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Post by glamourie on Jan 27, 2010 4:01:10 GMT -5
Following the orders for the Weyrlings, Wherhandlers and Weyrfolk to move to the hatching grounds, preparations around Selenitas were made. Less than a candlemark has passed since the announcement of High Reaches’s arrival was made and the amount of people still unsure and milling about where to go is small enough to be inconsequential.
By now the Cyclone Wing, at the orders of their wingleader and Selenitas’s Weyrleader, should be in place surrounding the Hatching Sands – assembled in the trees as per Salenth’s instructions. S’kor of Morreliath, wingsecond, is in charge, and it is to him that the Cyclone Wing answers. The hatching sands themselves are carved of stone and are large enough to accommodate all the weyrlings and individuals – barely. Some will likely have to climb into the stands to make room to be comfortable. The temperature is warm enough to be questionable and is clear indication of a queen soon to Rise – which can be awkward for those who are on the Sands – but it is not yet scalding or dangerous. The somewhat cramped space will be catastrophic to those with claustrophobia problems.
There are two entrances:
The front entrance to the Sands is designed for dragons and candidates, and is a large cavernous pathway. It is from this entrance that those inside the hatching sands on ground level can see what is going on. The second entrance is directly into the Stands and is sized so that only humans – or pets – can fit through. The stone means that there will be no fires, like with the wherhandler apartments or the infirmary during the Benden occupation. But there are other dangers… [OOC: Here’s the scoop: Send me a Private Message with any and all injuries you want for characters who are IN THIS THREAD. If you object to random maiming, also let me know of this. There will be no permanent injuries without consent from players, but if you DO NOT pm me, I will assume I have your permission to inflict non-permanent injuries on your character as appropriate to the plot. Enjoy. ]
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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 27, 2010 11:10:57 GMT -5
Its too hot to have so many people here, Nephele complained to her dragon. She doubted there had ever been such a gathering on the sands. She had to agree that it was for the best of those not in the Wings to be sheltered there but it didn't mean she had to like the close quarters. She looked around her at the other people and saw various expressions on their faces. Some were clearly panicking, others were grim, and others still looked excited. They were excited that Fort might come and finish off those that had fled High Reaches? Tch.
Nuoth was busy making herself as small as possible on the sands to leave as much room for others. She had three firelizards perched on her that belonged to Hers. Her eyes whirled an alarmed yellow but the pace was slow. It was more wariness than actual fear. I know, NepheleMine. Perhaps it won't be for long. After having gotten the wherhandlers out of their apartments, Nuoth had picked up Hers and taken her to the sands to help organize the arriving people. Nephele hadn't been alone in her task. Erilena's friend had been drafted by the Weyrleader too and apparently another as well.
Now the girl laid a hand on the green's leg and drew what comfort from that she could. Her knife was gripped loosely in the other hand as she considered the entrances. There wasn't much that could be done about the dragon entrance, but maybe they should cover the ground entrances anyways in case any got into the hatching grounds. Nuoth I know you'd rather not, but can you pass along a message to everyone in here? The green was understandably reluctant but she agreed. The situation was too important to refuse. She faithfully repeated the message as it was told to her. Anyone willing to guard the entrances, please organize yourself near the entrances. Don't take unneccesary risks, she broadcast to all those within the sands.
((Dy'shi and Eikane are on the sands as well with their bondeds/pets.))
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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 27, 2010 15:22:58 GMT -5
Cr’oph stroked Mavenath’s muzzle slowly and waited for something, anything. It was infuriating having to stand here wondering. His dragon butted at his hand suddenly and swung his head around to look at those gathered here. I do not like this. There are far to many in such a small space. Panic is likely to set in. Especially for those without wher or dragon. Someone needs to take control of them. Give them a purpose. Anything other than standing will do. It was obvious who was already picked to be the messenger. Nudge, nudge. Yay. I'm on it.
There was wisdom in the hatchlings words. Although most would probably rather look to Jingth and hers as a leader, Cr’oph jumped on the rail of the stands.
“Hey! Everyone! Listen up! I know this is scary but if we are going to get out of this we will need to take some precautions.” Almost as he spoke Nuoth spoke up and he nodded. “Our lovely green has given some of you an idea. I have another. If anyone has any experience in the healing arts, whether it is basic first aid or more. Please set up some kind of service at the back of the grounds in the stands. There the injured, if there are any, can be the protected and treated to the best of our ability.” Mavenath rumbled and passed along the information to the dragons and whers located within the grounds.
“If you can neither fight nor heal then please get together and try and keep each other calm. Panic is our enemy as much as Fort.” He fell silent then and placed a hand over the dagger at his side to reassure himself that it was still in place. Was that acceptable Mave? Yes very much so Crymine. Lets just hope these people will listen to reason. Even if it does come from the mouths of the young.
~~~
Erilena nodded as Cr’oph spoke and gave Nephele’s arm a squeeze. “If you have to fight please be careful. I know some first aid so I am going to help with setting up a sort of makeshift healing station.” Blinking moisture out of her eyes she motion to Feyrianth. Come on love. Stay close to me please. Feyrianth crooned uncertainly and nuzzled Nuoth’s leg before bounding after her bonded. Lenamine I am sacred. I know love but everything will be ok. I promise. Leo wriggled around in Erilena’s shoulder bag. Love? He mumbled softly. So much anxiety, he had no idea what to make of any of it.
