Playing the Prototype

Xanadu Weyr - Wingleaders' Ready Room
Attempts have been made to brighten this windowless room by painting the walls white and installing overhead lighting, but the fact remains that it is rather a utilitarian, sparsely furnished and cramped room. The center is taken up by a large wooden table finished in a pale, natural hue around which a dozen chairs are pulled. Pen holders and stacks of paper are placed at intervals down the center of the table, while small locking wall cabinets provide a safe place for wing journals to be kept.

On one wall is a large whiteboard with a calendar on one side and a corkboard on the other to which various notices have been pinned. Around the room's perimeter are another dozen chairs of the same make as those around the table - metal-framed and armless, the wooden seats and backrests finished to match the tabletop. They allow for the wings, the leaders of whom share this room, to take turns holding meetings inside, but leave little room for maneuvering.

The only saving grace to this 'no frills' workroom is it's proximity to Xanadu's Council Room - right across the hall - and the access to the library of scrolls, hides and books kept in there. It's quite possible this was once a closet for the overflow of records, for the lingering scent of ink and hides assails one the moment upon stepping through the door.

OOC: This scene was based on the idea of playing a game within the game. The following were the very basic/loose guidelines we used to springboard ideas.

Rider's Folly Game Box
This box contains all the items necessary to play a game called Rider's Folly. The gist of the game is that players are randomly assigned a dragon color and draw a card. On the card is a scenario (OOCly determined by a random roll on one of the following random tables - or one of your own choosing, that you conform to Pernese style Things and use in your pose). The question is: What would you, the rider (player) do when presented with that scenario. A judge will assign points arbitrarily for the quality of your response. (OOCly, just have some fun exploring Riderly Things you haven't gotten to RP about yet! Have at!)

Random Roll table options:
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- Or one of your own choosing!//

To roll a die for these tables on game, input the following: @pemit me=die(1,100)
This die result will display only to you, but you can use it to guide your choices. If it doesn't work, fudge it and do what seems fun.

Evening is usually a time candidates have to themselves. Usually. Some intelligent (or cruel or intelligently cruel) person had the bright idea to snatch up a handful of candidates and drag them, with an air of ominous mystery, all the way back to the Wingleaders' Ready Room - the site of many recent changes of position. The lights are out, but there are glow baskets for ambiance and the table is set with an all too innocuous looking deck of cards and a set of dice. The players, for players they are, are invited to roll and assigned a dragon color, rough personality and invited to sit. "The question you need to answer," one of the managing riders instructs with a Cheshire grin, "is how will you, Rider, respond to the situation you find yourself in." A flourish of a hand indicates the almighty judge, jury and executioner. "Our illustrious Weyrleader," this suck up likes his job, thanks much, "will reward you points for the quality of your answer, or remove points for subpar responses. The 'Rider' with the most points at the end of the game gets an extra half rest day to do with what they wish." It's not much of a prize, but it's something. And with that, candidates begin to make their rolls for their assigned dragons and to take their seats around the table. Stefyr, of course, volunteers as tribute and claims the seat nearest his boss, if slightly removed, after being assigned a scatterbrained and emotional blue dragon by the decree of dice-fate.

At first, Keruthien wasn't so sure about some mysterious gathering awaiting them in the Wingleader's Ready Room of all places. It felt more like a trap! Only it wasn't. There's probably some snickered aside comment about the ambiance lighting that gets him a look from someone, to which he just grins and shrugs off. He's dressed in some casual attire which, yes, DO include pants en lieu of his recent tastes (someone probably convinced him to change his mind for the evening). Settling down at the table and across from Stefyr, he'll tilt his head to the side while the rider explains the rules. "Huh! Sounds easy enough?" he admits, with an eagerness for something new and untested. When it comes his turn to roll, he does so without hesitation, only to chortle over the results. "Trustworthy and Liberal green, eh? I can work with that."

Just because Rhodelia has oh so thoroughly enjoyed her latest rest day so far, doesn't mean she couldn't use another one. The assistant is still a bit groggy eyed from being woken from her second nap of the rest-day to be dragged, the this. She yawns even as the dice are deciding her fate. An eyebrow quirks up at the results. "A loyal brown?" She shrugs and will roll with it as she settles in her seat within dice tossing and possibly pencil poking range of her fellows. "How quickly do you think before we can set something on fire? In the game of course…" Of course not actually going to set fire to this illustrious ready room, even if her metal chair wobbles a little bit as she leans forward.

