Post by Abaddon Admin on Feb 27, 2008 2:14:42 GMT -5
Deep into the 10th Interval...
Scribed by Master Rishen, Keeper of Histories
The zealots remain.
It doesn't seem to matter how many turns have passed since Thread last fell on Pern. Nine hundred and forty-seven turns of freedom from the terror of the Red Star does not sway them. It is the dragons. Few, now, fly through our skies. Yet, as long as their wings can be heard snapping on the air, as long as their cries resound in the distance...The human mind conjures up such tales of bravery and horror, in the presence of these beasts. Even I fall prey to them at times.
Sometimes, looking upon the dragons, I can almost forget the treachery of Southern Weyr. I can almost ignore how the dragonriders, desperate for the tithes they no longer earned, went about secretly breeding felines. It doesn't matter that it was never proven. We all know the truth. After all, they dispatched the creatures with such ease. Day after day, sevenday after sevenday, they hunt the felines from dawn to dusk. Yet there is no end to the creatures. The holds of the southern continent are terrified into submission.
Yet still, when a dragon takes to the air, my heart catches for just a moment. How can this be when I know the truth?
And in the north, the great wound called Fort Weyr. It masquerades as a Hold, playing silly games. All the dragonriders are required to take up a craft. All of them. They steal the jobs of the people who truly need them. Fort Weyr has become extremely affluent, flaunting its superiority. Superiority. Hah! They are little more than pretenders, relying on extravagant shows to catch the public eye. Some say they will fall apart soon, because the skill of the crafters does not follow the same ranking system as the dragons themselves have formed. If only this could be true. They will adapt, though, the snakes. They always do.
Pern's only blessing regarding the Weyrs is that there are only two left. Or...well, there are rumors. Some say that there has been a defection. Some claim that the Fort Weyrleaders are murderers. There are whispers of a weyr forming deep in the Ring Islands, where the dragonhealers vanished so many turns ago. They are just rumors, though.
Wishful thinking on the part of the zealots.
Thread...thread will never return. That gleam of red in the sky? It has been written about for generations. The zealots would like Pern to panic. I'm sure they seek to benefit in some way. We will not budge, though. We of Pern know the manipulative ways of dragonriders and harpers all too well.
The zealots will not sway us.
Of an Unknown Author
When dragonhealers were scorned and brushed aside as useless, it was our ancestors who knew that something must be done. We came to Ryton Isle. We founded the Crafthall. And, as the turns passed, a Hold came into being around that hall. Mirin Hold.
Some thought that AIVAS was wrong, that Thread might return. Others simply knew that dragons would prove useful, whether Thread returned or not. Against such times as these, we have kept the old methods and developed new ones. We have forged a world for ourselves on this isle, a world apart from the rest. Our miners, our foresters, our fishers - they are some of the best on Pern. Once, we even shared this supremacy, our surplus, with those who had scorned us. But we were betrayed.
Now we are little more than legend to the rest of Pern. Turns of seclusion will do that. Or rather, we were...Until the massive Gather our Lord Adon, eighth in the line of Mirin, threw not so very long ago. We have opened ourselves up to Pern. We have opened ourselves up to R'ra, the self-proclaimed Weyrleader of Abaddon. No one knows if there truly is a Weyr. Those who have gone with the shadowed bronzerider - have never returned.
But we will follow our Lord Adon. We must. Maybe he knows the truth. Maybe he has seen this rumored Abaddon Weyr. We will follow him.
We must.
A rumor. A whisper. The name 'Abaddon' carries an unease about it. Many say it does not exist. Cannot exist. But a bronzerider does not just disappear from the face of Pern with four wings of dragonriders and twenty eggs.
He has been seen, this R'ra of bronze Kilraeth, this man, hideously scarred without and even more mutilated in spirit. His story, the tragic tale of a love all Pern has witnessed, stirs the soul. But R'ra is a man haunted. His sanity? Likely lost. He has been seen at Mirin Hold, on Ryton Isle. Perhaps...perhaps Abaddon is not just a whisper. Perhaps, somewhere in the warren of passes and vales and peaks, there lies a fledgling Weyr born of treachery and flame.
Perhaps that is where the eggs of golden Laestyth, bonded to R'ra's beloved, have been secreted. Perhaps, just perhaps, somewhere in the mountains of Ryton Isle, Kilraeth guards the gold gem and her siblings that his mate was torn from in a moment of violence.
Perhaps it is not just a whisper...
What can we offer you at Abaddon?
We can offer a relaxed, welcoming amosphere to any who join. We can offer plenty of chances to join the Staff and help lead the roleplay if you so desire. We can offer plenty of plot twists, and your input in the direction the play takes.
Right now:
There are twenty eggs on the sands, one of which is a queen egg. The hatching will be held March 21st.
There will be a flitter hatching at Mirin Hold on February 29th, and I plan on including a queen egg if we get enough interested.
A mysterious illness has taken hold at Mirin. Will it spread? What is it? Only time will tell.
Rumors of Thread's return abound. Most do not believe. Who is right, and what will that mean for Ryton Isle? For all of Pern?
