Gossip is organized with the oldest at the top and newest at the bottom. The gossip topics currently are:
"The Caravan Of Death?" - Anaphe (M'jin)
Erma, Arma and Irmar look at one another and burst out laughing, before Erma says, "You're trying to tell me you haven't heard?" she asks incredulously, to the clucking laughter of Arma and Armar. She scoffs at you, leaning back in her chair and rocking back and forth for a few moments. Just when you think she's not going to help you at all, she finally speaks again. "That greenrider M'rin, he went to Uppsala to look for candidates--" "Didn't bring back anything, either," Armar interjects with a helpful scoff, until he gets swatted in the back of the head. "Well, he went looking for candidates, and whether or not he's any /good/ at it isn't part of the story. What is, is that he came back saying something about a trading caravan on it's way to Ierne." Arma and Armar lean together, discussing something in hushed tones, before Arma sits up and demands, "Is that /all/?" She's prodded into silence with one of Erma's knitting needles. "No!" Erma says with indignance. "Who cares about a caravan!? The important thing is, these traders - not that they're the most /honest/ of people from the start, have a reputation. They were travelling in the North, and every stop they went to someone up and went missing. And the last few stops, those people that went missing were found dead after the traders left." Erma tsks, going back to her knitting. "But you know, I don't take up in superstitions." Armar makes a scoffing sound in response to that particular statement, and in an undertone says, "And to think, M'rin didn't even have the common sense to tell them wed not be offended if they passed right by us.""
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Arma, Erma and Irmar look at one another pensively, before Arma leans forward, beckoning you closer into thier huddle, and saying, "Hmph." the old woman murmurs, shaking her head sadly. "I don't know, Irmar." The old man looks at a loss, eyes wide and sad. "Why, the pretty greenrider...poor dear." Arma laughs, rolling her eyes at the old man. "Hush, Irmar. You just know that she's distracted enough now not to say Hello." Erma frowns, tutting softly. "I heard that that Weyrlingmaster, Lishani's? little girl is sick of something. Not the newest, she's entirely too healthy! The middle girl. Dellin -- yes, Arma, I know he was a fine healer when he was our age -- says that the healers can't figure out what's wrong with her." Arma winces, shaking her head. "And to think, Elamine just lost her daughter. It's awfully soon for another to crop up with a problem. Poor dear! Poor baby. I wonder if she'll be okay?""
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"Death at the gather?" - Audrey
Arma, Erma and Irmar look at one another pensively, before Arma leans forward, beckoning you closer into thier huddle, and saying, "Oh my." All three look rather solemn. "What a gather." Arma nods and adds, "You see, someone killed one of those traders during the festivities." Erma shakes her head. "No, no, they say it was before the gather. Came upon the man in his wagon, asleep, and attacked." Irmar scoffs. "Well, I heard someone drove a knife in his back on the beach, and brought the body to the wagon." Erma corrects him. "No, there were a number of knife wounds. Over a hundred, someone told me." "Wasn't it just a few?" Arma asks. Erma shakes her head. "No, they say blood was everywhere. Couldn't get in the wagon without stepping in it." Irmar scoffs. "It wasn't that much blood. Just all over his clothes is what I heard." Erma continues. "And now, you know, they're being kept here until the killer's found." Arma adds, "It could be anyone, you know, and they could be anywhere in the Weyr by now. You watch your step."
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"Another one bites the dust?" - Kyre (Lishani)
Arma, Erma and Irmar look at one another pensively, before Arma leans forward, beckoning you closer into thier huddle, and saying, "That bro--" She starts, but is cut off by a low hiss from a nearby fellow, who shakes his head slowly. The old woman nods, setting off onto another tale entirely. "That greenrider..." Erma sighs softly. "Poor woman." Interjects Irmar, peering around anxiously. Arma snorts. "I knew it, you know. You carry them for most of a turn, then they get sick and die before two..." Adorementioned friend shakes his head, smiling ruefully. "That's the way it is, aunt. You know a few don't make it..." Erma sighs softly. "I heard the babe passed in the night. The healers sure didn't want to tell her about it. I wouldn't, either...I knew a woman who went mad when she found that her babe had died of a fever. At least she's got her Dragon, and those other two, eh?" Irmar still looks distressed though. "And to think, she's been coming to set with me every now and again...probl'y won't, any more." The two old ladies, and even the older healer-type just roll their eyes. "And so soon after that gather fiasco!"
