Requiem
Weyrleader S'rei WM M?ta Rider A'nd Harper/Handler Dmitri Weyrbrat Miguel
Posts: 2,861
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Post by Requiem on Apr 15, 2009 16:42:56 GMT -5
Selenitas, be ready for the attack! Benden is here!
They most definitely were. Two full wings hovered in the darkness above, ready to pick off any dragons foolish enough to take to wing, low visibility or no. They'd been training for this for nearly a turn now, and repetition did wonders. Besides, once flames started spouting, there would be more light. These two wings were comprised mostly of blues and greens with a couple of browns to keep them under thumb. They were the most expendable to accidents. They were the swiftest and could take down a rising dragon, probably before he even knew what hit him.
Two more wings were sweeping the weyrs within the cliff face, picking off anyone in the halls and clearing the weyrs one-by-one. Some, of course, would get past them. The heaviest fighting should be there, so, again, most of the colors represented were blue and greenriders.
The Weyrsecond of the attacking weyr smiled coldly, gesturing to his group of handpicked fighters. Almost all were bronze and brownriders, men reknowned - and sometimes reviled - for their vicious ferocity. And the few who rode lesser colors were even more frightening, as they'd overcome the taboo of Impressing blue and green to be acknowledged as powers within the Weyr. Their spies were clear. The pockets of fighting would be heaviest, apart from the canyon halls that housed the riders themselves, here, at the weyrling barracks, and at the infirmary. He intended to take the weapons stores before any real resistance could be put up.
A similar team should be storming the infirmary right at this moment. Yes...Trilyanth verified it. He drew dagger as he ran, a few men he could count as loyal to him guarding his flanks. A few had already gained the doors and the screams were already starting. The weyrlingriders had undoubtedly wakened with that blue's call, but they would be little match against trained northern fighters. Their deaths would be swift.
Behind, a small vanguard was left to deal with the people who would soon be making their way to this 'stronghold.' He smiled grimly.
***
An equally grim, vicious smile parted F'ur's lips as he slammed his palm into the nose of one of the rear guard at the very same moment, smashing it back into his skull and killing the man instantly. He'd awoken with the first wher's howl, responding well before Jaxith's - Jaxith! he knew that blue! - broadcast. The bluerider pivoted and thrust his knee up into a faceless brownrider's groin, capturing his wrist at the same time and breaking the man's elbow with his own. The knife fell useless to the ground as F'ur twisted, taking the man into a headlock and snapping his neck with a vicious, economic jerk. He had no weapons, but then, he rarely fought with a knife. And, a little less than eighteen turns into the war, he was still alive. That...said much.
He spun to face the man who had circled around behind him, eyes straining in the darkness, jerking suddenly upright as the northerner collapsed before he could get near. Slashed throat, but where was the attacker? Another high-pitched whistle, the dagger slamming into the chest of a man with enough force to crack ribs. He went down instantly. F'ur located the source of the daggers, brow raising as he made out what looked like a kid in his mid-teens, casually flinging another dagger which took the third man between the eyes. Then he laughed. Another fighter who hadn't waited for the broadcast, by the looks of it. Just a couple more, and they might even clear up this rear guard in time to save some of the weyrlings inside and force the attacking weyr to take cover out of the barracks.
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Post by dragon on Apr 15, 2009 17:15:31 GMT -5
The Weyrlings indeed had heard the blue's call. And far from being inactive, they had rolled out of thier cots in a hurry. How each individual acted was to be determined, upon receipt of the news. But some were ahead of the curve somewhat. Thankfully.
The first thought that popped into C'oar's head as he instinctively rolled out of his furs and to his feet was that Benden was attacking. The second was a measure of releif. Not everyone was as unprepared as they could have been. This he knew personally. He'd been teaching a few of the others how to fight. And while he might not be the best person for the job, he was a far cry better than nothing.
And on that note, he snatched up a knife from under his pillow, and as he moved for the door clad in nothing but a loose pair of trousers, the smith also snatched up his sparring sword. Nothing more than a carved chunk of wood, it was still capable of being a deadly weapon if used correctly. And he'd made it out of a flexible, yet robust wood, too, to withstand the lessons he'd already put it through.
Frosstyth was slower to get moving than his rider, but he was moving nontheless, following C'oar. He moved silently, not a sound out of his big throat. He knew that C'oar wanted silence at first, at least. So he remained quiet.
The first unfortunate soul through the doors of the Weyrling barracks met an rather uncomfortable end, face smashed in at nose level by a fast-moving practice sword. With a meaty crunch and thud, the wooden sword smashed bone inward, caving in the delicate front of his skull. C'oar followed up that blow with a quick step forward, inserting his knife into the man's throat and then yanking outwards.
The man's throat erupted in a fountain of red before he slagged to the ground.
Just as quickly, surprisingly so for his bulk, the muscluar lad vanished out of the hallway again, moving away from the second man to enter the barracks. Suprise attack used up. "Frosst!" C'oar yelled, even as he shoved the girl he'd just encountered back again, away from danger. He didn't even bother to slow to check who he'd just shoved. Just keeping her safe.
The bulky brown struck from inside his own chamber, head flashing out into the hall, and taking the second man with narry a warning. With a scream and a grisly crunch, he too died, locked in dragon-teeth. Even as a weyrling, Frosstyth was dangerous. Especially with his rider in danger. I got him. This one. The next is being more careful. Frosstyth replied, yanking his head back inside his quartering to avoid a blow to his eye. The corpse he'd just made of the man crumpled to the ground with a meaty thud, in the hallway, missing his head.
Frosst! Get the other dragons moving. The men can't do a whole lot to you all, other than flesh wounds. Get moving! Just stay inside. Do NOT, under any circumstances, go out where the adult dragons can get at you! Do you understand me?![/b] C'oar ordered, in silence to his dragon.
I understand. Brothers! Sisters! Hearken unto me! We have ours to defend! Invaders! Stay inside! The heads are easy to remove... but be sure of who you're biting before you do! Frosstyth issued, talking to all his clutch siblings at once. And then rushing forward with all the power in his four thick legs, the brown weyrling rushed the hallway. Turning into the turn he had to make to travel the hallway, he didn't quite make it. He crashed into the opposite wall with a heavy thud. Lashing his tail out, just in case, he then sped down the hall, toward where the greens and blues would be. They would need him!
The tail-snapping had caught one more man, breaking his arm and sending him spinning back out of the barracks, plowing into yet another and knocking both down with the sheer kinetic force of the blow.
C'oar watched his dragon go, and couldn't help but feel slightly exposed now that the brown was off and moving - away from him. But there were things to be done. Brandishing his blood-spattered wooden sword (which did have an edge whittled into it), he held his blade much closer to home. "Be careful." He hissed, to the other weyrling rider. "Get a knife, a stick, a chair leg. Anything that you can defend yourself with."
C'oar was a fairly big lad. And square and steady. But he knew his limits. He could not take them all on and win. There was no way. Not even with guerilla style fighting. Especially not with his dragon moving off to rally the other weyrlings. How many men were there? Were they going to stop and rethink the attack, now that there were two dead inside? And one wounded outside?
He had to admit ... Frosstyth was really good at that decapitation trick.
