Surely there are times when meetings go right, aren't there? If so, today wasn't one of them. By the time Weyrleader and weyrsecond return from Fort Hold it's likely neither are in the mood to socialize with casual drinkers, possibly both have headaches and both are in need of liquid, er… anesthesia. D'ani's all for raiding the kitchen stores, imbibing and venting in the dark recesses down there, but they might scare the hell out of unsuspecting kitchen maids. And yet he considers it, having slid down from Dremkoth, who goes off to the feeding grounds to work off his headache. D'ani pivots back to Th'ero, "I do want that drink (no, they haven't mentioned it aloud, but he KNOWS Th'ero knows he knows what they both need), but more than that I want to hear your weyrthird's thoughts about that idiot steward." Because hearing Kimm's way of calling a spade a spade will make him feel SO much better.

Could be that most know that when the Weyrleader and Weyrsecond go off somewhere, it never bodes well and the ground where Velokraeth and Dremkoth land is suspiciously less populated. No one wants to get in either of their way! Which is fine by Th'ero, as D'ani has guessed correctly. Drinks ARE needed and so is Kimmila's enlightening opinion on a situation that, to him, already smells rotten. "Plenty of alcohol in my weyr and privacy too." he all but growls he speaks so low to D'ani. Then comes the gesture — follow him! He'll lead on towards the administration complex and up those stairs. As for Velokraeth? He'll skip the feeding pens and go and see if he can't sniff out some greens to cuddle with and if not, he'll try to sweet talk Kayeth into some. Oh, an he'll kind of, sort of, warn Varmiroth about the impending visitors. Hopefully Kimmila is home?

And not naked.

Kimmila is home, just stepping naked out of the bathroom with nothing on but a towel wrapped around her head to dry her long dark hair. "That you, sexy?"

"What…would help?" That'll be D'ani, having followed Th'ero as bidden, but he's paused on the ledge to narrow-eye vaguely in the direction of the feeding grounds (even though he can't see the culprit, he knows the beast can FEEL it. The 'second doesn't move until he's heard it, then there'll be a few choice cusswords along with a growled, "Don't you DARE," between his teeth. The dragon-chortle is shared with Velokraeth and Varmiroth, but not the why. Just that the bronze is amused by his rider and « Mymymy this herdbeast is as juicy as a proddy green. » D'ani? Simply resumes his trek, striding forwards to catch up with Th'ero, he's just around the corner in the alcove, so while he can't see into the living area, he heard. Sexy? He coughs back a laugh. He'll allow Th'ero to answer that one.

Velokraeth will just feign innocence, though amusement does ripple through for whatever mischievousness Dremkoth is up to. Th'ero is focused on climbing stairs and holding that temper of his in place as he reaches the doors leading to his private weyr. "What would help? Anything. I've some of my usual ale but wine too. Whiskey. Rum." It's going to be a GOOD night! Entering, he'll gesture for D'ani to go ahead (and probably regret it), but he's just pulled off his riding jacket when he hears Kimmila. His head lifts and his eyes dart sidelong to the younger bronzerider. "Excuse me a moment?" he quietly says, which is also code for: you might want to wait here. "Wingmate?" While D'ani holds back, Th'ero has no reason to hesitate in walking further back and when he spies her standing there naked, well… what's he to do? He appreciates the view, while also quietly warning her. "… we've company." You might want your pants?

Kimmila knows that now, thanks to Varmiroth's information. "Hi, D'ani!" the bluerider calls while tossing Th'ero a wink and hastening into the bedroom to get some clothes on. "How did the meeting go?" she calls through the only half closed door.

"Too bad dragons don't drink booze," D'ani quips before he exhales and adds, "E, all of the above?" That's when Th'ero gets called sexy and he's too busy choke-laughing to answer, so he simply nods and waits right where he is. "Hi yourself, Kimmila," he wheezes from out there in the alcove. Breathe, D'ani, breathe! Three, maybe four ticks later, he steps forward, though he'll wait for Th'ero to bid him enter before fully stepping into the weyr proper. "It went…oddly." That'll likely be spoken after Th'ero's answer. It'll be the truth whether they were bidden by the steward to hear report or went seeking it.

Th'ero will stand in the hallway and purposely block that half-open door, trying to ignore the fact that D'ani is holding back his laughter. Why bother? He knows! So he just sighs and waves hand to indicate that the Weyrsecond can make himself comfortable. Just… NOT anywhere near where he is currently standing! At least until Kimmila's clothed. "Oddly is putting it nicely," he says in his usual dry tone. "Steward is lucky I didn't knock some sense into that pompous head of his." Which means it went poorly. "D'ani can explain. I'm getting drinks." Some for everyone!

