Demands PLOT

[Requiem]

Less than a candlemark after the sole survivors of High Reaches Weyr arrived at the Main Hall, everything has fallen silent and still. Expectant. No dragons can be seen; all the weyrledges are empty. A mass evacuation? Within the weyrs themselves? Or are the dragons hidden elsewhere? Impossible to tell from the air. No, there remains one dragon, the lead bronze coiled on the landing pad of the Main Hall. For good or ill, a fog has rolled in during the intervening time, not so thick as to make vision impossible, but enough to add uncertainty beyond twenty feet. A small huddle of figures not far from the landing pad are shrouded in this fog.

It is this scene that greets the two wings as they emerge from Between, compressing into a tight formation and circling above the falls before splitting, spreading out to cover most of the skies. No watchdragon sounds, but Salenth brushes the minds of Morreliath, Ismaroth and Ciceroth in silence, just in case they're not in a position to note the visitors.

Speak your intentions.
We come for the defectors. They are not your friends, and not worth dying for.
Who is it I am speaking to?
Pirazelth, of Fort's Kappa Wing.
Well met. Mine wishes to speak with Yours directly so that we can come to some...understanding. They are not, as you say, our friends. Two accompany him.
Mine will also bring two.
This is acceptable.

Pirazelth and two others detached from the wing, one blue and one brown. There was only room for Pirazelth on the platform, but he allowed the other two to land briefly for their riders to dismount before they returned to the skies, the bronze settling heavily onto the platform and giving Salenth as much distance as he could. Four, actually, stood near the opening to the Main Hall, though one was the pup bronzerider that had escaped from High Reaches. K'orin nodded at Pirazelth's observation, the man and woman falling in beside him, both showing their age and no small number of scars. K'orin himself was a decidedly average-looking sort of man, perhaps a bit too worn by the world; the wariness in his eyes was clear. He liked to think he hid the disdain well, however. This assignment was beneath him...though he understood the importance of it.

K'orin didn't bother wasting time on niceties. Above, the dragons circled, waiting. "Will you give them to us?"
"You can guarantee no one else will be touched?"

The bronzerider's eyes narrowed, even as the two groups entered into the main part of the deserted dining hall. "I've been instructed to take back another defector as well. Brown Kaaoloth and Sel'n."

S'rei glanced at Dorava and Iskierka, the look discreet. "He is the Weyrlingmaster here. What do you want with him?"
The man answered with a shrug that suggested he wasn't privy to such decisions. "You can find another."

"We could." His eyes flicked toward the others he'd placed by the doors, out of sight, lingering for a moment on K'lir. "We won't, though."

Which was the signal for the Selenitas riders.

The Fort dragonriders above exploded outward, eight veering toward the infirmary under the command of the second of the Wingleaders sent from Fort, eight remaining in the skies above the Main Hall while the other seven veered for the Hatching grounds and the mass of people they'd seen upon arriving.

In the Main Hall, alone of the two, the bluerider had noticed S'rei's glance and whirled to face the figures by the door, blades springing to hand before she advanced on K'lir, cautious in case there were any other surprises. K'orin had sprung for S'rei immediately, and it was all Selenitas's weyrleader could do to keep him at bay as he retreated between the tables. The remaining brownrider flashed his teeth, grim smile directed at Iskierka and Dorava (he ignored the cowering High Reaches pup) as he placed himself between them and the fight between the two bronzeriders.

Don't kill them unless you have no other choice, Salenth informed the Selenitas riders inside, voice tight. So it began.

::Kay. I know for sure K'lir, Iskierka and Dorava were in this thread. Anyone else who would volunteer (and isn't on Ka'rys's wing or is a wingsecond) is welcome to put their rider at the Main Hall. Assume they're with K'lir. Avu, you can still play Z'ther if you want but I know you're busy so no pressure. Have fun!

[Ember]

When S'rei had been asking for volunteers to fight at the Main Hall, Iskierka had willingly volunteered if only because of who was asking. Otherwise she would have been just as willing to not offer her help since their squabbles had little to do with her. She was not loyal to Selenitas and likely never would be. Her weyr was Benden and she was on loan to Selenitas, nothing more. She would follow their orders of course but beyond that she was not interested. She could feel the switch as Ioth closed down in the back of her mind, ready to attack if he needed to.

Iskierka caught the Weyrleader's glance and knew they were about to start fighting. She wondered briefly if their original intention was to defend the useless High Reachers or if the threat to the Weyrlingmaster was what tipped the balance. Her hands drifted near the visible sheaths for her knives at her thighs as she waited. With the others at the door she liked the odds they had against the Fortian dogs but skill would tell she knew. The moment the bluerider whirled to face the hidden Selenitas people Iskierka drew her weapons in both hands, taking her customary reverse grip on them.

She flicked her eyes to Dorava but didn't let her gaze linger on the other woman. Her worth would show soon enough. She advanced a couple of steps on the brownrider before Salenth's voice intruded on her mind. That was fine. There were ways to disable someone without killing them. Fingers and forearms were the easiest targets to go for. Iskierka stopepd her advance and waited. If she could get him to attack her first it was for the better. She'd rather not show off her skills right from the beginning.

