ATTACK (Plot Thread)

[Avu]

"You'n take care of her, yes?" he asked Ebolath, gesturing towards the now-blanketed, stirring greenweyrling and resisting the urge to wince at the flicker of pain across his chest. Before the green had any time to begin to form an answer, though, the Barracks were abruptly invaded. Hazel eyes widened in shock, and an instinctive wave of protectiveness rose, the bronzerider spinning on his heel (ow, ow...) to put himself directly in front of Raylin. For the second time, he was defending the same, semi-conscious weyrling. Great. This was getting to be almost routine. If she could just wake up and maybe help a little, he'd be very grateful, because he was hardly in fighting shape. At least he had Ebolath. Or not, he corrected himself grimly, as three women ranged themselves around the green, one of them slashing for her throat. Normally, T'rid would have jumped for her -- for Corinth, if not for himself; they were the bronze's offspring and therefore he felt that he had a link to them, a responsibility, even if he hated the last word beyond belief -- but there was another Rider approaching.

From the look on his face, it wasn't for a polite conversation on the weather.

T'rid froze, watching him narrowly, wetting his lips. How much more could he take? -- not much. He'd been ridiculously lucky, thus far. One a one-on-one fight with any Benden Rider, he'd be killed. Fortune -- sheer fortune -- had managed to keep him alive. Conspiracy moved faster, darting at the man at an angle, mouth open to expel flames, intended to take the man's hand, as he arched his body sideways, wings narrow against his body -- and then the flat of the blade, lashed sideways abruptly, caught the brown along his side, slashing through one wingsail, deflecting the flame off of the steel and sending the firelizard falling, slamming against the ground forcefully, an audible crack sounding as his wing snapped on impact, creeling in pain, ichor dripping off of the wing crumpled awkwardly under him as the Rider's backhanded lash came around, headed for T'rid, who had frozen as Conspiracy's pain fluttered in his right shoulder, back arching against the phantom pain.

The knife's gleam in the lights, however, had the bronzerider falling back -- again, his left arm was sacrificed, rising upwards to guard his throat. The blade sliced through his forearm, slamming into the bone with enough force to shatter it. The pain was nearly enough to make him throw up as the blade grated against the broken bone, which had been snapped, the bone splinters breaking the skin on the other side. The blood had drained from the bronzerider's face, and his throat tightened in a strangled scream as the pain rose dizzily, stomach rebelling. Only the knot that his throat seemed to have become stopped him from throwing up there and then as the male grinned with savage satisfaction at him, jerking the blade from the bronzerider's shattered forearm as T'rid doubled over in agony over his arm, tears in his eyes, dropping his knife from his right hand. Slick blood ran down his left arm as the Bendenite watched him coldly, clearly considering the battle as good as won. Which, really, it would have been.

If not for Stupid. The brown Salamandyr had been shrieking at the women near Ebolath, but his eyes whirled rapidly in distress as his Rider's sickening pain washed over him. No matter how much he loved Ebolath, T'ridHis was closer to him, and the bronzerider's pain was not only thoroughly distracting, but his predicament was about to be fatal. And Stupid would not allow that. The Salamandyr launched himself straight off of the green's head, wings flaring and sending him straight onto the man's shoulder. Claws scrabbled for grasp, and then he sank his teeth as hard as he could into the man's ear, ripping with his claws as he hung like a deadweight, hissing and shrieking mentally. NO ISSA STUPIDMINE, TOUCH HELLBITE /MINE/! Predictably, the man's reaction was violent. Fingers grabbed Stupid, tearing the Salamandyr off -- a chunk of ear came along for the ride -- and dashing him backwards, inadvertantly tossing him back onto Ebolath. Stupid hissed, frilling as he leapt off again, jerking himself onto the man's shoulder and then leaping for his throat -- because yes: A creature his size could definitely break an artery.

It was surprise that gave T'rid the opportunity. The bronzerider's breath was coming in short jerks, due to both pain and the restrictive weight of his chest. It was purely out of spite that he refused to curl up, throw up, or die, like he very much wanted to. This was the man who hurt Conspiracy, who was one of the people who hurt Raylin, killed Mir, invaded the Weyr, and had killed Corinth's offspring. T'rid twisted as the Bendenite's hands rose to grab Stupid from his neck, throwing his full weight sideways onto the other man, elbow driving into his stomach as his right hand closed around the Bendenite's wrist. That violent motion had sent spots dancing in front of his eyes, nausea rising, pain sickeningly sharp, and Stupid had been dislodged, the Salamandyr hissing, as the man snarled, writhing and twisting in an attempt to get his knife into the bronzerider's side. Blackness was edging into his vision, now, each movement sending a new wave of agony up his arm and across his chest. His hand. Numb it. Take the knife. Stab him. Fingers dug into the man's wrist, erratically, and finally the knife dropped.

Everything was blurring...

Dimly he was aware of Stupid's shrieking, aware of his fingers curling around the hilt of his knife...

Don't give up, don't give up...

Aware of fingers curling around his wrist, too late, for his weight had fallen upon the Benden Rider's arm and prevented much motion...aware of the spurt of blood across his hand and arm, and the cease of motion beneath him.

Don't go, Mine. Stay awake. Stay awake. He felt Corinth, trying to support him, and two smaller aides. Minelove, Stupidminelove, hellbited meanie, stupidmine. Good. Conspiracy's muzzle, touching his cheek lightly, the brown's broken wing dragging painfully behind him, and Stupid's low croon as the brown curled his tail around his haunches, eyes whirling rapidly. And then Corinth sent such a surge of energy that the blackness briefly dissipated, and the agony rose with such a sickening crescendo that T'rid gulped, sudden panic at the lack of air making him lightheaded as he dragged himself to the wall, next to Raylin, tugging on the blanket. Whether or not she was awake utterly escaped him, and darkness was returning. "Share..."

~*~*~

The hen lay silent where she'd fallen, head twisted crookedly, one wing shattered, feathers drifting. That one kick had broken her neck and wing, and the young hen, who had never before laid an egg, had been silenced, never again to guard that messy weyr that she claimed as home.

[nightingale]

Jaymith was finding it very difficult to concentrate. His neck and wings had been badly scorched by Trilyanth's earlier attack, and the pain that it caused him was only compounded by the fact that his rider would not answer him. Do not give up Ke'rin-mine. He crooned softly in his throat, pressing against the boy's flickering consciousness. The others need us here to protect them. We cannot go just yet.

