Contest Twelve -- the Requiem Contest

[Avu]

[glow=red,2,300]DEATH AND DESTRUCTION FTW~[/glow]

>> Right. So, basically, you're writing a death scene. Go crazy with it -- as long or as short as you want, though keep it reasonable. The length of maybe one or two posts would be good. There are two categories for this contest -- Tragic and Hilarious. The latter is designed to make people laugh, wet themselves, giggle hysterically, etc. The former is to make people cry, feel depressed, want to cuddle the character in question, etc. The lists go on.

Since there are two categories, there are also two sets of prizes, one for each set of winners (this will be voted upon in an Announcement thread at the end of May), and you're encouraged to enter as many times as you want to.

First place: 10 marks and a Mystery Egg
Second place: 7 marks and a Mystery Egg
Third place: 5 marks and a Mystery Egg

If there are roughly an equal amount of entries in both, we'll have a Grand Champion-type thing, which is when people will vote on their favorites between the two First-placers. Prize pending~

To enter, just post in this thread with this entry. You'll need an original title, and to state the name of the character plainly below the title (i.e. "Original Title" [enter], Character, and /then/ the story), and also the category, though it should be pretty obvious. I'm gonna trust y'all not to rip each others' off, but be aware that, while you can definitely chat about it via cBox, you run the risk of someone using your idea. Seriously guys, copyright is no good.

[Rowana]

The tragic deaths of Farryl and Peppeth

Farryl struggled against the three men that dragged her along. Bound hand and foot, and even gagged, but still she fought. The Bendan riders had caught her on a scouting mission, but she wasn’t going to go down easy. The men, two blueriders and a brown, just laughed at her efforts and sent the occasional strike to keep her in line.

The arrived at an empty weyr on the ground level. Farryl’s eyes widened at what she saw. The brown dragon loomed above the two blues and the struggle green between them. Peppeth. Farryl squirmed all the harder, he eyes on fire with anger and panic. Not Peppeth! Sweet Peppeth. She couldn’t bear it if they touched her! Peppeth’s eyes were bright yellow with fear as she cowered between her captors.

The brownrider was in charge. He grinned and waved to the others whole held Farryl up by her arms. “Take off the gag,” he said with a nasty grin. “I want to hear the screams.” The grunts mirrored their leader's expression as one of them removed the cloth from Farryl’s eyes. She glared at them, silent and defiant.

The brownrider leaned close to her face, running a finger down her check. Farryl tried not to flitch away as he touch her. “Now them, my little pet. Tell us the weakness of Selenitas’s new defenses and I might let you both live.”

Do not tell him, Farryl-mine! Peppeth’s voice was shrill with panic. The bad men will kill all our friends! I won’t. I will never tell them. She stared angrily, her jaw clenched.

This only seemed to make him more excited. “I knew this wouldn’t be easy.” He stepped away, leaving Farryl in full view of the dragons. The brown descended, clamping his jaws on Peppeths tail. “Such a tiny green,” the rider was saying. “So easy to rip apart.” Without further warning, the brown yanked. Peppeth and Farryl screamed as the tail was ripped free, blood pooling freely beneath where it used to be. The brown shook the severed limb before flinging it aside.

Tears of pain and fury streamed down Farryl’s face. He knees felt weak, but the two holding her would not let her fall. Peppeth was in too much pain to talk and Farryl didn’t know what words she could offer. Hang on! Peppeth! What could she do? What could she do?!

She was taking too long to think about it. “Still not convienced, eh?” the brownrider shrugged and nodded. This time one of the blue’s darted forward, tearing at Peppeth’s left wing and ripping it free. The pain was unbearable. Peppeth writhed in agony in their grasp. “No!” Farryl couldn’t help but scream this time.

“No?” the man chuckled. “Is that all? Sorry, pet. That’s not enough.” This time Peppeth didn’t even have the strength to scream as her right wing was torn from her body. She shuddered and collapsed, a bleeding husk. Blood poured from her wounds in rivers onto the floor. Her head fell, staring at Farryl with yellow eyes that were already fading. Peppeth...is sorry. She can...not. The pain. Peppeth’s voice came in faint and halting tones. Is not...strong. So...sorry.

Farryl screamed and screamed, her shrill voice echoing to the skies. She pulled and yanked, but the men held her firm. No Peppeth! You are strong! Don’t leave me! Don’t! Peppeth looked at her with sad and weary eyes. Sorry. Bye bye. Farryl-mine She gave a last shuddering breath and her eyes faded to white.

With Peppeth gone, Farryl’s spirit left her. She sank to the floor as the men let her drop. She curled in on herself, sobbing and whimpering. The brownrider spat at Peppeth’s body in disgust. “Pathetic.” He strood over to Farryl and ruthlessly kicked her onto her back. “She’s useless now.” He shrugged. “But we might as well have some fun with her first.”