[dragon]

Dorava held her place where S'rei had placed her, not entirely sure why he'd placed her where he had. But questioning his orders was not something she was going to do. She trusted him to know what he was doing when it came to positioning people. Dorava fully expected this to go badly - things always went badly, it seemed. More so now that they were supposedly allied with Benden. Gahhh that raised her bile. Benden! And these people were Fort ... they wouldn't even need an excuse to attack them, now. That was Fort.

Given the situation, Dorava was hyper aware of everything in the vicinity. She knew when S'rei looked at her, and the others. She knew when the Benden rider looked at her. All without really looking, her gaze fixed upon the Fort riders just as soon as they reached line of sight with her.

Normally, she wasn't any more or less armed than the usual, typical person. One knife, maybe sharp. Used for eating. But today? Given what was going on? She had gone and dressed in an intact tunic after having shredded the one she had been wearing, and underneath the heavy material she was loaded. There were no less than six knives strapped to her sides under that thing, two on her hips, one in the back of her trousers, and two more in her boots. Overkill? Maybe. But she wasn't taking any chances. Dorava knew that when you stuck people with knives, sometimes those blades got stuck in most inconvenient things. Usually bone or cartilage. It was better to just leave it and draw a new knife, then get stabbed while trying to work your knife back out of your last opponent.

She had gone so far as to not take any chances that she had taken the time to load Aonith. The green was hiding in some brush, almost completely invisible between her color and the location. But she was loaded for fire. Would she need it? Who knew? But it was like Dorava's knives. Better to have it and not need it, than to need it and not have it. Neither of the greenpair had any intentions of dying this day. Or the next. Aonith was a tad irate, to be stuck on the ground again when there were enemy dragons in the air. This situation was getting old - and repetitive.

Dorava said not a word, did not even twitch an eyelash as she stared down the Fort riders. When things happened, they happened fast. She was already standing stable with her feet shoulder width apart. But when the brownrider rounded on Iskierka and herself, Dorava scooted one foot back just a bit, grinning back, pulling two knives to her hands from her hips. Unlike Iskierka, however, she wielded them straight. Dorava was not trained for extended hand to hand combat, and she knew it. Her specialty was the fast, clean kills. And a knife into an organ was the fastest way to kill. If she didn't manage to win fast, she wasn't going to win at all.

Don't kill?! Ach! Now what was she supposed to do?! Dorava fell back another step, allowing Iskierka to take the lead, knowing the other woman was probably better at the prolonged combat thing, given the way she was holding her blades. Not being allowed to kill was making her stomach twist up in knots, as she knew that restriction was liable to get her killed. But orders were orders. Following the bluerider's lead, she just waited, glaring the brownrider down in place, waiting for him to make the first stupid mistake. If she could, she'd hamstring him the first chance she got.

[glamourie]

He’d volunteered for one reason and one reason alone: it was S’rei who asked. Despite being, technically, a weyrling rider, K’lir saw himself as a member of S’rei’s wing, and he’d be damned if he let something as small as official titles keep him limited to the hatching sands. Besides, he didn’t want to be crammed into a relatively small place with a lot of people he thought were stupid: he’d probably have stayed in his weyr if he hadn’t volunteered. After Benden’s attack, he was determined to be useful, though. He wanted to make himself feel like he deserved to stay at Selenitas. It was a weird thought –probably illogical –but he felt like a coward and that was unacceptable. Yes, he’d volunteered, no, he didn’t regret it. Not even as the strangers came inside and his stomach twisted unpleasantly into knots. He kept his face schooled calm, blood red hair splayed over his face as he watched the exchange between the two bronzeriders. Silent. K’lir was never silent. It was usually a sign that things were serious when he had sense enough to shut his ever-flapping pie hole.

Stay put. Wait. Be ready.

The silent instruction was to Baoth – his almost-but-not-quite-grown green who was… doing a remarkably good impersonation of a river monster. She was submerged in the murky depths, her claws securing her to the base of the tree trunk, most of her bulk hidden beneath the rippling currents. Only the end of her nose was above the water, and she was clinging, tail wrapped to keep herself in place – waiting. It would be hard to see her dark form thanks to the shadow that the tree cast. It was going to be weird to try and take off with wet wings when Hers told her to but she’d do what she was told – and she could do it better than any other dragon, she was sure. Perfect confidence, did Baoth have; Hers wouldn’t put her in danger, and she’d keep him safe. Fair trade. It was hard to resist the urge to growl and her eyes had a distinct red tinge, giving her anger away. Her instructions and K’lir’s were clear, though. They had to keep the invaders (the thought had a poisonous tinge in her mind) from escaping the Main Hall. And she could do that perfectly.