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"Whodunit (Part 1)" - Relcoa (M'jin)
Arma, Erma and Irmar look at one another pensively, before Arma leans forward, beckoning you closer into thier huddle, and saying, ""What?" Arma, Erma and Irmar straighten all at once, like little marionettes with invisible strings. Arma starts laughing first, her frail old sholders shaking until she's forced to put down the maroon shirt she's mending to beckon you closer. When you're there (and never fear, her hardy comrades are leaning forward too), Arma finally says, "I hear that brownrider...what's his name?" Irmar supplies helpfully, "Ka'j. Used to be a h--" He's cut off unceremoniously by Arma and her waving of a sewing needle, trailing a length of thread like a tail. "Well. Y'know...he wasn't at the gather, that one where that trader was murdered?" "Like we have any other gathers," Erma mutters dryly. "Shut up. Well, anyways. He wasn't there. If you ask me, sounds like a hunter could do what they say happened to that man. I heard that he was sliced from top to bottom.""
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Arma, Erma and Irmar look at one another pensively, before Arma leans forward, beckoning you closer into thier huddle, and saying, "You're a nosy one, aren't you? What, you don't think he'll be found without you're digging?" Arma scowls, her mood changing rapidly, and she finally says, "I don't know." She looks almost ashamed to admit it, but she does nevertheless, leaning back heavily in her chair and dropping her mending to her lap with a frown. "I never really thought he'd have it in him, but I suppose you never know, really, do you?" From beside her, where he's prodding interestedly at thier mending but not offering any help, Irmar wonders, "Are you talking about that Rhietyr again? Stop trying to understand it woman, after all, he might /not/ have done anything." "Well he wasn't there!" Arma snaps back, the mending leaving her lap when she throws her arms up exasperatedly. She stares at him so hard she's like to burn a hole in him. "And he hasn't seemed all too worried, either. He /might/ have."
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Arma, Erma and Irmar look at one another pensively, before Arma leans forward, beckoning you closer into thier huddle, and saying, "They're saying that no one saw K'rien most of the day." She leans away, shaking her head and gesturing vaguely over her shoulder with a wave, as if dropping the idea off her fingertips without giving it any warrant. "They're saying that he was gone most of the day, and he came back after everything went down. But before that, even, he and Iedra were in the bowl, with one of those women from the caravan." Erma wrinkles her nose up, finishing off a pair of pants and dropping it in the mended pile nonchalantly. "She didn't look all that swift," she adds. "But him killing someone?" Erma wonders. "That's just about as asinine as saying Irmar works." "I hate it when you talk about me like I'm not here," Irmar says indignantly, glaring at the pair of them while Arma drowns him out with, "Well, we're stuck with him, aren't we?" And they fall back in thier bickering, with Irmar trying valiantly to get in, "But I /do/ help!"
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Arma, Erma and Irmar look at one another pensively, before Arma leans forward, beckoning you closer into thier huddle, and saying, "Now /she/ could have done it!" There's a small ruckus between the three of them, when Irmar tries to field the lead-telling of this particular rumor, and he's butted out with a sharp jab from Erma's sewing needle. She wins, and says mildly, "She knows him, Audrey does." "Did," Irmar corrects sullenly, his arms crossed and face drawn into a pout. "I've never liked her, truly," Arma interjects, before Erma continues, "She knew him," she repeats. "Some people saw her in his wagon, talking to him about something. He was furious when she left." "He was put-out," Irmar corrects again, but another jab of a sewing needle shuts him up very quickly. "He was /furious/," Erma says again, as though emphasizing enough will oust Irmar's correction. "She was on sweeps when they found him, but who knows where she was earlier that day?"
