Difference between revisions of "Logs:The End of the Siege"

Morning finds Southern Boll Hold unusually quiet; a deceptive front for all that must be going on behind stone walls. Even the dragons that cling to the fireheights and other perches around the Hold seem calm and secure at their posts, settled into guarding 'their' territory with a serene sense of satisfaction that may be borrowed from their riders. There's every colour of hide to be seen - every colour but /gold/. If Elaruth were gone, the Weyr would have felt it without a doubt, yet there's definitely no sign of pale gold hide to be seen in the courtyard or the skies above. Visible in said courtyard and the road down to the beach are a number of figures - dragon and human alike - weighed down by an assortment of crates and other goods that bear Boll's seal, travelling back and forth from the Hold proper.

There's been no /retribution/ for the rescue of Ali. Nothing that anyone at Fort has been made aware of, anyway. But there's still no sign of Elaruth and rather than staying /inside/ the Hold, everyone and everything seems to be moving... out?

The more time that goes by, the less 'safe' Hattie becomes. Given his lordling training, B'rant recognizes such sad politics of 'the deal,' and remains accessible to another rescue attempt. Surely the renegades will be watching and waiting, though?

Up close, some of those dragons look... less smug and pleased and more... washed out and lethargic. Not /all/ of them, but for every few there's one who doesn't look so well and might just be snoozing rather than watching. There don't seem to be so many of them today, either. There's still not a single sign of a holder. If the renegades have managed to do anything efficiently, it's intimidate the holderfolk.

The fact that there's no visible presence of the gold lends some suspicion as to 'where' the dragon may be kept. Once Ali had been safely tucked away, there's still the matter of Hattie within. They can't go back in the way they came the first time surely. Or can they? Looking at those who remained and those who aren't injured, E'ten watches the going and comings from the hold to the beach with a press of his lips.

It's one of those things where if you blink you miss it, Elise's arrival, and she's trying to be so inconspicuous. Not obviously so, still, but she's obviously taken care to put her hair up in a messy fishtail and bun arrangement atop her head, which exposes her face and big blue eyes but doesn't look so /polished/ as normal. She carries with her a sack loaded with something and stands there looking rather lost but also oddly sharp.

B'rant's not the idea man in this group, this time. He's the one with a headful of general directions of Boll Hold's innards, as well as the bearing to hopefully provide for Hattie's rescue. Gray eyes flick all around with hope and concern, the young man finding himself in that inner state of tension once again... needing to /act/ to get his Weyrwoman to safety. A slightly narrowed gaze moves to E'ten, then along to others in their little group, Elise's burden eyed speculatively, even as long fingertips idly fiddle with the hilt of one of his knives.

From /somewhere/, there's a brush of salt-tainted air and an impression of the multi-coloured light that bathes a large room, courtesy of stained glass. (To Adiulth, Rhenth, and Niyuth from Elaruth)

Just inside the Hold, a trio of riders are making their way through the otherwise empty great hall. It's a room much changed in so few days, now devoid of several tapestries and its floor graced with blood, though the heavier furniture is still in place and its echoes convey the same deceptive calm as those relaxed dragons outside. The largest of the trio carries something slung over his shoulder, one arm wrapped around it to support it with lackadaisical care. It's unmoving, save for what motion caused by his lumbering gait, what look like blackened... feet? swaying slightly with every step. Is it a /person/ he's got there? Whatever it is, it's being lugged about much the same as a sack of tubers. At his side, his companions chatter amongst themselves, all low murmurs and smirks, though they're far more vigilant than he is. They're headed for the courtyard, by the looks of things.

Let it be noted that the courtyard is empty, save for an array of more boxes, crates and pieces of furniture, stacked not in organised piles, but wherever they'll fit.

As usual, A'lorin is bringing up the rear, being one of the lesser experienced of the group. But what he lacks in experience, he makes up for in enthusiasm. The brownrider's gaze narrows as he looks about the hold, stuffing his hands into his pockets. For the moment he stays quiet, watching. The lack of Elaruth causes him to look rather on the wary side, occasionally glancing between E'ten and B'rant for any cues he might need to follow.