Kimmila is quick to exit the bedroom, dressed in a simple outfit of sweater, pants and thick socks. Finger combing and braiding her hair, she flops onto the couch by the fire and gestures for D'ani to come join her. "What happened?"

D'ani's in somewhat of a better mood already, though he's sure to regain some of that disgruntlement as they discuss the steward. He wait a discreet distance, though it isn't long before Kimmila is decent and they're all in one room. While Th'ero gets those drinks, he sinks into the chair near that couch. "What happened is, the steward acted put out that we'd ask about the welfare of the holds, then played games instead of answering our questions. Then he gave us… this…" The weyrsecond reaches into his pocket and with a crinkling sound withdraws a crumpled paper. "…and told us to do something about it." Snort. The nerve! "Shut…up…Dremkoth," D'ani intones under his breath with an eyeroll shared with the other two explains, "Wants to go to Monaco Bay Weyr all sudden." Mutter. The paper is offered to Kimmila. She'll see it is a list - shoddy items, broken items, missing items, overpriced items. Trades gone bad. And the cotholds which engaged in them.

"What's this about Monaco Bay?" Th'ero mutters as he enters the room laden with trays. One holds a variety of drinks and some glasses. He expects everyone to pick their poison. The other tray holds snacks… to ward off the worst of the drunken stupor they could get on empty stomachs. Of course, D'ani need not answer as Velokraeth promptly fills him in and his scowl says it all. Which could turn into a look of sympathy for the younger bronzerider. "Tell him it's a lost cause." he mutters with a grimace as he sets the trays down and promptly grabs a glass for himself and pours some of that vicious ale of his. "Cider?" he queries to Kimmila, while a silent look to D'ani awaits his choice. He'll listen in and his mood goes dark and brooding. "Steward didn't seem to give a damn at all that some of these cotholds could starve this winter. You've worked with the smaller ones, Kimmila… Have any of those on that list been saying anything at all about things being amiss?"

Kimmila takes the list and frowns at it, giving Th'ero a brief nod of 'yes, cider'. "I've heard rumors of things going awry, but so's everyone and none of the cotholds I've visited have mentioned anything to me about /their/ trades. It's always a neighbor or someone who heard from someone else at a gather a few months back…that sort of thing." A quiet snort. "So…/now/ it's our problem?"

"Gold flight," D'ani grunts, this for Kimmila's benefit, before adding, "Oh I told him that," he answers Th'ero. "Also told him winning will make things worse, not better." At least for D'ani, silly dragon! "We're not going," he adds, both to Dremkoth and the others as he chooses a glass and the whiskey. He's going to drown out Dremkoth's insistence as well as soothe irritation over that steward. While Kimmila scans that list, he pours, sets the bottle down on the low table and sips quietly, though he does flick a questioning look at Th'ero. Is it their problem? "He didn't exactly ask, just handed us the list while whining the cotholds were in for a tough winter. Didn't suggest any course of action or elaborate on how the poor trades weren't caught earlier. Also-" and this is the part that really gets him by the scowl he's wearing, "Didn't seem to see it as poor cothold management but a problem for the Weyr to fix." More. Whiskey.

Th'ero grimaces and now he DOES look sympathetic! Part of him is surprised Velokraeth hadn't caught wind or perhaps the bronze had but doesn't show interest (gasp!). "He's determined?" he grunts to D'ani as he hands Kimmila her cider and sits down beside her. Lifting his glass to his lips, he takes a good healthy drink of his ale. Forget nursing drinks today! "Oh, he was fishing for our help. Waiting for us to step forwards and say we'd be there for the Hold." He snorts, almost rolling his eyes as he takes another drag of his ale. "And D'ani has a point. Steward made it seem like it was the cot hold's fault for not catching on. Our problem? It's not our sharding problem. Not unless we start finding families half frozen and starved to death come winter…" Grim, grim news that.

Kimmila ahhs, nodding at D'ani in understanding. Semi-understanding. Varmiroth isn't interested after all. Silent for a moment, Kimmila sips her cider and then looks over to Th'ero, frowning. "You're saying the weyr isn't going to do anything preventative? That we can't step in to help until it's too late?"

