Logs:Fighting Thread
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| RL Date: 22 May, 2007 |
| Who: M'yr, Jenna, V'ryce, T'rien, S'kris, Sybil, Acadia, Zahava, Traynor, Llany |
| Involves: Fort Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: There was Thread! And fighting! And dragons! |
| Where: Center of the Bowl, Fort Weyr |
| When: Day 28, Month 1, Turn 12 (Interval 10) |
The Bowl of Fort Weyr, a large, featureless plain surrounded by steep mountain cliffs, stretches out around you. It is approximately oval in shape, about 2700 meters along the long axis running southwest to northeast, and about half that distance across the short axis. You stand in its approximate center. The soil of the bowl is somewhat sandy. To the northwest is the large cavern used for the Weyrling barracks. To the west is the fenced off area where the Weyr's herds are kept, and the lake shore is to the southwest. To the northeast can be seen the ledges for the junior queens and the weyrleaders. The large entrance to the Hatching Grounds can also be seen to the northeast and to the east are the Lower Caverns. A group of people gather around the door to the Infirmary. With practiced efficiency the young women split into two groups. Each member of each group grabs a basket containing several jars of numbweed and disperse around the edge of the bowl in both directions, placing baskets at well spaced locations to have the critical salve ready and waiting. One of the woman, a tall brown-haired girl stops and wipes her hands on her tunic. She turns at the sound of her name coming from the Infirmary. "Shereen! Get moving!" M'yr's looking as grim as ever, his usual teasing manner forgotten as he bustles about, eyeing his wings from tail to muzzle, head to boots. "This has GOT to stop! A group of people gather around the door to the Infirmary. With practiced efficiency the young women split into two groups. Each member of each group grabs a basket containing several jars of numbweed and disperse around the edge of the bowl in both directions, placing baskets at well spaced locations to have the critical salve ready and waiting. One of the woman, a tall brown-haired girl stops and wipes her hands on her tunic. She turns at the sound of her name coming from the Infirmary. "Shereen! Get moving!" V'ryce is swearing loudly as Loketh lands in the Bowl, the Weyrling quickly dismounting, to stare up at his young bronze. "No you /won't/ he can be geard to growl at his lifemate - something never heard from the young man ever before. An answering growl from the big bronze, and his eyes whirl an even faster, darker red - his head slewing around to stare at Wrencath, then Ciath. Jenna slings down her flamethrower, her expression grim. As Leah and Jinieth land, she has a quick consultation with her 'second, and then the pair split up among those flying in the queen's wing. Jenna has a few words for a pair of injured brownriders and then is moving towards Zahava. T'rien grimly secures Cavoth's fighting straps one last time as the brown quickly and methodically chews stone in preparation for fall. The brownrider buckles on his helmet, then secures his riding jacket, wrapping a scarf around his face to keep out the chill and ash. Firefall quickly assembles around him and Danielle and T'rien takes a moment to assure himself of everyone's presence and preparedness. Ciath settles down neatly out of the way, her rider quickly unbuckling straps and swinging down from her place on the gold's neck. Spotting Jenna approaching, she turns towards the Weyrwoman. S'kris has been here the whole time, of course, as grim-faced as the other riders and getting Wrencath primed and ready to take on the impending and very, very insane threat. The bronze rumbles a bit, shifting his bulk anxiously and methodically chewing up the 'stone as it's pitched to him. "I know. I /know/," he can be heard muttering, "but try not to do anything /too/ dangerous, y'hear? We got lucky last time." Soldreth and Wrencath sense that Niyath informs you both, « I will ask Ciath to inhibit the weyrling dragons. They may flame on the ground /only/ unless there is a dire emergency. She will be right there with them, and so may catch any attempts to play a 'hero' first. » A dark tendril of thought is sent towards Loketh. One of the blueriders from Skysentry Wing deftly hefts a sack of 'stone upon his mount then smacks his hands together. Magrie, the kitchen helper who is standing several paces from him, giggles to her friend, "See how handsome he is? He's...." Another wingrider passes between them and scowls at her. "This is no time to flirt, young one!" Jenna gestures Zahava around Ciath's side, a bit away from the bustle of the preparations. She says quietly to the weyrling goldrider, "Niyath is going to ask Ciath to be certain to inhibit your clutchmates, should they get any ideas of trying to fly and flame. Flaming on the ground only. and your first job is to make sure that her hide stays whole, because she can't flame." Sybil is waiting in the bowl, assembling with the other ground crew volunteers. Her young face is serious, but her eyes show that she is excited to help as well. Acadia and Inneth come flying in, making a sliding