Farryl barely registered as the cut her limbs free and dragged her to her feet. They pulled her across the floor and threw her on the vacant bed and tore off her clothes. The two blueriders stood and watched as their leader had his way with her. Again and again he forced himself until his was satisfied. They he waved at the other two. They each took a turn. Minutes felt like hours until at last they’re lust was satiated.

Farryl went through it all with a distant and numb feeling. She didn’t care. What ever they did to her, it was nothing compared to what they had done. Peppeth was gone. Gone. She would never laugh innocently, or play in the water, or dance like a leaf through the air ever again. A small part of her mind urged her to get up, to fight, to avenge herself. But she just didn’t care. Peppeth was gone. What did anything else matter anymore?

The brownrider looked down on her with disgust. He turned to the other two. “Let’s go. We can clean up the mess in the morning.” He glanced at Farryl’s limp form. “She’s not going anywhere.” The three stalked off, leaving Farryl alone.

She wasn’t sure how long she lay their in the utter stillness. Then, with a whimper and a cry, she dragged herself to her feet. Stumbling steps brought her to Peppeth’s body. Her blood still covered the floor and was slick under Farryl’s toes. She collapse by her dragon’s cold head and hugged her tight.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” Farryl’s voice cracked and choked with sobs. “My little darling. My darling Peppeth.” She stayed that way for hours, crying silently into the night until dawn’s light started to brighten the room. Farryl whipped at her tears and ran her hands down Peppeth’s neck. “Shhhh. Don’t worry. I won’t leave you.”

The men weren’t stupid enough to leave her with any kind of weapon, but Farryl didn’t need one. She moved back to Peppeth’s limp fore limb. Her claws were long, and sharp. And that was all Farryl needed. She bent, hesitated only a moment, and drew her both her wrist across the sharp points. Blood welled up at once and Farryl saw the world grow dim and her head grow light. She pulled her self back on her hands and knees and once more clasped Peppeth tight to her chest.

“I’ll be with you soon. Dear, sweet Peppeth,” she whispered. The darkness came and Farryl slipped away.

[archenstone]

Collapse

Characters X'vier and Mirazeth

Choking black smoke forced his lunges to heave as he tried to call out to the others. Rubble dominated the area and once more he felt the rock tremble like a giant purring feline. Further in the tunnel he heard a cry as more supports came loose and unleashed rock upon some poor soul. X'vier carefully stood up, his legs wobbly and his head spinning. What's going on? I shouldn't be back here... His confusion was profound. Mine! You're awake! Get out of those rock tunnels... they tremble and crunch! The urgency in the voice in his head was unmistakable, but he couldn't grasp who it was.

He began to walk forward. He remembered the tunnels...they had needed something. Firestone, Mine The voice in his mind told him gently. He shook his head slightly, he knew the voice was important but he couldn't focus. His head felt thick and heavy. Upon wiping his eyes he learned he was bleeding. I don't recall a rock striking my head. How long have I been here? Thick smoke and dust still hovered around him and he covered his nose and mouth with his shirt.

You've been down there for two hours...though trouble happened about twenty minutes ago... Able to see a little better X'vier found another man in the rubble. He was unconscious. Carefully, he bent and moved the few stones covering his legs. The man woke up while X'vier tended him. "Is everything collapsed?" The man asked hoarsely. "I don't know. We have to move." He helped the man up. He had suffered cuts and brusing but nothing was serious. X'vier watched he man as he too sheltered his nose and mouth with cloth. He felt as if he knew the man, but had no name for him.

"Let's go X'vier. We'll pull survivors on the way out." The man said as they went forward. Every few minutes the rock rumbled ominously beneath them. They soon noticed that smoke was getting thicker, not thinner, as they had thought. With no other tunnels to the exit point they had no choice but to move forward. It wasn't long till they came across another man walking from a side tunnel.

"Jerard! X'vier!" The man said in shock as he found them.
"Alfred? You know whats happening?" Jerard grasped the man's shoulder as he looked him over.

"Damn Whers went bloody berserk and took off like tunnels snakes! Then we had a pretty bad quake and tremors since. There's smoke pouring up through the access tunnels and I barely got out of there...." Alfred took a deep breath and shuddered. "There's deep cracks in the ground now. No one else is left back there."

X'vier was starting to panic. Not just because of the quakes and smoke...but because these people knew him and he couldn't recall their names. Don't worry about it now....just get out of there! X'vier saw an image in his mind of others leaving the entrance. "Let's get moving. There's already people evacuating." Alfred and Jerard didn't ask how he knew and they began moving.

X'vier had the sense of being deep in the mine....vaguely he was able to remember the layout. As the minutes passed like years the smoke began to take an extreme sulfuric smell. As he walked, X'vier had to constantly wipe sweat from his eyes. The cut on his head burned with the intrusive liquid. He gulped, feeling his dry and scratchy throat. The men with him where having similar issues. The was no question...they hurried as much as they could.

