A very bad Threadfall

4th July 2002
Logged by D'renn

Central Bowl
Seven spindles brush the clouds overhead, displaying a jagged, spired cotillion grey-stoned majesty. The bowl from here is expansively large, extending a full half-mile in both directions, and though a bit of a stretch at times, most of the hubs of activity can be easily observed. Hard-packed ground shows the common pathways, all of them meandering about the craggy bunch of boulders that form a centerpiece within the middle of the otherwise vast emptiness.
The hatching grounds and leadership weyrs are located to the north, while the lows of herdbeasts noisily allude to the feeding pens slightly east of there. Constant traffic marks the entrance to the westward living caverns, whereas a glance southeast reveals the glittering, cold lake.
It is a summer midmorning. The sun rises, and it grows warmer, the previous day's storm just a memory as the heat returns. A light breeze rises from the east.
Clinging to footholds in the boulder-mound are twenty firelizards.
Green Kelitath, green Zoryanth, brown Revnath, bronze Telynth, bronze Jhanath, brown Sevareth, blue Jakith, green Vespurath, brown Uzasnyth, blue Urzketh, gold Ysbryth, blue Vorkoroth, bronze Orbyth, gold Cadgwith, brown Druseth, and bronze Farleth are here.
Fyria is here.

Zaqith drops in from above, landing with a light *thud*.

Trydanth drops lightly to the ground, D'renn sitting atop, clad in his usual garish raspberry. Time to get ready!

Urzketh's crystalline eyes whirl with excitement as he watches Fyria scramble up to settle between amethyst-edged neckridges.

<High Reaches Weyr> Trydanth senses that he shares his rider's instructions: « Chew your firestone. Get in your wings. Get ready. Thread falls soon. »

Uillauth drops in from above, landing with a light *thud*.

<High Reaches Weyr> Trydanth senses that Orbyth chimes in with Trydanth. « Thread falls soon over Tillek. Chew. »

Kihaelth appears from the dust-filled pens.

Clinging to the crags of Cadgwith's neck, Pyrene is here and ready. For a change. Cadgwith is staring at the dragons chewing firestone with idle fascination as her rider berates the luckless weyrfolk who's kindly helping her strap on her agenothree tanks.

Zaqith sits in her spot with Tsunami, crunching the large pieces of firestone her rider hands her. From his spot on her shoulders, R'sli checks her staps, tugging on each with quiet determination.

<Local> Trydanth senses that Urzketh warbles impatiently with an echo of anticipation. « A flaming we will go, a flaming we will go, hi ho daddario… »

<Local> Trydanth senses that Cadgwith thunders softly in the background, listening to the thoughts of chewing. It's making her thirsty.

Experiencing Vorkoroth's forward momentum, Wyn is calmly going through her standard little pre-flight ritual, tugging at her gloves meticulously, and running yet another check on Vorkoroth's straps in between feeding him chunks of firestone. Her expression is grave and serious, but that's not really anything out of the ordinary.

Ysbryth lumbers, huge and hulking, to settle into rough formation, edging Cadgwith-ward. Areiah, meanwhile, is hefting the weight of her flamer, fiddling with gauges and what have you. "I could've sworn it was going to rain," she lilts, peering at her wingmate over the shiny silver tank.

Trydanth settles himself over in the Zephyr collective, D'renn sliding down to get busy with the firestone sack.

<Local> Trydanth senses that Farleth wafts smoke-like in anticipation. «Chew. Cheeeewwww.» Uh, yes.

<Local> Trydanth senses that Vorkoroth blows mental raspberries at Urzketh's crooning. «Hire a Harper, man…» before whirling into a concentrated lump of anticipation himself.

Ciera walks in.

From Orbyth's neck, Zi'n tugs on the straps in front of him, making sure they're fastened securely before Orbyth shuffles into place immediately behind Jakith and Branwyth.

<Local> Trydanth senses that Druseth gives a low, crimson-peppered touch of agreement, dark determination creeping up with its icy claws. « Almost time. »

Kihaelth spirals down from above, the bluelet carefully choosing a landing not too far from the other dragons assembled. Lumbering towards him after furling his wing, he offers a soft warble of greeting. Tevya checks her straps before offering a one-handed pat to her lifemates neck.

From Urzketh's neck, Fyria wiggles within her straps, the leather creaking as she checks, double-checks, triple-checks the buckles. Helmet, goggles, and gloves are next as Urzketh ambles over to join the INferno wing, Fyria giving Tevya an excited wave. "Tevya, look!" Thus, she points to her spiffy new INferno badge. Yes. Inferno rider. Fear.

<Local> Trydanth senses that he thinks « Settle down, settle down. » The blue is vaguely irritable, the stench of firestone overpowering his usual scorched plastic scent. « Concentrate. Thread will be heavy today. »

From Uillauth's neck, Ali adjusts her riding cap, being sure to tuck all of those random strands of hair up into the cap where they can't annoy her. Gloves are tugged on one at a time, and securely fastened at each wrist. Straps, those are checked once again, just to be certain that they're secure. The bags are full. 'lauth has been chewing and is all good to go. Yup. This pair is ready.

The Bowl is a flurry of activity. Lower Caverns workers begin to set up the triage area, quietly assisting the Healers in the quiet way that always precedes the departure of the Weyr's wingstrength. Still, though, you can hear snippets of conversation, floating through the still air.

Vorkoroth shuffles, waits for Wyn to stop in her feeding of the firestone chunks, and then amble-skips into his position in Mudslide's formation, somewhere to the starboard and the stern of Ali and Uillauth.

<Local> Trydanth senses that Kihaelth quietly readies himself for Threadfall, « Fly well. » Is all he will offer to those listening.

Hanging partway off Druseth's neck and nearly upside-down is Lylia. A final straps-check with odd acrobatics seems her game, a bit of dust smudging her cheek as she gives the dragon a pat. "Looks good, dear heart. How're the wings feeling?" A little nod, and she rights herself, pulling up into position on the brown's neck, as he begins to slink towards his position in Tsunami Wing. "Readyreadyready," she murmurs, eyes burning with anxiousness. Flamey time. Eep.

Ciera finishes stuffing sacks with firestone - she's been here all along, really - and scrambles aboard Jakith. Badda bing, badda boom, straps tight, everything ready, wing looks to be in position…

Clinging to the crags of Cadgwith's neck, Pyrene shrugs back at Areiah. "I'll wager you a sweetstick it'll start raining as soon as we get back," she calls over, before glancing around. "Aren't they ready yet? They certainly smell bad enough…" That last said loudly enough for the nearest riders - many of whom happen to be blue - to hear.

From Farleth's neck, T'am tosses a grin at Fyria as she joins the Inferno ranks, dutifully going about tightening straps for the third time. "Welcome to the ranks, Fy." Tugging gloves and helmet into place, he's a bundle of nerves before Fall, though Farleth's calm determination makes up for it.

Grabbing hold of riding straps and pushing off the navy leg grudgingly offered, Ciera scrambles onto Jakith.

<Local> Trydanth senses that Cadgwith gushes cheerfully. « Fly well and save us the bother of cleaning up what you miss! » is her suggestion.

Uillauth gives a good stretch of his wings, wiggling them slightly, just to get out any of those last minute kinks. With a rumble, and a bob of his head that resembles a nod, he moves into the ranks of the Mudslide wing. All ready.

From Zaqith's neck, R'sli shifts in his saddle, and begins to tug at his buckles. "Lylia," he calls to his wingmate. "Who's directing the weyrlings today?" He looks around, and takes stock of his wingmates. "Auri, is it?"

Trydanth stops fidgeting - stops crunching too. D'renn slings himself upside the blue, buckling himself in and pulling on helmet and goggles. Here we go again… another routine Fall.

<High Reaches Weyr> Trydanth senses that Orbyth thinks « Go! »

Sky over Eastern Tillek
An ice cold freezing wind usually blows in from over the sea here, bringign with it the chills of High Reaches Weyr, which lies far, far to the northeast. North of here, lies the Minehold, usually several hours away from the Hold, though only minutes away via the skies. Below, to both the east and west, the peninsula stretches on seemingly forever.
It is a summer midmorning. The sky is a pastel blue, clear of clouds.

Trydanth has arrived.

Uillauth suddenly arrives from ::between::, leaving the cold and darkness behind.
Vorkoroth reverts to three-space from the wormhole of ::between::.
Farleth appears from ::between:: with a warble in his throat.
Zaqith bursts from ::between:: in a shower of mica sparkles!

Urzketh gives no warning as he shoots from the dark oblivion of ::between:: with crystalline precision, eclipsing the ground below with his shadow.

