Logs:Fighting Thread
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| RL Date: 22 May, 2007 |
| Who: M'yr, Jenna, V'ryce, T'rien, S'kris, Sybil, Acadia, Zahava, Traynor |
| Involves: Fort Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: There was Thread! And fighting! And dragons! |
| Where: Center of the Bowl, Fort Weyr |
| When: Day 28, Month 1, Turn 12 (Interval 10) |
The Bowl of Fort Weyr, a large, featureless plain surrounded by steep mountain cliffs, stretches out around you. It is approximately oval in shape, about 2700 meters along the long axis running southwest to northeast, and about half that distance across the short axis. You stand in its approximate center. The soil of the bowl is somewhat sandy. To the northwest is the large cavern used for the Weyrling barracks. To the west is the fenced off area where the Weyr's herds are kept, and the lake shore is to the southwest. To the northeast can be seen the ledges for the junior queens and the weyrleaders. The large entrance to the Hatching Grounds can also be seen to the northeast and to the east are the Lower Caverns. A group of people gather around the door to the Infirmary. With practiced efficiency the young women split into two groups. Each member of each group grabs a basket containing several jars of numbweed and disperse around the edge of the bowl in both directions, placing baskets at well spaced locations to have the critical salve ready and waiting. One of the woman, a tall brown-haired girl stops and wipes her hands on her tunic. She turns at the sound of her name coming from the Infirmary. "Shereen! Get moving!" M'yr's looking as grim as ever, his usual teasing manner forgotten as he bustles about, eyeing his wings from tail to muzzle, head to boots. "This has GOT to stop! A group of people gather around the door to the Infirmary. With practiced efficiency the young women split into two groups. Each member of each group grabs a basket containing several jars of numbweed and disperse around the edge of the bowl in both directions, placing baskets at well spaced locations to have the critical salve ready and waiting. One of the woman, a tall brown-haired girl stops and wipes her hands on her tunic. She turns at the sound of her name coming from the Infirmary. "Shereen! Get moving!" V'ryce is swearing loudly as Loketh lands in the Bowl, the Weyrling quickly dismounting, to stare up at his young bronze. "No you /won't/ he can be geard to growl at his lifemate - something never heard from the young man ever before. An answering growl from the big bronze, and his eyes whirl an even faster, darker red - his head slewing around to stare at Wrencath, then Ciath. Jenna slings down her flamethrower, her expression grim. As Leah and Jinieth land, she has a quick consultation with her 'second, and then the pair split up among those flying in the queen's wing. Jenna has a few words for a pair of injured brownriders and then is moving towards Zahava. T'rien grimly secures Cavoth's fighting straps one last time as the brown quickly and methodically chews stone in preparation for fall. The brownrider buckles on his helmet, then secures his riding jacket, wrapping a scarf around his face to keep out the chill and ash. Firefall quickly assembles around him and Danielle and T'rien takes a moment to assure himself of everyone's presence and preparedness. Ciath settles down neatly out of the way, her rider quickly unbuckling straps and swinging down from her place on the gold's neck. Spotting Jenna approaching, she turns towards the Weyrwoman. S'kris has been here the whole time, of course, as grim-faced as the other riders and getting Wrencath primed and ready to take on the impending and very, very insane threat. The bronze rumbles a bit, shifting his bulk anxiously and methodically chewing up the 'stone as it's pitched to him. "I know. I /know/," he can be heard muttering, "but try not to do anything /too/ dangerous, y'hear? We got lucky last time." Soldreth and Wrencath sense that Niyath informs you both, « I will ask Ciath to inhibit the weyrling dragons. They may flame on the ground /only/ unless there is a dire emergency. She will be right there with them, and so may catch any attempts to play a 'hero' first. » A dark tendril of thought is sent towards Loketh. One of the blueriders from Skysentry Wing deftly