As they reached the second level they came to places where the glows had been taken. They too picked up a glow basket....needing the light to continue. It seemed no matter how far they went, the smoke and heat grew worse. As they neared the end of the second level a great tremor rocked the men to their knees. Even through the vibration and noise they could hear a deep groan tear the rock. In seconds a great whistling noise smothered all other sound and the heat grew more intense. X'vier looked behind him in shock as light exploded behind him. He had only enough time to watch as a fire ball sucked back into a side tunnel they had passed 30 feet before. X'vier's face paled and the voice in his head roared. Get out of there now!

Startled he cried out, "Move!" He got up and scrambled to the glow that had been flung. His hand paused as the light showed death. Hesitantly he picked up the glow and raised it to look around. Each side tunnel around them had bodies so blacked he had mistaken them for rock. His eyes widened in fear. A tunnel further up was completely blocked by what had been Wher. Smaller creatures such as tunnel snakes where littered around with the occasional human.

Alfred, who had seen X'vier not following his own command, grabbed him and started running. X'vier followed reflexisly, his mind awashed in horror.

They had been burnt alive.

They had all been burnt alive.

But how? The Whers detect gas leaks, give more advanced warning than this.

His mind couldn't grasp what happened as he, Jerard, and Alfred ran up into the first level. The choking smoke was following them up and as they continued to run, couch, and stumble they realized the major damage had been on the second level of the mines. Another strong tremor bucked the earth from their feet and X'vier felt a crushing weight. He curled into a ball, not realized that he was not hurt. The cry of agony had been another....the voice of his mind.

"Mirazeth!" He gasped....his memory unwillingly gave name to the most important part of his life. The memory was enough to hurt....how could his mind block that most important name...and thus memory of the great brown... from him? He struggled to move and found his feet and hands pushing him up and away from the mines...running frantically towards the entrance. As he turned a corner he almost stumbled again from shock...and ran to his dragon.

Mirazeth's eyes whirled weakly in response to having his bonded close. He sent X'vier a picture of the rock falling....and X'vier could feel the anguished desperation that drove him to block the rock. X'vier rubbed along Mirazeth's eye ridge as he and Mirazeth exchanged words.

When the other two caught up with him he said, "Mirazeth managed to save a small exit along his right side. You two need to go." Jerard tried to pull him along. "I can't go Jerard." X'vier answered the man's frightened gaze with his own determined one. "I can not leave Mirazeth any more than you would leave your wife and children. Now GO!" The two men began to crawl along Mirazeth's side and escaped.

"Is there any way, Mirazeth? Any way you could wiggle from this rock and we could leave?" He spoke gently, preferring his voice to his mind.

I can...try. Its so heavy Mine. My wings...feel crushed. Tears stained a sooty path down X'vier's face. He knew how terrible the pain felt. How it had felt as the rock seemed to crush his own body. Even now a terrible dull ache arched along his back. His own pain set aside, he hugged Mirazeth. "I can not leave this place with out you with me." Mirazeth grunted and pushed back, causing loose rock to tumble away. He barely cleared an inch though. X'vier sighed and sat along side the large, weary head.

After a few minutes of being curled up to his bonded Mirazeth said, The Whers return to try and help us. Your family, the hold, are all evacuating the area. X'vier rubbed his tired and pained friend. "Then perhaps you and I will only have retirement instead." Mirazeth snorted in place of a reply.

Thirty minutes later of soft tremors and digging claws another strong tremor rippled through the land. X'vier clutched Mirazeth as it passed. Even though the entrance was tall and wide the smoke had become thick near X'vier's head. The moving rock that burns is near us. Mirazeth said. Indeed the cavern had taken a sickly orange glow. "Tell the Whers they need to escape. They'll only die trying to get us out of here." Are you sure, Mine? So he told to Whers to escape with their bondeds.

In only a few minutes X'vier could see the magma flowing toward them in sluggish inevitability. Even though X'vier had guessed the once inactive flows had been triggered it was nothing like seeing magma for real. The bubbling, churning, burning rock was far more terrifying than anything he had seen before.... even thread. Thread you could evade...you could char. What could anyone do against this?

"Have the Whers left?" When he knew they had he cradled his dragon's head and said, "Take us into between. That death could not be worse than this." Mirazeth creeled in protest. It was unnatural... "Burning until we are nothing is unnatural too." X'vier said, following his thoughts. "Trust me, Mirazeth, at least in between you and I will be untouched....together." Even so Mirazeth dreaded that final act, hoping that some one His could make it. As the magma grew close enough to make X'vier's clothes smolder Mirazeth took them between.

[Avu]

Nothing Gold Can Stay
Meisk’s Death;; Tragic

They had poisoned the water.

She wasn’t sure if it was Benden or Fort or even High Reaches that had done it, but the fellis-laced water had done its job. How many, exactly, had been poisoned, she wasn’t sure, but the keens of dragons that went between, or the mourning of those who lived, created a sick kind of background music, high-pitched, throbbing with agony. People were dying, too. Their drinking water came from the river, after all, and ten drops of fellis was all it took…but Meira wasn’t helping. There were some people that had just barely survived the fellis overdose, and as a Healer, she ought to be helping them. She knew that. But she couldn’t – she couldn’t. It was selfish and it was torturous, knowing she ought to be helping and wasn’t, but she couldn’t make herself uncurl from the side of the river and go towards the Infirmary.

