldn’t be so out of character. Or at least, X’ror hoped as much.

“If it’s all the same to you, I’d like to offer my services directly to your… Lord Holder, or whoever is in charge around here. I only just came from near Fort, I can tell him exactly what sort of things we want up north. You don’t need to change your note anyway, you reached me all right, didn’t you? Your goals, it’s what the hardworking, honest people of Fort really want.”

X’ror did his best to appear casual about the unexpected request he was making of the fellow. He would be willing to bow under further pressure, but he wanted to get a sense of the man’s mettle first. Would he push back, or acquiesce? He tried not to look like a man who was prepared to fight should relations go sour.


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Boo
 Posted: Jun 30 2017, 03:32 AM
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Senior Weyrwoman





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Hulair was a man of principle. He was a man who stood by his family and the family of Western Hold. Whatever he could do to protect them, it would be done.

He was Stathis, though. Stathis feared the healers and ironically it was not so far from the lingering truth in the back of the handler's mind. Stathis questioned the developments of Healer Hall. They were terrifying, they caused danger. Cutting into people was unnatural. He knew as well as anyone that blades were used for stabbing, not for healing. One could not stab another person to life, it made no sense. These were the thoughts Hulair had been going through, training himself to think like Stathis. He had watched procedures in the infirmary to prepare himself, thinking each time that it was horrifying and should not happen.

And was his shoulder hurting? Maybe his head? Probably something with his insides too. The healers would just love to get their hands on his body, cut him up into pieces and then make some abomination. They reached the first checkpoint and Stathis could just feel the way that his leg was twitching. Maybe there was something living in there? He shuddered at the thought.

They asked their questions.

"Stathis, Western mostly. Hold guard," he grunted and then looked over his shoulder as someone coughed.

Yuck.

"I understand that," D'lios forgive him, "an abomination of a yellow dragon took control of my Hold when the Lord Holder was murdered by a fool woman who allowed her dragon to take control. I am a Hold Guard, I can fight. That's what I can do for you. What you can do for me is what you're doing currently. And also maybe stopping some other developments."

UUUUUUUUGH HULSK SMASH YET?
No. Just listen to Turen and Talair please.
NOT FUN BUT HULSK WILL DO... um... WHAT HULSK'S HULAIR DOING?
Just... Listen to my daughters.
WILL LISTEN. SMALL ONES LOUD.
Throughout this exchange, Hulair maintained composure, watching the movements of those whom had greeted him.

Persona


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Ruin
 Posted: Jun 30 2017, 11:29 AM
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Betahandler





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Ashford straightened as the Traditionalist woman spoke, as if every word was giving her courage, or a purpose for being there. When Lu was mentioned, she gave a bright smile. "Yes, oh please, Luong is...well she's so very smart. I'm sure she's already offered to do everything for you, but anything I can do to help. I'm ready." Her hands flitted over each other in eagerness and nervousness, her head alternating between a humble droop and a certain lift as if she wasn't sure if she were being accepted or not. The woman's task would not be a hard one for her, that was certain.

"Oh, oh yes of course I can listen, I can hear very well, if I may say so myself, and...well no one is every much concerned about me. I'm not very threatening, and I always need just a little bit of help to find my way around." Even Ashford knew if this woman were to take her to some unknown building and abandon her, she might starve to death before she found her way out again, it was such a vulnerable situation to be in. "I only, oh please don't forget about me. I don't know where I am, but yes, I can listen to anyone for you."

She was absolutely thrilled to have been offered a task in the first place. Did that mean they liked her? Oh it would mean everything to her if she were to be accepted regardless of her lack of sight. No one else ever wanted to give her much of a chance, which mean she mostly did little things here or there to keep herself busy and tried to entertain herself within her own mind. What she lacked in strength she made up in kindness; and she even had some thoughts all her own--otherwise why would she be here?


Ashford is: Agreeing to attend a talk with new potential Traditionalists. (Potential to connect with Zasime)


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Rowana
 Posted: Jul 1 2017, 06:59 PM
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Wingsecond





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Wynmuri was almost suspicious at how happy the recruiter was to meet her, but she did her best not to show it. She smiled and nodded in agreement with him, especially when he mentioned not lettin her accomplishments go unnoticed. Rasinia was quite interested in that. Of course, she expected it would take time to prove herself. She was willing to spend that time and take it slow. Rushing would only lead to mistakes and neither she, nor Rasinia, were prone to rushing.

At the suggestion of the armory, Wyn frowned and looked thoughtful. "It's not something I have much experience with," she admitted slowly. She wrinkled her nose a little. Rasinia was almost annoyed since armor was a smith's job, not hers. Still, it wasn't like they were asking her to be a smith and she was here to help however she could. So she nodded and smiled. "But I'd be happy to help. Where should I go?"

