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Post by topaz on Apr 16, 2009 22:43:29 GMT -5
Mallowth stopped short at Jaymith's instruction and rushed his way to the feeding grounds corridor. That's where His was! Mine! I am coming! Me and Rudolth are coming. They have stopped fighting. C'vin breathed more relaxed now, and waited for his blue to come around the corner. They had stopped fighting. That was a relief. But Saeo, Raylin and Morendoth were all still very much in trouble. What would they want in return for them?
When Mallowth came into sight, C'vin grinned. The blue was not seriously hurt. A few cuts and scrapes here and there, but nothing that needed attention right now. Mallowth bumped up against His, rubbing his blood covered muzzle across the boy's stomach and arm, making sure to avoid his chest wound. C'vin caressed his dragon's jaw. I'm alright. Just stay here now. They want the riders out in the open. Mallowth crooned softly, reluctant to leave his weyrling's side for even a second now that they had been reunited, but he let His go.
Stepping out into the open, C'vin went over to stand next to Farryl and Ke'rin. Seeing the the bronzeweyrling had sheathed his weapon, C'vin did the same, if somewhat reluctantly. It didn't seem right to retract his only means of protecting himself, but there was nothing he could do with it now anyway. It was negotiation time, and the blueweyrling watched the foreign riders, waiting for their demands.
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Post by ladybug on Apr 17, 2009 12:37:29 GMT -5
Suddenly, Rudolth let out a harrowing keen, eyes whirling with a sorrowful gray. Heith has been killed,[/color] he told his rider sadly. Then he growled, red sparking the gray. They have Cherilith's and Ebolath's! The fighting has stopped, but only because of the captives,[/color] the brown told A'fyr, tail lashing back and forth in agitation. Nononono![/color] Beauty cried, echoing her pet's feelings.
"What now?" A'fyr asked shakily, putting a hand on Rudolth's shoulder. Jaymith says to join Mallowth at the end of the hallway to help guard it,[/color] Rudolth said, and A'fyr nodded. Let's go. He swallowed his fear, holding back the panic for now.
We're coming![/color] Rudolth told Jaymith and Mallowth. They moved to the entrance of the hall, joining C'vin and Mallowth. A'fyr greeted the blueweyrling solemnly. "We'll get Raylin and Saeo back somehow. We have to," A'fyr said, partly to himself, partly to the others.
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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 17, 2009 16:09:35 GMT -5
The trees were alive tonight. He divested the corpse of blades, thankful that he'd noticed this man before it was too late. More ammunition was always better. They'd always acted like Benden would be less...prepared...than they seemed to be tonight. It was never good to underestimate the enemy.
Movement, beyond the edge of the trees. His firelizard showed a small figure, definitely not a dragonrider or weyrling. A little further and they might be spotted, if they hadn't been already. His dragon's mind rested quiet against his, anxious but not, at the moment, fearful. The firelizard trilled softly at the figure, and he used the opportunity to sprint forward and capture him from behind, arms wrapping around the boy's torso - girl's? He didn't bother to wonder as a hand clamped over her mouth, his elbows still pinning her arms to her sides as he dragged her bodily back into the trees. A little taller than him, but that was to be expected, his voice low as he spoke. "It's a friend. The barracks are swarming with Benden riders. They've got hostages." When he was certain she wouldn't scream or run, he released her mouth and came around in front of her.
"I'm M'ta." His eyes narrowed slightly. "If we can move silently enough, we might be able to get into a position where we can help. Are you up for that?" Otherwise, he'd give her directions to where he'd stashed Fiona and tell her to stay low. They didn't need any more noncombatants being taken hostage.
***
F'rel was almost amused. Trilyanth certainly was. The bronze settled more firmly on Morendoth, as if the brown was simply a rock he was lounging on. He snapped at the dragon's snout, though his eye remained fixed on the little pathetic dragons in their 'line of defense'. Stupid creatures. They'd die in the end, or F'rel would hand over a few he deemed 'worthy' to the Weyr. Why prolong the inevitable?
Though the Weyrsecond was hardly much larger than Raylin, his grip was iron. The man was a whipcord, and he was Weyrsecond for a reason. He brought his mouth close to Raylin's ear, bringing his right arm around her shoulders and setting the blade against her neck as he drew her back against him. "They don't seem to care much for you, pet. Or that pathetic excuse of a brown your Weyrlingmaster rides. Look how slowly they move." His hand released her hair, sliding over her hip, toying with the bottom of her shirt. "I think they'd like to see this pretty throat slashed."
His eyes flicked briefly to the trio of slug-like mutants screaming at him, but he merely sniffed. Annoying pests. If one got too close he'd crush it, but otherwise they were negligible. Not to mention vastly unintelligible. The first to actually respond to his threat was a girl. He almost laughed. He should have expected as much, from Selenitas. Women had always led the way here, hadn't they? He smirked. No wonder the place was still only barely more difficult to manage than High Reaches. Women had only one purpose in F'rel's eyes, and that didn't include leading so much as a weyrbrat.
He certainly wasn't going to respond to a tiny little weyrlingrider. No, F'rel's eyes simply met hers, the hand with the dagger drawing up and he set it lightly against Raylin's hairline, just slightly to one side of her eye. The rest of the weyrlings seemed to take their cue from her and began emerging. As Ke'rin began to speak, however, he slowly drew the blade down the girl's face, pausing to lick the blood from the blade after the boy's words fell into silence. It was, again, Trilyanth who spoke. Silence. This time he broadcasted to dragons and riders alike. Mine asks you a question, you respond. Every time you speak out of turn he'll remove something. You've been warned. In punctuation, F'rel brought his tongue against Raylin's face, lapping up the blood. He smiled a cold smile, glancing at I'fael out of the corner of his eye.
"You took long enough." You. Riders. Stop hanging out in the back. We'd love for you to join the party. The rear guard parted, apart from the man still clutching at the point between his legs, their eyes still watchful. F'rel didn't look at them. "When they get here, brownrider..." The Weyrsecond nodded to one of the men flanking him, who tossed the man a coil of rope. "...bind them together. Hand and foot." Trilyanth's clawed foot slid closer to Morendoth's face as the command was issued. "Except the one who stabbed L'shen. I've often wondered what makes a Selenitas Wingleader."
His riders waited for F'rel's orders to be obeyed. The bronzerider's gaze, however, had returned to the weyrlings. Not bad, staying close to their dragons. It wasn't going to do them much good in the end... His eyes flicked over them, noting two in particular. Ke'rin and C'oar. He had...special...plans for those two. F'rel's teeth parted in a nasty grin before his gaze flicked toward the men holding Saeo. One struck her, hard, across the face. Brat. The noise was annoying.
***
F'ur knew an invitation when he saw one, his eyes going from the scene ahead to the men surround them in a half-circle, but for that center aisle down the center. He was tempted to ignore the bronze, to slam into the nearest of these riders and tear them apart with his bare hands. If they ignored these threats, yes. Morendoth would die. So would the girls. But...if they gave in, everyone would. His eyes flicked toward the wingleader who'd blundered into castrating that other rider. Yet if no one supported F'ur, it was suicide. Even he couldn't take on four men on par, or nearly as good, as he was. That was ignoring anyone who might come to help and the substandard fighters still standing. Even if the two dragonriders who had joined him, T'rid and another he didn't know, helped, the likelihood that they'd succeed was minimal. It was wasteful.
