Survival Camp - Arrival

Xanadu Weyr – Clearing

A wide clearing stretches from east to west, the ground packed hard although grass grows across most of it. Trees are strictly forbidden in this space, their danger to the constant draconic traffic reason enough to banish them to the forest that creates a this and sharp border to the north. Where the ground is less trampled, tiny flowers poke their delicate heads out from their shaded hiding places with upturned petals to wave to whoever may be looking.
The cliff looms imposingly on three sides, stretching upwards all the way up the side of the mountain where, high above, Xanadu's Star Stones and the ever present watchdragon sit on a lonely peak. Directly south is a massive tunnel, fully wide enough for even the largest dragon to fly down. Southeast are wide steps leading up to the Caverns and eastwards is the large entrance to the Infirmary. Somewhat north of the Infirmary is a human sized archway that has a frequent quantity of traffic — it leads to the Tavern. Southwest lies the low ledges currently belonging to Xanadu's queens while north and west a broad path cut by the side of the cliff leads to the Feeding Grounds and due north is the spacious trail that leads to the rest of the Weyr.

Unlike the last trip away from the Weyr, the Candidates have been briefed on where they're going and why this trip is taking place. In fact, they've already had a few classes on the theory of surviving in the wilderness and camp craft. Now it's time to put those lessons to hands-on learning. Instructed to bring nothing but summer clothing, they've been outfitted with boots from stores if they didn't own a pair already, hide backpacks and waterskins. The call has been issued and Candidates rounded up from the barracks by the AWLMs where dragons loaded with gear await their transport. Pacing the perimeter, V'dim makes the rounds, his lined face expressionless as his sharp eyes take their measure.

Landers' summer clothing has been much of what he always wears, typical of his sailing career thus far. Blouse, trousers, belts, vest, boots, bandana worn as a skully cap. Nothing seemingly out of the norm. The young man was not showing any expression on his face as he loitered in the area they were told to gather in, checking on a few items hooked to his belt and smoothing his hand over his vest in idle fancy, before he straightens out the vest with a one-two tug. His backpack was dropped near his feet, filled with items necessary to survive, mostly items of his trade that would assist them in this new adventure. A glance towards the others marks what their packs are filled with, squinting in question with some of the lighter looking packs, a squint that held a glint of disapproval with it. In any case, he scritches the brown firelizard whose riding side-saddle, content to ride in a modified pouch than sit on shoulder, waiting for further orders.

Briana has her heavy coat over the summer gear she was asked to wear. A bulge in the back making her look like a hunchback, which is no doubt her backpack. Those sturdy hiking boots on her feet. She looks pretty much ready for a trip between into warmer climes. On her belt a wood handled knife in a leather scabbard. She stands there huddled in her coat, stamping in place to otherwise keep warm. Her green firelizard is tucked into the hood of her jacket, with only her own little head poking out.

Pyriel and Iessrien are there, yes. Walking in side by side as was rapidly becoming the usual for the two boys. There is some soft chatter back and forth, an exchange or grin and such. As for the harper of the pair, he's wearing his winter clothing. The summer things one can assume are in his backpack, which is slung over his shoulder with both arm straps. A glance is given to the others gathering. Fist bumping this person, chin jerking upwards at that person, all in greeting of course, but then he slips back to murmured conversation with the older boy, tugging his hat down further to cover his ears and tucking his face up to the bridge of his nose beneath his scarf. Hand are thrust into the pockets of his down stuffed blue coat, bouncing a little in place one might suppose, to aid in keeping him warmer.

Kiley is among many of the other candidates, wearing the boots from the stores, with that backpack on her shoulder. The woman is dressed in her winter clothing, but from the looks of it: these can be abandoned rather easily upon their arrival at their destination Her hands are in her pockets as she walks at a fair distance behind Pyriel and Iessrien but easily falling in beside them once they come to a stop. A salute is given to V'dim before a rather disgruntled look becomes settled upon her face. Brows are drawn into a deep frown while she stares angrily at the ground.

Iessrien is dressed as he usually is, dark pants and shirt beneath snug black jacket, the holder boy without a scarf but bundled still against the current cold, summer clothes presumably worn underneath and in the bag he carries, strap over one shoulder. His boots are of fine quality, scratched and scuffed, and perhaps not the sort made for trekking in the wildeness, but sturdy nonetheless. Iess walks beside Pyriel, the holder flicking a glance toward the other boy, lips tugged into a briefly tilted grin before he slows, coming to a stop and nodding greetings here or there as well. There's another slight smile offered to Kiley before Iessrien adjusts the strap of his bag on his shoulder, and cants his head at the semi-bouncing Py. A lean and a faint shoulder-bump is for the other boy, Iess himself standing still despite the cold, the holder tucking his own hands in jacket pockets and hunching shoulders up so that the collar partially shields his face from whatever breeze there might be. Kiley's angry groundward look has him arching a brow at the girl, though he doesn't ask just now.