hefts a sack of 'stone upon his mount then smacks his hands together. Magrie, the kitchen helper who is standing several paces from him, giggles to her friend, "See how handsome he is? He's...." Another wingrider passes between them and scowls at her. "This is no time to flirt, young one!" Jenna gestures Zahava around Ciath's side, a bit away from the bustle of the preparations. She says quietly to the weyrling goldrider, "Niyath is going to ask Ciath to be certain to inhibit your clutchmates, should they get any ideas of trying to fly and flame. Flaming on the ground only. and your first job is to make sure that her hide stays whole, because she can't flame." Sybil is waiting in the bowl, assembling with the other ground crew volunteers. Her young face is serious, but her eyes show that she is excited to help as well. Acadia and Inneth come flying in, making a sliding landing. The rider flings herself down Inneth's side, runs to fetch a firestone sack and starts stuffing odd-sized chunks in the dragon's mouth as fast as she can chew them. Loketh rears up to his haunches, bugeling angrily, his wings opening, as if to launch him into the air. V'ryce gasps loudly, then a grim looks settles on his features, green eyes glaring up into scarlet ones. Firestone sacks are a precious commodity in a crisis like this. People seem to emerge from every nook and cranny to grab the heavy bags and carry them to the hastily assembling throng of riders. T'rien takes a pair of sacks and ties them to his straps securely. With a firm nod, he grabs hold and quickly mounts Cavoth. M'yr's eyes mist as his bronze communicates with him, nodding toward Jenna in agreement with whatever passed their dragons. Smacking his hands together, he calls attention to his wingleaders and seconds. "Assemble the wings! We are almost ready to leave!" is called out loudly before turning toward Sol to pass him 'stone. B'beon's brown Eitueoth is ready to go, but B'beon is nowhere to be seen. The young rider appears suddenly, his hair a little mussed, brown eyes twinkling as he hurries back to his dragon. A few moments later a plump kitchen girl appears from the same place, looking a tad rumpled. With a happy grin, she darts off towards the courtyard to help with the setup. S'kris glances sharply to Loketh and V'ryce, more to the dragon than the rider, and intones, "Make sure he stays put, V'ryce. We can't have y'all risking your hides just yet, y'hear?" Wrencath rumbles a little, then tilts his head back, a small gout of flame being belched out in a testing fashion. "More? Shells and /shards/." A few more chunks are pitched at the bronze's maw, then he's scrambling to double-check straps. Again. The sounds of dragons crunching, chewing, and swallowing firestone echoes all about the Bowl, along with the terse shouts which order pairs into their proper battle formations. V'ryce yells at his dragon, "You will NOT! You'll stay here, you bad boy!" Another gasp, and he howls out, "Don't you DARE!" to which the bronze answers with a hiss and a lunge towards a bag of firestone lying in wait for a mature pair. His teeth tear into it, rending it open, the Weyrling shoving his head in to take up a mouthful of firestone and begin chewing madly. "LOKETH! NO!" Zahava nods immediately towards Jenna as Ciath's head swivels towards Loketh, already engaged in such arguement. Zahava glances at her and then to Jenna, "Loketh is argumentative." Acadia ties a pair of sacks onto Inneth's straps, checks to make sure they're tight, and checks to make sure her own flying leathers are all fastened and buckled properly. She then ties a kerchief over her mouth to filter out ash and mounts her dragon. Those dragons still recovering from the previous, disastrous Falls growl or pace anxiously - eyes whirling redly - even as their humans try to restrain them from trying to leap up alone and meet their ancient foe. M'yr's arm lifts upward in the signal to mount, sending wingriders scrambling up onto their mounts. "Skysentry! Mount up!" he calls to his own wing, then quickly scrambles up his lifemate's side. From Inneth's back, Acadia pulls down her kerchief and offers a hand to Sybil. "Need a lift to the Weaver Hall? You're welcome to ride with me." Niyath 's head swings around, and eyes abruptly yellow-red fix on Loketh. She lets out an enormous bellow, which