Scavenger Hunt: Denalia and Rhaenyra Find Big News from HRW's Past

Forgotten Records Room
Roughly cube-shaped, poorly lit, and still partially coated with a depressingly prevalent mess of dust and cobwebs, it's only immediately clear to the trained eye that this old records room has seen some recent renovation. There isn't a spare inch to be found between looming shelves of decaying hide and brittle paper along the left, back, and right walls, with some looming as high as fifteen feet before simply fading into inscrutable shadow. Scattered throughout the floor space of the large cavern between four tables, several mismatched chairs, and stacks of unsorted hide, various footsteps in the dust often combine to create trails of frequently traveled clear floor, with most of the prints themselves left by large, squared boots or much more delicate feline paws. In the right-hand back corner, just barely peeking out of the darkness, a single cot and pillow dressed in ratty sheets can be made out with a small pair of wooden crates shoved into the shadow that lingers beneath it.
Rhaenyra is here.
Obvious exits:

"Deni," Rhaenyra announces, in the nasal tones of someone suffering from a cold, "We cannot lose this." Her tone is severe. Yeah, everyone should know… just how competitive she is, by now. "And considering who we're stuck with, it's up to -us-… it's on -our- shoulders… to accomplish this."

Denalia, carrying a glow-basket in one hand and a large, dark brown woven sack over her left shoulder, follows Rhaenyra like a servant to a leader… But not the most excited of servants. "Sure, but if the guards catch us stealing, I could lose my knot, if I don't Impress." Though, she's still here, isn't she? Must say something about how she isn't *completely* against it. "We'll have to figure out a decent enough place to hide this stuff… And maybe people will think that these 'disappearing items' are just part of Krummolt's little plot if we leave little notecards." She coughs for a moment, unsure if Rhaen knows what she's talking about. "He's having recruits go out and steal stuff to practice being sneaky. What're we getting, anyways?" She says, fumbling with something in her pocket, trying to look at it in the dim light — but failing.

"We're not -stealing-," Rhaenyra wheedles. "We're -borrowing-." This is firmly stated. "We'll give it all back… once we win. We'll put it all in the Living Caverns." Have a bake sale! …. But with Shazi's underwear. Er. "Notecards? Ah! Perfect. I love it. I'll get started on some of those pronto." Once she finds one to copy. "Well… we're looking for some sort of juicy information from the past. And I figured we might as well start here." She lifts her glowbasket, then, and uncovers the rather bright illumination source. "Old records… see?"

Denalia scrunches her nose as she raises her own glowbasket higher, eyeing Rhaenyra's movements with complete skepticism. "Right. I'm sure /they'll/ see it that way. But, with the cards, I think we'll be alright. Maybe." Nodding slowly in affirmation, she plops her glowbasket down on the highest surface she can find, before popping up on her tiptoes and eyeing some hides up on a shelf near her. "Right, juicy information. We could probably honestly just pull something out and use it. I don't think 'Reaches has had a boring moment since the days of Nuff." Long, long before Denalia's time. "I don't think I've ever actually been here. They made us study Weyr history in the guards, but they'd pull it all out for us to read instead of making us come down here.. I can see why." She flinches, eyeing the amount of dust everywhere. Yuuuccckky. "Where in Faranth's name are we supposed to start? There's…" Her eyes flit from side to side. "A /lot/ of records. Guess the harpers really do keep busy."

"No, they don't," Rhaenyra's quick to retort. "If the Harpers here were worth their boots, this room would -not- be this dusty, or in this state of disrepair." Rhae knows good record-keeping, and this… isn't it. "Ah, I don't know. Pick a hide randomly, and go left until we find something?" Rhaenyra isn't the greatest for picking. She points to something behind Denalia. "Or, you can start -there-…" She pivots about, 180 degrees, and points randomly; "And I'll start over -here-, and we'll just… talk to eachother till we find something." She looks back to Deni, and cocks an eyebrow up. "Agreed?"

"You're probably right, but I don't really blame them. This isn't exactly the most pleasant place in the Weyr. I don't like coming past the catacombs very often. Smells funny." She shrugs off the thought, though, heading in the direction Rhaenyra pointed, and picks up a hide-book off the shelf with a hefty groan — well, it's big! "Sure thing," Deni sputters through a fit of coughs as dust swishes from the shelf onto her face, making her gag for a moment; but, while still coughing, she hoists the rather large tome onto a nearby table, and opens it with at least SOME care. "Though, I'm not sure what there is to talk about, really," she says with a hint of sarcasm. "Except perhaps your latest… /pursuits/." A light hiss edges her last word, accompanying a cold glance, before she turns her eyes back to the hide, and moves her glowbasket to make the faded lettering easier to read.

"Look." Rhaenyra's veins are poppin' out on her forehead. "I've heard it from EVERYONE. And I still maintain that what I did, I did for the good of the weyr. Iasri's not bitching and moaning about the fact that she can't get Vos in bed. And Vos has actually— grown up! A little bit! So, before you go -judging me-, along with -everyone else-, put yourself in -my- shoes." Hit a nerve, there? Apparently. "At least I didn't seduce Vos and -your mother-." So there. She tosses a smirk over to Denalia, and removes a scroll, apparently elderly, from the nearest shelf. A quick scan of the contents has the Herder's lip curling upwards; "Just my luck— herd population reports from the middle of the Pass." A moment of reflection. "Shells. Dragons ate more back then." Eyebrows are raised.