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Post by weaving on Apr 15, 2009 18:02:14 GMT -5
As he normally did at this time, I’fael had been making his rounds of the area surrounding the weyrling barracks, making sure that none were sneaking out when they should be sleeping. The wherhandlers were supposed to be doing that while they were on duty, but he had a feeling that some of them were too lenient on any weyrlings they caught and weren’t reporting anything to him. As good as his batch of weyrlings were about showing up to classes, he doubted that they were perfect enough to obey all of the rules and the curfew was very tempting to break at times. So far since he’d been doing this, he hadn’t caught anyone, but then again, he was only doing it once or two a night. Perhaps he should consider patrolling more often, though that meant interrupted sleep. He could probably get Sel’n in on this. Yes. He’d need to talk to the brownrider about that.
The faint howl of a wher caught his ears, causing I’fael to frown. What was that ‘doth? he asked, though before the brown could explain, Jaxith’s words rang out. Attack? Shards. Immediately, he jumped into action, running toward the barracks. He needed to make sure that everyone was up and in a state of mind to properly defend themselves. He wasn’t too surprised to find that the barracks were already under attack, though seeing an actual enemy made this all the more real. For the first few moments, he’d been thinking that this was all some horrible prank gone wrong played by M’ta or R’wign. He wouldn’t have put it past the two of them. But no, this was all too real.
There was another rider ahead of him, forcing his way through the rear guard and Morendoth was coming around the side of the building, having been laying around waiting for His to finish rounds. The brown was clumsy on land, but he doubted that the dragons above would let him got so much as a foot off the ground before they shredded him to pieces. Being so much larger than a person would be useful as well. The brown could probably take out two or three at a time with his tail if he was careful.
He had a dagger, though didn’t have time to pull it out for his first kill, instead using a fist to the gut followed by a grab and crush of the trachea. Before anyone else had time to jump him, he unsheathed his knife, slicing at a man who’d been focused on getting to F’ur too much to notice anyone behind him. The blade caught him at the base of the neck, slipping between two vertebrae and severing the spinal cord quite nicely. A clean kill and probably one of the few. I’fael doubted that he’d have many chances to attack first.
Morendoth let out a roar as he charged at those crowding the door, head lowered and teeth bared, fully prepared to snap up the first attacker that met his mouth. His tail lashed out angrily behind him in an attempt to knock down any in his path as he ran through the group of attackers. He could feel the sting of steel on his hide, but none of the wounds felt deep. He wouldn’t be able to do this for long, but hopefully one or two passes would disorient them enough to make it easier for His and the others to take them out. He just had to hope that none of the dragons above chose to swoop down at him. He was defenseless to an attack by air, especially with no firestone.
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Post by nightingale on Apr 15, 2009 19:42:03 GMT -5
Quickly mine. Frossyth calls us to the front lines. Ke'rin fastened his belt into place overtop of his sleeping tunic, taking half a moment to check the dagger at his side. Still sharp, probably because until now he'd never had a reason to use it for anything more dangerous than slicing meat. The boy could feel Lamb's anxiousness pressing at the back of his mind. Hers was not going to fight them, was he? He was going to stay safe? Kei offered her no resposne one way or the other, opting instead to simply flood her mind with affection and instuctions that she was to stay out of sight. She would be safe so long as she kept out of reach, and that would help to ease his mind.
Jaymith sensed his rider's readiness before he voiced it, and pressed the door of their room open with his shoulder. Garaeth, you will come with me. He instructed his smaller clutchbrother, peering down the hall to where the fighting had begun. Stay behind the browns and myself. Protect the greens. Mine, please be careful. The young bronze arced his neck back toward the interior of the room, fixing Ke'rin with whirling orange-gold eyes that spoke of more ainxiety than he would ever put into words. His rider nodded gravely, laying a tender hand against his gleaming hide. "You too Jaymith. Keep them safe." Jaymith snorted once, then charged down the hall with a thunderous battle-cry.
"Come on T'ke." Kei's voice held the solemn, quite tone it usually took on when things turned ugly. "Lamb will take care of Akyo. We need to get behind the dragons." He waited for the bluerider to step outside and followed quickly, closing the door behind them.
BADPEST FRECKLE MAUL KILL BAD MAUL BAD KILL BAD!!! "Shardit Freckle, get off of him right now! You're too small to fight them!" Frosstyth is calling to us Mine. I will go to him and make sure that you stay safe. "Cherilith no, I'm coming with you!" You are a healer my Saeo. You must stay unharmed so you can help the others. 'N high she shoots too air 'n light, a bob allow delay! Now 'eardly power bind her flight or shadow dim her way! "Baby stop it! This isn't any time for singing!"
Elle shot between Cherlith's legs as the blue nudged the door open, vanishing into the throng of paniced weyrlings to find some great adventure among the raised voices. The blue was out moments after, Freckle clinging to one of his ear knobs like a shreiking electric-green banner. Saeo wanted to call him back, but at the same time she knew that a dragon's place was on the field of battle. She only wished that it was Thread they were up against. "Cherilith, don't you dare let that sharding twit of a brownrider get himself killed!" She called hurriedly after him, her voice cracking with stress as Beau mewed from atop her pillow, seeming more curious than worried by all the commotion. Baby clung to his humanpet's neck, watching with naive curiosity as she pulled on her slippers and grabbed for a cloth bag sitting next to her bed.
"Raylin? Please keep me from doing something stupid." Saeo picked up her splintered wooden training-sword from it's place underneath her bed and tossed it to the greenrider. "Sorry to pull rank on you, but I need you to stay close to me and direct anyone who gets themself injured to the back ranks where I can treat them. Bash in the skull of any Benden rider who come too close, alright? You always were the better swordsman."
So many afternoons spent on the riverbank, practicing their blocks and joking about the say they would be able to put their newfound fighting skills to use against enemy riders and jungle felines. Saeo had never wanted it to come down to this. Not once.
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Rowana
Hive Mind
Handler Roivao Rider G'tor Rider Merridan Rider T'ke Rider N'rik Handler Porita Rider Farryl Rider Kyr'n[/color
Posts: 1,550
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Post by Rowana on Apr 15, 2009 20:04:22 GMT -5
Farryl's eyes shot open and she rolled off her cut, landing on her hands and knees. Attackers? Where? Everything seemed so quiet. Almost too quiet. Farryl-mine! Peppeth's eyes were bright yellow with fear. What is happening? Sounds of struggle could be heard from outside now. This was no drill. This was real. Farryl reached for the knife she kept under her pillow. She hoped she had the strength to use it. This wasn't going to be like fighting off felines.
Stay calm, Peppeth she ordered. We need to stay together and find the others. Tille and Hobbs raised worried heads from their places curled up on her bed. They seemed to sense something was wrong. Both fluttered to her shoulders, crooning anxiously. Mikka slept on. Farryl doubted anyone would be looking for a feline anyway. She was too busy with more important things.
There was no time to dress more appropriately. If they didn't move quick, they might be trapped here and Farryl had no intention of being killed so easily. She moved quickly over to the other cot in the room. "Morea?" she whispered. How could she still be asleep? "We have to move. Now!" Wide, panic stricken eyes met Farryl's. Morea wasn't asleep, but simple too frightened to move. Farryl grabbed her arm and dragged her out of bed. "Stay with me," she went on, hoping she sounded more confidant that she felt. "We have to get out of here."
Heith was the larger of the two greens, so she poked her head out first. As much as the weyrlings hated seeing their dragons in danger, they were much better equipped to defend themselves. Farryl smelled the copper tang of blood and her heart jumped into her throat. Were they too late? But no, the crumpled body in the hall didn't belong to anyone she knew. Farryl breathed again.
Peppeth and Heith raised their heads as a brown form came barreling down the hall. Peppeth and Heith are with you Frosstyth! the small green called, though her voice trembled slightly. Farryl looked behind the brown for C'oar, but couldn't see him. She didn't have to ask Peppeth to relay the question, she asked for her. Frosstyth! Where is Yours? Worry laced her voice. It was not safe to leave one's Own alone!
