It works!...but should it?(S'rei

[dragon]

It had taken him two solid weeks of steady labor in every spare moment he had to make the initial piece and put it together. It had looked like a fine instrument of defense indeed. A metal crossbow on gargantuan proportions, the wings were mounted on a beam of wood that housed all the trigger and cock mechanisms, with a sturdy 'string' made of some finely, and tightly, spun rope of smooth ply. Pulled so tight by the wings, the rope was a lot like a metal rod all by itself... only flexible. So, thrilled to finally have his prototype ready to test, C'oar had gone and enlisted the aid of some leather workers to build a harness to mount it to the middle of Frosstyth's back, square between the wings. This was a tricky placement to try and strap something, due to the wings running the full length of the body. But as the tanners figured that part out, C'oar build the mount that would be between the weapon and the dragon. A massive splay-footed thing that would cradle the dragon's back, rather than cut into it, with a pivot on top that allowed for aiming side to side as well as up and down. Of course, shooting would be limited to when the dragon's wings were out of the way, but that was just a matter of timing.

A week later, the harness and mount were ready, and C'oar strapped the thing - with some help from some other fellows - to his not-quite-comfortable-with-this-idea dragon. Once it was mounted and in place, C'oar had Frosstyth shake as hard as he could. The munition didn't even budge or flop in the slightest, hugging the brown's back and following through every jerking motion that Frosstyth could throw at it. The mount and harness was perfect. Of this, C'oar was quite proud. Now, it was time to test the thing itself. The first test was going to be done on the ground, as the last thing C'oar wanted was to have a learning curve that involved his dragon's wings, too.

Gathering up a bolt for the thing that was basically nothing more than a sharpened rod of wood, C'oar climbed up onto his dragon's shoulders. It took him several moments to figure out the best way to actually cock the thing, rather than the in theory one he'd made it for. It only took him an hour to get it done the very first time. That time, of course, would be much shorter the next time, now that he knew how to do it. Something that big was a lot harder to crank back than a typical crossbow, and he had some ideas on how to improve that spot already.

He laid the bolt in place, and aimed the thing at a handy tree that was not too far away. It was big enough that it shouldn't be too hard to hit. And it was in a direction that if he did miss, no one would be down range, no matter how far away. Then he pulled the trigger.

Or, rather, tried to. It took some serious doing, to get that thing to pull, and release the string, almost all of his not-inconsiderable strength. That, definitely needed work. But he had very little time to consider that problem once it finally launched. Because he very quickly found a new one. The bolt flew, alright, and incredibly fast with a lot of power. It missed the tree, but hit the next one back, embedding itself deeply into the tree's trunk. The bolt shivered itself to pieces upon impact, too. Most of that went unnoticed, though, as the torque the bow exerted did more than launch the bolt. It broke the rope, and flung poor Frosstyth back so hard he rolled twice before he could stop himself. Just as soon as that began to happen, C'oar leapt free to avoid getting absolutely squashed.

That didn't save the bow, though. When Frosstyth rolled back upright and climbed back to his feet - bellowing, roaring, and snorting, complaining of all his new aches and sore ribs - the bow followed him alright. The harness was still intact, but that was about it. The mount was twisted sideways and crunched over, the bow itself a mangled wreck. An absolute mess.

At first C'oar was disappointed that all that hard work was wasted, but then he was quite genuinely impressed at the power the thing put out. That bolt, if it could be made to fly true, would go a very long ways! He stripped the wrecked contraption off of his dragon, allowing it to clatter into a heap on the ground. For a time he just sat on a log and stared at it dejectedly, before getting up the gumption to tear the weapon off of the mount and start working on straightening and repairing it. The mount he just put into the metal heap to be reshaped into something else. Clearly, this thing was not going to be dragon-mounted, whatever happened. Not only had that not worked on a landed dragon, it would have been utter chaos on a flying one. Not to mention Frosstyth's swearing off having anything else to do with anything C'oar invented. Simmering and soaking in the river, Frosstyth made like to completely ignore his rider, even though he was actually quite concerned and kept a very close eye on anything that C'oar did.

The weapon was reborn from its twisted body, rebuilt, and with improvements. This time it had a metal body that was considerably stronger. He didn't know if the wooden one had busted from Frosstyth's landing on it or the bow going off, but he wasn't taking any chances. It had an improved crank, and a vastly improved trigger mechanism, more powerfully built inside the stronger, but smaller body. It was mounted again, on a new base. But this base was mounted on a massively sturdy, log-moving two wheeled cart that he'd talked out of a holder. The shaft that was meant for two draftbeasts was removed, and replaced with a massive set of shafts. Shafts that any wher or small dragon could fit in. Weyrling, flightless adults, anything that was willing. Instead of being dragon-carried, now it was to be draconic-towed. Mobile, still, but not as much so. The rope was replaced with a thicker rope, maybe it wouldn't snap this time.

