We're done accepting candidates, and there are... some surprises in store for everyone.
Hang in there, art is done, hatching is almost ready!
** Read the ADDENDUM below please!! Then..... the hatching itself!**
***
You looked over the invitation and squinted hard at it. Ezhar’s red-pink Tinoth and T’nor’s two-tone blue Razelth will be clutching at ... Istabitha? Could this be right?
Though it seemed that Istabitha, their birth-home, had either vanished, changed irrevocably, or been left behind when everyone moved to this odd new world, there would be a new clutch there? Not even the population of the Protectorate really knew how that could happen. It was a bit difficult to keep up with places that were only memories. Even though a number of dragons scattered among the Weyr and Weyrholds had come from that spot, it and other sites seemed to be elusive when folks attempted to chat about them. ‘I haven’t thought about that place in years’ seemed to be the norm when talking about virtually any of those Old World locations.
That was mostly because of Engell and his powerful mental manipulations, but also because more pressing matters were generally on hand, even on the lovely island of Paniya. Thread didn’t fall, people didn’t mention it much here. But there were ants and troubling creatures, even the flora occasionally tried to overtake nice fishing spots. Overall though, Alskyran immigrants such as Ezhar and T’nor (who had kept his elided name, finding it dignified) busied themselves for years and focused on the present, rather than the past. Since they had been in Caledrus at the time, they had not truly been involved with the machinations of the Protectorate’s leadership.
***
It was the year 570 on Alskyr, just under 10 years after the colonization of the south-western island near Paniya by said Protectorate.
Caledrus Hold, center of crafters and a trade hub, was enjoying a pleasant fall day. It was made a touch exciting when dragons arrived. Though not uncommon of course, particularly since a number of local riders lived there with their own dragons, these were recognizably special ones that flew in elegant unison over the Flats. Along with them, there was a strange visitor, one who was escorted by the Weyrleader and his Wingleader; they looked quite the team actually.
Three disparate dragons circled once and landed: the Protectorate leader’s ‘gigantic’ blue (fairly, Jeremoth was among the largest blues anyone had ever seen), Blackstone Weyr’s Wingleader’s massive bronze (an understatement), and their very small, very black companion who fluttered a little before deciding to set down. Of course, black dragons were a reasonably common thing on Alskyr - but to most Old World born, it was all but unheard of, the world that produced those other two dragons had certainly not seen one like it. It wasn’t its coloration that surprised anyone - it was how tiny it seemed compared to even a regular sized blue.
No one else approached, save those that dared. A group of nearby dragons broke off from their fishing down on the beach nearby, similarly a few here and there helping their riders move goods up from the deep crevasse poked their heads up to look. But for whatever reason, only this local pair of red and blue dragons took it upon themselves to investigate any closer. They approached that little black dragon, as Shard and H’lis came down to talk to T’nor and Ezhar specifically.
The dragons seemed to already know something was unusual. They alone were either brave enough to go up there, or perhaps... were the only ones allowed to do so. Something was a bit weird; Ezhar made note that while she did get a steady stream of happy thoughts from her dragoness, no real specific information came through. Separately, T’nor felt the same about whatever Razelth was ‘hiding from him’. A secret kept by dragons? That was quite odd.
Though both of the riders tried to see what their dragons were doing up there, the blue-skinned Weyrleader and his white-haired Wingleader put themselves in the way and suggested that they perhaps... follow their dragons hearts. Shard hinted that a trip would be in order, and H’lis commented that it would be quite a weird one (to which Shard elbowed H’lis carefully in the gut, avoiding spearing him with those long bone tines on his arm); both agreed however that it would be somewhere they would like to go.
It didn’t take much convincing - both the dancer and her partner had been thinking about vacation plans for months. So the couple made some arrangements, packing up a few things (it was never difficult for T’nor to pack: he was a trader after all, the Trade Captain of the Protectorate), and headed up to the Dragon Flats. They did think it somewhat odd, that still, after an hour or more, no other dragons were present, no people crowding these most-important arrivals. Normally dozens of Hold children would be flocking up there, eager to see who was going to be Searched, or which dragons were willing to give fun rides.
