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Post by kat on Feb 8, 2010 13:34:31 GMT -5
Things were growing more serious with each passing moment, and Kynoath was tempted to try once more to dispatch the dragon who was on the ledge. However, Ciceroth's was inside, and who knew what the bronzerider had planned? She was told to stay put, and this is what hers and herself would do. Much as they didn't like it, things were very precarious and one false move could be the undoing of those inside the Infirmary. Though both rebelled against doing nothing, nothing was all that they could do for the moment. So, they stayed put and awaited orders.
Rayne took the moment of 'nothingness' to uncap the flask and take another deep swig. This was all unbelievable. She was glad she'd left Fort behind, the way they always started things was sickening. What if she'd been on the other side? Could she have stood for this? They had openly attacked Selenitas and High Reaches both, and a young girl had been killed. She felt her stomach turn, but her face was stoic as she took one more swig before pocketing the flask once more. Selenitas was fighting back however it could, and yet what would the ending outcome of this all be? Something was seriously amiss, and she had a cold feeling in her gut. Were they just here for the High Reaches riders? Why, then, did she feel there was something more to it?
I do not think they will leave peaceably just because of those riders they seek being handed over,[/color] Kynoath voiced, mirroring her rider's thoughts.
Nor I, Kyno. Nor I.
They looked into the canyon below, for any signs of movement or to seek out what it was Ciceroth wished them to see. However, the canyon was still, and they were unsure what, precisely, to look for. Was the bronze aware of something they were not? No matter. They had been instructed to look and relay what they saw. If that was nothing, then so be it.
We see nothing,[/color] Kynoath reported back, and then, the canyon is still. Nothing happens there. Yet,[/color] she finished ominously. Just because it was still at the moment, did not mean it would stay still.
~~~~~
Everything was silent on her side. Everything that was going on, went on on the opposite side of the Infirmary. She could hear noises, and voices. Those voices did not belong to people she recognized. She stood near the back, where she would not be seen, but she didn't miss the dragon on the ledge, who flew past and landed there. She had heard and seen flames, the firestone exploding, and she feared the worst. Narrowing her eyes, she wondered exactly how many of the Fort dragons were on the ledge. How many Fort riders were inside? She had no idea. How frustrating! Thoughts raced through her mind, ideas, and plans. Only they were of no use. She had no idea what was going on and she didn't want to make things worse in any way. Besides, there was at least one dragon on that ledge. She wasn't a coward but nor was she stupid. Sighing she continued to hang back. Perhaps she should be grateful she wasn't over there. Still, she was angry that there was nothing she could do but wait to see what happened. [/size]
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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 Feb 8, 2010 19:17:38 GMT -5
The offer has already been given by Phremaths. His wing was starting to buckle as he touched the minds of his wing. Land close to the Blizzard Wing, we will wait there. Ciceroth has an idea. Ismaroth followed his own instructions and glided over to where the others were waiting, eying the Fortian dragons as he landed. As he folded his wings the Brown hissed, he couldn't fold the injured one all the way shut so he left it drooping downward. To Ciceroth he reported; I doubt I can fly for much longer, I've been bitten on the junction between my wing and shoulder severely. He then began experimenting with his wing to find out exactly what he could do with it.
E'rro tossed the bloody shirt to the ground as Talzeth's rider joined them in their little area, his eyes moving from the ground to the man's face. He tensed a little as he noticed his Riders being herded out onto the ledge, but D'que's words of caution made him comply. His sheaths on his arms were painfully obvious anyways without his overshirt. Removing his variously placed throwing knives, he deposited them on the floor next to the nearest cabinet, the Brownrider felt naked without them. Stepping away from the healers, he cast the group a searching glance before departing to stand on the landing ledge with the other Riders. Crossing his arms E'rro rubbed the side of his face in thought, he stopped next to Evrgarde looking up only when the Green on the ledge spoke to them.
He shifted his foot and looked down when it bumped up against something, a chunk of Firestone. Moving his boot, he slid the Firestone back and forth before pausing in the motion. If they could clear some of the Firestone away from them, at least the stuff immediately around them, it could make a difference between life and death. Moving the firestone again, he let it slide so that it spun away toward the edge of the ledge. Hopefully if they did it subtly enough, they could get a small area cleared. Shoving his hands into his pockets he rolled his shoulders forward as if there was nothing he could do. As if he was upset. He kicked at another rock that was close by before turning to the rest of the riders. "Is everyone okay?" He moved slowly through the others, not picking his feet up all the way so that every once in a while a Firestone skittered away from their group. "Does anyone need immediate attention?" He looked at Saraina but she shrugged off his question.
---
At the command he Betweened, choosing to come out a few Dragonlengths down from the gathering spot to make space for any arriving Dragons. Skimming the edge of the Canyon he angled his wings back and slowed his approach, ultimately landing behind the two Wingleaders. Hokth settled down quickly, inching forward to close the large gap between him and the others already on the ground. I am free of harm, a few scratches maybe but nothing serious. Twisting his head so he could silently greet Iorath (he was the closest Dragon), the other Blue took a few deep breaths. It was tiring, this fighting. He much preferred fighting Thread than Dragons, but he'd do either if called upon. Reaching out to his Rider, Hokth questioned as to her well being.
