Stained with Blood of Weyrlings (SR WEYRLING PLOT)

[Administrator]

The senior weyrlings had received a message in their stack of papers from the latest weyrling lesson, signed by Meri. The message was short, and was very official looking. "Weyrlings, you are no longer needed for this upcoming Threadfall. Instead, you are required to train in the clearing in the last hour of Threadfall, about a half-mile into the jungle from the river's western side about . It is large and hard to miss. If you miss this lesson, you will be faced with extreme consequences." Following the message's orders, the confused weyrlings trudged into the jungle in the hubbub of the Fall. It was odd, but there could be a number of things that they could learn about from this lesson. Doubtlessly all would be explained. With this, they wandered into the jungle, walking the half-mile to the clearing, which they all knew about as a nice spot to just lay in the jungle. It was rather dark today, not as vibrant and green as it usually was, but that was the sort of weather one expected from a Fall. Some weyrlings sat on the ground, while others remained standing. Some were uneasy, not liking being out in the jungle in the middle of Thread. What if some strands fell in the trees? Then they would be surrounded by the horrible stuff. But they trusted Meri.

But it wasn't Meri who wrote that note.

A man stood in the clearing, waiting for them, unnoticed at first by the weyrlings. He was unfamiliar, a tall, pale man with a mane of grisly brown and graying hair, and eye patch situated over his left eye. His knots read dragonrider, but he was certainly not one from Selenitas. His stubbled jaw nevertheless was smiling, friendly toward the weyrlings. "Hello," he said pleasantly. "My name's M'rgon, rider of brown Ilmith. I'm Meri's brother," he explained, his lie perfectly disguised. "I'm afraid she had Threadfall to do, so she called me in."

"You're not from Selenitas," someone pointed out. His smile didn't change at all.

"No, I'm afraid I'm not," he replied not elaborating. Looking among them, he counted them in his head. They were all here. His smile increased ever-so-slightly. Perfect. "All right, for this session, I need you all to stand in a line..." Spreading his arms out in a gesture to make them obey, he watched them reluctantly do so. The almost plastic smile altered hideously then, changing into a smirk. Snapping his fingers, he didn't explain his action until, simultaneously, each weyrling was grabbed, and strong hands were clamped over each of their mouths.

"I'm actually from Benden, and know that I am not your nitty Weyrlingmaster's brother," he told them, his dulcet tones now harsh. Drawing a dagger from its sheath, he nodded to the men that had seized the weyrlings. Harshly, they forced them all to turn around-- except Paryal. "Now, my glorious Weyrleader C'leon has ordered the execution of all of the riders from Fath's last clutch. He does not wish for the secrets of his clutch enhancers to escape to Fort, so he is sorry to tell you all that you are sentenced to die right now." All of these words were calm, but an excitement was heard behind them. The reason C'leon had chosen M'rgon to kill them? Because he liked this job. He liked to do it nastily, to cause a slow, painful death to those that angered C'leon. And, since Shmee and S'rei were the leaders of this disgusting little Weyr, that was enough to anger him. So M'rgon was sent to do the job. He knew what he was doing. The riders would not return from Threadfall, in addition to another little surprise that should be happening right now.

The man holding Paryal dragged her forward, practically carrying the struggling queenrider. "Keep their ears open. Make sure they hear her," he told his men, his smirking growing as he wrapped his arms around Paryal's torso, gesturing for the men at his sides to be backup. Keeping a hard grip on her, he slowly brought his dagger to her neck, slowly dragging it down her body, not cutting her, but enough to scare her. He could tell by her shaking, her desperate struggling, that she was terrified. Good. He loved the smell of fear. As his dagger reached her abdomen, he paused. "Well, little queenrider. It is very fun to have the time to kill a queenrider," he told her with quiet cheer, tightening his grip and stabbed the girl in the abdomen. Oh, how sweet her screams were! Some of the other weyrlings had begun to scream, and the distant bugle of the young queen dragon was music to his ears.

As soon as he felt her blood trickle into the creases between his fingers, he twisted the blade hard within her. Relishing her blood-curdling screams, he whistled as he slowly dragged the dagger upwards, cutting through her skin, cutting abstract designs into her flesh. How he loved the fact that the blood of a queenrider would add to the stains on his blade! Her screaming would terrify the other weyrlings, naturally. They couldn't see what was happening, but what they would know was that this would be terrible, that their weyrling queenrider was dying a gruesome death. Detaching the dagger from her, he briefly looked down at her abdomen-- her shirt stained with her own blood-- before stabbing her again. And again. And again. Even when she stopped screaming, he was sure to stab her again and again out of sheer bloodlust. The ground beneath him was stained red, and he was standing in it. Paryal was no longer struggling. Dead girls don't struggle.

With his old-practiced ritual, he stabbed her one last time in the chest before casting her bloody corpse to the ground in a crumpled, almost unrecognizable heap, her blonde hair running red with her blood. Aezanth, far in the distance, screeched her mourning, leaping between as she did. This was the end of this little queenrider.

Looking up, he smirked, his clothing soaked in her blood. "So, who's next?"

[ravenmane]

Ciara had glanced at Meri's notes curiously. She had thought that the Senior Weyrlings would participate in fighting against Thread, but being excused from Threadfall was an unfathomable event. Sighing, the Greenrider passed by her sleeping Green without looking at the beauty. As the girl reached her weyr's entrance, a sleepy voice filled her head.

//Where are you going, Ciara? We must prepare for Thread.//

Ciara looked back to her woken friend and smiled. "Meri has excused us from Threadfall. She wants us to train in a jungle clearing during the end of Fall. I'll see you later, Green Lady." The girl turned away to catch up with her classmates, quickly disappearing from her dragon's view.

The weyrling joined her fellow riders as they wandered through Selenitas's jungle. Grumbles buzzed in the air, expressing everyone's confusion at their Weyrlingmistress's random order. tension was thick the air as Ciara walked through the leafy vegetation around her. Something felt wrong, but she didn't voice her feelings. If Meri really meant that the Weyrlings would be horribly punished if they skipped this lesson, then Ciara was definitely coming to the training exercise.

As the Senior Weyrlings entered the clearing where they would train, Ciara's feeling that something was off grew in the back of her mind. Searching for Meri, the Greenrider realized that a man, unfamiliar and frightening, stood before them instead of the sharp-tongued woman she had expected. When the man spoke, the young woman listened, wondering why Mistress Meri wasn't here. The strange rider introduced himself as the Weyrlingmistress's brother, M'rgon of Brown Ilmith.

When the man motioned them to line up, Ciara felt the hair on her neck stand up. Why didn't he just tell them what they were going to do? Still thinking about her suspicions, Ciara entered the line that everyone else had made. Out of nowhere, hands grabbed the Weyrling. They covered her mouth and held her captive. A muffled scream escaped her lips as M'rgon spoke. Benden was behind this! The man's next words caused the girl to panic. She began to struggle, but her captor kept a steel grip on her. So scared was she, that her mind was too numb to call to her precious dragon.

As Paryal's screams of pain punctured the numbness Ciara felt, the girl began to cry and scream in terror. The rider holding her had released his grip on her mouth, allowing the Greenweyrling to scream and cry all she wanted. Her blood ran cold as she listened to the screams that surrounded her. Paryal's cries of pain made Ciara more determined to run. She struggled, but the man that had grabbed her tightened his grip.

As if in response to the pain that was inflicted upon her rider, Toryth screeched in anger. Her eyes darkened to a blood red as she scrambled into the air. Through her own and Ciara's ears, the many colored Green could here the pain that the strange man inflicted upon Paryal. Aezanth had begun cry in anguish at the torture her rider was experiencing. Fearing the life of her rider, Toryth streaked towards the jungle, screaming in anger.

//CIARA!!!//

Ciara heard her beauty's frightened call echoed in the skies and her mind. Paryal had become silent now that the young Goldrider was dead. "Stay Away! They'll kill you, Toryth! STAY AWAY!!" Ciara's response to her dragon was both mental and verbal. It was obvious that the Weyrling dragons were going to respond to their Mine's fear, but Ciara did not want her gentle Toryth to die protecting her. No, if Toryth died and Ciara didn't... The girl thrust the thought away. Toryth wouldn't die and neither would she.