The weyrling made for the back of the grounds as directed and pursed her lips. They could use the benches as tables if they needed to. As far as supplies. Well they would have to make due with what was available. It would be easier if someone was willing to take over as a head healer of sorts....
~~~
**Tynaris is milling around somewhere among the weyrfolk. Probably without purpose. If someone wants to grab him for something feel free.
**Sel’n and Kaaoloth, are perched among the trees around the grounds. Sel’n did not feel it safe to take up room with Kaaoloth. Kaaoloth will still be in touch with the Zodiac class from time to time as needed.
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Tashe
Shiny Hoarder
Weyrwoman Kaegan Dragonhealer E'rro Rider K'thay Woodcrafter E'iah Healer Raylanne Healer Ithanna Harper Zemaren [color=0BDA5
"When the Butterfly emurges, does the caterpillar no longer exist?"
Posts: 1,401
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Post by Tashe on Jan 27, 2010 18:48:33 GMT -5
He swayed a little on his feet. Nautic was not used to being up at this time of day, this particular chunk was always devoted to sleeping. He had a schedule. The Wherhandler yawned as he leaned against Nautsk, who snorted slightly voicing her complaints about wearing the blinders. It was too bright for her, even in the Hatching arena, so Nautic resisted every urge to remove the pads. He wanted her as comfortable as possible, the poor Green was already fretting because of the overflow of negative emotions. She wanted to make everyone happy again, but Nautic knew that without her sight she would cause more trouble than the venture was worth, so he had resigned them to stand near Eikane and his Gold. If Nautsk got too stressed, he could ask the pair to help him out, since Eikask could distract her from the Humans all around her.
"Eikaaane. Have you seen Demi? I've been trying to find him through this mess but... so many people and er, dragonic friends... its hard to tell." Speaking of friends, Nautic immediately checked the satchel that hung at his side. Good, Absinthe and Tizzy were still there and fortunately still sleeping. They had left in such a hurry, that Nautic had done his best to be as quiet as possible so as not to wake those two up. Mouse on the other hand had to be subdued, her loud squawking had forced him to cover her cage his shirt. Which was fine with him, the sands were almost uncomfortably warm anyways. Lifting his hand to start off a sentence, Nautic was cut off by a voice who spoke up above the chattering din. He had fighting skills, but would be useless in a fight. He had very little courage when it came to facing off against invading forces. And he had basic healing skills, very basic skills. Slap on a bandage and you're good to go, he wasn't his Cousin who had a double craft. That reminded him... "Be right back Eikane. I need to go check on the Grannies." Grannies, his nickname for the older Crecheworkers.
Teetering off, shards he was tired, Nautic wove his way toward where the Creche women were watching over the few children who either didn't have parents or whose parents where not on the hatching sands. The women greeted him with a flurry of hellos and complaints. Putting his hands up, the Wherhandler greeted them back right before being swarmed by children with questions. It took him a few moments to untangle himself from the weyrbrats. After making sure everyone was okay, he told the head Crechewoman were he'd be if there was a problem then removed himself from the equation with the excuse of needing to be with his Wher. He retreated back to Nautsk and leaned against her side once more. "Its crowded. This isn't a good idea... if something happens the hysteria would cause more problems."
--
Being a Candidate, Eliah didn't have much to take in the way of important items. The list included; Himself, Rishin, his Woodcrafting tools, and his mother's silver bracelet. Everything else was replaceable and therefore not necessary to bring along. The boy had decided to climb into the stands, giving everyone else a little more breathing space. The Dragons, Whers and Humans that fanned out on the sands before him was a motley sight to see, and in a better time, it would have been enjoyable to see. Leaning back against the bottom of the stands, Eliah hugged his legs and rested his head against his knees. The air was stuffy and it was making him feel bad. Rishin wasn't her chipper self, though he guessed that it was because he wasn't happy. She often reflected his own feelings to some degree.
Blindly finding the Canine's head with one of his hands, the Candidate stroked her fur, trying to find consolation in her familiar presence. Cr'oph and the Dragon went ignored, he had neither of the skills that they were calling for. He was good with a knife, but only if they wanted him to carve an attacker. And he doubted seriously that they would approve of something like that. Plus, he was what... five six? He wouldn't be much help in battle. And healing was out of the question...
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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 27, 2010 20:50:13 GMT -5
X'rx...really...really didn't like this. Last time had been bad. This time might be worse. He fidgeted, keeping close to his girl, who was trying very hard not to accidentally cut anyone with so many jostling around them. The greenweyrling was paying absolutely no attention to the various shouts flying around; he'd gotten separated from the rest of his class somehow as it was, and his family had been no easier to find. Crushed in with so many, he felt overwhelmingly alone aside from Eveyth, who he kept in physical contact with constantly for fear of being separated from her as well.
A glimpse of someone...Dy?...his hands going to the string of beads at his belt and running over them. One. Two. Three...lost count as a shoulder knocked him askew, and he began again. X'rxMine, did you hear Maverick's? He says healers should go to the back. "I'm not a healer," he murmured, but still he followed as she began wriggling in that direction. Waving to get Dy's attention, he tried to keep at least one of his friends close. Back had to be better than the front or right in the middle of the crush, yes?