As soon as he takes in that hint of an impression from Elaruth, Rhenth is all over it, and transmitting it to B'rant. The teen's eyes widen, and move to catch everyone else's to assure himself that they too picked up on the telltale hint from their queen.

The idea person. One of those days E'ten may have to thank N'muir for the added knot - safely back at Fort. Spying the movement from the hold and into the courtyard, one hand lifts to settle upon B'rant's shoulder with a brief gesture at the courtyard. "There. What do you see there," he asks, looking to his other side to see Elise taking up position with them. To his eye, it does look quite likely that it's feet. Small enough bundle. "We need to see what they're carrying before they reach the stretch leading to the beach. Priority is on what and who they have. Now," he says, taking off along a narrow path that should put them alongside the trio and slightly behind.

No-one has strayed too close to where the Fortian part lurk /just/ yet, but voices ring out - confident, jovial voices - loud enough to be heard. "What? No. Come on. We don't need a fucking /goldrider/." A male voice, rich with amusement, follows: "Not /keeping/ her. Just taking her far enough... Show them that stealing the other one away was a mistake." Then: "...And the queen?" Snort. "Leaving her. So, what d'you /think/ she'll do?"

Sliding a look E'ten's way when he gives that direction, Elise does what she does best, which is take action without really thinking it through. So while others might be moving off to see what they can see, she hefts her bundle and walks with it towards that trio of riders and their cargo, her shoulders hunched and her head hunkered down like she's under some great weight with that sack. When she's close enough to them she falls into step somewhere and some distance behind them, just another sack-carrying person.

Easily more than a full head above most others, B'rant uses his vantage to scan all around said courtyard, his light baritone whispering to E'ten, "Adiulth heard her too, right?" then nodding in agreement with wanting a looksee at just what or who is in that bundle. Still... "It /could/ be a diversion..." But they can't risk it. When the older rider moves, the teen ghosts his path, one hand cocked just above his knife's hilt. With the call of those voices from the renegade triad comes B'rant's dark scowl of ire, and a gripping of said weapon. And then Elise is trying to fit in rather suddenly, and the youthful bronzer both winces and glares at her impetuousness, hoping quite fervently that she'll not be called out or /them/ discovered. His eyes say it all: Damn fool!

One of the trio follows Elise's path with a vague sort of interest, though not enough suspicion to make him /really/ look at her. "Hey, Keyla," he calls over his shoulder, his words clearly meant for her. "You want anything from those pretty Ladies, you better hurry it up. Would've thought you girls would be all about stealing their jewellery." The other guy flanking the taller one carrying what is, without a hint of doubt, the bound and only semi-conscious Weyrwoman, shakes his head and warns 'Keyla' and his friend: "Don't let Nesri catch you saying that. She'll go off on one about dressing to please us and 'not her job' and all that sharding crap."

E'ten almost goes slack jawed at Elise's trajectory, holding up his arm for the riders with him to keep them from behind detected by the trio that gets a little too close for comfort. He's had enough fighting and tousling for the next few days. With a narrowing set of eyes, he nods to B'rant before his eyes flicker with acknowledgement of the 'transmission'. "You get the biggest one this time," he murmurs, remembering clearly what happened hours before.

It takes Elise a second to realize that they're talking to her. They're talking to /her/. Luckily she's quick enough, and when the other guy chimes in she makes a 'ch' sound as if to brush off their comment. There's no voice to it, nothing to give her away, and she keeps on with them, not once looking at anything or anyone, her eyes on the ground, until she suddenly drags them up to the burden they carry to lock onto that. That's her purpose.

"Yes, sir..." the younger rider responds softly to E'ten's words as they hesitate just enough to form their little plan, his slightly crouched figure awaiting only his senior's order and Elise's continued distraction to set him off towards the trio of renegades...especially their biggest member.