landing. The rider flings herself down Inneth's side, runs to fetch a firestone sack and starts stuffing odd-sized chunks in the dragon's mouth as fast as she can chew them. Loketh rears up to his haunches, bugeling angrily, his wings opening, as if to launch him into the air. V'ryce gasps loudly, then a grim looks settles on his features, green eyes glaring up into scarlet ones. Firestone sacks are a precious commodity in a crisis like this. People seem to emerge from every nook and cranny to grab the heavy bags and carry them to the hastily assembling throng of riders. T'rien takes a pair of sacks and ties them to his straps securely. With a firm nod, he grabs hold and quickly mounts Cavoth. M'yr's eyes mist as his bronze communicates with him, nodding toward Jenna in agreement with whatever passed their dragons. Smacking his hands together, he calls attention to his wingleaders and seconds. "Assemble the wings! We are almost ready to leave!" is called out loudly before turning toward Sol to pass him 'stone. B'beon's brown Eitueoth is ready to go, but B'beon is nowhere to be seen. The young rider appears suddenly, his hair a little mussed, brown eyes twinkling as he hurries back to his dragon. A few moments later a plump kitchen girl appears from the same place, looking a tad rumpled. With a happy grin, she darts off towards the courtyard to help with the setup. S'kris glances sharply to Loketh and V'ryce, more to the dragon than the rider, and intones, "Make sure he stays put, V'ryce. We can't have y'all risking your hides just yet, y'hear?" Wrencath rumbles a little, then tilts his head back, a small gout of flame being belched out in a testing fashion. "More? Shells and /shards/." A few more chunks are pitched at the bronze's maw, then he's scrambling to double-check straps. Again. The sounds of dragons crunching, chewing, and swallowing firestone echoes all about the Bowl, along with the terse shouts which order pairs into their proper battle formations. V'ryce yells at his dragon, "You will NOT! You'll stay here, you bad boy!" Another gasp, and he howls out, "Don't you DARE!" to which the bronze answers with a hiss and a lunge towards a bag of firestone lying in wait for a mature pair. His teeth tear into it, rending it open, the Weyrling shoving his head in to take up a mouthful of firestone and begin chewing madly. "LOKETH! NO!" Zahava nods immediately towards Jenna as Ciath's head swivels towards Loketh, already engaged in such arguement. Zahava glances at her and then to Jenna, "Loketh is argumentative." Acadia ties a pair of sacks onto Inneth's straps, checks to make sure they're tight, and checks to make sure her own flying leathers are all fastened and buckled properly. She then ties a kerchief over her mouth to filter out ash and mounts her dragon. Those dragons still recovering from the previous, disastrous Falls growl or pace anxiously - eyes whirling redly - even as their humans try to restrain them from trying to leap up alone and meet their ancient foe. M'yr's arm lifts upward in the signal to mount, sending wingriders scrambling up onto their mounts. "Skysentry! Mount up!" he calls to his own wing, then quickly scrambles up his lifemate's side. From Inneth's back, Acadia pulls down her kerchief and offers a hand to Sybil. "Need a lift to the Weaver Hall? You're welcome to ride with me." Niyath 's head swings around, and eyes abruptly yellow-red fix on Loketh. She lets out an enormous bellow, which all but stills the fall preparations around her. Sybil takes the offered hand. "Thanks!" S'kris glances at V'ryce again, reluctant, and finally swings up to Wrencath's straps, settling in securely. He makes sure he's got his spare sacks of 'stone and that everything else is ready, the grim look on his face being mostly obscured by his gear. Inneth, Soldreth, Wrencath, Cavoth, Loketh, and Ciath sense that Niyath brings the crushing weight of her authority to bear. It's not something she does lightly. « LOKETH. You /will/ obey your rider, and whatever Wrencath's rider says. Ciath will be watching you. » V'ryce looks aghast at the transformation of his usually easy-going lifemate, especially since his fighting and naysaying don't seem to be working. Val throws a desperate look to Zahava as M'yr calls out, while Loketh chews fervidly, making grumbly sounds at Ciath. Jenna's lips thin, and she heads to Niyath, swinging up easily despite the encumberance of her flamethrower. Once mounted she signals to the rest of the riders in the queens wing, overfull thanks to the results of that disasterous double fall. Jenna climbs up to her accustomed place on Niyath and settles between her neckridges. Traynor's standing there like a dimglow, watching the riders scurry about, preparing for the upcoming fall. "Hey!" he yells out when a small girl races by with an empty sack, her right foot stepping on his when she makes an unexpected turn. "That hurt!" -The wings steady their mounts, awaiting the Weyrleader's signal. V'ryce almost slumps when Loketh suddenly goes down to all fours again, the bronze's head lowering as he stares at Niyath. there's still some defiance in those red eyes, though. M'yr waits until all the riders and weyrfolk are settled and secured