If anyone could hear the steady stream of grumbled epithets, their brains might have melted from the severity; few could curse like a streetbred Bitran. Trees. Southern sharding trees. Even the women were, on the whole, taller than him. You'd think it would be easy to find a sharding gold dragon Jingth's age. You would. But no, not when he couldn't see anything past the sharding trees! How ridiculously foolish could the senior weyrlings be? This was more exposed than the personal weyrs! Meira should be at the infirmary, which meant, in turn, he could keep an eye on everyone instead of leaving R'wign, Teri and his entire wing back at the infirmary to come fetch a fool.
Grouch's grumbles complimented the brownrider's, and Sneak took his other shoulder, watching everything in stunned silence. He was riveted, was the brown flit. Shoving his way through, he just barely caught Cr'oph's shouted instructions. Unless Meira had completely forgotten she was a healer - which was entirely possible given she'd come here at all to begin with - that should be the place to find her. M'ta began forging a path through the warm, sweaty bodies, so utterly tempted to draw steel and make them move. He wanted to get her out...and hopefully get her to tell the rest of the weyrlings to follow suit...before their company arrived.
Why was Dmitri not with his fellow wherhandlers? Well, it could very well be that he had absolutely no intention of getting up out of bed to stand in the midst of a metaphorical slaughterhouse. But it wasn't, because apparently Dmisk had different ideas as to where they should and shouldn't be. Not only did he have different ideas, but he apparently felt strongly about them, considering he'd dragged his shirtless, barefoot pitiful excuse for a handler half the way over here before Demi finally gave in and came on his own two feet. Looking like he'd just woken up and been dragged.
"Now you refuse to move. You're blind. Do you understand that?" He tugged at the cloth bound tightly over the wher's eyes. "Blind. This means," he continued, speaking slowly as if to a retarded person, "that you can't see. Yes, yes, I know you can smell and still have a sense of heat signatures and all that jazz, but blind is blind, you know? Let some others guard the entrance." Dmisk informed him calmly that Dmitri's eyes saw well enough in the light. Which, apparently, was the end of that conversation.
(F'ur and Inocenth are with their wing.)
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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 27, 2010 22:38:35 GMT -5
Piden's jaws cracked as he stretched his mouth wide into a yawn. This was not a time of day he liked being awake, generally. Not unless he was comfortably in someone else's bed. Pidesk's head was periodically drooping towards the floor, but he would jerk it back upright as soon as it fell too far. People were still crowding in, which Piden and Pidesk ignored (although it was making Red quake and emit a high-pitched whine that made Piden want to kill something). The pair held their spot near the center of the large entrance, Piden with one hand on his small knife and the other on his Wher's side. It would be too dangerous to actually draw a weapon in this press of people, or he'd have the knife in hand.
The pair calmly ignored the Weyrlings who were trying to take control- jumped up babies who were too big for their britches. If everyone would just hold tight, Piden was sure some full-grown shiny thing would offer them nice, calming words. For his part, he was going to protect Pidesk, because the bronze was blind. Pidesk was planning on protecting whatever Whers he could. Piden followed his gaze sideways, lighting on a blue pair they only knew by sight, apparently having the argument that was keeping Piden at his Wher's side, rather than firmly planted in the middle of the Weyrfolk crowd. Pidesk swung his head blindly towards Dmisk, sending a generally welcoming feeling in his direction, then expanding it to all the Whers present. They were invited to come stand with him, if they chose. They may not be used to working together, but it did not mean they could not.
M'kai stayed mounted on Futh after they entered the crowded sands. Why the seniors were here rather than in their personal weyrs he didn't understand, but he certainly wasn't complaining. Cr'oph would be here, and Megs. And X'rx with his Green, M'kai added belatedly. Futh liked the younger creature, and that made M'kai more open to friendship with the Rider.
Anyway, Cr'oph wasn't hard to find. At least that hulking thing is good for something, right? he said to Futh with a mental wink. I like Mavenath, Futh contributed. You like everyone, M'kai responded. Now take me to Cr'oph. I'm the wordy twin, maybe I can help. Futh did just that, sidling up to his bronze cousin, and allowing M'kai to swing down next to his twin. "Screwed anything up yet?" he asked jokingly, elbowing Cr'oph in the side. Reina popped in for a second to check on her humanvassal, but stayed only a second before popping away to her palace (Futh and M'kai's weyr). SHE had no reason to remain among chaos.
Tenlie pulled the tie out of her hair, releasing the dark frizzy mass. Too many strands had come loose in her flight from the forge, and she wanted it all off her sweaty neck. Running, Tenlie reflected, was hard.
Typically, she had fully ignored every summons of the Weyrfolk to the hatching sands, from any source. The poor cook who finally got her attention would regret it for days- he'd caused her to warp a corner of a commissioned looking glass. Now it wouldn't be suitable for presentation to the Bronze Wherhandler who had asked for it to be made, and she'd have to start all over. The idea still made her fume. The cook had a black eye to show for it, along with an expanded vocabulary of oaths. For a harmless-looking teenager, Tenlie had quite a tongue.