The tallest, burden-carrying of the three, N'kar, finally finds his voice and it's /he/ who turns around, not mindful enough to avoid thwacking his mates with his very human burden. He clocks one of the guys with the Weyrwoman's feet, which draws a muffled shrieking noise from her; a noise that ebbs almost as soon as it's begun. She doesn't struggle; she doesn't even have her eyes open. "That all you have to-" Wait. /Elise/ is not /Keyla/. "Who the fuck are you?" he demands, looming closer just as his companions turn too.

Rather than speak, it's with a hand gesture that E'ten directs those riders with him with the signal to go. Before Elise finds herself questioned or worse. Nevermind, what might happen to Hattie as a result. Aiming first for the man who is still standing on the other side - not carrying Hattie, he'll leave the middle man to Elise. At least for those precious moments as there's a flash of silver that might be the flash of his knife being drawn. His ideas for incapacitation are going to have to be done on the fly. Run. Interception.

Time to break up that too cozy gathering out beyond them. Whether E'ten gives the order or not, B'rant is lunging around his fellow bronzer, around and forward, charging N'kar on very long legs that eat up the ground at a perhaps frightening pace. A spare handful of massive paces have the youth springing at the carrier's off side, the pommel of B'rant's knife seeking to descend in a swift and very firm meeting with the guy's skull as N'kar peers at Elise.

The clocking and then the shrieking noise startles Elise and her eyes narrow, then widen when N'kar finds her to be not one of their own. She stops in her tracks and stares up at him. She's quick enough again to think of something to say. "I'm sorry! I got lost. I don't know where to go with this." 'This' must be her sack, though she doesn't indicate it in any way. "I saw you carrying that and I thought maybe I'm supposed to go with you, and..." She goes on and on like that, rambling with her big blue eyes locked with N'kar's and her expression innocently confused. And then E'ten and B'rant are charging in and she drops her sack and plunges in for Hattie. /Hattie/.

Given N'kar's not so tight hold on Hattie, it looks like /she's/ going to hit the floor before he does when B'rant's knife make contact. He tries to spin around in the split-second before he's struck, the sound of footsteps all that alerts him to another presence, and he loses his grip on the goldrider in the moment before not really setting eyes on B'rant and getting his balance. There's not a sound from the Weyrwoman, who can't fling out her hands to save herself, bound as she is, and maybe Elise will be quick enough to prevent her making contact with the ground, if she's strong enough to 'catch' her from tumbling right down with the dazed N'kar.

The brown-knotted gentleman to N'kar's left doesn't have time to draw his own blade, but he hits the deck as a result of E'ten's charge, leaving the third rider to go to after B'rant now that he's seen /who/ has made N'kar stumble and fall.

This time, things went right - in a manner of thinking. At least, E'ten feels the contact with solid landing on top of the man. Hand tightening on the hilt of his blade as it's brought up to the man's neck with a threat that looks closer to truth, given the angling of the sharpened point. "I wouldn't move if I were you." With one subdued, doesn't look over to Elise to see if she has Hattie. That means a distraction if he lets himself be drawn. "All accounted for," he asks more for Elise and B'rant's benefit.

B'rant's rolling, trying to get N'kar under him so the bronzer can clock him again, but he hears that third man at his back, and so abandons his action in favor of doing just what E'ten's doing, right now. "Back the shell off, or else..." the teen growls darkly at the leftover renegade while pressing his knife to N'kar's throat, his long arm wrapped like a noose around the man's arms, torso.

Elise isn't strong enough to catch Hattie and stop her fall, but she's determined enough to try anyway. It's a desparate fumble of things, her colliding with the Weyrwoman's tumbling form, her arms wrapping around the goldrider and for a split second it might seem like she's going to be able to recover... but the impact is more than enough to unbalance her and she goes down hard, throwing a hand out behind and under her on reflex. She cries out in pain when something in her arm sprains or possibly worse but never lets go of Hattie, and just in case any of those struggling men aren't watching where they're stepping she throws herself, gasping to catch her breath and still reeling, across the Weyrwoman to shield her from them, from anything and everything, for as long as she has to.

