Avu
Weyrleader Ce'thian Rider A'emi Handler Sena Harper Matteo Weyrbrat Riaren
Posts: 2,439
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Post by Avu on Jan 1, 2010 22:10:51 GMT -5
High noon. It was a busy time in the Main Hall on any day, and it seemed like that day in particular – or perhaps there was just a mass movement, be it in or out. As it was, with the dragon wings swirling through the air, it was something of a miracle that the appearance of seven more dragons did not immediately cause a collision, especially given the speed at which they were going. The largest, a bronze with a graying muzzle, was falling more than he was actually in control his descent, the other six swirling around him in what could only be described as agitation. The landing pad was clear of dragons, fortunately, for the bronze half-landed and half-slid to a stop on it forcefully, his rider thrown half-over his shoulder. The dragon’s weak rumble was answered with a frantic warble from the younger bronze who swept to land next to him, more neatly. The other dragons still didn’t land, but even as they spiraled through the air, there was no gleam of light from their hides –
They were all graying rapidly, hides lacking the gleam that marked dragons as healthy; one of the dragons, a green, keened repeatedly. If she realized how loud she was being, she gave no indication of such. On the pad, the younger bronze’s rider had half-pulled and half-helped the older bronzerider from his dragon’s back and pulled him away from the dragon so the elder bronze, whose hide was almost pure gray, could roll and make room for the other dragons.
One by one, they dropped. The green, who seemed to be positively hysterical, while her other wingmates seemed at least somewhat sane (though the speed of their landings was questionable) immediately threw herself half on top of the younger bronze, as if seeking comfort, with her Rider still mounted and clinging to her riding straps. That all seven dragons, two of them bronzes, managed to fit on the ledge was remarkable in itself; let no Selenitas dragon contemplate landing as well. The greenrider half-fell off her dragon, scurrying anxiously towards the two bronzeriders. Three of the Riders remained on their dragons, the blank expressions on their face highlighted by cuts – looks that indicated shock very clearly. The seventh, a bluerider, slid down from his beast.
Perhaps the bronzerider should have stopped them. Perhaps then their entrance would have been a little more collected. But he was leaning over the older man, whose blood was soaking through the heavy wherhide jacket he wore and dripping onto the stone beneath him, the look on his face definitely one of panic, and he didn’t notice as the greenrider, followed by the bluerider (albeit at a slower pace), who looked to be the only one to be physically unharmed and emotionally in control, took off towards the Main Hall. The doors bursting open were dramatic enough a touch, but the greenrider stumbled, not expecting the doors to open at such a light touch, and she ended up on her knees. She didn’t try to get up – she just blurted, her voice edging on hysterical (though whether it was her own panic or her green’s was debatable) –
“Please help, please please help, there’s no one left alive because they killed everyone and he’s dying – he’s dying – please – ”
[[OoC: Please note that there will be two other plot threads started after a certain point in time, so there's no need to throw all of your characters at this one. The Main Hall does not need to be packed to bursting. ;3 Thanks, guys!]]
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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 Jan 1, 2010 23:19:41 GMT -5
Seven. Two bronze. Crashlanded...it's a mess, Mine. They're not Selenitas, though that's all I can tell you. Can't even say for certain the colors of the other dragons. They've gone grey. Not good...one of the bronzeriders...ReiMine? I don't recognize any of the dragons. But we might be getting more company, soon. They all look like they've come through a meatgrinder. Since when do you know what a meatgrinder looks like? Bad joke. Yeah. Do I get points for trying, at least? Ask me again later. Ciceroth's? Yeah. Tell Ciceroth I want his scrawny ass at the Main Hall a minute ago. By human standards he's actually rather...right, conveying the message.
Just under three minutes, to sprint from his offices, up the outer stairs, swim the river and mount the staircase to the Main Hall. Soaked and breathing hard (but not at all regretting that he'd left Salenth to keep an eye on things from the drumheights, despite the bronze's silent offer to expedite the process - he'd insisted Ka'rys be there for a reason after all) the Weyrleader arrested his dash by clutching at the doorframe. He took in the pile of dragons on the ledge at a glance. It wasn't meant to hold so many.
Looking as calm as a half-drowned Weyrleader with strange dragonriders bleeding on his landing pad was capable of, he raised his voice enough to be heard above the commotion. "Rys." Normally he remembered not to shorten the name, but he had other things on his mind right now. "Find out what you can from these two, and pass it to Salenth." He might already be working the riders over, actually...S'rei wasn't actually looking for him and there were enough bodies that he could just be out of direct line of sight. No matter. There was the bleeder. "If we've got a healer in here, I need them now. Journeyman, senior apprentice...anything. Out on the landing pad."
He didn't wait, though, striding swiftly for the two bronzeriders. "Name," he rapped out curtly. Knots didn't look familiar, but the man knelt near the fallen bronzerider. "Get your head about you, boy. Apply pressure to the bleeding until we can get a healer here." He took the young rider's hands by the wrists, placed them over the spot the fresh blood was pooling from, ignoring the weak sound of protest from the man wearing the knots of a wingsecond.
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Post by tarra on Jan 2, 2010 5:34:46 GMT -5
The big bronze leaned inwards, his muzzle drifting low towards his talons and his eyes whirling a pecular shade of orange as his tail twitched. The movement set off the olive glint of his freshly-oiled hide, gleaming in the sun. Jaws parting to reveal razor teeth, he spoke directly to the blue salamandyr at his feet.