into their straps, then with a deep sigh, he once again gives the signal to rise. "We fight, Fort Weyr! Let us go quickly to Weaver Hall! We are needed, and this is something we can do!" Summoning his inner courage, he sits straight, then pumps his fist. "Up and onward! Rise!" Cavoth wings up from the Center of the Bowl. Niyath wings up from the Center of the Bowl. Inneth wings up from the Center of the Bowl. Wrencath wings up from the Center of the Bowl. From Inneth's back, Sybil smiles and hangs on, letting out a little bit of a gasp as she looks down. Soldreth disappears into Between. Soldreth emerges from Between with a blast of cold air! Inneth emerges from Between with a blast of cold air! Cavoth emerges from Between with a blast of cold air! Inneth wings down into the fields of the WeaverCraft Hall. In the WeaverCraft Fields, Inneth wings down into the fields of the WeaverCraft Hall. Niyath emerges from Between with a blast of cold air! In the WeaverCraft Fields, From Inneth's back, Acadia says, "OK Sybil, here's where you'll be working groundcrew. The healers and dragonhealers should be here shortly to back you and the Weavers up. Good luck!" Wrencath emerges from Between with a blast of cold air! In the WeaverCraft Fields, Zahava climbs down from Ciath's neck. In the WeaverCraft Fields, From Inneth's back, Sybil smiles. "Thanks for the lift....!" she says as she unbuckles and slides down to the ground. In the WeaverCraft Fields, Sybil climbs down from Inneth's neck. In the WeaverCraft Fields, Inneth launches up into the sky. Inneth launches up from the WeaverCraft Fields. In the WeaverCraft Fields, V'ryce climbs down from Loketh's neck. M'yr guides Sol in a wide arc, watching each wing move into place. He stands up in the seat as much as possible, his hand over his eyes to peer into the dusky sky. Waiting and watching, Sol maintains a slow arc around the perimeter of the wings until M'yr yells out, "IT COMES!", an arm snapping out in the northern portion of the sky. In the WeaverCraft Fields, V'ryce arrives aboard a grumbling Loketh, the young man standing to the side of his bronze after he dismounts, one hand resting heavily on the thick hide. Neither of them looks pleased. The cloudy sky dims with the approaching darkness as the wings take their position in a tight formation. Jernie and her green are anxious to begin, the dragon bearing to the left with the twist of her wingtip. "Get back in formation!" is yelled to her, Jernie jerking when the words reach her through the increasing wind. "Yes sir!" is returned as the pair slip back into formation. Seated atop Cavoth, T'rien twists his head in the direction of M'yr's voice, as does Cavoth, who rumbles low as he, too, spies the silver menace coming at them. Lifting a hand to point, T'rien directs the wing to take up proper fighting formation and to prepare for engagement. In the WeaverCraft Fields, Zahava lands immediately next to Loketh. Zahava slides down, her flamethrower in hand. Ciath, unable to chew firestone sets about keeping an eye on her clutchmates as her sole responsibility. Zahava lifts her eyes towards the sky. In the WeaverCraft Fields, Ciath lands immediately next to Loketh. Zahava slides down, her flamethrower in hand. Ciath, unable to chew firestone sets about keeping an eye on her clutchmates as her sole responsibility. Zahava lifts her eyes towards the sky. Niyath leads the triangle of the queen's wing, flanked on one side by the golden bulk of Jinieth, and on the other by an injured bronze and his rider. The queen's wing is quite full of those riders that are injured but still able to fight, and the other dragons are clearly nervous, itching to be in the higher flights with the other wings. Jenna's head swivels to look, and then she directs her wing to skim the treetops, tense with waiting. Bashith is eager to fight the ancient enemy. He roars his fury at Thread, and has to inhale quickly to get the power to blast a clump the winds suddenly blow in his direction. BAM, and it's gone! Wrencath takes his place with the others, looking as determined as his rider is. No sign of wiggly Wrencath here ... nope, he's all business. He maintains his position and just waits for his chance to deep fry some Thread. A blue squalls out his pain as a partially flamed tangle of Thread flicks across his rump, shifting smoothly *between*, then reappearing back in his wing formation. The one strand that was not taken with him continues to snake downward, writhing eerily towards M'yr. Fort weyrlings sense that Ciath's golden honeyed voice speaks up, soothingly, « Our position is on the ground, today, but tell your riders to keep in mind the image of home that we have practiced, just in case. » Inneth is fired up and ready to fight! The winds blow a twisty thin rope of Thread in her direction, which she obliterates with a single precisely aimed gout of flame. Such a big fire from such a small dragon! In the WeaverCraft Fields, Sybil watches the dragons above, rubbing her arms. Soldreth has definitely seen the strand aimed toward Sol's flank. With quick precision, he whips his lifemate around, Sol's head in just the right position to burst out a bright flame, charring that Menace to