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 3, 2010 16:25:14 GMT -5
Peppeth was relaying the bronze's answer when Farryl heard her name. She looked up and winced. Ka'rys and S'rei were probably pretty mad at her. At least they were too busy at the moment for yelling, but she was sure that would come later. For now, they had a job to do. "Yes, sir!" She called to S'rei. "We're on our way!" E'rro was already making his way to her. Do not worry! she called to the bronze. Peppeth will get help. All will be well. You will see! She beamed and crooned at him in reassurance. It was amazing how quickly the little green could start treating people as friends.
Farryl smirked playfully at E'rro while she checked to see he was settled. "Don't worry about it," she assured him. "Hang on as tight as you can, cause Peppeth goes fast." Farryl whistled and Peppeth bunched her muscles. It was hard to take off backwards off such a small ledge, but small dragons had agility on their side. Peppeth pushed hard off the ledge and into the open air. She twisted her body forwards as she fell and jerked he wings open in time to stop the plunge into the water below. Then they were off, flying fast towards the infirmary, Peppeth calling ahead as she went. Hurt Mines at the Hall! Healers make ready! One leaking very bad!
~
T'ke forced himself to get to his fit, rubbing a new bruise on his arm. Everyone had been too distracted to notice his mishap and he was partly grateful. It was embarrassing enough, under the circumstances. T'ke began to search his clothes for Shard. Garaeth? What's going on? he asked. He didn't feel like trying the table again. The weyrleaders are sending for healers and alerting the infirmary. The weyrlings, candidates, and weyrfolk are gathering at the Hatching Grounds in case of attack. he reported. Peppeth had told him most of this, since she had been close enough to hear. So far there wasn't much the blue could do but watch.
T'ke found Shard, safe and shivering in his shirt pocket. She was safe enough there for now, but her fear was contagious and hard to keep under control. He found himself wishing he had a dark corner to hide in too. S'rei and Ka'rys seemed to have things well in hand, but that didn't leave anything much for him to do at the moment, other than stay out of the way. It was probably just as well. He could smell the copper tang of bloody and it was making him nauseous. He didn't really want to find out just how much blood there was.
~
Tiida woke to Misfits frantic screeching above her head. Her claws dug into Roivao's chest as her mind's screams join her mate's. Wake precious mine! Wake shiny groundbeast! WAKE NOW! Roi growned and rolled over. It couldn't be evening yet, what was she so upset about. Tiida fluttered away from for a second then jumped up to his head and bit him neatly on the ear. Wake precious! she screamed again. Roisk growled at her, but he understood something was wrong and tugged at Roi's blankets. Roi snatched Tiida off his head as he sat up, blinking at the blood and Misfit. What in Faranth's name was going on?
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Post by dragon on Jan 3, 2010 19:08:06 GMT -5
Dorava was honestly surprised when people made way for her... she wasn't even a healer. Granted, she used to be an apprentice. Oh well ... in lieu of an actual healer being on the premises, it was for the best she supposed. "I need someone to rig up a stretcher for me. Or go find one, one or the other. We can't move him, like this." Dorava said, hoping someone would hear her over all the shouting and yelling that was going on. "You'll be ok, we'll get you patched up good as new." She told the bronzer she was leaning on, slowing his bleeding by quite a bit. She wished she had something else to work with ... anything. Redwort for one, to make sure he didn't get a blood infection from this. There wasn't even any way for her to really tell if his guts were peirced or if they had been miraculously missed. Or if it was something simple, like a liver slice, or far more dangerous - a cut intestine would likely be the end of him.
Shifting her stance, she rested a knee on the compress to hold it firmly in place. Her hands thus freed, Dorava stripped off the rest of her shirt, proceeding to tear it into strips as well as she could manage. Threads and hems went every which direction from the strips, but it was the best she could do. Folding up several pieces, she added those to the top of the compress, before using more strips to lash the whole thing snuggly in place, around his chest. Getting the strips under him without hurting him was a tricky thing nigh on impossible, but she did the best she could manage with what she had. When she was done, it was tight enough that the compress was still held tightly enough to slow the bleeding. There was a good chance it was going to have to be cut off, though, as the knots were plenty tight ... on top of any breathing he did making them even tighter.
"You'll be ok." She reassured, again, trying to keep the rider ... and any of the others nearby, in better spirits. It could very well mean the difference between life and death, whether or not he thought he'd make it. "Just take it easy. We'll get you to the infirmary, and patch you up proper." Definitely repeating herself, but that was okay. Maybe even necessary. Taking the last piece of shirt she had left, she rolled it up into a neat burrito and offered it to the bronzer. "Bite this. When we move you, it will hurt." Probably not going to taste very good, but she didn't have anything else. It would definitely keep him from ripping his jaw muscles or worse, biting his tongue off.
Dorava sat up a bit straighter and looked around to see if anyone had either made or fetched something they could put him on to move him safely to the infirmary. Aonith, love. I am going to need you at the main hall just as soon as some of these others clear out. She called.
On my way. Aonith answered, before taking to the air and gliding from where she was resting on warm rocks to a point near the mainhall for a landing. Dorava knew that Aonith was very good at moving a stretcher-bound body gently and swiftly from one location to another, and Dorava had previously spent much time training her dragon to do just that. Before she'd left the infirmary, of course, but she didn't know of any other dragon that could do it. Having people carry the stretcher was too slow and clumsy in her opinion - this man needed moved to the infirmary as soon as possible. With as little jolting as possible. It was a miracle he'd survived between as it was!
