Threadfall & Meteors

10th August 2002
Logged by Pyrene


Asteroid & Mudslide TP
NEXT: the mudslide


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 an autumn noon. The sun shines through the mackerel sky, the puffs of white clouds turning the sky silver. Unfortunately the clouds also block what little warmth the sun had offered, and it remains cold.
To the southeast, you see a blue dragon.
Clinging to footholds in the boulder-mound are nineteen firelizards.
Green Kelitath, green Zoryanth, brown Revnath, bronze Jhanath, brown Sevareth, gold Ysbryth, brown Druseth, blue Mzadith, blue Tsulryth, brown Uzasnyth, bronze Telynth, green Imbriath, brown Akilth, green Vespurath, bronze Nezdarvyth, bronze Farleth, blue Kihaelth, blue Sakuruth, and blue Cerdith are here.
Tatia, Hyzen, X'ner, Sraine, T'am, and Tevya are here.

Vespurath seems rather distracted, and her usual exhuberant chatter is distracted tonight. Tatia, however, isn't in the mood to notice. She leaves her dragon for a moment, nodding to a weyrling who's lugging sacks of firestone toward the gathered riders. "No loose straps tonight, or we'll be doing inspections again," she mutters to a wingrider to her left even as she does up the buttons of her jacket.

X'ner grins, patting Nezdarvyth's side for a moment, then hurries off, scuttling right over to Hyzen with a little salute. Beam. Yep. Wingsecond reporting for duuuty. Oh yes. The helmeted llama is pulled out of his belt. "Hyzen! Rock wants to help fight Thread. Can't he come? He says he'll feel better if he's with me, and I know he can help lots!" Moral support, and all that. Yeah. Alright..so..maybe the bronzerider /isn't/ as serious as he looks to be. …Or maybe he is. o.o

Farleth drops into a bowl and ambles over to join the rest of Inferno Wing. Dismounting, T'am runs a hand down Farleth's straps, checking once, checking twice, checking wherry soup with rice… Buckles, sacks of firestone, helmet, goggles, everything else a rider and dragon could possibly need…all are dutifully taken care of before the bronzer gives himself permission to greet his friends and wingmates.

Yajisarath drops in from above, landing with a light *thud*.
Yajisarath pulls her wings in tightly as she lowers her upper body towards the ground, allowing Lorsalia to dismount.

Hyzen turns towards Sakuruth, craning her head to regard Quara after making sure everything's fine with her gear. Beaming, she offers a faint, teasing bow. "Well, thank you, Quara. I try." Laughing, it's probably a good thing she didn't notice Tevya's strange smile. She sees and grins in return to Sraine's enthusiastic wave before checking her gear… again. Imbriath rumbles slowly, turning her head to watch her rider in amusement.

Sraine meanders her way over to a small grouping off to the side, muttering a few soft encouragements to younger riders unused to actual Threadfalls and the likes. A motherly pat to one of their heads and way is taken to again, to bring her closer to Hyzen and the group gathering thusly; salute is given, almost playfully, before a rather tiny package on a loop is tossed in the younger greener's direction. "For luck." is the quick mutter before she shows the same sort of thing around her own neck - to be tucked safely away beneath heavy leathers. And then, once again, the matronly woman is pulled away by a few youngers for some last minute advice.

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

Cadgwith is noticeable no matter the cloud, as she calmly looms into place, hide twitching but otherwise placid. Aboard, Pyrene trades jibes about the weather with anybody in earshot but seems reasonably upbeat today. Turnday, y'know. She gets kisses at the post-Thread party.

Firem steps out from the Weyr's living caverns.

It's probably a /great/ thing that Hyzen missed it. Else Tevya might find herself in trouble. More then she'd been in yet. After double-checking (as seems to be the fashion) Kihaelth's straps and the firestack stones once more, Tevya crosses to join the others in Inferno, sliding a hand up to settle her helmet on her head, hands then grasping for her gloves which are tucked on. "Wingleader," Greeting accompanined with a formal salute, and Tevya is standing by, casting a glance towards Kihaelth ever so often.

Akilth wiggles one wing off to his side experimentally, watching it intently before following suit with the other - looking for the most part as if he can't figure out which is for what. Not that he's forgotten; he's not -that- old afterall. Once things are figured out on that end, tail is given a few lashes and a paw wipes away the dirt-scribbling. It wasn't a proper canvas afterall. Now, what was he here for? Oh yes. And with that in mind he gives a warm rumble to Imbriath and the rest of his wingmates.

Vorkoroth drops in a straight dive from the star stones, pulling out of it to skim along the ground at about ten foot altitude before settling into place with a rumbled snort. Breakfast? Wyn doesn't /need/ to keep her breakfast. Thoroughly pleased with himself, the young blue even manages to stop his twitching over the uneasy feeling he's been getting the past few days… A mental *ahem* from Wyn soon has him hopskipping over to take up his place in the Mudslider ranks.

