Once upon a time, there was a place called Pern. Pern was peaceful-- Thread had long since been banished, firelizards were as common as rats and almost twice as cute, dragons were handed out willy nilly to those who bothered to show up to hatchings.
Then, the aliens came. Err-- wait. Rather, they went to the aliens.
Growing tired of the endless cycle of drinking klah and eating meatrolls, Searching for abused holdergirls and going forward in time to save the world, an entire Weyr of Pernese, complete with their dragons, firelizards, and unique hairstyles, went between to the unknown.
When they came out, their new home got it's namesake. The Weyrwoman, after landing, dismounted, scratched her head, looked around, and said, "Whazzit?"
The planet which Whazzit exists on was, is, and seems to be the McDonald's of the universe. People of every color, creed, fuzziness and eye-count made their way to Planet (which, to simplify things for the inhabitants, it was named) daily, each for various reasons. Some staying, some continuing on their way-- settling on Planet was something many did, as it seemed to be infinite in land. The laws of common sense apply not, on Planet, you see. An illogical field of multi-dimensional confusion (dubbed the Planet Illogical Field, or PIF) made just about anything possible, and frequently did.
Nevertheless, Whazzit hadn't a clue what was going on. They found their new home in a peninsula, ringed with blue ocean on three sides, containing three collapsed volcanoes oh-so-conveniently making a triple-crater cavern system (one enormous cavern was filled with warm sand perfect for eggs-- imagine that!), with dense forest and flat plains leading off on the fourth side.
Everything was perfect. They settled in, wrangled some conveniently herded cow-type beasties into a pen, and began to carry on with their lives. When the Gryphons came.
Assuming as they did, the people of Whazzit Weyrd Impressed them. Hey-- why not? They could do it with dragons.
The same thing happened with Gryphettes, which followed their large cousins. Soon enough, exotic creatures of all sort seemed to stumble onto their doorstep. Not that any of them minded-- hey, who wouldnt want more telepathic pets who were oh-so-cute in every way? So it became the norm for Whazzitians (Whazzitese?) to try to bond just about everything that came in sight. Which, yes, was the cause of many deaths, but also many discoveries. Creatures of every creed and homeland filled the lands, all for the taking.
The other inhabitants of Planet and universes unnamed oftentimes stumbled on Whazzit as well, and soon Whazzit was filled with people of all imaginable sorts. Trade routes were set up, and ships of exotic colors and wares pulled into their docks daily, trading goods for wee beasties, as well as dropping off stowaways and those who chartered a ride to Whazzit.
Oh yeah. Halls and Holds somehow popped up along Planet. And one day all the dragons colors changed.
And whers and tunnelsnakes and klah and things Pernese just popped up too.
Always with the bunnies.
OR NOT. DUN DUN DUN.
A storm that shook the very foundations of the Weyrd raged one cold night, ranging over an entire week of death and pain. The Sceltyr in the Forest were the only ones who had the misfortune of being caught out in it -- and they got out as quickly as they could. When the storm let up, there was little left of the Whazzitian Peninsula. And when I say very little...I mean it. The home to so many Whazzitians had become a warzone of rock and strewn trees, terrible and dead.
The decision was made between select members of one of the groups of people...they had to move. There just wasn't any way around it. The Weyrd was destroyed. Life as they knew it was vanished in a single stroke of the PIF's angry might. And so...they moved. It was a hard time, and there was much to make the Whazzitians wary along the trip.
They traveled in various ways, but eventually all settled down somewhere, in a valley between two towering ridges in Planet's largest mountain range. Some of the mountains stretched miles high, a terrifying prospect...but, too, a safe prospect. The jungle all around them was filled with interesting life, and they settled to the task of making new life in a new place. Whazzit was reborn, a long, long way from home.
But they still didn't get away from the PIF.
There were a number of happy years between harsh desert and the lush jungle surrounding ominous black mountains - after all, they'd earned it. No new Shinies were found - much to the chagrin of several eager Shiny-biologists as well as those hoping for rare creatures to add to their menagerie. But it was warm, it was home. They even had a troll named George who played a pretty good tanners' drum to announce bondings.
They spent their days exploring, mostly, by which we mean 'chasing down Shinies in impossible situations.' They 'explored' the tunnels and caves of the blacksand cliffs. They 'explored' the poisonous jungle. They 'explored' the murky waters of jungle rivers and secluded lagoons. But as long as life continued on its path, they were happy.
One day it began to rain. And rain. And rain. Soon the exciting caverns and labyrinth of small tunnels within the vast mountains began to flood, driving both humanoid and Shiny to safety. Unfortunately, the jungle was fast becoming a swamp of quicksand and deathtraps (both natural and mechanical were now pouring from the sky). The only way was east to the ocean, but what then..? More water? Could they survive as a shipfaring people?
Fortunately, it did not come to that. While they were driven hundreds of miles away from their beloved black mountains, several species of Shinies came together to form a protective barrier against the onslaught - most notably Unicorns and Beorfin. They somehow created an invisiable bulwark against which the elements roared but could not break... and when it was over and done with, meteorological peace at long last, there were also fallen loved ones to be honored. They had given their life for Whazzit. Could you do the same?
Now residing quite close to the unnamed Sea, the people of Whazzit have begun to explore deeper waters including islands and coral reefs - but never <i>quite</i> abandoning their beloved jungle, parts of which stretch nearly up to the coastline. The 'mountains' are laughable here, barely raised cliffs with rocky outcroppings, deciduous trees trying to eke out a living here and there. Onwards.
Safe, but not from the PIF...
ENDPLZ?So there(Yes, this is a satire. A joke. But it's still our history. Use it!)