V'dim, has of course, has the AWLMs going through those backpacks as the Candidates arrive and as the group is large, there is ample time for some warning that this is occurring, so evasive action, if VERY surreptitious might be successful. They don't go quite so far as to frisk the young people, but pockets are emptied some items that have been banned are retrieved. Mainly things that are of modern design, technological in nature, candy, snacks, stimulants. One of the AWLMs tells a Candidate, "No, you can't take klahbark, they warned you." V'dim, meanwhile, is making his way along the gathering with a sack from which he hands each Candidate a small leather sack. His voice rasps in the winter-stillness of the clearing, "Don't open them now. You'll see later these contain compass, flint and steel, hunting knife- don't cut yourselves -rope, thin cord and a length of cotton cloth-" There's a brief pause in which his glance falls on Iessrien's boots, wrinkled lips quirk, faintly amused. "-When you've got them in your backpacks, present yourself to a Rider for transport."

Lan regards the three that wander in together, his eyes briefly marking the faces, yet without an interest that carries longer than his acknowledgement of them. "Ya all packed?" this spoken to Briana who he was nearest, noting her firelizard since his own makes a keen toward it. Lan points to her knife, nodding with approval, "Glad ya be smart in bringin that." His own knife, a longer welded curved piece of metal, is housed in its own sheath at his hip, in easy reach. A glance forward has his attention returning to the sharp eyed V'dim. It was obvious what the AWLMs were searching for and anything that was contraband wouldn't be found in Landers' pack. The sailor offers himself up to be pocket searched when one of the AWLMs nears him, and again, nothing would be found. Only when the AWLM who inspected him quickly leaves, would the former-sailor show a smug grin on his face, folding his arms gallantly while the AWLM moves on to another. He whispers as an aside to Briana, "Ya reckon we go fer a walk when we get thar. I 'ave somethin yee may like."

As Briana is handed the survival pack she shrugs out of her jacket and lets the backpack swing to the ground so she can have it inspected and add the addition to it. Tucking it around changes in clothes and dried fruit and meat. Once all resettled she dons the backpack once more and her coat and glances over to Landers and nods, "Yeah, all packed up I think." There is an almost eager light to her eyes mixed with a bit of trepidation. At the whisper she gives Landers a curious look before a nod, "Sure.." She replies before giving her attention back to the riders.

Pyriel stops bouncing at the shoulder bump provided to him by the Breakwater holder, a blink to the half an inch taller boy. Bouncing no more. Py was more or less hiding behind his scarf, golden eyes drifting away from his conversation with Iessrien to V'dim, and then to the assistant weyrling masters as they start rifling through bags and pockets. That's when the harper's face pops out from behind his scarf, revealing his lack of all piercings. All that remains is the holes their once presence had left upon him. "Hey!" he protests, as several red lollipops are confiscated from his pockets, causing the lip jewelry free boy to scowl now at the one absconding with this treats. Also gone, is his precious utility knife, and he crosses his arms over his chest for it, certainly not pleased at all. With a grumble, he watches the rider move on to Iessrien, but is distracted when he's handed a small leather sack. Fingers were poised to open the sack a second before they are told not to and the blond boy deflates. "Can rapidly see where this is going." he mutters under his breath, tucking the smaller sack within the larger.

Kiley listens to V'dim while her gaze drifts towards the AWLM who begin to go through people's things, though she returns looking forward as he begins to hand out the leather sack. The new addition is taken and her backpack is slid from her shoulders so that she may add in the sack. It is then that one of the AWLMs comes to check her things and there is no hesitation to hand over her pack and to let her pockets get checked. She has nothing that is banned from taking so she quickly straightens back up and settles the pack back onto her shoulders. Her gaze travels briefly to the other candidates, Landers and Briana getting a wave before she's quickly turning forward and shoving her hands into her pockets. Her eyes are drawn over to Pyriel for his protesting, brows lifting slightly as she shrugs her shoulders to hide the lower half of her face into her coat. Her eyes, however, are wide as she notices the lack of jewelry upon his face. Eyes blink once and then slowly she turns to face forward, waiting; the angry look slowly comes back into play in her expression.

