[#1] Legatus Wing Drills

[glamourie]

It was not even light yet – not by most people’s definition, in any case. The sky was still almost black with hints of orange creeping over the horizon and the stars above still twinkled merrily. The virtue of the early morning hours was that it was significantly less hot for once – though that was relative to afternoon hours. It was still smoldering and the humidity in the air indicated that it was likely going to start raining. The sun had yet to burn the fog off the ground, making it look even darker, more obscured. The clearing where the first Legatus Wing Drills were set to take place was the only bright spot in the jungle – lit up by glow baskets that would only be visible from above. The wingriders would likely have to fly in from the top, since most were unlikely to know where the clearing was at. He’d picked it for a reason.

Ka’rys leaned back against Ciceroth, picking at the frayed end of his sleeve. The heat bothered him a lot more than he was willing to admit, but despite that, he refused to wear less layers: they hid most of the blades that he carried on his person. Black relatively form-fitting (but not quite tight) pants and a brown tunic were probably darker than most people would wear with Selenitas’s inferno summer, but the blade on his wrist was impossible to detect, the ones in each boot were hidden, so that only the one on his side was readily identifiable. Better safe than sorry. The burns had all healed, and so had the injuries he acquired from the mass poisoning: for the first time since he woke up at Selenitas, he was in perfect health. Ciceroth had recovered too, thankfully. Some of his wing was still hurt. Ar’ren of Brown Ysaloth for instance, and A’emi of Kyrahth. Inconvenient, but at least he knew so he knew better to expect them. In some ways, it would be better without them. He still didn’t trust the two foreigners. He’d picked them because he could read Fort riders better than most – no other reason.

Rather than call his wing, Ka’rys had sent them all indications of the meeting privately, with a list of what was required. He didn’t believe in reminding people. The drills would take place on the same days and at the same time, always, so if they paid attention, he’d never have to call. Ideally, his wing would not be changing much.

The time was approaching. Ka’rys glanced at the sky as the sun crept further over the horizon. Soon the explanations would come and with them a very unique set of drills. Weed out the weak and replace them with the satisfactory. He had a feeling that he was going to have problems with some of his wing – but he wasn’t sure that he cared. Ever since his firelizard passed… a slight shiver passed over him. No, Ka’rys’s patience was not very good, and he was hoping that most of the riders that he picked (hand-picked for skills they possessed that no one else in the Weyr did – he was selective) would know better than to test his naturally thin patience. Hope did spring eternal. Ciceroth was more optimistic than him but… that was a fairly normal occurrence. Ka’rys always expected the worst. He was rarely disappointed that way, after all.

They had ten minutes before he started taking off heads. Better to move quickly.

[Requiem]

Running late. Or, rather, later than he'd intended, which was still early but for M'ta...late. He'd gotten all too used to rising later; his weyrmate preferred to lie in bed for awhile usually. Cooing softly to Teri, he had part of a redfruit in his mouth (more to hold it than actually in the process of chewing) and was tightening up the last of Behruth's straps one-handed. He'd elected to go with some of R'wign's really old clothes when he was still a stick. Not to be confused with the deceptively slender figure of before - or the filling out one that M'ta currently enjoyed a little too much. A bit on the long side was better than a couple inches too short. Securing the pouch he'd strapped to the thigh opposite his long dirk, he popped the redfruit into his mouth and brought Teri back to her crib, brushing her nose with his. "Now you be good," he murmured to the giggling child. "You're clean, fed, spoiled...so don't bother Roo for a bit, hm?" Yes, he was promoting her calling R'wign that...it was cute.

Adjusting the white sleeves of his shirt so they didn't fall over his palms, he snatched up the rope he'd coiled on the chair, throwing it over a shoulder and paused to sit on the side of the bed. Stroking back his weyrmate's lengthening hair, he kissed his temple lightly. "There's breakfast on the table, handsome." Fruit and bread, actually, nothing special, but it would stave off the shakes that R'wign sometimes woke with. M'ta was no cook and anyway if the food wasn't warm his weyrmate wouldn't have to get up until he wanted to. Before he could be tempted to stay, M'ta rose and bounded for Ruth, swinging easily up onto the brown's back. "Okay, ready."

Still dark out, the brown commented, perhaps a little sleepily as he dropped from the ledge and winged higher. Where was it again? Not sure. Climbing higher, the lights from within the jungle were readily visible. But unless we have little ghost mites running around... Hang on, Mine. Behruth plummeted toward the clearing, pulling up enough to circle it once, spotting Ciceroth, and coming into a gentler landing not far from the large bronze. Good Dawning, the brown commented good-naturedly, stretching while M'ta dropped from his neck. He'd brought more weapons than he was technically told to, but who was counting? The boot sheath wasn't going to go away, and for him, this was decidedly underarmed. Just the four throwing stars in their pouch, the boot dagger and the dirk he wore openly.