Slowly she sunk to her knee, releasing her grasp on the dagger Saraina let it drop to the ground before removing her boot-knife. Using it quickly to rip holes in either sleeve, she set it down and stood up. The Bluerider moved without fuss to the landing ledge, offering her fellow riders a one-eyed glance as she stepped out into the smoky light of the gorge. As the Green spoke Saraina busied herself with tearing her sleeves at the elbows, ripping them so that the material fell away. She then proceeded to fold them into squares. Using one of them she cleaned some of the blood out of her bangs and pushed them back, making it easier to press the second square against her wound to staunch the blood flow. As E'rro asked around for injuries, she shook her head. It wasn't anything she couldn't handle. If they were all still alive after this, she might need one maybe two stitches, but that was all. She felt Hokth brush her mind. I'm fine love, only a scratch on my face. You? Fine, a few scratches. Good, thats good.
---
Flapping his wings Castidenloth found that he was hovering again, eying the battle he was about to swoop down when the Bronze's voice entered is mind. As they slid into the Between, the Blue flexed his claws in apprehension. Coming out high above the others, he looped downward before alighting near the injured Wingleaders. To Ciceroth's questioning he responded. Mine has Emergency patch-and-dash abilities for both human and Dragon. They're crude but effective when you're in the middle of a war. He shifted so he lay close to the ground, his eyes focusing on the Bronze's injuries. But I do not know if he can help you with all of your burns. He says he only has two jars of Aloe gel with him, and they're not the big ones either. Turning he brought his neck closer to K'thay, showing him that some of his scabs had cracked and were ichoring again.
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Post by Sheari on Feb 8, 2010 19:40:23 GMT -5
C'rylMine, we have been commanded to land.[/i] The brief contact was just enough to let His know what was going on before the brown followed orders and possitioned himself near the other wing. He cautiously watched the Fort dragons. Could this be a ruse? It could be part of their plan, making them stand down just to flame them all while they had the everyone out of the air. How convenient it would be to just swoop down and let loose fatal fires. He growled deep in his throat, making it obvious he did not like this, but otherwise remained silent. Pagoth looked around, then, at the others nearby. Some were injured, others just scratched up a bit. Ismaroth was wounded, and the burns on ciceroth and a few others painfully obvious. How long would this last?
C'ryl was hesitant to move to the ledge. He was at the back of the room, and would have tried his best to just slink away and hide had it not been for the riders that had come that way. He started walking toward the ledge, slowly at first, but then more surely with quicker steps. He wasn't in any real hurry to stand near a bunch of foreign dragons, one with smoke curling from her mouth, and neither was Child, though she followed. He watched the proceedings with, R'wign, catching the name, as he walked by. Once he was standing on the ledge he dropped his weapon and crossed his arms. We are on the ledge of the infirmary, all the riders are. The man still has that one rider, R'wign. The contact wasn't enough to calm his nerves. Child nosed him, perched on his shoulder. No fun, this was and she wanted so desprately to leave.
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Rowana
Hive Mind
Handler Roivao Rider G'tor Rider Merridan Rider T'ke Rider N'rik Handler Porita Rider Farryl Rider Kyr'n[/color
Posts: 1,550
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Post by Rowana on Feb 8, 2010 20:14:24 GMT -5
G'tor made sure not to put up a struggle as he was hearded onto the ledge with E'rro in the others. Star was furious and scared, but she obeyed the silent order to keep still. Tervain was hiding somewhere, but G'tor wasn't sure where. All he knew was that she found the new comers insulting and was only not attacking out of fear for his safety. That was something at least. Are you well, Tor? G'tor glanced wryly up at the green dragons looming over them. Well enough, I guess, he said lightly. Panic wouldn't do any good.
Ruskeath crooned worriedly, but didn't move from his spot. He had flown to land with his wing, being unable to between without a rider. At least he only had minor scratches, which was more than some could say. Tor-mine is on the ledge with Ismaroth's and other riders, he reported to Ciceroth. I am ready and able. There was little more to do, but wait.
~
Farryl watched Fiona and Raiyth go with a worried frown. She hoped they'd be alright. Farryl-mine? Peppeth called anxiously. Ismaroth orders the wing to go to him and land. What should we do? She bounced nervously. The idea of being so exposed frightened her, but she hated the idea of her friends getting hurt even more. She would go if she must. Farryl nodded. "We're going." Remembering Fiona's suggestion, she made sure what fire stone she had was still fixed tight and order Peppeth to fly. Within moments, they had betweened and landed among the rest of the wing.
~
Garaeth flapped up from his ledge slowly. He wanted to show the Fort dragons that he only meant to join his wing, and nothing more. T'ke was still out, but he was alive, and Garaeth wasn't going to do anything to jeopardize that. At least he was getting used to this "fainting". It was such a silly affliction, but it could be worse. Garaeth as always of the belief that things were better then they looked. He landed with the others, still trying to prod T'ke to wakefulness.
T'ke-mine? Time to wake up! he called patiently. Mmm? Shards, but what was that awful smell! He moaned softly. He thought he'd felt someone over him, but they were gone now. Memories came rushing back, and he fought back panic. Last time this had happened, he had almost had his throat cut before he woke up. T'ke-mine Garaeth's voice was soothing and faint, as if coming from the edge of reality. You must wake up.
T'ke's eyes flickered open a little, though the world was still fuzzy. Garaeth was delighted to have him back. Be still, he advised. T'ke resisted the urge to sit up. At least one of them was thinking straight. Garaeth had a good point. At the moment he wasn't a threat and if he moved, they were sure to notice. Of course, he wasn't much of a threat either way, but at least if they still thought he was out, he might be able to manage something if the time was right. If they did notice, worse they could do was drag him out with the others. At least he hoped that was all. With his luck, they'd probably kill him to spare Pern of some as pathetic as he was.
