Post by FACELESS on Dec 1, 2007 23:54:46 GMT -5
WE ARE THE SOLDIERS OF MISFORTUNE
The real story begins seven hundred turns ago, prior to the development of Elysium Weyr, and in the wake of destruction, with only ominous events on the horizon. It was a time of crisis in Pern, not just for the riders, but everyone. The Weyrs of Northern Pern had fallen, and yet, life still went on- the Southern Weyrs becoming more prosperous, growing larger and more extravagant, a representation of victory over Thread, the natural enemy of the dragonriders, a five hundred turn period, free from the menace of Threadfall.
It was quite an accomplishment, and though it had eliminated the dragonriders' original purpose, to keep Pern safe, the riders changed from mere guardians and defenders, to a more diplomatic breed, taking up the role of peace-keepers between the Weyrs and Holds, and each generation of riders became more fluent and well-rounded than the last, picking up crafts and honing talents that their predecessors never obtained, for their time spent was on forever watching the skies.
Many of the Holders spoke of the dragonriders no longer being necessary. Without Thread, they were occupation-less. Judgment on whether Tithing the Weyrs continously for what seemed to be no service had been called into question many times over. But still, the Holds were in debt to the Weyrs, and the dragonriders never forgot to remind them who it was that risked their lives to save them from being burnt alive by Thread, which had kept the Holds in order. Even if sometimes, it was a grudging understanding between them.
Clutches had grown larger in these peaceful times, and the younger riders, as well as keeping up their duties among the Weyr, were sent for a time to apprentice at the Crafthalls, learning things that dragonriders before their time had never learned, and such things weren't heard of. But the riders were strong in number, the dragons as powerful as ever, and thus, they were left with their nobility, even if they no longer patrolled the skies with the same intentions as they had for ages and ages.
Alas, all good things must come to an end, and such is the end of our time of peace on Pern.
It started very subtle, of course. The weather changing, winters getting colder, the temperatures fluctuating. In response, the dragons were being affected. The clutches diminished in size, growing sparser and sparser. The Queens Rose less and less, and fewer eggs hatched, the precursor to the impending disaster that was coming. And right alongside the dragons, the smaller firelizards were being affect in the same way, though unlike the dragons, in a little over half a turn, the firelizard clutches had grown so small, and the hatchlings had died so fast or were sickly and weak to begin with, that the firelizards had died out all together.
It was shortly beforehand that a gold had Risen, and had just lain her clutch, of only seven eggs. It was only a sevenday afterwards that an unprecedented meteorite had seared through the atmosphere to crash in the north. The Weyrs closest to the impact point were destroyed- however, the worst of their problems now was that, due to the size of the meteorite and the speed at which it hit, the planet was knocked off its axis. A series of tumultuous shock waves spread, causing destruction to various degrees. The death toll was high, and many dragons and riders were killed, in what was the worst disasters recorded in the history of Pern. Pern's climate began to shift in result. The only light in the midst of this was the clutch, left seemingly unharmed.
For three sevendays, the dragonriders remaining waited anxiously for news of the clutch, while repairing what they could and tending to the dead, with no choice but to rebuild. What news they heard was certainly not what they were expecting. Bronze, gold, blue, green, brown- there were no dragonets of the original colors. Strange colored queens with half feathers half skin on their wings. Instead, they watched with rapt horror and confusion as the red and orange and white hatchlings roll out onto the Sands.
The changes did it, they said. The particles from the meteorite must have changed them. The stress on the queen. A million different reasons for what could have possibly gone wrong, but the dragonets were not embraced readily. In fact, they were treated warily, as though they would die at any moment. Surely, the riders thought them too unstable, too odd to be able to survive.
However, the dragonets did last much longer than expected, and while not accepted as easily as the original colors were, of course, they were eventually time-honored. With each passing turn, the original colors were outnumbered by the deviated colors - the original colors were dying out, until eventually, they had disappeared all together, leaving their legacies only on paper.
Turns passed, the climates changed. Temperatures fell, the crops were doing more poorly than before. But the riders rebuilt, tried to find a way around it, Elysium being one of the last Weyrs built. So far, they have survived. But how long would it be until Pern becomes uninhabitable? If the temperatures keep dropping, it just might. Another Ice Age, something unheard of on Pern. And on top of that, there are rumors, rumors of the re-existence of the firelizards that had died out turns ago. Thus far, they remain just that, rumors. But if that is true, what's to say the original colors couldn't reappear? And along with that,
Is Pern to fall? Is time coming to an end?