Just as soon as the message reached the Candidate barracks, Emoyan wasted no time in even asking what for. He'd heard that keen as well as anyone else in the Weyr had. But until that moment he'd been making sure everyone stayed put and out of the way, instead of flocking toward the chaos. Now, though, he was hurrying all the youths out of the barracks. He did not understand why everyone was being sent to the sands instead of deep into the underbelly of the Weyr's tunnels where dragons could not reach them, though. But at this moment was not the time to be questioning orders.
L'nu was startled ... and plainly very scared by what was coming down the pipes. What was exactly happening, he had no idea, but the general tone the Weyr was getting into was enough to scare him. Going with the others near him, he tried to keep close eye on where Paglieth was, trying to keep the young blue close to him.
What's going on, mine? the dragon asked, while Rose whirled madly overhead like a gyro spinning wildly out of control.
"I don't know. Keep up. Both of you. Hurry now!"
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Ruby
Shiny Hoarder
Jr.Weyrwoman Caden Bronzehandler Piden Bluerider M'kai Bluerider T'ri Greenrider Tenlie Greenhandler Serissa
Posts: 1,524
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Post by Ruby on Jan 4, 2010 5:29:08 GMT -5
Misfit's probings certainly wouldn't find Piden or Pidesk awake, but Red was another story. The Salamandyr wasn't totally nocturnal, like her counterparts; rather, she slept whenever she wanted, and entertained herself if Hers weren't awake. She was up now, batting a small bit of fluff across the floor, pouncing and frilling as if it, too, were trying to attack. Possibly the fluff was winning. EIther way, Nuoth's mental touch made her freeze mid leap, sending her sprawling. Red didn't HAVE friends- she wasn't used to creatures other than Piden and Pidesk touching her mind without permission. And she was NOT pleased.
Squawking, she launched herself at one of Piden's fingers, hanging limply off the side of his bed. Used to such nighttime abuses, he simply rolled over, taking Red with him and bleeding a little on the sheets. He'd finally given up and had his sheets dyed red to cover up the evidence of his Mandyr's frequent sleeptime attacks. Normally Red would have left it at that and gone to curl up in the crook of her humanpet's arm, or possibly on his face, but she'd also picked up Nuoth's worry. She was not about to let her humanpet sleep through this.
Just for the record, a mental shout of DEATH. is not particularly pleasant to wake up to, although it'll get even the most reluctant waker out of bed very quickly. Piden was on his feet in seconds, a pen in one hand, that being the only sharp thing he could find. Still groggy, he looked around, expecting a dead person to fall off the ceiling or something. It couldn't be Pidesk, of course- the bronze was waking too, snuffling and yawning. But no, no corpse, just Red trying her best to cram herself inside his tight-fitting shirt.
HALL DEATH. Scary told, Red continued. Piden, used to the conciseness of her speech, figured that a dragon was dying in the dining hall, and... something had told her. Not a human, they were "squishy" or "humanpet", depending on their posession of a salamandyr or lack thereof, (or "ANGRY" if they were a redhead). Not a Wher, or a firelizard- all Whers were "LikeDesky", and Firelizards were "Thing". Dragons, on the otherhand, were frequently "Scary" or "BIG". Sounded like this one was probably still a Weyrling.
Redling, ask the Scary why it woke us. We certainly aren't needed for a petty fight in the Main Hall. Did someone send it? Piden requested, sending her calming thoughts. Red made a spitting noise, feigning disgust to hide her fear. Just do it, please, he maintained. Spitting and frilling, Red reached out to Nuoth.
Humanpet asks why wake? Who? Hall? Desky and Pet wake wake now.
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Post by tarra on Jan 4, 2010 8:48:51 GMT -5
Ka'rys's voice rang out behind him, belling in its demand for attention. But tuned though he was to the Weyr's authority figures, S'kor heard only the sound of it and not the words; his eyes were on the graying dragons, his mind judging their condition, his logic overriding the fear in his heart that they might die. He was not adverse to animals dying: neccessity had hardened his reactions to it, the same way it hardened his soul to the ways of beastcrafters and the herdbeasts they slaughtered for survival. But herdbeasts were not sentient in the sense that dragons were; herdbeasts did not talk back to you, did not watch you from eyes so full of feeling their colors showed all the time. They did not comfort you in your woes, nor chastise you for your weaknesses. There was something infinitely more to a dragon, whether in its living or its dying; and accustomed as S'kor had become to it, there would always be a niggling at the back of his mind whenever one died. And somehow the deaths of a dragon or two on your ledges were always worse than the mass chaos of battle sending a dozen to their demise at any time...
He realised S'rei was speaking to him, and wrenched himself back with an effort.
"...have Morreliath deal with them," he was saying, "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 nodded, hazy eyes cool as the mask of the bronzerider - professional, collected - slid into place. The Wingsecond's bronze was looking grayer than he had been just seconds before, and that poor green that his bronze had accosted seemed fit to die of shock at any moment. The rest were gray, but appeared physically sound. No tearing injuries, at any rate. The terrified babble of Iocyeth's rider reached his ears, and he turned for a moment towards her, hastily closing his mouth on the scrowl of distate that had lifted it. Much as he respected his leaders, there were some things his Weyrsecond did that he could never approve of. Morreliath, flashing olive-brronze in the sun as he circled, inclined his muzzle as he relayed the names given by Jeviniath to the man.
Thanks Morry. Ka'rys just squeezed out of that poor girl that they're High Reaches. We need to send unhurt riders off to the weyrs, unused ones. The deserted lot at the edge?
Better to have them seperated. That Weyr was a failed project from the start, but its riders may still have cunning. Two to that deserted lot, three along the top level singles, another two in the third level?
Right - not much good, dragons can still talk to each other. But proceed.