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Post by rii on Feb 8, 2010 20:20:56 GMT -5
Mirath was a suitable enough guard for the Selenitians. It would only take an instant to flame them all if she saw the need. The Fortian riders returned to the more vulnerable group – the woman to remove the arrow from her arm and dig through the cabinets to find a temporary means of a bandage. L'em, the largest of blueriders, was sent into the opened rooms to make a brisk search. One locked door had hid a dying man. That hinted it was likely Selenitas was hiding more.
"Down – with the others," Mirath's rider gestured with a knife for Kalierre to join the other healers that were still crouching in the alcove of piled furniture.
It was V'lyr who bent to retrieve the knife from boot, as D'que merely arched a brow at the pink-haired man; sparing him no response to exchange formalities. R'wign or not, he would find out that truth in a short while. The brownrider turned on heel and lead the way – V'lyr shoving R'wign along – into the room containing the dying bronzer. Sighing lightly as he looked over the man, D'que tugged off his other glove and tucked them into his belt. "You've caused quite the annoyance for us. And not to mention putting all these people in danger for it to.."
At least what the others had suggested about the bronzer being in poor condition was true. There didn't look to be any fight left in the man. D'que stepped over to the bed and sat down.. on the bronzer's chest. A hand clamped over mouth and nose, and D'que lifted his gaze to hold it evenly, impassively, on R'wign – ignoring the way the wounded man weakly struggled to throw him off. He didn't deserve a quick, clean death. Filthy grub, fleeing to Selenitas and forcing D'que and another wing to go after them. It was highly inconvenient to them all. Not to mention his wing getting injured by a bunch of turn-cloaks and southern cowards.
"Here is how this is going to work, R'wign. You have information I need, about a fort defector – Sel'n of brown Kaaoloth – " He paused a moment as the struggling ended, and he waited, not removing his hand until hearing the tell-tale keen of a dragon going between. " –information that you will give me. It is up to you to make this as quick and painless as possible."
Giving the healer an encouraging smile, D'que finally removed his hand. V'lyr tossed him R'wign's knife and D'que pierced it into the side of the bronzer's neck just for good measures. The blood was wiped off on the thigh of his leathers, and the brown rider stood and lead them back out into the main room. With a knowing smile (children worked well as tools of persuasion) D'que glanced back at R'wign before leading them into the office – V'lyr shutting the door behind them.
Cluttered, a bit messy after the thorough search. D'que stepped over the littered papers and leaned back against the desk. He crossed his legs at the ankles while drawing forth a dagger. "I am going to ask you questions, and you are going to answer them. If you lie to me, or I think you are withholding information.."
Here V'lyr wretched down on R'wign's tied arms, kicking out the healer's leg from behind – forcing R'wign into a kneeling position. "There will be consequences. I know you are a dragonrider. I strongly advise you to keep this conversation between just the three of us here. If I suspect you talking with anyone else outside of this room, I will start dragging the others in here – one by one."
And they wouldn't be leaving until the first one had been removed. D'que smiled, briefly, the emotion never touching into his eyes. His tone and mannerism all together reflected that of a weyrling master giving the same safety speech to his students turn after turn. The drawl in his words expressing the boring monotone that he felt – ah, but on to the fun part.
"What were the extent of Sel'n's wounds? Also how long did it take him to recover – be quick with you answers. I get impatient quickly." He paused shortly before tacking on another question; and R'wign would be a fool to omit answering the previous two. "Who tended to him?"
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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 Feb 8, 2010 20:52:53 GMT -5
Dsoleth landed near Ismaroth as he'd been told to. The Fortians had stopped harassing them so that they may gaurd the infirmary ledge. The brown normally would have felt disappointed that they'd put up such a meager defense but his concern was mostly on the man barely holding onto conciousness on his neck. He turned his head until he could see the figure slumped over on his neck. The brown wasn't even sure how His had managed to keep his head but not find a way to dodge completely.
To Ciceroth and Ismaroth he said, A scratch and a burn. Nothing serious, but Mine is...he requires medical attention. To his credit he tried to keep his panic down but any dragon would be concerned about their rider and Dsoleth was tightly bonded to His. T'san's pain was being broadcast to him. The little greenling's mental shrieking from where she was hidden wasn't helping His either. The brown hissed into her mind with annoyance. She could be a nuisance to His later if they got out of the attack alive.
T'san wanted down. The height from Dsoleth's neck was dizzying. Then again, so was the sight of the inside of his eyelids. The pain was beginning to aggravate his stomach as well and the brown would never stop complaining if he vomitted on the dragon. He was unable to move though. Just thinking about trying to get down hurt his head more. How in the world was he still alive anyways? He was sure that the Fort dragon's attack ought to have been fatal. He'd count his blessing but that recquired too much brain power.
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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 Feb 8, 2010 22:02:40 GMT -5
Cutting off the images - she'd received no acknowledgement from either Ciceroth or Ismaroth, but Phremath was struggling to keep it up past her own nerves and Hers was moving again - the small green stole closer to Checkoth and curled up against him. Nuzzling her brown little big brother in silence. Her hearts beat rapidly. Hers was afraid for Checkoth's (for all of them) and Phremath didn't understand why. Hers wasn't even sure why, but she didn't explain much to Phremath anyway.
