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Post by Administrator on Oct 19, 2007 22:22:15 GMT -5
"Is this a joke?" The pure anger on Shmee's face was enough to make anyone cower before her. The two wingseconds looked to each other uncomfortably. She had given them strict orders to drill a complicated maneuver that seemed to be more defensively against dragons than of Thread. Not liking the maneuver, the wingseconds refused to instruct their wing, and Shmee just discovered so. Not only that, but Aslath was due to Rise at any given time, leaving Shmee's mood absolutely terrible, and the wingseconds did everything in their power to keep from turning their heels and running. Glowering at them, she said in a soft, deadly voice, "Answer me."
As the wingseconds stuttered in lame attempts at making an excuse, Aslath stirred from her deep sleep. She had been napping on her weyrledge, soaking up the sun that only made her long body glow with even more intensity. Her golden hide was now akin to a bright flame, and she knew even in her slumber that the time had come to call the moth-bronzes. Her eyes fluttered open, a deep shade of violet with threads of red weaving across her multi-faceted orbs. She looked formidable, but it was more fierce lust than anything else. Her only goal was to bring the males to her.
Blasting out a shrill trumpeting noise, Aslath launched herself from the weyrledge. Shmee's eyes widened, the wingseconds now all forgotten. Blindly, she flailed her arms around, unused to such emotions that she leeched from Aslath. Realizing what was happening and determinedly trying to detach themselves from the broadcast lust, they grabbed her arms, murmuring final instructions as they led her to the Flight rooms. However, Shmee's eyes were unseeing, only aware of how desperately she needed blood.
Shmee/Aslath soared over to the grazing fields to one side of the river, locating a plump herdbeast that wasn't scattering at the closest sign of their inevitable doom. Screeching loud enough for the Weyr to hear, she lunged at it, piercing it with her claws and shooting her head to it, determined to tear all the meat from its body.
BLOOD ONLY,[/b] Shmee's mind-voice rang out, the one shred of sense left in her remembering that the less consumed, the better the Flight. She would need a good Flight if she wanted to make up for all the deformed hatchlings. Aslath roared, angry at being restrained. Making up for it, she launched herself at the neck, jaws latching around it and draining the blood from it. The hot liquid rolled down her throat, and she revelled in the sensation. Yes, hot was good! Blood dripped down her muzzle, and she bugled tauntingly at any males.
Couldn't she just have her meat? Growling, she pushed herself off the ground, tackling another unfortunate beast. Once again, she clamped onto its middle, tearing the flesh from its body. However, an inhuman shriek emerged from Shmee's throat; Aslath was not to eat. Trumpeting her anger, Aslath reared, shaking her glowing head several times before lowering herself back over the neck, draining the needed blood quickly.
The third and fourth beasts were not so much of a struggle; Aslath knew better than to waste time now. Shmee, in the Flight weyr, was now more a feral beast than human, her mind completely belonging to Aslath. The gurgle in her throat became a growl, her challenge to the males simultaneous with one last bellow issuing forth from Aslath's bloody maw. The males must come, she was Flying! With that, she launched herself into the sky, not waiting. Males would come.
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Off unnoticed by the rest of the Weyr, a silent figure stood beneath a tree. Chuckling, the person clucked their tongue, and another came to stand beside the first. Without a word, the second one handed a flitter over, and the first began to scrawl a note on one of the many they carried around with them. They had been prepared for such a moment since they realized Aslath's Flight neared.
On the note was the fast sentence, Aslath bloods her kills. Tying it quickly to the flitter, they gave it coordinates and launched it into the air. Their job was done.
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Post by ravenmane on Oct 20, 2007 0:22:57 GMT -5
Cyanth had been resting on his ledge when an over powering need to eat came over him. The great Bronze heaved himself up and leaped into the air. Something in the air warned him of coming events. His shadow passed into the grazing fields as the dragon dove for an unsuspecting beast. Cyanth held his kill in his claws, blood staining them red. He felt unnerved and full of adrenaline.
Landing heavily, Cyanth did not go straight for the innards of his kill. Instead, he latched upon the thorat of the carcass, draining the blood. He felt power grow within his belly as he drank the crimson blood of his kill. The red blood that entedr his bronze belly seemed to light his very core afire as he watched the sky.
Instinct told this Bronze to Chase, to Chase what will come. A Queen would Fly today and give every Bronze a chance at catching her. The dragon's attention was drawn to the sound of a Gold's trumpet. Cyanth watched eagerly as Queen Aslath blooded kill after thrill. Just watching the violent Queen caused the Bronze to be drawn into the lust of a Flight. The power that danced across Aslath's very being drew the male dragon as close as he dared.