Once the man had stopped blubbering and delivered his message, Tenlie had had to sprint for the hatching sands, since pretty much everyone was there already. He'd left for the infirmary, calling her a raging bitch the whole way. So... she was here! And her hair was out of the way, and she even had her leather apron and workbelt on, with all sorts of helpful things in it. Ten was certainly no healer, as her innumerable burn scars showed, but she had things like tiny knives, pinchers, scissors, and even a needle and thread in her pack. An experianced healer might even make use of her packets of mineral powders. So she headed for the Weyrling who looked like she was in charge, planting herself in front of Erilena and introducing herself: "Hi! I'm Tenlie! I do be no healer, but I do have tools. Let me know if I may help."
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Post by dragon on Jan 27, 2010 23:32:50 GMT -5
There really wasn't much for it other than to keep everyone as close together as they could be, and keep them calm. For once, Skink wasn't being a problem, having buried herself as deeply into his pocket as she could go. Emoyan tried to keep the candidates together and out of the way of the things going on. This whole thing felt stupid to him ... so terribly stupid. The stands, completely accessible by dragon, were a prime place to get fried like eggs in a skillet. Thus he tried to keep his charges together - and near the only dragon-free exit. This was not to say that those tunnels weren't going to start spilling enemy riders. But he highly doubted that Fort had that many riders on hand, or even knew the tunnel structure that well to pull that off. So near to those tunnels, but not too near. Time enough for reaction should it become a problem.
The kids were his charges, and he was going to keep them as safe as he could manage. Those who would cooperate, anyway. Anyone who freaked out and ran away was pretty much on their own - Emoyan was certainly not going to chase after them and risk all the rest. Make the best of a bad situation, that was all he knew to do. One more thing he made sure to do was to make sure that all of them were armed with at least one knife. "Don't get involved if you don't have to. Do not attack them, and for Faranth's sake, don't go looking for attention. Keep your mouth shut and don't lose that blade." They weren't the best blades, but it was by far better than nothing. Keep them alive, that was the goal. "If things happen, you run into those tunnels just as fast and as far as you can. Stay in the tunnels, as deep as you can go, where dragons cannot reach you and the riders will get lost." He advised, quiet and low.
His gaze wandered to the open area that was the dragon entrance, as his brow furrowed deeply. Fort. He knew them all too well. What they were capable of, and how well trained they were. This was not going to be anything like the attacks Benden had unleashed. Hopefully, S'rei would be able to resolve this without conflict, though he highly doubted that was going to happen. Too many people were itching for a fight, on both sides.
The sands were hot. Awfully hot. L'nu was sweating up a storm, his arms wrapped around Rose. Silent for a change, all of her talons were sunk into the front of his tunic, golden head peeping over his shoulder at whatever happened to be behind him at the time. There was no concealing it; L'nu was scared. Very scared. He didn't even know why, he was just scared. And because of it, Rose was scared. She'd been a tad more subdued in personality ever since her crazy flight, and this only served to make her even more quiet than usual. Wrapped around the boy and his shiny flitter, Paglieth sat calm and quiet. Of the three, he was quite collected, eyes swirling slowly as he watched and waited, determined to keep his safe. And the annoying shiny, too, even if only cause she had always been part of their little unit. He rattled his talons in the sand beneath him, edgy.
Outside the sands, posted where he was instructed, Frosstyth made quite a section of wall all by himself. The big, burly, muddy stormcloud of a brown was hunched between trees, wings tightly closed to his sides as he breathed slowly in the fog. He couldn't see much, but he could hear. And smell. He wore his harness securely, but it was empty. Not too far away from him was where C'oar was, armed to the tooth. His sword was in hand, if at rest, with a dagger waiting to leap into the other should it be needed. The smith had his back to a broad tree as he quietly stood and scanned the treeline that he could see. The only good thing he could see in this, was that they had the home advantage. They knew the ground, twig for twig, where Fort didn't. And they had numbers. If nothing else. This wasn't an all-out Weyr-on-Weyr attack. At least, not yet.
And right about now he was wishing he hadn't handed over his invention quite so readily... a half dozen of them on the canyon edges would be so very effective in reducing that wing up there to a more manageable number. Not to mention make Fort - or Benden for that matter - think twice about sending dragons into the canyon unbidden. But, things were the way things were. C'oar fully expected things to get quite messy before they got nice. He just hoped he was ready this time.
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Post by mierce on Jan 28, 2010 1:03:24 GMT -5
Cer’c sat on the wall dividing the sands from the stands, gazing out at the colorful sea of dragons and whers that littered the extremely warm sands. Even considering that he viewing the scene from a completely different vantage point than during the Touching and Hatching, he could barely recognize the previously spacious looking arena. His jaw hung slightly agape as he scanned his surroundings. “Wow…”
Harmonyth stretched her neck from her lounging spot in the sands just below Hers and gently nudged the black-haired weyrling’s foot. Cer’c lowered his gaze towards her, immediately becoming aware of the swirling emotions behind the Green’s otherwise calm expression. He smiled and patted her muzzle affectionately. Don’t worry, I’m sure we’ll be fine. The Cyclone Wing is here, after all!
His confident words did nothing to quell the Green’s fear, though; she rested her head on the edge of the wall and nuzzled his thigh. Eee, on the other hand, was draped over Cer’c left shoulder staring into space, belly exposed to the world. If Cer’c had thought to consider how different his two companions were, he might have laughed at their rather different reactions to the present situation. Strange how they would both find him suitable as a bonded!