The woman had settled onto the floor as close to the other healers as possible, legs arranged into a relatively comfortable if someone awkward looking position. Her braid was flipped over one shoulder, gaze following the Fort riders from beneath lowered lashes. Idly, she scratched lines into the floor with the end of her cane. A flicker of a glance came up at movement, noting that...yes, they'd found the apprentice and the child. Fortunately, they were being allowed over here. Small blessings.
Disappearing with R'wign again. He looked fine, though...physicaly speaking. Though she hadn't missed the keening and new the High Reaches bronzerider to be dead. Should she regret that? Possibly. If she did, she didn't let herself dwell on it long enough to admit such. After all, though...if they hadn't come she wouldn't have a girl dead on the floor, wouldn't have this mess to...endure. Yes. Endure.
Not too many. Mine says...four, maybe five in here with us. Out on the weyrledge are all the riders except...except Mine, Checkoth's and Hepaticath's. But she thinks she and Hepaticath's were just overlooked.
Feeling helpless enough she wanted to scream - perhaps just to break the overbearing silence - Kalierre marked the 'x' in the center square instead. She lifted a brow at Myrath's rider, clearly offering the cane and nodding to the game on the floor...but when the other didn't respond immediately she simply shrugged. Kalierre offered it to the other healers in silence, seeing if any of them might wish a small distraction while they waited for...everything to play out. Probably not for the better. So ridiculously helpless.
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Post by kysseh on Feb 8, 2010 23:10:45 GMT -5
I think those are the riders on the ledge. I cannot… cannot see very well. Raiyth admitted to her wingleader in a soft voice, quivering in agitation and pain. Her tail hurt. Should we… unload the firestone here? I have enough for all. The green had no idea what to do and was having an increasingly more difficult time focusing between the pain in her tail and the chaos in Hers’ mind. Poor Hers. This was ever so stressful.
-----
K’von was hesitant to comply at first, shifting his weight restlessly from foot to foot in preparation to move in some way. But… the motions of the other riders and the repeated command swayed him, and the man padded quietly towards the ledge, eyes narrowed in obvious dislike as he saw that they were being disarmed. Fine. He set down his weapons with careful restraint and followed the others onto the ledge, doing the disgusting green the courtesy of ignoring her. In the back of his mind, Dohulth was muttering various thoughts that were vaguely comforting, and he chose to focus on that instead of on his weyrmate… who seemed strangely occupied inside.
They are without riders over the ledge. Ours on the ledge, so we can not flame. Dohulth was grimly informing Ciceroth, flexing the wing on his burned side to see how it functioned. It was not ideal, but it would manage for the time being. That shoulder was painful to use at all. Mine says there are… three riders that shooed them out there. He thinks that the green on the ledge… her rider is inside. The dragons over the ledge… I wish we could throw them to the canyon floor. We are at the advantage, even if Ours are there. The brown had turned to rambling
-----
The flurry of activity was making Savitri vaguely ill, and she had a grim thought that perhaps her luck had run out. They seemed to be taking a special interest in R’wign, which did not bode well for any of the healers. As Hepaticath relayed Ka’rys and Ciceroth’s request, the goldrider tugged her knees in closer to her chest, quivering a bit with contained emotions. Fear, rage, and adrenaline were vying for top spot, and the result was incurable shakiness. It was comforting to touch on Hepaticath’s mind, even if the gold seemed just as worried. Hepaticath was never shaky, even while anxious.
The gold’s tail was twitching in agitation, her body coiled about her ward as she calmly filtered the information from Savitri’s mind to hers. Time to address her mate and His again. I can not give you an exact number. The leader, a wider-looking man, and one of others, the one who killed the apprentice, have taken Checkoth’s to another place and closed the door. The bronzerider is… gone. Much as she hated the High Reaches dragons, the gold still felt a swell of pity for the loss of a dragon. The war would do this all to them, wouldn’t it? The healers are in the furniture in the middle of the infirmary now. Phremath’s and Mine are there… and Mine has the little white spy, if you think it will help.
The sudden offer of the cane surprised Savitri, who was still trying to process that the bronzerider was dead and that they were probably all going to die. Horribly too, just like the helpless apprentice. Bastards, all of them. She stared at Kalierre in utter confusion for a moment and then let her gaze drift towards the markings on the floor. A… game? Now?! One of her hands grasped the cane, the object quivering as her hand shook with her own nerves. The other hand came forward to steady it, and the young woman scratched a rough oval in one of the corners before holding the cane back out to Kalierre. Faranth, but she needed a stiff drink.
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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 Feb 9, 2010 10:56:43 GMT -5
K'sel was the master of the blame game, and in all this waiting he was doing - just drifting up in the sky with the rest of the wing was mindnumbing, especially after all of the overwhelming action of moments ago - he was easily able to start pointing fingers. Above all else it was High Reaches fault. They smelled, they brought along some shady friends, and their brains were fried on drugs.... Well to be honest, the brownrider had way more qualms with the fact that they smelled and Fort came chasing after them than the other reason, but, but, but...
Screw High Reaches was what K'sel had decided. Reasonable enough right? The rider sighed and patted poor Pettahth. It was a wonder that the brown wasn't exhausted with all of the roundabout flying they had been doing, but then the dragon was not one to be put off by such little obstacles, It is ok, I am far from aching even yet.... Which was what the young man expected the determined little guy to say. Predictable...but still loved him to death, The wing is gathering below. Ismaroth's orders. Well then make haste noble young steed.
