The World of Pern(tm) is copyright to Anne McCaffrey (c) l967. The Dragonriders of Pern(r) is a registered copyright. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ [Camera opens on a backlit wall; everything is in shades of black and maroon, and eerie music plays. A figure wearing a Weyrharper's knot, pale of face and hair and with a piercing gaze, faces you.] Criswell: Poor, innocent Pernese! You Holders, you Crafters, you have believed that Thread... treacherous, life-destroying Thread... was the greatest evil ever faced by the valiant dragonriders who guard our land. Verily, the dragonmen and dragonwomen have time and again risked life and limb in the defense of our lives and livelihood! But they, even THEY, could not have foreseen a far greater evil. They could not have expected that a peril that threatens not only their bodies and dragons, but yea, their very MINDS could be lurking in the bottommost caverns of THEIR VERY WEYR. Not even the dragonriders of Pern could hope to ever be ready for... [Music rises. Roll credits.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ ATTACK OF THE EVIL PRODDY GLOWING ZOMBIE LOWER CAVERNS GIRLS Starring (For the riders) F'hlan, bronze Tzornth's rider............Our Hero Kassima, green Lysseth's rider............The Evil One R'val, blue Vidarth's rider...............Hapless Bluerider Victim (For the non-riders) Fahloran, son of F'hlan...................Angstful Adolescent Mehlani, daughter of F'hlan...............Junior Sage and Swoon Deterrer Alyssa....................................Master Swooncrafter of Pern Trelina, daughter of Jehrina..............Cute Weyrbaby Salless...................................Weyrmatron by Day, Zombielord ..........................................by Night Special Guest Stars The Foos of J'lor -AS- Themselves ProddyVeyath, ProddyTyrrath, ProddyJuliath, and ProddyTorinth -AS- Themselves The Ghost of Elvis Presley -AS- Kevlan Sharr, Crystal Singer ------------------------------------------------------------------------ ACT I, Scene 1: Genesis, or, A Bunch of Our Blue Riders are Missing [Kassima's Weyr, Interior. Night. You think, at least. It's black enough in here that Rukbat's light would flee screaming from the very thought of illuminating the bowels of the Evil One's Lair regardless of what time of the day it is. A single drum beats a slow and sonorous rhythm as KASSIMA crouches, cackling softly, around a large cookpot into which she pours various vile-smelling concoctions. Her brew casts a disquieting green glow over her face, the only light in this pit.] Kassima: Bubble, bubble, toil and trouble -- ha, nice ring to that! They don't know the meaning of the word trouble! [Kassima tosses several bits of what look like blue dragon hide into her brew... followed by shoulderknots with blue threads worked in among the black and red of Benden Weyr. The brew goes 'POOF', throws off a stream of bilious smoke, and as discordant notes weave themselves in and out of the drumbeats, the flutter of wings can be heard outside on the ledge. A green dragon's piping warble is followed by a troubled squeal from a blue... and R'VAL comes staggering into the weyr, shoved by the helpful Lysseth's wingtip. Grinning viciously, Kassima faces R'val, who winces at the sight of the glowing klah, but the dragon pushes him nearer and growls threateningly until he finally gulps down the brew. Kassima's laughter blends with the drumbeats and chords as the camera fades to black.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Act I, Scene 2: The First Strike, or, Even Babies Like to Swoon Over Bronzeriders [That limbic state of being known as the Benden Weyr Chat Channel. Night.] Benden Weyr> Alyssa foregoes the swoon for the hug. Benden Weyr> F'hlan beams at Alyssa, pleased to accept hugs. (Faranth! Finally, she's turning sensible.) Benden Weyr> Alyssa says, "Don't count on it for long." Benden Weyr> F'hlan checks the +rwho, sees no Kassima, and thinks, 'Hah! There's no danger.' Benden Weyr> R'val grins. Wrong, F'hlan! *sics his OWN Zombie PRoddy Evil GLowing LCGS on F'hlan* Benden Weyr> F'hlan wait a minute. YOU'RE a blue rider. How come they're not swarming YOU? Benden Weyr> Trelina googoogaagaa's happily at F'hlan. Is that babytalk for "I'm gonna swoon?" Or does it mean "gee, I wish mommy would come by and feed me now..." ? Benden Weyr> R'val grins wickedly. I bribed 'em, of course. I told 'em where you were :) Benden Weyr> R'val offers Trelina a teething ring :) Benden Weyr> Trelina gurgles happily and shoves it into her mouth and sucks on it. Benden Weyr> R'val grins. I know my way with babies, yup. Benden Weyr> The Zombie LCGS swoon left and right over Tzornth, and proddify him. Benden Weyr> F'hlan ohgoods. (Last thing he needs is a swooning baby. Of course, babies fall asleep at the drop of a hat, so...) Benden Weyr> Trelina, soothed by sucking on the teething ring, falls asleep. Benden Weyr> F'hlan smacks his forehead. R'val, R'val, do you REALLY want a bronze dragon looking hungrily at your blue? Benden Weyr> R'val Has hidden him. :) Besides, your bronze'll be in no condition to do much after the Zombies get through with 'im, bwhahahahaa;) (Am I sounding like Kassi yet? Argh ;) ) Benden Weyr> F'hlan starts suspecting that R'val's been brainwashed by Kass. Benden Weyr> R'val has, unfortunately :) Benden Weyr> Alyssa is just afraid he IS Kass. Benden Weyr> R'val . o O ( Watch it, Alyssa, or I'll waffle..err..no! Must..fight! ) Benden Weyr> F'hlan says, "Quick, folks, check his eyes, are they glowing green?" ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Act II, Scene 1: The Evil One Plans, or, I'm a Teener, You're a Teener, He's a Teener, She's a Teener, Wouldn't You Like To Be a Teener Too? [Benden Weyr Chat Channel. Night.] Benden Weyr> F'hlan ponders the philosophical implications of puberty, and whether, for example, Kassima does not need to invoke her evil glowing proddy zombie lower caverns girls magic to frighten Fahloran, since puberty works just as well. (Or so it would seem!) Benden Weyr> Fahloran thinks his father talks too much ;) Benden Weyr> F'hlan .oO (If he thinks girls are scary _now_, just wait till after his voice finishes cracking.) Benden Weyr> Kassima muwahahahas. Maybe it works as well, but what if puberty *and* the Evil LCGs were unleashed at once? This deserves further study. Benden Weyr> F'hlan, safely in the middle of his thirties, rests secure in the knowledge that Kass can't alter that! Benden Weyr> Kassima .o0(Hmmm. I managed to get an Elixir of Proddiness... maybe I can get an Elixir of Puberty as well. I could spike the klah with it and watch the whole klah-drinking population of the Weyr go through puberty again. Whee!) Benden Weyr> F'hlan uh-oh. Benden Weyr> F'hlan peers back at his 15-turn-old self. He doesn't WANT to do that again! Benden Weyr> Kassima heys, what's wrong with 15-year-olds? I not only play a teenager, but am one RL, so answer carefully. *Grin.* Benden Weyr> F'hlan lists several things wrong with him being 15 again, up to and including a) he hadn't Impressed Tzornth yet, b) he hadn't met Melora yet, c) he hadn't Impressed a single fire lizard (well, okay, so maybe the lack of green flits is a plus), and d) he was at Tillek Hold. Benden Weyr> Kassima lessee. At 15 ICly, I had eight FLs, I Impressed Lysseth, and I witnessed the emergence of the Legend of Slithereth. At 15 OOCly, I don't know everything I've done, because I'm still there. Benden Weyr> F'hlan crosses his arms and boldly faces the evil mistress of the zombie LCGs, and informs her sternly, 'You CANNOT turn back time, young lady, and under no circumstances am I going to time-between, so there.' Benden Weyr> Kassima says, "Can so turn back time! Those people who brought back Ancient Pern did it! Now I have only to find a way to open some long-ago databases...." Benden Weyr> F'hlan .oO (And besides, I have enough trouble looking like a Wingsecond and temporary Weyrsecond without being a mophaired waif again, but I'm not telling HER that.) Benden Weyr> Kassima .o0(People don't seem to realize, even after all this time, that I can read thoughts....) Benden Weyr> F'hlan concludes with a firm, "I'm 35, I'm happy with it, so DON'T get any ideas, rider." Benden Weyr> F'hlan, content that he's gotten the point across to his young wingmate, gets briskly back to work. Benden Weyr> Kassima tries to look innocent, but fails miserably. "Ideas? Who, me?" Benden Weyr> Kassima would never get any ideas. Never, never, never. .o0(And if you buy that one, I've got a bridge to sell you....) ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Act II, Scene 2: The Second Strike, or, Your Flits are So Much Prettier When They're Glowing, Aren't They? [Benden Weyr Chat Channel. Night.] Benden Weyr> F'hlan gives Kass his patented Stern Weyrleader look, which he still has on reserve although he's not officially using it anymore, while cleverly failing to mention to her that his patented Stern Weyrleader look works a lot better on a 35-Turn-old than it does a 15-Turn-old. Benden Weyr> Kassima does her best angelic look thing, meanwhile plotting the next generation of Evil Puberty-Inducing LCGs. Benden Weyr> F'hlan studies Kass, grudgingly decides she's gotten the point, and makes the probably fatal mistake of turning his back on her. Benden Weyr> Kassima whips out her Proddy-O-Zap and fires at the bronzerider, but the batteries are dead. "Ack! I knew I should've used Energizers!" Benden Weyr> F'hlan .oO (HA!) With no one watching, he grins mischievously. Benden Weyr> Kassima drats and replaces the batteries with some evilly glowing green ones. "Ah, here we go. Proddigizer Batteries! They keep proddifying, and proddifying, and proddifying...." [A chilling chord strikes.] Benden Weyr> F'hlan whistles blithely and saunters away. Benden Weyr> Kassima chooses not to aim at the bronzerider, but instead at the green fire-lizards around him, pulling the black-on-a-black-background Proddy-O-Zap trigger. Benden Weyr> Koei, Aeyri, Twyr, and Neme twitch, convulse, and suddenly turn a lambent shade of green. Long distance to Kassima: F'hlan's flits all let out a chilling COOOOOOOO! Long distance to Kassima: F'hlan staggers. He feels... strange. Wha? From afar, Kassima muwahahahas as she watches the evil Bolts of Proddiness take effect on the green fire-lizards, then moves to zap at Tzornth and increase his Proddiness Dosage. Long distance to Kassima: F'hlan gulps, as he peers at his glimmering fair, and shakes his head muzzily. He can handle this! It's just that they're proddy, he handles this every Turn...! From afar, Kassima hmmms. She'd been hoping that they'd already risen once this Turn--oh, well, at least now you have the added assurance that it'll be twice this Turn they start to glow! Then she gets an evil idea.... Long distance to Kassima: F'hlan's dragon shivers, blinkblinks, and against all facets of his nature quirks his head and COOOOOS? From afar, Kassima directs her army of Proddy-O-Zap-Wielding Second-Generation, Not Yet Puberty Inducing Because I Still Have To Find The Correct Formula Glowing Evil Proddy Zombie Lower Caverns Girls to aim all their Proddy-O-Zaps at the fair, keeping her own trained on Tzornth. About one-hundred Proddybolts go flying towards the green fire-lizards. Long distance to Kassima: F'hlan wait! His dragon's not supposed to be proddy -- Tzornth is a bronze! F'hlan stares in horror as Tzornth gets extremely restless and fidgets about the weyr... and, just as horrifiedly, finds himself growing oddly restless, too. He staggers, and thinks fast... he has to get weyrbound. Determined, the rider lurches off for the sanctity of his quarters... From afar, Kassima eeeks as that wouldn't help her Evil Plans at all. At her directions, about twenty of the Evil Glowing Zombie Proddy LCGs go to bar the door to your weyr, a few going to wait for you inside in case you get by the ones guarding the door. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Act II, Scene 3: I'm Not That Sharding Handsome, Girls! Honest! [F'hlan's weyr, interior. Night.] Long distance to Kassima: F'hlan staggers unsteadily into his weyr... and finds himself faced with a squad of zombies. Uh-oh. From afar, Kassima rubs her hands together and cackles in the Cliched Evil Scientist Manner. "You vill never escape zee Evil Glowing Proddy Zombie Lower Caverns Girls!" she pronounces in a fake accent, twirling her virtual handlebar mustache. Long distance to Kassima: F'hlan yelps, but rallies, in the traditional Morally Upright Hero tone, "Do your worst, evil one -- I'll never succumb to your... evil...." (Unfortunately for our morally upright hero, ProddyGlow is uncomfortably like kryptonite for Superman, and he sways, as he tries to deliver his defiant speech.) From afar, Kassima uses the Powers of Summoning to bring forth the illusions of ProddyTyrrath, ProddyVeyath, ProddyJuliath, and ProddyTorinth, four of the Evillest Glowing Greens. Although the dragons themselves are not here, their powers of glowing are still the same, even in illusion! Long distance to Kassima: F'hlan aies!, and crumples over. He must resist... From afar, Kassima hrms thoughtfully and finally resorts to the Sacred Seventh PRG Chant, to turn the proddiness of anything within a 10' range into Super Proddiness for a limited amount of time (it would be longer, but she used up most of her credit with the PRG reanimating those dead blueriders to create the Evil LCGs in the first place). The glow of ProddyVeyath, ProddyTyrrath, and a couple of the LCGs increases exponentially. Long distance to Kassima: F'hlan twitches, moans raggedly, and shivers, on his knees. He... will... NOT give in....! But despite his valiant efforts, he finds his gaze hypnotically drawn... From afar, Kassima cackles insanely and, in tribute to Aphrael, shouts "Eskimo!" just because it seems appropriate. Foos suddenly begin to fall from the sky, some of them landing on the LCGs and increasing their fearsomeness level. Long distance to Kassima: F'hlan thinks, muzzily, 'Foos?' as he finds himself weirdly compelled to stare at the nearest of the zombies, his mind getting foggier... From afar, Kassima explains that foos are one of the Fearsome Things of J'lor, equal to the Pants in sheer bizarrity and fearsomeness. The zombies stare back at F'hlan, waggling their glowing green eyebrows at him. Long distance to Kassima: F'hlan ohs, absently, from where he's slumped. (Why can't he move?) Rapt, he studies those eyebrows, thinking that SOMETHING is wrong here... but he can't remember what... Long distance to Kassima: F'hlan finally slurrily informs the nearest zombie, "Lass... I, uh... I have a watch to fly..." Kassima pages: Since Kassima was never able to entirely get rid of the urge to swoon despite all her attempts, a couple of weaker LCGs fall to the ground in a perfect Alyssa-style swoon. The rest of the zombies all chorus in unison, "We'll go with you!" Long distance to Kassima: F'hlan attempts to stagger to his feet, but finds himself curiously dizzy. He squints across the weyr, where Tzornth is curled up watching, for no apparent reason, a flight of blue fire lizards across the bowl. The dragon remains blissfully oblivious as F'hlan sends him a weak thought -- and the effort of trying to contact his dragon makes the rider reel. Kassima pages: The evil LCGs giggle in classic LCG style, though there's still something... disturbing... about the sound. There's very little about the GEPZLCGs that isn't disturbing somehow. The ones not still guarding the weyr (and secretly planting lots and lots of green FL clutches here and there inside of it) rush up to try and catch the bronzerider as he reels. However, they start fighting amongst themselves for the privelege, and random Proddybolts go flying everywhere as they open fire on each other. Long distance to Kassima: F'hlan, dimly aware that he has to get... out... stumbles somewhere vaguely in the direction of the exit into the Bowl... Kassima pages: A team of bored proddy green dragons drop severed bluerider heads at the bronzerider from above, as the zombie LCGs mindlessly lurch after him chanting, "MUST. FOLLOW. BRONZE. RIDER." Long distance to Kassima: F'hlan staggers, trips across something, and goes flying. Long distance to Kassima: F'hlan looks blearily down at his feet. Wha? A pot? Sand? Uh... Kassima pages: The Evil LCGs giggle again, girlishly, as F'hlan falls across the first of their Green FL Clutch Traps. Long distance to Kassima: F'hlan vaguely realizes that this is Trouble, and he tries to crawl away. However, a strategically placed zombie leaps into his path, with a weirdly inviting looking lap, and the poor dazed bronze rider stares at her muzzily... no... he can't! He can't lie down...! Kassima pages: The GEPZLCG starts to croon at the bronzerider in that strange way that most proddy creatures croon, sneaking some raw meat into his hand while he's not looking. The eggs in the pot of sand begin to rock.... Long distance to Kassima: F'hlan gets extremely dizzy, and slumps over sideways, head landing in the zombie's strangely comfy lap. A vague whimper of