Druseth appears from ::between:: in a rush of brown wings and cold air, a shadow once more dreaming.
Orbyth arrives from ::between:: in an explosion of burning energy.
Ysbryth blinks in from ::between::!
Jakith winks from ::between:: with a grumble and a flash of chill blue.
Cadgwith bursts out of ::between::, a gilded wave threatening to break over the land below.
Kihaelth emerges from ::between:: with a flash of twiligh and a welcoming bugle!

Uillauth reappears from the cold of ::between::, rumbling once again, but this time it's a challenge to the Thread they're about to face. He's ready. Ali's ready. It's time to show that icky Thread what a good weyr can do to it.

In the East, silver shines; a looming thunderhead of deadly Thread that's coming ever closer. Poised, the wings of High Reaches Weyr await their foe… and then it arrives in a mad rain of hissing grey.

Urzketh easily floats into place amidst the wing, eyes whirling an angry red as he spots that incessantly annoying bit of silver that comes. Mrrr. Nasty stuff. Time to char, mwuahhaha.
thread farleth

A writhing knot of Thread sinks, almost lifelessly, past Farleth.

Cadgwith appears in placid formation behind Ysbryth and watches the Thread falling above. Nothing yet, but early fall's usually quiet. Restful on the wings.

Siulth flies in from the east.

Kihaelth emerges from ::between::, sliding into his place amidst Inferno wing, while Tevya tightens her hands around the straps. Lips thin as Thread is spotted, Kihaelth rumbling as the silver-menace begins to fall.

Tangled into a convoluted knot, a clump of Thread races by Vorkoroth, as if to elude his dragonfire by its speedy descent.

Zaqith bunches, and begins to work up a good flame, the excitement of fighting Thread coursing through her wings. She seems barely able to keep her place in the wing, her tail twitching slightly as they engage the nemesis.

Faster than thought, Farleth dips, belching out a path of flame to sear the clump trying to sneak past! Nothing is going to get by him today!

A large chunk of Thread tumbles like a dandelion past Jakith, twirling downward towards the ground.

Vorkoroth reverts to normal-space and immediately shifts to adjust his position within the confines of Mudslide's coverage area, prompting a grimly focused little smile from Wyn. The one-upmanship between Vor and Sidramuntalath continues unabated, even as he suddenly turns and whirls on a wingtip, diving after a tangle and flaming it with a first, satisfied burst of fire. Elude /him/? I think not.

From Orbyth's neck, Zi'n reaches behind him to grab firestone from the sack, feeding it to Orbyth's crunching machine of a jaw. "That's good, eat all you want," is muttered to his mount, weyrleader's eyes scanning the wings. Orbyth spots a lump of thread near his wingleader and rushes to char it, rumbling in satisfaction as it falls lifeless, dusted, towards the ground.

Ysbryth slides smoothly from ::between::, falling into form with Cadgwith, leading with practiced ease. Tipping low on one huge wing, she leaves her lifemate to straighten up and poise her weapon; but, as yet, there is little to do. And that's okay.

Trydanth dips and dives, never losing his place in the middle of Zephyr Wing, although D'renn pays no attention to his dragon's maneuvres, preferring to check around and see how the rest of the Reaches is doing. A sudden swoop downwards, and D'renn shouts, voice whipped away by the wind, as he's pressed painfully into a neckridge.

A delicate spiderweb of Thread looms before Uillauth, waiting to ensnare him.

Siulth is here, comfortable in her usual spot in Zephyr Wing. For now, the leading edge isn't too difficult to deal with, and she conserves her strength while she can, turning her head back toward Sorsh for another gobful of stone.

Uillauth releases a little burp of a flame and then slips into his wing's formation. Little flame. Hah. That didn't happen, honest it didn't! On his large neck, Ali sits ready, head turning this way and that, checking the other wings, and watching for the first bit of Thread to fall in their direction. Ooh! There! Ali and 'lauth see it at the same time. She points, and he goes, releasing a bit of flame large enough to make any forget about that little burp earlier. The enemy is charred and gone.

Jakith whistles out of ::bteween::, surveying the scene with the ease of a well-seasoned dragon. The dandelion clump is immediately targeted, flame gouting to sear the Thread. Better than Round-up. The job done, the blue pulls away from the falling ash, looking for the next clump.

A delicate spiderweb of Thread kites past Druseth, fluttering as it sails downward.

Over on the edge of Tsunami, Entymeth twitches in her steady flight path, darting away from formation to gun down a tangle escaping a male wingmate, before dipping back into formation with a satisfied snort. Girl in Green 1: Thread 0. S'titch meanwhile is whimpering and looking slightly ill, but gamely keeping his focus.

Twirling around like some spiraling child's toy, a group of Threads spin dizzyingly down past Zaqith.

A blaze erupts from Druseth, wings snapping as he follows Revnath, trailing upwards to send a clump into ash-ridden oblivion. Lylia seems to rather prefer to uneasily clutch at his neckridge, keeping her glance on the rest of the wing and a mental check with her dragon. Weyrlingmaster habits stick, even when flying with Tsunami. A sudden spiderweb nearly surprises, and he gives a blast as he skips between.
Druseth skips ::between::!
Druseth appears from ::between:: in a rush of brown wings and cold air, a shadow once more dreaming.

A knotted tangle of Thread tumbles downwards towards Urzketh.

Zaqith skips ::between::!
Zaqith bursts from ::between:: in a shower of mica sparkles!
Zaqith dives and wheels, her flames not so big as her wingmates', but rapid and effective. From between her gilded neckrides, R'sli grits his teeth. The thread that threatens is easily avoided, and her rider grunts as she explodes from *between*.

Clinging to the crags of Cadgwith's neck, Pyrene snickers lightly as Cadgwith passes on a running commentary of the above happenings. It's most likely D'renn's pain that is the source of amusement. She cuts off her laughter though as Druseth is forced to avoid a clump. Cadge angles, as the two glide after the falling thread to sear what Dru's blast missed. And then back to formation.

Bwuahah…no you don't - Urzketh roars with determination as he drops a dragonlength after a clump, incinerating it to nothingness with a napalm blast of pure death. Satsified, he spirals upwards to return to formation - only to find himself face-to-face with a net of Thread. "Between!! Now!!" Fyria screams - and in a blink, they're gone.
Urzketh skips ::between::!
Urzketh gives no warning as he shoots from the dark oblivion of ::between:: with crystalline precision, eclipsing the ground below with his shadow.

Wriggle-wiggle, a tendril of Thread falls directly towards a brown and his diminutive rider. But a skip between brings them out in a good position, and *flash* the Thread is gone.

A group of Threads fall past Orbyth, one after another, plodding downward with mindless determination.

Siulth peels her lips back almost daintily to avoid burning her lips as she burps a large, greenish ball of flame at a huge clump just overhead. Hardly ladylike, but hey, no surprise there. Saoirse's bright ponytail bobs as Siulth curls a wingtip to bank around the twisting knot of Thread, and just for good measure, the dragon flames it again from above, punctuated by what sounds like cursing from her rider.

A ropy clot of Thread tumbles on the winds, spinning close to Kihaelth in its fall.

Orbyth turns, a bit clumsily, and barely avoids getting his tailtip scorched by the silver enemy. Hissing, the bronze maw opens to let out an enormous flame, killing off the offender for good. Branwyth soars downwards, catching the remains of the cluster that almost hit her wingmate, as Zi'n checks his wherhide-clad shoulder for possible hits. Phew - lucky again.

Perhaps one glancing the right way might see Ko'en pumping his fist in the air as Barbarianth sears a tangle of Thread. And then might see the dragon dart between, as they neglect to notice another clump heading directly towards them. Whoops.

From Farleth's neck, T'am concentrates on providing firestone- and keeping his stomach in one place while Farleth twists and lunges after their ancient foe. A concerned rumble for his newest wingmate bursts forth at Urzketh's near-miss, and then the bronze is focused on searing a clump off to his right.

A school of silvery Threads surround Cadgwith, darting this way and that as the wind buffets them.

Ysbryth angles herself just so, twisting her long neck 'round and back to guide Areiah as she takes aim, and fires. The web of Thread that eluded Urzketh is gone, in a hiss of ash, and a huff of smoke. A cry of triumph, from gold and rider alike. Less for the ground crews.

Experiencing Vorkoroth's forward momentum, "To the left, Vor, ten'o'clock." orders Wyn, her voice whipped away by the rush of air, but the mental command just as firm. A smooth bank, and a clump escaping an upper level is charred, before smooth is abandoned in a convulsive dart out of the way of hot falling char.

Uillauth is quick, bouncing from one patch of Thread to another, flaming them to nothing but ash, leaving it to fall harmlessly to the ground below. During the small breaks between the flame, he turns his head, mouth open wide for more 'stone.

Wheeling end over end across Vorkoroth's flightpath, a ring of Thread spins its way down towards the greenery below.

A mirrorlike pane of Thread suddenly appears before Siulth, reflecting her image back in eerie silvery distortion.

