Dalibor is a semi-canon Dragonriders of Pern site. No knowledge of the series or site is required to join; players of all experience levels are welcome here. Founded in 2008 on Proboards and moved to Jcink in 2013, Dalibor has been running for eight years.

Spring, 18th Turn, 11th Pass

Upcoming Flights:
Red Cyanide

Upcoming Hatchings:
Amber Era

Western Hold welcomes new blood in the form of a young couple, Lord Holder Basasius and Lady Holder Baria. A grand Gather is being hosted by Western Hold to welcome their new Lord and Lady.

While the new Lords settle into Western there has been talk and speculation about the western continent's other Hold. It has been two turns since his wife's passing in the south, when will Lord Callum decide to take up a new wife?

Spring has woken an abundance of plant life across Pern with intermittent spring showers helping to sate the growth's never ending thirst. With the end of snow and cold comes Thread once more; Dalibor's wings have no doubt been reduced due to losses over the winter but none the less they persevere.
Rayna of Gold Couineth - Boo

Z'dyn of Iron Baihujinth - Rhia

Jr. Weyrwoman
Jali of Copper Laanasuth - Rii

Jr. Weyrleader
Arlya of Burgundy Xerocleth - Rowana

Norla of Bronze Norsk - Ivy

Der of Grey Desk - Rii
Oreanda of Bronze Osk - Ruin

B'tor of Green Tavistrath - Sakoru
Nia of Pink Koeneth - Catsitta
S'vor of Green Absinth - Ruriko

Ijo of Brown Isk - Rhia
Pavir of Blue Pavisk - Captain
Swithin of Blue Swisk - Ivy

Ulian of White Rivath - Ruin
Ra'h of Green Musath - Blot
Zanii of Black Zansk - Leo

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Dalibor was created by Bre, continued by Cathaline, and is now owned and operated by Ruin. Most of the information, rules, and graphics were made, compiled, or written by staff with credit given to those whose resources they used. Stock thanks to credited parties. All characters and posts are copyrighted to the members of the game. No material from this site should be copied in any way, shape, or form without utter express permission from the members and staff. All references to worlds and characters based on Anne McCaffrey's 'Dragonrider of Pern' series are copyright Anne McCaffrey 1967-2017, all rights reserved. The Dragonriders of Pern is registered U.S. Patent and Trademark Office, by Anne McCaffrey, used here with general permission for non-commercial purposes without monetary gain.

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 In The Evening Shade, WI:17 (Rii) N'mor/Arisa
 Posted: Oct 23 2017, 11:55 PM
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It had been several turns since he'd been gone. Dalibor had been too full of memories, too many people departed that he couldn't deal with being away from. Friends that he'd made, and lost, just as quickly. It had been a transfer back to High Reaches, to try and reconnect with life as a whole and get the murder of his sister taken care of.

It hadn't been, ultimately, but at least they'd taken him seriously and things had started to roll forwards. N'mor had found solace in the dragon he'd felt too sorry to keep, and Kanayath had slowly begun to understand why Hers thought the way he did. It had been good for him, and good for them as a pair. Things were of course still rocky, as they would probably always be until they'd had more time to sort themselves, but life wasn't quite so hard as it once had been.

He'd gone looking for her, when he'd come back. Home, really, as High Reaches had been, hadn't been where he wanted to be. He'd figured that out with time, too. News that Arsonyk had died hadn't fared well on him - it meant that Arisa was without parents, and as such he knew the girl would ultimately be fine, but they'd grown reasonably close in his time there. Certainly not as any share of relationship beyond friends, for certain, but he considered her perhaps the closest to a little sister as he could still entertain.

Like him, she was an 'odd one', and people generally didn't know how to take her. N'mor did. N'mor had for some time, and letters, while they couldn't do his presence any justice, would hopefully have told her she wasn't alone.

But as he knew more than probably anyone, to say one wasn't alone, and to actually BE alone, were two different turns of phase. Something one word couldn't change in any prospect, and it was because of her, largely, that he'd come back. Her, and a desire to never leave anything completely unfinished.

And so, in the snow that blanketed the Bowl, he'd quietly notified Nia of his reasoning. Kanayath had alighted behind the Barracks, then quietly - as quiet as a Green could - tread her way around to one side of the building and settled to wait. He welcomed the Weyrlingmaster's Pink to watch, if she wished; he'd been both a Candidate and a Weyrling before, he knew the rules.

His beloved cello settled against his thigh, he angled it so that the sound would be resonant and subtle outside Arisa's room, but not quite loud enough to bother the other Weyrlings. After all, he was nameless to them, and it wasn't their attention he was looking for. Boots up to his knees protected his feet from the chill, his slacks warm. His shirt and vest were thickly-woven in kind to protect his torso, his hands gloved with hide so thin he could feel the frets easily, but not too thin to keep the cold at bay. His coat was warm, furred and more than capable of blocking out the snow and ice; a scarf loosely wrapped his neck, by which Lumi peeped from within. All of it was black as the ace of spades, and matched his eyes and his hair.

Poe had been left in his weyr, because her penchant for impromptu noise would ruin his element of surprise. After all, the low-tone chukchukchuk of her sounds were a dead giveaway.

Lumi opted in the aires of cold, that it was too much for him, and thus abandoned His' position in order to snuggle with the Brundle Whersport amid N'mor's pillows.

N'mor looked to his Green, easily visible from where he sat; she blinked at him, before he could feel the warmth of her presence in his chest.

With that, he positioned his fingers and his bow, closed his eyes, and slid the rosined length across the strings in a melody that was kept quieter than he would usually play, in order to keep the others from being unsettled or otherwise woken abruptly.

He waited. There was no telling what her reaction would be, but he was probably ready for most anything. Time would tell.