all but stills the fall preparations around her. Sybil takes the offered hand. "Thanks!" S'kris glances at V'ryce again, reluctant, and finally swings up to Wrencath's straps, settling in securely. He makes sure he's got his spare sacks of 'stone and that everything else is ready, the grim look on his face being mostly obscured by his gear. Inneth, Soldreth, Wrencath, Cavoth, Loketh, and Ciath sense that Niyath brings the crushing weight of her authority to bear. It's not something she does lightly. « LOKETH. You /will/ obey your rider, and whatever Wrencath's rider says. Ciath will be watching you. » V'ryce looks aghast at the transformation of his usually easy-going lifemate, especially since his fighting and naysaying don't seem to be working. Val throws a desperate look to Zahava as M'yr calls out, while Loketh chews fervidly, making grumbly sounds at Ciath. Jenna's lips thin, and she heads to Niyath, swinging up easily despite the encumberance of her flamethrower. Once mounted she signals to the rest of the riders in the queens wing, overfull thanks to the results of that disasterous double fall. Jenna climbs up to her accustomed place on Niyath and settles between her neckridges. Traynor's standing there like a dimglow, watching the riders scurry about, preparing for the upcoming fall. "Hey!" he yells out when a small girl races by with an empty sack, her right foot stepping on his when she makes an unexpected turn. "That hurt!" -The wings steady their mounts, awaiting the Weyrleader's signal. V'ryce almost slumps when Loketh suddenly goes down to all fours again, the bronze's head lowering as he stares at Niyath. there's still some defiance in those red eyes, though. M'yr waits until all the riders and weyrfolk are settled and secured into their straps, then with a deep sigh, he once again gives the signal to rise. "We fight, Fort Weyr! Let us go quickly to Weaver Hall! We are needed, and this is something we can do!" Summoning his inner courage, he sits straight, then pumps his fist. "Up and onward! Rise!" Cavoth wings up from the Center of the Bowl. Niyath wings up from the Center of the Bowl. Inneth wings up from the Center of the Bowl. Wrencath wings up from the Center of the Bowl. From Inneth's back, Sybil smiles and hangs on, letting out a little bit of a gasp as she looks down. Soldreth disappears into Between. Soldreth emerges from Between with a blast of cold air! Inneth emerges from Between with a blast of cold air! Cavoth emerges from Between with a blast of cold air! Inneth wings down into the fields of the WeaverCraft Hall. In the WeaverCraft Fields, Inneth wings down into the fields of the WeaverCraft Hall. Niyath emerges from Between with a blast of cold air! In the WeaverCraft Fields, From Inneth's back, Acadia says, "OK Sybil, here's where you'll be working groundcrew. The healers and dragonhealers should be here shortly to back you and the Weavers up. Good luck!" Wrencath emerges from Between with a blast of cold air! In the WeaverCraft Fields, Zahava climbs down from Ciath's neck. In the WeaverCraft Fields, From Inneth's back, Sybil smiles. "Thanks for the lift....!" she says as she unbuckles and slides down to the ground. In the WeaverCraft Fields, Sybil climbs down from Inneth's neck. In the WeaverCraft Fields, Inneth launches up into the sky. Inneth launches up from the WeaverCraft Fields. In the WeaverCraft Fields, V'ryce climbs down from Loketh's neck. M'yr guides Sol in a wide arc, watching each wing move into place. He stands up in the seat as much as possible, his hand over his eyes to peer into the dusky sky. Waiting and watching, Sol maintains a slow arc around the perimeter of the wings until M'yr yells out, "IT COMES!", an arm snapping out in the northern portion of the sky. In the WeaverCraft Fields, V'ryce arrives aboard a grumbling Loketh, the young man standing to the side of his bronze after he dismounts, one hand resting heavily on the thick hide. Neither of them looks pleased. The cloudy sky dims with the approaching darkness as the wings take their position in a tight formation. Jernie and her green are anxious to begin, the dragon bearing to the left with the twist of her wingtip. "Get back in formation!" is yelled to her, Jernie jerking when the words reach her through the increasing wind. "Yes sir!" is returned as the pair slip back