Sidramuntalath drops in from above, landing with a light *thud*.
Sii'kyn slides down the black hole - that is, slithers down Sidramuntalath's neck to thud lightly on the ground.

X'ner gives a little pout, waving the llama in the air for a moment. "He wants to come!" And that, is that. The helmeted..stuffed..llama is promptly shoved back into it's secure place in the bronzerider's belt, the rider fixing the llama's tiny goggles juuust right. "There you go, Rock. You'll be perfectly safe with me! Yep! Me and Nez are the best ones to ride with!" Of course, that's his opinion. And Nezdarvyth's of course, the bronze rumbling a vaguely hissing agreement from his spot on the bowl. Standing straight, the bronzerider straightens his riding leathers a bit, making sure all items are secure and in their upright and locked positions. Grinning a bit to himself, he stands, somewhat relaxed. Yet still, that serious look /is/ there. After all, Threadfall requires seriousness from him. Yep.

Lorsalia bounces about in her wingsecond (maybe even acting 'leader today) authority, assigning dragons in her wing into their formation spots. They should already know, of course, but it's more fun for Lorsalia to remind them like this. Once

Firem oohs as he notices all the dragons and riders. He quickly steps to the side and sits on the ground next to the cavern entrance so he can watch all the dragons. He notices a few faces amongst the crowd, but dare not approach them during rider business.
Cerdith wings in, catching a wingtip on a rising thermal and banking in a graceful arc before dropping soundlessly to the dusty surface of the Bowl near the rest of the Inferno wing. Reiko scans the area impassively, absently tugging at her gloves.

Vespurath's nose lowers to sniff at the dust, blowing up clouds that hover in the air. Tatia returns to her side, running a hand along her neck and murmuring barely-audible words to her lifemate as she tugs a firestone sack into place. "Shards, but I'll be glad to have Fall over with - I'm sore and dirty already tonight," she notes over her should to whoever's close enough to hear.

Imbriath spots X'ner before Hyzen does, rumbling a little greeting towards him before nudging at her destracted rider. Hyzen turns and, finally spotting the bronzerider, returns his salute. A tilt of her head for the comment about Rock, her face remaining serious as she holds in the smile that threatens. "Rock? Well, X'ner, I don't know… you know how dangerous it is out there…" she trails off, squinting towards the sky before giving a heavy nod. "If you think you can care for him, you and your dragon." A special fondness for Rock? Noting Sraine's approach, she again returns the salute offered and catches the small thing, turning it over in her hands before peeking inside. Laughing softly, she slips it over her head and into her leathers for safe keeping. "Thanks, Ine." A small hug is offered the brownrider before Tevya is given a once over. "Wingrider," is returned just as formally, salute again.

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

Lorsalia bounces about in her wingsecond (maybe even acting 'leader today) authority, assigning dragons in her wing into their formation spots. They should already know, of course, but it's more fun for Lorsalia to remind them like this. Once this job is done, the greenrider returns to her own dragon to secure straps and begin the firestone ritual. Rock. Chew. No biting tongues. New rock. Chew. No biting tongues. "I hear the weather over at Tillek is rather nasty." She comments idly to a nearby wingmember. "I do hope that the fall will be easy for us. Yajisarath swears otherwise."

Typically.. Ike-ish.. Sii'kyn has on his game face, and Ram's got that warrior look going on. Indeed, the brownpair wings in, and takes their proper spot in the gathering Mudsliders. Sii'kyn slithers down to land lightly on the ground, listening idly to Lorsalia. "Ram says it's gonna be a bad one," he states lowly. "And he's hardly ever wrong. I am /not/ looking forwards to this."

Urzketh's sapphire-black tail-tip twitches a moment as he watches Fyria slither down from herself seat between his amethyst-infused neckridges.

Sraine returns Hyzen's hug before chuckling at Tatia's murmur. "I think everyone will be glad to have Fall over with." Not that they didn't have a -little- fun, but it was serious business. Tightening one last strap and securing a loose firestone sack, the brownrider lifts her arms above her head and stretches languidly, even accenting it by leaning back. Nervous? Not one bit, for Aki was with her and there was no room for timidity when fighting the dangerous stuff falling from the sky. Akilth stretches as well before flopping himself down to the ground and rolling in a patch of dust like a playful canine. Nope. Nobody on this end is feeling any tension.

Shirasuth drops of his ledge and glides towards the grouping, backwinging to land softly near it. K'nex, perched up on his dragon's neck, makes a face watching the crowd and then slides off his brown with a sigh. Bleh. Threadfall. Poor Kez. Threadfall always makes him ansy, but /everyone/ seems to be saying this is a 'bad one'. Bleh. Double bleh. Kez makes another face and gets some firestone, attempting to ignore the less than happy predictions.

