October 3, 2002
In a tragic threadfall, Weyrleader T'rrent is lost, and Weyrwoman Llilian severely injured.

Previous Next

You wing down to a landing in the southern bowl.

** Vinrath lands in his usual spot off to one side of the bowl, with hardly any grace or any amount of energy backing up his movements. Crouching low to allow Kytara to dismount for the time being for a quick strap check, he simply huffs flatly towards Chrysanth. He's in no mood, it's a /horrible/ day. Everything is just horrible. Tara doesn't seem to happy either, giving a weary glance up at sky and pulling her jacket tighter around her as rain begins to pelt down. "Oh, just perfect. Rain and wind." She then begins her usual routine of wing checks, making sure things are taken care of. Firestone is next and Vinrath makes many a grumbling complaint about..well..everything.

** Faemirth does not like getting wet. Not in the slightest. She keeps tilting her head skyward, eyeing the rain that keeps daring to splatter her oh-so-perfect hide even as Shannen drags on her riding gloves. "We'll fly with Kytara's Wing," she calls in the general direction of the Weyrleader, rather unconcerned with whether or not he actually hears. Over this wind, it's hard to hear much of anything that isn't an all-out shout, and Shannen simply does not shout. (Well, unless she's REALLY mad, but that's not the point.)

** "Do you think a tropical storm is moving in?" Serriena yells over towards Kymberli, not too far away from her. She skirts under an offered wing of protection from Niaryth and finishes putting on her helmet and riding belt.

** P'rin heads over from the far end of the bowl.

** An early dimness, borne of clouds and rain, forces a false twilight as dragons fill the Bowl, Wings arraying themselves in tight formations. Water slicks over riding gear and dragon hide as the heavy rain is slapped by the fast winds.

** T'rrent, finished with the firestone, hooks the excess bags to Morpheth's straps, and is halfway done retying them when Shiae's voice, carried by the gusty winds, catches his attention. He turns and jogs over to her, reaching out to grab the hides before they're blown away. "Thanks," he issues forth immediately, looking them over. "Ok... I'll get these taken care of after the 'Fall." And he stuffs them into his leathers.

** Arisvath buffers his wings against the wet and the wind, which sluices down his body as he settles against the ground, propping himself steady. R'hyn, a dark figure swathed in jacket, helmet, and the words, dismounts in his usual manner, head tilted downwards against the onslaught of rain. "Fardling tropics."

Arisvath crouches low, allowing you to swing your leg over his neckridges, and climb nimbly towards the ground, with the help of his straps.

As the rain comes falling down, Kym shudders. "Awful. Just awful, " she whispers, watching Chrysanth chew more firestone. The green chews slowly and carefully, the masticating of the stone audible, even over the wind. "It's possible!" Kym yells back toward Serriena, then suddenly finds a much more sensible way of communication. Doh. Pulling her helmet and goggles over her eyes, Kym watches Chry swallow firmly. There. They're nearly ready.

Elwynn heads over from the far end of the bowl.

Bags of stone are carted around by the weyrlings, tossed to riders who immediately make with feeding chunks to their lifemates. Shannen does likewise, sending a chunk into Faemirth's maw as she eyes the sky dubiously. All through the bowl, the crunching of firestone, the whip of the wind, and the splatter of the rain mutes any real conversation.

"You said...!" Shiae begins, but breaks off with a shake of her head. Instead of yelling over the wind she merely turns and weaves her way back across the bowl to where Carianth is sulking, her wings raised in a vain attempt to keep the rain off her face. The Weyrsecond waves for another weyrling to bring firestone even as she opens the first bag to feed to Carianth.

Isyrath heads over from the ground weyrs.

Llilian heads over from the ground weyrs.

Heading back to his mount, T'rrent takes a moment to tighten those riding leathers, and flip his goggles down over his eyes. His face gets completely covered at this point. Bundled up, he is. Much better. He climbs atop Morpheth again, and settles into position before strapping himself in tightly.