Consider it done, the great bronze dipped his wings, carrying his shadow over the landing pad for a few seconds in passing as he bespoke all the dragons at once, High Reaches dragons, I am Morreliath, Mine is Wingsecond S'kor, and you will listen to me. You are to proceed to the weyrs with me at once. Should any of you or Yours be badly hurt, inform me and Mine shall escort you to the Infirmary. I repeat, if you are unharmed get up here with Yours at once, and follow me to the weyrs...
S'kor came back into himself to find Raebeli nearby and asking what she might do. He had no time to answer her however; S'rei was addressing him again.
"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? I need to know more before a defense can be mounted. Find me once they're set."
The bronzerider blinked, trying to recall when he had last been asked to take over anything. There were only a few times he ever had to take charge, and even then only because he had been the only authority figure around. But breaking up occasional small scuffles and helping weyrbrats with broken-legs were peanuts compared to this. Not that he was unable to do it - he was just unused to being delegated responsibility. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that he was a Wingsecond now; and didn't titles usually make people take notice? Shuffing aside the philosophies of the whole matter, he nodded curtly.
"Aye Sir," the inflections of his youth slipped into his speech unbidden, "I'll settle them and look for you."
He turned back to the scene at hand as S'rei moved on to berate the hapless Z'thar. Dorava and Rae were on the badly-wounded D'ned, and the other riders should be approaching him for injuries or else following Morreliath to the weyrs. He couldn't see any more hurt riders, and turned his attention to how they might move the downed bronzerider to the Infirmary. Raising his voice, he called over the dwindling crowd.
"High Reaches dragons, please remain calm and do as Morreliath asks. I know what you have been through is terrible, but we are trying to help you and you must help yourselves. Please move to the weyrs. Now."
The ebb and flow of voices behind told him them they were clearing the Hall. Where were those Healers he had asked for? Even Rae had arrived, but everyene else seemed to be dwadling. They would need a stretcher, or the means to make one at the least...
Aonith comes, Morreliath alerted, and S'kor nodded. Hopefully the landing pad would have cleared sufficiently to afford Dorava's green a landing spot. His gaze wandered over the wooden chairs in the Main Hall, frustrated. He could break a few and re-form the pieces as a makeshift stretcher, but the task was impossible without securing ropes of some sort. The bronzerider glanced around, haze-brown eyes seeking something, anything, that might serve the purpose. Looking back out over the landing pad, his glare fell on Tiaganth's harness. Realisation struck him with a start, and in two steps he was beside the grayed bronze, deft hands ripping off the harness and its straps.
"My pardon, noble Tiaganth," he murmered softly for the dragon's ears, "But I doubt you'll be needing these. Your rider would though."
The leather straps came away in his hands, and he strode back into the Hall with the traces trailing, undoing the lines of leather with hands long practised and callsed from making and umaking his own straps. Dropping the winding lengths on the ground, the bronzerider grasped the nearest chair he could find in both hands. A heave, a thrust, and the chair splintered as he dashed it against the ground, the back-rest breaking off cleanly from the main frame. He left the ruins as they were and went to the next, then the next. Three or four back-rests were all he needed - and quick hands that could secure them firmly with the straps he had torn from Tiaganth's harness. Dragging all his implements back to the landing pad, he set to his task grimly where he could still keep sight of everything going on.
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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 4, 2010 9:43:29 GMT -5
Ok. So she was just a little upset that there wasn't some kind of mental malady to fix, but she could and had done some first aid in the field so she had no qualms with being the first line of help for some of the injured. She was a good sight to see anyway...not everyone was as reassuring as she was, and she took great strides to hold together both her sympathies and a certain degree of detachment (something of a contradicting statement). Rae usually considered herself rather successful in this regard, though more often than not the dragonriders would be greeted with a flash of her smile...just as they often did in her apprenticeship at Fort's main hall. A good education that was...up north she became well accustomed to what the injuries of war looked like.
"Yes sir..." she replied to the Weyrleader without question before attending to the task given to her: helping Dorava. Despite her job consisting of asking a myriad of questions, it was slightly ironic that she was the one of the few asking nothing of the strange riders. Places, names, things like that weren't her prerogative. Not now anyway...when they all lived through this - which she believed if only to keep up morale - then she could have her share of riders bedridden and forced to sit through her evaluations. Until then though, she had to help keep them alive even if that meant helping Dorava.
The greenrider seemed to take over the process on her own, and rather silently the mindhealer took up the injured bronzers other side. Rae did not have the redwort the girl seemed to need - again, this wasn't exactly the situation she was made to believe it would be - but in his bag that had been so hastily filled and thrown together she at least had painkillers. Always leave it to the happyfixer to have something to make someone happy...alternate nicknames for the girl could now include: Dr. Feelgood. Pulling out a small vial of felis she presented it to D'ned, "This will help more than the gag in your mouth..." which she pulled out for a brief moment after mixing a drop into a small flask she had. Best she could do given the situation...but she did her best to administer the drug before stuffing that cloth back in his mouth ad running off to find a stretcher...or at least intercept someone with one. It was a shame Cap'n didn't have telepathy...she could have sent out the bird with a message, but as it was, she had to go take this into her own hands.
Lucklly someone inside was able to fashion a stretcher from a table cloth and long pieces of who knows what from kitchen storage. With the help of a drudge she was able to pull it out into the slightly less crowded platform and easing it next to the bronzerider. Looking over at the greenrider she asked, "Is he ready to be moved?"
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Rei
Administrator
Rider Cr'oph Rider Er'ani Rider Elysia Rider/Healer Erilena Wherhandler Sydney Holdbrat Emitre Holdbrat Dileina Weyrbrat Elias Weyrbrat Terilyn
Woooo~ I am a fox!