Say that again?
The blue almost winced; someday, perhaps, he would have the temerity to answer back, but he was still such a young salamandyr, a very young one; he cringed back behind S'kor's foot, causing the bronzerider to turn from his work with a sigh.
Enough, both of you. I'll be done oiling soon if you stop interrupting.
Bad bad crazy - me like no.
As if I like you any better than a minor snack. Speak again and I will treat you like one.
Morry! I think it's beneath you to argue with a 'mandyr!
And it's beneath you to have one.
Sheesh, it's not like I wanted it! I didn't ask to...
The big bronze raised his head to the shadows of dragons whirling over the river, and the sudden shift of his thoughts silenced the man. Keens reached them on the sunning beach, and the air, already crowded with dragons, seemed to have exploded with them.
Strangers, all in bad shape, Morreliath was scanning the sky, tracking the approach of the seven dragons, Heading for the Main Hall.
This can't be good, S'kor dropped the brush on the beach and jogged to the edge of the water.
Not good at all, the bronze echoed grimly as he rose, his tail whipping out from it its curled position, Salenth and His will want in on it. We may need fighters, or healers depending. You go to the Hall, I'll fly cover.
Right, let's go.
The bronzerider dove headfirst into the swirling waters as Morreliath unfurled his wings and crouched low. A single leap skywards, a downdraft of wings, and he was off into the sky above the Hall, looking for all the world like a reflective glow of bronze. Only Sky remained on the beach, sitting on his hunches as he gazed quizzically after the disappearing form of his bonded in the River, Where, where, where...?
S'kor, dripping in his plain (somewhat oily) brown tunic and black leggings, arrived at the landing pad seconds behind S'rei. The sight stopped him in his tracks, mouth open for a fraction of a second before he regained himself. The Weyrleader was already there, getting one of the strangers to help with the bleeding bronzerider. People were scrambling behind him, and he had no doubt that the other bronzerider would have called healers already. Though from the looks of things, they were going to need mindhealers too. The thought brought Raebeli to mind, and he blinked. S'kor was not the most prominent of bronzeriders, and his long-held assmptions about kin and Hold values had ensured that he was neither close to nor relied on by any people of power in the Weyr. But that didn't mean he would stand about in an emergency and wait to be ordered around. Whirling on the nearest person he could find in the Hall, he shouted over the din.
"You! Get to the Infirmary, turn out the healers and bring supplies! We need dragonhealers and Rae as well, get them if you can," turning back to the scene, he took two steps to S'rei's side, and crouched beside him. The sight wrenched in him, and he steeled himself against it. He might have expected these beasts to drop dead any moment, they looked so bad, yet somehow they were holding themselves together. But he did not want them to stay here: if the healers were to work, they would need space.
"Sir," a quick word no time for elaborate greetings, "They look bad, but we need to get some of these dragons off the Platform, clear a space for healers, supplies. I suggest send them to the sunning beach. I'll get Morreliath to do it. The riders can go into the Main Hall, and I'll watch them (he felt painfully the abence of the blade at his belt, but then he was somewhat proficent in fist-fighting too). Too exposed here, dangerous."
Morreliath, circling the air above the landing pad, directed an angry thought towards the keening green. He hardly cared what or where they had come through: keening and panicking everyone was not going to help, and he wasn't going to stand for it, Enough! Be silent!
The bronze's reverberated in S'kor's mind as well, and he raised his head, Keep your eyes open Morry. Whoever did this might think to chase them here.
True, the bronze directed his thoughts towards Salenth, finding him after a brief mental search, Salenth, they might be followed. Suggest we organise a defense?
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Post by rii on Jan 2, 2010 12:04:31 GMT -5
They don't look well.
"Mmrf?" R'ven quickly swallowed down his bit of sandwich and peered over at his young brown that had wandered an open window to gaze up at the commotion. Polishing off the rest of his mid-day snack, R'ven wiped his hands against each other while following after Trilaranth. What was that horrible sound? Death.
How cryptic of you..
The smith leaned against the sill, not seeing anything to support Trilaranth's statement. The smith began to shrug the whole thing off, if not for the doors of the hall bursting open. His brow furrowed, even as his feet began to take him toward the semi-hysterical. Trilaranth followed at his heels, neck stretched low to the ground as he gave a curious sniff at the stranger – eyes whirling thoughtfully at the peculiar scent clinging to her skin.
Kneeling down to be at her level, R'ven cautiously touched her shoulder and tried to meet her face. Others were already moving more toward the scene of the piled dragons, a bleeding rider; R'ven let them deal with it. He was just a weyrling after all, and honestly, more experienced with dealing with hysterical women. The former smith knew that a panicked woman could cause much ado if not kept out of the way.
"The healers are coming." A harmless lie – only because he didn't know if they were or not – but his earnest expression didn't betray his words. It was safe to assume someone had notified the infirmary. The gentle touched on her shoulder grew more firm to keep her from whisking off – to keep her attention on him. "Catch your breath. You need to calm down. The healers are on the way." Repetition, because that was her main concern. "You're here now. Come sit over here while they help.." And get her out of the doorway. With a hand still on her shoulder, R'ven carefully took hers with his free one, gentle, but still firm enough to take advantage of her shocked state.