Only vaguely registering the requests directed toward him, the young bronze gave his wordless approval to Frosstyth's call for the feeding grounds to be guarded. He and Rudolth could protect it if they so wished. They would pull the wall back as soon as Mallowth's, Peppeth's and His were safely inside, and then there would be only one entrance to defend -but then it seemed that all their defenses failed at once. Move! The bronze bellowed deafeningly to distract the human attackers, half-turning his head to fix them with a whirling crimson stare. Frosstyth and Rudolth, hold the entrance. Green and blues, to battle! Keep them from ours! The bronze himself hunkered low to the floor of the common room, plasma smeared wings still spread as he formed himself into a living wall. There would be no entering through the main hallway if he had any say in it.

Mine, prepare yourself. Our enemies come. Saeo felt her heart lurch painfully upon receiving her dragon's report, and she was feeling sick even before she lifted her eyes and saw the first of the Benden riders coming for them. The realization that they were trapped and powerless came not long after that, and made her even more nauseous. She couldn't recall making the decision to throw herself down on top of G'tor when she realized that the man rushing toward them aimed to add a skylight to his forehead. Of course, that didn't change the fact that the rider's kick connected with her shoulder instead of it's intended target.

Her leg felt cool before the pain started. She realized after she had done it that screaming into an unconscious person's ear was far from polite, but when a dagger embeds itself in your leg, the urge becomes difficult to control. Cherilith came up behind their attacker shortly after that, methodically tilting his head sideways so he could pin the man's arms against his body as he closed his jaws around him. It wasn't a killing bite, but as he hoisted the rider from his feet the little blue shook him roughly to make it clear it wasn't a love bite either. I will kill you rider, if you do not pass on this message to Yours. Tell them that you serve Millieth's Weyr now. He flashed an image of F'rel into the man's mind. This is our enemy. Kill him or bring him to us, and yours will live. He clenched his teeth a little tighter, to make it clear that he would make good on his word.


Baby had only just managed to stay perched on T'ke's shoulder when the boy was grabbed. Having already been sent flying once that night, he had taken special care to embed his claws deep into the fabric of the boy's shirt to serve as an anchoring point. Have you seen Owl da Hunter who upon da win is bored?! The salamandyr demanded fiercely, his eyes flashing a distinctly pissed-off shade of scarlet as he flared his massive frill out like a cocktail parasol. As if on cue, a flash of electric green appeared on the man's shoulder. FRECKLE MAUL BADPEST!! The macabre excuse for a green salamandyr proclaimed for all to hear, tearing into the rider's ear savagely with her teeth and claws.

[Rei]

Ebolath picked up her head as shouts where heard from down the hallway. Carefully unwinding herself from around hers a low rumble started deep in her chest the sound echoing in the hallway. As the Bendenites appeared, the growl turned more threatening and her eyes took on a crimson sheen. She lowered her head teeth bared tail lashing back and forth. A step towards hers and they where upon her.

Snarling Ebolath was forced to step away from hers and a momentary feeling of panic took hold. But T’rid was there and he would have to protect hers until she destroyed these ones in front of her. The green tucked her wings close to her body and danced back as the woman stabbed towards her throat the other two hanging slightly back. Swinging her tail to and fro the green lashed out with a claw, crouching low to prevent easy access to her chest.

Stepping back the woman with the dagger dodged her blow and Ebolath gave a hiss. Suddenly the young green swung herself around striking out with her tail. The move caught the first rider by surprise and the tail connected with a solid thud flinging the rider against a wall where she crumpled, chest caved in. The other two riders jumped forward then. Seeing an opening, one slashed at the dragon’s side while the other hung slightly back. As the pain erupted in her side Ebolath flung herself against the wall pinning the Benden rider against the stone and crushing her effectively.

Swinging around to face the last of her opponents, ichor dripping down her side from the shallow slash wound, Ebolath roared and charged forward. She intended to rip this last one to little pieces.

Unfortunately, pain that was not hers exploded into her mind through her shared link with Vega and the green screamed backing up and shaking her head to clear the agony from her mind. Hers? No not hers, her little blue cousin. Even now she could feel his mind dimming and she feared hers might follow.

Unfortunately the distraction Vega had accidentally produced was taken advantage of and the last of the fighters sprang forward to try and finish off the green. At the last second Ebolath whipped her head around and smashed it into the woman’s body sending her flying, her blade slashing a gash in the dragon’s neck thankfully missing any major arteries. The snarling green approached her and raised a fore foot, a quick swipe tore her belly open and spilled blood across the floor.

The young green turned to look back at T’rid and noting his injuries gave a loud croon. He had protected hers again, but he had wounded himself because of it. It had to stop. It all had to stop. Ebolath situated the blanket over the two and gave a heaving breath. Her side was starting to throb and her neck wound was bleeding heavily. She wanted nothing more than to curl up around hers and T’rid and rest. But she couldn’t, flicking her red eyes toward the exit she hissed. The one who caused all this would die. By her own talons if necessary. Stupid. Protect yours and mine please.

Ebolath spread her wings and bugled loudly touching the minds of her clutch siblings. Please keep the barracks clear. I have killed those threatening mine and T’rid. One of you help Stupid protect them. Please T’rid is badly injured. After the words where out she gave a parting croon and trotted towards the Feeding grounds. F’rel would die. She would make sure of it herself if she had to.

----

Vega felt the heat from the flame and he hissed as it set his nervous system on high alert. Phosphate burns where painful and he gave a creel as a hand suddenly closed over his tortured body and flung him onto the ground. As the flitter was trying to gain some semblance of sense from the situation a heavy weight suddenly crashed into him and he shrieked in agony. The world was starting to go dark and he welcomed the sensation although it scared him deeply. As the blessed darkness overwhelmed him he sent a last wave of love along the link to his. Perhaps she would forgive him.

-----

Sel’n frowned as the two riders approached. The two were obviously used to working together due to the coordination of their movements. Shard it all. He prepared himself to defend and die if necessary. Perhaps he could take at least one of them out with him. Then a whistle of air and the first attacker fell at his feet.

What in Faranth’s name? The brown rider didn’t have long to think though as the second rider didn’t miss a beat. Look Out! Kaaoloth’s warning came just in time and Sel’n pivoted enough so that the blade stabbed into his thigh instead of it’s intended target. Swinging his own blade down he slashed the rider deep into the shoulder and as he fell kicked him over onto his back. One quick plunge into the neck and it was all over.

Wincing at the pain throbbing in his thigh Sel’n turned to take stock of his surroundings. For the moment everyone had seemed to forget about him. They probably had all pegged him for dead. Glaring at the back of F’rel’s head he contemplated trying to charge him but with his leg injured that would be.. suicide. The brown rider rolled his eyes. Thank you for the comment oh useless one. Stop arguing with me and do something before Morendoth’s dies.

The Weyrlingmaster nodded and pulled out one of the daggers he had collected in the clearing. If anything it would at least be a useful distraction. Without a second thought Sel’n whipped it in F’rel’s direction. With any luck it would at least distract the man from I’fael.

