Kila
Sr. Weyrleader 
kilact[M:217]
Let's move to a cloud so we're never under the weather
Posts: 1,574
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Post by Kila on Sept 24, 2011 23:32:48 GMT -5
We could be heroes…
It was the worst weather possible. If winter was supposed to be winding down then there was no sign of it today. Thread was coming, working its way across the ocean, voracious, indiscriminate, and eager to reach land and feed upon whatever it might find. The wind howled, cold and angry, blowing snow in sharp angles and blurring the vision of the waiting soldiers. Though they couldn’t see it, they could feel it coming- dragons and Riders alike.
O’sho sat at their head astride Daidoroth. His face was grave, but he showed no fear. Fear would cloud their minds more than the snow clouded their vision. The Weyrleader had to embody what he expected from those who followed him; had to lead by example.
But there was so much to fear.
Things were never easy at Dalibor. Threadfall was dangerous enough when the conditions were good. That thread should fall for the first time in any of their lives during such a storm was disastrous. Not only did the Weyrleader anticipate some casualties, but he was unsure of how well-protected the ground below them would be. The selfish part of him wanted to tell his Riders to protect themselves, to take all precautions necessary for their safety, but his duty- their duty- was to Pern, not to themselves. A real Dragon Rider was selfless. They had never considered, perhaps, that impressing a dragon meant eventually putting your life on the line.
There was no room for pep-talks now. If they weren’t ready then they weren’t ready. It wasn’t that they never would be, but they were needed then and there. Hovering in their allotted formations, they waited, tense, for the thread to come. And it did. Hints of silver flashed in with the snow before them. Look sharp; Daidoroth broadcasted, and then Dawn Wing, to the ready! to his own. It was up to the Wingleaders and Theirs to lead their own Riders now. He waited for O’sho to give the signal. When the time was just right he leaned forward and caressed his bonded’s neck, savoring the last moment of calm. He thought of Fajra and Kalith, far below, with tenderness. NOW Daidoroth commanded, and the Riders of Dalibor surged forward.
… Just for one day |
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Post by matsi on Sept 25, 2011 0:08:33 GMT -5
He knew it was coming. His heart had been pounding like a drum in his chest for the whole day, and now he waited atop of his blue, waiting. H’to’s blue eyes were focused on the thread, yet his mind was foggy with thoughts. He was busy replaying his memories, taking one last look at them, just incase it really was the last time he could see the thoughts. Images of his family. His fire lizards. The memory of impressing Lanith. Being attacked. Being transferred. Becoming a wing second. Meeting Tristan. Meeting W’lin. Watching others meet their dragons. It all flashed in front of his eyes. It made tears form, but he kept them back, especially as Lanith rumbled.
This will not be the end of us, Mine. Do not think that it will be. He hissed as he stretched his wings, keeping them warm with blood. H’to nodded and patted the Blue’s neck. He knew the blue was right.
I hope Wes…and…
Chyurath will not let W’lin get harmed, H’toMine. Don’t worry. You will be able to see everyone again. Again, H’to nodded and took a deep breath as he felt Lanith’s mind hum and the blue give warning. H’to sat tall, eyes finally focusing on the silvery strands that were heading in their direction. He was tense.
”I love you,” He muttered to both his dragon, and to those that were out of reach just Lanith let out a growl and launched himself into the air.
Show this foul stuff what Dalibor Dragons can do! He snarled to the mayday wing that was behind them. The blue was furious, now surging with anger at the material that threatened to destroy his home and everything else he and His knew. This was war!
~~~~~
S’id and Apoth waited next to Lanith and H’to, both of them focused on the cloud of thread. S’id kept calm, at least on the outside. On the inside, both he and Apoth conversed, keeping their minds off of what could happen.
Think of the glory we, all of the riders, will feel after this, Apoth,
It is something…it will be something to be proud of, S’id. We will be strong. Dalibor…has hatched the strongest dragons in all of Pern, he crooned softly, his tail tip swishing from side to side for a moment, then falling still. His eyes danced with cool colors, then would occasionally burst with a more aggressive color, then cool again.
This is our kin. We will protect them…
”With our lives,”
Right. It is our job, S’id. Remember that. There is no pride, if you are not willing to die for it, He straightened himself just as the Bronze’s mind brushed his. It was about time. The small brown’s legs tensed and his head lowered, ready to launch himself into the air as his eyes became more actively swirling. Then, the signal. Apoth listened to the Blue next to him, then opened his own maw and let out a bellow as his legs pushed him into the air. Indeed, they would show Thread what they could do.
~~~~~~
Foranith and F’in sat silent. They thought nor said anything. All was calm in their chests, and there was nothing else they needed to say to each other. They both knew what could happen, and they said their goodbyes just incase they couldn’t say them later. Now, they just waited for the word. When the word was given, Foranith took flight just as if it was another flight, singing her own battle song as she watched the rainbow of colors around them.
Another pair stayed silent. P’rth and Aith. This was their first thread fall, and probably their last in Dalibor. They would soon be leaving, If they survived this. They had already promised to make their mark. After all, it was still their home, if only for a short time longer.
For once, Koketeth and Catori were also quiet. They stayed, just thinking as they waited. Like Wing Second H’to in the Mayday wing, they were thinking about their lives so far. Occasionally, they would giggle at some past memory, but that was all. Only when they got the Okay, did they say anything.
”LETS KICK THIS THING BACK TO WHERE IT CAME FROM, KOKET!” Catori snapped with a hiss as Koketeth crooned and warbled out in agreement.
~~~~~
Ayarth…
It will be alright, AzraMine. We will be fine. We have mastered drills. It is just the same. Do not worry.[/I] Ayarth growled as his tail lashed side to side. His eyes were crimson red already. Sharding thread made his scared. That was enough of a reason to hate it, but the fact that it killed too. Well, that just added to it all. He growled to himself nonstop, not able to sit still either.
But Ayarth…If this hits us… unlike in drill… it will…
I won’t let it happen, AzraMine. I will not let it hurt you. I will DIE before I let it hurt you.[/b] Ayarth’s words brought tears to Azra’s eyes as she almost shook in her straps, but she bit her lip and wiped her eyes quickly. She couldn’t panic now. She just couldn’t!
Be ready. It is time,[/b] Ayarth informed her as he twisted his neck around and touched his nose to her cheek one last time, then faced forward again.
His muscles shook as he waited for the words, then when they came, he took off with more force than Azra had ever felt before. Ayarth meant business.
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Alec
Wingrider 
alecct[M:-360]
Cuteness abound!
Posts: 544
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Post by Alec on Sept 25, 2011 0:27:05 GMT -5
The tension was thick in the air. He waited. Waited for the danger that was sure to come. He knew there would be many injured, and many dead. Tak hated to think of it, but it was true.
He checked his stock of numbweed. Enough. I hope. He also made sure that eveything else was good. Fellis is good, and everything else is as well.
Biting on his fingernails in worry, he paced his area, ready to get more supplies if needed. What he knew about healing wasn't much. He knew how much numbweed to apply, how much fellis juice to give the worst cases, and even the basics of wing repair, though he hoped it wouldn't come to him doing so, but that was about it.
Suddenly, a nearby Weyrling, Taklavon wasn't sure who, shouted "THEY'VE MADE CONTACT!!" Ok, here we go. Time to see who proved their worth and who stepped above the call of duty. Who manned up and who were left in grief.
It's time for Threadfall. Will you step up and stand tall with us?
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Boo
Jr. Weyrwoman
booct[M:-425]
Shirath: THOSE aren't spirit fingers... THESE ARE SPIRIT FINGERS!!!
Posts: 1,917
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Post by Boo on Sept 25, 2011 2:03:50 GMT -5
”To imagine, one day I’ll be fighting Thread with my little brother.”
“Hopefully that day’s a few years from no.”
“Oh no doubt about it. When that time comes I’ll expect you and Diasith to be flying alongside Larth and myself.”
“You can count on it, Dia and I will be here for a long time, won’t we?”
Of course. What a question to ask.
“You never know when someone might go renegade.”
“Haha, I don’t think I’d ever let you go renegade Tedaon. I’d follow you to the ends of Pern to stop you.”
“And I you. Let’s make a pact. When the first Thread falls, no matter where we might be, we’ll think of the other and destroy Thread.”
“Agreed. Larth and I will save Pern single handedly.”
“Not if we have something to say about it.”
The marshal call, a moment’s wait before the sky was filled with colour. From the smallest gray to the largest gold, all dragons fought together. It was the first time Tedaon realised something. Diasith was gone. He would not be fighting Thread… He was a rider without a destiny. Forever a healer. In the deep recesses of his mind, Tedaon accepted this. On the surface he struggled with himself, eyes narrowed and pained as he looked out on the spectacle that was their Weyr, all rising together to fight and defend.
Even if it killed him, he would join them. Perhaps he would find his dragon… Finally… They would be together, defending Pern and fighting for their Weyr. The healer looked up at his black firelizard, trying desperately to delude himself into believing his dragon was still alive. Four turns of delusion made it a relatively simple matter and he grabbed the black from the air sprinting out into the open.
Perhaps he and Diasith would prove themselves. Maybe they would fall but at least they would fall together and be together… He was under one of the Wings, he could not quite identify it as the black bugled and called out to the other dragons.
“For Pern and for Dalibor!!”
He kept running until he was no longer close to the Ground Crews.
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RhiaBlack
Wingrider
rhiact[M:45]
Resident Warcraft Addict
Posts: 328
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Post by RhiaBlack on Sept 25, 2011 7:31:05 GMT -5
Threadfall.
Mine, I'm nervous.
Don't be nervous, Sin. Nervous means you're dead. You know what to do. We've drilled for this for turns now.
What if we-
N'tharon pressed his mind against that of his Black. Sintharith hadn't been able to sleep the night before, no matter how much coercing Nel had done. The Blackrider's thoughts turned to his past, for the briefest of moments before he tightened the cuffs of his gloves, adjusted his straps. There would be no riding without straps, not for a long while. There would be no riding in lazy enjoyment of the sunshine. Not for a long while. He re-bound his lengthened hair behind his neck, adjusted his gear as he sat atop the robust Black he called his own.
How long, Mine?
Fifty turns, Sin. Give or take.
Are we going to live that long?
You're sharding right we are. Going to live twenty years older than that, if I have anything to say about it.
Mine, where are your brothers, your sisters?
M'alygos is above us. In the Upper Flight. Yiserah is there, to the side. Alyx and N'zdormu never came.
We should have went to look for them.
They are grown, Sin. They are capable of handling themselves.
Threadfall made him angry. It infuriated him. He knew it was the reason he had Sintharith - it was hard to think of a Pern without Dragons - but the aspect of fifty years at a time of war didn't escape him. The prime of his life, spent in these skies, fighting this malady that even if it never reached the ground, would steal family, friends, and countless others from him. When the last shreds of it fell, he'd be old, probably gray. His eyes darkened, but his voice rose to the challenge. Let it come. They wouldn't fall. They would be ready! He saw M'alygos and Sindragoth take flight, and shouted into the expanse of his Wing, over the howling wind and blowing snow.
"Look to the skies! Your brothers, your sisters, your Weyrfamily take flight in defense of these lands! This planet does not belong to Thread! It belongs to us! It is time to defend, it is time to destroy this threat and let us live in peace! FOR DALIBOR! FOR PERN!"
Sintharith bugled to the rest of the Daybreak Wing, waiting on T'kor, J'kan, and L'sd to rush forward before he gracefully hoisted himself into the air.
It has begun, Mine!
IT HAS BEGUN.
***************************
Z'dyn stood in the doorway of the Weyrling Barracks, Baihujinth standing close to him. The huge Iron was nearly full grown; in only another turn or so, he would be. Already, he towered over His. It was only a matter of time before he was too large for a Barrack, and he and His got their own Weyr.