Check us out: radannsun.proboards98.com/index.cgi
Scribed by Master Rishen, Keeper of Histories
The zealots remain.
It doesn't seem to matter how many turns have passed since Thread last fell on Pern. Nine hundred and forty-seven turns of freedom from the terror of the Red Star does not sway them. It is the dragons. Few, now, fly through our skies. Yet, as long as their wings can be heard snapping on the air, as long as their cries resound in the distance...The human mind conjures up such tales of bravery and horror, in the presence of these beasts. Even I fall prey to them at times.
Sometimes, looking upon the dragons, I can almost forget the treachery of Southern Weyr. I can almost ignore how the dragonriders, desperate for the tithes they no longer earned, went about secretly breeding felines. It doesn't matter that it was never proven. We all know the truth. After all, they dispatched the creatures with such ease. Day after day, sevenday after sevenday, they hunt the felines from dawn to dusk. Yet there is no end to the creatures. The holds of the southern continent are terrified into submission.
Yet still, when a dragon takes to the air, my heart catches for just a moment. How can this be when I know the truth?
And in the north, the great wound called Fort Weyr. It masquerades as a Hold, playing silly games. All the dragonriders are required to take up a craft. All of them. They steal the jobs of the people who truly need them. Fort Weyr has become extremely affluent, flaunting its superiority. Superiority. Hah! They are little more than pretenders, relying on extravagant shows to catch the public eye. Some say they will fall apart soon, because the skill of the crafters does not follow the same ranking system as the dragons themselves have formed. If only this could be true. They will adapt, though, the snakes. They always do.
Pern's only blessing regarding the Weyrs is that there are only two left. Or...well, there are rumors. Some say that there has been a defection. Some claim that the Fort Weyrleaders are murderers. There are whispers of a weyr forming deep in the Ring Islands, where the dragonhealers vanished so many turns ago. They are just rumors, though.
Wishful thinking on the part of the zealots.
Thread...thread will never return. That gleam of red in the sky? It has been written about for generations. The zealots would like Pern to panic. I'm sure they seek to benefit in some way. We will not budge, though. We of Pern know the manipulative ways of dragonriders and harpers all too well.
The zealots will not sway us.
Of an Unknown Author
When dragonhealers were scorned and brushed aside as useless, it was our ancestors who knew that something must be done. We came to Ryton Isle. We founded the Crafthall. And, as the turns passed, a Hold came into being around that hall. Mirin Hold.
Some thought that AIVAS was wrong, that Thread might return. Others simply knew that dragons would prove useful, whether Thread returned or not. Against such times as these, we have kept the old methods and developed new ones. We have forged a world for ourselves on this isle, a world apart from the rest. Our miners, our foresters, our fishers - they are some of the best on Pern. Once, we even shared this supremacy, our surplus, with those who had scorned us. But we were betrayed.
Now we are little more than legend to the rest of Pern. Turns of seclusion will do that. Or rather, we were...Until the massive Gather our Lord Adon, eighth in the line of Mirin, threw not so very long ago. We have opened ourselves up to Pern. We have opened ourselves up to R'ra, the self-proclaimed Weyrleader of Abaddon. No one knows if there truly is a Weyr. Those who have gone with the shadowed bronzerider - have never returned.
But we will follow our Lord Adon. We must. Maybe he knows the truth. Maybe he has seen this rumored Abaddon Weyr. We will follow him.
We must.
A rumor. A whisper. The name 'Abaddon' carries an unease about it. Many say it does not exist. Cannot exist. But a bronzerider does not just disappear from the face of Pern with four wings of dragonriders and twenty eggs.
He has been seen, this R'ra of bronze Kilraeth, this man, hideously scarred without and even more mutilated in spirit. His story, the tragic tale of a love all Pern has witnessed, stirs the soul. But R'ra is a man haunted. His sanity? Likely lost. He has been seen at Mirin Hold, on Ryton Isle. Perhaps...perhaps Abaddon is not just a whisper. Perhaps, somewhere in the warren of passes and vales and peaks, there lies a fledgling Weyr born of treachery and flame.
Perhaps that is where the eggs of golden Laestyth, bonded to R'ra's beloved, have been secreted. Perhaps, just perhaps, somewhere in the mountains of Ryton Isle, Kilraeth guards the gold gem and her siblings that his mate was torn from in a moment of violence.
Perhaps it is not just a whisper...
***
What can we offer you at Abaddon?
We can offer a relaxed, welcoming amosphere to any who join. We can offer plenty of chances to join the Staff and help lead the roleplay if you so desire. We can offer plenty of plot twists, and your input in the direction the play takes.
Right now:
There are twenty eggs on the sands, one of which is a queen egg. The hatching will be held March 21st.
There will be a flitter hatching at Mirin Hold on February 29th, and I plan on including a queen egg if we get enough interested.
A mysterious illness has taken hold at Mirin. Will it spread? What is it? Only time will tell.
Rumors of Thread's return abound. Most do not believe. Who is right, and what will that mean for Ryton Isle? For all of Pern?
Check us out: radannsun.proboards98.com/index.cgi
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