I should ask you the same thing... (tedzy)

[Tashe]

Snap.

He stopped, crouching down on the ancient root he had just been about to leap off of. Most apprentice Healers hated having to go out and retrieve Herbs in the jungle, complaining about everything from the heat to the disturbing silence that seemed to inhabit the area. But for the Brownrider, it was one of his favorite jobs. It gave him a chance to train while he worked. R'wign had given him a short list of plants they needed, which consisted mainly of Borage, Comfrey, and Numbweed. All of which could be found in and around the Jungle.

Crack.

Leaping down from the root, E'rro darted off in the direction of the sound, trying to keep his footfalls as light as possible. He had been in the Jungle for more than a candle mark now, his lungs were starting to burn, and his breath was becoming labored. But, being E'rro, he was pushing himself. Intending to go past his limit in search of the impossible perfection. Boots digging into the earth as he slid to a stop, the Brownrider crouched behind a tall root as he caught his breath. The humidity of the Southern continent made it, in his mind, harder to train in than the cold in the North. He remembered his Weyrling days, and the 'hunting games' they used to play in the forests. It was everyone for themselves in those games, if you were caught unaware you ended up 'dead'. The goal of the game was not to 'die', to be one of the few who were still 'alive' when the Weyrlingmaster called the exercise to an end. He had won some and lost some, ground missions were not his forte. Ismaroth was an Aerial battler, if they were in the air, they were in their element. He had to get better at ground work. To do that, he'd have to find a partner or two to help him train. But, being the anti-social recluse that he was, he had very little friends. Despite being loyal to Selenitas, he did not trust the people who called the Weyr home.

Snap.

He peeked over the root, eyes focusing on the wild Ovine that was foraging rather loudly on the forest floor. Shifting the leather straps of his bag, E'rro pulled a throwing knife out from his boot, testing it's weight before slowly raising himself so that his torso cleared the root. With equal slowness, he pulled his arm back so that the knife was slightly behind and over his shoulder, waiting until the Ovine turned to the side before snapping his arm forward and letting the weapon go. There was a thud and then squealing, he had hit the wild Ovine in the neck. Leaping up and over the Root, the Dragonhealer sprung forward and onto the Ovine, doing his best to avoid the short tusks. If it had been an adult male, he wouldn't have even tried. But an adolescent female was easier to deal with. Collapsing to the floor as the pig did, E'rro quickly removed his knife before cutting downward again severing the pig's trachea. Getting up from his knees with his knife in hand, the Brownrider looked down at the ovine before looking at himself. There was blood on his bare chest. "Guh." He didn't mind blood, especially animal blood. But it was a bit disgusting when it was on his skin. Rubbing the blood off his knife with his pant leg, E'rro departed from the scene, knowing that the carnivores of the forest would finish the dead Ovine off.

Mine Blood. Mine taste good. He merely grunted in response to his Mandyr. It had taken him a bit longer to reach the edge of the Jungle than it had taken him to reach the farthest point that he had traveled into the Jungle. His breathing was now more of a rasp, having run or rather jogged (and occasionally walked) the rest of the way back. Within that time he had also collected more herbs for the Infirmary, having taken a different way back than he had come. Mmm... "Stop... licking me!" He shooed the Blue Mandyr off of him, annoyed with the Mandyr's want to lick the blood off of his chest. He'd have to stop at the River to clean himself off before returning his cargo to the infirmary. Bending over slightly, the Brownrider tried to control his breathing. He was getting very little air indeed. He of course knew that pushing himself like this wasn't good for his body, but it was what he was used to doing. Mine scar everywhere! "Yes. I do... have scars... everywhere. Now leave... me... alone!" Sometimes he downright disliked Nuisance. Then again the Salamandyr had been with him so long now that, despite his initial dislike, E'rro had grown fond of the Blue. Even if he wouldn't admit it. Rukbat's rays filtered through the thin layer of leaves above him, making the shadows shift to and fro on the ground. It was considerably lighter at the edge of the forest...

[dragon]

Whack

The bush toppled, its top half completely severed and tipping over to roll neatly off its own shoulders and rest upside down on a smaller bush next to it. The woody stem was cut neatly in two, at a sharp-looking angle through it, making the cross cut look bigger than the stem actually was. C'oar rested the tip of his sword on the ground, the point digging into the dirt as he reached over the bush and tugged on the top, pulling it out of the rest of the shrubbery.

The brownrider-smith was also on a harvesting/training mission, though of a different sort. Picking his sword up, he knocked the dirt off the tip and slid it neatly into his over-the-shoulder sheath, pulling out his knife instead. With a few deft slashes of the knife, he had freed the main stem of all the supple, long, thin branches that it had previously sported. A quick swipe of a hand, and all the little leaves were stripped right off the branches. Those long twigs where then all arranged into a neat little heap. Materials for basket making.