Then he supposed he'd just have to...go with the flow until a better opportunity presented itself. Feeling much like a sheep entering into the wolf's fold, the man strolled forward, thrusting his hands deep into his pockets and casting a casual glance around, as if he were simply on a midnight walk. He tossed off a wave to one of the men around F'rel, who watched him closely. Was there recognition there? F'ur almost hoped so. Wouldn't that be amusing. Because these people were definitely not those he had fought with for so many turns, and he'd just love to take down as many of the Benden cretins as he could.
One of the four had shadowed him, now thrusting F'ur to his knees. The bluerider attempted to catch I'fael's eyes. If the brownrider could keep the knots just a little loose...
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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 17, 2009 17:14:53 GMT -5
T'rid's eyes narrowed distinctly, a soft, irritated hiss escaping his throat. It was a frustrated noise, more than anything. Dismally, he wished himself as small as Stupid was, to have the ability to slip through the defenses so easily. This was getting nowhere -- Benden would threaten, they would negotiate -- and speaking of which, where in the world was Kaegan?! Millieth could do something. What, T'rid didn't know, but there hadn't been so much as a peep out of the senior queen yet. What could Millieth do? Nothing. She can't order them. Focus. Concentrate. The bronzerider's orders seemed to be largely ignored -- which only drew a spasm of anxiety from Stupid, and, though he wouldn't admit it, a slight twitch from T'rid. But, really, he couldn't blame them. For all they knew, it was their life or Raylin's, and everybody had some sense of self-preservation. Utterly and completely selfless -- nobody was. They'd prefer to live and watch someone die than sacrificing themselves, and knowing Benden, they'd probably kill everyone just for the heck of it anyway. He curled his hand around the hilt of his knife, so tightly that his nails bit into his palm.
Stupid's frill quivered, fully extended, his entire body frozen and trembling as he stared up at F'rel. The man had barely so much as looked at them, and, twitching in shock as Baby and Freckle settled behind him, Stupid hissed quietly. Meaaaans mean, he hissed, conspiratorially, to the other two Salamandyrs (though, broadcasting as he was, it wouldn't work, assuming the others could figure out what he was saying), Stupid blue green yous me, boom means? BOOM hurt make! The brown's speech was hardly intelligible, agitated as he was, his entire body writhing. The desire to bite the bronze riding thing rose, and his frill flicked erratically. But he wasn't stupid, he really wasn't. He didn't want to make the thing mad until Ebolath's (and, therefore, Ebolath herself) was out of immediate danger. Then he could bite and hurt and maul. ...how boom hurt? he added, glance flicking towards Baby and Freckle. He didn't know how to hurt people...except by biting, but that wasn't grand enough.
He could hear Corinth in the back of his mind, could hear, though the bronze, Ebolath's panic. T'rid's eyes slid to the door of the Weyrling Barracks, seeking the familiar, half-grown green. Once he'd found her, she wasn't looking at him, but Corinth was already giving a mental croon, trying to hide his own panic for Ebolath's sake. You did not fail, and Yours will be fine. Mine is there, but he can't get to her now. Wait, wait for a distraction. Ebolath, you can't panic. Yours needs you right now. And then T'rid positively hissed aloud, and had he not been frozen, waiting for the rear guard to make the first move -- he would have raged at Farryl there and then. He really would have. How old was she? Fifteen? What hope did she have of negotiating with Benden's Weyrsecond? She'd get killed on the spot, and then where would they be? -- but she wasn't killed. Just...completely and utterly ignored. Well, honestly? It was preferable to death. A few other Weyrlings ranged themselves, then, and at Ke'rin's words, T'rid mentally calculated. Twelve Weyrlings; with four, and then Saeo and Raylin -- what, there were six Weyrlings wounded? ...ouch.
The blade being drawn down Raylin's cheek, the corresponding blood, made him flinch, aware that Corinth was trying to reassure Ebolath with his presence. This was worse than the felines, if only because of the helplessness. Trilyanth's voice in his mind made the bronzerider blink, and then, mostly to hide his anxiety, he quirked one eyebrow at the watchful rear guard, expectantly, as they moved away, forming a center aisle. That he would be singled out, though, drew an inward shock, and for a moment, he didn't move. I'm going to be killed, aren't I? Umm...yes. Probably. He could feel the bronze rapidly trying to think things through, searching for an alternative and finding none. Go with it, Mine. I'm sorry...I can't help right now... Nervousness twisted his stomach. There would be pain. A lot of pain. He knew it, and his mind had blanked. As F'ur led the way through the aisle, the bronzerider forced himself to move. Sarcasm had always disguised any weak emotions before, and it was almost second nature, now. He barely recognized what he was saying.
"Bit lacking on your studies, aren't you? We draw straws, don't you know that? Losers have to lead."
The words were uttered as cheerfully as he could manage, one eyebrow arching in mock amusement as he followed F'ur, his step as casual as possible. A facade, all of it. The urge to fight until he dropped, or, alternatively (and more logically) to flee, was nearly overwhelming, and his stomach was so twisted that he didn't think he'd be able to throw up if he tried. Which was kind of good, since he didn't want anyone to know that he was quailing away from the inevitable pain. T'rid was willing to bet that F'rel wasn't Weyrsecond because of his flowery glee and easy-going nature, after all, and he'd be no match for the man. Besides, if he pretended nonchalance, it'd probably be a lot more reassuring for Raylin than if he was begging for mercy. Yeah. No. He had his pride, thank you. As he drew close, the bronzerider sheathed his knife, stepping around the other Selenitas Riders as they were bound and forcing himself not to move as he stopped, appraising Raylin and F'rel warily.
Ebolath, Ebolath -- tell Yours that if the man is distracted for even a second, to run. She /must/, or she might not have another chance. Mine will help her as much as he can, but she /must/ try to get away.
Yeah. Being Wingleader? Clearly sucked.
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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 17, 2009 19:11:11 GMT -5
Life had gone from everyday to full of adventure in a very short span of time for Merridan of Hyphen Hold. Only a few days ago, she had been running errands for her father and Meroh. Then, in no time at all, she had been asked to stay for the Hatching at Selenitas. As if that wasn't enough excitement, now the Weyr was under attack! Mer hadn't had much more than a few seconds to grab her dagger before they were rushed outside the Candidate Barracks. She was supposed to go the infirmary or further up river to safety, but Mer wasn't having any of it. She was no weak youngster to coddle, she wanted in on the fight! Unfortunately, she hadn't been at the Weyr long enough to learn her way around. As soon as she pulled herself from the main group, she got lost.