But with great Weyr, came great responsibility™. Zeke shifted where he stood, exhaling with a slow sigh. They hadn't graduated yet, and most, if not all, of the Weyrlings had been told to stay indoors until Thread had been gotten under control. Not to mention the weather outside was absolutely abysmal.
I am ready to fight Thread, Z'dynMine.
Not by'a long shot, Bai. Nice try.
No, Mine. It is time. Why are we not out there? Why must we stay inside?
D'you know how t'chew rock yet?
...No.
Then you're not ready. Hush. Only got mebbe'a couple sevendays t'go, an' it'll be our turn.
I want to be ready now, Mine.
I know, Bai. I know.
The quickly filling-out Iron settled back on his haunches next to His, and gave a listless sigh as he watched the various Wings take flight. He hadn't been able to sleep for a few nights, feeling it coming. Zeke must have too, because the Iron had to draw His closer to him in the dark candlemarks of the past few nights, the former Drudge tossing and turning just as listlessly then as his bonded was now. Both knew they had a responsibility as a future leader of a Wing. Bai's color made it so, and the Iron didn't doubt for a second that His could handle the pressure.
But for now, they could only watch as the skies filled with color, like so many kites on stormy winds.
******************************
Yva rubbed her nose as she stood bundled against the cold in the entrance to the Lower Caverns. The Weyr was so quiet without so many milling about - everyone who could fight Thread, was outside preparing to do so. There was always work to be done, especially now that the Weyr was a little more short-handed, what with all the Wingriders being out-of doors. She'd go check on the stables and give them a hand there, once the winds died down. She was sure that Atenna and the others had things under control, and the last thing she wanted to do was be in the way.
Sevonn had gone back to Tillek, after the Gather, with a reassuring hug to his little sister. You'll be fine, he'd told her. You'llbe fine. Yva hoped he was right, and she swallowed as she looked up towards the myriad of colors, wings, bodies. Heard the whistling howl of wind, the bugles and shouts from those out there, on the front lines.
Oddly enough, she wasn't afraid. Setting her jaw, she growled inwardly. Let it come. They were ready. They were all ready.
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Reky
Alphahandler
rekyct[M:-999]
SO PRO
Posts: 1,554
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Post by Reky on Sept 25, 2011 15:58:14 GMT -5
"It's gametime," he cried. "You guys know what you're doing. I trust you all to the end. Show me why we're dragonriders!"
The Wingleader tightened his grip on the sleek leather straps. Kaezeth was a furnace beneath him, burning up against the snow and the fear. No man alive had seen Thread. All they knew of it were from the records and the oral tradition, passed from each riding generation to the next. R'len knew what to do. He had ensured that the entire Dusk Wing knew his signals, his habits, the workings of his mind inside and out, but still, he was shaking in his boots. Snow whipped up around them and in a way he was grateful. It numbed them. Isolated them down to instinct. To survival. There was no room to worry any longer.
GO, cried the Iron, and they lead their friends into battle.
It had been a fight to get into the air. It broke Kesviry's heart to subdue her dragon's very being at such a time. Verith and I'tier could not help but worry for the safety of every other soul in the sky. R'fus trusted Eondith to the end of all things, but their fabled foe was about to come real. Thread streaked the sky. Lin's head pounded with the concentration it took to keep Memnorooth safe. In the lower wing, Naireth took Samael's life into her own claws and would not let any falling menace rip it from her. Not far off, E'rin held tight to Jarith.
I can't do this, he breathed. The wetness in his eyes froze in the net of his lashes.
Don't say that, Jarith cooed. I'll do everything for you, my E'rinLove. But still the boy worried. He felt himself too young for this. For all he wished he would be brave in the face of danger, he couldn't bring himself to do it. He was twelve Turns and afraid. In the next wing over was F'lan, and far above was X'ni, and he wanted desperately to prove something to them. He wanted to be more than a kid with a glittery dragon. He wanted to be a hero, somehow.
Doubtless there were heroes in the air that day. They rode to save the crops and lives below them. Sparks of flame illuminated the stormy sky, and though they were afraid, they persevered. Extraordinary strength showed itself under pressure. Bravery along, however, was not enough to stop death.
Fire rushed from Meyhineth's mouth. A bellow came with it: one of defiance and exertion. The charred remains of the tangle fell like a fine black rain and were swept away by the wind, as was the ash that the blue choked from his second stomach. Reload, Brekken demanded, a piece of firestone ready in her gloved hand. She felt rebellion flare in the sarcastic mind of her dragon, but he crane his neck to her despite. Quickly, he said. She fed the black stone to him, but it was already too late.
Pain seared down her side. There was no one above them to catch it: their wing was highest then, and the split second of broken attention had cost them. The mass of Thread had looked no different than the snow and now writhed beside her and within her. It devoured the straps that held her in and she swung from her dragon's neck as they both wailed in agony. Meyhineth refused to go down like this. He had never wanted to die. He had beat the odds before, a hatchling maimed on the sands, and had thought himself invincible. He had so much to live for; so did Brekken. The silver creature grew with blinding speed but all she had a mind for was her past. Liss, Gard, Impression, Dalibor. For a moment the pair fell together, their scream whisked away by the wind, but Meyhineth knew it was over. They slipped between without ceremony. [/blockquote] |
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Post by matsi on Sept 25, 2011 17:18:04 GMT -5
playground school bell rings again
rain clouds come to play again Mokai and Nikan stood inside, looking out, watching the people in the skies. ”Don’t you wish we could fight directly too?” Nikan asked softly as his hand patted the green wher that was sleeping next to him. Behind the green, Mokai’s black appaloosa Wher slept also. Both seemed oblivious to what was going on outside. ”Yeah. I feel helpless,” Mokai answered as his brown eyes watched the dragons take flight and fire start flying. He had to admit, it was a beautiful sight to watch. Sure, they wouldn’t be making their mark by fighting directly, but they at least could tell the stories to the ones in the future. The story of the first thread fall. What a story it would be. He would tell about the brilliant colors as the wings took flight. He would tell about the pride that filled his chest as he watched the people from his home risk their own lives for others. It would be enough to bring tears into any one’s eyes, and enough to make them say “yes, they are heroes”. Nikan leaned onto his larger companion as he watched the thread. He could see it now. It was so odd looking, yet something about it made his spine shiver with fear. It was that that was the monster of nightmares. It was like a fairy tale. Thread was the monster, and the dragons and their riders were the knights in shining armor. Who would have thought that he would be able to see a fairy tale come true. Yet, as he watched, he saw something that brought him back to reality. A black dragon and his rider, falling from the sky, then betweening. Tears stung at the young teen’s eyes and he buried his face into Mokai’s shoulder. ”It’s alright, Nikan. They knew the dangers. It is their job. Just as it is our job to risk ourselves against the creatures of the night,” Mokai pet Nikan’s brown hair and tried to keep his own voice strong as he closed his eyes and blocked out the sight for a moment. Death. It was a part of life. When Mokai opened his eyes again, horror struck him. A man… running out into battle without a means of defense. Was he crazy? At first, the black handler could only stand there, in shock as he looked at the man. Then a thought made him frown. Maybe they could fight in a way. ”Nikan,” He growled slightly as he started outside. He wasn’t going to let that man die, not without trying to save him. Nikan opened his own eyes and looked at his companion like he was crazy for a moment, then noticed the dragon-less journey man running madly out. Nikan immediately understood what Mokai meant and nodded in agreement. As he started out, both Wher’s raised their heads. Mosk let out a roar of anger and charged out after His, while Nisk squealed in panic and followed. Mokai insane! Mokai Die![/b] Mosk roared into Mokai’s mind. So be it, Mosk. We can’t let him die without trying to help, Mokai tried to explain as he ran after Tedaon. The Wher didn’t understand, but he felt the determination radiating off of His, and ran through the snow next to His, after the Journey man. Get him, Mosk! Mokai hissed mentally, and the black charged forward and tackled Tedaon to the ground, then stood in front of him, hissing and snarling. Nikan was able to keep up with Mokai, but didn’t know what to do. Nisk ran next to him, crooning out concerns as she ran faster to help Mosk. Her eyes danced with wild colors, then a bellowing scream filled the air and Nikan stopped in his tracks. His heart stopped. has no one told you she's not breathing?
hello i'm your mind giving you someone to talk to
hello [/b][/center] Nikan was like a ghost as he walked slowly, limbs numb, over to where Nisk lay, ichor staining her head. ”N….Nisk…” He whispered as he knelt down onto the ground where the green was motionless. Nothing. There was nothing. What…What happened? He didn’t understand! Even with the sight of the Thread Score through the top of Nisk’s head, Nikan couldn’t grasp what had just happened. There wasn’t enough time for him to grasp it, though. Another missed batch of thread fell, scoring the young man through the top of his left shoulders and down his body. He screamed out in the searing pain, clenching his eyes shut. He tried to fight the feeling of sleep, of darkness, approaching him, but then the lost feeling without Nisk did him him. He fell forward, laying across his green, dead. if i smile and don't believe
soon i know i'll wake from this dream
don't try to fix me i'm not broken
hello i'm the lie living for you so you can hide
don't cry [/I][/b] Mosk and Mokai heard Nisk and Nikan, but didn’t dare look. Mokai grabbed Tedaon’s arm and snarled. ”WHAT IN FARNITH ARE YOU DOING!? LETS GO!” he barked as tears stung at his own eyes and he pulled at the man. Mosk let out a yelp, and Mokai’s eyes shot up. The Wher was dripping Ichor and was on his hind legs with his front legs kicking out in pain. Burn! Pain! Eat Mosk! Mosk Pain! Mokai![/I] Mosk cried out as he landed onto his paws again and leg his jaws tear into his own hide where the thread had scored him. ”MOSK LETS GO!” Mokai cried out as he pulled the Journey man towards shelter again, hoping his Wher would follow. He kept calling to Mosk as he dragged the man, keeping as tight of a grip on the man as he could through the man’s struggling. ”LISTEN TO ME MOSK!” Mokai bellowed. He was ready to punch the man that he fought to get back to safety. Once close enough to said safety, Mokai just about threw the man into the safe zone, then turned around as a sinking feeling raked at his mind. His eyes were greeted by Mosk still fighting himself with the burn as Thread ate at his hide. ”MOSK!” He cried out. He could feel the Wher getting weaker in his own struggle from his battle, and from all the ichor he was tearing out of his body. The black wher sank to his belly, cried out for his once, then his head dropped like a stone to the ground and Mokai felt the connection fade away. ”Mosk…” Mokai whispered softly as his hands went slowly into his belt where his knife was held. He grasped the blade’s handle and pulled it out slowly as his eyes looked at his dead wher. ”I’m coming, Mosk,” He muttered as his arm raised the blade to his throat, and in one swift motion, he sliced his own neck, and allowed his blood to pool to the ground. Within moments, he fell forward. suddenly i know i'm not sleeping
hello i'm still here
all that's left of yesterday
GoodBye [/b][/center] |
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Cathaline
Lady Holder
cathct[M:50]
Posts: 3,279
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Post by Cathaline on Sept 25, 2011 17:56:52 GMT -5
Delilah was assigned to the infirmary, of course, with Agnith perched on the ledge of their weyr high above, watching and relaying information to her rider, prepared to duck back into the precious safety of their stone-walled room if necessary. Thread would be missed today, of course; it was the first Fall for all of them. Delilah just hoped that no one died.
It was a hope that died soon enough, when she felt in her bones Agnith start to keen for the lost. At least one dragonrider was dead, then, and Delilah blinked back tears as she again rearranged her set of medical tools. Any minute now those injured might come limping and falling in...