Inwardly, Wynmuri was pleased at the opportunity. Seeing the weapons and the state they were in would be a good chance to see just how prepared and organized these people were.

Wynmuri agrees to help inspect the Traditionalist armory. (Potential to connect with M'teng)
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Aftershock
 Posted: Jul 2 2017, 02:44 PM
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Lady Holder





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Checkpoint #1

Answering as persona

As they landed and dismounted, Leena wondered what it was like for the dragonriders among the infiltrators... she couldn't imagine the extra effort required to act like you weren't used to the wonder and excitement of riding on dragonback, something she had actually never experienced before today, her life as a drudge and as a blackhandler keeping her feet firmly on Pern firma. She stumbled a bit after her courier unbuckled her from his dragon, her leg muscles unused to the strange motions of riding a flying draconid rather than one that ran upon the ground.

Channeling her nervousness at both being so exposed and from her mission into playing her overly-excited persona, she asked her escort a variety of questions, from where they were (as, never having really left Dalibor, she had no idea where they actually were) to where they were going, but her escort kept his mouth firmly shut. He finally left her with another Traditionalist, a woman, and the look on the man's face to finally be rid of "Heddwyn" was telling, to say the least.

As the woman pulled her aside, Leena reached out with her mind for that familiar connection, soon hearing the familiar mindvoice of Leesk reply, "You far. Seen too much. Leesk scared. Leena replied, "I know, but this needs to be done. I'll be fine, I promise. Um... here is where I am, perhaps you can send this to someone else who will know better." Opening her connection to share her eyesight with her wher, she looked around the area, hoping the images could be shared by her wher and a location determined by someone more worldly than her.

Turning her full attention back to the woman once she started being spoken to, hoping she had been successful in keeping her emotions hidden while communing with her wher, Leena listened carefully to the questions presented to her, answering, "Oh, I'm from a small, boring cothold near Southern Boll. I did a little bit of everything around the farm... my father only wanted me to do cooking, cleaning, and mending, but it was so easy I always finished it too quickly and was left with nothing to do. So, noticing my brothers were all sharding lazy and they half-assed their work, I stepped in and quietly fixed what they left undone. I know I shouldn't have, because it's not for a woman to do a man's work, but I couldn't just leave my father looking like a fool and having the farm fail, so I did what I had to. Luckily, I'm a fast learner, and subtle, so no one ever knew that my father unknowingly had a daughter doing the work of his sons."

The recruiter then asked about the Traditionalist values, and Leena did a quick recount of what she was told back when the infiltration teams were being prepared, to make sure she didn't miss anything, before answering, "Yes, I understand completely. Things were going fine this entire time, and then some of the Weyrs decided to change things and accept these weird mutant colors rather than cull them like they should, and as more and more mutants have appeared and been accepted, we've had things like the Storm of All Passes, and the massive Threadfall four Turns ago... clearly punishment for us allowing these abominations to exist and thrive." As she answered, Leena did her best to hide her emotions... she channeled her anger at having to suggest her own beloved black should have been culled into acted anger at mutant existence, and twisted her near amusement at the incredulous belief that the Storm of All Passes and the extreme Threadfall were caused by mutant dragon colors being allowed to exist into a mask of smirking assurance that her persona knew nothing else could explain it.

Asked what she could do for the Traditionalists, Leena replied, "Well, I did my own work as well as my brothers' work back at home, so I've become a bit of a Jill-of-all-trades, and I'm a very fast learner and fast worker. Whatever you assign to me, I'll learn it quickly and finish it quickly, and be ready for more work. My life back on the farm has gotten so boring, I'm looking for something new to sink my teeth into, so to speak, really make a big difference. You Traditionalists have big plans, and I think I'm the perfect person to help make those plans run smoothly and get things done. Giving me a chance to be that person is all I really ask of you." As she prattled on, Leena found that lying was a lot like sneaking... it was all a matter of hiding your true self, making sure you knew where a person was most likely to look and not being there, else faking yourself into what someone would expect to see there long enough for them to ignore you and let you slip away to somewhere easier to be out of sight.
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Rii
 Posted: Jul 2 2017, 10:46 PM
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Jr. Weyrwoman





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Hulair/Stathis (@Boo)


The Traditionalist nodded. "Yes, the situation at Western Hold has been absolutely deplorable, almost since its founding. Lords and Ladies riding dragons and neglecting their people, that daft Irohvyne with her dafter dragon trying to do a man's work... and now it's down to their Steward! How is that wise, I ask?" He huffed and shook his head dolefully. "It really does need to be stopped."

