Logs:Pirates Spoil Devaki's News. Stupid Pirates.

Pirates Spoil Devaki's News. Stupid Pirates.
RL Date: 25 May, 2013
Who: Aishani, Alec, Alida, Azaylia, Devaki, Edeline, H'kon, Hana, I'zech, N'hax, Quinlys, Sabella, Telavi
Involves: High Reaches Weyr, High Reaches Hold, Tillek Hold
Type: Log
What: A weyrling lesson is interrupted by the news that Devaki has been appointed Lord High Reaches Hold. Then, pirates interrupt that.
Where: High Reaches Hold
When: Day 18, Month 11, Turn 31 (Interval 10)

Mentions: Issedi/Mentions, Taikrin/Mentions, Yuliye/Mentions

OOC Notes: MASSIVE props to Devaki for STing this! Long live Lord Devaki! And huge thanks to everyone who showed up!


High Reaches Hold Isolated on its westward-jutting peninsula, from the landward side High Reaches Hold appears burrowed deep into the mountain, with only a few shuttered windows overlooking the rows of cotholds that line the river road. Its double courtyards appear designed more for transportation or defense than for welcoming visitors. From the seaward side, the slant of the windows overlooking the fine deep bay attempts to ward off the sea winds, the higher stories evading the less pleasant odors prevalent at low tide. Today, the courtyards are full to overflowing with visitors and locals alike. Most of the stalls have been set up further afield, lining the main road that weaves inwards to the hold, and filling the orchards. The courtyards are bustling too, however, with harpers on call to provide dance music as well as more sedate performances throughout the day and night. However cold and bleak the Hold's setting may be, inside, its colors of dark blue and tan act as neutrals for the warmer, brighter hues of its llama-wool tapestries and rugs. Below the Hold, oval caverns house lengths of seasoned wood for its shipbuilders, and to its outskirts are several minor Crafthalls including a glass-smith's shop. Though the Hold's main access is by sea, the river road leads to its Weyr and the rest of Pern, while minor roads lead to a few outlying Holds and the distant lighthouse. The flight between High Reaches Weyr and the Hold isn't a long one-- no more than half an hour, say, even when one's flying slowly, with a handful of weyrlings in tow. Part of Flurry has been picked out for today's excursion, with Olveraeth at the head of the formation, leading the way; now, the group is circling down towards the Hold, where today's festivities are underway. Not, of course, that the weyrlings are here for those: oh no, they've a brownrider waiting for them, ready to enlighten them to all the (no doubt fascinating) duties and responsibilities of a Hold-posted watchrider. The banners are flying high and bright today at High Reaches Hold; there are plenty of unfamiliar dragons adorning the fireheights and the surrounds to suggest that others have come to join in the autumn harvest festival. Most people are gathered out by the orchards, though work for the day has wound up: the courtyard, too, is crowded with stalls and people, the scent of apples very notable in the air as the group begins to land. To say that Jhorinth was enthusiastic about this entire assignment/lesson is to understate -- largely understate -- the issue. What? He likes to watch. His rider doesn't, er, no comment on watching; but he's HERE and they are both PRESENT even if the enthusiasm by one half of the pair is entirely counteracted by the almost-bored expression on the other's face. As Jhor spies the banners and the fireheights, it sems as if he cannot help a trumpet of announcement: that's right, Flurry is -here-. The party can now commence. Trust Alida to want to stretch her (and Ilicaeth's) wings beyond the Weyr! The blonde is found in the group of weyrlings picked to harrass - er, infest, er, fly - to the Hold today. Perhaps showing her background more than the others, the blonde pays near-full attention to what not only her 'betters' have to say, but the watchrider as well... and even her blue is listening in with definite focus. However, if the scent of apples and the sounds of festivites on the air do manage to occasionally draw their attention...well, who can blame them? There's an excited warble from Solith on Jhorinth's heels, the littler green leaving off drafting behind one of the larger dragons to swerve toward Ghislaith for a wingbeat or two. Look, look! Flags! Excitement! For them! If Telavi knows it's not for them, perhaps she hasn't enlightened her mount. She glances around at the others in their formation, checking their reactions as well from behind her owlish goggles. Ghislaith is horrified by the bright colors and all of these people that she doesn't know. She's not afraid, exactly. But she's really not happy to be here and the dark green makes that clear in the way she lifts her snow and rustles her wings when the come to land. Solith darting towards her as the not-so-chipper weyrling dragon huff. « Stop that. » She insists, settling enough to give Sabella a chance to dismount once the time comes. Which she'll do, once her goggles are off and her helmet is tucked away. And the jacket is smoothed and well, everything. She's much more excited to be here, looking around at all the activity with a certain gleam of excitement. Quinlys' instructions, once she's on the ground, are echoed by her blue: "Dragons up to the fireheights, no need to take up all the space down here. And mind your manners." Like that really needs to be emphasised? (Again?). P'ken is waiting for them, apparently perfectly excited to have visitors, even amidst all the other, more public, goings on. "Come along, come along," he says, waving them onwards. "Lots to talk about. Have your dragons keep watch on things: that's the primary duty of a watchrider, after all. It's in our name!" Hah. Meekly, « Yes, Ghislaith. » Sigh! Still, Solith's irrepressible enough that she bounces toward her landing for the sheer fun of it, this not being her tricky ledge that requires more neatness. Telavi leaves off looking around to stare between her dragon's headknobs, or rather where they would be if Solith were only holding her head still, the better to not see if anyone's watching them. Those instructions must prove welcome, because as soon as she's dismounted and sent Solith skyward with her extra gear and dutifully laughed at P'ken's joke, she's happy to 'come along' with an eye for her various friends. "What a nice coincidence, exploring watchriding on a day like today," she says brightly, rubbing the goggle marks off her face with her thumbs. There's a distinct, happy buzz to the crowd, and plenty of rumors going around, too: "Did you see Lord Aughan as he was arriving earlier? I didn't think we'd ever see Crom here again!" "And isn't the Lady Edeline looking drawn of late? It's awful what's happened with her heirs! It's so good that she and High Reaches are close, though!" Rojeth has seen festivals like this before, and he's not particularly thrilled to spend all of this close, cuddly time with the weyrlings, nevermind the rest of the crowds, so he's his usually remote self. I'zech is hardly much better really, but that's nothing new. He trails behind the weyrlings to make sure they don't stray, not that they're likely to since they're not wee children who get distracted by bugs and wander off, right? Weyrlingherder. That's what the job should be called. If I'zech looks sideways at whoever is nearest when P'ken makes his joke, well, at least he's not saying anything. Ghislaith: Oh, this is just terrible. Fireheights with the other dragons. The snort of distaste that comes from the young green would be apparent to just about anyone. She's one of the first to take off though, flying above the hold until the others have settled. Then she picks a spot away from them. Sabella pulls down on the hem of her flight jacket, looking curiously around the hold and stepping in behind the watchrider. Sabs even laughs at his joke. She gravitates towards Telavi, purposely bumping into the other girl. "Right? Do you think they'll let us stick around after? As long as we don't cause open war between Hold and Weyr?" The greenrider jokes, sounding mock serious and then dropping back amongst the weyrling herd for a moment. Dismount, listen, send Ilicaeth up to the heights. Check times 3! The blue looks around a moment, awaiting his time, and then launches himself up to the heights in his typical, explosive leap. A moment is spared by Alida to smile quietly up at her dragon and his big, 'disguised' wings, and then the woman is almost fully concentrating on her duties,her ears catching those words of Aughan, Edeline, and such, even as her gaze flicks about regularly to take note of who's who and where...like I'zech tailing the group. There's a small roll of eyes and a soft sigh for P'ken's horrid 'joke,' and then the blonde's taking up a 'wingman's' post to the left of the main group of her fellows, not truly seperate, but not quite together, either. Typical. Hraedhyth is among those perched on the firehights, her rich tawny hide a beacon to those who might find the queen familiar. She's been watching for some time now, Azaylia's arrival far too early to reap the