But the last thing she expected was for that injury to be one of their own, one of the healers. Tedaon was flung into the safe area, and Delilah went white as the handler dragging him, deprived of his wher, committed suicide. She ran forward, but far too late, and the pinkrider was forced to turn away from the gathering pool of blood, crouching beside Tedaon. "I need help," she called to the other healers, too small to drag him to a bed by herself. Oh, why had he gone running out there on his own like that? She didn't even realise that tears were streaming down her face.
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Zane
Drudge
zanect[M:0]
They see me rollin', they hatin'.~
Posts: 40
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Post by Zane on Sept 25, 2011 18:35:35 GMT -5
It’s late and I am tired.
Wish I could spark a smile.
The place is flying high, but right now I want to be low.
Don’t want to move an inch, let alone a million miles.
And I don’t wanna’ go, but I know I gotta’ go.
I just want... to feel alive.
The times you don’t want to wake up, ‘cuz in your sleep it’s never over when you give up.
The sun is always going to rise-up, you need to get-up, gotta’ keep your head up.
Look at the people all around you, the way you feel is something everybody goes through.
Dark out but you still gotta’ light up, you’ve got to wake up, gotta’ keep your face up.
Tieler wasn’t at all ready, but she had to be.
We’re ready, Klaisath corrected her, a growl escaping his throat. They were close, and the black was becoming near feral. Tieler ran a hand along the smaller dragon’s neck soothingly, and at first he didn’t pay much attention to her soft caress, but when he felt sadness overtaking her mind, he craned his neck around to glance at her curiously. She was still petting him like she did when they were weyrling’s, and she thought he was asleep. He felt mournful, yet Tieler was here, close to him. She wasn’t gone... He wasn’t gone...
Mine? he broke into her thoughts. She looked up, staring into the bright yellow whirring of her dragon’s eye. He was back to the same old Klaisath: Concerned, still not completely mature, and all too focused on her. He wouldn’t ever change, and she wished things to always stay the same between them. But what if...
I won’t leave you, he guessed at what was ailing her. Just like when Mesreath came down from the stands that day in the hatching grounds, set on teaching you a much needed lesson. I was there for you Mine, willing to protect you and keep you safe. I’ll always protect you and keep you safe.
Who’s going to keep you safe? her mindvoice cracked, and she couldn’t look at him anymore, staring down at the neck she sat upon.
We’ll be there for each other. We can get through this. Tieler focused on breathing more evenly to calm her pounding heart. She could lose him. They could both be lost, and that was more real than anything else today.
She scanned the skies, trying to prepare herself for what was coming. I can’t protect them, she thought all of a sudden, and Klaisath too scanned the skies, it not taking him long to spot the two someone’s his rider was thinking about. They were in the same wing, Jaci and Rhysia. Klaisath made a pitiful sound, agreeing that he would’ve liked to be assured that Rowenth and Raeterith were going to be all right. He couldn’t be though, and either could Tieler.
We’re fighting for everyone you know. In fighting we fight for them, and we fight for our home. Pern is our home. Dalibor is our home, and we’ve trained for this day. Tieler nodded, trying to let Klaisath’s words motivate her. She trusted him. She really, really did. She fussed with the strands of her bright red hair; her eyes squinted to gaze up at the two people that were close to her heart.
We’re going into battle and you’re finally concerned about how you look? he teased. Tieler smiled a bit, but she was too focused on the remaining moments they had to say all of the things that needed saying.
Could you just tell them for me... she trailed off, Could you?
It took him no time at all, and he did not waste a second. Rowenth, Raeterith, I wish you luck on our first fight today. Knowing the both of you are fighting as well gives me even more strength to press forward. TielerMine wants both of your riders to know how much their friendship means to her. She wishes them good luck as well. Not much more could be said. There was not time for it. The wings were just about ready... No, Thread was just about ready to attempt at taking them.
Klaisath tensed up, keeping his eye on the skies.
Its time, Klaisath announced. Seconds... they had only seconds...
Klaisath! The blackrider shouted. He didn’t respond. Tell Atenna that... Um... I don’t even know! Just tell her that I-, Tieler swallowed hard.
There’s no time!
Klaisath surged forward, bellowing out a challenge to the skies. All of the wings were challenging Thread, and they’d win against it! They had to. Tieler didn’t yell out anything like some of the others she could hear. She settled with her own private thoughts. Atenna might never know how she really felt about her, or maybe she already knew. She thought that some feelings took longer to progress, like eons. She’d always permitted trust to build up over time, but for some reason with Atenna it was easy. Her feelings for the Journeyman were just there, with each passing day, just there for her to deal with. She chose to ignore it sometimes, other times she chose to be irritated by it. It was all because she didn’t know how to deal with it without somehow making herself vulnerable, but that was a part of life.
Silver threads fell from the sky, the most threatening menace on Pern, and to dragon and humankind alike. Tieler had readied some of the phosphine-bearing rock, feeding it to Klaisath when he turned back quickly for some. The black manoeuvred carefully, belching out a decent flame that charred the Thread before them.
~*~
Zane looked up at the sky, her face completely blanched. She wasn’t cut out for this. She couldn’t do this.
Contrary to belief I couldn’t have confidence in this fight if I did not have faith in you. The tiny framed girl continued to stare up at the sky, blinking a couple of times to clear her blurred vision. I love you ZaneMine. You’ll be just fine. He couldn’t promise her this. Shards, he couldn’t promise her this and he wanted to more than anything. He had to keep her safe, it was his job! He’d been doing it all along; he’d been protecting her, and shielding her from everything she was too afraid to handle. Even if he didn’t make it... Even if he was hurt and killed, he would save her somehow. She would be saved.
The prolonged silence was too much for her, and so her quiet voice entered her blue’s mind.
I don’t want to lose you. Repeating it aloud, ”I can’t lose you, Pan.” The blue dragon crooned to his rider, wishing he could cover her with his wing and curl about her protectively.
I will never truly be lost to you my dear. I’ll forever be with you, even when you think it not possible. She was trying to be brave like everyone else. Her sobs were making her look not so brave, nor was the fact that she kept on having to wipe her face with her sleeve.
I love you too Panith, she whispered, gathering firestone to feed to the blue.
Then let’s fight together. We won’t lose! As the wings flew skyward, Panith was among them, dodging and flaming the silver threads that the digested firestone gave him the power to conquer.
~*~
Tristen half didn’t know what she was doing here, where her destiny truly lied. She looked down below, suspecting that the healers were getting ready. There would be injuries today. Casualties even... She could’ve been down there, a healer aiding others alongside her foster father-Alden. Would that have been more appropriate? She wasn’t sure, but she couldn’t switch places now. Calyth cemented her into being up here, ready to do the scariest thing she’d ever had to do in her entire life. Her family somewhere had to do the same thing. They’d be fighting Thread, just like her, and there was a chance that she’d never see them again.
You’re here because with me is where you belong. I chose you, TristenMine. I chose you, and I’d choose you again. Okay, was that the same dragon she’d impressed on the sands? Was this the same dragon she’d gone through weyrlinghood with?
Calyth, I-, she attempted to reply. She was in shock, embracing the long-awaited warmth coming from her green.
I needed you to know, before... she let Tristen’s imagination finish her sentence. There wasn’t much to imagine, they were about to fight Thread.
And I want you to know that I’ve only been waiting for you to tell me all of this time. I’m sorry Calyth. I’m sorry for all of the fights, and all of the things we’ve said to each other that shouldn’t have been said. It was all a mistake. I promise to do my best not to make those mistakes anymore.
That’s all I could ask for, the camo-colored green said, it being the last thing she was able to say as the Wingleader’s led their wings into the fray.
Tristen smiled at her dragon, some of her fear turning into faith. Faith in Calyth. Faith in them. The green was fed firestone, and the young girl attempted to keep her focus, catching a glimpse of Z’is and Hephaeth, and the wings Wingsecond: H’to. She would never forget that it was Lanith who had searched her. Please be safe, she thought concerning both pairs, Calyth’s flame lighting the sky with all of the other dragons. Tristen had to keep focus! ”Here we go!” she shouted, her pride swelling up when Calyth’s flame killed one of the falling silver strands. The green dove down, charring another, whirling her form about to catch another piece up above them! Tristen’s heart was pounding in her chest. She was still plenty afraid!
~*~
Raksha stood in the safety of one of the caverns, her hands folded together, held against her chest. She wished that she had someone beside her so that she didn’t feel so alone. Even with all of those dragons up in the sky, and others around her, she felt completely alone. Alone because all of those beautiful dragons in the sky were in danger, along with their riders, and she couldn’t do anything about it. A man had gone running out, and she hollered to try and get his attention. What was he doing? He was going to get killed!
”What are you doing?” she called out, but a black wher and his handler ran out after him, and the black was devoured by the falling Thread. Then the handler took out a knife, and Raksha turned away, shielding her face with her hands. Instantly the girl started crying, never having witnessed the death of another before... And even if she could understand why it had been done, it affected her no less. She sunk to the floor of the cavern, still covering her face with her hands, her palms wet with her tears.
Why? Why did things like this have to happen? Her friends might die today! Her friends that she cared so much about...
Rask was cowering in the barracks, too afraid to move from underneath the sheets.
Seems like the more you grow,
The more time you spend alone.
Before you know it you end up perfectly on your own.
The city's shining bright, but you don't see the light.
How come you concentrate on things that don't
Make you feel right?
I just want... to feel all right...
I'm looking for more than a little bit.
I'm gonna' have to find my way through it.
Gonna' leave a mark, I'm gonna' set a spark.
I'm coming off the ground.
I won't be looking down. |
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Chek
Weyrlingmaster 
chekct[M:-15]
I'm so magical I vomit rainbows
Posts: 1,091
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Post by Chek on Sept 25, 2011 18:57:45 GMT -5
L'kie, white-faced and limping with his broken leg still in a cast, leaned down and awkwardly caught up Tedaon's arm on the opposite side from Delilah. “Let's get him moved.” He carefully didn't look at the still-warm body of the wherhandler – it could have all too easily been his sister laying there, had circumstances been different.
In their weyr, Oferrath keened at the deaths – why did they have to die? Dragons and whers alike, why did the Thread have to eat them? He burrowed his head under one of his wings, wrapping his tail around himself protectively. Why did things have to end this way for them?
* * *
Ma'dai and Ramariath whipped through the air, flaming thread high in the Upper Wing. Though their visual range was low, both dragon and rider were getting the hang of looking for the flash in the blinding snow that signified Thread.
Ramariath's eye whirled red, raging at the ancient enemy that threatened to steal away her rider at the slightest mistake. They'd been scored once, across Ma'dai's shoulders, not badly, and a quick bounce between was more than enough to get them back in the fight.
Below them, F'reki and Girieth fought both Thread and their own fierce joy – it was distracting them. But it was still there – despite the pain, despite the loss of life that Giri was already reporting to him, this is what they were born to do. There was no fear in F'reki – if he died, he died doing a dragonrider's duty. They dove, chasing a clump of Thread, flaming it out of existence before winging back up in the driving snow.
His wingmate Yiserah did not have F'reki's confidence. She was worried for her brothers, out here in the snow, fighting Thread above and alongside her – Nel not too far off, and Mal above them. Eranikuth periodically touched their dragon's minds, lightly, just enough to reassure them both as they swooped and dove.
They'd emptied their firestone sacks and were flaming while waiting for a reload when it happened. Liquid fire laced across Yiserah's elbow and thigh – she couldn't even scream, but Eranikuth did it for them as the Thread licked at the green's wing and neck, barely missing the riding straps. They blinked between, coming back safely, unlike so many others would this day, but Yiserah couldn't move her arm, and they were both bleeding heavily from the stray pair of clumps that had been blown into them.