He naturally moved toward Ka'rys, if only because the other man was the only other here. "Morning." He was first? People had best start turning up quick. Ka'rys wasn't a patient person and he looked to be in a fouler mood than normal. (The heat did that; a fine sheen of sweat was already breaking over M'ta's skin.)

[Rei]

“Onyth darling please stop squirming. You’re making this harder than it has to be. I know you’re excited but we can’t go anywhere until I make sure these things are on properly.” Elysia was trying her best to tighten the leather straps on the dragon but the creature was making it near sharding impossible with all the fidgeting she was doing. Giving a apologetic croon the green stilled, tail tip lashing across the ledge in her impatience. Hurry my love I do not want to be late to our first drill. It will set a bad example. The greenrider rolled her eyes as she checked the straps a final time and then stepped back. “We will be on time I assure you.” She said soothingly before returning to her weyr for the ‘items’ her new wingleader had suggested they bring.

Tucking a few hairpins into her already tightly bound hair she took a weapons check. Boot knife, check. Dagger check. Whip…where did she leave that thing? Taking a look about the weyr she found it coiled around the back of a chair. Ah yes. Fixing it in place at her hip, she stepped into her boots, strapped them up, and strode back to her waiting dragon. “Ok darling I think we are ready. You have the rope right?” Onyth grumbled. Of course I have the rope. She turned to display it where it hung on her straps.Can we go now? Smiling Elysia swung up effortlessly onto the green’s neck. “Yes darling we can go.” The words where scarcely out of her mouth when Onyth flung them into the air, wings snapping open to catch the light breeze.

Angling out towards the jungle the green scanned the ground. Over there. I see light. Banking left she circled once before angling down to land a few dragon lengths from the two males already present. Dipping her head in a submissive gesture to Ciceroth Onyth spoke. Fair skies Wingleader. That greeting done, she let hers dismount before also bespeaking Behruth in the same polite tone. Good morning Behruth. Tucking her wings to her sides she turned her head skyward to await the rest of her wing.

Stepping lightly over to Ka’rys and M’ta, Elysia stopped at a respectful distance before speaking. “Elysia of Onyth reporting Sir.” She let her eyes briefly flicker over M’ta before returning her gaze to the bronzerider. This was the part of new wings she hated. The awkward first meetings and then the work of trying to get to know your fellow wingmates and hoping against hope that you could at least stand them. Really she didn’t like being uprooted and put on a different wing, but this time it wasn’t as bad. This time her previous wing hadn’t died. Besides it wasn’t like she had been at Selenitas or on her old wing long enough to form any bonds. Hopefully this wing would be different?

[Tashe]

In some ways it was fortunate for him that his second shift at the Infirmary intersected the start of his Wing drills. He had to change his routine very little, and the slow pace of the night shift gave him a chance to stretch without cutting into the patients' time. This was all very well and good, but the situation also stole time away from his Dragonhealing. Time he would ordinarily use for studying. It unfortunately could not be helped.

Itching the side of his face as he leaned down to pick up the light travel pack, he heard a soft jingle of the requested items. The Brownrider would be lying if he said that the strange letter he had found on his bed hadn't been surprising or extremely mysterious. He had left his personal Weyr for no more than a tenth of a candle mark and came back to it just lying there. Legatus wing. E'rro had known the wings changed, but he hadn't had the chance to look at what one he was on. That is until that letter cleared everything up for him. Yeah, right. More like swept aside. Raising his hand to the Healer in charge to signal he was leaving, E'rro tied back his hair into a short pony tail. As he adjusted his goggles Ismaroth landed and sunk down, waiting. Jogging over the Brownrider swung up into the harness and strapped himself in before the Dragon hopped carefully into the sky. His wing was still sore, but E'rro had deemed it strong enough for flight a sevenday ago.

And the letter only said to meet in a clearing in the jungle? In more or less words, yes. Well then this will be a bundle of fun. Standing in his straps as they passed the start of the treeline, he tried to help in the search. They had no clue as to where the clearing was. To bad there wasn't a treasure map, as Ismaroth had said upon first hearing the news. Listing to the side, the Brown almost felt like rolling lazily but he knew his ginger wing wouldn't work as steadily as he'd want it to. Now if he had to roll quickly, it might work. There. I see it. They had nearly passed completely by the meeting place, but the flicker of movement from a landing Dragon had caught Ismaroth's attention. Wheeling around, the Brown headed in the general direction before the combined glow of Rukbat and glowbaskets showed him where to land.