Because Meisk was there. The blue wher was sprawled on his side, his head tucked in his Handler’s lap – the way she’d held him that first time, at his Hatching. The nostalgia was more than just the position, for both times, the wher had been dying. And this time, she knew she couldn’t save him. His breath was soft, sides heaving with the effort it took to keep himself sucking in breath after breath. What fellis did, exactly, to dragons, she didn’t know, but she did know that it caused pain, for whers. She could feel the agony curling inside her own abdomen – or was that just her own grief? The wherhandler bowed her head, one hand stroking the wher’s neck and shoulders in a rhythmic, soothing motion, her other fingers curled gently under the blue’s jaw.

A sigh; he shifted his head closer to her stomach, his first set of lids closing dully over eyes that had lost all of their luster and glowing shine. His tail twitched weakly, at the very tip, and a low croon that robbed him of breath left the blue sucking at the air, nostrils flaring and a weak panic rising inside of him as Meira answered the croon with a soft hum of her own, soundless tears blurring her vision as she continued to stroke him. If only he could go between – but he was far too weak to stand, and she couldn’t possibly bear it, to see him just wink out of existence. Her throat was tight, cheeks wet, hair clinging to her face where the tears had left their tracks.

Both were silent, the only sound that of breathing: The girl’s breath, catching in her throat, a sob riding on it; the wher’s desperate, fading breaths. The wind rippled across the water, drying the tears on Meira’s cheeks as she drew Meisk closer, feeling the wher’s consciousness grow fainter as the fellis did its work inside of him. Who could possibly – possibly poison an entire Weyr? It was beyond cruel; it was – and Meisk. He wasn’t even a dragon, he wasn’t meant to be poisoned…he should never have drank that water; he should still be healthy. Closing her eyes against the sight of the wher in such a state, the wherhandler bit her lip weakly, trying to prevent the sobs from becoming audible. How often she’d called him her ghost, for his paleness, the gliding pace – and how often she’d leaned into him and curled up there. Never again…

Meira’s fingers faltered over the wher’s neck as his breath caught – and stopped. Her heart skipped a beat and she felt as if she couldn’t breathe. Nausea rose in her stomach, and her consciousness wavered as she blinked back the spots from her eyes, mouth opening in a soundless cry of pain as the wher’s eyes slid closed, his head falling more solidly against her lap and stomach, his body suddenly limp. The shuddering breaths now belonged entirely to the girl. Meira was crying, tears falling freely now, uncontrollably trembling fingers stroking what remained of the wher weakly. And then she spoke, so softly that she couldn’t even tell if she had truly spoken it aloud or not.

“Please don’t leave me…oh, Meisk, Meisk…”

And then she was sobbing, unable to control the shuddering, shaking tears that dropped, onto Meisk’s face. One hand wiped away the droplets of water shakily, the other cupping over her own mouth to keep back the cries that she wanted to make. Through the tears, she felt the wind brush her hair and cheeks, and one of the blue’s wings fluttered in the silent wind, and for one more minute, she could pretend that her Meisk, her beloved darling who was now nothing more than a limp body, a memory of a ghost – was still alive.

Even as the sunset's last golden glow faded from the sky, leaving only darkness, the dragons' deathsong rang out, throbbing, heartrending, and oblivious to the wher, the wher whose eyes would never again brighten.

[nightingale]

The Spectacular Adventures of Baby the Valiant
A comedic tragedy, starring Baby the blue salamandyr.

Once upon a time, there lived a handsome and charming blue salamandyr named Baby. He made his home in a beautiful Weyr near the top of a towering waterfall, where he lived with his bonded Saeo, his sister Freckle and his best friend Cherilith. Everyone in the Weyr liked Baby because not only was he kind and smart, but he also had a singing voice the likes of which no one had ever heard before.

But there was one creature at the Weyr who did not like Baby. Perhaps it was because she was too self-absorbed to realize what a nice salamandyr he was. Perhaps it was because she was fat and bossy, or perhaps it was because someone had squashed her a little when she was still an egg. In any case, queen salamandyr Brat did not like Baby at all.

One day, she decided that she did not want him around any longer. Using half of a meatroll, a sewing needle and a small piece of yellow string, she harnessed the powers of evil to summon a pair of terrifying jungle felines and sent them off to eat him. When Baby saw the felines coming for him, he did not falter. Instead, he flared out his handsome frill and began singing to them. ~WHY CAN WEEE BE FRENS? WHY CAN WEEE BE FRENS? NO NO NOOOO NO NO~ NO NO NO NO FREEEEENS~His singing was so…such a…spectacle, that the felines fell dead instantly, bleeding from their ears.