It was a Maiden Flight for his Queen and one Cyanth hoped to win. He forgot the Greens he had so devotingly Chased. Only Aslath mattered to him as he prepared for Flight. Cyanth's eyes whirled a deepening violet as lust overwhelmed him. He wanted to Fly and to Chase, but he had to wait. Waiting was like trying to fight an enemy you couldn't see. Cyanth leaped after Aslath as she took to the sky, his trumpeting bugle resounding around him.
P'nor was resting in his weyr, enjoying the peace he had finally found. The man fell from his bed as an over powering feeling came over him. From what he could get from Cyanth's lust filled mind, Aslath was Rising. Moment later, a Queen's trumpet could be heard thundering in the Weyr. The Bronzerider leaped to his feet and left his weyr at a full out run. The rest of his journey was a blur. All the dragonrider could remember was forcefully pushing people out of his way. Many stepped back because of the crazed lust on his face. All had heard Aslath's Rising Trumpet and they knew what was wrong with P'nor. When he arrived at the Flight Room, P'nor had become aone with his dragon. No longer was he a rider. P'nor was now a Great Bronze Chasing the Sr. Queen of Selenitas.
((For all you who don't know, Bronzes do blood their kill before a Gold Flight.))
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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 Oct 20, 2007 3:14:03 GMT -5
It was a familiar, almost comfortable compulsion. S'rei paced. The days that had passed brought with them a sense of inevitability and acceptance. Aslath would rise. Salenth would join the chase. What happened then was up to fate and the skill and desire of the dragons. He could no more stop it than he could the sun from rising, and as the dragonlust built inside him, the bronzerider realized he didn't really want to. The thought of another man holding Shmee in his arms...S'rei gnawed at the split lip that same woman had given him.
The bronze bugled a response to her scream, wordless and feral, exploding from his ledge in a flurry of wingstrokes before he circled above the gold. Beautiful. Primal. She drained the beasts of blood in movements so economical and terrible, gorgeous in their sheer ferocity and grace. Salenth admired the glorious queen from the heights.
Again, his great bass rumble echoed Aslath's, the male dipping into a dive and plucking one of the terrified beasts from the field, even as his goal winged away, blood painting her scintillating hide. He broke it, draining it of blood even as he banked and powered back into the air, stroking after her. The carcass crashed through the trees and landed not far from the river. Cyanth was negligible. All Salenth saw was Aslath. All he desired was Aslath. The golden beauty was his to capture. His to protect. Some of S'rei had perhaps mingled with his own instincts, in that thought, but it did not throw the bronze off. Rider and dragon meshed with ease.
The bronzerider was seasoned, and it showed. He made his way to the Flight weyr with a casual step, the grey eyes dark and violent and contained in a way that made them seem that much more dangerous. S'rei nodded to the wingseconds. Salenth had flown in queen flights a handful of times, and flown a queen once. The lust was not yet to the point that it completely consumed the bronzerider. Not yet. Not for a time.
His body snaked after the queen's, wings pounding the air at a steady pace, keeping a close eye on her while he allowed the other to do the work. Salenth was not the sort to speak; if he gave chase, then she should know how he desired her, how he respected and admired her. It was a waste of energy. She was perfect. And he intended to make her his, if he could just prove worthy of her.
The tall redhead entered the flight room. At the sight of her, he felt something instinctual shift, and the man moved to the side, glancing at P'nor. He fought off the full bonding that would create that creature Salenth/S'rei for just a bit longer. Something in him wanted to look upon the lust-filled, elemental creature that Shmee had become and catalogue it in his mind. Beneath the layers, this was one of the most basic parts of her. Emotion swelled in his chest, and with the release of the floodgates, he found himself overtaken. Elevated.
Salenth/S'rei flared into being.
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Post by evendar on Oct 20, 2007 10:59:06 GMT -5
With a bugle of glee and excitement Haloth launched himself directly from his weyrledge. He had eaten yesterday and he was at exactly the right point where the meat no longer slowed him down but still gave him the most energy. He was ready to catch a gold, and not just any gold but the most glorious and spectacular gold on Pern.
"Shards!" N'call swore as his hand slipped on the detail work he was doing. The violin was ruined now. Shard Haloth and his incessant need to chase everything that flies. But this was different. This was the gold. With that thought in mind N'call stumbled from his weyr, rushing off to find Shmee, her anger and antipathy in the past few months forgotten as his dragons lust began to build. He slipped quietly into the Flight room, his mind quickly disappearing into the mind of his dragon.
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Post by Administrator on Oct 20, 2007 22:05:09 GMT -5
Aslath bugled triumphantly. Stupid males. Where were they? So far, only three dared give Chase. Stupid worthless creatures. Too cowardly to Chase their own queen, even though more than this had flirted with her a day before! Growling in contempt, she sped off. There were three... no, she amended as yet another bronze joined the Chase. There was Ermieth, a bronze who had wooed her so many times before. Her eyes whirled. He was an idiot who didn't know what to say to charm her. Then again, not many could...