"He heard the dragon-gossip and thought the exotic locale would be fun." D'ani grimaces, "Thought it would get my mind off of the meeting, but forgot to pay attention that leadership is up for grabs." Bah! They're not going. If the rate of D'ani's sipping is any indication, he'll be too tipsy to ride the bronze anywhere, even to his ledge. Which doesn't mean he won't pitch over the side of the stairs trying to make it to Inri's weyr, oh well. At least he won't have nightmares about waking up in Monaco with a new job. He pauses with the glass partway to his lips to hear Th'ero and nods agreement. "We're always there for the Hold, that blasted steward knows that. Coulda told us sooner." Grumbling follows, muted by the next mouthful of golden liquor. He swallows to pipe up hoarsly, "Kimm-" Cough. More swallowing. "-s already too late. It's fall." Winter comes harshly and early up in the mountains. Those cotholds are in for a rough winter regardless. "Even if we could track down the crummy deals, it'll take time." A glance at the list he handed to Kimmila. "And where to start…"

Th'ero smirks. "They never take in consideration if the flight is leadership." That's how he got snared into this position to begin with! Hopefully D'ani doesn't go pitching over the side of the stairs… if he ends up getting so drunk hopefully someone calls Inri for a pickup! He tips his glass to D'ani. Yes, they COULD have been told sooner! Much, much sooner. "Dani's got the right of it, Wingmate. Those cotholds on that list are already in trouble. Probably have been for months and Faranth only knows why they were keeping so damn quiet about it." Now there's food for thought! Th'ero frowns, his mouth pulling into a tense line. "Question is — how much CAN we do?" And how much do they care about adhering to tradition?

Kimmila frowns at the list in her hands and then pushes to her feet. "At the beginning, that's where," she mutters, strides long and purposeful as she heads for the hooks where their riding jackets hang. "We can beat the Steward's ass later for withholding information," she says, pulling down her jacket and shrugging into it. "But right now we need to fly to the larger cotholds and start gathering information. See if they know who needs help. I'll assemble my wing, see who's heard what." Turning, she eyes the two bronzeriders as she pulls on her gloves. "We can do plenty. You two coming? Or are you going to let a pansy-ass Steward keep you from doing your duties?"

D'ani agrees with Th'ero's points, a nod followed by a sip for each one of them. He lifts his glass to the question of why they'd been notified so late but he doesn't smile or cheer. He scowls, still annoyed by the steward's attitude and lack of compassion for the cotholds, though he's giving the matter more thought now. "Can we take the steward for a short ride Between?" he grouses before drawing another mouthful of whiskey. Kimm moves and he watches her don her jacket through the bottom of his glass. He sputters at the word "now" and blinks owlishly at her before slowly lowering his glass and looks at Th'ero. Now? He eyes his half-empty glass plaintively. And the sulking was going so well too!

Th'ero likewise is joining D'ani in watching Kimmila get to her feet though he doesn't seem so shocked by her behaviour and sudden announcement that they go NOW, rather than later. Does he get to his feet and start rallying the forces? Nope. That's a whole lot of nope! He's reaching for the bottle of ale and pouring himself more. "I'm all for knocking sense in that Steward's fat head. I've half a mind of just usurping him and going straight to the Lord Holder… "busy" or not. Something is telling me he's not as busy as we're lead on to believe. We've never had issue with Fort Hold before. Why start now?" Hmm? It's not like they're Gold Hill Hold (the hold that shall not be named!). Knocking back his drink, he'll hold a hand up to try and stall Kimmila. "The day is late, Wingmate. Going now solves nothing. We've the cotholds on that list. Perhaps we can divide them among the riders." Her riders. "We've not even brought this up to Nyalle or the others…" And since when is he so — cautious?

Kimmila is surprised…and then pissed by the bronzeriders' lack of action. "Yes, the day is late. So is the turn. I'm going. Cotholds are in need and I will not have another Stonehaven due to lack of supplies. Come if you want, sulk here if you'd prefer." Slam.