Posts: 3,021
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Post by Rei on Jan 4, 2010 15:00:20 GMT -5
(Small Post for the sake of posting >> No reply is needed)
Mine Trilaranth says that all of the weyrlings and weyrfolk are to relocate to the hatching sands. Cr’oph just nodded at his bronze. “Alright inform them all. We will meet outside the barracks and move from there. Perhaps you should inform Jingth as well and let her know to contact her siblings.” Mavenath stretched. I believe Trilaranth has already informed her. Raising himself from his couch he made for the common room, reaching out to all his siblings as he did so.
Hear me clutch brothers and sisters! We are to relocate to the hatching sands. It would probably be safer for us if we all headed there as one group. As such, you are to meet me at the entrance to the barracks. The bronze paused as another voice entered his head. Kaaoloth informs me that he will follow our path in the air to serve as protection.
Cr'oph raised an eyebrow but did not comment. "Ok sounds good. One dragon for protection is better than none I suppose. He might be able to at least buy us a bit of time." Mavenath nodded before reaching out to his sibling's again. This is important. Please do not dally. If you are not around the barracks please let me know now so I can send someone to fetch you. Cr’oph waved a hand at his bronze in a signal to go ahead and tucked a few weapons into his clothes before following the hatchling out to the field.
As promised Kaaoloth was circling low over the field, his shadow casting out over the small group. Hurry now little ones. We have to be quick. Do not panic Sel'n and I will let nothing happen to you or yours. Sel’n patted his dragon’s neck affectionately. Really they could not promise such but at least perhaps the words would give them a bit of comfort. Last thing they needed was panicking weyrlings.
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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 4, 2010 19:58:29 GMT -5
Organization. Benden might not be known for organization, but Mi'rah always had been - then again when was the man anything that reputation said that he should be? There was a set of expectations for him, but they were mere shadows that followed him around. This was the real thing: the reserved and affable man with a knack for logical solutions as opposed to thoughtless actions. As bumbling as he might appear, he would not botch this up...he shouldn't botch this up, it was too simple of a task assuming he didn't try and over think this...
A pat on the side of the dragon and the silent messages were sent by way of the mysterious unknown synapses in the brain. The short story? Inform everyone in their weyrs....as if they didn't know already what exactly was going on. Words flew fast in the weyr, but often they got scrambled and he was there to be the truth, the final word....welll Kierjaarth was anyway. Mi'rah's soft voice and northern brogue, wasn't exactly the booming authority that his dragon's was. Attention....if you are in your weyr, you are in the wrong place. Everyone is to evacuate to the hatching grounds immediately.
Would that be good enough? Not exactly, repetition...repetition could be annoying, but it was sometimes needed. The man in an unexpected show of athleticism (here again with defying preconceived notions) he bounded to an offered leg and pulled himself up to the dragon's back. No straps were needed, there was no time for that even if it was horribly unsafe and Mi'rah obsessed over safety. The dragon immediately dropped off his ledge as more of the dragonriders started to file out, and the pair made a few good passes over the valley in supervision of the whole operation. In these moments he immediately began combing through blueprints and floor plans in his mind. Yes he knew them....he knew these things and they were kept in his memory. All from the night before the siege. A little creepy? Yes. Especially since all those weak spots he needed to now plan to secure.
First things first. He had to find Nuoth's and Trilaranth's, and so after another sweep of the land he circled down towards the hatching sands in search of the two weyrlings.
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Post by glamourie on Jan 5, 2010 0:17:51 GMT -5
Fort… Weyr…? High Reaches? He’d read something about High Reaches in the archives, stealing candidates. The girl’s behavior made him want to slap her for being so pathetic – she looked like she was going to throw up all over herself. Weakness didn’t get shown in front of strangers, didn’t she understand that? Stupid child. Mentally dismissing her, Ka’rys cocked his head to the side. He likely would’ve asked her something further, if not for S’rei’s next words, and Ka’rys looked back at him, blank-faced; it was very tempting to get annoyed, but… he just didn’t care enough to. Part of that was Ciceroth. The mere word of ‘High Reaches’ actually angered the bronze enough that his attitude was that they should hand every single one of them over to Fort with ribbons and bows. Ka’rys had tact enough not to ask why – he knew his dragon; if he heard why he’d agree with it. Not that he didn’t already but he hardly needed encouragement. He was annoyed enough with S’rei – they didn’t even know why Fort had attacked but obviously that wasn’t important. Maybe Fort had a reason. Typical Southern idiocy, not stopping to consider all the options. They didn’t even know for sure that it was Fort. Just one stuttering, terrified girl’s word to go on. They hardly had time to dawdle but knowing why would’ve been a step in the right direction. Whatever. He didn’t care. Selenitas wasn’t his home. Apparently neither was Fort; he didn’t have one.
They are endangering all of us. I think we should hand them over to That Place if they come looking. Maybe even take them ourselves. Seven is not worth the cost of our own people, and these ones deserve it. You’re not helping my mood any. Salenth’s is being too sentimental. They have it coming. The scars that both Salenth and I have are proof of that. They don’t deserve our help.
“I don’t get to make those calls. I just clear out people,” Ka’rys said out loud, not realizing he was actually speaking verbally to his dragon, though it was unlikely that he’d do anything differently even if he did. Who cared if people overheard half of a conversation that they couldn’t possibly follow? “Take your complaints elsewhere. Like I said, you’re not helping my mood much.” At least his self-talking was mostly quiet, since people had begun to mill around. His eyes rolled and one hand came up to scratch his head – his hair had finally begun to grow back. Something about Ciceroth’s words struck a chord with him and he muttered under his breath, “Convince Hepaticath to talk to Salenth, then, if you care so much. Not my problem.” But he didn’t want to help them either. How much of that was Ciceroth’s anger running off, and how much was his own, he couldn’t say… but it wouldn’t be inaccurate to describe Ka’rys was cold under normal circumstances.