The fun part comes now. Serriena fixes her goggles in place. Once everything is in place she climbs up Niaryth's toestraps and settles herself into the riding ridge. Already the agenothree sprayer is fixed there and she manuevers the nozzle over, around her shoulder and then in a comfortable position to spray without losing much of her aim.

Kymberli gives Chry a final pat as the green finishes digesting her firestone. "Thank you!" she calls after the weyrling who conveyed the sack, though she's sure he didn't hear. Oh well. Upsy-daisy.

Kymberli steps onto Chrysanth's offered foreleg, deftly mounting the Green.

Serriena climbs up Niaryth's extended foreleg to settle into her straps.

Kytara continues feeding Vinrath firestone until the blue refuses anymore, the rest of it being attached to the straps as well. Another check of her gear, followed by her gloves and helmet, which are now pretty much soaked. A smirk seems fixed on the Wingleader's expression as well and the bluerider strains to hear what is being called over the winds. Vinrath opens his wings a bit, offering Tara some shelter from the cold rain that otherwise pelts his dark blue hide. A few orders are called out, as well as warnings to be carefull, do to the obvious weather to the nearest of her wingriders. Seeing now that the "fun" is about to begin, Kytara slips her goggles on and grabs hold of the straps, hoisting herself up and into place, quickly buckling herself in and glancing over to make sure the rest of her wing follows.

Kytara steps up to Vinrath's bent foreleg as the Blue crouches low with a gently whirling eyes. Kytara swings up easily and settles between two neckridges.

Elwynn, like many of the weyrlings, hustles sacks of firestone to various riders. Her face is pinched and tight as she hands over the last of her load, her eyes taking in the weather. With resolution, she heads back to grab another two fists of bag.

The Wings array themselves in formation throughout the bowl, the inverted Vee being the most common formation selected by the Wingleaders tonight - to deal with the bad weather, most likely. Everyone is now just waiting on T'rrent's signal.

T'rrent steps up to Morpheth's bent foreleg as the Bronze crouches low with a gently whirling eyes. T'rrent swings up easily and settles between two neckridges.

High atop Chrysanth, Kymberli settles herself onto Chrysanth, pulling the riding straps securely around her body as she fastens them, eyes on her wingleader.

Llilian heads out, a bit rushed, but Isyrath at least, seems perfectly put together. A final check to goggles, sprayer, and Isyrath dips down, allowing her rider to mount, and secure herself into her straps.

Shiae hauls the second bag aloft with her, leaving the empty bag for the wind.

Llilian steps up to Isyrath's bent foreleg as the Gold crouches low with gently whirling eyes. Llilian swings up easily and settles between two neckridges.

Shiae steps up to Carianth's bent foreleg as the Green crouches low with a gently whirling eyes. Shiae swings up easily and settles between two neckridges.

R'hyn takes a breath, finishes feeding Arisvath firestone, then moves to mount, pulling himself atop the bronze's neck whilst clinging to the sopping straps, nearly slipping from the wet as he makes his way upwards. Swallowing, he straps himself in, leaning forward, arms wrapped about himself as if to shield him from the rain.

With a smooth motion, you grap a hold of Arisvath's straps, using their guiding length to scramble from forelimb to neckridges, at which point you settle, safe atop the bronze.

** P'rin trudges through the mud, boots making a sucking sound barely audible above the rain as he makes his way over to help the other weyrlings supply firestone.

** And now for the fun part... T'rrent raises his arm up in the air (since a verbal command would be just about impossible, bundled up as he is), and gives one quick pump down. That's the signal. And up we go...

** Morpheth leaps aloft, finding a thermal to help gain his altitude.

** From the sky overhead, Morpheth wings his way upward from the Southern Bowl, finding a thermal with which to gain altitude.

** Niaryth waits for Llilian and Isyrath to rise first, with Serriena.

** Arisvath strains upwards, lifting off with a fluidity somewhat masked by the rain. Wings beat, as he gains altitude, and R'hyn ducks lower against his lifemate's neckridges.

You leap aloft, finding a thermal to help carry you into the sky over the Bowl.

** Maintaining one's position is going to be difficult for this 'fall. Hana's Wing is already somewhat buffeted as they ascend to take their place in the formation, one of the smaller greens almost veering directly into her wingmate as she tries to hold her course.