Twisting around once, she lazily caught a thermal, letting it carry her across a little before putting all her energy into a curved ascent. This was where she belonged! she thought, her hide glowing with her mood. Right here, high in the sky, with her bronzes close in tow. She was the object of their desire, the sole creature who controlled them. If she moved to the left, they would do so also! Should she dive off the Falls, they would have no choice but to mimic her! This amount of control pleased the queen. She was in control...
A sharp trumpeting blast rang out through the air, chilling the bones of all that recognized it. Even Aslath slowed in her Flight to look around wildly. Did something dare try interrupting her Flight? Not letting it stop her, she hastily regained speed, zig-zagging as fast as she could. Her heart rate increased, recognizing full well what was Chasing her. Even in her lust, she was driven by something more- something that frightened her... Bugling a hesitant challenge at the newest arrival, she kept rising upward, avoiding the enormous bronze that was Morsrath.
Back in the Flight room, Morsrath's rider slid in, immediately assuming a position of power. C'leon ignored all others. He knew more than anyone else to not let the queen get Caught so early, but he had to make it known that he alone was the dominant male. Half-crazed in his lust, he approached Shmee's form, hissing at the other men. Reaching out a long, very muscled arm, he placed it on Shmee's hip. She screeched, and arm flying at him, but he caught it easily, twisting it enough to not break, but still be painful. She grunted. Who was in control now?
Aslath bellowed in anger and lust. She had to keep the Flight going, but how was she going to ignore Morsrath? He was easily one of the largest bronzes, and a heavy powerhouse that had won every single queen Flight he participated in. Anyone with sense in them could see what C'leon was trying to accomplish; by having Morsrath capture Aslath, it would ensure Weyrleadership for him and control over the South for Benden. Aslath snarled behind her at the massive bronze, yet tried crooning to her true suitors. She dipped a wing to the side, turning sharply in her attempt at getting away. She saw her bronzes out of the corner of her eye, torn between having one catch her now and remaining safe, as well as pure dragon lust and the need to produce a fine clutch. Morsrath growled at the queen. She wasn't in control of this Flight any longer.
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Post by evendar on Oct 20, 2007 22:40:36 GMT -5
Haloth trumpeted his distaste as he watched the Northern Bronze join in the chase. He had no place in this Flight, this Morsrath. Aslath was Selenitas, would be his, Haloth's. There was no way around it. he crooned reassuringly to the gold, words useless in this primal flight. She would be caught by her true suiters, and nothing less.
N'call snarled at the man as he entered the Flight room. He wasn't a Southerner, he didn't belong here. What was he doing? He bit at his lower lip, the man wasn't supposed to get so close to the woman this early in the Flight, it could preset the Queen to a choice. And no one wanted that, for then how would the strongest bronze catch her? He didn't want to push himself on Shmee either, but this man shouldn't by any means.
"Hey, lay off of her." he said, his words clear despite the haze of dragon lust. He was a harper after all.
------------------ Narna watched as a huge bronze dropped heavily to the platform, deposited his rider then shot forth again. The man's knots said Benden, and Narna knew that Bendenites meant trouble. "Sir did you sign in?" she asked lamely as he rushed past her, paying her no heed. Her face scrunched into a frown, her anger returning fast. Men! Did they always need to be hand fed every instruction? She growled as she followed him to the Flight room. And now he wanted to dominate the gold flight. How typical. Was that all men thought about, sex?
Even N'vis couldn't stop talking about "cute W'laim this" and "Oh Faranth P'tol that". It was disgusting! What was different about boys that made them talk about and want sex all the time? She didn't see it. Didn't see what was so special about it. It was sex, it felt good, so what? There were dozens of other things that made you feel good. Icecream on Turn's End, presents for your Birthingday, a dragon of your own. Sex was nice, but it was just a thing, like the first two. The third was akin to true joy, like a brothers smile, a mothers hug, or even something as trivial as sleeping in late. Those brought real happiness, while sex brought only fleeting passion. With these thoughts in mind she stormed up to the Flight Room, nervous about entering it despite her resolve that sex was just a thing. She'd just wait out here to tell that Benden rider off for being an insensitive prick. That'd teach him. Boys!
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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 Oct 20, 2007 23:00:25 GMT -5
The great bronze that suddenly broke in on the chase dwarfed the long, sinuous Salenth. A thrill of apprehension shot through the male. Morsrath. If ever Salenth had a rival, it was this gargantuan beast, the one who had beat him out in every flight they'd both participated in. Then rage layered in on top of the apprension, exploding out of him in a bellow that rivaled Morsrath's own. This bronze thought he could command a queen. This bronze sought to subjugate Selenitas. This bronze meant to make Aslath his slave. He wouldn't touch her. If Salenth had to allow another bronze to claim the queen, he would be certain that Morsrath would never be in a position to do so. If Salenth had to tear him from the skies...