K'nex climbs careflully down from Shirasuth's neck, using the bulky brown's extended limb, and steps safely onto the ground.

Cadgwith makes foghorn noises, because she can. She doesn't have to chew after all, and she likes cloud. It's like neo-wet air. Pyrene straps on tanks, checks straps on tanks, checks level of tanks and waves her flamethrower in ominous fashion as she settles it into place. "It's all but raining," she calls cheerfully to any with a long face. "Falls can never get /too/ bad with that much water in the air."

X'ner gives a brief glance at Sii'kyn, head tilted to the side. No squealing. No leaping at the brownrider. He simply nods, giving a look back at Nezdarvyth. "Nez's the same.." And of course he can take care of Rock! Yes! The stuffed llama is patted gently where it rests in his belt. "But we'll make do as always, right? Thread's no match for us." Go Reaches! Wave the pompoms! ^_^

Experiencing Vorkoroth's forward momentum, Wyn is leaning forward to feed Vorkoroth fireston while still mounted, attempting to experiment with a possibly more efficient technique on the ground, where it doesn't actually mean life or death. Her face is perhaps a touch more stiffly contemplative than usual, but her standard lack of expression makes that observation debatable. "Vorkoroth has been decidedly uneasy for the past few days. It will behoove us to stay alert." she decrees.

Firem goes home.

Tatia lifts her head to catch several comments and frowns faintly. "They do seem a little off tonight, don't they?" she observes with a worried glance toward her own lifemate, who's now obediently gnawing on lumps of firestone. A small smile quirks Sraine's way, and she nods before she's distracted by K'nex's entrance. "I'd thought you'd forgotten or something," she says pointedly to her wingsecond.

Fyria practically unbuckles her straps as Urzketh lands, easily slipping from the blue's back only to land on the ground next to Tevya, with a thud. THUD. "Easy, Urk. I'm to dismount, not be /thrown/, thank you." The blue snorts, only to lift his muzzle towards the air suddenly. A croon, followed by a trumpeted greeting to the others in the bowl - only then, does he settle. Rather uneasily. Fy slips her goggles up onto her helmet and glances around. She smells trouble.

From her seat atop Sakuruth's back, Quara is the kind, benevolent Weyrsecond. Or something. At any rate, she finishes buttoning up her jacket and gives it a final tug to settle it into position while her dragon continues moving around the bowl, rather adroitly for something of his bulk. "I'm sure it'll be fine, dear," she murmurs, Lorsalia-wards, before she's carried past and towards Tatia. "Tat, love, Tsunami is ready to go?" She has … personal concerns with that wing, given her weyrmate and best friend both ride in it.

Kihaelth is being Kihaelth. Which is amazing, considering he happens to be only a stone's throw away from one of his most favorite things in all of Pern. Still, there was a duty to be done, and he takes it upon himself to remind Tevya of that. A low croon is given, Tevya turning as she hears it and soon disappears from the main crowd to attend to him. "Easy.. I know." And she's once more tapping his shoulder and offering a few scritches to his eyeridge. "I'm set. I've everything. Yes..goggles..cap..gloves.. Everything." And she goes so far as to show her lifemate each item as it's tacked off on her and his mental list.

Sii'kyn nods over at X'ner; he doesn't squeal or leap at the bronzer, either, though it's a typical response to his presence. "Thread's no match for any of us," he satisfiedly states, settling his riding helmet firmly onto his head and raising tinted goggles, tossing firestone at Ram, who munches it with a distasteful rumble. "Shut up and chew," the browner growls, and the dragon accepts. Surprisingly. "Chew faster. If we're going to get a more efficient flame-length, you need to grind it more."

T'am doesn't like all this talk of a bad Fall. He always gets the pre-fall jitters anyhow, no need to add to the strain on his nerves. Farleth remains steadily reassuring, giving a warble of greeting Yajisarath and then falling silent out of respect for the tension emanating from his rider. For the most part, both wait quietly.

K'nex glances over at Tatia, eyes wide, a moment before he frowns. "You have such great faith in me…how could I forget?" Not that he hasn't tried, but Shira won't let him. Speaking of…The brown dragon nudges his ruder with a muzzle gently, reminding Kez to feed his dragon some more firestone. Right. That's what he was doing.

Sraine laughs at little bit at her dragon's dust rolling before play-scolding him back into seriousness. Really now. But they all did seem to be acting a little different today. Shardit, now she was getting a little nervous. Couldn't people just lighten up a tad? It is serious, but you can't be so tight you get stiff. Mental checklist is run over as firestone after firestone is 'loaded' into Akilth's weapon systems. Yep. Yep. Got it. Yes. Check. Alright! Ready to go! Well, aside from the stone still being chewed. "Just think. After this we'll -have- an excuse to spend hours soaking in our pools." Not that they don't do it anyway.