The dragon joined the rest and landed with the wing, a little appalled by some of the injuries peppered amongst the group. Burn marks seemed popular. How unfortunate it was that flame was so useless in these battles, but luckily Pettahth was more used to using his claws. He was young and he had only learned to shoot flame not too long ago, but his claws and wings he was born with. They would work just fine. K'sel wasn't much of a pyro anyway - his hand hit a hot pot one too many times. Regardless, they were stuck there to wait and prepare. The rider started his own preparations when like magic Mojo appeared from between, Eyesore not far behind. He could use these. Mojo was a master of sneaking amongst the shadows, not a soul would see the firelizard if he just sent him into the infirmary...for curiosities' sake. Eyesore had an equally important mission. Erilena. He wanted the blue to check on one of his few friends before reporting back to him. The firelizard cocked his head. What about Charming's? Guh.... "Find her too..."
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Kisha-Ra
Rider Mo?rya Rider Darya Rider K?fuzzi Rider J?on Handler Vivano Handler Yoalla
Happier'n a pig in mud ABOUT WHERBABIES!
Posts: 1,109
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Post by Kisha-Ra on Feb 9, 2010 16:11:13 GMT -5
Ylonth broke away from the combat zone reluctantly, not that he’d actually made it to the epicentre of combat by a long way, it wasn’t that he lacked the ability, as a Benden hatched dragon Ylonth had been raised for battle, specifically against Fort dragons, it was that, frustratingly, the battle kept edging away from him so he’d barely gotten a few scratches in. R’fuin was actually starting to wonder if the Fortian dragons had mistaken the pale blue for one of their own. It wouldn’t be the first time they’d been taken for a Fort pair.
As Ylonth broke away, somehow contriving to even fly in an angry way, R’fuin trembled. It wasn’t fear that affected him so, there was no room left for fear amidst the tide of fury and frustration. More than anything he wanted to bid Ylonth turn around and engage the enemy, to feel the shock as his dragon struck and bound another, to smell ichor on the air, to be an agent of death and chaos among his life long enemies of Fort Weyr. However because he was not suicidal, and because the healers inside the infirmary were being held against the cooperation of the dragons, he didn’t object or try to override Ciceroth’s orders himself.
Ylonth landed amongst the rest of his wing, taking note of what had been done to whom. Most were at least superficially injured and all that was left to them was one last all out attack that could kill everyone, now where had they seen this before? Ylonth’s thoughts and his rider’s mingled into one sardonic question as they waited for their orders, and hoped they were good ones.
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Post by glamourie on Feb 10, 2010 12:18:09 GMT -5
Unobservant. He was surrounded by unobservant fools. Ciceroth twitched his tail anxiously, trying to suppress much of his irritation. The frustration he felt was more because of Fort’s presence than the behavior of his wing (although Castidenloth and Hokth were going to get told off at a later date) or Selenitas a whole. This was his home and he did not appreciate in the slightest that they were being attacked. It was hard to not take it personally and in the end, Ciceroth didn’t try not to. The fact that they were being attacked because of that place did nothing for his spirits. Part of him – a large part – begrudged Selenitas for taking in people who did not care in the least that they were endangering an entire Weyr that had done nothing to deserve it. He’d have handed them over without hesitation and would have been glad for it; then it was only on Fort’s head if they attacked. But no one ever said Ciceroth and Ka’rys were the embodiments of compassion.
Castidenloth’s explanation made Ciceroth turn his head toward the blue and he crooned quietly before instructing, I need Yours to work quickly to tend to Dsoleth’s. He didn’t care about his own burns. He was more concerned about those who were injured. He’s hurt badly. Treat him and quickly, then move to Ismaroth’s wing. Try to work fast as our time is limited; we have only how long it takes me to explain what we’re going to do. He was prioritizing: while it stung that Raiyth was burnt, and Hokth had some injuries, he did not want to put anyone’s life in jeopardy. That meant Dsoleth first, and then Ismaroth’s wing as it seemed to be one of the more severe injuries. It’d have been nice if they had more people who could quickly work to patch everyone up though. Ka’rys knew minor fixes; he’d have been able to help the ones with burns… but he was… rather busy. And not with them.
Hepaticath’s answer reached the bronze first (in addition to the pathetic observation skills of the Selenitas dragons) and Ciceroth twitched his tail before suggesting, Send the little white spy to where they took Checkoth’s. I’d like to know what’s going on in there. And Shadow was a rather useful little creature despite Ka’rys’s blatant dislike of him; Ciceroth remembered how well he’d reported the numbers the last time the infirmary was attacked. If he could give them details that no one’s rider could, without being seen (and being tiny helped), he’d be useful beyond words. He’d proven himself an asset before. Ciceroth was willing to take any help that he could get.
Kynoath, have Yours help Raiyth’s get the firestone off of Raiyth’s back. And have her help Castidenloth’s with treatment. Raiyth and Dsoleth both sport minor burns, as does Dohulth. Dsoleth’s and Ismaroth first – then move on. Work quickly, we don’t have a lot of time. For the rest of you – let me make something clear: From here on out, we do not flame unless we have a totally clear shot. Let there be no misunderstandings about that. No flaming. Keep your flame unless there’s no way to hit anyone of our own. And Dohulth… you’re on the right track. That’s almost exactly what we’re going to be doing.