Denalia is obviously unscathed by Rhaenyra's outburst, listening patiently — if with a bit of a sour expression on her face — as the gal rushes to her defense. "True enough," she says with a mixed tone of voice, one eyebrow cocked above the other. "Not that I can imagine being in your shoes, being their mentor in the Herdercraft and all. I suppose it was your… duty. Not that I agree. But, I didn't mean for you to—" she pauses for a moment. "You're my friend. I'd never /judge/ you for anything you did. I've already made my judgement." The comment about her mother makes her choke for a minute, but, she clamps her mouth, and hurredly begins to scan through the hide before her so that they can get out of here as soon as possible. "Not anything better, here. Just tithe reports from.. Crom, I think it says. Just firestone shipments. Nothing abnormal, either… Same amount every few months until the end of the Pass." Leeesssiiigghh. "Vos still being awkward around the ladyfolk, then? Or is that how he's matured." Her tone is, strangely enough, indifferent.

Rhaenyra looks unpeturbed, for the most part, because— in typical Rhaenyra fashion— she's already over it. She settles down in the dust, without a regard for the status of her clothes, a stack of loose hides cradled in her lap. "Firestone shipments? Hmmm. I have sweeprider reports from early, early in the pass… unusual Threadfalls, but are they really? Probably just calculated them wrong," she idly states, flipping past a few more in her quest for Gossip(tm). "Vos is still awkward, period," she replies, in turn; "But he actually apologized for himself, the other day, without prompting- to Tilla- and he just seems more… confident, I guess is the word I'm looking for. He's finally getting to the point where I would allow him to do a journeyman project, if he doesn't Impress." She shrugs a shoulder, and muses. "This one is cryptic. R'meld… R'meld. Who was R'meld again?" She looks up from her hide, blinking.

Denalia tosses Rhaenyra a few more awkward glances, before flipping through the rest of the tome, and pushing it aside to move to another one that looks significantly different. "Probably just calculated wrong. There's always something that causes the Fall patterns to be screwy, they just aren't always accounted for." Flip flip flip. "He's old enough to be Journeyman? Guess I'd never even noticed. I suppose that'd work out alright. Guess we'll find out what our 'fates'," stressing the word with an eyeroll — no such thing as fate to her, is there? "Are soon enough." The name 'R'meld' catches her ear, causing her to stop in thought. "R'meld.. Wasn't he a bronzerider? The name sounds familiar, but I can't say I remember seeing his name on any Impression records. Must be an old old fogey or something. The hide got a date on it?" She muddles through the next hide, but she mutters something about a 'bad batch of cheese' causing some diarrhea, and tosses it aside with an eyeroll. "Juicy in the wrong sense," she snarls, pulling out a light stack off her shelf.

"Sometimes I feel I was born a couple of decades too late," Rhaenyra states, her tone contemplative. "I know that sounds horrible, but— Threadfall sounds /interesting/. That something other than petty politics was -important-." Waxing philosophic, our Rhaenyra; go figure. She muses over the hide. "This is a report from Wingleader Tatia, regarding her… disapproval over this R'meld character." Her eyebrows draw together, and she reads, silent for a moment. "And yes, he -is- old enough to be Journeyman," she belatedly states. "Well, old enough to begin thinking about being journeyman." She drops the hide after a moment; "Nothing else, other than a mention of Adel. She was a goldrider, right?" She vaguely remembers hearing something about Adel. "Before Nuff." She thinks.

"Tell me about it," Denalia mutters, stopping her pursuit through the records for a moment to sigh 'regret'. "Everyone seems to shut their mouth and do what they're told when Thread's falling. Almost makes me wish it'd start falling again… Though my mom seems to think otherwise." And it's the dragonriders that'd know, eh? "Well, that isn't exactly too strange, is it? Tatia disapproves of like… Everyone." A light smile cocks her lip as she begins flipping again. "But… If Tatia was making remarks on him, then it couldn'tve been /too/ long ago. Wonder why he's not around anymore… He transfer or something?" The name Adel doesn't seem to ring any bells, although… "Well, aren't the two related, or something? R'meld and Adel. The names sound like.. I dunno. Tatia and K'nex. How you kinda relate the one with the other. But I.. honestly can't place it. Learned most of my history as a brat, and it was mostly just learning Weyrleader and Weyrwoman pairs. Maybe that's it?" She shrugs, tossing aside a few more hides. "Ah, here we go… Impression records. Maybe he's in here," she mutters, beginning to fumble through it.

"That's true— it had to be recent if Tatia was bitching about it," Rhaenyra agrees with an amiable nod of her head. A few hides later, she's still shuffling through random inventories and rather pointless sweep reports. Sigh. "Adel. R'meld." She muses. "Maybe they -were- old weyrleaders?" A shrug of her shoulder, and she peers, curious, over at Denalia. "Well?" she questions, after a -completely- patient millisecond. "Are they on there?" She continues to shuffle. Shuffle shuffle.