His position made it easy for him to overhear some of the conversation and K’lir was… surprised to hear the demand for Sel’n. The man wasn’t anything special. Why would they want him? He kept his face as calm as he could, and his amber eyes turned toward S’rei as the Weyrleader spoke and looked at him. He took the cue instantly and turned his head toward the bluerider advancing on him. And then he turned and bolted toward the doorway. His mind brushed Baoth’s as he scrambled over to the entryway, his hands catching on the door frame to keep from falling out.

The water around the base of the tree rippled for a second before Baoth sprung out of the river with an impressive splash. Her wings spread and she went straight up. Her timing could not have been better; the green rose right in front of the doorway, her claws slashing at the entrance threateningly as she twined her body around the upper portion of the tree trunk, her tail winding over one of the branches. The end result was an awkward sprawled position in front of the doorway that meant if anyone came too close to K’lir, they would be in range of her claws and teeth – and no one was going out that door, plain and simple. Were she any other dragon, it likely would have been a very dangerous position. As it was, the branches of the tree and the leafy foliage provided the perfect cover: her hide was marked to be a near perfect camouflage, thanks to the darker spots breaking up the dark green of her skin. She was very difficult to see from above – and she didn’t think any of the dragons would be so bold as to flame her. Not with their riders trapped in the building. Attacking her wasn’t wise either… after all, she could fit her entire front leg quite far into the building. Best not to take the risk.

Listen closely, outsider. I have no aversion to taking you under my claws if you hurt anyone from this Weyr. Your best option is to put the blades away and take a seat. I do not want to have to hurt you, but I will if you force me. That thought was projected to the advancing bluerider, as K’lir backed up to be well within Baoth’s range; he wasn’t a fighter. He just wasn’t. Their instructions were simple: keep the Fort riders inside. Baoth’s position was perfect for that and a lot more efficient than trying to fight. Especially since her threat was completely honest. She didn’t care a lick if she ripped the outsiders apart. Her home. She’d fight for it.

Best listen ugly, greenthing means. And obviously, Showoff was not about to be one-upped. No, never.

[Rei]

Elysia stood perfectly still as the riders approached, eyes darting from them to S’rei, waiting, watching. There. As the signal was given she moved forward, whip at ready. Come play little Fortian. Keeping her distance was a must for now. Hand to hand she was well versed at but she rather liked to kill her enemies long range if possible. Salenth’s words where acknowledged with the barest of nods. Don’t kill? She could do such, but she would rather kill. Still orders where orders and the greenrider would obey. Stepping backwards towards K’lir she smiled. Elysia kept her eyes glued to the opposing rider however. Just another step forward and the bluerider would be nicely within range.

As Baoth sprung from the water the woman was forced to hastily sidestep, to stay out of the dragon’s way. Quickly she circled back towards their opponent being careful to stay out of the dragon‘s range just in case. Chances where the rider would not tangle with the dragon. To do such would be foolhardy. Baoth had effectively blocked the entrance. Clever.

So that left her didn’t it? A slow disarming smile spread across her face as Elysia took a step forward, whip held at ready. Snapping it forward she aimed it toward the rider's chest in a blow meant to force her to back up a few steps. Keeping her at bay was the intention for now. The hurting would come later.

Onyth grumbled silently from her place in the trees beyond the Main hall. She knew better than to engage when there where dragons in the sky but her bonded being in danger made her edgy. Still her orders where to stay put and still and she intended to follow them. Her lighter markings had been purposely darkened and she kept her eyes lidded, relying on her bonded for information for the time being.

(Short but wanted to get it up for Req)

[Requiem]

Blocking the exit, were they? The brownrider took that bit of information in with his peripheral vision, randomly amused that Selenitas apparently decided to employ baby greenriders and women in their dirty work. The positioning suggested this had been planned...or at least set up on a 'just in case' basis. P'lar was far from worried, though; a baby greenrider and a few women weren't about to stop them. Once the boy died their way would be clear.

His gaze flicked back toward the two women who had drawn, eyes calculating for a moment the stances, the expressions, and he smiled slowly. Mockingly. Not going to join the fun? Time was on his side. Raslin and K'orin - likely K'orin first - would finish off what they'd started soon enough, and then they'd have more than just P'lar to contend with. Fingers played with the blade on his hip idly.

The woman eyed the dragon, stepping slowly away from her and the kid. (He wasn't so young as all that, her mind commented idly, but in a room full of people at least twenty-five, it seemed that way.) Eyes narrowed at the woman with her whip, a truly nasty expression flickering over her face this time. "How's daddy doing, Elysia?" the woman questioned coldly, using the whip as an excuse to sidestep further into the hall and out of reach of the serpentine green. One blade held traditionally, the other had been flipped back along the length of her forearm. Of course she could handle Elysia herself. But she wasn't too proud to ask for help if that would make it easier, and she gestured with a wrist by her hip.

P'lar reacted instantaneously, though his eyes had seemed to be on Dorava and Iskierka. The long blade cleared it's sheath, flung across the width of his body from the hip. It slashed across Elysia's upper arm, doing questionable damage but hopefully crippling her ability to use the whip if not outright disabling the arm. The aim, however, was meant for another, roughly on gut level with the little redhead. He didn't wait to see if it struck or not...didn't even turn his head at all. P'lar drew his second blade, short and slender and gleaming wickedly with some dark substance that most would be wary of. The blade twirled in his left hand. Still going to play coward? A crash sounded behind him, and the smirk broadened.

