November 9, 2002
Niaryth rises in her leadership flight, and R'hyn's world is changed forever. Previous Next
Dragon> Ista Weyr dragons sense that Niaryth is very well. Any dragon could feel that in her warm thoughts. << I am fine.>> And then adds << I am more than fine>> And finally she tells you with no hint of embarrassment at being so snobbish, << I am absolutely perfect>>
Dragon> Ista Weyr dragons sense that Arisvath's 'mmmm-mmmmm' thoughts - not audible, just naturally there within his presence, seem only to confirm Niaryth's statement.
Dragon> Ista Weyr dragons sense that Chrysanth allows her thoughts to cloud a bit into a dense opaqueness. << Yes, of course Niaryth, >> the green replies thickly. Whether from the mind fog, distraction, tiredness, or irritation, it is quite unclear.
Dragon> Ista Weyr dragons sense that Viasseth slowly unwinds a mahogany thought, warm with the haze of waking. He neither agrees nor disagrees -- he simply greets, unfolding.
Dragon> Ista Weyr dragons sense that Niaryth knows this but Chrysanth's agreement makes her pride swell even more. << And I am the sweetest, most thoughtful, the most respected, the most beautiful >> She only left out 'most conceited' at least at the moment, because then.. how could she be so utterly perfect if she was conceited?
Dragon> Ista Weyr dragons sense that Chrysanth is so /very/ tired, and really does not have time to deal with overly confident golds at the moment. Even the acting senior one. << And I, Niaryth, /I/ am very tired and shall not listen to this anymore. >> Her presence fades out slowly to a milky white flow of liquid pearl before disintegrating.
Dragon> Ista Weyr dragons sense that Viasseth is awake now, and interested. Velvetine darkness reaches out, backlit by gold, to softly soothe and attend. << Of course you are. >> Purr, purr. << Is there anything I can do for you, Niaryth? >>
Dragon> Ista Weyr dragons sense that Niaryth seems to blow a puff of air at Chrysanth, snorting at her for not appreciating how wonderful Niaryth is! << Viasseth! >> His interest is most welcome << I think I feel sleepy. You can come watch me nap and see the perfect way to do so! >>
You head through the narrow tunnel and into the bustling living caverns.
Derien clears his throat and nods as he strums his harp going up the scale once. He takes a deep breath, "Oh.......dragons fly high and dragons fly wide. Dragons fly all over the sky. To fight the evil thread. To scorch and burn and char. Turning silver threads into black ash!" He strums a little tune with his harp in time with his voice.
A man enters from the doorway, lingering there. He tosses a glance outside before coming in and grabbing a plate of food. One eye goes to Serriena, the next to the children and then back outward. He piles food on his plate and takes it to a table.
Arisvath> P'rin slips deftly down to the bent foreleg of Naimoth, the Bronze lowering to a crouch and watching with gentle eyes as the he hops to the ground.
P'rin comes in through the narrow tunnel from the bowl.
Thick with firestone dust, R'hyn pulls off his jacket as he emerges from the bowl, tossing it over one arm as he hurriedly heads for the kitchens to wash. Returning, somewhat cleaner, he fills a glass with water, turning around to face the cavern in a hurried search for somewhere to sit.
"Wonderful sweetie," Serriena claps her hands. "That's very good. What did your Journeyman tell you when you wrote that?" She taps her water glass, lifting her hand to wave to R'hyn.
Derien smiles at his mother, "The Journeywoman said that I had real talent and Belle really liked it. She thought it was beautiful."
R'hyn catches Serri's wave, and slips, unassumingly, towards the goldrider to sit nearby, clutching his water glass, and leaving a trail of dust behind him.
Jorrien comes up the flight of stairs from the inner caverns.
P'rin pads in, still bare footed and shirtless, and smelling a bit briny. The fact that his trousers and hair is still damp might suggest he's been swimming, or maybe bathing Naimoth. Or, maybe he's just salty. He looks around and waves to R'hyn, Serriena, and two of the three triplet boys, "Hello ma'am, sir, boys." Then, with one of his grins, he pulls out a chair and sits down on it, facing the back and resting his arms on its back.
Serriena reaches up and rubs the back of her neck, stretching her neck a bit. "That's good. And what about you Ginta? What did you do today?" She sounds a bit distracted, her glance going to P'rin and sticking there a moment. Who wouldn't enjoy a good view? But then she looks away deciding Ginta is a safer choice.
"R'hyn," corrects the bronzerider bearing that name, quickly, flushing pink. "I'm not your superior. Er, P'rin, is it?" He sips rapidly at his water, nearly spilling it in the stiffness of his motion, eyes falling upon the young children, though he makes no comment.
Jorrien makes his way in with a big grin on his face. His brothers are spotted, and he runs over towards them. "Heya!" His mother gets a smile as well.
Derien smiles at P'rin, "Hello P'rin, wanna here my song." He smiles at Jorrien, "Hi Jorry."
"Heya kiddo," Serriena greets. "Hello weyr- ah.. rider now.. P'rin." Serriena smiles as she looks at P'rin again. Looking at that chest. Then away. Oh keep that gaze away.
P'rin grins impishly, first at the older bronserider, "Alright, old habits and all, you know." Before turning and waving to the third boy and then nodding absently to Derien, "Sure." He looks a bit distracted, but its probably from trying to split his attention too many ways at once.
R'hyn nods quickly, flushing slightly - again, before he ducks his head down towards his water. His right leg is crossed over his leg, as, out of one eye, he watches the kids.
Derien smiles at P'rin and clears his throat, strumming his harp once and he takes a deep breath. He starts to sing and play, "Oh.......dragons fly high and dragons fly wide. Dragons fly all over the sky. To fight the evil thread. To scorch and burn and char. Turning silver threads into black ash!"
Jorrien just rolls his eyes at his brother and his song though he turns his head to listen.
Serriena reaches up to tug on her hair before turning to Jorrien. She stares at him. What was it she was going to ask him? "Oh Jorrien," She snaps her fingers as if remembering. "Did you want to join Derien in harper lessons at the hold's Crafthall?"
Jorrien turns his attention to his mother. "Do I have to move there? I don't want to move." The boy takes a seat glancing back over at Serriena.
Derien finishes his song and smiles at his brother, "Yes come join me Jorry you too Ginta. Lessons are fun." He moves over to sit on the other side of Serriena, "No, just have to get up when mama comes to get you."
Serriena shakes her head. "No honey, Derien's been going to lessons in the morning for a few days now. I'd take you with him to the hold." She turns to Ginta. "And you could do it too. I'd have to have an instrument commissioned but I suppose we could. What would you wish to play?" She reaches up rubbing her neck again, as if it's sore.
P'rin turns to pay complete attention to the young musician, listening and bobbing his head in time with the song. After its finished, he applauds, "Very good. If you aren't careful, you'll end up a master harper, Derien."
R'hyn's gaze falls upon Serriena, especially as she rubs her neck, though evidently it's one of those intensely shy moods - he's hardly said a word since he got in here, though he smiles somewhat nervously at the young musician. "The harpers there are very good," he offers, quietly.
Jorrien nods his head with a big grin to his mother at that. "Oh! Then I want to go. I like lessons even if they're hard. And music. Music's fun." Then he laughs over at Derien. "I can get out of bed no problem."
