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Post by kia on Mar 27, 2011 0:39:01 GMT -5
It had not been that long since Ausk had Run for her mating. It was still to be determined if she was going to Clutch or not since Whers do not show until they were close to laying the eggs. But Ridan had a feeling that the Wher was going to Clutch. It had been a while since there was a Wher Hatching, and Whers had a strange sense of understanding when there was a need for a Clutch, especially among the Queen and sub-Queen level. Risk was no exception, as well. The Gold was to Run any night now. In fact, it took every ounce of Ridan`s energy to keep the Gold from running out to tear the Red up.
Red disrespect! She immature! That was all Ridan could hear from the Gold that night. Risk was not in the best of moods since then. The Gold was very agitated. On edge. Since that night those days ago, Ridan refused to let the Wher leave their sleeping quarters. Unless she was hungry, but even still he kept those trips short. So, because of lack of socialization the last few nights, he had to let Mataike, Hustafer, and Baharl be in charge of things for a while. But he was fine with staying in his room with Risk, so long as the Gold decided not to go on another ranting session about the Red. But once Risk Ran and Clutched, the Gold would relax once more. That was then. Now…
Ridan decided to do some drawing from memory. He decided to paint from memory that last Hatching. He drew shadowy creatures running up to humans and tackling or attacking them. There was Kio with his “armour” as he Impressed Kiosk, wild child Bri Impressing delicate lady-like Brisk. Then there was Wrynri with his shirt torn with a worried Wrynsk on top of him wondering if he was okay. Ridan smiled and felt the tension relax from his muscles as he drew happy scenes. While it was true that Wher Hatchings were dangerous and deadly, they were still happy moments when you walk off the Sands with the Wher of your life next to you. Would Risk`s next Clutch be the same as the last? Or how much more different would it be, especially since a Red was possibly going to share the Sands?
Ridan, door.
Ridan blinked. There was no door in picture. And he certainly was not going to draw one in. And he was not planning on leaving his room all night. Though why would he want to go get the door? Then a surge of emotions began to fill the Wher Handler. First there was great anger and annoyance before an insatiable desire to eat, drink something warm to fill him, and then came that longing to run. Yes, run far! And fast! Past the bay, beyond the mountains, through the forest, over the valleys. Yes, run. He had strength to run. At the same time, this was not his strength.
Door! Now! Or tear down!
Ridan realized all too well that this was not his emotions and lustful feelings he was feeling. This was the work of his Gold Wher. Yes, he turned around and saw her. Glowing rediantly. The purples and reds in her eyes making a deep scarlet color that was unique in its own way. Her hide had that newly gold polished look that was almost nearly blinding if the room was not already dimly lit by a candle. But in these moments, Ridan could not help but to stare at the Gold. It was still hard to believe some nights when he woke up that this was the Wher that he had Impressed. He could have Impressed a dragon all those years ago, he could have Impressed a Blue Wher, but he had gotten lucky and Impressed to this beautiful, majestic, fiery Gold Wher.
It felt like it took five minutes to move from his desk to the door. Staring at her, connecting his mind with her seemed to slow down time. But Risk, through the amount of anger and annoyance that she was feeling at Ridan for taking so damn long to reach the door, stood as patiently and with as much dignity as she could. She was not a psychopathic raging Red that tore into her Handler`s arm when she wanted something. No, she was the true Night Queen of Dalibor Weyr, and she would prove that no matter what kind of mood she was in. Even with the Runlust starting to fill her every fiber.
As soon as the door knob turned, Risk ran out the door and immediately towards the pins where the herdbeasts were kept. Portraying her strange ability for a Gold to jump-fly in the air, she leapt over the fence that stood between her and beasts. The beast all called out at the sight of the glowing monster that was heading for them. But they were too slow. She brought her claws down on her first victim and latched her jaws into the creature`s neck, much like how an African leopard would have killed her prey on Earth. Her eyes whirled with orange, red, and deep yellows as she seemed in a trance once her jaws were locked in the dying creature.
Blood only! Ridan mentally yelled, his body tensed as he seemed to be staring at nothing in the night as he stood in his room`s doorway.
The Gold growled and gave a primal roar. How dare anyone tell HER to blood this stupid creature! She was a Queen for Faranth`s sake! Nobody told her what to do! But Ridan`s incessant reminder to blood the creature got so annoying that she just did that to make him shut up. She bled the creature till she was sure there was not a drop left. And as what was left dripped down her mouth, she was on another creature in just a blink of an eye. With the same primal instinct, she had this creature bleed within a minute of taking it down. The blood was so warm and filling, she wanted a taste of the raw meat to dance on her tongue, but Ridan would not allow it.
With a belly filled with blood, the Queen looked out at the two moons that were just now starting to wane in the sky after the full moons. Her eyes were now completely orange and red, whirling quickly with the desire to Run stirring in her limbs. But she was not just going to take off just now. No, she needed to make sure the males knew she was here, knew she was coming, knew that she desired their attentions for her in this Run. She gave a roar, one that was different from a dragon roar, as she growled lowly. This was her night. Those other Whers may have thought themselves queens when they went for their Runs, but she was a true Queen! Even after this Run she would still be a Queen!
And now that she felt that the males knew that she was Running, she leapt over the fence again but in the direction of the mountains. Rugged terrain had always been the ideal places for her Runs. They showed power and strength, capability and cunning. Speed was not always a necessity, but knowing how to dodge falling stones and balancing on rocks were always good points that showed the strength of a Wher. And so that is where she started. Towards the base of the rocky mountains. But this Run was just beginning. For all the males knew, she could just turn and head towards the beaches or the forests. Or maybe cause some chaos and go through the Weyr or near it. Oh what fun! But Risk was in no mood to play. She was Running for a reason, and she was not holding back her temper at the moment. And with her last words, she gave the challenge.