X'ner slips away, making sure his own lifemate is getting his firestone down before making his way around a little pausing next to T'am to peer at the other bronzerider, grinning a little bit. "All set?" Beam. Yep. Hey, he's got his own personal list of people that will be 'checked up on every two seconds'.

Tatia rolls her eyes at K'nex's response, but he does get a small smile as she hands another lump of firestone to Vespurath. "Well.. glad you showed up, anyway. It's… tense… down here today." A nudge from Vespurath catches her attention, and she heaves a few more lumps out of the sack before Quara catches her attention. It's only her distracted mood that keeps her from snapping at the 'love' in that sentance. Green eyes settle on Quara, and she nods shortly. "Yeah. Hopefully this Fall will go well.. you know how things can be when riders are convinced it's gonna be a bad Fall.."

Yajisarath absolutely has to acknowledge Farleth if he does so for her, so she does, with a warble and head-bob of her own. "Ugh…stay still, Jisa-girlie." Lorsalia commands, waiting to offer another piece of firestone to chew. "Do you want to bite your tongue and then have it hurt all during Fall /and/ get dirty, to boot?" Apparently not. The green settles and accepts the last piece, allowing her rider to glance back at her wing for a visual check on straps and other safety gear. The other wingsecond can do a more thorough one, which she does.

Cerdith twists his neck around for another mouthful of firestone, which Reiko somewhat distractedly provides. The conversations float around her like so much noise, drowned out by the crunching of the blue's maw. She'll know when it's important. Cerdith won't let her miss it.

Experiencing Vorkoroth's forward momentum, Wyn and Vorkoroth, Vorkoroth and Wyn, are rapidly settling into their standard pre-Fall state. The ritual checking and tightening of straps completed, the last bit of firestone chewed, the bluerider sits and waits, contributing no more to the conversations whirling around them. Not so Vorkoroth, who continues to rumble-purr in anticipation.

Hyzen watches her riders move away to prepare, leaning back against her dragon for a moment to gather her senses. Imbriath curls her muzzle down into her riders arms, chuffing softly. "It'll be alright, love," she murmurs before stepping away and mounting up, securing herself into the straps. "Flame's ready? … good. Have the wing form, love." Goggles are settled into place, straps checked once more as she waits.

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

Pyrene remains stoically resistant to all suggestions of a bad fall. "C'mon, let's get this done quick and easy!" she encourages the riders. "There's Benden wine in the caverns waiting for us!"

Hyzen, with the kindly help of a delicate forelimb, manages to pull themself up Imbriath's straps and betwixt ridges of star-kissed emerald.

With careful help from Kihaelth, Tevya scrambles onto a forepaw before getting a lift up and into place 'twixt nebulea drenched neckridges.

Sraine gets a leg-up from Akilth and settles in between two neckridges.

X'ner clambers up Nezdarvyth's neck with the help of an offered forelimb, willingly offering themself to the bronzer's evil ways.

Farleth gives a complacent rumble as T'am clambers up a muddy forearm and settles in between rusted neckridges.

Urzketh bumps his muzzle against Fyria rather impatiently - he wants stone, and he wants it now. "Fine, fine…hang on…" She grabs a sack from a passing weyrling with a nod before slipping back upon Urzketh's neck, simultaneously tossing him a chunk of stone. "There. Chew, hatchling.." She teases, and Urk shimmies a bit. Hatchling /indeed/.
Urzketh's crystalline eyes whirl with excitement as he watches Fyria scramble up to settle between amethyst-edged neckridges.

Sii'kyn is assisted up the dark stretch of Nothingness by a silver-touched talon, to settle firmly in betwixt Sidramuntalath's magma-cooled neckridges.

The spindly green concedes and crouches down, allowing Lorsalia to mount and slide into place between two blue-whispered neckridges.

Sakuruth is tired of walking. So he sits. Right with the Tsunamis. But this works for his rider, who is peering through the crowds to try and catch a glimpse of a certain brown. "Ah, yes. Well, be cheerful, and perhaps they'll catch on." It's Quara's plan, except that the tension she's under is betrayed by the clench of her jaw and a certain tight falsity to her expression. A mental prod, and Sakuruth lumbers up and over to Inferno, skipping past his former point position and taking up a spot among the rest of the blues.

K'nex nods at Tatia as his dragon finishes chewing. "No kidding…," he responds, looking around nervously, and then mounting up and doing a quick strap check.
K'nex scales Shirasuth's neck, using an extened limb as a step up, and settles amid sienna neckridges.

With a last lump of firestone handed to her lifemate, Tatia secures the sack tightly, then tugs on gloves and clambers upward to settle into place. She glances over her shoulder, checking the position of each Tsunami with rapid position. Her gaze turns back to Quara, and she flashes a wry smile toward the weyrsecond. "If I were cheerful, Quara, they'd all faint with the surprise," she notes before the bluerider moves off and Tatia tenses in her seat, murmuring softly under her breath. "Faranth, just let this be a light Fall."

