Post by Alexias on Feb 28, 2009 23:55:09 GMT -5
When AIVAS rid the world of Thread, things drastically changed for everyone living there. New technology was integrated into their world, making life a little easier for all involved. Still, without the need for dragons and their riders, other things on Pern were destined to change as well. The dragons were used for transportation at first. They transported goods, and people alike. Their ability to fly and go between was at least somewhat useful still. They were also the heroic symbols of Pern, the saviors of their planet, renowned for having driven away the Red Star. They were a living legend, but legends often fade slowly but surely as time goes on.
213 Turns later...
Dragons had been reduced to the kind of legends who were told of in stories, but never seen by the general populace of Pern. With no Thread to fight, the great Weyrs were reduced to places where nobles went for sightseeing tours. The Weyrfolk were more like pampered and lazy nobles, their dragons like giant pets. They had no purpose anymore, except to impress and live out their lives in luxurious peace. No one gave them tithes, but they flourished as far as people went, the largest Weyr having only one hundred and forty dragons, rather than five or six hundred. The smallest held only thirty or so. That's when the smaller Weyrs were formed.
They were spattered throughout Pern, these few smaller Weyrs. They were simply no more than idealistic living quarters which wanted to have a few of the 'pet' dragons for themselves. They were objects of rank, now, instead of respected authorities and bonds. Those who bonded to them learned better, but what could they do? As if this weren't bad enough, someone decided to tamper with these pets, seeking to alter them to be more interesting for the people who had begun a market in 'dragon eggs'. They injected different DNA into the eggs, and then hid the eggs in an empty Weyr that had just been built on the edge of a canyon.
Two sevendays later, plague struck. There were five other clutches in four other Weyrs, only three of which held gold eggs, and the one which had been tampered with, thought to hold not one, but two. So few clutches, and only a couple of Weyrwomen who were Juniors under the age of nineteen. The plague seemed to only attack those who were past their teens. The oldest to survive were nineteen turns of age, and no one knew why-nothing of this nature had ever happened before. However, the plague passed through like a ravening tornado, killing every person and likewise that person's dragon over their teens. No one had time to understand what had happened, or why. Some who were sixteen and over were at Journeyman status, but not nearly enough. Some had dragons, but the majority who had were past their twenties, and the dragons were so diminished that they were all but endangered now. All the Weyrlingmasters and Wingleaders, Senior Weyrwomen and Weyrleaders. All, along with their dragons...were dead. All the Masters and experienced crafters...all were dead.
As if this weren't enough, something was rumored to be seen in the skies overhead. Something that had been thrown out of orbit all those turns ago, and was thought to never return. First it was seen from further away, but the second time, it drew nearer, and in sparse areas, it fell from the skies. The silvery grey menace fell in small, wide spread clumps. Thankfully, the grubs had remained alive and thriving, but a lot of damage occurred in the Northern section of Pern and mild damages in the South. Many were caught out in Thread and scored, some to death. The worst part was that their dragons were not prepared. Firelizards instinctively knew what to do, but the dragons had become like domesticated, useless pets. They were no longer in fit shape to fight a fall, Weyrling training wasn't done for over a hundred turns, firestone wasn't ready. Now, however, it was time to dig out the scrolls of old, and for the young people of Pern to take charge and do something before Thread came back to destroy them all.
The clutches on the sands of the individual Weyrs hardened, as many youngsters moved into the safety of Weyrs while others strove to create some form of order in the various Holds. The Holds generally held twenty five to a smaller one, roughly fifty in the larger ones. The Weyrs held even less to them. But the brave and the few went to where the dragons were. They were the ones either voted to go or who wanted to go. They were the ones who were wiling and wanting to impress. They were the ones who would save Pern, and learn to live like they once did: dragonmen flying high when Thread is in the skies!
Elsewhere...
On a single remote Island in the South, unknown to all, live a group of select riders, wherhandlers, Journeymen and Masters of crafts. This isolated, chosen group lives in a cave system and are the last remaining adults in all of Pern. They had left as soon as the plague struck, thus avoiding contracting it in a last effort to ensure the survival of those who could teach and lead the next generation of survivors. Now that the plague has passed, will they come out of hiding on the island to join the Weyrs and Holds of Pern once more?
Meanwhile, drawing nearer to the planet...
Terran had an overpopulation of people, and they had sent some to other inhabitable planets. However, one particular ship bore mostly younger individuals. Though there were some adults among the crew, most of the individuals were in their teens. They were being sent because they had no lives of which to speak of on Terran. They were foster children, for the most part. Children who they felt could better serve society living on a planet where technology was limited, the air fresh and clean. A planet like Pern.
No one on Terran knew that Pern had not chosen to lose contact with Terran. No one could suspect that something had gone horribly wrong with the contact equipment on the ship set on Autopilot to Pern. The crew couldn't contact Terran, and they were a mere few days away from Pern. They had no knowledge of dragons. No knowledge of whers. No knowledge of Thread.
