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Tags: Pern, Dragons, Breedables, Fantasy, Roleplaying 

Reply (IC) Calderra Weyr
[PRP] Making the best of what you've got [Lanakirene/Cordel]

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tetrachrome

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PostPosted: Mon Mar 04, 2013 12:34 pm
There was only so much you could do with limited supplies, and Calderra was starting to feel the brunt of that.

Lanakirene sighed heavily, looking at the most recent shipment from Healer Hall. With the Hatching coming up, and some of the eggs feeling less-than-charitable, and the crop of Candidates being what any crop of Candidates was during a goldclutch, there should have been three times the amount of numbweed that they had gotten. At the very least. It was infuriating, that this was the best they could do. And it had been literally the best they could do.

Their suppliers were going wrong. Nothing was coming in, no matter what they sent out. It was Thryde, she knew that. Thryde wasn't sharing anything. And it made it harder to get everything from everyone else. There was something wrong with the North, they'd said. La didn't know. All she knew was that she needed at least twice as much numbweed as this just for the hatching - and that Faranth only knew what she'd do if she didn't get the oil she was asking for. But at least that was farmers, not Healers.

"Nobody's going to like this," she said quietly, talking to no one in particular as she finished unpacking the crates of fresh numbweed and looked at the jars of redwort that were stacked under them. Half of what she had been expecting, and this was the very best they could do.
 
PostPosted: Mon Mar 04, 2013 7:02 pm

Cordel was not used to a lack of supplies. Shards, he wasn't even used to thinking of 'supplies' at all. He simply expected things to be there when he needed them and was most decidedly not pleased to learn that his world view was being turned around. He glared at the crates as though they had personally offended him and had better produce more supplies before he got really, really angry.

“We might be able to make it. It's not as though the Searchriders have been very specifically and deliberately seeking out hormonal teenagers who hate being told what to do and will squabble over 'good morning',” he said in a voice absolutely laden with sarcasm. With a Gold egg on the Sands, that was exactly the kind of Candidate they were bringing, because everyone wanted to ensure the Gold would Impress. Apparently, losing a Green because the right Candidate wasn't on the Sands would merely be sad. Losing a Gold would be an outright tragedy.

Also, there was another infestation of Harpers again.

The point was, fights were becoming distressingly common, either because there were too many ringleaders and not enough rings or because someone had taken offense at someone else's music. Either that or the Weyr had a whole lot of staircases for angry teenagers to fall down. “We can stretch the numbweed out, at least. It's not essential in every case and maybe they can actually learn something. Redwort is going to be a bigger problem, especially if we get many aggressive dragonets. Have you heard much about the Touching?” Cordel hefted one of the jars of redwort and started stocking the supply closet.
 

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PostPosted: Tue Mar 05, 2013 9:09 am
Sometimes, it was refreshing to work with a bad-tempered cynic. He said everything that was on your mind without you having to say it, and you got the chance to nod and grunt agreement without actually outright badmouthing anyone. Cordel's remark about Searchriders made La snort into her hand, and she busied herself quickly with the redwort. "You know how it is. We're the biggest Weyr on the Southern Continent. This'll be one of two golds down here. You're not going to get the sweet, quiet ones who don't want to rule the world." She shrugged, delivering the facts without judgment. She didn't blame the searchriders for the type of personality gold eggs brought in. That was the fault of the old ballads.

And honestly, probably the fault of Weyrwoman Lessa. The woman who had been proclaimed singlehanded savior of Pern had been, for lack of a better word, well, screechy. People seemed to think all golds were like Ramoth, and wanted exactly that. "I just want the Harpers to be gone, to be honest. Really, you'd think Harper Hall would put an embargo on how many of their apprentices are allowed to go. Draw lots or something. Maybe just every time there's a clutch on the Sands, they pick twelve girls and twelve boys and have them fight to the death until there's one of each left. That'd be interesting."

But joking aside, Cordel was asking a serious question. La's brow furrowed as she considered. "Everything I've heard, I've heard from Isonth, and she'd tell you a tunnelsnake's as sweet as a newborn canine," La answered with a shrug, handing Cordel a jar of redwort as she unwrapped the canvas it had been packed in. "As far as she's concerned, all the eggs are sweet as bubbly pies, and any Candidate who thought differently is a mean, nasty old tunnelcat." She shrugged, giving the younger healer a brief smile. "But honestly, I haven't heard any major warning signs. You know Candidates. One egg isn't interested and suddenly, 'Woe is me, the whole clutch is against humans!'" She shrugged, expression wry. "But I haven't heard any worries from the dragons."