The wave of irritation was enough to tell him that Ciceroth thought that line of thought a worthless endeavor. At least he wasn’t complaining anymore. Shaking his head, the bronzerider turned to the weyrfolk cluttering the tables and walked over to deal with them – away from the crowds. Weyrfolk he could deal with. Riders who deserved to be drowned for idiocy (why was that brownrider cuddling up to someone who could have been acting to get in – for all he knew she could stab him!) weren’t worth his time. It was hard enough keeping his bronze calm. The dragon wanted very badly to sweep down and end the dying bronze’s suffering. Purely out of kindness, of course. And the others too. As it was, Ka’rys felt an assurance from Ciceroth that no one was nearby – yet – and he silently pushed the bronze to land away from the Main Hall. He didn’t need to be near him to know that his dragon’s eyes were an alarming shade of red. So angry, he was… it was almost frightening.
“You need to try to get out of here – this place may not be safe for very long,” Ka’rys said to the cluster of weyrfolk he approached; his tone was so dramatically different that it might’ve turned heads. “We’re in a wooden structure on a river. Not safe. If you’re not otherwise assigned, go to the infirmary or – ” Ciceroth helpfully interjected with hatching grounds, “ – the hatching grounds. Those places will need people, and they’re stone. Safer. Tell everyone you see too, please.” He nodded to the table and then moved to the next one to repeat the process.
Ciceroth, meanwhile, perched on the top of the cliff face overlooking the Infirmary. His eyes, so pure scarlet, were fixated on the new dragons and his tail lashed anxiously before he bespoke Salenth and Salenth alone, Do you think Calistoth would approve of the way that our weyrlings are so eager to help these ones? There was enough poison in this words to imply what he thought. They owed High Reaches nothing.
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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 5, 2010 16:14:34 GMT -5
D’ned groaned. It was to his credit that the man didn’t just outright faint, which looked quite likely to happen in all honestly, given the amount of blood he’d lost. His eyes fluttered, focusing briefly on Dorava, before rolling back to look at the sky again. Going between had probably made the wound worse than ever, but he was still alive. For now. The older bronzerider made no effort to move at all, the gag accepted into his mouth thoughtlessly as his eyes closed tightly, as if in mental preparation to be moved – only to have the gag pulled out. The fellis was swallowed, the gag placed back in, and he ground his teeth against the fabric as a cough sent a spasm of pain through his body. One hand half-rose, as if to inspect the bandaging around his abdomen, but fell again before he could, as if he’d thought better of it.
The younger bronzerider looked pale, shaken, as he backed away from his Wingsecond, following S’rei instinctively. The Weyrleader’s words made him tilt his head, nervous, before he nodded, gaze flicking to Jeviniath and then back to the situation at hand again, and he lapsed into silence, staring at the Riders and Weyrfolk scurrying around them, blankly, before the order to take ‘the girl’ made him look up again and he blinked, turning to look for Enysa. He nodded, obedient, before moving off towards the greenrider, who, deserted by both R’ven and Ka’rys, was still sitting, curled and confused.
“Come on,” he murmured, tugging on her elbow, and she uncurled obediently and followed him back towards the dragons. Iocyeth had calmed down, enough that she’d ventured out from underneath Jeviniath, which seemed to do wonders of Enysa’s nerves. The bronze, meanwhile, turned his head to glance at Tiaganth, anxious, before he replied to Salenth, I should think that if His was there, Tiaganth would be able to follow. He’s not physically injured… The older bronze was rather glassy-eyed, almost pure gray now, watching D’ned intently, silently, motionless. Tiaganth wasn’t as weak as he felt, surely…that was just a mirror of D’ned’s weakness.
Six dragon heads swiveled at the sound of Morreliath’s head, Iocyeth giving a visible flick of her wings, while Tiaganth didn’t even lift his head or make any physical acknowledgment of Morreliath’s words. Jeviniath crooned once, and at his croon and the mental nudge, four dragons rose into the air, following Morreliath obediently. Blue Ephrenth, bronze Jeviniath, and bronze Tiaganth remained, though Jeviniath only stayed as long as it took Z’ther to help Enysa onto his neck and follow the greenrider before he followed the rest of his dragons into the air. Ephrenth’s eyes whirled more rapidly in his anxiety, the blue turning his head to watch V’kir as he nodded, grateful and undeniably relieved, at her instructions, turning to mount Ephrenth, whereupon the blue, too, leapt into the air in pursuit of Morreliath and the other five.
Only Tiaganth remained behind with his Rider, though Jeviniath paused to reach out for Salenth’s mind again. After we drop off Iocyeth’s, would you like Z’ther to return? Perhaps he could be of aide to Yours…?
You are not disturbing me. I will tell them. What trouble? Jingth didn’t wait immediately for an answer from Trilaranth though, instead tilting her head and bespeaking all of her clutchsiblings – even Weith. Just because she detested him didn’t mean she would leave him to die. That would be foolish. Clutchsiblings. We have orders to relocate immediately to the Hatching Sands. There is trouble. You would be wise to take Yours there at once.