At the mention of Stonehaven, D'ani visibly blanches. This, while he's still swallowing that last mouthful of whiskey. Don't mind his wheezed, strangled, "Ezra!" and the choking that follows as he half-rises in protest. His hand is lifted to forestall, not Kimmila's departure, but her warning. There will be no Stonehaven! Not while… but she's gone. He… isn't drunk. But he… would like to be! Or at least mellow…er than he is now. Can't he please be mellow after that waste-of-a-time meeting they just had? But no, apparently immediate action is required or people will become frozen, piled corpses under a skeletal tree… He shakes his head to clear it, seeking Th'ero with a dark gaze. "I… " Knocking sense into anyone at this point sounds like a plan! (maybe his into own head too, shh!) He smirks, even while stumbling after Kimmila, yanking open whatever she slamed and calling, "Waitwaitwait! If we're going, so is that blasted steward. Because he should have been on top of this." A pause, breath drawn. To the both of them, "And so should his cothold underlings." He considers (and where is Kimmila in these few moments?) "So… if we've got to go from cothold to oothold… so should he." Another pause. A vague handwave indicating the rest of the Fort Beholden. "And all of those idoits." The cotholders, obviously. They are the ones who stupidly made those soverybad trades and didn't do anything to report or rectify them! Can you imagine? A hop to Fort Hold, steward nabbed, yanked off to gallivant from cothold to cothold where the culprits are colected to join the crusade to find the source… Oh yes. If D'ani is going to forgo the warmth of his weyrmate, an infant in his arms, the sweet serenity of blissful slumber (or the bawling terror of a teething infant), so are THE REST OF THEM!!!! And later… much later… Nyalle and Lord Fort can flail at the unorthodoxy of the way Fort 'helped'.

Ooh. BURN! If Kimmila was aiming to light a fire under their asses (or Th'ero's at least), she succeeded though D'ani is the first to go scrambling after her. Th'ero is following and he'll have an equally as dark a look to share with the Weyrsecond as he hurriedly finishes his ale, sets the glass down heavily on the table and storms off to grab his jacket and slip it on. "You're implying we "borrow" Fort Hold's Steward and set him to the canines?" Since Pern doesn't have wolves, but you get the gist. Th'ero LIKES this idea, if just the image of that man being shredded apart by cotholders. He's not so certain that the lesser cotholds are the guilty party here. "Because if so, I suggest you go and get him, D'ani. You've… well, he's more likely to survive I think." Plus the younger bronzerider has experience in roping unwilling passengers, right?

Kimmila pauses in the alcove, reaching for Varmiroth's straps where they hang on pegs hammered into the stone wall. She lifts a brow. "You want to spend /more/ time with the Steward? I say we just fix this now and then demand compensation for our time and effort. But if you want to truss him to your straps, by all means, D'ani…"
Hotaru would have been all-to-willing a passenger (gak!) but D'ani roped and hog-tied her (mostly to keep her away from him). He could easily rope and truss the steward (definitely with pleasure this time!) "Yep," he answers Th'ero with the singular word and a grim nod. He merely grunts at Kimmila. Ugh, no he doesn't want to hang out with the steward, Jeez! But he doesn't eyeroll at her. He has far to much respect for the feisty bluerider. Who the guilty parties are in his mind likely trace back to Bitra but the gullible, negligent cotholders and steward stepped right into it. "They made this shardin' mess, the lot of them. If we've got to deal with it on an empty stomach and at the end of the day, so should they." Now he's just got to find which alcove-peg he hung his jacket on and where his rope got off to. Damn the whiskey!

"I'm not saying the Steward is blameless in this but until I hear what these small cotholders have to say, I'm not pinning all the blame on them." Th'ero grumbles as he sorts out Velokraeth's straps. He's all for blaming Fort Hold's Steward and those of the minor Holds and perhaps a few Lord Holders (though not to their faces — hopefully). "Cotholds are just families. For all we know, this is the work of corrupt Traders. Faranth help us, it could even be the Crafts this time. Who knows." But he sounds so tired of it. If it's not one thing, it's the other, right?

It's always something. "Do whatever you want with the Steward," Kimmila says, climbing into Varmiroth's straps. "I'm going to muster my wing and get them checking on the cotholds. /All/ the cotholds." Especially the ones that have traditionally denied help and might die for their stubbornness this winter without intervention.
Excellent!!! Kidnapping, coming right up! As for blaming anyone to their faces? He can do said kidnapping without a single word. Won't that be awkward? He simply nods agreeably to Th'ero. Cotholders are simply innocent families. After all, they're likely going to check in on Ezra, though he sorta doubts Stonehaven is on the list. "Probably," he says, though there's a quizzical look for the comment about crafters. Remind him to inquire about that later. Ahh! There's his jacket. He shrugs into it. Thank Faranth he left Dremkoth harnessed. The bronze is splattered with blood from his kill, but no matter. The bronze hide suits D'ani's mood perfectly. If the blasted steward asks, D'ani will answer laconically, "He killed something" and leave it at that. "Where should we meet you two?" He and his 'passenger', that is.