smithereens! Bugling, the dragon circles to find a place near Skysentry's left side. In the WeaverCraft Fields, Loketh bugles up at the dragons on high, echoing their fighting spirits as he prowls around - V'ryce having re-mounted his neck to stay as near as he can to the riled-up bronze. A large shadow leaves thread in its wake, the rider above having missed the silvery menace. Now is not the time for blame however, for the Thread will eat away at the dense foliage and flora should it not be seared, and soon! Dawnsflame's Trynee has seen a sliver that's descending toward her, the green beneath readying herself for a burst. However, Trynee's wingmate miscalculates, jarring the green into a miss. Down it wriggles, avoiding the sky-riders, heading for Loketh down on the ground! A long, silver ribbon cavorts on the winds, writhing and twisting like a demon in disguise. The hissing Thread evades first one pair, then another as it is tossed from gust to gust, then suddenly encounters a downdraft, which sends it hurtling down to the Queen's Wing, just above Niyath. As the patch missed above descends, it falls directly between Niyath and the bronze on her flank. Eagerly, the bronze darts for it, though Niyath and Jenna have the better angle and were already rising to meet it from underneath. As Jenna is nearly clipped by the bronze's tail, Niyath skips between, Jenna's swearing heard clearly on the ground over the rush of wings. The problem is when she skips back in. When Niyath skips back in, she appears nearly in the center of the downdraft that just sent the thread her way. An anguished bellow, and the queen and Jenna are back between. In the WeaverCraft Fields, Loketh glides out to where that Thread is wriggling, focused on it. So focused is he, however, that he almost misses the second strand winding it's way through the sky just above - the silver strand nearly connecting with his muzzle. A near miss. V'ryce calls out in fear and surprise, but the bronze only releases a large spout of flame onto the writhing thing, charring it utterly. In the WeaverCraft Fields, Sybil grabs a flamethrower from one set aside for the ground crew and tries to position herself close enough to char the clumps that are missed without getting in the way of the weyrlings on the ground. Garibalith turns his great brown head, his eyes growing darker and darker red as the remnants of daylight turn to wisps. With a dip of his wings, the pair catch up to a clump passing through from the upper formation and crisp it good, sending ash plummeting downwards. As Niyath and Jenna are scored, the clump that burned them drifts down to the ground crews. Leah and Jinieth move automatically into the point position, and the bugles and startled queries from the dragons flying with the queens. Niyath and Jenna do not return, but from Jinieth's reaction, they must have gone back to the Weyr. M'yr's expression turns to fear, then intense worry. "JENNA!" he yells into the darkening sky. "What happened?? Where did she and Niyath go?!?!" The questions are filled with anxiety as he urges Sol toward Inneth. "What happened??" Fort dragons sense that Niyath's pain is clearly muted with distance. Still, those six seconds she was out of contact were very long. An image is flashed - blood and ichor mingling, though both she and Jenna are clearly still alive. From Inneth's back, Acadia shouts to M'yr, "She went between to avoid half-burned Thread, but popped back in the middle of a downdraft! They went between again almsot immediately and didn't come back!" In the WeaverCraft Fields, Sybil runs forward to dispose of the clump that scored Jenna and Niyath. "I've got this one!" she shouts as she aims the nozzle....Her finger seems to linger on the nozzle more than necessary; nerves and youth, apparently. The thread is destroyed, and that's what matters. In the WeaverCraft Fields, Zahava seems to think better of her position on the ground suddenly, and she returns to where Ciath stands watching the other young dragons. Zahava scrambles up onto her back and buckles in, looking towards the sky for a moment, catching the shift in the Queen's wing, but it doesn't hold her attention long as one of the weyrling dragons rears up as though to take flight, Ciath turning towards him. Wrencath falters in the air for a moment at Niyath's disappearance, then snaps his head around, searing a thick clump of Thread instead of dwelling too long on what might have been. S'kris is uncharacteristically silent and keeps a sharp eye out, intent, focused, and directing his lifemate to other strands that have escaped those from above. Shindrith tries to follow lead, but is for a moment startled as a small, isolated band of thread drops through the upper formations towards the queens wing. The young green backwings, Urlene hanging on for dear life. A quick puff of flame ends the threat. Niyath disappears into Between. A long, silver ribbon cavorts on the winds, writhing and twisting like a demon in disguise. The hissing Thread evades first one pair, then another as it is tossed from gust to gust, then suddenly encounters a downdraft, which sends it hurtling in Cavoth's direction! Inneth bespoke Soldreth with « Niyath lives! She tells us to fight! » Well