April 2018 Featured RPG
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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.

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Winter, 18th Turn, 11th Pass

Upcoming Flights/Runs:
Red Ingoth

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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?
Leadership
Weyrwoman
Rayna of Gold Couineth - Boo

Weyrleader
Z'dyn of Iron Baihujinth - Rhia

Jr. Weyrwoman
Jali of Copper Laanasuth - Rii

Jr. Weyrleader
Os'nin of Blue Alwanath - Aerona

Alphahandler
Norla of Bronze Norsk - Ives

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

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

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

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

Staff
Admins
Ives
Rii
Ruin

Historians

Rhia
Tobes

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Captain
Tigersilk
Credits
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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 Not One for Revelry, SU: 18 {Xialas/OPEN} During Masque Week
Catsitta
 Posted: Feb 18 2018, 06:55 PM
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Too loud. Too busy. Too excessive.

Just...too much.

Xialas would be happy when this Moon Masque ended and all returned to normal. Then he could eat in the dining hall in relative peace and quiet instead of needing to sneak his meal into a more secluded part of the cavern. He leaned against a wall and chewed a chunk of bread as he did his best to ignore the celebration going on, his knots firmly in place, his unpainted white mask shoved away from his face. He'd happily discard the thing later. For now, he would eat his dinner in a prompt manner so that he could hurry down to the infirmary. There were always tasks for an apprentice healer to take up, and even if Candidacy ate up much of his time, Xialas refused to neglect that aspect of his life. That dream. He could sleep when he was dead if it meant achieving all that he desired.

Light eyes flickered to the revelry with a mixture of discomfort and defensive scorn.

A waste. This was all a waste of time, resources and energy. A simpering, useless festivity for romantic fools. Xialas ignored the twist in his gut as he tore his gaze away from the crowd. He had to set his sights on the future. He had to accept nothing less than perfection from himself.

"Just a few more days of this nonsense," he muttered. Just a few more days and routine would return to normal. Not that he dared acknowledge how this change in the norm unsettled him, made his skin itch and his breathing hitch. A few more bites of dinner. Then he could leave.

.

OPEN



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Tobes
 Posted: Feb 21 2018, 01:59 AM
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Xialas didn’t know it yet, but he hadn’t slipped away without attracting any notice. The Candidate’s furtive snatches of food were followed by a pair of curious eyes, and after allowing a suitable amount of time for the other to get settled—or so Canterome wagered, counting the seconds out in his head—he followed. Or at least it was the persona that Canterome played that night that pursued the would-be Healer to his hidey-hole. Maybe he wouldn’t notice at first, because Canterome was very good, in his estimation, at hiding his intentions. He drifted this way and that across the cavern floor, adding tidbits to his plate as he passed drudges bearing trays of finger food, spinning to skip out of the way of a pair of dancers who seemed to have eyes only for each other. And by then it was all too easy to lean his back against the outer wall of the alcove Xialas had found, one leg crossed casually over the other, every impression of having come to rest there wholly by accident.

He hadn’t been able to hide his identity entirely, of course. Candidates’ knots were displayed at his shoulder, and if Xialas had much of a mind to remember his fellow hopefuls, it would not be hard to place one of the littlest. At only eleven turns Canterome could not help but be one of the smallest. But he had otherwise taken some pains to conceal himself from view and even play up his appearance in a way that was new and rather exciting. Over the usual long-sleeved cotton shirt was a bronze-y green sleeveless doublet, with teal trousers that bunched at the ankles. He had gone to the trouble of finding a pair of thin gloves, and the mask that covered his face, while fairly plain by the standards most of the attendees were setting, covered him chin to hairline. He slipped a tiny, one-bite bubbly pie beneath the mask, plainly eying Xialis before he spoke up.

“Not much of a partier, huh?” He liked the way wearing a mask muffled his voice, amplifying it for his own ears but distorting it for others’. He hadn’t decided why exactly he had followed Xialis to his hidey hole yet, but the night was very young indeed. There was no reason to be bored before anything really interesting had gotten started, and figuring out one of the other Candidates seemed like a good enough place to start.

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Catsitta
 Posted: Feb 21 2018, 10:31 PM
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Ignoring things rarely made them go away. Especially when that thing happened to be a person. Thus when someone lingered in Xialas' scope of vision long enough to make themselves apparent, he knew that eventually, he'd have to speak up. He refrained from huffing when the boy addressed him. At least the initiating part of the conversation was done. Blue eyes cut to the other individual and in a matter of seconds, Xialas took note of the knots and their diminutive size. He paid little heed to children most of the time, but his memory was good enough to narrow down the possibilities for this boy's identity. Not that he cared. Obviously. Given that he wasn't bothering to keep his own mask on properly as to 'hide' his face. It impaired his ability to see and eat. Another reason to dislike this pointless gathering.

