The Dragonriders of PernŽ is a trademark, Registered U.S. Patent & Trademark Office, of Anne McCaffrey. This is a recorded session, generated by Harper's Tale MOO on Tuesday 6 January 2004 for the benefit of members unable to attend. Logged by Pyrene.
Last Man Standing
Although just who is leading High Reaches at the moment is debatable, Cadgwith
is intending to take to the skies in what she professes to be a leadership
flight. NPCs welcome! Page Pyrene if you're interested.
-- entered by Pyrene on 2004-01-06 13:57 MOO Time. (6 seconds)
Living Caverns
Pyrene is looking smug in a glazed fashion while simultaneously appearing nervous. This basically manifests itself in unfocused twitching as she hovers in the doorway of the cavern (forcing anybody else coming in the doorwar to have to step around her) and sweeps the room with her gaze. Her smug, glazed, nervous gaze.
Lylia stalks in, a bit behind Tatia. She's hungry, she wants food, and she wants some plotting For The Good Of The Weyr. A dark look is cast around, a wary look, and she scoots after Tatia. Food will aid her, it will. But her gaze does light upon a familiar, welcomed face -- perhaps the one she needs most. She slides towards Pyrene, a pleading look plastered on her face.
Tatia weaves her way around without much notice, intent with purpose and enraged with the anger of the righteous. "Stupid.. weyr.. politics," she mutters as she approaches the food table and eyes it distastefully. "Totally random, moronic decision.." She glances over at Lylia, bedecked in Tsunami pride colors, and grimaces before she plunks out a bowl full of stew.
Cadgwith> Cadgwith moves around the bowl for quite a while before finally settling down on a spot on the ground. She doesn't seem all tha rested, though; her long tail twitches - in anticipation, perhaps, or could it be pure restlessness?
Nyhia sits in a chair nearby the hearth and blinks as a group of people enters the living caverns. She watched them curiously as she sat in the chair eating a meatroll, wondering slightly what was going on while staying quiet.
Cadgwith> Umiheth is quite relaxed, languishing in the bowl. Stretched out in the sun, the gnarled older bronze's muzzle twitches with an odd tic, but he appears fully calm... except the speedy anticipation that whirls in his eyes. He senses something, oh yes.
Pyrene ignores Lylia, finally clearing her throat in a vain attempt to gather the attention of those in the cavern. "I have an announcement to make!" she calls out, her voice mostly steady.
Cadgwith> Bannyth meanders in from the north.
Cadgwith> R'meld slides from Bannyth's neck and lands gently on the ground.
Cadgwith> R'meld walks to the Caverns.
R'meld walks in from the Central Bowl.
"Announcement?" Lylia's eyes light up, her one-track mind hoping that it will involve Sii'kyn ending up thrown into the Igen desert. She quiets, taking a slight step back, and watching the goldrider with odd curiosity. Anything her dragon is poking her mind about is being ignored as her brow furrows slightly.
Cadgwith> C'radoc meanders in from the north.
Cadgwith> C'radoc walks to the Caverns.
C'radoc walks in from the Central Bowl.
Cadgwith> Cadgwith hisses as a poor blue comes a little too close to her territory - away! Her fangs are almost bared as she hisses some more, just to show who's the boss around here. Bronze and brown are regarded with an unsteady eye, wavering between hunger's red and lusty orange.
Tatia glances over her shoulder at Pyrene with curiousity alight in her eyes, hand pausing in its reach for a few slices of bread. Announcement?
L'uc wonders why he's always in the caverns lately. Perhaps he's bored because he can't travel anywhere, or, perhaps his schedule isn't too difficult. Either way, he's here now and the Weyrwoman is yelling at everyone. As usual. Heh. Still, the 'rider is seated at the Inferno table and leans back in his chair to listen.
Cadgwith> Druseth remains lurking in the shadows, just watching Cadgwith with a passive curiosity. He's old enough to know when not to get too close, when not to get himself in a position to take claws to the face. His eyes whirl cautiously as he backs up a little -- placing himself entirely in the shadows.
Zana follows the rest into the caverns and pulls up a chair with the group quirking her eyebrow at the sound of an announcement. Hopefully it'll be something good for the weyr at least. She casts a glance at those gathered and decides listening is better. Blues don't seem to get along well with Pyrene or with many for that matter so...
Pyrene clears her throat again. Oh look. There's Tatia. Ah, the irony. "Cadgwith is about to rise in a leadership flight," she declares. Unnecessary exposition really, but she felt the need to say 'leadership' with emphasis. She folds her arms and glares at the group, waiting for somebody to dare disagree with her.
Cadgwith> Sidramuntalath looms with unsubtle darkness-- well, as dark as one can get in the middle of noontime falling snow, that is. He's not even in the shadows- just watching Cadge with a thoughtful gleam to whirling eyes. He's not afraid of what he should be afraid of-- she's bigger than him, after all. [And Faranth knows -he- doesn't want a black eye...]
Sii'kyn strides purposely in from the Central Bowl.
R'meld struts into the caverns, his arms waving back and forth at his side and a goofy smile upon his face. He is the picture of innocence, in many aspects. So, he brought a lethal plague from his time here, that's okay! Cause to R'meld, the world is a happy-go-lucky place. "Hello High Reaches of /this/ time." He sing-songs out, in an abnormally gleeful tone. He grins cheekily as his eyes roam throughout the caverns. "Bannyth is rather unsettled, I think something might be going on." Ah, poor oblivious man. Pyrene gets a sharp look, the moment those nine words leave her lips. "Leadership flight...?" Eyes narrow as his little mind starts wheeling with the possibilites of this event.
"Really?" Lylia blinks slowly, and then a wide smile starts to creep up on her. A slow-rising joy, the kind that dances in her eyes. "I love you, Weyrwoman!" She declares loudly to the Living Caverns. "I hope Cadgwith does what's /right/ for the Weyr and her clutch...," she says, a little quieter, but treasonous talk is a little louder than she would normally dare. She immediately scoots towards Tatia. "Did you hear that, Tatia? Did you?"
Nyhia's ears perked up at the word 'announcement' and turned more to hear better what the announcement is. She blinked as Pyrene said there is going to be a leadership flight, then shrugged to herself as it didn't concern a weyrbrat like herself at the moment.
"You have /got/ to be joking!" Tatia sputters, wheeling around with her forgotten dinner left behind her. Her eyes narrow in accusation on Pyrene, and she drops heavily into the closest chair. "You planned this, didn't you? He /knew/, and wanted to get it in while he could, the stupid, immature, arrogant, untalented, wherry-brained, foul-smelling, completely idiotic..." And the list of adjectives goes on. And on. And on. Do we have any doubt who she's talking about?
C'radoc is perched in the back of the Living Caverns, holed up by the hearth. The older man nearly drops a mug with surprise at the announcement, but a smile flushes across his own face. "Aye," he quietly murmurs to himself. "Aye, my own, you were right again." A wicked look appears in his eyes, gone as quickly as it has come. "May she fly long and well!" he announces, raising his mug of ale. But he's gotten to his feet, oozing towards Pyrene with that gentle smile still perched on his face.
Sii'kyn busts in. Yes, he busts in, because he's running after V'der who's shrieking bloody terror. "I didn't mean it! Didn't mean it!" Wow. Ike's chasing V'der around, not the other way around? Well-- it's just been pretty crazy for the brownrider-- the shorter one, with the more muscles and the longer hair and the definitely 'I Am Pissed. Hear Me Roar' sign floating lazily above his head. Ike pauses just long enough to throw a smirk at Pyrene- and a dark look of superiority at Tat- before he.. skids to a stop. Whoa. Wait. Does he really want to be in here right now? [Hint: no.]