A new bolt was made, this time with a bit of fletching on the back end to make it steadier in flight... hopefully more accurate, too. C'oar managed to talk Frosstyth into holding the shafts down on the ground for the next test firing, though the dragon carefully tucked his head between his front legs to shelter it from any explosions, squinting his big eyes shut and bracing for the world to end. The bow cranked a lot easier and faster this time, and felt far more sturdy while it happened, too. The new bolt was placed in the track, and C'oar carefully gave the trigger a try. It was still a firm pull, but nothing like it had been before. It was a good thing it was a full-fist trigger, and not small for just a few fingers, like the little versions were. Once it was released, the bow snapped forward, launching the bolt. It bolt flew more or less true, before shattering itself on a downed log downrange. Unfortunately, C'oar never saw that happen either, as he was too busy yelling and leaping off the weapon, arms over his head. The rope had snapped again, and had whacked him hard, leaving a huge red welt across his shoulder and down one arm. That bore a bit of sulking about. A little numbweed fixed most of the problem though, as the rope burn would only take time to heal on its own. The whole time all Frosstyth could do was laugh mercilessly at him for it, however, earning him a kick in the shin from a very frustrated C'oar. Which only made the brown laugh harder.

It took a few days of thinking before C'oar even tackled the thing again, when his duties allowed. An even bigger rope was applied, and this time the bolt was fired from a distance – he used another rope to pull the trigger. Plainly, that 'string' was a dangerous thing to be near when it failed. The rope broke – again – and sent the bolt askew to embed itself in the dirt some ten feet away, almost completely hidden in the soil. Out of ideas, as that had been the biggest rope he could get his hands on, C'oar sat there on the ground and tried to think, chin on a fist. Bits of rope surrounded him, discarded by the machine he was trying to make. Clearly, rope was not going to cut it. Clearly, it had to be something stronger. Something … stronger. Like, metal? No, metal wouldn't work. Metal was not flexible like that. Metal would be a rod, would bend, sure, but it wouldn't unbend without breaking. The wings were undoubtedly strong enough to yank the rod straight again, but it wouldn't be any good for the rod. Wire was flexible, but not strong enough at all. Not nearly so. So, blowing a raspberry past his lips, C'oar picked up a busted and frayed end of a rope and started picking it apart idly, dropping bits of fuzz onto the toes of his boots. It wasn't until he ran his thumb over the rope, causing the individually spun yarns within it to separate that an idea appeared in his head.

Rope. Yarn. Yarn was weak. Wire … was weak … what would happen if wire was spun into a rope? A metal rope? Naw, that was stupid. But … since he didn't have any other ideas, he got up and started trying to figure out how spinning was done. It took him forever, and got him lots of really weird looks from a lot of people. When he was asked whyfor, he answered obliquely that he wanted to know how to make rope. He neglected to say what kind of rope, as he really didn't want to get scoffed at for the hare-brained idea. He would figure it out on his own, and no one had to be the wiser for it. Once he had the information he sought … in sufficient detail as he assumed he would need, he went back to the forge and went back to work. The forge itself was not really needed, though, but there was where all the tools he was familiar with were. It took him a long time, a lot of stubbed digits, a bit of frustrated swearing, but after awhile he turned out a nice piece of cable. This warranted some toying with, of course, and he spent an inordinate amount of time playing with its flexibility. Amazed with the creation, and wondering why it hadn't been thought of many many turns sooner, C'oar simply marveled at it. A metal rope! Who would have thought? It wasn't quite as flexy as a real, fiber rope, but it was flexy enough for what he wanted to do!

Proud of this creation, he showed it off to Frosstyth, who really had no idea what he was looking at. Ok, so? Disappointed in his dragon, C'oar went about trying to figure out how to apply it to the bow. Which was no small feat. He ended up ruining quite a bit of repeatedly-cut ends trying to figure out how to attach it. Obviously, the metal rope was not capable of being tied into useful knots. Which proved a very interesting problem, indeed. How did one use a metal rope, if you couldn't put knots in it? Too intrigued to be frustrated anymore, C'oar simply stood there and stared at it for a long, long time. Finally, he came up with an idea: use it like a hook and eye. Put ends on the rope. Since it was metal, he could easily make ends on it out of more metal! After making measurements on how long it would need to be, C'oar headed back to the forge, cut the metal rope to appropriate length (a trick he had had some trouble learning at first … cutting stranded metal …), and then started applying metal ends to it. It was a tad … well … more than a tad … harder than he'd initially thought it would be. But after several days of struggling with the stubborn thing, he managed to make ends on the rope, ends that would stay. The first few tries had simply popped back off again.

Carrying his metal rope back to the bow, C'oar had the awfullest time trying to figure out how to get it in place, as it didn't react the same way as regular rope, needing new tricks. But persistence (or was it stubbornness?) won out, and he got it mounted. Standing back, C'oar couldn't help but be impressed. If nothing else, the thing was entirely fireproof. No wood, no burnable rope … it would take a forge to ruin this thing. Or a Frosstyth… landing on it …

Anyway, it was time to test fire again. There couldn't possibly be anything else wrong with the machine… this had to work. Cocked and loaded, C'oar stood well away from it anyway to fire the thing, with Frosstyth still holding the shafts down. It fired, without a glitch. The metal rope held up and everything. Only, now there was a new problem.