Tell the Wingleader we have to go to the Healers, Erani, and then let's get on the ground before we crash. The green passed the message along, peeling off and blinked between again, coming out low in the Weyrbowl. Good thing, too, because her wing gave out just a little way off the ground, dropping them into a sickening landing.
It hurts, Mine, it hurts! Erani wailed – Yiserah jerked herself free of her riding straps and slid down the side of her dragon, much too fast – she jarred her badly scored arm, but ignored it in favor of coaxing her green towards the Healers. Erani's left wing's leading edge, was scored to the bone, and bleeding holes speckled the membrane liberally around a significant tear. It looked pretty bad to Yiserah's untrained eye.
Just a little further, love, and the pain will be stopped. Just a little further. Aloud, as she lead her dragon into the cavern set aside for them, “We need a Dragonhealer here!”
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kireon
Candidatemaster
kirct[M:-191]
Posts: 739
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Post by kireon on Sept 26, 2011 7:36:04 GMT -5
Thread.
She'd been young when it'd been brought to her attention by a man who was trying to scare them into ignoring the massive sea-storm that battered the houses and oft flooded the lower sections of the Hold. Young enough to remember the fear, the grief and the general sense of infuriating helplessness that came with being powerless and unable to do anything about the storm raging outside, and with an imagination great enough to imagine just how that same storm could have been riddled with the deadly Thread from the Red Star.
But, to her own arrogance, she never thought she'd see Thread in her lifetime.
Aylina was twenty turns now, and that feeling of storms from the past still managed to overwhelm her to the point of angry, bitter tears. Color raised on her cheeks, eyes tear-bright and stinging because she refused to let them fall, the tall blonde's fists clenched tightly at her sides as she, for the moment, remained with her brother and sister-in-law, and her newborn niece screaming all the while. “...Ay?” Her brother asked softly, urgently as his hand reached up to land on a tensed shoulder. His dark hair fell into equally dark eyes, grim worry carving a furrow into his mouth as he watched his younger sister stare at the blanket covering the entrance to their little room. “Hey, Ay, talk to me.”
“Ky, I need to go.” Aylina told him finally, in a voice that sounded half strangled. Her head finally turned away from the blanket, though her eyes darted toward it, fists clenching and unclenching. “I have to, I need to. I can't sit here and do nothin', Ky, I can't.”
“What can you do?” Cilana asked shortly, bouncing the baby in her arms as she rose from her perched seat on the bed. “You have no dragon,” she ignored Aylina's flinch at the mentioning of her failure to Impress on the first Hatching she'd attended- as if it were a sign that she wasn't meant to Impress to begin with. “You have no ability to wield any of those... other things that can destroy it if the dragons can't burn it, you're very much lacking in the Healer's skill department, and I highly doubt your ability to sew a proper seam would do anything in stitching a dragon's wing or anything else for that matter.” The dark haired woman gave her a look through smoldering eyes. “Leave it to those who are useful and properly trained, your place is here.”
It hurt to be told she couldn't help, hurt all the more that her sister-in-law seemed to think so little of her skills and told her to sit as if... as if she were a mere child running amok. Her hands fisted again, nails biting into the flesh enough she hissed and unclenched them to look at the crescent marks in her flesh. Shard it to the ends of Between and beyond!
Kylen looked between his wife, tiny daughter and then to his sister. A big part of him wanted to side with Aylina, as she'd always been pretty good 'bout finding people who needed some kinda help or another, and she was pretty damn strong for a woman... but it was the fact that she was a woman, and his father'd told him to keep an eye on her, and find her a good, strong husband who wouldn't care about her height or tendency to keep her hair from growing out too much. Cilana felt much the same, and had greatly fussed about the girl not living with them so she could keep an eye on the girl and 'keep her from cutting that hair', as she'd put it.
In the end, it came down to what he thought was right; sendin' his sister out to the unknown and knowing full well there was a damned good chance that she would be injured, perhaps even killed... or trying to forbid her from setting foot outside their home where he knew she was safe. “Cilana's right, you know,” he said finally, rubbing the back of his neck the same way his father always did when backed into a corner, or when he was feeling uncomfortable. “there's nothin' you can really do, not bein' untrained and all.”
One look at the pain on his sister's face decided it though. Shards and Shells, he had to be a damn soft fool. “...get.” He told her gruffly, refusing to look at her. Just because he was going to let her go, didn't mean he wanted to watch her leave as if it may very well be the last time he'd ever see her. “If you think you bein' there'll make any difference, get goin'.”
Aylina didn't waste any time hugging her brother, she dashed out without another word and headed for the closest cave entrance that she could think of. Didn't matter if she couldn't Heal, couldn't burn away the thread or any of that real useful stuff; the Healers would need someone who could thread a needle so they could stitch, would need someone to help carry in the hurt. Surely, somewhere, someone there would need her help; and damn if she'd be standing idle when there was work to be done. She reached the entrance before long, looking wildly around in case someone needed to be pulled out- if they'd fallen. For a moment, her eyes landed on what she thought was someone who'd collapsed just outside the cavern and started to head out- and stopped as her eyes registered a puddle spread out, already absorbing the snow and Thread.
“Sh-Shards,” Aylina swore viciously, stumbling back a little and almost tripping over someone in the process. “w-what the- eh...?!” The girl was vaguely familiar, they'd met out at the lake, as matter of fact, she never forgot a face. Names, on the other hand... think damn't. Her brow furrowed anxiously as she shot a nervous look outside and then back to the girl. Help. Right. That's what she was doin', and this girl was cryin', and might need help. “Hey, uh,” shards, shells and Between; what was her name again? “...Raksha,” that was it! “Raskha! Oi, come on, you hurt? Let's get outta the way, you need help up?”
She crouched next to her for the moment, ready to scoop her up and haul ass out of the way if need be.
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Post by blue on Sept 27, 2011 14:04:35 GMT -5
Fenrimere and Fenrisk should have been asleep. It was daytime, and there was nothing pressing for them to do. Lazy and Fenbug were both sleeping in the large tub of water she had rigged up, with no need to go out to the lake. Everything was as it should have been for an ordinary day. But it wasn’t an ordinary day. It was First Fall for Dalibor, and with the instinct shared by all dragonkind, Fenrisk knew it. There was no happy-go-lucky roaring and chuffing, no pouncing or chasing. The young white wher just paced back and forth in their small room, her eyes completely red. Fenrimere perched on her bed, knees drawn up to her just as she watched her lifemate.
Just as Fenrisk had put aside roaring for the time being, so too had Fenrimere put aside any thought of pranks and jokes. She had finally found a situation that they could not improve. All she could do was wait. She winced as Fenrisk started to keen, flooding Fenrimere’s mind with images of the two whers who had just been lost. Fenrimere recognized them—of course she did. There weren’t enough whers and wherhandlers at Dalibor that she wouldn’t know them all. She recognized one of the other wherlings and slid down off the bed to sit on the floor next to Fenrisk, wrapping er arms tightly around the small white. “I won’t let that happen to you,” she said quietly, fiercely. “Never ever.” No matter what she had to do, she wouldn’t let her precious white be food for Thread.
--
With many of the other weyrlings, Tana crowded in the door of the barracks, Oreath pushing and shoving as many of the other weyrlings out of the way as she dared. Oreath wanted to see this Biggest Evil, see what she would be destroying in the name of all that was Right and Good! Tana just wanted to be around people. She hugged herself, thoughts flying back to her family at Western. Her parents would definitely be part of the groundcrews, and Kelan probably was as well, over at the Harper Hall. What if they were scored? What if a flamethrower burned one of them? She wouldn’t even be there to help… Not yet. Not until Oreath was old enough to join a proper wing.
Even then, she wouldn’t be able to be on the ground with them. She’d be in the air, as inaccessible as she was at the weyr. She hid her face against Oreath’s hide, not wanting any of the other weyrlings to know that she was crying. It was silly anyway. They were all what-ifs. For now, at least…
--
Animals had a sense about Thread, Pherae thought. Even the normally difficult ones had made very little fuss about getting undercover, though they were fussing enough once they got there, the way a toddler would in a thunderstorm. Lucky had hidden himself under a milking stool shoved against a wall, Trinket and Hint had gone to do…whatever fire-lizards did during Threadfall, probably helping the dragons. And once she got all the rest of the stock secured, there wasn’t anything left for her to do but grab her flamethrower and join the ground crew she had been assigned to.
It was a miserable day, and Pherae wasn’t much of an idealist, but seeing Dalibor’s full complement of riders in their wings was a stirring sight. She settled the flamethrower more securely as she caught a glimpse of the first flashes of flame from the dragons up above, assiduously checking her nozzle for the last time. She was ready. Come what may, no one would be able to say that Master Pherae hadn’t done her duty by Hall and Weyr. The first Thread trickled past the dragons above, and Pherae prepared to sear it away.
--
H’cup fidgeted with the buckles within reach as he waited with the rest of his Wing for the Leading Edge to reach them. They were in perfect condition, he knew that. Really he did. But he needed to do something with his hands, and the buckles were within reach. Tuthleth turned his head, jaws opening to accept the chunk of Firestone that H’cup mechanically gave him. Firestone. Thread. It was all so real suddenly. Real and dangerous. The upper wings were already meeting Thread. Any second now, some would fall through and it would be their turn. He clutched at the straps as Tuthleth rumbled and surged forward, flame erupting from his mouth to char a silvery strand of Thread. The next several seconds, minutes, hours, days—he couldn’t tell which anymore—merged together into a haze of diving, rising, flaming, and resupplying Tuthleth’s firestone.
Flame touched his arm, and he wondered dimly where it had come from until he looked down and saw a single strand of thread determinedly burrowing into the wherhide. With barely a thought, Tuthleth skipped between, and H’cup hurriedly brushed at his arm, feeling the Thread crack and break off just before they emerged back into the chaos of the fall. One of his wingmates called over a worried question, but H’cup just shook his head. He wasn’t badly injured. They could still fly. Still fight.
--
A’ram had none of H’cup’s fidgets or nervousness. This was what he had been trained for. This was what he had trained himself for. He was ready. Helth wasn’t quite as sure about things as his rider was, but he had a hatred of Thread deep in him and so made no objections to the duty set before him. He need no urging from A’ram to turn to accept the first chunk of firestone, and barely a whisper of thought passed between them as the first Threads approached them and they surged forward to meet it.
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Post by matsi on Sept 27, 2011 16:13:11 GMT -5
All was going well. Azra couldn’t believe it. Her and Ayarth. Ayarth and her. They were fighting the thread…together. They were more than fighting it, they were doing well at it! Azra couldn’t believe her eyes as Ayarth grew confident and more ferocious towards the thread. Even as one dragon betweened, he crooned out, but his eyes only grew more intense in color and fury. The thread had killed one of their own. He may not have known them, but he was not going to let that go unpunished. With every blast of flame, and stone that he took, Ayarth grew more confident, and with each moment the black grew more sure, so did his rider. For once, though she was still scared to death, she was confident in something. For once she wasn’t worried about the people that were around her and of what they would do to her, but she was focused on the thread and what it would do and did to the people around her.
You are fine, AzraMine. You are.[/b] Ayarth crooned to her as he quickly took more firestone and let the flame shoot to a wild clump of thread.
It was in that moment that Azra realized that maybe they had been too confident, and she figured this out the hard way. Burning shot through her left leg, and Ayarth let out a scream as the burning shot through the left side of his neck and shoulder.