Angry but not discouraged, Brat decided to trade in her yellow string for a scrap of klah-stained parchment, and sent a swarm of buzzflies to sting him. When he saw the buzzflies coming, Baby quickly hopped up onto a stone and began singing to them. ~WHAT DA WOOOOORLD NEEDS NAOW IS LOOOOVE SWEED LOOOOVE~ Once again, his completely unbelievable singing voice worked it’s magic, and all of the buzzflies dropped to the ground, dead. This excluded particular buzzfly named Fergus, who was deaf. Baby ate him.

Now both furious and pudgy, queen Brat sent her own bonded to crush Baby. Fortunately, Lennae was distracted by a bowl of soup conveniently placed right outside of her weyr, and forgot about the order as she sat down to enjoy the warm, broth-ey goodness. The evil queen’s plans were once again foiled. Wannasing storything! What? Baby sing! Sing sing sing! Sing sing sing sing SING SING SING! Alright, alright…um…Baby then spotted a Benden bronzerider trying to sneak up on Saeo and poke her with a sharp stick. Thinking quickly, he began singing. … I said, thinking quickly, he beg- ~WHEN DA LIL BLUE BELL AT DA BOTTOM OF DA DELL STARTS TA RING~ DIIING DOOONG~ Right. The bronzerider screamed in agony as his brain exploded.

Saeo was so grateful for having been rescued from a pointy and uncomfortable fate that she gave Baby a big hug and took him to the Weyr kitchens. When they arrived, all of the drudges gave him nice things to eat and told him how wonderful his singing was. Brat sing storything? Yes, yes. Brat was so depressed after having lost to Baby that she ate a watermelon and moped about her weyr all by herself, because Lennae had gone to the kitchens for a second helping of soup and was busy admiring Baby. Being the considerate creature that he was, Baby then went to see her and sung a song to cheer her up. ~‘CAUSE HE HAD HIIIIIIIIIE HOPES! HE HAD HIIIIIIIIIE HOPES~

Brat was so pleased by the song that she took Baby to be her mate at once, and they became king and queen of all the salamandyrs. MINE MINE! Except for Showoff and Freckle and Manners, who were also fed tasty things by the kitchen drudges. They all lived happily ever after. The end.

The sound of a single person clapping echoed through the empty weyr. Cherilith crooned his appreciation for the praise, and dipped his striped head into a gracious bow. Thank you so very much. You are all too kind. Bluepest bad. No Frecklemine MINE pest maul. Freckle grumped from her place on Saeo’s shoulder, kneading her claws unhappily into the girl’s flesh. Saeo winced, shrugging her shoulder to jostle the little green into submission. “Freckle, be polite. They can’t all be stories about you.” Bluething Baby love~ The midnight blue salamandyr frilled happily from his place atop Saeo’s knee, flapping his wings with barely contained glee.
“It was a lovely story Cherilith” Saeo agreed, smiling indulgently. Do you really think so Mine? “Of course I do. I can tell that you worked very hard on it and Baby just adored it."
AND AAAAAAAAYYEEEEAAAAAAAAYE WILL ALWAYS LOOOOOVE YOUUUUUUUUU~
There wasn’t a creature present who didn’t wince as the butchered chorus line pierced their thoughts. Perhaps he likes it a little too much. Cherilith offered hesitantly, eyeing the blue salamandyr through narrowed eyes. I was thinking the same thing. Perhaps letting him sing along was a bad idea. Maybe…ugh, I think my head is going to split. My head hurts too my Saeo. Please ask him to stop. I’m trying, but he isn’t listening to me! But Mine, it huuuurts!

And then all at once, the weyr was blissfully silent.
Freckle lifted her ichor-smeared muzzle from Baby’s throat, casting a vicious scarlet glare in Cherilith’s direction. Bluepest! Freckle story! NOW!!

[glamourie]

Plight of the Pie Bandit
A lesson in manners brought to you by R’wign of Brown Checkoth

The best part of spring time was that the plants were all in season. Aside from the air always smelling thickly of blossoms, there was the very obvious fact that everything was full of life -- including the Weyr. The stocks were full again, something of a miracle after the attack from Benden wiped out most of their reserves (and the poisonings before that hadn’t helped any). No doubt the gatherers had done a very good job, and were worthy of praise. R’wign would be happy to give them exactly that, too - but later, for he was quite busy at the current moment. You see, R’wign was an opportunistic hunter, waiting until the ideal time to strike rather than using brute force, and his prey was elusive. That particular day, the ‘predator’ was hunting large game: mixed berry pie straight from the kitchens, right off the cooling rack. And it wasn’t an easy task, either. The drudges were onto him, after three turns of filching pies. He had to be sneaky to avoid being caught… very, very sneaky. Which really meant he needed an efficient distraction to draw the ‘guards’ from his prize.