For her part, Raslin wasn't waiting for Elysia to decide if she was okay or not. Leaping up onto the table between them, the woman dashed, dropping down to circle around and keep the little Benden slut between her and that pesky green should she be annoyed by the shot at Hers. Raslin didn't waste any time to close. The whip was a nasty one with all that imbedded metal. Her first strike was high, arcing up to enter beneath the sternum should Elysia remain in place, while the second swung low for her inner thigh and the artery there that would end the fight neatly. The cross of the arms, in turn, served as some protection for her core.

Behind P'lar, S'rei managed to recover in time to save his throat, kicking a chair into K'orin's shins as he scrambled back to his feet. A gash slashed diagonally across his chest, deep enough that the blood was already soaking through the shirt a bit. The Fort wingleader's forearm sported a papercut by comparison, but as they closed again it seemed they weren't too unevenly matched.

[Ember]

Iskierka was very much aware of every movement, any clue as to how or even if the brownrider would move. She was also aware of Dorava shifting back ever so slightly. Useless then. Or considerate, giving her first strike. If the bluerider was asked she'd have bet on the first option though. At least she could be certain that the other woman wouldn't get in the way. There was no hint of impatience or nervousness in Iskierka's stance as she eyed the brownrider. She noted the covering of the entrance and resisted the urge to scoff. A weyling green. How scary.

At the brownrider's smile Iskierka knew she was being underestimated. Good. He'd learn the hard way that she was no babe to be coddled. The man's movement didn't surprise her, only his target did. The female mutt had already called for help, hmm? Anyways, it gave her a good excuse to jump in. She hesitated a moment as she noted the...whatever it was on his weapon. There were a couple of things it could be and none of them were pleasant. It also meant getting cut was best avoided. Blood loss and pain she could deal with for a while, harmful or paralyzing substances not so much.

Iskierka closed in on the brownrider. With such an open invitation she'd seem very rude not to indulge him. She aimed a basic slash at his knife hand with her left while the other blade came up in a defensive position. She was not normally one to talk in battle but if the brownrider was so confident perhaps he'd divulge what was on his weapon. Then again, Fortians could be very tight lipped when they wanted to be. "Pretty blade," she said icily, "the edge isn't its only danger is it." It really was more of a statement than a question.

[Rei]

“How’s daddy doing, Elysia?” The green rider’s eyes narrowed at the words and flickered with something akin to anger but she offered no spoken words. Bitch. No matter. If Elysia had her way Raslin could ask R’sia herself. Between.

She let the bluerider retreat, gauging distance for another strike, when a warning sounded in her head. Unfortunately Onyth was a little to late to prevent damage. Elysia felt the blade slash as it passed but she instinctively knew the threat wasn’t really coming from the thrown blade. Pain she could ignore. She had been trained to ignore pain. Quite effectively in fact. The problem would come from the fact that, depending on severity of damage, her strikes would be less powerful. Hopefully the damage done was purely surface. Right now she didn’t have time to examine such because she was busy fending off Raslin’s attempted attack. Not good. The other two had clearly failed to keep their opponent occupied. Sharding Faranth. She couldn’t spare much more thought for P’lar however.

As the Fortian woman’s blades attempted to skewer her Elysia stepped back. Because of her movement the attack meant to enter her chest missed. Bringing down the hilt of her whip she blocked the second blade, the metal biting into the thick leather hilt instead of her skin as intended. Her turn. Drawing a foot long blade from her hip with her left hand. She aimed a strike towards Raslin’s left side. The blade was meant to be a defensive weapon but it could be used offensively as well. She had dropped her longer whip as soon as blade was blocked. Replacing it in her right hand with the shorter weighted fighting whip she also kept coiled at her back.

Quickly the benden woman aimed a follow-up strike at the bluerider’s right knee with the whip. The intention was to damage it and limit her opponent’s movement. Elysia’s shoulder throbbed as she struck with her short whip however and she hissed. Not with pain but with frustration. The strike would aim true but the force she usually had was a bit hampered. Sharding Fortian dogs. At the same moment she swung the rider took a short step back towards Baoth and kicked her longer whip behind her. She wouldn’t be able to use it effectively at short range anyway. Plus side was the shorter whip could be used more effectively as a defensive weapon as well.

Onyth bared her teeth in silent rage. Hers had been injured. How dare they. The urge to growl was almost unbearable but the green knew she had to remain silent. Instead she kept her eyes with her bonded’s and mentally encouraged her. It pained the green to be so separated from her bonded but she realized that it was necessary.

The worst part was that she felt helpless. If something happened to hers she would not be able to attempt a rescue. The green would just have to trust in her bonded’s skills. Hers was the best after all. The Fortian would no doubt perish eventually. It was just taking too long for Onyth’s liking.