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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 6, 2010 1:13:12 GMT -5
This is Salenth. Stay in your weyrs, the bronze overrode Kierjaarth. He knew it was chaotic, but still, you'd think a bronze Kierjaarth's age might be better at listening. Of course, he was still fairly new and might not be familiar with the terms Salenth had used. But vacate the weyrledges until you receive further orders. They will be coming shortly. The older bronze turned his attention, much as His was doing, to the necessaries to avoid thinking. Raging. Though raging was more for His, a tinge of red still wormed through his eyes on occasion, most likely unnoticed due to his positioning away from the other dragons. Above the falls, Kierjaarth. The exposed, isolated ones: weyrfolk, candidates, weyrlings, wherhandlers. These are the ones that we need at the Hatching Grounds. Dragonriders might be sent later...certainly someone who could take control of the situation. But His hadn't had time to think all that out yet, not in the chaos.
He had not told that bronzerider to leave. Useless creatures, these High Reaches dragonriders. There was still information he wanted, and the kid would tell him - was too frightened not to. His eyes narrowed, but he focused on directing everyone he could find out of the Main Hall, as well. This would be the first place for Fort - or Benden - or whoever had attacked High Reaches if it wasn't a drug-induced mass hallucination resulting in a civil war amongst themselves...to come looking.
At least it seemed that the preliminary things were being taken care of. The dragons were leaving under Morreliath's guidance, anyway, and Ka'rys was moving through the weyrfolk. Just needed to get D'ned out, but it seemed S'kor and Dorava had that covered, too. Good, good. Now he just wanted...oil. The kitchens would have some. Yes, oil. His mind began working out what they would need. The Main Hall was mostly clear...so it could be used to their advantage. Something had to be done about the infirmary; they couldn't relocate it at the drop of a hat. The Hatchings Sands had to be defended somehow.
Curse High Reaches. Again Selenitas was dragged into northern conflict, helpless to do anything but attempt to cobble together some sort of paltry defense and wish for a miracle. It was tempting to just hand the dragonriders over. It was. But that was unlikely to stop anything if it was Fort. Or Benden. And he needed the support of these soft southerners, who forgot so easily, so quickly, that these people had stolen children, weyrlings, hatchlings. They'd attempted to steal from one of the clutches. Now, when they were in trouble, instead of sucking it up and facing the inevitable, they decided to come to a place that couldn't defend them...so they could die with Selenitas. Was he angry? Yes. Would it do any good right now...no. But he could burn things.
Tiaganth will follow if His is moved, Salenth informed Morreliath and Aonith coldly. Ciceroth's words invaded, then, and he growled softly from his position. Calistoth. Remembered because she'd saved His, in death. We know. I know. His mental rants are hard to ignore, even if I disagreed. Tone implied that he didn't, but even if that hadn't been obvious, Ciceroth should know how displeasing this whole affair was to Salenth. Now they think to be heroes. Mix blood and tears together, and the south melts. Wait until theirs start dying. If there is anything of Selenitas left...if some of these cowards are still alive...then we shall see how Selenitas speaks. Cold gratification, there. Nothing uglier than a mob. Charity was all well and good until it was your life on the line...your friends, your family.
Yes. Bring him back, came the abrupt reply to the High Reaches bronze. Should he mention that S'rei was a step away from seeing how well his face meshed with his fist? And spoil the fun? Salenth coiled, tail tip flicking. Time to plot.
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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 6, 2010 15:00:58 GMT -5
Oops.
Mi'rah instantly shriveled in his spot. Making mistakes were so horribly mortifying for him, of course this was due to a paranoid assumption that he would somehow and sometime be punished in some unpleasant way. Even though he was fairly confident that S'rei wouldn't call him a dimglow and throw a book, ink well, or paperweight at his head like certain people he used to know, he still brought a hand up to cover that weak side of his; reassuring himself with the brief light touch that faded scars are exactly that...the remnants of the past and not of the present. You made me look stupid... The biggest cut that could run across the man was the one sliced deep into his one remaining piece of ego.
He hated feeling stupid. It threatened the one thing he felt he still had going for him, and it hurt a lot more than all the times he had been knocked upside the head or fallen flat on his face. Don't pout. It was a simple mistake...I told you wrong. This weyr is set up so silly. The best remedy, work on the task at hand instead of apologizing as you are so likely to do... Kierjaarth knew that Mi'rah wanted to say sorry about fifty billion times even if it make him look like a pathetic mess, but the bronze wasn't going to let him. We will just redirect ourselves to filing out the weyrfolk. The dragon too calmly swung around and headed to above the falls.
I'm still trying to figure out how you messed this up.
Me too. To err is human after all.
With that the pair leveled their flying over the land of the weyrfolks and continued looking for the mysterious people who were bonded to Nuoth and Trilaranth's...the dragon believed he spotted the green one flying towards the wherhandler apartments and intercepted her...Nuoth...Mine and myself had been sent to help, who hasn't been evacuated yet? If needed they would continue on and clear out anyone who may be dwelling upstream...
((Horrible attempt to un-do my inevitable plot screw up. Sorry.))
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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 6, 2010 16:42:46 GMT -5
T'ke bit his lip, still trying to contain Shard's fear. She hadn't come out of his pocket yet and he didn't think she would for some time. It was bad enough that he pretty much shared her feelings. He wished they would just send the High Reaches riders away. It wasn't that he didn't sympathise with their plight, but these people had attacked Hepaticath's clutch less than a turn ago. He didn't trust them, and their presence was sure to only bring more trouble and violence. And that meant more of his friends might die. The thought made him feel sick again.
T'ke-mine? Garaeth prodded his mind, sharing pictures of what was happening outside. The platform is clearing. Would you like me to get you now? The blue sounded so hopeful. T'ke knew he didn't like being separated at times like this. He sat anxiously on the beach, unable to do more than watch. T'ke frowned. No one had given him any orders or anything. He could ask, but S'rei in particular didn't look very happy. It might be better just to slip out with the weyrfolk and stay out of the way.