protest escapes him, and his hand flutters out as he tries to rescue himself... Kassima pages: At exactly this same moment, in one of those time coincidences that can have no purpose other than to twist the plot, all the eggs in the pot shatter to reveal green fire-lizard hatchlings--about ten of them. "COOOOOO!" cry the hatchlings in unison as they all dart unerringly for the fluttering hand. Long distance to Kassima: F'hlan jerks his head around, groggily. Wha? Wait, where'd he get that meatroll? Kassima pages: The zombies titter behind upraised hands in standard LCG style as all the green hatchlings--who, mysteriously enough, are glowing (they must've gotten in the way of a stray Proddyblast) chomp the meatroll and gaze adoringly up at F'hlan. "COOOO!" Long distance to Kassima: F'hlan, who's already sprawled in the lucky zombie's lap, squeaks weakly at the ten glowing hatchlings. His head whirls again, and suddenly it seems like a very good idea to just.... lie there. Kassima pages: All of the proddy glowing hatchlings flitter around F'hlan as the zombies start to try to pick him up and drag him off to the Lower Caverns, with the lucky zombie leading the pack. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Act II, Scene 4: In the Zombies' Clutches, Let's Just Hope They Don't Hatch [Benden Weyr Lower Caverns, interior. Night.] Long distance to Kassima: F'hlan mumbles something half-coherent about his watch duties, but can't manage to do anything except slump prettily, his arms loops around a pair of zombies' shoulders. .oO (Everything's... green....!) Kassima pages: Chanting a chant of victory, the sixty or so remaining zombies (some of whom are glowing quite brightly after being struck with the Proddy-O-Zaps) cart F'hlan towards the Caverns. The illusion ProddyVeyath, ProddyTyrrath, ProddyJuliath, and ProddyTorinth follow, still glowing brightly and carring dozens of baskets of ready-to-hatch green FL eggs. As the swarm passes Tzornth, they all cheer for their victory and invite the glowing green ex-bronze to join in the festivities. Long distance to Kassima: F'hlan finds himself increasingly compelled to smile muzzily at his captors, even as ProddyTzornth rumbles hypnotized agreement and lumbers off to follow his fellow glowing dragons. The rider retains a dim awareness that he is in peril -- but surely there will be someone in the lower caverns who can help him? Salless! he thinks, hopefully... Kassima pages: Unfortunately, there's a lot of things the Benden Weyr Day Shift people don't know about Salless. One of them is that she is secretly the Dominatrix Salless, in league with All That Is Evil. She crows with glee to see the zombies bringing in a bronzerider and serves all of them big bowls of bluerider stew to celebrate. Long distance to Kassima: F'hlan starts to cry out for help to Salless. But, strangely, his mouth works without him, and makes him recite a love sonnet to the pair of zombies holding him up! Kassima pages: That anyone, much less the Sharding Handsome Bronzerider, would recite a love sonnet to the zombies was totally unpredicted. Both zombies are overcome and sink to the ground in a swoon, as two more lucky zombies push their way to the fore and take their places. These two are two of the ones that were zapped several times by the Proddy-O-Zaps, and are glowing most brightly. Long distance to Kassima: F'hlan nearly falls over as he's left unsupported, but as the two darned near incandescent zombies rush up to him, he smiles glassily, leans over and kisses both their hands. "'How do I love thee? Let me count the ways,'" he says with utterly uncharacteristic suaveness, and begins enumerating this pair of lasses' charms. Kassima pages: One of the two glowing zombies wavers and falls, but the other is made of sterner stuff and smiles, simpering at the bronzerider and giggling girlishly. The other zombies watch with an envy that makes them even greener as they eat their bluerider stew. Long distance to Kassima: F'hlan waxes eloquently on the topic of the curly hair of the zombie that just swooned, then blinkblinks mildly at the other and informs her in dulcet tones that it is truly fortunate she is not a Hold, for her rich green glow would surely be prey to the depredations of Thread. "But fear not, good lass, for I shall protect thee, for truly it is my duty as a dragonrider of Pern!" Kassima pages: The zombie visibly weakens, melting a bit--literally, which doesn't please Salless, who will have to mop melted zombie off the floor now. She still stands her ground--until the envious zombies go mad and destroy her, then swarm about F'hlan to simper and smile as sweetly as zombies can at him. Long distance to Kassima: F'hlan .oO (What AM I doing? Where did I learn such words?) F'hlan looks briefly take aback as the zombie melts, and the ProddyGlow hold on his brain accordingly lessens, just a bit. But not quite enough. Surrounded by a ring of admiring faces, he finds himself bathed in their combined radiance... and something strange begins to happen to the rider. Kassima pages: It would seem that not even the green dragon illusions are proof from the dulcet words of the bronzerider, and they all stare down at him, fluttering their nonexistant eyelashes in obvious hopes to hear more. Long distance to Kassima: F'hlan's features change, subtly, losing a few Turns, getting back that perfection of line that only superb health and youth can provide. The silver streak fades out of his hair, and his voice loses a slight rough edge brought on by Turns of shouting orders at his Wingmates. His gaze turns positively limpid and he waxes forth in sweet rapture on the attractions of a particularly well-endowed zombie lass in the thick of the horde. Kassima pages: Many of the zombies soften and melt--they just weren't made to stand up to this sort of thing, despite Kassima's best efforts. About twenty zombies swoon or melt into puddles on the spot, leaving only thirty-five to drool over the rejeuvenated bronzerider. Salless grumbles mightily at all the zombie drool on the floor, assigning some normal LCGs to clean it up, all of whom watch the green evil LCGs with hopeless jealousy. Several swoon and add to the general mess. You paged Kassima with ''Verily, the fertile green fields of Lemos could not surpass thee in their beauty; the rolling hills of Igen could not match thy curves; yea, maiden, the warm winds of Southern could not blow with the same gentleness as thy fired ProddyZaps!' youngF'hlan gushes to the target zombie, his face alight with admiration.'