It was probably sear luck that she hadn't run into any stray invaders yet. It was all going to well for her liking. Then an odd noise caught her attention. A fire lizard? The next second someone had grabbed her roughly from behind. With her arms and mouth held tight, it was very difficult to resist, but Mer wasn't going to go quietly. She squirmed wildly, eyes blazing dangerous. Hand clutching her dagger, she started to attempt to stab her attacker. It was lucky M'ta spoke when he did, or else her blade might have found some very sensitive areas rather quickly.
Mer looked him over critically. He was shorter than she was, but he looked capable. She was feeling glad she hadn't stabbed him. That would have been hard to apologize for. Mer nodded and grinned like a wild feline. She twirled her dagger expertly. She wished she had a real sword, but her father had said she wasn't ready for one. Maybe this little venture would change his mind. "Mer," she supplied her name, keeping her voice low. "And I'm more than ready." Despite her show of bravado, Mer had never actually fought another person for real. She was more than a little nervous and frightened. But she wasn't going to let that stop her from helping. What else had she been training for all this time?
~
T'ke wanted to throw up. These men we disturbing the way they toyed with people. There was no doubt in his mind that this was not going to end well at all. It would be a miracle if any of them made it out alive. Saeo and Raylin were probably already doomed. It was clear the leader wasn't going to accept anything less than total obedience. He would have no problem dispatching the girls as a warning or maybe just for the fun of it.
Garaeth's mind still touched T'ke's, trying to reassure him. It will be alright. I will not let them touch you. T'ke didn't trust himself to answer. How could he say he was equally worried about them hurting Garaeth? Just look what they had done to Heith! He knew he was a pathetic rider. If these men were interested in useful prisoners, he was as useless as they came. And what would happen to Garaeth then? T'ke tried to keep his gaze focused on Ke'rin. The fear, not to mention the sight and smell of all that blood, was starting to get to him. He could feel his knees growing weak and his head going fuzzy.
No! He couldn't faint! Not here! Not now! He was dead for sure if that happened. Killed out of hand or accidentally crushed by rampaging dragons, it didn't matter, he would still be dead. Shards! Why did there have to be so much blood? He had to stop thinking about it, or else he really would faint. Or throw up. He wasn't sure which was worse. Neither were a very glorious thing to do before one died.
F'rel's orders made T'ke look up automatically. Bad idea. The whole scene washed over him in a wave of nausea. Raylin's face dripping blood. E'ri's crumpled body in a pool of his own insides. T'rid's hapless attack, clutching his bleeding pants. It was one drop too many for poor T'ke, who grew squimish at even small cuts. He felt his body grow light and his head felt giddy.
Oh...shards...
T'ke! Garaeth cried out in distress as T'ke's eyes rolled back and he flopped bonelessly to the ground. What was wrong with His?! Garaeth started to rush forward, but stopped himself. He couldn't move or Ebolath's and Cherilith's would perish. T'ke was not dead, but Garaeth could not figure out what had happened. He itch to run forward. He had to get to His! He had promised nothing would happen to him!
~
Farryl's eyes narrowed as F'rel's met hers. Though she held was held in his gaze for a moment, she did not back down. Farryl's face was firm with the determination to not to show any fear, no matter how much she felt. Even so, the man had ignored her. That made Farryl even more angry. He clearly had no problems threatening a girl, but he barely registered her existence! Farryl bit back a curt response. Speaking now would only get Raylin and Saeo killed. Besides, Ke'rin had stepped forward now, and F'rel was clearly more interesting in dealing with him.
This gave Farryl a few moments to assess the situation, now that she could see better. It wasn't good. I'fael and the other riders were hemmed in and powerless while the enemy held the hostages. Bound and tied, she was sure their fate would the same as E'ri and Cezine. The thought made her feel sick. They had to do something quick, or a lot of them were going to die. F'rel had already singled T'rid out, and she was sure it wasn't for a pleasant chat about leadership. Farryl's hand clutched her knife. If only they had some kind of distraction.
~
G'tor's face clouded and he tried not to show his concern. In his mind, it was most important to see that Saeo and Raylin were safe. Anything that happened to him was secondary after that. He walked forward with T'rid, bitting back a look of concern that the Wingleader was singled out. This was quickly going from bad to worse. G'tor wished he was more help, but he barely knew how to draw a blade. Even if they had their chance, he was more useless than some of the weyrlings.
Star had scurried fearfully into G'tor's shirt and out of site. A flood of worried pictures invaded G'tor's mind. G'tor only had enough concentration to spare to calm her down a little. Yes, these were bad men. Yes, they were in trouble. No, Ruskeath could not come and squash them. No, she couldn't eat them... G'tor stopped. He had grown used to Star's silly pictures of eating things four or even dozens of times her size. But something Ruskeath had said earlier gave him an idea. Maybe Star could be useful...
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Post by dragon on Apr 17, 2009 21:29:09 GMT -5
C'oar shifted his weight, uneasily, watching all the armed, foreign men standing around out there. And he glared hotly as he could do nothing but stand there and watch as the arrogant son of a wher sliced into Raylin's face. The burly young blacksmith would have loved to launch forward and take the rider on. Man to man. Picking on young women was hardly honorable!!
But he also knew, that if he moved a step towards his friends, the sick sociopath would kill them without a second thought. So C'oar held his ground, hoping to stay thier life a little longer. Time, they just needed time. In time, they could figure out what to do.
They weren't completely cut off from one another. A plan could ba passed, from rider to dragon to dragon to rider. Privately. Not one of the attackers would know. Unless they were a HAD, and C'oar seriously doubted any of them were. They were all men, for one. No one had ever heard of a male HAD.
C'oar watched as T'rid and F'ur came forward. T'rid he really hated, but truth be told, he was glad to see the ex Weyrleader. The weyrlings weren't alone, at least. Who the shards F'ur was, C'oar had no idea. But his knots said rider, and he was apparently Selenitas, so that was good enough for C'oar. Selenitas strength was slowly growing, here in this spot.
And soon, if they all moved as one, they could take down the attackers. Maybe not easily, but it could be done. Hopefully, rescuing his two friends in the process. C'oar's grip tightened on his wooden sword, and waited. Biding his time, thinking hard and fast.
Frosstyth was just as edgy, still standing with the other weyrling dragons, holding the line even still. Even though there was nothing behind him worth guarding anymore, and there were no enemies trying to get past. What else was he to do? He didn't know what to do. So he stood still, like his, and waited.
But the third member of thier little group was under no such constraints. Storm appeared out of no where, and zoomed around the barracks main room for a moment, before vanishing again, into between.
He reappeared outside, screetching and cussing at the attackers. Circling quickly, he vanished between again, just seconds later. Help! He had to find help for his. Had to find help for his...
The bronze flitter reappeared in a random Weyr and searched it for help. Was anyone here?! Surely there was someone here that could help!!
C'oar's face didn't register it, but he wished that Storm had stayed hidden. His hole card was now completely gone. Or was it? Hopefully the flitter was smart enough to do something constructive. For a moment he wished he had a hammer. A hammer he could weild with precision and force. Though he'd never used one as a weapon, he was pretty sure it would serve as one really really well right about now.