It was the dragons whose opinion Lanakirene trusted more in this case.
 
PostPosted: Tue Mar 05, 2013 11:33 am

La didn't judge, which was probably why she generally ended up working alongside Cordel. On the other hand, the man was extremely judgey, especially when it came to Candidates. Especially when it came to Candidates who didn't listen to orders, which seemed to encompass every prospective goldrider ever, since they seemed to have unanimously decided that the only way to Impress a Gold was to be as arrogant as possible. Not that the boys were any better. Any time two of them entered a room, the testosterone practically peeled the walls and they swaggered around so much that they probably forgot what they were supposed to be doing in the first place.

Teenagers. Cordel sure as shards didn't miss being one.

“It's a briar patch, I'm certain of it. 'Oh, please, don't take our Apprentices, Dragonrider! We will never get on without them although we've got approximately a million of them. Especially don't take the Apprentices who are standing conveniently by the door with packed bags!'.” Although La's suggestion had its good points. Namely, it meant there would be fewer Harper-turned-Candidates to deal with. Cordel scratched one cheek in thought before dismissing it reluctantly. “I suppose we do need every Candidate we can get. And, with the Weyr's popularity, that's not much.”

So it meant they just had to shut up and deal with a Harper caterwauling like a Feline in heat every now and then. Cordel would save up his old boots.

For now, he continued to help La unpack, sliding the jars of redwort salve onto the shelf. “This doesn't even look like a good quality of redwort,” he complained before listening to La's judgment of the eggs. Mostly, it boiled down to, 'teenagers are extremely touchy and will take everything personally'. “I'm going to go ahead and trust the dragons in this case. Have you heard of any betting going on?” If there were eggs, there had to be at least one person running a slightly shady book.
 

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PostPosted: Tue Mar 05, 2013 12:34 pm
"If there's betting, I haven't seen hide or hair of it yet. It's weird, usually by now I would have a few marks on everything." La shrugged, opening a jar of redwort and sniffing it gingerly. "It's not terrible - it'll do, at least." She shrugged, looking over her shoulder at Cordel. "At least we're getting something," she added with a sigh. "I've heard some of the other healers aren't getting anything. Guess they know they still have to try with us." There were plenty of people who didn't like dragons - and Thryde contained most of them - but the simple fact remained that dragons were huge, and could do a great deal of damage if their riders so chose.

Maybe not killing humans, but destroying buildings? Dragonriders could do that, if they wanted to. People were afraid of the dragonriders as a force, even if they didn't want to admit it. "I wonder if it'd be possible to grow some of this stuff ourselves. At Gaspar's maybe. Get some of them out there in the fields. Or transfer the numbweed to another Hold, maybe. There has to be some way to establish independence, right?"

Having beholden territories was awful, when they chose to act out against you.
 
PostPosted: Tue Mar 05, 2013 10:27 pm

It was a universal law. If there were eggs on the Sands, there was someone, somewhere in the Weyr, taking bets on what would hatch, who would Impress, and to what colors. While Cordel couldn't make any guesses based on Candidates' personalities (he was usually bandaging them up after they did something extraordinarily stupid, so his guess would've been that they'd all Impress to brain-damaged whers), he was eager to wager a few marks on colors.

Of course La would look on the bright side. If there was a lining in anything, she'd try to buff it up until it looked silver (was that how sewing worked? Cordel didn't know; it didn't involve Healing). “Maybe. What's growing out there now?” Food... things? Probably? Either that or animal fields. Which one was more cost-effective? On one hand, if they replaced a pasture with numbweed, they'd be able to supply themselves with the essential herb. But then they would still be dependent on a Hold for a meat supply.

“Funny. We go through all this effort to try and figure out a solution when, really, we should just ask dimglows to stop getting hurt,” Cordel snarked.
 

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PostPosted: Wed Mar 06, 2013 7:47 am
"Funny, we go through all this effort to try and make oilskins when really, we should just ask the sky to stop raining," La answered immediately, in a tone that was more absentminded than anything, handing Cordel another jar of redwort and grinning slyly over at him. Her coworker might not have had a sense of humor, but Lanakirene certainly did. And she wasn't afraid to bring it out to play, even at Cordel's expense. What was the worst he could do, lineface sternly at her?

She'd take her chances.