[neeuqtar]

The appearance of the note had puzzled Uu'n a good deal. It wasn't like his pretty to change her lesson plans so swiftly... with such ease. And not knowing a lesson plan before hand, and her not leaving it in the normal place on her desk? Inconceivable. But the bluerider had become accustomed to obeying orders, and though the thought of Thread in the trees was very uncomfortable, Uu'n had built up some trust for the disagreeable and easily irritated Weyrlingmistress. Despite (or perhaps because of) his willingness and enjoyment of baiting the crabby woman.

Wary, though, from his days in the mines, Uu'n made sure that Adith was wearing his "fighting straps," the golden-brown leather gleaming with the shine of healthy leather--one matched by Adith's own night-toned blue. The weyrling flashed a smile at his beloved before triple-checking the dark-glass goggles that protected the dragon's sensitive eyes from light. I suppose I've delayed enough, Uu'n told Adith mournfully, before glancing at his dark jacket. In the mines, it was perfect... in the jungles of Selenitas, Uu'n found the leather impossible. Sighing, Uu'n gave little egg-heavy Dael a rub. She murred and turned in her sleep, not even awakening. Should he wear something different? No...

Instead, the blueweyrling smoothed his sleeveless shirt, a handsome crimson almost exactly the deep scarlet of blood, with a rough dragon-image embroidered in a red so dark as to be black. Checking the twine necklace holding whersport teeth in a bowl of water and spiking his white-blond hair with a bit of the same, the weyrling bit his lip and left the near-black weyr. Say hello to Phremath's for me, yes? Adith asked, a tad tentatively. He hated the idea of His spending so much time with another, but he liked Phremath... so he allowed it. Uu'n grinned as he joined the rest of the weyrlings as they made their way to the clearing.

Clearly by chance, Uu'n found himself walking next to Kalierre. "Adith says hello," he whispered to her, flashing his quick fox-smile at her before rolling his shoulders and neck. They made it to the clearing moments later, and Uu'n's dark eyes narrowed at the sight of one so different. Sharp eyes read the knots moments before M'rgon announced his Weyr. And suddenly the prickling on his neck made sense. Uu'n's shoulders stiffened automatically as his hand flew to the first of his two knives--only to have his head wrenched back by a man more powerful than he, arms pinned to his side.

The young man hissed his annoyance through his assailant's fingers, eyes rolling wildly as a hundred escape plans came to his mind and were instantly dismissed as nonsense. He seethed with fury as M'rgon tormented Paryal, killing her slowly, though not as painfully as could have been done. Uu'n's estimation of the man, heightened by the preparation, lowered instantly. If he was going to torture them, he was doing a bad job of it. And killing was best done fast, and silent. Else the Weyr would hunt them down.

Adith. You need to obey me, Uu'n told his blue, voice cold and harsh. The blue dragon, not used to such a tone from His, curled up and trembled. Tell the queen that M'rgon of brown Ilmith, hailing from Benden, has the weyrlings separated from their dragons in the jungle and intends to due grievous harm. He has killed Aezanth's. But, Mine... Do it! Adith cringed physically as Uu'n turned his attention back to his situation, eyes rolling as he tried to see everyone--and failed. Did he care about them? Once the answer would have been no, and Uu'n would have done anything just to save his own skin. Now... he cared about Kalierre. And felt tenuous kinship to Z'hin. He couldn't just run.

My queen? My queen! A.. a Benden-rider, his name is M'rgon of brown Ilmith, he lured the weyrlings off! Away from the dragons, into the jungle somewhere and wants to do grieving-harm Mine says he killed Aezanth's! Adith's voice started out tentative and ended panicked as he sent the message to the queen, as ordered. Miserable, Adith didn't know what to do... Phremath! He could talk to her, like she had with him. Phremath? Are... are you alright? Is Yours okay? he asked, escaping his darkened weyr and going to the ledge, eyes whirling a red that couldn't be seen behind the dark glass. He shifted his bulk back and forth before launching, silvery under-wings catching the light as he tilted and dove to Phremath's ledge, landing with minimal backwinging, which after all was bothersome in the dark.

[missa]

Why weren't they in Thread fall? They could fly, and had been training for sevendays for this very event... Scowling at the sheet, W'liam lent against Rinth's side. He didn't like this, but then, who was he to complain? He'd be the first to admit that he'd been slightly nervous. What if Rinth had been hurt in Threadfall? He'd never have forgiven himself. Ever. Pressing a kiss to Rinth's nose, he left.

Suspicion mounted as E'nor drew up alongside him, eyes narrowing at the man. The note was from Meri, she should be there. Much as W'liam disliked her... Though he did trust her, sort of, as far as Reth could throw her. Bending his head to speak in E'nor's ear, he spoke softly.
"Why would she write a note, if she knew she was doing Threadfall?" He asked softly, before shrugging as E'nor did. Frown grew as he stepped back into the line, eyes suspicious, before he yelped in surprise as a hand covered his mouth.

MINE! Rinth's reaction was instant, the bronze bugling loudly in anger as someone grabbed His and W'liam's mind went into turmoil, caught in horror as he listened. Lifting his voice in the keen as their gold sister suicided, Rinth's wings spread.
Rinth, no! You'll get hurt!
I don't care. They are hurting you! They killed Aezanth! Only heartbeats after the bronze had yelled, an odly coloured flash flew at them, Willow screeching at the horrible man to let Hers go. No, she wasn't an affectionate flitt, but W'liam was Hers! She'd protect him until the bronze one got there.

~*~

Paryal's screams had E'nor shaking and crying. Whimpering into the hand that was around his mouth, fear filling the blue eyes. Yet unlike the others, he wasn't strugging. Standing prefectly still, frozen with horror at what these men had done to one of his fellow weyrlings. Sniffing softly, E'nor was shocked when a screech sounded close by him. Kel appearing from between and quite promptly lashing out with claws to protect His.

A relieved sound came from E'nor's throat, and the blue weyrling very nearly cried with relief at the sight of his beloved brown. Yet... He was worried, what if they hurt him? E'nor couldn't bear to loose his flitt, and so, reluctantly, he told Kel to go back. Only to have the brown ignore him.

Clestioth shrieked at the fear from His, eyes whirling rapidly as he swung his head from side to side, creeling as he shook. Wanting nothing more than to protect His, he had to go to him, but His told him not to.
Someone help! Please, they are going to hurt Ours! Sending his thoughts wide, the blue creeled again, Clestioth ruffling his wings before finally making for the jungle.
Mine! E'norLove! I come! I help!

[Requiem]

Kalierre was more than just a little relieved to learn they wouldn't be involved in Threadfall, and perhaps it was that relief that blinded her. If anyone should have noticed something was out of place, it was her. She was on friendly terms with the sister of the Weyrleader, had her nose quite firmly shoved in most of the going-ons at the weyr due to her position amongst the Selenitas healers, and Kalierre's intuition was highly tuned. Exhaustion must have done it. She'd left her darling Phremath in the new weyr they'd claimed, as soon as she'd grown comfortable with the green's unorthodox way of reaching the weyrledge. Phremath was just happy that Hers was happy, as Kalierre had taken the extra hours and caught her rest, putting the woman in a rather cheerful mood.

The eldest of the senior weyrlings smiled brightly at Uu'n, glad that Adith would speak to her through His, even as the first pricklings of unease settled around her shoulders. It had been a long time since they'd been called to a lesson without their dragons, and to be in the jungle as Thread fell? She almost reached out to touch Salenth's mind, the needling suspicion becoming more urgent as she noticed the vaguely familiar man at the center of the clearing. Where had she seen him before? It wasn't a recent thing. Frowning, Kalierre entered the clearing slowly, most of the other weyrlings drawing ahead of her. Meri's brother? Not from Selenitas. The greenrider felt Phremath stirring at her discomfort. Mine? The weyrlings were more or less already in a line, and she made no move to approach this dragonrider, her mind searching for the connection.