I told you someone was dying.
R'ven ignored the faint sense of amusement from the brown. And, because he was curious. "Tell me what happened?"
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Post by dragon on Jan 2, 2010 12:44:02 GMT -5
Dorava started to her feet, knocking over her chair as the doors slammed open to the sound of keening dragons. The woman who'd thrown them in landed roughly on the floor, only to scream about someone dying, being hurt. Dorava's first instinct was to get out, get away. Stay out of it. Whatever happened, she didn't need to be in the middle of it. But a quick glance around the room didn't show her any healers, like was being called for. She bit her bottom lip in a deep frown. They might be there... someone should be ... wasn't there...? Shard it. She wasn't a healer herself, anymore, but at least she had some training. She could do something until the actual Healers got there. Dorava knew that if she walked away, and someone died because of it, she'd never live with herself again.
Moving through the people in the hall, she headed for the doorway. "Where?" She asked, of the woman before a weyrling appeared to handle her. Moving on without an answer, Dorava knew it wouldn't be too hard to find a wounded person. Sure enough, as soon as she was outside, she saw the person on the ground surrounded by other men. Gritting her teeth and hoping she was doing the right thing, she grabbed at her sleeve as she made her way over. Yanking on it at the shoulder didn't accomplish much, though, to her bemusement. So much for that. Her next attempt to rip the sleeve off, she really yanked on it. It tore - not like she'd expected, but eh. It worked. Yanking it free, she undid the cuff and slipped it off, quickly folding it into a compress as she knelt by the bleeding man. "Here." She said, before ooching her way in to apply it to the bleeding wound. Holding that tight in place, Dorava tried to see what else was wrong. "I hope the healers get here soon."
"Where are you from?" She asked, hoping one of the newly arrived riders would answer coherently. One thing she knew; knowing where they were from would go a long way toward helping S'rei prepare for whatever was coming next.
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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 Jan 2, 2010 15:50:31 GMT -5
It was the keening that he picked up first. Standing up slowly, E'rro held his hand up to his friend (loose as the term might be for her) for silence. Though it made little difference in just how loud the dining hall was. "Do you hear that?" He watched as the other apprentice rose to her feet to listen as well. Vacating his seat, the Brownrider crossed the room to one of the windows his telltale frown appearing on his face. It wasn't a death keen. "Do you see... there. Look." He pointed at the now descending group of Dragons. Something was wrong it seemed, with all of them. He winced as the Wing crowded onto the landing platform, although he was amazed that they all fit. Ismaroth can you see this? Yes. They are not from our Weyr. I do not recognize the Bronzes. Ermine, you should get down there. The Dragons... they're greying faster than I've ever seen.
Grabbing the Apprentice by her arm, E'rro hauled her after him. "We've got to go. Run." Letting her go, he darted around the people who were beginning to amass around the windows. The stairwell was positively starting to crowd. "Healers, move!" He shoved people out of his way as they tried to get down to the first floor. "I said move!" Weaving around and through the bodies, the Brownrider was more than glad to exit out on to the first floor landing. So many human bodies did not do well with the Dragonhealer. Leaping forward now that he had the room, Error ran not entirely wanting to leave the girl bind in his dust. They arrived more or less a few seconds after each other. Evey thing seemed to slow down, as if the world around him was moving in some kind of viscus goo. The sight of all the ill dragons hit him hard, but shouting brought him quickly back to reality. One of the Bronzeriders was ordering his friend to get help, but the look on her face must have been the exact one he had just sported. Moving, he grabbed the front of her tunic and shook. "Listen! Look at me and listen." When her eyes focused on him, he what the Bronzerider had said. "Go fast. As fast as you can. We need help, both healers, Dragonhealers and Raebeli. Got it?" He let go as she pulled away, spinning around as she sprinted to one of the Drudge exits. Ismaroth! If we get them to move to a different location, get ready to help us. Right. I will wait for your signal. Be careful Ermine.
Trotting forward, E'rro arrived close enough to the knot of Bronzeriders to hear one of them suggest the beach by the River, in length it was larger than the landing platform. It would allow them room to move and check over the Dragons. Ismaroth too would help direct them if the Bronze needed it. But for the moment, he could do nothing. The Dragons were to close to one another, most of them panicked and all of them greyed or greying. He ran the risk of getting injured, but it irked him to have to stay back. Digging out his healer knots from his pocket, he pinned them on under his Weyr Ranking knots. Faranath help them all.
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Lotty
Shiny Hoarder
Rider Mi?rah Rider K?sel Rider Osnat Healer Raebeli
Posts: 1,020
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Post by Lotty on Jan 2, 2010 20:33:43 GMT -5
It was a day just like any other day...and because it was in fact daytime - noon to be exact - Rae was in the middle of her siesta. Well, it wasn't a siesta for her, not when she was practically nocturnal; always with the night shifts and all. It was just luck that she had picked a spot outside, otherwise she might have slept through the craziness that had erupted not too far away. Yes, she slept outside and deeply, in the comfort of a hammock that stretched out in the warmth and safety of Rukbat's rays not far from her little apartment. Above her Cap'n roosted, only moving to occasionally shake off some molting feathers, but it was he who she depended on to alert her of danger, it was days like this that tricked her into thinking that the only ill fate that could befall her was a bad tan line.