He hated browns. He really really hated browns. And now the place was sharding swarming with browns! And all those idiot little blues and greens that were kow towing like obedient little rag dolls. What was wrong with them?! Didn't they see the idiocy of trailing after a bunch of flying dung heaps?!
Kindrith was seething. Earlier in the night, he had left his nice weyr in search of that idiot little brown flitter. Rascal had been up and about, burning his candle at both ends again, and it was stressing on E'yan. Which Kindrith didn't like the least bit. And so he had made his way to the Weyrling barracks to retreive the irritating snot. But just before he reached the barracks, all Benden had broken loose.
And now E'yan was back in the weyrs, helping to co ordinate people there, get things moving in a constructive fashion. The man was no fighter, himself. But organization he could do. Calming people, that he could also do. And Kindrith couldn't go back, to protect his rider. He was stuck above the falls, now.
Oh well. Maybe he could kill a brown, or two. Or ten. Or ... yeah.
Eventually, the vicious blue crept slowly the last of the way down to the barracks - where he could hear all the dragon-speech going on. Dragon speech he didn't recognize. He stopped shy of the clearing, and considered it thoughtfully, unwittingly quite close to where M'ta and Mer were hiding. His attention was focused on the scene before him, careful to stay hidden as well as he could.
He saw two dragons easily spotted. One atop the other. One brown, one bronze. Well. This wasn't quite what he was expecting. He'd expected the stinking brown to be the intruder. But no, that was the bronze! The bronze... the inexplicably arrogant bronze was sitting on his brown!! That just would not do. That brown was his to maul and destroy!
That left nothing for it. He'd have to rescue the brown from the bronze, and then afterward deal with the brown as he saw fit. Arrogant, much? Yes. His name was Kindrith. And though a big blue, he wasn't that big. However, whether he realized it or not, he might be able to free up Morendoth enough to make the brown worth something in the scuffle.
And then he spotted movement, and twisted his head around to point one eye at M'ta and Mer. What were they doing there?? Maybe the not-mines would be useful. You see bronze, there? He asked, carefully sheilding his thoughts only to those two that he could see. It would not do for the bronze or the brown to hear him...
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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 17, 2009 22:35:13 GMT -5
Raylin dimly heard Farryl’s voice through her haze of panic. Her heart was hammering so wildly she swore she could hear each beat pounding in her ears. Still even the frantic pounding of her heart could not drown out the cold voice of her captor. “They don't seem to care much for you, pet. Or that pathetic excuse of a brown your Weyrlingmaster rides. Look how slowly they move."
As he released her hair the green weyrling froze, suddenly scared that maybe he was about to actually kill her. But no. He had only released his grip to allow his hand to explore her. Raylin gave a involuntary shudder as his hand slid over her hip to rest at the bottom of her shirt. "I think they'd like to see this pretty throat slashed." She shut her eyes against the vision of her class mates standing before her, helpless to do anything but watch and obey.
Ebolath’s trembling slowed as a familiar strong voice entered her head. You did not fail, and Yours will be fine. Mine is there, but he can't get to her now. Wait, wait for a distraction. Ebolath, you can't panic. Yours needs you right now. The green gave a heaving sigh and began the process of trying to clam herself.
You are right Corinth she does need me. I will try hard to stay calm for her but I am scared. I believe that yours will not let mine be hurt if he can help it. Thank you. A flare of panic from hers caused Ebolath to whip her head up but instead of crying out in anger she gave soothing croon. Oh beautiful mine. It will be ok. Corinth’s is here and we will save you. Trust me Raymine. I will not let you go to the black. None of us will let you go.
The greens words came just as F’rel settled his knife beside Raylin’s eye. The waves of adoration and calm sent by her green were what she clung to as the steel blade bit into her skin causing pain to flare across her face. A gasp and small whimper where the only sounds the girl uttered. She cringed as her own blood trickled down her neck. It’s coppery scent turning her stomach. As F’rel’s tongue roughly caressed her cheek it was all Raylin could do to keep her legs from buckling. Mine. I am here. Corinth’s is here as well as all my brothers and sisters. We will let nothing happen to you my beautiful Raylin. Trust me.
Again Ebolath became her rock. Raylin clung to the green as one might cling to a life preserver. More orders where barked but Raylin was not in a position to comment or really do much of anything besides tremble. A voice cut through the haze of pain. "Bit lacking on your studies, aren't you? We draw straws, don't you know that? Losers have to lead." T’rid. There was no mistaking the sarcasm in that comment. Yes she was sure it was him. Her eyes flickered to the bronze rider and she held his gaze briefly. Not him too. Please Faranth just don’t let them kill him.
Mine do not be silly. Corinth’s knows what he is doing. Utter confidence the green had in the bronze rider. (For better or for worse) Corinth’s was her friend and she trusted him. Again she felt the Corinth press against her mind this time with a request. Ebolath, Ebolath -- tell Yours that if the man is distracted for even a second, to run. She /must/, or she might not have another chance. Mine will help her as much as he can, but she /must/ try to get away.
Ebolath turned her head to regard T’rid with yellow whirling eyes, although now some green flecks were present within the jewel like facets. I understand. Mine listen if the bronze’s becomes distracted even for a tiny bit you must run. Corinth says you will not get another chance. His will help as much as he, can but you must run. I will be right there with you Raymine. Her comment was punctuated by a wave of loving adoration. turning her head towards hers again she fixed her gaze on F'rel. If she could get her claws into him she would rend him asunder and smash his lowly body into the dirt. Not even scavengers would be able to pick at his remains.
Vega fluttered his wings from his perch in a nearby tree. His mind was in full blown panic and he was unable to distinguish any course of action. He wanted to attack the man holding his. He did. But that oh so big bronze so close kept him frozen in place.
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Post by weaving on Apr 18, 2009 19:17:54 GMT -5
The weyrlingmaster caught the rope deftly. He held it limply, staring at it as though it might burn his hands if he held it for too long. He had to tie his own weyrlings together, effectively sentencing them to death or something worse. The thought sickened him and he silently hoped that a miracle would fall from the skies and save them from this fate or that someone would hatch a brilliant plan, but no such luck. He waited for them all to gather, watching hopelessly as no one went agains’t F’rel’s orders. The stakes were simply too high.
He stepped toward F’ur first, catching the bluerider’s eyes. Nodding would give it away, so he simply blinked. No one had said anything about how tight the ropes needed to be after all and if the small act of defiance got him killed, so be it. He’d rather it just be him that died than all of them. Sometimes you had to think of the whole before yourself after all, though the very thought of it had his hands shaking. He wasn’t ready to die yet, no matter how many others it would save. It was a selfish thought, yes, but probably one that many others had going through their heads right then.
He knelt behind the bluerider, making a show of looping the rope around his wrists and ankles and tying the knots. He’d slipped a few fingers between the rope, hoping it would keep it sufficiently loose while not giving it away to the benden riders. If F’ur could actually do something with the slack he’d given him, it would be worth it even if it got him severely punished or killed. Next, G’tor. He approached the man and bound him the same as he had F’ur, leaving the ropes loose enough to give him some wiggle room if he so chose to take it. Would Benden notice?