Instead of launching the bolt, it had completely shattered it, sending a cloud of splinters in all directions right there on top of the machine. When the rope didn't give, the bolt did. Which left C'oar standing there dumbfounded until he realized what was happening. Which meant a new round of making bolts. He went back and made a new bolt – this one a tad heavier, and with a metal butt-cap to protect it from the rope. When launched, this bolt actually flew. Sortof. More like it was tossed overhand for a dog to fetch, as it spun wildly out of control, clattering in the canopy branches before tumbling back to the ground. The butt cap threw the weight off badly enough that it wasn't going to go anywhere at all.

A bit put off by that, C'oar left it alone and slept on it, trying to figure out what to do now. The idea came the next morning – most arrows had a metal head, not a wooden point. Of course, with a bow this powerful, a metal head really wasn't technically necessary. But back to work he went, in his next bit of spare time. By now he had learned to only make one bolt at a time, as clearly the design was in flux. A metal head was added to the bolt, to balance it back out again. This time, it flew, but it nosedived in an excruciating hurry into the dirt. After a bit more weight was added to the back, as the head itself couldn't be made lighter and still be durable, he also added a bit larger bit of fletching to make up for the heavier weight.

The bolt flew true, all the way to its target, earning an thrilled whoop out of C'oar. The only problem was that the bolt did not survive the treatment … it still shattered upon impact. Of course, he was shooting trees and not dragons with it, but that still gave him a new idea. He took the bits back to the forge, and started work anew. This time he made a larger head, a heavier buttcap, slightly larger fletching, on a lighter shaft. Which he scored deeply all the way around the wood, a scant two inches behind where the metal of the head stopped.

Uncertain whether or not this was going to work at all, C'oar applied it to the bow (still firing it from a safe distance). It flew, straight and true, as had its predecessor. But this time, when it impacted the target, it imbedded the head into the tree, and snapped off cleanly at the scored area, the now butt-heavy bolt tumbling more or less intact back to the ground.

C'oar inspected this for a bit, and realized that that little tiny bit of scoring, the heavy head, and the weighted buttcap all led to one thing. If he shot a dragon with this thing, the head would become imbedded very deep, before the weight of the buttcap and the energy of the launch simply broke the shaft at the score. Meaning the shaft would fall back to the earth, leaving the head deep inside. Unless the other Weyrs figured out there was a head in there, and not just a stab wound by a long piece of wood, it would spell doom for the dragon. Even if vital organs were missed.

It was a horrible thing to think, an even horribler thing to realize he'd made. But … he wouldn't have started down this road without fair provocation. Now … now he needed to decide what to do with the thing. Obviously, it was a ground-based weapon that needed to be anchored before it was fired. Obviously, if aimed with any kind of accuracy, it would be a devastating contraption that might well turn the tide away from Selenitas. But … could he live with the weight of all the lives it would cost? All on his hands? Because he'd designed the sharding thing?

It was an intense moral question that C'oar didn't know how to answer at all. Picking up the remaining shaft – which could technically be reused even after being fired… all it needed was a new head, he went about collecting the heads that were imbedded in the trees. It was some doing, but nothing bore wasting. Returning all that material to the forge, he went ahead and made a compliment of bolts for the bow, as he mulled over whether or not to show it to anyone, much less the Weyrleader. Who would either take it or destroy it.

On the flip side was a whole other story … how many lives would be lost over the turns if he didn't put it to use? The whole reason why he'd made it? Tied up in such knots, with no answers, C'oar decided that he really needed the input of someone older, and wiser in the ways of the world. Yes, he was a dragonrider … but he'd only been so for a scant couple turns. All he knew was what he'd seen dropped in his lap. Before that he'd just been a smith.

So it was with a weighted heart that C'oar took the thing – with his dragon's help – to the Weyrleader.

[Requiem]

It is very powerful, Mine. "Mm." He watched Miguel below, playing near the water with Lord. The Weyrleader had a leg propped up on the boulder rising high and providing some shade for the man perched in the elbow of the rocks. Salenth sprawled on the boulder above him, limbs and tail hanging down, twitching occasionally in restlessness - or to find a better position. S'rei jotted another line down in the cramped style that few but himself could piece together. Compiling the remnants of Ka'rys's ideas and plans from the ink-smeared mess - ideas and plans the Weyrsecond could no longer remember - wasn't an easy thing. He'd never be able to extract more than a fourth of it. If that much.

Do you know what it's for? "Never seen anything remotely similar, Sal." It was...odd...to think how many different things a person could learn to pay attention to at once. Deciphering the ruined documents, watching over Miguel, tuning out the majority of Worm's murmurings and examining with distant curiosity what so had captured the bronze's attention through Salenth's eyes. Stranger still, it seemed absolutely normal to S'rei by now.

It is a human thing. This drew an amused smile from the man. "Yes. But humans don't always make sense to each other, either." You don't even have the smallest inkling? S'rei turned more of his attention to it through their bond. The brownpair he recognized, if vaguely - and partly due to the gigantic sword, the usefulness of which he still couldn't understand. What did a dragonrider need a sword for? (He'd never even seen something quite like that monstrosity before, and he'd met more Lordholders than probably anyone else currently residing in the south. That sort of ostentatious armament had hold royalty written all over it.)

