VoyForums
[ Show ]
Support VoyForums
[ Shrink ]
VoyForums Announcement: Programming and providing support for this service has been a labor of love since 1997. We are one of the few services online who values our users' privacy, and have never sold your information. We have even fought hard to defend your privacy in legal cases; however, we've done it with almost no financial support -- paying out of pocket to continue providing the service. Due to the issues imposed on us by advertisers, we also stopped hosting most ads on the forums many years ago. We hope you appreciate our efforts.

Show your support by donating any amount. (Note: We are still technically a for-profit company, so your contribution is not tax-deductible.) PayPal Acct: Feedback:

Donate to VoyForums (PayPal):

[ Login ] [ Main index ] [ Post a new message ] [ Search | Check update time | Archives: 1, 2, [3], 4 ]

[ Next Thread | Previous Thread | Next Message | Previous Message ]

Date Posted: 03:09:11 06/24/05 Fri
Author: F'nlaur - Bakarith .. G'nen - Raghath .. B'mulf - Zeeth .. U'maro - Quaroth .. M'telle - Harilath ( Ki, ? ) .. L'meak - Marath
Subject: Masses of pubertic males!! Auuugh!

F'nlaur, well rested and reclothed, struts into the room. He wears gaudy colours to attract attention, and tight vests to show himself off. What a punk. Bakarith saunters beside his Impressor, all flashy hide and bulkiness. The bronzerider leans one arm on his new dragon, flashing catlike grins at the people passing by, acting as he always has. Green eyes spot Wessae and T'bel, along with various other people he doesn't know well. Hesitant, he plunks himself down at the large table, rather audaciously near the head, not having any other place to go. The bronze sprawls out on the floor and counts the number of drudges who stumble over his tail.

G'nen shies away from most people, his inherent timidness rising. Raghath remains at his side, a little bit exhasperated, but supportive nonetheless. The brown nudges at his rider's clean hair, haven taken a liking to the smell of it. G'nen laughs, turning to hug the huge dragon's blocky skull. Brown and boy share a soft moment before they migrate to a table, sitting down apart from the rest of the people. You should go make friends, murmurs Raghath, but his rider shakes his head and laughs softly.

The multicoloured, goldish brown body of Zeeth shoots into the caverns in pursuit of a small metal disc that B'mulf had rolled out of one pocket. GONNA GETCHA, GONNA GETCHA! bellows the bug-eyed, lanky brown, who seems intent on catching it. It rolls under a table, however, and is rescued by a yellow hand. The rider sticks his tongue out at the brown when no one's looking, who harrumphs, like he didn't care at all. They take a seat, B'mulf lazing and Zeeth padding around like an insomniac feline.

Behind them strolls a lazy brown, his hide ebon and shining in the torchlight of the cavern. The scent of food lures U'maro, who has one hubcap-sized hand resting on Quaroth at all times. 'I could go for a bubbly pie,' he mourns, to which the brown simply snorts, and picks them out a seat close to the kitchens. U'maro happily complies with the seating arrangements and sprawls out, knitting his thick fingers over his belly.

Harilath dances in, too. He's still got R'ven's shirt in his jaws and wrapped all about his neck, displaying it like a trophy. His indulgent rider seems very miffed about something, however. M'telle scowls every which way, his unkempt bangs flopping forward into his downcast eyes. The sunny blue seems too wrapped up in his own little world, not liking his rider's impenetrable angst. Oh sure, he'll drop a cheer up every now and then, but nothing seems to work. The Weyrling sits by the wall, folding his arms over the table and plopping his head into them.

Why are we even here, L'meak? hisses a dark, callous voice, dripping with predatory sarcasm. Marath's swampy body flows like a shadow into the lower caverns, her pale rider in tow. L'meak is wearing all black, retaining his old healer knots and adding on those of a Weyrling greenrider. He makes sure they're quintessential. There's a strut to his walk, but his lifemate's dangerous stalk is imbued in him, as well. Frosty eyes flick around, wondering why he couldn't just eat in peace.

[ Next Thread | Previous Thread | Next Message | Previous Message ]

Replies:

Forum timezone: GMT-5
VF Version: 3.00b, ConfDB:
Before posting please read our privacy policy.
VoyForums(tm) is a Free Service from Voyager Info-Systems.
Copyright © 1998-2019 Voyager Info-Systems. All Rights Reserved.