Tatia climbs up shadowed hide to settle between Vespurath's slender 'ridges.

Sidramuntalath rumbles assent as Sii'kyn checks his straps a final time, before taking a deep breath and vaulting up. Ike shifts back, slipsliding back and forth until he finds the groove where he typically settles. Buckling himself in, the rider leans down and accepts the bag of firestone from a groundcrew member, buckling it into it's regular positioning as well. "You done chompin'? Okay, then. Settle in behind Soberth, then, lug." Finding their spot is easy, and they slide in behind the bronzepair.

From Akilth's neck, Sraine mounts up and straps herself in, giving the last bit of firestone for now over the dark-pale brown's shoulder. That done, clips are doublechecked and gloves pulled tight. Ready for duty sir! Er…ma'am. Ahem. "A walk in the bowl, ne Aki?" With a slight rumble underneath her legs in agreement. Not cockyness, but assuredness in their wing. And now the brown is getting restless, feet shuffling in the same dirt and longing to give one last roll before flight. Sigh. Those little playful moments that make him feel what he never was. Young.

Kihaelth is ready. Tevya is ready. Firestone sack is open and ready. They're all set. That's for sure. Kihaelth rumbles softly as he accepts the last chunk of firestone, before wings unfurl in anticipation, turqouise eyes whirling quicker and quicker as Tevya slaps his shoulder in playful fashion. "Ease down, love." Which is darn near impossible for Kihaelth when he's about to go on a mission.

Experiencing Vorkoroth's forward momentum, "Shall we then, sir?" queries Wyn of Vorkoroth, having found her focus and tucked any nerves neatly into a little box, to be kept on her mental mantelpiece until later. Vorkoroth rumbles an assent, giving a body-length shake that shifts the firestone sacks to and fro on his neck as he tenses and readies himself. Bad fall or good, it's goin' down.

Imbriath shifts slightly, her head forward, awaiting the signal to launch, wings half unfolded and ready. Hyzen settles herself into a comfortable position. Sacks are readjusted before a faint turning of her head has her watching the one that will lead out. Waiting for the signal to launch her wing…

From Yajisarath's neck, Lorsalia pulls her cap over her head, shoves any stray hair under, and adjusts her goggles onto her forehead, where they get to rest until she's in the air. Checks are made for her own riding strap safety features, and once buckled into place, the wingsecond's dragon ambles into her own spot in formation.

Sakuruth realises, rather belatedly, that saving two other presences, he's not where he belongs. So, a quick shuffle to the front of the assembled wings later, he sits, ready to lead the Weyr to meet Threadfall. And, taking a deep breath, Quara peeks about, grinning in a "look at me!" way at a few of her friends before pumping her arm in the time-honored signal to fly.
Sakuruth takes off.

Among Vespurath's sage-shadowed 'ridges, Tatia sits tall, nearly standing in her mount to turn round, glance at her wing, and echo Quara's arm pumped order t fly. Tsunamis are in the sky!

Sidramuntalath takes off.
Nezdarvyth takes off.
Vespurath takes off.
Farleth takes off.
Shirasuth takes off.

Urzketh raises his wings high, stretching them to their fullest length with a wide, large yawn. My, what big /teeth/, and smelly firestone breath, he has. Fy checks, doublechecks, and for some reason triple checks her straps and goggles, before nudging Urzketh into the sky.

Kihaelth takes off.
Urzketh takes off.
Imbriath takes off.
Vorkoroth takes off.
Yajisarath takes off.

You take off.
Above the Bowl
Gliding around are two firelizards.
Blue Sakuruth, brown Sidramuntalath, bronze Nezdarvyth, green Vespurath, bronze Farleth, brown Shirasuth, blue Kihaelth, blue Urzketh, green Imbriath, blue Vorkoroth, and green Yajisarath are here.

Akilth takes off from Central Bowl

Akilth circles higher and higher still, up towards Star Stones and Spires.
Nezdarvyth circles higher and higher still, up towards Star Stones and Spires.
Kihaelth circles higher and higher still, up towards Star Stones and Spires.
Vorkoroth circles higher and higher still, up towards Star Stones and Spires.
Sakuruth circles higher and higher still, up towards Star Stones and Spires.

Wind caresses wings and pinions as you circle higher and higher up out of the caldera.
Above High Reaches
Quite, quite high, nothing braves these heights but stone and dragon and cloud; the Star Stones jut dutifully above the Weyr proper, flayed by the mountain winds that are consistant at this altitude whilst the rest spreads below, protected by its crown of jagged stone spires'-teeth.
It is an autumn afternoon. High cirrocumulus clouds diffuse the sunlight into a silvery glow. The air is calm and cold.
Gliding around are five firelizards.
Green Yajisarath, bronze Farleth, brown Akilth, bronze Nezdarvyth, blue Kihaelth, blue Vorkoroth, and blue Sakuruth are here.