By Faranth's name, C'leon's M'rgon?! The connection crashed in on her. After seven turns in Benden, she had never come into direct contact with him, but the name was unmistakable. They were all in trouble. Kalierre was already pivoting as the brownrider revealed the truth, but by then it was too late. She took a glancing blow to the head before she could make out the dragonrider who had struck her, the greenweyrling's knees going weak. KaliMine! He caught her, whirling her about, his gloved hand covering her mouth. His arm tightened around her ribcage, pinning her arms to her sides, even as he crushed her into his chest, lifting the woman so that her feet didn't quite touch the ground. Still dazed, Kali remained placid in his grip. Her fingers worked, however. The hilt slid from the hidden sheath at her wrist, nestling in her palm. It would do her little good at this stage. Trying to manuever the dagger without it being seen would be nearly impossible, and she couldn't use it as it was, but it leant her a limited amount of comfort.

Most healers carried a wrist sheath, in addition to the common boot sheath and the dagger most dragonriders wore strapped to their thigh. You never knew when you would have to reach someone in a tight space, where a blade anywhere else would be unreachable.

***

Z'hin struggled against the man who held him. At full health, he might have managed to even worry the Benden dragonrider a little bit. His leg was practically fully healed from the mauling, though walking or running for extended periods of time still caused it to become sore, so the brownweyrling had brought the cane Muta had made for him. It was still strapped to his back, and digging into it rather uncomfortably at the moment, though that was the least of the young man's concerns. He was desperately trying to hold onto the dirk that he'd managed to draw before the dragonrider was upon him. This man was stronger, though, his fingers digging into Z'hin's wrist, deadening the brownweyrling's nerves. The dirk fell from limp fingers. Instantly, the man released Z'hin's wrist, his other arm still crossing the younger man's chest and clutching his shoulder. He delivered a swift punch to Z'hin's kidney.

The fight left the brownweyrling for a few precious moments. His captor took advantage. Z'hin found himself in a chokehold, his good arm pinned, struggling simply to keep from passing out with most of his air cut off. Jessereth's rage was staggering. The two did not communicate in words, but the brown understood. There was not enough space between the trees to be of any help. To come to the jungle? These Benden riders couldn't be far from their dragons. Jessereth stood no chance against so many. That didn't mean the brown liked it. He instinctively reached for Styth's mind, for Lenorath's. Benden is attacking Ours. You must send help. That was when Aezanth's voice rose in a terrible scream. Aezanth's is dead! She goes Between. Hurry!

Paryal's screams chilled his blood. Perhaps if he could see what was going on around him, he might be able to overcome the gut-wrenching fear. But the combination of the lack of oxygen, the hopeless situation they were in, and now the shrieks of one of his fellow weyrlings - one who had claimed to love him, no less - was enough to send terror through him. The goldweyrling's cries distintegrated into a horrific gurgle, and Aezanth let out one last keening roar in the distance. Why were they taking so long? Z'hin didn't understand. If they meant to kill all the weyrlings, shouldn't they be making shorter work of it? Anger suddenly flared up inside of him. He wasn't going out without a fight.

***

Phremath had risen from her couch, but made no move to leave the weyr. It wasn't that she was terrified. Oh, she was! The small, deformed green quavered, her hearts thundering as she realized that Hers was no more than a minute or two away from death, and that there was nothing she could do to stop it. This was not what froze her to the spot.

Anger. The emotion was a new one. Hers had been irritated before, but this cold, calculating rage was something Phremath had never encountered. That Hers was capable of such a thing frankly terrified the green, who had never known anything but patience and loving care from Hers. This was like the anger the healer felt when she was about to lose a patient unless she acted quickly, only so much stronger. The green realized that Kalierre was deathly afraid, though not for herself. For Adith's. For Jessereth's. For Phremath. And the others, too, though not as strongly. Hers was about to do something desperate and impulsive. Phremath feared for her.

Adith's voice calmed her slightly. He was still here. His was still alive. But the danger was still very much there. Phremath emerged from her weyr, not quite venturing into the sunlight. Her wings fluttered at her back. She is...angry. And scared. But alive. Yours. He is okay, too? She can't see him. Phremath shifted nervously from foot to foot. That was when the mind-voice speared into her skull, familiar and yet so very different this time. Kalierre had stripped away all barriers. The strength of her particular hidden gift came in full force against Phremath, emanating outward to all dragons within her range, including those currently flying against Thread. Benden has taken the senior weyrlings captive. Aezanth's is dead. They intend to execute all of us. An image of the clearing was thrust into her mind. Even though she knew it was Hers doing this, the 'volume' behind the woman's thoughts had increased tenfold, causing the green to cringe and whimper.

Still more worrisome, it was a general broadcast. The Benden dragons surely would have heard it, and they'd know the origin instantly. Phremath's anxiety increased, the green drawing closer to Adith.

***

Kali. Beta Flight is occupied with Thread, and we can't come right now. You will have to find some way to hold on. Salenth sounded beyond distressed. Kalierre's revealing her ability to speak to all dragons was a risk, but she'd thought it well worth it, if the dragonriders could be summoned. Now she'd tipped her hand for no reason. It would take longer. Too long. Kalierre borrowed Salenth's eyes as if they were Phremath's. What she saw...shardit! Everything was falling apart at the seams. The dragonriders would not be coming soon.

[Administrator]

M'rgon ignored how panicky the weyrlings were right now. Apparently, the death of their comrade had affected them. Good. The terror level was increasing. Seeing some of the weyrlings had called on fire lizards to their aid, he had Ilmith scream into their little minds. Hopefully, that would scare them away. It usually did. Slowly approaching the crowd, he pushed up the sleeves to his blood-soaked shirt, walking in front of them. They could see him now, but he didn't mind in the slightest bit. He hoped they would be even more scared of how his once-white shirt was no almost completely red. Striding slowly down the line of weyrlings, he decided to have a double murder next. He smiled. Looking down the line, one of his back-up men whispered something into his ear, making the hardened man smile nastily. His eyes locking with one boy, he nodded. T'ren, of a deformed bronze. He would certainly have to go. His eyes turning to the boy next to him, his henchman whispered to him again. Another rider of a deformed dragon. The name didn't matter as much, as N'vis only rode a green, but he would be quite suitable for this job.

Snapping his fingers, the men holding T'ren and N'vis dragged them backwards, away from the weyrlings' line of sight. Spreading his arms in a gesture to separate the two so that they could see each other, M'rgon took his knife once again, his thumb playing with the wet, red blade. Taking a turn to smile at each boy, he decided. N'vis first. T'ren, a bronzerider, would get the honor of watching this boy's life end as he looked on, unable to help. Bronzerider torture was so easy. Wrapping an arm around N'vis' waist and his knife-holding arm around his neck, he wiped Paryal's blood off on his cheek before abruptly stabbing the greenrider in the gut. Unlike with Paryal, he removed the blade, instead wiping his blood on his other cheek. Tracing the dagger downwards, he simply played with it around N'vis' bleeding body, getting close to stab wound, but never touching. Watching the blood that welled from the wound, he stabbed repeatedly, each time getting a new section of cleaned skin. As soon as he heard the bugle of yet another dragon leaving for between, he repeated the ritual: stabbing N'vis one last time in the heart and casting him carelessly to the side, on top of Paryal.

He looked back up, his feral smile lingering on T'ren. How did it feel to watch without being able to do anything? Pondering what to do with the bronzerider, he motioned for his back-up to rip off his shirt. This would be wonderful suffering. Not bothering to wipe the knife this time, he traced the sharp end delicately down T'ren body, thrilling at every frightened heave of breathing he did. Starting on the side of T'ren's body, he cut a thin, if relatively deep, line from his shoulder all the way to his belt, slowly and very drawn-out. "How did it feel, to watch your friend die?" he asked softly, moving to repeat this procedure an inch from the from. "He pleaded with me to let him go, and you were here. You simply didn't fight hard enough," he told him, his words sounding scolding. "You just simply sat there, on your lazy ass, as I killed one of your friends. You are the lowest of the low. Frightened bronzeriders have no right to live. They have no right to the rank of dragon that they earned." His Benden raising was all to obvious with these statements. Bronze was best, as they all said. Cutting slow ribbons, inch by inch, into T'ren's body, he made a motion for one of his men to bring up one of the girls.