The bird flinched. There was the hallow, swooshing, sounds of wings against air and a high pitched squeal to answer the dragon calls that rolled over the landscape of the South. Her alarm clock went off early, and she snapped back from dreamland to reality and before she could even clean the crust off of eyes, she knew that something was wrong. It wasn't anything extra sensory...merely the confluence of many clues: the loud sounds, her worried pet, and most obviously the grayed silhouettes falling upon the horizon. The girl suddenly felt rather helpless, but there was little time for such futile emotions; she grabbed for her satin cover up and a pair of easy to reach sandals as a messenger ran to her from the infirmary. Obviously it was time to take up the swing shift.
"Their asking for you at the main hall..." the drudge said between bated breaths and the mindhealer's mouth curled into a suprised "oh". Were the fallen riders all schizophrenic? Mentally incapacitated? What what? She didn't wait to ask though, and ran off with the girl towards the hall (only after a trip back to her room to gather a few tools of the trade including a mild sedative, just incase they really were all just bonkers).
Flip, flop, flip flop, went her sandals as she plodded through the whole mess - her tiny frame being squeezed between too curious spectators that were crowding up the door. She thought that she would never see the light again...but she did...and she saw the dragons so grayed and unhealthy, their riders bleeding. She wasn't sure this was her place at all, but she wasn't about to question a command. There was a time and place for those kinds of things, and this was neither the time nor place. Her head spun on a swivel, and she caught the sight of E'rro whom she recognized from the infirmary. She instantly wormed her way through the crowded platform (should she really be adding to the weight up there anyway?) and nodded at another rider she recognized - S'kor - before she bespoke everyone within earshot with a degree of professionalism and seriousness that was often missing from her casual speech, "Where do you need me?" Presumably she could work to calm everyone down, even more likely was she could do some triage, but this wasn't her call. --
This was just not good.
Of course that was the assessment Mi'rah gave to most situations, but in this case it was a very apt description. It just wasn't good. The event was brought to the bronzerider's attention by that tell tale keening, a sound he hadn't heard since the poisoning of the river, and then at Benden before that. The sound was generally filtered out at his home Weyr, but having been slowly adapting to the sights and sounds of the south he knew when something was out of place. His lonely lunch interrupted, he rose from his seat and took the couple steps it took to his riding jacket before throwing it on with something of a resigned sigh. Always prepared to fly out into the sunset for the last time it seemed.
The man walked out onto the ledge where Kierjaarth was already on alert, waiting. After twenty turns there wasn't a need for words, but Mi'rah was not one to leave any rock unturned, and with a gentle pat against rusted hide he asked, "Soooo..." What was the skinny on the situation old buddy? There are many ill dragons descending on the Main Hall. A small wing maybe? About seven from what I've gathered... Recognize any? How can I with how grey they all are? Fair enough...still I doubt they are Benden riders... He paced closer to the edge of the ledge as he planned out his next move. After all, this is what he did, he was a plotter by nature. He turned on his heel to regard his dragon again, now probably wasn't the time to hash out ideas in one of their famous mental clashes, but sometimes...
What are you thinking? A rhetorical question. He already knew from mental probing before the man decided to air out his thoughts by way of tongue. There was something about hearing your words out loud that made them much more solid and easy to dissect, "Could it - could it be a rouse? Are they baiting the big guys out for a surprise attack?" It was something from his own playbook, though in his world never designed to work on such a large scale. They are fantastic actors... This was one of those reminders that he was meant to Impress Kierjaarth...the bronze's input was indispensable, "I am assuming that S'rei is there...he'll call for Ka'rys I'm sure..."
Morreliath's is there as well...
Too many people in one place, he didn't like it and it didn't bode well in his mind....however to remain silent any longer would only look like a lapse of judgement on his own part. It was time to make some decisions, "I want you to relay somethings to Salenth...v-verbatim..." Stutter and all? ".....I - I - don't stutter." He gave the bronze a displeased look. He should be taking this much more seriously, "Tell him that I am at hand to appear at a moments notice, but perhaps it is wise for a man not to put all of his eggs in one basket...but I am at his complete disposal..." Though there was a sneaking suspicion that he may be better off with other details, there was noting rational about swooping in with the cavalier notion that he could fix everything. Consider your message sent...
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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 Jan 2, 2010 22:35:17 GMT -5
T'ke had been enjoying a nice and peaceful lunch. Granted it was busier than he normally liked it, but the cooks were herdebeast pies, one of his favorites. Garaeth was being his cheerful self and for once it was actually rubbing off on his rider. Even Shard wasn't being quite so skittish of late, and Akyo hadn't tried to eat her for almost a week. All in all, life finally seemed to be going well for this normally pessimistic blue rider.
Until the screaming started.
Only one scream really, but it had been more than enough to ruin everyone's day, especially his. T'ke jerked away from his chair at the sudden cry and just managed to dump his steaming meat pie onto the floor. Great, he thought unhappily. What is happening, T'ke-mine? Even Garaeth sounded concerned. His was sitting on the bank a little ways from the Main Hall. A whole group of strange dragons have landed. They look ill. Should I come and help?
Fantastic, T'ke muttered, mostly to himself and half to his dragon. Another bunch out to murder us all no doubt. Just when life was finally working out, now they come with their knives, and their killing, and their plague, and...wait, sick? T'ke could not help his curiosity. He could see several older riders around the entrance, but he couldn't see past them. What in Faranth's name was going on? Stay there, Garaeth, he said. I don't want you getting sick too.