rewards of a hard day's work-- but the perfect time to help pick the apples. For a short time, the Hold can boast (or complain) of a weyrwoman in their trees, so easily lost amongst their own dressed for dirty work and sans knot. Since then, Azaylia has traded her pants for a blue dress, refreshed with only a few sluggish motions to speak of her efforts from earlier. At least now she looks as her title suggests, floating through the crowds if to remain on the fringe of the arriving weyrlings. There's a warm smile for all, familiar and not, and even their less than friendly weyrlingmaster. A pair of stallkeepers are gossiping near the pies, giggling like schoolgirls. "And did you see Bitra's Lord? So handsome -- and still not married!", "I'd offer, if he looked my way!" Oh, P'ken is just full of that kind of joke, and he seems terribly pleased with every one of them. He also seems to find his job wonderfully interesting, even when it involves nothing more than 'keeping an eye on things' and 'making sure the Weyr knows things they need to know'. "Why," he says. "We see a lot of Glacier, these days. It's nice to know that our Acting Weyrleader has such a good relationship with the Hold." ... Does she? One of those rumors has Telavi's head turning and then half her body with it, as though pulled by an invisible string, until Sabella bumps her and she turns the rest of the way around. "What? No, no, no open war for us, that's next month." Was that a bug? Maybe it was just someone's sparkly pendant. Shiny! "In that case, maybe they're taking bets on how long causing such a thing would take, N'hax. ... How many Lords are there today, anyway? I mean, everyone likes apples if they aren't soggy and wormy... which of course these wouldn't be, because they are lovely and wonderful and excellent apples... but really?" She might be listening to P'ken. It could be. Sabs was falling back, perhaps to mingle with a few others. But N'hax appearance behind her has the greenrider halting her steps and then picking them up again in order to avoid crashing into him. "They should have taped our lips shut. But that doesn't stop anyone from miming an insult." Her mouth curves, perfectly amused in this moment. Occasionally P'ken comes out with some things that are... well they don't look like they ring entirely true to her, but she's not in a position to argue. At least she doesn't bother trying. At Telavi's remark she 'ohs' brightly. "Of course, stupid me. Next month. The concentrated details of warfare." Arekoth is old news at the Hold today. He's been around, in some form, some place, or other for time enough now. And maybe he's not physically here, but he's around, listening on the fridges, hints of wintry air occasionally felt on the fringes of dragon conversation. H'kon is both more and less present; near those stallkeepers, he's doing his best to keep his head down (easy for one of his stature) and add a sweet or two to the collection of food that is precariously kept balanced between one short arm and chest. Iesaryth is likewise nearby, but more circumspect (if she can be) in her location, just outside the Hold rather than above it, but it's possible the gold is just leaving room up atop the fireheights. She's been here for awhile, so it stands to reason that Aishani has been as well - it's been said she's been in the company of Lady Yuliye of late, and she certainly looks as if she knows her way around as she comes from the gardens, stylishly but warmly dressed. Her slow steps are far from her usual business-like stride, which might just have something to do with all the gossip to be eavesdropped on. It doesn't have her exactly concerned, but something has her fine brows furrowed in thought. "There are an incredible amount of triple-loops present," N'hax reports to Tela, his tone sonorous and somber - a touch too much. His eyes sharpen on P'ken's last statement, his eyes narrowing a touch; he /has/ been seen in the presence of A'quin enough for his political leanings to be at least somewhat known. "Remind me what time next month and I'll ready the siege-engines," he returns to the lighthearted vein of conversation, his face an impassive mask for the time being. Jhorinth, meanwhile, nearly VIBRATES with the impact of hammer-on-anvil, hot metal twanging in between; the cost of silence severely demanded, leaving only the ringing of words unsaid. The noise of the crowd in the courtyard shifts, and the reason becomes obvious as soon as one looks towards the stairs leading into the Hold: it's quite a procession, richly-draped Lords (and Lady) making their way out of the Hold proper. Devaki's at the front, escorting Edeline (or is she escorting him?) -- and they stop at the top of the stairs. They don't need to say much -- as people start looking in their direction, curiously, going quiet. Behind them, other familiar faces drift out -- Aughan of Crom, Ioas of Lemos, Agaeor of Telgar -- a veritable who's who of the Lords of Pern. Quinlys hangs behind the weyrlings, hiding smiles behind her gloved hand (but not the eyerolls; no, I'zech can get them, if he's glancing anywhere near. She's caught off guard by the sudden arrival of that procession of Lords, stopping abruptly short, and staring. It's somewhat worse for P'ken, who - Watchrider or no - seems to be completely caught unawares by this sudden happenings. Well... good. "I'm sure showing up with our lips taped together wouldn't be suspicious at all." Telavi remarks, rapidly patting her braided-up, pinned-up hair to try and tuck in any flyaways. Speaking of triple-loops, here comes the procession, and those faces aren't familiar to her from more than harpers' sketches but the clothes. The clothes! Her eyes fly wide and she just about gasps, stopped only by the need not to run into P'ken. Or at least, not any more than she has already. To the others, "Do you see...?!" Indeed. That fits with the talk floating around, and a few other things that Aishani is aware of; she glances up to the steps of the Hold and over the faces of the procession with a politely expectant expression that might make most people think she knows what's going on, yes, totally expected. The observant might notice her dark gaze gone hard and cold, restless on the crowd, the Lords and Ladies. Her arms fold, and though she doesn't have a drink in had, she checks the inside pocket of her jacket briefly, lips pursed. I'zech does meet Quinlys' glance, which only makes him smirk outright at her. And it's the Weyrlingmaster, as well as the general reaction of people, that clues him in to the fancy procession. He's unimpressed. His lip curls, but he manages not to crack jokes about the dandy parade going on, or openly wish for another one of those meteor incidents. If Azaylia's startled, if she has a reason to be, surely she's gotten better at schooling her expressions. But there is genuine interest in the procession, politely excusing herself though it seems unnecessary, her conversation partner looking in the same direction as she. If one were to search the weyrwoman's expression long and hard, they would at least be able to pinpoint curiosity-- though the source of such won't be found. It's nearly instinct in Alida, by now: a crisp and professional salute snapped off when not only Aishani and Azaylia, but also that gaggle of Lords and Ladies starts bustling by. The blonde doesn't even really mentally register herself as doing such, just walking on and looking all around as her ears remain perked for whatever. Triple-loops indeed. Sabs manages to keep the next joke she's about to utter off of her lips, instead she purses her mouth together. When the procession of Lords and one Lady goes by, she catches a breath and drifts backwards. Managing to avoid almost-crashing into N'hax this time. As others pass her and she moves around them she eventually finds herself close next to I'zech. The assistant gets one of her elbows lightly into his ribs. Extremely hushed she mumbles to him, "Can we take bets? Is that uncalled for in this situation?" Okay, so she didn't keep all the jokes in. It's those stallkeepers he's trying not to talk to who clue H'kon in to the procession. Raising his head does little for vantage point, and he spends minimal time trying to peer around shoulders and bodies and heads in his way (perhaps for fear of spilling the food). But what visual contact he does manage to make brings that Face foreward, brow furrowed and serious. N'hax has a gaze that falls shy of restless, even though he is quite obviously taking in all of the things to be seen. At Tela's start, he offers a hand to her elbow to steady her, amusement curving a side of his lips upwards. "Easy goes it," he comments in a low mutter, his eyes falling past the procession to Aishani beyond. He reiterates his comment, this time to Sabs with another touch of hand to elbow - promise he's not getting handsy. "They do appear... well-attired," he comments mildly to Telavi, still keeping an eye on the well-attired weyrwoman across-the-way. The Lady Edeline raises her voice, Turns of practice making it easy for her to project, although those who can't hear have it very quickly repeated