Derien smiles at P'rin and blushes a little from the comment, "Maybe." He turns to Jorrien and grins, "Good. I was getting lonely in class."
Several tired riders come in from a hard day's work, while others are preparing for the evening sweeps and rides. The man who had previously entered is still sitting at his table, picking at his food, eating some, but eating lightly as he regards the riders coming home.
P'rin grins again, then gets to his feet and pads over to grab a big glass of milk and a handful of cookies off of a plate, before just grabbing the whole plate and bringing it back over to the table and sitting back down, "There we go."
Jorrien glances over at the cookies and then up at P'rin trying for a cute little boy look. "Can I have one?"
Derien smiles sweetly at P'rin, "Can I have one too please?" He shows off his good manners.
Serriena tries not to laugh, knowing those 'identically innocent looks.' She takes a sip of her own water and then flushes slightly noticing a few riders gazing at her. She gives them a slight smile before looking at P'rin. Bad mistake. He's barechested.
Y'lan comes in through the narrow tunnel from the bowl.
P'rin grins, not paying that much attention to anyone but the boys and the cookies, pushing the plate into the table, "I'm not going to eat them all. Help yourselves, as long as you mother doesn't mind." He looks up at her, an innocent grin not that different then those on Jorrien and Derien, "You don't mind, ma'am, do you?"
Dragon> Ista Weyr dragons sense that Niaryth seems on the edge of awaking. There is a feeling of possessiveness in her concsciousness and it spreads out to all the dragons. She is thinking of them as hers and she their queen.
Dragon> Ista Weyr dragons sense that Arisvath waits, silent. His is a smoky incense, rippling and darting, like smoke rising through the skies - at the back of your tongue, barely there yet always present. She shall be his.
Derien smiles and doesn't want for his mother as he grabs two big handfulls and begins to eat. The innocent face soon becomes littered with cookie crumbs.
Jorrien doesn't wait either but instead he reaches out and takes two cookies carefully with a smile up at P'rin. "Thank you!" He nibbles at the first, eating neatly.
Dragon> Flight dragons sense that Naimoth seems half hidden by banks of grey fog, billowing around him as he fidgets nervously, waiting himself.
"No they can have them." Serriena agrees. She reaches up, adjusting the collar of her shirt, unbuttoning the top button. She wets her lips with a drink of water, looking down at both her sons. "Well look at those crumby faces," she jokes with a grin.
Derien smiles at P'rin, "Thank you P'rin." He says with his mouthful and a smile on his face.
R'hyn swallows thickly, and takes another gulp of his water. It's more or less gone, now.
Picking up his plate, the man who had entered silently and remained silent through his meal, dumps the rest of it and grabs a roll heading for the door. He pauses in the doorway, forcing a few blueriders from Hana's wing to go around him. They look at him, but pay him no heed. His gaze is out towards the bowl.
Dragon> Ista Weyr dragons sense that Orinth senses the undercurrents rippling through the weyr. This bronze is young, and lacks subtlety. He makes his presence known in a mental flare that clashes sharply with Arisvath's and Naimoth's more subdued mindfeel. It grabs for attention, unpleasantly so, like that telltale scent that wafts through a room quickly enough to clear it out, while voices raise in protest and to blame the canine.
Jorrien giggles up at his mother between bites. "I'm not that crumby. Not like Derien."
Dragon> Ista Weyr dragons sense that Niaryth is perfection in her sleep. Her conscious thoughts reach out for her dragons, a dark hunger in her thoughts. She is gaining consciousness and will soon wake. Raging fire mixes with her mind dreams, a hunger of blood and lust tricking its way into your minds and calling out for you.
Derien shrugs a little, "Nothing wrong with being crumby." He continues to eat his cookies.
Dragon> Ista Weyr dragons sense that Arisvath's neither young nor inexperienced, and nor does he lack confidence - a charismatic, copper-tingued touch hovers, blood beginning the call that he will follow. Those that dare to join his fight may do so as the will -- but this is one he intends to win. Niaryth is all; the ichor in his veins, the beating of his hearts.
Arisvath> You leap aloft, finding a thermal to help carry you into the sky over the Bowl.
Arisvath> You wing down to a landing on the grassy plain of the feeding grounds, scattering a few of the herdbeasts on the way.
Y'lan comes stomping in, pulling at his riding jacket to get it off. Just as he clears the entrance, though, he comes to a dead stop. Someone behind him almost bumps into him, and yells a protest, but he's oblivious.
Dragon> Flight dragons sense that Naimoth is very inexperienced, but decides that maybe following an older dragon is a good idea. Besides, he is starting to feel instinct take over - this is the way things are done.
There's no water left, and R'hyn's face has frozen. "Fardles," he whispers, the words choking in his throat.
The abrupt flights of bronze and brown alike to the feeding grounds is not unnoticed by the man who waits in the doorway. He follows, disappearing out to the bowl with a small whistle. From above the caverns, a gold firelizard flies down to alight on his shoulder as he leaves.
P'rin gulps suddenly, looking up from cookies and milk, still wearing only a still damp and salty trousers and looks around, as if wondering where he is. Then, a shake of his head and a wave towards Y'lan as he sees his former teacher.
Not to mince words, Y'lan utters a much cruder one-syllable oath. "Orinth!" He bellows, running to the entrance to look out. "No! Not now. Stop it, we'll go... let Arisvath have this one!" Apparently, his words go unheeded, for he throws his riding gloves to the floor with a thwack.
Serriena reaches up to touch her cheeks. "Is it me or is it hot in here?" She complains. "Must be me." She doesn't notice the riders stopping well except maybe Hana in the corner looking at her intently. She looks back at her children and then stands to her feet. Signs, one can't ignore. "Derien, Ginta, Jorrien. I want all three of you to go downstairs.." Her voice is firm and there's a tone of alarm to it.
Arisvath> Like a map unfurling to explore the possibilities, Arisvath's descent into the feeding grounds considers each, as he springs towards the nearest buck, sharp talons and teeth reaching deep within the veins therein found - like roses, the blood blooms, the heart's last gouts caught beneath his mouth, catastrophic, arterial, doomed. Dark blood brings life in the loss of life, as, eyes whirling violet, the bronze drinks.
"No, no, no," whispers R'hyn, breathless. No, no, don't give Arisvath this one. This is one he doesn't want - or rather, R'hyn, apparently, does not. His gaze falls upon Serriena, eyes wide.
Derien looks at his mother and sighs as he nods to her, "Yes mama." He picks up his cookies and hard as he leaves.
Jorrien glances over at his mother for a moment before he catches the alarm. "Come on, let's go." He says softly over at Derien grabbing a couple more cookies on his way out.
Serriena looks relieved her sons went downstairs and agreed so readily. She turns to look at one of the greenriders telling her, "They can come back up once we are outside. Please tell them that." Her hands are shaking at such a close call. She picks up her water glass, looking at the riders.
Arisvath> Naimoth follows close behind, diving straight for a bovine and dispatching the beast with quiet, almost frightening efficiency. Then, he settles over the beast, draining it of blood while glowlit wings spread out to either side.