The very second that Elaruth is sure that her rider is out of the hands of those who would hurt her, the full, crushing weight of her power as /queen/ lashes out like never seen before from the usually gentle soul. Exhausted though she may be, her finely-tuned senses play a clear role in making sure she only hits the minds of those who have broken away from her flock. « YOU WILL LEAVE THIS PLACE! » The reaction is almost instantaneous, dragons literally cowering away from her voice as tremulous sounds of alarm begin to sound from those being /pushed/ away. Elaruth has had /enough/. She doesn't let up, determined to /force/ her command into being obeyed by the continuous application of her atmosphere-heated fury and displeasure. They /will/ do as she wishes. She cannot think ahead to the destructive retaliation she may invite in the Hold. (To Fort dragons from Elaruth)

It's not just dragons who cower away from that voice, scrabbling about in pain, but their riders too. In a desperate attempt to get to his dragon, N'kar smashes his left elbow back towards B'rant just to get him off of him, a roar of pain erupting from him as that knife finds places it shouldn't. It's a similar situation with the guy that E'ten's got pinned down, who stupidly goes to duck and roll, likewise earning himself a nasty wound that bleeds profusely even as he tries to propel himself back to his feet, kicking out at E'ten as he goes. The third looks like he doesn't even /see/ E'ten, B'rant, Elise or the whole mess anymore, stumbling about in a daze. "Inovuth!" Wingbeats sound overhead. Elaruth has sent the dragons of the Hold into absolute chaos, with the distant support of Isyath to throw more weight behind her order.

While Elaurth's voice sends pure fear into those currently fleeing, it's a welcome sound relayed to E'ten by Adiulth. While it doesn't change the alertness that comes with holding a pointed object at another's throat, the act of getting away abruptly has the knife slicing down in a wound that looks... pretty painful as he gets bounced off due to his own footing. Rather than follow for someone to question, the sight of Elise and Hattie are more of a priority as he moves quickly in their direction in a crouching kneel. "Hattie? You're safe." With the three of them providing cover, it also gives him chance to see Elise's arm. "We can't stay here. We need to get everyone back to the Weyr." Because he doesn't want to think about having the Weyrwoman anywhere else.

And /that/ is why the renegades might just want their own gold dragon: to be able to order all others around...and to make more of their own renagade progeny, of course. Rhenth knows, feels that the direction of Elaruth's thoughts are towards that small band of miscreants, but he can't help but catching some hint of that order...and the big bronze winces for a moment. Soon enough, however, his recovery allows him to bellow all of his enthusiastic and furious force of will behind /his/ queen. Anyone who has experienced the fury of a father protecting his family knows just how angry and unbending the usually placid bronze is, right now. He backs Elaruth and Isyath, and seeks to draw in Adiulth, too into that inexorable edict: Get out now, or /else/! ROAR! And meanwhile, inside, B'rant's trying to jerk his torso away from that elbow, the Fortian unable to do more than bend in a little to vaguely lessen the blow...which still gags him, makes him pull away. Of course, all the motions leave a long and nastly-looking wound across N'kar's throat, even though it doesn't sever anything vital. After a coughing recovery during which the renegades make their escape, B'rant moves over to Hattie, nodding his agreement with E'ten, then trying to get his arms under and around the woman to lift her. Another roar echos from outside once again as Rhenth protests the harsh handling of his lifemate, the red-eyed bronze flinging himself upon the air and making for the skies directly above the Hold.

Elise isn't accustomed to this at all. She might not even really fully know what's happening, what that loud voice in her head is, she might think it's somehow a person but it sounds so... not. She cowers, ears clamped, curling in on herself until she hears E'ten's voice and peeks up at him. He's safe, obviously, so she pulls herself up, wincing at the pain in her arm but no comment is forthcoming, instead she just eases herself out of the way so B'rant can lift the Weyrwoman without her coming along too. Getting up off the ground is next, tricky, but soon she's standing and leaning slightly in against E'ten's side.