"A gigantic...crossbow...perhaps?" Salenth pulled the image of this 'crossbow' from S'rei's mind, but it didn't leave him any less confused. Or curious. Your kind devises such wicked things with which to murder each other. "I believe it was originally meant for hunting," S'rei commented idly. Seemed effective enough without making such huge...bolts, do you call them? "I suppose. I think. Never really handled a crossbow or learned the mechanics. It's more of a hold thing." Setting aside Ka'rys's documents, he glanced over at the weyr assignments he was trying to rearrange. It looked like they were going to end up renovating after all...which he'd hoped to avoid. "If I was to guess, I'd say it was meant for something bigger than a person." You mean a dragon. Salenth's curiosity had changed to a tightness that might have been just a touch of anger. "Most likely."

S'rei brushed aside the room assignments to squint at the blueprints again, trying to see where walls could be knocked down...where rooms could be expanded. He wanted to take the first level where all the leadership of the weyr currently resided, and move the main hall down there, more or less. Then switch up the weyrs...maybe arranging them by wings...so that it wasn't so ridiculously easy to cripple the weyr in one blow. This whole bronzes and golds on bottom greens on top thing was ludicrous. "Tell him to bring it up this side of the hill, if you please. Miguel hardly needs anything else to distress him." Which a gigantic crossbow was bound to do. Children didn't have to be well-versed in weaponry to know one when they saw it, and Miguel had never been slow to comprehend.

Frosstyth...Mine would prefer if Yours brought this - contraption - up the hill on the side away from the river. The hatchling plays by the water. Salenth's tail shifted, just the tip draping over the foot of His. You are irritated. "Mm." Is it because of shooting dragons? "He might intend to deepsea fish with it." This brought on a huff from Salenth, of amusement and disbelief. "No. Just wondering how he managed to construct this under our noses."

It has been busy. They approach.

[dragon]

Mine, Salenth says his wants it brought up that way, rather than the other way. Something about a hatchling. Frosstyth mentioned, unhappily. At least he wasn't having to carry the thing - just drag it. C'oar only nodded a bit, and changed directions, knowing that Frosstyth would follow with the two wheeled cart. Between his long strides, and Frosstyth's brown-typical strength, it didn't take either of them long to cover the territory between where he had been and where the Weyrleader apparently was.

I don't think this is a good idea, mine. Frosstyth added.

"You never think anything is a good idea, Frosst. But, the whole point in this is to find exactly that out. So don't get so up in a tizzy about it." C'oar answered, wearily.

But, you don't understand. I meant now. As in, right now. I don't think they are in a particularly good mood at the moment. Salenth sounded ... irritated. You know that if Salenth is irritated, so is his.

"Good point, but ... we're committed." C'oar answered, before climbing the slope and leaving Frosstyth with the wagon down at the bottom. Frosstyth deftly squirreled his tail out of it, walked a few paces, and flopped down there on a bare stretch of rock, watching Salenth above with interest. C'oar nodded a greeting to the Bronze, before centering his gaze upon the man himself. "Weyrleader." He greeted. "I have a concern I don't know how to address."

[Requiem]

Salenth watched the man coming up the hill placidly. S'rei still hadn't turned in that direction, his gaze flicking toward Miguel periodically, just to be sure. The little boy was pretty good about not getting himself into sticky situations, however, even when distracted by his firelizard. Which reminded S'rei a bit of his mother...Laurie was wonderful at creating trouble - and, for the most part, staying out of it. He really, really missed his sister sometimes.

An arm slid up behind him on the rock, and he turned his head to regard C'oar expressionlessly for a moment, his gaze moving past the brownrider, down to the weapon and the dragon who'd pulled it. It lingered there for a moment, then moved back up to C'oar's face, an eyebrow lifting mildly. He might have spoken then, but a gust blew through, and the Weyrleader shivered slightly, pulling up the shirt that had slid partially down his shoulder. "Is that so?" Salenth huffed softly, shifting on the stone above. "C'oar, isn't it? I don't suppose you've discussed this - concern - with E'rro...or possibly T'san or C'ryl?"

Highly unlikely, if it involved that...thing...below. E'rro, at least, knew enough to bring that sort of information to him.

Not giving C'oar time to respond, he nodded toward one of the pieces of parchment nearest the brownrider was standing. "Tell me. What do you think of the arrangement of the weyrs right now? By color and all that?" He'd gone back to piecing together Ka'rys's work, and was no longer looking at C'oar.

[dragon]

E'rro? T'san? C'ryl? C'oar didn't see why he would have taken his concerns to them, so all he offered was a silent single shake of his head, before he turned his gaze upon the ink-splattered parchments. It looked like someone had tried to destroy them by inkwell, rather than by fire. Most peculiar, to be sure. For a time, he remained utterly silent as he thought about the question posed to him, while looking at the ruined sheets.

"Sir, to be perfectly honest ... there is a lot about how the Weyr operates that makes little to no sense to me. That might be because I didn't start out here, or it might be other things. Like not knowing what all goes into running one. But ... just on basic principle ... I always subscribed to the concept of not putting all of one's eggs in one basket. Sir." C'oar answered, finally. Sorting the dragons by color didn't make any sense to him at all ... but then, neither did sorting them by wing. He didn't know why things were done the way they were, so he wasn't going to criticize. He shrugged a bit. "Been me, given what I currently know, I'd have put the dragons scattershot, all over the place."

He gestured at the parchments. "What happened to those?"