Chase or are all Whers Black? Or not respect Queen? The true Queen?
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Gray
Wingrider 
grayct[M:-350]
Posts: 870
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Post by Gray on Mar 27, 2011 1:10:42 GMT -5
Some small crature scampered, making too much sound as it ran. That was it's downfall. He was a good hunter. He was good at finding food! Claws ripped at the foliage and the earth beneath him as he followed the sounds, gaining on the small creature. It was furry, and warm, and filled with meat and blood that would taste oh so good right now! A different sound caught his attention though. Something better, quickly making him forget the creature he had been following. A new hunger filled his belly now. Not for food, or for blood, but a desire to run. A hunger for the wher that caught his attention.
He took a moment to find the direction her cry came from. She would wait if he made her, he knew this. But he would not make her wait. Muscled legs pumped quickly as he dove into the bush and brush, not caring for the scratches made by branches and rock. He scrabbled to find where she was, shrubs and trees falling beneath his heavy footsteps, claws raking up clods of dirt as he ran. If he were human, or perhaps even dragon, he might wax poetic to grab her attentions. But he was not. He was a wher. He would run and he would show her! Bursting from the underbrush he let loose a deep, gravelly roar. He was Bronsk!
Moonlight would now show him for what he was. A large, muscled bronze, his hide dark and mottled, strange slightly green hues colorized his shoulders. Like he had oxidized over time. He was so dark, some might mistake him for a brown, but the sheen to his hide proved differently. Scars covered his hide, badges of pride in his mind. He had protected his territory! He had fought an won! He would prove to this gold that he, Bronsk, was best for her!
Challenging roar was given to any of her other suitors. Let them be warned! He was not afraid. He was tougher than the rock he lives in, and stronger than the trees that grew around him. He had no time to dally though. He had to chase! To run! And he was off, chasing at the gold that was not his queen. Not any one elses. His. [/size] |
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Azhdarchid
Jr. Weyrwoman 
azhct[M:-1490]
Totes.
Posts: 1,627
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Post by Azhdarchid on Mar 27, 2011 17:01:00 GMT -5
Slosk the Iron sat on the intermittent edge of his domain. He started to exhale, but a tickle caught in his nose and he fired the rest of his breath out in a briny sneeze. Dipping his head, he scratched at the rough point of his nose, sand and salt alike seeping from his nostrils. The activity awakened the wound on the other side of his snout. The itching began again. Slosk got up and paced away from the beckoning ocean, stomping up to a piece of driftwood he had picked out a couple days prior. He mashed his nose against it and rubbed the itchy spot raw. Whenever he tried to enter the water, the irritation became a painful burn on his normally thick and resilient hide. So he could not swim. He could not eat. He was resigned to looking out at the buoys marking Fishcrafters' traps with all the wide-eyed anxiety of a Hatchling.
His hide had lost its luster, and his eye facets swirled with sluggish yellows and condemning greys. Perhaps if he had learned some other way of existing, he would feel better. But why learn? The sea was always there, and so were the fisherfolk, both offering up enough sustenance for a hundred Irons. He just could not get at it. Because of the wound that stung and burned-- when he touched it to water, of all things! Maybe tonight, it was better. He got up and padded hopefully back to the shallows, advancing a few steps into the playful waves. He stuck his skinned snout underwater.
And he erupted back out of the sea moments later, squalling despite himself and undermining his remaining dignity. He bared his fangs at the water, then flumped down on his too-skinny belly and covered his nose with one paw. He did not even remember where he had gotten this wound. It felt soggy, dry, and swollen all at once! But he had always been careful when he collected the pinchy things from the floor of the bay, and when he opened the fishermen's traps! Always! Maybe it was that bad dream he had. It had been the middle of the day, but such a vivid dream! Maybe so vivid...it came to life! Slosk trembled at the thought. Then he cocked his head, a distant call rattling into his skull.
He knew what it was.
Food! Glorious food! Welcoming him to the feast! Food! Golden food...? Food! Slosk was happy to run for the food. At first he trotted along the shore, swelling with cordiality, but the food seemed to go faster regardless of what he was doing. The wher's stiff lips twitched at this game. He was really too tired for this. The food needed to come back! But...the food promised itself fit for a king. He just had to catch up, and there would be a lifetime supply of fish, declawed pinchies, and maybe some of those gelatinous bubble-monsters that were fun to pop. And they would all be Gold!
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Post by veritas on Mar 28, 2011 2:16:02 GMT -5
There was always something, it seemed, keeping things from settling back into something that might be called a "normal" routine at Dalibor without a heavy dose of irony.
This time, at least, Hustafer had been more or less expecting it - the what, and soon, if not the exact when. And this time, at least, he wasn't rousted out of bed; he and Husk were just starting to settle into a patrol when Husk's head snapped up.
The handler had just enough time to note the sparks of violent in the wher's whirling eyes before the need behind them slammed into him. Some part of his mind thought, Shards. So soon after the last one and all that put us both through... Neither man nor wher was young anymore, after all, however healthy they were overall.
But a larger part of him thought, About time, and a much larger part still didn't think in words - just a deep yearning.
Husk tore off down the passageway, making for the quickest route to the surface. If he could at least get to the surface while Risk was still feeding, before she got too far away...
The timing was close: the iron emerged to see a flash of gold, and kicked into a vigorous pursuit on pure reflex. His muzzle and neck, his tail, his back and sides, all bore marks from the last Run - but none of them troubled him now. None of them hampered his legs.
And this would be a proper Run.