Of course if feels like a trap. After everything else, why wouldn't it? Katailea sends a sidelong glance towards one of the others as they're led into the room, but for now at least she doesn't comment as she slides into a seat to listen to the rules as they're given. "I don't think that's the goal," the trader girl comments in reply to Rhodelia's remark of setting something on fire even as the dice decide upon an elegant and genuine green for her.

Much illus. So trious. Someone's unearthed a chair of Gaston-like proportions in which R'hyn sits, elbow propped to support his chin, one leg flung over the curve of the arm as he waits to mete out some doom. Someone's perched a paper hat that reads 'JUDGE' atop his head, starch white matching the bandages on his nose, and honestly the man looks pretty worse for wear despite the grin he's pointing up at the rider at his side. Blue-grey eyes brighten as the candidates are led in, posture shifting until elbows perch on knees, lips quirking up at the corners as he simply watches them cluster close. IT'S A TRAP. IT'S DEFINITELY A TRAP. IT'S — "Don't look like that, it isn't half as fun when it's all bright and shiny in here." Okay, maybe it's not a trap, judging by the droll words the weyrleader offers Keruthien's way, gaze sparking as he leans to peer at the roll sheets of anyone nearby. "That sounds about right," he comments of Stefyr's blue (RUDE!), fixing Rhody with an extended look that says maybe he doesn't believe her even as he says, "I guess we'll see, won't we?" to Katailea. Rhody will just have to believe in the HEART OF THE DICE. At any rate, he gestures with his fingers, palms open, as though to say, who's first?

Stefyr's blue gaze slides to the Weyrleader as he looks over the sheet laid out in front of him and then down to his own sheet. "It probably doesn't lick glass, though." The tone is so casual. It's like the blond is having his own scatterbrained moment. He doesn't look at his boss after he's said it. Instead, he looks across the table to Keruthien, expression faux polite. "Greenrider Keruthien. K'ru? K'thien? K'en?" He tries out a variety before sliding his eyes to Rhodelia. "Hod." He pronounces without needing to try another one and then down to Katailea, squinting a little. "I'm Stefyr," he offers the quick introduction because getting to know each other over a gaming table is the best way to bond, but it might start with not calling each other "that one there." And since he's busy not looking at R'hyn, he'll reach for the first card in the stack to pull the card. One of the managing riders adds just as the candidate's eyes scan the words on the card, "Read it aloud, 'Rider.'" This makes Stefyr shoot a look that might be as close as the big blond comes to a dirty look at the rider and reads. "You walk into the Weyr food stores to find a pair of drunks making flour wherries. What do you do?" He stares at the card, and then looks at R'hyn, as if to ask 'Really?' His eyes bounce across to Keruthien and he frowns. "Unless one is K'en, I guess I try to stop them?" He asks this rather than declares this, his blue eyes bouncing to his fellows as if in search of a little help here.

"Hey, I wasn't saying the mood lighting was a bad thing?" Keruthien counters jokingly to R'hyn and while he's probably burning with questions about the bandaged nose, well… even he's smart enough to keep his mouth shut on that. Instead, he grins impishly, along with a quick note of: "Like the hat." Does he enjoy tempting fate? Just a bit. Then it's back to being serious and he'll focus on the game and the others. He can't help but sputter in withheld laughter though. "Jays, those are all terrible, Stefyr! Now you have me fearing my damn luck being stuck with a horrific honorific! Ugh. I guess… K'ru is the least worse of them." Everyone's a critic! Then Stefyr is picking his card and he tries (and fails) to keep a straight face. "K'en? Seriously?" he mutters under his breath, only to chuckle. "Hey, that's fair!" Reading into it as though that was the final call, Ruthien picks his own card and his grin broadens mischievously with each word. "You wake up in a strange bed, with the smell of fresh baked biscuits from the kitchens… did someone actually get tabs on me? I'm kidding! I'm kidding." He might not be. Clearing his throat, he'll flick the card in a slight flourish between his fingers as he nonchalantly adds more in vein to the game (or is it?): "Guess my sweet talking of the bakers worked after all! Fresh biscuits just for me and some kitchen staff in good spirits! Win-win, all around."