His fire lizards were ill-suited to his task. Odds were, the drudges would realize his trick upon recognizing his colorful companions. No, he needed something better, and he’d found it. Bribing Showoff took some work. After all, the salamandyr ‘king’ was nothing short of evil. An evil genius. R’wign had managed it by offering him a prized possession in the form of a glass eye that R’wign had custom-made for himself. There was nothing else like it at Selenitas and Showoff went completely ballistic at the offering, proclaiming himself willing to do anything for ‘FlyerStupidmine.’ And then R’wign gave his request. If any salamandyr could pull off the level of mischief needed to get the drudges away from his prey, it was Showoff, and if he succeeded, loaning him the glass eye would be well-worth it in the end. Mixed berry was his absolute favorite.

The healer leaned his back flat against the wall outside the kitchens, just behind the door. He stood poised, ready to bolt in at a second’s notice… and he waited for it - waited for it --

CRASH.

One of the chairs in the main hall collapsed over as the harper within tumbled backwards. Showoff’s loud chittering sounded through the mostly-empty hall as he held a stolen ring in his mouth. Flaring his frill, he scurried into the kitchens and the man barreled in after him, cursing under his breath. The door swung open, and then both salamandyr and harper disappeared inside. R’wign tapped his fingers impatiently, waiting -- until Showoff came scurrying out the door again, covered in flour. Solid white, he was, and altogether very smug. The salamandyr shrieked insults back to his chasers, but a stampede of drudges wielding rolling pins and pots followed after the harper chasing the little monster. Showoff led them toward the door, and R’wign took their distraction as initiative, bolting into the kitchen. He only had a minimal amount of time before they lost interest in the bronze -- and he would not be caught!

Once in the kitchens, R’wign made a straight line for the cooling racks. There sat his beauties, still steaming, calling to him like the vixens they were. He licked his lips hungrily and pulled on two of the mitts designed to remove things from the oven. The largest pie was the one he snatched, which was comically located right in the center of the rack. It took some doing to balance it in his hands with the mitts on. Satisfied with his grip, R’wign scurried quickly out of the kitchens and bolted for the side door of the main hall, the opposite one of where Showoff had gone. Out of the corner of his good eye he saw movement, no doubt the drudges returning to the kitchens to finish the evening meal, but he was home free. Through the door he went, carrying his prize as if it were the most valuable thing on all of Pern. To R’wign, it was. Mixed berry pie was worth the verbal abuse he’d endure later when the drudges realized who was to blame for their chaos.

Such a delicious (and stolen) treat deserved to be taken in properly, however, and that meant he needed to find some place secret to indulge his craving. The interior of the Weyr simply wouldn’t do. Too many people would want a piece of his treasure, and R’wign was not known for his generosity where baked delicacies were concerned. Indeed, there were occasions where he even became angry at the prospect of having to share. After the effort he put forth to filch that one, he would’ve been very unhappy if anyone tried to coax him into cutting them a slice. Some place secluded was ideal -- and he knew just the spot, a nice little clearing at the edge of the forest with an overhang of branches for shade. It would be perfect.

Shuffling (quickly!) across the grounds, R’wign exhaled over the top of the pie. The smell of it wafted up to him and his knees almost went weak from sheer joy. Few things in life could make him as happy as pie did. After all, fruits were wonderfully sweet, and warm foods were naturally comforting. There was also something inherently satisfying about a scheme pulled off, and pulled off well. Nothing better than an ego stroke to go with his snack. A smirk played over his face as he reached the clearing and he plopped down right in the grass, his legs folding underneath him. He carefully removed the mitts from his hands and set them on his knees, one at a time, before placing his pie on top of the mitts themselves -- just to prevent getting burnt. That would be embarrassing, yes - burnt while trying to snack. M’ta would never let him live that down.

Where was it - where - Aha!

R’wign produced a fork from a pocket in his shirt. He’d come prepared. Twirling it in his fingers, he blew down on the pie again to try and cool it off more quickly, before snatching up a bite of it. Another quick blow and then he shoved the tasty morsel into his mouth and practically dissolved from delight. Perfectly textured, with just the right amount of sweetness and the crust was flaky and buttery -- it felt like paradise in a mere bite. Against his better judgment, he shoved another bite in. And then another. It was just too good. He chewed as he shoveled it in and then swallowed thickly to create more room for the pie; after all, he only had a limited time span before someone hunted him down to yell over him stealing it in the first place.

There was just one problem. He hadn’t chewed enough. Blinking twice, R’wign swallowed as hard as he could, and coughed - but to no avail. A chunk of the pie was stuck in his throat. Ideally, that would be the time to take a slug of something to drink to wash it all down, except -- nothing. He had nothing. Alarmed, R’wign swallowed again, twice, but nothing. He flailed his arms around and tried to smack himself on the back to dislodge the bit of pie from his throat, but he didn’t bend that way - his body wasn’t designed to twice around completely. His eyes went wide, as the seconds ticked past and he gagged, a surge of alarm from Checkoth and his fire lizards passing through him. All of his colorful fair appeared around him, chattering and screeching in fear, but none of them brought anything to drink. None. And he was choking. Actual fear passed over his face as he gagged again, trying to flail around for attention… but he was too far - too far for anyone to notice him, or his plight, and he couldn’t think well enough to stand…

R’wignmine? R’wignmine what’s happening?