At around that moment, Cr’oph took to the stands and shouted out his orders. Well, more like suggestion really, in Cer’c opinion. Harmonyth lifted her head warily, sliding so that her lower maw rested atop of Cer’c lap.
Cer’c considered the bronzeweyrling’s words for a moment, then reached for the sheathed daggers that were stuffed into his boots. He never made contact though, as Harmonyth forced her muzzle against his stomach so that he could not lean forward anymore. You should stay here, she stated. I could help. Cerwain taught me to fight. Let’s prepare to help the injured instead. That is just as important. Cer’c gave Harmonyth a curious look. “I’m not a healer. Not at all!” Mimic called you a fixer, did he not? Well….
The Green propped her front feet up against the wall so that she could loosely curl her neck around Cer’c’s torso. The sudden movement, gentle as it was, was enough to knock Eee from his perch into his bond’s just vacated lap. The brown focused briefly on the green and seethed, but she ignored him. Please Cer’cmine. I do not wish to see you in danger.
Cer’c chuckled, then patted both Eee and the side of Harmonyth’s face. “Okay okay. Let’s help any casualties, then!”
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Post by tarra on Jan 28, 2010 10:32:33 GMT -5
OOC> For info, I've made a few preps in this post that the Cyclone riders may wish to note. And Morreliath, being what he is, is trying to be commander of the entire thing as usual... S'kor and Morreliath Selenitas riders were not fighters - the full strength of a wing in coordination, whilst powerful on its own, would be wasted against the might of the warring Weyrs of the North. That he saw clearly even as he sidled in place. He was on the pathway leading into the Hatching Grounds, his great bulk all but baring the way in to its people. Perhaps the invaders, should they come, might still spot the mass of weyrlings and Weyrfolk behind him, but it would be clear they were not left defenseless. But despite their precarious position, Morreliath was not daunted; not yet, perhaps. From Salenth's first "go" he had seized the time to make the precious few preparations he could. Whilst the weyrlings and Weyrfolk gathered, three riders of Cyclone had been sent to collect firestone sacks and distribute them to the rest. The time had been short, and the big bronze had emphasised speed with all the command he could muster. The reminder of the wing were sent to the trees, told to conceal themselves amongst the dense foliage of the surrounding forests. By now the wing should be ready: hidden and prepared to spout fireon command. Cyclone, he spoke quietly, Concealment is everything, keep yourself hidden. If they come, hold yourself. I will try to make them drop on me. Engage only when I call the command - rise from the trees and go for them. Strike with fire and talons, and stay together. If they catch us singly they will drag us down one by one. S'kor, for his part, was slipping quickly through the crowd searching for various persons. His wing was in place, his riders ready; now he need only see to the people he was supposed to be helping to guard. The bronzerider had been making his own preparations and was was no longer unarmed: a sword hung at his belt, with a cudgel on the other side. The usual placid nature of the man was all but gone: his gaze was grim and his stance stern. The warrior was emerging; the usually gentle, calm personality rapidly submerging and surfacing into something...else. He noted, with approval, that despite the earlier panic the they seemed to be organising themselves already; now it was just a matter of helping them along. Morreliath, picking up stray ends of both verbal and mental conversation in the area, conveyed them to his rider as they came. Nuoth he ignored like the elitist he was, but he brushed Mavenath's mind lightly with approval. S'kor nodded absently as he tipped a curt nod of approval to Cr'oph calling out his suggestions, then raised his voice in support of the weyrling. "The lad has good points, let's see some movement! Go go, get that healer's corner up!" He moved on, found the goldhandler he had been searching for and spoke quickly. "Eikane, Nuoth's right, we need to get the whers organised. We need Eikask's help for that. Have at least four of them at the Stands entrance, the small one; get them to bottleneck it if they can, take the guard in pairs and rip anything coming through." He paused, considering his next words: what good were whers in daylight, against dragons? They were all half-blind, half-tottering from being woken at an odd hour. He hissed. "The rest must back Morreliath - dragons he'll take, but if any rider gets through, the whers must be ready to go for them." He passed on without looking back, then stiffened suddenly to a halt. At the entrance, Morreliath paused in his pacing to look out at Salenth's warning in his mind, whirling eyes turning slowly red as they fell on the many shapes appearing in the sky above the Hall. He snapped a flare of warning into the minds of the Cyclone dragons in the trees, then extended his mindvoice to all weyrlings in the Hatching Grounds (and on a quick second thought looping Kaaoloth into his words too), I, Morreliath, speak. Junior weyrlings, occupy the stands and be ready to help repel a dragon from them. Seniors, take position behind the whers - should they go, it falls to you to guard our Weyrfolk and juniors. Do not kill unless necessary, but kill if you must.Behind him, S'kor loosened the sheath in his belt and began to squirm his way back to the front entrance. He had no time left to organise more - the rest was up to the Weyrfolk. Morreliath, watching the skies over the Hall and keeping track of Salenth's words, bugled an alert as seven dragons came streaming towards them. He spoke one more time to the Cyclone wing hidden in the trees. They come, mount up. Recall what I said, listen for my orders thereafter. Remember, we fight for what we value; for Weyr and loved ones both. Rearing onto his hind legs with wings flared aggressively, the big bronze rumbled his challenge to the encroaching Fort riders, eyes whirling pure red even as fire sat heavy in his belly. But no enemy need know about that. He sent out his mental challenge to them. You think you are good, catching us off guard, he snarled defiance, as if he had indeed been caught off guard; as if Selenitas were living up to its reputation for softness, But you will not reach these people without first passing me! *********************** Katar and SonarthWaiting. It was the one thing Sonarth could never stand; and Katar, just as jittery, was having the hardest time keeping her blue still. He sidled, and paced, and shuffled his wings, until the bluerider wondered how they might ever stay concealed if he was going to tear up every inch of foliage that would keep them hidden. They come, the blue froze, jaws parted and tongue lolling, Morreliath bids the riders mount. Then stop sidling, or they'll see you, Katar almost hissed as she swung into the harness and secured it. Sonarth slipped sideways on his branch, keeping a good cover of leaves between them and the sky. He braced against the bark as the bronze rumbled his challenge, every muscle tensed ad ready to fly.
