Firamar's Search

October 26, 2014
====Firamar, S'rorn

Western Weyr - Cove and Candidate Barracks

Carved from a natural bubble in the volcanic stone, this small dorm room has room enough to hold around two dozen occupants comfortably. Along the walls are stationed sets of cots and clothes presses, each made up to the standards of the weyrwoman. Above, the soft white light from electric lamps cast down during waking hours.

Firamar is sitting on the beach, a blanket is spread underneath himself with a satchel sitting on one corner. An open guitar case sits in front of him as well as an open notebook propped open by a small rock. He is slowly strumming his guitar not really playing anything just picking random chords and notes in no particular order. "There has to be something that works with these words, just can't seem to find the right notes." This last said mostly to himself and anyone who might happen to be in earshot of his voice.

Well, it's likely that S'rorn would've heard the young man if it weren't for the rude obnoxious bellows coming from his blundering brown lifemate as he barrels to the waters. Yes, there's greens. No, Rorn doesn't care. The foreign rider pauses beside where Firamar sits, his hands perched on his hips with a heavy sigh. The bells dangling from his belt gently chiming from the cease in movements from their wearer. "Okay, fine. Since you're already in the water, we can stay for a /short while/. We have work to do." Grumble.

Firamar raises his head at the sound of a dragon's bellow followed closely by the chiming of bells…dragon check, bells not so much. Curiosity getting the better of him he turns towards the sound of the bells and notes the rider and his lifemate who has entered the water, "Well met rider, Monico's duty to you and your lifemate. I am Firamar harper here at the weyr." He smiles at the rider's words to his lifemate and watches the brown enjoying the water.

The brownrider startles for a moment, then manages a sheepish grin. "I'm S'rorn, brown Nyzieroth's rider. Half Moon Bay's duties to you, too, Firamar." The brown emerges from the water with some sort of wiggling creature in his mouth and the brown begins to play with it like a puppy with a sock. His rider growns, shoulders slumping at the mess that's going to be left when his lifemate has had his fill. With a quick glance around, the rider straightens up a little bit and relaxes as firelizards begin to perch nearby. They can pull cleanup duty. "I'm in our weyrs Transport Wing, just finished making arrangements for some trades we're in dire need of. Everytime we try to leave, he gets into things."

Firamar laughs at the antics of the brown slowly nodding his head, "I can imagine that he could be a handful but I have to say he's quite the handsome fellow, hopefully your mission was successful and profitable." Fir watches the brown play with what ever it is that he has managed to catch. "I'm not sure what he's found in the water but I don't think it has much longer to live…"

"No, hopefully it was quick or already dead when he got a hold of it. I don't imagine much things that size being so close to shore on a regular basis. There's no telling." S'rorn glances around for a moment before settling down on the warmth of the sands. He glances at the dark grains, scooping up a handful and letting it fall between his fingertips. "I hope there's something that could be managed. We've got alot of construction to do. Fortunately for us, alot of the homes and structures were salvagable, there's just odds and ends we need on hand to expedite things."

"Am glad to hear that it makes things a lot easier on everyone there, otherwise it would be a long while before folks could start returning to some semblance of normalcy." Fir shakes his head "I'm not quite sure what beasts swim in these waters other than the normal ones wouldn't surprise me if there were some rather strange creatures we've not run into before." He takes his guitar and puts it back into its case, closing it and the notebook which he places into the satchel. "I think that finding music to match the words will have to wait since nothing seems to be forth coming."

Nyzieroth has something forth coming, alright. Something his rider will /not/ appreciate… which makes it mandatory. The brown emerges from the water with head held high, dangly formerly-living sea creature toy hanging from his maw. S'rorn quickly rises to his feet, pointing a finger back out to the waters. "No. Nope, you're not bringing it up here. I don't care what it is, take it back to shore and not over here. Stop! Nyz!" PLOP, right down on his rider's boots, the dangly, chewed up squishy remains of an aquatic tunnel snake. "Augh, really? I just scrubbed those." Rorn kicks the thing /away/ from himself and Firamar, the scent unappealing to say the least. Nyzieroth rumbles at his rider, eyes whirling blue, before turning his gaze to the Harper. SNIFF. "I don't think he wants any, either, Nyz. You better not have another one in your mouth!" HISS.