. Kassima pages: The targeted zombie gushes over the bronzerider for awhile before swooning and landing right in his lap, her expression one of delerious bliss (for a zombie). The others crowd all the closer and stare wide-eyed at the young bronzerider, each dewy-gazed evil LCG begging to have her charms similarly serenaded. Long distance to Kassima: F'hlan falls over, *plop*, with swooned zombie pinning him down. He blinkblinks a bit, thinking inwardly that he ought to be more concerned about his situation than he is, but for some reason, he can't get scared. The combined glow of his surrounding captors casts green ripples across him, and every time he is touched by the light, he sways a bit... but his eyes remain a smooth and sultry brown, as he suddenly gets an idea, from a corner of that Wingleaderly mind of his... Long distance to Kassima: F'hlan with great reverence tenderly lays aside the enswooned zombie, then kneels on one knee and faces the dew-eyed throng. Dramatically clasping his hands to his chest -- where, it seems, his shirt has become just rumpled enough to provide a tempting glimpse of throat and breastbone -- he draws in a breath... and begins to sing. Kassima pages: All of the zombie lasses crouch down on the floor beside the bronzerider, except for two of them who are, for some reason, waving big palm fronds as fans. A couple of zombies are trying to feed F'hlan grapes from a bowl held by yet more zombies. As the song washes over the evil maidens, they listen in rapt adoration, some of their eyes beginning to glaze over. You paged Kassima with ''Wise men say/Only fools rush in....' Taking lessons from his cohort across the universes, Kevlan Sharr, F'hlan holds forth in a warm, vibrant tenor, and fixes his gaze on every glowing face for at least four full beats. His song only wavers when two zombies try to feed him grapes at the same time he's inhaling for breath, which makes him go, quite unswoonfully, '*ack*'.'. Kassima pages: Five more zombies drop to the floor in a swoon before the ack, and the grape feeding zombies pause, uncertain, before putting the grapes away. "Sing! Please, sing!" the zombies all beg, clasping their hands and fluttering their eyelashes. Meanwhile, totally undetected, Kassima sneaks in and uses some greenrider trick or other to capture a sample of whatever force it was that rejeuvenated the bronzerider to use in her puberty-inducing experiments. Long distance to Kassima: F'hlan ahems, coughs, swallows a grape or two, and smiles dreamily. "Good grapes," he murmurs huskily, and at the begging, finds himself nodding kindly. Taking another deep breath, he finishes "Can't Help Falling in Love", before segueing smoothly into "It's Now or Never". His youthified (youthified?) voice seems to have rediscovered an ability to hit a stirring high note, which he puts to good effect, as well as the ability to drop, swooping, down into growly low registers. As he warbles, he gazes fervently at his audience, takes off his headband, and with a flick of his wrist, tosses it at the horde. Kassima pages: All of the enrapt LCGs suddenly scream and dive for the headband, fighting each other in a brawl that involves much hair-pulling and face-clawing. Finally, one particularly winsome zombie--if a zombie can be called winsome--manages to grab the headband and wave it above her head. Long distance to Kassima: F'hlan regains enough self-awareness to think, 'Shards, I've got something here!' while the glowing emerald former blueriders are fighting over that brown strip of leather. He peeks around, while warbling passionately, 'It's nooooow or never, my LOOOOOOOVE won't wait!' (And neither, he remembers suddenly, will his escape. Is the coast clear yet?) From afar, Kassima watches the antics of her LCGs with disgust, still busily gathering the rejeuvenating power thingy. She throws a fresh cup of something almost, but not quite, entirely unlike tea at the crowd, and they regain their Mission In Life: To drool over F'hlan! Long distance to Kassima: F'hlan uh-ohs, and blinkblinks at the zombie throng. Now what? Our hero, hair unbound, now stands there with his forelock draping prettily over his big brown eyes, and newly bemused about what to do to distract this lot. He doesn't have another headband to toss at them.... Kassima pages: All of the zombies return to swarming over the bronzerider, including the ones with the grapes. "Sing to us!" they suggest in unison, giggling. There are only about twenty of them left; the rest of their brethren--or is that sistern?