~
T'ke's eyes were wide as he tumbled out of bed with a surprised thump. Attackers? Here?! Now?! It was like a nightmare come true. T'ke stared at Ke'rin. At least his roommate seemed to have a calmer reaction to things, but what were they going to do? They couldn't possibly engage trained fighters. The full riders would never reach them in time! They would be trapped like rats in a hole, picked off one by one. By Faranth! They were all going to die!
Garaeth's mind touched his. Even now, with danger imminent, the blue was calm. His eyes were green with only a hint of yellow. Do not worry, T'ke he assured. We will protect you. No one will die if we can help it. T'ke swallowed his fear and nodded. He felt sick and wobbly. He wished he had more of Garaeth's confidence and his belief that everything would turn out alright. I must go with Jaymith. Take care. Be safe, Garaeth. As much as T'ke complained about him, he couldn't bare the thought of anything happening to his dragon. Garaeth ran after Jaymith, as silent as the bronze was loud.
Once the dragons were gone, T'ke looked to Ke'rin and nodded stiffly. He wished he had some kind of weapon, but even if he did, he doubted it would do him much good. He followed Ke'rin outside and braced himself. Where were the invaders? His eyes darted about through the gloom, half expected men to pop out from every shadow. Shards! He needed to calm down. He was no used to anyone in his panicked state. The best thing he could do now, was stay close to Ke'rin and stay alert. There was safety in numbers, even if it was a small consolation.
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Rei
Administrator
Rider Cr'oph Rider Er'ani Rider Elysia Rider/Healer Erilena Wherhandler Sydney Holdbrat Emitre Holdbrat Dileina Weyrbrat Elias Weyrbrat Terilyn
Woooo~ I am a fox!
Posts: 3,021
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Post by Rei on Apr 15, 2009 20:49:18 GMT -5
Ebolath gave a keening cry and nuzzled hers, confusion and anxiety the predominate emotion in her whirling jewel faceted eyes. Attack? Why would they attack. People are getting hurt. Where is My little one is he ok? Without waiting for her rider’s answer she reached out and touched Corinth’s mind. Corinth? Are you ok? There are mean people here. They are trying to hurt us. We are trapped. What is going on? Her voice was layered with confusion and anxiety only made worse by the fact that hers was determined to fight. Mine is going to help them get rid of the intruders. What if she gets hurt? Mine no come back! With that the green deftly severed her connection with the bronze.
The small green barreled after her rider as Raylin began to follow Saeo. Grabbing Raylin by the back of her shirt Ebolath succeeding in stopping her departure. Mine do not go! I do not want them to hurt you. I don’t want you to go back to the black.
The green weyrling sighed and gently stroked the greens jaw. “I promise I won’t leave you Ebolath but we have to help people ok? If we don’t fight back we will all go to the black. I know your scared but you can be brave. I know you can. I've seen it. remember when you went after Jaymith? Your strong you protected me then. Now you can help protect not only me but everyone else as well.” The woman suffused her words with as much love and adoration as she could and the green’s eyes slowed their frantic whirling. Crooning to her rider she released her shirt and rumbled.
Ok Raymine I will help. But only if you promise not to go to the black. I promise love. Now lets get out there and drive these thread lovers out of our home. The green snorted and charged out into the hallway with her bonded to join the fray.
Unfortunately it took the pair a few moments to find Saeo in the commotion but eventually they found her. Keeping close to the blue rider Raylin kept the practice stick at ready as Ebolath went to join her clutch siblings.
Clutch siblings. We must repel the thread lovers to keep ours from the black. Bolstered by her riders words and clam demeanor Ebolath snarled and lunged at a intruder snapping his neck with a well aimed swipe of a taloned foot.
Vega swung out of the chaos and gave a shrill scream before diving at a rider aiming to strike Ebolath from behind. That was his sister. Wheeling around Ebolath smacked her tail into the man sending him flying into the wall where he crumbled to the floor. Looking up at the flitter she gave Vega a soft croon. Little Brother go find ours. She will need you. With a chirp of agreement Vega whirled around to navigate the clustered hallway.
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Post by ladybug on Apr 15, 2009 21:48:47 GMT -5
A'fyr jumped out of his cot at the blue's call, heart pounding a mile a minute. He wasn't even thinking, his instincts taking control as he grabbed for his knife. The knife was not meant for fighting. He used it to cut through vines and such when he went gathering. But it was sharp nonetheless. Rudolth! he cried, reaching out to the brown, who awoke in an instant. I will protect you, A'fyr! I won't let them get us![/color] the normally uncertain dragon declared, growling.
NONONONO KILL KILL KILL![/color] Beauty's screams were a battle cry as A'fyr started out the door and came face-to-face with a Benden rider going in the other direction. A'fyr reacted instinctively, plunging the knife into the man's heart. The rider fell in a spurt of blood. For a moment, A'fyr had a sense of ruthless satisfaction, but then it hit him.
I just killed a man! Oh my...Rudolth! A'fyr stared down at the bloodied corpse, growing pale. He felt dizzy and his knees started to buckle. GO GO GO! NO BE STUPID![/color] Beauty climbed up his arm, digging her claws in and bringing him back to himself for the time being. Rudolth nudged him gently from behind.
She is right, for once. We must join the others.[/color] Together the trio went to find the other weyrlings, heading outside. A'fyr held his belt knife tightly in his hand. Jaymith! What should I do?[/color] Rudolth called out to the bronze, identifying him as the leader. A'fyr, meanwhile, hurried over to Saeo. "Can I help you? I'm not good at fighting, so maybe I can do something else." The blood on his knife attested to a different story, but A'fyr was sure that was a one-time fluke.
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Requiem
Weyrleader S'rei WM M?ta Rider A'nd Harper/Handler Dmitri Weyrbrat Miguel
Posts: 2,861
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Post by Requiem on Apr 16, 2009 4:50:21 GMT -5
Trilyanth? In place. The brown. Got him covered. Now? Hold... Crouched around the curve of the barracks, the small, pale-haired man spoke so softly it was difficult to hear standing right next to him. "D'men, Chelise, Cr'ost, F'sh." He jerked his head, indicating the direction they were to go. "R'fei, Misha. Thirty seconds and follow. S'ilt, K'tint, Mir. One minute. Go." They moved around the barracks and out of sight.
His colorless eyes focused on the remaining riders, a hand raised as he rose to stand with his back to the outer wall, waiting. Bring them out. The men and women began to retreat in the face of the dragons' ferocity - men and women from the enemy Weyr. Not dragonless. No. These people were so inept as fighters, so malleable that, even with their dragons, they put up no resistance. Said dragons were hostage at F'rel's Weyr right at this moment, compelling the captured riders into a half-hearted combat. F'rel had no problem with using people as fodder, but he prefered them to be someone else's 'people.'
The four eased through the feeding chamber and down the hall, waiting until the dragons moved a little forward to press the attack on the retreating captured riders. They crept past the dragons and ran for the halls beyond, the next two sprinting down the hall and launching themselves at the nearest of the green dragons. One hamstrung her as the other thrust his blade through her throat, all before she even knew she was being attacked. Ichor puddled on the ground as the creature collapsed soundlessly. The last three entered into the common room and took up position in the center. One dragonrider - each of them one of F'rel's - took up position at each hallway. It wasn't a wide hallway, and they'd be able to fight off the little brats indefinitely. That wasn't F'rel's plan, however.