Between! Between! Between towards the edge of the bowl! Azra pleaded mentally as the thread’s scoring pain shot from just above her knee, to down her calf and up to her hip. Tear burned in her eyes as she screamed out in pain. Ayarth yelled louder, but not because of the pain of his wounds. The pain of the fact that he let His get hurt already burned in his mind.
”AYARTH!” Azra cried in pain. Her head began to get dizzy with the pain and her breathing rapid in panic. Then it all fell dark and cold. The pain numbed slightly.
Two…
Three…
Four…
Light engulfed around Azra and Ayarth again, just as she had begun to loose hope of returning. Azra’s breath returned, and so did the pain. Sure, the thread was gone, but the wound, well, there was no way it would just vanish, as much as she wish it would. The scent of iron from her own blood, and the ichor from Ayarth’s neck and shoulder that poured onto her wounded leg made Azra more dizzy than before, and she started to wobble. Blood…Everywhere! Azra’s stomach was tying itself into knots, and her face was sweating heavily from both panic and stress.
Mine. Please Mine. Stay awake! I am landing. AzraMine. Please![/b] Azra, though she couldn’t answer the dragon, noted the clear and surprising panic in the black’s mind-voice. Panic. It was something that Ayarth never showed. He was always to frustrated. Stony cold. As Azra sat almost dream like on Ayarth as he drifted quickly to safety, she tried to think of his panic. She knew he cared. She knew he was complicated. But…maybe there was actually more to him that she ever really though.
Azra jolted as Ayarth landed and limped into the safety of one of the tunnels. Her vision was blurry, and her stomach still tight. The scent of blood and ichor was burning in her nose, and her leg was numb with pain. Yet, she undid her straps and tried to slide off of Ayarth as he lowered himself. She glanced at him, not even processing the bright colors of panic and fear in his gaze. More things that were never shown on him before.
AzraMine. Sit! Please! AzraMine. Please! Do as your Ayarth says! Please AzraMine![/I] The black let out a whining scream as he put his nose into the woman’s stomach. Just that small bit of pressure sent Azra tumbling onto her butt, where she then closed her eyes, then fell backwards. Her breath was ragged and panicky, but she was alive. Ayarth let out a blood curdling scream as he placed his head next to Azra, whining and making panicked sounds. He knew someone would come to help, he knew, but he wanted them there now! He didn’t care about his own leg and neck. He just wanted his Azra to be better! He was so scared. So frightened! What if AzraHis didn’t wake up? What if she stayed alive, but sleeping?! He started keeling, his body trembling with his fear.
Memnorooth. I am so frightened! AzraMine! I let her get hurt! Be careful MemnoroothPretty. Please![/I] Ayarth stretched his panicked mind to the only one he could think of that would understand him, then fell silent and just closed his whirling eyes with his head next to Azra, waiting for help.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
All was going well. Yes, one dragon betweened, and he had been told about the two wher’s by his dragon, but that was less than he had been expecting to fall. A few were harmed, but that was, truthfully, to be expected.
Firestone, H’to. More firestone, Lanith pushed into H’to’s mind as the blue leaned his neck to get more of the stone. The stone was quickly taken once presented, and soon another batch of thread was falling as flaming bits towards the ground. Another batch was gone. H’to was proud of his Blue, but they couldn’t celebrate yet. They still had a lot to go. Yet, it felt like eons between each breath as they flew, blazing the thread with the fire. Eons between each wing beat. Eons between each breath and heart beat. It was horrible, and it was enough to play tricks on the mind. H’to would think he would see Thread in the sheets of snow, only to have it be the shadow of another dragon. At one point, Lanith even shot a blaze in the direction of one of the shadows that made H’to panic. Only to have Apoth fly over them snarling and S’id yelling obscenities at them with singed hair.
He deserved it anyways, Lanith had said with a shrug as he took more stone.
Mine, I need more again. Quit hesitating! What is wrong?! Lanith snapped angrily. He knew his was growing weary, and the snow was paying a toll on both of them both physically and mentally, but they had a job to do.
Right! Sorry! H’to shook his head quickly and leaned to his riding bag that was filled with stone as Lanith veered to the left, blazing more of the thread. Lanith quickly veered to the right, sending his own body and passenger into the cloud of falling, burning thread.
”ARGH! LANITH!” H’to cried out as a wiggling string of the thread landed into his face. The burn, he couldn’t tell if it was from the thread, or the fact that it had just been burned. Was it dead and just burning, or was it still alive and trying to eat him? It was probably both. Lanith, as soon as he heard H’to’s bellow, Betweened to a new position and looked back at his. H’to finally got the burning bits off of him. The scent of burnt flesh was radiating into his nose.
Mine!
Don’t worry about it, H’to grimaced as he held out more stone to his dragon with his other hand over his right eye. He could feel burnt flesh from the side of his nose all the way to his temple and over his eye. After a moment, he took his hand off and tried to use his eye. He knew it was open. He could feel the cool rush running over his burning eye, but he could see nothing out of it.
Shards. No matter. It wasn’t severe enough to worry about now. He would just have to keep fighting the burning pain, and burn the thread back.
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Post by purnip on Sept 27, 2011 21:23:30 GMT -5
Change everything you are
And everything you were
Your number has been called
Fights and battles have begun
Revenge will surely come
Your hard times are ahead
Today marked the beginning of the rest of their lives. During years of peace and plenty, a lifetime ago, dragonmen knew the end was nigh. One day--one night--when their purpose would be clear, they would put their lives on the line to save the planet that raised and nurtured them. Needless to say, few looked forward to it. There was nothing comparable to the dangers of fighting Thread. Ropes were safe. They were easier to anticipate, easier to see, and many of these drills were done in clear weathered skies. One did not feel the burn of searing flesh when they grazed their wingtips, arms, or legs.
The falling Thread would not be merciful to these novice fighters. It would not understand their lack of experience or make any attempts to change its parasitic nature. The weather decided to exercise its own right to care less. Snow and ash fell in sheets upon the waiting wings, dampening their chilled hides and clouding their already obscured vision. Death was promised to them. Inviting them. Injury was simply part of the contract. So with bravery, whether it was true, falcefied or forced, the dragonriders eagerly awaited their destiny.
Best,
You've got to be the best
You've got to change the world
And use this chance to be heard
Your time is now
Standing just beside O'sho and Daidoroth, the newest additions to the Jr. Weyrleader roster were no less nervous about their first fight than any Wingrider they could pick out of the ranks. L'am simply had to hide it to the best of his abilities. This wasn't difficult to do. After many turns of manipulating people with false emotional responses, appearing reassured and determined was child's play. He simply had to accept the fact that this Threadfall could be both his first and last or that Sonia's child might end up an orphan starting tonight. Yeah...child's play. He was already going pale, and it wasn't from the cold, my friends.
So many possibilities sprang to mind. The young man needed to set them aside. When O'sho made the call that sent all riders of the Dawn Wing forth, he gave Lebeth a sharp pat on the neck before the Bronzepair sprang forward. Into between and out into the hellish rain of snow and skyfire.
There was no time for shock or hesitation. L'am already fed his dragon firestone several minutes before the first charge. Lebeth wasn't sure what to fire at right away, until he beheld the silvery yarn spinning up above. I see it! Mine! It's time! Lebeth sounded rather excited, rather than frightened. L'am jerked his head skyward for a moment out of curiosity. Sure enough, there it was...and it...it was nothing like he imagined it'd be. His knuckles were going white as he clenched the riding straps tightly. Out of the frying pan and into the fire...
---
They wish us luck...Klaisath and His.
Snapping out of her short stupor, Rhysia glanced down at Raeterith's lovely green hide as she understood the update. "They do?" She looked up, if by any chance Tieler's wing wasn't one of the first to go. "Tieler...could you tell her..."
I will.
And into the fire they went.
Rhysia and Raeterith winked into existence several meters below the upper wings, though the Greenpair was well assured in their abilities. They had to be. They knew to doubt could lead to hesitation, which could easily lead to injury. No. That was out of the question. Modest, yet resolved, the two set to their task with bravery carved from sheer determination. If they died, they would die together. They had nothing to leave behind aside from one another. This made facing their ultimate fear a little easier. A little less horrifying.
Raeterith was rather precise, and Rhysia made sure there would be plenty of firestone fuel available. It wouldn't keep them from getting hurt of course, and they did at first. A stray Thread grazed Rhysia's arm, but that quick and capable dragon of hers sprang between and back to shake it off before the injury could get serious. There would be a few close captures like that during their flight, but for the first quarter they were fairing well for newbies.
If you can hear me, Klaisath, we wish you well. Raeterith knew there was no point in telling him to forward that to his rider. Chances are, she heard her too. With that being sent, she returned to the pressing matter at hand--searing every bit of Thread that dared to cross her path.
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M-mine!
The sound of flesh sizzling alarmed Sjanseth just seconds before he pulled between to shake off a whipping Thread spore on his rider's back. The panic might have caused a younger dragon to forget the proper coordinates to their world and reality, but Sjanseth had the added bonus of being keenly aware of his place and time. It might have taken them a fourth cough, but they emerged gasping for breath on the edge of the fall.
"We're clearly not cut out for this!" B'wie cried out, afraid to so much as flex the muscles in his aching back. It really did sting. Thread ate straight through his clothing! An altogether interesting phenomenon. He wondered if it would be possible to take a specimen back to the weyr for proper analyzing.
We...we need to go back. We can't abandon our wing out of cowardice. It is not what we're born to do. Prepare yourself, Minerider.
"Minerider, is it?" B'wie leaned forward watching the fight with nothing but reluctance on his palate. "Oh Sjanseth. Must you insist?"
It's just...no...you're hurt. Maybe we should return to the weyr instead...
The Whiterider snorted. "No--well, yes, but you're right. And I'm interested in obtaining a specimen for study. This fight will give me ample time to work out a means to extract a sample."
Like any dragon on the receiving end of this, Sjanseth was disgusted. It was in his every nerve to loathe Thread and destroy it on sight. But he understood. He just wasn't going to let one get past him if he could help it. So with the agility only a dragon of his size could sport, the White returned to the mass extermination of this vile spore. Hopefully they would emerge with nothing more than that scar and the tiny holes burnt through his wing membranes.
---
As terrible of a duo most assumed D'ix and his dragon would be would be, the two could fight Thread like the soldiers of immortal superbeings. They barely sustained injury at the beginning--a minor burn on D'ix's calf and a couple of tiny holes in Ressouth's wings. The two fought thread with limitless concentration and even a skill that ought to have been denied. As if they fought this enemy in another time...
But the truth was, they did it for two simple, selfish reasons. For Ressouth, she simply wanted to prove how much better she was than any of her wingmates. For D'ix, he saw it as a fight he couldn't lose. A game he could play on even ground, understanding what it's like to have one's life on the line every day. He knew better than to assume the thread would fall his way. Under these foul weather conditions, he was sharper, keener, and far more driven to set these spores on fire without a shred of mercy. His fuel was both fear and concentration. Dead set on doing his job and doing it well, the two were optimally focused. Their injuries were mainly due to the unpredictable weather and the fact that they were fighting their first Threadfall. And their injuries were few.
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Pananarie was rather bewildered by the fray when she and Demeth first arrived. She wasn't sure how to start, where to start, and how to go about this threadfighting business. Most of the dragons were above, the two being part of Kalith's Horizon Wing. The way they spiraled and shot at those ghastly clumps of Thread made Pan's heart flutter. She wanted to be up there, helping, but her place was down here, making sure precious little got through.
Before she knew it, Demeth was already moving towards a few stray strands, searing them from the bottom up and pausing to assess her work in a pleased fashion. That's perfect, love, but we need to stay sharp. Her dragon didn't respond, but she kept on moving without protest. The Tan knew it was time to work. They would have plenty of time to admire their work later.