Not this time. Apparently they’d come to some accord up there on the Dragon Flats. Ezhar and T’nor’s dragons were happily chittering and obviously telepathically talking to this stranger’s dragon - who on closer examination seemed to be of an oddly familiar breed. Not their own, he had a much different profile, with a neck crest and broad, curved wings. They’d seen those features on some dragons impressed long ago, at Talor Cliff or even Lasair. There weren’t any of that breed directly at Caledrus Hold, but certainly they had visitors from Dawnlight Hold and the Protectorate overall that were. But this tiny black dragon, though clearly an adult, was barely half the size of Ezhar’s red and pink Tinoth. Practically closer to a runner’s size!
Where exactly was the dragon’s rider? For if there was anything even more rare than a dragon like this, it would be one without a rider.
Soon enough they did spot him. That rider was dressed in black as well, in a style that was absolutely not common to either the Old World or to Alskyr, and certainly didn’t speak ‘rider’ in any way. His business suit had a necktie, which he straightened. He looked quite a bit older than either Shard or H’lis, and in most ways considerably more menacing even though he wasn’t as upright and muscular as H’lis, nor as openly-sharp as the Protectorate’s leader. He had short cropped black hair, and a weird gleam in his brilliant turquoise eyes - which like Shard’s seemed to be unduly reflective. He didn’t look entirely unfriendly, deep laugh lines in his face proved that. But he was certainly what they both would call ‘lordly’ in his mannerisms.
Shard introduced them as Denhadarvahth and Keenan Lane, a ‘recent addition’. Whatever that meant. He nodded very slightly, and looked between Ezhar and T’nor with critical but somehow pleased looking eyes. They noticed a moment later that there was a fire lizard on his shoulder, what they’d assumed was a cowl or scarf, had been a snugly pressed black flitter that now opened its wings and raised its head to stare at them all with eyes that was quite strangely the same color as the man’s.
Ezhar and T’nor stood quietly, wondering what exactly was happening. Though they both had questions, none actually formed on either of their lips. Assured that Shard and H’lis had told them what needed to be said, Lane then asked whether they were ready, in a resonant if eerie voice. And the moment the pair nodded and began to speak, he waved his hand to a spot nearby. The air crackled, startling them, causing the hair on their necks to rise; it smelled very strange as well, but they were all compelled to approach. The dragons were especially eager.
It was a large square opening in the ... in the space next to him, almost like a doorway. No, exactly like a doorway. It was as tall as Jeremoth’s shoulder, which meant it was almost twice as high as that black dragon’s head, and at least wide enough to fit that blue through it, should he tuck in and carefully walk. The edges of this weird doorway sparkled in the same colors as the man’s eyes: white, green, blue, teal. It seemed completely surreal, they had never known of such a thing. They knew of electric devices, video screens, but since there were none of those devices around, it just looked like a window to another world hanging in the air.
Ezhar in particular took a little gasping breath: this reminded her of a long-forgotten dream she’d had as a youth.
They could see through that portal; a location distantly waited. Normally, since dragons from the Old World as well as Alskyr could teleport, they’d have asked for directions, mounted up, and flown into the skies. They would have wanted mental views of the stars above wherever this place was, or landmarks to spot. But... apparently this man was able to just... make that obsolete!
They did load their harnesses and gear onto the dragons backs, that much was plainly necessary. Harnesses were always the starting point to any trip or vacation, for riders. Wherever they were going, surely they’d want to ride at some point! It did feel a bit dream-like now to both of them - as they just walked forward encouraged by this strange man and his little bitty dragon.
“This place... seems familiar?” Ezhar whispered to T’nor. He nodded, mutely. They looked around as one, while their dragons carefully padded behind them, then began to sing a strange trumpeting, triumphant song.