He was, at heart, not a wasteful man. Old riders were useless, but weyrlings...they could be taught. And caught. Two girls were plucked from the barracks in the commotion, the three riders at the center of the room joining the two who had slaughtered the green to keep the dragons at bay as Saeo and Raylin were dragged back through the feeding chamber. Even before they were yanked out into the night, two dragons slashed past Morendoth, claws seeking his wings. It was the third dragon, the one that followed on their tails as they whirled to apparently attempt a second pass, that was the true danger. He descended upon Morendoth's back with his not unconsiderable weight, snarling at the weyrlings still within the barracks. Trilyanth's neck arched, jaws gaping, his intent clear. But he spoke anyway. Mine would like your attention, the bronze stated coldly. If you value this...filth...you will tell your riders to stand down and listen.
Flanked by the seven riders he hadn't sent into the barracks, F'rel gestured four toward the rear guard that was folding, continuing with the last of them to stand within sight...but well out of reach...of the young dragons. He nodded to his second. Two riders were brought forward, older riders. Cezine. E'ri. F'rel turned and slashed the throat of the woman without a moment's hesitation, the blade circling round to split E'ri from groin to navel in a single motion. The bronzerider thrust his hand into the man's abdomen before the scream had even ended, yanking out a loop of entrails and tossing it carelessly on the ground. The bluerider was allowed to fall into his own spilled juices. F'rel's cold eyes moved to the young dragons. "A shame humans are so weak, isn't it?" he commented, as if he was having an everyday conversation with friends in the dining hall.
That's when his two riders brought him Saeo and Raylin. While two men moved to hold Saeo, F'rel took Raylin by the hair and fastidiously wiped his bloodied blade on her cheek, the blade sliding down to rest just behind her ear, beside the jugular. "Have you learned your lesson, or do you need another demonstration?" We want all your riders out here. Now. You stay. Any dragon crosses the threshold, Mine will slash her throat. If you take too long, he might just get bored and do it anyway. Oh, and tell Yours we'd like to see him, brownie, Trilyanth added to the dragon beneath him.
***
F'ur was grateful for I'fael's aid...even if the Weyrlingmaster was the only one aside from the shadowy figure at the edge of darkness. Really. You'd think people would be more forthcoming. He noticed the difference immediately as four others ran up, his eyes narrowing. Real fighters, these, just by their demeanor. The bluerider flicked a glance at I'fael, then froze at the bronze's words going through his head. He narrowly avoided a blow that would have taken him in the temple and lashed out with a kick at the man's ankle.
A glance back into the darkness showed that the knife thrower had vanished, probably into the trees. F'ur stepped back uncertainly, watching for any aggressive moves from the enemy before him, but they just stared at him with equal stillness and vigilance.
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Post by dragon on Apr 16, 2009 9:11:25 GMT -5
Frosstyth was quite pleased with the reaction he got from his clutch siblings. They responded well, dragons moving forward, coming into the main hall and protecting everyone inside. Only problem was, his own was still forward of the dragon barrier.
Facing backward - for the moment - of the main dragon barrier, Frosstyth saw the riders sneaking in and past ... and hamstringing his sister. He roared, low and loud, lunging at them. But the press of dragon bodies around him was too great, even as he tried to bound over them. Too late to save his sister ... and far to late to rescue those that were Cherilith's and Ebolaths. Mine! They have -! He roared again, his impotent fury, as he struggled to untangle himself from the other dragons. Sliding down off them, he lunged forward, into the hall toward the feeding cavern.
I know. I see. Hang on.[/b] C'oar's response was grim.
He stopped there, though, roaring after the retreating riders. He hated to admit it, but he valued his own life over that of two of his siblings. That, and his own had ordered him to not under any circumstances go outside. So all he could do was stand there in fury as the enemy hauled off with the two girls.
He turned back to the group. Jaymith! The feeding hall! Cover it for me! I must get to mine! Frosstyth called. The bronze should be sufficient to do the task, while the rest of them covered the expanse of the main hall. The enemy would not be coming and going by that route again!! The burly brown stayed in the hall, blocking it, for as long as he could stand, waiting for his bronze brother to respond. And then he was off again, back into the main cavern. His needed him!
C'oar repelled another attacker, this time with a swift up-swing of his sword-shaped staff. The blow shattered the man's jaw to peices and sent him reeling back outside again. He didn't know how long he could block this entrance, but he sensed he shouldn't for long. Soon, they'd come in force, and he'd be pinned. And pinned was not what he wanted to be. He wanted to fight, he wanted to rescue his friends. And he certainly didn't want to danger Frosstyth.
Keep the line tight! C'oar ordered his dragon, tersely. Keep them together, keep them fighting. Don't let anyone else through! He could feel the anger, the sorrow. It was both his own, and Frosstyth. The stolen girls, the dead green ... He took a deep breath, focusing his brain. He couldn't afford those emotions. Anger would blind him, make him irrational. Sorrow would weaken him. He needed to be strong, now more than ever. And as such, he stored the feelings in the back recesses of his mind, and bolstered his dragon.
He fought off two more attackers, gravely wounding them both, before a third managed to slip past all of C'oar's defenses and sank a knife into his thigh. C'oar yelled, and backhanded the rider with his staff, sending the man reeling. The tip of the knife had grated on bone, he'd felt it. Yanking the blade out of his own meat, C'oar sent it sliding across the floor with a toss - across the floor and under the dragon ranks and beyond. Where any Weyrling could pick it up. He started backing away as his attacker advanced again, aware he was outmatched. He held the man off with another chest-level swing of his sword-stick, and then a feint with the knife. He shoved the girl he'd been protecting earlier into the dragons, and yelled. "Run! Get to the others!" And then parried another swift set of attacks from the dragon man. Two more knives went spinning out across the floor, but more seemed to materialize in the man's hands.
Shards! How many was the creep packing?!!
One more cross-wise slash with his staff, and then C'oar lunged backwards, into the throng of weyrling dragons. He tucked his weapons and arms in close, and rolled sideways for all he was worth, trusting the dragons to not stamp him into a goo. And as such, he came back to his feet behind the line.
The rider, over confident, had lunged after C'oar, but in the process got his arm bitten clean off with a grisly crunch by one pissed off Frosstyth. MINE![/b][/color] The brown thundered, spitting out the metalic-tasting knife-weilding arm. Arterial blood spurted and spattered from both the arm and the remaining stump. Tough as the man was, he couldn't withstand a drop in blood pressure like that, and he promptly passed out.
Frosstyth lowered his head, and bit that one's head off, too. He'd not be getting up again! And then he reinforced the line again. Stay together! Hold the line! Don't let any of them pass! Jaymith, you need me, you say so! Frosstyth never seemed to realize that by default, Jaymith should have been the ones giving the orders. But between his own's orders, and the insane need to do something the brown stepped forward into rallying the troops into a cohesive force.
They had stolen Saeo and Raylin. They would not be getting any more.
behind the dragons, C'oar stuck his knife in his teeth, propping his staff on his side as he reached for the nearest cloth item. Tearing a strip off it, he wrapped it twice around his thigh, and fastened it with a secure knot. It soaked through with blood quickly, but it would at least hold the wound closed. And allow him to fight again.
Lurching to his feet again, C'oar tested his weight on it. Restoring the knife to his hand, and the staff in the other, he looked at the dragons for a moment, and took a breif respite on what to do next, even as a few more enemy became seriously maimed on weyrling teeth. How to get Saeo and Raylin back? There was no way he was going to let the enemy steal his friends. No way at all, not for the love of little green dragons.