Pyrene nods absently to R'meld. "Leadership flight," she says firmly. Then she makes a connection. "Oh, shards." She doesn't say it aloud, but you can see the wheels turning as she mentally plays out scenarios where one of Cloudburst catches. Then the wheels come to a shuddering halt as Tatia unleashes her stream of vitriol. "Tatia. The world does /not/ revolve around you. And who's to say Ike won't catch? He's been a fine, upstanding Weyrleader, and I want you all to be rooting for him." Pyrene's not above trying to sway Cadge, no.
L'uc blinks once and then takes another swig of the ale he poured himself a moment ago. Having finished the juice he was drinking, he's decided it was time for something a little bit stronger. "Leadership, eh?" he then says as he watches the Weyrwoman briefly. Mind speaking to his bond before he does anything else, the 'rider takes another swig. First gold flight, yes. Jyd better get prepared. "Sounds like it could be.. interesting." Does /he/ want to become the Weyrleader? Pause. Next question please..
Cadgwith> Cadgwith suddenly drops her head into the nearest pile of snow, viciously shaking at something. Has she lost her mind? Or did she just need to cool off? The answer comes forth - a poor dragon plushie was left behind by some brat, buried under snow. And it is /blue/. Teeth sink in and she shakes it like a rabid canine would a rabbit. Rawr! Do not enter.
Cadgwith> Out here in the descending touch of heavy snowflakes, Jydhaeth seems to be quite in his element, his body tucked loosely in on itself to both conserve energy and to generate further warmth. Now and again, his coiled neck will extend and his head will shake the accumulation of white fluff from its highest peaks before being retracted once more. Though appearing to be a rather dormant fellow, there's a latent vitality to those torpidly-moving, clover-laced eyes. And they rest particularly on the tetchy Cadgwith.
"I know I won't root for a man that puts personal grudges over the welfare of the Weyr. He's done a great wrong to Tsunami Wing! It's unjust!" Lylia declares, casting a dark glare towards the Weyrleader. "He just wants to quiet those who /care/ about the Weyr, he doesn't have a lick of diplomacy in him. Cadgwith can do /better/," she insists, slinking over protectively towards Tatia. Oh, Lylia's gonna be shipped off to a glacier. Yep. "Tatia's put in /Turns/ of service to this Weyr." She gives a dark, steady stare towards her old friend and current Weyrwoman. She'd rather see a Cloudburst catch than the current leadership.
Zana exchanges the protection of stone for the bowl outside.
It only takes a few seconds for the wheels in R'melds brain to finally snap into place, his eyes going wide. If Bannyth could only catch the gold, he would be the Weyrleader for not only his time, but this one as well! His normally abnormally bright smile is dimmed to a smirk, the bronzerider quite proud of himself for thinking that up all on his own. C'radoc is spied, and R'meld goes over to join one of his wingriders. "This'll plan to be interesting." He comments, crossing his arms and leering over at the Weyrwoman.
Tatia sputters a bit more, completely out of coherent thought. Fine, upstanding Weyrleader? /Root/ for him? Before last night, it may have been a dim possibility, but surely Pyrene can't be serious /now/? With a thunk, she deposits her head atop her crossed arms, face down, and stares sullenly at the table. Temper tantrum? Slightly, but c'mon! Poor Tat's been hurt. And this way she, thankfully, misses Sii'kyn's entrance. Can't you /feel/ the anti-Ike vibes oozing off her body?
"Very interesting," C'radoc responds, giving a slight nod. He still has that vapid smile on his face, a dark glint to his eyes. "It'll be interesting to see how it all plays out." He casts a quick look over at his Weyrleader, smile widening. "Time just throws opportunities to us all, doesn't it?" Vague, but that's how he likes it. He doesn't take R'meld as any sort of threat. He's ready.
Cadgwith> Sidramuntalath lashes. His tail-- left, right, flicker up, repeat. Darkness has descended in the form of crimson pools flecked with vividly dark lavender-- whirling eyes, gleaming with black intention. Long neck stretches for the heavens, as if searching for something, before furling back, wings settled back, pinning closed. He observes, a dark serpent malicious, ever waiting.
Pyrene crosses over to Tatia and Lylia and hisses furiously at them. "Better Ike than Cloudburst, right? That headache will be the last thing I need." She moves over to Nyhia and smiles at the girl. "You want Ike to catch, right? Finest Weyrleader we could have." Most importantly, Ike provides stability.
Sii'kyn seems to absorb the crowd- he pauses on the sight of Pyrene [ and more importantly, her words ]-- the browner seems quite taken aback. And in the background, V'der points and laughs. A growl, a twitch, and Ike stalks off towards his clutchbrother, ignoring Tsunami and Cloudburst riders altogether. Mudders. They're the only ones with sense. Well.. save for Lorsa, but her *cough* sweetness makes up for it. Right.
Cadgwith> Druseth is another dark wraith upon the world, and there's a bit of red to his own gaze. His rider's anger has fueled a tension in his limbs, and his wings twitch with anticipation. The normal Zenlike brooding of his spirit has turned to twitching, to writhing waiting and watching as he creeps a little closer to the gold. It's dangerous to even think of going nearer, but the cloak of darkness shall at least keep him from going too far.
Wyn walks in from the Central Bowl.
L'uc needs more ale. Yes. He'll be needing a lot more if he has to put up with the constant bickering, yelling, and physical abuse-- well, /that/ hasn't happened yet, but, it's early still. That's just not his cup of klah.. Because it'd be his luck that he'd get slapped upside the head first for just sitting here. Shudder. Ike is then observed. Yeah, he has been a good Weyrleader. Plus, he was the one who Searched him. Nod. That makes him the best. Beam. Swig.
Tatia lifts her head just enough to shoot a short, sharp gaze at Pyrene. "I don't know," she hisses in return, "Is Cloudburst /competant/?" She glances around at said Cloudburst, weighingly, and frowns, raising her head entirely. "You know, if this had been dealt with /before/ the flight, it wouldn't even be an issue." Cough.
"Better /anyone/ that Ike, Weyrwoman. /Anyone/," Lylia hisses back, venom in her voice. "He made an error that cannot be forgiven. I will root for any dragon other than his on this day." She'd certainly prefer it to not be a Cloudburst rider, but in her tunnel-vision, there's one important goal of the day. More loudly, she leans back and turns to Tatia. "I won't let /unfair treatment/ get rewarded with support."
Cadgwith> Cadgwith observes Druseth moving closer, and her muzzle quivers as she lets out a rumbling warning. Sidramuntalath gets one on the way as well, for good measures, as he dares move. Red overcomes orange in her whirling eyes, and with an angry hiss she moves to feast on heardbeast blood!
Cadgwith> Pens
Freshened breezes from the lake to the south mingle with the stronger
scents of herdbeast, wherry, dust and dung, that fill this elliptical enclosure,
a faint odor wafting over now and then from the tannery on the far eastern side
of the pens. A sturdy fence winds out towards the central bowl, captures an
outlet of clear blue lake, and grows into a stout wind-shelter replete with hay
and feeding troughs as it meets the bowl wall. Not too far above, a claw-marked
series of feeding ledges lie, decorated by a few discarded and bleached-out
bones. A few clusters of green sprout, downtrodden, in the hard ground, tracked
over by the stampeding of the herds.
