A Missing Report
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Xanadu Weyr - Meadow
A large, slightly rolling meadow is set high enough above the riverbank on both sides to avoid suffering from flooding, healthy ground cover and grass spreading out from either side of the dividing river. Scattered amongst the meadow are a variety of weyrs, each with a narrow path leading up to it from a main, winding road. Some are set under a few trees, while others sit by themselves.
Runner stables with the paddock beyond are to the south beyond the meadow weyrs, a smithy and a woodcraft shop are settled closer in towards the path to the clearing, while trees border the western edge of the meadow, and a faint outline of a stone wall and low rolling hills can be seen to the north. Wagons laden with felled trees from the forests to the southwest or ore from the mountains to the southeast are hauled by burden beast up the road through the meadow, over the bridge spanning the river to be processed in the appropriate workshops.


It was a dark and stormy night… last night. Most of the weyr was tucked away in bed, but some were not so lucky. One of them, lucky as unlucky goes, is currently pacing back and forth near the stables as the new day begins. The storm has stopped, but the sky is still heavily overcast, with thick gray clouds that make it impossible to see the sun. He's disheveled and his eyes are starting to get bloodshot, and he keeps pushing back his hair as if hoping to make it behave after the winds. Every so often, a mud-spattered stablehand comes toward him, and he perks up for a moment before sighing at their reports. He combs his hand through his hair again, then looks to the latest stablehand. "I guess we'd better report this," he mutters, and sighs. "Go to the wingleaders' office. Find Galaxy's." He holds up a hand. "Don't tell him. Just… bring him here. I'll deal with it."

One mud covered stablehand is slowly making her way back into the stables, the one that was just speaking with the journeyman is racing past her and she peers after him wondering if there was some word of osmething. "Did someone find them?" This is questioned while she moves on over towards the pacing journeyman. Yes reporting it would be a good idea! Its been well, how long as it been now, a night? She can't remeber its been a long night after all.

All night long, and nothing. The journeyman frowns. "No. Nobody's found them. Or the runners." His frown deepens at that part, and he glances toward the caverns. "I don't suppose you found any traces?" Someone's clearly low on patience after his night. Won't this be a great way to make his report?

The stablehand ohs and blinkblinks, someone is tired! "No… Which is why I was hoping someone found something and I just hadn't heard…" Though it doesn't seem so. "Who was on the other runner anwyay?" The blonde haired girl looks about 18ish in age, and beyond tired. "It rained so much I'm afraid lot of their tracks is gone." So not helpful, right?

The stablehand whose job it is to find Ers'lan will be in for a surprise. Galaxy was having a full out meeting with all its wingriders, the rotation was being handed out, business plans set for sweeps after the stormy night, all the formal things that a wingleader would be doing in a debrief before the new sevenday started. All eyes in the room would turn to the intrusion that the stablehand makes, silencing all proceedings. It'd be in that spotlight that the stablehand would have to stammer up a request for the wingleader to follow him and most importantly, without spewing what it was about. That might be the hardest thing to achieve, moving the man to follow with no clear sign of what for. Perhaps after a few insistent pleas, the wingleader would hand over the tasks of finishing the briefing to the wingsecond and make his way to stalk behind the stablehand, not pleased and showing disappointment for the lack of information. He doesn't go unarmed either, clearly revealing his sheath that holds a nice sized dagger at his hip, plainly informing the stablehand in not so many terms that he was not amused.

He arrives with as much amusement showing on his face as when he left the wing conference room, eyes pivoting this way and that to see if there is damage to the stables or something in relation to where he's being guided. He's wearing his slick new riding jacket, black save for the threadwork on the cuffs and collar adding some richness to the design. He's not as largely muscled as he used to be but he's got a lot of the definition that he lost back, healthy and full, but certainly not in a good mood, growling, "Reckon iffin this be a prank…" he trails off, ominously. Poor stablehand, probably making them sweat.

The stablehand was lucky he didn't turn and run. Though, by the time he's leading the wingleader back, he's beginning to think maybe running in the first place would have been a better idea. Then he'd just have to deal with an angry journeyman! … rock and hard place, here. Or was that frying pan and fire? Must be, he's definitely sweating. He just shakes his head mutely at the mention of a prank, too terrified to speak.

