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Attack of the Demented Rambling Greenriders From Heck


Date:  December 4, 1997
Places:  Telgar Weyr's Southern Bowl and Living Cavern
Game:  PernMUSH
Copyright Info:  The World of Pern is copyright(c) to Anne McCaffrey 
l967. The Dragonriders of Pern(r) is a registered copyright.

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Kassi's Note:  All right, so perhaps this log isn't *quite* as odd as
your typical B-movie... but between the Return of the Evil Pasta and
Aunt Mary's exploding underthings, I somehow suspect that it comes 
close.  After all of this, I'm left with one burning question:  just
how in Faranth's name does one *pronounce* Khjassim, anyway?

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The Log:

Benden LC> Jh'rin walks in from the bowl.

Benden LC> Sandar waves to Jh'rin, "Good afternoon, welcome to Telgar."

Benden LC> "Burstin' bits of Aunt Mary's undies, but it's snowing like the 
dickens out there!" That's the way Jh'rin greets life here. "Oh, yeah, 
Ista's to Telgar, right back atcha. Anyone seen a dazzling beauty named 
Kassima?"

Benden LC> Jorenan half-waves at Sandar. Then he slides a little further 
down in his chair. He blinks a little owlisly. "Isn't it evenin?" he asks. 
His words are a little slurred.

Benden LC> Sandar nods to K'ti about the klah, "I don't think M'kla made 
it. It might be a batch brought from Benden, brewed by someone named Fl... 
Fli... some strange name. I can't quite remember."

Benden LC> K'ti frowns a bit. "Iffin ye pour it an it tries t'go back up 
the spout, it's M'kla's. Or iffin it's dark enough t'be confused wi' 
between. See? Frozen underwear."

Benden LC> Alwyn suddenly looks confused at the newcomers, blinking 
somewhat. He digs into his seat, as if trying not to be noticed. He bites 
his lip as he curiously watches the new people.

You slide off of Lysseth's neck to land beside her easily. She rumbles, 
cocking her head down at you, and you rub her eyeridges gratefully.

Benden LC> Ro looks out into the bowl and freezes. After a moment she says 
"Oh my, it's past time to feed the runners." She looks at Sandar "I've got 
to go."

Ro comes out of the short tunnel from the living cavern.

Benden LC> K'ti says "Thanke.... impatient youngsters."

Ro offers a quick smile to Kassi as she dashes by.

Benden LC> Alwyn grins slightly at K'ti and sips his klah silently.

Ro walks north.

Benden LC> Jh'rin removes helmet, brushes snow off him, removes gloves, 
jumps up and down to dislodge snow from his boots. "There we go. Hey, 'zat 
klah y'got there? WHOA. Not M'kla's right? Last time I drank her brew I 
was soprano for two days."

Kassima swings down from her lifemate's ridges to land lightly in the 
snow, narrowly avoiding stepping on what remains of the blue stuff. "Dear 
Faranth, don't tell me that hasn't been covered by now," she mutters, 
eyeing the wording dubiously. "'Twould love t'be seeing Rennick's face 
if'n 'tis lasting all winter!" With a genuine laugh at that, she tosses 
off a wave to Ro and heads on into the LC. Hum-de-dum. Oblivious as ever 
is she, to everything but oddly-colored snow. Go figure.

You walk past the lintel and into the wide living cavern.

M'kla walks in from the bowl.

Pierron glances up as the weyrsecond enters.

M'kla grouses as she arrives behind the younger greenrider, "Nay, tis NOT 
my KLAH! Sharding fool won't let me near the klahpot." She graces Pierron 
with the evil look.

Jh'rin turns and sweeps a bow at M'kla. "Weyrsecond, it's fine as can be 
to see y...uh...you." He stammers when he sees Kassima, see. "Uh."

Alwyn blinks at Jh'rin, grinning even. Wow, just like that, the rider 
brings Wyn out of his shell. He tips his mug in Jh'rin's direction. Then 
blinks furiously as he glances at M'kla's entrance.

M'kla smirks and makes her way past the young man to have a seat at the 
Weyrleader's table.

K'ti crosses her arms and just seems to growl at the table. She then picks 
up a roll and tears some of the bread off it.