Curious what had derailed everything, Frosstyth sat up straighter, though that didn't help him see any better. Tilting his head, he looked up at Salenth instead. Greetings.

[Requiem]

He listened to C'oar's response with more interest than he actually showed, the bronzerider squinting at some markings that he thought he might just be able to make out. Not immediately responding to the brownrider's observations - S'rei had a tendency of feeling people out when he first truly met them - he at least flicked a glance the man's way when C'oar asked his question. The Weyrleader's lips twisted wryly. "Oh. That. The result of a disastrous attack on Ka'rys involving two nasty little salamandyrs and an inkwell," he commented dryly. "I love being awoken in the middle of the night by anxious mindmates making me think we're being raided. Then Ka'rys conveniently got his skull smashed to pieces, so now I have no choice but to try to puzzle it out. Without his help."

Scribbling another line down - the legibility only moderately better than the ink-splattered parchments he was studying - S'rei again let the silence draw out a little. "The problem with Selenitas..." he stated slowly, groping for the next parchment with one hand and glancing down at it with a mild frown "...is it's steeped in tradition. Twelve generations of goldriders just recently broken. Strongly matriarchal. When I was growing up here, there was a caste system. If you had a good bloodline, you were granted certain...priveleges. And the rest were left to pick up the slack in obscurity." He glanced up at C'oar, then, the look decidedly searching. Testing.

"Things have changed a little since then, but the sedentary mentality remains the same. Making any sort of change is a struggle. But yes...I do agree. The current arrangement of the weyrs is unfortunate - if not downright foolish. You've some skill with construction." Clearly. His gaze again flicked toward the queer contraption. Imaginative. Ultimately...not very useful and something of a waste of resources. But it did demonstrate ability, and C'oar at least had a brain working inside his skull, by his answer to S'rei's question. "I'm going to need people to help work on the excavations, to shuffle the dragons and get the kitchens and dining halls out of the trees and into the stone. Would you be interested in helping in that project?"

Salenth stirred on the rock, head coming up just enough to get a good view of Frosstyth. Hello, young one, he responded simply. Quite a burden you have there. Inviting comment from the brown.

[dragon]

Salamandyrs. That explained a lot. Personally, C'oar detested the creatures. Running menaces that they were. He certainly would never own one himself, if he had any say about it at all. He was quite happy with his one flitter - a flitter he was rather proud of, actually. "Is Ka'rys going to recover?" C'oar asked, simply. If the Jr Weyrleader was embroiled in something important enough to have S'rei poring over his ruined files like this, it seemed most imperative that the man recover. Whatever it was, it had to be important. At least, C'oar assumed as much ... would the Weyrleader be spending time on it otherwise?

"I recall hearing about some of that." C'oar answered, simply. He'd been fairly young at the time, and things had changed. At least, initially. Somewhat. At the time, the people seemed to think they were big changes. C'oar didn't really remember enough to be able to say for certain one way or the other, without basing anything off of other people's perceptions. He watched as S'rei looked down the hill at his contraption, but didn't turn to look as well. As its creator, he knew its every detail, and didn't need to look to know just exactly what the weyrleader was seeing. Instead, he just watched S'rei patiently, listening to the man speak.

"Certainly, sir. I'll help in any way needed." C'oar answered. Obviously, working on something he had some knowledge about was better suited to his skill set, but neither was he adverse to learning new ones, or working for the Weyr in general. He certainly was not a rider that thought all a rider had to do was from dragon back.

Quite. Frosstyth answered the bronze. And the worst of it isn't even physical weight. But he left it at that ... he wasn't sure if he was supposed to be talking to Salenth about the thing that C'oar had come to talk to S'rei about. He was also glaringly aware of his position when it came to Salenth. When it came to the younger bronzes, Frosstyth fancied himself just as good - if not better. But an older dragon such as the one that sat above him, he was quite aware of the seniority, and respected that. Salenth knew things. He was experienced. Let me know if the hatchling comes this way, and I will hide it. Frosstyth offered. As big as it was, it was still small enough to be easily hidden under his wings. It was massive only on a scale so far as weapons went. It was tiny, compared to the dragon himself.

[Requiem]

An affirmative. Good. If the man had this much time on his hands, it might as well be put to use. (Not that S'rei was above ordering people to do things; he simply found it much more effective if they agreed. Less likely to have issues later.) "I'll notify E'rro that we'll be borrowing you when he doesn't need you and you're not on other duties, then. I know what I want done, but I'm not going to pretend I know the first thing about building - or demolishing - anything." That settled that. C'oar wasn't going to be at the head of the project, of course. There were people who had been doing this far longer than a man just out of weyrlinghood. But it couldn't hurt to have another pair of hands that actually had an inkling of what they were doing.

Will do, he replied, the human nature of that response accentuating how long he'd had for S'rei to rub off on him. Miguel would be intercepted before heading that direction - if he even attempted it, which was unlikely. He was good about staying in one place. The hatchling was not a wild one, unlike the fiery hatchling who thought she was a gold. And what is the worst of your burden, then? he questioned quietly. It was unlike Salenth to not pick up on something like that, and, when dealing with egos, gathering information before speaking to the creator was often wise.