All of Phremath’s explanations were relayed to Ka’rys, who crouched low and waited. There was a time for rushing, and a time for planning. Trying to speed into things was dangerous, to say the least.
R’wign resisted the urge to ask questions as he was forcibly hauled, not to the ledge with the other riders, but to the bronzerider’s hospital room. His gaze fell to the injured man – his patient – and his heart did a somersault. Guilt flashed through him like nothing he’d ever experienced before. He’d promised to save the man’s life. It was what he became a healer for. And to save himself – and others – they just handed him over thoughtlessly. One life for many. It made sense from a logical point of view, but R’wign wasn’t a creature of logic and ice… he was too compassionate for that; every death was a horrible loss, even that of people who endangered him and those he cared about. And this wasn’t just any man – he was a dragonrider, too. The nausea was worse.
He almost missed the statements, so busy was he with staring straight at the bronzerider as his life faded. It was only a distant awareness that made him register that he was being spoken to, and R’wign turned back to look at the Fort man pale-faced. Confusion fluttered over his features. Sel’n? What did Sel’n have that they wanted? He almost asked, but was stopped by being thrown to the floor pretty literally, and he hit the ground on his knee roughly with a low hiss. Most of his anxiety flashed to cold fear that he did his best to mask. The threat only made him more anxious, and he felt a surge of icy anger from his dragon – apparently, Checkoth did not appreciate him being manhandled. Not that he blamed the brown. He didn’t say anything to him, but he did try to comfort him emotionally as much as possible.
Checkoth, on the other hand, was growing steadily angrier. Not afraid. Not sad. Angry. And he had no intentions of not telling anyone anything. How were they supposed to catch him, anyway?
“The extent -? By the time Sel’n came back here, he was already stitched up…?” That wasn’t a lie, though he strongly suspected that he would not be believed. “I don’t know who tended to him, or how long it took him to recover…? He was – I don’t – by the time that we – I saw him, he already had stitches up his chest and he couldn’t remember what happened.” He didn’t want them to know Kalierre had helped treat him; that would be bad if they had even the slightest suspicion of who she was outside. And he didn’t want to put her in danger if it could be helped.
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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 Feb 10, 2010 19:07:16 GMT -5
He fed his Rider what Ciceroth was saying about working fast, making sure that the time restraint was very important message to get across. Dipping his neck, Castidenloth let K'thay down and watched him jog over to the Maelstrom's Wingsecond.
Unlashing himself from the safety harness, the Bluerider fished a small bag out from behind him then slid down. He took off toward Dsoleth, making his way around the various Dragon parts that lay in wait. Approaching the Brown's neck the Bluerider slung the bag across his shoulders before using the straps to climb up in front of his Rider, making sure to avoid the neck wound. Already he could see there was something wrong. "T'san. I'm going to look at you, it might hurt but try to move as little as possible." Scooting closer he gently pushed back the man's eyelids, one after the other. K'thay moved one of his hands so that it held the Brownrider's chin, while the other one hovered around his neck. "I need you to tell me where it hurts, all you have to do is make a noise." He closed his fingers and ran them up the sides of T'san's neck before repeating the same thing with the back. Letting the Wingsecond go he frowned. There wasn't much he could do for the man other than knock him out, but that probably wasn't an option at this point and he didn't have a neckbrace. He turned to the Dragon himself. "I can't do anything for him, other than having him chew willow bark... it looks like he has a serious concussion." Quickly he removed a bundle and took out a small length of something grayish brown, transferring it to T'san's hand he said, "Listen. Chew on this until it becomes mush then spit it out. Do not swallow. Hear me, spit it out and do not swallow." K'thay carefully slid backward and dropped down off of the Brown's neck, his bag smacking against his thigh as he hit the ground. "Dsoleth, if he continues to fly, it might endanger him. If you have to fly do not Between under any circumstances, he'll go into a coma." He then left the Brown to his own thoughts, making his way over to the sandy colored male.
As the man approached, Ismaroth bent his neck so the Bluerider could swing up into his harness. His wing joint was not exactly the most accessible area, given the wounds were on either side of it. The Brown shifted so that he was almost laying on the opposite side, giving the man room to work. Hissing as he lifted his wing, Ismaroth closed his eyes as the pain wove its way through his muscles. Within moments there was tugging and more pain to follow, it took all of his concentration not to squirm and throw the man off of him. When it hurt badly he couldn't help but make noises, after a while there was an occasional (if brief) moment of soothing numbness. When the man moved back from his wing joint, the Brown opened his eyes so he could inspect his wound. The tugging and pulling had been a needle and thread going through his hide, he noticed that the Bluerider had quick and dirty sewn the largest of the holes up and staunched as much ichor flow as he could. His hide was grey tinged. Ismaroth listened to his prognosis with little satisfaction.
"You fly for long and you rip those open. That bite pierced the muscles around the joint, and you've lost a lot of ichor." Wiping the ichor off of his hands as he jogged back over to Dsoleth, K'thay dug out the first jar of Aloe gel so that he was ready when he got there. Finding the burn he gobbed on the gel, using as much as he dared. Done with that, he removed all he could from his hands before wiping them clean. The Bluerider then moved on to Dsoleth's scratch. "Will you bring your neck down as flat as possible?" He waited before inspecting it. It was long but it wasn't that deep. The flow of ichor wasn't that bad either, but a little pressure wouldn't hurt. "Alright neck up a little." Dropping his jacket on the ground he removed his shirt and folded it for maximum coverage, tossing it over the Brown's neck he pulled out a roll of gauss and tossed that as well, grabbing it as it fell on the other side. K'thay did his best to make sure the gauss strips lay against the portions of the cut his shirt did not cover, moving them so that they crossed over each other. He repeated this twice more before tying it tightly off head high. Shrugging on his Jacket and clipping it back up to his chin. "I'll be back to cut that off in a few minutes. Try not to move."