"Y'know, that artwork of Josiah's is the longest-lasting thing of its sort 
that I've seen in all m'days," Kassi can be heard to call as she walks 
into the LC, her eyes still on the Bowl behind her. As such, she narrowly 
avoids being run into by M'kla. "Ach, sorry, Weyrsecond! I didn't mean 
t'be--" Turning her head to watch the grousing one progress into the room, 
she catches sight of Jh'rin in the room and does a double-take. It's a 
good thing she hasn't had anything to drink, or it'd be a double spit-take 
for sure. "Jh'rin? You're... uh... here?" Her articulateness is a match 
for his, oh yes.

Jh'rin shuffles his feet, digs his hands in his pocket, and looks more 
sheepish than a herd of ovines. "Uh."

K'ti says "Kassi, Benden was cold. This is inanely cold. Even 
th'firelizards don't dare curl up fer a nap fer fear o'freezin t'the 
perch. Put blue snow out there, an it's gonna last fer unenviable TURNS."

K'ti balls up that bit of roll and launches it straight at the fireplace.

"Aye, but 'twas thinking 'twould be covered over by now... 'tis snowing 
again, y'know," Kassi remarks faintly, without looking away from the Istan 
Wingsecond. "Ah... well. Care t'sit down? 'Twould save me needing t'stare 
up at you, because if'n y'don't mind, I rather feel like sitting of a 
sudden." Which she does, of course. After a moment's pause, she asks, 
"Chymeth says that V'dan says 'twere looking for me...?" She never *could* 
stay speechless very long.

Alwyn raises a brow as he watches Jh'rin and grins again. It weren't for 
his boots, Wyn would be on the floor by now from trying to make himself 
seen. He quickly uprights himself on the seat and with wide eyes he 
watches the new people continue to come in. He shakes his head and goes 
back to his klah.

K'ti balls up yet another bit of roll and launches it rightly, with a bit 
of a wing of the elbow.

Jh'rin bounces on the balls of his feet. "So, yer not feelin' too good, 
huh?" he asks, looking at Kassima closely. Oh, he's noticed Alwyn, yep. 
But he's pretty much riveted to the spot by speaking to the lady whom he 
came to see. "Uh. I heard you, uh, that is, Kassima, yer...ah...you got a 
loaf o' bread risin'."

R'val enters from the Bowl.

R'val wanders into the living cavern with an idle wave, "Evenin', gang."

K'ti pauses then puts the roll onto the table. She pulls her bootknife out 
and *thunks* it right through the roll, pinning it to the table before 
tearing off another chunk and thwwwipping it towards the fire.

M'kla snorts a bit, and summons a drudge to find something from the 
foodstuffs that's edible.

Kassima tilts her head back to regard the tall Istan, quirking up an 
eyebrow. "Been better, but at least 'tis nay the right time of day that 
I'm at risk of retching, so it could easily be said that I've also been 
worse." Smiling a bit at the euphemism, she simply remarks, "Your 
messenger has a big mouth... but he told you true, aye."

D'thon walks in from the bowl.

M'kla mutters, "Faranth save us all from Thread and Kassima's Spawn."

Jh'rin, running his fingers through his hair, finally says, "I'm, uh, that 
is, I, uh, well, y'see, I, uh." Grin. "Sorry."

D'thon leaves a trail of remarkably clean melting slush from the entrance 
to the klah pot. Pouring himself a mug and saluting the riders, he 
suddenly notices a particular one and raises an eyebrow. He seats himself 
nearby, ears already pricking up in interest.

K'ti says "I didn't think there were 'nuff water left t'be gittin ye of 
all people preggers, Kassi."

Jh'rin then blinks and adds, "I didn't mean sorry, I mean, sorry's a 
bloody horrible thing t'say after y've impregnated someone, I guess I mean 
I'm sorry that it...no, not sorry that it happened but sorry that, well, 
if it's an inconveniance, why, I'm really sorry, but shards and shells, 
Kassima, if it's what y'want, that's grand, 'cause I love kids, got three 
already, always happy t'make more...'cept...uh, well, y'know."

Alwyn grins still and watches Jh'rin talk to Kassi. His eyes twinkle even, 
as he looks at his hands as he counts off how many times Jh'rin says 'uh'. 
He tilts his head at Kassi curiously again, then looks back to Jh'rin, 
then a wave of realization goes over him, and nods, understanding, or at 
least so he thinks.