The smaller male screamed again in defiance. He was of a length with Morsrath, though built far less strongly. With a burst of power he slashed across the Benden dragon's path, his overlong tail whipping behind him, shrilling through the air as it whipped toward Morsrath's snout. He streamed after Aslath. If he could draw the larger bronze into a fight, she would be safe, but if Morsrath guessed at his intentions, he needed to keep his sights on the lovely gold. She could not be Morsrath's! She was his - his friend? His queen.
Fly, Aslath. Fly! Morsrath cannot catch you. None can. He urged her on, keeping the desperation from his mind-voice through sheer force of will. The rage still shimmered inside it, though, echoed in the orange-red of his eyes.
S'rei was only partially aware of the newcomer, at least until Salenth's rage infused him and he saw through the growing haze of dragonlust the way he laid hands on Shmee. C'leon? The tall bronzerider closed the distance between them in an instant, hand closing on the other man's bicep in a vicelike grip. "Let her go," he growled, the sound somewhat muddled, but still discernible. Grey eyes flashed with purpose, his thumb digging into a pressure point mercilessly.
If C'leon wished to join the Flight - which, by all standards, he had no right to do - then he could keep his distance like every other man here. S'rei did not bother to think that C'leon was physically stronger than him. It wasn't even a consideration.
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Post by missa on Oct 21, 2007 7:16:14 GMT -5
Napping, silently, letting Rukbat's rays carress his brown hide so that it warmed him to his very bones. Tail twitched, as though restless, head jerked up, eyes snapping open from slumber at the defiant roar. A roar like thet meant one thing. Thorith's voice rose, deep and soothing, an assurance to her that he would join her in her flight. He would fly, as best he could, and more than anything, he would try and catch her.
His had come running in at the sound of his bugle, Thorith's gentle eyes turned on him, nudging his rider at the chest, bending one knee to allow his rider to climb up. Hands stroked his neck, smoothing over the hide, reassurances that D'ran supported him filled his mind. Love for his rider only grew, many would not support Thorith like this, no, he'd chosen well on those sands. To the one boy that had stood apart, willing to help those mauled and give up his chance at Impression himself.
Dropping his off across from the Flight Weyr, Thorith had only one more thing he needed. Blood.
Bones cracked as the beast went down under Thorith's weight, wings flaring to their impressive lengths as his teeth grasped at the neck of the once kicking beast. Tongue flickered out over the blood, before the carcass was sucked dry. Whirling eyes looked up at the golden queen, in all her glory. In all her beauty, she was the only one he desired.
Another bugle, an uptake of her challenge as for a moment the large brown crouched close to the ground, stomach brushing the grasses the Herd beasts he fed on grazed on. Claws dug into the earth, tails flicked over the grass, a low rumble in his chest. Muscles bunched, ready to push off, and ready to launch him into the air. Release.
Wings unfurled, beating at the winds and sky to push this brown up. Brown hide gleamed, shone brightly, a brown that was the size of a small bronze in his prime. Willing to chase, and if it came to that, fly her. For if Thorith won this flight, he would never chase another, his love would be for her alone, and never blink an eye at another dragon. Never. For he would be Hers until she wished other wise. Wings beat, catching up to the Bronze with powerful strokes.
Eyes whirled, bright reds, crimsons. Eyes reflecting his emotions as they always did, showing the passion that raged through his body, the desire that pounded in his veins, the lust that gave him the extra strength to tuck his claws into his body, gave his wings that extra power to push him on. Made his heart beat just a little faster. Every muscle wanted her, even as he felt his rider's mind join with his. Knew that His was seeing everything he did. Was feeling all the passion and desire Thorith himself felt.
More than anything, Thorith wanted to Fly. Wanted to Chase.
And More than anything, Thorith wanted to share this with His.
Lovely golden Aslath, lead us on a merry chase, know we are right behind you. I will chase until I am sent from your eyes in disgrace, I will chase, when Rukbat sets for the last time.. I will be yours.
From the moment Thorith's bugle had left brown throat, D'ran had been willing to support him. He may have been a late comer, may have been a bit slower to get His to come than the others. Even so, he was sure that his brown could outfly even the large... Wait a sharding... That bronze was not one he'd seen around. Not one he'd recongised, nor did Thorith recognise the gleaming hide.
