Difference between revisions of "Logs:Battle Royal"

Eastern Bowl, High Reaches Weyr

Ringed by rough granite walls to all sides but one, this end of the huge bowl narrows from the even broader plain to the west, continuing the ever so slight downward slope toward the blue and green of the Weyr's lake and surrounding foliage. More open to sun and wind than the western bowl, but less frequented when there aren't weyrlings in residence, the bowl's grassy tufts keep the topsoil in place and thicken into a bloodstained meadow within the feeding pens that adjoin the lake.

At the base of the surrounding cliffs lie entrances to several caverns, including the dragon infirmary and the weyrling barracks: the former to the northwest near where the spires begin, the latter opposite to the southwest. Both archways are large and dark enough for any dragon to pass through, but it's the infirmary's that is haunted by faint smells of redwort and numbweed, as though over generations they have seeped into the very stone. To the southeast, between the weyrling area and the lake, there are a handful of structures built into the floor of the bowl, standing out amidst otherwise an empty space.

It had to happen, sooner or later, especially since Ilicaeth's due to Graduate very soon: « Hraedhyth! » It's a mental trumpet of playful challenge and burgeoning adulthood, the scour of desert's golden sands hot with the heart of a natural furnace whisking like a gauntlet tossed upon the gold's heated hearth. « You. Me. Eastern Bowl; now! » It's time to rumbllllllle! Glee-anticipation-eagerness!

From on high, pale gold head pops out from the edge of a ledge-- another dragon's, naturally. « Ilicaeth. » Hraedhyth's greeting is as intense and loud as always, fire stoked into a roar by the blue's excitement. Even if she doesn't know what has caused him to be so energetic. « I am visiting. » A smaller, green head joins the queen in peering down at the bowl, tilting this way and that owlishly. No impatience, just curiosity that burns hot, « What is it. » as a demand that comes so close to sounding like an actual question.

He's circling lower and lower towards the ground, the blue's powerful gaze adjusting for distances, and finally allowing him to clearly spot Hraedhyth and her green hostess peering up at him from that ledge. For a moment, there's a hint of polite contrition for interrupting them, but then the warrior's call flood through Ilicaeth's communication once again, his mental trumpet again offering the gold the opportunity for... Wait. He might see it as (mock) battle, but *she* sees it as... « PLAYTIIIIME! » Their dual, heated natures are combined within the soon-to-no longer-be weyrling's mind, torrid hearth and desert furnace mingling and gyreing about each other, whipped higher by furious, fun heat. Let's see what FUN/battle we can get up to!

Clarity does not cause her inky black smoke to dissipate, fire churning out more plumes as she lifts bone clubs in mock-threat. Surely there's a farewell for the clicking, chattering green who returns to the inner depths of her weyr. Hraedhyth lands on the snowy ground with a hard thump, dark wings yanked close to her body as she begins to circle, limbs disturbing flakes. The weather has a good chunk of the bowl empty, and there are no more little weyrlings to worry about harming. After that quick scan, she aims those glittering facets at Ilicaeth and lets forth a savage bellow, a challenge.

Oh YES! YesyesYESYES! He's been waiting forEVER for this, and now that mommajamma's come out to 'play,' Ilicaeth commits himself 100 percent! Hraedhyth's savage bellow is met by the smaller blue's own ferocious vocalization, his entire heart put into it, the sound of it seeming as though it might come from a brown, perhaps a bronze. With that lift of the gold's clubby wing bones and her circling comes Ilicaeth's own brutal landing - snow sent up in dry, pristine puffs from the Bowl floor - his body cocking with energy like a revolver, that long tail whipping around to balance him as his head lowers and starts making sidewinder motions. Anyone looking at this primal scene might be sorely tempted to label it a duel to the death, but seasoned 'riders, and all dragons in the know can read the frenetic, blue whirl of Ilicaeth's eyes as showing nothing but excitement, glee, and anticipation as he circles back and forth with his larger dam.

Hraedhyth's jeweled gaze is focused on Ilicaeth, oversized jaws left to hang open as that circling tightens, bringing her closer to the blue dragon. With the speed and comfort of a dragon who prefers the ground, she barrels forward and reaches out to paw at the snow in front of the blue. Whumpwhumpwhump! Before leaping back with another roar. Thus begins the hopping, tawny hide stretched over her physique as the queen reaches forward and hikes her hind quarters up, sensuous tail whipping about behind her.

It's a catfight! Oh yeah! With Hraedhyth's barreling forward comes Ilicaeth's fluid leap into the air, his own smaller frame lending his actions more towards the airborne variety. Twisting like a feline while he's in the air - his wings flaring open to show those predator-deceiving 'eyes' upon them - the weyrling finally comes back down to the gold's ten-o'clock position, his coppery claws flexing spasmodically at the snowy ground as he seeks to slap his cheek soundly against Hrae's neck before withdrawing, rattlesnake-like.

There's very little feline grace in Hraedhyth's movements, quick and savage to spectators though she makes very little contact with Ilicaeth's hide. Not until that blow to her stocky neck, a hollow thump echoing the quickened beat of her drums. As he withdraws, she gives chase, barreling forward in order to check her shoulder against his. Any contact made will reveal that she's putting some force behind her attacks, but certainly not everything she has. That would be... bad.