Kicking his leg over his Dragon's neck, E'rro slid down and removed his goggles turning away from Ismaroth as he swung carefully about. Ciceroth, Behruth. He didn't know the Green's name and bobbed his head at her in greeting instead. Folding his wings, the sand colored male settled down in his space. His human walked forward and stood a few paces away from him, the young man's hands crossed behind his back as he shifted into attention. The teen's head nodded curtly before he voiced, "Reporting for duty."

[Ember]

Iskierka had been intrigued by the odd letter she'd received a sevenday ago, with a list of items to collect and a secret drill meeting. She'd acquired the items; only one of which proved to be a problem. Iskierka had been missing a boot knife, an item she didn't often use. She much preferred the two blades she normally used. She slipped the knife into her left boot which she turned into a quick stretch. If the bronzerider was suggesting she stretch, she'd do so. There was generally a reason for a suggestion like that. It really was in her best interest to do so.

The bluerider did a couple of quick flips in her weyr as a basic test of how she was feeling. All seemed good so she headed towards Ioth only to hear the voice of a sleepy salamandyr. Early is. Bring foodyums, yes? "Later, Rhino. Go back to sleep." Silly little brown. She wanted him to stay put during the time when she wasn't around. She wasn't yet super attatched to the critter but it was connected to her mind all the same. If it died she'd feel it, she knew. She wanted to keep it alive (read: protect it) much the same way she'd kept Ioth alive but it truly had a mind of its own and tended to ignore her commands.

She shook her head. She'd let her mind wander too much. She climbed up and settled herself between Ioth's ridges and had him bring them aloft at a sharp mental command. The blue's colouration was a bit bright to blend in properly with the night but parts of him seemed to melt away more easily because of his darker patches. Ioth spotted to light before Iskierka did. There it is. May I go in to land? Yes. As always, be cautious and remember, the bronze is named Ciceroth. You must greet him first and do so politely. At least she never had to worry about Ioth disobeying her.

As quick as ever, the blue's personality shifted into the fighting mode. Neither he nor Iskierka entirely trusted the letter that had been sent to them. Fort had been a very clever weyr under different leadership; there might yet be some semi-intelligent people in that weyr. Ioth settled down when he flew over the clearing and circled briefly before landing. He'd spotted Onyth and that had calmed him in a flash. Fair skies, Ciceroth. Duty duly done he turned to Onyth and asked, May I stand next to you, Onyth? The other two dragons he didn't recognize were given a quick nod for politeness' sake.

Iskierka got down while her dragon waited for permission to stand next to the green he'd fought with during Fort's attack. She didn't get close to any of her new wingmates, physically or emotional, so she didn't wander too close. She didn't even greet Ka'rys with words. She was there, that ought to be enough for him. If it wasn't he'd let her know soon enough. Hopefully the other wingmates would arrive soon too. The quicker they finished whatever training Ka'rys had for them the sooner she could get out of the heat. Even a tshirt and a pair of relatively thin pants was too hot for the bluerider.

[tarra]

The humidity that met them was a furnace blast after the chill of between, and Ar'ren felt his cheek twitch as they made the slow, gradual glide over the forest canopy towards the appointed clearing. Humidity was one of those things he had not yet acclimatised to in this new place; the food was another, and those sudden convectional thunderstorms, and the culture as well (whatever had happened to fighting discipline and skill?). If anything, only the hostility he had felt in his first weeks here was familiar in some sense; and perversely, it made his adaptation to Selenitas easier as well. It gave him something to hold to, something he could craft a response from. Everything else was about as alien as Timor and Belior.

It was early, barely day yet; but whatever the morning coolness might have done for the humidity, it was easily over-ridden by the fact that the jungle by its very denseness held moisture. Add to that the curling fog, and Ar'ren was feeling sweaty before they had even made a landing. Ysaloth evidently felt it too; he shook out his head, long habit holding him from producing a snort that would give away their position, and arrowed in for the soft pricks of glow baskets in the underbush beneath them. The implements of this drill hung loose at his harness or strapped about his rider's profile: the rope as requested, a pouch of paperclips, a set of knives and Ar'ren's usual tough leather gloves, reinforced with studs of metal. The brownrider had been taking guesses at his new assignment ever since he received Ka'ry's note, but speculation as ever constituted nothing more than mere shots in the dark. He was just happy to note that the items to bring were relatively few, and not large. Size set a limit to how much bulk his small brown could carry; weight-wise, he was pound for pound as sturdy as any other brown. But size also aided Ysaloth now as he skimmed in over the trees, to stall with a quick backflap just above the clearing for a neat drop - still flapping for control - into the space where others were gathering.