from those closer: "People of High Reaches. Today, the Conclave of Holders has met, and Lord Braeden has elected to stand down as your Lord. He has nominated Lord Devaki as his successor, and today, we the Conclave, has confirmed this appointment. Please welcome your new Lord Holder." She gestures towards Devaki, who nods graciously towards Edeline, as the rest of the Lords clap. "But why?" That's an immediate reaction, from somewhere in the crowd; hurt and horrified. "Because he likes little boys," is an answer, one quickly drowned out by some unhappy hisses, and further clarifications. Sort of. Maybe. In the crowd, there's mixed reactions: surprise, at the news about Braeden, and grudging acceptance at the news about Devaki -- he's married to Issedi, after all, and their children are of the same line. But the gathering isn't entirely of the Hold's populace, and there's mutterings here and there too, exile, and even murderer, though quietly enough, as those people are giving sharp looks by the natives. Quinlys is among the whisperers: "Murderer," she says, just barely beneath her breath, whole body stiffening. "Fuck this." One lean-faced bronzerider from High Reaches turns dark eyes to the procession and then out to the crowd; his belligerence has never quite been subdued by the turns and weathering of his lifemate's stormy mind. "That's right," comes the scoff, loud for some group of individuals to overhear; "He's always been about the blood." Disgust infiltrates his features. "Seani," could possibly be overheard amidst a fevered spit of expletives, and he leaves in a showy fit of stomping over to his lifemate and lifting aloft. Azaylia quickly turns to Hana, unable to hold back this expression of utter shock. "Did you know about this?" Not a hint of accusation, but perhaps her assistant might have had a better idea of what has just happened. "I..." Opinions are kept at bay, gaze darting with the too-quick thoughts going on behind dark eyes. Telavi manages not to stumble, a quick glance up at N'hax followed by quicker thanks before she's all eyes again. Not that she follows his toward Aishani, and where did Sabs go, anyway? but, "Did they just say..." She darts quick looks around towards this whisperer and that, surely too quick to light on any single one, her free hand flown up to her mouth. Especially after that bronzerider leaves. And then she breathes, "We were here for this. Us! This never happens." Well-now; that 'little' announcement by Edeline gets Alida's full attention for some moments. The bluie's incisive gaze whisks immediately from the Lady over to Devaki - assessing and intent - then quickly shifting to the two weyrwomen, the other dragonriders all about, and finally to the other Holders in attendence. So many reactions to take in! Hana stands near Azaylia, watching the Lady and then the newly-made Lord, before shaking her head slightly at the weyrwoman, "I am not surprised," she offers after a long pause, just loud enough for Zay to hear both the said, and the lacking 'although' that should probably follow the said words. There is a bit of a smile appearing as she settles in on the information - even as her gaze flickers towards some cursing off to the side. H'kon is not among those murmuring. He's silent, pulling the haul of food a bit more closely into his chest (though it's an action more likely to topple it if he doesn't watch himself), and keeping that broody face where it sits. He can stare toward the Lords even if there's someone's head in his way. That still works. See? The well-dressed weyrwoman's reaction is mixed, at best. Aishani's fine brows rise at the announcement of not only the surprise conclave, but also the decision made; then her lips quirk at the first wave of murmurs, almost amused, glancing toward the former Lord - or is it his Lady? The second wave, the 'murderer', has her sobering, her gaze shifting to Devaki, narrowed. And though she probably could tell the High Reaches riders to stop, quell the 'fuck this' and 'Seani's... Iesaryth is silent, though ocean's whisper reaches out soothingly to the dragons. Eventually, she notices the weyrlings - and with a wry smile, she finds her flask inside her jacket, lifting it toward the steps, and opening it for a drink. If Devaki notes the mix of reactions -- particularly from the Weyr's riders -- he's exceptionally well practiced at ignoring them. He looks like he's waiting for the noise of the reaction to die down -- but before that happens, the rumbling beats of the drumtower toll overhead, drowning out conversation for a moment. The drumtower. "What next?" mutters someone - only it's not really a mutter, when it's loud enough to carry between beats of that drum. Other people are stopping, staring, and at least it's not at the new Lord Holder, this time. Right? I'zech has about as much interest in new Lords as Rojeth has in new shoes, so he's happy to take the distraction of Sabella's elbow and sends a sharp grin down at her. "I wish I'd brought a deck of cards." They could play a game. Though, with a smirk, he flicks at her knot with it's silver thread. "Paying attention?" Maybe she can learn things. He just puts his hand in his pockets and lets his dull gaze drift off around the crowd, looking for something. His eyes narrow as the drums start rolling. N'hax was going to lean down to say something to Tela, but his motion is arrested by the drumtower beats; his eyes go unfocused a moment, trying to pick out familiar sections of drumcode from the barrage of noise. "I've got a bad feeling about this," is his statement in the gap between the code, lowly-stated to Telavi with eyes filtering briefly to Quinlys. Tela's is a quick nod, agreeing. "Where's C'wlin when you need him? Unless... it's just passing along the news?" She looks from N'hax to a couple of the other weyrlings, Alida over there and back again, though something about her nervous energy eases as Iesaryth soothes such as Solith. Temporarily, at least. Sabs inches closely to the bronzerider, voice pitched only loud enough for him to hear. "Do you want me to lift some?" She suggests with wry amusement, eyes glancing around the crowd. Her attention drifts onto one man, "I think he has-" The Holders make their announcement. Semi-chaos erupts and she glances around, looking skeptical. She doesn't really know who Seani is or Devaki, or the whole details of that. So she just appears confused. The noise of drums reaches her ears and she cants her head, listening. Azaylia follows Hana's eyes, a hand reaching over to rest on the other woman's arm. "I'm sorry if they upset you." Just as quiet as the hairdresser's own words. There is no command for silence, Hraedhyth curious at the various reactions felt through the dragons around her. With slow realization comes another whisper, "I'm... not surprised, either." Why is that? To Hraedhyth, Arekoth's cadence of words matches up to those drumbeats. « You speak that, don't you, Hraedhyth? » There's no need for Iesaryth's soothing touch in Ilicaeth's mind, the dragon counseled to watch and listen, not react...just as his rider is. With the rolling of those drums comes some kind of unease in Alida, the blonde flicking her gaze over to I'zech then Quinlys even as she starts subconsciously taking up a position that allows her somewhat easier access to Azaylia, since Aishani seems to have taken refuge somewhere. A quick 'word' from blonde to her blue has Ilicaeth quickly broadcasting to all his present fellows, « Does anyone have a rider who knows drum code? If so, please tell us what the message is. » Hana shakes her head slightly at Azaylia, "... it is starting to be nor..." she starts, before stopping. And frowning. "... a ship? And discord...No, not discord..." Wait, no, that's here at the Hold. "Trouble?" There is more uncertainity than certainity in the words. But worry lays thick. To Arekoth, Hraedhyth's own drums thunder to match those of the tower, harmonizing with her low growls of displeasure. Azaylia's surprise, the discontent of her dragons and their riders... « Theirs has no sense to them. » Not like hers do. N'hax furrows a brow, straining to pick out parts. "I've heard distress more than once. It's too loud for me to pick out the rest." He stands a touch closer to Telavi, squinting over to the knot of weyrleaders. Where is C'wlin when you need him? He has an absentminded scowl for his physically absent friend and clutchmate. To local dragons, Haibroth, P'ken's brown, is the first to react-- probably because he has other sources of information. « There's a ship, » he reports, thrust into action in a way his rider has not yet seemed to be capable of. « Off the coast. It's in trouble. We need to help them. » There's no time to get one of the specially trained wings up and ready: the wind is too strong, and the rocks too sharp. There's no time. « We need to help them. » Even if the Weyrfolk look uncertain -- the Lords know drumcode, and whatever announcement might've been coming is immediately broken up. Devaki starts talking with Edeline in low, urgent tones, before that quiet, unnerving red-head bodyguard of his sidles up to him. Those close might hear the