C'oar, though, had not the foggiest idea how to make a basket. Nor was he going to try. The only basket he could make would have been either hot-forged or cold-forged from metal. Not twigs. Or ... whatever they called them. But he'd been bored, and someone had asked him to get some more material for them ... someone who did know how to make baskets. Underwater. However one did that. He wasn't sure, and wasn't terribly inclined to ask.

But, in any event, as those thin little branches were generally too high to be easily reached, he had decided that it was just as good an opportunity as any to train with his sword. And over the progress of the day doing this, his arms were starting to seriously ache from the constant work ... it wasn't smithing, that was for sure! As strong as he was, this was using a different set of muscles, in different directions. And it was making him sorely aware that he wasn't as ready to use the blade for long periods as he'd thought.

He'd have to do it more often. It was too bad he didn't have someone to work with ... Raylin and Saeo, who he had been working on training and training with ... they'd both mysteriously gone completely missing on him. Rumor had it they were still around, somewhere. But he certainly had failed in locating them.

The sound of something crashing through the brush at a ridiculous pace made C'oar pause before swinging his newly drawn sword again. Instead of standing ready to chop down another bush with a single swing, he turned his stance to be ready in case of whatever happened to plunge headlong out of the forest. He hoped it wasn't a feline ... though it didn't sound like one. Frosstyth wasn't anywhere nearby. The burly brown was instead sleeping on his ledge, leaving C'oar to do his mundane work by himself.

When a human appeared instead of a furious beast, C'oar relaxed again, lowering his blade. However ... the sight of that much blood ... on a body just blasting from the forest ... something was certainly up. C'oar didn't bother to sheathe his blade ... he might need it. Instead, he gripped it in one hand and made his way to the bent-over fellow. He easily levered himself over an intervening thigh-high root, as he closed the distance, wary.

"What happened?" He asked, once he was in earshot. He could see a mandyr, and it didn't look overly excited ... but the little creatures were so mental there really was no way to take anything from how they were acting at all. He didn't see any gaping wounds, at least, on the fellow himself.

[Tashe]

A hiss from his Salamandyr drew his attention upward and away from the ground, his muscles tensing as the man came closer, clearly noting exactly what Nuisance had hissed at. The sword in his hand wasn't a very reassuring sight. Drawing up straight, E'rro put a hand on his the backside of his right hip, placing it as close to one of his throwing knives as possible. He of course, did not know everyone who lived at the Weyr, but that was the problem wasn't it? He didn't know if the man approaching him was from Selenitas. Claw pricks announced his Mandyr's presence on his shoulder, the subtle movements the Blue was making meant he was shaking his almost white frill. Being such a dark color, the frill stood out brightly against the rest of his body. He wasn't in any suitable fighting conditions, especially if he had to go up against a sword. The downsides of hard exercise, if you got caught off guard afterward you were screwed.

Happened? The question didn't register completely for a few moments. "I was training." He perked an eyebrow before looking down at his chest. Ah, the blood. The man must obviously think he had injured himself out in the jungle, and the jogging he had done on the way back must have been louder than he had wanted. He had to have sounded like an injured animal. Looking up, the Brownrider touched the blood with his free hand before wiping it on his pants, around the same area on which he had cleaned his knife. "Its not mine." You humanman. Stopstop. Big shiny sharp no come closer. Bad, cut, big Scalpel! That was his new word, scalpel. Nuisance seemed to like that word a lot, but at least he used it in mostly the right context. Everything sharp and knife like, such as the man's sword, he referred to it as scalpel this and that. Offering his hand to Nuisance, E'rro let the Salamandyr lick his fingers before petting the Blue on the head. At least the silly creature was protective, and always alert. He was a useful as a look out, especially during training. Adjusting his bag so one of the straps slid off of his shoulder, E'rro deposited the leather pack on the ground. Opening the flap the Brownrider pulled out a waterskin and a towel, combining the two so that he could wipe most of the blood away.

"A sword... unusual choice for a Dragonrider." By now he had been able to inspect the other man, by the way he stood and the way his weapon was relaxed, the Brownrider was sure that as of yet the other was not going to attack him.

[dragon]

"Training." C'oar repeated simply, almost as if it was a new word and he were tasting it for the first time. But that was not the case ... he'd fully expected to hear someone had attacked him, whether feline or foreigner. Especially what with people randomly vanishing of late. "Alright." He looked at the forest for a moment, and then at E'rro again. "Is anyone with you?" He assumed there was, for the same reason: people randomly vanishing. Not that he himself was doing any better, but then he'd been working considerably closer to the Weyr.

