Post by Dizzy on May 5, 2006 18:37:46 GMT -5
Falling into disfavor, the Dragonriders found times difficult. The Holds had plenty…but for the Weyrs, this was not so. They fed themselves, their folk, and their dragons on scraps that fell from the Lords' over-full tables. But hadn’t it been this way before? Circumstances and times would change. Thread would once again Fall and the Holds would tithe. The storerooms would be full and the Weyrlings fat…
And so two hundred turns came and went, just as they had eight times before.
Dragons and their riders decreased in numbers, but they prepared for what they knew would come. First Fall--the menace of Thread, the deadly Spore…the subject of Harper ballads, which spoke of the evil of the Red Star, and taught the old ways.
It was whispered that Thread was no more, but the Lords and Masters with much grumbling made ready. Finally the set time, the set day came. Nothing. Nothing happened… for fifty turns, they waited for First Fall, a Fall that wasn‘t to be.
Harpers were laughed at, Dragonmen called liars, their word was ruined. Spit upon, cursed, Harper and Rider both fled to their refuges--Weyrs and Hall. Those that did not risked their lives, often falling to death in stonings, knifings, and other equally tragic ends.
It is said though that bad fortune happens in threes and so it did. A wasting sickness struck the Weyrs...riders, and thus dragons, died. It wiped Igen almost completely out, killing all of the Weyr’s Gold riders and their Queens. One Wing was left; they called themselves Helios.
Others though, were not quite so devastated; a quick death from disease would have been kind.
Twenty turns past the Fall did Not -all tithes came to an end. A famine ran rampant, and the tithing trains trickled down to the worst of the worst and then completely stopped. The Weyrs were starving.
Most of the riders poached heavily, some gathered going from place to place with the Lower Cavern Folk, trying to find enough food to feed the remaining four Weyrs--Benden, Ista, Telgar, and Fort. High Reaches Weyr had died out long before Igen. No one remembered if it was sickness.… Those few lower cavern folk that were left were brought into Telgar Weyr. The records were never clear as to what exactly happened.
Riders and their folk were welcome nowhere. Some of the Weyrleaders and Wingleaders talked of revolt, of taking what they want. Others were shocked, full of disbelief. Though this had been a long time coming, no one thought it would be this bad.
Queens were not rising, due to lack of food. The few, low-numbered clutches they did have did not hatch. The Weyrlings that did live to Impress did not live long because there was nothing to feed them. The Weyrs’ children were dieing from starvation. Two hundred-twenty turns of poor treatment from the Holds and Halls resulted in death and decimation.
A conclave of the Weyrs was soon called; autonomy had long since lost its usefulness.
One Wingleader, a known rebel from Telgar stepped forward. At first, he was laughed at. After all, finding the lost land of the south was always talked about, though it was nothing more than a dream. The South was myth and legend even in the Weyr, where the old ways and maps had been kept. Still he stepped forward, his wing supporting him. No one seemed to notice that Telgar's dragons were a brighter hue--still thin, very thin bone visible under hide--but they were not as gray, and the yellow and red of hunger was no longer flashing in their baneful eyes.
He told them...no, it is not Myth and Mist...if it is, then my wing, Sidus, has been to the other side of between, and lived.
Several trips were made to explore the Southern Continent, and to bring food into the Weyrs. It was too late, however, for many. Some believed that they should keep their Weyrs in the North, and use the South only as a supply source, but many riders had lost lovers, weyrmates, children, and had grown resentful toward the holders. Firestoning and burnings had been rumored. Aside from that, the holders were not leaving them in peace; many wanted to drive the Riders out, to wipe them off the face of Pern.
Thus the decision was made to go South, and cut all ties with the North until they were needed again, taking with them only those loyal to the Dragonweyr.
And so two hundred turns came and went, just as they had eight times before.
Dragons and their riders decreased in numbers, but they prepared for what they knew would come. First Fall--the menace of Thread, the deadly Spore…the subject of Harper ballads, which spoke of the evil of the Red Star, and taught the old ways.
It was whispered that Thread was no more, but the Lords and Masters with much grumbling made ready. Finally the set time, the set day came. Nothing. Nothing happened… for fifty turns, they waited for First Fall, a Fall that wasn‘t to be.
Harpers were laughed at, Dragonmen called liars, their word was ruined. Spit upon, cursed, Harper and Rider both fled to their refuges--Weyrs and Hall. Those that did not risked their lives, often falling to death in stonings, knifings, and other equally tragic ends.
It is said though that bad fortune happens in threes and so it did. A wasting sickness struck the Weyrs...riders, and thus dragons, died. It wiped Igen almost completely out, killing all of the Weyr’s Gold riders and their Queens. One Wing was left; they called themselves Helios.
Others though, were not quite so devastated; a quick death from disease would have been kind.
Twenty turns past the Fall did Not -all tithes came to an end. A famine ran rampant, and the tithing trains trickled down to the worst of the worst and then completely stopped. The Weyrs were starving.
Most of the riders poached heavily, some gathered going from place to place with the Lower Cavern Folk, trying to find enough food to feed the remaining four Weyrs--Benden, Ista, Telgar, and Fort. High Reaches Weyr had died out long before Igen. No one remembered if it was sickness.… Those few lower cavern folk that were left were brought into Telgar Weyr. The records were never clear as to what exactly happened.
Riders and their folk were welcome nowhere. Some of the Weyrleaders and Wingleaders talked of revolt, of taking what they want. Others were shocked, full of disbelief. Though this had been a long time coming, no one thought it would be this bad.
Queens were not rising, due to lack of food. The few, low-numbered clutches they did have did not hatch. The Weyrlings that did live to Impress did not live long because there was nothing to feed them. The Weyrs’ children were dieing from starvation. Two hundred-twenty turns of poor treatment from the Holds and Halls resulted in death and decimation.
A conclave of the Weyrs was soon called; autonomy had long since lost its usefulness.
One Wingleader, a known rebel from Telgar stepped forward. At first, he was laughed at. After all, finding the lost land of the south was always talked about, though it was nothing more than a dream. The South was myth and legend even in the Weyr, where the old ways and maps had been kept. Still he stepped forward, his wing supporting him. No one seemed to notice that Telgar's dragons were a brighter hue--still thin, very thin bone visible under hide--but they were not as gray, and the yellow and red of hunger was no longer flashing in their baneful eyes.
He told them...no, it is not Myth and Mist...if it is, then my wing, Sidus, has been to the other side of between, and lived.
Several trips were made to explore the Southern Continent, and to bring food into the Weyrs. It was too late, however, for many. Some believed that they should keep their Weyrs in the North, and use the South only as a supply source, but many riders had lost lovers, weyrmates, children, and had grown resentful toward the holders. Firestoning and burnings had been rumored. Aside from that, the holders were not leaving them in peace; many wanted to drive the Riders out, to wipe them off the face of Pern.
Thus the decision was made to go South, and cut all ties with the North until they were needed again, taking with them only those loyal to the Dragonweyr.