As Husk chased, he eyed the terrain ahead of him warily, as though it was a competitor just like the wild males he could hear, could feel, in the distance. It could stop him just as thoroughly as any wher, if he let it.
He would not. He was strong, he was fast, he was tough - all good things in a Run! But he was no dumb brute, to lose track of the ground under his pounding feet - or the obstacles looming above and ahead. Whatever looked unsteady, he gave a wide berth where he could, charging around far enough to keep his footing clear, to have a bit more time to leap - or to dig in his claws - if it came to that.
It cost him time, to be so wary, to treat the very ground with such suspicion. But it would cost him more if he ran afoul of a rockslide or loose boulder. If the Chase ever opened up onto flat ground, or even something a little less treacherous, he would make up that time - and he was still moving at a quite respectable clip.
All this he knew, on a level so deep, so basic, it didn't even need thinking of - not the way His thought and thought and thought. Husk had conquered the terrain before; he could do so again.
Still, he snarled with frustration, then roared a challenge to the other males - Husk Chase! He wanted to Chase with all his speed and force, to catch the gold who Ran ahead of him, to prove - to her and all others - that he was the best mate for her. This prancing about, even if he didn't dare do otherwise, made him want to bite something.
Back in the Weyr tunnels, Hustafer paced along, one hand trailing along the wall. Husk's urgency was already so strong that it was hard to think about where he, Hustafer, actually was, even for so long as to make it to Ridan's quarters. But he wasn't entirely lost, not yet. And as soon as he got there, as soon as he locked eyes with Risk's handler, Hustafer and Husk could Run together, Chase as one.
Soon, now. Very soon.
There was the door. And there was the ruler of the night after Risk.
It wasn't unusual for Hustafer grin. But it didn't usually have the... the edge to it that it did in this moment.
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Post by jack on Mar 28, 2011 15:12:50 GMT -5
Tonight was a strange night, just as the night before and the night before that had been. Days and nights had run together lately, and even when Mataike was awake, he felt asleep. Thus was the result of a plan not going as planned. A soft growl sounded, and Mataike was unsure if it was from his own chest, or from the massive form blocking his doorway. It didn't really matter much who made the noise anyways; both felt the same. Mataike, frustrated that he was being manipulated by his own scheme, and Mask annoyed that His was so easily swayed.
But even as the Bronzehandler gave a growl that was certainly his own and smacked a hand against his forehead, kneading his temples, his thoughts were forced to come to a rather sudden stop. Mataike sat up as though yanked, his eyes wide in the dark and his nostrils flared as a familiar sound echoed through the caverns, and a familiar pulse rose hungrily in his chest. No words were needed as the handler slipped quickly from his bed, erasing the distance between himself and the door in three quick strides as he pulled it open and moved out of the way just in time to avoid being bulldozed. Mask didn't waste breath or time on His as he stampeded out of the room, his claws sinking into the stone as he charged towards his queen.
Mataike himself was slower to move, swallowing the lump in his throat as he lingered in the doorway, running a hand through his hair. He closed his eyes, breathing in the cool air and letting the twisting fever of lust coil itself hungrily in his gut, before finally and reluctantly moving. Mask would Chase Risk with every inch of his being. Ridan deserved the same treatment--or better. That fierce, confident expression he had been so missing spread back across his features unbidden, and he moved forwards into a run, feeling the rough stones beneath Mask's claws pound into his own feet with every step.
Mask exploded out of the weyr mere moments after the other, his trumpeting roar released at the entrance of the tunnels echoing both into the sky and back into the weyr to resound like a cannon's challenge. His eyes were glowing in the night, twin glows that shone like the moons above, but they were locked on something that shone infinitely brighter--that beautiful flash of Gold so close at hand. He extended in stride, claws spread, and powered into the midst of the challengers, fearless and more than willing to respond to any threat as he gave a guttural growl of warning. A barking roar followed moments later as he called out to his goddess.
Risk! Wher Queen--All Queen! Even dragons bow. A bellow, wordless and songlike, echoed lowly frm his throat, and he shook himself as he extended his stride even further, nimbly navigating the heavy rocks as he flared his nostrils and flashed his stubby wings, Mask chase! Chase to ends of Pern! Always chase perfect Risk!
Mataike hesitated again at the doorway of Ridan's room, nostrils flared and muscles tensing at the broad shouldered form that lurked there. Hustafer. Brows knit tightly, and the handler had to resist the urge to snarl before all of the sudden, he reined in his emotions and let that smirk slide back into place. He strode easily up to Hustafer and slipped into the room, glancing over his shoulder at the other with a warning glare before his attention was on Ridan. Without words, he inclined his head into a bow, licking his lips as he smiled.
He knew better than to approach any further. He wanted to, oh did he want to. He' missed the feel of the other man and wanted it back...but he was wary that the feeling was no longer reciprocated. So he stood, waiting and wondering, his heart beating in time with his Wher's and his eyes locked on the handsome man before him.
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Post by kia on Mar 30, 2011 22:50:08 GMT -5
Risk kept on moving, moving as fast as she could, which was a pretty good deal. She had the mountains in her sights, but suddenly she took a turn. She was still heading towards the mountains, but now she was not going straight toward them. Instead, she was moving along the base of the mountains, right where the rocks met the earth. She could cause enough damage down here for now. She ran, her claws digging into stone and crumbling smaller ones. She had only one thing on her mind, and that was to run as far as she could, as fast as she could, and make the land succumb to her. She was their Queen tonight! She gave a roar as a deep, aggressive growl continued in her throat. What males had come and Chased her tonight? She would only have the best. She turned her head slightly, keeping her attentions ahead of her so she would not slip and fall.