--are still fainted in swoons on the floor. Apparently, swoons are fatal to evil LCGs. Several of them busy themselves with ooohing and aaahing over the draping forelock. Long distance to Kassima: F'hlan strives to keep his mental resources alive, but when the twenty zombies close in on him again -- and it doesn't help that that fair of ten hatchling flits is still disturbingly near -- he blushes helplessly. They swooned, he thinks, fighting off grogginess. If he can make them ALL swoon, maybe he can escape... Kassima pages: All of the zombies ooooh at the bronzerider's blushing, giggling and whispering to each other much as normal LCGs would. Though normal LCGs don't glow bright green. They don't seem inclined to swoon just yet--it'll take more than blushing to deter this evil crowd. Long distance to Kassima: F'hlan coughs as three or four sets of glowing green arms try to hug him at once. Somewhere in the tussle his shirt loses a few more lacings from the front, giving a brief peek at a flawless young chest unmarred by Threadscore or knife scars, and a blush that creeps right on down past his handsomely rumpled collar. "Sing?" he mumbles to the nearest pair of zombies. "Assuredly...." And he thinks, 'Just love songs didn't do it... what to try now?' You paged Kassima with '(And again, F'hlan gets a sudden flash of inspiration from his soul-brother across the worlds, Kevlan Sharr. The thought of what he's about to try makes him blush rather redder, but a bronze rider's gotta go what a bronze rider's gotta do...) And with that, he suddenly looks steadily at the nearest of the zombies. His brown eyes turn sultry, and on a slow and rhythmic beat he begins to sing huskily, "Never know how much I love you... never know how much I care... when you put you arms around me... I get a fever that's so hard to bear, you give me fever..." And he twitches a leg, just _so_, right on the beat.'. Kassima pages: The targeted zombie's eyes glaze over completely and, raising the back of her hand to her brow, she falls over in a maidenly swoon. The rest gasp in delight and clasp their hands, attention focused solely on the bronzerider. A couple more swoon, leaving only seventeen... but seventeen very strong, glowy zombies. Long distance to Kassima: F'hlan sets himself, with determination, to put his sexiest possible voice into this song. His other leg twitches on the next verse, and on the third, his hips. Striving to fill his mind with thoughts of his beloved Melora, he nevertheless fills his gaze with promise, as he glowers stormily around that dangling forelock at his audience. You paged Kassima with '(Nearby, Tzornth lifts a groggy head, dragonmumbling, << What IS my rider doing? >>)'. Kassima pages: As a group, fourteen of the zombies swoon and perish, scattering grapes everywhere. The remaining three don't look like they can take much more of this as they worshipfully gaze at the singing bronzerider. Long distance to Kassima: F'hlan, heartened by the distant stirring of his dragon's mind, snatches at those flickers of awareness and thinks, hard, 'BRONZE!' at Tzornth. The dragon twitches, peers at himself -- why is he glowing? -- and shivers mightily as F'hlan gives a slow shake from head to toe to finish off the song..... Kassima pages: Two zombies falter and fall, leaving only one--who gives Tzornth a last blast with her Proddy-O-Zap, set on Maximum Greeness, before falling to her swooning doom. All the proddy green FLs coo sadly. Long distance to Kassima: F'hlan, still youthful, rumpily clad, but now unhindered by zombies, grins widely and whirls to look for the nearest escape route! He blinks, finding himself confronted by a renewedly glowing Tzornth... no! Kassima pages: The green illusion-dragons all warble with something suspiciously like smugness as they fade away, leaving only F'hlan, a glowing green Tzornth, and fourteen proddy green fire-lizards as company. Long distance to Kassima: F'hlan reels dizzily... but with the cavern mostly empty now, all he has to do is sneak back to his weyr. If.... the Bowl exit... wasn't so far away.... Kassima pages: A person in complete control of his or her senses *might* notice that the floor is littered not only with zombie bodies, but also pots full of green eggs... about forty-two pots, in fact. Long distance to Kassima: F'hlan must persevere! He inches carefully past the muttering DemonSalless who is still trying to mop up melted zombie bits, and gets closer to the Bowl... only to trip over a pair of pot-traps at once. Kassima pages: The egg traps fall onto the floor, letting their eggs spill out and crack all over the floor. The results are--huh. How can this be? Apparently, the zombies went to a lot of work with these traps--they're not all glowing greens! One's full of proddy greens--the other is full of proddy *golds*. And all of them rush for the bronzerider, cooing loudly. Long distance to Kassima: F'hlan mips faintly, and protests in a slurred voice to the new hatchlings that he doesn't have a scrap of meat on him, honest! Kassima pages: In lack of other meat, the hatchlings swarm over to F'hlan's hands and start nibbling cutely on his fingers, chirpling sweetly. Long distance to Kassima: F'hlan yelps, and bats feebly at the fluttering beasts. Hands aching, he staggers to his feet, and charges, dazed, for the Bowl. He's conquered the zombies, but he has to get free before he's seen....! ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Act III, Scene 1: I Just Love the Skillful Way You Beat the Other Girls -- With Whips and Chains [Benden Weyr Lower Caverns. Night.] Kassima pages: Suddenly, out of the entrance to the Bowl walk--goldriders! And not just the goldriders of Benden, no--visiting goldriders from other Weyrs as well. Apparently there's a goldriders' convention or something. Seeing the vulnerable bronzerider, they first gape, then crack their whips, advancing in a crowd of goldriderness. Long distance to Kassima: F'hlan starts feeling lightheaded, not only from the mild pain, but from the abuse his hands have taken from the new horde of fire lizards. This, he thinks, is bad. There are almost as many flits now as zombies... and... oh, Faranth, no. He MUST be hallucinating! "Roll to disbelieve!" he shouts defiantly at the women. You paged Kassima with '(<< Besides, >> croons a strangely light voice from Tzornth, << what do you have to worry about? I'm not bronze, I'm green! >> And ProddyTzornth preens his.... her...! glowing tail.)'