[Rowana]

Farryl couldn't help but cry out as she was suddenly tackled to the ground. Breath was knocked from her longs for a moment her vision blurred as she tried to figure out what had happened. Then she was dragged to her feet with her good arm held tight behind her. She had lost her knife, whether by dropping it or it being taken, it hardly mattered. Farryl squirmed. She wasn't going to get caught so easily! She dug her feet into the ground, forcing the man to drag her and jabbed backward with her free elbow, aiming for his stomach. But Farryl was tired from everything she had done so far and the injuries on her leg and free arm, though small, burned with pain. There was little hope that the man would be intimidated by her attempts to free herself.

"C'vin! Go!" she shouted at the boy, eyes full of fierce determination. C'vin would have a hard time fighting while carrying Ke'rin and if he stopped to help, they might all die. If C'vin and Ke'rin could make it to safety, Farryl didn't care what happened to her. Even so, the situation made her sick with fear. I am going to die, she thought. Farryl-mine! Peppeth's panicked voice echoed in her head. I am coming! No, Peppeth! Stay! Farryl's response was quick and firm. If Peppeth broke cover, she would be killed before even getting close to her. Help the others!

Peppeth whimpered, her eyes bright yellow with fear. Her Farryl was in danger and she could not reach her! For a moment, Peppeth hesitated, torn by indecision. Bad men were everywhere! They were hurting her friends. They were hurting her Farryl! Peppeth wanted it to stop, right now! But she was so small and so very frightened. Peppeth didn't know what to do. Ebolath's call stirred her to action. If she could not protect Hers, she would protect Ebolath's and Corinth's! I will not let the bad men touch them, Ebolath! she called bravely. The little green trotted over to nuzzle them both with croons of concern, before she set herself squarely over them in a protective stance. No one would touch them! She had promised!

~

Merridan's eyes widened as M'ta came up next to her. He was covered in blood and looked like he would fall over at any moment. Was that his throat cut? Mer winced. It was a miracle he hadn't been killed. The wound looked dangerously close to major arteries. Before she could open her mouth to say anything, M'ta suddenly handed her an injured, brown fire lizard.

Mer took the poor creature automatically, but before she could ask why he couldn't do it, he was off again. Shard it all! She wasn't a nurse. Jabari creeled pitifully and Mer glanced down at him. Well, she couldn't leave him and she certainly wasn't staying here like a coward. Setting the fire lizard gently on the ground, she tore off her shirt. Mer had never cared much for female modesty and this was an emergency. She looped the fabric and tired the sleeves together before hanging the makeshift sling over her shoulders.

Then she picked up Jabari again and set him inside, making sure he was settled and secure. "Hang on tight," she warned. "We're going to rescue that fool master of yours." Mer took off at a run, only slightly hampered by the fire lizard's weight. She had watched the fighting while she had made the sling. Sel'n was fine, for the moment. Another rider she didn't know seemed to be in big trouble, but with so many men surrounding him, there didn't seem to be anything she could do.

M'ta had grabbed Kale and made a run for it, with two men on his heels. That Mer could help with. Running at an angle, she managed to catch up with them before they reached M'ta. Careful of her burden, she charged the first from the side, dagger ready. The man turned to take a swing at her, but blinked in surprise at her uncovered chest. That pause would be his undoing as Mer's dagger plunged into his side, between the ribs and into his heart. Mer jumped away as he fell and turned to face the next with a fiery glare.

~

T'ke yelped as his hair was yanked for the second time that night. At this rate he was going to go bald early. But at the moment he had other things to worry about. Before he could reacted, a man had driving his knee into his chest. T'ke's breath came in gasps and his eyes widened in terror as the knife came for his heart. For about the third time that night, he was certain he was going to die.

In all the madness, he had completely forgotten Saeo's salamandyr on his shoulder. At his cry, a green one, Saeo's crazy Freckle he was certain, attacked the rider's ear. It all took barely a few seconds, but it was enough. The man growled and reached up his free hand to slap at Freckle. This threw off his aim for T'ke's heart and the dagger plunged into the boy's shoulder instead.

T'ke didn't have enough breath to scream. He stared at the blade sticking out of his flesh as blood pooled on his shirt. He was dead. He just knew it. He was only seeing now because he was in shock. Any second now he would completely black out. Then it would all be over. Already his head was getting woozy and his vision was blurring.

T'KE! Garaeth voiced his rider's pain with a howl. You can not die! Stay awake! Fight! The blue was too far away to reach His, so he turned his frustration on one of the men charging for Rudolth. In a rare and frightening moment, Garaeth's eyes blazed red in pure anger. It was the first time the pleasant blue had ever lost his temper. He roared and clamped his jaws around the man's torso. Teeth sunk deep into his flesh as he squirmed in agony, but Garaeth didn't stop. He shook his captive like a rag doll, speckling his hide with blood before flinging him against the wall so hard his skull cracked. The man slid to the ground in a mangled, bloody heap.

T'ke was too busy to pay attention to what his dragon was doing. His right arm was paralyzed with pain so he used his left to feel along the floor. He was searching for something, anything that would help him stay alive just a little while longer. The man wasn't going to be distracted by Freckle for long. T'ke's hand closed on something long, pointed, and feathery. A quill? It would have to do. Drawing on strength he didn't know he had, T'ke grasped the implement and drove the point into the most vulnerable spot he could see. The man's right eye.

[dragon]

Frosstyth snarled as a pack of men and women rushed the entrance. NO! He yelled, before lunging after the stream that got past him. ARRRGH, he'd failed again!! Enemies got through!! And then the slash at his side got his attention back on the two confronting him. Roaring, he snapped his heavy jaws at the first, and then lashed out with his wing, of all things, at the second. Wingsail remaining furled, the brown weyrling punched the man at his side with the wrist joint. While it was arguably the smallest joint the dragonet owned, it was still by far more powerful than a large man's punch. And it snapped the man's nose, driving him back just long enough for Frosstyth to deal with the first one.

Lunging forward again, Frosstyth snapped his jaws. Once, twice, thrice. There! He caught his prey finally by the knee, and dragged the screaming man back toward him. Shaking the man by his knee viciously, Frosstyth kept his lids squinted against the knife flailing around nearby. Letting go, he stomped on the man with his front feet, gouging into the soft belly with his talons. Satisfied that the man would shortly be dead, he turned his attention back to his second attacker. He had to finish the bloody face off, to get back to where his and all the others were. He could hear so much screaming pouring out of there.... it was scary!!