Her sights fell first on Mask. Ah, yes, Mask. She remembered him well, but it had been a while. She growled deeply at him. He had won her last Run and then disappeared. She had not seen in a while, and honestly she was very pissed about it! He should have come to see her! If she was his Queen, should he not have come to see her often? She snapped her teeth at him, warning him that he had much to make up if he was going to please her. The next Wher that fell into her sights was Iron Husk. He was given the same treatment as Mask, another growl as her tail seem to slash at him, keeping him away and reminding him of their distance. He had gone to another place when she had arrived. Why would a Wher want to leave when they finally had a Queen? When she finally arrived?
Finally there was the next two Whers, both of them wild. And wild they appeared. She roared at them, reminding them that even though she was bound to a human, she was STILL their Queen! She was Queen of them all! She would make them see that. The Bronze one, Bronsk, looked slightly harried as his hide was a slight green color as if he had oxidized over time. And part of Risk understood that maybe this male had Turns of experience under him to make him a capable and worthy suitor for her Run. The next one was Slosk. She faintly remembered his scent from around the area when that Red had Ran several days ago. And now he was Chasing her? Well, he had much to prove to her if he was going to be a suitable male to Chase her.
Risk continued running, heading slightly upwards into the mountains, but still going at an angle that made her appear to be running over the side of the mountain. But she had much planned. This Run was not going to here or now. She kept running, climbing up the side of the mountain, letting smaller rocks slip down each time she pushed against them. She would travel as far up the mountain as she could. She was not going to let steep heights and dangerous tell her where she could run and where she could not run. Her feet took the abuse as smaller, pointier rocks stabbed into the bottom of her feet, causing small drops of ichor to be left behind, tinting the rocks in an almost luminous green color under the moonlight. It was almost as if she was leaving a bread crumb trail for the males to follow. She kept climbing and climbing until suddenly something happened.
As she was running, her claws pushed some rocks away from her. But these rocks were not simply harmless ones. They were egg size rocks. And as they fell away, they triggered more and more rocks. Soon echoed by Risk`s roar, a small rock slide formed. Dust kicked up as the rocks began to fall, causing a thundering sound to echo all around the Whers. The rocks fell everywhere, not in a single area, as stones bounced off other stones and flew in different directions. The dust cloud of stones shattering and dirt dried from the oncoming winter began to cover the atmosphere around them, almost covering up the moonlight that was shining down on them. Risk gave a roar, letting the males she was still ahead of them.
But there was another roar. It sounded closer than the previous roar before. And as the dust began to clear slightly, something glittery was seen in the air heading straight for them. It was Risk! She was proving her power and ability that she possessed. Undercover of the dust cloud that had formed, she had waited to see where her males were. At the first sight of the first male that had caught her eye, she jumped off the rock cliffs and made her dive down towards the males. With her wings spread and claws out, ready to rack the hide of the male that she was after, Risk had the look of a predator in her eyes. Claws connected with hide, and teeth landed in the wing membranes of the male that had fallen prey to her attack. When she looked up for a second to see the look of her prey, her eyes connected with Bronsk for a moment. Pulling away, carrying drops of ichor dripping from her fangs, she ran away from Bronsk and the rest of the males, not ready to be caught yet.
As for Ridan, Ridan was thoroughly enjoying this feeling. Risk was undoubtedly aggressive this time around, and he was enjoying it. For a moment, when Risk bit into Bronsk, Ridan swear he could feel warmth going down his throat. But as his vision cleared for a moment with Risk running off again, he decided to look around and see who the shadows in his vision were. Why, there was Hustafer! He let out a grin at the Iron Handler, seeing the metallic Iron hide on Hustafer`s skin. And then there was Mataike. Ridan could have laughed! It had been a while since Mataike had visited him. “Been a while, yes?” Ridan said, dancing around the Bronze Handler for a moment before sliding off to Hustafer. As Ridan moved, hips swaying as Risk`s taunts to the other males affected him, Ridan slowly began to remove his shirt. My, it was getting rather hot in this room. And he only expected it to get hotter.
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Gray
Wingrider
grayct[M:-350]
Posts: 870
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Post by Gray on Mar 31, 2011 1:21:03 GMT -5
Bronsk kept his head down as he ran, focusing on the gold before him. He was prepared for the mountain, he was prepared to scale all of them! Every last one for her! He was prepared to catch her on the summit. She would be his. But she turned. They did not scale the mountain, like he had thought. The terrain was slowly becoming rocky and harsh. But that was good. He would prove himself.
He became rather aware of something else though. Other males. Other suitors. Vicious growl ripped itself from his throat. Heat turned a bit till he caught sight of those who also chased. Two irons, and a fellow bronze. One of those irons was wild as well. He could feel his feral nature radiating from him. He was the only one Bronsk considered competition. Who would choose a tamed Wher over one who had survived the wilds? One who fought for his food, who lived only by the strength of his muscle and the bite of his claws?
Her roar delighted him, it spurred him to run faster. Ground beneath his feet elevated some, claws ripping into the earth to keep him steady as he ran. The run was rough. Small rocks knocked against him, and he didn't think much of it. Sudden tang filled his nose. A scent that took a few moments to unravel. It was ichor. Her ichor! Bronze wher took in the scent of her blood, following it behind her. He would have been able to track her even if he could not see the gleaming golden hide before him. Large rack slammed into one shoulder causing Bronsk to grunt in pain. Each movement hurt now, but he would push through the pain. Eyes whirled red and purple, the ferocious lust fueling his every step.