It was Alene.

Wrapping her in an almost too-close way around her waist, it was fortunate for her he didn't plan on doing anything sexual with her. These little rats weren't good enough for him and M'rgon wasn't desperate. "See how much he's suffering?" he whispered into her ear. Smirking to himself, he pushed her head forward onto his red abdomen, making her face smell the blood, feel the blood, and, if her mouth had been open, taste the blood. Her hair ran against the open wounds, her whole face turning red with his blood.

Jerking her back, he forced the two to look at each other before, with no warning, he stabbed Alene in the back. T'ren's holders keeping his head still so he could watch the blood choke from Alene's throat, he stabbed her again in the chest. As predicted, the keen of a dragon rang out, and a second one followed as M'rgon dragged his knife deeply against T'ren's throat. Stabbing T'ren's chest now, he tossed the two on the other corpses even as blood spurted from T'ren's neck. Running a bloody hand through his wild hair, he watched the weyrlings, picking out the next one...

One of them is a Hears All Dragons,[/color] Ilmith told his mate in a dead-toned voice.

Don't worry. By the time anyone from Selenitas comes back, they'll all be dead, M'rgon replied. Whoever Heard All Dragons soon wouldn't hear anything.

It took a long time before Aslath could reply to Adith. Her voice was shaken. I... We'll be there as soon as we can,[/color] the queen replied, wildly and distractedly.

The weyrlings were on their own.[/size]

[missa]

Willow gave an angered screech as the dragon bellowed in her mind, blinking between with fright. She may not have wanted to leave Hers, but she knew enough that Hers was strong, surely he'd be fine until the bronze one could eat those hurting him. Yes, that was good, she couldn't stay, not with the big creatures yelling at her so.

W'liam wasn't surprised to see Willow blink between, and he didn't blame her in any way. If he'd been a flitter, then he would have run as the dragons yelled in their minds. Then again, had he been a flitter, he wouldn't have Rinth and he wouldn't be in this situation. Despite the fact that there was almost no way they were going to get out of this, W'liam wouldn't give Rinth up for anything. Nothing in the world was as important to him as the bronze was.

For a moment, W'liam thought on it. The whole situation could only get worse... Well, no, it had to get worse before it got better, that was the whole rule about situations wasn't it? Though, he wasn't sure how it could get worse, not with at least four of their companions, the people they had practically lived with for the past... Turn? Had it been that long? W'liam had only been concerned with Rinth in that time, and it didn't seem... Quite right, perhaps a bit over a turn?
Don't give up Mine! We'll find a way, we'll rescue you all. Some how. No one will ever hurt Mine! Never, we'll find a way. We will, don't go thinking sad thoughts!
I was? I didn't realise, I'm sorry Rinth. Don't worry, I don't plan to give up. I won't think anymore sad thoughts. I didn't realise I was.
You weren't. The bronze replied sulkily, I said that to stop myself thinking bad thoughts.

Despite the near helplessness of the situation, W'liam chuckled against the hand of his captor. Trust Rinth to make his rider laugh in such a horrid situation, though the moment it passed he felt horribly guilty. Four of his companions, his friends, were dead.

Kel screeched in outrage at someone bellowing in his mind, snarling unhappily as he clung to E'nor. Small body trembling with fear and anger at someone trying to send him away. Ever loyal to E'nor, the brown wouldn't move, despite wanting to be anywhere but where the dragons yelled at him. Yet even as Kel refused to move, his rider told him to go. Finally, with a torn screech, he nuzzled at E'nor's cheek before blinking between back to Clestioth.

Despite the terror that swamped E'nor the moment the brown blinked away from him. Now he was really on his own, he couldn't fight, he was complete rubbish at handling any sort of weapon. Which, if they managed to get out of here, he'd have to see about asking one of the others to help him learn.

Oh shards, there was a thought, what if he did survive, and none of the others did? How would that be fair? E'nor was by far the weakest of them, he knew that. Youthful, quiet, E'nor wasn't even sure he had talents in the least. Aside from talking quietly, and the ability to stay silent for longer than a candlemark. Those weren't talents though, not useful ones. Why should he be left, when those so much stronger than him might die? Kalierre was a healer, she could heal and... Probably fight. Z'hin was the bravest person E'nor had ever seen, he was quiet, but strong. E'nor had seen him struggle with the other dragonrider.. Then there was Ciara, she was brave and though she appeared as scared as he was, still told her dragon to stay away.

Was there any point in continuing on this trail of thought? It was obvious to E'nor he had none of these qualities, he wasn't brave, the tears now dampening his cheeks was enough of a testament to that. He wasn't strong or loud, or anything really. He was just... There.
That's not true! It's not! Not, not, not! You are Mine! I chose you, no one else! Clestioth's voice cut through his saddened thoughts, panicked and upset, almost sobbing as he spoke. He couldn't just let His think those things, he was special. So special. I need you Mine! I'm sure others do to, Kel, for one. I need you though! You can't leave me.

E'nor blinked at this, sobbing softly at the panic he was causing Clestioth. He'd never leave him, but how could he tell him that? When they were being held hostage and they were killing them all, one by one.. Just as he'd managed to gather enough wits to tell him this, Alene's dragon keened, marking another death. Scared, helpless, and shocked that anyone would do this to them, and seem to enjoy it, E'nor's mind skittered away from the whole situation. Taking a deep breath, the smell of blood invaded his senses, seeming to choke him, death hung heavy in the clearing and it terrified him. Sagging against his captor, E'nor fainted, letting the darkness soothe worries and take away fear.

[ravenmane]

He had decided to show himself to them. That cruel man allowed the fearful weyrlings watch as he chose his next victims. Anger boiled in her veins as M’rgon looked for his next victims. Ciara stared at the killer that walked before her, listening to the sound of his boots touch the ground. The man was a vile, mental lunatic that killed people for fun. The Greenweyrling watched him through narrow eyes, wishing she had a way to torture him for days on end. Then, M’rgon stopped as one of his followers whispered in his ear. A shudder raced through Ciara’s body as a cruel unnaturally gleeful smile appeared on his face. The rider nodded. The move was so subtle that Ciara wouldn’t have noticed if she hadn’t been watching his every move. As she glanced down the line, T’ren of Bronze Kasraith and N’vis of Green Reenith disappeared from her view. Oh, Faranth, those two didn’t deserve to die. None of the Weyrlings deserved to die this way. Being killed in Threadfall was better then this.

“You know, you don’t deserve your dragon! No one who kills innocents deserves a dragon and they hell as don’t deserve to live. Only Faranth knows as you became a dragonrider, and By the first Egg, your dragon was blind when he chose you!”

Ciara screamed at M’rgon, continuing in this fashion before her captor hit her on the head. The girl felt her knees buckle the pain she felt began to throb uncontrollably. Only the steel grip on her kept her from collapsing on the ground as N’vis’s screams filled the air. Her eyes strayed to W’liam as tears began to blur her vision. The anger she still felt raged inside her, but it was obvious that the man that held her would not allow Ciara to yell insults at M’rgon.

“W’liam, why do they want to kill us? We haven’t done anything to them, and now they are here and one of them is killing us and innocent dragons.”

The girl’s voice wavered slightly as she expected another blow to the head, but it never came. Suddenly, Eryn appeared above her mistress. Instead of screeching M’rgon and Ciara’s captor, the little Green fire-lizard clung to the front of Ciara’s tunic. Her eyes whirled red and yellow while comforting feelings such as love and need were directed to the lizard’s Own. Ciara looked down at her fire-lizard and smiled a teary hopeful smile. She gave her flitter a gentle nudge to where ever Toryth, hoping Eryn could take a hint. The Green flit chirped once before disappearing /between/.

Then, while Reenith screamed as N’vis died, Ciara tried to look at T’ren. The man the held her kept the girl in place even as she struggled. Ciara cursed the man as she attempted to look behind him. She got only a glimpse of T’ren’s blood covered body before the rider that had is arms around her smacked her head. The girl continued to struggle against the arms that kept her where she was. As each moment passed, the inside her continued to grow. It flowed through her veins like thick syrup, clogging every pore.