Despite the twitchy bitterness threatening to spill over, Xialas flashed the boy a pearly smile that went nowhere near his eyes. It was the epitome of false nicety. "Cannot say I am," he replied, tilting his chin up, his tone light, denoting that he would rather be anywhere but here. Like he was wasting his time even bothering to eat his dinner in this room. "There is much to be done and the majority of the weyr is spending a sevenday distracting itself." Inefficient. Bothersome. A change in the pattern of the day--a deviation from a familiar, comforting rhythm. Xialas preferred rigid schedules and strict guidelines. This was frivolity at its finest.

It did nothing but aggravate his nerves.

.

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Tobes
 Posted: Feb 28 2018, 12:26 AM
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Would Xialas have thought differently of his mask had he known how much better it would have hidden his feelings? Canterome, master that he was of pretending not to see, saw many things. The smile that strained long before it touched the teen’s eyes. The way he ate like it was a chore—was it the festivity that threatened him so, or was it the act of eating? Some people wouldn’t eat in front of others if they felt nervous, he had observed as much before. The younger Candidate noted the whole set of his opponent, or companion, he had not decided which it was yet. Canterome wasn’t smiling either, but how was Xialas to know that? He was hidden, safe, and even the lampblack that darkened the rims of his eyes would obscure the wrinkle of a smile around them. And there was no real danger here, was there… just a testy boy, and a boy testing him, and not even a Candidate would think to strike a Candidate in plain sight of the whole Weyr.

“Oh? I never met a Candidate so keen to go back to shoveling dragon dung and taking orders from a cracked White.” His tone was even, a thorough deadpan. Hopefully it meant Xialas could not tell if he was being insincere or not. So if he was sympathetic to their new Weyrlingmaster—and their very particular, bossy Bonded—he wouldn’t automatically go tattling. But Xialas didn’t look the sort. Canterome devoured another tidbit, this time a salad in miniature, cradled in an endive leaf boat. He was still regarding Xialas with calm indifference. He didn’t want to push so hard that the other one got up and left. That would be boring.

“You’re… Xialas, no? The healer.” He doubted the other would be impressed by his recall, especially given the prevalence of knots that always let everyone know precisely what you were worth in the world. “You must be loving the new ‘Master, you get to see them twice as often.”

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Catsitta
 Posted: Mar 10 2018, 05:17 PM
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Xialas scoffed at the younger Candidate's words, his chin lifting in a manner that outright declared how much better he though he was than the 'brat. He had ambitions. He had goals. The worthless jibes of a kid weren't enough to phase him. Canterome was far from the first to try knocking him down a few notches with scalding words and he would be far from the last. Which was fine. He wasn't in the Candidate program to make friends with useless layabouts or petty children. Turns ago he drew a mental divide for the people in his life--the useful and the impedances.

"I have nothing but respect for any of our Candidatemasters, as should you," Xialas said, neither denying or confirming that the kid got his name right. "That one of them is a Masterhealer as well is beneficial to those of us who have the sense to realize its benefits." You wished for a recommendation for your Journeyman knots? You wanted to learn something new? You needed something for your studies? Having access to a person in your Craft was invaluable to a Candidate seeking to study on top of their other duties. "Then again, you are only, what, ten? You're too occupied with childishness to realize that hard work now builds opportunities in the future."

He took another bite of his food.

It settled no more easily in his gut.

.

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Tobes
 Posted: Apr 1 2018, 01:01 AM
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Canterome smirked beneath his mask. He read the situation well enough, he wagered—Xialas was a teenager, full of piss and vinegar anywhere that he wasn’t completely full of himself. There was little that Canterome could lord over him that would hold much sting. So far as he could tell, the older boy wouldn’t even bat an eye at knowing that he was descended from Kingriders. Now, descended from Masterhealers, maybe… but the Candidate doubted that even he could gracefully fumble his way through that bald a lie. So he would need a different tack entirely. He listened to Xialas’ rant without any rancor, only giving voice to a light little chuckle at its denouement.

“Big words from someone who wears the same knots as a ten turn-old.” Never mind that Xialas did have Apprentice knots. So did a third of the Candidates. Apprentices were thick on the ground here, in the most tolerant of Weyrs. The boy set his plate neatly on the passing tray of a drudge, swiveled to face the older boy, and pulled up the corner of his mask with one hand while pulling down at the collar of his shirt with the other. Xialas would no doubt have noticed the facial scars during their shared lesson time, but the addition of the lampblack seeping down them nearest his eye, and the even deeper scarring that started just below the collarbone, gave them a more garish look than usual. He figured Xialas wasn’t squeamish, but he was also trying to choke down his food at the same time. He sneered up at him.

“I’ll bet I know just as much of Healers as a boy tagging behind them waiting for scraps. They ever let you sew up guts before?”

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