It is a winter noon. The air is filled with cascading white
snowflakes.
Cadgwith> Sidramuntalath steps precisely in from the Central Bowl.
Cadgwith> Jydhaeth treks with nobility and lanky gait in from the Central Bowl.
Cadgwith> Bannyth walks in from the Central Bowl.
Cadgwith> Druseth glances about watchfully, slowly slinking in from the Central
Bowl.
Cadgwith> Umiheth walks in from the Central Bowl.
Pyrene's eyes are starting to dilate, and she's acquiring... well... not quite a /sway/ in her step, but there's certainly more sashay to her gait than previously. She's getting closer--or further away, depending on how you look at it. "Oh, Ike has his redeeming qualities," she murmurs, sending him a smile of overwhelming affection.
Nyhia smiles innocently at Pyrene, gulping silently to herself in her mind because she didn't expect to be asked such a question. She doesn't seem to trust her voice but she doesn't seem to know what to do either so she just nods silently, pretending she was asked if she'd like a plate of cookies.
"Then stop supporting your ex-wingleader," Sii'kyn states silkily to Lylia, from behind her. Is he /looking/ to get hit? Perhaps. Or maybe he's just feeling the bloodlust of his lifebond. "Since she has no idea what 'fair treatment' means. Well, perhaps a fist to the eye counts, in her book.." Ike. Please. Don't. V'der tags behind, watching as Ike offers one of his /most/ charming, huskily lopsided grins to Pyrene. Oh, indeed, Faranth help us all.
Cadgwith> Cadgwith lets out a horrifying scream that will make the blood curl in every living prey - and it certainly seems to affect the poor herdbeasts who whip up quite a stampede in the pens. One is selected, and she downs on it faster than anyone could go between! A neck is snapped, and then crimson melts into cold white, creating interesting patterns....
Maybe it's prurient interest, maybe she's got a few bets riding on the outcome of this flight, or maybe Wyn's lurking about with an eye to being around to record history, but the little bluerider's managed to make an appearance in the caverns just now. Or maybe, with the way the conversation's heading south, she's shown up to help pull random people apart or fetch healers if needs be. She doesn't bother to introduce herself, just takes a seat offside from the action and waits.
"Pity none of them have to do with /leadership/," Lylia growls, and whirls around to face Sii'kyn. The rider bares her teeth -- Druseth's certainly feeling the blood in his veins, and it's getting to the rider. "You are /Weyrleader/, for the moment, and you didn't even think about the consequences to the wing. Tatia's served the Weyr longer than you have, /sir/," she growls. "I support the one who has done the most for the wing. You can't keep us locked up, and expect us to remain docile and /stupid/ under your will! All we needed was /some/ sort of statement or answer to our wingleader. Do you have /any/ care for those who live in this Weyr?"
Cadgwith> Jydhaeth inhales a snow-burdened breath, the inside of his mouth assailed with hundreds of tiny cold tingles as each flake melts into a drop of water. But water isn't the liquid he's craving, no, a more macabre beverage is on his menu. So the mating ritual begins, crane-like wings batter the air before he creeps to the pens with that stiltish gait of his. Having only ate the day before last, the bronze is not rapacious, but maybe a snack will do. A furry bovine who had been nestled in the snow is quickly targeted and snatched. That lean neck lengthens and snaps back with a flailing beast snagged by pike-like teeth.
Cadgwith> Umiheth slinks to the pens, anticipation now taking over his worn and sea-cragged form. Oh, this is what he has been waiting for, and there's a spring in his step, a lightness in his wings that seems almost like a young weyrling's energy. But with Cadgwith's blooding, he takes to the air. Slowly at first, but he swoops down and rips into the throat of a young herdbeast. It is /time/. The blood drips to the ground.
"Very interesting /indeed/," C'radoc mutters to R'meld, and to himself, edging forward a little. "A little in-Weyr chaos is /such/ a terrible thing." His voice is too quiet to be heard by any others. But there's a glimmer in his eye, undeniably. Opportunity has indeed shown itself.
Tatia whips around with vehemence, eyeing Ike with an ice-cold glare. "It's not as if I've anything else to lose, /weyrleader/, so if you're looking for a black eye, I can certainly provide one!" she spits. "Of course, it doesn't surprise me that it's too much to expect you to actually /focus/ on the issue at /hand/. Much more of this and you can join me in my demoted rank. /Weyrleader./"
Cadgwith> Sidramuntalath follows, trailing as a teardrop 'cross frozen cheeks-- except he's one of blood and musk, darkness incarnate in smoky wings and dusk-embodied eyes. Those same eyes track Cadge with the intent of a hunter on the trail of his One and Only- he takes to the skies in a snap-unfurling of massive wings, hefting aloft with minimal effort. He drops like a missile, crunching the neck of a stag herdbeast, snow-patterned nose bending to rend at throatlatch, blooding deep with a thrum of lusty thrill.
L'uc really starts drinking the ale once the argument gets heated. "Well, I think Ike's a great Weyrleader." he pipes up. "He's done a fine job, in my opinion." Nod. And if he gets slapped for saying so.. So let it be written, so let it be done. Now, Jydhaeth seems to be influencing his actions and speech. The bronze is so laid back, he just wants his bond to feel /good/ during this flight. Hence the heavy drinking. "And /another/ thing..!" Is he ranting now? Good Faranth.. "Who here can do a better job?" Hahaaa. Luc's starting to feel pretty good right about now. Swig.
Cadgwith> Bannyth stays towards the back, as he makes his way to the pens. The brazen creature waits and watches as the object of his attention seems to get things rolling. The moment Cadgwith's prey is selected, he takes to the air. Moments pass as the dragon hovers over the frightened beasts, being picky in selecting his prey. Finally, a young buck takes his notice and Bannyth sweeps down, extending his talons and grabbing the squealing herdbeast in his claws. With a sharp crack, the animals neck is broken and the bronze flies off to the side once more, before singing his fangs into the bloodied neck.
Cadgwith> Druseth has taken off, pale-touched wings catching rays of the sun as he swoops down. Although he may have gotten older, he still flies swiftly, carefully. Calculation is plain as he nabs a 'beast near enough to Cadgwith to keep close, a dark look given to the other bronzes and browns. The beast is ripped apart, flesh oozing over his claws as he sinks in his teeth to suck the blood dry, letting the corpse fall to the ground with a spray of blood. The crimson now paints his muzzle, primal and ancient anger rising up in him. The lust and vibrancy fills him, and he lunges down for another, carelessly and mercilessly shredding it.
Cadgwith> Cadgwith hisses vehemently as her precious blood spills on the ground. How dares it! Muzzle goes down, scooping up snow, blood and Faranth knows what else in one, big chow. Her hide seems to glow even more now, ready to explode. Soon, the first beast is left dry and lifeless, and she goes for the next...
Pyrene steps into the fray, eyes white-ringed and staring. "/He/ is not yours!" she hisses. "Keep away!" Somebody who should know better has stayed out in public too long it seems. The Weyrwoman's fists are clenched and she's stalking towards Tatia as if /she/ rode gold.