//Stop it!!! Struggling won’t help. Just be patient and stay calm. Aslath and Salenth will save you, along with all of the other dragons.// The last part of Toryth’s words was filled with doubt, showing that the Green did not believe that her Senior Queen and the Senior Queen’s mate would save them.

Ciara listened to what her dragon said and quit struggling. Trying to break free wouldn’t help her at all. It would only tell the man in charge of holding her that it was time to knock out the captive. That was when Ciara noticed that Alene was missing from the line of Weyrlings. Here eyes widened at the thought that the kind girl dying at the hands of M’rgon. Seconds later, two keening voices filled the sky as Kasraith and Liamorth leaped /between/ at their riders’ last breaths. Unstoppable tears now poured down Ciara’s cheeks as the thought of her friends dying because Benden had interfered with the eggs of their dragons.

//Calm yourself. Everything will be fine soon.// Toryth tried to comfort her life-mate even as she realized that nothing would be the same for the Senior Weyrlings.

((I don't like this post. XP))

[neeuqtar]

Adith touched his nose to Phremath gently, sensing her worry. His eyes pinned red beneath the dark goggles he wore, his expression completely hidded by the black glass. A low growl tore from his throat at the cry from Kalierre, instantly recognizing it as not-His and disliking being re-informed of what he already knew and saw, with Uu'n. Mine sees Yours. Why did she shout? The queen cannot come. His voice had shifted to a furious hiss at the end, and his breath snorted hot from his nostrils.

We have to go to them, he added, mind narrowing to two things: His was in danger, and he had to save Him. The dragon backed away from Phremath, getting onto the ledge and shaking, then houghing as if to clear a disgusting scent from his nose. With a roar that turned into a viciously angry hunting-howl, Adith launched into the sky, silvery wings snapping out to carry him up into the air, their falcon lengths catching the sun and making his perfectly tended hide gleam in the sun. And then he faltered, realizing that Phremath couldn't follow him into the sky. He had forgotten... Phremath... can you... um, follow me? We have to get there... He sounded completely abashed by the fact that he had so rudely demonstrated what she could never have... but he needed to get to His!

The blue dragon sounded his eerily beautiful warcry again, startling the resident pack of howlers into song, their sound lacing with Adith's layered tones. Hovering for a moment more, Adith finally made up his mind, spilling air and lurching into a deceptively slow-looking side-dive, balancing out and diving to the point in the jungle where he could sense His in grave danger, pausing only to cast a look over his shoulder to see how Phremath fared... he would help her as he could...

Uu'n only caught glimpses of Adith's conversation with Phremath, though the dragon's emotion was almost overpowering. But he had more important things on his mind right now than a dragon flying to the attack. Adith could easily outmanuever a fully-grown dragon--and besides, with all the night-flying they did, the dragon could easily move into the trees if necessary, a place no sane dragon would go fully grown. And if all the dragons came... well, a man, armed with a knife, was no match for an enraged dragon. It was the humans that were so very, very vulnerable.

His eyes strayed to Kalierre, to the front of him, as he slowly relaxed, just enough that his arm could slip down to rest on the hilt of his dirk. The screams of that idiot pretty Ciara kept filling the clearing, but at least she could provide a distraction for the men. Adith's howls rang faintly in the back of his skull, as all his vocalizations did, but this time, they had an added affect--the howlers in the jungle near them picked up the eerie and rather frightening hunt-song, covering up Ciara's senseless noise for a moment and making Uu'n force a wicked grin to remain in storage. Ah... what a perfect signal.

In one motion, Uu'n stomped on his captor's instep, feeling bone crunch beneath his heel, and rammed his head back and up. Splinters of the unfortunate killer's septum cut into his scalp, drawing blood, but the vast majority went directly into the man's brain, killing him almost instantly. The dead man's grasp slackened, and in the next instant, Uu'n was free of the embrace, a dirk in his left hand and a dagger in the right, lips raising in a snarl. He hissed, then, along with Adith, lifted his voice in the chilling howl learned from the pack. Uu'n's rough voice turned the last note into a roar, the opposite of Adith's lilt, as he threw himself at Kalierre's captor, dirk coming slashing down to carve through the man's upper back into his heart and lungs, dagger held at the ready to block any attack, or to stab between ribs and take the man's life.

Uu'n had killed before. He was perfectly willing to add another tally to the lives he had taken, nightmares notwithstanding, if it meant he would have the chance to wake in cold sweats from said nightmares. The young man was willing to do anything to ensure that he and his were there to live another day, in the face of the terrible evil M'rgon had brought to the one place that had offered a monster like him refuge!

[Requiem]

She thought... Phremath didn't finish. It didn't matter what Hers had thought. The desperation and anger had only grown, causing the green to shake her head, scratching at the rock beneath her clawed feet restlessly. She couldn't fly to Hers, no matter how strong the compulsion. Growling in frustration, a shock flared through her at the sudden howl, even as he exploded from her weyrledge in an action that she would never, ever be capable of. At his apologetic question, Phremath responded with the howl of one who had lost their quarry. She could not follow him. Nor could she even bring herself to admit that simple truth aloud. She was useless to Hers! Not useless, love. The words were clipped, but the sentiment was unmistakable. Even now, Kalierre enshrouded Phremath's mind with her strength. You give me reason to fight. Undeniable truth, in that. Her full intention overtook Phremath in a wave, the green's mind snapping to one of her clutchmates. Jessereth! I need to get altitude! Surely, the brown was strong enough.

The dagger, a small thing, sharp as a scalpel but far sturdier, was finally in position, Kalierre's eyes narrowed, her face blank. The odds were growing with each dragon's keen. To wait was to die. Simple as that. And she was not ready to die, not with Phremath following her into oblivion. Trembling slightly from the effort to keep herself from making her move too soon, she went limp in his arms as the unearthly howls screamed all around them. Others may not be able to distinguish so quickly, but Kali knew the voices of Adith and Uu'n better than most. What she didn't know was what those cries meant. She couldn't see him, and a stab of fear went through her. Had they taken him next?

With the howls covering her next move, the greenweyrling plunged the dagger deep into the thigh of her captor, twisting the blade viciously. It grated across his femur, the man's bellow lost to the tumult, slicing through the femoral artery and vein with hardly any resistance. He collapsed rather quicker than she expected, but Kalierre didn't have the time to wonder; she could hear the breathing at her back. As soon as she'd dropped nimbly to her feet, Kalierre wheeled, using the man's collapse to shield her for a few precious moments, leaping for this next threat, her dagger extended. A soft 'oh' escaped her as she saw just who it was.

Only quick reflexes kept Kalierre from driving the blade through his eye as she'd originally intended. Her aborted attack carried her into Uu'n, the woman's free hand catching at his waist in a move that was meant as much to steady him - probably needlessly - as to propel her around his side and place them back-to-back. Her only acknowledgement of the blueweyrling, aside from kindly not plunging the small dagger deep into his brain, was the purely feral grin she flashed him before he was lost to sight. Uu'n wasn't the next victim. He'd escaped.

Jessereth's strength had been enough. More than enough. Phremath wheeled tightly in the sky, allowing the thermal to carry her still higher, well above the flash of blue that was Adith. The brown winged ahead, powerful strokes propelling him just above the trees, perhaps to conceal his presence as best as he was able. Phremath did not question him. All three were acting as they saw fit, within their limitations. She let out an eerie cry, a hunting howl, before plunging directly toward the trees, the small wings folding in and releasing her to gravity. The strain on the membranes needled at the back of her mind, the least of her concerns. Branches flashed by on all sides, the green's small wings as she leveled out and continued to descend allowing her a limited sort of gliding flight that any dragon with a full wingspan would find impossible. She touched ground at a dead run, wending through the tree trunks at a startling speed. Phremath did not have the typically awkward movements that hampered dragons on the ground. This was the only element she truly knew...this and water. Phremath reached out to touch Adith's mind wordlessly, intending to time her attack to his if and when it came to that. She found herself trusting him as easily as Kalierre trusted Uu'n at her back.