Kassima quirks an eyebrow at the first sorrying, looking rather surprised, 
and subsequently confused by the long follow-up to the statement. Still, 
she's always been good at following rambling. She has to be. Couldn't 
understand herself if she weren't, you know. "There's nay cause for being 
sorry, Jh'rin, i'truth--I mean, nay unless you *are* sorry that it 
happened, in which case I suppose I am too, but since I'm nay, I don't 
think you've any cause t'be, really. Took me awhile t'get accustomed to 
the idea--but I think I rather like it now, the notion of being a mother 
again. Though I really *will* have t'bludgeon K'rick for putting Water in 
that cider he gave me when I went to collect that wine from him, but I 
digress...." So what else is new? "I think what I'm saying is that I'm nay 
sorry if'n you aren't, though i'truth, I'm nay certain I can make enough 
sense of what I just said t'be sure." She tries a tentative grin, and 
quips drolly to K'ti, "Never accept a drink from a rider at Benden when 
you're going to collect winnings from him, m'friend."

Jh'rin peers at Kassima during this diatribe and offers, "Anyone ever tell 
ya that y'ramble? Hard t'follow a rambler."

D'thon's eyebrows raise slightly, and he hides his grin behind a long pull 
on his klah.

K'ti throws another piece of roll into the fireplace with a good hard toss 
and mutters, "Wunnerful, we've got th'greenriders willin t'be takin over 
fer the Bronzes in the baby makin competitions. Conception races next?"

Jh'rin looks over his shoulder at K'ti and says with an unabashed grin, 
"Why, y'interested, bluerider?"

Kassima's grin broadens at that, and she shrugs. "Been told a time or two, 
aye." Or three, or four, or five... thousand. "Runs in the family. You're 
nay bad at that rambling business yourself, y'know."

K'ti says "Sure.. why not. I need a bit of adventure t'me life."

Jorenan looks a little stunned by Jh'rin and Kassi's conversation. It's 
not the subject matter, it wouldn't appear. He's been around Weyrs long 
enough that that doesn't bother him. It's the sheer garrulity of it. He 
slouches out of his chair and into a standing position, and shambles over 
to the food table. There, after a long moment of blitheringly idiotic 
staring, he starts picking up bits of food and putting them on a plate.

Jh'rin winks at K'ti and remarks, "I'll get back to y'on that, m'lady. 
That's 'my lady,' which would be you, as opposed to 'malady,' which I 
believe would be me." Back to Kassima now. "So, Kassima, is there anything 
I can do for ya? Since I've apparently done enough TO ya."

Alwyn blinks slightly and grins, quietly listening the going's on of the 
living cavern.

Jh'rin mumbles, "Other than being here for t'birth..."

D'thon coughs slightly, his eyes dancing. He takes another gulp of klah.

R'val glances at Jh'rin with a faintly amused smile and turns back to his 
meal.

K'ti quirks up one side of her face. She mutters, "S'my imagination or are 
th'riders these days gittin t'have more balls'n annathing ever dreamt of?"

R'val whispers sidelong to K'ti. "S'your imagination."

Kassima laughs and suggests, "Y'could join me for a mug of cider, mayhaps, 
if'n you've the time? Weird company's always welcome, and methinks you fit 
in that catagory. Beyond that... ach, well, 'tis up t'you; I'd nay ask 
aught of you. 'Specially nay now that the Weyrleader's gifted me with a 
servant, though I do have t'share him with the other greenriders." She 
blinks at K'ti, coughs, and offers absolutely no comment.

K'ti looks over at R'val and snorts. "Great, thanks. S'all I need t'know. 
World O Pern! I am a senile ol' bent over rider wi' out a word t'the wind. 
A few too manna betweens fer the brain an all. Thankye."

R'val winks at K'ti, "You're not senile dear!"

Jh'rin looks confused, not unusual for him, and sits down. "Mind if I 
sit?" he asks after the fact.

Telgar Weyr> R'val fears. Kassima, you have a /servant/?

Kassima shakes her head and informs K'ti, quite sincerely, "You're only as 
crazy as all riders are to a degree. 'Tis something t'be proud of, 
methinks!" Unsurprising, considering who it's coming from. "Nay, nay 
'tall. 'Twas what 'twas hoping you'd do; now 'twill nay get a crick in 
m'neck peering up at you. Sit, sit. Partake of food and drink, if'n you 
care to."