Head snaking around, Frosstyth snapped his jaws again, but missed ... again. But it did drive the man off mark slightly, and the stab he was trying to make for Frosstyth's vital organs was shoved back. A lancing pain in Frosstyth's thigh made him snarl again, kicking out with his wounded hind leg. The blow caught the man a glancing blow, sending him spinning to the floor. Bouncing sideways, Frosstyth promptly spend a moment scraping with all his talons at the pinned body. Soon there was little left of him but blood and gore scattered thither and yon.

Limping, Frosstyth whirled and roared again, straight into the back of one of the others that was confronting Rudolth.

---

C'oar took out his knife, and slit his trouser leg to bare the area around the cut that T'ke was trying to clean up. "Let me help with that. You look a bit green around the gills. And the sooner you get done, the sooner someone else gets help. I'm not that bad off, really." He commented, taking the press from T'ke's hand to allow the lad to get something to tie it in place with.

But then everything went haywire again... T'ke was yanked back and landed on, a second man lunging at himself with a punch, knife held at the ready. C'oar blinked in surprise, and then thought to jerk backward, his own knife coming up. He didn't manage to dodge the blow or deflect it either one. Instead all he managed was to lessen the blow from a face-blowing punch to one that merely snapped his nose. And slashed the man's arm open across the forearm.

Snarling, C'oar lashed out with his good leg. He was seated, and that allowed him a really good kick ... right into the man's nethers. A second follow up kick from his bum leg to the man's throat, C'oar watched for a moment as the man crumpled to the ground. Stunned, mostly, but still out of the way.

Leaping to his feet and almost faltering there, C'oar lunged at the one on T'ke. "That's not yours!" He bellowed, standing on his good leg to kick again. The blow was aimed at the man's face, but he missed ... again. Shards, he was getting tired. Instead, all he did was kick the man's shoulder just as he got a quill in his eye.

...ouch...

C'oar followed up quickly, though, lurching over T'ke and stabbing downward with his knife at that other eye. The knife sank in pretty far, before hitting a stopping point. Satisfied that the man wasn't going to be going very far, he levered himself back upright past T'ke. "Hold still. One more." He muttered in warning, returning his attention back to the one that'd just broken his nose.

He was about to finish that one off, too, with a stab into the side of his ribs when the rider lashed out with his own knife at C'oar's leg. The same sharding leg that was already wounded! C'oar yelled as his tendon was slashed most of the way through. Feeling it starting to rip the rest of the way, he lurched off of it. If that thing snapped, he'd never walk again. Landing on his knee, he drove it into the man's stomach. Much akin to what had happened to T'ke. "Take that, you!" C'oar roared, stabbing at the man's chest with his knife. As the corpse stilled, C'oar struggled to get to his feet again. But didn't ever make it. Stuck on his knee, he looked around. There were other attackers around, still ...

And he was a half-cripple now. Wonderful. If he put his weight on that foot, the tendon would finish off. He couldn't get up. Which meant no more rescuing anyone. He'd be hard pressed to keep his own self alive, at this rate. "T'ke! Get up! Hurry, now!" C'oar grunted, gesturing quickly. "Don't just lay there. I can't get up. Help the others!" The lad had a knife in his shoulder. But it looked like it was mostly in the meat of it, and for now the lad would be okay. If in major amounts of pain for it.

Sharditall ...

[glamourie]

Liette!

The green was -- killed. Killed. Kalerary’s eyes went wide, but she didn’t have time to react to that recognition, for at that exact moment she was released. The girl flinched backwards, stumbling two steps, enough to almost lose her balance. The unbearable pain in almost all of her body had tears springing to her eyes that she’d stubbornly been pushing back before. She brought both hands up to her ribcage and barely kept herself from toppling over in pain as she finally noticed the splashes of rain on her cheeks. Rain. Rain, water. That was good; she smelled smoke, fire and death. Water would wash it away. Fate smiled on them. Kalerary blinked twice more, her reaction time almost completely destroyed. Her gaze slowly, surely, turned to I’fael, the Weyrlingmaster. She only knew his face because of R’wign. A flood of confusion (half caused by her becoming delirious with pain) washed through her mind, and she realized she needed to run. Quickly. Get as far from them as she could.

But then she was grabbed. Screaming (out of a lack of understanding), Kalerary immediately thrashed, blood dripping down her chin from the slash over her face. She jerked her head around to get a look at her assailant and all of her fighting stopped. It was M’ta. Where had he come from? She didn’t know, but she wound her arms around him in a desperate cling for comfort… of any kind, really. She was petrified, understandably so. The further away they got, the better she felt, but Liette was dead, and with her any hope of her papa coming to rescue her. The tears broke down her face, mingling with the blood, leaving her features a mess of jumbled markings barely recognizable as a seven-turn-old girl. She looked far worse for the wear than any child ought to have.

As she was put down by the boulders, Kalerary instinctively climbed behind them and curled into a small, tight ball. She put her hands back over the back of her neck and made herself as small as she possibly could while biting back sobs. The pain in her body was almost blinding and it took all of her effort not to scream - scream now that she could. Before, it was to prevent the monsters from enjoying the sound, but now - now it was to keep herself hidden, so they couldn’t find her, couldn’t use her, couldn’t hurt her. The world spun behind her eyes and she inhaled deeply, trying to keep herself calm. Considering all that was happening around her, was it any wonder she was beginning to get very upset? But just as she inhaled, a wave of dizziness passed through her, and her vision blurred before going completely black. Her arms went slack, and behind the boulder hiding her, Kalerary passed out from pain -- completely unaware of anything going on around her any longer.

[topaz]

As C'vin ran he heard an out of place thud behind him, and he turned quickly to see Farryl being hauled up by her arm by a Bendenite.

"C'vin! Go!"

She's out of her mind. "F'ur, hold on!" Laying Ke'rin on the ground behind him, C'vin pulled out both his knifes and advanced on Farryl's attacker. Making sure to avoid the greenweyrling, C'vin jabbed his knife at the Bendenites free side. If only he had one of those pets. They had proven to be useful so far in this sort of situation.

C'vin tried to get close to Farryls captor, but he was afraid of accidently hurting her, or aggravating the rider enough that he would just slit her throat. Shards.

- - -

Mallowth roared at the oncoming attackers. He tried to trip the ones who had got past Frosstyth and Rudolth, but they nimbly avoided his smaller tail. As the larger man squared off with the blue, Mallowth couldn't help but notice his filed teeth. Was he trying to be a dragon? That was just silly. Humans could not be dragons! And he would show this little cretin exactly why that was.

Claws extended, mallowth slashed out at the rider, pushing him into the nearest wall. The large man recovered quickly though, with only a few cuts on his offended arm, and slashed back at mallowth. The blue roared ferociously at the man, lowering his head almost to the floor. Bunching up his muscled, Mallowth leapt from the ground at the attacker, knocking him into the air, and finally to the ground. However the man had got in a nasty slash to the dragon's mouth, elongating it a few inches on the left side, then continuing in a more shallow cut, ending just behind his head knob.