There were only a few more moments of surprise to take advantage of. Drawing the dirk, a good eight inches of solid steel, with a rasp, the healer darted toward the nearest captive weyrling, slashing through the side of the dragonrider's neck and severing the internal and external carotid with a flick of her wrist. Another free. W'liam.

***

The wishes of His meant little in this case. No matter how much Z'hin might try to keep him away, Jessereth could not simply remain on his weyrledge, a bystander as they slaughtered His. No, he may be too big to take to the jungle, and too big to gain the clearing, but he was not staying. Phremath...he'd borne the awkward green from her weyrledge, releasing her to the open air after gaining as much altitude as he could manage easily. At least she might be able to break through. Phremath and Adith. He circled, climbing as he neared where the riders of the young dragons were struggling to somehow survive. The brown let out a massive bellow. If he could divert attention away from the two other dragons, they might be able to help His. Jessereth roared his challenge to the Benden dragons. Let them come! He may not be full-grown, but he could most certainly fly, and his smaller stature allowed for a quickness he would lose at his full size. Z'hin's mind melded with his perfectly. This was the time to fight. And losing was not an option.

Z’hin understood fighting for survival. Shards, just months ago, he’d taken on a pride of felines, Jessereth at his side, with little more than a stick. Human cruelty was something else entirely. The screaming, the torturing of these people he knew, people he spent every day with, rattled him. Numb, he turned his head, trying to get a little more air into his lungs. Something in the sounds was off, though. Then he noticed a loosening in his captor’s grip, even as he was dragged backwards a couple of paces. Z’hin didn’t hesitate. Snarling, he twisted his head to sink his teeth deep into the man’s arm, even as he ground his foot into the Benden dragonrider’s instep.

For a brief instant, he felt the grip on his arm weaken. Growling, he jerked his head, coming away with a piece of his assailant’s arm. His elbow came crashing into the dragonrider’s gut. Satisfied at the sound of air exploding from the man’s lungs, Z’hin gripped the arm that still crossed his shoulders, no longer choking him, and he slid a leg behind the Benden fighter’s. All it took was a small tug, the thrust of a hip, and the dragonrider went flying over the weyrling’s shoulder, crashing into the ground heavily. The brownweyrling was not a killer. He recognized, however, that allowing this man to come at him again was foolhardy. Z’hin aimed a hefty kick at the man’s skull. That should do it.

Knowing he didn’t have the time to search for the dirk he’d dropped not far from here, he loosened the cane from his back. The fighting style needed for a staff or rod like this was familiar to him, after turns of wandering the southern wilds, and a small measure of confidence returned to Z’hin. That increased slightly as he saw that Uu’n and Kalierre, the two weyrlings he would possibly count as friends, had also managed to somehow escape from their captors, Kali even now killing the man who held W'liam captive with chilling precision.

Turning at a sound off to his left, he brought the stout wood of the cane firmly against a man’s skull, dropping the dragonrider instantly. Four free weyrlings. Nine Benden riders who didn’t have their hands full with a weyrling. They could handle this. Hopefully.

[Administrator]

As M'rgon strode through the weyrling lineup again, he did so in the front, so everyone could see his bloodstained shirt. Walking slowly down the line, his one eye came to rest on the girl who was screaming at him. Ciara. Smiling, he nodded at her captor, who dragged her none too gently to the back, where he could enjoy her screams of misery. And perhaps... Nodding to the man who held A'en, he decided to prolong her mental torture by making her witness this. Oh yes, he would truly enjoy this. Backing up, he looked up Ciara to A'en. "Well, aren't you a feisty little poppit?" he told Ciara teasingly, approaching her so closely that she would be able to smell the metallic scent of blood clinging to his clothing. "I've half a mind to take you back to Benden myself." Almost lovingly, he ran his bloody fingers through her hair and brought them to rest on her shoulder. "You know what that means," he whispered with a feral smile. "Double the fun with you."

Laying a cold kiss on her cheek, he slowly left her, approaching A'en with a malicious look. He loved to break fiery girls in every way possible. Whipping out his knife again, he nodded to Ciara's captor, making her hold her head in place in a potentially painful way, forcing her to look over to see what M'rgon had in mind for A'en. Grasping his hair in a steely grip, he used A'en's original captor to stabilize him so he wouldn't struggle too much. With his knife, he brought it across A'en's forehead not once, not twice, but three times, making sure there would be enough blood to drip into his eyes. Humming now, he let the knife come to the neckline of A'en's shirt, planting the tip of his knife firmly into it. Suddenly, he dragged it down, ripping through shirt and skin as he forced the knife in halfway to the hilt. A'en's screaming almost made M'rgon wriggle in pleasure. It was such fun to reduce boys, who were supposed to be the strong ones, into blubbering ninnies. Pausing in the center of A'en's abdomen, he decided in something more fun: Letting the boy simply bleed to death. Violently seizing one wrist, M'rgon slit it violently, deeply. Repeating the procedure with the other wrist, he threw A'en onto the ground, watching with a smirk as the life slowly drained from his body.

At Ayisseth's lamenting bugle as he leapt between, he turned back to Ciara. "Did you like that show?" he asked maliciously, rolling up his sleeves as he slowly approached her. Letting his fingers climb through her hair into her scalp again, he came dangerously close. "You want to be in an even better one?" His fingernails dug into her scalp, before letting one hand fall to her waist, his body language suggesting that this sort of show would be even more gruesome than A'en's...

Fortunately for Ciara, Uu'n's howling stopped him. Pushing her back to her captive, he whirled around. Four weyrlings free. "GET THEM!" he screamed, immediately charging to the first weyrling he saw: Q'ell. Not wanting to risk another escape, he stabbed the boy in his heart, and the distant screech of Euciath cut short as she leapt between. V'nus tried taking this time to loosen himself from his own captor's grip, but to no avail. The captor clobbered the boy on the head, and threw him to the ground before stomping on him again and again, not even stopping when Vemorath leapt between.

Deciding to use a hostage system now, he leaped back to Ciara, wrapping an arm around her throat at the other at her waist, twining his legs around hers. "Get on the ground," he hissed to the weyrling attacked. "Get on the ground or I will torture and kill her in front of your very eyes. And then you will be the ones to suffer. How will it feeling, dying when you know that you made this lassie die in pain and shame when you could easily make the death a quick one?" Staring down at the weyrlings in a challenge, one of the other captors made a slash at Kalierre, and another aimed a stab at Uu'n's shoulder. Even so, he captors that the weyrlings had managed to kill had been a waste. They were not going to let that happen again. M'rgon smirked, whispering to Ciara, "I think I might just torture you anyway." With that, he sank his teeth into her shoulder, doing it as hard as he could. Weyrlings wouldn't be left alive on his watch.

[neeuqtar]

Kalierre's escape came as a bit of a surprise to Uu'n, who barely managed to keep from ripping his dirk into her shoulder, just as she just barely managed to keep from turning his eye into red ruin. Feral grin met feral grin, and Uu'n lifted his voice into another eerie howl, keeping Kalierre to his back. Z'hin was free--good. The blueweyrling tackled the nearest Benden rider, blocking the strike to his shoulder with his dagger and driving for the kill with his dirk. The man grabbed the dirk with his bare hand, slashing it to the bone, but effectively stopping Uu'n's thrust. Startled, Uu'n barely managed to evade the thrust from the dagger, a long slice on his collarbone welling with red blood.

Hissing, Uu'n leapt forward and smashed the man's face with a sharp upward kick that surely pulled something, though he didn't notice in the heat of battle. With a sharp cry, the Benden rider reeled backwards, only to end his life with a dagger between the ribs, Uu'n's favored method of dealing death. Only M'rgon's threat--and the pretty's life--kept him from lunging for the brownrider. What does he think we are, idiots? he thought acidically. He'll torture us all, then kill us all... better to die fighting or to save a few. Adith hissed in the air, speeding downwards. No sign of the dragons, not yet...