Shard poked her head out from behind his neck. Bad men? she asked nervous, clawing at his shoulder. Run? Hide? "I wish we could, Shard. But some brilliant fool built this place with one entrance," T'ke muttered darkly. Well, there was the kitchens, but realistically, it was impossible for them all to get out that way in a hurry. Well, if they were going to die anyway, might as well see it coming. T'ke climbed up on the table and tried to see what was going. Fortunately, he was quite tall so he could just make out the huddle group of strangers. Unfortunately, he was not very agile.
Shard squirmed uncontrollably. BAD MEN! GO AWAY! RUN! HIDE! T'ke took a step in surprise at her loudness and promptly stepped in a bowl of soup. His feet went flying out from under him and in a pinwheel of flailing limbs he crashed off the table and into a pair of chairs. Could this day get any worse?
~
Farryl-mine! Farryl-mine! Strangers are here! Are they bad? Peppeth's high voice was a near panic. Ever since the attack that had killed several of her clutchmates, she tended to see all visitors as potential threats. Farryl leaned forward to look and patted her neck. "It's alright, Peppeth. I don't think they mean us harm." She frowned. They looked sick, maybe even dying. That wasn't a good sign. Hobbs circled her anxiously while Zellos glared at them. Peppeth calmed down quickly and did a few quick circles in the air above the Hall. Oh! My poor kin! she cried in distress. We should help them! "Peppeth, I'm sure the Weyrleading has it..." Too late.
Peppeth dove towards the ledge like an arrow from the sky. The ledge was overcrowded as it was. There was barely enough room for humans, let alone another dragon. Peppeth aimed for the biggest spot she could find. It wasn't on the pad itself, but a small ledge that ran around the outside of the Hall. Right next to the younger of the strange bronzes. With an amazing degree of control, Peppeth brought herself into a brief hover and landed hard on the ledge, breathless with effort. Fortunately, or unfortunately, dragon didn't need breath to talk.
What is wrong? she cried to the strangers and any other dragons present. Peppeth is here to help! Are you ill? Are you hurt? She crooned worriedly and looked rather like she wanted to nuzzle the bronze, but wasn't sure if she should. It was hard enough to stay balanced on the small ledge with her wings half open. Farryl was mortified. How could this get any worse?! What if it was a dragon plague and Peppeth caught it? What if it was a trick and they really were hostile? Farryl's hand went to her knife instinctively, but she resisted the urge to draw it. Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to calm down.
"My apologies," she said with a small bow to the dragon. It seemed better to be polite to anything big enough to eat her in one bite. "But may we be of assistance?" Zellos continued to glare at the dragon. He was not intimidated. But a fellow bronze did deserve respect. Big flyer not hurt my Farryl. he warned with a dangerous glint. Zellos protect Farryl. Farryl glared at the salamandyr. Foolish, arrogant monster was going to get them killed one of these days, even if his protectiveness was sweet.
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Ember
Administrator
T'san Iskierka Dy'shi Jazheera Ae'on Nephele Qaena K'dem Eikane
FLAME GURU OF THE UNDERWORLD
Posts: 1,832
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Post by Ember on Jan 2, 2010 23:06:01 GMT -5
Seven dragons, NepheleMine, A young green informed her rider after the sound of keening alerted the entire weyr to the presence of foreign dragons. They're...graying. Grim news indeed. Nephele stood up from her seat in the main hall and she watched as near chaos broke out. A good number of people were just sitting around doing nothing. Others were actually being useful. She intended to join the latter group. Mother shifted on her shoulder uneasily.
Be careful NepheleMine. I know. They may be in shock - if the greenrider's announcement was any indication - but they are far from safe. I'll be careful. Once she settled Mother on a table (and firmly told him not to go anywhere) she moved into the mass of bodies and squeezed past the people who were just crowding around so she could get a better look. She may be a girl but she was stronger than she looked (mostly due to dragonrider training) and she'd taken to carrying a knife ever since the river poisoning.
Nephele caught sight of a young looking bluerider amongst the gray dragons and went in amongst the beasts to fetch him. Fat lot of good he'd do himself or anyone just standing there. She drew her knife as she walked towards him and pat a hand on his shoulder. "Come on, bluerider. Lets get you inside. Your name and weyr?" she spoke in soothing tones, though she made sure he noticed the knife drifting near his chest. She gently pushed at him to get him moving into the main hall.