Arisvath> Orinth gives a tremendous roar as he springs over the fence, shouldering a young male herdbeast to the ground roughly and seizing its head in his jaws. A twist, and its neck snaps, leaving it to flop and die while Orinth rips its neck open with tooth and claw. The blood spurts out, staining his muzzle and neck before he can fasten his mouth there to drink deep.
Y'lan scowls. "Stupid sharding lump of wherry, I told you no! We talked about this! Don't you remember? What do you mean you don't remem-- I know but dammit Orinth!" He stalks out to the bowl, leaving his gloves behind on the floor.
Y'lan disappears through the narrow tunnel to the bowl.
P'rin looks after the departing boys, about to push the plate but realizing he is reacting too slowly. He blinks slowly, looking after Y'lan, then looking at Serriena, his eyes darkened a little and his expression much less boyish now.
Serriena clenches her hand, and then drops the empty water glass to the table. She walks out of the caverns, heading towards the bowl.
R'hyn, blindly, follows Serriena. Oh, fardles.
P'rin gets up and follows behind Serriena and R'hyn, almost stalking like a wild feline, his expression more feral then jovial.
Arisvath> From the sky overhead, Basliath wings his way over from the northern sky.
Arianna comes in through the narrow tunnel from the bowl.
Arisvath> Bedarath comes from the bowl on the other side of the fence.
Serriena disappears through the narrow tunnel to the bowl.
You head out through the narrow tunnel to emerge in the bowl.
Arianna comes out of the narrow tunnel from the living caverns.
P'rin comes out of the narrow tunnel from the living caverns.
Arisvath> Orinth rears up from his kill, bugling an alarm when the strange bronzes start to arrive.
Serriena comes out to the bowl, pushing past the man who had been sitting in the corner. She pays no attention to the dirty glare he gives her, her eyes focused on the group of brown and bronze riders who have followed her. She looks at them terrified, no idea what to say. When this over, one of them will be Weyrleader.
Dragon> Ista Weyr dragons sense that Orinth's voice is laced with naked fury. << WHO?!?! >> he demands. << They are not to be here! They are not to chase her! They are not of Ista! >>
Y'lan lets out a strangled yelp, and whirls to meet Serriena when she emerges behind him. The others may not as well exist for all the mind he pays them. Fear, anger, and feral desire war for dominance on his face, making him look rather like a rabbit with his nose twitching violently.
Dragon> Ista Weyr dragons sense that Arisvath's voice is laden with venom, dripping through the warm touch of silvered drawl. << They will NEVER have her. She is not theirs to take. >>
Arisvath> Zendiakath appears above the feeding grounds from between, landing long enough to drop off his rider before he leaps over the fence, landing ontop of a heardbeast, the crunch of bones resounding as the bronze ducks his head down and begins to drain the the beast before it's even fully dead, his tail lashing out from side to side. He echos a snarl at the other dragons oin the grounds, eyes whirling red and lavander already.
N'ago heads over from the far end of the bowl.
T'lon heads over from the far end of the bowl.
Arisvath> Naimoth bugles a loud warning, wings unfurling even more as he rises up with bloodied muzzle, using his size to try and intimidate the strangers in the feeding grounds.
Dragon> Ista Weyr dragons sense that Niaryth is awakened by these thoughts of dominance, having her own say about it << What is this ruckus that awakens me from my dreams? Can you not keep quiet? >> There is fury in her voice, as well as hunger and lust.
Dragon> Ista Weyr dragons sense that Naimoth's clouds are dark and laced with storms, << They can't have her. >> No sign of a stammer in his voice, no hesitation in the least.
L'deran heads over from the far end of the bowl.
Arisvath> Bedarath comes from the bowl on the other side of the fence.
From the southern bowl, Niaryth's golden head raises up, the first to acknowledge there is something wrong in her weyr. The gold's body is perfectly honed as she raises up, scanning the bowl with her hunger-tinged eyes. She gives one graceful leap off the ledge she found to sun herself and descends towards the feeding grounds.
Arisvath> Niaryth wings down to a landing on the grass, scaring a few of the herdbeasts.
Arisvath> Arisvath revels in red - the blood of the martyrs, that crusted gleam, down his throat to warm the throbbing cell of his heart. Whilst he waits for Niaryth, watching her, this makes a fine substitution: another beast dies, and is drained, the vorpal sword of his talons going snicker-snack with the efficiency of experience. Red, blood red, dripping down his muzzle and torso, as the strange bronzes arrive - he bugles, loud and angry; it is /his/ territory upon which they impinge.
Arianna hovers at the edges of the flight crowd, lips pressed together in a thin line, eye's darkened and half-lidded. She's muttering, though it's not comprehensible, and shifting her weight from foot to foot uneasily.
P'rin stalks out of the cavern, looking around as his expression darkens even more, his attention drawn towards the feeding grounds, before he moves almost protectively closer to Serriena, standing straight, tall and with chest almost thrust out a bit.
Arisvath> Pseusath and Nimoth, brown and bronze snarl at each other as they rend their herdbeasts. Nimoth seems particularly bothered by Pseusath and the bronze snaps at him. The two continue to try and control the other as they feed.
Arisvath> Orinth seizes up the buck he'd drained of blood in his strong jaws and whips his head around to hurl the flopping dead animal at the interlopers. His aim is off, or maybe he couldn't decide just who to aim at, for it falls harmlessly between two of the Fortian bronzes. With another furious roar, Orinth launches into the air and begins circling for another kill.
Arisvath> Bedarath is slightly tardy as he enters the feeding grounds, a complete ignoring of the dragons from Ista as he lands to make his first kill. Soon, his head is bent to blood, with him neither giving ground or taking from those already in the feeding grounds, concentrating instead on the energy giving blood that he is taking.
Arisvath> Basliath swoops down, joining in the fray with no second thought to it, talons sweeping and slashing their mark across a young bovine's neck. A belated bugle announces his presence, before he latches onto the wound. But his intense blooding is broken as the strangers are noticed, and he emits a sound: a mix between hiss and snarl, before returning to what he needs: blood.
"She's awake." Serriena's not aware of any invasion yet, althugh something is becoming apparently obvious. Her mind is on Niaryth, and trying to control the hungry gold who is going to feed and mate.
R'hyn frowns at the arrival of the strange bronzes, blinks, then turns back to Serri. No, no, wait, there's something wrong there-- he glances back up at them, somewhat vacant, but he's distracted again, hands dug deep into his pockets, as he sinks into himself.
Arisvath> Bursting from the darkness of between, and angling down towards the feeding grounds with a rapid descent, his tail lashing furiously as he does so, Arayuth touches down beyond the pens for the barest moment, his hindpaws hardly resting on the Istan bowl as his ride slides free of his shoulders and hurries away, leaving the bronze to leap up again -- and this time, to go for the kill. A good-sized herdbeast is ensnared in the bronze's talons, jaws lashing out to brunch downwards and bring and end to the creature's life in a gush of crimson liquid. He indulges in it, drinking it in before he roars out a challenge to those who rightfully belong here. Interloper he may be, but he will remain till the end.
"Get them out of here! Somebody GET THEM OUT!" Y'lan is yelling suddenly, his face going red with the effort, with his anger. "Make them leave! You! Get your sharding fat wherryheaded rear end OUT OF MY WEYR!!!" He stalks over to get right up in N'ago's face -- a move that would be a lot more effective if Y'lan weren't a good foot shorter than the other bronzerider.