So who was the man that rode such a bronze? A bronze that was promptly forgotten as D'ran allowed his mind to forge with Thorith's, his brown flying so high in the sky, chasing the golden Temptress that was Aslath. D'ran's eyes went to the woman, Shmee... Wasn't it? But saw not only she, but the beauty his brown chased. His Thorith. (( So crappeh >_< Sorry Muse)
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Post by Administrator on Oct 21, 2007 11:01:51 GMT -5
Aslath grunted in an effort to avoid the huge bronze. She was tiring more quickly than usual because of this fierce pursuit, and it angered her. She was a queen; she should not be tiring so quickly! She should be dazzling her chasers with acrobatics, twisting and turning to keep them working hard so she could pluck out who she liked best. But this… This was ruining her Flight. Morsrath was ruining it!
Encouraged by Salenth’s words, she continued pumping her wings as quickly as she could, locating another thermal that carried her. Rather than rest on it, she pumped her wings harder. She could not risk falling back; Morsrath would probably force her out of the skies if she did. Instead, she took this moment try and get ahead. Ascending sharply, her wings protested the effort, and an ache took hold. However, she still couldn’t let herself stop. Though this airborne sprint was challenging, she, as a queen, would have to get over it.
She desperately sent attempts at flirtatious feelings toward her chasers, save Morsrath, of course. There was now a brown in her Flight, too, making the number of her chasers six. Not that it mattered—right now, she was too busy dealing with the largest one of the lot, the monstrous bronze from Benden. He was gaining on her, nipping at her glowing tail to try and distinguish himself as the dominant male.
Morsrath growled at Salenth, who had tried to cut him off. He remembered Salenth from Benden, and no pleasant memories sprang up. No matter—he would take care of Salenth later. He would have enough power to control that stupid little bronze. Looking back up, he sensed the queen was weakening. Deciding to help a little with that, Morsrath pushed forward, slashing at her with his claws. Aslath shrieked, and turned back to see droplets of ichor dripped from scratches along her back. Growling in rage and pain, she curved into a descent, making her last attempts at getting rid of Morsrath and picking her bronze by herself, and planning on how to do so and avoid Morsrath.
C’leon did not hear N’call’s words, but understood them all the same. His dark brown eyes flickered savagely over to the bronzerider. “Shut up, this is my Flight,” C’leon growled, tightening his hold on Shmee, who hissed in pain. At this point, C’leon was completely taken over by the lust, just now waiting for the moment that Aslath would drop from the skies and into Morsrath’s waiting claws. Selenitas would be his, yes—and he would also teach this queenrider what happens when you mess with the bull.
At S’rei, he spared no mercies. In his lust-blinded state, he aimed a hard blow across the other bronzer’s face with the hand that once rested on Shmee’s hip, pretty sure it hit, but wasn’t positive. It was hard to tell amidst the dragon-lust. “You speak and I kill them,” he whispered. He pulled his arm, flinching as S’rei found the right spot in his arm. Once a Benden rider, always a Benden rider, so it seemed. Violence worked best. Snarling, he now tried pushing S’rei off of him, but not as hard as he would have had all his senses been in one place. After all, the true fight was in the skies. “Do what I say or I will sentence not just you, but all in this room to death,” he added hatefully. Sidling back up to Shmee, he wrapped his muscled arm around her waist, trying to influence the decision in the skies from the ground. “Well, Weyrwoman,” he murmured with cold, insane-sounding tones as he pulled her closer, “No chance of escape now, is there?” Shmee writhed in his grasp, both in pain from his tight hold and from Aslath’s pain in the sky. She growled, unable to escape, knowing it was no use. Her sole hope now rested with what would happen in the Flight…
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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 Oct 21, 2007 11:25:05 GMT -5
It wasn't working as well as he'd hoped. Or at all. Salenth snarled at Morsrath, peeling off, trying to predict where Aslath would fly to escape the huge bronze. And as soon as he made that move, the intruder slashed his queen. Frustration welled. Aslath was his to fly, or at least one of the dragons of Selenitas, not this brute. How could he physically come against a gold?! Wasn't that against the very nature of a bronze? Salenth pushed the thought aside, pushed aside the distractions. He couldn't let Morsrath unnerve him, or Aslath would surely be lost.
Oh, her glorious hide! Crooning what comfort he could to the young Aslath, Salenth twisted in the air, doing his best to predict the moves of first Morsrath, then Aslath. His only advantage was the number of times he'd seen Morsrath fly. The gold attempted to escape him valiantly, and she flew so well pride welled in the bronze's chest at the sight, but she was young and distressed, and now bleeding. If Salenth or one of the others didn't catch her soon...The thought was impossible to contemplate.
Her evasions continued to put him through a series of acrobatics that seemed impossible. He could try for Morsrath again. Throw the bronze off long enough to allow another of the Selenitas dragons to catch his Aslath, his beauty. It would be worth it, that she at least escape the brute's clutches. But he couldn't be sure he'd strike correctly, and then he'd be beyond helping Aslath, beyond catching her, and Morsrath would be that much closer to claiming Selenitas' queen as his own. And Salenth's desire for the gold burned strongly.