 Posted: Oct 25 2017, 01:18 PM
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Not broken.


Different wasn't necessarily wrong.

Dangerous. Freak.

Was she?

Arisa gave Swath's wing one more gentle swipe with a cloth, looking up at him. She still marveled, a little, at how much a dragon grew in a turn and a half. Swath wasn't even a turn old, and he was already big enough to carry her in flight, at least briefly. Soon they'd be moving out of the barracks and into their own weyrs. She appreciated that.

"Is that better, Swath?"

Yes. It no longer itches. Bending his long, graceful neck, he tapped her lightly on the head with his pointed muzzle. Thank you.

"You're welcome." She busied herself with putting away oil and cloth from their evening patch-job of the itchiest places. It might have been an expected task of any weyrling, but it was one she enjoyed. Being there with Swath, touching him, talking to him.

He was, after all, all she had left here.

She wasn't unhappy, at all. It didn't occur to her to be. She had her lessons, and her work, and her drawings, she had Swath - which was more than Father had ever predicted for her. Life was adequately full. The Weyrlingmaster was fair, even if they didn't always agree on the approach to different problems. Arisa didn't have very good luck in finding people who were willing to be fair with her. She didn't mind being disagreed with or even punished - but it had to be fair.

But she was lonely, sometimes. No one could fill in the place Father had left empty, the first person she'd cared for. It had been such a short list - Father and Arsonysk, her poppo Azrin, her firelizard Diaval, and N'mor. Swath had, of course, added himself, but by that time the list had already shrank.

For a moment, she thought that it was because she was thinking of N'mor, that she heard the music. But she'd never been particularly fanciful. That meant the music was real. Abandoning her intents to draw for a while before she went to bed, she shoved her feet into boots and snatched up a coat, walking down the hall as she pulled it on, not even stopping to button it up as she went outside and rounded the corner, seeking out the source of the music.

When she found it, she halted dead in her tracks, mud-brown eyes widening in surprise.



 Posted: Oct 31 2017, 01:21 PM
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He was lingered there in the snow, the brunt of it drifting down around his shoulders and clinging to the fur around his neck and face as he drew the bow across the strings. N'mor found little comfort in much anymore, and his music had once again become the mainstay of his de-stressing attempts.

There was movement from within the Barracks; he could hear something rustling, the shift of a door before Kanayath shifted her own weight where she lingered. Her head lowered, and she inspected the not-so-little girl, now very much a young woman, coming around the corner.

When Arisa stopped, when she said his name, it brought a smile to his lips. His eyes stayed closed, fingers still working the frets quietly as the notes petered out to nothingness in the air around them. He rose, spinning the cello away from him only for it to be caught by Kanayath's tail.

He settled into a sturdy sort of stance; Arisa had always been atypical of most people he'd known in his life, and he didn't expect her to be the sort to rush him and throw her arms around him as most children and young people did when those they'd been without so long, returned to them. He didn't even know if she'd missed him, he'd been so lost to his own grief and despair that the truth of whether or not life had changed so much, that she hadn't had the time to think about him was unknown.

He knew she'd Impressed, that much was clear to him. A Black, Swath, who rumors said was as graceful and well-mannered as any similar-colored brethren he'd encountered. It was no small thing, for her to have attracted a mindmate. For those who'd called her emotionless, broken, too different to be healthy as a Rider, it was a slap in the face that no, there was nothing wrong with her. She was as capable as any of them, and it made N'mor proud.

"It's me, it's true, I stand here now, you see me, don't you, never again to depart I vow." A somewhat slight grin, the bow draped through one of Kanayath's tailforks before N'mor ran his gloved hands along his thighs to warm the tops of them.

"My mind was ill, I profess. It left me still and quite a mess. Though I suspect I've been made whole if slightly less." He licked his lips slightly. "I heard you've Impressed, yourself, and I'm curious quite considerably if I must confess. Is he as fantastic as they say, no less?"


 Posted: Jan 8 2018, 10:18 PM
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"You came back." She studied him. The last time she'd seen him, he was still confined to the infirmary after having almost died. He hadn't rhymed. He'd barely wanted to see her at all. He'd barely existed at all, he certainly hadn't been living. "You sound better than you were."

The blackweyrling folded her hands together, the skin on skin helping keep her fingers warm. It seemed almost impassive, how she looked at him, like he was just another person, another trundlebug scuttling here and there under her gaze. She knew, in a vague kind of way, that other younglings would have been highly upset at someone close to them leaving so abruptly. But, it was something she was also used to. Mother, Father, Father's weyrmate, N'mor, everyone she knew, left. N'mor was simply the only one that had ever come back.

Abruptly, the corners of her mouth turned up. Not a full-out smile, but a pleased expression. She offered him a hand, palm-up in greeting. "I missed you." Missed. No better word for the hollow, dull ache she'd felt with N'mor gone and her father dead.

"I did. No one Searched me." Once, they'd wondered if Kanayath would. But she hadn't been there to find out. "Swath found me in the stands."

As if summoned by the words, the black popped his head around the corner of the barracks, then the rest of him followed. His long tail wagged back and forth a couple of beats, before he hop-flutter-pounced a dragonlength forward, landing neatly just behind Arisa and folding his wings. Extending his neck over Arisa's head, he examined the rider and green.

So you are N'mor and Kanayath. I see. He dipped his head. Welcome home.

The not-quite-a-smile didn't fade, in fact widening slightly until it could be called a true smile, if a small one. Reaching up, Arisa caressed Swath's slender neck. "Swath is ideal."

I seek to be ideal, he corrected precisely. However, 'ideal' is an adaptive concept, rather than an endpoint. I will adapt with it. He craned his neck. What brought you back to Dalibor, if I may ask?



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