Stall him, Mine! Adith called, tucking his wings tighter and following roughly the same path as Phremath, sharp eyes picking out her movement as his dive brought him closer and closer to the level of the treetops. The blue dragon felt Phremath's mental touch and extended the same courtesy to Jessereth, for they would need defense in the sky if the twisted Benden dragons came to aid their riders. Closer... closer...

"You think you can fool us?" Uu'n said mockingly, in a fighter's crouch, moments before M'rgon sank his teeth into Ciara's shoulder. The bluerider narrowed his eyes and sneered, blood staining his shirt and dripping in sticky drops from his two blades. "You would never offer a swift death to any of us." Adith... come on... Give me a moment, Mine! the blue snapped back. He faked a cringe away from one of the weyrling's bodies as he passed one of the dead ones, getting one step closer to M'rgon from the fake stumble.

Okay, now! Adith cried, folding his wings and diving into the clearing. Outstretched talons dug into the earth, one ripping from the nailbed from the force. The blue dragon shrieked, a sound physically and mentally painful. In the same instant, Uu'n charged M'rgon, recklessly ignoring the nearby Benden men to duck underneath Adith's snap at the sickening man. Heart pounding, all senses hyper-aware, Uu'n leapt at Ciara and M'rgon, hoping the man wouldn't be able to move away fast enough...

---

P'tol was in a state of complete terror as his class was slaughtered around him. They boy didn't carry so much as a belt-knife, having lost his in the river months ago while attempting to bathe a very squirmy Llath. His fear was compounded by hers, for the green couldn't stop talking at him, afraid these were their last moments together, her words running together so she was nearly unintelligible. MineohMine I'msoscared soscaredforyou andyou'regoingtodieI'llbe ALONE don'tdiedon'tdie stopstopbeingsoscared MineIcan'thearyou whyohwhyohwhy makeitstopstopstop please!

Llath, SHUT UP! P'tol screamed at the green, who fell instantly silent and ceased her running in circles in her weyr, trembling with terror. Hers had never been so mean to her! The greenweyrling felt instantly guilty. Llath-love, I'm so sorry. Your P'tol is very scared, but I'm not going to die. I just need to think so I can escape, okay? O-okay, Llath replied shakily brave. Her whole body drooped, and P'tol felt even more awful for snapping at her like that. He never yelled at Llath; she just didn't understand it. But he couldn't think of that now.

The boy gulped down his nausea at the blood everywhere. He hated the sight of blood, and the sounds of terror and sickly splash of crimson on everything made him even sicker. Animals, yes, he could deal with that. But not when people were slaughtered like animals! As Uu'n, Kalierre, and Z'hin broke free, P'tol clenched his teeth and his eyelids. He couldn't watch, and the sounds of battle were enough to make him lose control of his stomach, retching wetly to the side. He coughed from the acid, only to get cuffed in the head by his captor. P'tol sank weakly back, unable to stand, his knees too weak as M'rgon continued the slaughter.

My lovely Llath, I'm so sorry. Do you forgive Yours for being so mean? he asked softly.

Yes... MineOwn comebacknow? Llath asked with desperate happiness and worry.

No... Llath-love, I can't come back. But--SHARDS WHAT IN FARANTH'S NAME IS UU'N'S DRAGON DOING HERE?! P'tol was nearly smushed by the dragon's arrival, but his captor yanked him back, clearly wanting a better mode of death than being stepped on my an enraged blue dragon wearing insect-goggles. Llath squirmed uncomfortably, tail lashing, but she was too afraid to go to P'tol, no matter how badly she wanted to be there. MineMine, it's-gonna-be darkdarkdark withouchuuuuu! she wailed, returning to her frenzied circles, talons scrabbling on the walls and floor, destroying the furs the two slept on. I'm not going to die! P'tol reiterated, more hope in his voice now that a dragon had arrived, though the horrifying sound the furious blue made turned his insides to water. He didn't want to die... he wanted to go back and oil Llath and curl up on his furs and sleep and breathe and-- and-- LIVE.

[ravenmane]

A shudder ran through her body as M’rgon trained his gaze on her. Blood had soaked the front of his shirt, drying slowly in the humid air. Then, her guard began to back up, dragging Ciara away from her fellows. Panic seized the girl in a steel grip, driving any though from her mind. Frantically, Ciara began to struggle, wildly kicking at the air before her and the man behind her. It was her turn, the last time she would ever see her friends and acquaintances. M’rgon was going to kill her and send Toryth into the icy depths of /between/. For the first time in her life, Ciara wished she had never Impressed. She wouldn’t be here, moment from her death.

Then, Ciara noticed that A’en had also been dragged from the dwindling line of vulnerable weyrlings. So, the murderous Brownrider was going to do a double killing again? Her mental tone was sour and brittle. The weyrlings were temporary toys for this rider, this murderous undeserving man. His actions could only say that he didn’t deserve the dragon that gave him its utter loyalty. The beast was stupid to stay with such a man. Ciara stared up into the face of M’rgon while a foul bitter taste filled her mouth. Her eyes narrowed when she heard the pet name the rider had called her. The metallic smell of blood filled the air as M’rgon came closer, far to close for comfort. Benden?! Shmee wouldn’t leave her to rot in Benden if M’rgon decided to keep her as a slave. She wouldn’t, right? Shock filled her blue eyes as the man touched her, sliding his bloody fingers through her hair. When the offending hand stopped at her shoulder, Ciara spit at the man, trying to rid herself of the horrible flavor in her mouth.

Her body stiffened when a cold kiss was planted on her cheek. “Bastard!” The girl snarled before she found her head yank back. She was forced to stare at A’en, and the bottom of her stomach plummeted. Even if she could, Ciara didn’t resist. Her mind had gone numb at what she was about to be confronted with. When the knife scored A’en’s forehead, Ciara flinched, imagining the pain that the boy felt. Suddenly, M’rgon’s dagger found its way into A’en’s chest, allowing blood to well up at the point of entrance. “A’EN!!! NO!! You’re an evil man! You know that? No one in their right mind would kill innocent people! Oh wait, you aren’t in your right mind, are you?!” Ciara screamed as M’rgon sliced the large arteries in A’en’s wrists. The boy’s death would be steady and painful as his blood escaped from his veins. Tears rushed down Ciara’s cheeks as she heard Ayisseth’s death cry. The young dragon had not deserved to die so young. None of the late weyrlings or their beasts had deserved it, but M’rgon had killed them because of something Benden had done.

As M’rgon slowly approached, unease settled on Ciara’s heart. His voice was thick with an emotion that Ciara could not name, but she guessed that it was insane pleasure. Her blue eyes widen with fear as fingers began to creep through the strands of her thick golden brown hair. “No, I do–“Her response to the man’s question was cut short when hi nails dug into her scalp. A whimper of fear escaped when M’rgon’s body began to show that she could possibly be raped, violated before she died. Shudders ran through her body as she stared at M’rgon’s face. She didn’t want him in any possible way. The man’s brutality scared her, but the idea of being violated by him terrified her.

Suddenly, Ciara was thrust back to her captor as Uu’n released a wolf-like howl. The man’s cry of anger grated against her ears as she closed her eyes. A dragon’s distant keen told her of another weyrling’s tragic death. Then, M’rgon wrapped one arm around her neck and his legs twined with hers. Ciara stiffened at his nearness, aware that she had became a hostage. If the escaped Weyrlings didn’t listen to the rider, then she would be harmed because of it. As her mind dealt with these thoughts, her brain barely registered M’rgon’s words before pain blossomed on her shoulder.

A scream was ripped from her throat as her own blood began to stain her clothing. The man’s teeth dug into her flesh, interfering with the natural course of her blood. The metallic scent of the red liquid clogged her nose while tears poured down her cheeks. Her eyes watched the freed weyrlings, desperately hoping that they would listen. When Uu’n began to taunt M’rgon, Ciara closed her eyes. She didn’t want to see what he did. If he didn’t stop moving forward, she could loose her life.