Sii'kyn is here. He's seething. He's feeling blood that is not his running in veins that are similarly not his, per se-- he abandons his quest to taunt Tatia into violence in favor of dragging Pyrene /away/ from Tatia, a sense of alarm playing across his forehead. Hey. If anyone's going to get a piece of Tat, it's gonna be /Ike/, not Pyrene. He swiftly moves, blocking Tatia from Pyrene bodily, jerking his head for his nice fellow bloodmates to help him. Groundweyrs, after all, are a much better location. Right?
Tatia starts at Pyrene's comment, and she's on her feet, hovering.. well, under, really, given her height.. Sii'kyn, fists clenched. To keep her temper under control, of course. Not to actually.. erm.. hit anyone. "You /might/ want to see to your /duty/?" she snaps with a pointed glance toward the obviously beyond-proddy gold. Fortunately, Ike's moving even as she's speaking, and so Tatia just stares after the pair, angrily, and pulls in several deep breaths with much effort.
Cadgwith> Jydhaeth opens the veritable bear-trap of his jaws, the rumpled mass of the cow dropped like a one-ton rock onto the ground. Minimal pecks begin at the juncture of the skull and body, until fangs finally cling to their hold after a careless snort. The cadaver soon gives up all it had and only the husk remains of the previously lowing animal, only chewing her cud moments ago.
Cadgwith> Sidramuntalath plays with another herdbeast, toying with smears of blood, tracing clumsy patterning into snow, watching it darken and permiate. Interesting- especially when snowflakes flutter down to atop the darkened mass. Morbidly fascinated, he pauses onto to blood thick and deep, ripping into yet another, his third still, going through 'em like his rider goes through underwear.
R'meld chuckles under his breath, rather entertained by the yelling going back and forth. "They seem rather, I don't know, unorganized. Not a good dragonriding unit, in my opinion." Not that he could do much better, at least not without F'renkil's help. "Oh, she's starting to get broody." He stands straighter now and raises his hands to brush invisable dust specks from his riding leathers. "This would be a good time to remove her, don't you think?" R'meld comments, getting his voice to ring with an innocent tone. Is there a bit of mocking smugged in there as well? Perhaps.
Wyn is quietly up on her feet and edging closer to the the little knot of riders, leaving the flight-participants to deal with each other. The weyrsecond, riding a colour that leaves her blessedly free of hormones at the moment, has her sights on Tatia, and with a brief look at Sii'kyn and a nod, slips an arm through the greenrider's elbow and attempts to pull her away. "I -think-, my dear greenrider, you and I had better let the metallics play their games, and we can have a talk. I have brandy, yes?" And she's also moving to shift her grip into a firm arm-lock. Been there, done that, been punched by the Tsunamite before.
Lylia slinks up behind Tatia, a rather Druseth-like stealthiness to her movements. She growls again, deep in her throat, almost protectively standing by her former wingleader. "He /has/ no sense of duty," she says bitterly. Another dark look is tossed at Pyrene, but there's a dark, blood-driven lust behind it, a flicker of primal interest in her eyes. Rawr. But she's ready to move to the groundweyrs, to get /free/ of the living caverns.
L'uc downs the last of his ale and slams the mug onto the table top. Standing up a little too quickly, the 'rider sends his chair toppling over backwards. "Take the convo elsewhere, people.." A few steps are taken towards the group and.. is he staggering? Nah, just swaying a little. More ale, please! Let's get Luc stewed..
Pyrene exchanges the protection of stone for the bowl outside.
Ground Weyrs
Once a mere overhang in the bowl wall, this arched stone enclave was deepened in
aeons past by who-knows-what to provide shelter for injured dragons and their
mates. Craggy walls loom high to dwarf rider and dragon alike, sloping back from
the weather-open entrance to a low opening into the infirmary itself. Stacked
under rock-shaded cover are low supply chests of sturdy timber, flanked with
long tables. Other openings are shaded by wherhide curtains, leading to smaller,
private caverns for the dragonhealers' patients.
Sii'kyn comes into shelter from bowl's wide open spaces.
Lylia comes into shelter from bowl's wide open spaces.
R'meld comes into shelter from bowl's wide open spaces.
L'uc comes into shelter from bowl's wide open spaces.
C'radoc comes into shelter from bowl's wide open spaces.
Cadgwith> Cadgwith is really glowing now. And positively bursting with badly-concealed lust. But it is af if something else is lurking behind the otherwise common mating-mood - something darker, more worrisome. Her faceted eyes seem to roam the browns and bronzes with slight despair - and then she takes off, with a sudden squeal of challenge.
Cadgwith> Above High Reaches
Quite, quite high, nothing braves these heights but stone and dragon
and cloud; the Star Stones jut dutifully above the Weyr proper, flayed by the
mountain winds that are consistant at this altitude whilst the rest spreads
below, protected by its crown of jagged stone spires'-teeth.
It is a winter noon. The air is filled with cascading white
snowflakes.
Cadgwith> Sidramuntalath shoots up from the dusty pens.
Cadgwith> Druseth shoots up from the dusty pens.
Cadgwith> Umiheth shoots up from the dusty pens.
Cadgwith> Bannyth shoots up from the dusty pens.
Cadgwith> Jydhaeth shoots up from the dusty pens.
Pyrene is hauled unceremoniously to the proper place--kicking and screaming. She finally claws her way free from the bronzeriders and promptly goes to the furthest corner from the door. Back to the wall, eyes glaring at the other riders, she commences to sulk.
Cadgwith> Cadgwith bursts up, up, up, the shrill sound of her siren call hanging in the frosty air and making the snowflakes dance in a lively pattern around all of them. Her wings are strained as she glides with an astonishing speed through the wintry sky, not even bothering to look back at her followers. They'll never catch her anyway!
Sii'kyn stalks, having forgotten his trademark twin 'skins-- great. A flight-- an important flight, at that-- and no liquor. He twitches, glaring this way and that, and settles himself semi-protectively a handful of paces away from Pyrene-- and he commenses to pace, himself, back and forth. Caged feline, anyone?
"A change in the winds, says I," C'radoc states quietly towards R'meld, strutting into the Ground Weyrs. As it's been tradition and necessity for all time, he's got a wineskin in one hand. Especially with a group like /this/, a little mental lubrication seems the only thing to prevent a death or two. Even as his dragon-born instinct makes him yearn to creep closer, to slither up by the goldrider, he knows it's best not. The sulking Weyrwoman has struck enough fear into him, he knows well enough to not go where he'll get injured... at this point, anyway.
Cadgwith> Druseth soars upwards, his wings beating wildly. The normal cool start and calculation is gone, and the snowflakes whirl around his 'sails as he immediately slaps an approaching bronze dragon with his tail, a growl escaping his throat. Upwards, upwards! The blood streaks down his throat, trickling down his chest as he gives a savage growl.
Cadgwith> Sidramuntalath hauls after Cadge. Run, Forest, run! -- but I can't! -- but he can! Ram can, at least. And run-- skip-- fly-- whatever-- he does, dark wings hefting and snapping down with violent speed. He can do speed. He's brown, smaller and faster and much more agile than all those clumsy bronzes- and he's got his goal in sight. Oh, baby baby, gimme some of that brilliant gold tail. He runs tactics and adeptly follows his Sire's move, neck and tail lashing at a cumbersome dragon that gets too close.
M'nty comes into shelter from bowl's wide open spaces.
Cadgwith> Minoyath circles up from the Central bowl.