He had positioned himself carefully, taking an edge of the clearing near Ka'rys but a little way off from the rest, returning the hostility he had received these past weeks with cautious spacing. Ysaloth gathered in his wings as Ar'ren unclipped the harness and dismounted. A cursory glance took in the attendance so far: two other browns, a blue and a green. He didn't know their names just yet, but was certain he would in due course. The brownrider addressed a brisk nod to his Wingleader, followed with a quick comment: "My duties to you, Wingleader". Ysaloth, likewise, sent Ciceroth a light pulse of greeting, signalling his readiness to follow orders as soon as they were given. Never one to waste words or time, the brownrider stood at ease, watching his Wingleader for his next command. Despite the inhibitions he had felt on seeing the letter a sevenday ago, he now found he was curious and alert, his mind struggling to rein in the list of possibilities available to this drill. Neither Ysaloth nor he gave a thought to stretching or yawning despite the early hour; he had known Ka'rys back in Fort, turns ago, and if the man's ways remained unchanged it would be wisest to remain on one's toes about him. Beside, he had already done his warm-ups as the letter had indicated, and though a hint of drowsiness still lingered he was very much ready to go.

Now, if this confounded heat would just let up; sweat was alraedy trickling down his neck as it was...

[mierce]

Yes, the thickness of the air made breathing almost akin to slowly drowning. After so many sevenedays of really annoying weather, Evrgarde had finally come to the decision of how to properly describe the humidity. It was like drowning on land. She supposed most people would simply call that asphyxiation, but somehow that word didn’t quite capture how wet the air felt.

Evrgarde stepped out onto the ledge of her weyr and took a deliberate though tentative deep breath. It was still some time before dawn with barely any hint of light at the horizon, but even in the darkness of night, it was ridiculously hot. She was dressed in a fitted light grey shirt and loose fitting tan breeches. Both were made of breathable material, but that had no real meaning in this heat. Light leather guards wrapped around her forearms and leather fingerless gloves protected her palms. Her hair had been pulled back into two tight buns that rested on either side of the base of her skull. At her waist hung both the required dagger and her metal baton. A knife was hidden in each of her knee-high boots, and stabbed in her hair were a series of hairpins.

With a quiet groan, she turned on her heels and stepped back into her weyr for a last visual sweep. Ryder was presently snoozing at the foot of her neatly made bed with Tea Leaf snuggled up against his fluffy belly. Lange was nowhere to be seen, but it would not be too far from the truth to presume that the green flitter had taken up to sleeping in some dusty corner with her hoard of… whatever she’s collected.

Pleased with the scene, she slung her short bow across her back and picked up a coiled length of rope. As silent as she thought she was being, however, one of Ryder’s ears perked up followed soon by his head. He eyed his master--yes, Evrgarde was his master despite how the bluerider may protest; after all, she had (finally) given him a name!--then slowly got up onto all fours. A low whine escaped his throat which served to stir the green salamandyr from her sleep.

Tea Leaf twisted around first onto her back, then onto her feet, finally rearing up on her hind legs to treat Evrgarde to the same expression that was on the canine. LovelyMine leave early, she half stated, half asked. As if struck with a great idea, the green mandyr immediately fell onto all fours again and quickly scurried from the bed, across the stone floor and up Evrgarde’s legs.I’s wants to go.

Not to be outdone, Ryder barked and jumped off the bed as well with tongue hanging out. Was it a trip? A hunting trip? Oh boy oh boy!

Arrgggghhh…

Iorath chuckled at His’ predicament. Ahhh pets. Your very loyal servants.

“Alas.” Evrgarde crouched to cradle a very excited Ryder under one arm and deposited him back on her bed. Tea Leaf soon followed suit, finding herself set on the spotted canine’s head. “I can’t take you to drill, so stay here and be good.” She gave Ryder a possibly affectionate scratch under the chin and Tea Leaf a light rub on the head.

Tea Leaf made a strange chirpy sound and settled into the fluffy fur between Ryder’s ears. Be good, yes. Tea Leaf be very best. Look after RyderMutt, too.

“Of course.” How a tiny salamandyr expected to be able to keep a canine in check, Evrgarde decided not to question. For what it was worth though, neither dog, salamandyr, or spastic fire lizard attempted to intercept as she stepped out of the weyr and locked the door behind her.

Evrgarde secured looped the rope over the bridle, right next to the small quiver of arrows already there. As soon as she had swung up and secured strapped herself in, Iorath threw himself off the ledge and headed towards the Northern Jungle. Directly in the center of the Northern Jungle, the note had stated. Though, where exactly that is was hard to say when there was light, let alone in the shroud of night. Thankfully Ka’rys (or so Evrgarde presumed) had lit the clearing so that it glowed like an oasis in a sea of darkness.