He jammed his knife into its usual concealed spot inside his clothes, and snatched up the other one, the one he'd discarded a moment ago. He had a feeling he'd need it.
Behind him, Frosstyth faltered. Mine, they are demanding you go outside. I think they're threatening to kill Ebolath's.
C'oar blanched slightly, at that news. Shards. Now what? Well ... it appeared there was nothing for it. He looked around a moment, made sure his own knife was well hidden, as it usually was, and then made his way forward, carrying the stolen knife and his staff. They could not expect him to drop his weapons. Not when putting both his and his dragon's life on the line.
He made his way to the entrace of the barracks, and stopped there, not really willing to put himself in biting range of those other dragons. Witnessing Frosstyth's ability there really made him appreciate what a full grown dragon would be able to do to a man's body. Standing tall with a stony gaze for the attackers, C'oar was aware of the cool night air suddenly chilling his own sweat and the blood soaking both his skin and his trousers. Some of it his own, most not.
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Avu
Weyrleader Ce'thian Rider A'emi Handler Sena Harper Matteo Weyrbrat Riaren
Posts: 2,439
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Post by Avu on Apr 16, 2009 12:18:26 GMT -5
Selenitas, be ready for the attack! Benden is here!
"WHAT?" T'rid blurted loudly, jumping to his feet and nearly stepping on Dinner, who squawked and flinched sideways. One of Corinth's wings came down upon the hen, muffling her squawks into silence, as the bronzerider's eyes sweeping the skies. Unfortunately, due to the fact that they had taken advantage of the cool night air to escape the weyr and come outside -- though armed, with a dirk of sixteen inches, just in case more of those stupid felines showed up -- the treeline had more or less covered the sky from view. Corinth, outside, unmoving as he perched like some boulder among the other rocks near the river, crooned in low agitation, gaze flickering towards T'rid as the young man squinted warily, glancing at the bronze as he unsheathed the knife, flicking a quizzical glance at Corinth. "What do you think? Felines or men? I'm pretty sure felines are the smarter, hmm?" His eyes narrowed faintly as he tried to make out anything, any motion. For once silent, all four of his pets -- brown, blue, brown, and red -- slid around his feet, Stupid's tongue flicking out quietly. Not, the brown Salamandyr commented quietly, frill flaring half-heartedly.
Corinth? Are you ok? There are mean people here. They are trying to hurt us. We are trapped. What is going on? Mine is going to help them get rid of the intruders. What if she gets hurt? Mine no come back!
The bronze dragon's head whipped up sharply at Ebolath's call, and a low, distressed noise rumbled in his throat. Ebolath. Ebolath's. TranslatorMine -- yes, he was still using that nickname, though why it was appropriate had been forgotten. He just liked it, used it without thought -- They are fighting, and Mine, if you must, try not to come back to me sliced in ribbons like you did last time. Please. An -- STUPID! The bronze's mental cry came simultaneously with T'rid's, as the smallest streak shot away from his side, darting and slithering through the grass towards the Weyrling Barracks. Stupid, come back! T'rid protested, and, without further contemplation, took off after the Salamandyr. Is MY 'LATH, boom mean! The threat was broadcasted as far as he could manage, and as he slithered around the corner and then darted through the legs of the Riders, the brown skidded to a stop just in front of Saeo and Raylin, planting himself firmly between them and the mean one.
The Salamandyr's head froze, his body quivering in anxiety as his gaze went from Raylin to F'rel. Pointed shiny! Stupid normally wouldn't have cared -- but it wasn't Raylin he was fond of; it was Ebolath. MEAN issa MY 'LATH, BOOM, he threatened loudly, frilling as he hissed at F'rel. Not quite the epitome of articulate, but the message wasn't a hard one to understand. 'Lathpet, 'lathpet stupidmine runnin', boom means? the brown added to Raylin, flicking his tail at her as beady eyes flushed and whirled in rapid shades of anger. How dare the big meanie try to hurt his Ebolath's pet? The images and feelings were all being channeled (albeit unintentionally) back to T'rid, and the bronzerider ran still faster, quietly cursing every rock he stumbled upon.
Ebolath, hold on. Mine is coming. The bronze dragon had coiled himself up into a tighter ball, as agitated and helpless as he had been during the feline attack. He was no fool; if Benden was here, they wouldn't have left the air unsecured. Any dragon who flew, would die. And Corinth wasn't trained for aerial battle, except for, courtesy of Wing Drills, the most basic defensive twists. He could feel Conspiracy and Mir yearning to chase after Theirs, but he firmly repressed them -- something he could not do for Dinner, who took off after her eggchick, wings flapping in indignation. But she couldn't -- wouldn't -- catch up to him. Not in time. As T'rid stopped, half-concealed by trees, his eyes flitted first to Raylin and Saeo, and then to F'ur and his four. Instinct said to go for F'rel, but there were too many Riders between himself and the Weyrsecond. And he didn't know how he could possibly hack his way through all of them. F'ur, though -- was a transfer from the North. Maybe he could. Problem, though, was the four Riders.
"Wish me luck," the bronzerider muttered, and then darted out of the trees. His tackle caught the nearest Rider around the knees, the momentum sending both of them falling, the assumed-Benden Rider twisting and hissing as T'rid, his hand still clutched around the hilt of his dirk, thrust the knife upwards, seeking the slice the other's stomach open. He missed -- not entirely, because he definitely hit something, and, fortunately, the blood staining the knife and the ground did not belong to him. But it wasn't the stomach. It was...the Rider's howl of pain, his curled-up position, hands clutching his pants -- the insane desire to laugh hysterically bubbled up in T'rid as the bronzerider rolled to his feet, bouncing backwards to keep his back away from the other invading Riders.
"Sorry," he commented cheerfully to the Rider, who was still curled on the ground, face pale. "Tripped...we really must have those rocks removed, y'know?"
Trilyanth's voice in his head made T'rid twitch visibly, gaze flickering towards F'rel and his captives. He didn't personally recognize either of them, but Corinth's hiss of anxiety in his mind made it clear they were Selenitas Riders. He froze, swallowing, narrowing his eyes uncertainly. Before he could so much as consider his options -- keep fighting, or split and run, were as far as he'd gotten -- both Riders were dead, E'ri's intestines spilling out of him courtesy of F'rel. Normally, he would have felt vaguely nauseous, but nope. Human guts had nothing on feline's guts, especially when they weren't smeared all over you. The bronzerider's -- Weyrsecond's -- grabbing Raylin for a...hostage situation, of sorts, however, drew a low hiss from T'rid, who instinctively fell backwards a step, eyes narrowing as he mentally sought out Corinth.
Wait. Wait for a distraction. He'd kill her before you took a single step. I can't go anywhere. Too many Benden Riders. It's still the only chance you have. I might be the cause of her death. If you don't go, you'll almost /certainly/ be the cause of her death...
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Post by topaz on Apr 16, 2009 15:22:19 GMT -5
C'vin and Mallowth both were very sound sleepers, so the wher howls barely stirred the pair. However Jaxith's invasive announcement jolted the blueweyrlings out of cot and couch. C'vin honestly thought the whole thing was a joke at first, and quickly hurried to the nearest window to look into the sky. Although the night was dark, the wings hovering above were still terrifyingly visible. Plus, from turns and turns of watching the dragons of Selenitas, C'vin could tell that these were not their dragons. His mouth hung open for a moment in shock. Was this really happening? Shards!