into the midst of this Threadfall, the slivers become more dense, vision of the mess dimming as the evening overtakes the fighters. Several clumps are twisted in the wind, causing much confusion on the battlefield. Cavoth twists and turns up to meet the sneaky patch of Thread, roaring out a great gout of flame to incinerate the Thread as it comes at him. T'rien lifts a hand to shield his face as they fly through the remains of ash and smoke, then quickly return to their position in the wing. D'nold guides his bronze lifemate back into formation in the upper layer. They emerge into what almost seems too serene a scene. Chaos rains around the pair. A rumbled warning is all he gets before Zapatath drives down at a clump. Making an arc away and then back towards the silver menace, the bronze belches forth a great spew of flame. Alas, the far side of the clump, reduced to a few straggling threads, continues its way down to the next level. A shout from two wingmates has their dragons barely evading a pile-up, in their haste to try and flame a writhing tangle of Thread. Instead, both miss it, and the thing unwinds into two silvery strands, one slicing down towards Wrencath, while the second drifts lazily towards Inneth. In the WeaverCraft Fields, C'nroy climbs down from Chameth's neck. A single strand of the twisted organism falls onto the ground, not twenty feet away from one of the ground crews. Although alone, it is quick to begin to burrow in the soft ground, and soon will be out of reach of a sprayer. Wrencath blinks his crimson-whirling eyes as he refuels, Soka pitching chunks of 'stone into the bronze's eagerly gaping maw. Crunch, crunch, crunch ... and just in time, too, to be belched out at the bit of Thread that twists his way. Fire engulfs the silvery stuff, sending it to the ground as so much ash. Inneth shows off the agility greens are known for, despite her plump body. She manages to turn enough to bathe the floating death in fire, turning it into harmless black ash to be blown away by the wind. Fort weyrlings sense that Ciath commands stridently, « Loketh! Get that one. » Down, down, down a fat sliver wends itself through dragon pairs, avoiding even the best of riders, tired as they are. C'nroy and Chameth? Why they are directly in the downward path of this Menace! A contingent of fresh greens appears to the rear of Firefall Wing. With practiced efficiency those that are nearly spent drop out of the formation and the new ladies dart in to take their places. With hardly a pause flame begins anew, the Wing strengthened by the energetic addition. The same ripple of blues and greens makes its way through the other wings as well. In the WeaverCraft Fields, Sybil runs over to join the ground crew, spraying the Thread and soaking the ground around the beginning of the burrow. The other members of the ground crew quickly follow suit, and the Thread is quickly destroyed in a flood of agenothree from multiple nozzles. In the WeaverCraft Fields, V'ryce is carried along as merely a passenger when Loketh gets the call from Ciath. The bronze flaps up, then glides over to that silvery strand, blasting it with fiery breath even before he lands fully - his flaming 'bouncing' along with his body as he contacts the ground again. A slight gust of wind blows a thick tangle of thread out of reach of Prestuth's flame, passing her and descending on a swirling air current towards Ciath on the ground. In the WeaverCraft Fields, C'nroy stands next to Chameth, looking up. The pair step backward a pace for the dragon and a few for the rider. With a challenging bugle Chameth belches forth a billow of fire that encompasses the falling thread, the fire at just the right angle to allow the ash to fall harmlessly to the ground. C'nroy pats the brown and prepares another chunk of stone. In the WeaverCraft Fields, On Ciath's neck, Zahava keeps her flamethrower at ready, but the position is not ideal for helping much. She it too high to flame what is on the ground, but she does have an excellent vantage point, and so when she sees something descend, she points to direct either the weyrlings or the groundcrew towards it. But she doesn't see that one coming down closer, closing in on Ciath. A blue squalls out his pain as a partially flamed tangle of Thread flicks across his rump, shifting smoothly *between*, then reappearing back in his wing formation. The one strand that was not taken with him continues to snake downward, writhing eerily towards Soldreth. In the WeaverCraft Fields, C'nroy glances up at the head of Chameth and nods silently. "Right." he clambers back atop his lifemate. In the WeaverCraft Fields, C'nroy climbs up onto Chameth's neck. Seated atop Cavoth, T'rien looks down and around as Cavoth bugles a warning. He barely has time to grab hold of the straps as Cavoth lurches forward and down, diving like an arrow toward the clump of Thread heading unawares at Ciath. "Zahava, look out!" M'yr hasn't been looking carefully - he's distracted by Jenna's disappearance, as seen by his occasional gazes in Fort's general direction. That doesn't work to his advantage, seeing as how that bit of Thread is advancing his way. Sol tries to shock him out of his preoccupation with