Swinging around he trotted off in search of other injuries. He saw nothing that constituted immediate attention, a few scratches here and there but all smaller in comparison to what he just treated. Rayne could scour them better, his concerns were the obvious. Taking a running leap over a Dragon's tail, he passed over it quietly, hitting the ground and continuing on. He stopped by Ciceroth's head. "Let me put some aloe on your Hide. At least the points where the most amount of movement occurs. At the very least it will keep your Hide hydrated, and allow it to stretch and flex." All he needed was a bob or a shake of the head, depending on which he'd move on and numb some of the other's cuts.
---
E'rro continued to move around the other riders, pretending to check in with them while randomly scattering the firestones farther and farther away. None had answered his original question, but as far as he could tell no one needed any help. He passed closely by the others, nudging the stones away from their feet without looking down. Stopping by G'tor he glanced at the other Brownrider before looking over his shoulder. He'd cleared a good pathway between the Riders, but there was still Firestone around their feet. He heaved a sigh.
---
Sara is dealing with her injury, sliding rocks to the unoccupied space to her left and closer to the rim.
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Post by rii on Feb 10, 2010 20:43:07 GMT -5
Mirath's claws raked against the stone as she watched her prisoners. A low rumble emitted from her throat just before her tail whipped around. Her annoyance was at E'rro and his moving around, but it was K'von's legs that her tail forcefully swept out from under. On your knees. All of you.
L'em looked down at the prisoners, arching a brow at the game going on. As long as they were not moving around, and not look to be trying to plot something... he shrugged the matter. The man turned to toe his boot into T'ke's side. Grunting with disgust, L'em pointed at the healer group. "Two of you. Drag this one over.."
D'que let out a slow sigh, brows rising up as he listened to the healer. "R'wign.." The name was tsked as D'que lightly shook his head with obvious disappointment. He stood from the desk, hooked his foot around a nearby stool and moved it in front of the healer. As he sat down, a nod was given to V'lyr – who immediately untied the bindings. "Give me your hand."
At the show of hesitation, D'que hand snapped forward to seize one of R'wign's lip rings. In the next instant the metal loop clinked against the stone floor as V'lyr jerked the healer into a new hold. His dagger pricked against R'wign's belly, a half hold to keep the healer pulled back. V'lyr's used his other arm to keep one of R'wign's twisted out of the way. D'que, meanwhile, had calmly seized the free hand in a firm grip and held it up between them.
"For being so young and being Weyrhealer for – how long has it been now? –" D'que dismissed that question with a little wave of his dagger. The sharp edge of which he brought down to caress over the top of the healer's wrist. "You don't seem to know much about wounds, or the condition of your patients.. or those you assigned to tend to them.." The dangerous edge to his rhetorical comments let it be known well enough he thought R'wign was lying to him, keeping information from him; wasting his time.
"You've been something of a healer all your life, yes? Me, well.. my father was tanner.." D'que pulled on R'wign's arm to fully extend it while V'lyr restrained the healer. A slow, shallow cut was made up along the top of R'wign's arm. "I still remember helping him. His number one rule? Always keep a sharp knife." The fortian brownrider continued on in a light, merry sort of tone as he brought the blade back up to start on a parallel line an inch away from the first. He pinched the skin at the bottom of the two lines, just above R'wign's wrist, and pull it up to make a quick horizontal slash to connect the 'pattern' he was drawing on the healer's flesh.
"Who tended him, R'wign?" He eyes lifted to level on R'wign as he repeated the question. He waited a short moment, before his expression shifted to feigned frown of disappointment – not liking the answer he received. That skin was pulled up against as D'que made a smooth stroke with the belly of his knife to start the process of removing the skin. "My father calls it silver skin, the membrane between the muscle and fat. I always found it almost hypnotizing to slowly cut through it to expose the muscles underneath.."
Pausing in his work, D'que again set his demanding gaze on the healer's face. "How long did it take Sel'n to heal while here? What kind of care did he receive?" The dagger tapped against the side of R'wign's arm, leaving blots of blood as he waited, listened, and just a constant reminder for R'wign to answer – and do it quickly. "Tell me what he told you."
D'que waited for a reply – or half of the reply – before he looked to V'lyr. "Bring in one of the girls."
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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 Feb 11, 2010 2:46:14 GMT -5
This one. T'ke. Glancing up from her game, she took the cane back from Savitri and looked to the small huddle of apprentices not far off, jerking her chin toward him. Just do as they say, people. Kalierre didn't otherwise respond, etching another 'x' into the boxes. Already growing bored with this, she was; it had been so long since she'd played, she'd actually forgotten that this game was ridiculously easy for anyone over five.
Movement on the weyrledge drew her eyes, heart rising into her throat as she saw who had just gone down, but Kalierre only looked long enough to...well, to make sure Dohulth's cry didn't follow it. Dragon tails were nothing to trifle with. Her hand clenched around the cane for a brief moment, but when she returned the cane to Savitri, a wry, almost playful smile touched her lips. "Haven't played this since before starting training," she commented lightly. "Forgot how dreadfully dull it was."