Cadgwith> Umiheth is near the back of the pack, his age making his wings slow to start the frenzied flight he needs. His speed increases, quicker and quicker as he passes up one of his Cloudburst compatriots. A slight snarl escapes the dragon as he sets his sights on the Weyrleader's dragon. There's one to try and outdo. He adjusts his course, flicking his tail to send a shower of snowflakes off his dull bronze hide. A swoop, his wings outstretched, and he's climbing upward, faster and faster into the biting, chilling winds.
"Let's hope this might work out towards our favor." R'meld says, hushing his voice in hopes only C'radoc has heard. Nodding once more to his wingrider, the Weyrleader finds a wall to side up against, leaning on it and crossing his arms as he keeps his gaze on the goldrider. A flask appears in his hands, the top cork being pulled out and the liquor being allowed to run down his throat. "Keep on her tail, Bannyth." R'meld mummbles, eyes flickering from glazed to unglazed as he keeps check on his dragon.
Cadgwith> Jydhaeth gleans the blood from the sides of his mouth with a few side-to-side scrapes on the snow and positions his body in the direction of the wind. Mammoth pinions are shaken free of snow and utilizing his breastbone to plow a path through the air, the bronze gives a series of deep wing beats to gain some air. First and foremost, Cadgwith's sky-born image is seared onto his brain as those substantial wings he inherited from his sire sweep the sky; falling flakes dispelled from his airspace as quickly as the heavens throw them down. He's not exactly dead in the water up here since his light-boned skeleton accounts for more agility than some of his color counterparts.
"Sharding stupid dragons," Lylia mutters, mostly to herself, taking up towards the corner where she can glare at the Sii'kyn and the Cloudbursters equally. Her nails dig into her arm as she begins to twitch nervously, worried and pale. All her blood has seems to have left her face... perhaps going to give Druseth strength as her eyes close slightly.
L'uc barely makes it into the ground weyrs without stumbling something fierce. But, he does in fact stumble pretty good. "I saved my ale!" he says, holding a full mug without spilling a drop. Stumble again, Luc, and you might spill it all over somebody else. Then you'll get slapped. Now that Jyd starts to flood his mind, the 'rider begins to look a little pale.. like his bond. He starts feeling a little too good.. like his bond. He even starts to be a little.. poetic. A drunken poet. Nice.
Pyrene is having no favourites now. She glares at Ike with as much ire as everybody else. And then she blinks, and wipes snow out of her eyes. Well, it's snow in Cadgwith's eyes really, so it doesn't do a great deal of good. Darned poor visibility. Oh look! Bronzes and brownriders! Or is it browns and bronzeriders? Or... She gives up and surrenders to Cadge-vision.
Cadgwith> Cadgwith is no sire, and certainly no lady! Just to prove it, she suddenly folds her wings and spins dangerously towards two older dragons, a bronze and a brown, making them each take a halting stop downwards as to not collide with her golden frame. Two down, more to go!
Cadgwith> Sidramuntalath whips his compact frame towards Cadge, wings stretching, forepaws outstretched as is his neck as he hurtles past her- and misses by the skin of his tail. Literally. Hissing with furor, the brown moves the action into a bodycheck, focused in to slam into an oldtimer bronze. He manages to survive the encounter -barely -and settles to drifting as high as he can, utilizing thermals with vicious strength. Yo ho ho and a bottle of Cadge- that's what /he/ wanted for Christmas.
Cadgwith> Bannyth pumps his wings with all his might, stressing every nerve to get to a decent altitude, before a small bit of relaxation is allowed. The smaller bronze dragon, weaves about the other chasers, letting out teeth-barred snarls as any other male gets to close. Talons are help tightly to his underside, as he edges closer and closer to the front of the pack. One brown, not from his own wing, gets a little to close for comfort, and Bannyth whips his front talons out to strike, almost colliding with the other dragon. Wings are righted and his personal flying space is cleared. Now, to get back to the front.
M'nty is back from sweeps, striding into the fun group with a determined look on his face. He has returned as swiftly as he could, but Minoyath hadn't gotten the message for a bit. Meaning M'nty is dirty and sweaty and his leathers are dusty. But he's here. One look around tells him that everyone is not all here, but he tries anyways. "What did I miss?" Minoyath is getting a bit of a quick sip of herdbeast blood in before taking to the skies... Unless those older dragons were more talented than M'nty gave them credit for... there was still time.
Cadgwith> Druseth snaps at another brown that comes too close, baring his fangs. Cadgwith's moves result in a sharp twist of his body, writhing in the cold air as he follows the spinning gold, another bugle escaping. Shadows slide along the slender frame, and he unbalances his flight as he tries to twist around and grab Cadgwith with talons and teeth. The error in manuver causes him to go spinning off for a moment, and then he rides back upwards after the gold.
Sii'kyn stalks more, ignoring Pyrene's glare. She can glare. It's her perogative. His is to make sure no bloody oldtimer gets anywhere close to her. Is his mindlessly protective-- no, scratch that. He /is/ 'hoarding the goldrider', glaring maliciously about and occaisonally flashing teeth in a non-smiling fashion.
Cadgwith> Cadgwith screams a challenge to the downward-heading dragons and wings her way up there again - where the real competition lies. In a flash, she see something brown coming at her - and in the last moment she avoids collision, although poor Druseth gets a furious scream and a taloned whack over the rump on the way.
Pyrene stumbles with Cadgwith's dive and arches her back wildly to compensate, before involuntarily spinning away from a dragon that's really several hundred feet above her. Might be an idea to step away from the wall now, yes.... She steps carefully into the centre of the room, slashing out with her arms in case anybody is thinking of invading her personal space. No favourites now indeed...
Cadgwith> Umiheth spirals upwards, for a moment less concerned with the gold that shimmers among the snow than taking out those he considers a threat. There's one chance for him, this moment in time is all that he has. With a savage roar, he gives a whap of claws to a young brown, before shifting his direction as fast as his aging bones and 'sails will allow. Ducking under the tail of another oldtime bronze, he finds himself near Sidramutalath and his ebon talons reach out, striking at the brown tail as he snarls.
M'nty frowns a bit as he's slowly being caught up in his dragon. "Sharding son of a...." He curses quietly under his breath as he places himself in as much open space as he can. If there's one thing he likes less than having his girls sleep around without him, it's being clawed to death by a dragon/rider when he's not in his right mind. And then a small shiver ran up his spine as Minoyath took over, the bronze cheerfully taking over.
Cadgwith> Druseth shrieks, pain mingling into the sound as he struggles for a moment, sinking down slightly in the skies after the gold's smack. He manages to right himself, fluttering his wings desperately as he fights against the wind -- now nursing a slightly sore rump, a new grimace of red whirling in his eyes. He turns on tailtip, quickly jetting after the queen with a violence growl echoing through the skies.
"Wench!" Lylia hisses, tossing a dark glare over at Pyrene. Wrath shows up in her case as she winces, rubbing absent at her hip and whimpering a little. "Preciousss, be strong," she babbles slightly to herself, shaking her head violently as she lets out another dark hiss and glances upwards.
Cadgwith> Jydhaeth slices through the air in smooth glory and his size weaves in and out of the crowd thus far. Long pinions pump into the air to gain much needed momentum through the growing crowd of bronzes and browns. A bugle of anxiety emits from his bronzen throat and onward he sails to the bliss that is the golden maiden ahead of him. As he gets closer to his destination, the brutal reality of the flight hits him and he's shoved to the side, knocking into one of the fellow chasers. Eyes whirl a steady violet and he claws at the air in front of him. Such aggression surrounds him and he must retaliate some how.