a loud bellow and quick veer to the right just in time to be at an advantage to shoot out a wide flame and kill the adversary. M'yr does his own reaction as a small piece grazes his left arm. "Grrr!" he grits his teeth with the impact, Sol blinking *between* to emerge near Acadia, face showing pain. "This is not going well!" he hisses to her. In the WeaverCraft Fields, Llany looks somewhat out of place with the ground crews. She's familiar enough with the flame thrower on her back and the task that need to be done. It's just this group of people she's not worked with before. Acadia gives a short, sharp nod. She shouts, "Agreed! These bloody winds are making this twice as hard as it would normally be!" Then she has to shut up to avoid sucking in ash from Thread that had been flamed into oblivion by a blue in her wing. In the WeaverCraft Fields, Ciath, responding to a mental call, spreads her wings instinctively as she looks back to see the Thread coming down on her, leaping up and forward at once, even as Zahava swings the wand of her flamethrower around towards it and flips it on. The gout of flame does not have the range to reach it, especially as Ciath tries to move away. Her wings ending a beat, the gold vanishes suddenly, Thread falling through the empty space where her haunches had been. The puff of flame, abruptly separated from its source, poofs oddly into a ball and goes out. Malloy has been patiently waiting, and the signal finally comes. Refill! She and blue Caanth leap into the sky and toss spare sacks of firestone to three different riders within seconds. Then they dive back to the ground, managing to neatly dodge Thread the whole way. In the WeaverCraft Fields, Chameth rumbles low as his clutchsister disappears. His head turns back, a chunk of stone is inserted and quickly chewed. In the WeaverCraft Fields, V'ryce yells out, "ZA!" when Ciath disappears, his features draining of color. Loketh squalls loudly, throwing himself into the air, flapping around as he searches for Ciath. Darkness descends on the area increasingly, the Thread's destruction by the weyr's wings and groundcrew lighting up the Weaverhall's sky and fields. Visibility lessens as the ash, particles and soot powder fill the air, making breathing difficult. Seated atop Cavoth, T'rien jerks back hard as Cavoth swoops out of his dive, Ciath having gone to the safety of *between* - the Thread is too low to the ground for him to flame safely. It's up to the groundcrews now. Still, Cavoth hovers low as he moves upward, watching and waiting for the young gold's return. In the WeaverCraft Fields, Upon Chameth, C'nroy does his best to restrain Chameth, who wants to get into the air and /do/ something. His tail swishes impatiently, eyes continue to whirl red. Fort weyrlings sense that Ciath's voice returns mere seconds after her disappearance. « And that is why we are keeping the image of home, » she says, providing the well-rehearsed image, just in case any had forgotten it. A thick clump tumbles end over end as it falls through the sky towards a right flank-stationed wing. It almost seems to be aiming itself for the densest part of the wing of dragons, as if calculating a hit on the weyrlings below. In the WeaverCraft Fields, Sybil continues to stick with the ground crews, making sure no thread burrows in the fertile land. Seeing the clump miss the queen, she shouts and waves to the rest of the groundcrew, and two split off to head toward the clump. She shouts to get the attention of the Weyrlings; "C'nroy! You're closer; can you get that?" but continues just in case. A thick clump tumbles end over end as it falls through the sky towards a right flank-stationed wing. It almost seems to be aiming itself for the densest part of the groundcrew, as if calculating a hit on the weyrlings below. In the WeaverCraft Fields, Upon Chameth, C'nroy looks over at Sybil, then over at the thread where Ciath had just been. He hardly has to do anything before Chameth's head turns and aims a gush of flame at that spot, searing it. In the WeaverCraft Fields, Llany scans the sky as she covers the area of ground assigned to her. Quickly enough a clump that escaped the wings heads her way. And equally as quickly she depresses the trigger on her flame thrower sending a gout of orange flame skyward before the menacing thread has a chance to hit the ground as anything more threatening than flameing residue. In the WeaverCraft Fields, Sybil grins and waves, backing off and rejoining the rest of her ground crew. Cavoth returns to formation, having received some mental reassurance of Ciath's safety. For a brief moment, T'rien removes his goggles to scan the ground below. In the WeaverCraft Fields, Upon Chameth, C'nroy salutes to Sybil and is prompted to reload Chameth's maw. In the WeaverCraft Fields, V'ryce seems to wilt with relief as Ciath and Zahava reply, Loketh gliding towards the ground to comply with the gold's order. That thick clump headed groundward brooks no intereference, however, and Loketh has to backwing in place, belching the last of his flaming breath upon it in a huge swathe, rendering it to char. A shout from two wingmates has their dragons barely evading a pile-up, in their haste to try