C'vin whirled around to realize that his roommate was also up now and looking as worried as ever. "Come on." He said firmly as he ran over to his trunk, burying his arms in it. "Find a weapon. You have a belt knife don't you?" Feeling a hard object midway down in his trunk, C'vin pulled out his own knife, and unsheathed it for inspection. It had only ever been used to cut meat for Mallowth, so it was in perfect condition. "Let's go. Stay behind me." C'vin was not trained to fight by any means, but his adrenaline was pumping and he felt that when the time came to defend himself and Mallowth, he would know what to do. He hoped.
Mine! Mine, I am scared! Mallowth was a nervous wreck, but C'vin tried hard not to let those panicked emotions spill over into his consciousness. Mallowth, my love. We must defend out home. We are under attack and we have to protect your clutchsiblings and Theirs. Do you understand? You have to calm down. Mallowth seemed confused but he nodded his head and stayed close to C'vin's side. Creeping cautiously out of their room, C'vin came face to face with an intruder. The blueweyrling ducked as the man raised his knife, but no blow came. Only a feral screech and a loud thud. Straightening himself, C'vin looked to the floor to see Mallowth frantically clamping his jaws down on the man's neck. Mal.. The man was already dead from the first bite, but Mallowth was in a desperate frenzy to keep His safe, and nearly decapitated the corpse. Mal! That's enough! He threw his arms around the blue dragon's neck and pulled him away, all the while sending him loving, grateful feelings for doing such a good job at defending him. "It's alright Mal. You got 'im." The blue crooned loudly into C'vin's chest, but his attention was wrenched away as he heard both Frosstyth's and Ebolath's calls to fight. Muzzle and claws covered in blood, Mallowth started towards the common room where the real action was. Mine, we must go. You said we have to protect them! Yes Mal. The weyrling was slightly shocked at the ferocity that had come over his innocent dragon, but he was grateful for it.
They headed down the corridor and Mallowth immediately charged up and launched himself at an unfamiliar silhouette, bringing the man down and nearly taking his head off again. The neck seemed to be his favorite attack spot. Mine. I must go with Frosstyth and my other siblings. Okay, go. Be careful. You too, Mine And with an affectionate croon, the bloodied blue weyrling left to bolster the line that Frosstyth had mentioned.
C'vin was lost for a moment, but then out of the corner of his eye he saw Raylin and Saeo being dragged away into the adjacent feeding chamber. His heart stopped. They were taking prisoners?! What in Faranth's name for? He had figured this was a search an destroy sort of thing not . . . a negotiation. As the four figures melted into the darkness of the corridor, C'vin followed slowly, trying his best not to be detected. Unfortunately, one of the younger male intruders had seen him, and came up behind the boy. Hearing the footsteps on the sandy stone floor, C'vin quickly turned around, brandishing his knife as frighteningly as possible. The young man was not phased however, and lunged at C'vin, knife aimed at his heart. C'vin was expecting an attack though, and dodged the fatal blow, just barely. The attacker's knife slid parallel across the left side of C'vin's chest, getting underneath his light tunic and slashing a seven inch gash. It wasn't dreadfully deep, but it hurt C'vin yelled in pain, but quickly shut his mouth and gritted his teeth. No need to draw any more attention to himself.
In a stroke of luck, the attacker's knife and hand had gotten caught within C'vin's shirt, and punctured a hole through the shoulder of the fabric. When the man tried to pull his arm back for another attack, he was caught. This slight distraction gave C'vin enough time to plunge his own knife into the man's stomach, pushing him up against the wall for added trust. The man's face was a mixture of shock, pain, and hatred, as he slid down the stone surface to the floor. Removing his blade, C'vin disentangled the other man's weapon, and stuck it in his belt loop. Two knives were undoubtable better then one. For a moment, C'vin stared at the corpse. He had killed a man. It was a strange feeling. Just a moment ago there were two consciouses in the corridor, and now the blueweyrling was all alone. Well, not completely alone. MINE! C'vin smiled. He had almost forgot about his dragon! I'm okay Mal. Just a little cut. Satisfied with that answer, and the feelings radiating across their mindlink, Mallowth turned his attention back to the fighting at hand. C'vin could now feel his wound bleeding, and he reluctantly pulled the tunic off of the corpse before him, ripped it into the right size, and pulled it flat across his chest. He made sure to knot the makeshift bandage at his back, away from the wound. C'vin could feel the already dark fabric soaking with his blood, but there was no more time to dwell on it. Raylin and Saeo were in trouble.
Sneaking his way to the end of the corridor, C'vin found himself confronted by a horrid scene. A man lay dead in a growing pool of blood, intestines spilling out of his abdomen. The blueweyrling quickly looked away, but only then saw a bronze perched roughly atop Morendoth. Then there were Raylin and Saeo. Revealing himself from the shadows of the archway would be suicide for sure. But he couldn't just left them hurt his fellow weyrlings! What in Faranth could he do?!
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Rowana
Hive Mind
Handler Roivao Rider G'tor Rider Merridan Rider T'ke Rider N'rik Handler Porita Rider Farryl Rider Kyr'n[/color
Posts: 1,550
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Post by Rowana on Apr 16, 2009 17:03:13 GMT -5
HEITH! Peppeth's cry made Farryl's blood run cold. Morea's eyes had gone wide and glassy and he mouth opened in a silent scream. Farryl caught her as she crumpled to the floor. She looked up widely to see the young green topple in a pool of her own blood. Farryl felt sick. It didn't take a dragonhealer to realize that Heith wasn't going to get back up. Peppeth was wild with panic and she started forward without thinking. Heith! Can you hear me?! Say something! Please!!
Peppeth stop! Farryl ordered sharply. Peppeth halted instantly. Farryl breathed again. She could only hope that the murderers would not see Peppeth as a threat so long as she didn't move forward. But Farryl-mine... Peppeth begged. No. Farryl was firm. You can't do anything to help. Stay here. Realization hit Peppeth hard. Noooo! The tiny green gave a piercing, mournful cry that echoed throughout the hall. Farryl winced and prayed to Faranth that no one would violently force Peppeth to be quiet.
Morea stirred in Farryl's arms. She felt so cold and so empty. Where was Heith? She couldn't leave without her. "Heith..." she whispered faintly. "Don't...go. Don't....leave me." Morea's eyes were glazed and unseeing as she reached out for something she could not find. Her beloved Heith, where was she? Darkness called to her, the cold space of between. Yes, Heith was there. She would followed. They would always be together. Forever.
Tears marred Farryl's face. Morea's body had gone still. Her eyes stared lifeless at the ceiling. Why? WHY?! They hadn't even done anything! And just like that they had.... Farryl couldn't bear it. These men would pay. If she had anything to do with it. They would pay with their lives! Farryl! Ebolath's and Cherilith's are...! Farryl's head jerked up in alarm, just in time to see Saeo and Raylin dragged forward. One of the men held a knife to Raylin's throat as Peppeth's stammering, fearful voice relayed the strange dragon's message.
Farryl's knuckles went white around the hilt of her own knife. She felt hot with fury. No one was going to touch another of her friends. No one! Farryl stood without hesitation and stalked forward. So the murderer wanted them to come forward? Fine! Let him face her if he dared. A small part of Farryl's mind knew she would be no match for him or any of his fighters, but she didn't care. She had to keep him from hurting anymore of her friends. If she could do that much, she didn't care what happened to her.