Clinging to the crags of Cadgwith's neck, Pyrene once more is left to clear up Ko'en's messes. "It's been ten turns and still the nanny curse!" she squeals petulantly, take a wild flash at it with her flamer, before Cadge skips them between, leaving a few ragged strands still to fall.

Kihaelth was ready for that clump. Whirling, red eyes focus in on it as he lets loose a large gout of flame, while closing the distance towards he and the clump. Ash drifts and falls away as the clump is nearly erradicated, Kihaelth nearing a tad too close for Tevya's comfort as she gives him the key to ::between::, yet the blue is able to send one last searing trickle of flame outwards to finish off the Thread, before skipping ::between::.
Kihaelth skips ::between::!
Kihaelth emerges from ::between:: with a flash of twiligh and a welcoming bugle!

A long white tendril of Thread descends stealthily, slipping silently past Trydanth in its downward fall.

Trydanth banks to the left, joggling D'renn awkwardly in his seat again. But it's no difficulty to the blue to demolish that evil tendril as he sweeps round in the full circle.

Druseth dives suddenly, flame bursting forth as he sends another stream of Thread into oblivion. Woo. Lylia gives an encouraging murmur, lost in the wind, but the brown remains focuses, tactics in every wingstroke as he glides back up to position, a bugle bursting in the air. Rawr.

Urzketh skips back from ::between:: with fire spouting from his maw, the net of Thread sent to the great Thread hell where it belongs. Fyria cheers aloud as Urzketh regains formation, his midnight blue head whirling around for more firestone which she dutifully provides. Crunch. Munch. *belch* Rawr - bring it /on/!!!

Jakith turns his head back for another chunk of firestone, willingly supplied by his rider. His head snaps around to confront a looming tangle, his forward momentum carrying him almost into it even as he flames. He skips even as the flame travels up the silvery tendrils - no point taking more chances than necessary.
Jakith skips ::between::!
Jakith winks from ::between:: with a grumble and a flash of chill blue.

The Threadfall is dangerously heavy - already a blue has skipped between and not returned, headed to the Weyr for treatment.

Siulth, being Siulth, would pause a moment to reflect upon that reflection, if it weren't for some /very/ rude word being shouted by her rider. Well jeeez. Fine. Be that way. She flames at the stuff, then turns her head back for more stone with a slight air of nose-out-of-joint. Some riders.

A long snaking filament of Thread plummets out of the sky in front of Orbyth.

Zaqith emits a long lick of flame, neatly disposing of a large clump that drifts by her. Ris scoots forward, and offers his dainty green another lump of firestone. "Good job," he says encouragingly. "You're doing wonder - " his words are swept away in the sudden exhalation of air as he's thrown against a neckridge. Hey, he can take a hint, and shifts back to watch as his lifemate makes short work of what she can get.

A silvery clump of Thread cascades downwards, tumbling past Ysbryth with silent grace.

From Farleth's neck, T'am receives a slight score on the hand!
Farleth roars in fear and reflected pain as T'am is hit, skipping out of sight…
Farleth skips ::between::!
Farleth appears from ::between:: with a warble in his throat.

Uillauth rumbles angrily, the Thread isn't falling the way he expected it to, and that makes him very unhappy. "Careful!" Ali squeals out as they barely miss running 'lauth's wing directly through a patch just to their right.

Down and down, relentlessly it falls, whipped into patternless clumps by the rising winds against which the dragons will struggle.

Orbyth reacts out of pure instinct; no sooner has the sliver of Thread emerged right in front of him before he opens his mouth to belch out a flame that'd make a Zippo-lighter envious. On his neck, Zi'n makes a grimace. "Don't risk it, Orbyth!"

A tangled mass of Thread drops silently off Jakith's wing.

"Blast it!" This, from Areiah, while Ysbryth moves precisely, tipping, just so, to leave her 'rider to do just that - blast it. Thread-clump hisses up in a billow of smoke and flame. "Blast it." Again, but lost to the wind, this time, as her lifemate slides back into place with Esprit.

Cadgwith wriggles her wings, balancing herself against the buffetting, and glances to Ysbryth briefly before worriedly craning her neck upwards. Windy falls. Eh. Not nice.

Urzketh dips and whirls as the winds buffet against his wingsails which, thank Faranth, aren't /that/ large to act like a good parasail. The last thing he wants is to be blown into a wall of Thread. Crimson erupts from his maw towards yet another wild mass of silver, Fyria clinging for dear life as she's nearly unseated by his sudden downward movement. Who needs rollercoasters - she's got Urk.

A long, thin strand of Thread sinks in deadly silence, just ahead of Trydanth.

Druseth gives a little growl, predatory instincts working as turns his head to receive some more firestone. Chomp chomp. Another growl, as if chastizing the winds, like an errant weyrling. Wings flare and he again is a flaming hunk o' death to Thread. Raaawr. Lylia is still giving her mental mumblings, a glance cast constantly upwards and around. A skip between, and he's back. At least he's stopped growling, though.

Knifing across the sky, a sharp strand of Thread cuts across Farleth's path.

From Siulth's neck, Saoirse takes a moment to turn her collar up higher against the crosswinds that stir the fall into a cauldron of chaos. "Oy! You there!" She gesticulates at a wingmate. "Behind you!" She shivers, and not just with the cold. She's got a bad feeling about this fall.

Vorkoroth swerves sideways and skitters away from a tangle whirling in his direction, banking almost perpendicular to the ground with more concern for Wyn's safety than her breakfast. The little bluerider looks dizzy for a long moment at the whirling, although her decree of "Flame /now/, Vor" is steady enough as he consigns the offending clump to ash.

Trydanth can catch anything that falls in front - that's /easy/. A blast of flame incinerates the offending thread, sending ash shivering down to the ground far far below.

Druseth receives a medium score on the wingtip!
Druseth gives a call of agony, echoed by his rider, as he skips between.
Druseth skips ::between::!
Druseth appears from ::between:: in a rush of brown wings and cold air, a shadow once more dreaming.

The wind rushes heavily in riders' ears as they soar and duck through the asteroid-like field of Thread clumps.

From Zaqith's neck, R'sli grunts as he's thrown around as Zaqith fights to keep her spot despite the winds. The greenrider frowns as things seem to pick up, and he looks to check his wingmate's positions. He winces as he spots Druseth get hit, and looks down briefly to check the progress of the Weyrling Wing. Despite it all, they're not doing too badly.

Jakith whips violently around to catch at the Threadby his wingtip. Ciera curses loudly and vividly as the turn throws her against the straps. "Shards, Jak, are you trying to break /every/ bone in my body?" Recriminations notwithstanding, the blue belches out a flame, wheeling just as rapidly back into position as the ash scatters.

Farleth croons with concern, despite his rider's reassurances that the score is minor. The menace is attacked with renewed vigour now! Char to the left, char to the right! A strand cutting right in front of his nose is plunged after and incinerated. It will not be allowed to get him or his again…or any of the rest of his weyrmates, for that matter!

An ornate clump of Thread waltzes past Urzketh, dancing elegantly down towards the earth below.

From Orbyth's neck, Zi'n sets his jaw as the wind seems to suddenly change, a slight chill running down his spine. "Careful, careful," weyrleader mutters for no-one to hear - except Orbyth, who rumbles defiantly in return. /He/ has never been scored - of course, he can't remember that, but still he's pretty impressed with himself.

A seething mass of Thread descends above Uillauth.

Clinging to the crags of Cadgwith's neck, Pyrene winces, picking up the score reports now. "Druseth? He's smarter than that…" she mutters. Cadgwith rumbles softly, concentrating on keeping her position and eternally watching for Thread - and also any falling dragons.

From below, in the diminished Weyrling Wing, D'roid can be heard murmuring worriedly to his brown Threepioth that "The odds of succesfully surviving this Fall are approximately 750 to 1!!"

"Shells, this is a terrible Fall!" D'renn shouts out to no-one in particular, clinging tightly to the fighting straps as Trydanth does an about-turn in mid-air, to catch a lump of Thread falling too close.

A sheeting ribbon of Thread falls near Kihaelth, fanning out as if to ensnare him.

Dun dun dun dun dun dun dun dun….Urzketh's rumble of determination breaks into a roar of defiance as the Thread attempts to escape /his/ flame. Turning on a wingtip, much to even Fyria's stomach's complaint, he dives, wings pulled in, until a spout of orange ignites the Thread into a ball of fire - from which a dust of charred ash falls from. Fyria gives him a mental pat on the back as they circle back up to formation even as he reaches around for more stone. Give it here, woman!

From Orbyth's neck, Zi'n receives a slight score on the upper back!

Uillauth pulls back as hard as he can, attempting to break in mid-air in order to catch the Thread falling over their heads. He flames, catching some of it, but missing a patch. With a rumble, he warns his fellow dragons of its escape and shifts back into position.