** Niaryth wings her way upward from the Southern Bowl, finding a thermal with which to gain altitude.

** Morpheth, buffeted by the wind, has to pump extra hard to pull himself up and into position at the head of his wing. A nasty crosswind just about sends him barreling into a nearby Brown, but they both recover in time, and all is well.

** Faemirth and several of the other greens in Kytara's Wing have a bit of trouble keeping themselves in place - a common problem for many of the smaller dragons. With a snarl at an adopted wingmate, Faemirth veers back into her place, struggling to keep in formation as the wind plays tricks with her stability.

** Thread has no qualms about the weather, and - amid the dark skies - the silvery blur can already be seen, making its way over the tempest of the sea toward the island. A few snarls of early flame brighten the otherwise dark scene.

** Chrysanth strains to keep herself steady, the powerful wind making the small green sway. Any words from Kym are lost now, as the pair concentrate on staying airborne. The approaching Fall makes Chry's eyes whirl in the reddish-orange battle-hue. Now. This is it. It is time to attack our adversary.

** Carianth and the smaller dragons are having a hard time of it in these winds - Carianth, of course, seems to be taking it personally. She roars, Shiae leaning forward to thump her lifemate's neck and get the green to refocus. Carianth twists round for a few more mouthfuls of firestone as they wait for the enemy's advance.

Dragon> Ista Weyr dragons sense that Arisvath's touch - silvered, aged - ripples against a projected wind, as he, in turn, pushes against it. << Faith. That's all we need, and the winds will be battled fairly. >>

** Vinrath was a bit lazy on his takeoff, as is per usual for this blue but with the winds that all dragonpairs will face today, even this grumpy, sulking blue knows to put some effort behind everything he does. Buffeted by winds and rain, the blue fights a bit to keep his position steady, rumbling lowly. Now here's a challenge to match his intelligence. For once! Tara tries to keep herself focused on the incoming Thread and her wing, gripping the leathers tightly and muttering under her breath as she briefly notes the difficulty for some to stay in formation.

** T'rrent's wing takes point, sailing up nice and high, and ahead of the rest of the pack to catch the trailing edge as it nears the beachhead. Once there, he signals the wing to hold. And now for the worst part. The wait.

** Niaryth wings in a few thousand feet below, following after Isyrath and Jessith, bringing up the rear of the queen wing with Selynth. The gold's flight is not as difficult as the green's but it is not a lofty flight. The wind currents are not nice enough to let her float and her wings are working to keep up with the larger golds.

Dragon> Ista Weyr dragons sense that Faemirth chips in tartly, << I am soaking wet and you speak of faith? >> Men.

** As the leading edge reaches the border of the island, the first wave of dragonriders begin attacking it with intense precision. Despite the pummel of wind and rain, the battle commences - with considerably more winking into and out of Between than normal for so early in the 'fall. Get used to it.

Dragon> Niaryth bespoke All dragons with << He is right, we must have faith we will battle against these odds. >>

** Isyrath may be a big one, but it doesn't seem to do her much good, against the wind. It's hard going, keeping in low, and steady, and fighting to fly out towards the oncoming thread. A jet, a second, from Llilian's flamethrower, as she makes sure it still works, before they settle in for the wait. Always the low riding wing has to wait for the true fighting wings to meet the fall.

** Large enough so that the winds are less of a danger, Arisvath hovers in place, wings held taut to control his motions. As the leading edge arrives, a rumble echoes across the sky - one of many, to be sure - as he opens his maw to emit a burst of flame towards the first tangled clump that bedecks the sky before him.

Dragon> Ista Weyr dragons sense that Arisvath's mirth is evident, within his drawled voice. << Ah, Faemirth, but with faith we can do /anything/. You just need to believe, and soon you shall be dry. >> Niaryth's support draws a solemn whisp of thought, agreement.