Thoroughly pissed now, Mallowth got himself into rage and tore viciously at the rider, opening his chest and biting through his ribcage. After the man was past all hope of being alive, mallowth turned his attention to Rudolth's attackers, bunching his muscles once again, ready to spring into action if the larger brown needed help.

[weaving]

I’fael winced in pain as he was dragged up roughly by one of F’rel’s men. And it had nearly worked too. Inwardly he cursed the fact that his plan had failed, though he did his best to keep a blank face. He tested his injured leg and bit back a gasp. No, it wouldn’t be able to support him, which would make running away impossible. He was completely at the mercy of F’rel with no way out of this. Curse them all to /between/ he thought bitterly, completely prepared for whatever punishment the bronzerider would designate. Hopefully it would end soon, though he doubted it. They seemed to enjoy torture.

As M’ta stole Kalerary away and thus distracted F’rel, I’fael acted. He was going to die anyway, why not fight till the end? Gritting his teeth, he kicked out with his good leg, ignoring the pain of his injured calf long enough to hopefully do some damage. Then he was slumping to the ground once more, the pain absolutely unbearable. It was a foolish move, but at this point he was willing to do anything to try and stop the man from taking over his home, even if it meant sacrificing himself.

Morendoth kept up his position next to the barracks. With tattered wings, he couldn’t take to the air, and even if he did, he’d be ripped to shreds immediately. Instead, he snapped at any benden riders who dared to come too near and hid, eyes whirling anxiously. His main focus was on his rider and F’rel. He knew that this was bound to end in tragedy, but it was simply a matter of how much longer he had. Deep inside, the brown hoped for a miracle, though he knew that one was slim.

((It sucks, I’m sorry. >> My parents are coming in five minutes and I wanted to finish it so that req could post.))

[Requiem]

Eleven dead. The barracks were strangely quiet in the wake of that, punctuated only by the moans of the wounded and the dying. Rain pattered, slower now. Taps that sounded loud on the rooftop. Thunder rolled. S'van hung limply from the blue's grasp, blood running down his arms in a slow, steady stream. Cherillith's words...The man laughed outright. "Be done with it, little dragon. Better to die here than be hunted." But Rifashth heard, even if His didn't pass on the message, and his voice came quickly before Cherillith could grant S'van's demand. Let him go. I...I'll help.

The bluerider cursed colorfully, but Rifashth ignored him. What would you have me do, exactly? His voice trembled. Trilyanth will have the greens on me before I can do much. They'll kill you. Don't you understand? This isn't helping anything! If I don't, you will die, Mine. Killed by a Selenitas weyrling, he added bitterly. There's a chance, for me. None for you. Be quiet.

Twisting through the air to follow the orders given to him, the blue spoke to this weyrling who had his rider. His S'van. More fighters on the way. Over two hands, through the windows at the back. Ours were just to distract, and kill any that couldn't defend themselves. If you don't hurry, they'll hit you and you won't be able to protect yourselves. And His would probably be killed so that Cherillith could face the new wave of attackers. Nervousness fluttered in Rifashth's belly as he watched the riders dropping in through the windows. Hopefully the warning would be enough. Hopefully it would be enough that they wouldn't kill S'van.

**

He heard C'vin cry out, just in time to notice Farryl's predicament as the Benden rider dragged her back and away from the approaching blueweyrling, back toward the front of the barracks. That hold on her arm...would not be broken by the girl. F'ur would have been hard-pressed to escape; just a little pressure would break it. He cursed softly, earning a shallow slash across his chest for his distraction as he leapt back. But he'd forgotten his leg, and it collapsed, pitching him sideways.

They took advantage immediately, both riders charging him. F'ur laughed outright. One realized and pulled up, but the other didn't as suddenly F'ur twisted down into a crouch, palm planted to take the weight of the injured leg as he spun into a kick that shattered the man's kneecaps. F'ur didn't finish him...he wouldn't be getting up. Instead springing forward with the use of the arm rather than the leg, planting on his good foot and stabbing the second rider full in the thigh, slashing through the femoral artery before the man could recover from his surprise.

"Boy! The other one!" The shadows from the edge of the trees had detached, one grabbing hold of the unconscious bronzeweyrling and throwing him over a shoulder while the other snuck up on C'vin from behind. "Behind you!" F'ur limped forward as fast as he could, but knew he wouldn't reach either of the weyrlings in time to help.

**

His timing couldn't have been worse. Benden riders were already on their way into the barracks through the windows, and a few detached to deal with M'ta. F'rel wanted that little girl, alive, and if Rian took her father, he wanted to make the man watch. The girl wasn't anywhere to be found, but the brownweyrling had taken her, and they'd get it from him. One way or another.

Mine, Ruth murmured anxiously, as M'ta stepped back. Two daggers again, but he'd lost the one he was more familiar with, and any disadvantage right now was likely to get him killed. Can't you just hide? Please, Mine. They'll chase, M'ta responded grimly. Jabber hurts...and you're hurt... I know. We'll both come back to you Behruth. I promise. It quieted the brown, even if they both knew that M'ta really couldn't make such a promise. The brownweyrling, against his better judgment, whirled and attempted to run with the purpose of drawing the riders away from where Kalerary was concealed.

The blade buried in his calf and toppled him instantly. M'ta growled and twisted so that he could see their approach, pulling the knife from his calf and taking one in the throat, the other in the chest before they could reach him. But he wasn't quite fast enough to get in another throw before the third was upon him. Pain erupted between his legs as the boot slammed into his groin. M'ta's vision swam, the boy weakly slashing at his attacker's leg. It was avoided easily, the weapon batted aside. A hand caught hold of his throat and M'ta was levered high above the ground, his feet kicking with a distinct lack of strength a good two feet above the ground.

Slammed back into the wall, the rider plunged a long dagger deep into the meat of M'ta's shoulder, punching through to the other side at an angle that terminated just below his shoulderblade. Pinning him. The brownweyrling's hand was grabbed in a crushing grip, a bladetip levering up the fingernail of his thumb. M'ta hissed, biting back the scream. "Where is she?" Gasping, he spit into the tall Bendenite's eyes, and as the second fingernail was prised off, he really did scream.

**

The second man turned back to deal with Mer, sneering slightly at the fact that the small-breasted girl was going about shirtless. She wasn't even useful for what women were supposed to be useful for. Unfortunately for Mer, one of the other riders sliding through to attack the weyrlings inside also paused to take care of the candidate instead. She smiled slightly as she spun the dagger in her hands. "What do you think, D'toy? Is it a man or a woman? Maybe we should find out." He glanced at her in disgust, but she didn't seem to notice.