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Arma, Erma and Irmar look at one another pensively, before Arma leans forward, beckoning you closer into thier huddle, and saying, "I don't know what makes that good-for-nothing Southern rider weyrleader of ours innocent as a newly swaddled babe. They say the man was killed earlier that day, sometime during set-up, right?" Arma's ever-helpful comrades nod thier agreement, neither of them looking away from thier current tasks: Erma a particularly troublesome shirt, Irmar finding the perfect balance of sweetener in his klah. "He's hardly ever out anyways, and he's not nice." "Not mean to me," Irmar suggests, sipping at his mug. "Well, you ask poor P'rin how nice that M'jin is, and you'll find out the truth. A surly little brat, if you ask me, and if you ask me, I think he probably did it. He's been angry about them camped in the bowl all along, after all."
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Arma, Erma and Irmar look at one another pensively, before Arma leans forward, beckoning you closer into thier huddle, and saying, "Sharding kids, anyways. I hear that little cleaner girl - you know the one, Linara - yeah, her. She's been really keen on practicing all that stuff with the knives and the arrows. And not always supervised, either. I, for one, think letting a girl - especially one her age, even have weapons just...ugh." Viciously, Arma stabs her needle into the fabric she's got, her brows furrowing in concentration and maybe a little fury. "I bet she did it. You saw her when everyone was leaving, right? Standing there like she was a dimglow, just staring at that man's wife? I bet she did it - I just /bet/.""
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Arma, Erma and Irmar look at one another pensively, before Arma leans forward, beckoning you closer into thier huddle, and saying, "You wanna know who I /really/ think it is? Are you sure? I bet you won't like it, and if you say I'm unfair in saying it, you'll regret it." It's only when you've agreed whole-heartedly, crossed your heart and hoped to die if you think her mean or cruel, that Arma says, "I think it was Lishani. It'd not be the first time I've seen one of those women go mad after...well...you know." She tilts her chin in a gesture towards the infirmiry. "And it's no surprise she was missing before and after - she's been saying she was near Xanadu, but I don't know if I believe it. It's a bit too convenient, if you ask me.""
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Arma, Erma and Irmar look at one another pensively, before Arma leans forward, beckoning you closer into thier huddle, and saying, "You'll never guess what one of the kitchen girls said!" She's positively squirming with the weight of the news that she's got, and her voice rises deliberately for those passersby straining thier ears to hear her. "I heard," she says conspiratorally, "that bluerider, K'ja, was flirting with that dead trader's /wife/!" Ermar, undisturbed by this news, wonders blandly, "Before or after he died?" "Before, before! /Days/ before." "Ohhhh," Erma says longly, her eyes widening. Arma continues, "I think he did it. Probably because he was madly jealous when she wouldn't leave her husband and stay with him. You know, I think blueriders are just prone to jealousy, I do.""
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Arma, Erma and Irmar look at one another pensively, before Arma leans forward, beckoning you closer into thier huddle, and saying, "He's baaacccckkkkkkkk!" Irmar looks over, "Who is?" and is answered by the aunties in unison, "S'et!" Erma continues with, "I'm sure you remember him. He was Sinet the assistant steward before impessing bronze Mukuth, oh, 4 or so turns back." Irmar ahs and nods, "He went to Southern Barrier Weyr didn't he?" Arma nods, "Yes he did. I heard tell he was sent back here just before the ban went into affect for winning too many marks from the riders down there." Erma intrupts with, "Oh, I heard he refused to sleep with the Senior Weyr Woman and she doesn't like taking no for an answer." Irmar lets out a snort, "My guess is he got into one too many fights. But in any case, we best hide the women and marks. Noone is safe anymore!"
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Arma, Erma and Irmar look at one another pensively, before Arma leans forward, beckoning you closer into thier huddle, and saying, "Did you hear what happened to S'var?" one Aunty asks, rheumy eyes bright with the anticipation of sharing a choice bit of gossip. "He danced the first with that pretty Harper gel from the Hall. Next thing she knew, he was inviting her to his weyr! Imagine!" She cackles, and sucks vigorously on the sweet in her mouth before she continues. "He got what he deserved though. Heard tell she told him in sight of everyone in the bowl that she was neither that drunk nor that desperate, and if he'd excuse her, she had a lift to catch." Laughter cackles. "He's still sulking, I hear. And making quite the inroads into the extra wine stores."