A buzzing swarm of Threads zip in front of Siulth.

A sack of firestone goes twirling downwards through the air, headed for Esprit Wing…

From Orbyth's neck, Zi'n cries out as a strand of Thread descends upon his shoulder - or well, at least near it. Orbyth bellows out in mutual pain and skips between…
Orbyth skips ::between::!
Orbyth arrives from ::between:: in an explosion of burning energy.

Ysbryth, even, is beginning to feel the winds, the hint of fear; wings wobble, for a moment, before she steadies herself, in time to dodge the fallen firestone sack. "Watch it, up there!" calls Areiah, in vain, shaking her flamer to punctuate. Mind the trigger. Someone might end up with a crispy tail.

Siulth spins, her slight frame twisting wildly as she narrowly avoids a few of the spaghetti-like strands that sizzle past her, as if thrown by some huge chef carrying out a rather murderous pasta-test. She's not even able to flame the whole of her Thread-swarm, and she sends a sloshy warning down below over the links.

Cadgwith drifts easily out of the way of the firestone sack, peering dubiously after it. Pyrene glares furiously upwards, screaming obscenities that are forunately lost to the wind.

Siulth skips ::between::!

Vorkoroth belches flame at another offending tangle of thread, diving down almost to the level of the Weyrlings. "Never tell me the odds!" is hollered at D'roid before she and Vorkoroth surge upwards again, in a most un-Wynnish burst of adrenaline.

Siulth blinks in from ::between::!

A tumbling ball of Thread drops alongside Zaqith.

Kihaelth doesn't wait, doesn't pause for even a second. Flame is sent out in large gusts as he attempts to sear a large portion of it, slowing his wingbeats so as to get as much seared as possible. Through careful planning, Kihaelth banks to the right while sending out a spout of flame, searing the last of the Thread-net and bringing himself into safety.

"D'roid! Pay attention!" R'sli shouts as the sack goes sailing free. "Stay focused!" Zaqith, in the meantime, manages to fling her rider about pretty good, as the winds and strange thread pattern require all her attention. Her jaw creak as she emits a blast of flame at the ball of Thread, rendering it to ash almost instantly.

From Uillauth's neck, Ali receives a slight score on the wrist!
Uillauth receives a slight score on the foresail!

Cadgwith throws herself at Siulth's remaining clump skimming sidelong so Pyrene can sear it. Sloppy greenriders, tsk!

Uillauth screeches angrily before hopping ::between::.
Uillauth skips ::between::!
Uillauth suddenly arrives from ::between::, leaving the cold and darkness behind.

From Orbyth's neck, Zi'n sits more rigid than ever on the back of his dragon, face grimaced in pain - though apparently it's not hurtful enough for him to leave the fall. It /was/ a little closer to the head than he liked, though - now that would've hurt. "Watch out!" is shouted at a reckless wingmate who barely manages to get his brown dragon out of a big tangle. "Sharding fool!" Must be from that last weyrling group, that one….

And still the Thread falls, with no sign of the winds lessening, and a good number of riders now with mostly minor scores. Whirling, circling, Thread falls from every direction.

A tangled mass of Thread slips past Vorkoroth, writhing in hungry eagerness to reach the ground below.

Erratic flight and rather agonizing squeal emerge from Druseth, and Lylia doesn't quite look /there/ as the pair fall. The brown's uninjured wing beats, but there's no direction as he finds himself going downwards. Meep.

Uillauth howls, his rider echoing the cry with a screech of her own. But they carry on, determined to defeat this 'Fall in any way that they can.

Trydanth swerves away from a clump, letting it fall to one of his greenriding wingmates; as the blue banks, D'renn gives a screech, spotting the way Druseth is tumbling.

From Urzketh's neck, Fyria shivers slightly, noting the wild movements of Thread, and the increasing number of scored riders and dragons alike. This is not good. Not quite pale beneath the shadow of her goggles, she nevertheless gives Urzketh a mental urging to be on extra alertness, especially from the sides. Mental comforts go out to those scored and injured - followed by a worried yell from both Fyria and Urzketh as Druseth drops from the sky.

<Local> Trydanth senses that he screeeeeeeches, sheet lightning. « Catch him, Cadgwith, Ysbryth! Do not let him fall! »

A silvery tendril of Thread sinks, almost lifelessly, past Jakith.

Clinging to the crags of Cadgwith's neck, Pyrene pulls upright, staring after Druseth before a sharp mental reprimand sends her attention back on missed clumps of Thread. Ysbryth will take care of Druseth. Cadgwith will keep flying and that means Pyrene must keep flaming, friends in danger or not.

Oh, another one of you wants to try and get past me, eh? Vorkoroth's eyes are sparking with yellow concern amidst the red of Threadfight, as the various echoes of pain and fear ripple across the mindscape to him. But still, he attends to his duty and chases down the offending clump of Thread, Wyn looking grimly on from between his 'ridges.

<Local> Trydanth senses that Druseth gives a single, mental note of sheer darkness, bleeding breath swelling over his strange mumbles that sound a lot like « …ow… »

Experiencing Vorkoroth's forward momentum, Wyn receives a medium score on the shoulder!

Ysbryth gives a sharp, sudden trumpet, and darts her sizeable self forward, angling up 'til she's underneath Druseth, wings stretched full and wide. "Lylia!" screeches Areiah, flamer down, arm bracing, balancing, as she reaches out to the brownrider. "Lylia!"

A writhing knot of Thread tumbles like a dandelion past Orbyth, twirling downward towards the ground.

From Farleth's neck, T'am hasn't lost any sacks of firestone, he's not that clumsy. Farleth dips and plunges after another knot of Thread, satisfaction gleaming in his whirling eyes with each clump that turns to dust and drifts harmlessly towards the ground below. With the sudden plummet of Druseth, dragon and rider both let out a startled cry. There's no time to dwell on it though, more clumps are coming their way.

From Jakith's neck, Ciera's head swivels in alarm, eyes widening as they follow Druseth's fall. "Oh, Faranth…" Just as Ysbryth comes to the rescue, Jakith lunges forward after the clump before him, jerking his inattentive rider's gaze away form the injured dragon.

A large chunk of Thread kites past Farleth, fluttering as it sails downward.

Siulth makes up for letting her own clump past by mopping up somebody else's. The wind lessens for a moment and the extra effort she's putting into flying against the wind nearly carries her square into the tangle. Saoirse is eerily silent as the pair collect themselvse, dispatch the errant clump, and turn once more toward the heavens. What /next/??

From Urzketh's neck, Fyria receives a slight score on the chest!

Twisted strands of silver weave a taunting dance, as a tangle of Threads snake across Kihaelth's path.

Relaxing between Druseth's neckridges, Lylia gives a dazed shout of, "Areeeiah!". She's finally noticed that it's /not/ still freefall, there /is/ a gold there, and relief sweeps over her as she reaches towards the goldrider. "Thank /Faranth/." Or thank Ysbryth. Druseth still gives a rather un-vampirish whimper, flailing and struggling ceasing as the gold's presense enters his pain-filled notice.

Urzketh screams at the same instant Fyria does, the pair immediately winking into the blissful chill of ::between::….
Urzketh skips ::between::!

Experiencing Vorkoroth's forward momentum, "ShardingEggOfFaranth!!!" hisses Wyn. Rising back into formation, the young pair looked left, looked right… but didn't look left again. And Wyn is hit on the shoulder by an errant skein of Thread. Vorkoroth bugles concerned alarm, and skips ::between::

Urzketh gives no warning as he shoots from the dark oblivion of ::between:: with crystalline precision, eclipsing the ground below with his shadow.

Vorkoroth skips ::between::!
Vorkoroth reverts to three-space from the wormhole of ::between::.

Thick and fast and dangerous falls the Thread, with no sign of it lessening yet; the dragons may fly in their wing patterns, but Thread does nothing of the kind.

Uillauth shifts his position so that he's out of the wing for several moments, lifting above the others just long enough to catch a batch of Thread heading in the direction of several of his newly recruited wingmates. Not gonna get them this time, you evil Thread, you!

Cadgwith relaxes as does her rider as Druseth's fall is stopped. The two get back to searing Thread - this patch the one that scored Vorkoroth, Pyrene no doubt muttering something about blues being more trouble than they're worth, but there's a frown on her features. Too many of the Threads she's chasing have already done damage.

Screaming with excitement and worry, Taesha clings tight to Ngeth's neckridges, occasionally daring to reach up and brush ash from her goggles. The small brown fights well, tucked fairly safely in the middle of Zephyr Wing.

Zaqith trumpets in frustration, though her eyes whirl yellow in the exultation of the battle. She snaps across her wing's reach, her wings popping with the strain of taking up the extra space vacated by Druseth.

A silvery tendril of Thread reaches out to curl its deadly grasp around Zaqith.