No one can ever say that Fort Weyr doesn't leave lasting impressions! Or… more along the lines of traumatizing memories. "That would be up to Kimmila," Th'ero explains with a grimace. Not because they're deferring to her for guidance (never would he imply such!) but… hey, has anyone noticed Velokraeth's absence? The Weyrleader looks tense again and in an even fouler mood. Someone's having a battle of wills with his other half — and losing. "He's not going to budge." he grits out, giving Kimmila a knowing glance. She will likely understand the silent question. Does Varmiroth mind a second passenger?

Kimmila looks at Th'ero and then snorts. Blasted bronze. Of course Varmiroth doesn't mind another passenger. The blue is honored toc arry the Weyrleader. "Fellfield," Kimmila replies. "We'll start at the bottom of the valley and work our way up. My other riders will start at the highest cotholds and work down." Delegation ftw.

D'ani's gaze swings from Th'ero to Kimmila and he waits until after she's finished to salute her. "Fellfield it is." His salute for Th'ero is next and he's moving for the entrance. He's not thrilled, more like resigned. TIRED. And somewhat grumpy, but that's not Kimmila's fault at all. As for Velokraeth, he hadn't noticed, now that it's mentioned… cuddling and sleeping win. "He's got the best idea of the evening," he grouses and heads on out. Dremkoth is waiting for him at the bottom of those steps and D'ani wastes no time swinging aboard with a gritted and overly-patient, "Noooo we're not headed for Monaco Bay Weyr!" Blackcloud, mutter. The pair arrive in Fort Hold in the dark skies, landing somewhere discreet. D'ani slips into the same corridors he'd left not long ago and ah!!! A light on under the steward's office door! He… doesn't knock. The conversation is short - and as the one earlier this evening - remarkably void of pleasantries. It's along the lines of:

"What do you mean, barging in he-"
"Where's Lord Fort?"
"Busy! I'm not disturbing him."
"Fine. You'll do. We're taking a trip." "We are not! Have you gone mad?"
"Do you come willingly or do I barge in where your master is?"

You get the idea. Hand to throat does wonders for shutting down windpipe. The steward winds up in a crumpled heap on the floor. Probably fainted. Oops? "Perfect!" mutters D'ani, then he crouches down and hefts the unconscious man like a sack of potatoes over his shoulder. As he exits the office, he grabs the man's jacket, tosses it over him and he's off down that darkened corridor. Remarkably, they make it outside without running into anyone and the steward is hoisted atop Dremkoth and his slumped form is buckled in.

When they arrive out of *Between* in Fellfield, he's come to. In fact, the sputtering, angry and rather hoarse protestations float down out of the dark skies before the backwinging Dremkoth. They go unanswered. The clinking of clips are heard and then, "Get off!" D'ani is in no mood for niceties. The sound of one tumbled dismount and then a second pair of boots hitting the ground is heard before that petulant whiny complaining resumes.

Th'ero will be sad he missed the kidnapping of Fort Hold's Steward and just how D'ani executed it. Maybe at a later time, he can hear about it. Preferably over drinks and where they can have a good laugh about it and not be scrutinized in public for it. As it stands, the Weyrleader is focused more on mounting up on Varmiroth and trying hard not to swear the whole trip to Fellfield. He's annoyed because how is it going to look to the cotholders when he shows up without his bronze? Some image that'll be! But Velokraeth remains stubborn (for now), cozied up with some greens and plenty of excuses not to get his ugly lumpy arse into gear. Once they arrive safely, he'll dismount from Varmiroth, giving the blue a gentle thump of appreciation and thanks and waiting for Kimmila to join him before he descends upon the Steward and D'ani. "Are we ready then?"

Varmiroth tries to make a grand entrance for the Weyrleader, but he's no bronze. Still, it's a neat and deft landing, Kimmila dismounting first and striding forwrad, hardly giving the Steward a glance. "Onward."

Later, when D'ani's in a better mood, he'll likely be sheepishly embarrassed at his lack of patience with the steward. Tonight? Naaaah. He's standing a half-step behind the steward, attaching his whip to his belt, likely in case someone needs a whipping. Only in his dreams, but it makes his mood better! He answers, "Yes Sir." He is, anyway. The steward, on the other hand, is not. But he moves forward because he knows who to blame for this - the man in charge, that's who. He takes three strides right up to Th'ero, gets right up in his face. All bluster, bad mood and sneers, "Cowardly of you to hide behind your weyrsecond, instead of asking properly! Where are we? What is the meaning of this?! I am going to have you before the Council! I demand you take me back to Fort immediately! He draws a deep breath, intending on continuing his tirade. D'ani's had enough of the steward and stalks grimly on by, saluting Th'ero in the process. Falling into step with Kimmila, he mutters, "Let's do this!" He'll never get to bed otherwise.