He too is withholding his own full force blows, for this is *mock* battle/fun. Ilicaeth has no wish to injure Hraedhyth, and with the larger force she could bring to bear against him...it would not be pretty, either. Score! A bugle from the blue makes the cold, winter air reverberate, the slatey desert dragon attempting to hurl himself in a large jump into the air again when the queen barrels at him. What would've been a checking of gold shoulder to blue shoulder instead becomes a check to his haunch, the contact spinning Ilicaeth's hind end partially around...making him tuck his wings in quickly so he can skid-thump back onto the ground without injuring his pinions. A partial roll has the more maneuverable dragon twisting back up to all fours once again, then feinting his head towards the female's face - almost as if for a bite, though his teeth remain sheathed behind lips - then suddenly redirecting his motion down and in towards Hrae's chest, so he can seek to 'tag' her broad foreparts with a sound little headbutt. Again, he's using his greater speed and maneuverability to try and touch her *and* withdraw in time without the gold being able to touch him in kind.

With such a solid hit, watching Ilicaeth spin as he does, Hraedhyth's nightmarish ranks give a victorious cheer among drums and flame. Hraedhyth snarls her pleasure, clubs raised so that her wings are half-cocked, as if needing any help in appearing larger. The feint towards her face has it jerking back with teeth bared, front leg hiked up but unable to shield her chest as Ilicaeth rams his head against it. It takes a moment for her to regain her balance, forelimb slamming back onto the ground to push her forward-- intending not only to make contact, but knock him over.

Oh yeah! Things are heating up now, which is the way both dragons seem to like it! Ilicaeth maintains 'radio silence' while the gold snarls and her armies of the dead huzzah Hrae's score on his haunch. With the blue's own successful headbutt comes his pleased rumble, but nothing more, given he's trying to watch out for his freight-train of a dam at that time. With her time taken to regain balance comes Ilcaeth's withdrawl...just enough to get his lighter body the hell out of the way as the gold goes for full body contact and a knock down. His explosive motion and catlike arch and whirl backwards and to the side, however, leave him open and vulnerable for just a moment when he's finding ground again with feet and claws. Hraedhyth *could* tag him at that time, if she's fast enough and savvy enough to abort her charge and direct her longer neck to her 2 o'clock position, where the blue is just now coming back to the ground.

Hraedhyth charges on ahead, and when no contact is made when it's expected it's then she turns to watch Ilicaeth land. Stopping is an ordeal, twisting to send a wave of snow cascading through the air as her claws scramble to find purchase. Their antics cut dark arcs through the snow, revealing more of the frozen ground forgotten until the arrival of spring. This time she leaps at him with only enough force to jerk her forward, meant to startle the blue into motion. Motion that she keeps a close eye on, intending to aim for where he'll be, rather than where he's been in order to knock her side into his.

Whoa! Hrae's supposed to be a 'ground-pounder,' and that sudden leap of hers does surprise Ilicaeth some, since he was admiring the gold's newest set of skid marks through the snow and grit of the Bowl. Up he leaps and gyres about again, his motions continuing to seem cat-like...until the queen catches him relying on one tactic for too long. And then it 'whump!' as a golden side contacts his own firmly, the younger blue spinning some through the air, and meeting it this time limbs-first, his forelegs and haunches tucked under him at first as he spins about on the snow and patches of ice like a downed figure-skater. Instead of a bellow of anger or a roar of frustration, the weyrling's 'laughing' loudly as the fun of his current motion invades his being, Ilicaeth uttering a series of short, but loud bugles until he's able to scrabble-claw his ass up from the ground again, and face his dam...who's now about one hundred yards from him. Shake-a-shake goes the blue, like a dog, now, until he chuffs to Hraedhyth once again...snaking his long tail about and forward in her direction. The tips of it seem to wiggle and curl slightly, almost as if mimicing a human's hand curling in a cocky, "Bring it on' motion.

Another ferocious roar of victory, one that threatens to shake loose snow free from ledges as the blue goes spinning. He's a big boy, Hraedhyth doesn't chase after any possible injuries, and even if there is worry it's brushed aside by Ilicaeth's mirth. His shaking off snow prompts the gold to give one of her own, icor pumping through warmed limbs and twitching muscles. Not too far off, Azaylia is making her way across the bowl-- or was, now stopped to stare at the two dragons with an impish smile curled on her lips. Hraedhyth turns to find her rider, huffs in her direction, before turning back to her playmate. Nothing to see here! Other than another charge as she rushes the cocky Ilicaeth, fiery amusement flickering blue flame within her gaze. As the 'battle' rages on, Azaylia can only shake her head with a soft laugh as she continues on her way. Who knows how long such a fierce match will last?

"Can't I leave you alone fer a *minute*?!" comes the drill instructor-loud bellow Alida through the Bowl, the blonde's voice sounding more amused than irked as it echos around, and encounters the two battling dragons and perhaps Azaylia. Making certain to keep far afield from the pair of mother and son, all she has to say for the sight is offering the new Acting Weyrwoman a large lift of arms and shoulders in an exaggerated shrug, the weyrling then closing with the other human so she can look on for a little bit, and then perhaps invite Zay into the Snowasis farther beyond for a drink and some laughter about their lifemates. And of said lifemates? The fun and 'battle' will go on until one or the other calls it, whether from exhaustion or honest need to take care of much less fun 'business.' 'Reaches had better strap in for many more snow-disturbing roars, heavy thuds and thumps, and gleeful bugles, for it's going to be some time before this impulsive family feud dies down...and perhaps leaves the pair splayed against one another, and exchanging the good vibes after a rowe well-had.