Arisvath> Niaryth sweeps down into the center of the bronzes and browns, casting her claws for a squealing beast. She lands there to feed, as if taunting the circle of males with her beauty and grace. Do they dare catch her? Do they dare chase? None will be caught, according to the heated red gaze she returns to them, daring them all.
L'deran moves into the bowl, from where Bedarath let him down and begins walking swiftly toward the gathering of riders here in this bowl. A slight nod to the other riders from Fort, before he stands back rocking slightly on his feet as he merely watches.
Arisvath> Naimoth launches into the air, doing a low flyby over the strangers, a roar deep in sound, before he catches another beast in his claws, killing it as efficiently as before and slicing its head off to let the fountain of blood hit his muzzle, before drinking it down as well.
Arisvath> Inkynath struggles with his own beast, staying well away from the strange bronzes. He snarls at Bedarath for intruding, letting him know he won't let the bronze catch his queen.
T'lon looks down at Y'lan and he just looks, "Too late, the queen bloods, she will allow no suitor to leave. Now control yourself or embarass your Weyr." he says in a totally bland voice as he looks towards Serriena.
Dragon> All dragons sense that Niaryth is incensed << Who are these beasts that dare challenge mine? >> She knows not the bronzes and they have angered her even more.
Arisvath> Patterned with darkenings, congealments, Arisvath's head is lifted, another fierce rumble announced to the world at the presence of these interlopers, for whom he has no patience. Still - there is a task at hand, and Arisvath will not forget that for a moment, blooding his last kill to fill the first of two hungers that burns within him.
Arianna clenches her jaw, looking at the out-weyr riders through narrowed eyes. Her look is as unfriendly as Basliath's snarl in the pens, before she crosses her arms, and her gaze is drawn back towards Serriena.
N'ago remains where he is, his boots firmly planted on the Istan sand, his cloak draped carefully over his left shoulder and his right hand propped definatly on his right hip as he scowls down his nose at the Istan bronzerider; his bangs shading his eyes. "Make us," he retorts in reply, his expression one of an evil smirk.
Arisvath> Bedarath discards his first kill with an economy of movement before he is once more in the air to land on a second beast, snapping its spine before his head bends to begin his second blooding. Other bronzes are ignored, while he concentrates on what must be accomplished before the queen leaves the feeding grounds.
"You /will/ pay for this," says R'hyn, inhibitions lost in the onslaught of flight. "No puny Fortian bronzes will take my queen."
P'rin snarls, his voice deep as he glares at the strangers, "And if I have anything to do with it, it won't be one of your mangy beasts that catch her." He doesn't move, "And this won't be the end of it." There is nothing of his good nature left in his body.
Arisvath> Zendiakath hisses a bit as he launches his own form forward, snapping up a wherry that gets too close to him, his smaller form undeniably bronze, but small like a larger brown, allowing him to get between some of the less agile dragons as he snags another creature to feed. He doesn't snap at or strike out at any other dragon, he simply watches the others, sucking up the blood from the wherry, using it to fuel his need for energy.
Arisvath> Orinth folds his wings and drops, striking out swiftly with a claw that brings death with its blow to the plodding beast that was too slow to move out of his way. With a low, angry growl, he slits its neck and clamps his jaws on the animal to drink its energy-giving sustenance.
T'lon chuckles softly, the sond no less bland for all it's soft warmth, though he doesn't say anything. He's taller than most and he heads over towards Serri with a lazy stride.
Y'lan clenches one hand into a fist, then the other. He's practically shaking with fury, but despite it all, those turns of training and conditioning simply won't permit him to strike another rider (who happens to be a foot taller and probably a good deal heavier than him). He drops his fist with an exhalation of frustration, and turns his back on the three to show his contempt.
Arisvath> Wheoth also bloods and he snarls at Arisvath and Orinth, letting them know he will not be leaving these grounds. They can try. Basliath is eyed and the bronze from Fort seems to be marking him as less than worthy.
"Who are these beasts?" Serriena's voice asks, caught up with Niaryth. "No blood blood." The gold must have the beast close to feasting.
L'deran's attention has already shifted away from the other riders here to focus instead upon the goldrider and she is given an appraising look even if he does stay back.
Dragon> All dragons sense that Zendiakath gives a low rumble, the sound deep and commanding for all his smaller size, << Does it really matter golden one? After all, you should have nothing but the best at your flight, and the best just arrived. >> Maybe it is his intent to anger her, it's hard to say for hi tones hold no emotion aside from the emotions of the impending flight.
Arisvath> Niaryth raises the herdbeast, snapping its neck. She worries at it, then raises it, sucking on the carcass to drain it of blood. She snarls at the invaders, but doesn't tell them to go away, simply challenging them. If they wish to fly, so be it. She will not allow any to catch her that does not deserve it.
P'rin doesn't move away as he looks over to the weyrwoman, his voice less vicious sounding as he replies, "Dragons from Fort, ma'am." He looks back over at them, not at all worried by T'lon or the rest, the cold fury entering back into those warm brown eyes.
Arisvath> Basliath hunches low over the quickly drained carcass of his kill, before launching upwards again, kicking the dead animal back-- aimed to foul up one of the Fortians, but aim is hardly accurate when it's with a dead bovine, in the middle of blooding frenzy. It's not long before another victim is chosen and brought down, the winter-touched brown feasting on blood, eyes picking up pace in their red-violet swirlings.
Dragon> All dragons sense that Niaryth seems to find you arrogant and if that was the intent she thinks you so << You may stay and if you can catch me you may stay longer >> But to her, the taunt comes on /if/ you can catch her.
Dragon> All dragons sense that Naimoth's fogs ripple with cool, calculating menace, << The best have been here all along, stranger. She is my queen. >> Emphasis on the my, of course.
Arisvath> Arayuth tosses the first herdbeast aside, and lashes out with a foreclaw, spinning towards a section of the pen to impale a smaller wherry with those sword-sharp claws. He's smooth motion now -- much like his rider -- as he almost flows forward to descend upon his prey, his tounge lapping greedily at the green ichor. He drinks, inhaling a protofeather in the process and blechs -- raising his head to eye the glowing queen with lustful interest before he slyly studies his rivals, trying to evaluate their weaknesses -- thought the true test might come in the skies alone.
Serriena backs away as the tall riders approaches from Fort. "Who are you?" She looks confused, coming back from Niaryth's mind for a moment.
Dragon> All dragons sense that Orinth agrees with Naimoth, less one minor correction. << I am Orinth of Ista Weyr. She is my queen! You will bruise your wings against the ground when you fall from the sky after failing to win her. >>
Arisvath> Naimoth leaps and catches another herdbeast, dispatching it with a menace that is so unlike his normal self, blood drained as he gathers strength for the chase, leaving neatly drained bodies to be picked at by the fire lizards later.
Dragon> All dragons sense that Arisvath thirds the other two Istan bronzes, though his is made without specific words - it is merely a feeling, an overpowering emotion that he, Arisvath, shall be the one to win this day, and that they shall regret their attendance beyond all things. /Wrong/, they are, but he is /right/, and that is as it should be.