No, he said regretfully. You might get in Aonith's way. She would need space to pick up the wounded quickly. Another reason to leave quietly. He wouldn't have to look at the blood and risk consequences. Go back to our weyr. You're too exposed out there. NO! T'ke winced at the force of Garaeth's response. He rarely heard him so forceful. I will not leave you alone! Garaeth, please! I'll be fine, really. I'm going out with the weyrfolk. he said firmly, though his mind ached. He really did want Garaeth to come and get him, but it just wasn't feasible. I don't want anything to happen to you.
It was such a long time before he got an answer that T'ke suspected Garaeth would argue again. Very well, he said finally. He lifted off the bank and flew regretfully back to the weyr. Be safe, T'ke-mine. I will only be a wingbeat away. T'ke sighed, running his figures through his hair. This day just got better and better. He swallowed, and raised his shaky voice, trying to sound more confident than he felt.
"Weyrfolk, please come this way," he indicated the kitchens, which had a back exit. "We need to take the boats to the Hatching Grounds." He wasn't sure how he found the courage to ask them. There just didn't seem to be anyone else around to do it. Maybe this time I can be more than a useless lump, he thought glumly.
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Post by tarra on Jan 7, 2010 8:46:44 GMT -5
S'kor and Morreliath
His hands worked fast, fashioning cords from straps and knots from leather, binding wood to wood to form a coherent structure. But it was work still that could not be rushed beyond a point, at risk of an unstable frame, and he did not work fast enough. S'kor glanced up at times to keep track of what was happening, and there came a moment when he looked up to see a makeshift cloth stretcher ready and waiting beside D'ned. He blinked, dropped his implements, and scrambled to his feet to approach them.
"Good," he ran rough hands over the stretcher, "Table cloth, might not hold his weight, but that can be fixed. Dorava, call Aonith in and be ready to take him."
He glanced up, watching the retreating backs of the High Reaches dragons following Morreliath. The big bronze kept his flight above them, reserving the right of oversight and the advantage of height should any hostility erupt on the way to the weyrs. He noted, with surprise, that the young bronzerider Z'ther was amongst them, and chanced a glance at S'rei. The Weyrleader did not look happy - in fact, he seemed ready to erupt. He felt Morreliath tap at his mind.
He is angry - Z'ther should not have come. He will be returning after dropping Iocyeth's, though.
Aye, S'kor winced as he dragged the remnants of Tiaganth's leathers over and began looping them beneath the cloth stretcher in lines to strengthen the frame, I wonder how he even thought to leave.
He thought I was calling him too, the dragon's tone was one of disgust, But he is bronze, he should know where he is needed; I will not bother to correct his mistakes for him. By the way, Salenth says Tiaganth will go if his is taken to the infirmary.
He's young, his reply was absent-minded as he clenched the last of the knots tight and rocked back onto his heels. Things were bad enough as they were without immature bronzeriders worsening them. An attack could come at any moment, and with these High Reaches dragons on their doorstep...he exhaled hard and tensed his eyes shut as realisation came, finally. In all the chaos and confusion his only thoughts had been to help the wounded, to get everything organised, to take care of people as his entire instinct was geared to caring for others. But now that the situation was somewhat more settled - or maybe enough time had elasped for things to sink in - he could see only too clearly what it might mean to shelter these riders, to take them in and handle their wounded. And hadn't these dragons been the same as those who tried to steal Hepaticath's eggs not long ago?
Why was he still helping them, or thinking to?
My point exact, Morreliath's tone was smug, I'm glad you finally see the light.
He scoffed at the sound of his dragon's mindvoice, and turned back to D'ned and the stretcher. Hazy brown eyes flashed as he glanced at Dorava and Rae beside him.
"Can he be moved? Stable enough?"
His thoughts moved ahead, even as he spoke. They would need more people to help - two girls and himself would not be enough to shift the man without risking further injury to him by jostling, and he doubted S'rei or Ka'rys would get into the act. He tipped onto one knee, maintaining his balance, and casting around quickly recognised a young rider who had been a weyrling not so very long ago. His voice, amplified by cupped hands, carried over the crowd.
"T'ke! Come here - we could use a hand getting him onto the stretcher!"
Morreliath, drifting through the air above the strange dragons, was pleased that the High Reaches dragons had made no objections to his commands. Objections coud always be overruled, but it made everything easier if they could all just get along without him having to dominate them or dive on them with talons raised. He kept his mind open for stray bits of dragon conversation echoing across the Weyr. Amusement spouted in his mind as he overheard Kierjaath's command, changed a moment after by Salenth's mindvoice, but he took care not to let the emotions color his thoughts. Kierjaath, whatever mstakes he had made, remained their Sr. Wingsecond, and he had no intention of souring things on that level. The canyon walls loomed up before them, and the big bronze angled his wings to loop back over the site, his mindvoice addressing each set of dragons in turn.
Iocyeth and you, he addressed the green and another blue, Will go to those two ledges along the top level. Ephrenth and you ( another dragon) will go to the two along the edge at that corner. And you (the last dragon) will make for that ledge in the middle. Jeviniath, yours is wanted back at the Main Hall (not that the reminder was needed, but Morreliath wanted to do it) And it would be best if you all gave me your names before you went so I will not make them up for you.
It was not a mindvoice to be disobeyed; Morreliath's cold, aloof tone was showing more than it usually did, and with good reason. These oddballs from between were shoving it up the Weyr's hospitality with every second they stayed, making use of the Weyr's resources as they went. He had no reason to be more polite with them than needed to remain civil.