The glowing portal had brought them to the site of their birth, and it was as if a new life emerged in their hearts. Neither the dragons nor their riders could say what just happened, but somehow they were back in the familiar setting that they’d both lived in for more than a turn each: first Ezhar, then T’nor, as they’d impressed their respective dragons. They didn’t look back behind them as they walked, but it seemed as though the portal had vanished.
The black-rider and his dragon were nowhere to be seen, but in a strange way they felt he was watching. That feeling faded; or perhaps, their perception of it did - they had better things to do now, because they had come here for a reason. Had it just been a ‘vacation’? Well, not according to Tinoth and Razelth.
***
Rider-mine, we have visitors. Sasiath’s voice held a touch of amusement as it gently brushed Naeodin’s mind, weaving through her thoughts. The children have … returned.
Children?
The Weyrwoman looked up, straightening over a littered desk of maps. She had promised B’nir she would get to the task at hand, and this time, she had meant to keep her promise. There had always been something more important, more pressing to handle. But the sense of urgency which had started as a small feeling on the back of her neck had started to grow, and she had found herself back in her private office, comparing maps and studies of Pern with a scowl.
Ista Weyr had vanished, and together, B’nir and Naeodin had founded Istabitha’s Weyr. It had taken six turns to build a strong enough foundation to relax, to have riders of dragons hatched from their very sands join their wings and create a true home.
Six turns of waking in the middle of the night with confused thoughts on what she was expected to do. Six turns of wondering if creating Istabitha’s was the answer, or if this Weyr would also vanish, riders left staring at emptied halls and caverns.
And yet.
“Children?”
Tinoth and Razelth caused a deafening roar of celebration through the Weyr. Two of their own had come back, the smooth features of both dragons and their spaded tails echoed amongst hatchlings and adult dragons alike: they were Istabitha’s dragons, and they had come home.
The Weyrwoman welcomed the riders with open arms, and Sasiath took to the skies, delighted to welcome home two of her brood- for the senior Queen considered all hatchlings hers. The Weyr celebrated, with beer flowing freely and conversation just as so. Many were curious as to what the riders had been up to. Had they joined the wings of nearby Weyrs? And if so, why had they not caught glimpses of such distinctive hides in the sky?
Naeodin celebrated with as much glee as the other riders, happy to celebrate the return of two of her oddly marked dragons. She watched with admiration as the young dancer and trader mingled with ease amongst the other denizens, caught more than one young rider proudly bring out wares for inspection and evaluation by the trader.
It was B’nir, quiet, stoic B’nir who noticed the slight dissonance. The looks of astonishment and surprised joy that seemed to cross Ezhar and T’nor’s faces, the slight gestures and wistful glances when they assumed they were not being watched.
It was later in the evening, or very early in the morn that Naeodin listened to the solemn words of her Head Searchrider. Their silhouettes in the paling sky a familiar fixture of the Weyr. Heads bent together, they discussed what this meant for Istabitha’s. What this meant for their future.
***
Within a few days, Tinoth’s hide grew to be quite bright red, her wingsails glimmering and almost sparkling in their glow. She crooned and coyly nudged the blue awake. Far from being a ‘broody queen’, Tinoth had only ever had eyes for this one male. There were no others around for miles, but how? They had the place to themselves, and that was just fine.
Ezhar danced for her love, even as the red queen above watched her own suitor perform for her. Their flight lasted quite a bit longer than anyone could have expected from a green-sized dragoness. The Weyr began making preparations... There would be a clutch laid on those sands, it was time to gear up for visitors once more.
***
Candidates spoke of a languid flight, and also one of passion. Eyes shone at the thought of a clutch laid on Istabitha’s sands, and more than one rider mentioned to the Head Searchrider in passing of a friend or a distant relative who would be Perfect.