words 'Glacier' amongst their quick discussion. The light touch on Hana's arm becomes a firm grip, "What? A ship? You can understand--" But then understanding comes in a sudden jolt, Azaylia's focus thrown up to the fireheights where Hraedhyth is spreading her wings. "There's a ship in trouble. I... excuse me." Fear lights her gaze, worry, even as Hraedhyth's already pushing-- with words-- for the dragons to find their riders. The drums cause Shani to frown again, and she caps and tucks away her flask, already on her way over to Quinlys before the draconic messages start flying around. There's no more sauntering, just brisk darting through the crowd. "I don't like this," she says immediately, quietly, looking back to the steps of the Hold, the people who are talking together about this supposed emergency. "Everyone involved in this has an issue with the Weyr." Solith's quick to follow Ilicaeth, « We want to know too. » Of course they do. Tela's looking up at N'hax, frowning, repeating that distress until that moment comes when she doesn't so much look glazed as hammer-struck. Ship? Them?! Abruptly she's turning, then, her turn to reach for the big bronzerider's elbow but just as briefly, prodding rather than steadying. "Let's... but Olveraeth..." Hraedhyth pushes. Solith, she, can't help but react, but there's the crowd. To local dragons, Jhorinth is quick to respond, the whoosh of bellows nearly a roar in keenly focused response: « Well, what are we waiting for? » Impatience clangs hammer against potmetal, an off-key minor chord lingering. « Let us go! » There is a touch of query there, a forge fire-fly pinging off to seek Olveraeth's stars. She's a weyrling, and thus she must stay in the weyrling formation. But much of Alida yearns to answer that call which Haibroth channels to all their dragons, the bluie's eyes instantly focusing on Azaylia, then moving over to Quinlys. 'Unchain us...' those green speak. Aishani's nearing form and her words earn her a quick and knowing little smirk. I'zech is just about to nod and give Sabella the go-ahead to pilfer a deck of cards off someone, because he's really good at being a morally upstanding instructor like that, but thankfully the dragons start talking before he has a chance and the distraction on his expression turns into a look for Quinlys, a dark look and a shake of his head. To Hraedhyth and Iesaryth, Ilicaeth projects « « We c'n help earn back some respect for the Weyr. Point us, let us loose! » Swirling golden sands gyre into a controlled dust devil, rasping and eager. » Cautious, tide receding, Iesaryth is touched with her own as well as her rider's wariness, darkening her skies. « How did they know so quickly? » (To nearby dragons from Iesaryth) Quinlys' pale face goes paler. "Oh, for fuck's sake," she says, giving her group of weyrling-ducklings an unhappy glance. Aishani's approach has her straightening, blue-eyed gaze shifting from the Weyrwoman to I'zech, and then back again. "We can try and fly-over, can't we? If we don't help, and they all--" She's not a strategic thinker, but she's obviously concerned. "They want to go. They want to try." Hana starts to shake her head, "A word..." before Azaylia's attention is drawn away. "Of course." And then, because she can't help with /that/, she turns to look towards those who aren't about to fly off to the rescue. Or at least, those who don't have companions who can do so. Taking a deep breath, she starts towards the gathered Lord Holders (and bodyguard), though she doesn't interrupt them. The weyrlings are not included in Hraedhyth's rally, left under the care of their nannies. They will at least be able to hear her, « There is no time. » In agreement with Haibroth, smoke that is free of suspicion climbing Iesaryth's dark skies. « It does not matter. » Not now, not when there is trouble and dragons have yet to fly in the sky. Her order, urgings are clear: help the ship, those on it. There is none of that instinctual push this time as her spread wings tremble with restraint-- not yet flying to her own rider. (To local dragons from Hraedhyth) "I don't know, I was never good at understanding them. Something is fucked up-" P'ken's dragon cuts through and Ghislaith relays the message to her rider. "A ship is fucked up." Sabella is excrutiatingly helpful, she also doesn't look thrilled at the idea of them going to help these strangers. She glances between I'zech and Quinlys, eyebrows furrowed together and questioning. With Quinlys pulling I'zech into her conversation with Aishani, she darts away and disappears into the crowd of weyrlings again. As if she wasn't just there now. Where she appears again is by Telavi and N'hax, listening to the exchange of questions and concerns amongst others along the way. N'hax tows Telavi with him by expedience of steering her past Sabella and I'zech to Alida and Quinlys and the weyrleaders. It isn't far, anyhow. Jhorinth's champing impatience is the clang of potmetal and steam of quench: how can they not help? Still hovering protective over the greenling's shoulder, "It would be seemly to assist the hold at least with... basic reconnaissance?" His own tone is inquisitive at the end, lilting upwards with a slant of grey eye to Aishani and Quinlys and Azaylia each in turn. I'zech is slow to say anything, but the look he gives Quinlys gets darker and the shake of his head gets more. pronounced. He can probably fall in the camp of strategic thinkers who are not concerned. H'kon is not easy to find in a crowd for must, but his dragon? He's got it down to an art form. Arekoth's broad wings are overhead, where he circles. H'kon lifts his face skyward as his brown moves into a circle, then drops his chin to look at the lunch he's gathered. Shards. The tug of Raum's hand on Devaki's shoulder draws his attention to Hana, and the fleeting delight that crosses his expression at seeing her is soon overshadowed by the worried furrow of his brow. "Hana -- I'm so glad you're here. Where's the- the Weyrleader? Weyrwomen? Have you seen them? You understood the message?" Edeline, with a last murmur to Devaki, retreats. "The timing..." Aishani is pale as well, staring at the gathering on the steps a moment with a dark, flinty gaze before turning back to Quinlys, tearing her attention away. There's something she wants to say to the Weyrlingmaster, but then there's others around and weyrlings nearby with suggestions, so she settles for a deeply worried look for the bluerider. "Go to your dragons," she says, simply. To local dragons, Arekoth's attention is focused on Hraedhyth, anticipation bringing a crackle under the words of, « What now? » Her drumbeats are far more exciting than Iesaryth's darkened sky, though he's there on the other gold's fringes as well, aware, at least, if not focused. Alida - just like Ilicaeth - is subtly quivering beneath her facade of cool patience, the soft growling in her throat, chest unconsciously echoing her blue's reaction at the way they must wait for some decision. A look over at N'hax and his words have the blonde staring at Aishani, Azaylia, Quinlys. And then, for some reason, her head pivots along neck, and eyes seek out P'ken and I'zech, noting their reactions. Hmm. The surf beginning to pound on the beach with concern and... anger at the very idea, Iesaryth notes calmly, « She says that if one of the weyrling is hurt, no one will think to talk about what happened here today. Be vigilant. » (To Olveraeth, Hraedhyth, Arekoth, and Rojeth from Iesaryth) "I'll keep them safe," is Quinlys' answer to Aishani, for all that she doesn't look any more pleased than the goldrider. Physically, she seems to be ignoring I'zech, because he's unhelpful, and she doesn't like that, but then she turns, raising her voice so that she can hopefully be heard by the weyrlings: "Those who want to come and help with the rescue effort, you're with me. Those who don't, stay with I'zech. You're not obligated, but remember-- the time may come when you are. We help our Holds." In other words: mount up, damn it. Hana takes a moment to offer Devaki a quick smile, rather less bright than usual. "Lord Devaki, Lady Edeline," she offers respectfully, before shaking her head, "I am not certain about weyrwoman Aishani, but I left weyrwoman Azaylia," she pauses a moment and turns back, backtracking her path until she's pointing to Zay. "There she is. I'm sorry, I don't know where anyone else is." There is a glance up at the dragons overhead, but well - she still doesn't have most of the full-grown ones straight. What did the message say, and how can we help?" Covering all the bases by those who understand the drumcode in full. Towed, Telavi endeavors to clutch at Sabella's hand as she goes by, the better to try and bring her in too. She's not passive about getting through the crowd, though, those Gathers where she'd darted for the weavers' stalls have to be good for something. Her eyes are all for Quinlys, though with the others talking, she stays silent. Set them in motion. And then Quinlys does. "Let's go." Because her and awkward-together Solith are such a good idea. Even so, she's making for free ground, where Solith's already circling