and flame a writhing tangle of Thread. Instead, both miss it, and the thing unwinds into two silvery strands, one slicing down towards Inneth, while the second thicker one drifts towards Wrencath. Inneth tries to flame, but only a weak fire emerges. Whoops, out of fuel! She manages to pop *between* in time to avoid the silvery death, but that leaves it free to float down toward Chameth below. The unwound strands part into yet a third, albeit smaller, the thing fishtailing as it drops down toward Llany. A burst of wind pushes it to the left then right, but it somehow manages to head toward her anyway. From Wrencath's neck, S'kris is somewhat distracted by the chaos of Ciath going *between* and, thus, totally misses seeing the bit of Thread that's meandering dangerously close to Wrencath. And, alas, the bronze is entirely too slow to catch it; he spits a gout of fire that only halfway chars the Thread, then tries to wrench himself out of the way with disastrous results. The silvery stuff strikes his foreleg and skids down his side before the bronze pops *between* with a strangled bellow of pain, taking the rest of his clump with him. Fort dragons sense that Loketh growls angrily, « I'm out of flame! More stone! » Wrencath disappears into Between. It is a shame that wind does not take a time out for Threadfall. Rising in vigour, the south westerly wind catches behind the fall and propels it at what seems like a faster rate, making the fall more dangerous for all. The wind only picks up this last time as the fall peters off, and it seems that a certain romantic rider will indeed be returning home to his lady love. Finally, the passing of this 'Fall begins to wane, though the wind and darkness do not. Occasional clumps are sighted and flamed, those angling to the fields below stomped out quickly. In the WeaverCraft Fields, Chameth rumbles and despite best efforts can't quite keep himself on the ground. The brown spreads his wings and flaps into the air, intercepting the clump headed his way. C'nroy can only duck and hang on as the flames jet forth and he is pelted with a fall of ash. Chameth resettles to the ground, eyes still aimed upwards. A badly flamed strand of silver descends groundward, to hissingly fall upon the fields of the WeaverHall near Sybil. Though one end is a tarry, foul-smelling mass, the other already elongates and bloats as it feeds on a few errant sprigs of greenery. In the WeaverCraft Fields, Llany ducks her head as she catches sight of another clump of strands that start streaking towards her. Aiming her flamethrower in it's direction she unleashes a full stream of flame and doesen't stop until the whole strand is engulfed. Unfortunally this produces the effect of the could of hot ash and still burning thread to engulf the slight woman, any watching would more than likely loose sight of her in the mess. In the WeaverCraft Fields, Sybil whips around as she follows the thread's descent, and steps closer to thoroughly drench the Thread on the ground. "Not this time.." she mutters, face grim as she watches the Thread disinigrate. In the WeaverCraft Fields, Blyth waddles forward to flame at a bit of ash that catches the light, appearing silvery for a moment. Done?? Can this be done?? Hard to tell in the darkness and high wind that continues after the last chunk of Thread is killed. M'yr's hand is tightly clamped against his arm where the Menace got him, lips still clamped tightly shut until he speaks. Calling to the wings, he gives the signal to prepare to return to the Weyr. "Acadia! Can you see to the groundcrew to make sure they have a ride home?" Acadia gives an affirmative signal before tiredly spiraling down to the ground. Inneth wings down into the fields of the WeaverCraft Hall. In the WeaverCraft Fields, Inneth wings down into the fields of the WeaverCraft Hall. In the WeaverCraft Fields, Acadia climbs down from Inneth's neck. In the WeaverCraft Fields, Sybil returns her agenothree tank to the pile, wiping sweat from her brow as she heads back toward the dragons. In the WeaverCraft Fields, Upon Chameth, C'nroy pets Chameth's neck. Reluctantly the brown lowers himself. C'nroy unbuckles himself and slides to the ground, landing on his feet. In the WeaverCraft Fields, C'nroy climbs down from Chameth's neck. Cavoth disappears into Between. In the WeaverCraft Fields, Acadia peels off her kerchief, now an icky black-gray color. In a hoarse voice she asks, "Is everyone here all right? Anyone need a ride back to Fort?" Soldreth disappears into Between. Soldreth emerges from Between with a blast of cold air! The Watch Dragon welcomes Bronze Soldreth and M'yr home. Cavoth spirals down lower into the bowl. Above the center of the bowl, Cavoth spirals down towards the Center of the bowl, and backwings to a landing. Inneth emerges from Between with a blast of cold air! The Watch Dragon welcomes Green Inneth and Acadia home. Inneth spirals down lower into the bowl. Center of the Fort Weyr Bowl After their unintended trip Between, Zahava and Ciath have been put to work by the dragonhealers. Ciath may be young, but she currently keeps a green still while a dragonhealer slathers numbweed on the green's shoulder, and Zahava plays assistant, holding