Finally, his weyrlings. Sadly, he began tying them up one by one, murmuring ‘I’m sorry’ over and over as he did so. They probably thought him a coward, going along with all this. At least their dragons were safe within the barracks which was more than could be said for Morendoth. The brown huffed as Trilyanth settled his weight more firmly on his, pulling his head away from the bronze’s snapping jaws. He knew that the movement was useless. If the bronze had really wanted to hurt him, there would be no possibility of dodging the blow. He was completely at the mercy of Trilyanth, something that he doubted would end well.
“Hide that knife,” I’fael murmured to Farryl amidst his string of sorries to the weyrlings. “It may be of some use yet.” If they’d noticed her blade, the enemy had given no sign of it. She might still have the element of surprise if she could wiggle free. He’d left the knots on the weyrlings loose as well and Farryl’s wrists were small enough that if she tried hard enough, she could probably slip free. She’d just need to make sure that time was right or it would all be for nothing.
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Post by ladybug on Apr 18, 2009 20:01:40 GMT -5
A'fyr watched in horror, stomach twisting as the man drew the knife near Raylin's eye. He saw T'ke fall to the ground, apparently unable to deal with the sight of blood. A'fyr didn't blame him, but he couldn't have picked a worse time to pass out. Rudolth was silent, almost trembling with fear. The brown was afraid that if he so much as moved, it would have consequences for Ebolath's rider.
The brownweyrling docilely allowed I'fael to tie him up. He knew the Weyrlingmaster was just following orders. The knots weren't very tight, although he still wouldn't be able to wiggle loose. Maybe Farryl would be able to, though. A'fyr tried very hard not to look at her, as if a glance would draw the Benden rider's attention to her.
He had been holding Beauty tightly to restrain her, but with his hands tied, he had to let go of the 'mandyr. Beauty dropped to the ground, actually quiet for once, and started to skitter away. A'fyr hoped she was going to hide somewhere, but instead she was heading right into the fray. Beauty...no! Come back! He wasn't sure if she could understand his thoughts, but there was no way he could speak out loud.
Beauty was smaller than most salamandyrs and her brownish color blended in well with the ground. Thus, she thought she had a good chance of going unnoticed by the Benden riders. She slunk slowly past the weyrlings and towards Raylin's captor. When she was close enough, she darted forward and lunged at the man's ankle, teeth bared as she went in for a bite. Bite (hopefully) achieved, she started to run away.
A'fyr stiffened, bracing himself for what he thought had to be an inevitable loss. There was no way she could be fast enough. Stupid salamandyr!
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Post by topaz on Apr 18, 2009 20:15:32 GMT -5
As A'fyr rounded the corner with Rudolth, Mallowth happily grazed his snout along the larger brown's jaw. He kept quiet though, aside from a barely audible croon. Theirs would be okay, right? They had to be. Ooh, he just wanted to tear into those bad men, he did! And he would! Whenever it was he got the chance. At A'fyr's solemn comment of encouragement, C'vin allowed a shadow of a smile to grace his lips as he turned to nod at the brownweyrling. Yes. C'vin couldn't see it ending any other way. Or at least, he wouldn't let himself think of any other way.
Silence. Mine asks you a question, you respond. Every time you speak out of turn he'll remove something. You've been warned.
C'vin's eyes flashed back to the bronze atop Morendoth for only a second before they settled on F'rel and Raylin. C'vin snarled slightly as the bronzer cut into his fellow weyrling's skin. Removing things? C'vin silently tensed and watched the knife F'rel held closely. There was no doubt the man was being honest.
You. Riders. Stop hanging out in the back. We'd love for you to join the party.
At that comment, C'vin turned to see T'rid, and another rider he was not familiar with walk out into view. T'rid. Their ever competent ex-Weyrleader. At least it looked as if he was able to grasp the severity of the situation and was keeping his mouth sh . . .
"Bit lacking on your studies, aren't you? We draw straws, don't you know that? Losers have to lead."
For Faranth's sake! C'vin let out a soft whine of dismay and disbelief. T'rid was out of his mind to make jokes when so many lives were at stake. Quickly turning to see how the enemy bronzer would react, the blueweyrling held his breath. Didn't he just get through saying he would be removing things if anyone spoke out of turn?
Suddenly there was a thump and a figure crumpled nearby. T'ke! What happened? He, fainted? Well, it certainly wasn't the most graceful thing to do in such a situation, but maybe the Benden riders would leave him alone. Being unconscious an all, he wasn't much of a threat.
When the bronzer instructed I'fael to bind everyone's hands and feet, C'vin was slightly surprised. Wouldn't it make more sense to have one of his own men to do it? Did the bronzer really think I'fael would tie his own weyrlings and riders up so they could not escape? Either way, C'vin wouldn't complain about the Benenite's possible oversight. As I'fael got to him, C'vin could see the sadness in the man's face before he even began his chorus of sorrys. The blueweyrling offered a halfhearted smile and a slight shake of the head. It wasn't his fault. Besides, it was better he tie them then a Bendenite, for sure. Mallowth crooned softly at His as he was bound, but there was nothing more he could do.
Then, as C'vin returned his gaze to Raylin and Saeo, something caught his eye. It was a . . uhm . . .oh! It was someone's salamandyr! Roughly retracing the critters trajectory, it looked like it had come from A'fyr, now tied up nearby. Now . . . what was the little brownish thing doing . . ? Uh oh. It was heading straight for F'rel. C'vin knew that this would end badly, for either the 'mandyr, or worse yet, Raylin and Saeo. As if he was entranced, C'vin watched the little 'mandyr scurry up to F'rel's ankle and, bite him! She was smart to run away immediately after, but what would happen to Raylin now? Surely the man wouldn't hurt her because of a . . . oh wait. Scratch that. He probably would, the sharding Bendenite . .
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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 18, 2009 20:31:00 GMT -5
Farryl barely reacted as I'fael whispered in her ear. She wasn't so sure that F'rel hadn't notice her knife yet. If he hadn't, it would be useful later. If he had, he could only order it taken from her. Carefully, praying that no one noticed, she slipped the knife into her pants as I'fael tied her hands behind her back. The metal was cool and sharp against her skin, but small cuts would be worth it if this worked. She could feel that the bonds were loose. She would be able to squirm free if she had the chance. If only she could get that chance.
~
As, I'fael tied him and the others, G'tor tried to focus on what he wanted the his little salamandyr to do. Star was smart, but she was also single minded. If this worked, he would feed her the sweetest meats for the rest of her life. If the bad men won, then no one would get food ever again. Star's eyes glowed red with anger. No food?! These were very bad men! G'tor back her last image with his idea. Surely she wanted to show everyone how she would eat the bad men? Star raised her frill and hissed silently under his shirt. Yes! She would show the bad men! Teach them to keep Hers from food! Teach them to keep her from food!