Sidramuntalath circles up from the Central bowl.
Zet circles up from the Central bowl.
Imbriath circles up from the Central bowl.
Urzketh circles up from the Central bowl.

You visualize Sky Over Tillek Hold for Cadgwith.
Cadgwith thinks to you, « Ok, I am now envisioning… »

Vorkoroth vanishes ::between:: with the focused grace of a mirror dance.

Cadgwith throws herself ::between::, her pounding wings breaking through the barriers of air.

:::BETWEEN!:::
You hang, senseless, in the dark nothingness of ::between::… absolute darkness surrounds you, and the profound cold stings you… you wait, and count…
Black…
Blacker…
Blackest…

Sky Over Tillek Hold
Below you, Tillek Hold clutches itself tightly to the cliff face it's embedded in, while the fields and woodland around sprawl in a lacework of vineyards, orchards, and forests. Directly below is the triple-chamber of the courtyards; main, kitchen and lower, where the Hold business is conducted at the usual feverish pace. Windows and gaps line the cliff's face, and towards the top a narrow ledge has been chipped out where it starts to slope from erosion wearing away at the surface.
The fog seems brighter now, the sun winning its war against it. A breeze picks up and swirls through the fog, which begins to break up.
Blue Vorkoroth is here.

Cadgwith bursts out of ::between::, a gilded wave threatening to break over the land below.
Kihaelth appears from ::between::, with only the bone-chilling blast of cold air to announce his arrival.

Vorkoroth soars higher.

Dragons appear…

You soar upward.
Sky High Over Tillek
From this point high above Tillek Hold, one has a breathtaking view over most of the Tillak Peninsula. Far west lies the coastal Master Sea Hold, and towards the east lie several of the smaller cotholds and holds that look to Tillek.
The fog seems brighter now, the sun winning its war against it. A breeze picks up and swirls through the fog, which begins to break up.
Gliding around is a blue firelizard.
Green Zaqith and blue Vorkoroth are here.

More dragons appear…

The wings emerge from the fog blanketing Tillek Hold below. The noon sky is clear and chilly. To the east, the sky darkens with the gray foreboding of Thread.

Shirasuth ascends on a thermal from below.

Cadgwith foghorns needlessly now. Hey look, they found the sun! Pyrene looks disappointed - so much for that edge on the Fall. The pair glide along in Esprit, below the main fighting levels, and heading east. Onward into the fray! Again.

Urzketh banks from below and takes his place among the Inferno riders, standard V formation emblazoned within his and Fyria's mind. Her expression is grim, firm - yet determined as ever. A lump of firestone waits at the ready in her hand as the blue hovers and turns his attention to that wicked silvery curtain that approaches.

From Zaqith's neck, R'sli swears as the wind buffets Zaqith. The green struggles, her sails filling as her wings pump to maintain her position. The greenrider smiles as the Weyr appears. "'Bout time!" he calls over the winds. "I was afraid you lot would have to time it!"

Among Vespurath's sage-shadowed 'ridges, Vespurath pulls forward, hovering at the front of the Tsunami wing. A low, challenging growl rises in her throat as the grey of Thread appears in the distance. Astride her neck, Tatia tightens her goggles, frowning into the wind.

Kihaelth slips into position, wings snapping against the air as he slows his pace. Gaze finds others in proximity to him, as he further adjusts his position, before turning for yet more firestone from Tevya. His rider however, is observing the eastern portion of the sky, lips thinning slightly before a hand pushes forth, offering Kihaelth that lump. "Get ready, Kiha. It's coming."

Nezdarvyth levels himself in the air, large wings giving a quick flap for balance. And there it is. The telltale sign of Thread on the horizon. The bronze growls lowly..despite his normal plotting and planning, this /is/ a job he'll gladly dirty himself for. Bwaha..he will conquer! That Thread is /not/ going to snuff his plans for Weyr domination! HAH! X'ner just sits straight, eyes vaguely narrowed behind his goggles. Firestone at the ready, he watches the sky, glancing quickly at his Wingleader after a moment.

The gray to the east becomes more pronounced, and the first silvery strands of Thread edge into view, glittering in the sunlight.

Vorkoroth spirals up and rolls once on a wingtip, before almost sedately taking his place in the ranks, an avidly predatory gleam tinging his eyes as he roars defiance at the oncoming Thread. You, Thread, have insulted my honour. I demand satisfaction!

Farleth emerges in formation, never one to screw up positioning in Between. T'am rests with gloved hands clenched around riding straps, goggle-covered eyes scanning the sky through wisping fragments of clouds.