[dragon]

Just as soon as Baoth got into position, Aonith moved. Not far, but far enough. Do not worry, Baoth. I have you covered. Concentrate on the parasites inside. Aonith informed the young green, as she made her way stealthily along. Moving from brush to brush, she arrived shortly at the river. It did not take her long to ease into the water and swim the very short distance to the tree. There, she sank talons into the bark and made her way up. Laden with fire, she could hang there quite a while and defend Baoth's backside from any attack at all. All the while, she was nearly invisible herself. While of a lighter color than Baoth, Aonith was a much older dragon and bore all the scars that told her life's tale. Those scars broke up her outline, making her seem as just another indistinct green blot on a tree, in the fog.

Hers was inside, and Aonith had quite a lot of interest in allowing Baoth to do what she had to do.

When things happened, they happened fast. Which was the normal way of things. The brownrider flung a knife at Elysia before the blue rider closed afterward. Dorava vaguely hoped that Elysia could handle her. Iskierka then promptly leapt at the brownrider, closing with him. It left Dorava in a very interesting and unique position. She could tackle any one of the three from a side or behind, at this point, and render them useless with her own blades. But ... which one? The question was not in her mind long before the answer came to her in a fast flash, from turns of training to think quickly. She was an expert jumper, after all ... thoughts had to come quick and fast, lest one go splat far below.

Iskierka had her brownrider well in hand for the moment, and was not wounded. Elysia was wounded, squaring off with the bluerider, but she was not in a bad way. She also had Baoth and K'lir over there to help her. That left one. S'rei. Leaping sideways, Dorava landed on her side on a table. She didn't stay there, however, throwing her legs up and over to come back to her feet on the other side. A dive and she was under the next table over, skidding across the floor toward where S'rei and K'orin were duking it out. A chair went zinging past her head and she ducked for a moment before rolling to the side, coming up on one knee. There, she slashed out, stabbing for a hooking cut with both blades at the same time. One knife to one calf. Tendons were sharding hard to cut, especially on a moving target. But the calf muscle just above it? A whole other matter. Those cut just as easily as any other blob of meat, easier actually, since these particular ones were under tension and action.

She could only hope he didn't somehow manage to get out of the way of the slashes before they hit home. But even if only one succeeded, that would be all that would be needed to give S'rei the distinct upper hand in the fight. While they were not allowed to kill, the Fort riders obviously had no such restrictions.

Besides .. hamstringing people almost never killed them.

[glamourie]

It was tempting to smirk and K’lir very likely would have – if not for the very, very large fact that he was scared. It was hard to be amused when he felt like he was quaking in his boots, literally. But Baoth’s timing was good – very good. He was proud of her, as it was obvious that the woman chasing him was quite immediately discouraged by her presence. Fact: When asked to fight, K’lir tended to make dumb faces and go ‘dur her what?’ most of the time. He was a big-mouthed twit, good enough at taking punches (when he deserved them) but he was Southern to the core – and he could not fight to save his own life. When desperate, he was clever, but it wasn’t skill, and he didn’t want to test his luck. When S’rei gave the order that they were trying to keep the invaders (cough hack) trapped, he’d thought of the best way to do that without getting hurt. In his opinion, it’d been a good idea. So what if he looked like a coward. Cowards survived. And he liked being alive, thanks very much. He certainly wasn’t about to die for High Reaches.

He was feeling very pleased with himself, all in all – until a hint of panic from Showoff made him turn his head and move. And that alone was likely what kept him from taking a knife to the gut (so he’d been staring at the scuffles and not at what was happening around him – so what). Just the same, asK’lir turned to see what had his salamandyr in such an uproar (it was rare for Showoff to panic), a nasty pain impacted him hard enough that his eyes went wide and his left arm tensed. His right moved, instantly, to the forearm where the blade was sticking out most prominently: it was sheer luck that it hit a limb, rather than his body, or the impact alone would’ve been bad. As it was, the blade missed his elbow by the barest of points. Blood slid down and soaked into his sleeve, and K’lir gripped it roughly to try and stem the flow as Baoth behind him hissed. Her eyes tinged red, and he backed up with a sneer. His movements were quick – arm coming up to his mouth, free hand tearing with a loud ripping sound as he removed the sleeve and then literally tied the torn fabric over the wound as tightly as he could. His left arm was going to be close to useless, but – at least it wasn’t going to be bleeding everywhere.

It was at that moment that Aonith spoke to her and Baoth’s annoyance very nearly bubbled over onto the other green. As it was, she did flick her tail, but when she bespoke the older dragon, there was no malice in her voice. It wasn’t Aonith she was angry with, after all.