Tiny, mute Star would not go unnoticed that night. With a storm of angry emotion she projected her image to everyone in range. See! She was huge! Bigger than Ruskeath! Big enough to eat all the bad men! Giant Star roared, frill and wings fanning in anger and eyes blazing red with fury. She squashed several men in her rage and chomped messily on several others. See! That would teach them to starve her! She would eat them all! And their dragons too!
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Tashe
Shiny Hoarder
Weyrwoman Kaegan Dragonhealer E'rro Rider K'thay Woodcrafter E'iah Healer Raylanne Healer Ithanna Harper Zemaren [color=0BDA5
"When the Butterfly emurges, does the caterpillar no longer exist?"
Posts: 1,401
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Post by Tashe on Apr 18, 2009 23:57:04 GMT -5
He was not happy. Not happy at all.
Shoving his feet into his boots with a sort of finality, the Brownrider stood up with a growl and adjusted his belt. If those Benden scum thought they could take Selenitas as keep it, they had another thing coming. They apparently forgot the last time, and the time before that, when they had tried to finish the Southern Weyr off. /Quickly mine, quickly. To the Weyrling Barracks! I will tell Hokth’s that you are leaving, so go quickly!/ Thanks my friend. Moving out of his Weyr, F’rah stalked down the hall to wait for the young Bluerider to arrive. They had decided before that if something happened, they would work together, having known each other since the time of her Candidacy.
/Rainmine. Styth says his is leaving... You must let me go with you! I can fend off other Dragons! Just let me co--/ NO. You are not getting your way. I have F’rah, you would only get killed. Think about it. You against a Bronze, not going to happen. Stay here until I need you. Shoving her various daggers and knives she had into their allotted space, one in each boot, one on her wrist and the other at her waist, the Bluerider didn’t bother to close any of the drawers she had opened. Dashing out the entranceway of her Weyr, Saraina made her way around the assembling Dragonriders and slid down the stairwells. It took her two flights of stairs and bumping into five people to get her to where the Brownrider was waiting for her.
“Lets go.” Motioning as the Bluerider appeared, F’rah led them through the lowest level to the farthest entrance. “Stay close and be alert.” They had to get across the River and to the Barracks, but getting there was going to be a problem. The two riders made their way to the river, slowly making their way up the shore, moving into the trees as they neared the closest part of the jungle. So far they hadn’t seen anyone yet, though around every large tree there could be an invader. They had to get above the Weyrling Barracks, so that they could use the river to get to the sunning beach and then enter the tip of the northern end of the trees there.
---
Moving quietly, F’rah tensed slightly as he heard the gentle pop of something coming out of the Between, turning to glance over his shoulder at the source. He had to strain his eyes to see the Flitter, but the way Saraina acted toward it was enough to ease his qualms. It had to be one of her two Blues, probably the younger one because of his unusually dark color. Resuming his progress, the Brownrider divided half of his attention to the forest and the other half to the attack at hand. There was likely to be many men in the surrounding woods, so they had to be careful as to where they went exactly. Pausing on top of a large root signaled the Bluerider, dropping down the small ledge that had been concealed, F’rah waited until she leapt down behind him. They were making progress, but not as fast as he thought they could, it was then the Brownrider realized how little he had actually been in the woods on foot. He sighed mentally, feeling the stress he had been trying to hold back starting to slowly seep into his shoulders.
Flinching slightly as Saraina’s flitter passed silently by his head, F’rah watched Scipio as he rose to the underbelly of the canopy. The Blue’s movements were slow and slight, showing that his owner had probably told him that if he got caught it would be a bad thing. It was a good idea, having the dark male scout ahead of them, he could alert them if there was somebody a head of them. Casting the younger Rider a glance, the Brownrider motioned toward the river, they were getting close to the point at where they needed to cross.
Moments passed before F’rah lead the way toward the river, looking away from his path only to watch the Firelizard land on a branch near the treeline. He wasn’t looking forward to going into the river, but he knew he had to, luckily they could use the currents’ flow to conserve energy. Holding his hand up as they reached the edge of the forest, the Brownrider swept his eyes along the shore, making sure there wasn’t any members of the opposing party. After making sure the coast was clear, F’rah made a dash to the river, hesitating for a moment before leaping in. Immediately he felt the current press against him, trying to drag him down and back the way they had just come. Adjusting his strokes, the Rider struck out for the opposite coast, letting the current slowly drift him downward.
---
Using a momentary break in roots to check the sheath strapped to her wrist, the Bluerider jumped slightly as a form suddenly appeared before her. It didn’t take her long to realize exactly who it was, barring her teeth at the Blue flitter in response. Offering her arm as a landing place, Saraina felt Scipio crawl up her arm and perch on her shoulder, his claws biting gently into her skin. She was unhappy that the Blue left the watchful eye of her Dragon, but she couldn’t do anything about it now. Halting as the Brownrider paused on top of the root, Sara replaced him on it as he disappeared out of sight, leaping down after him. Wincing as she landed on a twig with a snap. F’rah was already moving off, as she followed his pace silently an idea struck her.
“Scipio. Scout ahead. Bad guys are out there, so don’t get caught.” Despite how she acted toward her pets, the Bluerider loved them more than anything, and as a result she tended to play games with them. Her flitter knew what she meant by bad guys because of the games that they played, and just in case he didn’t grasp it entirely, she sent him pictures from her memory. Watching as he crawled down her arm, Saraina offered him a smile before he took off, knowing very well that it was likely that one of them if not both, could get hurt... Or worse.
Looking up as F’rah signaled a change in course, the Bluerider kept alert, scanning the surrounding woods for movement. She stopped short of running into the older Rider, making note she needed not only to watch around her but in front of her too. Dashing after him as he ran toward the river, Sara leapt in at the same time, gasping as she surfaced because of the temperature. She began moving toward the other side, knowing that if she dawdled, the cold would only effect her sooner. Striking out her arms, she momentarily caught sight of Scipio as he sped by, hugging the surface of the water in his attempts to blend in the best he could. Hopefully they’d reach the side soon.
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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 19, 2009 3:16:43 GMT -5
A brow rose at her grin, and on his face…amusement? It was just a flicker behind dark eyes, a twitch of the lips that might have been nothing more than the imagination, especially in the black night. M’ta nodded once in silent approval. To say that he thought a smile and a pretty little spin of the dagger equated to competency was frankly ridiculous, but she had spunk, and that counted for much. The brownweyrling had a tendency to assume that these southerners were…well…mostly untrained. And he’d had little reason to question that assumption. In this case, though, he really just could use someone to watch his back and sound warning, and as long as she stood her ground she’d serve that purpose well enough.
And M’ta was under no illusions. He might be better equipped than the majority of the people by those barracks, but those dragonriders would easily slay him if he got close. One at a time he might be able to handle simply because his experience was street experience and he probably wouldn’t react like they’d expect, but…more than one and he was dead.