to land. « It is all very quick. The timing is very convenient. Everyone must be careful lest it be... » Iesaryth doesn't want to say a trap, be all crazy here, but there's something that's raised the surf to pound on the beach and darkened her skies. « Be careful. » (To nearby dragons from Iesaryth) To local dragons, Hraedhyth 's patience is gone, the queen already winging a distance away to help with the traffic of dragons and their riders. « We go. » A snarl aimed perhaps at Arekoth, though he isn't the cause of such anxiety-fueled anger. « It is not... » Sizzling, burning silver from the sky, a glimpse that is soon covered by plumes of dark smoke. « But we go. » Left open to interpretation, one of which being Azaylia's quick run to find her dragon. "One of the trader ships is in distress -- just off the coast. Nothing more than that, so I don't know what," and the not knowing is obviously not very welcome to the newly-minted Lord Holder. Devaki reaches a hand for Hana's -- by habit guiding it to rest on his arm, before he takes off in the direction indicated by Hana, looking for someone in charge on the Weyr's side. This sounds like one of those times you're given an option, but it's not really an option. She stares hard across the way at Aishani and Quinlys, concerned. Sabella allows her hand to get caught by Telavi and she glances around, maybe trying to look back over at I'zech again. Is he going? No? Well maybe she will just stay and then- Then the other greenrider is tugging on her hand and saying 'Lets go'. Pressing her lips together she goes along with it, as skeptical for the whole thing as her expression is in. Ghislaith wings down from the heights reluctantly to her take her dragon up. When it comes to let go of Telavi's hand she will, scrambling up her side. To local dragons, Haibroth is a watchrider, not a rescue-dragon, but he's been posted to the Hold for too long not to have experience in this arena all the same. If he's unsure about the participation of mere weyrlings, he's too anxious, his thoughts already too full of potential dangers, to let it show too much. « We'll protect them, » he assures Iesaryth. « And-- Arekoth. You. Go ahead, scope it out. See if there isn't a way to prop up the ship? See what can be done, and if not... start the evacuation. » In this, N'hax steps ahead past Telavi, an unapologetic battering ram through the crowd back to the dragons. See? Clutchmates totally working together to get things done. Or something. Even Jhorinth helps! He meets them halfway! Well. All the way that he can get close, bulling through the others with the same mindless determination of fixing something that may be broken. The human side of the pair has goggles on and his helmet and all but throws himself up into his straps, focused and cool. To Iesaryth, Ilicaeth projects « « We shall both watch for...oddnesses. Alida's also startin' ta think this is rather... » A hard swirl of grey sand that obscures all for a moment. Strange. » « Super careful! » is a headlong rush. Pit-stop for H'kon, and Arekoth is off, lights flaring over skies and drums in the heat of the moment. (To local dragons from Arekoth) Finally, she's - they're - let loose. Those words from Quinlys bring instant reaction from both Alida and Ilicaeth, the blue hurling himself down from the tower and backwinging to the ground nearby Solith, and the blonde nodding once to the gathered trio of women, then running like a sprinter to her dragon, trying to tug on her cap and goggles in the process. Even as she's mounting up and securing herself into her straps - double-checked! - the weyrling is quirking her head at something, then looking out across the field towards Aishani for a moment. And just like that, H'kon is off, all but running for his dragon, and leaving just a little stack of food on the table as evidence that he'd ever had anything else to do. To local dragons, Jhorinth is water and fire commingled, the forge and quench in harmony and balance. His thoughts teeter the knife-edge between Hraedhyth and his own dam, and his forge-pounding non-verbals project watchful aid: helping with eyes open. Except not really. Are there going to be PIRATES? Jhorinth's always wanted to meet one. It's hard to tell, really, if staying behind and babysitting is actually what I'zech had in mind when he was shaking his head, but even if it was, his weary sigh still isn't out of place as he gathers up the remaining weyrlings and takes them all out to drink. Apples means cider. There's got to be cider around here somewhere. There is some care in navigating the crowd, Azaylia's movement halted and jerky until she breaks free and is able to use long legs in a full run. The climb up to Hraedhyth's neck has never been so speedy, the warrior queen giving a savage roar before taking to the skies. Her rider has enough sense to yank her riding jacket on over her finery, the gold not leading those that leave but hovering high above them as intense supervision. Though most of the riders are scrambling, Aishani is still around, tall, dark and visible above the crowd - and likewise looking for someone in charge on the Hold's side, even if she seems somewhat ready to be gone herself, doing up her jacket as she spots Devaki and Hana. She's faintly pale, but; "The message appears to have been passed on, but please - fill me in, Lord Reaches." May as well start off on the right foot, for all that her eyes are just a little narrowed. Hana keeps that hand on Devaki's arm - but the other hand is involved with lifting her skirts, as the movement is probably more than slightly swift - not swift enough to catch Azaylia, but Aishani is encoutered at anyrate - and given a respectful nod as the pair nears. Telavi might growl at N'hax for getting in her way under different circumstances, but in these, she'll take the opportunity to go, go, go hard on his heels until that last squeeze of Sabella's hand and then she's strapped in and getting her helmet on, flight check and go, go, go, up, up, up and out of the larger dragons' way, Solith hurrying to fall in behind Olveraeth just as closely as she can to go, go, go some more. Go. Devaki spots Aishani just as she reaches them. If he's aware of her narrow-eyed expression -- he politely pretends otherwise. "A trader ship," he says, quickly, not bothering with the niceties, given what's happening: "The coordinates put it just off the coast, around the outside of the cove. They didn't say what the distress was." He's looking, not at her, but at the dragons as several of them launch aloft, with something like relief. He's finally letting loose with his own warrior's bellow, though it's all internal, at this point, Ilicaeth rallying the 'troops' and accompanying them into their first 'battle.' (To local dragons from Ilicaeth) Olveraeth leads the group of weyrlings up into the air, his rider leaning close towards his neckridges, angled down to protect her from the winds which are - it may be said - much fiercer outside the relatively protected confines of the hold itself. Onwards, then-- out towards the coast, hunting down this ship-in-distress, wherever it might be. Ilicaeth lets Jhorinth's greater bulk buffet through the winds first, the smaller blue drafting behind his half-brother to allow him to expend less effort on their way to the coast. Along his neck, Alida follows Quinlys' example, leaning over her dragon's ridges so as to make them not only more streamlined, but her less frozen. Ghislaith is extra not happy with all of this. She lets everyone around her know about her reluctance with a sudden surprising display of complains. There's a lot of them. Mostly rambling things, that no one should bother responding to. But Sabella is up and strapped in, helmet and goggles on. The trip to the ship is ahead of them and her green falls in line, winging after them. Out beyond the curve of the cove, the ship is immediately visible to the dragons flying overhead -- a trader ship, large and unwieldy. The sails are full with the cool autumn breezes, running fast, but apparently, not fast enough -- alongside, a sleeker, smaller ship is visible -- but this ship has mounted weapons, and is attempting -- and succeeding -- at throwing grappling hooks onto the deck of the larger ship. To local dragons, Jhorinth wins the game of LIFE. Pirates, guys. PIRATES. It passes anyway, in time for Aishani to give Hana a brief, wan smile - shame to see you under such circumstances! - before she can look back to Devaki, properly serious. It doesn't take much to believe her concern is sincere. "Did the news come by drum, or...? I'm sorry, it's not one of my few skills. And I am certain that they'll let us know as soon as they see. Hopefully, another wing can get there in time if it's... a problem." She doesn't sound entirely confident on that, but very nearly so. And then the Weyrwoman blinks. Glances at the door Edeline had disappeared behind. And goes back to polite worry. No words greet Jhorinth, only Ilicaeth's bellow of 'BAD GUYS!' and his whirls of gold grains turning to dark ocher whirlwinds. (To local dragons from Ilicaeth) It's probably a good thing a person can't actually