As for the questions of what was growing, she shrugged. "I'm sure there'd be somewhere they could designate for these. It's not like they need the same kind of growing conditions that grains do. As far as I know, you can grow them in something as small as a kitchen garden." That was what cotholders did, much of the time. There wasn't any need for a true Hold-healer in the case of scrapes and bruises. And though La had grown up in a major Hold, she knew well enough how cotholders got along. It was part of her education.

"At least Lorus is still amenable to us," she answered. "We don't have to worry about the herdbeast supply dwindling any time soon." That was good, at least. La wasn't particularly fond of the idea of having to negotiate for dragon meat, especially not this close to the Hatching. Adult dragons could go without for a week or two, if need be. Babies couldn't. "I just wish we had some kind of clear idea why this was happening," she said with a sigh. "Thryde has its own fields, and we're getting nothing...but I keep hearing about supplies from the North being even more of a problem."

"What do we get from the North, Cordel? Do you know?"
 
PostPosted: Thu Mar 07, 2013 9:48 pm

Cordel linefaced at her. Possibly, it was a stern lineface, but the difference was of such subtlety that only the finest of Cordel connoisseurs could tell the difference. Granted, she had a point; trying to stop a bunch of teenaged deadglows who were all utterly convinced that they would be the next Gold and Bronzeriders of Pern, would do anything for attention. He accepted the jar and countershrugged at her fair points about growing conditions. He didn't know anything about gardening. That was the sort of activity that took place in the fabled 'outdoors', aka 'Not inside the Infirmary'. It was out of his territory.

But knowing what came from the North? He was on more solid ground there, if only through his childhood. “Garlic, onions, mosstea, legumes, and lavage. Ilex too, but that's not necessary this time of year. Wait until winter rolls around. Needlethorns,but we've got alternative supplies there. Oh, and comfrey.” Lots of things that were essential to preventing infection, which was always a priority at a bloody Hatching.

“I can try to send some letters. I might still have some contacts up in Fort,” he said, but only very reluctantly. Quite frankly, he had looked forward to a very clean break.
 

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PostPosted: Sun Mar 10, 2013 11:04 am
Comfrey. Mosstea. Ilex.

Sigh.

"Bother," La said softly, shaking her head and setting the now-empty crate aside. "So we have maybe enough to get us through the Hatching if nobody gets mauled too badly, infected, or generally sick. I'll write to Lorus and see if there's anything they can spare." She sighed, shook her head, rubbed the back of her neck. "What kills me is that nobody's telling us anything. It'd be one thing if there were reasons." But reasons weren't something deemed necessary to give Calderra's healers, apparently. La honestly wasn't even surprised at this point.

"A contact in Fort would be good. And...there's got to be a way to get an ear into Thryde, right? Maybe one of the Candidates, if they don't Impress..." Bitter, disappointed Candidates weren't exactly the best possibility for covert espionage for the Weyr's sake, but you never really knew. "Do they know you at Thryde?" she asked suddenly, looking over at him.
 
PostPosted: Sun Mar 10, 2013 8:34 pm

La hit the nail on the head. It wasn't the lack of supplies that was irksome (well, no, it was; it was just that Cordel had enough grumpiness to share with everyone, so he liked to spread it around). The most annoying thing was the lack of information. “It's one thing to go, 'sorry, we don't have the supplies to share because we had a bad season'. It's another thing to say, 'we don't have the supplies because reasons',” he agreed.

Faranth. He wasn't sure how they'd get through this Hatching. For a brief moment, he felt a lot older as he looked at the sad collection that they had to get by on. Needs must and all that, but what if they needed more?

“Most people shouldn't, unless they went to Healer Hall,” Cordel pointed out, jumping right on the whole 'let's send the graceless Healer who is only vaguely aware of the outside world beyond his Infirmary into a strange place' wagon. “Which might work in our favor, considering that most of them wouldn't know I've transferred to Calderra.” His transfer had been... sudden, to say the least.
 

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PostPosted: Tue Mar 19, 2013 10:36 am
"If they don't know you're Calderran..." La trailed off thoughtfully, picking up an armful of bandages and moving them into one of the large hampers they used to keep linens. "Maybe you could go in. Claim you're from Healer Hall. You could namedrop. People who did recognize you wouldn't know you from Calderra." And it wasn't like healers tended to wear anything other than rank knots. As long as Cordel dressed like a Fort healer (and he usually did, anyway), nobody would be the wiser.

"You're you. I bet if you demanded long and loud enough, they'd give you answers."
 
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(IC) Calderra Weyr

 
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