Trailing the woman as she advanced on Mer, his eyes drifted down to the creature in the sling, then turned back up. He hung back as Lillian slid forward. "Come on girl. Let's see what you've got." Her head came up slightly as she heard the screaming, and she chuckled. "T'ess got him, by the sounds of it. Don't worry, sweetheart. I'll have you screaming louder." She winked at Mer, blocking the girl's progress around the barracks and simply...waiting...for the candidate to engage. D'toy shifted uncomfortably. "We don't have time to mess around. Make it quick this time, Lillian."

"Shut up, D'toy. There are enough to deal with the rest of this scum. I'm going to have my fun."

**

It was...pure luck. The man had been standing next to him, one of the remaining two near F'rel, and he took Sel'n thrown blade in the chest. It wasn't immediately fatal, but the blood flooded his lungs, and soon he'd drown in his own blood. He was on the ground, grasping at the handle of the weapon weakly.

That and the dashing weyrling distracted the bronzerider enough that he didn't see the kick coming. I'fael was a solid man, and the kick that connected with F'rel's knee shattered it completely. His leg buckled, the man letting out a strangled cry of anger, clutching at the wound. He struggled to hands and knees, waving back the wounded man. "I'll take care of the scum," he hissed, rage making his throat tight. He hadn't been wounded this badly in turns, and I'fael would pay. F'rel launched himself at the Weyrlingmaster, ignoring the radiating pain in his knee and wrestling the dagger free from I'fael while his own sought for the man's chest.

"Don't let anyone interfere," he added, the man nodding silently and moving to stand between them and Sel'n, still favoring his leg.

[Rei]

They come from behind us! Cherilith broadcast his startled announcement across the battlefield, a low keen slipping between his clenched teeth.
-------

Ebolath ducked into the feeding grounds and skirted around her clutch brothers. They seemed to have the clear advantage as it was and they obviously didn’t need her help. Peeking her head around the doorway, and not seeing any movement, the green snorted and kept close to the barrack wall. Inching forward carefully stopping every few feet to test the air with her nostrils.

A scream caught Ebolath’s attention and she flung her head up. She knew that voice. Behruth’s. Caution was thrown to the wind as Ebolath charged around the corner. Luckily the man was to preoccupied with his torture to notice Ebolath until it was to late. Her jaws closed over his arm neatly severing it and releasing the brown rider. Stomping on his body to pin it down she neatly bit his head off to quiet the man’s cries of pain.

Yellow whirling eyes lowered to M’ta’s level as Ebolath crooned and nudged him gently. Oh Ruth’s are you ok? The bad men got you to. Do not worry they will not touch you again. More cries caught her attention and the green was torn. What to do? If she entered the field it was quite likely the dragons above would notice her. But she wanted oh so badly to sink her teeth into the bronze rider who was responsible for all the hurt. Snarling silently she swished her tail back and forth as she waited for Ruth’s to rise.

As Cherilith's voice flashed through her mind she tensed. Peppeth watch mine and T'rid! Call the others to the back. More enemies are coming! Her mind voice was full of undisguised fear, and the need to bolt back to hers was nearly overwhelming but she would not leave until Ruth's had risen.

----

Sel’n scowled as the blade bit into the wrong target but at least he was able to buy the other Weyrlingmaster some time. As F’rel turned on I’fael, Sel’n moved forward to assist. However it seemed F’rel’s last little guard was not going to allow such a thing. Shards. Good thing he was injured as well also favoring his leg.

Sel’n bit his lip. With his maneuverability limited and only one arm useable he was at a very distinct disadvantage but really that hardly mattered anymore. The brown rider advanced on the other man sizing him up as he approached. After a few tense moments the Benden rider moved first slashing at Sel’n’s uninjured leg with a underhand slash forcing the older rider to step back onto his injured leg to avoid.

Ignoring the wet sensation of fresh blood that pooled from the wound Sel’n stepped back and brought his own blade up to deflect the Bendenite’s strike. Lunging forward Sel’n slashed at the mans chest allowing him to parry the blow and strike out in retaliation. Then the Weyrlingmaster made his move raising his injured arm to intercept the rider’s blade while stabbing at the Bendinite’s chest.

As the rider fell Sel’n lurched forward towards I’fael and F’rel. His injuries could wait, if they didn’t end this now it wouldn’t matter anyway.

[Rowana]

Farryl bit her lip as the rider tugged hardy on her arm. She was sure if he pulled much harder it would snapped. She had broken her leg once before, a kick from one of the trader's wild runners. From the experience she knew the pain would be unbearable. She would be useless to anyone if that happened and probably killed on top of it.

The man continued to drag her back, away from C'vin and Ke'rin, but closer to the barrack's entrance. Not that that was likely to help her in the long run. Farryl clawed desperately at her captor's face free hand and kicked out with her uninjured leg. The angle was too poor for her do be able to reach anything helpful, but at least she was trying.

She spared C'vin a quick glance and was alarmed to see a rider sneaking off with Ke'rin while another went for the blue weyrling. She opened her mouth to shout a warning, but F'ur was ahead of her. There was no need to complicate matters by reminding them of her troubles too. Farryl cursed herself for being cut in the first place. She was so frustrated with her inability to do anything that she thought she would go mad. Instead, she just growled and struggled all the harder.

~

T'ke blinked. The man was gone. One moment he was staring death in the face, and the next he was staring at the rock ceiling. What had happened? Had he suddenly developed the ability to disintegrate his enemies? But no, a mixture of sounds and a familiar voice explained it. Or did it? T'ke was sure he knew the voice, he had just been talking to him. Why was it getting so hard to remember? That's right. C'oar. One of his classmates. He had a brown. Or was it blue? No, wait, he had blue. C'oar was brown, he was certain now.

Hang on, what was he saying now? Get up? T'ke reacted automatically and tried to roll over. That's when he remembered the knife sticking from his shoulder. He whimpered as pain and nausea washed over him. Get up?! Was C'oar crazy?! There was a knife in him! A sharding knife! T'ke tried not to panic, but it was growing more difficult by the minute. At least the wound didn't hurt unless he moved. Wait, that was bad wasn't it? No pain meant he was going into shock. And that was definitely bad. Funny that. No pain felt pretty good to him. Shards he was getting giddy too. Next he would probably start laughing hysterically at the irony of it all.

A familar blue form suddenly loomed over head and Garaeth lowered his nose to nudge him gently. Do not worry, T'ke-mine. The blue's voice was surprisingly calm and comforting, but with a hint of concern. He had heard Cherilith's call and had immediately moved back to protect His and Frosstyth's. Neither boy seemed in any condition to move. I am here, Garaeth continued to assure T'ke. Stay awake. I will protect you and the other. As Garaeth glared around for the unseen attackers, he sent Cherilith a message. Mine and Frosstyth's are badly injured. They will need help when Yours has seen to herself. He had seen the girl do down out of the corner of her eye. They didn't need her passing out too.