** Chrysanth roars as the Thread begins to fall, impatiently awaitng their turn to fight. Kym has her hand tensed on Chry's neck as the green prepares herself to shoot forward and flame. A strand not far from them appears to turn toward them, and the pair wink out to Between and then back again, quickly. That was rather quick. Indeed, around them, dragons are winking in and out. Seems they're not alone. This time.

** Thread falls erratically in this wind, strands whipping awkwardly. From Hana's Wing, a blue is snared and goes screaming into Between, emerging a few seconds later - scared but only slightly scarred. A large tendril breaks away, curving and knotting as it moves toward Arisvath.

Dragon> Ista Weyr dragons sense that Faemirth, who is too busy to argue at the moment, only sends a disgruntled wave of thought. She's not buying into this faith business.

** T'rrent, mounted atop Morpheth like Custer atop his horse, fights at the head of what looks to be a losing battle at first, but countless such fights have been won in the past, and this one will be no different if he has anything to say about it. Chaotic, the Thread may be, but it still burns just as easily. And the rain may hinder visibility, but it also makes the air heavier, and the Thread just that slight bit slower in its descent. One, two, three jets of flame issue forth from Morpheth, charring the first of many strands to come this evening.

Dragon> Carianth bespoke Ista Weyr dragons with << That has to be the stupidest thing I have ever heard. >>

Dragon> Ista Weyr dragons sense that Chrysanth adds her own opinions now. << I quite agree, Arisvath. But Faemirth's right. We are getting wet. >> And how can one be dignified when she is wet?

** Arisvath lunges towards the curving, knotting tendril, drawing back his maw to allow the flames to billow out; they engulf the thread, as he draws back, gaze already directly upon the task at hand -- ignoring the dust that falls downwards, charred remains of a silvered enemy.

** From Vinrath's neckridges, Kytara lifts a hand up briefly to wipe at her goggles, trying to clear the water droplets from them, even if for just a moment. Words and commands are relayed through Vinrath as using her voice would be useless as she tries to keep her wing together. When the first snarl of flame appear, Vinrath gives a low, rattling bugle before the first flames errupt from the blues maw, charring the nearest passing bit of Thread to char. Tara tenses in preparation as what is to come, leaning forwards as her lifemate moves forwards to flame at yet another nearing clump.

** Carianth fares both better and worse in this torrential downpour. Better, for when the winds are kind they lift her, and send the Thread directly into the path of her flame. More often, however, the fickle air gusts and tosses the Thread out of her reach, or buffets a wing to send her sprawling. More threads than usual bypass the upper wing, undoubtedly to her and Shiae's chagrin.

** Threads go in seemingly every direction, whipped on winds that seem to have very little direction. Rain makes visibility difficult and wind makes stability precarious, but it seems that little gets through the fighting Wings nonetheless - efforts redoubled to account for the weather. Despite the best efforts, however, some always gets through, and a tangle breaks away, falling chaotically toward the Queens' Wing.

Dragon> Ista Weyr dragons sense that Arisvath huffs, disappointedly. << All you need to do is belief. Perhaps you're just not rea-- >> The word doesn't manage to get completed; he's distracted, attention turned back to the task at hand.

** Isyrath sweeps forward, using a sudden cross current to aid her as she flies in low, the flame from Llilian's 'thrower illuminating the darkness for a moment, as the pair manages to catch a patch that slides down, almost riding the water down, but she can't reach all of it, and ash and a few errant strands slide back in her wake. Not a good day at all.

** Kytara's Wing follows well after their Wingleader, with everyone doing a fair job of keeping their place save the occasional buffet that sends a green or a blue out of formation. One such gust brushes Faemirth and she loses her track on an approaching clump; it slips by, headed straight toward Chrysanth.

** Niaryth has been waiting for that. The clump that falls to the queen's wing is attacked and fought, the ones that Llilian misses are taken out by Serriena's flamethrower. Tongues of fire spurt out and char the thread missed by the senior queenrider.

** A fan of splayed silvery tendrils sails downward directly at T'rrent's wing, whipping about at the whims of the wind. All at once, the wing erupts into fountains of flame, Morpheth producing part of it, and most of the fan is destroyed. What is missed is tossed right back up at them from below. Think fast, ladies and gentlemen. A tiny strand nicks the end of Morpheth's tail, causing a momentary blink Between, but no serious injury.