see the way Quinlys' face screws up, or the slap of her hand to forehead. Yeah - this is not what she signed up for, in bringing weyrlings. But now that they're here... What a pity no one has firestone on them, after this month's lessons! Solith, so used to Ghislaith's complaints, charges grandly forward with only a swish of mental air to rattle at the other green's shutters. Only... the real live air is so much more difficult to manage, so she follows Ilicaeth's example and drafts the same way she'd done coming over, head down, shutting up. Until there are... those. Those pirates. Tela's head pops up in dismay only to jerk right back down the neckridge again, the wind whipping away her swearing. Jhorinth flies in tight formation, his watchfulness keenly attuned to the ship beyond - and flying straight in the wind, too. N'hax starts at the sight of what exactly manifests before them, and leans forwards in his straps, trying to get a better view. He may mouth the word 'pirates' with eyebrows cast up in surprise, but it's lost to the wind and his position. Solith sees them, the pirates, only then, « Olveraeth! What should we do? Should we... » In her mind, they could latch right onto that smaller boat with their claws and drag it up, up and away, never mind those hooks that could grapple them. (To local dragons from Solith) To local dragons, Olveraeth projects « Backup. » Olveraeth's instant in that, reaching for the Weyr. « Backup with firestone. Now. » Pirates is the word of the day, even if it's not word so much as sense: the grapple of hooks, the roll of waves, and fear, so much fear (but not, he'll have you know, his). To the weyrlings, then: « Fly in close. Mind the hooks. We'll-- » Scare them away? Can they? He's not sure. The look Devaki gives Aishani is politely refrained, a tension in his voice as he answers, "I don't know -- it's too soon to know the how. I imagine they sent a firelizard." Aishani's lack of certainty is probably not providing a lot of confidence on Devaki's part -- given he looks past her shoulder, then at Hana, as if she might know. "Is the Weyrleader here?" Alida taps Ilicaeth brightly along his neck once to get him back in a better mental zone so he can concentrate on this unexpected threat, instead of playing good guys/bad guys in his mind. From his rider to Olveraeth and his fellow weyrlings is offered, « Until the fire, tooth and claw! » To scare the pirates. To nearby dragons, Iesaryth supports Olveraeth's call, tide washing out to the Weyr, urgent and worried. Now. Now. Out on the ocean, there's a roar -- and it doesn't come from the dragons. The trader ship appears to list dangerously to one side and smoke begins to drift upwards with some sort of explosion. To local dragons, Hraedhyth speeds forward at the sight of that smaller ship, eyes whirling fierce red once she understands what it's doing. A flash of stained jaws, simultaneously a snarl and gruesome smile as the large gold follows Olveraeth's command. It's easy, when she's of the same mind. A roar shakes the skies, the gold not quite diving the ship, but advancing on it with intent behind her powerful bulk. What care she takes is likely Azaylia's doing, far too aware of where the weyrlings are as well as keeping out of the range of those hooks. Oh, well fuck. Down on the trader ship, there's a lot of confusion. A lot of chaos. Traders aren't exactly prepared to deal with this kind of thing, are they? There are a couple keeping their shit together. One of them is a tall, rangy looking man that's scrambling across the deck. As the grappling hooks come at the side he's trying to hack them away if he can. But there's too many and he's one of few. Also, the cord the hooks are attached to? Yeah, not so much. Alec curses and goes from one to another, getting stuck on one. The dragons overhead almost get overlooked by him. "I knew I should have stayed on the other ship. I knewitknewknewknewit." A flash of something and he looks up, he doesn't know that they're weyrlings though. Of course. "What the..." He trails off, staggered and surprised by the sight of them. He's not the only one, probably. But then the ship is listing. "Oh damn it. Damn it." Hana wasn't quite expecting that question. Her eyes widen slightly, before she turns towards the crowd of people lingering and heading off to the dragons - and beyond the reach of the Hold, before shaking her head, "I do not see.... Weyrwoman?" she asks Aishani quietly, before adding, more practically, "Is there anything we can do here to help set things up?" That, at least, she's come to realize - dragons communicate very fast. Wheeling and spiraling down in a N'hax-sickening whirl, Jhorinth drafts the wake of Hraedhyth's descent, adding a roar as they sweep down towards the fray. N'hax's face behind the goggles is a feature of surprise, and if any were close enough one would notice the sharpening of expression when an explosion occurs. That's what Smiths do - blow shit up. Who the hell is harping in on his erstwhile craft's territory? Well, then! Suddenly it's less an unexpected threat than an unexpected treat, and Olveraeth might have meant to stay in formation but he didn't say to and off Solith goes, taking Telavi along for the ride, swift and fast and when does this ever happen? She aims to divebomb the raider ship even if Hraedhyth won't quite, shrilling just as loudly as she can. Sorry, eardrums! Except for the part where she's not sorry at all, and Tela's got her hands clamped over hers. Arching a brow for the look, "I was just wondering." Aishani shakes her head immediately at the question, whether Devaki looks to Hana for the answer or not. "She was back at the Weyr, but I would guess she's getting her wing together to... Yes." She proves the point of dragon communication, momentarily distant before, "She'll be on her way." A pause, considering, then tells Hana, "You might want to prepare for injuries. It appears the ship is being attacked." Her gaze flickers back to the Lord briefly. And Ilicaeth and Alida follow like diving Zeros, the blue using his greater maneuverability and speed to break off from the two larger dragons and do a somewhat-more daring flashing of open and deadly claws and dagger teeth...his roar rather deeper than a smaller dragon should likely be capable of. He's just barely out of the reach of those grapels. To local dragons, Olveraeth's suggestion comes abruptly, and while he may not be thrilled with Solith's exploits, and Ilicaeth's too, well, perhaps they've got a point. « Shred their sails, » he says, as he dives in to follow suit. « Yes, like that. Be careful. » The reinforcements are on their way-- probably, they were already preparing themselves, though firestone is a new development. « Mind their-- » Explodey bang things. Explosion. Alec winces even as he loses the battle with the last grappling hook. The ship begins to list dangerously as things usually do when a canon fires at them. Naturally he's on the upper part of the listing boat, a thing that causes him to lose his balance and tumble across the wooden surface. He can barely focus on the dragons overhead, there's no time. And it's not like they're going to help him in his current predicament. Grasping at anything he can, he manages to catch onto some cargo caught on the rails of the deck. His fingers dig in around the rope holding them there, pulling himself up and away from the cold autumn waters. The explosion doesn't visibly shake Hraedhyth, though there's a pressure on the weyrlings-- nothing distracting, but the sooty whisper of caution. Particularly aimed at Solith and Ilicaeth. Azaylia's expression is hard to read from on high, though there's a flash of fear that is clearly not felt by her lifemate at the boom and smoke. Ghislaith is annoyed to be here, really. But when the order comes through to shred their sails she flings herself down, probably without Sabella's more tempered permission. The dark green shrieks and tears at the first piece of canvas she can find, pulling it away with her talons. This will show them for making her come out here and get involved in these kind of affairs. Boom and smoke and grrrAAAAH! It gets warrior-Ilicaeth and warrior-Alida's hearts beating fiercely, their ichor and blood swelling within them, the pair again diving like buzzbombs after their recovery from the last threat, the blue's coppery claws this time shredding the pirate ship's sails once Solith is done with her pass. Teeth and claws and wingspars descend in forgefired brilliance, Jhorinth wasting no time to risk -- entirely too close -- a lower mainsail, rending and ripping with savagery that likely causes faces to pale beneath him. Backup? Who needs /backup/? They have Hraedhyth, after all. Worst case scenario, she can squis... sink a boat. Or maybe drumcode it out of existence. To local dragons, Hraedhyth watches the weyrlings, massive golden target dancing with distraction in mind. With crimson gaze and oversized jaws bared, she deserves some attention, acting as cover for the smaller, agile dragons to do as Olveraeth says. « The ship. » The one being attacked, « Are there people? » Even she can see it failing, listing, the