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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 28, 2010 10:49:44 GMT -5
The last time he felt like this it was 2996, not even a year into the war, and knee deep in a muddy slush of blood and earth. Only seventeen, and waiting with a white knuckle grip on a particularly nasty looking machete for the enemy to come...for them to run through and be ambushed. Eighteen turns later and things didn't seem to different now did they? The only difference - besides the obvious age difference - was that now he was up in a tree - ugh - and not on the ground It was strange to think about how he even got in this situation, how every time he opted out of the violence he found a way back into it. When he stopped fighting in Benden he became a battle planner, when he left Benden to go to the sleepy south a part of him illogically felt like he had dragged the war down with him despite all of his good intentions. He didn't want this. It was Kierjaarth who had that killer instinct in battle, Mi'rah only knew what it was to survive. He had a great left hook, an undercut. He had more than a few blades when it came down to it, a club for the unglamorous finish, and a will to live, but he had no style points. No fancy techniques. But that was to be expected from a man who was so lacking in frills.
I don't like this... The dragon complained. Kierjaarth was prone to complaints and jealousy among other things, but for as long as they had been hiding out it had ceased to stop. One little mistake and the hatchling is leading us all. Are we not the senior wingseconds mine? Do they even know battle? I did not see them at the siege...I would have remembered sinking my claws... You need to be quiet. Even Doppelganger is managing silence over you. The Salamandyr was hiding in utter fright underneath the bronzerider's shirt, only growing more and more scared as the dragon continued to antagonize the sweet little thing, How many people do you think we've killed? Not counting planning. Just killing. How many will die today. I think a lot.... Shut up. No reflection on you of course. You did your best to help plan a defense didn't you? Oh wait nobody listened to you because you are a stuttering, meek, little nobody. Shut up!
And the bronze did now that he felt his rider sufficiently riled up. Even if the man could only yell in his brain, it was good enough for the dragon. He didn't want to hurt his rider. No dragon would even intend to do that; he only meant to light a fire underneath his behind. It was nice to get good and angry every once and a while, and in Kierjaarth's opinion Mi'rah should be mad. It was a shame that Benden had so conditioned him in the art of the tight lipped silence...and given him that stall in his voice. Almost ruined really....
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Post by rii on Jan 28, 2010 12:16:07 GMT -5
Torn with indecision, R'ven stood amongst the throng of weyrfolk with the side of his hip set against the railing that separated the sands from the stands. Trilaranth was beside him, foreclaws on the railing so he could lift his front half up, his short neck stretch as far as it could. From his vantage point the brown was carefully taking stock of his clutchsiblings, as well as a few others that His wanted to find. Cr'oph's and S'kor's words only sent the split further down into the smith's mind. He didn't want to fight, protect yes, but not willingly go up to the front with intentions of purposely harming – even killing – another person. Trilaranth did; which was why, with both feelings circling in his mind, R'ven remained rooted to the spot. The wings are guarding this place, let them take care of it. R'ven, This time it was the young dragon exercising patience with his mindmate. If one gets past, what then? R'ven narrowed his eyes. The expression drawn on his face was hard, nearing foreboding, and nothing at all like the usual aloof friendliness he showed. Curse his dragon for trying to appeal to his protective nature. The smith knew he was no match against a northern dragon rider. I am, though, and Morreliath say for us to occupy the sands.There are plenty others, only one of us, What if they make it past them to the healers? He supplied, quickly derailing Trilaranth's train of thought as the brown considered this dilemma. They need someone to guard them.This was true enough, Trilaranth considered, tipping his muzzle down to regard His. The tip of his tail flicked back and forth, but before the brown could sway back toward wanting to guard the entrance, R'ven stood from the railing and made his way toward the back. Feyrianth, Eveyth and Harmonyth are over there. That last bit seemed to do well enough to fully convince Trilaranth. With a heavy thud, the brown landed on all fours and padded in R'ven's wake. Upon arrival the brown laid himself out in front of the 'healer's corner' like a well trained guard dog. He wasn't a terribly long dragon, but his bulk and the fact he was bigger than any of the humans milling about, or his clutch siblings, made up for that little detail. __________ Waiting, he never did like waiting when he knew something was coming. It was like they had made plans to be meet at a specific time and place, but instead the other party was late. Were they still coming? Or had they made other plans and forgot to inform him? How rude.. It had only taken one sweeping look around at the others present before F'lix opted to slink off into the trees to find suitable cover. Up in one of the trees, to be exact, out of sight of the sands and most of the other dragonriders. Saboth was further out, instead of being close at hand, as the blue's pale hide clashed horribly with the dark greenery of the jungle. Still, F'lix was confident enough to be able to make it across the maze work of intertwining branches to make it to his dragon if he needed to be mounted. A quick ambush of surprise to distract or disorient the fort riders.. Saboth could do that alone.