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Arma, Erma and Irmar look at one another pensively, before Arma leans forward, beckoning you closer into thier huddle, and saying, "Ha!" They laugh, and Arma shakes her head. "Well, among all of the dramatic accuasations...we have typical fodder your you." When you lean closer, Erma cackles, knee-slapping. "When poor Torvi woke up this morning and went out to catch some fresh air, she caught sight of more than just that." Irmar looks highly amused, but remains silent. "What she found just below her ledge were Suzanth and Fejiath curled up on the beach, you know, that Weyrlingmaster's Green and the Hunter's Brown? Well, that wasn't too not-normal. But," She beckons you even closer. "Between them were their riders, passed out! Not just that," There's a pause as Arma cackles. "They were found both stark-nude, clothes tossed *all* over the place from what *I* heard. And wouldn't you know it, but there was an empty rum bottle nearby. *Somebody* had quite the night last night, ha!" It's Erma's turn to cackle. "And here I thought that Brownrider had a 'mate. Bet he's regretting whatever he did!""
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Erma, Arma and Irmar look at one another pensively, before Erma leans forward, beckoning you closer into their huddle, and saying, "Oh my, did you hear how bad Aedai's week has been going?" Erma cackles and nods, while Irmar adds, "She did look awfuly fine running naked through the weyr." Arma grins, "Yes, it seems that she upset S'et and got chased out of the bathing pools. The worse happened the next night. S'et showed up and carried her off, with that sweetheart Lyana chasing them in attempt to stop him. He ended up dumping her into the bathing pools." Erma laughs once more, "Fully dressed at that!" Irmar smirks, "Well, S'et is a man of his word. He did promise to dunk her." Arma nods in agreement, "Though he did get it in the end. After tossing both Lyana and Aedai into the pool, the two tried to drown him. His dragon was quite upset about it."
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"Something fishy." - Kyre (Lishani)
Erma cackles and motions you closer. She murmurs, "You know," She snickers, the raspy, gasping sound drawing Irmar's attention. "There's something odd going on among our esteemed team of Weyrlingmasters." Her grin is sly, now, and Irmar is *interested*. After all, there are two females on said team. "First, those two brownriders started the relationship thing," To this, Irmar sniffs. "Bet that Hr'ner still has his /hairly/ girlfriend tucked away somewhere." But he's shushed quickly, as the old biddie continues. "And you should *see* that Greenrider since the other day. First, she dissapeared for most of a day with that Aedai girl, and when she came back she was nigh impossible to talk to," This seems to annoy the old lady -- she probably lost a good source of gossip for a while! "And then she dissapeared *again* with the newest of her assistants. You'd think the Weyrleaders would discourage that." She tuts. "Anyways, since they got back, you'd think that silly girl was constantly drunk. She hasn't even been punishing those Weyrlings as much. Ha!"
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"Here Comes Trouble" - Tsuaa (Aedai)
Erma cackles and motions you closer. She murmurs, "I've heard our two most troublesome Weyrlingmasters are up to no good again." This sets Arma into a fit of chuckles as Irmar perks. "Ah! Lishani, m'dear girl? And that brownriding troublemaker she associates with? What're they up to?" Erma grins broadly before she shrugs, shaking her head slowly. "They'd disappeared for a few hours, escaping from those weyrlings, before they returned, the two giggling madly." Irmar perks, eyebrows raised as the wood he's whittling away at, something not unlike one of the women in question, is forgotten. "I mean, are you sure they were plotting..? Couldn't they have..." Arma swats at his head with a piece of clothing she's busy mending, rolling her eyes. "No! Not anything like /that/! They were chatting about something when they'd gotten back, and that one, the brownrider, had a disturbing glint in her eyes." Erma nods emphatically, agreeing, "Aye, I know the one. I saw her with it the other day. That girl had that look perpetually in her eye through her candidacy. Whatever they're up to, Ierne isn't safe for long...""
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Last updated October 9th, 2007.
All references to worlds and characters based on Anne McCaffrey's fiction are © the author 1967, 2000, all rights reserved,and used by permission of the author. The Dragonriders of Pern(r) is registered U.S. Patent and Trademark Office, by Anne McCaffrey, used here with permission. Use or reproduction without a license is strictly prohibited.