Telgar Weyr> Kassima ayeps! Kiat kindly set H'tor on drudgery duty for 
myself, J'lyn, and several other greenriders. :)

Telgar Weyr> R'val erms. If I may ask, why? :)

Telgar Weyr> R'val says, "Aside from the obvious reason being cruel and 
unusual punishment ;)"

Telgar Weyr> M'kla says, "So I wouldn't eviserate the man for them?"

Telgar Weyr> Kassima points to the log labelled 'The Defiance and 
Punishment of a Bronzerider' on her log-page. Read for yourself. :)

Jh'rin grins a bit weakly. "I'm not too, ah...my appetite's gone."

Michael walks in from the bowl.

K'ti pulls a bit of bread from the roll, or more like a bit of roll from 
the bread and throws it hard towards the fire.

Michael shudders a bit from the cold as he wanders in.

K'ti pops the rest of the roll into her mouth and reaches for another one 
to torture. She puts it onto the desk and *THUNKS* her knife into it.

K'ti frowns a little then pulls the knife fromt he roll. Satisfying 
enough.. she does it again, hard.

Both black brows arch upwards at that. "Ah, really? A true shame. Now's 
the only time of day I can even touch food, m'self. Speaking of which...." 
Kassi beckons V'dan over and details for him exactly what it is she wants 
for dinner. The poor sot gulps, but nods and dashes off. When he returns, 
he's trying to juggle three plates full of food. "You'll nay mind if'n I 
have a wee snack, will you? Duties to the Healer Hall and her Masters, 
Healer!" she belatedly hails the newcomer.

Jh'rin turns at the last from Kassima and blinks. "Master Michael? What in 
the name of the twin moons're y'doing here?"

R'val blinks, "Master Michael!" He echoes Jh'rin, grinning, "Good to see 
you again."

Maylia walks in from the bowl.

D'thon quickly rises - "Ben - uh, Telgar's duties."

Alwyn takes a red fruit and does his usual thing, carving it as if a wood 
crafter. He glances to R'val and blinks again. New people every other 
minute. Simply amazed, Alwyn quietly eats his red fruit.

Maylia hurries into the living cavern in the company of several other 
weyrlings, and a flurry of salutes ensue as the group encounters various 
riders. Most head over to a table on their own, while Maylia finds herself 
a bowl of stew and a mug of hot klah.

Michael says "Lusani brought me."

Jh'rin ohhs and nods. Grins. "Lusani did, huh? Well, good."

Michael nods, "She was coming to visit her mother."

K'ti hacks at the roll agian then just leaves it to crumbs at the table. 
The bootknife goes away finally.

D'thon seats himself again, folding his hands and just watching... and 
listening.

Kassima winces. Whether it's at the salute or the temperature of the cream 
of mushroom soup she just put in her mouth, Faranth only knows. "Evening, 
mentee," she offers to Maylia once she's managed to swallow. Curious, she 
looks back over to the Istans. "Lusani? Oh... blue Myndirth's. Methinks 
she's been here visiting relatives ere this. Is there aught we can do for 
you, Master?" she inquires, the very picture of formality, inasmuch as any 
person surrounded by food can be so.

Jorenan has been piling food, very very slowly, onto his plate this whole 
time. He pauses when something topples off of the pile, considers the 
plate for a lllllloooonnng moment, and then turns to go back toward his 
seat.

Jh'rin tells Kassima sotto voce, "Lusani's my half-sister, Kassima."

Kassima ohhhhs, and grins. "Daughter of that gilded biscuit-baker 'twere 
mentioning a'fore?" she surmises.

"Something like that." Jh'rin rubs the back of his neck wearily. "Hey, can 
I ask y'when yer due?"

Michael grins wickedly, "Oh I'm sure R'val will be able to help me."

R'val blinks at Michael, "Errm. I'll try, Master. How can I help ya?"

Somewhere in the background Pierron goes mildly hysterical, directing 
kitchen girls left and right as he bemoans the waste of food and the mess 
on the floor.