"Hod, really? That's the best you got?" Rhodelia rolls her eyes. Not like there might of been plenty of other options for Stefyr her imaginary loyal brown dragon to have picked, but Hod it is. And considering most of her exposure to dragonriding has been to Xanadu's illustrious and oh so professional weyrwomen, being BADASS BURNINATORS might seem like part of the job description. She gives a nod as Stefyr (or is if S'yr?) deals with the drunks and Keruthien gets fresh, fluffy biscuits. When it's her turn to draw her card, it doesn't take long before her silent reading of the card turns to glaring between Stefyr and R'hyn. "Which one of you stacked this deck?" J'ACCUSE! She flips the card over so all can see the situation fate decreed was: YOU WAKE UP POST FLIGHT NAKED NEXT TO AN UNKNOWN FARMHAND. She sighs as she leans back into her seat. It's what the random generation gods decreed so she must go with. "I guess I find my clothes and run." It might not be the first time…

Katailea shrugs as she sends a shrug in response to R'hyn's rhetorical question. And yes, she's curious as to his current appearance but she knows better than to be blunt about that here and now. Keruthien earns himself a roll of Kate's green eyes. "Maybe someone should be," keeping tabs on him that is. She's teasing. Then for Rhodelia as the other girl gives her answer, "Depends on the hand?" But then its her turn and she reads "You're followed by a bronzerider with a weyrmate proposal." Is that a hint of a question in her voice as she considers herown answer at the same moment. "I guess try and find a way to turn him down gently?" Try of course being the key word there.

Somehow, at some point, through his own prowess… or mainly because everyone was thoroughly occupied, Percival snorts a little snort from where he lurks. "Well, Giblets, I'm sure there's much scarier things out there than waking up next to some farm hand. I could probably name a few." Should he sit down and make himself comfortable at some point? DEFINITELY. The Butcher settles himself down and continues to watch what's going down with a slight look of confusion. What kind of game is this? He hears more random stuff when the drudges return with the dirty dishes for washing.

"Minus five points for the 'rider' with the smart mouth," R'hyn deadpans because it's not kosher to hit candidates but he can sure dock Stefyr for that! Or maybe he can't. But listen. Who's gonna argue with a supposed tyrant? The bronzer adjusts his hat somewhat just to remind everyone who's boss around here (and also so it's perched at a jaunty angle when he flicks a 'just teasing'/'hey thanks' wink in Keruthien's direction), settling his chin into the cup of his hands as he laughs quietly through prompt readings and ensuing responses. His expression is not nearly innocent enough when Rhodelia throws that J'ACCUSE their way, cheeks dimpling as he wiggle-waggles his fingers all hey-gurl-hey as he says, in his defense, "At least it was an unknown farmhand." Totally blithe. But alright. Judgment time. "Two points for responsibility," bringing S'yr up to -3, "three points because when you say fresh biscuits I don't think you mean fresh biscuits at all," fingerguns at K'en, "one point for being a scaredy-wherry," LOOKING AT YOU HOD, "and two points because you basically just told the story of my life," to Katailea, for hopefully it shouldn't be much of a surprise R'hyn is weyrmated to another bronzerider. Maybe it is. WELL, SURPRISE. R'hyn greets Percival with a lifted hand and a crooked smile, but T'rot (that rider over there) has been named Explainer Extraordinaire for the night so he ain't gotta. It's good to be the king.

"Mm, biscuits," sighs the big blond over Keruthien's card and then his eyes make a furtive sweep to see if, just maybe, there's snacks? He just about chokes when he sees a tray of cat shaped cookies that say, 'Sorry I bit you,' set out on a table nearby. Regrets, they're real. He closes his eyes briefly and then makes silent and exaggerated hand gestures at Rhodelia. It speaks without words, even though it's not that sign language he's been working on. It says: 'You think I had anything to do with this ridiculous set up?' That doesn't stop his expression from going wide-eyed and guileless to mischievous in half a blink. "Odia," with a heavy enough emphasis to bring to mind words like 'odiferous.' Someone has been studying his vocabulary~. And, "Rod." That might be payback for him turning bright red when she dealt with her card. Katailea's response gets a hint of a smile and he manages not to eyeroll at R'hyn (it was a near thing), his lips settling into a purse that IS NOT a pout, y'all. That would be undignified. Which would make sense since Stefyr has exactly zero dignity, as he goes on to prove, as he pulls his card. "You wake up with no memory of how you got where you are now, but you're chained to one of your companions." He casts a skeptical glance around the table and sighs when his eyes land on 'K'ru.' "You know that's you," a glance down to his trainer, "Or you, Deli." He taps the card on the tabletop and then tosses it down, "This is silly." This game. "I guess I call my scatterbrained and emotional dragon for help and hope that he can get help before he falls to pieces." He's not satisfied with such a personal lack of action but it will have to do since T'rot takes the chance to explain to Percival that on his turn, he ought to draw a card, read it aloud and explain to the group and for the judge (the mighty, jaunty-hatted R'hyn) what he, as a rider, would do in that scenario.