Firamar nearly falls over laughing, "Oh my reminds me of a feline leaving 'gifts' for his human who usually isn't all that appreciative of the carcus of some dead beast." Fir wrinkles his nose at the odor rising from the corpse, "Ummm thank you for the offer Nyzieroth but I'm not really able to do much with a aquatic tunnel snake but thank you for the offer none the less…"

Nyzieroth rumbles in response to the Harper and settles his drying rump into the sands. S'rorn wanders over to the dead thing and scoops it up with his boot, launching it further towards the water. Just out of reach of the tide, the firelizards descend on the thing and begin tearing it apart hungrily. The brownrider drags his boots in the sand in hopes of cleaning them off for the time being. "He says you at least know how to politely decline. I usually end up returning his 'gifts' with a string of cursing and other profanities. Especially when I can smell something in the dead of night smelling up the weyr." Hrmph.

Firamar stands and gives a bow to the brown, "Well one must be polite when declining such a thoughtful gift even if it isn't exactly what one would normally receive." He laughs again as he pictures S'rorn's reaction to some strange decomposing creature lending its odor to their weyr, "Well at least you know that he cares for you so much that he leaves you these special gifts, it could be worse you know he could leave herdbeast carcuses in the weyr."
"It was a herd beast… half of one, but still one. I don't know how he got it up to the weyr with all the entrails but he did. Said he was shy and didn't want people judging him based on his eating habits. Which is a lie because he likes the attention. Brat." Nyzieroth simply preens, he doesn't know what S'rorn is talking about! He's a perfectly clean, well behaved and excellent smelling shining example of a perfect brown dragon. The brown brings his nose closer to the Harper and begins examining him in silence for a moment. S'rorn pauses, peering at his lifemate with a slightly confused look for a moment, then an obvious relaxing of posture. "No harm in asking, I suppose. No theatrics if he says either way! Firamar," the rider says with a pause, "Would you be willing to stand before Celimoth's clutch of eggs as a Candidate of Half Moon Bay?"

Firamar laughs at the careful examination he recieved from the brown but then when S'rorn asks him if he would stand for Half Moon Bay's clutch he stops suddenly at a loss for words. He considers the implications of his agreeing to standing and then considers what his life has been like since his child and wife left him. His mind made up Fir answers the rider, "I'd be honored to stand for the clutch at Half Moon Bay."

S'rorn says "Excellent," S'rorn begins as the brown abruptly rushes across the sand for a moment, returning with his dry riding straps in his mouth. They're placed on the ground and the dragon is already nosing his way between them, settling them in place as practiced. His rider shrugs, a brow raised in question. "Oh, so now you wanna rush during non drill emergencies. Gotcha. Jerk." The rider chuckles and turns back to Firamar, grinning. "Go ahead and pack your belongings. Pack light since you'll be staying in barracks for a while. When you're ready to go to Half Moon, we'll be here waiting.""

Half Moon Bay Weyr - West Bowl(#1481RJs)
The western end of the great bowl of the Weyr. You can see the steep walls of the crater to the south and south, with small openings and ledges in the cliffside. These are the individual weyrs of dragons and their riders. To the west you can see the great natural arch, and the lagoon, to the east, the center of the bowl. To the south you see a large natural cave opening that has been made into a tunnel. It is the main entrance to the Weyr from the road to Half Moon Bay Hold.

Half Moon Bay Weyr - Living Cavern(#1853RJ)
Here is the center of Weyr life, the living caverns. These two main rooms were man-shaped from smaller caves, and are joined by a carved arch with depictions of dragons in flight and dolphins leaping in swirling waves. One room has many round stone and wooden tables and a stone fire-pit instead of a hearth. Over the round-walled, gas fired pit is a large conical hood made of polished bronze, with reliefs of dragons with their riders flying over ships guided by dolphins. This hood and chimney keeps the room smoke-free. Through the archway is an enormous hall, with long tables and benches, some carved from the rock floor, many crafted of wood. This room is a combination dining and meeting hall, and can seat over 300 comfortably. Above both rooms, angled shafts lined with polished metal bring in sunlight during the day. Electric lights also burn, day and night.

Half Moon Bay Weyr - Lower Caverns
An oddly shaped cavern. Almost kidney shaped, with tunnels leading off to various parts of this side of the Weyr. Residential, craft and storage caverns mostly. Though one exit leads to the Candidate quarters, since with all their chores, it was thought to be a good idea to have them close to the Living Cavern and the Bowl, just to keep them from disturbing the rest of the Weyr in the mornings.

Half Moon Bay Weyr - Candidates' Barracks

Carved from a natural bubble in the volcanic stone, this small dorm room has room enough to hold around two dozen occupants comfortably. Along the walls are stationed sets of cots and clothes presses, each made up to the standards of the weyrwoman. Above, the soft white light from electric lamps cast down during waking hours.

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