queen's own smoke carrying with it a floral note of concern. Devaki's expression tightens noteably at Aishani's response, and her expression. It takes a moment for the words to sink in, as casually as they're spoken. "Attacked?" The High Reaches Lord echoes, going dead still. "Who would--" but that's less of an immediate concern. "I need to -- prepare. Hana?" He seems to leave it up to the former lady-in-waiting as to whether she stays or goes -- but he seems determined to stride off in search of his Steward, summarily pointing at familiar Hold faces in the crowd and giving them instructions, mostly to do with preparation. The whirling of the dragons overhead is difficult to ignore, as is their actions -- the ships are slowing, slowly, as some of the sails are torn. Both ships, still linked together, slow their speed, although the larger trade ship is still listing dangerously to one side, sending some of its occupants -- and some of the invaders -- sliding off the deck into the ocean. Hraedhyth's question catches Olveraeth right as, above them, a wing of dragons appears: Glacier, firestone at the ready, blowing out warning streams of fire to those far below. « Weyrlings, » he says, abruptly changing course. « We go in to help. If you see someone, try and grab them to safety. You have passenger straps-- have your riders use them. » They're not trained for this, it's true, but-- how hard can it be? (To local dragons from Olveraeth) Hana hesitates a moment, then gives herself a slight shake. "While I am no healer, I do know the Hold. With your permission, ma'am, I'll see about helping set up stations to take in wounded and none - and food and drink set out for everyone who'll need it." The splashing of some of those unfortunate souls -- innocent or otherwise -- is barely visible in the choppy waters of the ocean, this close to the land. To local dragons, Jhorinth snaps a clanging affirmative, grim salted-quench sizzling. « We are low, » the bronzeling reports, terse, focused on staying aloft and not careening into -- well, anything. « We go. » To help. So, okay. It can be really hard. The ship lists, lists. "Damnitdamnitdamni-" It really just gets worse from there. Alec can only hold onto that cargo for so long and he's never able to bring himself all the way up. Unfortunately when one of his shipmates goes tumbling past, he clips him. The sailor loses his hold, catches the rail and slips anyway. "Fuck." He tumbles into the water next to the ship with a splash. A strong swimmer, he tries to get away from the people who aren't doing so well. He doesn't want to be a life preserver. Cautious. Solith does not want to be cautious... and yet she's influenced by the queen all the same. On her way back up, she swerves instead towards that other ship... and goes in to try to help, if not quite the same way. « The stick, » she announces to Olveraeth. « I shall try for the stick, » the mast, and if he doesn't warn her off she'll try to capture it within her comparatively small claws and right it as her wings beat hard. How well this would work if she's allowed... well, she's never practiced that before. Grrrr! He and Alida would rather fight than rescue! And they both continue doing so for some extra moments - Ilicaeth going in for one more roaring dive and rip of a sail - before the pair finally control themselves and wing away towards the far side of the trader ship. With Olveraeth's insistence comes Alida's trying to adapt to the current situation...her gloved hands moving to the passenger straps in her gear along the blue's neck. After some moments fussing them out, she's working on looping them around each other, trying to craft a makeshift line. « This ain't gonna be easy... » the blue notes to everybody nearby, likely quoting his rider. Jhorinth is indeed low, having scoured the mainsail into oblivion with raking teeth and talons. He jukes out of the way of the mast, wing-tip turning to come about the prow of the tradeship and skim above the ruckus of splashing below. N'hax twists, and Jhorinth reaches for Solith's mind, clang and chime of-- alarm. Splinter alert, aplinter alert! He does his best to hover to where he is somewhat accessible, N'hax straining back against his safety-hooks to unravel the length of strap behind him. The buckle frees and leather drops towards the water, a hazardous rope for climbing should any of the souls below sieze the shifting, slippery opportunity. "They say pirates," Aishani tells Devaki, "But it's difficult to see more." That's what little she can put in before he's off to prepare for the incoming potential injuries, whatever else is necessary for bringing in a damaged ship. Glancing Hana's way, she offers a smile. "I am sure whatever help you can offer would be appreciated. Be sure to coordinate with Lady Issedi's staff - that should be a simple enough thing for you. And if I'm needed, I will be here until our wings return." Her gaze goes back towards the Hold momentarily before she offers the younger woman a nod, and starts off. The trader ship is not only listing now, it's very definitely sinking. Self preservation being amongst the number one priorities for the invading ship, the occupants are quickly trying to cut the ropes holding the two ships together now, though any chance at running seems doomed to fail, given the state of their sails. Now, more and more occupants of the trader ship are leaping into the water, trying to swim far enough to avoid being sucked under when the ship inevitably sinks. There's panicked calls from people floating in the water, waving frantically at the riders. The arrival of her wingmates, for Hraedhyth will always see them as such, fully shifts the gold pair's focus. Glacier is left to flame, Azaylia and her queen gliding closer to the failing ship. With such a large dragon there's room for several, though straps only allow so many to be fished from the unforgiving waves. The weyrwoman's jacket is offered to the first to reach Hraedhyth's ridges, and while there's no more room behind her she improvises. Leather skimming the water, the end comes to a stop next to Alec-- should he choose a dragon's back to the water, he will be set squarely infront of Azaylia. Give me dignity, or give me rescue? Olveraeth doesn't forbid Solith her attempt, though there's a definite warning to his answer: caution. So much caution. So much. Besides-- he's distracted, attempting to skim low enough to help some of those in the water, for all that he's not any more trained in this than the weyrlings (Quinlys may be making a mental note to change this, for the future). "Get out, get out," she mutters, words lost to the winds-- but at least Glacier is there to help, too. Even if they're not rescue-trained either. Awesome. Where's Snowdrift when you need them? Probably on strike, again. Stupid Snowdrift. She worked on some rescue of fellow riders when she was a wingsecond, weyrlings! We can do this! So says Alida. It's what you get for have a /woman/ as a /wingleader/. Ilicaeth eats you ALL And, don't people usually get rescued FROM snowdrifts? Just saying. But isn't Taikrin a- Oh nevermind. Hraedhyth is huge. To people who are used to dragons and to people who have really never seen one before. Alec hasn't seen that many dragons and certainly not recently. So he's trying not to drown, trying not to be life preserver and trying to get over the fact that there's a big gold right there. Survival overcomes shock and he grabs the leather and pulls himself up the gold's side. Azaylia gets a long intent look as he drops into the spot in front of her, he'll deal. He likes being alive. It's cool. First one drowning sailor, then two are fished from the sea's clutches, the much brawnier Ilicaeth helping his rider by grabbing a hold of the makeshift line trailing from the blue, and hauling it up as he tries to hover...which is not easy in the slightest. Splinters?! The warning comes just in time. Solith's acknowledgement of Jhorinth is a gust of wind that rips, strong as it's never been, and with Olveraeth's assent she goes at the challenge with characteristic fearlessness. The ship is sinking, but she aims to grab hold of it like a wherry's neck only this she has to at least try not to snap, backwinging hard. The ship is sinking. But if she can slow it, even for a few seconds... Ghislaith is not done being unhappy with this. With the sails done she circles around and lands on the upper most part of the same mast that Solith works on, joining the other green. She's really angry now, this is just unbelievable that she has to be here right now. She has lurking to do, people. Understanding Solith's thought as she executes her movement, Jhorinth instinctually moves to assist, gripping careful - SO careful! - at the high-listed railing, wings backwinging. Contact-with-ship has an unexpected consequence: a knot of individuals left stranded on the last dry part of a sinking ship latch on to that hanging line of treachery, scaling to stack three-deep in the neckridge behind N'hax: a tight squeeze, but they're skinny sailors. It works, barely. The extra weight entirely unbalances Jhorinth however, and he lofts back to