You can do it, Aslath, he crooned. Just a little longer.
S'rei evaded the brunt of the force from the arm, but still it staggered him, the man gritting his teeth and applying more pressure to his grip. Though C'leon didn't use all the force at his disposal, the disorientation of a queen flight and the unsettledness resulting from the earlier blow managed to lend it weight. The bronzerider found himself thrown to the ground, his head spinning from the suddenness of the act. A part of him wanted to fling himself back at C'leon, but it was with Salenth that he was most needed. And, somewhere, in the back of his mind, apprehension for the other men in the room clawed at him. He didn't care what happened to him, but...Climbing shakily to his feet, S'rei's jaw clenched in concentration. Nothing could happen if Morsrath didn't catch Aslath.
Salenth felt the full support of S'rei's mind wash over him, and with a cry he made one last, fatalistic dive for where Aslath should be in another few seconds. That dive, if unsuccessful, would take him out of the running. The queen was lagging too quickly to give him another chance.
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Post by evendar on Oct 21, 2007 11:31:51 GMT -5
Fighting? In a Flight? That was about as right as a dragon eating its eggs. N'call didn't care how much this Benden rider threatened him, he couldn't do this to a Weyrwoman. It wasn't right.
Haloth bugled angrily as Morsrath tried to hurt his queen. This wasn't right, he wasn't aloud to do that.
Haloth, you must win. You can't let him beat you. Benden can't gain the south. N'call told his dragon silently, urging him on. Haloth bugled once more in agreement, his threadscored wings pumping faster. He was a grand male, larger than the others from the Weyr. The only one who out sized him in bulk was that Benden beast. He would have to beat him with cunning was all. With a size like that there couldn't be much more room for brains. Haloth caught an updraft and soared above the Flight, pumping his wings to gain further altitude. He roared his triumph as he moved in closer. The queen would be his. He would beat out these Benden dragons as well as his brethren from the Weyr. Aslath would be his!
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Narna scowled as she heard the soft thump of flesh on flesh from the other side of the door. The Flight couldn't be over yet, could it? It didn't feel like it was over by any means. And besides, that sounded more like a punch than the slap of bare skin in lovemaking. She wanted so to know what was going on, to see if that Benden rider was getting what for. He didn't deserve this Weyr, he didn't deserve any Weyr. He should just curl up and go between, that was Narna's thinking. She crossed her arms and waited. When he came out, she would tell him how she felt.
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Sirca came out of between screeching, her eyes a burning yellow. She landed gracelessly to Arina's shoulder and assaulted her mistress with images of a brutally large bronze and a man Arina knew all to well.
"C'leon! He's here?" she asked the flit, knowing the answer. Kio picked up on his green's actions and added his own distress calls to Sirca's. Arina shushed them silently. He wanted the Weyr. He wanted to win the Flight and gain the South too! She couldn't let that happen, it wouldn't happen. Selenitas was the last safe haven on Pern, it couldn't fall. She wouldn't let it. Jumping from the desk she'd acquired for her work, she dashed quickly to th boats, hoping to get to the Flight rooms before the bastard left. If she had her way, Benden might be short a Weyrleader by nightfall.
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Post by ravenmane on Oct 21, 2007 11:38:04 GMT -5
Cyanth bugled angrily as Mosrath appeared in the sky. This Bronze was not allowed here. He was an intruder who threatened his Queen. The Bronze soared after Salenth as the Selenitas Bronze attacked the Bendenite dragon. Cyanth psuhed himself harder and slashed out with his claws. He did not know if he caught the gigantic Bronze or not, Cyanth's only care was his weakening Queen.
Fly Aslath! You are the Queen of the skies. No Bronze can catch you unless you allow it. Mosrath is an intruder unworthy of such a golden Queen.
Cyanth crooned to his Queen, encouraging her to stay far ahead of the Benden Bronze.
P'nor was deeply angered by C'leon's actions. He stayed away even though he wanted to help. His mind was caught up in confusion for he had never gone through this before.
((Sorry for posting. My muse was fleeing me and my grandma says I have to get off.))
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Post by Administrator on Oct 21, 2007 13:57:10 GMT -5
This really hurt. Aslath’s wings strained with the effort of keeping her airborne, fear and lust mingling strongly together for both her and Shmee. The scratch wasn’t terribly deep, but it did cause her to lose more and more energy each time she beat her wings. Her chest heaved with the effort, and her heart was pounding hard. A little longer, Salenth had reassured her. Shard it. Would she even be able to hold out a little longer? Taking the encouragement of Cyanth and Salenth to heart, she flipped her head to look for a way out.