. Kassima pages: The tide of whip-wielding goldriders pauses. "Huh?" pipes one of them from the background. Several pots of eggs have been displaced by the crowd of queenriders and their occupants, all green and a few golds, race straight for F'hlan and his fingers. Long distance to Kassima: F'hlan staggers, stunned. He... what? Distracted by his dragon's _wrong_ voice, he crumples under the flood of voracious hatchlings, his mind buckling as scores of tiny minds Impress to him at once. Dazed thoughts of vampire baby fire lizards flicker through his brain, followed by more dazed thoughts as he wonders what exactly a vampire is.) Long distance to Kassima: F'hlan mumbles, "But... I didn't Impress a green... did I?" From afar, Kassima's player cracks up, and the goldriders (being an evil lot) decide to summon blue and brownriders from their Weyrs. All the male dragons press their eyes to the LC entrance and croon at Tzornth. Long distance to Kassima: F'hlan, faint from blood loss and looking rather pale, strikes on a last-ditch desperate plan. He's never talked to so many fire lizards at once... but he IS Impressed to them now, and he sends slurred thoughts to them, promising that if they could just help him get OUTSIDE, they can go play with ALL the males they want. Hundreds and hundreds of them. All they have to do is flutter around him and hide him from the other riders... and the Evil One... while he sneaks out... Long distance to Kassima: F'hlan, in the meantime, promises ProddyTzornth much the same thing. ProddyTzornth snorts derisively at the annoying blues and browns outside, but obligingly slithers out of the lower caverns... flattening several of the flit traps in her wake. F'hlan stumbles after his dragon, begging the greens and golds to hide him long enough for him to get free... Kassima pages: The fire-lizards that aren't eating F'hlan's fingers agree with much cooing, flocking to perch on F'hlan and disguise him as an unidentifiable mass of fire-lizards. The bronzerider is immediately dive-bombed by lots of male fire-lizards once they spot the greens and golds perched on him. Long distance to Kassima: F'hlan manfully suppresses gasps of pain and staggers... out into the Bowl! ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Act III, Scene 2: When in Doubt Go Back to the Books, Or, Eight-Turn-Olds Are Too Young to Be Proddy, Thank Faranth [Benden Weyr Bowl, exterior. Night.] Long distance to Kassima: F'hlan finally makes the open air, and falls over, making flits lose their perches and scurry into the air. This leaves him, unfortunately, without a shirt as he strives to stay awake long enough to make it to his weyr for a) a bath, b) a lot of fellis, and c) a lot of wine. Kassima pages: The brown and blueriders notice the mass of fire-lizards struggling out of the LC, and once the FLs are gone, some of the female riders dash over to tend to the poor, wounded bronzerider. Long distance to Kassima: F'hlan yelps hoarsely, "Your dragons are feeding! Keep them from gorging!" and gestures frantically down to the feeding grounds, hoping that'll distract the lot of them. In fact, ProddyTzornth is already there, merrily slaying wherries. Kassima pages: The blue and brownriders do step back to concentrate on their dragons, but hang loosely around F'hlan, as he's the rider of the blooding green(?). Long distance to Kassima: F'hlan realizes, desperately, that he MUST have help. He bribes one of the golds, who's currently snubbing a flock of bronzes, with promises of chocolate-covered fingertails if she can only find his loyal daughter Mehlani! Kassima pages: Raw fingertails?" the goldrider asks eagerly. "With spun sugar on top? I'll do it!" The young goldrider dashes off and returns with a girl who isn't Mehlani; upon being told her mistake, she keeps dashing in and out of weyrs, picking up children who aren't Mehlani. Eventually, she finds the girl, and fights her way through the press of riders and poor kidnapped girls to deliver her to F'hlan. You paged Kassima with '(The child takes one look at her stricken father and ohs, solemnly. Reaching into her pocket, she pulls forth a mighty talisman, sacred to bronze riders and kept under strict lock and key except when desperately needed: a ring made from three black hairs of the Ultimate Benden Bronze Rider himself, F'lar. She hands this to her sire gravely, and he quickly slips it onto one of his wounded fingers. Light blazes.)'. Kassima pages: The brown and blueriders wince, turning their heads away from the flash of light; the goldriders, used to brightly glowing things, shield their eyes and watch. You paged Kassima with '(Down in the Feeding Grounds, Tzornth suddenly gives a massive convulsion, rises fifty meters into the air, and falls again, *THUD!*, before the crowd of eager browns and blues can realize that the dragon isn't actually REALLY rising. But something else is different. Tzornth is suddenly bronze again.)'