Sunburnt sorrel flashes as Farleth agily twists to catch the patch fluttering past. Success again! The foe is turned to ash and drifts away on the high wind. T'am pats the bronze's neck, pleased with the performance, then scans the skies as he is informed of yet another injury among the riders. Fyria? Chest? A shame, that one. But once again, he hasn't time to dwell on it, because Farleth is pulling them both forward to charge another tangle.

Ysbryth to the rescue, indeed. Druseth and his weight are hefted with ease - she's stronger than she looks! - while Areiah catches Lylia by the hand, holding tight. "You've got to take him back to the weyr," she calls, straining to be heard over the thundering winds. "Go on. I'll meet you in the infirmary when we're done here. We'll be all right." Famous last words.

A delicate spiderweb of Thread tumbles downwards towards Uillauth.

Urzketh blinks back from ::between::, Fyria hunched over a neckridge, gasping in pain. Urzketh rumbles with worry, craning his head around towards Fyria who waves him off with a wince. "No love…keep going…I'm fine…" In fact, she grabs another chunk of firestone and feeds it to him, though a bit slower in her movements than normal.

Silver upon silver: deadly strands interweave to form an intricate quilt of roiling Thread, awaiting to blanket Trydanth.

"Ack! No heroics!" R'sli shouts at his green as she turns on her wingtip to avoid the tangle of Thread that threatens her. The poor weyrlingmaster is thrown about, the leather of his straps creaking to keep him secured. Thank the First Egg that he just replaced them. And still, the fight goes on.

"There Kiha!" Tevya calls out, urging her lifemate towards a clump shifting their way. The blue croons intently as he spots it, turning to accept the chunk of firestone offered by Tevya, crunching and crumbling it between powerful maw. A moment later and Kihaelth is aiming a strong flame towards the tangle. Winds shift as the last of the Thread floats in the air, and Tevya, in the midst of pointing out another clump, catches the last portion Kihaelth had been flaming in her arm. Kihaelth wastes no time in skipping ::between:: at her loud cry, adding his own angered bellow to the cries sounding all around him.
Kihaelth skips ::between::!

Trydanth isn't sleeping though, and needs no blanket. Seeming almost to stand on his tail in the air, the blue sets fire to that blanket, and skips between to avoid the fall of char.
Trydanth skips ::between::!

Kihaelth emerges from ::between:: with a flash of twiligh and a welcoming bugle!

Trydanth appears from ::between:: like a bolt of blue lightning.

Suddenly, a blue and a green dragon come dangerously close to colliding, but in the last moment they steer away. Phew… danger's over for the blues and greens it seems! But then the blue dragon screams in agony as his entire right wing is entangled with Thread, thrashing his head as he drops dangerously towards the ground! Ko'en shrieks like a girl all the way down - shards, he /never/ should've lost attention just because he thought Fyria's boobies were showing! Heeeeelp!

Uillauth offers a large sweeping flame to the Thread tumbling toward he and his small rider. It may've gotten them once this fall, but not again. Not today.

Relaxing between Druseth's neckridges, Lylia gives an awkward nod. "Okay, okay… It'll be okay?" Areiah said so, and Areiah is /always/ right and would /never/ lie. Cough. The rider gives a little nod, fitting back to Dru and murmuring reassurances. "Come on, dear heart. Time to go, we'll get you numbweed." And Druseth awkwardly makes his way between.

A rushing waterfall of Thread cascades from the heavens above, reflecting an eerie, distorted image as it falls before Urzketh.

Druseth suddenly vanishes into ::between::, a shadow gone to utter darkness.

<High Reaches Weyr> Trydanth senses that Orbyth bellows as he catches sight of the blue. « Cadgwith! Get Barbarianth! »

From Ysbryth's neck, Areiah receives a slight score on the calf!

An evil, stray, unidentifiable thought flashes across the links: « No, Cadgwith, don't! »

Experiencing Vorkoroth's forward momentum, No Heroics? Wyn, now hissing between her teeth upon reemergin, is trying to ignore that same order coming from Vorkoroth. "I'm /fine/. You're unhurt, I'll live, now /flame/! No, I'm /not/ going to envision." The blue's eyes are a whirling study of concern… but he's not going to argue the point now. Later, though… Vorkoroth returns to the fray for the moment, wheeling and flaming, even as Wyn leans forward to feed him more firestone, her injured shoulder kept as immobile as possible.

Ysbryth trumpets once more, and while the winds are punishing, it rings out clear. Areiah crumples, and then disappears as her lifemate pulls them briefly ::between::. When the pair reappear, 'rider is hissing irritable words skyward, while dragon is angling to provide a better shot at a falling clump. And, despite the pain, the Weyrwoman does her duty. Crispy crunchy Threadclump.

A knotted tangle of Thread tumbles on the winds, spinning close to Uillauth in its fall.

Urzketh trumpets again, though backwinging slightly at the sudden mirror image of Thread before him. Scored or not, booby-flashing or not, Fyria shrieks - even as a red-hot spout of flame erupts from the blue's jaws. The mirror turns into a curtain of darkness as the ash floats down to the gold wings below, Fyria breathing a silent sigh of relief.

Curling movements pulsing with every contorted twist, a clump of Thread reaches out towards towards Siulth.

Cadgwith can't miss the screaming, with or without Orbyth's order. She spots the blue as he emerges from between falling and dives down alongside him, pulling gently up with the blue safely aboard. Pyrene is flat against Cadge's neck, twisted to avoid the ridges and reaching up to Ko'en. "Pull yourself together!" she snaps at him. "You can scream later!"

A small knotlike bundle of Thread blossoms, reaching out like a fisher's cast net, hoping to ensnare Jakith in its hungry grasp.

Jakith balks as a clump of Thread is blown straight at him from the side. Chaos, mayhem, and Fyria's… anatomy. Enough to be confusing, even without wind whipping Thread about. He yanks back to get his rider out of the clump's path for the necessary split second before skipping, then winks ::between::.
Jakith skips ::between::!
Jakith winks from ::between:: with a grumble and a flash of chill blue.

Tumbling end over end like a dandelion, a delicate wisp of Thread dances on the wind, bouncing past Orbyth as it drifts lazily downward.

Uillauth shoots more flame at the Thread, a rumble of determination echoing the fire. The brown's anger shows with each flame. Too many are hurt. This is Bad.

On Barbarianth's neck, Ko'en stops screaming. In fact, he collapses on Barbarianth's neck - whether't be out of pain for his lifemate or fear for Pyrene shall not be known until he wakes up. But he's out cold alright.

It's tearin' up my heart when I'm with you! And it seems the Thread's tearing you up tooooooo… Backstreeth boogies with his usual flare, flames ripping through Thread and making the girldragons scream. Or maybe that's the scoring. Huh. N'sync, pristine and scoreless (only in the /Thread/ sense! He's had women, he swears! Lots of women!), gives a whoops as more ashes fall.

An angry, hissing knot of Thread falls into Kihaelth's path, writhing in eerie gyrations as it seeks the lush earth below.

Siulth wastes no time or energy on this one. She flash-fries the twisting clump with a huge fireball that leaves a brief after-image of the thing's final contortion before it falls from the sky in a rain of crackdust. Saoirse adjusts her grip on a flightstrap as the pair bank sharply back toward the fall's heart.

Orbyth roars and flames the offender to his right - they're not getting his Zi'n again those evil Threads! The bronze soars, dives and resists the urge to flame Backstreeth on the way.

A ropy clot of Thread descends stealthily, slipping silently past Farleth in its downward fall.

And as Ko'en slumps, thread-seared straps snap, and the bluerider slides dangerously on Barbarianth's neck. Cadgwith banks sharply, sending him slithering down on Pyrene's side, and rolling her eyes behind her goggles, the ex-nanny catches her ex-brat, and hangs on to him in a firm headlock. Barbarianth safely cushioned in Cadgwith's mind, the two dragon and rider pairs go between.

Flame..Fire..Evil, bad Thread! Kihaelth is practically on a war-path as he re-emerges from ::between:: With Tevya still settled betwixt neckridges, holding tight and for dear life upon his straps, with her lips pulled into a thin, grim line. Still, neither is about to stop now, not when there's things to flame. The pair rejoin their wing, not too soon after a clump is spotted and Kihaelth lets loose a large, furious ball of flame towards it, searing the clump and rendering it to little more then ashes in the wind.

Central Bowl> Lylia is just a little shaky, giving a sharp shake of the head as she continues to sooth her dragon, who seems quite content to let out more little whimpers, which begin to subside as the dragonhealers work, giving liberal amounts of numbweed, to both the dragon and rider's thankfulness. Nycla gets another awkward headshake, still rather worried about her dear. "N-no, I'm fine. I cut my hand a little, but it's fine." She's not quite sure if it's from the buckle, the 'ridge, her own nails, or /what/.