Two distinctly colored dragons, from unusual clutches. They could only be parents to unique, exotic dragons. The excitement was a slow, even burn that started at the heart of the Weyr, as people started to gather, as word began to spread.
Other thoughts occupied the Weyrwoman’s mind, one that questioned the subtle gestures and amusement the dancer and trader seemed to greet their world.
So on a quiet day, when most of the Weyr was busy with long running errands, the Weyrwoman of Istabitha’s Weyr summoned Ezhar and T’nor to her private office. Where she and B’nir waited, two questions at the forefront of their mind.
“Where are you from?” B’nir asked. “Because you are not wholly from Pern.”
***
As time went on at the dragonry, and Tinoth began to grow a bit... girthy, she did also get a touch on the snippy side. She found that the sands were lumpy in just the wrong places, and rapidly set to digging her way around them. A spiral of sorts formed when she was working, and overnight the place seemed to be transformed.
There were mounds at regular spaces in that spiral groove, apparently where she’d placed each of the eggs. It wasn’t particularly clear however just how many there were, as she would play with the sand and pile ‘fake’ mounds. One day there were six, another ten, the next eight, who knew whether there were more. But Tinoth claimed there were ‘enough’, as long as the right candidates came.
***
There is special meaning to these eggs, Rider-mine Sasiath’s voice was cool, and a welcome distraction.
“Because they are from another world?” Naeodin had little difficulty believing that there must be more out there. But the simplicity in which the two riders had returned. It spoke of ideas and methods that she had a hard time grasping.
That also. We will see… some interesting candidates. Sasiath huffed a laugh They came back for their first clutch. Our children, they always come back
Naeodin leaned against the soft hide of her Queen, rubbing a hand absentmindedly down her side. “I do not think they are yours, Sasi.”
They are all ours, Rider-mine. Children will always come home.
Naeodin repressed a small shiver at the words. There was something heavy about the moment, as if a silent gong had been struck, the sound unheard but vibrations felt. “We will need to expand our search for this clutch, won’t we?” she asked. “Not just candidates at Istabitha’s, not just Pern.”
Not just Pern the Queen agreed. We will tell all, as we can, and invite any, who can make it. Tinoth and Razelth will be clutching at Istabitha’s Weyr. And all are welcome.
***
Tinoth (Valentine's Clutch number 5, no known parents) and Razelth (Christmas Clutch number 6, Christmas Holith and White Deakoth) both hatched at Istabitha. (Image is slightly not to scale with humans)
Offspring will be small for Pernese dragons, generally blue-sized down to true ‘sport’. (So approximately 10 feet at shoulder, down to around 6 feet.) Bicolored and off-gender Pernese types will be the norm. It’s likely that brown, blue, green, and white may show up, but also red, violet, and variations on those colors. It is highly unlikely that this clutch will have traditional bronze and gold dragons, but really who knows - travel through the Nexus these days seems to make for odd changes to dragons.
***
Welcome to Istabitha’s Weyr- An OOC Introduction (from Naeodin)
Istabitha’s Weyr exists in the 9th pass, on the bones of a vanished Weyr. The stories say that Naeodin, rider of a very small almost sport sized queen Sasiath, and B’nir, rider of white Pikceth were part of an older Weyr that “vanished”.
The two riders decided to start over and build Istabitha’s Weyr on the grounds of where their previous home had existed. It is situated on the bay of an island, and is seemingly small and nondescript.
Dragons from Istabitha’s Weyr are very ‘clean’. They have spaded tails but no other crests or horns. Sport sized dragons are common, and unusually colored or patterned ones have become the norm. They seem to occur “seasonally” around old Terran holidays (Christmas, Valentines especially…) and so Istabitha’s residents do not bat an eye when slightly more foreign an unusual denizens come to visit.
This clutch takes place “back” in time, before Naeodin and B’nir decide to move the Weyr and the residents off world and claim an entire planet. This is also before the time of Shy, and technology that exists would be very canon.