The question that S'rei had left unanswered at the time - namely because it was interjected and he didn't make a habit of straying from the point - he now considered. "Mm. As for Ka'rys...I imagine he'll be out and about again relatively shortly." Considering he'd had the stuffing beaten out of him. Quite a hit he'd suffered, the Weyrsecond. "Though I can't wait for his recovery, unfortunately." He didn't mention Ka'rys's amnesia. Either C'oar had already heard of it through the grapevine, or he hadn't. In either event, S'rei didn't feel the need to inform him.

Clearing off a space, he indicated with the slight incline of his head that C'oar should take a seat. "Let me...explain something. My initial training - insofar as it matters - is Fort training. Formality and discipline is, was, something they valued. I've come to value it, too. Your wingseconds are your first contact. If you have a problem, an idea, what have you, that's where you go. They'll pass what they need to up the chain. It cuts back on work, for one thing, because things are addressed on the lowest level that can deal with them. It also prevents upset. Most people don't like their immediate supervisor coming to them, asking questions about something they didn't know about. Makes them look stupid and incompetent, even when it isn't their fault."

[dragon]

Frosstyth shifted uncomfortably. This thing ... that mine made ... he was determined to make it. Very. I've never seen him tackle a project with just determination before. Which, I guess, on principle, is good. But ... now we have this thing. I never liked it from the first time I saw it. The dragon answered, eyeing it before looking up at the bronze again. But now it exists, and now mine has thought to have reservations. This thing, it is death. Whether used or not, it is death. Is it wise to use it, and kill many, to save our own? Or not use it, and allow our own to die? And worse, there's always the matter of escalation. We have this thing ... if we use it, how long before the rest develop similar weapons? Or countermeasures? Frosstyth asked. Plainly, both dragon and rider were concerned about the moral issues of the thing, rather than the mechanical nature of it. The mechanical problems had been solved - the mechanical problems C'oar had been well equipped to handle. But as young and relatively inexperienced as he was, the moral problems were too heavy and completely confusing for him to sort through. This is why we have brought it here. Maybe yours will know an answer.

When indicated to do so, C'oar took the seat offered, folding one booted foot up under himself as he settled to the ground. "I understand that, sir. But I was reluctant to take this matter through the usual channels." He answered, simply. "I wanted the point of view of someone older, who's seen the ways of the world, long enough to know how it works. Instead of merely thinking they know how it works. You have been all over Pern, sir. You've seen it all first hand. You know how it works." He gestured down the hill at the device. "How that would impact." C'oar looked at S'rei again. "I did not think anyone else could give me the answers I need. I have made this thing, Weyrleader, in a desire to defend my home, my friends. But now that I have done it ..." he shrugged slightly, seeming almost defeated. "I don't know if it will only instead make matters worse. Should it be used? It works, of that I can attest. It works very well, better than I could have imagined it ever would." That said, he then sat quietly, looking to S'rei, hoping the older man would have the answers. Whatever S'rei decided, would be done. C'oar trusted his perspective.

This thing, it would make more than just Dragonmen a fighting force. It was undoubtedly a home-only weapon, though, as it was not at all very mobile across the surface of Pern. But the death toll it would exact ... C'oar didn't even know if it was calculable, because he didn't know what would come after it, because of it.

[Requiem]

Salenth shifted, more of his body spilling out over the too-small rock. Looking at it that way, isn't the mere conception of it the beginnings of a terrible new age? the bronze commented, a quiet rumble lingering behind the words. It lacks a certain...flexibility. Countermeasures are simple enough; destroy it. Which most any dragon could do. On a strategic level it offers little value, and as such I don't see it catching on. An interesting idea, but Yours may rest assured that he did not set Pern on the path of inevitable destruction by creating it.

S'rei glanced over at the gigantic...spear thrower? crossbow?...once again. He did laugh, despite himself, at the long line of compliments from the young brownrider. "I'm older, yes, but that doesn't necessarily mean anything." His gaze lingered on it. "If you wish to honestly know what I think...this is a weapon best used against a mass. Not an aerial attack. Not the pointed attacks that ground raiders make. Dragons can go Between. You might catch one or two unawares, but the rest in their wing should warn them in time. Then there's the matter of our dragons being in the air at the same time, in danger because of it. That reduces its usefulness only to times when our dragons aren't actively engaged. Add onto that the time it would take to reload, versus the time to directly attack it...not feasible. The idea has merit. The execution, though, leaves much to be desired...even if the weapon itself works without a hitch."

Eyeing the man beside him, S'rei began scribbling again, in his tight hand. "You wear a sword bigger than some men strapped across your back. Tell me, C'oar. How many battles have you seen? How many has your Frosstyth flown in? How many men have you killed? There is little unique or new about man's ability to create destruction. Not a single one of us means anything. It's human nature that drives the war in the north, the battles here...and to that we're all simply pawns. Things will escalate regardless of our part. That, however..." He nodded to the weapon. "That won't be part of it."

His eyes shifted to focus on C'oar. "I wasn't referring to why you brought it to me. Who authorized the requisitioning?"

[dragon]

Frosstyth shifted uncomfortably in his place, shifting his gaze over to where his rider was standing without a return comment. He didn't say anything in return to the Bronze ... what was there to say? At the moment Frosstyth felt very much like a frog trying to address a mountain. No matter what he could think of to say, it would seem all rather ... pointless ... to the mountain. So it was just best to not say anything at all. It was a style of thinking he'd learned from C'oar, who didn't tend to say much of anything to anyone at all unless directly spoken to.