the numbweed bucket for the dragonhealer. The man peers at the wing and nods, satisfied, turning to place the paddle back in the bucket, thanking the weyrling for her help. She hears T'rien's shout and turns, stepping off the stool she'd been using. Sybil climbs down from Inneth's neck. Acadia climbs down from Inneth's neck. Sybil slides off Inneth and smiles at Acadia. "Thanks again for the ride" she says as she looks around. T'rien comes to a stop quickly, breathing hard. "You...you're okay?" he heaves, looking her over and then glancing about for Ciath. "Ciath wasn't hurt, was she?" Acadia unfastens Inneth's straps and removes them, only to let them fall into a pile on the ground. "You're welcome, Sybil. You did good work tonight." dismount Llany slides off right behind Sybil, "Same here, thank you Inneth, thanks Acadia. Sybil blushes and looks her age for a moment. "Gee, thanks!" Acadia nods her thanks to Llany as well and gives Inneth a close inspection, luckily finding nothing more than a couple of minor ashburns that won't even scar. She gives her lifemate a light slap on the flank to send her to the lake for a swim, while the weary greenrider picks up her straps and heads for the hot springs for her own cleansing. M'yr slips off Sol, landing with a thump on Fortian soil, only to brush off a healer who immediately comes to tend to his arm. "Soon." he cautions the man who isn't at all happy but does step back. "Oh shards..." he mutters as he makes the rounds of the wings, taking note of the wounded. "This is worse than last time!" Zahava shifts the numbweed pot to her hip, both arms around the heavy vessel. Ciath relaxes as the numbweed takes effect on her charge, turning her head towards her rider. "We're fine. Both fine," she assures T'rien, glancing over him to check for obvious injuries. V'ryce slides down from Loketh's neck, his knees having recovered their strength after the straight flight back to the Weyr. He hurries over to Zahava, seeing she's okay, while Loketh pads over to Ciath, nuzzling the gold fondly. T'rien unbuckles his riding jacket before removing his goggles. His face is coated with ash but he's generally unharmed, as far as anyone can tell. Even Cavoth is unscathed, which is a nice change for the pair. "Good, good. I..." A shout from behind as someone calls his name, and attention, back toward the wing. T'rien swears and heads off in that direction, after delivering a quick, "I'll talk to you later, Za." Ciath accepts the affection from her clutchmate as Zahava turns towards V'ryce, giving him a wry smile. "Guess instinct works, sometimes," she murmurs. "You're all right?" she asks him, much as she did T'rien a moment before, glancing back to that brownrider as he takes his leave, giving him a distracted nod before sending a searching look through the throngs in the bowl. Llany unbuckles her flamethower letting it hit the ground with a minor clunk. She unfastens the agenothree bottles and bleeds off the remaining vapors from the device's lines before placing it alongside the others being left. All the while she coughing up a storm, "Jays it feels like my lungs are on fire." V'ryce sighs deeply, calling up a small smirk for Zahava. "Mhm, but I really don't want to have to go through this with Loketh every time Thread falls." He looks somewhat embarrassed about not being able to rein in his formerly incalcitrent bronze. M'yr finishes his inventory of pairs, a bleak expression turning dank by the end of his process. Only the sight of Llany brings his brows to a surprised arch and a slight smile. "It's been a long time, hasn't it, Llany? Good to see you again, if not in this particular situation." A glance toward Za darkens his mood again, seeing the injury. Zahava shifts the numbweed pot to her other hip. "Next time, perhaps... well, it may be easier. I better see if anyone else needs Ciath's help, or this numbweed," she says, nodding at the heavy pot. Llany cough a few more times looking up when someone adresses her, "She squints through grit lined eyes and futilily tries to wipe them with equally as dirty hands, "M'yr? Is that you? Yea it has been awhile." she smiles, "Congratulations on the whole weyrleader thing. How did the wings fare?" . V'ryce nods to Za, giving her a warm smile before she leaves with Ciath. M'yr's presence bring a salute, and the Weyrling loses his smile, thinking of Jenna and Niyath. Sybil looks around and seeing that everyone seems to have enough hands, heads to wash and go to bed. M'yr sends a weary salute to V'ryce before he replies to Llany. "All right." is his quick answer, though his expression may not confirm his words. "We went into it with wounded riders from the last one." He seems bitter at that, sucking in a long, deep sigh. "I need to see Jenna." Llany coughs a couple more times and nods, obviously her attention is now aimed at seeking a little help from a healer. The wave is a 'catch you later' as she seeks a bath and some medical aide. V'ryce watches others head off to their duties, or wherever the must go, and he sighs. Climbing back aboard Loketh, he gives all a quick salute, then directs the bronze upwards, and towards the ashpits. |
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