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Post by Azazel on Mar 7, 2009 22:17:04 GMT -6
Canaulia had been planned long before it had occurred simply as a means of exploration. After all, with the Interval had come the ever reoccurring thought that Thread would no longer fall upon Pern. The thoughts were wrong, as always, but exploration was at a peek. The Weyrs and Holds both desired to expand, and with plenty of volunteers to go colonize the Eastern archipelago. As the Pass started, Benden’s queen clutched larger than ever one had during the interval, and two young queens were born from it. One was Golden Neziacath, whose rider’s name was Canaulia. After a turn had passed, it seemed Neziacath and her sister were meant to Rise at nearly the same time, but Thread fell and the two remained upon the ground as the first Threadfall of the Pass occurred. Tensions, however, were rising that the two would take to the skies at the same time, something they both were too stubborn to avoid.
This encouraged travel faster. Boats had been constructed, larger than a simple oceanic fishing boat, which were specially designed to be longer and wider, allowing for more goods to be spread as well as so that if a dragon became wounded in flight, at least a few could be shipped with the boats, though there was a threat that they might tip. Regardless, traveling along the shore with frequent stops, three hundred dragonriders, and two thousand Holders, candidates, drudges, wherhandlers, and Crafters alike all set out to form their newest home. They explored the land, searched for the ideal location, and found it upon a beautiful forested island, lush with a large mountain with an access from the sea into tunneled passages. Just a little reconstruction was required, and a lot of tolerance from the long and arduous journey for a new home, but Canaulia had paid off in the end.
Within the joyous first few months, the golden Neziacath took Flight. It was sixty eggs that were laid upon the new Hatching Sands, beautiful and glistening as the Weyrhold boasted with pride. Order, politically, was an issue, in that the Lord Holder, Weyrwoman, and Weyrleader all seemed to step upon one another’s toes, but business seemed to run as smoothly as possible. Everyone had their own ideas as to what Canaulia would be named, what it was going to become in the future, how prosperous it was going to be, but that didn’t matter. Everyone was happy.
As the eggs hardened on the Sands, candidates were picked even further still from those who had volunteered to travel so far away from the mainland. Settlement was on everyone’s plans, so much so that the minor tremors which had begun to shake
It took only a month later for the disaster to occur, nearly half a Turn after the Weyrhold had been established. The Weyrbowl cracked inward as the entire Weyr began to shake, mighty and roaring, and into the sky burst huge clouds of dust and debris. The sky turned deadly, as poisonous gas from the guts of the volcano flooded the lower caverns. Only a few whers managed to escape, their handlers deceased, and the whers turned wild as they dashed for the woods to become missing entirely just before the tunnel entrance out of the isle collapsed. Lower caverns were filled with magma which filled the hallways in some areas. The creche collapsed, many individual homes were lost, and those riders which took the sky found themselves poisoned or seared from the heat so badly they were instantly dead. Many things changed, but worst of all was what happened to the Queen Neziacath and her rider, Canaulia.
When the ‘bowl collapsed inward, the poison gas began to rise through cracks within the sand, sucking down some eggs into the pits of the volcanic caldera. The Queen, desperate to protect her children, moved fast to collect as many as she could, protect them with her body from destruction from the rocks that fell overhead, cracking many where they lay. The rider did the same until a stray piece fell, cracking her upon the head and sending her upon the ground. Desperate, the queen, torn from her rider, knew not what to do, and so it was that she did what instinct told her, and stayed with her endangered eggs. That though through hardened shells her children were dying around her, her rider, and then at last the poison filled her lungs, and she felt herself succumb as well.
Fifty dragonriders survived, nearly five hundred are left of those who had volunteered to be the Weyrfolk. The first Lord Holder passed away, and his son has taken control next to the Weyrleader Canaulia left behind, no Junior Weyrwoman to speak of.
A debate has risen, but the clouds which killed so many cling to the sky, attempt to get home with so few dragons that Thread might finish the last of everyone off? No, it couldn’t be done. The boats had been destroyed within the eruption, and with it much of the food and supplies that had made the Weyrhold a utopia. No one is coming to help them. No one is able to leave. All hope lies in that the clutch was not murdered as well, so that the then named Canaulia Weyrhold might survive. For beneath the queen’s body lied a touch of hope, large eggs that seemed unharmed, three of them glittering with the signs of queens. Neziacath’s mate has taken up her place upon the sands, aided by any others who can spare the offer between rebuilding their home.
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