“We-“ Before he could even begin to hash out a plan, a voice sounded in his head and he visibly jerked, spinning swiftly on a heel with Mer at his back, blades drawn from their hidden sheathes in the time it took him to whirl around. Another second and he huffed, sliding the blades back into place. It had all happened in less than three seconds, and he stood staring at the blue for the longest moment…or at least what he thought was the blue. The shadows were thick. “Yes,” he responded sharply, keeping his voice low. “The bronze, the Wingleader, the swarming dragonriders and the Weyrlingmaster tying all the kids up.” Not that he was much older than them, but M’ta had a tendency to view all southerners as young. “Do you have a point? We’re kind of busy here.” And, frankly, a dragon was useless. That should have been clear by what happened to Morendoth; this blue would either be torn apart or crushed into the ground, too. Probably the former, since his rider wasn’t there to blackmail. Or was he? Impossible to tell.
**
Really? F’rel spit to one side in disgust. No wonder. No sharding wonder. That tall weyrling had actually fainted from sheer fright. If this was an example of what Impressed at Selenitas, he was frankly shocked they hadn’t been brought to their knees before now. It wasn’t all that surprising, really, he just…hadn’t thought the stories were completely true. After all, stories rarely were. Part of him wanted to show the coward something to actually be afraid of, but this was business, not pleasure, so the kid could lie in the dirt for a couple minutes. Probably in his own excrement. How utterly disgusting. What dragon would Impress to that?
He didn’t bother to watch I’fael. Trilyanth was keeping an eye on things, not to mention his riders and the dragons in the sky. They’d all trained and worked together for a long time – F’rel had handpicked every single one, after all – and Trilyanth was filtering through a constant influx of reports from the others, the most important passed on to F’rel. Such as the stabbing of L’shen, the loosened knots I’fael was even now tying, and the two people making their way up the river. In fact, right at this moment three of the thirteen F’rel held in reserve near the treeline were making their way toward the river.
No, his primary focus was on T’rid. Rider of Corinth. Former Weyrleader, and the man he had to thank for the stunning success this night. The man was an utter fool. He proved this still further as he opened his mouth. F’rel didn’t respond to him directly. He lowered his mouth to Raylin’s ear again, the hand at her shirt sliding up beneath it, fingers splaying over her stomach. The fluttering of rapid breathing made him smirk. “Does he think Trilyanth’s words don’t apply to him? Quite the arrogant little shit. Or maybe he just doesn’t care if I start cutting you up, sweetheart.” He blew lightly on her ear, his hand suddenly sliding out from beneath her shirt and grasping her wrist with the swiftness of a striking snake. The jerk that brought her hand before his mouth also caused his blade to bite into the skin of her neck just a little. F’rel bit down hard, jerking his head and flinging the severed finger at T’rid…her ring finger.
Licking the blood from his lips, his eyes fixed on this Wingleader. “Apparently…” he commented drolly, “…you weren’t the only one to draw the short straw.” A sniff of disdain. It seemed to be a signal of some sort, because one of his men stepped forward and slammed a fist into T’rid’s gut. “I should thank you, really. You’ve been quite helpful to us…letting the poisonings continue this long. Have you always just waited around for traitors and spies to tell you what to do, or is that something you started after Corinth caught the dead gold? I’ll bet I won’t even have to threaten Morendoth to get I’fael to take care of you. What do you think, Weyrlingmaster? He castrated L’shen…I’d say an eye for an eye is fair enough.”
He was growing tired of this game. The weyrlings and riders were bound. Trilyanth had Morendoth, which meant F’rel had I’fael. And T’rid was helpless with so many around. Shards, he was virtually helpless all on his own. Three. Three he wanted. C’oar. C’vin. Farryl. They were young enough and fierce enough to perhaps make worthy additions to the Benden complement of weyrlings…if they valued their lives and didn’t choose to throw them away. Of the rest, only I’fael and F’ur were worth their weight in scrap parchment, but he had no use for old riders, much less Fort riders. He’d keep them a little longer, though. One to use him, the other because…well, he’d lost enough to F’ur’s old wing to like to see the man suffer. F’rel gave the nod, and his riders advanced on those marked for death, daggers rasping from sheathes.
One even went for T’ke. He bent over the blueweyrling, grasping the unconscious boy by the hair.
A shame, really, that he had to kill this little mouse, though. He would have enjoyed her, F’rel thought. Something suddenly pricked his ankle, and at the same moment the image of a gigantic white salamandyr flooded his mind. Trilyanth growled audibly, claws digging in to Morendoth’s shoulder out of reflex, the bronzerider’s knife hand lowering for a moment as he blinked away the strange stream of images. His men had similarly frozen…
**
The three who had been shadowing the progress of F’rah and Saraina from the river also stopped, briefly confused by the image leaking from their dragons. It was quite unexpected, and one stepped on a twig, the sound echoing loudly in the temporary quiet between keening dragons and dying screams. She suddenly burst into a sprint, not waiting for the swimming Selenitas riders to react.
The other two wingriders were right on her heels, all three hitting the water at a running dive. She and a man about her size made for the larger of the figures, while the last man, one of medium build, swam for Saraina. The goal? Take them out swiftly. All three had been chosen precisely because they were strong swimmers, the woman diving beneath the surface and snagging F’rah’s legs as her companion slashed at the brownrider’s torso with a knife. The third put Saraina in a crushing chokehold and dunked them both underwater, his legs wrapping around hers to keep her from breaking free while she struggled.
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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 19, 2009 12:31:08 GMT -5
Sel’n gripped his knife tighter from his position in the jungle. He had quietly climbed a rather large tree where he could watch without worrying about being seen from the ground. As he watched I’fael tie up the weyrlings he bit his bottom lip. Damn it Kaaoloth. They’ve already got the weyrlings. A flicker of movement caught the older rider's attention, and he looked down to behold what he knew to be M’ta (not very many people he knew where that short) and some other person.
Slowly the ex Fort rider made his way to the lower branches and hopped down onto the ground. “Hold lad. I’m not Benden.” However the boys attention was already grabbed by another form. The glowing eyes marked it as a dragon. Nice. Useless in this case. However perhaps his rider was close? A voice in his mind made him start. Mine I can’t get to you but I have fire stone. I know it’s a long shot but I am going to offer it to the fire lizards. Perhaps they can do something.
Sel’n ran his hand through his hair. Go ahead Kaao but don’t broadcast to everyone. Try to keep it to the owners of the lizards, that way they can pass the message on. Checkoth, Ciceroth , and Corinth's riders have a few. I’m not sure who else has more than one. Be careful my friend and only use one sack on the lizards. Eat the other yourself, and for Faranth’s sake don’t be stupid. A mental huff was all he got in response and he turned back to M’ta. “You have a fire lizard right? Kaaoloth is in my weyr and he has fire stone. He is offering it to any fire lizard who needs it. Up to you if you want to ask yours to go get some.”
As his rider severed the link Kaaoloth grabbed one of the two bags of firestone from beside his couch and tore it open. Raising his head he touched the dragon's minds who he knew to be Selenitas. I am Kaaoloth of Sel’n. I have fire stone and I am offering some to any fire lizard who would benefit from flame. If you would like some you may send your fire lizard to me. Next he flashed a picture of the weyr and the fire stone as coordinates and settled to await the first arrival. The other bag he kept within reach but untouched. For now.