into formation. Seated atop Cavoth, T'rien twists his head in the direction of M'yr's voice, as does Cavoth, who rumbles low as he, too, spies the silver menace coming at them. Lifting a hand to point, T'rien directs the wing to take up proper fighting formation and to prepare for engagement. In the WeaverCraft Fields, Zahava lands immediately next to Loketh. Zahava slides down, her flamethrower in hand. Ciath, unable to chew firestone sets about keeping an eye on her clutchmates as her sole responsibility. Zahava lifts her eyes towards the sky. In the WeaverCraft Fields, Ciath lands immediately next to Loketh. Zahava slides down, her flamethrower in hand. Ciath, unable to chew firestone sets about keeping an eye on her clutchmates as her sole responsibility. Zahava lifts her eyes towards the sky. Niyath leads the triangle of the queen's wing, flanked on one side by the golden bulk of Jinieth, and on the other by an injured bronze and his rider. The queen's wing is quite full of those riders that are injured but still able to fight, and the other dragons are clearly nervous, itching to be in the higher flights with the other wings. Jenna's head swivels to look, and then she directs her wing to skim the treetops, tense with waiting. Bashith is eager to fight the ancient enemy. He roars his fury at Thread, and has to inhale quickly to get the power to blast a clump the winds suddenly blow in his direction. BAM, and it's gone! Wrencath takes his place with the others, looking as determined as his rider is. No sign of wiggly Wrencath here ... nope, he's all business. He maintains his position and just waits for his chance to deep fry some Thread. A blue squalls out his pain as a partially flamed tangle of Thread flicks across his rump, shifting smoothly *between*, then reappearing back in his wing formation. The one strand that was not taken with him continues to snake downward, writhing eerily towards M'yr. Fort weyrlings sense that Ciath's golden honeyed voice speaks up, soothingly, « Our position is on the ground, today, but tell your riders to keep in mind the image of home that we have practiced, just in case. » Inneth is fired up and ready to fight! The winds blow a twisty thin rope of Thread in her direction, which she obliterates with a single precisely aimed gout of flame. Such a big fire from such a small dragon! In the WeaverCraft Fields, Sybil watches the dragons above, rubbing her arms. Soldreth has definitely seen the strand aimed toward Sol's flank. With quick precision, he whips his lifemate around, Sol's head in just the right position to burst out a bright flame, charring that Menace to smithereens! Bugling, the dragon circles to find a place near Skysentry's left side. In the WeaverCraft Fields, Loketh bugles up at the dragons on high, echoing their fighting spirits as he prowls around - V'ryce having re-mounted his neck to stay as near as he can to the riled-up bronze. A large shadow leaves thread in its wake, the rider above having missed the silvery menace. Now is not the time for blame however, for the Thread will eat away at the dense foliage and flora should it not be seared, and soon! Dawnsflame's Trynee has seen a sliver that's descending toward her, the green beneath readying herself for a burst. However, Trynee's wingmate miscalculates, jarring the green into a miss. Down it wriggles, avoiding the sky-riders, heading for Loketh down on the ground! A long, silver ribbon cavorts on the winds, writhing and twisting like a demon in disguise. The hissing Thread evades first one pair, then another as it is tossed from gust to gust, then suddenly encounters a downdraft, which sends it hurtling down to the Queen's Wing, just above Niyath. As the patch missed above descends, it falls directly between Niyath and the bronze on her flank. Eagerly, the bronze darts for it, though Niyath and Jenna have the better angle and were already rising to meet it from underneath. As Jenna is nearly clipped by the bronze's tail, Niyath skips between, Jenna's swearing heard clearly on the ground over the rush of wings. The problem is when she skips back in. When Niyath skips back in, she appears nearly in the center of the downdraft that just sent the thread her way. An anguished bellow, and the queen and Jenna are back between. |
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