As they approach, the journeyman turns in his pacing to see them, and his eyes brighten. Lan may not be glad to see them, but for the journeyman, this is an opportunity to make his problem be Someone Else's. "Ah!" he says, shaking his head at the stablehand's question. He has more important things on his mind, and he hastens to meet the wingleader to tell him those things. "We've got a bit of a problem here, sir. The storm last night spooked one of the runners, and, well… we've two people missing."

The stablehand, is about to questions her journeyman again before hearing the new voice. She turns about to see Ers'lan, a soft ah escapes her and she swallows before letting the person over her take charge. She'll just be over there behind the journeyman. With the report given she goes about chewing on her lip and a slow nod is seen while her gase flicks around to see whom all is back to make sure no one else is off stuck somewhere, or something!

Ers'lan notes the presence of the person in charge, stepping quicker and maybe even beyond the guidance of the stablehand, coming up to a sudden halt as the journeyman comes to meet him. "Reckon next time ya be sendin one of yer apprentices off ta chase me down, ya bloody well send 'em some information too Journeyman," Ers'lan doesn't look fondly on time wasted and it seems time will be wasted having walked all the way from the ready room to just out side of the stables. If it truly was an emergency… That's when his eyes flicker to the stablehand who tries to escape from his gaze, pin pointing her with a look that suggests he's putting her details to memory. Then his gaze is upon the Journeyman again, noting his body language and tones, "Long night?" as given evidence of the tusseled hair and the red blood shot eyes. He does keep himself from remarking any further, long enough for the Journeyman to spit out his woes. The last makes Lan lift his brows, "Why ya suppose yer tellin me this now 'n narh last night? Thar be buckets of water pourin down last night 'n throughout the night. Yer a beastcrafter, ya best know that tracks bein washed away in tha much rain." Frustration evident, "Shells 'n ashes man, spit it out, who be yer missin duo?"

The journeyman frowns at Ers'lan's objections, sending a glance to his stablehands that's none too kindly. Perhaps after this long night, he's not thinking so kindly on them. They might say the wrong things. Not that he's done an exactly bang-up job of reporting this himself, but doesn't the journeyman always know better? He draws himself up stiffly. "I don't approve of gossip," he says, with another glance - almost a glare - at the apprentices before back to Lan again with a frown, his own temper already frayed. "If I called in the sweepriders for every missing runnerbeast, you'd never be done with us," he retorts. "We're perfectly capable of rounding up a startled beast - better at it than a dragon that will send them for the nearest cover at a gallop." Perfectly capable, or at least certain of it, which is why now the trail is cold and lost. That's doubtless another reason for his temper. "A beastcraft apprentice. Idrissa." He glances to the stablehand as if to verify the name - they're all friends, right? All these young females? Always… gossiping. "And another young woman. Bakercraft, I believe. Name of…" Now what was it again? He frowns for a moment, cudgeling his tired brain. Ah, that was it. "Lorelai."

The stablehand cringes slightly at the look she is given and she stands rather still. Great, just what she needed, a stare down! The journeyman has all the answers hopfully so she wont have to speak much perhaps? No most likely not. "We we searching for them since last night. Followed off in the direction we was told they went in." That should be helpful right? At the look she is given a slight frown is seen, the journeyman doesn't even remember the other girls name really? "We figured Rissa would be able to catch up too the other runner. He said she was nearly caught up too 'em an everything." Oh ya she is totally throwing it back at the dear journeyman in a none sort of attacking way. She can totally blame it on being up all night, right?