Cadgwith throws herself ::between::, her pounding wings breaking through the barriers of air.
Central Bowl> Cadgwith drops in from above, landing with a light *thud*.

Farleth sends a quick, disparging remark along the link to Backstreeth, almost missing a slippery little tangle of Thread as it sneaks its way toward the green below. Not today, punk. Too many have been allowed to do thier damange already, so it is with great satisfaction that the Inferno bronze sears everything in his path.

Central Bowl> Druseth leers at Cadge. Hey baby. Wanna offer an injured soldier a little comfort?

A snakelike filament of Thread hisses its way past Urzketh, slithering across the sky towards the ground below.

Central Bowl> Cadgwith offers a wing-seared blue and an unconscious ex-brat.

Central Bowl> Nylca shifts in place, handing out numbweed to the Healers as they hurried forward.

Urzketh manages a brief moment of rest as no Thread seems to be coming in his airspace at the moment. Fyria glances down at her chest - WHOA that was /so/ not a flash of ni - never mind. The blue floats, eyes warily glancing above until THERE! He turns, he dives, he belches flame! Ashes to ashes and dust to dust - that Thread is toast no thanks to us.

Central Bowl> Cadgwith takes off.

Tangled into a convoluted knot, a clump of Thread races by Trydanth, as if to elude his dragonfire by its speedy descent.

Uillauth turns his head and opens his large mouth, demanding more 'stone. He's beginning to show signs of tiring, but he refuses to give up. Too much Thread left un-charred to give up just yet. Ali tosses several large chunks into 'lauth's mouth, and he chomps, crushing the stone into tiny bits and swallowing.

Trydanth is desperate to get this tangled knot - he may not have the sword of Damocles, but a blast of flame works equally well.

Cadgwith bursts out of ::between::, a gilded wave threatening to break over the land below.
Cadgwith receives a medium score on the mainsail!
Cadgwith skips ::between::!
Cadgwith bursts out of ::between::, a gilded wave threatening to break over the land below.

Willow and Ozth seem rather intent, both now sporting very minor scores. But N'zgul is managing to look rather frightening, a rather ugly one on his right cheek now making him look even /scarier/ as he offers more firestone to his dragon. And does it seem like Ringwraith is picturing every clump he chars to be little Haripotter? Perhaps… Perhaps not. BWAHAHAHAHAHAHA.

The Thread is starting to slacken off, but it whirls in no-less dangerous spirals and clumps. Beware….

A long white tendril of Thread plummets out of the sky in front of Ysbryth.

From Zaqith's neck, R'sli receives a slight score on the scalp!
Zaqith skips ::between::!
Zaqith bursts from ::between:: in a shower of mica sparkles!

Experiencing Vorkoroth's forward momentum, Wyn has settled even more firmly into a grimly calm focus. Some wierd Jedi trance to go along with earlier Star Wars puns? No, her shoulder just is really, /really/ starting to hurt. And she's not going to admit that, now that Vorkoroth has settled at last into the rhythm of the fall once more, and the tide of urgent mental inquiries is trailing off.

Cadgwith emerges from her rescue mission only to dive between again with a howl. Too impatient to return and lend a hand, she didn't check her coordinates fully with her wingleader. She returns, looking more contrite than anything and still flying strongly in place. Pyrene's shaking visibly though.

"You cannot be serious!" yells T'nis, as Racqueth takes a small score on her foreleg. "Shells, everyone's getting hit…." Wiping ash from his face as they come out of their skip ::between::, the greenrider hunkers down and glares out at the still-falling Thread, as Racqueth ignores the pain and flames the offending silver stuff.

A long snaking filament of Thread cascades downwards, tumbling past Vorkoroth with silent grace.

V'tor demands a recount! "Shards, /everyone/s going down. But that's not gonna happen to you and me, Recounth…" Famous last words, as V'tor gets his with a hunk o' thread in the arm. Courtesy of G'ore and Alth. And the skip between.

Trydanth is fixed, focussed, flaming. What more can anyone ask for in these difficult, windswept conditions?

From Zaqith's neck, R'sli screams involuntarily as his helmet melts under the onslaught of the menace. Just as his scalp explodes into white fire, Zaqith slips between with a squeal for her rider. They emerge a moment later, the greenrider swearing, and motioning to a weyrling to bring him another. "Damn, damn, damn!" he swears as his eyes water. Thread or no, it still stings. But, the Weyr can't afford for him not to be here.

Unobtrusive up 'til now, Wraith and N'zgul bellow in unison as a tangle of Thread catches the bronze along the tail. The rider screams out something nonsense - "Ash nazg" something or other - before blinking between. S'am and Frodoth dive in to flame the remnants of the largish tangle before it drops further.

A silvery clump of Thread drops silently off Cadgwith's wing.

S'titch is all right. He's all right. He's going to make it! Until, of course, Entymeth zigs when she should've zagged, and there's a bloddcurdling scream of "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!! My Lace!!!!!!!"

Infernoth, that pale bronze from Mudslide Wing, flashes bright in the northern sky as he skips between to avoid being swept up into a huge, double-clump. D'ante clings tight to the dragon's neck and gives a brief wave to Sorsh and Siulth below, as they dive toward it, on mop-up patrol.

Why take two greenriders into the shower when you can take one? So saith Thread, as it gaily scurries past Morie sending her squealing between minus one pigtail. Peia is there however and avenges Morie's hairdo, annihilating the Thread. And Maurinith and Luvmyth are fine, never fear.

From Jakith's neck, Ciera receives a slight score on the hand!
Jakith skips ::between::!
Jakith winks from ::between:: with a grumble and a flash of chill blue.

Ditzee and Blondeth are /definitely/ not singing 'Hit me baby, one more time', since most of their wing seems to have an injury or two. They've avoided it, somehow. Probably because the pair's as dense as a rock, and Thread can't penetrate their thick skulls.

Cadgwith twitches but banks readily, snapping Pyrene out of her momentary anguish. The rider whips the nozzle of her flamer up in time and sears the Thread defiantly. There… they got that one.

A tangled mass of Thread sinks in deadly silence, just ahead of Zaqith.

Go, S'lor Star Power! Moonth and her rider have definitely improved over the turns, expertly dodging this way and that to eliminate those messes left behind by wounded dragons. For all his retiring nature, S'lor has a certain flair now when he's in Fall. Swooping down, Moonth opens her jaws to sear a nearby clump, then skips between almost immediately to avoid another.

The thread clumps are lighter now; the end is in sight, although the silver still whips about unpredictably in the wind.

As Ciera reaches forward to refill Jakith's firestone tank, a filament separates from a nearby clump, catching her and burning through her glove. Quick as though, Jakith is ::between::, and as they emerge the bluerider is swearing vehemently.

A long, thin strand of Thread descends above Farleth.

From Uillauth's neck, Ali takes a deep breath as she and 'lauth search the skies for incoming Thread. The pain on her wrist is there, but she ignores it, knowing how much worse others have been hit. It's just a scratch after all, right?

F'ish is here. Or is he? One can never truly know. Is this really Thread, or are they fearing the rain? Arielth flames. Flames does Arielth.

A seething mass of Thread falls near Ysbryth, fanning out as if to ensnare her.

Ringwraith emerges from ::between:: perilously close to Frodoth, less the Thread but with a fairly significant score on his ever-so-dark tail. The bronze snarls at the blue, banking sharply and taking anger and pain out on Thread. Grrr. Argh.

As a small tangle of thread trickles towards Farleth, his great big maw drops open and a short blech of flame issues forth, head swiveling to catch all the slithering bits of deadly stuff. T'am gives a little cheer, but can't help but notice that his bronze's return to formation is slower then usual, a sign that he is tiring.

E'rp is flying above Morie and Peia of course, trying to show off and still bitterly jealous of the attention N'sync gets. Wyath at least pays little attention as he rides Thread down… There ain't room enough in these skies for the both of them.

Ysbryth dips, dodges, and moves to straighten up and fly right - easier said than done, with the foul weather. An errant tangle of Thread drops past, and Areiah is quick on it, eradicating that, and the next bit, twisting 'round on the breeze as it is. "It's almost over," she sighs out, leaning down, slight frame draped 'gainst her lifemate's neckridges. Phew.

A sheeting ribbon of Thread drops alongside Siulth.

Something wicked this way comes - Fyria and Urzketh watch the fall begin to abate, but something's not right. Something nags at the back of Fyria's mind even as Urzketh warbles in a worried tone.

Zaqith dips and pivots even as Ris puts on the replacement helmet. The duo seem unaffected by the stinging wound, and manage to snap up a few remnants that remain. The greenrider looks at his green, and frowns. "What do you mean, you feel funny?" he asks. "You're not scored, are you?"