Now, with the ship so close, and the people aboard not expecting to find the planet described as paradise in such a state as it is, there is no way to tell what will become of them in Pernese society when they arrive. Will they be able to integrate, or will they be destined to a life of misery and failure, unable to cope with a world depleted of adults and plagued by Thread? Only time will tell.
213 Turns later...
Dragons had been reduced to the kind of legends who were told of in stories, but never seen by the general populace of Pern. With no Thread to fight, the great Weyrs were reduced to places where nobles went for sightseeing tours. The Weyrfolk were more like pampered and lazy nobles, their dragons like giant pets. They had no purpose anymore, except to impress and live out their lives in luxurious peace. No one gave them tithes, but they flourished as far as people went, the largest Weyr having only one hundred and forty dragons, rather than five or six hundred. The smallest held only thirty or so. That's when the smaller Weyrs were formed.
They were spattered throughout Pern, these few smaller Weyrs. They were simply no more than idealistic living quarters which wanted to have a few of the 'pet' dragons for themselves. They were objects of rank, now, instead of respected authorities and bonds. Those who bonded to them learned better, but what could they do? As if this weren't bad enough, someone decided to tamper with these pets, seeking to alter them to be more interesting for the people who had begun a market in 'dragon eggs'. They injected different DNA into the eggs, and then hid the eggs in an empty Weyr that had just been built on the edge of a canyon.
Two sevendays later, plague struck. There were five other clutches in four other Weyrs, only three of which held gold eggs, and the one which had been tampered with, thought to hold not one, but two. So few clutches, and only a couple of Weyrwomen who were Juniors under the age of nineteen. The plague seemed to only attack those who were past their teens. The oldest to survive were nineteen turns of age, and no one knew why-nothing of this nature had ever happened before. However, the plague passed through like a ravening tornado, killing every person and likewise that person's dragon over their teens. No one had time to understand what had happened, or why. Some who were sixteen and over were at Journeyman status, but not nearly enough. Some had dragons, but the majority who had were past their twenties, and the dragons were so diminished that they were all but endangered now. All the Weyrlingmasters and Wingleaders, Senior Weyrwomen and Weyrleaders. All, along with their dragons...were dead. All the Masters and experienced crafters...all were dead.
As if this weren't enough, something was rumored to be seen in the skies overhead. Something that had been thrown out of orbit all those turns ago, and was thought to never return. First it was seen from further away, but the second time, it drew nearer, and in sparse areas, it fell from the skies. The silvery grey menace fell in small, wide spread clumps. Thankfully, the grubs had remained alive and thriving, but a lot of damage occurred in the Northern section of Pern and mild damages in the South. Many were caught out in Thread and scored, some to death. The worst part was that their dragons were not prepared. Firelizards instinctively knew what to do, but the dragons had become like domesticated, useless pets. They were no longer in fit shape to fight a fall, Weyrling training wasn't done for over a hundred turns, firestone wasn't ready. Now, however, it was time to dig out the scrolls of old, and for the young people of Pern to take charge and do something before Thread came back to destroy them all.
The clutches on the sands of the individual Weyrs hardened, as many youngsters moved into the safety of Weyrs while others strove to create some form of order in the various Holds. The Holds generally held twenty five to a smaller one, roughly fifty in the larger ones. The Weyrs held even less to them. But the brave and the few went to where the dragons were. They were the ones either voted to go or who wanted to go. They were the ones who were wiling and wanting to impress. They were the ones who would save Pern, and learn to live like they once did: dragonmen flying high when Thread is in the skies!
Elsewhere...
On a single remote Island in the South, unknown to all, live a group of select riders, wherhandlers, Journeymen and Masters of crafts. This isolated, chosen group lives in a cave system and are the last remaining adults in all of Pern. They had left as soon as the plague struck, thus avoiding contracting it in a last effort to ensure the survival of those who could teach and lead the next generation of survivors. Now that the plague has passed, will they come out of hiding on the island to join the Weyrs and Holds of Pern once more?
Meanwhile, drawing nearer to the planet...
Terran had an overpopulation of people, and they had sent some to other inhabitable planets. However, one particular ship bore mostly younger individuals. Though there were some adults among the crew, most of the individuals were in their teens. They were being sent because they had no lives of which to speak of on Terran. They were foster children, for the most part. Children who they felt could better serve society living on a planet where technology was limited, the air fresh and clean. A planet like Pern.
No one on Terran knew that Pern had not chosen to lose contact with Terran. No one could suspect that something had gone horribly wrong with the contact equipment on the ship set on Autopilot to Pern. The crew couldn't contact Terran, and they were a mere few days away from Pern. They had no knowledge of dragons. No knowledge of whers. No knowledge of Thread.
Now, with the ship so close, and the people aboard not expecting to find the planet described as paradise in such a state as it is, there is no way to tell what will become of them in Pernese society when they arrive. Will they be able to integrate, or will they be destined to a life of misery and failure, unable to cope with a world depleted of adults and plagued by Thread? Only time will tell.