That ... had to be the mandyr talking to him. There was no way a dragon was talking like that. Scalpel? C'oar looked at his sword for a moment in contemplation, and then with a mental shrug easily sheathed it. Even though the scabbard was on his back, he knew exactly where it was from so many times of drawing and sheathing it... especially in the last few hours. Easily enough done. And if the fellow was only training, there was no need for him to carry it in hand any longer.

"Then who's is it?" C'oar asked, more out of curiosity than alarm. If there was cause for alarm, it would have triggered by now. The mandyr alone told C'oar that E'rro was a local ... no one except Selenitas folk had those vile creatures. He counted himself lucky that he had managed to avoid getting one so far. Just ... stay waaaayyy away from any hatchings when they were happening, and he should stay safe.

Another who thought it odd that he carried such a large blade ... they seemed to be pretty common. But then few people were quite as big as C'oar was, too, so it made some sense that most preferred smaller blades. "Not so unusual considering the circumstances." C'oar replied. Especially not after having been roused out of bed at an awkward hour to fight for one's life (not to mention those around him) with nothing more than a wooden mock up. He watched in silence for a moment as E'rro washed off. "Over the shoulder is easier to handle, but I have never needed to use it while mounted. It's usually strictly used on foot."

Heck, mounted a dragon back, he couldn't reach anything with it besides himself and Frosstyth anyway.

[Tashe]

"No. Unless, of course, you count Nuisance." His breathing had finally gotten back to its normal rhythm, and the burning in his chest had been slowly lessening as well. He supposed that he should have had some one come with him, what with the disappearances as of late, but he was a solitary person and there was little chance of him bringing some one along. He was hard pressed to even bring his Salamander, Ismaroth not wanting him to be completely alone in the jungle in case he got hurt. Or was attacked, but the latter wasn't spoken, only implied. Plus, E'rro had a little bit of an ego, which was generally supported by his abilities. As someone had said, the Brownrider had basically been trained to kill. Coming from the north, it was one of the basic skills that Benden had taught you. Because there, it was an either kill or be killed society. And as with every human being, no one wanted to be the one to loose.

"It was a wild Ovine." He paused for a moment as he itched his face with the back of his hand. "She happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time." Which was the truth. E'rro had not planned to kill something in the forest, the Ovine had simply been too loud and too targettable. Plus, it was an animal of little consequence, it wasn't as if he had killed a wild Runner. Ovines were on the bottom of his list when it came to feelings over snuffing an animal out. He thought they were rather disgusting. He had been folding his towel when the Rider responded to his comment about his sword.

"I suppose. But it is normally a Holder weapon, having to stay on the ground." Reaching around to the back of his pants, E'rro retrieved his own weapon, bringing it back around to show it to the other man. He held it horizontal and by the middle of the blade, so that it was a less threatening gesture. "These weapons, ones that can be both short and long range, seem to be a more common choice. At least in the North they are. Here at Selenitas it seems as though we have adapted a menagerie of... styles." He flicked the blade around so that he was holding it by the handle before tucking back into his pants. "I am Wingsecond E'rro of Brown Ismaroth. Apprentice Dragonhealer as well." He didn't offer his hand, not like he ever did, given his dislike of touching others.

[dragon]

Nuisance. Appropriate name for one of those creatures. But C'oar did not say anything about it ... the mandyr was really of little concern. C'oar just did not like the creatures. Originally, he hadn't cared one way or the other about them, but ever since T'rid and his lackey ... he'd really detested them. Being bitten by one, and always having to worry over Storm because of them did not help his distaste any. They were better used put through a grinder and turned into flitterfood. But all that did not change one simple thing ... this fellow had been running around completely alone, a good distance from the Weyr. "Do you have a death wish?" C'oar asked, simply. He didn't feel he should explain the question ... as it would take a serious hermit to not know about people randomly vanishing like they had been.

"A wild ovine." C'oar repeated, quietly, duly impressed. It was not every soul who could take on a wild ovine and win... those creatures were armor plated, practically, especially over the neck and shoulders where their hide grew to be as much as two inches thick in some specimens. That on top of a cartilage shield in the same area. That coupled with the razor like tusches that they wielded ... granted a sow's was smaller than a boar ... they were still dangerous, on those powerful necks. And ovines were bloody fast... though blind, they could smell and hear things coming from a long ways off! So, for good reason, C'oar was quite impressed. Even though he'd faced down and helped kill a feline ... ovines were no small chump change. "Is that what you do for fun, around here?" He asked, curiously. It made C'oar wonder what E'rro would be capable of doing to a human, to be sure.

"Normally, yes. But the only times I've had to fight for my life, I've been on foot, on the ground." C'oar pointed out. "And a wooden stick sometimes just doesn't cut it, when your life is on the line. So I invested in a sharp, metal stick of equal length." He shrugged. "I carry the smaller kind, too, should the situation necessitate it." And he did ... for awhile he had three full size daggers. But he'd traded one, to lessen the cost of the sword itself. So now he had a sword and two daggers. "Each to their own methods, I suppose."