** High atop Chrysanth, Kymberli wipes frantically at her goggles, desperately trying to keep them clear. A small glimpse of silver is all Kym gets as a warning before Chrysanth reacts, flaming hard, aiming toward that clump. She manages to flame it just in time, though she did not escape unscathed. One or two strands sizzle across her flanks, the few that she missed. With a howl, Chrysanth vanishes Between, leaving the Threads behind, and re-emerging back in formation now, a minor score on her side. Eh. She'll fix it later.

** With Hana's Wing taking some of the higher ground for this 'fall, her riders take a great deal of injury. Already, replacements are seen taking wing over the Weyr, popping into Between where injured riders have left gaps in the formation. One such gap lets a clump manage to escape, veering toward the Weyrleader's Wing beneath - Shiae in particular. Caught on a swirling gust, it's hard to track.

** Vinrath seems to be fairing pretty well over the relentless rain and constant winds, although the blue is sometimes found veering offcourse, much to the blue's disgust. Wings work hard to keep himself steady and out of dangers way. More flame is spurted and another tangle of thread dispatched. Some thread cannot be caught by the blue, but is taken care of by those behind him. Both Tara and Vinrath call out a warning to Chrysanth though, Tara grimacing as the two disappear between, but thankfully return. Back to work.

** Carianth shrieks outrage as Thread dares attack them from /beneath/. What does it think it is, a bronze? She and several other of the smaller dragons pop *between*, emerging below the spray, and manage to char perhaps half of it before the capricious winds push it down at them again. Shiae yells just in time to send them all into the frozen blackness again, all but one reappearing safely a moment later. The casualty, a young green, heads back to the Weyr, already all but exhausted.

** Heroics have no place on a day like this, but convincing I'rst and his brown Nevelth of that fact is easier said than done. When one of the greens from his Wing can't reach a clump, the foolish brownrider sends his dragon diving diving diving to char the errant strands. Alas, the brown can't handle such a slope and, before he can brake himself, barrells into the massive tangle. A terrible scream erupts, most of it carried away by the brazen winds, before Nevelth wings into Between. And does not reappear. Ever.

** From Isyrath's neckridges, Llilian is working harder than she's had to, in previous falls. Usually a rather easy duty, flying in low and mopping up the leftovers, but this time it's different. This time it's hard, nasty, wet, dirty work, and flame brightens her face, more often than it should, but not as often as it needs to, as Isyrath dips and rises trying to catch the flecks of silver dancing down much too close to the ground.

** Arisvath's got no time to spare a moment for Nevelth - no time to mourn, or even hardly notice; his maw is opened wide as another gout of flame emerges, engulfing the tangle in front of him, as R'hyn leans forward, focusing - wiping at his goggles as they begin to cloud up in the rain.

** Chrysanth continues flaming, continues battling Thread, but the pain of Nevelth's sudden Betweening out of existence is more painful than her score. Kymberli has her eyes straining, focusing on the strands. When the going gets tough, the tough get-----oh, forget it.

** Niaryth is right behind Isyrath. She's got her back, and Serriena has Llilian's. Spouts of flames rise from the queen wing as they take up where the others could not due to the rain and winds. There's a blast tangle at one before it hits Jessith and then Serriena has to dip lower to avoid a tangle hitting Niaryth's wings. The gold winks between a scant seconds before appearing behind the tangle and flaming it with the sprayer.

** Morpheth and T'rrent haven't the time to be distracted, either. Casualties are unavoidable on an evening like this. Determined to keep them at a minimum, though, the pair issues a command to the wing. Higher, they're going, to see if the conditions are more favorable up there.

** Faemirth, as if to show 'em how it's done, shakes off Nevelth's death immediately - now is not the time for sorrow - and pulls off a much more effective dive. Hers actually manages to snare a clump, though an errant batch snags a wingtip as it grazes passed. A quick dart into and out of Between solve the problem, but the minor injury is going to cost her major trouble as this 'fall progresses: Maintaing position in these winds, with an injured wingtip, will not be easy.