"If'n anyone can ask that, methinks 'twould be you. 'Tis about six months 
and... ten days or so," Kassima answers after a swift mental calculation. 
"Give or take a few. If'n y'truly intend t'be here, Jh'rin, then I make a 
pledge here and now on Lysseth's egg that I won't kill you, nay matter how 
much I might threaten. Ask Garant sometime. If'n I never killed *him*, 
there's nay anyone I'd kill."

Michael smiles, "We're gonna make Jumina mad at us."

R'val blinks at Michael, "Erm. We are?"

Jh'rin ahhhhs, "Well, Kassima, I, uh, that is, I got this little problem, 
see."

D'thon leans forward, expression intent. Things certainly are becoming 
interesting.

Alwyn frowns at something, and bites his lip. He downs his klah and stands 
up. He rubs his hands and leaves the living cavern for the inner cavern, 
nodding slightly to everyone.

Jh'rin leans close. He mutters to Kassima, "... have this tendency to 
faint at... sight of blood."

Alwyn walks towards the inner cavern.

The apprentice baker, oblivious to Pierron's dithering, just continues his 
way towards food. At this point, he's working on remembering that he sat 
down, that there is a plate in front of him, and that the next thing to do 
is probably to eat some of it.

Michael nods, "Ayup. I haven't raided Telgar's stillroom in months, and 
its their turn to be plundered."

Maylia dashes, with her bowl of stew and mug of klah, out of Pierron's 
way, throwing a stunned look over her shoulder in his general direction. 
Her path takes her towards her mentor, who this time gets a smile instead 
of a salute.

Michael almost looks like a pirate as he explains himself.

R'val grins at MIchael, "Allright. How can I help you with that?"

Michael sits down near his former craftsman, and says "Draw closer me' 
boyo an' I'll tell ye what we're a gonna do."

Kassima adds, "Though don't spread that particular fact around, if'n 
y'please; 'twould make it much harder t'threaten revenge on certain 
folk... oh?" Leaning over to catch the greenrider's words, she ahs and 
nods in comprehension. "Might make things a touch difficult, aye. Well, 
'tis understandable." She quirks a crooked grin, and shakes her head. 
"Shall I send word by fire-lizard, then, when the babe's born and the 
coast is clear, so t'speak?"

R'val leans towards Michael, expression curious.

M'kla calls suddenly, "So, lass...got any ideas for names yet?" She looks 
towards Kassima and Jh'rin.

Shaking his head, Jh'rin answers, "No, no, I'd like t'be here just not 
with ya, in the flesh'r something."

Michael begins whispering to R'val and glancing around occasionally.

Jh'rin blinks. "Names?" You mean they have to name the kid?

D'thon's eyes widen slightly, and he grins to the nearby R'val. "If I 
might render assistance, sir..."

Michael breaks off his conspiring as Jh'rin's conversation sinks in.

"Well, 'twould certes be all right by me. Mayhaps you could convince the 
peanut gallery t'be staying outside with you this time so that I won't 
have t'be threatening t'castrate them all too." Laughing, Kassi looks up 
and blinks at M'kla. "Names? Eh, nay, Weyrsecond; can't say's I've thought 
about that part yet. Should start with K, a'course. The best names do." 
Biased? Her? Nahhhhhhh.

Michael groans, "Don't tell me you've done it again Jh'rin."

Michael sighs, "At least its not in my Weyr this time."

Jh'rin gulps. "It was an accident," he assures Michael. "There was this 
wine, see, and teasing, and Kassima made me this bet about her...ah, well. 
Never mind." He effects a sweet grin.

R'val glances at D'thon curiously, "Hm?"

M'kla chuckles grandmaternally.

Maylia takes a seat, attention first on the conspiring pair, then as she 
can't make out a word, on the prospect of the name of Kassi's child. "Any 
thoughts now?" she asks, "just off the top of your head?"

"Won, too," Kassi quips, hiding a grin behind a forkful of cheese-noodles.

Michael mutters to R'val, "Remeber... lectures... value... a... from... 
things... happen?"

R'val mutters to Michael, "Oh yes,... to do... more than a few..."

Jh'rin thbbts. "Well, at least I won the double-down part of the bet. And 
yeah, I'd say K's a fine initial. Khorin? No? Uh. Khjor? HEE. Like that 
one."

D'thon shrugs. "Just wondered if you needed any help with whatever 
clandestine efforts are afoot, sir."

R'val hrms at D'thon, "I don't know just yet...Michael's the mastermind 
here."