---
Things were looking fine for E'rael and Harkenth too, though they were facing far more action than the tans, oranges, and golds in the lowest wing. The Blue was focused, as he always happened to be when it was time to get down to business. His rider was part sober, having made the grave mistake of drinking himself silly the previous night. Lousy. He felt thoroughly lousy. Fortunately his dragon knew what to do. He was scared out of his wits, but feeling like a sick dog on a cold winter's eve, his fear was hampered by weariness.
Harkenth was flaming Thread without issue, betweening at all the proper times, but E'rael was forgetting to feed him firestone. For now the Blue was holding up well, but he was so focused on clearing out these clumps that he too was forgetting that weight in his gut that he lacked in fuel...
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This Threadfall was particularly aggressive towards Kos'ei and Math, on levels that other dragonriders couldn't quite comprehend. The Black was growling the entire time, trying to tune out the swell of fear, anguish, and anger that choked up his mind like foul exhaust. In turn, his rider felt sick to his stomach, afflicted with a disease for which there was no cure. Every few seconds his dragon went between to dodge rouge Thread was a break of cold, quiet bliss. No feeling. None of that residual anxiety sweating off their wingmates. The only trouble was the lack of oxygen and the promise of losing ones life if they lingered too long. It was a friend and enemy to the two, though they shared more history than any other pair alive. That they knew of. Who else on this planet has discovered the ability to pass through time? Kos'ei hoped they were alone in that discovery. And he wished he knew for sure how to accomplish it successfully. He might have betweened to the past in order to escape this first fight. He wondered if all it took was an image from his memories. From his adolescence perhaps?
It wasn't a danger he wasn't willing to risk. It was something he tried not to take advantage of yet. He had to fight Thread. Even if it could kill them, even if it was just once in a while, this was something they needed to grow used to. Living in the past would be problematic, and perhaps even impossible. They needed to embrace the present, or their supposed future, in order to best assimilate. With that would eventually come opportunity. Cowards gained a lot less credential than veterans.
Don't let yourself down
Don't let yourself go
Your last chance has arrived |
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Kila
Sr. Weyrleader
kilact[M:217]
Let's move to a cloud so we're never under the weather
Posts: 1,574
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Post by Kila on Oct 4, 2011 12:25:06 GMT -5
O’sho had barely the time to watch each one of his Wing Riders, but he could hear them, and having completely let go of himself and become one with Daidoroth, he could sense them as well. It was the same sensation that female Riders felt when their dragonesses rose and they surrendered to their will. They were focused- not only on the treacherous thread but on those that they lead. In dividing their attention they were struck several times. Each time Daidoroth would blink between instantly, sustaining only the minimal damage and continuing on without thought of the small, then-insignificant wound. They were a large pair; with so much body and being the highest wing with no one above them, it was almost inevitable that they would sustain damage.
~
Sol was ready. When she was younger and faced with the tragedies and dilemmas that Dalibor presented, she had shrunk away, unsure. Now, though, her mind was clear and her heart was strong. She had already been though much, and at that moment, while she and Ecolath hung in the air with the others, she was glad. It had prepared her. She reached out to touch her dragons mind and found thoughts of battle and glory and all manner of other fantastical things running through her head. Sol smiled. Are you ready, Mine? Eccolath asked, pulling her mind back to the present. I am, Sol replied with quiet confidence. Eccolath rumbled with approval and love. I am proud of you, Mine. Now we can stand together and be heroines… Eccolath had always liked that idea.
When O’sho gave the word, the command relayed by Daidoroth and echoed by Lebeth and Mikidith, Eccolath surged forward. They were the only Cyan pair in the Weyrleader’s Wing, one of only two in the upper flight division, and they were proud. Eccolath had good instincts, and Sol a sharp eye, but nevertheless it was terrifying. The Thread was hard to spot among the snow and seemed to come out of nowhere and everywhere all at once. Look for silver, focus on that, Sol suggested. Eccolath obliged, emitting a powerful flame and sending some charred pieces and melted snow to the icy ground below.
~
Rosasharsn shrieked and ducked as a clump of thread flew over her head. Sereinth betweened and reappeared behind it, searing it from the sky. Are you okay, MineOwn?! Sereinth demanded. Her thoughts were frantic but she was outwardly calm- focusing unerringly on protecting hers. Her unusual calm was also attributed to her thread-fighting instincts, which had surfaced and dominated her mind and body. Y-yeah, love. Alraight. Just fine, Rosasharn said to soothe herself and her bonded. But she wasn’t- she was scared. There was no room for kindness or lady-like tendencies up here. There was always place for it in the Weyr, even if it was unorthodox. Even with all she had learned from being in the Weyr, all that she had changed and grown, she felt completely out of her element. She was overwhelmingly grateful that she was not in the upper flight division and had two wings of dragons above her to filter some of the thread that was whipping by. We’ll be fine, MineOwn, I will protect you and you will be so proud of your Sereinth; the Pink said, flaming again. Be brave with me? I cannot do this on my own…
~
On the opposite end of the spectrum, Y’nis and Yusriyath were not happy to be below the others. They were in the low flight division and, much to their surprise, they longed to break rank and join those in high flight. This is wicked, YaMine! Yusriyath roared, using the new term he had learned from his little friend Tigreath. He flamed left and right, diving and swooping, abandoning the formation that his Wingleader had prescribed. Yusriyath had enough speed to twist and turn out of harm’s way and, between them, enough enthusiasm to pick out the Thread from the snow with commendable accuracy. Yes! Let’s fly higher next time! Y’nis whooped, adrenaline pulsing through his veins. He loved it. He felt alive. He felt like they had a purpose.
~
In the lowest division of all, fighting with a flamethrower behind the Weyrwoman, were the dragonesses of the highest class. I wish that I could flame so that I could take these things from the sky, said Izkeeyerdeth, gnashing her teeth. Smaller than the other Queens around her, she was debatably filled with the most fury. There’s some, JasraMine, she growled, fighting her way to a large piece that had somehow survived the upper divisions. Don’t let it escape. And she didn’t. Giving it a blast with the flamethrower, she watched with satisfaction as it fell, dead and harmless. What a marvelous contraption, she said, wondering at the weapon in her hands. Another! Iz roared, diving. They were in less danger than the other Riders, but they took their job no less seriously. Red- one, Thread- zero, Jasra said with satisfaction, leaning the flamethrower against her shoulder and placing her hand on Iz’s neck. Izkeeyerdeth rumbled with approval and satisfaction: This was how Hers was supposed to act!
~
On the ground below, Nadya slept, but Sh’len stood with Nivoth and some others looking out at the scene before him. It’s terrible, he thought, horrified. Nivoth was curled around his legs comfortingly, regarding the snow/thread storm with mixed fear and interest. She knew she wasn’t allowed out there, but something in her told her that she was meant to be. That will be us one day… she said dreamily. There is no love in those silver pieces, Mine, so I will get them! she declared, her sudden ferociousness scaring both her and Hers. Not for a while yet, though, said Sh’len, worried, not looking forward to the day that they would have to join the others. He knelt down and gathered her up against him for comfort, for she was still small enough to do so. She nuzzled him adoringly and nibbled his long hair, all the while keeping an eye turned towards the scene outside.
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Boo
Jr. Weyrwoman
booct[M:-425]
Shirath: THOSE aren't spirit fingers... THESE ARE SPIRIT FINGERS!!!
Posts: 1,917
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Post by Boo on Oct 10, 2011 2:11:11 GMT -5
As Tedaon ran out, things seemed to blank out for a moment. He was aware of hands grabbing him, pulling him back and fought against them. None of them should follow him out here! This was dangerous and only a dragonrider of Pern would survive, a dragonrider such as himself. He could hear calls from those on the ground and could not understand them. He and Diasith were merely doing their duty, why were people dragging him back? As he was pulled under cover the healer became aware of something. The bodies of two wherhandlers and their whers.
Tears fell freely as he saw the broken, destroyed body of the wher and immediately retreated further into the Lower Caverns. He would not watch as the dragons fell and the Whers died all for him, for them, for his own stupidity. He could do nothing even healing would not be enough. With no comfort except the ghostly echoes of Diasith in his mind, Tedaon retreated further into the caverns, finally coming to a stop and breaking down where he stood.
As the two handlers ran out Kire gasped and screamed.
“NIKAN COME BACK!”
Nisk! That look fun! KISK AM PLAY TOO!
“NO!”
Kire reached out and grabbed the wher just as he was about to bound out into the Threadfall. She pulled Kisk back from the exit and began crying. Nikan had been her friend! Nisk had been Kisk’s friend! They had grown up together, the two whers and now, there she was… Lying on the ground with no movements. As she looked at the black wher Kire could not help seeing Kisk lying there, destroyed by silver Threads. She hugged Kisk tighter to her body and started crying as Kisk finally cottoned onto what had happened.
The mourning call of the black wher stabbed at Kire’s heart as the two of them sat in the corridor well aware of the further death that might occur as the Pass went on.
High in the upper Wings a certain Pink called out in vicious enthusiasm as her flames destroyed Thread. Each time she flamed it she roared in triumph taking violent pleasure in the destruction of the Threads. Once more she called out as Je’kyll silently egged her on.
Foolish Thread. Does it not know how I shall destroy it? No matter where it falls I shall find it and burn the life from it. Never shall it know life on Pern!
Je’kyll drew in breath sharply as some thread scored his shoulder and Hydeth roared in rage as it continued through to score her back. It was a small enough wound but large enough to spur Hydeth onwards as she flamed all she could see. With what supplies he had brought, Je’kyll hastily cleansed the wound and fixed bandages onto himself and Hydeth.
The middle flight was stressful enough. Z’is could hardly imagine what it was like in the upper flight. Every time the flames burst forward he was brought back to that one moment. His leg almost felt as though it was injured once more. The flames… The flamethrowers below him… He gripped Hephaeth’s straps tighter as the blue spewed forth some flames of his own.
Z’ith mine… I will alwayth protect you. Do not worry. Pleathe. Thethe flameth are thaving uth.
Z’is nodded and tried to bring his mind back into the moment. Thread was the danger here and the flames were the saviour. He would have to remember. Push it from his mind if he could. He felt proud, nonetheless, that he should be flying and fighting to save Pern.
Of course she was in the lower wings but that did not make Agrippith any more inclined towards putting in the effort to stop the Threadfall. Yes, of course she flew close to it but any moment when it seemed as though it might touch her hide she tried to move away from it. Fortunately, she did get close enough to flame it swiftly before moving off again.
We must look absolutely marvellous to those below. Even those above are probably too distracted to realise they are allowing Thread to fall and almost marr my beautiful hide. Look at these spots Mine! They do not appear on every dragon! We cannot allow them to be harmed by Thread.
We will do our job. Nothing more and nothing less. You would do well to remember it, Agrippith.
Amongst the Weyrlings and candidates sat C’ian and Shirath, watching the movements of those above.
Well, I do not know about being in those higher Wings but I think we would look sufficiently wonderful flying Thread.
Not to mention we’ll be heroes!
Fel, on the other hand, was watching the dragons blink Between with her breath held. Every time she saw a dragon disappear she felt the distinct pang of fear that they would not return. As she watched she noticed a black dragon blink Between and fail to return. The girl took a deep breath and pressed herself closer to Dhanuth.
Such is life. We all know our duty.
Yalenia also stood and watched with bated breath, the movements of those few riders she knew but also felt the fear and sadness at the loss of two wherhandlers.
[/blockquote] |
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Post by mangonumnum on Oct 10, 2011 9:21:36 GMT -5
L'sd hated the cold. Snow was never something he enjoyed. But today, he hated it even more. With thread approaching, he had no choice but to face it though. That and his possible death. L'sd sat on Tabeyiith with his wing. Everyone was solemn. They were all apart of the Upper Flight- more risk, but the chance to do something. The lower wings depended on them. That's why we're gonna get them, right Tab?