** The clump aiming erratically for Carianth is momentarily hung up by a sudden burst of wind. Good thing, too, for when she pops *between* for safety's sake, the air that had been supporting it suddenly drops away and sends the clump directly through where her left wing had been. That would have been an injury to keep her grounded for months. Chance is on the dark green's side this day - this moment, with the clump being flamed entire by quick-thinking blue Feiorth to her left.

** A blast of flame completely misses a duo of twined Threads, the wind whipping them about one another and through the gaps in the formations. Barely visible in the dimness and rain, the drop gracelessly toward Kytara.

** The bursts of flame and winking of dragons, the shouts of riders and near-misses reach their crescendo as the 'fall passes the halfway point. The worst is far from over, however; there's still time before this threadfall makes it safely out to sea where it can do no harm, and the winds and rain continue unabashed.

** Both Kym and Chry call out to their wingleader, watching with bated breath(for Kym) as the strands fall toward the blueriding pair, while Chry has to keep on flaming, and Kym has to keep on concentrating on Fall. Chry's scoring is going to hurt her later on. She knows it.

** Isyrath sweeps up, fighting the rain that seems intent on blocking her vision. A quick twist, as she turns, straining to get in close enough to give Llilian room to flame a patch as it falls down nearly to the level of the garden treeline.

** Higher up, the clumps are larger, but still of no significant size. The winds are bad enough that the Thread is broken up almost instantly, after all. Morpheth, along with his wing, sails straight into it, though, issuing forth brilliant cones of flame at the random dance of silver floating above them. But directly ahead of them is a clump that, on any other day, wouldn't be too spectacular, but today it is enormous. Morpheth spouts forth a flame to catch the clump, but misses by a long shot as a sudden tailwind pulls it from his reach, and nearly causes him to stall out.

** A nasty looking clump, falling at an angry pace, escapes Hana's Wing... evades T'rrent's Wing... bypasses Kytara's Wing. It slips and tumbles and knots its way toward the Serriena in the Queens' Wing, pulled carelessly toward the goldrider on the furious wind.

** Most of the blues and nearly all of the greens in T'rrent's wing have returned to the Weyr, replaced by fresher dragons who have only had to fight the weather on the ground. A few struggle onward here and there, Carianth one of them. The greenrider takes a momentary respite in the fight to wipe her goggles clean and feed Carianth more than just a quick handful of 'stone.

** The awkward spindles twist oddly in the wind, getting lost at times amid the thick silver of evening rain. Through that silver a single streak of familiar blue can be seen: It had to be A'poc, the old fool heading to take a place in Kytara's Wing that's been left empty since one of the greens departed to rest. Just his style, Dozeth immediately lets out a belt of flame, snagging a patch that might otherwise have caught a brownrider off-guard.

** Chrysanth's speed seems to slow as the halfway mark appears to pass over them. Greens Maesarth and Leiameth, flying on either side of Kym, had already gone back to the Weyr, replaced by Green Disaeralith and Blue Duraith. The green still flames bravely, Kym quickly feeding her quite a few more pieces, encouraging her along, telling the green that they'll make it. They will. Won't they?

** Vinrath flames at a tangle of thread that comes within his range yet again, this time charring all of it and then moving on. With the sudden disappearance of Nevelth, his keen rises briefly over the winds before it's replaced by another burst of flame. Kytara leans forwards, whipping at her goggles again and cursing over the winds. For now, the Wingleader is focused on both the incoming deadly threads and her wing. But one such clump cannot be seen. Not until it's too late. Kymberli and Chrysanth's calls are heard and Vinrath moves to react, but the winds seem to be in his disfavour this time. And time. Always time. The clump reaches it's target, hitting the blue's wings and some dislodges to score elsewhere. A scream errupts from Vinrath before the pair disappear Between, back to the Weyr, but do not return to the Fall itself.

** Well, isn't it a good thing that A'poc arrived when he did? Just as Kytara veers away from her Wing, leaving it leaderless (Where are the Wingseconds when you need them?), the old bluerider "rallies the troops," so to speak. He moves to take the abandoned place at the center of the vee, spearing a piece of thread as he whips passed it.