All over the Hold, dragons are taking flight. Some can be seen obviously without straps, their riders clinging to neckridges, whilst others are absolutely loaded down with cargo in nets adorning their straps. Many of those dragons look awfully /prepared/ for this eventuality. Wherever they /can/ go, whatever their destination, some of them don't wait at all and are Between as soon as they're high enough, though a good number of them /wait/ for as long as they can bear the pressure that /pushes/ them away, waiting for others who cannot find their riders as quickly or are made to wait by those same riders. Nesri, D'kal and co must be among those departing. Surely. It looks like there's almost a whole wing of dragons up there.

"...Elaruth..." is the first sensible word from Hattie, who doesn't seem able to keep her eyes open for more than a few seconds at a time. Bruising rings one of her eyes and there's a smudge of darker skin on her left arm, but apart from the blackened and quite obviously burnt and damaged soles of her feet, she looks unhurt. It could be worse. "...Jivrain dead," she murmurs, words slurring together. She's not strong enough protest anything right now, though if her feet so much as brush another surface, it draws a squeaky, pained note from her lips.

"She'll come." Spoken first to Hattie about the pale gold dragon with a hand moving to shift the belt knife to his left hand as Elise approaches, E'ten lifts his eyes skyward to see the number of dragons - something to reflect on later. That many discontented with Weyr life? Later. For now he looks to B'rant with closing of both eyes as he thinks quickly before opening them. Plans made. "We need to make sure that they don't return or think this is a lull. B'rant, carry Hattie back to the Hold. We're coming too. We need the healers, if there are any left, to look over her and Elise. Otherwise, I'll ask for some to be brought in from Fort. And a couple of riders brought in on watch duty until we can determine who is left of the Boll blood to lead. I'll have Adiulth bespeak Bijedth, but I don't think that I need to tell him the outcome." That thunderous roar must have been heard all the way back to the Weyr.

He thought it was mud... hoped it was something much more benign. But now that he's so close and looking at Hattie's feet as he scoops her up... B'rant grimaces in empathy. And then there's her word of Jivrain's death, the young bronzer looking both appalled and angry all over again. Blink. "Wait... we can't just leave the Hold behind; not like /this/!" is noted about the same moment E'ten speaks the same thought. Anyone could take over, in this current state of chaos. Nodding firmly to his elder, the teen also casts his eyes up to the sky for a moment, noting Rhenth's arrival and how his lifemate chomps his teeth at the straggling renagades disappearing Between. "So many..." he murmurs, then looking back to taking care of Hattie, his motions as smooth yet hurried as possible as they move towards the Hold proper.

"Ssh Hattie," Elise murmurs, taking a step in the Weyrwoman's, and B'rant's, direction, still acting on impulse. "I'm fine," she adds a beat later, though she does cradle her arm with the opposite hand, holding it tenderly. She must sense there's more to it than that though and no further argument ensues, she just bows her head and nods mutely to whatever's next, ready to follow.

When those renegade dragons finally go Between, an odd sensation ripples through the collective mind of Fort's dragons. Those dragons are definitely not there anymore... but they're not /gone/. Should they be distressed? Should they keen? They're just... not there. /Some/ keening rings out, though some dragons remain silent. /Elaruth/ remains silent. It's unclear whether it's a choice she's made or if she's just not capable of expending the energy to produce that awful noise. From the way of the jungle that encroaches on the Hold, the paler than pale figure of Fort's exhausted senior queen drifts low in the skies to land heavily in what space remains in the courtyard, for once just knocking crates and boxes and /anything/ out of her way to make sure she gets to where she wants to be.

Elaruth sees fit not to keen, and so Rhenth doesn't, either, though the bronze's red eyes now dance with some yellow flecks amidst their roiling. It's /all/ so odd and distressing. And then he's cirling lower, lower, soon landing not far from the spot Elaruth chose to come back to ground, herself, the bronze trailing after his exhausted dam, and offering her low croons of support as well as something to lean against, if she so wishes.

Heading back to Fort will have to wait, for just a little while. /Dragons/ may be gone, but there's a Hold to be searched, a Blooded family to approach and a Lord's death to confirm. Reinforcements will have to be called. They're right: they can't leave the Hold behind in the state that it's in. /Shouldn't/.