And then the world went completely black. Still gagging, R’wign collapsed backwards, leaving his pie right in his lap. Another minute passed before a loud group of screeches broke the air, and that was the end; all of R’wign’s fire lizards were gone, and Checkoth passed between. Death by pie: surely one for the record books.

[Kisha-Ra]

The dangers of chasing wild queens

[/size]
A comic lesson taught by Darya of blue Azrath and her salamndyr Imp.[/center]


Among the trees a near invisible shape moved in fits and starts, darting and dashing from hidden place to shadow to a new hidden place. Only those who were really looking would have noticed Imp, for all the salamandyr’s hide was a showy mingling of bronze shades he blended well with the browns of the jungle providing he kept out of the sunlight.

Why was the bronze salamandyr sneaking through the undergrowth just after dawn? Well what other reason would entice him away from his dear little Bit than another Rising female? He’d noticed this wild gold glowing slightly a few days ago, and this morning the glow had been so bright that he just knew he had to go right now so he’d be ready and waiting to chase her. But he’d had to sneak the whole way, so his silly jealous Darya wouldn’t know he’d come to see another female. She was funny, Bit didn’t mind him chasing other females so why should Darya, who as far as Imp could observe did not Rise.

The bronze zipped up a tree and looked around. Oh no! He couldn’t see her! Had he missed her already? Imp’s frill flipped up and down as he twisted his head this way and that, anxiously seeking the golden glow of his latest love. Where you prettylove? Come I soon. Find you prettylove soon. He muttered to himself as he looked around. Ah, there was his pretty! Not far now, not long now. Of course she was already surrounded by bronze and brown firelizards, as well as a few foolishly overconfident blues (it never occurred to Imp that he, too, was overconfident, nor that he was smaller than the average green flitter). Imp bounded and scrabbled up a few more levels, to the point where he was directly above, but could only just see, his sleeping beauty.

As if waiting for the arrival of her final admirer the wild queen began to stir, her tail and wings twitching with deceptive gentleness. The illusion was shattered as her eyelids all snapped open together, revealing bright purple shaded eyes. Her body tensed subtly and all of a sudden she was leaping up, wings fanning, to call her chasers to the merry dance she would lead them.

Yes! Prettylove Fly! Fly far, fly fast! Imp exulted as his queen bounded into the air, as ever he cast aside his sneaking now that his love was airborne. He needed all his concentration to impress this queen. Oh she was being tricky already, darting and diving around the branches with grace and verve. A challenge for the silly wingy males to follow but easy as pie for a quick little ‘mandyr. Yes indeed.

Darya smiled softly in her sleep, wriggling further down in her furs. Oh what a beautiful queen, how clever, how quick. Her body twitched and swayed in time with Imp’s dodging and leaping, she looked happy, for a time. A slight frown crossed her sleeping face and she rolled, stretched and woke. Only to be hit by the full force of Imp’s lust. Her eyes lost focus, seeing other things. Oh pretty, pretty, prettylove.

Imp bounded and soared on a rising thermal as his queen left the trees. A quick glance around showed a few of his rivals had been caught out in the jungle but not many, not enough. The gold dropped like a stone, falling straight for the ground. Naturally Imp followed, he was good at falling, his long tail allowed him a little control over his path. There was just one problem, the ground tended to come up very fast and hit him. Happily a convenient shrub solved that problem for him, he grabbed a sturdy branch and used it to slingshot himself back upward again. Queens went down sometimes but they always came back up. They couldn’t finish a Flight down there.

Darya darted out into the corridor, totally nude, her mind filled with images of the glowing gold she so desired. A startled candidate on glow changing duty was hissed at as his firelizard happened to be one of Imo’s rivals. The boy stumbled back, dropping glows everywhere and screaming like a girl but Darya’s attention was focus on one direction. Down. She whirled away and sprinted for the stairs, only to go skidding on a glow and tumble down the entire flight without a thought to saving herself so intent was she on the chase of a queen only she could see.

An eerie wail rose, one Selenitas Weyr had heard all too often, as Azrath stood on his ledge and mourned the fate of his fallen rider. Then the blue simply vanished, leaving only empty air and the echo of his keen. Bit, too, vanished between unable to give voice to her sorrow, though in her last moments her eyes faded white and grey and her sharp movements slowed.

Above the Weyr a queen firelizard’s Flight was suddenly interrupted by a shriek of anguish. NO NO! NOT ALL LEAVE I. WAIT! Pleasewait. Please? Love Darya. Love Bit. Love A’ath. Come back. Please? Around the anguished bronze the Flight went on. Imp dropped.