Cadgwith> Cadgwith watches with delight as another bronze has to forfeit, and she hurdles on towards unknown skies between the whirling snow. Only now does she look back, a mocking, challenging glance cast back at the poor lot that is her pursuers. Is that all High Reaches has to offer these days?! Ha! They might as well be blues, the lot of them!
L'uc manages to find a place to be some-what alone and stands there, sipping his ale and having one hand in his jacket's pocket. Ohh, and he starts to slowly sway from side to side as his bond takes to the air in flight after the gold. He hasn't spoken any poetry yet, but, he feels a verse coming along.. Until he staggers to his left as he feels a heavy blow to the side. His bond must have gotten physical up there because that certainly made him stumble.
Cadgwith> Sidramuntalath has had far enough, mindless with a haze of lust and bloody violence- he twists with graceless speed, a gutteral cry ripped as Umiheth's talons catch his haunches instead of tail- ichor streams, and he's a form of red-tipped and green-tinged lifeblood. Oooh, he's quit seeing through rose-colored lenses- his sight is red, crimson of pissedness flaring in his eyes as he deeply bugles challenge, talons and teeth snapping towards Umiheth with ferocious speed.
Cadgwith> Minoyath bugles as he beats his way towards the skies, dust trailing from his body as he cheerfully beats at the other bronzes and the browns as he wends his ways towards the forefront of the chasers. A particularly annoying bronze gets as heavy of a buffet from Mino's wings as he can spare without losing too much speed. Still relatively fresh... with only the strain of gliding around for candlemarks on end... Minoyath is now arrowing up towards Cadgwith. Huh, pretty litt- Scratch that. Pretty big thing, she was. He might have to have him a little bit of sweet lovin' if he could just finish catchin' up with the leaders.
Pyrene raises her face to the ceiling, snorting in derision as she feels herself soaring upwards (fortunately for sanity's sake, her feet do in fact stay firmly on the ground). "You are not worthy to lead," she hisses. Because this is /all/ about leading. Dominating, anyway.
Cadgwith> Umiheth takes no challenge unheeded, and as a brown lunges for another Cloudburst dragon, he takes his teeth to the mission and sinks them into the tail of the 'Reaches bronze, before soaring up wildly after the gold. Blazing in his gaze is unknowing lust, an anger and craving that reaches over all else. And yet he is aged, and has taken his own slight injuries from the battle. He struggles to move upwards, but it's slower going. His only hope is to outlast. His only hope of his life.
Cadgwith> Bannyth keeps on his forward path, though adding a more downward angle, hoping to get below the queen. Anything to help him get a better grasp of this flight. Some other males follow his course, echoing his movements and flying just a little ways back. A snarl is thrown into the wind, body tensed with an eager need to fight. To dominate. To win. The bronze pumps his wings, ever pushing forward, eyes whirling red, with flecks of orange and even a twinge of white. A bugle erupts from Bannyth, as another bronze seems to join the flight. His voice rips through the sky, clear with challange. He'll take on any who dare to take his prize from him.
Cadgwith> Umiheth knows his fate. Each wingstroke is a burden, the faint touch of struggle that eases into him. It's a harsh realization, that the Turns upon Turns mean nothing now, that the old bones cannot give him and his rider what they Deserve. An eager, blood-red heart is all he has, and a new darkness falls over his form, a strange calm. The dragon whirls in direction, aiming towards the one real threat to the livelihood of his own: Sidramuntalath. With a bugle and a cry into the winds, the dragon heads full-speed towards the younger brown.
"It's not the end for us, Mine," C'radoc mutters to himself, leaning heavily against a wall. His face seems aged, and yet the determination remains set into his gaze. "For Cloudburst, we /shall/ succeed," he mumbles, his face contorting with draconic rage and lust. "The time /shall/ come to be ours." And he twists, shifting with his dragon's movements, barely managing to keep upright.
Cadgwith> Minoyath returns Bannyth's bugle with one of his own, but his is only a mirror of the other bronze's more than anything. Anything flying right now that's male doesn't concern him in the least. It's the -girl- dude! The -girl- that he's concentratin' on. None of this piddly little 'let's try to kill the competition' type of thing. But, oh, the thrill of the chase! This is what it's all about. And when all is said and done, Minoyath just keeps that cheerful hope that he might be enjoying himself after the flight. As it is, he's right up there at the front now, getting a little bit above the gold in question so he can put the moves on her. He's just hopin' that the other bronzes don't decide to try and kill him. His tail is sore and weeping from where is was sliced by... somebody.
Cadgwith> Jydhaeth bugles his frustration once more as he keeps getting hit from the sides and shoved out of line throughout this flight. This is not fair play! Such actions go against the very morals he lives by, and, thus, must be thought of as an act of a challenge. War. Brutality. This very flight is shameless.. but, the prize is worth it. In order to avoid getting hit again, the bronze tries his hardest to weave in and out of the fellow chasers, but, fails every now and again. Other bronzes push and hiss viciously at him. Such brutes. Just as he's about to dip downwards, another opponent slams into him and claws are dug into his back. A pained bellow is then emitted and he rises immediately, forcing himself to thwart the one who sought him out. Eyes whirl violet with flecks of red now.
Cadgwith> Sidramuntalath forgets about Cadgwith. Sorry, babygirl, but Umiheth is a much more challenging competitor- and he calls the battlecry of dragons everywhere, but it's not Thread he flies to meet, but an aged bronze who has the indeterminate death wish of /attacking/ him, shell it. Of course, Ram doesn't mind. He's younger. Stronger. More efficient. /Slam/.
L'uc continues to sway as the events in the air determine his very balance. Ale is then guzzled once more and he has good posture up until his bond seems to endure an act of physical harm. Such frustrated emotions surge through him and the 'rider manages to trip over his own feet and fall flat on his back, ale spilling all over him. "Well, sure you should go after 'im.." Luc says aloud to his 'mate. Yes, he remains flat on his back for now. "Mmph.." He'll be feeling this later.
Sii'kyn shakes his head, dazed from the feel of his lifemate's wound. He stumbles forwards, nearly tripping but righting himself-- he's careful to avoid Pyrene in his stagger, and he brushes past L'uc [barely], to stand defiantly before C'radoc. "How dare you," is his only hissed warning, before one hand cocks back, swung with fierce furor at the jaw of a bronzerider who comes from a different time than his.
Cadgwith> Druseth has a rather ugly injury to his tail, but that doesn't stop him. Weakily, as mingling of pain and lust begin to consume him, he still attempts to make his way upwards, but the chaos of the dragons has slowed him down considerably. Upwards, upwards... A faint call is given towards Cadgwith, no longer the lustful and angry brown, but a plaintive one. Bloodridden and hard-fought, he can't help but try and edge upwards, even as the cold touch of defeat begins to rest upon him.
C'radoc drops like a rock, the older man falling to the ground and slamming against the wall. He's dazed, weakly looking up at the brownrider. In a rather ugly move, he smiles -- showing blood upon his teeth. "As I /must/," he snaps, befor his eyes roll back slightly, his dragon's pain taking over his own.
Cadgwith> Bannyth almost seems to forget about the whole purpose of this flight, instead sending his leering gaze to another bronze dragon, one that has flown a little to close for comfort. Whirling eyes zone in on Jydhaeth, the dragon now pushing past his limits to catch up with the other bronze. The need to thrash out almost plurges all other desires. The first bronze that attacked his rival is watched, with something akin to amusement within the beast, though the moment he sees an opening, Bannyth wings in and takes an unsteady swipe of talons at Jydhaeth. Wings start to feel weak, but they coninue to keep the bronze up and going, as he steadies himself and goes in for another attack.