Peppeth grabbed Farryl's shirt and tried to tug her back. No! He is a bad man! Stay away! I know, Peppeth, Farryl's voice was unusually hard and cold. Let go. Peppeth whimpered, but did what she was told. Farryl relented and added, in a more soothing tone, I'll be alright. Go to Cherilith and Ebolath. They will need you the most right now. Peppeth crooned one last time and trotted over to nuzzle her clutch siblings in comfort.
Farryl walked out in front of the dragons, as F'rel had ordered. "I think we get the point," she said, hoping she sounded more confidant than she felt. Now that she was actually faced with it, she felt sick with fear. This man could order me killed in a heartbeat, she realized, and not even bat an eye. She swallowed. She couldn't turn back now. Saeo and Raylin were depending on her. Besides, this was nothing to facing the river everyday.
~
T'ke hung in the back behind Jaymith and Garaeth. He could see what was happening through his blue, but he felt helpless to do anything about it. It was probably dumb luck that no one had attacked him directly yet. He was sure it wouldn't last. His mind raced, trying to grasp all that had happened. Heith was dead. Morea too, by the look of her. There was nothing to be done about that, so he dismissed it.
Saeo and Raylin were the more immediate problem. If they could just get them back behind the line of dragons, they might just be able to hold out until I'fael and T'rid could help. Then they could attack from two sides. It would still likely be a slaughterhouse. Cornered, these men were likely to be even more dangerous, and they were still far better trained and organized than they were.
Even if he didn't acted it most of the time, T'ke was actually very smart. So long as he could keep his infernal pessimism and panic under control, he was sure he could come up with a plan. Unfortunately, there wasn't time for him to calm down and his brain wasn't used to working under such stressful conditions. Time. It all came down to time. They needed to buy a few seconds of time.
T'ke touched Ke'rin's shoulder gently to get his attention. "If we had a distraction. Could Jaymith and Frosstyth charge in and pull Rayling and Saeo out?" The two larger dragons should be at less risk than sending Ebolath and Cherilith. Not that anyone would be able to stop them if they wanted to try. It was still a horribly dicey plan and a lot could go wrong. It also relied on having a distraction, which T'ke didn't have the faintest idea how to create. But it was all he had, so he decided to see what Ke'rin thought.
In the mean time, though, it seemed the best plan was to do what he said. No else but Farryl seemed to be doing it and T'ke didn't want Raylin to die just because his classmates were insubordinate and slow. He inched forward tentatively. He stopped just past the line of dragons, in front of Garaeth. He wasn't as close as Farryl and could dive back at a moment's notice. If he didn't just trip over his feat and fall on his face. Knowing his luck, it was just such a thing that would end his pathetic life.
Garaeth watched the scene in front of him with tense concentration. He trusted T'ke to know what to do. His was smart. He would find a way to help. For now he had to hold the line with his brothers. And try not to think of their dead sister, lying nearby. Garaeth kept his gaze fixed on T'ke. His was only a short distance away. Garaeth would not let anyone touch him! He had promised it would be alright, and he intended to keep that promise.
~
G'tor cursed. He had tried to reach the barracks as quickly as possible, but clearly it hadn't been fast enough. Shards but these men were prepared! They already had the entrance covered and the weyrlings barricaded in the back. G'tor could not see past the invaders, so he could not tell if any of the young riders had been hurt or killed. He only knew that their leader had Raylin and Saeo out front in what was clearly a hostage situation. A big bronze dragon even had Morendoth pinned down. It was all expertly done and it would not end without bloodshed.
Let me come, Tor! Ruskeath's voice growled angrily. I will teach them to touch our Weyrlings! Calm down, Rusk. It startled G'tor to hear his dragon so riled. You know you'll never reach us. I could swim up the river. the brown suggested. G'tor sighed. And don't you think they might notice a new floating island going by? Don't try. Please. Ruskeath relented grumpily, but he couldn't help a parting shot. Star got to go. What good is she?
Star was curled around G'tor's left index finger. She had been asleep, but woke at once when Hers had started leaving. No way was he going to escape without feeding her! She certainly wasn't going to let him out of her sight until she got a hearty breakfast as consolation for waking her up. Invaders were nothing to her. Only an annoyance that interrupted her feeding schedule.
G'tor figured it was useless to try and be sneaky. He wasn't good in a fight, so even having surprised wasn't likely to help. He had a knife on his belt, but he just didn't have it him to draw it. He knew he probably wouldn't have a choice before long.
Making a quick decision, G'tor skirted around the edge of the stand off to reach T'rid's side. He might not be weyrleader anymore, but he was the closest they had to a leader right now. He didn't say anything, and stood just behind and waited. If T'rid had a plan, he would need help. G'tor would do what he had to to help the weyrlings. He watched the scene with apprehension and groaned when he saw Farryl. What was that girl thinking?!
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Rei
Administrator
Rider Cr'oph Rider Er'ani Rider Elysia Rider/Healer Erilena Wherhandler Sydney Holdbrat Emitre Holdbrat Dileina Weyrbrat Elias Weyrbrat Terilyn
Woooo~ I am a fox!
Posts: 3,021
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Post by Rei on Apr 16, 2009 17:45:43 GMT -5
Raylin stood behind Saeo eyes flitting here and there as she strove to distinguish friend from foe in the chaos. How had these riders gotten past their dragons? Bringing her stick up to swing at the rider in front of her she was kicked in the knee from behind. As she pitched forward the stick was ripped from her grip and she was placed in a strangle hold. No matter how hard she fought, squirmed or bit the man would not relinquish his grip on her. Struggling to keep herself from panicking she caught a glimpse of Saeo having a similar battle. She was not alone, but for some reason she desperately wished she was. before she had time to come up with a means of escape she was handed off to another man who roughly yanked her forward by her hair. Not good.
Ebolath swung her bloodied head up and gave a scream of anger as she felt panic flood the mind of hers. Whirling around, the green dashed down the hallway, careening into anything that stood in the way to her rider. As the small green made it to the threshold she stopped sides heaving. It was not F’rel’s words that made her stop but rather a unspoken sharp command from her own rider. Ebolath stay. If you come any closer they will hurt you, and possibly me as well. Please love just stay. I’m sorry darling. The greens red eyes suffused themselves with yellow as she gave a keening cry. Oh mine. I am sorry. The green's words held so much pain and sadness that it drew a tear from Raylin. Do not be sorry my darling. It is not your fault.
No it wasn’t Ebolath's fault, she should have paid better attention. It was her own fault, and now she might die and Saeo as well. As the bronze rider wiped the blood stained blade against her cheek Raylin trembled, although she fought against it. The cool steel against her throat was a very unwelcome sensation and the green weyrling feared to breath to deeply, lest she cause the blade to bite into her own skin.
As Raylin’s mind frantically tried to devise an escape, a familiar voice sounded in her head and caused her to search the area to the best of her ability. MEAN issa MY 'LATH, BOOM, 'Lathpet, 'lathpet stupidmine runnin', boom means? Raylin flinched as the rider tightened his grip on her hair and she did not answer the salamandyr. Not that she didn’t want to, she just couldn’t at the moment. If the wyerling opened her mouth she was almost positive she would scream, and that was something she did not want to do.
Ebolath, hold on. Mine is coming. Corinth's words did little to comfort the distressed green and Ebolath gave another keen. They already have mine. They will hurt her. They will send her to the black. I have failed again. Why can I not protect mine? The green trembled from head to toe, breath coming in short gasps from her headlong flight, and eyes locked on the man that held her rider.