In the corridor a candidate looked down the stairs at the broken body of the madwoman. She was dead, living people’s necks didn’t bend that way. What was he going tell the candidatemaster?

[ladybug]

((Rilyer and Rilysk's deaths, tragic.))

AFTERSHOCKS

Rilyer woke tangled in his bedsheets, flailing as he half-fell out of his cot. He reacted instinctively, hands flying out to catch himself before he hit the ground. The brownhandler was drenched in cold sweat, and his heart was pounding a mile a minute. He was still tense from his nightmare, his adrenaline pumping as if his body still thought it was being chased by the Benden riders.

He sat up, taking deep breaths and trying to calm himself. Just when he was starting to feel normal again, he heard quick footsteps scuttling into the room. With a yelp, he reached under his pillow and pulled out the belt-knife he stowed there. Blinded by fear, he tossed it in the direction of the scuffling. There was a squawk, and he registered that the intruder was only Insomnia. Who was now without her tail.

The tail was impaled under his belt knife, and the 'mandyr was curled up in a little ball, only her head sticking out, her frill extended. "Shards! Somni, I'm sorry!" Rilyer exclaimed, jumping off of his cot and running to his pet, scooping her up in his arms. She was eerily silent for a 'mandyr, and he knew he had scared her badly. She squirmed in his arms; he let go, and she scurried out the door again.

Rilyer shakily sat down on the edge of his cot, his head in his hands. He was ruining everything. Ever since the attack, he had felt plain crazy, getting terrified at every little noise and shadow. The lack of sleep didn't help. He could never get a good rest because he was plagued by nightmares replaying the attack over and over.

There was only one thing that helped.

Rilyer stood again and went over to his drawer. On the way, he gingerly picked up Somni's tail and tossed it into the wastebasket. Opening the drawer, he pulled out the flask that was tucked underneath some socks. There was a bottle of wine and a glass on his nightstand, and he quickly poured himself a glass, then added a few drops of fellis. The handler drank greedily, impatient for the numbness the drug would bring.

He sighed and leaned back on his cot, waiting, but it was taking too long. Rilyer wanted this to be over. He could see endless days and nights stretching out before him, a void of fear and meaninglessness. When he was stabbed, his life had flashed before his eyes. He had never fallen in love, or felt what it was like to become a father. He had wasted his wherlinghood, neglected his duties to the night watch.

But what did that even matter? When a knife in the right place could end it all in seconds? He wasn't close to any of the other wherhandlers, especially not with Rinnel gone so much. He had a feeling Meira and Jermayan didn't like him. Insomnia would probably leave him now. He only had Rilysk, and the brown deserved something better than being attached to this useless Handler.

With a helpless cry that was half-sob, half-scream, Rilyer threw his glass across the room. It hit the wall and shattered as wine slid down the wall like blood. Acting before his thoughts had a chance to catch up with them, Rilyer grabbed the flask of fellis and downed it all in one foul swallow.

***

Rilysk woke with a start. He blinked, lids falling down to protect against the bright sunlight falling through the window into his wallow. In a moment he felt the distress of his handler and reached out, wondering what was wrong. He only felt a faint presence, growing dimmer by the second. Bellowing, Rilysk dashed out of his wallow, ignoring the sun as he barreled towards his Handler's quarters.

He busted the door open with a strong shoulder, then ran into the room. His handler was lying on the floor, face unnaturally white. Rilysk whimpered, slowing his pace and gently nudging Rilyer. There was no response, and even though he was next to his Handler now, Rilysk had a hard time feeling his presence.

And then, Rilyer was no more. Rilysk felt the bond snap as his handler gave himself up to the blackness. Where there was once love and caring, there was now nothingness. Rilysk was too shocked to even voice his sorrow yet. He nudged Rilyer again, expecting him to come to again, but finally he realized it was the end.

Rilysk lifted his head and let out a roar of pure sadness. He felt as if his heart was being torn out of his chest. No, this was more painful. He was alone, completely alone. Bellowing and keening, Rilysk raced out of the barracks, into the sunlight once more. The physical pain of the sun on his eyes was almost welcome compared to the loss of his Handler.

The brown tore across the weyrbowl, running blindly. He had nowhere to go but he couldn't think of anything else to do. It was as if the running might bring his handler back.

He slowly became aware of footsteps in front of him. Rilysk whirled around, facing the pair of men coming towards him. He hesitated, and then sorrow and rage obliterated all sense. Rilysk pounced, dragging one man down and tearing his throat as he tried to let out his emotions on something. He heard screams, but ignored them as he turned to the second man, ripping claws across his belly.

He heard more people approaching and turned for a moment from his second victim. Then he felt a prick in his neck. With a growl, Rilysk turned and saw a young woman behind him, holding a small pointy thing. She had been so quiet he hadn't noticed her. He started to life a paw to slash her, but he was moving too slowly. The world was caving in, leaving only empty sorrow as his vision darkened. Giving in, Rilysk lay down, waiting to join his beloved Handler in the blackness.

Fin.