Michael mutters to R'val, "Good.... that... going to go... it."

Jorenan discovers that he's put some of the dreaded cheese-noodles on his 
plate. He takes up a forkful, and then stares at them with apprehension. 
Being noodles, they kinda flop around and splatter some while he's looking 
at them. A steady fork is too much to expect from him right now.

R'val blinks, He mutters to Michael, "Who... we..." 

Michael shakes his head, "I appreciate the offer, but this is a healer 
thing. I wouldn't want to get you in trouble."

R'val coughs softly, "Err. Michael, I'm not /really/ a healer anymore..."

Michael mutters to R'val, "... of... think... going... let me..."

Kassima wrinkles her nose, and returns the pthbting soundly. "I still 
think you cheated. Let's pick something pronounceable, eh? So that the 
weyrkids won't be having t'pick some sharding awful nickname for him. Or 
her. Could be a her, y'know." Out of the corner of her eye, she watches 
Jorenan experience the wonder that is Cheese-Noodles.

Michael says "Once a healer, always a healer."

Jorenan sniffs the cheese-noodles suspiciously. Which is not surprising, 
considering that they were right next to the bread pudding and there's an 
interesting co-mingling going on there. Nutmeg? And noodles? Hmmmmmm.

R'val mutters to Michael, "Well,... know...should... go..."

Telgar Weyr> Kassima .o0(Cheese-Noodles II: The Pasta of Satan Returns?)

Telgar Weyr> M'kla giggles!

Maylia turns her attention towards the Master and R'val, her ear caught by 
the repetition of the word healer. "Sir?" She asks, half rising. "I'd be 
willing to help, if you need it."

Jh'rin swings his legs like a 10-Turn-old and asks, "Well, it's gonna be a 
boy, y'know. I got three already. I just got a lot of maleness to my...
y'know. Maleness."

Telgar Weyr> Jorenan laughs. "I wonder if Jorenan will remember this in 
the morning."

M'kla eyes Jh'rin at that comment, and then laughs. Perhaps a touch 
overloud and overlong.

Telgar Weyr> D'thon shakes his head... Voices from the Pasta

Michael snorts, He mutters to R'val, "Don't... We... this... the... that 
Jithan... them quite... bit... left it... favors... return." 

R'val looks dubious. He mutters to Michael, "If... Michael.... do... do, 
hm?" 

"Aye," quips Kassi sweetly, "I know. But I've a daughter m'self, and 
m'family runs to women, so mayhaps we'll be seeing, hmmm? Nay that I'd 
object to a boy. I've always said that I don't care what gender m'children 
are, so long as they're healthy and can kick the rump of certain 
brownrider-spawn. 'Sa long story. D'you have any ideas, M'kla?" she asks 
of the cackling Weyrsecond.

Jh'rin mutters, "I thought Khjor was kinda nifty."

Kassima assures, "Oh, 'tis. But it already sounds half like an honorific. 
'Sides, there should be some t'choose from; what if'n he just doesn't 
*look* like a Khjor?"

Jh'rin offers brightly, "Then he can be a Khjassim? Or...or a Khjim? Or..a 
Randy."

M'kla eyes the youngster with a cool eye.

Michael thanks Maylia but declines. "Wouldn't want to get a weyrling in 
trouble now would I?"

R'val smiles apologetically at Maylia.

Jh'rin feels M'kla's stare the way rocks feel sunlight on a summer 
afternoon.

D'thon makes a face. "Ah, shells, I guess you're right sir."

At the equator.

An elderly brownrider who's been eavesdropping shamelessly on the entire 
conversation drawls, none-too-quietly, "'Randy' sounds like it'd be more 
fittin' th'sire than th'kid."

Jh'rin can't help grinning at that. Until he looks at Kassima. Then he 
sinks lower in his seat and just smirks.

Michael mutters to R'val, "... the... Caverns.... take... I've got... 
all... and... the fireweed... need is."

Maylia smiles and shrugs to Michael, not too put off by the refusal. 
"Perhaps another time, then." The spate of unpronouncable names catches 
her attention, and once again her eyes bounce back to Kassi and Jh'rin. 
"If I may, have you considered something simple like Karin?" she suggests 
quietly.

R'val mutters to Michael, "But... know where... are."