Does Keruthien puff up a little for his mere three points? Oh, you bet he does! There's also a wink and a return of a lone finger gun gesture to R'hyn. Yeah, you got him~ Were there rules to keep the game tasteful? Because if not, well, SOMEONE might want to put a muzzle on Ruthien fairly soon. There's a snickered breath for Katailea's choice, "Turning them down gently never works! Trust me." DOn't trust him! Rhodelia's luck with the cards has him stifling more laughter, but as there's been enough commentary, he only flashes her a not-so genuine look of sympathy. Back to Stefyr, he merely places his hand against his chest and doesn't even breathe a word contrary to the accusation. "Guilty as charged! And I'd never do nothing that'd have your poor blue so distressed! I'm not a monster." With a low exhale, he'll beam. "My turn again?" A quick glance around the table, including Percival in case he's wanting to jump in, but his fingers soon pluck up another card. "You wake up in the latrines, with shattered pieces of a mirror all around you… Huh." Ruthien flips the card around, brows furrowed in thought and lips pursed almost comically. "Hell of a bender, that sounds like? Guess I'd do the cursory 'do I have all my limbs' check and then drag my sorry butt out of there before someone sounds the alarm. Which won't come from my green, since she's trustworthy and loyal…" He pauses, glancing to R'hyn and the other riders present. "That's how it works, yeah?"

The glare Rhodelia continues to send to Stefyr might be because she would accuse him of such things, but she can't keep up the mock-angry for long before breaking out into a smile. She gasps as R'hyn calls her scaredy-wherry nature out and awards her second lowest points (but at least she's not dead last, although Keru and Kat definitely have the lead). "Next time, I'll get fire!" That mutter might actually be a promise. She snickers as Keruthien deals with his imaginary bender, before it's her turn to draw her next card. She rubs her hands together dramatically, blowing on them for luck before she finally draws one and cackles! "You find yourself surrounded by seven jungle felines. Hopefully my earthy brown has some firestone sacks on him so we can FLAME OFF THOSE BIG KITTIES!" She gives a very firm nod before looking to their fearless leader to see how she does?

Katailea huffs. "I said try," she points out to Keruthien. She never said it would work. "Who comes up with these things?" rhetorical question that, more of a comment really at some of the most recent scenarios. A laugh for Rhodelia's return to lighting things on fire and when it comes back to her turn the young woman picks her card. One can only suppose she reads it for the look she gives it, green eyes glancing up to stare for just a second at their judge. Could she read it aloud? Sure. Does she? No. Rather the card is shoved, face down, back towards the pile as she gets to her feet with an "I can't answer this," before she excuses herself, aka leaves the room without further ado. They may have made them come, no one said anything about staying. Should anyone venture, the card reads 'You wake up in the bed of the Weryleader and they look happy about it.'

Did R'hyn carry the cookies over from the office on purpose? He might have. Look, at least he's not offering them to people (yet), instead leaaaning his chin out of his hands as he peers at Stefyr's next card while he reads it… and he laughs. "I think the success of that would depend. Is he likely to call on a fellow dragon? Or more likely to call for help from anyone - even some unsavory sorts?" CUE SWASHBUCKLE GESTURE BECAUSE THIS IS HOW YOU GET PIRATES. As for Keruthien's question, "Sounds like you're in for a wealth of bad luck, but if that's her personality, she'd probably keep her word. Most dragons are good for that, or at least will at least keep a secret if you ask." EMPHASIS ON THE MOST. R'hyn narrows his eyes playfully at Rhodelia, might well have some sassed remark to throw her way when Katailea shoves her card back towards the pile and stands. Both of the bronzer's brows shoot up, meeting her eyes for a moment before offering a crooked grin and a waved, "Okay, well, thanks for coming, anyways." AND YET THAT MAN IS A TERRIBLE GOSSIP. She's no sooner left the room than his gaze is riveted to the abandoned card, maintaining only enough dignity that he doesn't plop down amongst them just to read it. And so, "What'sit say?," he asks instead before remembering he has a job to do. "Right. Since apparently I'm being stingy," HE SAW THAT HUFFPUFF, "a pending ten or twenty points for Stefyr," though which is which is his to guess, "fifteen to you, greeniepants - it was twenty, but minus five for the back luck," womp womp, "and plus thirty to Rhody because fire is always the answer." Good grief, this is quickly developing whose-line-is-it-anyways proportions but R'hyn is unrepentant, more than happy to continue upping the points ridiculously as the night goes on, until it will take that accidental order of 500 abacus just to keep the tally as things take inventive, questionable, and sometimes downright improbable turns.

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