"Gossip 'n reportin with a bit more detail be a slight difference thar Journeyman. I reckon I nearly tossed yer lad out the door because 'e ain't be much help tellin me nuthin useful." Ers'lan flips his jacket to fold the material over his sheath, hiding the dagger now since there wasn't a threat of a personal attack or needing to use it. He notes the hard looks to the apprentices and upon the retort he in turn flips it back on the man, "Reckon iffin it were jus beasts we be talkin bout, nay, tis easier fer ye beastcrafters ta look after it. Be thinkin these beasts of yers be carryin folks upon 'em, slightly more concernin fer a man who be in charge of search and rescue, reckon so?" He is all but sweetly sarcastic to the man, clearly seething underneath for the delay in the information, but the second piece of news, the names, have him suddenly react. He reaches out before he knows what he's doing and gives the Journeyman a shake, fist clawing at the man's clothes to yank him in close by the collar, "WHAR!?! Ye ignorant fool!" A shake and then release of fabric, throwing the journeyman back a step, giving time for Lan to suck in his breath, a shaking hand running through his hair, face red, "Ye best be hopin me weyrmate 'n yer apprentice come back in one piece!" a deep throated growl, promising retribution if not. "Reckon tha be two women out thar in a shardin forest of wild feline's 'n blasted renegades…!" A finger raised and pointed accusingly at the journeyman, "This be on yer head." Already in the background as Lan's eyes seem distant, dragons are assembling, filling the meadow with activity. Irked by the journeyman, his blue eyes snap to the stablehand who spoke up, "Reckon yer ta show me whar ya searched… all of it. Can ye remember iffin I show ya a map?" A breath, a stern look, gathering his wits and trying to stamp out the emotion, eyes back to the other, "Journeyman, yer ta help gather information from those ye be sending out, mark it on a map," If they need maps, Galaxy has plenty of blank ones for search missions just like this. "We be wastin enough time already."

Oh, like he should be expected to remember the name of every pretty princess who wants a pony of her own! If this one hadn't gone and gotten herself lost, he could have finished forgetting her name just like all the rest of them. He has no further answer for Ers'lan's renewed complaint, so he simply grinds his teeth. "The girl - the apprentice - followed her. It seemed a simple enough task." He gives the stablehand a look, fixing her features in his mind so he knows just who to give sick-runner stall-mucking duty for the next sevenday. Maybe the next two? He'll have to think on that. "She -" he's beginning to say to explain how (of course) it's the fault of the riders and not him, when he's cut off by being dragged in close like one of his own runners in the hands of an inept and ham-fisted rider. He sputters at the close up and angry face, though no coherent words emerge, then stumbles back as he's thrown. Now he's red in the face, and his hands ball up into fists. "They're merely-" he begins to shout, then something registers before he can bury himself any deeper in runner-dung. Weyrmate? Ah. Maybe he should have paid a little more attention to the name this time. His mouth opens and closes silently a few times. "She's on a good runner," he finally says, his tone sullen. Which either is a sign of his priorities, or an assurance that she'll end up okay in the end. It's difficult to tell. He's not stupid enough to do something that'd get him buried in dragon-dung, though his hands are still fists. He turns the glare on the stablehand. "Well, go on!" he tells her. "Don't just stand there, make yourself useful to the wingleader! And show some respect!" Ah, at least he can take out his temper on her (three sevendays of mucking. At least). Not to mention the rest of the apprentices and stable workers. He turns to them now. "Go on, all of you! You!" He points to the stablehand who fetched Lan in the first place. "Get a map already!" Because, after all, he was already there in the right area, and never mind he would have been blasted for showing that much initiative.

The stablehand errs sharply as the journeyman is grabbed up and given a great shake. At the question about the man she nods while peering back to Ers'lan. "Yes'em, I can show you on a map. I went down the coastal road. But with all the rain…" She doesn't want to comment on what she is thinking, seeing how the mere dropping of names was enough to cause the journeyman to get shaken like a etch-a-sketch for a moment. Though at the glaring look she gets, she is wishing Ers'lan would have shaken him more so at the moment. She steps back and is off to get a map that she knows off in the office before she is set up to muck stalls for the rest of her life because a certain someone found out he did something wrong. Oh how she wants to tell him 'told you so!!' but that would leave her mucking stalls until who knows when.

Ers'lan probably wouldn't take any flippant remark from a crafter right then, even if it was a Journeyman, the Journeyman was in the Weyr, so at least the Journeyman is smart enough not to pursue the arguement. Though the second that Lan released his grip on the beastcraft Journeyman, Lan is pacing in quick short steps, working out between his own frayed emotions and the stress of the situation the proper procedures. It was likely he'd try to be out until he found his weyrmate, knowing him, as long as it didn't risk his lifemate. There's a cold stare leveled at the Journeyman for the continued commentary, "Aye, 'n I reckon ya be givin it ta her when we be finding it." Consider this a beastcrafter 'make it right' program. As the Journeyman is ushering his apprentices to help, Lan leaves his last words to the Journeyman to be just that, moving already back the way he came, "Come. We've maps for this sort of thing back at the ready room." No sense jumping into search and rescues without a solid plan behind them.


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