----
Raylin concentrated on breathing. Taking slow almost heaving breaths in the vain attempt to calm herself. Ebolath was helping more than she realized and it was possible the green was the only thing keeping her from all out panicking. Things seemed utterly hopeless. Morendoth pinned and every rider who could have possibly helped was now being bound. Her thoughts were jerked back to her present situation by F’rel’s cold voice and the sensation of his cold hand traveling up her shirt where he splayed it against her stomach. “Does he think Trilyanth’s words don’t apply to him? Quite the arrogant little shit. Or maybe he just doesn’t care if I start cutting you up, sweetheart.”
His words immediately had her heart hammering tenfold, anticipating the pain she knew was coming. She felt Ebolath press against her mind but it did little to dampen the intense pain that shot through her hand as the bronze rider’s teeth closed over her finger. She bit her lip against screaming but it did no good as the digit was severed. Raylin’s legs almost buckled and it was only by sheer force of will that she kept herself upright as the dagger bit into her neck. If she had moved or fainted her throat would have been slit. Fortunately for her Ebolath helped by thrusting her mind against her riders. Stay up! Raylinmine do not fall.
What ever F’rel was staying was not registered through the haze of pain and throbbing of her heart. It was truly a wonder that she was even still conscious, for Raylin and pain did not mesh well together. As Star’s image filled her head she instinctively flinched against the raw anger the image represented. The image helped clear her mind from pain for a few seconds and that, she would learn later, was all that kept Ebolath from rushing towards her. (That and her clutch siblings. For Jaymith made a good roadblock and Mallowth had a good grip.)
The next sensation she was aware of was anger (Ebolath’s) and something grabbing her throbbing wrist. The urge to jerk away was there but not acted upon for fear of more pain. Her mind was in a haze of confusion. What in Faranth’s name was going on?
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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 19, 2009 12:35:22 GMT -5
He really, honestly couldn't help it. T'rid knew he shouldn't have spoken, but it was instinct. Hide the fear. He did that by being sarcastic -- it was his automatic reaction, and that was it. Inwardly, he cringed, but it was too late to wish the words back anyway. His gaze flickered apologetically towards Raylin for a second, but that was it. Showing that he even vaguely cared about the greenweyrling would probably only result in her being murdered just out of spite or something. So he would wait for a distraction. They weren't that far away from him; if he acted quickly enough, he'd probably be able to grab Raylin. Maybe. The problem was, there was no distraction that seemed forthcoming, and therefore...he was helpless. The urge to move around was very strong, though he kept his eyes on F'rel. TranslatorMine. Don't do anything rash. Please don't. Think. He could tell the bronze was being calm for him, being the steady support as well as he could, trying not to let the fight-or-flight instinct rise too high.
Thump.
...?
Head flicking sideways, the bronzerider quite nearly buried his face in his hands. Was he embarrassed? Oh, yes. Very. Seriously. The blueweyrling had just...fainted. Not because of pain, because he didn't look like he was hurt. Because of...what? Fear? Blood? ...can I disown him...? The thought was vague, and another of those sarcastic thoughts that he just could not stop. Corinth didn't answer, except for a wave of distress and a slight tinge of annoyance as he reached out for the blue dragonet's mind. He mustn't run forward -- if he did, then he'd be killed. For now, His was fine. Garaeth, it's Corinth -- a friend. You cannot panic. Not right now. Be calm for Yours. He's fine. He'll wake up, and you must be calm for him. All will be well. Really? It was a lot to promise. And honestly, Corinth didn't entirely believe it. But you couldn't say that to a weyrling dragon who was probably panicking. From what T'rid had seen -- and yes, Corinth was using his eyes -- the blue had quite nearly darted to his Rider, and that could not happen. Not right now.
So distracted was he with T'ke -- because, yes: squinting at an unconscious weyrlingrider would definitely make them wake up again -- that he didn't notice exactly what F'rel had done until he glanced back up -- and promptly blanched. It was an involuntary thing, and he instantly regretted showing the emotion. Hazel eyes widened in shock, and he instinctively sidestepped the blood-soaked digit (which would probably hit F'ur, behind him. He didn't really look, or care), hissing under his breath. He nearly started raging at F'rel there and then. Perhaps fortunately for Raylin (and for himself, in the long run), one of the surrounding Riders stepped forward, and pain erupted in his stomach. Breath forced him from, the bronzerider doubled over, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment as he gulped at the air, forcing oxygen back into his lungs. Still, he stayed in the doubled-over position, hair falling into his eyes, squinting through the uneven fringe at F'rel, arms wrapped around his stomach. Threats. Threats and taunts. But -- what? Listen to traitors and spies...S'rei and Ka'rys. Was he just saying that one of them was a spy? -- or was it a fact? Which of them? -- did it matter, anymore?
As the Riders moved to the Weyrlings, drawing their knives, T'rid took the opportunity to draw his own knife, as silently as he could manage, sliding the sixteen-inch dagger into his sleeve, the cold metal pressed against his wrist, hilt concealed in his hand. They're going to kill them. If you move, they'll kill /you/. If I don't move, they'll kill me anyway, T'rid pointed out, not unreasonably. His gaze flickered upwards, towards Raylin and F'rel again. Quite obviously, she was about to be killed. If he moved to grab her, she would also be killed. But there was that tiny chance he'd succeed. But really, if he did succeed? They still had Saeo. The weyrlings, tied up. I'fael and F'ur. Would it...really make much of a difference? His knife hand wavered, uncertainly, and T'rid stole a glance towards the weyrlings again. Even the boy who'd fainted was about to be killed. Three of them, though -- what? Farryl. C'vin. C'oar. They weren't...
And then the image of the giant white Salamandyr exploded in his mind, and T'rid moved without thinking. Perhaps a reaction due to the fact that every time Stupid sent him images, he generally had to move. Very, very fast. And besides, all of the Benden Riders had frozen. The man next to him -- first. One foot hooking around the man's ankle, T'rid jerked, in the typical 'brat-tripping-someone fashion. However, breaking said fashion, his knife was also whipped out of his sleeve, cutting through the fabric in his urgency, and he stabbed as the man staggered, knife taking him through the stomach and slicing sideways as T'rid jerked it free, already moving. Who said tripping people as a Holdbrat would do no good? Who said Salamandyrs were useless? It was for Raylin that he headed. F'rel -- well, he wasn't stupid. The Weyrsecond would kill him in a second. His grab was intended to take her around the waist, dragging her away from F'rel, even as Corinth's urgent tones pressed against Raylin and Saeo's minds, directly: Run!
~*~*~
Flashes of cold air, and two rapidly whirling pairs of eyes focused on Kaaoloth. Conspiracy and Mir. The brown and blue firelizards curved in the air, the younger brown landing first, claws locking around the headboard of Sel'n's bed and holding him there. Silent as the feline that his coloring so resembled as Conspiracy, and his blue brother likewise, as Mir looped once more, and then settled on a bedpost nearby. They were both silent as Corinth addressed Kaaoloth. The brown and blue cousins are at your disposal, Kaaoloth.
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