the skies in an athletic leap that, er, may or may not aid in this whole 'let us sink the trade ship' endeavor. Whups. Ilicaeth is still growing, and though he's a broad and tough blue, he's still not brawny and hyooj, like his momma or his half-brother. It's with effort and grunting and huffing that he reaches the shore and lands with a graceless WHUMP to the sands, Alida having to pry one sailor's grasp from around her waist as she urges the two they've rescued to get the eff OFF, already! The flaming definitely ceases any chance of escape from the so-called pirate ship -- the sails are burnt to a crisp, and the masts blackened. It does list dangerously, nearly toppling over as the trader ship next to it goes under inch by inch, but manages to rock back upright. Nearby, the sinking of the trader ship is slowed by Solith and Ghislaith's work -- long enough to allow its occupants to escape safely into the waters. Jhorinth's push, however, seals the fate of the ship, pushing it downwards in reaction -- the water's infinite pull sucking it under moments later. Azaylia offers an arm to help Alec up, little care given to the chilly water soaking her dress once he manages. He's given time to look while she loops a strap around him and risks one of her clips to fasten it to him, "It's going to be cold!" Not between, but the flight from the ocean back to the Hold. Hraedhyth climbs higher, making as sharp a turn as her size can allow, the goldrider's arms holding tight to Alec for extra security. She's not going to let anyone fall off! Or die. Once they reach the Hold, Azaylia stays mounted as her passengers are helped down. They're the first to be rescued by the pair, but certainly not the last. To local dragons, Olveraeth projects « Stay clear! » Olveraeth's sharp with that-- sharp, worried, but not panicked at least. That ship is going down to the bottom of the sea. « Watch for other survivors. The wreck can be-- later. » Hana nods, and turns to head to follow after Devaki - mostly so she can find some of those familiar staffmembers she used to work for - pausing once to stop at one of the residents just standing around. As the marks pass, Aishani will end up having offerings of warm drink and food brought regularly. But for Hana? She's off doing what she normally does. Well, if Issedi doesn't lock her in a closet. "Do they always send sexy women in wet dresses on gold dragons to pick up drowning sailors?" Alec puts to Azaylia through gritted teeth, he's cold, alright? Also, when is he ever going to get the chance to say something like that to a weyrwoman again. Probably never. Also, when they get back to the Hold, he doesn't look exactly happy to be there. He looks around the place with trepidation and a certain degree of anxiety on expression. Back and forth the unburdened Ilicaeth and Alida go, this time plucking up only one sailor per rescue, given the unwieldy encumbrance of three on his neck being a bit too much to handle well, repeatedly. Water, line, dragon, beach. Rinse and repeat. Jhorinth doesn't have time to actually whisper out that 'oops', laboring under his extra load combined with the after-effect of coming down off the adrenaline of the moment. His flight is ponderous back to the hold, head braced into the wind and wings swooping in measured cadence. He's ... tired. Aishani's mostly been lingering around the courtyard looking concerned, refusing offers of food and drink, watching the reactions of the crowds that are left, staying near the few weyrlings that remained behind. When the cold, wet people start getting hauled back by dragons, Iesaryth becomes notably restless outside the Hold, while Shani watches them all with a sharp thoughtful gaze, taking it all in. Like that Alec guy looking anxious. That's interesting. Surely, Alec is putting up a brave front and of course Azaylia will tolerate it. The poor dear's been through so much, hasn't he? "No, but it sounds like a fun evening, doesn't it?" Distracted, not a particularly convincing delivery, it's something. If Alec doesn't look happy to be on dry land, the weyrwoman doesn't stay long enough to notice before she's heading back to the ocean. An ocean that's sans a ship. Oh dear. Letting her fellow weyrlings and riders take the sand-bound sailors she and Ilicaeth rescued back to the Hold, Alida flies back straight with her now tiring blue, the pair making do on adrenaline and success. Along the way, since it takes awhile after all, the blue sends Iesaryth all his views of the ships and their circumstances... A dragon's eye-view for her to go over for anything possibly suspicious, since he had little time to notice much. Solith squawks as Jhorinth downs their ship, mentally and physically both, a tumult of mental air and a tumult of wind swept from her wings as the first wave rolls in a torrent of foam over the ship it's swallowing. She darts away as best she can, trying to not smack into Ghislaith and still get clear. Circling around, picking up those survivors is far less exciting, but... she'll try. Telavi finally gets to do something physical, something more than whatever guidance she had or hadn't given Solith and then just hanging on. She's been buckling her passenger straps together, and now with one end buckled onto Solith's, she gets set to toss the other into the water by some more survivors as Solith flies by. If they can grab hold... good for them. With the pirate ship firmly surrounded by the Glacier wing riders -- complete with their firestone at the ready -- it appears they've been secured for now, and from what little can be seen of those on the deck they don't look happy. In the water, most of the sailors have been rescued, with a couple more smaller figures -- children? -- quickly latching onto the straps that hang from Solith, saved from the cold waters. Olveraeth's instructions, now, encourage the last of the weyrling dragons home: let the big dragons take care of it from here. After all, there will still be a long flight back to the Weyr. Her gratitude is a sunshiny sparkle on the ocean through the clouds. « Thank you for watching. » (To Ilicaeth from Iesaryth) He doesn't get the chance to make another not-so-appropriate comment to Azaylia before she's disappearing away from him. What a shame. Alec wanders the courtyard for awhile before he hitches himself to one of the weyrling dragons that are dropping people off, one of the ones actually going back to High Reaces. "No, really. I want to go to the weyr. My brother, he's there. No time like a near death experience and the present. Haha, right?" To Olveraeth, Hraedhyth's heat has not lessened, not until she and hers has seen all of this through. Relief is spared only for her once-mentor, blue and gold of the same mind during the chaos, « You did well. » Not praise, not sounding impressed, only dealing in facts at seeing Olveraeth handle the weyrlings without incident. To Hraedhyth, Olveraeth's answer comes quickly, his mantle of stars spread out over his charges-- they did well. But, « So did you. » And, also, « We will have to teach them these skills. In case. » After all, anything can happen, can't it? To Olveraeth, Hraedhyth is just as quick to agree, drums pounding with certainty for all he's said, « Yes. » They did well, as did she, but more importantly the lack of skills burns brighter in her mind. « We would also wish to learn. » The queen and her rider. These, alas, are not skills Olveraeth can teach, though he already has tutors in mind-- he'll have to give it some thought. « We will make sure there are lessons, » he says. « To keep everyone safe. » (To Hraedhyth from Olveraeth) With the short people having grabbed on, Solith starts towing them to shore, dragging them up through the water and... well, she tries for not into the rocks. At least they seem to hang on well enough that she can dangle them through the air until they get to shore, and when they land, Telavi can get the two of them on board. They're little. Forget the passenger straps, they can just hold on some more. And after they get delivered back to the Hold? With all that adrenaline gone, Solith will just collapse, thanks. Back at the Hold, some of the stalls have been hastily cleared away to make room for dragons to land in the courtyard -- and a couple of the Hold's healers, as well as some assistants, are standing waiting to hand out blankets and assess the worst. Most of the rescuees appear to be cold, but largely unharmed -- though one is suffering burns from the explosion, and he gets immediately carried into the Hold proper. Meanwhile, back at the Hold? Lady Yuliye has already gone back to Crom-- her bags, it seems, were well and truly packed in advance. See you later bitches. Azaylia will remain at the Hold well on into the evening, doing what she can after there are no longer people left in the water. Well, none alive. By the time she and Hraedhyth head back to the Weyr, it's a wonder they're able to focus long enough to safely arrive home. Then they'll collapse. And Ilicaeth and Alida will take up the HOld on some of that 'rest' time before they tiredly fly back to the Weyr and curl up in their warm, quiet weyr...sans baths.