Welcome to Wyntryl!
Please take your time looking around the site! If you have any questions make sure you post them around and one of us will get back to you quick smart!
Wyntryl has just gone through a major overhaul in the case of skinning and layout due to losing our graphic moderator Chellie -- You'll be missed ^^
So the Ice Cream Clutch is two years old now, nearly ready to graduate! Well done [those of you who are still here] you're almost there! Gosh so exciting
So the new Weyrwoman-to-be has a lot on her plate these days, the death of a rider, people continuing to go missing, unhappy villagers, and now the death of a healer through Yuppa poisoning! Does it ever end? Sorry Lanae, for now the weyr's still counting on you.
We have a lot of positions open at the moment and would be more than happy to have new members - we need you, so much - and lots of previous weyrlings to adopt. Plots are upcoming and going to be so much fun!
On an OOC note, Congrats to Mila for becoming our first global moderator, I need you so much <3 and thankyou, thankyou to ROSE and EGO for sticking with us. It means so much <3
Stick around and chat with us, promise we don't bite even if we are quiet.
Things may be looking up for the Weyr, Lanae Impressed Ice Feyth at the most recent hatching, and is growing into a confident, young weyrwoman. Her growth and transition into a Weyrwoman position is threatened; however, with the sudden influx of trouble. The weyr's healers have been run to the ground saving people left right and center, unable to keep up with the apparently traceless potion. Very recently, the weyr has suffered another strong blow in the death of Dragon healer Tsuchi, struck down by the poison the Weyr is taking every step to guard against.
Disappearances are getting worse, so much worse. More than nine people have gone missing from the weyr itself, most of which are candidates with three riders still out in the cold. To make matters worse, Slate Rider Freya was found recently, dead, and without her dragon. There was no mourning cry, and nothing else to suggest a death, so just what is going on over the mountains of Wyntryl?
Death is a constant companion in the cold, dark halls of Wyntryl, stalking the unknowing and teasing the others.
Can Wyntryl gather together and pull through these dangerous times, or is this a final stand against extinction?
The Dragonriders of Pern and the world of Pern belongs solely to Anne McCaffrey (and her son Todd). No copyright infringement is intended. All original ideas, plots, characters, creatures, etc. are copyright Missa and/or Eza (all member contributions have been marked and credited!). This board is in no way intended for profit or monetary gain. Please do not "borrow" without express permission from one or all of these people! We have worked very hard to create an enjoyable setting and atmosphere in which everyone can roleplay. If you wish to use an idea from the board, please request it first but do not be surprised if you are turned down.
Plot etc: Eza and Missa with member contribution
Everything else: our dear Anne
Member No.: 17
Joined: 14-November 10
Duke was eating what S'val estimated to be his fourth herdbeast. Which was a lot of herdbeasts, considering how many S'vals he estimated a herdbeast could eat, which was like, several. The silver was shorter at the shoulder than his latest kill, and he had to chew vigorously at the huge heart of the animal before he raised his head and swallowed. Hot blood dripped from the dragon's chrome jaws down his scaled neck and onto his chest before it pooled steaming in the snow, melting the powder into a gory slush.
You can't still be hungry, you brute, S'val complained. He was bored. Watching his dragon hunt was usually a pleasure, but after the first hour, things got kind of tedious out here in the white with nothing else to entertain him. And these sessions got longer every time the silver rose to the kill. Yes, times were hard and everyone was exhausted and hungry, but that hardly excused gorging. In fact, that was an excellent reason not to rip the lion's share from the Weyr's herd.
I am, Duke informed him unhappily. If you would rather not watch me eat, you can go back to the Weyr. I'm sure you have numerous duties waiting.
S'val threw a snowball at him. It exploded impotently against Duke's thickening flank scales, and the dragon houghed and leaned over his kill again. They both knew exactly how many responsibilities the silverrider was supposed to be taking extremely seriously at this exact moment, but - sometimes it was just too damn much to deal with. He worked perpetually and without reward, and it wasn't in S'val's character to enjoy that kind of dynamic.
Just don't get fat. I don't want to watch your chubby silver ass jiggling all impudently in the sky when you fly the Ice. Duke did not dignify that image with a response.