** Spindles of thread break away from clumps left and right, the individual strands caught in the tumult of wind to fly at awkward angles. A small, knotted bunch tears toward Arisvath while a smaller clump veers toward Chrysanth.

R'hyn's head turns, this way and that - briefly, his attention appears to have been distracted by those around him, though it does not last long, and as a bunch draws near, Arisvath's rumble invites both back to concentration.

** From Isyrath's neckridges, Llilian sweeps back, the formation reversing itself, easing the pressure on the front flying dragons. The transition isn't quite as smooth as one would like, and silvery slivers, too close to be safely flamed are avoided by a quick trip between. Let's hope the others pick up the slack.

** Chrysanth's speed seems to be wearing off, as the green has to take longer and harder wingstrokes just to keep up with her wing, but the small clump quickly gets both the rider's and dragon's attention. Chry roars, spouting flame out toward the tangle, but not quite fast enough, for again, several strands sizzle across her flanks, this time on the opposite side, and Chry, with a shriek of fury, winks out to Between and back again. Two minor scorings. One more and she and Kym probably won't last.

** Not about to let that sizeable clump go so easily, Morpheth makes a hard right turn to chase after it as it sails downward. Bleeding off speed at a record pace, he dives down, and blurts out another, much larger burst of flame. Success! Ha! The clump is destroyed, and Morpheth again makes a hard right turn to head back toward his wing again. Now for the unfortunate part. A similarly sized lump of Thread has wormed its way past his wing, and followed him down, and as Morpheth turns back toward his wing, it smacks him hard in the neck, injuring the Bronze, and severing T'rrent's straps. Thinking quick, T'rrent reaches out to grab ahold of his lifemate's neck, but he's too late. Morpheth vanishes Between.

** T'rrent doesn't.

** Niaryth reverses, following Isyrath's lead and now near the lead with Selynth. She flies onward, bringing the wing forward and Serriena's flamethrower flames through an afterpatch missed by Kytara's wing.

** It would be foolish for riders to leave their places in formation, but... With the Weyrleader tumbling though the sky and his dragon vanished in Between - still - a few do just that. Daringly, people try to make in his direction, but Wingleading dragons fire out commands to stay in formation. A few clumps are bound to get through during all this.

** From Carianth's neckridges, Shiae's goggles fog up nearly as fast as she wipes them clean, the rain no respecter of rank or effort. A small clump catches Carianth's attention and she veers sideways, yanking Shiae about in the straps... but the flame is true and the Thread charred. Shiae's sudden yell nearly causes Carianth to go diving after the Weyrleader, but another yell and thump sends the green back into formation instead, Shiae watching her Wingleader's fall for only a moment before the Thread catches her attention once more.

Dragon> Carianth bespoke Ista Weyr dragons with << HE FALLS! >>

Dragon> Dozeth bespoke Ista Weyr dragons with << SO DOES THREAD! >>

** Chrysanth releases a sharp keen that makes Kym's hair stand on end. Morpheth! Kym has her eyes widened, though she orders Chry to stay in place.

Dragon> All dragons sense that Niaryth hears the cries. <> Her eyes search the sky.

** Arisvath does not even have time to make comment - or reaction - upon Morpheth and T'rrent, managing to maintain direction as he pushes towards his next clump. R'hyn's less lucky; a worried glance is cast downwards, face stricken - that is, if one could see through the rain, the wind, and the layers of clothing.

** Isyrath appears from Between. Not soon enough. But while the bronze may be gone, his rider is not, and the gold, and her rider dive down, closer, with Niaryth having brought the wing forward, to the tumbling weyrleader. A sound, as close to a scream as a dragon's throat can duplicate rips from Isyrath, as Llilian pushes aside her thrower, the pair closing wings, diving down to try to catch the falling bronzerider.

Dragon> Ista Weyr dragons sense that Dozeth snarls at these young whippersnappers. << Time for this later. We still have thread! >>

Dragon> All dragons sense that Chrysanth hears too, but is mostly silent. << We have no choice! >> she utters, staying in formation and following Dozeth's orders.