She couldn’t slow down, for Morsrath would recognize the Flight was over and would try to take her before she had a chance. Yet how was she going to get to her own males? Get ready, I drop for you alone,[/color] she stated, exhaustion in her mind-voice toward the five Selenitas males.
Anxiety raced through her. If she failed this, it could mean doom for not only Shmee and herself, but for Selenitas. This thought in mind, she descended sharply and suddenly…
…right into Salenth. Bugling in surprise, she grabbed onto him with her foreclaws, aggressively pulling him closer as if to ensure that she was safe from being Flown by Morsrath. She wrapped her golden neck around his, exhaustion taking over her, as well as relief. She was safe. Now the emotions consuming her; nothing else was important any more, just the bronze dragon she clung to. Bugling triumphantly, she gave into the lust, looking forward to the end of her first Flight, the safety of being with Salenth, the knowledge that she was the one queen Morsrath never managed to catch.
Morsrath was far from happy. Screeching his anger, he circled the twining pair, snarling at the bronze. The large bronze had grown up with that idea that all queens were for him alone, yet here was one stolen right from under his nose by a weakling! Eyes red in rage, he decided to take out his anger on the dragon closest to him: Cyanth. Growling, he slashed at the bronze angrily, fast as lightening, before descending, humiliated and enraged. Salenth would pay.
C’leon let out an angry bellow. His grip around Shmee loosened, and he brought his hand across the woman’s face. She cried out in pain, and suffered a painful bout of deja-vu. It was the same cheek he slapped her on not even a fortnight prior… He grabbed her collar, hissing with his hot breath into her face, “We’re not through, woman.” With that, C’leon threw her onto the ground and stormed out to take his dragon lust out on a new victim…
Shmee got up with strange energy for someone who had been repeatedly harmed by the strong Weyrleader. Though a bruise would once again form on her face, she cared not for it now. There were more pressing matters to take care of. Stepping fiercely toward S’rei, she didn’t hesitate for a moment, pulling him to her and pressing her lips against his as her hands went to his breeches. Yes, danger had passed, so she would wait and deal with it later. She was Aslath now, and this was more urgent. Time for S’rei to perform his first duty as Weyrleader.
--
C’leon pushed himself out of the Flight room before anyone else had left. He would have to think of something else to get Shmee in his control, but, like everyone else would have to do, he needed to take care of other needs first. Charging through the frightened Flightmoths, he saw one that mingled with them, and a feral smile formed on his features. This one looked fresh- probably better than Shmee could do.
He immediately pounced on Narna, slamming her against the wall, his hand encircling her throat. “You will do as I say, you will tell no one,” he informed her harshly, covering her mouth should she scream. With brutal force, he pulled her to one of the Flight rooms reserved for losers who needed to rid themselves of these excess feelings. Not even waiting to get to the furs, he shoved Narna onto the floor, deftly kicking her. “Think of it as a Weyrwoman’s duty,” he snarled. “Your ever-so-glorious Weyrwoman won’t perform it, so you get that job. How does that sound?”
His words were ice, and any fear that would radiate from Narna would fall on deaf ears. Coming to stand over her, he knelt, keeping her firmly between his knees and gripped her arms enough so that his nails caused blood to well up. “You struggle, you suffer tenfold,” he added softly, not bothering to hide the desire in his voice. In case she would doubt that, he brought his hand in a hard slap against her face, one that would look frighteningly similar to Shmee’s. With that, he ripped open her shirt and went to settle his needs, savagely and brutally, not even needing to be provoked to use violence on her.
--
No one had noticed Narna’s temporary abduction. The Flightmoths did not recognize C’leon, not noticing his taking of Narna was of force. Nothing seemed wrong when Robika ran over to the rooms, panting. “Get out of here, girls, hide yourselves. The Weyrleader of Benden is here, and if he comes out, you will be in danger,” she warned the Flightmoths. Some screeched in terror and ran, others waited mournfully by the door, not seeming to be bothered by that fact. The broadcasted effect of the queenflight were affecting them so strongly now that Aslath had been caught, and they wanted to bed some good-looking dragonriders.
“Shard it,” Robika muttered. How C’leon knew that Aslath was Rising puzzled her, and she had to do something. From what she could see, Morsrath had failed, caught by a different bronze. That was a relief, but if rumors were true, C’leon would not be a happy man. If she could get some of the bronzers in there to help her catch him… She frowned. She couldn’t handle him by herself, but she could round up these dragonriders, and maybe they could catch him together.
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Post by evendar on Oct 21, 2007 14:27:35 GMT -5
Narna began to stand when she noticed the Bendenite leave the room. Ha! He had lost, just like she'd hoped. Stepping up to give him a big piece of her mind, needless to say she was surprised when he slammed her into the wall, her head bouncing painfully.