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Post by glamourie on Jan 3, 2010 1:42:34 GMT -5
During the day, it was rare to find Ka’rys anywhere other than the Main Hall anymore. He usually lurked in the archives, reading everything he could – from records to basic notes – for some hope of who he was – some trace of what he’d lost. Ever since his escape from the infirmary (it was decidedly not a discharge, he’d just gotten up and skittered out quickly and none had come after him – maybe they assumed if he was well enough to be fleeing, he was well enough to be on his own. He’d ended up locating (with some help and a lot of awkward stares) his office, which was where he slept anymore – in a pile of blankets on top of a very pathetic cot in the corner. He didn’t feel comfortable with Savitri. Office for sleeping; archives for daylight hours; exploring the grounds for evening hours. Ka’rys was practically a recluse. So it was that he jumped in surprise at the sound of Ciceroth’s voice racing through his mind, nearly frantic, and he dropped the records he’d been reading in the process. Cursing, he immediately knelt down to pick them up as Ciceroth spoke –
There are strangers here, Rysmine. Strangers to Selenitas, and they are badly hurt. Seven of them, I don’t recognize any. Two bronzes, one of them looks really bad. Salenth’s says to get to the Main Hall a minute ago – he also called you scrawny, but I don’t think that really relates to this –
“It doesn’t. Where are you?” Ka’rys asked softly before putting the records back on the table he’d been at. An image of the river passed through his mind; a series of rocks. For some reason, Ciceroth really liked curling amongst them. He had no idea why. Shaking his head, he muttered, “Get up here. We may need you. Circle above the Weyr and let me know if you see any more with them?” Because he was paranoid. If injured people were there, that could be a distraction from another attack. He didn’t want to be caught unaware. Yes, he was prone to assuming the worst in any situation.
Turning to half-dash into the main hall, Ka’rys arrived just in time to hear a decidedly female screech – nearly hysterical – about them being the only ones left. His eyebrows raised and he glanced at the other people in the Main Hall, only to stop and… be shouted at? Oh, it wasn’t at him. So many people were flooding up toward the strangers that Ka’rys was immediately angered. S’rei’s gaze caught his and he nodded to the words; then Ka’rys actually spoke out above the ruckus, “Everyone near the strangers that isn’t a Wingleader, Healer, or was expressly ordered there, get away!” Didn’t they know that it could be a trap? Lot of suicidal fools. “It does no good for all of you to start asking ten thousand questions, you’ll just be confusing and difficult. If you want to help, back off and wait for instructions, instead of being underfoot!” He didn’t want to have the strangers answering questions for ten or fifteen people. Easier to lie that way. No one paying too close of attention.
Up to the greenrider he walked with purpose, and he did little to disguise his anger. One hand came up to immediately snatch her knots – bizarre as they were; was that High Reaches colors?
“Your wounded will be tended to as quickly as you answer my questions, girl, and I don’t recommend lying to me – I don’t have much tolerance for it. I want your name, rank, where you’re from, how everyone got hurt, who they are, and why in Faranth’s name you came here – in as little words as possible. If I think you’re lying, you’re going to lose fingers,” he said in an all-too-pleasant voice. As if he was discussing something as casual as the weather. He didn’t trust her not to lie, though, or start trying to stammer in her hysteria – so the bronzerider tacked on smoothly, “I suggest not dilly-dallying. I don’t have very much patience, but I do have very sharp knives.”
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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 Jan 3, 2010 12:40:31 GMT -5
If nothing else, Selenitas Riders moved fast. The bronzerider kneeled over his Wingsecond was panicking, shaking his hands nervously, when S’rei’ approached. He didn’t even look up at the instructions, instead opting to blurt out, “But it’s blood!” After he was done pointing out the obvious, though, he didn’t resist having his hands set into place, though the blood did drain from his own face as the older man groaned. Still the younger didn’t look at S’rei, gaze fixed on his ranker’s face. The question as to his name seemed to be completely forgotten; it had been dismissed in favor of the much more urgent situation. There was blood, and he had his hands practically inside his Wingsecond. The man had taken a stab wound to the abdomen, extremely deep.
Z’ther, his bronze provided, leaning forward to watch anxiously and still trying to calm the green who was currently attempting to wiggle under him in her agitation and upset. Z’ther and Jeviniath. That is D’ned of Tiaganth. Tiaganth himself had gone almost completely gray, lying flat on his belly with his head dropped onto his forepaws. As soon as Morreliath spoke to the green, however, she not only stopped keening, but she also started trembling and actually burrowed under Jeviniath, her eyes still whirling in rapid shades of panic.
Seven pairs of dragon eyes followed Dorava’s progress, and Z’ther rapidly scrabbled backwards to allow the greenrider access to his Wingsecond, his face still white. Her question made him start to wring his wrists anxiously, effectively smearing blood across his sleeves and forearm, but he didn’t notice. “High Reaches. Does it matter? Why does it matter? We can’t – can you fix him?” His words were cut off as he started visibly, a surprise that was not his but Jeviniath’s.
The young bronze twisted awkwardly to look at Peppeth before he crooned weakly, clearly uncertain as to how he was supposed to answer. And His was of no help currently. We don’t – uhh. We aren’t sick and I don’t /think/ any of the dragons are hurt but – but the Healers will take care of Theirs, won’t they? Jeviniath wiggled slightly, nervous; the green underneath him was silent, still attempting to press as closely to Jeviniath as she could. Farryl’s words made him blink, confused, and he tilted his head towards D’ned and the Riders surrounding him. Tiaganth’s was broken the worst…?
Meanwhile, the bluerider, who had just started towards the Main Hall, found himself intercepted by Nephele. He would have gone quietly as it was, but the knife at his chest level made him start, staring at her face in confusion as he followed. His blue gave a low anxious rumble after him as he obediently followed the greenrider towards the Main Hall, his face stunned, as if he didn’t quite comprehend the situation at hand. “Uhh, ‘m V’kir…of blue Ephrenth – of – uh, High Reaches – please don’t hurt me…” Yes, knives did tend to be distracting; one hand rose anxiously as if to push the blade away before he thought better of the motion and let his hand drop again.