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Post by midnight on Jan 28, 2010 15:40:51 GMT -5
Indecision tore through the young woman as she tore up her chambers looking for one thing. Just one little thing, the bloody pendant that Mik and Cry had given her for her 17th turn-day. She growled as she dug around for it, and looked up at Gojii as she approached. The little cat was worried, so much was happening with the human pets. Meagen sighed as her fingers wrapped around the pendant. She put that on and under her clothing.
Then she grabbed her blades, her pretty pretty blades. The ones that she had learned to use. To tell the truth she thought any blade was pretty. But these were special, once again gifts from the two people that mattered so much to her. Her eyes hardened for a moment as she strapped the two longer knifes in place. With that she threw on a long sleeved tunic made out of a light fabric and stained red. Why? Because if your opponents couldn't tell if you were bleeding, they got confused and scared.
The girl was a fighter to her core now, and she would fight beside her Weyr. Against ANYONE. She got the few small things that mattered, and darted off to where she was to meet everyone else. She got there as Cry was making his announcement, and slipped up behind the male. Looking around for Mik, knowing that he was there somewhere. "Good, that means I'm going to stick with you. Since I know how to fight." The young woman announced.
The white fluff on her shoulder moved, growling faintly, eyes watching everything around her. No one was going to touch HER human-pet without her expressed permission. This human was Gojii's and she was going to make sure nothing happened. She wasn't a stupid creature, she could tell something dangerous was going to happen. She jumped down off of Meagen's shoulder to maneuver her way through the crowd.
There was people that needed her here. Little peoples and big peoples. Her presence would calm them... and if fighting happened, well she could help she was FEROCIOUS when challenged! Oh yes she was!
((*gigglesnort* Sorry had to upplay Gojii's actions, cause I haven't played her in awhile. Also she wasn't included in the PM, but I don't want her killed or hurt... She's pretteh... and she just wants to help. XD
Also if anyone sees her with their character and wants to interact with her, feel free. ))
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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 28, 2010 16:51:59 GMT -5
Why. Are. We. Here?
Impatient!Jingth. The gold was becoming rapidly more and more irritated by the number of commands being shouted out sporadically across the Sands without any real information as to how soon they could expect to either be assaulted or they could return to their lives. Annoying, annoying; Riaren was slightly fussy from how densely packed the Hatching Sands were (Jingth was, ever so helpfully, sprawled out along one of the side walls to make room for Hers) and Meira was just as anxious, if not quite as openly so. She hadn’t been on shift when Trilaranth had bespoken Jingth, and the gold had been worried enough not to question much then, but her patience was wearing thin very quickly. She didn’t like being crammed into the Hatching Sands and left to wait for…however long it would be.
Orders? her Rider murmured in response, although it was mainly a rhetorical question anyway. Her lips were pressed against Riaren’s head, the baby clinging to the front of her shirt and whining softly, despite the lavish reassurances being poured on him by Mimic, who had curled around the baby’s wrist and was wriggling and licking Riaren’s palm obsessively.
/Orders/, Jingth echoed dubiously. Of course. Her wings fluttered faintly, though at least she took care not to hit anyone over the head with them. The gold tilted her head slightly at Morreliath’s words, though she did turn to look carefully in the direction of the entrances in question. Shall I go? Do you need help to the back of the Sands? she inquired, coiling her tail more tightly around her haunches as someone almost tripped over it. She didn’t want anyone in the Sands hurt; they were her servants and her property – but they were so, so stupid sometimes.
“Please don’t go.” The words were out before Meira could think on them, her head coming up abruptly to look anxiously at the gold; she didn’t want Jingth to go anywhere where she might get hurt. “Look – come to the back, please? Help clear a space or something, but please don’t…” Go up front; that was where all the fighting would be and Jingth wasn’t a fighter in the physical sense of the word. Fortunately Jingth seemed amiable to such a suggestion and twisted awkwardly to start wading through a sea of people, slithering along the side wall until she reached the back.
If you’re not a Healer, you’re /in the way/, she stated sharply to the group of Weyrfolk still lingering in the back, as she coiled neatly on the edge of the Stands. Her head tilted, eyes narrowing slightly, as Meira followed her anxiously, glancing around at the…very small…group of people that had come. None of them were instantly recognized as actually being Healers, though she’d seen X’rx and Cer’c at the Infirmary before. She swallowed, shifting Riaren up slightly as Mimic coiled tighter around his wrist, still cooing reassuringly.
“Okay – look,” she stated. “Jingth can help control the dragons if any of them are panicking if – if anything happens, but does anyone actually have any…bandages, or anything…?” Because no, she didn’t actually carry around an Infirmary cabinet with her. Unfortunately, at a time like this, but…it couldn’t exactly be helped; she’d considered having Jingth fly her to the Infirmary while they were waiting because it seemed like she should be there – or at least to figure out what to do – but the gold had pointed out that they could hardly count on the fact that nothing would happen while they were halfway there.
Said gold flicked her tail lightly, still irritated, before she commented helpfully, I spy a ‘ruth’s.