Your concern is appreciated, Aonith, but the Others are not going to attack me with their precious riders trapped within the main hall. That puts Theirs at too much risk. Your aid is better suited to Salenth. Should things go sour, it is he who will need immediate aid, not me, the barely-a-turn-old weyrling told Aonith privately. She was good enough at assessing situations to know that hers, at least, was not precarious. Salenth was good – but if she understood correctly, he was also outnumbered. More help to him would be good. And she couldn’t move, not without putting Hers at even more risk and he hurt. She swiveled around, half-watching through her rider’s eyes. As soon as there was an opening, that man was going under her claws. End of story. Salenth’s might have said no killing, but they bled Hers. And that was enough justification for Baoth.

Something sliding across the ground caught K’lir’s gaze and his expression was inquisitive. He blinked for a second, as he took time to process that he’d just been tossed... a whip. A whip, of all things. Quite possibly the only weapon on Pern he had any knowledge of using, and most certainly not in a fighting context. The irony was almost overwhelming and he almost laughed. Of course, he also almost cried, but that might have had more to do with anxiety than anything else. He wasn’t even sure he could hit anyone. In a conflict he was worse than useless, S’rei was probably regretting letting him volunteer…

Since she’d tossed it to him, she obviously meant for him to help. And K’lir wasn’t capable of not doing just that. Crouching down, the greenrider gripped the handle of the whip, golden eyes playing over it critically. Shards, but his arm hurt. He hissed under his breath as he stood up and – against his better judgment – moved away from Baoth. It felt incredibly awkward to be using a whip in public (er…) but despite himself, he turned and swung it straight at the wherryheaded snot who threw that blade at him. Because he deserved it and he was also closer than the one attacking the woman who threw him the whip in the first place.

Please, please let him not take that Selenitas bluerider’s head off. That would suck.

[Rowana]

Merridan had waited silently with the others. True, as a Sr. Weyrling she was supposed to be at the Hatching grounds, but K'lir had volunteered and she was confidant of her ability to help. The grounds would have plenty of people to defend it, here she might actually be able to make a difference. Her long dagger rested easily in her hand, with a spare on her belt. She hadn't had time to prepare much else when the call had gone out. Are you well hidden? she asked smoothly. Well enough, Chaoth replied. It was very hard to hide a dragon of his size, though the fog helped. He had settled himself on the river bank, half submerged and hidden my bushes and reeds. It was the best he could do on short notice. Don't come out unless I say. Of course. Chaoth was many things, but he was neither rash or impulsive and for that Mer was grateful.

The word was given, and the others rushed forward on the attack. Mer started to move, but ducked under a table. They out numbered the enemy, but it was possible they had managed to plant a surprise of they're own. Too many Selenitas riders just increased the possibility of friendly fire. She decided to wait the right moment to strike, as she had at the last attack. Surprise was much better when handling superior opponents. With everyone occupied in their own struggles, Mer crouched and inched her way along underneath the tables. No one should be able to see her unless they looked down.

Mer watched the others, trying to decide how best to help. Elysia was closest, fighting the female bluerider. She was doing fairly well on her own, even injured, but Mer didn't have time to ask her permission to help. She was just about to join in, when the bluerider moved in front of the very table she was hiding under.. Mer couldn't help grinning. It was just so perfect. Mer shifted her weight and slipped her dagger lightly back in her belt. In one swift movement, she yanked Raslin's feet from underneath her. Normally that would have been hard, but from this angle, gravity was on Mer's side. The Fort rider stumbled to her knees.

Mer didn't give the woman anytime to recover. She jumped on to her back, dagger already out. Remembering S'rei's orders, she broke the pummel down hard on the back of her head, hopefully enough to knock her out, or at least stun her. She was sure they weren't going to afford them the same courtesy.

[Requiem]

It was a subtle shifting in the balance, born mostly of luck and surprise. And perhaps just a touch of desperation. The bluerider who faced off with Elysia shook her head slightly, cocking her wrist to the side as the metal slid along and past her hip harmlessly, a quick flick slashing through the hand, looking to sever the tendon between thumb and forefinger. Missed. A pity. Her eyes narrowed, lifting her leg and letting the calf take the force of the whip. A soft hiss, the bluerider stepping forward to pursue her with a horizontal slash meant to drive her into one of the tables where Raslin could take advantage of the pause.

Grasped by the ankles, her eyes widened, the woman twisting even as she slammed to her knees, aiming a wicked backslash across Mer's face should it connect...before her head exploded in a myriad of starbursts. She crumpled forward bonelessly, a dagger escaping her grip and rolling across the floor to come to a halt against a chair leg.

The scuffle between S'rei and K'orin had intensified. A table crashed, one leg shattering and sending splinters flying in a thankfully small radius, but the two didn't pause. Neither man was young, neither lacked in experience, but K'orin's ability and stamina was beginning to show itself superior. The weyrleader stumbled, caught himself, and took a deep slash across the arm for his troubles. K'orin pressed his advantage, driving S'rei back...and then the blade he'd never seen coming buried deep into his calf, grating against the shinbone. He gasped, staggering, attempting to twist to put both attackers in his sights, but too slow this once.