Large rocks were only the start though. More and more rocks tumbled at him, and the bronze did his best to dodge them. His large size hindered him, rocks slamming into his body prompting hisses and growls of pain. Landslide was only the start of his problems. Just when he thought he had weathered the worst of this run. Dust cleared in time for him to see glittery hide. He was sure he had her now. It took him a moment before he could actually feel her claws. In his arrogance, he had blinded himself. Claws ripped into flesh, despite leathery hide it was like he had nothing but silk covering him. Bronsk had never given much concern to his wings. He did now. He felt as teeth sunk into membrane and shredded it. If he could use it before, he certainly never would now. Bronsk's roar was more like a deep bellow as he whipped around, claws and teeth bared to try and catch her golden hide. But by the time he did she was gone. He would chase. He would rend her. He would catch her and make her his. Eyes were now more red than purple as he ran, both emotions pushing him forward. Despite immense pain, and ichor dripping all over the ground, he would persist. He would prove he was worthy. [/size] |
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Post by veritas on Mar 31, 2011 21:57:18 GMT -5
The uphill climb was a blessing in disguise for Husk; it let him put the strength of his legs to use, but kept his speed in check enough that he still kept some semblance of agility. Not much - he was still a ponderous iron - but enough to keep him from stumbling.
Then the rocks started falling.
He ignored the pebbles and smaller rocks pelting off of his sides; he'd gone through worse, not all that long ago, and it hadn't stopped him then either. A fist-sized rock glancing off his shoulder gave him a bit more of a lurch, its jagged edge cutting through his hide, but still he pressed on, not even sparing the breath for a growl. He needed to Chase, and to do that he needed to stay out of the way of the boulders as he pressed forward; that Chase was all that mattered. The tumbling scree made the footing that much more treacherous, but he kept his balance, and pressed on. When Risk roared, only then did he give breath to an answering bellow of challenge. He could not have ignored that roar, any more than he could ignore the need surging in his mind and his veins.
At the sight of her emerging from the thinning dust, he hissed, tense, anxious - and dug in his flaws, skidding to a halt, turning. He was not her target now, but the Run was not yet over; he wouldn't ignore the wild bronze as a potential rival until that bronze, and all the other males, were far away.
He gathered his feet under him and pounded after Risk. Going downhill, he barreled along at an almost reckless pace, and yet it was so much easier to shift his strength to one side or the other at need, as he did to slip past some of the tumbled rocks - close enough, in the case of one boulder, that his tail smacked against it as he thundered by.
The Chase was still on, and he had strength aplenty left to commit to it. Step after bounding step, he dashed forward, ever in pursuit of the shining gold, the sole object of his focus, the only being on Pern that mattered tonight.
Back underground, Hustafer exulted in the excitement of the Run, the pounding need, the sheer thrill. Every step his wher took, he felt; ever pebble that glanced off Husk's side struck him, too. He felt the pain of the larger rocks as they connected and broke hide, and he welcomed it. Pain proved that they were alive, that they were still in the Chase. When Ridan swayed toward him, the grin that spread on his face was all his, but the growl that rose in his throat was Husk's. He wanted this man, ached for him. The bronzehandler was barely worthy of note; his wher was the being of significance, there. Husk had to reserve some measure of wary attention for Mask, if only to avoid being flanked, or attacked, or whatever else; but Hustafer had no such demand on his attention. He kept his eyes on Ridan, hands rising, reaching forward, stretched out to their fullest - but waiting, as was only right, for Ridan to move into reach. He longed for those teasing moments of contact, and of course for more; and he knew, deep down, that he and Husk were worthy. He could afford to be patient, while the whers Ran, and wait to be chosen; and Husk could run for a very, very long time indeed. Oh, the iron wouldn't dawdle - he would make every effort to win outright, to catch the gold, and Hustafer was there with him, urging him on.
But if he needed to outlast the others... that would be all right. In the end, all that mattered was Risk choosing Husk. Nothing but Risk's final choice was relevant.
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Azhdarchid
Jr. Weyrwoman
azhct[M:-1490]
Totes.
Posts: 1,627
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Post by Azhdarchid on Mar 31, 2011 22:56:34 GMT -5
Slosk climbed more than darted along the avenues Risk had taken up the mountainside. His coppery tongue lolled out from one side of his open mouth, a river of saliva oozing off his flayed jaw and making advances on the wrinkly well of his neck. He got up to the wher queen's level at last and began galloping forward, his feet splaying at each landing and his split hind talons doing him no favors for balance. Somehow he stayed on the road, and even caught up as others slowed at Risk's disappearance to even higher ground.
He pulled his tongue back in when he noticed its hanging. The wild's upturned face was a mess of aggrieved skin patches and scar tissue. His typical array of glittering hooks had been replaced by bulges of semi-healed flesh. Some areas were tinged with a vomit-inspired green that might have done a Bronze proud, but did not flatter the malnourished Iron. His saving grace was that, with his great proximity to the mountain, his body lay mostly in shadow. Only the occasional whisp of moonlight betrayed his status. And even those token glimpses became scarce as swollen clouds of dust puffed off the higher ridges, blocking the moon.
His bumpy head swung toward the pained bellow of another male, and he slowed as he came upon a great boulder in his path. There was too much dust. Slosk could not see through to the promises awaiting him. But he had learned from his nightmare just a few days prior: he listened, then began creeping toward the scuffling of two heavy bodies nearby. A few small rocks dinged off his twisted headknobs, and he kept moving forward, almost to the edge of the dust.
A flat chunk of rock with the span of a cutting board and the width of a dragon egg tore off the mountain and cracked into his ribs.