Wingsecond brownrider and dragonhealer. Wow. "Is there anything you don't do?" C'oar asked. Maybe he should find something to do, other than running errands ... ever since graduating, he'd found his time between drills was just too empty. He was used to being busy doing stuff. "I'm C'oar, of brown Frosstyth. That's ... about it. If you don't count the smithing I do, from time to time."

[Tashe]

The question made him smile, genuinely. E'rro smiling was not something to be seen often, the closest thing that was seen on a constant bases was a smirk. The expression lasted a few moments before disappearing again. "I'm not concerned with dying. And as for wishing it," He paused, "often the only time were you are at your best, is when you are faced with death." Death had become a trivial matter to those who had grown up in the North. One had to resign him or herself to the fact that they would most likely die for the honor of their Weyr before very long. Only a few of the more skilled Dragon riders ever made it to an old age. Even here, the Brownrider applied himself to the same resignations. Now that Selenitas had been drawn into the War, and with the future so full of uncertainties, it was best to keep your the thought of your future at a less than a pessimistic view.

"It was young, not fully matured." He didn't want the other man to think that he had taken down a fully grown wild Ovine. Even he was not that reckless, or that strong. The one he had taken down was much softer in the neck, since it had little time to fully develop the protection it's species had developed. "And no. I generally do not run about, killing Ovines." He could hardly apply the word fun to anything in his life. He enjoyed things, sure, but calling them fun was another matter. Was it wrong to say that the most fun thing he could think of, was aerial battling? Most would probably say yes, and offer him an odd, if annoying look. But when you grew up with something, it often grew on you. He thought that fun, like death, had grown meaningless over the years. He was not the happy guy next door.

"I see." The Brownrider attached the towel to his leather pack, so that the blood did not get on to the medicinal plants he held in the pockets. Swords, he thought, were a good weapon if you were attacked by another sword or a good offensive weapon when faced with a single attacker. But when being tag teamed by trained soldiers... it might become burdensome. The reason he carried throwing knives and short daggers, he had more maneuverability with lighter blades. But he said nothing to the other man. Anyone who had the courage to carry a blade and actually use it, was respected enough to not heckled with his views. "To each his own..." He echoed the response. It was a true enough statement.

Another smile flicked across his face, leaving it as soon as it came. He was often amused at the responses he got when he announced himself as a Wingsecond. He was after all, only seventeen and a half. He had not felt qualified to accept the position, despite having at least three years under his belt. In the beginning, and in all honesty even now, E'rro had thought Ka'rys an addled man for choosing him. He had been more than content with being a High Altitude wingrider, subservient to the Wingleader in times of trial. It was how he was taught to be, even when he was part of the infamous Weyrling Wing. "There are many things that I can not do." Like be anything else than an Ex-bendenite. After living in Selenitas, he had realized, he was actually glad he grew up a Northerner. Many of the people when he had first arrived were far to placid for his tastes. "C'oar of Frosstyth. Are you from the most recent Graduating Weyrling class?" He had not seen the older man in previous training dills.

[dragon]

The youth smiled. Normally ... that was a good sign. But for some reason, the expression did not look at all natural on E'rro, and it bothered C'oar just a little bit. Okay ... maybe more than a little bit. But it did not show ... C'oar maintained an almost completely placid expression, like he always did. He, like E'rro, did not smile often, as he did not often show his feelings at all. The one exception had been Saeo ... she had had an uncanny knack at getting under his skin and getting reactions out of him. "I don't think I've quite reached that point. I very much want to stay alive." C'oar commented, simply. Indeed, it had been that drive to live that had carried him through much of the attack he'd fought through.

"Oh." He said, simply. A baby ovine. That ... was different. Also far less meat to draw in things like hungry felines, which was a nice thought. Though ... also less impressive. Only a bit, however ... even little ovines were a trick to catch. So, though slightly dimmed, C'oar's respect for E'rro's self proclaimed abilities remained. "I can't say as I have ever tried to duel an animal." He said, with a small shrug. "You do that for training, then?" Well ... if there was a total lack of sparring partners ... ovines might work.

"I would suppose so. I was in the Christmas class." C'oar clarified. "Going from being a weyrling to a full rider is a bigger shift than I would have thought." A class that had started out pretty good ... and then some of their number had been lost. And still others simply vanished. Until only a paltry handful showed up for the graduation. It sure made a fellow feel like he stuck out ... for little more than still being around! And that was a sharding odd reason to stick out in a class, for sure. Reflecting back on that, it was a shock to think just how much growing Frosstyth had done ... starting out as a puny hatchling, and growing into the massively burly beast that he was now. It was almost mind boggling!