R’ven’s approach of the greenrider went almost ignored until he touched her shoulder and spoke to her. The touch made her recoil, staring up at him as if she wasn’t sure where he’d come from, but she did allow herself to be led away from the Main Hall’s doors. His inquiry made her stare at him before she whispered, the words still border-line hysterical, “Nobody did anything – and then they came and everyone was killed – even the babies, they killed my baby – ” Her voice had risen in pitch and she curled up, suddenly silent, as if Morreliath’s demand for her green to be silent had applied to her as well. Said silence was broken as Ka’rys approached and grabbed her knots; his words made her shrink backwards towards R’ven, an unconscious mimic of her dragon’s seeking reassurance, and she wound her fingers together in response to threat, tucking them beneath her chin.
Fortunately for her, Ka’rys had apparently scared the stuttering out of her. “Enysa, wingrider of green Iocyeth, from High Reaches Weyr. Fort Weyr is ‘they’ and they killed everyone, and for safety, for help – ” Her words were uttered very quickly, almost babbled, but they were coherent. As soon as she finished, the greenrider slammed her mouth shut and stared at Ka’rys, visibly terrified. He was scary. Why was he so scary! “P – please don’t – I like my fingers…” she added softly, curling around her hands protectively.
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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 Jan 3, 2010 13:14:03 GMT -5
"You're right about it being too exposed," S'rei agreed, the disgust at the pup who couldn't handle blood somehow kept from his face. He glanced sidelong at S'kor. "Do have Morreliath deal with them...but situate the dragons in the weyrs that aren't being used, off the ledges, back under the stone. Unless they're hurt. Send those to the infirmary. Anyone who doesn't need to be here shouldn't."
He moved to the side for Dorava, allowing her to get in and see to the older bronzerider. She knew more of what to do than he did. S'rei smiled wanly at Raebeli, gesturing her forward. "Help Dorava. You know the basics? We need to get him stable enough to move to the infirmary." His eyes swept the platform, noticing Peppeth and Farryl.
"Farryl! Get Peppeth off the platform. We're lucky it hasn't already collapsed. Go to the infirmary and alert the healing staff that they may be getting several patients, including one in grave condition. E'rro. Go with her. I want a wingleader at the infirmary."
Standing, he put a hand on S'kor's shoulder. "If they're relatively fit and only need minor care, we'll run healers to them at the empty weyrs you send them to. Take over here, will you?" S'rei was impressed, such as it was, with the young bronzerider. At any rate, a wingsecond should be trusted to deal with this. "I need to know more before a defense can be mounted. Find me once they're set."
The Weyrleader glanced at Z'ther. "You're coming with me, boy. Try to calm down. You're the one who should be giving orders with D'ned in this state. It's hardly a wonder all your people are panicking when you act like this."
Without another word to those on the platform, he made for the door again. A low growl sounded in his throat. "Greenweyrling! You and..." ah. The one he'd sit on. What was his name again? "...the brownweyrling dawdling by the door. Clear the weyrling barracks and the candidate barracks. Everyone to the Hatching Sands...for that matter, roust the wherhandlers and the weyrfolk, too."
He had heard the last portion of the greenrider's explanation, his eyes narrowing on Ka'rys. "I need the Hall cleared, Wingleader," he stated sharply. "Try not to stab people to get them moving." Couldn't find any good help around here, could he? "Z'ther, take the girl. We're going to help you as much as we can, all right? But you have to try to calm down." He directed them to clear the doorway.
Jeviniath. Can Tiaganth get to the infirmary if we take His there? Salenth questioned the bronze, before shifting his attention to Kierjaarth. The Main Hall is being cleared as we speak. Tell Yours that he is to help organize the relocation of all the people quartered above the falls to the Hatching Grounds, and find some way to make it more defensible. He should find Nuoth's and Trilaranth's.
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Post by rii on Jan 3, 2010 13:51:17 GMT -5
R'ven felt a tightening somewhere in his chest at the greenrider's words. A sick revulsion toward whoever they were and what they had done. As the women went silent, R'ven didn't press her to continue – finding that he didn't want to know a thing more about what had happened. Instead he shifted his attention to look her over, seeing if in her hysteria she had forgotten about her own wounds, only half hearing the orders to leave.
A man brushing past beside him, grabbing at the woman. R'ven had to catch himself before he could grab Ka'rys's arm and shove the bronzer away. Instead one hand curled more tightly around the armrest of the wooden chair. Northern man. R'ven carefully kept his lips closed and his gaze adverted to green rider. Bronzer. R'ven could, by no means, understand how threatening the poor woman in half-hysterias would do any good. He was surprised she even heard everything he demanded of her instead of bursting into another round of rambling madness. R'ven hand reflexively touched against the greenrider's back as she shrank against him. "It's alright."
Assuming the small bronzer wouldn't stab her, R'ven calmly rubbed her back more for his sake than hers. In his opinion there was no need to be so rough and violent with these people when they had clearly came from such an ordeal..
Mine, the young brown interjected into his mindmates darkening mood. Trilaranth had been paying more attention to the on goings of the room while the smith had dealt with the nervous female. Utterly calm, almost on the verge of sounding playful, amidst the rising chaos. The weyrleader wants us and the greenweyrling to get the other weyrlings and candidates to the hatching sands.