Akilth uses the wind to carry him high into the sky along with his wing - a fierce, trumpeting battle cry erupting from his throat in defiance of the silvery strands glittering not so far away. Time to play my pretties, although playing with fire is never good for your health. Ahem. Tail whipping prestinely behind his large form, the dark-pale brown prepares himself for his part to perform in this aerial play.

The Thread seems to hear that challenge, and a tangled clump writhes towards Vorkoroth, looking to ensnare him.

Zaqith falls into position in Tsunami's ranks, crunching firestone loudly. Her eyes whirl yellow in the face of the Ancient Enemy. R'sli adjusts his goggles, and makes sure that his scarf is firmly in place, keeping the cold winds from burning his face. As the Leading Edge approaches, he tenses. No matter how many times a rider goes up, they never lose that nausea that accompanies Threadfall.

Imbriath bugles loudly as she leads her wing, trying to fly steady through the winds this high up. Hyzen waits too, scanning the distance with distaste, a faint frown evident above the high collar of her riding jacket. As it comes, another trumpet comes from the green before she falls silent, waiting for it to hit Inferno.

Shirasuth hovers in his place in the Tsunami wing, watchful eyes turned in the same direction everyone else's are. A deep rumble begins in the brown's throat as the first thread emerges into view. K'nex just clings to his dragon's straps, looking grimly and nervously at the oncoming thread. And then it begins. Whimper.

The Fall starts, and suddenly Thread seems everywhere. Tangled clumps of the stuff rain down left and right, buffeted by the winds aloft.

Urzketh rumbles defiantly at the approaching silver cloud, barely able to restrain himself to stay within the wing's formation. He wants to flame, and flame /now/. Fy yells at him, voice stolen over the breath of the wind: "Urk, calm /down/…it's no different than other Falls - well, okay, it is, but you /must/ stay put…" THe blue concedes; he knows better, after all. Still, his muzzle works in anticipation - and suddenly, Thread is here. There. Everywhere.

Among Vespurath's sage-shadowed 'ridges, Tatia looks every bit as determined as her dragon does, and her own lips part for a shouted challenge that's lost in the wind even as Vespurath sends out an impressively long first tongue of flame, letting it lick in the air for a moment before she lunges forward, leading the wing toward the Thread that suddenly seems to be coming in from every angle - an illusion that's nearly made reality by the winds that whip and whirl the deadly silver strands.

Nezdarvyth warbles loudly, eyes immediately whirling into red at the sight of oncoming thread. It comes. And he goes, the flames already rumbling out of parted jaws. And so it begins.

Experiencing Vorkoroth's forward momentum, "Steady on, sirrah," murmurs Wyn to her lifemate, words torn away by the wind. Grey eyes turn steely, and she tenses as Vorkoroth does, the blue banking starboard and charring the tangling clump in a lengthy pass. :P

Sakuruth and Quara are leading the Weyr to fight Thread. Didn't anyone think this was a bad idea? But, well, without Zi'n and P'rru, she's all they've got. So she decides to lead by example, sort of, by slipping back into position with Inferno. Already back into her usual rhythm of fighting, she keeps up a steady pace of firestone, moving in synch with her dragon and simultaneously keeping an eye on both the Thread patterns and the Wings.

Pyrene is bound and determined to stay positive today, and she sits tall on Cadge as both dragon and rider focus above them. Get to it, guys. Keep their work light. A little wind shouldn't matter!

Yajisarath wavers in formation when the thread appears. She soars forward just enough to be reigned in by pinkwearing rider, but never to disrupt the rest of the wing. Maybe a premature flame appears, but it is small and the green is excited. "Be careful, Jisa-Girly." Dragon is directed by Lorsalia as the silvered strands of ickiness begin falling closer to the wing, and proper flame bursts from gold-fringed maw. Take that, thread-beast!

Zaqith's jaws creak as she emits a veritable fireball of…well, fire, at the Thread that threatens to consume her. On her back, Ris jerks at his belt, tightening it another notch. "Steady on," he says, patting the green's neck. Zaqith rumbles, before emitting another, slightly smaller flame.

Kihaelth heralds the arrival of the thread with a surge forward, wings dipping silently as a rumble builds in his throat. It was time to do his job, and he never failed at giving his best. Nor did Tevya, her gaze alighting on the first patch of Thread that falls as she tightens her grasp around his riding straps, a grim line forming on her lips..though nothing can distill the heart-pounding sensation that drives Tevya to clutch riding straps tighter with one hand. And then it's on. Thread everywhere and Kihaelth ready to take it all on. Wings bank and head swivels around, Kihaelth aiming a spout of flame towards a clump off to his side, the wriggling mass promptly seared, before he's dipping back into position and scanning for more errant clumps.