~

Merridan was silent as the pair conversed, gaging each of her opponents carefully. She winced as M'ta's screams reach her ears, but she couldn't run to help. There was no doubt in her mind that if she turned her back on these two, she would be dead. These were season warriors, not Holdbrats playing a game. One wrong step, and they would kill her without a second thought. Two on one was already a disadvantage, and she had Jabari to watch out for or M'ta would have her hide. If he survived, that was.

The woman, Lillian, moved forward first and Mer turned most of her attention on her, sparing only a little for D'toy in case he made a move. She ignored the quips about her gender through years of practice. She felt no shame about her appearance, so what did it matter? Lillian was waiting for her to make the first move and Mer cursed inwardly. She was much better at reacting to an attack, than making one. But it didn't look like she had a choice this time.

Calling on all her training, Mer darted forward, aiming a slash to disable the woman's legs. Lillian parried the blow easily, knocking Mer slightly off balance. With a sick smile, the woman brought her blade forward, but she wasn't aiming for Mer. Mer's eyes widened and she blocked the dagger from hitting Jabari with the nearest thing available. Her left arm.

Sharp pain lanced through Mer's arm as the dagger cut through flesh to the bone. Her vision blurred for a moment and then steady. Taking advantage of the brief moment, Mer drove her dagger into the woman's chest and heart. Lillian died instantly, her face still twisted in a smile. Mer had no time to recover as D'toy charged forward even as his comrade feel.

His knife was aimed for Mer and it was clear he wanted to end this quickly. Mer wanted nothing better. She brought her dagger up to meet his with a clash of steel that shook her to her knees. Then he pressed down, intending to use his superior strength to force the wapon from her hands. Mer knew she would loose in such a contest, but she had learned to turn such tricks against an opponent.

Mer slid to the side, yanking her blade free in a quick motion that left D'toy staggering forward off balance. Mer didn't wait for him to recover as she drove the knife across his throat. He fell, gurgling in a pool of blood on top of Lillian. Mer took a deep breath. She felt weak and shaky, but it was over. At least this battle. She sent a silent thank you to Rohm and his years of lessons. They had just saved her life.

Mer clutched her left arm and jogged off to find M'ta. If he still lived. The screaming seemed to have stopped, which could be either good or bad. She could feel her fingers already growing slick with blood, but the wound didn't hurt as much as it should have. Nerves were likely severed. Like when she had cut her finger, only on a much larger scale.

"I hope that M'ta is alive," Mer muttered darkly to Jabari. "He owes me after this one."

[dragon]

After the last of the attackers in the feeding chamber were slain, Frosstyth started limping back into the common room. Making his way across it, he snapped at a remaining attacker in there. Grinding his jaws shut with as much force as he could muster, he bit down into the man's shoulder, growling. It was unheard, though, past the man's screams. Buckling toward the floor, the man just screamed louder as the bite finally severed through, leaving him with a vast chunk of his shoulder missing. A hissing gurgly bubbly fountain in the wound announced that part of that lung had been bitten off, as well. Swiftly drowning in misery, the man slumped to the floor as Frosstyth growled, striding over him, onward.

His needed him. His was hurting. Frosstyth was pissed, that his on inadequacy in the hallway had resulted in his getting hurt again. If he didn't know better, he might think that his attracted wounds like moths to a flame. Fatally. Plowing onward with a relentless - if limping - stride, the brown made his way past wounded and dead, to rejoin C'oar. He paused a moment to nuzzle the young man's chest. C'oar patted him. "Over there." He hissed, biting back the pain in his voice.

Frosstyth moved as indicated. I was not aware we had windows in the back. He remarked. Had he missed something that prominent? Were they emergency escapes, or something? He didn't know, but he stood ready. Is yours alright, Garaeth? He asked, even as he was aware that C'oar was struggling to stay concious.

C'oar had lost enough blood now that he was feeling lightheaded. And he hurt, badly, all over. His thigh, his tendon, his nose, everywhere that was bruised, that slash on his arm... he didn't think he had a spot that didn't scream agonies at him. He couldn't pass out now ... he couldn't ... if he did, he'd never wake up again. Even if all that happened was his getting knifed while down.

"Don't ... do anything stupid." C'oar managed, blurrily. He was tired, so very tired... What he wouldn't give for a full night's sleep and no pain!

[nightingale]

Cherilith pressed forcefully against Rifashth mind, bands of paniced yellow rippling across the surface of his faceted eyes. Help us my brother. If you assist me in defending mine, I promise that no harm will come to Yours. That is a promise that encompases my claws and those of any other who would do him harm. Reguardless of weather or not the Benden blue chose to oblige his request, Cherilith allowed his jaws to relax ever so slightly. The taste of human blood was not one that appealed to him, but he was not about to let the man go free just yet. Stepping forward to hold himself protectively overtop of Saeo and G'tor, he lifted one of his forepaws in immitation of his feline roommates. If any attacker was foolish enough to enter his striking range, he would be ready and waiting to juilane their gullet.

Deep breaths my Saeo. The soft vibrations of her dragon's voice were a welcome contrast to the fear and desperation humming though Saeo's mind. She had in fact, been telling herself just the same thing. It was only a knife...in her leg...but shattered dragonshells, did it hurt. She felt a violent shiver dance across her shoulders and realized that if she didn't do something to calm herself she was either going to pass out cold or be sick all over G'tor. Neither option was very appealing, and so Saeo reached for her medical bag. How many Cherilith? Too many for us to fight off. His tone was calm and placid, which only served to assure her that their situation was dire. It wasn't supposed to end like this... We will die protecting the ones we love my beautiful Saeo. Is that not a death to be proud of? Death isn't proud my darling. Death isn't anything at all...but if we have to die then this is as good a day as any.

As they spoke, Saeo produced a vial of felis from her bag and carefully measured a drop of the yellowish narcotic onto the heel of her palm. She had breifly considered simply downing the entire vial for the sake of not prolonging the inevitable, but she had quickly decided that it would be a waste of an otherwise useful drug. It would take almost a full minute for the stuff to knock her unconsious -longer for it to kill her- and there was a good change she would be sliced open in that time. No, better to just take enough to dull the pain in her leg and wait to see what sort of death was waiting for her. Saeo lapped up the bitter droplet, and replaced the vial's stopper. "Alright. Bring on the pain and suffering." She sighed quietly, watching the blood dry on her hands. T'ke's and Frosstyth's have been badly injured my Saeo. Garaeth requests that you assist them once you have taken care of yourself. That comment was enought to draw the tears she had been fighting back for the past half hour. "Tell them something encouraging darling." She sobbed quietly, squeezing her eyes shut. "Tell them something meaningful and inspiring, because all I can think to say is how sorry I am." The young blue lifted his head to watch the common room's high windows, a low hum rising in his throat.

