Post by Lesa on Jan 15, 2011 0:38:11 GMT -5
"It just got worse... and worse."
It was the end of the 10th Pass. 2808 was the Turn they were waiting for. This was the home stretch. Nine Turns shy of the year where they'd be freed from Thread for another glorious 200-Turn Interval, however, something strange began to happen. Thread fell when the charts did not predict them to. It fell increasingly longer, harder, and more frequent. No one could explain why.
Those nine Turns were hell. As Threadfall got steadily worse, more and more casualties occurred. Less and less dragons were healthy enough to fight. With less dragons in the sky during Threadfall, more Thread was missed, and more dragons were killed. One negative reaction caused more negatives reactions. Pern was in a panic.
"Then, there was this... new kind of Thread. At first, it was a blessing, but..."
[/center]Unbeknown to the entirety of Pern, the Red Star was getting closer. Just as its orbit took an unexpected, lengthened swing every fourth Interval, every 5000 Turns or so, it would swing a little closer. It had happened before, back when Pern was uninhabited by humans, and it was happening again.
The change in distance was fractional, unable to be seen by the naked eye, but it was enough for more Thread to be pulled in by Pern's gravity. Along with this excess of Thread, there was also a new kind. This new 'breed' of Thread, in actuality the immature form of the usual parasite, was shorter, and did not fall in clumps like its mature counterpart. Instead, it drifted, unnoticed, to the ground below. When it touched ground or flora, it would die. When it touched fauna, it would simply disappear. Or so the Pernese thought.
Amazed by how this Thread was harmless, the Pernese had hope. Perhaps, eventually, all Thread would be this kind, and the world would be forever safe. Dragons could retire happily. What they didn't know, though, was that slowly, this "miracle Thread" was working its magic on its victims, slowly but surely.
Instead of "disappearing," this Thread burrowed into its host. Slowly, over months, it would secrete a debilitating neurotoxin, which would eventually handicap the host to the extent of only being able to perform basic motor skills, without any independent thinking. It turned them into a vegetable designed only for consuming food. Then, the Thread would slowly devour the host's inner organs, until the only thing left was a writhing mass of the Thread itself. Then it would spread through contact.
The Thread's unique defense system was ingenious. For a mindless parasite, it had itself set for life. People who knew not of its effects would help the vegetable bodies it created, thinking they were ill. The Thread would spread, with no feeling, to anyone who touched the host, and infect them as well. Slowly, word spread. This new Thread was name the Virus Thread, or VT, and its victims: zombies.
"Then, it happened. The Ending Fall."
[/center]Threadfall had extended a few sevendays out of when it was supposed to end. When it finally did, it was the Apocalypse. Everyone but the dragonriders gave up everything to spend the time with their loved ones.
Thread fell so thick that you could barely see the sky between it. Every dragonrider did their best to fight it back, to save crops and livestock. Even the older weyrlings were sent out in a last-ditch effort. The valiance and bravery of the dragonriders proved futile, however. Those who survived were those who had hid away in the safe walls of the holds and weyrs where Thread could not touch them.
There were others, though, that chose to run. A group of dragonriders from Southern Weyr had been fighting Thread. It was too much. Instead, the group, led by Avine of Gold Sereldeth, flew. They flew just ahead of the cloud of falling Thread, occasionally betweening to known landmarks ahead. All that they saw behind them was a thick curtain of thread on the horizon, devouring everything good and green in this world. The emotional shock was immense, but they kept going. They had to.
They called it Ending Fall.
"Then it just... stopped. That was it."
[/center]Thread had fell for twenty-two hours. Twenty-two hours of the worst circumstances imaginable. It was like, some would say, being on the surface of the Red Star itself. When it stopped, though, it left one strip of Pern intact. The Ring Islands. Here was left the only vegetation, untouched by Thread. Avine and her riders settled here. When they rode back out, to spread the word of this safe haven, they were devastated. All of the other dragons had died in the line of duty, doing what they had been engineered to. Their riders' courage was touching, but still. They were gone. All of them.
Those who had stayed in holds were safe, but not for long. VT was still a threat. Zombies roamed the Barrens, as the Northern and Southern continents were now called. Zombies were even in holds, in early stages of the VT's development. No one knew. More and more people were unknowingly infected. VT spread like a wildfire, endangering the whole of Pern.
Those lucky enough to survive on the coasts fled to the Ring Islands on boats. Zombies could not follow in water. As soon as someone was found to be infected, they were thrown overboard, willing or not. The Pernese turned savage, constantly suspicious of everyone they knew. In these dark times, human nature started kicking in, and the desire to survive as an individual reared its ugly head. Most times, it was every man for himself.
Some of the inland-dwellers tried to get to the coasts, in caravans or on their own, but food was scarce. Everything growing had been devoured by Thread, save for odd patches that had been saved by the selfless dragonriders. Most of the travelers died of starvation. Others succumbed to VT. Those who did get to their destination, though, usually found that all the boats had gone.
"That's how it went. We just have to deal with it, now."
[/center]A Turn passed. Avine and her riders established a makeshift Weyr on the Ring Islands. The last Weyr on Pern. They could not name it. No one had settled any holds on the Ring Islands. None of the landmarks were named. Instead, the simply christened it "The Weyr," for that is what it was. The only Weyr on Pern. With help from survivors who had joined them, the Weyr and Weyrhold strove to thrive.
Small holds were cropping up along the islands as well, with the survivors who had been lucky enough to flee the barren, zombie-infested continents. Hope Hold was the most prominent of these, and flourished. Many other holds did poorly, some moderately, but the point is that these networks of holds were weak, both mentally and physically. One did not survive the end of the world unshaken.
There were survivors scattered across the continents, in holds or traveling alone, stealing food stocks from abandoned places. The leftover flamethrowers from the Weyrs were used to fight back the zombies. Fire and water were the only ways to kill the VT completely. If you simple cut off the head of a VT victim, the VT would be exposed and target the nearest living object and claim it as a host. Many found that out the hard way.
If there were dragonriders left, they were few, living amongst survivors in the abandoned Weyrs where the stockpiled food was great. Most of these dragons were weyrlings, too young to fly or go between, but even then, most had died trying to do their part in protecting Pern.
The Barrens were a dangerous place, and life was hard. Even on the Ring Islands, where things still grew, it was difficult.
Then, something unexpected happened. Avine's Gold Sereldeth Rose. The dragon had not been meant to Fly for another Turn or Two, but perhaps it was the knowledge that her kind was now an endangered species that gave her body the urge. She was caught by Bronze Dasereth, ridden by F'ros, and she was quick with egg. However, just as her gravidness began to show, Dasereth and his rider died.
The King had been infected with VT, though it was in the very, very early stages when Sereldeth Rose. F'ros had been fine. However, when the King noticed his deteriorating consciousness, he committed suicide with his last sane thoughts, taking F'ros with them. The pair was lost between.
Now, with Sereldeth's eggs are hatching, Avine and her small band of dragonriders waits with baited breath. No one knows if Dasereth's infection will have passed to Sereldeth or their children. If Sereldeth dies, then Pern's hope is lost.
There are 200 Turns to renew the dragon population, eradicate the zombies, and regrow the lost plantlife of Pern before Thread returns. Good luck.
Now:
Hatching! 40 eggs on sands, 17 have hatched - 23 are left. Adoptable Weyrlings available, but Candidates needed.