[[okay. crappy!post. if i screwed anything up, please kick me.]]
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Post by archenstone on Jan 29, 2010 0:52:24 GMT -5
I don't like any of this....
X'vier thought quietly as his mind reached for Mirazeth's. Their consciousness's mingled...enveloping each others...melding into a deep rapport. They could see from each others eyes, smell the scents each picked up, and felt each others feelings inside them.
Being closed in trees and unable to maneuver is not what I want. Mirazeth's eyes whirled in a steady flow of simmering agitation and anger. He slowly curled his tail, working out a cramp that had developed. X'vier was already strapped in....preferring to be able to go immediately upon command. The people in the hatching ground were a priority. They had to be safe. Everything felt inadequate to them both. X'vier was uneasy with the plan and Mirazeth had to agree. Both hoped everything went well though. The thought of loosing people, friends, comrades, dragons......even old conquests; it was nightmarish.
Passion curled possessively around X'vier's neck. Protect beauties. No sleep forever no no.[color/] He hissed....fluttering his crest in agitation. His was right, the females had to be protected! He didn't have much concern for the males....except through His' feelings. Even so...less males was less competition...more females right?
X'vier stirred restlessly as S'kor gave their instructions again. They knew what they were supposed to do! He immediately settled though as Mirazhe's thought made sense. They had people here that needed a reminder...and it gave S'kor something to do besides bait duty.
Suddenly, dragons came from between and a snarl from Morreliath echoed across the trees. Mirazheth wanted to follow with his own roar but kept his mouth tightly shut. They needed surprise. Surely more than seven would come. They both tensed, unable to do anything but hold still to follow the plan. I hope we get to them before they kill S'kor.
Starting a battle with the first death would not be good.
Not at all.
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V'rael is pacing in the hatching ground....Taith of course is with him. They are near the entrance with others willing to fight.
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Post by glamourie on Jan 29, 2010 4:04:39 GMT -5
They were at a disadvantage on some levels. Selenitas had home field – so to speak. And forewarning, unfortunately. That was about all that the southern Weyr had going for itself though. The structure really was not ideal for defense – for instance, at least two of their buildings remained in trees (had they learned nothing?) and though they’d rebuilt many structures to be made of stone, they were far from fortified. If reports were to be believed, even the defense lessons were laughable – hardly anyone at Selenitas was capable and willing to fight for their own protection. They also weren’t too bright, if the fact that they willingly took in the Weyr that once kidnapped weyrlings from Selenitas was anything to judge by. Selenitas wasn’t a threat to Fort – and for that reason, their best fighters weren’t present, but the eight dragons that flew circuits in the clouds above the cliffs (high above where the hatching grounds could be found) weren’t weyrlings either – they were seasoned enough fighters that they knew better than to land and immediately begin attacking. Tactics would be needed to be successful.
It was for that reason that the bronze’s comments from below were all but ignored – outwardly anyway. Brown Ysaloth made no effort to swivel downward, instead taking advantage of his high up position to analyze the situation below. Thoughtful. He was mildly amused at the expense of Morreliath, and his rider wondered if the bronze (whose message was received loud and clear) was serious. Did he have any idea of who he was up against?
He’s cute. May I keep him?
You know better than to ask me that, Dreamyth.
The green in question snorted, making a low enough loop in the sky that her pale green wings would be readily visible to anyone outside. Her job was simple: fly quick circuits and find out where everyone below was. No doubt there were people in the hatching grounds – but they would not have been left unprotected. It made no sense to leave themselves open in such a manner.
There are dragons amongst the trees; I can see hide. The loudmouth bronze who announced his own presence is at the entrance of the Sands, but exactly how many are with him is unclear. Several. The hatching grounds have two entrances. From what I can see, the ground level entrance is definitely blocked off by bigmouth. We’re not going to get in that way. Dreamyth snorted, ascending to do quick twirls in the sky amongst the clouds. Your orders, handsome brown?
We need them out of the hatching grounds. But we need the wing removed first. Dreamyth, since you like him so much…
With pleasure.
A hapless slaughter wasn’t their style – and they had orders. Getting everyone out of the protective barrier was necessary to finding out how many people from High Reaches remained inside. Dreamyth’s eyes glinted and then she snapped her wings in, dropping downward toward the ground at an alarming speed. Her head twisted to the side and she spread her wings at the last moment, counting on her speed and grace to save her – and her rider was no fool. The greenpair secured themselves, the woman’s brown eyes narrowing behind goggles as Dreamyth turned and blitzed near the entrance of the Hatching Sands. As she lowered, she made quick twists, weaving in circles; it would be hard to hit such a small and fast target with flame, and she kept a respectable distance for a reason. Experienced, she was. Enough that she had no problem turning and flaming – not toward Morreliath, but the ground and the brush leading toward the trees, anything that would burn a lot – before rising into the air again.
Come and play with me, handsome, unless you’re afraid of being bested by a green. I wouldn’t fault you. Many bronzes have lost themselves to my charms, bigger and better than you. Would he be bold enough to fight her in the air? Either way, they’d have to come out of those trees or do something about the fire. Dreamyth snorted and turned to ascend, her head turning backward to watch for Selenitas dragons, should they choose to give chase. She wasn’t fool enough to think a bronze alone… and the flames were moving fast enough to be a danger.
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