The bluepair circled once above the group already assembled before landing. Evrgarde dismounted and promptly loosened the quiver from the saddle. The coiled rope, she tucked under an arm and approached Ka’rys.

“Good morning,” she stated, bending slightly at the waist in greeting. “Evrgarde of Iorath reporting.” With formalities (sort of) out of the way, she stepped off to the side to join with the riders already there. She knew quite a few of them, but elected to only give a cursory nod in acknowledgement to them. Chit chat during drills was not her thing, nor did it look like “the thing” for anyone else assembled.

Iorath, on the other hand, sought a friendlier approach. He tipped his head respectfully towards Ciceroth. Greetings, Wingleader. To the other dragons, he elected to give a cheerful Good pre-Dawning to all. To Behruth, he playfully curled a tail briefly around the brown’s front leg before withdrawing and turning his attention to Ciceroth.

[glamourie]

Each new arrival got the same customary nod – except for Ar’ren, who actually earned an analytic look. He hadn’t expected either of the ‘hostages’ to show up. Truthfully, letting them on his wing was probably not the wisest idea, but it put them close to him where he could watch them and Ka’rys wanted to make sure that someone who could be trusted was keeping a close eye on the two of them. He didn’t intend to share all information with them though and would likely communicate to the wingmembers that he trusted more exact orders than the two Fortians would receive. Ironically, two other members of his wing fell into that category. Only Evrgarde, E’rro and M’ta fell under the category of being truly trusted – and from his understanding, all had been on his former wing at some point or another. The rest? Well, they had a lot to prove, and Ka’rys was extremely difficult to impress. Near impossible, actually.

“I’m going to take a jab in the dark here and assume that A’emi of Kyrahth will not be coming, simply because everyone else has managed to arrive on time and he hasn’t.” He glanced toward Ar’ren quizzically, as if he expected the brownrider to explain the greenrider’s absence. He didn’t leave enough time for him to do so though, instead turning to the group. “To get the formalities out of the way… Evrgarde of Iorath, M’ta of Behruth, Elysia of Onyth, Iskierka of Ioth, Wingsecond E’rro of Ismaroth, Ar’ren of Ysaloth, and we are missing A’emi of Kyrahth who I am sure will be joining us next drills.” He indicated each person as he spoke. “Some of you might have complaints about having two Fort riders on your wing. Before you start whining: Don’t bother, I don’t really care what you think. We will be meeting four times a sevenday until I am sure that we can lessen the number of drills that we have, and yes, every meeting will be at this time, and every meeting will be at this location. Before we start, I’m going to be blunt: I don’t put up with attitude, and I don’t put up with excuses. If I tell you to do something, I expect you to do it; you can ask questions, within limit, but the ultimate final call is mine. I expect everyone to behave maturely at drills, which means no bickering with one another, no whining, no complaining, and most importantly, no slacking. If you can’t handle this, leave now.”

Ka’rys waved a hand dismissively. If they left, it was their loss. His wing was going to run perfectly and not be making stupid weyrling mistakes – like flaming each other (he was still seething at that bronzerider for having let his stupid overgrown wherry flame Ciceroth) – and they’d be efficient at whatever they were needed for. Childish arguing could be handled at other times. Drills were not the place for it… and Ka’rys’s tolerance for fighting wasn’t exactly high to begin with. (He was a little uptight – so what?)

“If you can handle these demands, then form a neat line in front of me – I don’t care what order you lot stand in. Put everything that I asked you to bring on the ground in front of you, and once anyone who doesn’t have the spine to handle our wing leaves, I’ll explain why there’s so few of us… and why I asked you to bring these things.” The bronzerider cocked his head to the side and glanced at each of the riders individually, waiting for whining or complaining – or his instructions being followed. Somehow he had a feeling there was going to be a lot of discipline problems while working out the kinks. He wasn’t looking forward to that at all.

Each of the dragons received a pleasant croon from Ciceroth, though the bronze did not uncurl from his spot or bespeak anyone. It was taking most of his attention keeping Ka’rys level-headed. Ophelie’s death had hit him hard, and the result was Ka’rys cycling between extreme anger and being dazed-and-confused; Ciceroth helped to stabilize it but only when he was paying attention. Right then, it was important for Ka’rys to be very even-tempered, if… well, if extremely cold and demanding.