C'oar, for his part, was not sure how many of that flood of questions was actually meant to be answered, especially considering how quickly in a row they all came. Some people wouldn't even be able to remember them all to answer them all, at that rate, though he thought he could probably manage decently. But ultimately, he took the same tack as Frosstyth; they probably weren't meant to be answered. S'rei didn't need to ask such questions, when he knew precisely how many attacks had happened since C'oar impressed two short turns ago. So rather than insult the intelligence of both of them, he simply answered the one question that did sound like it begged a vocalized answer.

"I wasn't aware that development projects had to be requisitioned, sir. It was my idea, I gave it a shot. I worked on it alone, barring where Frosstyth gave me a hand." He answered. It seemed a stupid idea, if such things had to be asked for or whatever... what a way to crush progress and inventiveness. It was not a policy that his father had held at his forge, rather encouraging everyone to try out different things or new ideas when there was time. As a result the forge had turned out some of the strongest tools, wheels, and other things in the area. So he hadn't even thought that things would be different at the Weyr. "Was I wrong to act upon initiative, sir?"

[Requiem]

S'rei eyed C'oar mildly. A brief flash of a smile touched his lips, the expression itself wry. "The 'sir's' you keep giving me, C'oar, don't do much to change the tone of your questions. It upsets you that I'm saying you should have gotten permission first. That's fair, I suppose. It's not as if the rules are written somewhere, and they certainly haven't been explained." Of course, S'rei found them to be self-evident, but he was nearly forty, and Selenitas was his home weyr. Not to mention the simple fact that he was intimately aware of just where all their resources were going and how much effort it took to procure the self-same materials that C'oar had used in his project.

"I know it seems that we have an abundance of things here. Compared to some places, we do. The truth of the matter, however, is we also have a lot of needs. There are hundreds of dragonpairs here, who all need to be supported, not to mention all the staff, the weyrbrats, the crafters. This place eats up resources like mad. Procuring tithes is like pulling teeth. We can't even get so much as a sliver from some of the holds, though I'm trying to change that."

S'rei met C'oar's eyes squarely. He didn't believe in telling people that things had to be done a certain way simply because that's the way it was. If he could, he would explain things. That way people would know that the orders he gave had a reason, even if he couldn't explain it right away. Trust was very important - on both sides. And he didn't intend to treat anyone like they were too stupid to understand...because most people weren't. Sometimes they just hadn't had the opportunity to see it from that angle. "We ask that you come to us...us being one of the wingleaders or me directly...to ask permission because we know where all these resources are going. They're not endless, and decisions about priority have to be made all the time. How can we use this most effectively? If they were your materials, C'oar, that you went out and acquired yourself independent of Selenitas's stores, then of course you can do what you will with them. The reason it becomes an issue is because when you take from our supplies, that means it's not going somewhere else - maybe somewhere that needs it more."

He leaned back on his elbows. "Tell me, C'oar. Everyone knows J'lorin came here months ago. He came alone, and we went to meet him. This suggests a proposal of some kind, an alliance. What do you think Benden would want from us?"

[dragon]

C'oar merely nodded at S'rei's explanation of the situation understanding completely. But he didn't bother to comment on it. Getting his hands on some metal of his own wasn't hard ... he even knew of good places to go to get it for a decent price, thanks to previously made connections. And what else did he have to do with all these marks that were piling up around him? It didn't matter ... he liked working metal, understood where the Weyrleader was coming from, and was willing to amend the situation. It wouldn't be hard. It would certainly be better than ruffling any feathers around the Weyr on what was supposed to be going where. Never mind he'd thought he'd been building something for the Weyr. But that was before he'd thought of all the other tangled implications that seemed to have been merely brushed aside. It was a relief to know that it wasn't going to spark an arm's race, but that didn't satisfy his need to know if something like that should be used. What was the right answer?

Personally, he thought it would be far more effective than S'rei gave it credit for ... especially as a surprise attack and with a trained crew. But that was beside the point and now what he was here to discuss. So he allowed that to fall by the wayside, as well, not really interested in a dust up over effective application.

"It would help a great deal if when we aren't supposed to look left someone would say 'don't look left'." C'oar pointed out. That was really the only problem he had with the whole deal, and wasn't entirely sure what tone S'rei was talking about. But knowing the rules so they wouldn't accidentally be broken would be seriously helpful, yes. Very. But now that he knew, he was willing to let it drop. If it continued to be an issue, he could easily replace the materials without much of a problem, so that really wasn't a problem in his eyes, either. It wasn't that hard.