Th'ero hardly appears to be ruffled by the Steward. Not on the outside. On the inside? Oh, he's seething and trying to fight down the temptation to throttle the man soundly for good measure. He levels the man with a cold and narrowed glare. "The quicker you shut up, the earlier we get you to Fort Hold. You want this mess sorted? Start walking." Don't make this any more difficult! He makes a sharp gesture with his arm, indicating the Steward best get going or he's going to get himself dragged along as Th'ero aims to follow after Kimmila and D'ani. Sorry, no escape for you Steward! Not when you're sandwiched between three riders.

Kimmila gestures for the leadership to go in ahead of her, her eyes scanning the courtyard. Briefly she fix on the Steward and she gives him a saucy wink and a smile.

Does the steward want this mess cleaned up? The man doesn't budge, instead folds his arms, chin jutting out belligerently. "Is that why we're here? Your lackey told me nothing! I've half a mind to-" Kimmila's wink at him starts him choking. "And tell your whore to cut it out!" Aren't Weyrs full of those sorts? He won't tolerate such impudent boldness. D'ani turns to glare at Dremkoth before muttering to Kimmila, "He says the goldflight would have been less drama." He's going to defer to Th'ero regarding the steward, but his hand fingers his coiled whip. Pets it. Can't use it though. Sigh.

"That 'whore'," Th'ero quietly speaks from behind the Steward in a voice that is so dangerously cold that the Steward BEST be frightened. "Is my weyrmate and also a highly respected and valued Wingrider. Mind your tongue, Steward." There will be no further warning. Could be that is why the Steward does finally shut his trap and trudges along grudgingly with the rest of them. The man should hope it'll be D'ani's whip he receives should he break either bronzerider's tempter and not Th'ero's dagger in his back. Ahh, how he can wish but no — murdering Fort Hold's Steward, no matter how abrasive the man is, would be so very, VERY bad. "Kimmila, do you know who we need to speak to?" he calls to the bluerider.

Kimmila doesn't seem bothered by the term. In fact, she just chuckles. Onward, as she nods and leads the riders inside, where they're ushered to the cotholder's little office and welcomed with wamrth and surprise. And information. Rumors, mostly, but it's a place to start.

Kimmila might not be bothered, but D'ani is annoyed. His jaw tightens, probably to keep from saying something he'll regret. He doesn't turn around lest he give in to the temptation to smash the steward into next week. Nope, he just plods on and tries to put on a more benign expression for that poor cotholder. Hello - it's late, don't mind if we invade unannounced to interrogate you. Not that he says that, no. He appreciates the warmth and information. He listens, now and then eyeing the steward. Eh? Eh? How about that Mr. Steward?? At some point, after the cotholder frets about their low supplies and the coming winter, he pipes up with a neutral, "How fortunate Fort Hold has more than enough in stores." Implying that the burden of assistance lies with them. Not that the Weyr wouldn't, of course.

Th'ero will grit his teeth when they're met with nothing but rumours to start and he silently hopes that Kimmila's Wingrider's come up with more concrete leads. There are other pressing issues at hand, namely apologizing for intruding on said cothold family and going through the motions of explaining their purpose. It's a wonder the cotholders don't fall silent given the pale look the Steward has now taken (could it be that he's feeling a bit trapped? Is D'ani getting to him at last?) and the reserved, almost cold nature of the Weyrleader. Tension anyone? Of course there is! Of course, once the grievances are aired, the offer of aid from Fort Hold is met with surprise but welcomed all the same. Never mind the Steward sputters and is about to spit at their feet! He has a change of heart (or a good elbow to the ribs from Th'ero) and mutters, "Of course. We'll see what we can afford to send, perhaps speak to some of the minor Holds." Glare. GLARE at D'ani when the cotholders aren't looking. How much longer will they have to go about this? Night is falling fast. They've a lead, at least and when they've got as much as they can out of this cothold, they'll take their leave. Of course, that means returning the Steward… though D'ani can leave him outside of the Hold and make the man walk back. Serves him right?

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