. Kassima pages: All the brown and blue dragons blink, or would, if dragons could blink. They were about to chase a *bronze*? Ick. Grumbling, they take off to go flirt with the greens of their home weyrs, taking their riders with them. Now only F'hlan and the goldriders are left in the Bowl. Long distance to Kassima: F'hlan makes it to his knees again, drawing on the essence of his illustrious predecessor to stare sternly at the flock of baby fire lizards. "Now see here," he tells them, "I really like you all, but I simply don't have time to take care of all of you. You belong with people who can give you proper care." And, regretfully, he summons an image of the Bane of Benden Firelizards, Lessa, and her majestic gold Ramoth. Long distance to Kassima: F'hlan's daughter puts in her own fourth-marks by piping, 'RED STAR!' Kassima pages: The greens and golds shriek and disappear *between*, going off to Faranth only knows where and leaving the original four greens behind. It seems they're just too busy being cute to even notice the image. Long distance to Kassima: F'hlan would sigh with relief, but not while he's being F'larlike. This gives him enough strength to stand stoically, taking his daughter's hand, and eye the remaining distance to his weyr. You paged Kassima with '(Tzornth eyes the now-vacated feeding grounds, snorts, and settles down to do some serious eating. Having been repeatedly Proddy-O-Zapped has made him a definitely hungry dragon, and a bronze has a much bigger belly to fill than a green.)'. Kassima pages: A couple of goldriders remain in the Bowl, and they offer sweetly to escort F'hlan to his weyr. They even hide their whips behind their backs, while their goldrider sistern look on with much snickering. You paged Kassima with 'Mehlani says solemnly, "Daddy has to go rest now." Her father picks her up, while the child gives the gold riders a virtuous regard, and F'hlan says sternly, "Ladies, your Weyrs are in peril. The Evil One is plotting to sacrifice YOUR own riders, and if she kills them all off, do you think your golds are going to stop her?"'. Kassima pages: The goldriders consider, then shrug. "Nope. What good are blueriders, anyway? Let her have them. Besides, she invites us to all her Severed Head Polo games, and if she didn't sacrifice riders, where would the heads come from?" Long distance to Kassima: F'hlan explains with utmost patience, "If she kills off all the blue riders, she'll have to start killing the browns. And then the bronzes. And if she kills off the bronzes, who, exactly, are your golds going to mate with? Ladies, do you _TRULY_ want to spend your entire lives with proddy golds?" Long distance to Kassima: F'hlan keeps talking, hoping to distract the women long enough to sidle past them to his weyr. And if his speech doesn't work, well, he's trusting they won't whip a man with a little girl in his arms. Mehlani puts her arms around her daddy's neck, as F'hlan finishes direly, "And even if she doesn't kill the bronzes... look what she did to MINE. Do you want her turning all the bronzes into proddy greens?" Kassima pages: The goldriders turn pale, but then one versed in the ways of Evil Greenridery pipes up. "But everyone knows that she's got a bluerider cloning machine in her weyr, so she'll never be finished with the blueriders. And the ProddyRiderGoddess doesn't like bronzerider sacrifices as well as bluerider ones. Plus, brownriders make lousy stew." Another goldrider grins evilly and remarks, "If it's always as amusing to watch as this, maybe...." Long distance to Kassima: F'hlan fixes the evilly grinning gold rider with a F'larlike Stern Weyrleader gaze, and pronounces, "Don't say I didn't warn you when she starts eyeing your shoulderknots!" And with that, Mehlani in his arms, he takes the last few steps into the sanctity of his weyr.... where, like any self-respecting hero, he swoons in exhaustion. But ONLY after he's barred the door. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Act III, Scene 3: [F'hlan's weyr, interior. Night.] Kassima pages: Of course, there are still zombies in the weyr, but most of them seem to have fallen asleep--right in F'hlan's path. Can he get past them without waking them up? Long distance to Kassima: F'hlan eyes his bezombied weyr thoughtfully. But he still has the Ring of F'lar, and he invokes it in one last blast of power: zapping the sleeping zombies with the essence of what it means to be a bronze rider, squared, squared again, and elevated onto what would be, if Pern were a religious planet, a truly deific level. "Terribly sorry, ladies," he murmurs in heroic polite regret, as the power engulfs them, and sends their poor tortured ex-blue-rider souls on to where good dragonrider souls go when they die. Kassima pages: With a shriek, the zombies are freed, leaving only the clutches. None of them look ready to hatch--not at the moment--but if they were broken open, it might have disastrous results. Long distance to Kassima: F'hlan's daughter tugs at her father's breeches pocket, since his breeches are the only clothes left on him, and he leans down to listen to her whisper. He nods quickly sending her off on her errand... and she hastens back with a herd of Weyr children all eager to have their own fire lizards. "They're all yours," he tells the Weyrkids sagely, and they cheer and scurry out with the eggs. You paged Kassima with 'Mehlani, at last, looks solemnly up at her father and asks, "Is Benden safe now, Daddy?"'. Long distance to Kassima: F'hlan sighs, and as the Ring of F'lar dwindles from its prior godly radiance -- and as ominous music plays in the background -- he answers grimly, "Not yet. I don't know what happened to the Evil One." Kassima pages: All the eventually eggs hatch and endow the Weyrkids with proddy green and gold fire-lizards. The Weyrparents will surely be wrathful when they find out who gave their children those eggs--but that can wait for the sequel, Attack of the Glowing Evil Proddy Zombie Lower Caverns Girls--Part Two! [A stirring riff sounds as the credits roll.]