Well, I would like to say that it is at least not raining...but instead I will say 'good luck', and hope that death is not as bad as everyone says it is.

[Avu]

The world was no longer the stable place it once had been. Things shifted, blurred, shrank and tilted. The floor was sideways; T'rid instinctively squirmed backwards against the wall and against Raylin. She wasn't moving; she was safe. Through half-closed eyes, he felt Ebolath shifting the blanket over his legs, and then -- and then the fabric brushed against his arm, and the pain erupted with an intensity that made him want to scream again. His mouth opened, but his throat had closed. The pain was simply too much. For a minute, he forgot how to breathe in the shock of the pain, the coarse fibers of the blanket having caught on the splintered bone. The pain, combined with nausea, drew a low groan from the bronzerider as he sank down more, Conspiracy's frightened whistle sounding nearby as the brown, broken wing draped on the ground, crawled half into T'rid's lap, curling up there, body shuddering with the pain. His arm was paralyzed with the sheer amount of pain, sleeve and blanket drenched in blood, a bone fragment caught in the blanket, and the bronzerider's breathing was shallow, as weak and as erratic as his pulse, which Conspiracy, whose head rested on the bronzerider's blood-soaked left wrist, was in a good place to take note of.

The firelizard's head came up uneasily, eyes rapidly focusing on the bronzerider. His eyes were half-closed, the gaze unfocused, but his pupils were noticeably dilated. Each breath seemed to be a struggle, the bronzerider's skin sweaty -- from both shock and from the effort. Little brother, Cherilith's is a Healer, Corinth commented softly, nudging the firelizard's mind lightly, with a confidence that he did not feel. Any other might have been completely unconscious by now, but T'rid's tenacity ensured that he stayed conscious -- which was, perhaps, to his detriment; every breath was painful, and the agony didn't die down. His eyes flickered as Ebolath left, to be replaced by a smaller green, and, anxiety rising within him, he tried to protest the green's leaving.

"Wait..."

Was he speaking? He couldn't hear himself. His head hurt, and there was a buzzing in his ears. Wait...no...don't go, don't...there'd be pain, if she left. Why was she still leaving, couldn't she hear him -- ? No, don't go, wait, stop...who was this green? T'rid blinked, pupils still dilated, confusion flickering across his face as his right hand rose, brushing his hair out of his eyes, before it fell weakly back to his lap, one finger moving along Conspiracy's jaw gently, the motion light, absent. Mine. A voice, a voice in his mind, a voice that was familiar -- beloved -- Corinth. Corinth, he articulated, numbly. You're confused. Very confused, the bronze said softly, anxiously. No -- don't be anxious -- don't -- Talk to me. Tell me...tell me a story, TranslatorMine. Tell me about -- tell me about Impressing Stupid. Salenth's -- what happened? The bronze's affectionate nickname, the encouragement, had the bronzerider struggling to make him happy, trying to piece the story together. You were -- it was... And yet, wouldn't it be easier, so much easier, to let the blackness that twisted and turned at the edge of his vision, threatening to take over, just...do it? He was in agony, and it wanted to claim him. So...why not let it...?

A voice in his mind. Unfamiliar. Behind them? Who came? Why? What behind them -- there was no behind them. There was a wall there. Wasn't there? Wasn't he leaning on a -- a wall...? You're in shock, Mine. They won't bother you; you're practically unconscious. Just don't do anything stupid. The words weren't exactly soothing, but T'rid was quite nearly delirious with the pain, and it wasn't the words but the dragon's tone that he focused upon, and that was soothing, a low croon, tender. You've done your bit. No one can ask more of you. Just stay awake. Stay with me, Mine. I don't want to be alone, and you'll frighten Conspiracy and Stupid. Oh...yes. Stupid...the brown Salamandyr had scrambled onto his lap, curling up, too, eyes whirling rapidly, frill rising and falling erratically, nervously. Cherilith, the bronze added, to the blue hatchling, Once Yours has time, please ask her to come see to Mine and Ebolath's. Mine got his forearm shattered, and she is still unconscious. He kept his voice pleasant, as if he was merely discussing the weather. The blue was a hatchling, after all; no need to frighten him more than he probably already was.

[weaving]

As his foot connected solidly with F’rel’s knee, he couldn’t help but smile a bit. Score one for I’fael. Of course, it wasn’t enough to kill the man and before he’d fully recovered, F’rel had lunged at him, wrestling his knife away. Unprepared for the attack, the weyrlingmaster lost his blade immediately and nearly his life as well. He managed to grab the benden man’s wrist and twist, hopefully with enough force to make him drop the blade or, better yet, to break a bone. There was only so much pain that a person could be in before they were unable to function properly. Hopefully he’d be able to push F’rel to that point and then it would be simple enough to kill him from there.

Grabbing F’rel’s other wrist, I’fael pushed up and over to get the man off of him. It was easy enough to do; F’rel was quite a bit smaller than he was. He was glad that neither of his arms had been injured in this fight. It would make things quite a bit easier, especially now that he and F’rel both suffered leg injuries. Immediately after throwing the man off of him, he rolled over on top of him to pin him down. Once he made sure that F’rel was going nowhere, he could worry about finding a weapon. I’fael didn’t plan on dragging this out. The sooner he could put an end to it, the less people would die.

He scanned the ground for a dagger within reach but came up short. Anything he could use would mean relinquishing his hold on the bronzerider, which simply wouldn’t do and he didn’t have long until someone realized that the man wasn’t okay and attempted to come to his rescue. They were distracted now, but he couldn’t expect that to last forever. He bit at his lip for a moment as he searched the ground for something. The ground was too muddy to be strong enough for him to bash F’rel’s head against if it came to it but…

F’rel was struggling beneath him, but I’fael had the advantage of leverage and weight. He’d managed to pin down the man’s arms with his knees and was sitting high enough on the man’s back that his flailing legs couldn’t hit him. The man’s death would be more painful than he would have liked, but I’fael didn’t really have much choice at this point. With a murmured ‘I’m sorry’, he shoved F’rel’s face down into the mud, refusing to allow him up for air despite his desperate struggles. Even an enemy deserved a better death than that.

Finally the body beneath stopped moving, though even then he held it down for another minute, just in case. One could never be too careful. With a solemn face, he looked up at Sel’n as the other man approached. “He’s dead,” he announced. He didn’t think that it would completely stop the attack, but it would certainly confuse and distract the wings attacking them long enough to give them a distinct advantage.