"Yeah, but… this can't be right." Denalia's eyes squint as she finally find's Adel's impression, which is the more obvious one to find, since Harpers seem to love putting a lot of flourish around the hatching of a goldie. Pff. "This was… A /long/ time ago. I mean, I know Tatia isn't exactly young, but this date… She'dve been shipped to Southern for old age Turns before Tatia would've had any reason to complain about her." She looks back at Rhaenyra, thoroughly confused. "Is Tatia older than I thought she was? I thought she was only about half a decade older than m'mum." Her eyes flip back, her index finger still loosely pointing at the date of Adel's Impression.

Rhaenyra scoots over, and scrunches up her forehead as she peers down to the date that Denalia finds. "Shells," she states; "That's before the Pass." Her eyebrows shoot up. "That can't be. Maybe this is a different R'meld? Can't possibly be the same, not with…." She gets to her feet, and stalks over to her side, rummaging to find Tatia's report and move back to Deni's side. She points. "It's a report to the weyrleaders— Weyrwoman Pyrene, Weyrleader Sii'kyn. That's not too long ago. And…" Her eyes focus down. "Adel's name is here." Her finger falls to the name at the bottom, nearly a footnote. Huh.

Denalia starts shaking her head, slowly. "I didn't see any goldriding 'Adels' before this one, and — here, see, look. R'meld Impressed a clutch before her." She drew her finger towards the page before it, but she almost steps back a little, a bit of a chill running up her spine. "I've never heard of Harpers making mistakes /this/ big." She looks at the report that Rhaenyra brings over, comparing the dates with wide eyes. "Oy. Says she Impressed at about twenty… That'd put her past around what.. maybe 80 Turns when Tatia wrote this? I was always terrible at this adding stuff." You don't need numbers to bludgeon people! "Riders can live to 80 and well past, if Thread doesn't get them, but most retire to the South by then." She turns her eyes to look up at Rhaen. "What do you think?" Her eyes turn back towards a stack of hides on the shelf. "We could keep looking, I guess…" She says slowly, her tone questionable.

Rhaenyra leans back, her eyebrows furrowed. "Wait," she slowly states. "R'meld and Adel… Pyrene, Sii'kyn… Weyrsecond Wyn… Wingleader Tatia… no, wait," she furrows an eyebrow. "Wasn't K'nex a Wingleader, for a bit? When did that happen?" She's been through High Reaches' history course relatively sooner than Denalia, and something seems to be tugging her recollection. She rises to her feet, and begins to read the binders of hides on the far wall, apparently seeking something.

"Ummm.." Denalia pauses for a moment, her eyes scanning the wall for a tome she might recognize. "Ah, here we are. Position registry." The book, while old, actually seems to maintain a rather lack of dust, considering the fact that it's used rather frequently. "Yeah, here we are. I remember my mum was showing me this section when she got promoted," her finger tracing across the Wingleader section briefly, the name 'Palia' the most recent addition, sketched in the red of Inferno. "Here. About sixteen Turns ago. Tsunami went from to Tatia to K'nex to Lylia within the course of a few months. Funny." She smirks. Okay, not REALLY funny. "Only thing about that Wing that ever seemed straight was Tye."

"Even Tye isn't right in the head," Rhaenyra drawls in response. "Only wing here that has half a brain is Mudslide, and even recently, with Jesha at the helm…" Her head shakes. "My uncle spoke highly of P'rru." One of the few things she does know about High Reaches. "Tatia to K'nex to Lylia," she replies, her tone still thoughtful. Her hand reaches up to sweep the dust off of a particularly thick tome. "Weyrsecond logs. Perhaps Wyn recorded something." She plunks down back next to Denalia, and opens the book midway. "Weyrsecond -Daeyn-?" Her eyebrows arch upwards… again.

Denalia snaps her head towards Rhaenyra, a silent growl edging on the front of her throat as her eyes thin in anger. "There is /nothing/ wrong with Tye." Someone's a wee bit fond of the evil Weyrlingmaster! "Mudslide isn't bad, though, I'll agree. They've got Wyn, and a fair amount of other level-headed riders. Not sure how Jesha ended up in charge, though, I'll agree with you there. Only leadership who doesn't seem bonkers in this entire Weyr is Shazi and Wyn." And even Wyn isn't around much with her traveling. "Weyrsecond Daeyn?" She looks at the entry too, puzzled. "Never heard that name before. Least, doesn't sound very familiar. But, that must be ages ago, Wyn's been a Weyrsecond for Faranth knows how long." She returns to the Impression logs, muttering to herself as she reads passages.

"Yeah, Weyrsecond Daeyn," she replies. "Ah, I guess the Weyrsecond before Quara and P'rru," she adds on. Flipping through to Wyn's tenure, she begins to browse, thoughtful. "Wait, wait. Cloudburst Wing? Who the shell is Cloudburst Wing?"

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