Oh yes, Mine. We will. The oncoming Thread seemed to have focused the blue in a way he never quite was before. L'sd knew the blue wasn't going to get confused today. Evil hissing warned them of their enemy and they were off.
L'sd and Tabeyiith flew as expertly as they ever had. Hard work and practice paying off. The Upper wings had to be the most coordinated to be sure and no one could say that the blue didn't follow pattern well. They seared thread as quickly as they saw it, betweening and re-appearing to sear another silver strand. Of course, being in the upper wing led to many missed strands. More than once L'sd cried out from the pain of the Thread searing his arm, his leg, his back. Tabeyiith would between as quickly as possible, minimizing the damage done.
---
Zara really didn't want to be there. It was cold. It was snowing. And Thread, from the sound of it, was horrible and dangerous. That's the whole point, Mine the black snarled.He couldn't wait to get into the fray. Thread was an enemy he knew he could take on. And take on without earning the hate of the whole Weyr.
With the black pair slightly at odds, they entered the battle. Zara urged Areith to stay low, but the black followed the patterns they had learned, searing Thread quickly and eagerly. His eyes swirled with rage and excitement. Don't get hurt the girl urged, sort of hoping that she would also not get hurt. Threadscores scars would not be attractive.
---
Ch'ko was probably the most excited about the Threadfall, mostly because he was young and excited by everything. Oddly, he was still grinning, not having the grim determination that most around him plastered on their face. No doubt, Ch'ko was going to take this seriously. Paixioth wouldn't allow anything else. The pair were going to fly as expertly as possible. They were young, but flexible. And the bronze was very sure in himself and his Wing.
As the Thread came closer, they took off. As they fought Thread, Ch'ko felt himself become more and more one with Paixioth. It was odd at first, but he allowed it to happen and it was exhilarating. Angrily, they both turned to Y'nis and Yusriyath as their flame came close to hitting them. They were not following pattern. Paixioth growled slightly, but Ch'ko came into himself enough to urge the bronze down.
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Sakoru
Drudge
THE FEARSOME FIERY BEAST
Posts: 11
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Post by Sakoru on Oct 11, 2011 21:59:50 GMT -5
Serasrigoth hung in the air, wings beating languorously to keep her aloft as wet snow spiraled down to speckle her dark hide. Her rider was still and quiet atop her back, ready to fuel the red's relatively weak flames as they waited for the oncoming Fall. Only moments, now. It was possible to see the silvery Thread twisting through the snow ahead of them, dropping oceanward and hissing as it struck the water. The redpair was not afraid, though their hearts -- one large, one smaller -- thumped steadily in their chests. For once there was no contention between them, no struggle for power. Charleron's consciousness settled momentarily into that of her dragon's, calm and confident as she waited for their trial by Thread.
Today, my Serasrigoth, destroy everything you touch. Turn it to ashes, the redrider murmured into her dragon's mind, and Serasrigoth's consciousness rippled with wicked pleasure. She twisted her head as the Fall drew nearer, reached back and snapped the firestone from her bonded's waiting hand. The massive wings beat once, lifting the dark frame a little higher, and then the red glanced up at the wings above them, issuing a low growl. She should be up there, blazing Thread from the skies with great streams of fire! And because she couldn't be, the red would use her rage on what silver spores fell to this level. None would remain. She would see to that. Alone.
Charleron did not contradict her. There was no need. Should she need to control her dragon, she would, and in the meantime, the rider adjusted the firestone bags hanging from the harness before her. Easy to reach, now...
Daidoroth's call rang through their combined minds, and the redpair tensed as one. Ready for anything, they kept careful watch on their surroundings. A stray clump of Thread writhed through the air several yards in front of them, and Serasrigoth surged forward. Worthless, she scoffed, and angled away in search of a more worthy challenge.
It was maddening! She was trapped here in the Heritage Wing, watching Thread come closer and closer... and she knew that the upper wings were likely to catch it first. Laemirath snarled at the thought, flinging her head skyward and jostling her rider on her back. I should be up there, she snapped to X'mor, reaching around to accept a chunk of firestone and crush it in her powerful jaws. Up there where the real fighters should be. I am no slow queen, to be here in Lower Flight.
X'mor brushed a gloved hand along his green's striped neck, quieting her. Easy. You're with Eondith and Koketeth here. Laemirath scoffed and shook her head, tail lashing as she focused on the incoming Thread. She did, however, reach out to her two favourite dragons. First, she touched the mind of her beloved blue. Eondith was all she said, but she coloured it with affection before reaching out for Koketeth. Stay out of trouble, she ordered the younger green, and then launched herself forward with a scream of defiance. On her back, X'mor braced himself. Nothing mattered now except surviving this. And after twelve Turns training together, why shouldn't they?
We will survive, TiraMine, Shiragath assured his rider. He was not sure of it, and his eyes betrayed that: they whirled yellow, pale yellow, and Alatira dug her fingers into his hide, clinging for all she was worth. They waited there, laden with firestone, neither speaking again as the hissing silver rain came closer and closer. In Lower Flight, surely they were safe. The wings above them were likely to catch almost everything, after all.
At last the Thread was nearly on top of the Dalibor dragonriders, and Shiragath leapt forward in the air, giving the only scream that Alatira had ever heard him make. They would defeat this menace, burn it to nothing, and protect their home. What else was there for them to do?
For a while they darted about as necessary. Shiragath flamed Thread from the sky, and Alatira passed him firestone. They were doing fine, just fine... until a clump of the silver spores, hidden by the snow, landed on the back of the dragon's neck. He flashed between instantly, freezing the stuff from his dark hide -- but he couldn't grab the coordinates from his rider's mind. She too had been struck by Thread, and distracted by the pain, Alatira could not visualize coordinates.
There was no way out of the darkness. Stricken, the blackrider clung to the nothingness in front of her. Shiragath? Shiragath, I love you.
And I you, my Alatira. It didn't matter what he said. Shiragath couldn't save his rider, couldn't save himself, and so he let them fade into the black as if they had never been.[/center] |
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Reky
Alphahandler
rekyct[M:-999]
SO PRO
Posts: 1,554
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Post by Reky on Oct 11, 2011 22:13:54 GMT -5
There was a split second where Memnorooth's foggy brain emerged from Lin's firm and guiding grasp. LinMine! LinMine, it's Ayarth-- She had no time to finish, for Lin forced her small brain to relay the message word for word. Memnorooth. I am so frightened! AzraMine! I let her get hurt! Be careful MemnoroothPretty. Please! Lin's fists tightened around the reins.
"Shard it!" she snarled, heart catching a furious flame. Azra was hurt. She couldn't just stop mid-Fall to find her, though; that was frivolous. She would find Azra later, bring her warm soup and klah and see that she got well. The extents of her injury were unknown but Lin did not allow it to plague her - not yet. There was no time. Thread was falling and that was the only thing she could let herself think of. She controlled Memnorooth's movements with an exhausting force that she had not had to exercise ever before. She hated to overwhelm the green like this, but there was no room for error. There was only room for their very best, their top effort. Lives were at stake and no one could afford to do less than their limits.
For all of the precision a trained mind gave, however, there was always the chance of the unexpected happening. Kesviry was afraid of that, of the chaotic and unpredictable manner of the brutal, unnatural storm at hand. She suppressed Karath's fear with a cold, logical mind and convinced herself that it was nothing but a dreamlike game. It was the only way she could continue to function. Accepting that this ghastly, frozen horror was reality was out of the question for the pinkrider. She only had room to act, not to worry, but worry wormed its way into her anyway in more ways than one.
She had barely registered the white hot pain before Karath snapped between. The few moments of nothingness numbed Kesviry sufficiently, but when they came back out into the stinging blizzard, all the merciful work was undone. The Thread had frozen to the core and fell into oblivion, but the pain was still there. The lesions burned an angry red even in the sub-zero temperatures. Ichor oozed from a score on Karath's neck. The dragon screamed bloody murder, but none were to hear. The wind snatched her cries away and tossed them to the snow.
IT BURNS US, she shrieked, KESVIRYMINE! The sky! It's killing us! It wants us dead, it wants to hurt us! I hate it! I don't want-- I can't be here! KesviryMine, we have to go! We have to-- A numbing pause between. KesviryMine! I'm never going back there! Karath's hysterics continued to flood Kes' mind even as they were held by tender hands in the infirmary. Kesviry had never broken a leg. Never had a nosebleed, never cut herself beyond a nick or scratch. The pain was brand new to her, flooding her body to the point that she could barely ascertain its origin. Even though the healers spoke calmly to her and tried to soothe her livid dragon, the world became incomprehensible. She blacked out. [/blockquote] |
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Post by cy on Oct 11, 2011 22:47:12 GMT -5
[/i], ducking and darting, and all was well. A few scores across wing membranes, but they were doing well. It was enough of success to allow the boy to feel relatively optimistic despite all of... everything. It was the unfortunate moment where a dragon must turn its head to accept the firestone from its rider that they were debatably at their most vulnerable. The horrible weather conditions only made it that much worse. The pain was blinding. Thread ate swiftly through his jacket, just beginning to burrow into the flesh of his shoulder as the boy screamed and Ocouth promptly disappeared to the icy nothing of between, freezing and killing the clump. He reappeared much further down, seeking temporary refuge beneath the other levels of fighting dragons. E'ra was hunched over, one arm cradled firmly against his body while his free hand clung desperately to the riding straps. Ocouth nudged against his mind with great concern, but he couldn't think. He could only feel the throb of his shoulder and remember the absolute agony of something living and evil digging in. He whimpered, squeezing his eyes shut. He didn't know what to do. He had no idea what was going on. Why had he ever dreamed about this? Ocouth roared, 'E'raMine!' Sucking in a harsh breath through his nostrils, lips pressed in a tight frown, he shoved himself to sit taller, tilting his head back to look at the mass amount of dragons continuing to fight above him. Again, Ocouth pressed against his mind, curious and worried. Sniffling, E'ra shook his head, adjusting the bag of firestone. 'No, we're going back up.' Gritting his teeth against the pain of his burn, he gripped at the straps with his injured arm, now using the other to pull a stone out to feed it to his yellow. Even through his concern for his rider's well-being, the urge to battle this enemy that fell from the skies was strong, embedded into his every pore and he relished in the opportunity to return. He had protected His, he would continue to do so and he would continue to destroy while he did. Blinking into the between once more, the yellowpair flashed back up to return to their position in formation.[/ul][/size] |
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Lan
Weyrlingmaster
lanct[M:-1025]
Nomming ALL the kidpets!
Posts: 1,266 
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Post by Lan on Oct 12, 2011 12:41:05 GMT -5
It is time... Malin smirked, gathering her gear with the ease of practice before jumping on the ledge on the back of her spunky, pink dragon. Even Jazard had come along for the ride. The three of them rose as Daidoroth called them, adrenalin pumping as this new adventure took them up in its throws. This would be excellent. This would be glorious. This would be an event people would talk about for ages to come: the first time Dalibor rose to meet thread. Malin and Piroeth, ever the optimists, were cocky about their chances. How many people ever really got hurt by thread? It didn't seem possible. They were too fast, too cunning. Thread couldn't even think. It wouldn't stand a chance.
F'ton and Poseith, too, took their place in the Dawn Wing high above the others. There was no suspense. No calm before the storm. It seemed as if there had only been this. Whatever fear would have gripped him was thrown aside as the responsibility of what he and the iron had been born to do took over. Drills. Training. There were only these.