Dragon> Ista Weyr dragons sense that Carianth images, as best she can, Morpheth's last position. And T'rrent, dropping. And then, unusually sharp toward a blue, << Shut up, Dozeth. >>

** Thread waits for no one. The Weyrleader may well be tumbling to his death, but that's not going to stop the silvery strands. Those distracted by this turn of events will see the price paid as a clump breaks through the gaps, darting uncannily as it's caught by the winds. It tumbles toward Isyrath as the queen dives, coming at her from behind and making contact before she has a chance to catch up to the fallen T'rrent.

Dragon> Ista Weyr dragons sense that Dozeth does indeed shut up. But only 'cause she's the Weyrescond's dragon. Stupid ranking dragonriders, grumble.

** Seconds pass. Not many, all told, but an eternity is contained within them. And down goes the Weyrleader at an alarming velocity. If he knew what he was doing, he might be able to steer himself toward his potential savior, but such is not the case, and he continues to tumble helplessly. Right past the Weyrwoman. And into the ocean.

** From Carianth's neckridges, Shiae sends Siatoth forward with a wave, the large brown taking Morpheth's place in the formation's vee. All around Thread continues to sparkle dangerously, mimicing and hiding amidst the clumps of rain that still pound the Island. Some of it is drowned, but not all - and who would risk the Weyr on a supposition?

** Niaryth screams in fury about the miss. There is nothing to be done as more thread falls but then a clump falls into the queen's ranks. They are consumed with fighting that, herself, Selynth and Jessith and then it is gone.

** The 'fall continues, coming nearer and nearer to its conclusion. Despite the injuries, the belches of flame still light the darkened sky and the blinking of green, blue, brown, and bronze dragons flicker against the gray evening. Near its end, the leading edge already over the sea, there's precious little time left to have a distraction from this day's tragedies.

** From Isyrath's neckridges, It's Llilian's turn to scream now, the sound torn away by the wind, and whatever luck kept the pair relatively injury free, these last ten turns has suddenly, irrevocably run out. Silver, driven by wind and rain clings to the pair, eating through leather, cloth and skin as it falls, scoring rider and dragon alike. Shoulders, back, neck and flanks. Those few seconds, of shock and pain, before the pair disappear into Between is all thread needs to do its damage.

** With both the Weyrwoman and Weyrleader out of commission, it's no wonder that the final few minutes of this 'fall are littered with injury. People make stupid mistakes when emotions run high; Ista Weyr will suffer a long time for this one Threadfall. By the time the trailing edge makes it out to sea, the numbers of injured and dead are daunting indeed, and the tired dragons who remain in flight can take little consolation from their successful battle. What a crummy day.

Dragon> Ista Weyr dragons sense that Carianth sounds all but drained, the usual purple crackle-snap of her sendings muted to a plum fizz. << It is done. Return. >>

Dragon> Ista Weyr dragons sense that Arisvath, for once, is silent. The dulcet, drawling tones of his touch are muted, and he urges no comment save a sombre note of mourning that is both reverent and resonant.

** Dozeth has Kytara's Wing under control for now, giving the command for them to return to the bowl, though many filter toward their own personal weyrs to nurse themselves in solitude. Hana's Wing - one of the few with a Wingleader still in tact - all light in the bowl as one, though there's no cheery pep talk from the boisterous brownrider tonight. Everything is so... subdued.

Dragon> Ista Weyr dragons sense that Dozeth refrains from comment, as it likely wouldn't be especially complimentary under the circumstances. But his presence is there, an angry rivulet amid the dismal undertone of the Weyr's population.

** From Isyrath's neckridges, Llilian and her rider are gone, much too long it seems, long enough for the trailing edge to disappear. In the dark, the rain, and the wind, it's the gold's pained keening that alerts the weyr to her return. Her thoughts are no more coherent than her voice. Only pain, hurt, grief and almost overwhelming fear as she wings down to the bowl with a barely conscious rider in tow.

Previous Next