[Requiem]

M'ta glanced around as people began arriving. (Apparently the members of this wing hadn't actually been posted? That or they posted it high where he missed it, which was definitely possible. He could guess by who hadn't been put on other wings, but it was still interesting to see if he'd gotten everyone.) Benden greenrider. E'rro...brief nod to him, but the kid was too withdrawn for M'ta to consider him...anything really other than a wingsecond and one of his former wingmates. Which still meant quite a bit but not really on a personal level. The Benden bluerider. Didn't know her either. Eyes narrowed at Ar'ren's arrival, but that was his only reaction. Was a theme forming? Oh yes...and he was beginning to feel like the odd man out here, most definitely. Evrgarde! Now that was someone he was glad to see, though he didn't really show it much, beyond a slight half-smile directed her way. One he knew at acquaintance level anyway. Behruth adored Ioth, though.

In fact, the brown crooned to the blue openly, nuzzling him briefly as he passed. Good morning, Onyth. And an especially good morning to you, Ismaroth, he added in a teasing tone, simply because the dragon had chosen to be so exceedingly formal with Behruth. They'd worked together before and the other dragon had to know that he was anything but formal. He fell silent at that, though, because Ciceroth's had begun to speak and he was probably more curious than his rider was; M'ta was just happy not to be expected to perform under a different wingleader. For over two turns already he'd served under Ka'rys, ever since they'd joined the wings, and M'ta was nothing if not loyal. Though his weyrmate and his relationship with Kale elevated Ka'rys to a filial loyalty, as well.

The brownrider lifted a hand in a gesture that wasn't quite a wave for the new riders at his name, just in case they didn't know, settling his arms back over his chest loosely and allowing his eyes to travel to gauge reactions to Ka'rys instead of meeting the man's eyes. He knew Ka'rys. It was these others he had yet to take the measure of - for the most part. His eyes did flick back to the wingleader, however, at his ultimatum, something like a flicker of amusement passing behind his eyes as he cocked his head to one side. Behave or else. Yes daddy. Really, he was coming off way stiff today. Not that he wasn't rather stiff, but this was a bit excessive. M'ta mentally shrugged. The man probably had a reason, or they could blame it on the heat. The brownrider personally didn't care; he had no problem with anything that had been said.

It shouldn't have been surprising, then, that he didn't hesitate after Ka'rys was finished, stepping forward and dropping the rope looped over his shoulder before adding the sheathed dirk, his pouch of throwing stars (a small collection of hairpins secured in the hide to the side) and finishing by removing the boot knife from its sheathe. Which made him itch for something sharp and persuasive on his person, but fortunately it was becoming less of a problem with time and there were no skirts to be paranoid about around here.

[mierce]

Evrgarde cast a suspicious look at Ar’ren as Ka’rys ran through their names. She didn’t notice before as she wasn’t really paying attention to the unfamiliar faces, but wasn’t he… yes, he was. Her eyes flicked curiously towards Ka’rys, but she held her tongue. As the Wingleader trusted her, she would trust his decision to bring in Fort riders--their very attackers--to Legatus. She stood at attention as Ka’rys made his introduction. As expected, his demands were to the point without any sugar coating, and that was perfectly fine with her. While M’ta may have found the Bronzer especially stiff, Evrgarde found it agreeable; it was the people who talked in endless pretty circles that grated on her nerves.

When Ka’rys finished his speech, Evrgarde stepped up and positioned herself beside M'ta. She caught his eye and bobbed her head in silent "Hello" before getting started. First to find itself set down was her quiver, laying on its side with a dozen or so feathered shafts protruding from its mouth. She plucked the hairpins from her hair and clipped them to the strap of the quiver. Beside this she laid down her bow, then the baton, her three daggers, and finally the coiled rope. Each item was more or less equally spaced and aligned to be virtually parallel to each other.

[Rei]

Elysia listened to Ka’rys without emotion. His no nonsense tone was something she had gotten used to over the years. She would be surprised if anyone booked and argument with him. He seemed a bit touchy. Maybe the heat? The Fort riders? The bended woman didn’t allow her thoughts to wander to far, mentally checking herself before she neglected to pay attention. When the bronzerider stated that anyone wanting to could leave she raised an eyebrow and wondered if anyone would do so. As bidden she stepped forward to join the line forming in front of the bronzerider. Quickly the greenrider began removing the items she had brought. Her boot knife, belt dagger, whip, hair pins, and rope where all laid neatly in front of her before she stepped back into the line. No words where offered because really no words where needed.

Onyth crooned softly to Ioth. Of course you may stand next to me Ioth. She said sweetly letting her tail tip brush briefly against his. Oh she remembered him. He fought with her. Subtly she debated moving to stand closer to the blue. Onyth darling. Please stop flirting and pay attention. The mental command was soft but firm. Meaning hers expected to be obeyed. With a snort the green did as she was bidden and stopped speaking to watch the riders in front of her. Elysia kept a mental rein of sorts on her green as she turned her attention back to Ka’rys. It had been awhile since Onyth had risen and truthfully she had been off schedule since coming to Selenitas. Subtle changes in her mood and behavior where starting to clue the rider into the fact that her dragon was probably in the first stages of becoming proddy. Just lovely.