"Your fighting expertise, Stathis, could prove to be very helpful. We have several people here who are in perfect positions to one day strike where we need them to... but they've never used anything bigger than an eating knife, and never on a person. We need someone to teach them the basics... where to strike, how to strike, what to expect in close quarters, especially if something covert turns into an actual fight. Could you do that for us?"


Will you:

Agree to assist with basic weapons training. (Potential to connect with Leena)

Decline and suggest a different task.

Disable this Traditionalist and strike out on your own.



***


Leena/Heddwyn (@Aftershock)


"These are trying times, when good people cannot be trusted to do their work well, and leave it to others to clean up their messes," the Traditionalist woman agreed gently. "I find it so saddening, it wounds my heart, to know that I could be home with my children, raising them and helping my home prosper, but instead the Weyrs have stolen them away and corrupted them, while I try to make sure no other mother needs to feel this way." She lifted her chin. "We do what we must, even when it's unpleasant - you understand how that is."

"You sound like you're familiar with the need for subtlety and sacrifice, Heddwyn. I think I know exactly where you're needed, although it grieves me to ask it of another woman. We have a handful of people who we're training to slip into places where we need them, and do what must be done. Sometimes, our best successes in this have come from the gentler sex, or I would never ask this of you." She leaned forward, to catch and clasp the other's hand. "If you agree to this, the first thing you must do is learn the basics of how to defend yourself and how to... to only need to strike once. Will you do this, Heddwyn? For us?"



Will you:

Agree to attend basic weapons training. (Potential to connect with Hulair)

Decline and suggest a different task.

Disable this Traditionalist and strike out on your own.



***


X'ror/Deehujo (@Tobes)


He pursed his lips, not looking entirely pleased at the counter offer. After all, it wasn't so often that you got a reasonably new recruit in who declined the request to do the work chosen for them, things suitable to someone new to their not-officially-a-hold. Even rarer still was someone who had the audacity to suggest that they were important enough to merit directly advising their leader.

Oh well. Not every recruit who came in was particularly good with the social bits. That was why his work was so very important. He smiled consolingly at Deehujo. "Unfortunately, our leader is a very busy man, and he really relies on us to balance out everything that needs to be done." The traditionalist flipped a couple of hide pages, frowning. "If you're interested in getting a better handle on the flow of tasks and people around here, I do have this sheaf of messages that need to be delivered. All within our hold proper -" he pointed towards the entrance of the cave system that people seemed to be coming in and out of freely. "All the rooms are numbered, so you shouldn't have trouble finding anyplace. It helps with so many of our people visiting."



Will you:

Agree to run messages to their respective recipients.

Argue and try to convince this Traditionalist to take you to their leader.

Disable this Traditionalist and strike out on your own.



***


L'aars/Ninval (@Catsitta)


"Thank you - it will be good to hear your observations. Right this way, then." The Traditionalist led him off to introduce him to another of their people, the recruiter mentioned - a suave, sympathetic-looking man with a smile that promised pleasant outcomes. Both of them were packed off aboard a blue dragon, the rider's knots proclaiming him to be from Fort Weyr. Three, two, one, and between.

The rider landed them at a rather nice-looking little cothold, hustling them both down to the ground and wishing them good luck before taking off again. It seemed important to the rider to be extra-clandestine about who saw him and when. Ninval, meanwhile, was brought into the cothold to meet the Fort team members who weren't currently out and about doing good Traditionalist work somewhere in the vast holdings of Fort. A fairly steady set of five plus the recruiter were 'at home', not too cheerful but welcoming. Their work, they explained to him, was mainly twofold: first, to tap people who might be converted to their cause, and second, to pass on directions and assignments that came from their leaders. Ninval was here for the former.



Will you:

Ask further questions of the Fort Hold area Traditionalist team.

Indicate that you're ready to start recruiting.

Request an extraction as soon as possible.



***


Tarele/Remigo (@Mopsy93) + F'dren/Bihaiwen (@Lee)


Tarele and F'dren's respective lucks were in: they were both assigned to the same task, brought together and introduced as if they'd never seen each other before in their lives - which, as far as the Traditionalists knew, they hadn't. They hadn't been exaggerating about the disarray, however: there were three storage rooms, and they were rather in chaos. There were crates and sacks that had never been unpacked, still tagged with wherever they'd come from; shelves were filled but in no particular order.

Many of the supplies seemed to be focused towards enhancing living conditions for those who might be struggling for spare marks or material goods; some were for camping or living out in the elements for brief stints. The lists given to the pair were each headed with an area and defined what a team in that area might need: four in the Northern Continent, one in the West, and one in the South, it looked like. The Southern Continent one was heavy on camping equipment with copious 'healer' supplies that to those in the know, implied some kind of poisoning operation might be planned.