D'thon shakes his head. "Nada, May. Too normal for them."

Jh'rin uhs, "I have a Jarin already. I think. Yeah, I do."

Kassima considers those names for a good moment, absently throwing a roll 
over her shoulder and beaning that brownrider straight in the head. 
"Sounds about like how m'relatives name their kids, though they use more 
vowels. Khjim might work. Or Khassorin, or Khriassin, or something." She 
casts a surprised look at her mentee, repeating, "Something simple?" You'd 
think the idea had never occured to her.

M'kla chuckles again, "Aye...t'should be Kassorina or somethin..."

Michael mutters to R'val, "I... together... while. She's... office... saw 
Marrha... infirmary just as... checking... a patient."

R'val mutters to Michael.

Jh'rin laughs out loud at M'kla, snork on the end of the laugh and 
everything. "Sounds like a hot cereal."

Maylia grins lopsidedly towards D'thon, and nods agreement. "Good point." 
Kassi's reaction only proves the point.

Michael pulls an old wineskin out of his bag and hands it to R'val.

M'kla says "Aye, but better than a harper's bagpipe with the guts slit..."

R'val takes it, blinking.

Ofira walks here from the Inner Cavern.

Ofira comes in, smiling tiredly and waves, "'Evening all."

Michael mutters to R'val, "... need... wine. Wait,..."

Kassima seems to be getting into this whole name-game business. 
"Khoriassiman, mayhaps!" she offers brightly, then frowns. "Nay, nay. Too 
blasted long... ach, now, M'kla! 'Tis certes nay as bad as all of *that*? 
I suppose shorter *might* be better...."

Michael pulls out a second wineskin and stands up.

Jorenan is still sniffing a forkful of cheese-noodles. There is a fixed 
frown on his face. One might think he's never seen noodles before. Or a 
fork, for that matter. There is a quiet mutter of "Nutmeg??" from his 
general direction.

M'kla grins some, "Aye...specially if ye hope to shorten it yet again in 
an honorific."

Jh'rin pipes up, "My son'll be a rider. And my daughter Masterharper 
o'Pern. Or Vice Versa. 'Course, I haven't got a daughter yet." He peers 
closely at Kassima's stomach, inquisitive.

Michael says in a rather loud voice. "No R'val, I tell you the Benden 
pressing from the upper slopes was far better than the lower slopes for 
that year."

Ofira looks around the busy room and finds a seat near R'val, looking over 
curiously to see what her apprentice is sniffing.

D'thon looks very serious. He mock-whispers to Maylia - "Maybe they should 
call the kid Kasserole. If it's as half-baked as either of its parents, 
that is."

R'val glances at Ofira, a bit lost, and then smiles dazedly at Michael, 
"Uhm. Uhm. No, Michael, I'm quite sure the lower slopes are better, nicer 
bouquet..."

Maylia slaps her hand over her own mouth, eyes bugging out as she nearly 
cackles with laughter.

Jh'rin glances at D'thon. "Y'know, Weyrling...nothin' says y'gotta 
graduate when yer dragon's old enough. Y'can be drinkless and womanless 
and privacyless fer all eternity...and yer weyrlingmaster used t'be my 
lover, so. Mind yerself."

Jh'rin does not add incriminating details, by the way.

Michael looks around, "There's a goodly number of people here. Why don't 
we ask them?"

The fact that Master Ofira is staring at him finally draws Jorenan's 
attention away from the mixed-up cheese-noodles. He blinks at her slowly, 
and then grins. A little too widely. "Evenin' ma'am!" he says brightly.

D'thon looks left and right, and suddenly seems rather uncomfortable.

"Is *that* what that is?" Kassi asks of Jorenan in surprise, keen ears 
picking up the mutter. "I thought 'twas just something in the cheese." 
Catching the direction of Jhor's gaze, she simply shrugs, and laughs. 
"Don't be asking me! Lysseth refuses t'say a thing. Nay even so much as a 
hint. 'Twas the same with Kay, y'know... hey! D'thon, I am *nay* half-
baked. I'm a third baked at most. Ask anyone."

Telgar Weyr> K'ti says, "Jim-Kassi, then later we'll have Jim-bob, and 
Jim-klah. ;)"

Ofira says quietly to R'val, as Michael looks away from him, "Who's that? 
And whatever are you discussing?" She smiles at Jorenan, "'Evening. 
What've you got there?"