[Ember]

Iskierka would have rolled her eyes had another of the lesser riders blabbed on so much. She paid attention though because what he said was Super Important and she knew she'd pay for it if she didn't. Mention of attitude and not bickering with her wingmates made the woman sigh mentally. Great, so she had to act civil, too? Oh well, she'd only have to put up with it during wing drills. Ka'rys didn't mention getting along with wingmates outside of drills. Her gaze flicked from one face to another, judging what reactions she could see.

At the mention of leaving Iskierka outright ignored that offer. For all she appeared not to care, the idea of a special wing appealed to the part of her that liked being a valuable pawn. Leaving was not really an option and should prefer not to be dismissed from it either. When asked to present her items the bluerider joined the forming line. She dropped the coiled rope and dug out the paperclips and her boot knife and set them down on top of the rope. She then reluctantly removed her two blades from their thigh sheathes and set them down too.

Ioth brushed Onyth's mind gratefully when she allowed him to stand next to her. He wasn't properly acquainted with any of the other dragons but he really didn't mean to seem rude by favouring Onyth. He hoped they knew that. It would be awful if one of them was insulted...Ioth. The reprimand made the blue start slightly (the only evidence of which was a twitch of his tail). Oops. Yes, paying attention was what he should have been doing.

[Tashe]

Its too hot to be a good morning. Ismaroth flicked the end of his tail, but re responded in good humor. It really was too hot for comfort, even as adjusted as he was to the southern climate, this heat wasn't agreeing well with him. Stretching his wing so it didn't become stiff, the Brown watched as more dragons began to descend. He knew a few by sight, but not by name. When Iorath greeted them, Ismaroth waved a wing at him before yawning. He was sleepy.

E'rro offered M'ta a head bob in return for his own as he dropped the travel pack at his feet. At least he knew one of his new wing members, even though it was more of a say hello in passing sort of know. As the others dismounted and took their places, he was honestly surprised to see the Brown Fort Rider among them. Fort had always been his enemy, and now to have one that recently participated in an attack on Selenitas on his wing, it didn't tickle his fancy at all. But his thoughts were interrupted by Ka'rys's voice. The names of the others rolled by and he recited them mentally, trying to store them in his memory for later use. When his name was mentioned the Brownrider flicked his hand up for a few brief seconds then tucked it right back behind his back. Wingsecond? Well that was news. He hadn't known until that moment what his position was, his letter hadn't touched upon anything but generics. As the Bronzerider continued on, E'rro shifted his position and crossed his arms. The heat was making him feel like his skin was itchy.

He picked up the bag and joined the line, pulling the length of rope out first. E'rro didn't wear most of his weapons when he worked in the infirmary, opting rather to wear two boot knives when on shift rather than his full set. But today he had worn a few of his throwing knives. Removing his boot knife, he dug out his belt dagger from the pack before setting them both down. Next came the small bundle of hairpins and his throwing knives. He had wanted to bring his three ball Bola just to satisfy the more creative side that the letter had instilled in him, but he eventually decided against it. Standing up he took a step back and tossed the empty pack to Ismaroth, who barely caught it. Turning back as soon as the pack left his hand, E'rro let his hands fall to his side.

[tarra]

Ar'ren did not attempt to answer the quizzical glance Ka'rys shot at him. Having served directly under bronzeriders for so long, he knew when a question was more rhetorical than matter of fact, and held his silence as he was (likely) expected to. It was all he could do, however, to keep a smile from turning the edges of his lips. The bronzerider, if his little speech was anything to go by, had not changed since his Fortian days. He had been legendary then for the ban imposed on his candidacy, and later his abilities in implementing the torture methods he had devised; these things the brownrider would recall, if nothing else. Ciceroth's rider was a man one crossed at one's own peril.

He glanced at each rider present as Ka'rys introduced them in brief, spare terms, an ever-so-slight nod his acknowledgement to each that he saw them, noted them, would respond to their presence. Their uncertain expressions, hostile glances or aggressive glares he ignored: it wasn't much different from what he had been seeing these past week, and if they were surprised at his being here, well, it wouldn't be far from how he felt himself. Now that he was here, however, he did not intend to leave. As the rest began to move so did he, slipping to Ysaloth's side and undoing the requested length of rope from the harness. He unclipped the pouch of paperclips from his belt as he went back to the forming line, and laid both on the ground before reaching to take down the gloves, belt-knife and boot-knife from their respective positions on him. These joined the items on the earth before the brownrider stood back at ease, awaiting his Wingleader's next word. If he carried any other weapons or such on his person, they were not immediately obvious, and Ar'ren was not about to give them away.