Slosk's head threw back in soundless agony as his leftside legs slipped from the ridge. The gravelly slope took his semi-collapsed body partway down. Then the boulder that had been resting higher up was suddenly dislodged from its place, and it was only Slosk's learned listening that warned him of it. Gathering his feet under him, he scrambled out of the wher-sized rock's way and in doing so burst back into the clear night. His eyes swiveled after the golden glow of his waiting dinner. So many others were vying for that heavenly plate, and they were all much closer than him. So he had to run. Had to catch up. A chorus of roars rang off the mountainside, but Slosk did not throw his voice into the throng. He loped up the gentle ramps of stone, each laid before him with great purpose, to take him to his feast.
He did not realize the glimmer in the distance was continuing to fade away despite his best efforts. He did not notice when his legs stopped moving altogether, instead planting out from his body like pillars to keep him up. Slosk could not see how they quivered beneath him. He was still looking after the Gold, furtive spots of purple dancing in otherwise grey facets. A few more moments passed and the Iron realized he was making a noise: a wheezing, vibrating breath-sound that hissed out of his chest. It confirmed he was still breathing, even if his lungs felt like he had been fishing underwater too long. But he had never heard himself making that sound before.
Suddenly he felt a spasm ripple down his body and his legs turned numb and useless. He fell onto his stomach, like he had been before the night's dreams first called to him. He raised his head and looked around at his limbs, alarmed at their non-function and half-convinced they had simply disappeared. But he could see his strong paired toes stretched out before him. Why they did not grip the earth and bear him back to his food he did not know. Slosk laid his head down in the space between his inert legs, blowing an exasperated sigh from his nostrils without thinking. The motion brought the itch back. His entire head itched. His side itched, but in a different way. He could not get up to rub himself against a tree in either case. He could not see the golden light anymore. The food had tricked him. He wanted to go home. The wher tilted his head toward what he thought was the ocean, but unbeknownst to him he was still orienting on the distant queen. He wished the food would come back. He was so...hungry...
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Post by jack on Apr 1, 2011 19:00:47 GMT -5
A sharp growl was directed at him, and Mask returned it with an apologetic rumble of a bark. He understood her displeasure at her absent Bronze, but her irritation made him all the more determined to show his strength, his motivation lifted as he spread out his stride and pounded along. His Queen was angry. Logically, he should take that as a problem, but it only spurred him on. He was enough of a benefit to the perfect Gold goddess that she missed him--noticed his absence! He gave a growl of acceptance to this challenge, and sped up, moving forward until his nose was only feet behind and feet to the side of Risk's tail. He wouldn't increase his pace anymore, but he would defend this position--defend the right to Chase and run for his Queen where she could see his efforts.
"Too long.." Mataike rumbled, forcing himself not to immediately reach out for the beautiful man before him, "Far too long.." He swiped his tongue over his lips, and took a bold step forward, his own lust and the insatiable attraction to the man before him luring him closer. Hungry eyes traced over the flesh revealed to him, and Mataike slid carefully forwards, flicking his gaze up to Ridan's eyes as he slid further still, watching for any sign of "back off". Yet...despite his wariness...he felt his urge to dominate grow. His shoulders pulled back as he approached, his eyes stern and fierce as they stared hungrily at the other, a large glimmer of respect and awe all that kept them from being as wild as Mask's. Nostrils flared, he near sauntered to Ridan's side, stopping little more than a foot away to tilt his chin down, staring intently at the other; waiting, begging for the okay to touch.
Rocks began to tumble, but Mask never took his eyes off Risk. Ichor appeared like glowing darts on his legs as they took a beating, but Mask pushed on, leaping up to a more solid surface as he began to lose sight of his Queen in the dust storm. He snarled his fury at this concept, and continued to run where he had last seen her, barely registering the stone that smacked firmly against his skull until he fell to the side. Pain exploded as he hit the ground, rolling quickly to his feet and scrabbling through the stones as he tried to shake ichor from his eyes. Now more than ever, however, he was grateful for his sturdiness as he dug in his claws and watched with wide eyes as his Queen glided through the sky, her maw open and teeth shining as she ripped into flesh and continued on.
For a moment, he was stock still, his chest heaving and his body somehow light as he stared after the retreating beauty. But all at once Mataike's reason flitted into his head, and without any more hesitation he leaned back onto his haunches and surged after her. His rib cage hurt from his fall...his vision was blurry in his right eye...but she was ahead. His Queen was there...and as he stretched out his legs and charged after her with determination and an honest roar filling his lungs, he knew that wherever she went, he would follow for the rest of his life--be she his mate, or simply his Queen.
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Post by kia on Apr 3, 2011 22:04:06 GMT -5
There was smell of ichor in the air. The ichor pouring down from Bronsk, the ichor coming from where she had cut her feet, and the ichor that still dribbled down the side of her mouth. The smell was rich and strong, a spike that seemed to drive the Gold forward. It did not have that hungry and delicious smell that animal`s blood had, but it was still very rich and powerful. And speaking of the drive and desire to run, Risk was feeling the pulls of her muscles as she continued running. She knew that this Run would eventually be coming to its end in the near future, but Risk was not about to stop and let some male catch her easily. No! She was a Queen! She had pride and dignity beyond some silly little Green!
Risk headed down the mountain, in a straight line, now heading towards the fields light yellow in color as the tall grass died and prepared for the following winter. Soon other animals would come through here and take the grass, making nests and using them to sleep on in their dens. But right now, it was the perfect area for her Run to continue. If the rockslide had not stopped them, then maybe getting lost in a maze would through them further off guard! Yes, she had the perfect plan formulated in her mind. She would lead them around in circles, confusing them, frustrating them. Whatever males that had survived the rockslide should at least be smart enough to find their way through a yellowed maze to find a golden reward in the end.