Siulth's are luckily very bendy creatures, and the small green bells her wings wide as she doubles back toward the Thread-sheet. Saoirse scowls as ash clogs her goggles and trusts to Siulth to flame the ribbons while she clears her vision with an equally grimy gloved fingers.

Kihaelth scans the sky, keeping a tight reign on the clumps he does chase down and those he allows for others to get. Tevya remains much the same, vigilant and wairy of any clumps that come near, while trying to spot those who've been injured so far, wincing as she spots the dragons blinking into and out of ::between:: Shaking her head while pressing her burning arm against her stomach, Tevya gives Kihaelth a light nudge, moving her lifemate forwards and out of the way of a dragon that had been heading towards them.

Trydanth swoops down to attempt to flame a stray piece of Thread; misses, and turns steeply, aiming instead for a sheeting ribbon that's too, too close. And too, too close to his wingmate Siulth.

Chanticoth appears from ::between:: with a florish of his wings and a cheerful bugle.

Experiencing Vorkoroth's forward momentum, Wyn is still swearing under her breath, displaying a vocabulary one might not have previously suspected from the refined little closet bookworm. Vorkoroth's eyes are still whirling concern, even as they search the skies for stragglers. But is it for Wyn, or for… something else?

A delicate spiderweb of Thread looms before Vorkoroth, waiting to ensnare him.

From Orbyth's neck, Zi'n sighs, happy that the fall is almost over. Flexing his shoulder, the 'rider grimaces again in pain. Ouuch. "It'll soon be over," he says, more as a comfort for Orbyth who croons in distress for his rider. So very true.

Vorkoroth stands suddenly on his tail as the lovely, deadly web of Thread looms up in front of him. "Shards." bites out Wyn, as the motion presses her raw shoulder painfully against Vorkoroth's neck, but the maneuver is completed and the Thread charred, with time enough for Wyn's gaze to turn towards the others in the air.

Clinging to the crags of Cadgwith's neck, Pyrene shudders, looking upwards resignedly and then widening her eyes at Trydanth's move. "Shards, that's close!" she exclaims. Cadgwith lists to the side with a sudden gust, before glancing up herself to see what concerned her rider.

A flash, from Between, as Chanticoth resumes his place in Zephyr's wing, the brown fighting just as diligently as his wingmates (albeit in a slightly more off-screen manner). The skip is followed by a blast of flame to catch a piece of thread that narrowly missed his shoulder, Ilare casting eyes over the rest of the wing.

From Zaqith's neck, R'sli looks over as the mid-air collision looms, and shakes his head. Everyone's tired. But it's not like Trydanth to take chances like that. Zaqith rumbles, her long gaze skimming the air below for missed filaments.

<Local> Trydanth senses that Siulth hesitates, caught in the ebb-and-flow of indecision as she finds herself way too up-close-and-personal to her blue wingmate. « Trydanth? » And then her mind howls as the two dragons tangle and the curtain of Thread falls down.

<Local> Trydanth senses that Cadgwith screams, blasting her thoughts through with the force of a tsunami. « Move! Between! No! » And about as useful as a tsunami are her thoughts, but she tries, she tries…

<Local> Trydanth senses that he hesitates too, fizzing with confusion as he's caught up. « Siulth? No! »

Trydanth is caught, snared in a web of both silver Thread and sea-green Siulth… both caught, both scored. Screaming with a pain that perhaps not even ::between:: can assuage, the blue falls sideways, D'renn left dangling from the riding straps and screaming too…. Screaming as they disappear.
Trydanth zings ::between::!

"Hot SHARDS!!!" Fyria shouts an exclamation with a wince as a tangle of Thread comes perilously close to them - Urzketh spins on a tail-tip and belts out another belch of flame, but as the ashdust falls from their view, they spot the blue and green collide beneath a tangle of Thread. "LookOUT!!" Fyria holds a hand out just as Urzketh bellows a warning…

Uillauth turns his attention away from the disappearing Thread to the pair that's become entirely too close for comfort for Threadfall. He rumbles, and Ali clasps her unharmed hand up to her mouth. "Careful!" Only seconds later, they're scored and disappear. "No!"

From Siulth's neck, Saoirse shrieks as Thread - too, too much Thread - engulfs her and clings like boiling molasses to every surface. And then her screams - and Siulth's - are cut short as the green follows Trydanth between, clots of Thread swarming over her slight frame in sickly technicolour.
Siulth winks into ::between::!

Cadgwith screams again, aloud this time, instinctively surging upwards towards where the two much smaller dragons disappeared. On her back, Pyrene sends an agonised look towards Areiah, desperately seeking some kind of instruction. "Oh come back," her words are unheard, but known nonetheless. "Come back, please… come back."

From Zaqith's neck, R'sli pales, and slumps in his straps. Zaqith trumpets a useless claxon, echoing her rider's thoughts. Ris blinks away hot tears, and he grits his teeth. Damn. Damn, damn, /damn/.

From Orbyth's neck, Zi'n turns his head in time to see two of his wingmates get tangled up. "Skip between! /Between/!" Though not like that… Orbyth keens, only comfirming the worst possible outcome. Keeeeeeeen.

The last few flutters and ribbons of Thread fall down, down amongst the High Reaches riders, to be devoured in flame, by dragons already keening in anguish, as the sky slowly clears to a perfect, beautiful summer blue.

Ozth lets out a scream, flame erupting to char Thread and let out agony, Willow's eyes going blank as she watches the air, breath held. "Please," she whispers, voice childish.

From betwixt brandy-butter ridges, Ilare lets out a sharp cry, near enough a scream as Chanticoth bellows in time with his kin.. Too late as green and blue vanish between, gone between… "NO!" Screeched, as the brown lets out a keen, high, sorrowful, dismayed beyond all reason.

A mournful keening escapes Farleth's throat while at the same instant his rider recieves the shock from dragon's mind and shouts a denial to the wind. It can't -be-! He waits, clinging to some shred of hope…

Experiencing Vorkoroth's forward momentum, "/No/…!!!" is the breath of horrified warning from Wyn, grey eyes widened to a ghastly aspect as she watches the collision take place at a snails' pace. "No. Oh, no, no…" Her expression is frozen, the young rider simply… sits, as Vorkoroth's baritone rumbling of warking takes on a sudden high keeon.

Uillauth bugles angrily at first, his howl shifting to join the others in keen of mourning. Atop his neck, Ali pushes away her goggles, determined that maybe she just can't see them. "They'll come back. They have to," she mutters, looking around in desperation.

Jakith draws in a deep breath, then bellows a keen, even as his stricken rider goes deathly pale. "Oh, dear Faranth, no…" The blue starts to angle for the spot where the two riders disappeared, before the wingleader snaps back to her senses. "There's still Thread falling! Holds your positions! Hold!" And Jakith relays the messages to the rest of the wing, turning away from that spot in the air to char one of the few tangles still falling.

Central Bowl> Donis steps out from the Weyr's living caverns.

Central Bowl> "Faranth…" Lylia falls heavily against Druseth's side, injured dragon now blissfully numbed, but both falling strangely silent, only a whimper emerging from the brown.

Cadgwith joins the keening, with a hideous storm-cry. Pyrene's torn off her goggles, to wipe at the tears which are smearing her face with charcoal. The last of the Thread's gone now, and the pair join the other dragons in circling the sky in despairing tribute.

Tevya spots the tangle of dragons and Thread, both coiliding with one another. "Shells!" A shout that comes a fraction of a second too late, as Tevya leans forward, trying to spot where the pair would come out. Realizing only as the keening is heard, that there'll be no return.

Central Bowl> The keen erupts in the bowl, from Barbarianth, then Druseth, then all the injured dragons being tended rise to the call.

From Zaqith's neck, R'sli straightens himself, and tightens his straps. "Right. Weyrling Wing to the Weyr!" he bellows in a cracked voice. "Assist the healers!" Auri or no, he needs something to distract him. "C'mon, Zaqith. Let's get Elehu to look at my head."

Central Bowl> "What… What's happened? Weyrlingmaster Lylia?" Donis trots over towards the familiar, if dirty face. "Did you get scored? Did Druseth? Why are they keening?" he demands to know, face contorting in worry.

Ysbryth winks into ::between::!

With a terrible calm, Vorkoroth and Wyn return to their formation, both minds' emotions buried beneath the bluerider's famous facade until they can safely touch ground and release them. A single, shocked, tear escapes from under Wyn's goggles to trail down her cheek before she grimly envisions the seven spires, and murmurs a whisperey quiet "Home, Vor." And her wine. The shoulder score has somehow become… quite a good deal less important.

The wings of High Reaches Weyr go ::between::, headed home.

Central Bowl

The dragons return, landing all over the bowl with no care for wing formation.