Ysaloth settled into a light stance, standing square with his weight balanced over all four legs. His tail looped easy behind him, an his wings though folded were held ready to snap open at any moment. It was the standard poise of a Fortian fighting dragon when in the presence of his superiors, and the proximity of Ciceroth had put him on the alert. With calm, quiet eyes he watched the others, his attention discreetly on the other dragons as their riders went through the requested motions.

[glamourie]

None of them left. Good. He’d have been most displeased if any of the people he picked by hand were too cowardly (or immature) to be able to meet his demands. Moving forward, Ka’rys started at the end of the row with M’ta. Crouching down, the bronzerider prodded the pouch of throwing stars with one finger quizzically. His curiosity spurred, he let himself peek inside of it just to see what they were before looking up at the brownrider. “Stars? Do they cut?” It wasn’t a judging question – in fact, his entire tone had changed from the initial bitchiness; since they were staying, he could tone it down some. Besides which, M’ta was one of the three people that Ka’rys knew he trusted. He didn’t really know why, but if R’wign trusted him, he had to be tolerable if not a friend. Probably not the most logical response, but Ka’rys didn’t really care that much. “You can put your weapons away, but leave the rope and hairpins out, please. We’ll get to those in a minute.”

He rose back to his feet and moved to the next person – Evrgarde. His gaze dropped to the bow and arrow set before he nodded. Everything she brought seemed satisfactory – one ranged weapon, some close ones, and everything else that he’d asked for. “You can put the knives and baton away, but if the bow is back-worn, you’ll need to leave it out for the moment.” He didn’t really know much about bows – that could be useful to learn though. Perhaps he’d ask her later, hmm.

The next person that he stepped up to was Elysia and he stopped in front of her to indicate the whip curiously. “You always use a bullwhip as a weapon? You’re going to have to show me how that’s as efficient as either M’ta’s throwing blades or Evrgarde’s bow. Later, though. You can put everything away.” He wasn’t assuming that it wasn’t – but he wanted to see how it could be, too. To him, whips belonged with the beastcrafters. He’d heard of them being used as weapons before, but Ka’rys was very much the type of person to prefer sharp, pointy objects, given a choice. He also noted that she didn’t seem to have a ranged weapon. Not good. That would need to be remedied.

The bluerider he approached next had a similar problem. Why they didn’t think to have something to carry that could be used at a distance was beyond him. Had the attack from Fort proved nothing? He didn’t ask, not yet, instead nodding to her to indicate that she could put her weapons away. He moved over to E’rro and was pleased to find that he, like the other two, had thought ahead in terms of distance weapons. Selenitas riders thinking better than northerners, who knew? His gaze moved over the different knives before he nodded in satisfaction. Then he moved over to Ar’ren and clicked his tongue at the knives – finding him to possess the same problem as the other two. But at least they’d all brought weapons.

“So many dagger users. We’ll have to fix that. Evrgarde, I need to speak to you after drills, if you don’t mind? Elysia, you as well.”

He didn’t wait for a response to his comment, instead turning back to them all seriously. “If you haven’t re-armed yourselves, do so, provided nothing you brought with you is back-worn. I’m sure most of you are wondering what the purpose of these extra things are, and why I would ask you to come armed to wing drills. First and foremost: We are not a threadfighting wing. That responsibility falls to the others. You will all notice that you’re either northern born, you northern trained, some of you both. You were all hand-picked because each and every one of you has displayed an ability to fight beyond the normal capacity of Selenitas riders, and that’s exactly what this wing is going to need.”

Rubbing his nose, Ka’rys glanced back at Ciceroth, who uncurled and stretched noticeably. He turned back to the group. “The Legatus Wing has a special role at Selenitas. We’re in charge of doing what the rest of the wings can’t, or won’t, do – whether it be because they lack the training, the discipline, or the stomach to handle it. This basically means that we’re the wing that gets all the dirty jobs that no one asks questions about. As a result, all of you must be exceptionally well trained, both in hand-to-hand combat, survival skills, and in aerial combat if necessary. Our wing drills will be focused on preparing you for just that. To those of you who did not bring a ranged weapon: Acquire one. I don’t care if it’s throwing knives, bows, crossbows, sharding numbweed jars, what have you – by our next drills, I want each of you to have decided on a secondary weapon that is range-oriented. Any questions so far?”

Stretch. While they train, we will be practicing as well. It is just as important that we know how to defend ourselves as our riders do. Ciceroth’s instruction, cool and calm, was sent to each of the dragons at the same time, and he set an example by further stretching out. This was going to be an interesting set of drills.