She gave another roar, letting the males know where she was. The ones that had survived her tests so far. Her tests of endurance, of agility, and now she was going to see how they would be able to deal when they could not see their Queen in front of them. She raised her head, sniffing the air, smelling for the males that were still there. Mask and Husk`s scent were the most familiar since they lived in her Weyr. The other male was still close behind as well, though Bronsk`s smell was very strong with the stench of blood on him. So he was still going to Chase her? She amused by this thought. That the male would not stop after she had torn into him. She thought maybe the male would run off to find some wild Green to release his frustration. But he was still coming. Though that other Iron had fallen back. The wilds here were definitely of a different stock than what she vaguely could remember of back in her old home. But at least the weak knew when to lay down and give up.
As she ran into the fields, she zigzagged through the dead and broken high grass. She knew that her movement would make a lot of rustling sounds. But at the same time, she was not the only thing that was making noise here. There were other creatures that were running for their lives, afraid to be trampled or worried that the Whers were out hunting. Other males were in the tall, dead grass too. Males might run into other males and fights would ensue! Yes! That idea was lovely! The strongest males would survive! Only she would pick from the strongest of the males to mate with her. So she decided to something very risky as was her namesake. She found a good spot and crouched down. She crouched and waited for whatever passed in front of her so she could attack. Yes, she would only have the best.
Once he had finished removing his own shirt, Ridan let out a low, almost primal sigh of relief. That felt better. He had felt warm already with Risk`s lust and thoughts running through him. As his body reacted, a very light sweat had formed on the man. Though, with the two waning moons out that night, the moonlight seemed to make his body shine as he stood in the doorway again. Not like a nasty sparkles, but almost a sheen of his own in comparison to Risk`s own golden sheen of her body. Now that his shirt had been removed, he turned his head and saw Mataike making his approach. But Ridan danced away from him, making a 180 degree turn walking behind Mataike, his hand draping on Mataike`s should before sliding to the other and then sliding off as Ridan moved on. Then he was onto Hustafer, the older handler. He came close, bringing his other hand out to slightly caress Hustafer`s cheek before letting that hand slide off as he danced off again. Into his room, around the other Handlers, taunting them, as if he was creating his own Run for the men to Chase him.
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Gray
Wingrider
grayct[M:-350]
Posts: 870
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Post by Gray on Apr 4, 2011 3:18:10 GMT -5
Wing twinged as he ran, rich ichor dripping off and splattering on the ground with each step. Ichor also dribbled from the wounds on his hide, but he paid it all no mind. He would still chase. Perhaps if he were a lesser Wher, a blue, or a brown, he would have dropped out. But he was Bronsk! He was a bronze, one who had not been coddled. One who fought the wilderness and won!
Claws scrambled against the stones as he ran. Risk's gold hide gleaming like a star. He had yet to notice that one of their group had dropped out. The bronze's muscles were starting to tire, but the run had yet to end. He wouldn't just drop out. No. Determination whirled in his eyes as he chased the queen. He still wanted her. Thankfully, terrain was not as rough when the descended. It was all about not slipping now.
Head lifted as her roar sounded, Bronsk did nothing but growl in response. There was no roaring now. There was only chasing. Only winning. Deep breaths were taken as he entered the grasses, the wild wher breathing in the scents all around him. There were the two other males, the grass, the dirt, and of course, her. Her scent was now mixed with ichor, some of which was his. He plodded further in the grass and paused for a moment. Where did she go?
He listened to the rustling sounds for a moment, trying to identify which sound was her. Keeping his head low to the ground he ran, sniffing and listening in turn to find her. He was sure he would run into someone else though. He could tell this run would not be and easy one. She deserved a good run, a long run. |
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Post by veritas on Apr 4, 2011 4:36:27 GMT -5
Risk's straight approach to the fields had given Husk a chance to make ground, the iron pounding the ground with the long, heavy strides he was best at. It wasn't enough to catch her, oh no. But especially when combined with the fact that the Queen had run past her suitors, it was enough to make up for his slower pace on the broken ground. Enough, maybe, to give him a bit of an edge, not that he was looking carefully enough at his rivals to be sure of that.
Then, though, the grass swallowed her.
Husk lumbered, not to a halt, but to a prowl. Things were moving in the grass, but was any of them the right thing, the important thing? Was any of them Risk? That was... not so easy to tell. He could smell ichor on the air, but the wind at night could be confusing. It was easier in the tunnels, where air moved along definite paths, but out here, it could twist and eddy, and sometimes bring one's own scent back to oneself.
He needed to be careful. If Risk wanted them to track her, rather than Chase by the sight and the sound and the beacon of her thoughts, then track he would, as well as he'd track any intruder to the Weyr. Not that Risk was an intruder, oh no. Tonight, Risk owned the Weyr, the island, everything. All Pern was hers. He just needed to be smart enough to find her and he would be hers, too.
The iron whuffed, lowered his head, and prowled forward, moving at the wherish equivalent of a jog. Maybe it was some echo of his "hunting" instincts, maybe it was the recent run with Ausk, but for whatever reason, he was on edge, ready to be pounced from any side. If it was Risk, well, he could pounce back. He'd not be dissuaded any easier than that wild bronze who still Chased with him.
If it wasn't Risk, the interloper would learn to respect his claws and teeth, and he would move on.
Nose to the ground, he cast about for the stronger scent-trace of Risk's footprints. Forget the twirls of her scent, of ichor, borne on the wind - it was tricky, unreliable. He would follow her scent from the best source.
As soon as he picked up the trail, he grunted and kicked into a faster run. He knew roughly which way she had gone; so long as he didn't lose the scent entirely, he could skip past the twisting and turning. When the scent grew weaker, he turned the other way, weaving - not so much as the Queen herself had; he didn't have the time for that. But like any tracker might, to be sure not to lose an elusive quarry. By and large, his nose kept him on course, and all the while, the grass slid and rustled past his sides.