Alas for Iessrien! He carries nothing with him really that would have been banned - except for the lollipops. /Dozens/ of bright red lollipops. From his backpack, from his beltpouch, from his pockets. The holder lad is looking /really/ sheepish, though he only rubs the back of his neck and shifts somewhat awkwardly from foot to foot, movement which promptly ceases once V'dim pauses and eyes his boots. The boy very quietly clears his throat, colors a little, and offers a somewhat sheepish salute. "Yes sir," is mumbled quietly, and then he silences, just.. staring. But not at the weyrlingmaster. No, he's staring at Pyriel's /face/. He opens his mouth. He closes his mouth. He just.. stares. Was someone talking just then? Iess didn't hear it.

Distracted by Pyriel's fussing, the AWLM going through Briana's backpack, peers over. "Oh he can take that. Give it back to him. It's not as good as the one in the kit he's getting, but." The man shrugs and in the process of dealing with the utility knife, the dried fruit and meat are missed. Others are not so lucky; all food items are being confiscated with the not so reassuring chuckled comments that they'll be eating by living off the land on this trip. Yay? The knife is offered back to Pyriel, handle first if the boy decides to take it. Meanwhile, V'dim barks out, "Mount up!" And he swings aboard Isobeth, who is crooning sweetly to the Candidates a dragon-comment likely meant to be Happy-happy-joy-joy-we're-off-on-an-adventure-what-fun-we'll-have. Candidates begin to double-time it to their mounts, and perhaps not so oddly, all avoid approaching V'dim's green.

Landers shares a smirk for Briana, an eager expression for her, as if to suggest he was ready to show what the 'outsiders' can do in survival camp. Flexing his jaw, he stoops to pick up his backpack with its new survival gear jammed into it, swinging it over his shoulder like it had been filled with feathers and not all sorts of materials needed for the camp. Striding forward, his eyes do take in the stunned faces all regarding Pyriel, a brow arched and no time to spare to inquire further what was going on over there. Instead, he followed in behind V'dim, unaware of the man's reputation and or intimidation that had kept others from doing the same. Therefore, once at Isobeth's side, he peers up toward the man, speaking up to him in a non-chalant completely unaffected tone, "Ahoy thar. Be coming aboard sir?"

Pyriel is being…stared at? Eyes round and brows shoot up to the line of his hair, and he blinks to all looking in turn. "Wha…?" he asks, brows then creasing towards the middle. He then offered his knife back and he gladly takes it back, tucking the item back into the pocket of his jacket. He mutters to Iessrien something or another, but startles as V'dim bellows to mount up. He gives a gentle tug to the holder boy's sleeve and jerks his head over towards a brownerider with plenty of room for two. "Come on, man. We're gunna be warm in a couple minutes." Yay! And the harper does indeed look thrilled by this prospect, lollipop confiscation aside, it seems the prospect of being away from the cold was enough to put the lack of candy on the back burner for now.

Kiley's shock about Pyriel's face is what leads her attention to Iesrrien as the AWLM moves to him next, brows lift even higher at the amount of lollipops the holders has on him. Her mouth opens and then promptly shuts as she drags her gaze firmly away and keeps all comments to herself. V'dim is moving and he draws her full attention as he moves to his green and mounts. She, too, avoids going towards V'dim and settles with some other greenrider while her gaze fixates on Landers as he goes to ride with the Weyrlingmaster. Again, silence lingers as she is helped by the greenrider to mount and she settles in the straps. That angry look on her face grows into disgruntlement as the seconds pass.

Iessrien's face finally returns to a more normal color, and he stops looking quite so sheepish, though his gaze keeps drifting back to Pyriel's face, as much as he attempts not to stare. It's really only when the harper tugs his sleeve that Iess realizes V'dim has told them to mount up, and he hurried after the harper, managing to get up the brown's side with only a little trouble. The knife being returned to the harper at least has a twitch of a smile, Iess nodding to Pyriel and avoiding looking at Kiley when she lifts those brows at him. He'll just busy himself with getting strapped in.