M'nty lets a sigh escape him as the visions of gold, white, bronze and brown shift over his mind's eye. When red starts to be added, M'nty flushes a similar color with a small grunt. "C'mon!! C'mon.... Mino, leave the other's to their battles. Don't you dare get caught in them. I don't want to hear you whine when you tatter your wing." M'nty backs up, brushing past the other female in the room until his back is against a cool wall. There, now he won't fall over. Flexing his fingers in an imitation of Minoyath's claws he's tenpted in reality to take a go at the soon-to-be-mass-weyrfight.
Pyrene twitches, blinking over at the aggression and she chews her lip approvingly. Survival of the fittest, yes. The sire of her--Cadge's--eggs needs to be worthy of her, them, and the weyr as a whole. And in these troubled times, surely a powerful Weyrleader would be a good thing. Perhaps in a more rational moment, she might prefer one who fights with words not fists, but this is /not/ a rational moment.
Sii'kyn stands on wobbly feet, staring at C'radoc with defiant hate, feeling the throbbing pain of a broken finger. He stares at his hand, then his gaze switches to the bronzerider- and then up, with a glazed look. His eyes unfocus truly, then, and he slumps backwards, falling plum over. Wait! Wait! He wasn't supposed to just /faint/! ... but, apparently, he just did. [Wuss.]
Cadgwith> Jydhaeth sails through his competition and then immediately get bumped into and thrown off course. Hiss. Wait. Did he just /hiss/? Jyd, the ever passive and poetic dragon? Ooh.. this flight has certainly gotten him a trite bit angry. Ticked off. PO'd. Well.. he's about to /KO/ the next dragon that slams into him. Talons are then sliced through the air and at this point, he doesn't care /who/ gets in his way.. especially if they swipe and hit Bannyth. Hiss again. Wings pump faster now and speed is gained as he soars through the air.
L'uc watches the swung punch from the floor and tries to heave himself up to get in on the action. "Get, 'im Ike!" Shardit, if only he could stand /up/.. The bronzerider is then slammed by a fury of emotions bestowed on him by Jydhaeth, preventing him from moving anywhere. He lay on his back and starts to groan slightly. What the shell is going /on/ up there? He's grounded and can't move for the moment. Wait.. is that Ike who just passed out near by?
Lylia is quite pleased. A Cloudburster /and/ Sii'kyn knocked out. She gives a hiss and a growl towards R'meld, before remaining caged up in her corner. Oh, she'll enjoy this when she gets her senses back and Druseth's healed up.
Ah. Looks like Pyrene might be disappointed then. Fortunately, she's forgotten for the moment that she wanted Ike to win and is instead crooning with pleasure over how everybody's fighting for /her/. She's so loved.
Cadgwith> Sidramuntalath squeals. Yes, he squeals. What /is/ this? The return of the girlymen? Well, yeah. He just bodyslammed Umiheth, so that's done with. He slants his eyes after Cadge, hisses darkly - next match, baby, and you /will/ be his - and abruptly pins his wings to his side, dropping towards the bowl with dark form laced over with white, blood and ichor-stained, worried red-orange spinning haphazardly in 'lidded-over eyes. Gold, glory, and honor? He'll go for the love and safety of his lifemate, instead. C'mon, let us give an 'awww' in the middle of this bloodied battlefield.
Cadgwith> Druseth would perhaps show more restraint should the blood not be raging through his mind. Had he been in his senses, his riders smirking joy at seeing Sidramuntalath taken down would stop his lust for revenge. But all he sees is a brown of his time taken down by an old bronze, and the blood-boiling surges among the bitter defeat. He knows he doesn't have the speed left to win the girl, but perhaps he /does/ have the talons and strength to do what he can. With a growl, he swoops and heads for Bannyth, shrieking all the while.
Cadgwith> Bannyth lets out a pained roar as talons from the opposing bronze slive through his hide. Green oozes from the cuts, and the dragon turns his head to his attacker. A throaty snarl rises, and Bannyth no longer cares for the flight, he only wants to get revenge. With a burst of speed that was being saved for later, the bronze lunges out with fury at Jydhaeth, thrashing his talons out and trying to get ahold of any hide that comes into contact. The bronze even goes as far as to snap at the other dragon, hoping to get a nice chunk of flesh. Snapping his head around, Bannyth notices another, a brown, sweeping towards him. The bronze only raises his voice in yet another challange. Come and get him, if you dare!
Cadgwith> Minoyath is letting out a short chain of bugles, a soft one with each breath and pump of his wings. He's convincing himself that while the bloodshed down there /looks/ like fun, he's not going to give in. Nope. Not him. He wants the girl. They don't want the girl. The thought flashes as he starts to dive for Cadgwith that the very notion is silly. EVERYONE wants a little bit of sumpin' sumpin'. How ridiculous are they? -He- wants the gold. Dive, man dive! Enter submarine euphemism here.
Cadgwith> Cadgwith hears something disturning. Was that her true love... well, true love for the last couple of turns, Sidramuntalath, going down? Oh! The horror, the disaster, what /is/ a girl to do now?! Pick a better one, of course. Wuss. Off she goes again, summoning all her strength for the last spin... taking her dangerously close to both Minoyath and one of the older bronzes.
Cadgwith> Umiheth is out, spiralling weakly downwards after his collision with the brown. He'll be happy with a safe landing. One last look is cast up at the gold, yet it's in time to see Bannyth being approached by other dragons. A roar of warning and encouragement is given, before he lets himself go -- drifting like a leaf upon water down, down onto the ground.
Cadgwith> Jydhaeth has had /just/ about enough of this brutality and begins to seek out that /ingrate/ of a bronze. No threat could possibly thwart him from seeking out his opponent and /slicing/ his wing off! Well. Maybe not slice it off, but, he's certainly going to do some damage. The dragon who challenged Sidramuntalath shall pay for his actions with a-- *SLAM*. The bronze plows /right/ into Bannyth with the help of Druseth. Has he forgotten the point of this flight? Perhaps. Now it's /personal/. Hiss. Talons dig and claw into whatever flesh he can find..
"No! NO!" R'meld yells out, waving his hands around madly. "Concentrate on the gold, the /gold/!" He grits his teeth and jerks his head from side to side. Eyes are shut as the Weyrleader groans his distress over his dragon's current actions. "This wasn't how it was supposed to be!" He snarls, full of the rage washing over from his dragon. L'uc is the object of his deathly glare, though Lylia gets the brunt of it as well. "You're all against us! /All of you/!" R'meld hisses out, clenching his hands into fists, ready to aid his ailing dragon in any means possible.
Lylia falls over. Just... falls. All her mind is with Druseth now, her eyes rolled back as she curls up into a small ball and remains there. Perhaps there's a little happiness in it: no Weyrleaders, no Cloudbursters, only blood and flight and herself.
L'uc springs to his feet and then rolls up his sleeves as he glares at those around him. "You wanna get /started/?" he snarls, taking a few steps towards the older rider. "Come on, let's go.. Let's /go/!" Picking a fight with R'meld might not be wise.. But, surging emotions of anger and revenge surge through his body. The younger rider then sheds his jacket and rolls up his sleeves once again. "Come /on/!" Fists are then clenched and he awaits a reaction from the fellow bronzer.