Oh, shards. Not… The Kid. Lylia manages a weak half-smile, as Druseth continues in the haunting call. "Druseth got a nasty injury, yeah." Something the rider and dragon are ready to forget. Crouching, the rider gives a little wince, cradling her cut hand. "Um. Some dragons and riders died, Donis." Where's everyone else? Why does it have to be /her/?

Donis watches all the dragons landing, noting Alymath's arrival with relief, and looking around for Trydanth. "Who, Lylia?" He clutches his squirming black ferret as it threatens to wriggle down his pants leg. "Who died?" People die in Threadfall - he's a weyrbrat. He's used to it.

Fyria abandons the bowl for ground weyr's shelter.

R'sli's legs give out as he hits the Bowl floor, and he continues his descent to sit on Zaqith's forepaw. He removes his helmet, revealing a red and puckered open score which he ignores. Instead, he cradles his head in his hands, and sobs openly, tears streaming down his face.

"Siulth…" A look back at Druseth reveals a brooding look of pity, before Lylia turns to Donis again, a faint sheen of tears in her eyes. "And Saoirse. And. Um. Donis, you're old enough to take care of your mother, right?" Let's dance around it, just for a moment. She can pretend it didn't happen, pretend it's all okay.

Clinging to the crags of Cadgwith's neck, Pyrene winces. Donis is quite possibly the last person she wants to see right now. "How's Ko'en and Barbarianth?" she asks Lylia, red-eyed. "And Dru of course…" She's a little disorientated, already scrambling to Cadgwith's wing with a pot of numbweed to attend to her dragon's hurts.

Zi'n uses a coppery-tinged shoulder to slide to the ground, aided by an impatient flicker.

Undoing the riding straps, Ciera slides down from Jakith's back with the assistance of a dark forearm.

Zi'n slides from Orbyth's neck, his expression bland as he just watches the bowl and the weyrfolk running around in confusion. With a sigh, the weyrleader sneaks off towards the infirmary, even though his own injury seems unsignificant compared to the loss of two great riders.

Donis straightens up, holding Lissie so hard she squeals. "Was it… Dad?" he asks Lylia in a low voice, face crumpled as if he already knows the answer. So much grief and injury around him.

Areiah hits the ground, and nearly falls further; her leathers are charred from the knee down, along her right leg. But, still, she limps her way toward her greenrider, resting her slight weight against his side, tears already streaking silver 'cross her dirty cheeks.

Uillauth lands lightly on the ground, and Ali pulls her cap and goggles off her head, dropping them into her beltpouch. She sighs, shaking her head, and then releases the straps that hold her securely onto the brown's neck. Another sigh, and she slips down from 'lauths side, landing much harder than she usually does. "We'll wait until the others are cared for first, love," she mutters softly, glancing down at her scored wrist. "It hurts, but others. The others need assistance more than we do."

Weyrfolk bustle around, tending to the injured - and there are many, both dragons and riders - through their tears. Even if the riders lost weren't loved by all, the death of one dragon - let alone two - is always cause for grief.

"They're okay, I think. Okay as they can be. Ko'en's about to fall over drunk." The brownrider casts another look up at her lifemate. "Druseth's… fine." Right. "They say he'll be fine it'll heal, somewhat of a scar, though." But Lylia glances back at Donis, giving a short nod, the tears beginning to fall. "Yeah, Donis. It was. Trydanth went between and… they didn't come back. I'm sorry."

T'am slides from Farleth's neck with a sigh, more numb than anything. He's probably just stand there, lost, if it weren't for Far nudging him towards the infirmary to see about his hand.
T'am abandons the bowl for ground weyr's shelter.

R'sli says nothing, but clings to Areiah's good leg, sobbing into her leathers. Zaqith lowers her head, her eyes whirling a slow white of mourning. "Go," the greenrider says to his dragon. "Let the weyrlings take off your straps, and get the fair to take care of your bath, can you?" The green rumbles acknowledgement, and trundles off to do just that.

Tears rise in Donis' brown eyes, and he cuddles his ferret gently against his chest. "I must… I must go take Lissie home… and then I'd better see Mom…" He reaches a hand to push back his black curls, so like his father's, and stumbles away from Lylia.

Wyn dismounts with something more akin to a boneless ooze rather than a proper dismount, turning immediatly to bury her face against the comfort of a forleg, hugging herself tightly to Vorkoroth as he lowers his head to nuzzle at her protectively. Even now, she can't seem to let others besides him see her cry, although the face that turns to a Weyrhealer bearing a pot of numbweed and a clucking expression is shiny with unashamed runnels of quiet tears.

Clinging to the crags of Cadgwith's neck, Pyrene is assured by a healer that Cadgwith's wing will be perfectly alright. Fortunately, a more pressing need distracts her from any selfish distress, and she glances at Lylia briefly before pelting after Donis. "Donis, wait… I'll come with you. Lis'll need us both now… And Aly will need Cadge." Not ready to drown her sorrows yet, the goldrider seeks relief in support of a friend.

Ciera slides down from Jakith's back, and as her feet hit the ground, she keeps dropping, her knees giving way. Eyes skirt over Donis stumbling away, and she shakes her head. A few moments of private grief pass, then the bluerider straightens. "Need some numbweed. Infirmary." Caring for her injuries and looking to her injured wingmates is something she can handle right now.

"Take care of Lis, sweetie," Lylia murmurs as the retreating Donis, giving a little shake of the head. "I want Quara," she mumbles, mostly to Druseth as she strokes his forelimb. "And you'll be okay, they said so." Pyrene gets a little nod, before the rider curls up against her dragon's neck.

Areiah slides her arms around R'sli's shoulders, careful to mind his head. She says nothing, letting one hand rub useless circles over his back, her own narrow frame shaking, shuddering. A vague look Ysbryth-ward, and the gold shuffles, soundless, after Zaqith. Comfort in numbers and all that.

Donis pauses, and looks at Pyrene with perfect aplomb. "Alright," he agrees quietly, and sets off again, letting Pyrene follow as she will.

Tevya and Kihaelth both arrive at the bowl, the bluelet landing and lowering himself to allow Tevya to lazily dismount, pulling off goggles and cap, and tucking both into Kihaelth's pouch before giving her lifemate a pat on the neck. Lost and without a general idea of what to do, she remains where she is, until she can think of something productive to do.

Amanecer appears from the dust-filled pens.
Rool appears from the dust-filled pens.

An apprentice healer comes up with a pot of numbweed, and waiting for some sign of approval, begins to smear it on R'sli's head. Ris jerks a hand up, knocking the pot from the boy's hand. "Leave me alone. Tend to the more serious cases," the greenrider growls. But his score is still all raw and oozy-looking, for all he ignores it.

A redheaded messenger crosses from the feeding pens, blinking in the warm sun. Perhaps it's not just the sun, as her eyes are red and she's all sniffly. In a husky voice, Amanecer says, "I heard from Rool. Anything I can do to help?"

"R'sli." Admonishing, is Areiah, but it's gentle, and she lays a teary kiss against his temple to ease any sting. "Let him do his job." Not that she's letting anyone near her leg, just yet. Heh. And, after a moment's pause, she poses the question that is surely on everyone's mind: "What are you going to do about your hair?"

Wyn continues to cling to Vorkoroth, composed now outwardly, but refusing to let go of him even as the Healer apprentice attending to her shoulder makes noises regarding going to the Infirmary and letting the Weyrhealer take a look at it. A childlike shake of her head, accompanied by a "No." The Healer persists in a patronizing tone, and is treated to a sudden, out-of-character glare. "Go away, Jhemms. I /trained/ with you, so don't give me that runnershit. Numb it clean it, and get the shards away again." she snaps. The young man blinks, and then backs away as soon as is possible.

Message 4 of 4 on *High Reaches News (#7862):
Date: Thu Jul 4 16:46:08 2002 CDT
From: D'renn (#12016)
To: *Gossip (#627) and *High Reaches News (#7862)
Subject: "A Dramatic Threadfall

Threadfall fell heavily over eastern Tillek this morning, silver in a summer-blue sky, whipped by winds into dangerous curls and tangles.
More scores occurred in this Fall than any other in recent Turns, with even Weyrwoman Areiah and Pyrene's gold Cadgwith, nominally safe in Esprit Wing far below the main fighters, receiving small scores.
Dramatic rescues were also effected by the golds - WLM Lylia's brown Druseth received a nasty wingtip score, and was caught by Ysbryth; Ko'en's blue Barbarianth was caught and safely ferried home by Cadgwith, following a severe wingscore.

But the most horrendous casualties of the Fall were Weyrsecond D'renn and his blue Trydanth, and their Zephyr wingmates, Saoirse and green Siulth. Both aiming for the same clump of Thread at the very end of Fall, they became entangled, and hit by more Thread… Both disappeared ::between::, and never reappeared.

And so High Reaches Weyr mourns…. and drinks a lot in toast to both riders.

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License