[Requiem]

Kalierre stood frozen, her muscles quivering with tension, eyes locked with the one Benden dragonrider who'd decided that someone had to take care of the greenweyrling, and it might as well be him. A true fighter he was. She could read it clearly. And, though she didn't doubt that he couldn't possibly believe her a match for him, she saw how his stance shifted and felt her face twitch into a smirk. Ah. So he didn't think she would be quite so easy as he first imagined, eh? As one, the two broke into a headlong dash, blades flashing on the air. It was a dangerous, whirling dance the two entered, such that, had anyone wanted to get in on the fight, they would be reluctant to try. The clang of metal and metal, the rasp of breath, and the sound of boots scraping the ground was the only break to the unearthly silence that fell over the combatants.

Now. He was focused on her hands, and not expecting a trained fighter, even now. Not that her training had been at all approved. Her rearmost leg streamed forward in a roundhouse, knocking the knife from his hand, the planted foot pivoting as she slammed a kick into his gut. The woman noticed the other man bearing down on her, then, her third kick taking the first man in the chest. A hiss escaped her as the blade of the newcomer opened up a red line from shoulder to hip along her twisting torso, the woman falling back with the momentum of the side kick rather than fighting it. Her left hand planted in the ground, back arching to bring her torso up above the planted hand, even as her legs scissored in a violent move. She connected with something, and the man fell heavily, but she was already arching back to her feet.

The first man was up again, and he didn't look happy. She gave ground before his charge. The sheer ferocity of the attack had her in a full retreat, the few weaknesses vanishing before they could be exploited. Then she saw what she wanted. Ducking beneath a slash that would have taken her full in the throat, Kalierre thrust upward with her dirk. He stepped back, dropping to one knee and twisting away from the stab. In an instant the dirt hit her eyes, blinding her. Kali immediately slashed out with her dagger, trying to buy herself time, her dirk held poised, but she knew she was in trouble. That certainty only grew as she felt his hand close around her wrist, sending her arm back into something hard - a tree trunk? The blow made her drop the knife.

But now she knew where he was. The dirk streamed downward, certain to take him full in the chest. Had he allowed it to go that far. Air exploded from her lungs as the knee buried itself in her stomach, throwing her back into the tree. Tears streamed from her smarting eyes, the woman struggling for breath. Kalierre didn't even realize that he'd captured her right hand until searing pain erupted in her wrist. Dazedly, she realized he'd driven a knife between her wristbones, pinning it to a branch that left her on her tiptoes, his body pressing her against the tree trunk. It was all she could do to keep Phremath's panic from consuming her. Her vision was returning, but she would rather it wasn't as his hand closed on her throat, tight but not strangling. The look in his eyes said enough.

Dimly, Kalierre realized M'rgon had taken Ciara hostage and was demanding their surrender. It meant nothing to her. Nothing at all as the Benden dragonrider backed up a pace so he could fumble at her trousers. The woman let out a bellow of rage and pain. She'd brought up her legs, her wrist taking her full weight as the blade sliced upwards before bone stopped it. Despite the pain, her legs closed around his neck, thighs tightening, and with another sharp cry she jerked her hips. Kalierre released the lifeless body, jerking the dagger from her wrist angrily. She noted Uu'n's headlong dash for M'rgon, Adith's arrival, flinched at the dragon's shattering cry. A man was coming in on Uu'n's blind side. With the last of her strength, she reared back and hurled the dagger coated with her blood, the blade burying itself hilt deep between the Benden dragonrider's shoulderblades.

Kalierre sunk to her knees, shaking violently. Blood pumped from her wrist. In a moment of lucidity, she whipped a leather thong out and tightened it just above her elbow, securing the makeshift tourniquet with her teeth. It was then that Phremath burst from the trees, whipping around M'rgon and his captive, but that one moment left M'rgon with no options but to meet Uu'n head on or dodge in just one direction. Surely the blueweyrling would be able to take him out. Phremath didn't stop, however, the green serpentining through the crowd of struggling people. She whirled, her tail taking one enemy in the chest, rearranging his insides with the sheer force of the blow and killing him instantly. It was doubtful she'd intended it.

Phremath came to stand over Kali's huddled form, her eyes a blood red as she let out a scintillating cry, daring anyone to come within a dozen feet of Hers.

***

Z'hin's own struggle was decidedly less epic. The dragonriders had converged on him, simply because he was a male and a brownrider, he thought venemously. He'd managed to keep them at bay with the whirling of the cane, but he was flagging quickly, not used to such strenuous activity this soon after his recovery. His enemies were circling him, their gazes wolfish as they waited fro him to tire.

His head snapped toward M'rgon at the brownrider's demand, arm lowering subconsciously, the cane's tip dipping into the earth. They were upon him immediately. One punched him solidly in the face. The brownweyrling staggered backward, blood streaming from his nose - directly into the waiting arms of two of the dragonriders. They forced him to his knees before he could change his mind. In truth, there had been nothing conscious about Z'hin's surrender. He'd simply seen Ciara and felt his heart catch in his throat. Even as Uu'n's taunts rang out over the valley, he knew the bluerider spoke the truth. Surrender? There was no point. But he no longer had a choice, and some part of him was resigned to this fate. He wouldn't have lasted much longer, anyway. The illness and wounds of months past had taken far too much out of him.

Kalierre's chilling cry told him that it wasn't just Uu'n who was refusing M'rgon. And then he saw why. Adith and Phremath streamed into the valley. A hand curled in his hair, a knife parting the skin of his neck, but pausing there for a moment. Perhaps relishing the way his breaths quickened despite himself. Jess...I'm sorry... Above them, the brown's roar rang out, infused with more rage than it had yet contained. Kalierre and Uu'n would probably manage to save some. His eyes closed, waiting for the knife's bite. He just wouldn't be one of them.

[Administrator]

M'rgon's eyes narrowed at the weyrling boy that dared challenge him. Threateningly, he slowly slid his hand under Ciara's shirt to her stomach, feeling it contract beneath his fingertips with her crying and her terror. He didn't care for the idle threat of a mere child; he could shame this girl right in front of them. He could let them look on as he destroyed her, which would allow their own guilt to double before he would finally kill her. Squeezing her even closer to him, he let his cold smile take over his battle-worn face. "You're right. What a clever little lad there," he taunted in reply, now bringing his knife to Ciara's chest. He toyed with it for a moment before cutting it shallowly, dragging the blade downwards. The sight of blood was... wonderful to him. To see the red droplets ooze out of helpless little girls... His smile grew wider, and he delivered a long, slow kiss to her smooth little neck. Even in shallow cuts like this, the pleasure he got out of it was a warm and fuzzy kind for him. "Too bad you've got a cripple for a dragon," he commented calmly at Uu'n as the hand in her shirt traveled up slightly higher, "Else you could be a nice little addition to our ranks at Benden." A quiet rip rang out through the heavy air as the knife slowly began to slice not only through skin, but through cloth-- he did intend to guilt this weyrling boy in any way he could, after all...

But before he could do anything with her, two dragons suddenly appeared. Surprised, he was momentarily distracted just in time for Uu'n to leap at him. The weyrling's body came into full contact with his, and M'rgon was knocked off his feet onto the ground, accidentally pulling Ciara down with him. Fortunately for her, he let the bleeding greenrider go. He could deal with her once he took care of this boy. Knife still in hand, he thrust it around Uu'n's body at his back, stabbing with all his arm strength. He didn't even look up to see what was becoming of all of the other weyrlings. Instead, he just gave the shout, "Kill them all!" No time for the pleasures of torture anymore. Now, it was just kill and escape, before the little weyrlings could give them the favor first.

As he tussled with Uu'n on the ground, he hissed, "A measly little cripple is unable to defeat a fully grown rider of Benden!" Blindly stabbing at his back again, he let out a hollow, menacing laugh. "All your friends will die. All of them! So many have already. What's the point of living if you just let them die?" He paused in his little speech, to bring his mouth close to his ear, his breath hot from this workout. "Everyone hates you. If it hadn't been for you, those little brats would still be alive." Hopefully, this boy would take this last stab of guilt inward. If Uu'n had fought from the beginning, one might reason, the other weyrlings would still be alive. Of course, they'd be dead anyway... but if this little boy blamed himself, it was fine by M'rgon.