Pyrene's lips are starting to form a pout, and she makes a mewling sounds. Yes, concentrate on the gold, please. Hello? Rider in heat over here? Anyone? Damn men and their overactive testosterone having unwanted side effects.
R'meld cracks his knuckles, before rolling his fingers into fists once more. "Bring it on, you little whelp!" He sneers, fists raising. The older man dances on his toes with as much agility as his body can muster. "I've fought types like you, thinking they know everything. You don't have a /clue/!" R'meld hisses out and then snarls, much like his dragon, though isn't exactly speaking with much intelligence. The man then lunges, fist being thrown forward in a desperate attempt to hit flesh.
MmmMmm... Testosterone. Feel the flow. M'nty's testosterone focuses in a slightly different direction, thank you very much. Namely Pyrene. Pressing himself up off the wall with a very -odd- look in his face he manages to dodge around R'meld and L'uc as he wanders a bit forwards, urging his bronze on with his own actions. If he can keep from getting clocked now, he might have a chance. A good chance. A chance at the mostly-cuddly counterpart to the gold his bronze was chasing in the sky. Pant.
Sii'kyn zzzzz's, and dreams about two sky-giants battling it out above him. Oof. Let us all hope they do not step on him.
Cadgwith> Whoop! Cadgwith is headed -straight- for him! Oh frabulous day! But 'lo and behold! What's the other bronze thingy trying to muscle in on the girl? She's -looking'- at him, man... like the chick on the stage who he's sure is singing just for him. This time his mouth does open in a hiss and a snarl. It's infectous. Like a yawn. /Mine/ And with a vocal bugle and a mental shout, Minoyath pauses for a moment in his headlong dive towards his prize to open the side of the older bronze. Another bugle and a mental congatulations for himself for not losing sight of his goal and Minoyath is back to diving. Ichor has been spilt, bits of bronze skin now reside on the tips of his talons and he's all ready for the spoils of war.
Cadgwith> Cadgwith gives up, and finds herself sagging into Minoyath's bronzen grasp. Hold me, big boy.
L'uc stands ready and watches as the older rider lunges at him. It doesn't give him much time to react, but, he side steps and manages to trip over his own feet once again. This time, he stumbles right out of the ground weyrs and into the Bowl. Didn't see that coming, did ya'? And it's outside where he rests now. Passed out.. from both the alcohol and emotional exertion from this flight. Leave him be.. poor drunken, drained Luc. Although, for fear of being buried in the snow with bitter cold temperatures, somebody better tend to him. Or atleast drag him into the caverns for warmth.
Cadgwith> Jydhaeth has long since forgotten his main mission during this flight, but, none of that matters now. His wild side has shown through and he's clearly not his normal passive self for the moment. Of course, he quickly loses his attitude when his bond passes out on the ground, so, he ducks out of the aerial fight and glides towards the Bowl. Golden Cadgwith has chosen her winner and this flight is officially over.
R'meld loses his balance as his target moves, causing his feet to tangle up and the old Weyrleader to fall to the ground, rolling a few lengths. It's the wall that stops the man, as he moans and groans with pains inflicted from his trip, along with the ones his dragon is feeling. A distressed look masks his face as R'meld slowly gets to his feet and stumbles out to the bowl. Half of him hoping to finsh the fight that was started, and the other half wanting nothing more then to pass out near the hearth and forget today has ever happened.
Cadgwith> Cadgwith doesn't mind a little ichor, or the odd bit of hide behind the claws. As Minoyath arrows towards her, she makes a half-hearted effort to duck, but she's as much relieved that somebody's still paying attention to her. And so Minoyath claims his prize, and she cleaves to him, suddenly as soft as a kitten (although not as cute).
Cadgwith> Ah... Surprise!! Minoyath is officially shocked. Doesn't prevent him from taking a little bit of advantage of the situation. Wings snap out full to the side and Cadgwith is gathered into a closer hold. MmMm... Sexay. How about a little sugar for papa, Cadg-kitten. She's all the cute enough for him right now.
Pyrene lets out a gasp of exultation and falters, unaware of anybody else, but reaching for M'nty. She needs steadying. It's been a rough flight--although she does seem intent on proving that she doesn't mind it rough.
Cadgwith> Bannyth keeps up his thrashing around for a good minute, before is dawns on the bronze that he is only fighting air. The gold is forgotten all over again, as the mental anguish from his 'rider is picked up. Pathetically creeling, Bannyth spirals down to the Bowl, wanting reassurance and a bit of numbweed for his new battle wounds.
R'meld leaves healers' enclave for the central bowl.
Cadgwith> Bannyth drops lower into the Weyr's caldera.
L'uc leaves healers' enclave for the central bowl.
Cadgwith> Jydhaeth drops lower into the Weyr's caldera.
Sii'kyn is dragged out. Somehow.
Sii'kyn leaves healers' enclave for the central bowl.
Cadgwith> Sidramuntalath drops lower into the Weyr's caldera.
M'nty will serve it up rough if the lady doesn't mind. Sharding dragons have it out for him. M'ntys arms gather the woman in, and a smile is all he can manage.
Rough indeed... gasping for breath is the order of the day long after all other motions have ceased, but finally that too ends, and Pyrene lies still on the cot. She stares at the ceiling, deliberately not looking at her bedfellow. She knows enough to know who it is, and while she's relieved he's not of Cloudburst, he's not who she wanted either.
Way to make a guy feel wanted. M'nty, however, is copying Pyrene. Still. That's the way to go right now. He's not going to fall asleep, his mind is racing a little bit fast than normal. He's not going to be the first one to speak either. He'll give that honor to his lady Weyrwoman. Implications of what just happened are certainly not going to hit him for some time. But the bruises are already starting to show up.
Pyrene finally caves. "Well done, Weyrleader," she murmurs. "We'll show you the ropes of course. It's a sudden promotion, but don't worry about it." Pyrene will do that. "But you /do/ understand that this is a deathly important time for High Reaches?"
M'nty lets out a small sigh. Of relief or whathaveyou. "Wasn't that difficult with everyone knocking eachother unconcious." M'nty will be bitter about that, no doubt. It already shows in his voice. Propping himself up on one elbow he nods, a bit defeated at the moment. "I do understand." He starts scratching at the slight stubble on his chin. "How could I not understand." A pause and a wry smile, "How many did we knock out? And weren't half of them Cloudbursters?"
Pyrene starts to get dressed. She always feels less imposing when she's naked. "Yes, well, I think we should worry more about the healers' reaction to that than Cloudburst's. At any rate, no matter what had happened this flight, Cloudburst will be questioning our position. We have to stay strong and not let this throw High Reaches apart. Present a united front, and we'll find a satisfactory solution. In other words..." She looks at him, trying to hide the doubt from her eyes, "Follow my lead." She nods to the door. "Let's go."
M'nty feels more imposing when he's naked, but that's besides the point at the moment. Sitting on the edge of the bed he watched Pyrene with a sad look in his eyes. "I know I'm not what you were hoping for. But Mino wouldn't have caught if I couldn't support him in Weyrleader." With a slight shake of his head, he stands up, rummaging for pants and pulling them on silently. Finally dressed in at least pants and a shirt, he stands a wry smile still on his face. "We'll present a united front. And I'll follow your lead if I believe it's for the best." He searches her face for a moment before nodding decisively. "Let's go."