Arisvath> Niaryth claims another beast for her own, not paying any attentions to the taunts the males give each other. She knows which one will win. The one who flies the best, the one who is the strongest and who will be her mate.
"Trying to /steal/..." Y'lan hisses, then stops; maybe Serriena/Niaryth wouldn't like hearing it phrased that way. "Cheaters," he mutters, then grits his teeth -- he gives a gasp as Orinth's consciousness surges to the fore, and licks his lips, stepping closer to Serriena with a hungry look.
T'lon locks his eyes on Serriena "T'lon, rider of Bronze Zendiakath." he says in a fairly deep voice, that still reveals none of his thoughts or feelings or thoughs. Remarkably he doesn't seem so flight dazed yet, eyes simply remaining on Serri, though one hand rests on his belt knife.
Arisvath> Arisvath's physical hunger has been sated; it is Niaryth upon whom his gaze now rests, and the hunger that fills his veins is for her, and nothing less. Wings flare, muscles tense - as a sculpture, formed of bronze, he waits, expectant in the quest to win over these imposters.
Vesta glances at M'gus, who glares at her. The brownrider scowls at M'gus. They'd been arguing for several days after Llilian's rescue and the two seem.. slightly attracted to one another. Hana glares at N'ago and in a very mean voice says, "I'll punch you before you touch the weyrwoman."
Arisvath> Bedarath has finished with his blooding, now glowering at the other dragons sorted in the feeding grounds before his gaze snaps back to the queen where it stays, following her movements in the grounds as she bloods. A restless half movement as he waits, wings already half spread as he watches.
N'ago smirks, his manner cold and full of contempt for Y'lan -- for all the Istan riders. Cold arrogance shines in deep blue eyes; the quirk of his lips indicating his wicked amusement at the expense of the other. "Think what you like," he replies scathingly to Y'lan. "You might call us cheaters, I say we're here for my just reward -- for what's rightfully mine. His gaze flickers towards Hana; his tone even colder now -- and certainly far more mean. "I punch back. And far harder."
P'rin cracks his knunckles, glancing over at Hana with a grin, before looks at T'lon, eyes full of menace, "I'll help..." then, his eyes notice the hand resting on the belt knife, and he moves as if about to jump, a growl starting deep in his throat, missing the remarks from N'ago in his cold rage.
Arisvath> Zendiakath snags one more beast, another small herdbeast, draining it in rapid swallows, seeming to ignore all the mental feelings, his gaze is focused solely on the glowing gold as he races to finish the beast before she takes off. His own copper gilt hide seems to glow, wings spreading as he finishes it off and then crouches, his own wings spread. There is a cold, eerie calm to this bronze for all that his eyes glow lavander, still there are flickers of red within as if the fire of lust is tempered by the fires of rage, leaving the bronze calculating and cold.
L'deran stays back, a bit aloof or as is possible in the situation. A nearly amused glance to the arguing riders before he glances back to the goldrider and a slight shift in his stance.
"No. Fighting." Arianna's voice comes low and sharp, likely unheard, or at least, the way things are going, unheeded. Her shoulders are stiff and held perfectly straight, gray eyes smoldering and darkened at once and kept levelly on the weyrwoman, and close to her.
T'lon narrows his eyes, "Control yourselves, or would you rather Niaryth goes between when her suitors start fighting, and you lose your gold and her rider, rather than putting up with her. If this is a sample of the mettle of Ista Weyrm, you need new blood. Do you see us whining and bellyaching? I think not, now either act like you've got spine enoug to tolerate us with the gold's invitation, or lose her."
Compared to the other Istan bronzeriders, R'hyn's downright composed -- no threats of violence from him, not since his immediate outburst; his attention appears to be focused instead upon Serriena in totality, a dreamy gaze crossing his face.
Arisvath> Niaryth bloods her second and manuevers a third. She snarls at Pseusath and Nimoth who have snapped over a herdbeast. She drinks her third and then casts it aside. Full engorged with the blood of the beasts, the gold bugles her mating call, announcing her mating on schedule. Just that warning and she screeches as she rises to the skies, wings spreading and leaping aloft.
From the sky overhead, Niaryth wings upward from the feeding grounds.
Arisvath> From the sky overhead, Zendiakath wings upward from the feeding grounds.
P'rin looks about to punch the rider with his hand on the knife, but then growls, all his attention going to the woman he was striving to protect, as the dragons take to the air above.
Arisvath> From the sky overhead, Orinth wings upward from the feeding grounds.
Arisvath> Basliath gives a honeyed croon in responce to the bugle, leaping sky-wards, kill falling from his talons with a thud and a bit of a splat.
Arisvath> From the sky overhead, Basliath wings upward from the feeding grounds.
Arisvath> From the sky overhead, Bedarath wings upward from the feeding grounds.
Arisvath> You spring aloft into the sky over the Istan bowl.
From the sky overhead, Arisvath wings upward from the feeding grounds.
Arisvath> Arayuth wings upward from the feeding grounds.
Serriena gasps when T'lon's hand went to his beltknife, her own hand going to her side, where she apparently forgot her dagger! Another gasp and she holds her hands out. "No!" And when he snorts in digust she looks fit to murder. "Blood blood... fly.." Her face melts, changing as she takes to the air with Niaryth.
Dragon> Flight dragons sense that Niaryth nods.. we'll start heading to the guest weyr in a moment
From the sky overhead, Arisvath's wings flare as he reaches into the sky above, gilt by moonlight as 'sails guide him through the waves of thermals and winds. Fast and furious is the pace called for here - and so it shall be. With each stroke of greened-bronze sails, he reaches higher and further, chasing Niaryth without any intent to let her have her little games; this is a flight that must be won quick, by guile if nothing else.
Arisvath> Arisvath's wings flare as he reaches into the sky above, gilt by moonlight as 'sails guide him through the waves of thermals and winds. Fast and furious is the pace called for here - and so it shall be. With each stroke of greened-bronze sails, he reaches higher and further, chasing Niaryth without any intent to let her have her little games; this is a flight that must be won quick, by guile if nothing else.
Alerted by P'rin's growl, Y'lan turns, and interposes himself between T'lon and Serriena, glaring. "Leave the knife," he snaps. His own is at his belt. He doesn't reach for it. But he could.
From the sky overhead, The sound of wingbeats resound as brown Nimoth takes off after Niaryth, his excitement clear in the way his eyes whirl in shades of deep red. His body seems to almost tremble with excitement as he chases after the glimmering gold, chasing her through the sky. His brown hide seems to flow from light to dark shadows as he echos the moves of the gold, trying to do his best to keep up with her even this early in the flight.
Arisvath> The sound of wingbeats resound as brown Nimoth takes off after Niaryth, his excitement clear in the way his eyes whirl in shades of deep red. His body seems to almost tremble with excitement as he chases after the glimmering gold, chasing her through the sky. His brown hide seems to flow from light to dark shadows as he echos the moves of the gold, trying to do his best to keep up with her even this early in the flight.
From the sky overhead, Naimoth rises up, even with the mating lust upon him, he takes two beats of his wings before springing to the air with power, if not grace. Thermals caught, he rises up above the others, knowing he lacks the agility of the smaller bronzes and browns.