Taking in a deep breath, R'ven rose – squeezing the greenriders's shoulder. "I'm sorry. I need to go.. the healers are tending to your friends." With than he headed for the doors, the young brown following closely in his wake as they threaded through the mess. May I? Go ahead.
Trilaranth sent his mind out, touching Jingth's. I'm sorry to disturb you, but there seems to be trouble arising. The weyrleader wants all weyrlings and candidates to the hatching grounds at once. Would you please contact your clutchsiblings and inform them? Trilaranth didn't know all of them, nor did he know where they currently resided amongst all the messages being thrown out. It would have been easy for things to get confused – and she was the gold of her clutch, they had to listen to her, right?
The brown shifted his attention to his bronzebrother, Mavenath. Brother, the weryleader wants all weyrlings and candidates to get to the hatching sands. Mine is going to sweep through the candidate barracks and would appreciate if yours could keep and eye out for any others wandering about and herd them towards the sands. Trilaranth looked back over his shoulder as they disappeared from the main hall. A more widespread message went out to those of his clutch. Brothers and sisters, take yours to the hatching sands at once, Weyrleader's orders. Do not dally. He wouldn't take too kindly to any of his clutchsiblings disobeying.
Nuoth. Mine is going to go through the candidate barracks. I've spoken to my clutchsiblings, and I've asked Jingth to speak to hers. Could you fly down to rouse the wherhandlers? Mines says he'll meet yours at the sands later.[/i] And with that parting thought, the brown weyrling pair left the Main Hall.
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Ember
Administrator
T'san Iskierka Dy'shi Jazheera Ae'on Nephele Qaena K'dem Eikane
FLAME GURU OF THE UNDERWORLD
Posts: 1,832
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Post by Ember on Jan 3, 2010 14:35:13 GMT -5
Nephele didn't let her guard down all the way but she could see that he was stunned to see the knife anywhere near him. They probably didn't mean any harm at all. "High Reaches?" She hid her surprise well enough but she had thought all but Fort Weyr and Benden Weyr were empty. "Nevermind. I don't intend to hurt you. You must understand that we must be cautious." The greenweyrling heard shouting from one of the riders from their weyr and nearly tsked. Well sorry for trying to help.
She jumped slightly when she was called by the Weyrleader. She was ready for a tongue lashing (thought the timing would have been inappropriate) but she was given orders instead. Oh. She turned to see the brownweyrling he mentioned and was surprised to find out that it was R'ven. Before that she had to get V'kir into capable hands. Couldn't very well leave him to his own devices. Nephele spotted S'kor and indicated him to the bluerider. "V'kir, go to the bronzerider there. He'll be able to figure something out for you."
She watched him for a moment to make sure he'd go before Nuoth contacted her, passing a message along from R'ven's brown. Trilaranth has informed the weyrlings to move to the Hatching Sands. His will go and take care of the candidates. That left the wherhandlers and the weyrfolk to inform. Nuoth could you go to the wherhandlers? Inform the whers, they'll get their handlers out. Trilaranth asked me to do the same thing. Also, Trilaranth's will meet you at the sands afterwards.
That meant Nephele would have to clear out the weyrfolk. A light weight on her shoulder alerted her to Mother. The firelizards might come in handy later but for now they were free to continue doing as they liked. She paused. Actually, Misfit might come in handy rousing the wherhandlers. She left the main hall and headed for the weyrfolk apartments at a half-run. If whoever attacked High Reaches came to Selenitas a bit of haste wouldn't hurt. NepheleMine is going to clear out the weyrfolk, Nuoth informed the young brown.
The green had already left her perch and was flying down towards the wherhandlers apartment. Oh they would not be happy to be woken up. To the nightfolk noon must be like midnight. She landed lightly outside and probed the building for a wakeful mind. Nuoth let loose a roar in the hopes it would awaken someone. Misfit, on orders from his human, popped into Roivao's apartment. He screeched as he flew quick circles around. Up, up, get up Tiidalove and Tiidalove's pets!
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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 Jan 3, 2010 15:50:41 GMT -5
Since he couldn't do anything right away, E'rro began focusing his attentions on the immediate surroundings. The Riders who had burst into the Hall were being taken care of, and the Bronzeriders looked as if they had the unfamiliar ones under control. Which left only one other thing to do. The Brownrider moved toward the people crowding in from the stair case. He had been helping move people back when he heard S'rei call his name and give him an order. "Yes, sir!" Swinging around he swept his gaze over the Dragons on the landing ledge, quickly picking out the only Dragon that could possibly be Farryl's. Minemine Ermine! Shards, he had forgotten Nuisance in the dining hall. Fortunately the little blue was smart enough to find him in all of this chaos. Upup! Looking up, E'rro help his hands out to catch the falling/gliding Salamandyr. "Good boy. Lets go."
Stashing the Mandyr on his shoulder, the Brownrider jogged over to the Green's side as he slid on his gloves. Looking up with a hand on closest strap, he addressed Peppeth. "A leg up if you please." Leaping up onto the Green's leg, E'rro used the harness straps to maneuver himself up behind Farryl. "You mind?" He was already so close to her, since the space between the harness and the wings of a green was much smaller than that of a Brown. He didn't want to, but he had to hold onto the girl for safety."I'm not wearing a riding belt." He could not simply clip into an extra safety strap. Nuisance was in his collar, hiding himself away in preparation for flying.
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