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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 nine years.

Winter, 18th Turn, 11th Pass

Upcoming Flights/Runs:
Red Ingoth

Upcoming Hatchings:

Winter is in full swing as the Northwest reaches the middle stages of the cold month, and Dalibor, taking full advantage of a crackdust filled break in Threadfall, is back at it again. Delving into the Southern ice and snow, they have paired with Grove Weyr to fully explore the lands they only slightly uncovered the previous turn during the Jungle Expedition. This, however, will not be a warm and relaxing waltz through the woods; although was it ever that to begin with?
Rayna of Gold Couineth - Boo

Z'dyn of Iron Baihujinth - Rhia

Jr. Weyrwoman
Jali of Copper Laanasuth - Rii

Jr. Weyrleader
Os'nin of Blue Alwanath - Aerona

Norla of Bronze Norsk - Ives

Oreanda of Bronze Osk & Blue Oresk - Ruin
Der of Grey Desk - Rii

K'ton of Blue Ironth- Jenn
S'vor of Green Absinth - Ruriko
Nia of Pink Koeneth - Catsitta

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

Ulian of White Rivath - Ruin
Zanii of Black Zansk - Leo





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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 Loose Tongues Become Loose Ends., Traditionalist Execution [TW:Death]
 Posted: Jun 22 2017, 09:25 AM

N/A Posts


Did Aderyn want to be there?

Of sharding course not. She had far more useful things to do with her time than watch some filthy, horrid, miserable traitors get the fate they earned.

But. It was an event. A political one. An opportunity to put on public display a sign of her unwavering, unflinching support of her Weyr (yes, hers). And, though it was hardly ladylike to admit it, and the girl would go to her grave before she let a hint of the truth show on her face—there was something viscerally satisfactory about watching their demise, their public, wretched failure and abysmal fate trotted out for display for their grim witness.

Serves you right. She thought bitterly, disgusted. They had destroyed eggs. Aderyn’s eyes were squarely on the position of Headwoman—Weyrwomen had far too much fuss and bother on their plates to really enjoy, and everyone knew queen dragons were bratty children to be minded (respected and adored, of course, but minded) and naturally if she did Impress it would have only been to a queen—but she held a holder’s near-awe for dragons and their kind. Something almost like a flicker of sympathy flitted through her (cold, evil) heart as she watched the generally solemn-faced riders grip one who had formerly been one of their own. Not for the girl herself, of course, but for the others.

She did her best to look brave and tragic. No one was looking at her, of course—a thought that rankled, even if she understood why—but perhaps they would remember, in those grim moments when they didn’t want to think of what else had happened, the periphery, the delicate and yet courageous member of the weyrfolk who had stood by her people, faced what had to be faced because she just cared so much, even though it was just, so, horrible.

She had arrived, of course, with a bronzerider. She did her best, in most cases, to project a picture of equal-support for all the dragon colors—her dearest twin, after all, rode green, and she had nothing but lofty praises for every rock his foot passed over—but when push came to shove, she always somehow (by accident or happenstance, to outside appearances, surely) to find a seat on bronze or brown.

And speaking of brown…

Oh for shell’s sake, you sharding, thread-blinded fool! The horrified thought crossed her mind, horror for the potential loss of a great beast, and horror at the stupidity of a fool who would rush in to certain death for a murdering traitor. But she was rescued, at the last, and deciding that the imminent danger was past, Aderyn let out a gasping, faint quail, and swooned, ever so gently, against T’yandon. “Oh,” She gasped in apology, doing her best to look frail and brave, with the whisper hushed in deference to the solemnity of the moment, as though she were torn to speak at all as she looked up through long, artfully lidded lashes, “I am so sorry, wingleader…I, it’s just so…” She trailed off, swallowing and looking away before heroically turning to face it, though she trembled as words, seemingly, failed her.

But she was calculating, as always. Things unrelated to wings and riders and executions. Surely a wingleader had a say in who would become Headwoman. And surely a wingleader would pick someone who cared so bravely about the wellbeing of its people. But the thought persisted underneath the scheming, though she refused at first to acknowledge even its existence…would she have stepped out, into the Edge, for D’yn?

It took all her self-control not to snort.

Of course not.

D’yn wouldn’t be so sharding stupid to get himself tied up out there in the first place.
 Posted: Jun 27 2017, 07:48 PM
Jr. Weyrwoman

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T'yandon had good reflexes. So when the young woman next to him wavered and then wilted over against him like an Istan flower exposed to a Telgar blizzard, he extended an arm to catch her. Trembling and soft, apparently. If that was the case, he wondered why in the blazes she would have come out to an execution, of all things. Bravado without substance to back it up was a hollow and useless thing.

"An execution may not have been the wisest thing for you to attend, Miss," he informed her with implacable calm. Oh yes. It was oh so courageous to show up to watch criminals get eaten by Thread and then keel over halfway through. The bronzerider preferred people who didn't cause extra trouble for other people just to make a point.

He wondered what Z'dyn was going to have to say to his just-rescued brownrider. Something between what the shards were you thinking and I know how you feel but don't do it again, if he had his guess. His former-wingsecond-now-Weyrleader was a hardass, but his heart wasn't made of stone no matter what rumor said. They'd work it out, one way or another.

He glanced down at Aderyn again, lifting one eyebrow slightly. "Are you going to be alright until this is over, or do you need to leave now?"

Don't you just have a way with the ladies.

Young enough to be my daughter, not going there.

That matters?

Not interested in whatever she is, Ietermath. Forget it.



The rumbling, distressed croons of her dragon vibrated through her body, like the purr of a feline bigger than the biggest jungle cat. It was the first thing to penetrate the fog of her grief, that and the press of his mind against hers.


Yes of course, he answered her quickly. She could feel his confusion, his fear, and it was a knife in her battered heart to go with the scar of the one that had gone into her back. He couldn't understand. She'd nearly condemned him to die, how could he possibly understand why?

But I do, I think, he answered quietly, expanding his voice just enough to share with Toleth's rider, as well. Their own little bubble of dragons and riders which no other was allowed to penetrate. You shared your heart with her like I do with you. But it has never been half and half, the way you liked to say. You divided it into three, that's all.

"I was s'posed to protect her," Elly finally muttered brokenly. "They twisted her up, and broke her, and made her into what she's not, and it got her killed, all because I didn't keep my word to her. 'Cause I didn't see she still needed it." She took a shuddering gulp of a breath. She had those few precious moments where their fingers were tangled about one another's and she'd been able to see her sister in Dora's eyes. Sister, it still echoed in her ears. Mine.

"My choices brought her t' Dalibor. They brought her here." She looked up at him finally, blue eyes filled with the dull, unrelenting agony of guilt. "How do you even live with that? What've I got left, 'cept Maery? S'like he said. Divided m'self into three, and it feels like two-thirds of that's gone."

Her arm came up to wrap around his shoulder, to tighten and hold them closer together so he couldn't let her go. "Thought you went away," she whispered. "How'd you end up coming all the way up here?"

Faranth, she just wanted to go somewhere without eyes. To huddle up like a wounded beast in a hole. But that would mean letting go of the only solid person that seemed to be left, and there was nothing left in the world to induce her to do so when it might end with him disappearing again, too.



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