Decide as a team. Will you:

Organize the storage and outgoing supplies properly as expected.

Spoil as many supplies as possible (or as you think safe to).

Slip out of the storage area to explore the hold.



***


Zasime/Luong (@Leo) + Oreanda/Ashford (@Ruin)


The onboarders seemed absolutely pleased to have two young women so eager to help their cause. Both were led into the hold to one of the meeting rooms, and given the opportunity to have a nice little reunion - since apparently, they were supposed to know each other. "Now Luong, you take good care of Ashford for me, alright?" the Traditionalist that had shepherded the blind woman to the meeting room fussed. "I'll be back in a candlemark to make sure everything's alright, my dear."

They had only a few minutes alone before the group of local new recruits were brought in, mostly cotholders and fisherfolk from along the coast. These ones were very new to the cause, having only been sounded out on their loyalties and coaxed with how they might benefit from the help of new friends. Uneducated, most of them, and isolated from the news of distant Holds and Weyrs.


Decide as a team. Will you:

Provide and support an inspiring Traditionalist speech.

Tell the newcomers the truth and warn them of what punishments others have received.

Get as many names and faces as possible and leave quickly.



***


Wynmuri/Rasinia (@Rowana) + M'teng/Samakyll (@Tigersilk)


Both Rasinia and Samakyll were individually led into the hold section of the base - the network of caves and tunnels burrowed into the seaside cliffs might have been slightly confusing, except that as a saving grace, most of the rooms had a number painted over the entrance to help potentially-lost newcomers. On the way, Samakyll was reassured of the facilities - an adequate little smithy for weapons forging and repairs.

The second of the two onboarders informed the pair that they'd be checked on for any questions in a candlemark, and then they are left alone together, assumed to be strangers to each other. The armory was fairly decently equipped with some armor, mainly stiffened leather with some stitched on rings or plates in crucial places, as well as some weapons - mostly knives and swords. Knives seemed to be more prominent, being the most suitable for clandestine operations.


Decide as a team. Will you:

Perform the inspection as expected.

Destroy and ruin as much of the armory as possible.

Subtly weaken as much as you can without obviously breaking it.


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Aftershock
 Posted: Jul 3 2017, 01:24 AM
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Lady Holder





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Checkpoint #2

Leena/Heddwyn will agree to attend weapon training and potentially connect with Hulair/Stathis

"Indeed... for the good of all, we do what we must," agreed Leena, not having to fake the emotion behind her statement, as that was exactly why she was here behind enemy lines, hoping to help cut the Traditionalist weed at its roots.

Forcing a smile as the other woman took her hand, Leena listened to her speak... how ironic, to be assigned as an infiltrator for the Traditionalists while infiltrating the Traditionalists. She supposed that meant that she was doing well, if they were willing to trust her that much already. She channeled the happiness that she was getting in so deep so fast into the happiness of her persona for having such a useful task assigned to her so quickly, and replied, "Of course... I would be honored to assist in so important a task."
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Catsitta
 Posted: Jul 3 2017, 04:13 PM
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Weyrlingmaster





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Check point #3: Ninval/L'aars will ask further questions of the Fort Hold area Traditionalist team.

Trepidation inched through L'aars as he was taken to Fort on dragonback and introduced to the traditionalist team there. He scanned every face and let every word he heard pass through his link. Espionage wasn't suited for the ironpair, but this they could do. Keep calm, listen and learn. Hopefully his dragon had enough sense to pass along the information when prompted instead of acting stubborn. The one advantage he had was that Ninval was not known for being friendly or especially tactful. This meant some social blunders could be overlooked if he made any. But that did not mean he was comfortable. Not only could he lose his cover while in the midst of a good number of the enemy, but he might just have to try and...convince people to join the Traditionalists. Perhaps he could flub it and botch their mission, or perhaps if he did well enough, he could learn more important information. So many factors at play.

His gaze pinned on who he felt was the most 'open' of the group. Perhaps he could gain some more information right now by getting one of them to be chatty.

Not bothering with tact he asked the group, "Before we start, I need to know what I'm looking for. Seems like a waste to focus your attention on the sympathetic but otherwise useless. So you after those folk or actually skilled ones? Any way to identify the others aligned with us here so I don't go pointing out members that happen to pass through? And what should I do if I spot someone who seems like they might be against the cause and could go running off to somebody?" There. Relevant but potentially useful information to gain. It could help them identify Traditionalists before they got to tied into a Hold or Weyr and started causing problems. He would get a better read on what their current criteria for membership.



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