Arisvath> Naimoth rises up, even with the mating lust upon him, he takes two beats of his wings before springing to the air with power, if not grace. Thermals caught, he rises up above the others, knowing he lacks the agility of the smaller bronzes and browns.
From the sky overhead, Orinth bulls his way into the air, wings pumping, breath rasping as he climbs swiftly to take a place near the fore of the group of chasers. Pleased and triumphant at his initial burst of speed, he gives a tremendous bugle Niaryth's way. Honey! I'm home! And I'm comin' to get ya!
Arisvath> Orinth bulls his way into the air, wings pumping, breath rasping as he climbs swiftly to take a place near the fore of the group of chasers. Pleased and triumphant at his initial burst of speed, he gives a tremendous bugle Niaryth's way. Honey! I'm home! And I'm comin' to get ya!
From the sky overhead, Basliath sweeps frost-traced wings through the tropical Istan sky, following the path that Niaryth sets, determination marking every wingbeat, every movement- a determination driven by flight lust, and that is ever undaunted, even among all these bronzes: from both home and off the island.
Arisvath> Basliath sweeps frost-traced wings through the tropical Istan sky, following the path that Niaryth sets, determination marking every wingbeat, every movement- a determination driven by flight lust, and that is ever undaunted, even among all these bronzes: from both home and off the island.
T'lon shakes his head a bit and eases his grip on the knife, "Unlike your young friend there, I control my emotions, he should learn to do the same if he wishes to prosper in the Weyr." he saysin that same bland tone, though his eyes darken to a deeper shade, turning more green than sea blue. We need to gind the guest weyr, unless you all wish to continue this in public."
Deep blue eyes glance skywards, softening for a moment at the familiar sight of bronze hide, but then his expression hardens -- becoming that cold, arrogant smile, and his eyes narrow disdainfully at the Istan Weyrfolk. N'ago remains silent however, waiting perhaps for a chance to taunt the other men again when the time is right.
R'hyn's breaths grow deep, and then deeper, his hair flopping over his eyes as he twists where he stands, obscuring his vision. Still, the bronzerider refrains from attempting to push it away - his hands are dug deep into his pockets, and they're quite simply not moving from there.
Serriena shakes her head. "Not out here." She begins to head towards the ground weyrs, shaking partially as she walks.
Serriena heads into the slightly detached portion of the bowl that houses the ground weyrs.
Y'lan heads into the slightly detached portion of the bowl that houses the ground weyrs.
You head over to the slightly detached area of the bowl that houses the ground weyrs and the council room.
Arianna comes over from the bowl.
L'deran comes over from the bowl.
P'rin comes over from the bowl.
T'lon comes over from the bowl.
N'ago comes over from the bowl.
From the sky over the bowl, Niaryth flies straight up in a line. She hasn't performed any fancy movements yet. Unlike most large golds, the smallest gold at Ista can maneuver like a bronze. She sweeps up high over the Starstones of Ista, heading out towards the jungles of Ista Island, banking up into the heights of the sky with sweeps of her gold wings.
Arisvath> Niaryth flies straight up in a line. She hasn't performed any fancy movements yet. Unlike most large golds, the smallest gold at Ista can maneuver like a bronze. She sweeps up high over the Starstones of Ista, heading out towards the jungles of Ista Island, banking up into the heights of the sky with sweeps of her gold wings.
Serriena heads in through the tunnel to the guest weyr.
Y'lan stalks after Serriena, still keeping half an eye on T'lon. His breathing is ragged, and he wipes sweaty palms on his pants.
Y'lan heads in through the tunnel to the guest weyr.
P'rin heads in through the tunnel to the guest weyr.
L'deran heads in through the tunnel to the guest weyr.
You head in through the tunnel to the guest weyr.
Arisvath> Orinth follows. Up, up, up! The taut line of his body quivers as muscles work, and he thrills to flight, his lavender-whirling eyes fixed on the glowing queen ahead of him. He'd salivate, if dragons did that sort of thing.
Arisvath> Spurts of exception speed, thanks to the warm thermals of Ista's sky, give Arisvath a momentum that has him hurtling after Niaryth with about as much energy as is possible. Eyes whirl fast, and faster still - lined in purple, touched in red, a fiery flame pushing him onwards in this race to prove to the Fortian bronzes that theirs is not the superior breeding.
L'deran has followed rather quietly all this time. But don't think that that means that he's docile, or he's going to fade away from the race already. Oh, no, he's very much present. He walks in smoothly, but with a strong stride. He's not going to fade away yet, thank you. And he's starting to pace ever so slowly, starting to follow a path of a half circle, a half smile on his face, his eyes darting around to the other males. Was that a snarl at one of them? Surely not. Oh, there it is again. Yes, yes, it was.
Arisvath> Naimoth continues to rise up, his powerfully block body filled with muscle that bulls through where grace fails the young bronze. He won't let the others catch her, the golden beauty that leads the chase, teasing them all with her feminine wiles.
Arisvath> Zendiakath surges up after Niaryth, using thermals to lift him higher, his lighter, smaller form lifting more rapidly than the heavier, bigger dragons. Niaryth and he are both smaller than average, he has the stamina and ferocity of a bronze, matched with the speed and all the agility of his brown breathern, giving him a bit of an edge over the large bronzes that chase her as well. Swiftly he follows, allowing nothing to distract him from the lovely aura of shiimmering gold that he chases.
P'rin moves in close to Serriena, not so much to try and confine her, but to protect her from the strangers. She's Ista's, and no interloper will have her, not as long as he stands watch.
Arisvath> Bedarath is following, having gotten a slightly late start from the ground. But it hasn't taken much to make him catch up. Not for Bedarath. A huge leap off the ground is all that it took, and he's a blur of bronze among the others, now and again taking shape in the air as he pauses to adjust speed and direction. Ducking under one of hte other bronzes, he.. oh, dear, did he just try to cut them off, yes, he did. And up up up and away he goes.. towards that gold not so far away... not so far away at all.
T'lon moves in, smiling a bit at Y'lan, 'If you don't stop watching me laddy, I might think you fancy men, and frankly, you aren't my type." he says in that cool, bland manner before turning to watch Serriena, but the way he stands gives lie to the fact that he isn't aware of what happens both above and in the guest weyr.
"Bite me," Y'lan retorts to T'lon. "I'm going to keep watching you until you get rid of that sharding knife around the Weyrwoman."
Arisvath> Arayuth arrows upwards, wings driving him forward with each great upsweep and downsweep -- confident he is in himself. But he's cunning too, and sly, and determined to win by any means necessary -- even if his Fortian blood is the superior breeding to the Istans. He's just waiting for the right moment -- like his rider, the bronze isn't one given to useless action, he just needs to the right moment to cheat -- ahem, claim what's his.
L'deran is still pacing around the edges of the little group gathered, oh so slowly. He's not perhaps the strongest, most aggresive presence, but he's making no buts about the fact that he's there. Every so often he'll cross in front of one of the other males, take a step forward towards them. Just enough to make them recognize him. As for Serriena.. as for the golden rider.. he keeps his distance, prefering to circle.... for now.