Kalierre didn't bother to lower her voice, the tone purely conversational. Was it meant to reassure the others huddled around and within the furniture? Possibly. She gestured for the two apprentices to bring T'ke over her direction, calmly sliding an arm under his shoulders and lifting enough so that the upper part of his torso was raised, resting on her thigh. Fingers sought out his pulse, even as she took the flask at her hip and sipped at the water there. Dry throat.
Smart, Mine says. Stay still, Garaeth's. Phremath brushed his mind ever so lightly, still coiled next to Checkoth. Kalierre wrinkled her nose as she resettled the flask. "Anyone up for hangman?" Loud enough to include the other healers.
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Post by kysseh on Feb 11, 2010 10:31:20 GMT -5
It was with a great deal of care that Fiona slid off Raiyth’s neck and began unloading the weight of firestone, occasionally hazarding a glance at the nasty-looking bit of flesh that was Raiyth’s tailtip. Her poor love… all burned and singed. It stung like it was her own body part, and the greenrider has to push away an involuntary sniffle in order to focus on the task at hand. Right. Unloading firestone.
Raiyth’s patience and quiet croons made it much easier to be reassured of the green’s health, and Fiona began piling up the bags of stone, her gaze flicking between all of the dragons present. “Anyone need some?” she asked, her voice sounding and feeling very small amidst such big creatures. Strange how the size of the dragons normally did not bother her. She attributed it to anxiety.
Her green was bobbing her head in understanding at Ciceroth, her injured tail coiled protectively in towards her hind legs. Poor tail, poor tail. No flaming, listen closely, focus... she could do all of this, couldn’t she? ---
The low rumbling sound should have warned him that something was amiss, but K’von was too focused on taking inventory of his wingmates to realize what was headed his way. Unbelievable pain coursed through his legs as the limbs were forced out from beneath him, his body instinctively twisting over to its side in a vain attempt to catch itself. But… the ledge met his body too quickly, and his not-inconsiderable mass landed with all its force on his left arm and side, crunches and crackles saying quite clearly what the man himself was unable to articulate.
He twitched and coughed in shock, forced to take a few moments of slow, painful ragged breaths to get air safely back into his lungs. Never underestimate dragon tails. Never, ever again, he thought grimly, pushing his right hand to the ground as a weak sort of leverage to get to his knees. Following orders, he was, see? Of course, getting upright made him unbelievably nauseous and put pressure on bruised--though thankfully unbroken--legs. His side was utter agony, and he could barely feel his left arm, only glancing at the limb to see it was hanging limply with an odd extra joint in it between his elbow and wrist. Shardblast it, but just looking made him ill, so he resolved himself to turn a better, if still unfocused, attention to the others, ignoring his own coughs that drew what tasted like blood to his mouth. He had bruised something, hadn’t he?
K’von’s pain made Dohulth twitch, the brown lashing his tail about in agitation as he waited impatiently for them to do something to end the misery. His eyes changed, oranges and reds beginning to intersperse with the worried yellows. His had done nothing but comply, and yet Dohulth could feel him struggling to breathe. We are not to flame; I understand. Mine has been badly injured. If we are to do this, it will need to be quick, before that green does worse to the rest. The brown’s mental tones were grim, his eyes gazing purposefully down toward the ledge. If His could only hold on for a bit longer, they could end it, one way or another.
---
Savitri did not miss the motion on the weyrledge, and her eyes grew wider, breath catching at the sight of a trusted friend crashing hard to the stone. The breath was let out only when he managed to get shakily to his knees, and then her eyes flicked toward Kalierre, noting the hand that tightened briefly around the cane before the dragonhealer’s attention turned back to their game. Kalierre had seen… and was not responding? It confused Savitri for a moment before remembering that Kalierre was a practical sort of a person. Nothing could be done, even if the goldrider did want to go tend to the injuries created. Waiting. Just waiting.
The feeling of affection and concern that Hepaticath sent Ciceroth’s way was felt by Savitri as well, and the young woman silently inquired of her dragon what was going on. At the relay of Ciceroth’s request, she touched on Shadow’s mind, feeling the salamandyr sneak up out of her shirt and to the back of her neck, waiting ever so patiently. When Savitri was sure none of the Fort riders were looking at her, she ordered Shadow between, and the little speck of white flesh opened up its wings and made a neat glide from her shoulder, vanishing to reappear a half-breath later near the ceiling of the locked room.
Ah ha! He had found the fleshling belong to the two-tailed one, and the salamandyr silently grabbed for the wall and wriggled his little body into the crevice with an ease borne of much practice. His overlarge eyes stared down at the scene before him, a flickering series of images sent both to His and to the His-but-not-His that belonged to that enormous bronze that shared the weyr. He had found the two-tailed one’s fleshling, but it looked a bit bleedy.
His, who had been in the midst of offering Kalierre a faint smile at the greenrider’s comments about children’s games, suddenly gave a violent twitch as Shadow’s images changed from mild, everyday ‘chatter’ to the reality of what was being done. Her eyes widened with horror, and she felt Ras vanish from about her neck, the green going to wreak havoc elsewhere whilst the goldrider was weighed down with the knowledge of what was being done. Her head shook once, sharply, in the negative at Kalierre, the young woman hugging her knees tightly to her chest as she tried to not react to the awful nature of what Shadow was showing to her and to Ka’rys. She could not handle the thought of a game now.
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