Michael says "What say you all, Is the Benden pressing for the last turn 
of the just ended interval better from the upper or lower slopes?"

R'val murmurs to Ofira, 'This is Master Michael of the healer craft, 
Ofira. WE're..erm..talking about wine..." He blinks at Michael, "No, it 
isn't."

Telgar Weyr> Kassima says, "Jim-Kassi-Billy-Bo-Bob-Rae-Cyrus, maybe? ;)"

Jh'rin gets to his feet reluctantly, stretches backward until his spine 
cracks, and grumbles, "I gotta get back. Dawn sweeps t'morrow. With 
L'tan." GRIN. "See y'in a few days t'check on ya, Kassima, m'love?"

Telgar Weyr> Jehran . o O (Ahhhhh! Make it stop!! :)

Ofira blinks and says rather quietly, "Tillek is better than either, 
really."

This answer from Kassi, combined with the uncomfortable look on D'thon's 
face, only sends Maylia into further gales of laughter.

Telgar Weyr> Richenda says, "Bubba-Bo-Bob-Brain."

Telgar Weyr> Kassima can somehow see any son of Kassi's as a three-inch-
tall mouse with ambitions to conquer the world, and that scares her.

Jorenan considers Ofira's question solemnly. "Cheese-noodles, ma'am." He 
looks at them again. They're swinging back and forth a little as they hang 
from his fork. "It's the nutmeg," he explains carefully, as if it all 
should make sense now.

Michael says "Surely you can spare a moment, Jh'rin. Will just take couple 
of sips and a few words of yea or nay."

Jh'rin peers at Michael. "Uh, what?"

Ofira looks back at Jorenan and his fork. "Nutmeg?" she inquires.

Kassima grins up at the greenrider, and salutes him with a forkful of the 
cheese-noodles, nutmeg or no. "You're more'n welcome t'be visiting 
whenever y'wish it, Jh'rin, for all of me. Say, don't suppose you could be 
bringing any of those citrus-fruits I hear are more common 'round Ista 
with you?" She gives Jh'rin the puppy-dog eyes, which she does fairly well 
for all that there's never been a green-eyed puppy-dog.

Michael holds up his wineskin, "We need opinions on wine, Jh'rin, or R'val 
will give me no end about Benden's lower slopes."

Jh'rin, grinning at Kassima, gives her a kiss on the cheek. "You bet, 
sweeting. No, really, Master Mike, I gotta get back t'Ista, and wine right 
now'd cloud my brain."

Ofira looks back at R'val now. "YOu will? I didn't know you knew much 
about wines. " She says a bit more loudly in the healer's direction, 
"Tillek is better than either."

K'ti cleans up the battered bread and sneaks off to the side to gather a 
wineskin. Thusly armed, she heads off into the snowy night, grumbling 
about cold, frozen underwear and beltbuckles that'd stick to tongues.

K'ti walks down the short tunnel and out into the bowl.

Jorenan gestures with the fork. Never mind that there are noodles with a 
little remaining sauce on said fork. "Aye, ma'am. See, they were with the 
bread pudding on my plate, and then they got mixed up, and now they're 
nutmeg. I think that'll be good. With..." he frowns, and the fork comes to 
rest on the table, noddles and all. "A meat sauce, I think."

Michael nods, "Very well. But surely the rest of you will aid me in this?"

R'val hrms, "I'll do it, Master..."

Ofira looks a bit more closely at Jorenan. "Come here please apprentice."

Titus walks in from the kitchen.

Kassima beams a smile bright enough to light the room without any help 
from glows. "Then you've m'eternal gratitude, dearheart. Hmmm? Oh, sorry, 
Master. I'm nay t'be drinking, or the Healers here will have m'hide."
Jehran walks in from the bowl.

Michael says "Tut, tut, R'val. We know what you'll say. And young lady 
thats as may be, but we are comparing Benden's, not Tillek."

Jorenan sets his fork on his plate with utmost care. Never mind that he's 
left a trail of sauce on the table already. He stands up and makes his way 
over to Ofira. "Aye, ma'am?" he asks politely. He's trying to make his 
voice sound completely normal. "Is there something I can get you?"

Jh'rin walks down the short tunnel and out into the bowl.