“You will do as I say, you will tell no one,” he said, and she gave him a look that on anyone else would have stopped them short in their actions. But he didn't he pushed her forcefully into a Flight room and pushed her to the floor. She growled and gasped when he kicked her in her spine. She hissed in pain as he snarled in her ear.
“Think of it as a Weyrwoman’s duty. Your ever-so-glorious Weyrwoman won’t perform it, so you get that job. How does that sound?” She was about to rebut icily as she was pinned forcefully to the ground, then he slapped her. He actually slapped her. 'You struggle, you suffer tenfold,' he had said. Well we'll just see about that. There was many a time her drunk stepfather had attempted to advance on the prettier and younger daughter of his wife, and she'd beaten him off every time. Why should this be different?
She spat at his face after he slapped her, but he must have ignored it because he ripped open her shirt and began to move in. She gasped in disgust and punched him right on the Jaw.
"Get you're hands off of me, ass." she told him, trying to move away, would that ever be a mistake. As the bastard growled and slapped her again in the same cheek, she felt tears of anger well in her eyes.
"I said get off!" she shouted, but his hand covered her mouth. She tried to bite his hand, but he was to strong and large. He was covering her mouth, her nose. She couldn't get air in, her body flailed in a vain attempt to gain air from the temporarily blocked airway, but C'leon's hold only tightened as he continued to satisfy his needs.
"plee..." she mumbled around his hand weakly before blackness clouded her vision and she left this painful world for the serene blankness of unconsciousness.
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Haloth had lost. N'call could feel the mild disappointment from his bronze, but it was still a victory because Morsrath and C'leon hadn't won. He left the room hungrily, searching for the girls he knew to be outside a door when a Flight was on. He saw few, and was extremely disappointed. But there was still one, still one who could satisfy him. He grabbed at Robika's arms and pulled her in close to his body.
"Fly with me beauty," he whispered, picking her up easily in a cradle position and backing into a Flight room. He lay her on the bed as gently as he could, ignoring what little protest he could here. She must have been new to the whole Flight scene that was all. He whispered reassurances, that'd he'd be gentle, that there was nothing to worry about, as he slowly undid the ties of her pants and slid his free hand under her shirt.
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Post by saberlin on Oct 21, 2007 16:31:56 GMT -5
((Im just going to weave into this a bit, but dont mind it. It was obvious from the get go that Rodonth wouldn't win )) Rodonth had seen the Golden form of Aslath rise and had taken his time in blooding a few kills before taking off himself. R'ton had been angry, very angry with him for rising to chase the Queen. But wasn't that what they had come here to do? To get away from Benden and truly seucre a place for themselves? Rodonth didnt care about any of that right now. There was a GOld in the sky and by the first shell of the first cracked Dragon HE was going to chase her. He saw that other dragons rose after her, especially the strong and older Salenth. But then he also saw another bronze whom he noticed from his shadowed path. How dare that Bronze Benden dragon try to fly THEIR Queen. Rodonth bugled angrily at the Benden bronze. More offended that he had dared to rise to chase her than he had ever been of anything else. He flew close to the Benden Bronze, completely irate at such antics. "Don't you even think about going near that bronze Rodonth. You dont need to loose your hide." But he chases Aslath! She is ours, SHE IS OURS! Rodonth bugled loudly, ignoring once again the commands of his rider. If nothing else he would try to keep the Queen safe on her flight. She flew hard and fast and far. Rodonth in his youth would not be able to keep up with her, but he could play defense if he had too. Rodonth flew on, waiting to see if the idiot Benden bronze would try anything, would try to come close to Their Queen. Back on the ground not all was well either. Rontue had caught the broadcasting emotions of both the Queen dragon, and felt the pull of the rise of one of his own. R'ton cursed inwardly as his flitter too, not took off, seeking the fruits of lust. "SHARD BLAST IT!" He had put it off long enough, it was time to wander to try to go find Shmee.... Getting there late R'ton arrived just after the Aslath had been caught by Salenth and just after the girl had been taken away by the Bendenite. All that R'ton heard was the sounds of what was going on in the bed chamber. He resisted the urge to pound his fist on the door. A part of him was glad that Rodonth had not caught the Queen, but a part of him also wondered what sort of a Weyrleader Salenth's rider would be. He looked around noticing a few of the girls still sitting near the area. Some of them looked shaken. Probably from the loud broadcasting of the Queen. He sighed heavily, "Well, no luck this time." His body was still taught with lust as he moved away from the door. In the skies Rodonth bugled his lose and it was hard felt, but at least that blasted intruder hadnt caught her. Wanting to make sure that the pair was kept safe as they flew, Rodonth flew behind at a very slow pace. He would not let that Benden interfere in any more ways than he already had. ((does this work?))
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