The larger rider's left hook was nothing to be trifled with, crashing into K'orin's jaw with an audible crack and flinging the man half across the table at his side. He stirred feebly as S'rei caught him by the shirtfront and thrust him off, through a chair and slamming to the floor with a groan. The Weyrleader caught Dorava's eye, flashing a brief smile of gratitude before nodding toward the brownrider still near the center of the hall. The instruction was clear; help Iskierka.

For his part, P'lar seemed unphased by what was going on around him, though truthfully he was blocking most of it out in favor of keeping focused on the more immediate threats. The first testing movement of the woman's, however, wasn't exactly what most of his ilk would consider a threat. Cautious, there. At her words, he merely smiled, a baring of teeth that certainly couldn't be classified as friendly. He didn't respond verbally, but the slim blade twisted, darting out toward her hand. It was a razor keen edge that gloves could do little against.

But even before he fully committed to the jab, he leapt back at the air displacement, the whip cracking with respectable force between them. P'lar took advantage immediately, planting a boot on the width of the strip and changing hands as he crouched in a slash for the woman's knees. It was merely a clearing motion, however, as he wrapped his arm in the length of the whip, gripping it firmly and giving it a hard yank. Didn't really matter to him whether the small one faceplanted or let go; either way he was taking this weapon out of play.

It was all too easy to forget the circling dragons hovering above the Main Hall with Theirs embroiled inside. This suited Pirazelth just fine. Not seconds after first Raslin, then K'orin came up on the wrong end of luck, the dragons emerged upstream and low. Pirazelth and brown Ekeredth circled tightly around in mirror turns away from the Main Hall before following the flash of blues, greens, and one smaller brown as the agile fliers ran along the banks of the river in strafing runs. They banked around the tree, stoppering the flame before it could reach the base of the great trunk and endanger the three Fortians inside, one blue arcing above the hall to fly directly for Salenth with his claws extended. A brown crashed bodily into Aonith with the intent of knocking her loose; it had been her that they'd seen, from the skies.

Pirazelth and Eckerdth fell on the first to flush from cover when the fire hit the riverbank, attacking in coordination, Pirazelth flying high with an attempt to rend wings and Eckerdth going lower, for the gut.

[Ember]

Iskierka thought as much. No chance of finding out what was on that blade then. When the brownrider aimed for her hand she withdrew it, and just in time too as the whip snapped in front of her. She knew for a fact it wasn't Elysia. She'd already been injured by the one she was currently fighting and she knew that Iskierka didn't need or want her help. A glance confirmed her suspicion. It was that brat of a greenweyrling wielding the whip. When she was done with the Fort - the sudden slice at her knees made her dance back and abandon her thoughts. This one first.

She could almost thank the brownrider for relieving K'lir of the whip. Almost. As he wasted time pulling on the whip Iskierka darted forward again. Her opponent was the last Fortian still fighting and she'd be damned if she kept the others waiting. Killing him would be the easiest possible method seen as he was more than willing to fight with both hands. Now she was getting annoyed with the order not to kill. She reluctantly didn't go for the neck or procceed to just stab him in the abdomen. There was considerably more skill involved with her attack this time as she outright ignored whatever was on P'lar's weapon.

Of course her attempted stab at the underside of the man's right arm never made it. She had a moment of wondering what the heck was going on when she noticed what the kid had done with the whip. Clever, but annoying all the same. He'd passed the whip to the green covering the entrance and she'd likely given it a mighty hard tug in return. She didn't like outside help but she'd take it if it meant ending the stupid battle. She went mercilessly after the fallen brownrider.

Looks like disabling him would work out just fine after all. She visiously drove her knives through both his wrists. He was as good as a butterfly pinned in a case. She tsked as she looked at the whip again. Catching that had brought about his downfall early. She considered kicking him in the ribs for good measure but she wasn't that mean. They may have a use for him yet. Removing his weapon seemed like a good idea though. She left him to the greenweyrling's mercies as she grabbed P'lar's blade and gave a sniff. Sneaky, using poison or whatever on a blade.

Ioth hissed unpleasantly as the Fort wing forced him from his spot on the bank. He didn't have time to focus on them as flames chased him towards the waiting claws of two dragons. He twisted upwards sharply just in time to avoid what would have been a truly horrible siuation. Pirazelth's claws still caught him on his flank fueling the blue's anger. He gave himself some distance from the pair of dragons as ichor seeped out of the new wound. He wasn't in immediate danger from it but it hurt a ton.

[glamourie]

Ugh he’d missed. He was used to shorter whips – it was his only justification. He also only had a moment to react before the whip was seized and pulled upon – but K’lir held steadfast onto it, unwilling to relinquish his only weapon against the enemy. His eyes narrowed into dangerous slits as he regarded the brownrider tempestuously; did he really think that he’d simply hand it over? Arrogant fool. His fight with the Selenitas bluerider was all but ignored as K’lir grasped the end of the whip, turned, and… had a genius of an idea. His golden-eyed gaze flicked back, testily, toward the brownrider invader. Distracted. Good. That gave him just enough time to turn and hand the handle of the whip off to Baoth – literally. He held it out for the green, close enough for her to loop one claw into the handle, and the dragon yanked it forward with enough might that no human being could have resisted it. And most especially not one that wasn’t expecting the force to start with. Dragons were considerably stronger than humans, after all. K’lir’s expression was decidedly smug as the brownrider with his shiny blade was pulled away from the Selenitas rider, sprawled across the floor.