Hustafer felt the grass, too, like a caress over his own skin; it drove his need higher still. A sigh, a groan, wafted over the goldhandler's wrist before the man pulled away again; one of Hustafer's questing hands made contact, slid over Ridan's bare shoulder, but the older man made no attempt to grab, and none to pursue, not without invitation. That wasn't the way of things. He occupied his hands instead by stripping off his own shirt. The goldhandler had the right of it; it was far too warm in here for such things.
The brief touch made his/Husk's need surge all the higher. He needed it, needed more, and he shuddered in longing at its absence. And in the field, the wher coursed a little faster. They needed it, yes. Needed to hunt, to chase, to win.
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Post by kia on Apr 8, 2011 11:01:07 GMT -5
(( Sorry, Jack, I really needed to finish this. ))
Risk stayed low, her muscles tensed, her wings folded flat against her back, waiting and waiting for the moment to pounce like some wild feline on a wherry. She took this time to rest for a little bit, saving her energy for the fights that she knew would ensue eventually. Her eyes were still whirling with purples, violets, and red. The ichor from when she had attacked Bronsk had all but almost dried around her mouth. She suppressed the urge to growl lowly, the desire to Run still deep within her body, but she was starting to tire out now. It had been a long Run, a rough Run, and a deserving Run. There would certainly he a good Clutch. Maybe she would even Clutch as many eggs as she had last time. But her mind was not on eggs. Her mind was on the males.
There was a rustling noise nearby. Then another. And then another. Her mouth curled slightly, revealing her long, sharp fangs that gleamed slightly. Not enough for anyone to notice from a distance, but it they were right on her they would have seen her. She crouched lower, ready to attack whatever it was that was coming closer to her. These males were not going to get off so easily. Her desire to mate was increasing and increasing with every moment. And the moonlight in the sky was not helping her. The moons had moved since her Run had started. The night was starting to reach its zenith and soon the moon would begin to dip down and make way for sun. The moon and sun would always Chase it other in the sky, it seemed.
One of the sounds moved closer. Risk leaped up and pounced on the unsuspecting male. It was Husk! She growled as she shoved him roughly with her head, her claws coming up to push him away further, her claws raking into his side. She growled lowly at him as she began to run away from him. Now she was the one lost in her own maze. She kept running as she almost ran up on Bronsk. Or was it Mask? She was not quite sure at the moment as her eyes sight seemed slightly dizzy from attempting to run away from Husk. She growled at the male, and again her claws came up to attack the other male. With a quick turn, she ran the other way. She ran until she was back at Husk. But this time, she slowed down when she saw him and moved behind him. He would defend her! Yes, he would defend her unless he was not worthy to be her mate for this Run.
Ridan continued to dance around the room, feeling Risk`s energy building up inside of him. Like her, he was ready to pounce. Pounce on someone, or maybe both. Ridan was not going to be picky with his choice tonight. No matter who Risk picked that evening, he was free and open to whoever. And then like Risk, Ridan turned and seemed pounced. He pounced in front of Mataike and then turned on Hustafer. But unlike Risk, he stopped and looked back and forth between both men. Yes, he knew what was going through Risk`s mind. He was she, and she was he. They were one. And as Risk moved to make her choice, Ridan opened up both hands. In one he took Mataike`s arm. In the other, he took Hustafer`s hand. A threesome sounded nice. He gave a look to Mataike that seemed to be asking for another dance, freeing himself to their touches and decisions.
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Post by veritas on Apr 9, 2011 13:44:02 GMT -5
Stride by stride, Husk loped through the grass. Most of his attention was focused on the scents he followed, though he was still wary of the sounds of motion around him. None of the other males would attack him without suffering for it!
Getting attacked from close in front, by his very quarry, was a bit more of a surprise. He hissed on sheer reflex, rearing back, feet digging into the soil and tearing furrows into it; but even before he could recover his balance, she'd left her marks on his side and moved on.
Such a thing wasn't going to deter him, though. Not Husk! A few swipes from Risk's claws weren't enough to put him out of the Run, so Run he did. Well, lumber; working up to a proper run would take more than just a couple strides. But he pushed through the grass in her wake, anyway.
And then... and then she was coming back to meet him! He tensed, ready to show that he could defend himself - and it wasn't necessary. She was not coming to attack him, but to join him.
Husk exulted, letting out a roar of triumph. He would stand with his Queen until his rivals had been driven away, and then he would be hers!
Back underground, Hustafer reeled for a brief moment, feeling the thrill of triumph, the surge of excitement, pouring into him from Husk. It drove his need even higher, so strong that it left a physical ache in him. Almost delirious with the intensity of it, he took a step toward Ridan.
He was a bit perplexed when the goldhandler moved toward the other man, even more so at what Ridan seemed to be suggesting. The part of him that was Husk didn't understand. He had won, the others had not! Would he have to fight them to make them see that?
That part of him which was still human, though, was... intrigued. He didn't really know the bronzehandler better than by sight, but, well... it wasn't like he was a stranger to crowded rooms at night. And at that moment, he couldn't think of a better way to get to know someone.
Somewhere in between, Hustafer/Husk came to a compromise. His grin flashed wide as he took another step, gripping Ridan's hand firmly. So long as he got Ridan - some of him, anyway - the details would work themselves out. "Now that," he rasped, "is a nice thought."
He spared Mataike a glance. It was not a hostile look, not like the one the bronzehandler had shot him earlier. He had little interest in the other man with Risk's bonded one right there, but his human mind had no objection to the man's presence... and, in fact, rather looked forward to working out the details. And other things. With great vigor and enthusiasm.
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