Serriena lead them into the guest aerie, not her aerie as she normally does, but then there is nothing normal about this flight with the intruders. She crosses her eyes at T'lon and Y'lan, not because she is making fun, but because she's having trouble concentrating on them, and on where Niaryth is. "The jungles.. how beautiful...but not like me." She's stuck up there with the heated gold.
Arisvath> Niaryth tilts her head down, peering at the green foilage many thousand feet below her. She swings her head back, checking on the progress of her suitors, almost surprised to see they are keeping up. She creels low, long and loud, calling them to pursue her even faster, taunting them they are not fast enough, nor will they be strong enough to capture her! She sweeps around a crescent shaped cliff of the weyr.
P'rin stands, watching, menace gone as he seems to wait. Will it be he that catches the prize, or one of the other Istan dragons? It will not be a Fortian one, that ihe is quite certain of. A quiver, a ripple of muscle over the bronzerider's bare chest, easily seen now, and that is all.
Arisvath> Bedarath is in the thick of the pack. But this is no dumb dragon, no sir-ee. He didn't get this far, he didn't win this much by being stupid. So he isn't out front with the leaders just yet.. wait for it.. wait for it... But he's also not above a little bit of showing off if it'll get him what he so desperately desires. Turning a flip in the air in a blur of bronze, he does a bit of an acrobatic trick.. or as much of a trick as you can do when you're that big. But it's t he thought that counts, isn't it? Oooh. Wait! There she goes. And suddenly, no more games. And as fast as he can go, he shoots through the air, powerful wings carrying him sharply through the air and the wind and around the cliff and behind her.. faster, faster..
Arisvath> Orinth tilts his wings, banking around the cliff moments after the gold. He pumps his wings harder still -- if he could just get the edge, he could end it quickly. He is fast, but not quite that fast. Niaryth with her head start stays well ahead of him, and he lets out a frustrated bugle. Just then, he senses the shadow of a dragon coming up on his left, and the bugle shifts to a warning growl.
N'ago takes up his place in the guest weyr, his entire demeanor telling of his cool, calm and cruel self. It's shown in his stance, legs slightly akimbo yet planted firmly on the ground, ready to spring into action. His cloak is settled over his shoulder, his hand resting on his hip. He's waiting, like his dragon, for the right moment.
Arisvath> Psuesath and Nimoth are quarreling in the sky, the bronze pushing past the brown only to find the brown who's wings are faster, pushes past him. The two snap and then separate, each coming around the cliff at a different angle to try and reach Niaryth first.
Arisvath> Naimoth rises up and up further, almost until one could wonder if he is even really taking part in this flight. A search for a cloud, something to hide his already muted colouration, as he keeps his eye on the beauty as she leads them towards the lush green of the jungles, watching and waiting for his chance to swoop down and claim her as his own.
Arisvath> Arisvath has no agenda but to follow Niaryth, wherever she may go. Way up high, or down low -- she's run away with his heart, and now there is naught to do but to chase her, wings gaining in momentum as he steams about the cliffs, stretching them as wide as possible to gain the most winds, pressuring him onwards.
Arisvath> Zendiakath set a fast pace, he's more agile, he slips throught he smaller spaces of the pack, pushing past, slipping around and even over slower browns and even a slower bronze or two that get in his way. When one brown gets in his way deliberately the small bronze seems to climb up and over, starting at the tail and using agile clawed limbs to go over him. Surprisingly enough he doesn't even prick hide so quickly does he climb, he leaves the poor brown reeling a bit in startle,ent. As the gold goes around the cliff he sweeps around it, moving faster and faster, though no where near pushing his max speed yet.
Dragon> Niaryth senses that Arisvath hopes that somewhere, within your flight-frenzied mind, there is recolection of him - and what he means. Softly, very quietly, he leaves a single strand of his presence within your mind, seeking to touch -- if not to take. << Fly well, Niaryth, but fly home. Do not let them close. >>
L'deran perhaps may be pacing, content to merely stalk his prize for the moment.. but he's /that/ collected. As his dragon gets caught up in the heat of the chase, so does he. Or as much as he lets it show. His fists bunch by his sides until he folds them across his chest as he paces. And keeps pacing. Faster. Much faster. Any faster and he'll be running. Back and forth.. back and forth.. dizzying walking pace. An idea flashes across his face and he stops. His lip curls. Is he that cruel?
R'hyn leans back against the wall nearest to the door, eyes shut, breathing heavy and fast. Every so often, he lifts one eyelid just enough to get a glimpse of the room, and snaps it shut again. Oh dear.
Arisvath> Bedarath is still there. And faster than ever he is, his bronze body cutting through sky just as fas as he can. When he ends in the shadow of another dragon, he growls. Not just a warning growl. This is an outright violent threat. Bedarath flies in /nobody's/ shadow. And, reaching into his reserves of speed, he pushes forward, striving to be closer to the prize, keeping his big bronze body focused on the gold, on where he's going.. and that's all he's going to do. Not even being in a shadow can distract him now.. there /are/ priorities, after all...
Serriena backs up, focused on Niaryth only now. She's breathing shallowly, keeping rythym with the gold. She winces at the cliff face. H'nan, the rider of the brown that Zendiakath ripped on, shouts something a curse at T'lon, calling him a name and adding, "Your dragon is a menace and you can't do that!" Of course if an Istan bronze had done that, he might not have been /so/ mad.
Arisvath> Arayuth answers not the siren's call, instead focusing with narrow-minded readiness on his goal -- let the others waste their time with their cries and let the songs to woo her occupy them. Nay, this bronze will not rest until he has Niaryth within his grasp. Shooting forwards, Arayuth swerves sharply towards another bronze -- the attempt to drive the other out of the sky. And then he's back on course with a twist of his wingsails -- not immediately, but steadily so.
Arisvath> A flash of bronze hide is seen as Aitonth, A'son's dragon stealthily surges forward. He can be patient. As a matter of fact, he /will/ be patient. This tact has mostly worked with ladies in the past, and hopefully Niaryth won't be the exception to this. Veering away from most of the pack, the bronze keeps his eyes trained on the glowing gold, bumping into another male as he does so. A growl from the dragon of contact is what he receives, but this he chooses to ignore.
T'lon saunters forward suddenly, shifting through the mass of riders as easily as his bronze does in the skies above and he reaches out and takes one of Serri's wrists in his and he tugs her to him, taking advantage of her dazed state perhaps, and the confusion of entering the weyr. As she impacts against him he smiles, as he moves the tug into a possible sweep her off her feet motion, "How easy it is to take over this Weyr sweet queen, if this is a sample of the fight within your riders and their dragons."
P'rin turns and without a sound, snaps out a hard strike toward the bronzerider that dares to grab the wrist of his weyrwoman, hand held loose until the very last moment. Fight? He set himself to protect, and no one, but no one is going to hurt that he's decided to protect.
L'deran 's lip curls even more, and a bite of raucous laughter escapes him. "That's as it may be, T'lon, but you're not going to be the one to do it," L'deran says, his voice sounding a bit hoarse, but still impassioned. How can he help it, with the tug from the skies coursing through his body? There's only so much a man can take. "You haven't won yet, T'lon. Play fair. Hands off. Or I'll take your hands off of you," he threatens. Still, such a sweet voice. Probably would be quite pleasant under normal circumstances. He still hasn't stopped circling, and circling he is T'lon and the weyrwoman.