Time can only tell.
FACELESS
The real story begins seven hundred turns ago, prior to the development of Elysium Weyr, and in the wake of destruction, with only ominous events on the horizon. It was a time of crisis in Pern, not just for the riders, but everyone. The Weyrs of Northern Pern had fallen, and yet, life still went on- the Southern Weyrs becoming more prosperous, growing larger and more extravagant, a representation of victory over Thread, the natural enemy of the dragonriders, a five hundred turn period, free from the menace of Threadfall.
It was quite an accomplishment, and though it had eliminated the dragonriders' original purpose, to keep Pern safe, the riders changed from mere guardians and defenders, to a more diplomatic breed, taking up the role of peace-keepers between the Weyrs and Holds, and each generation of riders became more fluent and well-rounded than the last, picking up crafts and honing talents that their predecessors never obtained, for their time spent was on forever watching the skies.
Many of the Holders spoke of the dragonriders no longer being necessary. Without Thread, they were occupation-less. Judgment on whether Tithing the Weyrs continously for what seemed to be no service had been called into question many times over. But still, the Holds were in debt to the Weyrs, and the dragonriders never forgot to remind them who it was that risked their lives to save them from being burnt alive by Thread, which had kept the Holds in order. Even if sometimes, it was a grudging understanding between them.
Clutches had grown larger in these peaceful times, and the younger riders, as well as keeping up their duties among the Weyr, were sent for a time to apprentice at the Crafthalls, learning things that dragonriders before their time had never learned, and such things weren't heard of. But the riders were strong in number, the dragons as powerful as ever, and thus, they were left with their nobility, even if they no longer patrolled the skies with the same intentions as they had for ages and ages.
Alas, all good things must come to an end, and such is the end of our time of peace on Pern.
It started very subtle, of course. The weather changing, winters getting colder, the temperatures fluctuating. In response, the dragons were being affected. The clutches diminished in size, growing sparser and sparser. The Queens Rose less and less, and fewer eggs hatched, the precursor to the impending disaster that was coming. And right alongside the dragons, the smaller firelizards were being affect in the same way, though unlike the dragons, in a little over half a turn, the firelizard clutches had grown so small, and the hatchlings had died so fast or were sickly and weak to begin with, that the firelizards had died out all together.
It was shortly beforehand that a gold had Risen, and had just lain her clutch, of only seven eggs. It was only a sevenday afterwards that an unprecedented meteorite had seared through the atmosphere to crash in the north. The Weyrs closest to the impact point were destroyed- however, the worst of their problems now was that, due to the size of the meteorite and the speed at which it hit, the planet was knocked off its axis. A series of tumultuous shock waves spread, causing destruction to various degrees. The death toll was high, and many dragons and riders were killed, in what was the worst disasters recorded in the history of Pern. Pern's climate began to shift in result. The only light in the midst of this was the clutch, left seemingly unharmed.
For three sevendays, the dragonriders remaining waited anxiously for news of the clutch, while repairing what they could and tending to the dead, with no choice but to rebuild. What news they heard was certainly not what they were expecting. Bronze, gold, blue, green, brown- there were no dragonets of the original colors. Strange colored queens with half feathers half skin on their wings. Instead, they watched with rapt horror and confusion as the red and orange and white hatchlings roll out onto the Sands.
The changes did it, they said. The particles from the meteorite must have changed them. The stress on the queen. A million different reasons for what could have possibly gone wrong, but the dragonets were not embraced readily. In fact, they were treated warily, as though they would die at any moment. Surely, the riders thought them too unstable, too odd to be able to survive.
However, the dragonets did last much longer than expected, and while not accepted as easily as the original colors were, of course, they were eventually time-honored. With each passing turn, the original colors were outnumbered by the deviated colors - the original colors were dying out, until eventually, they had disappeared all together, leaving their legacies only on paper.
Turns passed, the climates changed. Temperatures fell, the crops were doing more poorly than before. But the riders rebuilt, tried to find a way around it, Elysium being one of the last Weyrs built. So far, they have survived. But how long would it be until Pern becomes uninhabitable? If the temperatures keep dropping, it just might. Another Ice Age, something unheard of on Pern. And on top of that, there are rumors, rumors of the re-existence of the firelizards that had died out turns ago. Thus far, they remain just that, rumors. But if that is true, what's to say the original colors couldn't reappear? And along with that,
Is Pern to fall? Is time coming to an end?
Time can only tell.
FACELESS