Post by meah on Jan 18, 2009 10:10:47 GMT -5
Towards the end of the long Ninth Interval, all fell into chaos. Early in what would become a bitterly cold winter, an ominous black dust fell over the western coast of the Northern Continent, though there had been no reports of volcanic activity, and a near-forgotten red body appeared bright in the night sky. Though disbelief reigned supreme among the masses, the scattered weyrholds knew, and within the month three golden eggs lay upon the Sands at the central weyr. Thread was returning.
To combat the menace, the weyrfolk reunified, and Central Weyr once more became a place that housed more than just the weyrlings and occasional clutch. The firestone mines in the mountains were reopened, and the miners' attention shifted from valuable metals to the soft phosphorous-based rock which was vital to the planet's survival. When the spring arrived, the largely untrained Riders rose to resume the age-old battle.
It was a disaster. Dragons that had only just learned how to chew the firestone had difficulty controlling the flames, and nearly as many injuries were the result of friendly fire as were from Threadscore. From one Fall alone, nearly a quarter of the fighting dragons had been taken out of commission, and the worst was yet to come. For the Red Star brought with it not only the Thread, but another organism that it had picked up elsewhere, much more difficult to eradicate than Thread.
Days later the first dragons fell, only hours after the first symptoms of illness were noticed. Within a week the most vulnerable of the dragons, the weyrlings and those who had been injure in Threadfall, had succumbed to the disease, with more falling ill every passing hour, until not enough dragons remained to fill even a single wing. Finally, the one remaining gold passed on to between, and the age of dragons drew to a close as one by one the others followed.
All hope, however, was not lost. The grubs which had by then spread across the Northern Continent prevented a true infestation of Thread, and the watch-whers had been spared the ravages of the disease. And a half-remembered story on a Record that was reduced nearly to dust brought one wherhandler, Chyiris, to an abandoned weyr, where a surprise find made his efforts all worthwhile. In an old room he discovered the remnants of a time long gone, among them the hope of eradicating a disease that affected even the dragons. That possibility had long since passed, but another option remained: as a last resort, a gold wher could be changed into a dragon, and through her there was a chance of bringing back the dragons.
It was decided. The next gold wher to run would be the one, and a few weeks later, Felina's Felsk ran, and was caught by Chyisk. As soon as was possible, she was injected with the serum that would hopefully do what it was intended to do, as well as changing the eggs that she hopefully carried.
Almost immediately the changes began, bones rapidly elongating and muscles stretching almost to the point of tearing in order to accomodate the length. Loose skin went taut, and then tore in places as the body underneath grew too large too quickly. In a matter of days it was over. Felsk had become something else, and an egg-heavy dragon once more lived in the weyr.
But were dragons to be born? That is the mystery of
Dragher Weyr
To combat the menace, the weyrfolk reunified, and Central Weyr once more became a place that housed more than just the weyrlings and occasional clutch. The firestone mines in the mountains were reopened, and the miners' attention shifted from valuable metals to the soft phosphorous-based rock which was vital to the planet's survival. When the spring arrived, the largely untrained Riders rose to resume the age-old battle.
It was a disaster. Dragons that had only just learned how to chew the firestone had difficulty controlling the flames, and nearly as many injuries were the result of friendly fire as were from Threadscore. From one Fall alone, nearly a quarter of the fighting dragons had been taken out of commission, and the worst was yet to come. For the Red Star brought with it not only the Thread, but another organism that it had picked up elsewhere, much more difficult to eradicate than Thread.
Days later the first dragons fell, only hours after the first symptoms of illness were noticed. Within a week the most vulnerable of the dragons, the weyrlings and those who had been injure in Threadfall, had succumbed to the disease, with more falling ill every passing hour, until not enough dragons remained to fill even a single wing. Finally, the one remaining gold passed on to between, and the age of dragons drew to a close as one by one the others followed.
All hope, however, was not lost. The grubs which had by then spread across the Northern Continent prevented a true infestation of Thread, and the watch-whers had been spared the ravages of the disease. And a half-remembered story on a Record that was reduced nearly to dust brought one wherhandler, Chyiris, to an abandoned weyr, where a surprise find made his efforts all worthwhile. In an old room he discovered the remnants of a time long gone, among them the hope of eradicating a disease that affected even the dragons. That possibility had long since passed, but another option remained: as a last resort, a gold wher could be changed into a dragon, and through her there was a chance of bringing back the dragons.
It was decided. The next gold wher to run would be the one, and a few weeks later, Felina's Felsk ran, and was caught by Chyisk. As soon as was possible, she was injected with the serum that would hopefully do what it was intended to do, as well as changing the eggs that she hopefully carried.
Almost immediately the changes began, bones rapidly elongating and muscles stretching almost to the point of tearing in order to accomodate the length. Loose skin went taut, and then tore in places as the body underneath grew too large too quickly. In a matter of days it was over. Felsk had become something else, and an egg-heavy dragon once more lived in the weyr.
But were dragons to be born? That is the mystery of
Dragher Weyr