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Katar & Company
Sonarth raised his head, and Katar felt her senses tingle with his alert as she looked up from the straps she had been working. They jerked in her hands, drawing a sharp hiss from her throat that sent Sereina stumbling away from where she had been clawing at their ends. She wasn't allowed to, and she knew, but she never could resist trying anyway. With an offended whimper, the cub bounced over to where Skittles lay dozing; her owner stood from the table, and began to walk towards her dragon with a mental nudge of question.
Dragons, riders, strangers, the blue's head was turned towards the Main Hall, downriver, Seven, one wounded.
Bad, she frowned, Shall we go?
We are not summoned, the blue paused, head cocked, Kierjaath - asks us to...hmm, Salenth has asked us to stay in our weyrs.
Well...right, she folded down the unease rising in her stomach, and went to the hook and peg for her riding straps. Let's get you tacked. Anything could happen.
Yes, the blue shifted on his ledge, offering her his shoulder, It is getting chaotic. They are moving the Weyrfolk and weyrlings to the Hatching Sands.
Aye, keep me updated, Katar began to loop the straps around his chest and neck, working with skill hastened by the urgency of the situation. Little squeaks and tumbles sounded from within the weyr, but the bluerider worked in silence, her mind running through the things that seven strange riders might mean for Selenitas. Her dragon lay still for her, his head tilted, listening in to whatever conversation he could glean from the dragons around the Main Hall.
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Post by dragon on Jan 7, 2010 14:08:07 GMT -5
(I apologize in advance for some godmoding in this post, but I wanted to write more than two or three lines... ) Dorava was glad when a stretcher arrived, regardless of what it was made of. She started prepping the rider for the move onto the thing, tucking his arms across his chest, though she was careful of the wound there in his side. "Alright. We're going to lift you onto a board, alright? This will hurt a lot, I'm sorry." She apologized, ahead of time. A glance at the other two that had gathered around him, and she grimaced. This was not going to be fun. But ... maybe with a person on either side of the torso and someone to get the feet, they could do it? The thought was derailed, however, when S'kor called for T'ke to come over and help. Whew. Good. One more person out to do it. She hoped T'ke was strong... this fellow didn't look like a lightweight. She waited until everyone was positioned. "Alright. On three. One. Two... three!" Dorava gave her best effort to work with the rest who were helping her out. Once the rider was safely placed on the stretcher, she reached for some of those straps S'kor had been handling. "May I have some of those?" Using some of the leather, she fashioned a way to secure the bronzerider to the stretcher for the travel he was fixing to take, even as Aonith back winged into a soft landing on the ledge. "Alright, I think he's stable enough." Dorava said, backing off from the rider. "What he really needs is the infirmary." She beckoned Aonith forward, trusting that the dragon would do what was needed to be done, for this next step. With her awkward back-feet-only shuffle, Aonith ooched closer, leaning forward to gently lift the stretcher, man and all in one smooth, fluid movement. Lifting the stretcher close to her green chest, Aonith spread her wings and started to slowly work at getting airborne without any jolts. It was doable, but not easy. Slowly lifting herself with her back feet, Aonith became airborne, slowly lifting away from the ledge, her wings working hard to hold steady in the air. Turning, she stretched her wings out, and glided nearly the whole way to the infirmary, to produce as few jolts as possible on the rider. Once at the infirmary, she settled onto that ledge in a similar, if reversed process. Beating her wings hard and fast, she reached out with back legs first for the gentlest landing she could manage, before rocking forward and resting the stretcher on the ground there. An uttered croon for attention, and then Aonith shoved herself backward off the ledge again, to go back and get her own rider. Dorava was ready and waiting when Aonith arrived. She turned, and looked around breifly, before laying eyes on Raebeli. "Come with me. I'll get you where you need to go." Dorava offered, before vaulting onto Aonith's neck and offering a hand down to the girl, if she decided to take the greenpair up on the offer.
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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 7, 2010 16:02:32 GMT -5
Nuoth was surprised when her name was called by an unknown dragon. His explanation quickly wiped out any worry. He was sent to help but who was unaccounted for? The wherhandlers are not out yet, but I can handle them. And she could. She had Misfit's help if her efforts failed. She was not worried. NepheleMine is getting the weyrfolk. Yours may be able to help her with that or - the green paused to get some input from Hers - you and Yours can head to the hatching grounds to organize the people going there.
Oh good. They were up! Misfit fluttered down to Tiida's person quitely. He'd only been so loud to wake them (though he was amused enough at their reactions to do it again). He chittered mostly to Tiida. It was a good thing salamandyrs were able to more or less translate flitter speak because it was highly unlikely Roivao would understand otherwise. He flashed an image of the hatching sands to all in the room and cheeped imperiously. Must go. Now.
Nuoth belatedly realized she had touched an awake mind and it didn't seem too happy about it iether. Her wings fluttered and she was considering contacting it again when Jingth's voice reached her mind. She was glad that the queen hadn't ordered them there right away for she might not have been able to refuse. At the moment this was her task. Then she would meet Hers at the hatching sands. By that time Red had contacted her instead and she told the green, I apologize for any upset. There are strange dragons that landed at the Main Hall. The Weyrleader wants the wherhandlers and the whers to go to the Hatching Sands. Please tell your Pet this. It was odd referring to a person as a pet but she figured it best to use the salamandyr's language to avoid any confusion.
Nephele had reached the weyrfolk apartments by then and was yelling, "Weyrfolk, please remain calm and go to the hatching ground! This is an order from the Weyrleader!" Tsk. What a task. Creche workers, children, drudges, their families....the weyr had a very large number of support staff on hand. Getting them all into boats and to the hatching grounds would not only take a while but it had the potential to get messy. She pressed through the ranks of people already heading there to get to others who may not have been informed. Maybe she oughtn't have suggested their new helper head directly to the hatching ground.
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