"Benden?" C'oar repeated, before falling silent for a few moments. "I really can't offer much of an opinion on that, sir. I don't know a whole terrible lot about the current tide in politics, really. Not enough for an educated guess. Especially not knowing what it was the man actually said when he got here. But if I had to take a stab at it?" He shrugged slightly. "I would guess a foothold presence. Maybe resources. The South has far more than the divided North does, as well as land. Or maybe as a sick experiment. I wouldn't let them tamper with the dragons... but I really don't know him well enough to say, or what the current situation is. Politics really isn't my forte." C'oar offered, well knowing that it had a huge chance of being completely off the actual track. But there were so many motivations that would make either Northern Weyr want Selenitas that it wasn't funny. Dragons, manpower, resources of all types, land, power, influence ... it was enough to make a man's head spin. "Or he could just be trying to redirect Fort's hostility." C'oar added. "Maybe give Bended breathing room to build up strength." Fumbling around in the dark, that was really all he was doing ... and he knew it. He found it entirely odd that S'rei was asking him these questions, though. It was highly unlikely, given the history of things, that Benden had anything good in mind for Selenitas ... at least from Selenitas' perspective. Possible, but unlikely. It would be entirely out of character. Only the relatively recent change in leadership made it even remotely possible at all, in C'oar's mind.

"If I might ask ... why are you asking me these things? I don't even talk to anyone, really. So it can't be for a gauging of where the Weyr is at. Nor do I hold any kind of significant position to make my opinion count a lick anyway."

[Requiem]

"A certain amount of...familiarity with the usual way of things...is expected from journeyman crafters," S'rei responded, with just a touch of reproach behind his words. Clearly, anyone who wasn't a smith had no access to the materials C'oar had used to begin with. He wasn't sure how C'oar's smithy worked, but most of them answered to a Lordholder and had to account for the materials they used. In a private one, you'd think whoever ran it would want to know where his money was going. At any rate, the procedure would have been second nature to most smiths, and they'd never had a need to outline it before, especially as far as journeymen were concerned. It was like telling grown men to use a fork to eat; it was simply known and accepted.

Listening to C'oar's list, S'rei nodded mildly. It didn't lack in understanding, though it definitely came from the mouth of someone who didn't have much in the way of background information. Not surprising, he supposed. Native southerners didn't seem to have a firm grasp on the situation up north. Frankly, he didn't believe he really did, considering he hadn't been up there himself since...well, for more than a couple turns now. (It was inherently dangerous for him, after all.) S'rei made a mental note to gather some of the more recent transfers in order to get a better idea of how things looked now. Yet another thing to add to his to-do list.

He chuckled at C'oar's question, his eyes sliding closed as he stretched against the rock, his back cracking a little. "I didn't ask your opinion." It seemed, for a moment, that this was all S'rei intended to say. But then he spoke again. "I asked what you thought. It's my job, you see, to get a feel for people, if I can." One eye opened to glance at the brownrider. "Who will work well with who, who might be ready to fill a more difficult position. I have almost no working knowledge of you, C'oar, beyond rumor and conjecture. You seem to have taken our involvement in the war to heart. This is good. Allow me to...direct your energies. The war itself hasn't been fought - the majority of it - in the air for quite some time now. If you wish to be prepared....you'll have to make a weapon of you."

The Weyrleader closed his eye again. "E'rro and - to a lesser extent - T'san are good at what they do. I'm content with my placement of you. They'll show you how to make use of your natural abilities." A pause. "Don't be discouraged. If you've other ideas, I'm always open to them."

[dragon]

The usual way of things. That was probably where he was getting his hang up. His father had not run a usual smithy, that was for sure. It might behoove him to go find out in what all different ways things were done at other smithies, just to make sure he understood in the future. While he had known his home smithy was different, he hadn't really ever conceived of how it was different. He'd always assumed it was the skill of his father and uncle ... though in hind sight that seemed rather conceited. Not unfounded, but still.

C'oar nodded in response to the answer he received on his own questions. That did make sense, in a way. Though, there weren't hardly any people at all that knew much of anything about C'oar at all ... the ones that had were now dead, or plumb missing entirely. It was getting to where he was entirely leery of befriending people, or working too closely with them for whatever reason. He seemed to have a curse on him. Everyone around him either died or disappeared. Not at all an antisocial sort, he still rather avoided too close contact with anyone to keep from having the same thing happen to anyone else. So it was only natural that S'rei didn't know much about C'oar ... no one really did.

"I rather did take it to heart, sir. Watching my friends be killed and being powerless to stop it was a life changing event. I don't want it to happen again... I want to be prepared, to be capable of making a difference." Even if it made all the locals hate him, and think he was a warmonger. He'd heard plenty of the snide remarks about his blade ... and remembered well the crosswise comments he'd already received on the idea of a counter-dragon weapon, long before it was even built. It didn't deter him, though ... he didn't even know if that was what the majority of the conflict was like, but he didn't like it, and hated being on the helpless end. One day, the rest would get their heads out of the sand. "I have plenty of free time, sir. If you have suggestions on regimens that I should cover, I'll do it. I'll also help with the building ... I can do that easily enough." C'oar offered. For the most part he'd been fumbling around on his own, in an effort to shore up the Weyr ... but if S'rei could give him a direction to forge ahead on, he most certainly would do it.

"My ideas ..." C'oar shrugged. "You're looking at the extent of my ideas." He admitted. The blade on his back - not for dragons, but for men. He'd bothered to get training on how to use it, too, more than he'd started out with from learning how to make them. And then that device down the hill by Frosstyth. It was just about all he had. He'd tried to teach others, but ... they weren't around any more. So much for that. It was almost getting to the point where he felt like he'd run into a cliff and couldn't scale it, so far as actually doing anything productive toward defenses.