In the Daybreak wing C'lin and Reyith, S'in and Nemeth took to the skies. The pastel green dragon was not filled with fear or nostalgia. Into war she was born and from war she would rise. Still, she was not one to boast... she knew that if she and Hers were not careful they would end up in the sepulcher of dark between. Don't get cocky, S'in. Remember your training. Feed me more firestone when I call. Her words were stern, as always, but S'in made no complaint. After going through weyrlinghood together he trusted Nemeth to get them out on the other side. They rode together like a well-oiled machine, putting aside their differences as together they struck thread from the sky.
Ocouth! Reyith exclaimed as E'ra and Ocouth fell from the ranks of the upper flight. C'lin's eyes followed Reyith's keen gaze as he saw the unmistakable bright yellow hide dropping from the sky. His mind melded with Reyith's and the two swept over the previously occupied place to cover them, twisting and turning and betweening and flaming with the eerie grace of two ghosts in the sky. They only stopped their frenzied dance when Ocouth and E'ra had returned to the ranks. By all rights, they should have been scored themselves... but perhaps they were the lucky ones. "Are you okay?" Reyith and C'lin projected as one to the yellowpair, although their attack on thread didn't cease.
A'bar and Jaci, too, fought the good fight on the middle flight. The current war took A'bar's mind off of his recent drama as he and Ablath fought for the lives of their wingmates. The greenpair trusted each other completely and Ablath fought for the protection of her beloved A'bar. Still, their intensity did not mean they were invincible. Thread grazed Ablath's wingtip and with a shocked cry she winked between. Seconds later she and her rider re-appeared below the fighting. Ablath! Are you okay? A'bar inspected the injury as the green glided and tested its viability. Just a graze, A'barMine... I think I'm okay... but it hurts. She gave a few pumps to test it again to see if she could return to battle. Should we call it in? Or can you make it? A'bar waited with baited breath. I can make it. Let's return. They blinked back into position just as the first rider-dragon pair fell victim to thread. But there was no time for keening. Ablath returned to flaming to keep herself and her rider alive.
Meyhineth has fallen, Rowenth informed Jaci, his usually unemotional voice full of foreboding and something akin to sorrow. Death. It was something the blue accepted, but wasn't sure how to handle. He continued in his task of following orders, moving in perfect formation and flaming what thread he could reach. More firestone; he called to Jaci, who willingly obliged. Just as Rowenth's head turned to sear thread he noticed a rogue strand right above him. However, it was too late to do anything about it. He tried to between out of the way, but just before he disappeared the silvery strand of death seared through Jaci's riding gear and into her shoulder.
The bluepair popped up below the lower flights and Jaci's gasping whimper announced their arrival. Blood pumped from her shoulder and upper arm as she held onto it, trying to apply pressure. It was as if her right side of her body was on fire. Tears stung in the corners of her eyes as she clung to the neck of her beloved dragon. Rowenth paused, at first not knowing what to do. The pain he felt from her was unbearable. We're getting you to a healer. We can't continue. Rowenth submitted his position to the wingleaders before turning on tail to head for the healer's quarters.
Waroth and Nimara took their place in the lower flights, helping the Queen's Wing and the Weyrlingmaster's wings. Nimara had a sack of firestone at the ready and she fed the red as she called. The dragoness was vocal about what thread she seared, barking out to the skies as if to challenge her more. The deaths of smaller, higher dragons meant nothing to her. She was strong and large and deadly! She was the scourge of the skies! Still, she fed the names to Nimara as they came in of the injured and the dying. Each time it was not R'len's name, she redhead couldn't help but feel some small ounce of relief. Down in the lower flights the crimson pair were relatively well-protected... They could still be hurt, but they weren't at as much risk as the others. Still, with all the pain around her, the Candidatemaster felt some loss. Her kind soul felt the pain of each person with empathy and heartache. It was too much. Waroth just continued flaming. Let the week be weeded out. She and Hers would survive and kill anything standing in her way.
Death. Destruction. Chaos. Such romantic concepts only fueled the fire in Malin's heart. Jazard, too, was doing his part flaming what strands headed for his human that Piroeth couldn't reach. The trio seemed unstoppable. But thread didn't fall in regular clumps. As Malin turned to give a fist-pump to a fellow wingrider she didn't notice the over-sized, mangled clump that was falling right on top of her. Jazard gave a screech and tried to protect his human, but there was too much. Thread engulfed his tiny body and he trumpeted one last time before disappearing between. Malin looked up in horror. Thread fell onto her face, wrapping its slimy tendrils around her neck and engulfing her. Piroeth cried, losing rational thought as she felt her lifemate dying astride her. She tried to roll to protect her Malin from the worst of it, but it was to no avail. Piroeth refused to give up. She refused to be consumed by the monster that had devoured both of her friends. As thread ate at her flesh she blew fire up at the sky until she could no longer sustain a flame. Then, as Malin's mind left her, she could withstand no more. There was nothing to live for. There were no more friends and no more adventures. All that was left was the end. The pinkpair winked between... and never came back. |
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Gray
Wingrider
grayct[M:-350]
Posts: 870
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Post by Gray on Oct 22, 2011 18:09:50 GMT -5
There was an audible gasp when Teaque saw them. All the dragons ready to take flight, it was amazing. Her hands quivered slightly as she stroked Godrith's long neck. Fingers trailed down as she swallowed hard. Her hear was competing with itself. Fear and anxiety fighting with sheer joy and excitement. Which would win?
It's beautiful mine [/color] Godrith trumpeted eagerly and quivered beneath the young woman. The pink waited for the signal that charged at the thread. It was in this moment that Teaque came to a realization. She was not ready. She wasn't ready to die. A raucous laughter filled her head. We will not die! If anything we will win! We will win against this thread![/color] The pink sounded almost crazed. She was far too happy to be here. Her sinuous body twisted and turned through the thread. Great clouds of flame rushing forth to sear thread in the skies. A fine black mist as starting to coat both the dragon and the rider, though the wind was taking most of it. Her wings pumped as she gained a bit of altitude. There was a feverish glint in the pink's eyes. She practically sang as they fought the thread. Crooning as well as singing to Teaque. Swooping down she dived at a clump of thread and seared it. Teaque gripped onto her riding straps as the dragon rolled out of the way of another clump of thread. Godrith's bravery was infectious. She felt her fears melt away replaced by determination to protect all those beneath. Lets go Godrith. We have more to do. Wiping a bit of snow from her face, Teaque pulled some firestone from her bag and fed it to the great pink she rode. Godrith was the best pink, and both of them knew it. The wind and snow was starting to take it's toll. Even in her leathers, Teaque was starting to feel the cold. Godrith was too. Her movements were slowing just a bit. Gritting her teeth Teaque knew they had to get through it. All around them riders and dragons were falling out, the thread striking them. Godrith dropped a bit to catch another clump. She had meant to flip herself out of the way. She rolled instead and mentally applauded herself. On her back, Teaque stiffened and let out a shriek. Pain spidered across her back and her eyes widened. Teaque? Teaquemine! What's wrong? Godrith panicked and faltered a bit . Just between please Teeth bit into her bottom lip as she withheld another cry. Godrith was worried now. They blinked between and appeared closer to the ground, though it had been risky too. Healers! Come quick Teaque mine is hurt! Between had stopped the threads progression but it still hurt. She leaned against Godrith's neck, her arms wrapped tight around her neck. Teaque buried her face in Godrith's neck, trying to hold back tears of pain and fear. Her back was a mess, thread scoring across it blood welling up to stain her riding jacket and pants. Do not worry mine. Do not worry. We'll get you down safe. The pink glided down to the ground as careful as she could, trying not to cause the woman further. [/center] |
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princesal
Wingrider
salct[M:-100]
Poliwogging it up!
Posts: 429
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Post by princesal on Oct 24, 2011 3:28:39 GMT -5
He had never been so scared. Never. In his entire life, in any turn. He wanted to hide in his room, wanted to curl up close to his Iron. He didn't want to know what was happening, he didn't want to see riders and dragons fall. He didn't want to see thread. And most importantly he didn't want to see a blue dragon and his rider fighting through the thread. What if... what if he never got to see that rider again. What if the thread grabbed him, and ate him up. Wes just wanted to hide away from it all, he didn't care that he'd be called a coward, didn't care if he was glared at later, and hated for hiding away when he could help. He couldn't take the thought that people were dying. Couldn't handle the fact that the last time he saw someone might have been a time when he yelled at them, cursed at them, and made them hurt... and that would always be his memory of them.
Guilt.
W'lin was feeling such extreme guilt that it wanted to choke him. He wanted to hide away, and not learn who fell. Not know if he had picked a fight with someone that had just lost themselves in a fight to protect someone like him. He knew that it was going to happen, but everyday he woke up without thread, it made it seem like nothing but a dream, like it wouldn't really happen... and now it was happening. His marshmallow insides were melting and threatening to ooze out of his eyes.
Chyurath wouldn't have it though. The Iron hadn't give W'lin a choice to hide away. The fact that his chosen had put up even the barest amount of fight to hide away, well, it wouldn't be tolerated in the future. By the time they got to a room where news would come swiftly, and he heard of those who had already been lost, including those who had no reason to be out fighting thread, he was angry. Angry with himself, and angry with W'lin. Chyurath was sure that if he had been out, keeping a watchful eye over everyone, it wouldn't have happened. They were all idiots, and he had to keep charge of them. They were lost now though, and with the swamping guilt, he couldn't be angry at W'lin any longer.
I understand it is frightening for you, but we must me strong, W'lin. One day we shall be out there, one day soon, and it is our duty to keep watch over everyone. Let my Iron brother lead how he wants, and I will still watch over him, since I am sure he will be idiotic in his choices. It is our duty to make sure that stupid mistakes like what has happened today, does not happen while we fight thread. You must be aware in take in the surroundings. List to what is happening, watch the formations. We have an important job, and one day our fellow riders will look at us to set an example, do not make those fools fear, the way you fear. Fear now, for once we are in the air, there will be no time for it.
Do you want to go up there now?
A swirling eye turned to look at W'lin, and the big Iron shook his head.
I am not stupid nor prideful enough to believe myself ready to fight thread sufficiently yet. We have lessons to learn, and drills to run. We are one, and I would never endanger us with such foolhardy wants. It will be our turn one day, but today is not that day. Watch, W'lin, learn. If we are needed, we will help to the best of our ability with what we can do, but only that.
Chyurath's calm gave W'lin a momentary rest from his fear, and with trepidation he finally looked out at the battle.
I am sure he is fine, mine. When he returns, perhaps you can both use the excuse of post flight adrenaline?
Chyu! Now is not the time!
No, now is not, but the shifting color of your face amuses me on a day like this. Now watch, if you need to, search out Lanith and H'to if you can, and think positively.
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Teriss was helping out where he thought he would be most beneficial. In the kitchen. He had gone down to see if he was needed, and if he could be of help. When he proved that he knew how to handle a knife, he was peeling tubers with the best of them. It would be a hard fight, and food would be needed to replenish energy. He stayed quiet and peeled, the kitchen was louder than normal, as if the people inside could fight the thread that way. Or maybe they thought if they over-talked, that it would run away, afraid of their loud voices.
He liked that idea, and while he didn't quite understand how lethal thread was as of yet (he was young, and his life had been the kitchen till he was searched, while thread was a fear, not even his parents had seen it), he thought that if being loud made people feel better, than it was a good idea. Instead he just continued to peel, wondering how long the thread would fall for.
As they finished the last tuber, someone brought in a stack more. Did they really need this much, or was it busy work? Some people he had never seen in the kitchen before were doing the same as him. Keeping their hands busy, as if to quiet their minds, to distract them from what was happening outside. He smiled at one, hoping to make them feel better, and didn't get a smile back.
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