V'dim grunts an affirmative to Landers, following up with a dry chuckle and a purse of lips that could mean, well, anything. Isobeth is a small green and though crouched, it's a bit of a climb, thus the WLM offers the flightstrap to the Candidate while sending a sharp look 'round the clearing to gauge the progress of mounting up. If he's noticed fussing over candy, or staring at one girly-looking Candidate lacking face-metal, his face gives no indication of it, remaining impassive. After his singular passenger is settled, he gives the riding harness a quick check, then signals lift off. "Hang tight. She's still spry." Isobeth is all wriggly-happy. She obviously loves passengers, having turned to whuffle the former seacrafter as he mounts. Her take-off is a fluid leap and a rapid ascent in swallow-like darts and dips until she maintains altitude, then awaits the slower browns and bronzes to make the formation. At V'dim's signal, they wink between only to arrive in the warmth of Summer somewhere over the Northern Continent. Where it had been early afternoon in Xanadu, it is nearly sunset here in the clearing as they touch down.

Survival Camp - Campfire Square

During the day this area is a small clearing that sits just big enough to land four dragons in it, though by night it becomes an inferno where a fire is built up that licks its stray bits of lights to the ground just before the barracks nearby. The two barracks sit across from each other in strong contrast, the leader barracks being a comfortable modern barracks that looks clean and kept in good eminence while the follower barracks has a sharp destitute about it, looking that the ivy and decay is a day away from making the whole thing collapse.

Landers must be completely oblivious to the reason that everyone is avoiding V'dim, since he more or less mounts without any fuss nor curious looks to the weyrlingmaster and holds no expression that would give indication that he knew anything more than the man's rank. Deft and able, strapping himself in, he closed his eyes tight against the feeling of the dragon lifting off, going pale in the face and having to clamp his hand tightly over his mouth. Evidently the seafaring lad cannot handle flight-sickness, similar to when they were in space no doubt. Luckily, V'dim is not covered in vomit when they arrive, but there is some expressed need to be down on the ground quickly, as Landers motions as such.

Pyriel had gotten up on the brown with no trouble at all, just a bit of a lift without scrambling or such things. He'd strapped himself in behind the rider, and leaned down to help Iessrien up into the place behind him with the practiced ease of one used to riding on dragons as a passenger. He helps the holder with getting buckled in if he needs it, and then there's more muttering to him before he braces for the take off. Up, up, up they go, and Py is holding his breath for as long as it takes his heart to beat three times before they are out of /between/ and WARM! Shaking off the chill that clings, the blond grins down at the land in the depths of summer. "No more winter. It's paradise even if I get eaten by wild felines or starve to death and then get eaten by wild felines…" he cheers, both fists pumping up into the air ecstatically. "Wooooooooo!" Someone is in a good mood.

Kiley is watching the rider strap her in, brows drawing into a frown as she watches carefully before her gaze is quickly flickering to the rest of the dragons and their riders. Iessrien's lollipops have been forgotten along with Pyriel's piercing removal for all attention now lay on the Weyrlingmaster. The dragons all fall into formation and Kiley tenses just a bit, a soft squeak coming from her lips as the dragon takes to the air. Anything else is lost as they between. They arrive and the only sound that is audible from the computer crafter when they arrive is the groan of dread for the sight of pure and utter wilderness. "I'm going to /die/." Out pop the dramatics, countering Pyriel's own excited cries.

Iessrien has little experience on dragons, and likely appreciates the harper's help with the buckles, promptly wrapping his arms around Py's waist as the dragon takes off. Startled cling. Unlike the Yokohama trip, however, Iess shows no sign of sickness, even once airborne, the holder's eyes widening as he watches the landscape quickly disappear below. The boy murmurs an appreciative, "Shells.." but is otherwise quiet, though he's looking quite a lot paler once the dragon blips in and out of between. He doesn't let go of Pyriel, a grin beginning to tug at the corners of his his lips, even as he starts tugging at his collar. Outright grinning at Py's enthusiasm.

Should Landers have spewed, it would not be the first time V'dim had been thusly showered. That he's not is obviously appreciated, although the young man is given a glance under a bushy brow, one pale blue eye over his shoulder, a kindly concern but no word spoken. Isobeth's descent is smoother than her ascent, a gentle glide and light touchdown, her wings folded as she crouches so they may dismount without delay. The WLM smoothly and quickly unsnaps the clips for the both of them and swings down, raising a hand should the younger man need steadying. Meanwhile the AWLMs are discharging their passengers with warnings not to stray off, enlisting them to help unload the supplies. Small bundles are offloaded, some set near the circle of stones that line the firepit, others stacked near the entrance to the forest alcove. Above the noise and chatter, V'dim bellows in his best drill sargent volume, "ALRIGHT PEOPLE LISTEN UP!" And once the hubbub dies, he points to the piles of gear near the forest. "You'll find tarps and hammocks in those. We'll use a line strung between two trees, make an A-frame tent with the tarp and string your hammock underneath it from the same trees." He points to several Candidates, "Gather some firewood and kindling. You," he indicates another pair, "Take those buckets to the creek yonder and fill 'em with water. Tonight we'll cook from weyrfood." His voice raises once again, "HUSTLE PEOPLE WE'VE AN HOUR OF DAYLIGHT LEFT. YOU DON'T WANT TO BE DOING THIS IN THE DARK!"