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Post by nightingale on Apr 16, 2009 20:48:03 GMT -5
For a moment Saeo was alone in the dizzying chaos that had enveloped the weyrling barracks, but then she found a wall to press her back against. Raylin was at her side shortly thereafter, lending a welcome sense of security that helped her to focus on the world around her. First on the agenda was A'fyr, who had somehow managed to forget his rank and was requesting directions from her. "None of us are any good at fighting." She offered miserably, shaking her head back and forth. "Just keep everyone toge-" A sudden jolt of pain that was not a product of her own circumstances lanced up the girl's thigh. Cherilith, are you alright!? I am alright mine. My leg is only sore. I can still fight. Shards...shards! WHY was she so USELESS?!
Even as she felt the tears of frustration stinging in the corners of her eyes, the girl was suddenly snatched up in a pair of arms that were strong in all the wrong ways. She screamed, determined that it she was going to die she would take a few eardrums with her, but instead of death she received only a sharp cuff upside the head. The vision in her left eye darkened suddenly. Somewhere in the distance, a bell was ringing. Mine! My Saeo, I am coming! The vaguely familiar sound of a young blue dragon screaming in fear. Saeo fought weakly against her captor as the man half carried, half dragged her across the common room.
Jaymith! Mine and Ebolath's are captive, we must help them! The young blue keened his panic, using every shred of willpower he had to keep from breaking the back ranks and charging off to rescue his rider despite the fact that she was already gone from sight. Hold your position Cherilith. They will only be harmed if we attempt to take them by force. Rudolth! Mallowth! Cover the hallway to the feeding grounds. Frosstyth, is yours safe now? Do not run out on your own again. We are only safe if we stand together.
Of course, no self respecting salamandyr was going to take orders from a dragon. Freckle was already spattered with human blood, the scarlet liquid a grim contrast to the yellow and green of her hide. Now she flung herself from Cherilith's forehead, landing in a puddle of blood with an audible 'splat'. MINE MINE MINE MINE MINE! BADPEST MINE NOT NOT NOOOOOOOOOT!!! FRECKLE BOOM! PEST BAD KILLPEST! Da little queen a golden flew hissin at da sea! To stop a wave, her clutch to save, she venture BRA-VE-LEY! The children's ballad made absolutely no sense, but it was the angriest song that Baby knew and the infant mandyr sang it with such malice ringing in his ear-splitting voice that it was impossible for his displeasure to go unnoticed. The little blue had been knocked flying when Hispet was seized, and now he skittered after her, determined to rescue her from the bad pestthing that had taken her.
Baby came to a stop inches behind Stupid, instinctively taking the brown as an authority figure who would help him in rescuing hispet. He reared up onto his back legs, flaring both his wings and frill their very widest so as to seem as frightening as a two inch high creature could. Freckle was not far behind her brother, a grating shriek of anger surging from her throat as she fixed her spinning red eyes on F'rel. BAD PESTBAD KILL MAUL KILL BADPEST! MINEMINEMINEMINEMINE!!! As she attacked 'a sea in rage, a holderman came nigh! Along the san', fishes in hand, a saw da queen midsky!! Neither of the tiny creatures was willing to leave until theirpet was safe.
Ke'rin-mine, they have killed Heith. Two of our riders are also dead. Yes Jaymith, I know. Morendoth, Ebolath's and Cherilith's are being held captive. What shall I tell the others to do? Just hold the line for right now. I need to think for a minute... Ke'rin closed his eyes, pressing both hands against his forehead as he tried to shuffle his thoughts into some sort of readable order. They should have known better than to leave the feeding room unguarded...but then they would still have had Morendoth...but then why had they have bothered to take Raylin and Saeo captive if they already had I'fael and his dragon? Shells, this was Benden they were dealing with. There was a good chance that after they surrendered, the blue and green riders would be killed anyway. There was a catch. This was a trap and no matter what he decided, they were going to march right into it.
"A distraction?" The boy's eyes fluttered open as he felt a warm hand on his shoulder. He considered T'ke's suggestion briefly, then shook his head. "No, they'd have Raylin's throat cut open before Frosstyth took one step. The girls aren't real people to them. They're just bargaining chips..." Mine, you must decide. ...Tell the dragons to hold their formation. Have them call their riders forward, but only far enough for them to be visible. Keep Cherilith and Ebolath far at the back. Frightened dragons make poor decisions. I'll be with you in just a moment. Trusting Garaeth and the other dragons to pass on the relayed instructions, Ke'rin gave T'ke a small nod that desperately wanted to tell him everything was going to be okay, then moved toward the weyrling dragons.
Threading his way between this tail and that foreleg, Ke'rin stepped free of the living barricade and moved slowly into the center of the hallway. He kept his hands at the level of his eyes to make it obvious that he did not intend to reach for his dagger. As soon as he was near enough, the boy grasped Farryl by the shoulder and eased her back a step, placing himself squarely in front of her. "Alright, this is all of us." He said, slowly and clearly so as to fake a calmer mindset that he was in. "One person to each dragon, minus the girls and our wounded. That's four dragons left unaccompanied. What do you want us to do?"
Translation: how many of us are going to get out of here alive?
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Post by weaving on Apr 16, 2009 22:36:06 GMT -5
He’d been expecting some sort of attack from above but had been hoping it would occur later rather than sooner. Of the first two to descend upon him, he managed to avoid one, though the other tore through his right wingsail like a knife through butter. The brown cried out in pain, though it was cut off shortly as a large weight descended upon him, pinning him to the ground and knocking the breath from his lungs for a moment. A turn of his head allowed the brown to see the dragon who sat on him. It was a bronze and not one of Selenitas. Tail flicking in anger, the brown reluctantly admitted that he was, at the moment, rather useless. Even if he tried to escape, they’d only kill the two weyrlings they held captive and Trilyanth would be able to easily snap his neck in two before he got so much as one wing free. His torn wing was leaking ichor, though the pressure of the bronze on top of him had slowed the bleeding somewhat. At least something was going right.
Immediately after Morendoth was pinned, I’fael had frozen, unwilling to do anything to risk the life of his bonded. Beneath his tan he’d gone pale as he noticed the captured weyrlings. His weyrlings. Saeo and Raylin. As if that weren’t enough, two riders were brought foreward as well: Cezine and E’ri. They’d been weyrmated, if he recalled correctly. Just as that thought flashed through, F’rel ruthlessly cut them down, causing Morendoth to utter a low keen. It would be the last time he’d here that voice, he was certain. Many more would die tonight, and he wasn’t foolish enough to think that they would all be Benden lives.
Are you okay? Don’t move. We’ll figure out something. Do I look okay? I’ve got a fatty sitting on me. I don’t think I could move if I wanted to. The words caused I’fael to roll his eyes at the brown, though he didn’t move otherwise. If Morendoth was still making jokes, there was hope. There might not be much, but some was better than none.
Oh dear. Apparently fatty’s rider wants to see you. Don’t let him sit on you too! He looks just as fat as his dragon. The joke was weak and meant to cover up the increasing worry that Morendoth was feeling for I’fael. He didn’t want F’rel anywhere near his, especially with that knife and they had no reason to keep him alive, meaning that the chances of using I’fael for another ‘demonstration’ were high. His was angry as well, angry that the one time I’fael really needed his protection, he was pinned to the ground by a tub of lard masquerading as a dragon. Be careful. He added, though he was certain that his rider already knew that. He watched with panicked eyes as slowly I’fael stepped forward to meet the bronzerider.
“You asked to see me?” He asked as he came closer to the attackers. It was pointless trying to stay out of harm’s reach seeing as there were Benden riders everywhere but he kept his distance from F’rel nonetheless. He highly doubted that he’d been called forward to have a lovely chat about the weather.
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