Y'lan's hand goes to his belt knife now, and he steps forward. "You get your filthy hands off her, bottom dweller!"
N'ago glances sharply towards T'lon, his expression startled for a fraction of a second before deep blue eyes gleam with sly plotting. "How simple it is," he replies scornfully, the tone of his voice implying that in his eyes -- and perhaps even in truth -- the Istan men are far below him, "that the leadership is within our grasp. We will win, but are any of you men enough to defend your goldrider from that bronzerider?" Ah, yeah, let the manipultaions begin. N'ago settles back against the wall, arms now crossed over his chest.
Arisvath> Niaryth made it around the cliff face and she brushes off the top by building her speed up again, surging forward in an easy motion. Her flight begins to swing back out over the ocean as she veers towards the left of her current flight position. The pack of males behind her can only race to catch up, because she's paying them enough attention to encourage them on, and then to scold them off for getting too close.
L'deran is technically on the same side as N'ago and T'lon. Yes, this is true, so whatever subdivisions might exist between them and in the skies... here, one defends one's own. And so L'deran turns from his verbal attack of T'lon... just starting to lose it. The passion seeping into him from his bronze is starting to take a chokehold on his emotions. "Excuse me? Coming from the man who let those hands get there in the first place, that's awfully big talk," L'deran says, striding forward to meet Y'lan. Unarmed.
R'hyn's voice is both calm and quiet. "Your words will make little difference. Serriena, and Niaryth, both know what is best, and all of us would die in order to ensure that what is right occurs. Your schemes will not, cannot, hold water for long." He squeezes his eyes shut again, as if this is going to block everything out -- leaving himself quite unprotected, though that perhaps makes little difference.
Arisvath> Inkynath is focused entirely on the glowing prize ahead of him. He is entranced by this, and therefore cannot respond to anything or anyone else. Another even beat of brown wings brings him a little closer, but he growls in frustration at still being so far away. Still in the back of the pack. Will he ever win his golden queen?
Arisvath> Naimoth follows above, not attempts at fancy manuevers that would just slow him down. Singleminded pursuit, golden-lit wings beating as he chases. He ignores the mass below him, worrying more about catching Niaryth before the others, especially the Fort dragons, can get to her.
T'lon laughs softly and he ducks P'rin's blow, turning the once lift into dip and he steals a swift and yet deep kiss from the goldrider, a rather daring move on his part yes, but what Is the bronzerider really feeling? It's hard to say.
Shock and surprise register on Serriena's face at being picked up by the bronzerider, let alone dipped down and kissed by him. Her hand comes up, coming back to reality and she smacks him hard on the cheek. Wrenching away from him she says, "Get off me!"
Arisvath> Basliath is still here, chasing relentlessly, despite the competition. Brown wings beat, and propell him forward, agility guiding him through any twists and turns with ease. As the gold-guided path turns, he turns with it, ignoring those around him, attentions for Niaryth, and her alone.
Arisvath> Arisvath reaches for the front of the pack, though in truth he's closer to the front of the middle, though he pulls at the air currents with all of his weight and might. A rumble escapes from his maw, covered in bloodstains as it is, all energy focused intensely upon the golden queen upon whom all rests. There is no rest for the rightous.
Arisvath> Bedarath , meanwhile, is in the main fight. The one in the skies. Whatever is going on below, here is where it counts, where it is important. There isn't much more time. And doesn't this bronze know it. So he surges forward into the skies, upwards and forwards and towards the queen... he must win. He must catch this prize.. and he will accept no denial. So his wings beat ever harder... the time is almost.. not quite.. but almost there. The gold is the only object now.. the /only/ object. Excuse me, gentlemen! You're in the way! Excuse him? Never mind. He pushes his way through wings and talons. /Out/ of htis bronzes way.
Y'lan ducks around L'deran and leaps, seizing the fabric of T'lon's tunic in both his hands and attempting to drag him bodily away from Serriena, with a good few punches to his back for good measure. "I said get off her you mother buggering vtol!!!!"
P'rin starts to move, crouching just a little as he circles the pair, eyes never leaving T'lon's chest. "You heard the lady, get your slimy paws off of her." Another attack is launched, a swift kick towards the other rider's knee.
Arisvath> Psuesath snarls and snips at Nimoth's tail. He surges ahead of the brown and then veers around Basliath. The bronze snarls towards Arayuth recognizing a foe in him and challenges him with a bugle of intent to capture the gold.
R'hyn's eyes snap open. Too much going open. They go wide, and he rushes properly to his feet, leaning in to the fray. "Leave her alone! If you're to win this, win it fairly. Or," he adds, lip curling, "As fairly as you /can/, considering what you've done already."
L'deran 's eyes narrow. All right, now this was just a /little/ bit too much. Perhaps he was an evil bastard bent on taking over Ista.. but there were certain standards. Fighting in the presence of ladies. So.. using the sense of a man, he decides, of course, to join the fight to stop it. And stpping in, he lands Y'lan a hard punch on his right side. "Follow your own advice and sit down, /boy/," he snarls.
N'ago's voice might almost mirror R'hyn's -- at least as far as the calmness of it goes. Otherwise, it's cold, and scornful. "Obviously you aren't doing a very capable job of it then," he replies in turn to R'hyn. "The way I see it, T'lon's doing better than all of you put together." As for N'ago himself, he's stirring the pot of plots and manipulations. Distract the riders, one might just distract the dragons. "Of course," he adds, "Istan riders don't have to guts to face a man one on one."
Arisvath> Zendiakath sweeps after Niaryth, swinging back to the ocean with a dip of his wings and he actually pours on more speed, wing beats firm and strong, he's young and agile but experience has taught this bronze well and he uses every ounce of that experience, grabbing and pulling another slower bronze out of his path, springing forward with a shove of his feet to get a boost in speed as he reacts to the encouragement of the gold, working his form to the front of the pack.
Arisvath> Orinth roars and lunges, but not forward -- no, he lunges to the side. Away from Niaryth -- toward Bedarath. That rushing bronze mustn't take his queen! Claws are at the ready, but Orinth doesn't use them, yet. Instead, he pulls back his wing to deliver a body check to Bedarath, intending to muscle the usurper out of the way with sheer mass and momentum.
Serriena backs away from all parties involved. "Shards, leave me alone.. leave her alone.. go back to Fort." The weyrwoman's dark eyes are full of heat and sorrow, half of her with Niaryth, the other half knowing that the Fort riders being there is wrong. "Stop fighting!" She steps into the middle of the the riders, trying to pull some apart. Vesta and M'gus are snipping at each other. Hana looks unsure what to do but she steps towards N'ago as if intending to punch him, her fists clenched. This could be quite an uproar.
Serriena unfortunately, walked right into the foray shouting and didn't see P'rin trying to kick T'lon. She takes it in the hip from the former weyrling.
R'hyn rushes towards N'ago, the moment the bronzerider speaks up, ignoring his own words in order to attempt - likely without much success - to break the other rider's nose. Passion, it seems, are truly raging high. His hair is tossed from his face, his full height - little though it is - reached, as in anger, he lashes out at the bronzerider. "And Fort riders don't have the decency to find out."
[Continued in next log]
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