The bluerider whose name he didn’t know was on top of the man in a matter of seconds and K’lir dropped to his knees, aching arm almost blinding. He grabbed the discarded whip and, with Baoth still holding the other end, quickly wound it around the man’s neck. It was loose enough that he could breathe but all it would take was a single pull from the dragon to end his life right then and there. The thought actually turned K’lir’s stomach. Necessity or not, he wasn’t a creature that was fond of bloodshed. He’d do what was necessary to protect Selenitas – it was his home – but he wasn’t ever going to like it. Just the same, that didn’t stop him from watching the bluerider turn away with a disdainful look, as if he wanted very badly to punch her.

“You’re welcome,” he said pleasantly before looking down at his new ‘captive.’ Obviously the woman didn’t realize he’d just saved her skin. Probably thought that she’d have been fine without him and K’lir wasn’t sure that such an assessment was inaccurate. Still, it was arrogant to not even be remotely grateful. Stupid girl. K’lir shook his head in distinct disapproval as he gazed down at the captive brownrider, obviously trying to decide what to do with him now that he’d caught him. He hadn’t really thought ahead that far. Orders were to keep them in the main hall. Not… what to do with them. “You bled me, you know. That wasn’t very nice.” His tone held a hint of amusement before he leaned down and ghosted his lips over the man’s forehead – deliberately. Northerners tended to be so weird about homosexuality. He was reinforcing that on purpose. “Be a good little Fort rider and stay put, don’t make me and Baoth have to snap your pretty little neck. I don’t think that your dragon would thank us for that, and our goal isn’t to kill you. I bet your hands are stinging right about now though.”

Did he feel remotely bad? Just one thought about his arm took away the sting of any guilt he might’ve felt. The blood was dripping down his forearm and it hurt. He was lucky that the blade missed his elbow, or stomach, or worse. No, there was no guilt.

K’lirmylove, the dragons are attacking – Baoth informed him anxiously from her perch. She knew she was safe, but that didn’t help the rest. Not at all. The green twitched her tail anxiously, and her nervousness was mirrored in K’lir, who pulled on the end of the whip he held – just enough to be firm and uncomfortable. His head tilted and he looked down at the brownrider again, his expression darkening. “Call your dragon off. Have him land on the line of the beach somewhere, out of the way, unattacking. You’ve got about ten seconds before I tell Baoth to yank and send him between and you to the abyss of death. Think wisely. I don’t want to kill you, especially not for High Reaches, but for the safety of Selenitas, I’ll do a lot of things I don’t like. Ten, nine…” One dragon wouldn’t make that big of an impact but it was still one less dragon for the others to worry about, and he meant it. The poison in his words indicated that. K’lir was capable of being quite vicious when he had to be.

[dragon]

Dorava scrambled to her feet, sliding out from under the table as she went. A small nod was her answer to S'rei's silent order. He most definitely had things under control now, and it was a good thing, too. For a moment it had looked like he was losing. Dorava danced around the end of the table quickly and headed back across the room, not bothering to wipe the blood off the knife that she'd marked the Brownrider with. But as quickly as she moved across the hall, she wasn't fast enough to get anywhere in time to do anything at all. Just that quickly, the others had the last rider subdued and tangled up.

Dorava smirked. Take that, Fort. Standing ready, she edged toward a window to take a look outside, hands gripping her blades not quite as tightly. The adrenaline was still coursing through her veins, making every thing so seemingly slow. But that was alright ... she didn't want things to go fast. She needed time to react, think, plan. Okay, the riders were subdued, the dragons were pissed. Now what? Dorava could see the dragons coming down the river fast, flames licking. Thankfully, she knew they would not flame the tree ... not with their riders trapped inside and alive. But one angle did concern her.

Aonith! Look out![/b] She warned, grabbing the sill past the hilts of her daggers, before diving away from the wall lest a large body come crashing through it. Scrambling under the table that was there, she regained her feet and stood ready for whatever might come next.

With that warning, Aonith rolled sideways as she was impacted. One forefoot clamped down tight on the tree as she let go with the other. Twirling around the trunk, she flared her wings briefly before falling back to wood on the other side. Her leg was wrenched, now, but she was still relatively in the same locale, despite raked hide. That stung, but she didn't think she was bleeding, at least.

I would suggest you not do that again. Aonith hissed at the offending dragons. Retreat, and yours will not be harmed further. Attack again, and I will flame this tree. She threatened. And she meant it, too. It was tactically sound. Selenitas wanted out of the trees anyway. All the Selenitas riders were conscious and could bail, all of the Fort riders were either out cold, or were tied up. Do the math, you know the odds.[/color] She told them, knowing full well that the dragons knew precisely what sort of condition their riders were in at the moment. Hold off, or die.