Landers nearly falls off Isobeth in his attempt to dismount as quickly as he can, gratiful for the hand that helps him down and trying to put on a brave face even with the pale gleen on his skin. Coughing a few times once on the ground, he does not tarry in finding a secluded tree to hack and heave behind, having left his pack and contents near the weyrlingmaster during this time. With a hand on a supporting tree, the sailor stays bowed over, until he's sure that nothing more can make his churning gut heave out its load further. Sweat beads down his forehead once he stands, if from the heat or from the heaving is uncertain. The young man makes good use of a leaf to wipe off any remains from his upset stomach, before he pivots back to the group at large, holding his stomach as he grumbles something about 'the sky and dragons flight.' Frankly, the drill sergent routine does help preoccupy Lan from the gurgling stomach loud enough to be heard, not as bad as the weightlessness in space made him, an irritant nonetheless. Stooping forward, he winds up near Kiley, shooting her a look, "Reckon we could fetch the water…"

As the brown descends to the ground, he comes to a landing a bit roughly but not enough to give anyone whiplash. The rider gives the signal to dismount and Pyriel reaches around to unstrap Iessrien again. "Gimme a sec, and I'll help ya down, man." he says to the other, and unstraps himself in turn. He slides down just as easily as he went up, feet hitting the ground. "Iess, toss me down our packs." he calls up, waiting for them. When they come, they are placed on the ground as he helps the older boy down. Without ceremony, he strips himself out of his winter things, including his shirt and shoves all of it into his pack, after removing a black tank top from it. This is hastily drawn over his head before the pack is clasped closed and flung over his shoulders. As V'dim starts bellowing again, Pyriel winces and glances to his companion. "Dude's gunna give himself a heart attack." he mutters under his breath, but strangely cheerful considering. Seems the change of climate had done wonders for the harper. "Kay Iess, I guess we're off to collect firewood." he says after overhearing Landers to Kiley in passing.

Landing is met with another look of dread and a pathetic whimper. The greenrider that has taken Kiley looks a little too amused at the computer crafter's plight. She is unstrapped and then helped to the ground. Moping begins for the lack of technology, though it is V'dim's bellow that shocks her from this mood. She straightens, tensing visibly as she turns to listen. More looks of dread follow and then that pathetic little whimper comes forth again. But it is Landers that draws her from the mood this time, her brows furrowing into a look of concern. "You okay Landers?" She breathes out softly, then nodding in agreement to fetching water. "We can. Sure.." An owlish blink follows as she stares at the man despite V'dim's calls to hurry before the sun goes down.

Iessrien clings. At leas ttill the dragon has landed, jerking his head in a nod to Pyriel and finally letting the go, and perhaps looking a little sheepish. Now that the brown is not in the air, Iess grins wider, lips twitching up further one one side as he glances down one side and then the other, tossing down his pack to Pyriel after a second and then easing himself down more carefully, though he's still grinning once his fancy boots touch solid ground. "Hmh, he's not so bad," the grin having faded at V'dim's yelled orders twitches back into something of a smile, "Reminds me of this one guard captain we have back in Breakwater.." nodding to Py and falling into step beside the other boy, "Firewood it is."

It isn't V'dim's way to fuss and motherhen, but he is aware of the direction his passenger heads off to and of why. He does give the returning man an unobtrusive once-over. Satisfied, he strides purposely over to the pile of tarps and hammocks, shouldering three or four and heads with a group of Candidates into the alcove to help set up. Other AWLMs are amongst them circulating and offering words of advice, setting others to the task of meal preparations and fire-building. From the forest steely laughter floats out, the dry-voiced words are no doubt V'dim's answer to some complaint. "Oh this is -luxury- my child. Enjoy it tonight because tomorrow you'll learn to build a shelter from log, stick, bark and leaf while sleeping upon hard ground." Can't see him? But he's here… lurking, watching, just waiting for them to get out of li- ahh, need his help.

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