Betwixt Imbriath's absinthe ridges and creamy straps, Hyzen says, "Steady, Imbri." Hyzen leads forward slightly and pats what she can of the green before settling back. Then the Thread hits and she grimly hangs on as the green tilts slightly to the right, fire spewing from her gaping maw. A satisfied rumble comes as the Thread chars all the way up and falls as somewhat harmless ash. Reassuming her position, she waits."

From Akilth's neck, Sraine manages to give a quick clenched fist of encouragement towards one of the younger riders she spoke to before fall before whipping around to focus on what was ahead. For instance, that rather nasty bit of thread towards her wing….which gets flamed by another brown before Akilth gets his chance. That is, before another slivers their way into his range of 'fire'. "Let's show our stuff Aki!" The usually quiet-one's battle cry before the clump is seared into oblivion. One down. Next?

E'rp wins the prize for being the first person to give Pyrene any work. Wyath banks to make a clump of Thread, only to get sheered off by a gust of wind. The pair blink between to avoid being blown into anything, and Pyrene takes on mop-up duty. "A little more precision up there!" she calls airily, knowing that her voice can't be heard.

There is a sudden shift in the Fall, and a vast wall of Thread seems to come right at the wings. Riders and dragons alike get a sense that something isn't right here.

From Akilth's neck, Sraine feels the wind change just as her dark-pale brown founders only slightly in the unexpected gust. "What in Faranth's name - ?"

Nezdarvyth bugles angrily at the sudden shift, veering to the side to avoid a clump as flame spews forth. X'ner hangs on tightly, eyes slightly widened behind his goggles. "What the..?"

From Urzketh's neck, Fyria shrieks in surprise at this odd motion of Thread - it's not supposed to /do/ that…. "Urk…/skip/….NOW!!" The blue roars in defiance - he wants to /char/, dangit - but at the huge sickeningly slick wall that approaches, he decides his rider is smart after all. And skips ::between::.

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.

Dip and wheel, turn and flame. Vorkoroth has just settled into the darting, weaving rhythm of a blue dragon in Fall when Wyn's gasp is heard by those closer to her. "By the Egg… what /is/ that?" Well, now we know that all it takes to get Wyn sounding less bland is a sheer wall of hungry Thread. "Skip. Skip /now/." she squeaks.

From Zaqith's neck, R'sli swears as the Fall picks up. "Shards and Shells!" he swears hotly, and urges Zaqith to flame more. Yes. More flame is good. Unfortunately, though, the winds catch the dainty green, and toss her around a bit before she finds her wings again, and levels out. "Ooh," is all the greenrider can say. "That was unpleasant."

Vorkoroth skips ::between::!

A younger green belches forth a jet of fire at the wall, then panics as it continues toward her. She twists, trying to dodge, but isn't quick enough, and a clump slices through her wingsail. She shrieks in agony, and ducks between.

Farleth bellows his own defiance of Thread as the wall hits…the way it shouldn't. No time for nerves now. A belch of flame chases the writhing tangles, gold-touched wings straining to compensate for the high winds. T'am lets out a startled sound, then can only hang on for the rider, sending encouragement through the bond.

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

Lorsalia herself is ducking to avoid thread clumps that seem to fly horizontally. Yajisarath continually produces flame, then blinks through between to reappear in position, barely missing clumps and tangles. The pair is practiced, and only the smallest bits of thread find their way to Lorsalia's leathers, only to be frozen off before any damage is done. "This wind is going to kill us." Rider grumbles to her dragon, ducking, again, when a thread flies in the wrong direction.

From Akilth's neck, Sraine feels the wind change just as her dark-pale brown founders only slightly in the unexpected gust. "What in Faranth's name - ?" Quick murmur before a special spinning maneuver prevents Akilth's entire wing to be showered, the offending thread charred before another twist is needed before. "AKI!" The brownrider herself finds the necessity to join many others in skipping to avoid being badly injured.

Akilth skips ::between::!

Among Vespurath's sage-shadowed 'ridges, A mass of fire errupts from Vespurath, searing Thread, and a bugle of alarm rises as ash falls, revealing a wall advancing straight toward them. The green blinks out suddenly, only inches away from a nasty clump that seemed destined to feast on draconic flesh. A shouted order as they reappear is echoed by a mental one, blasted toward Tsunami wingmates « WATCH YOURSELVES! »

Vespurath shimmers for a moment before fading ::between::.

Akilth appears from ::between:: with a twist and a flutter of wings.

A brown bugles a warning towards his wingmate before flicking into between to escape a rather violently writhing clump. He appears moments later to turn and flame the Thread to cinders.

Shirasuth opens his jaws with a roar, flames spewing forth as the brown lunges into the fray, wings pumping hard to have control in the winds. "Eek!" K'nex squeaks as his brown roars a challenge, and clings to his dragon's neck as the brown tilts awkwardly, just avoiding a clump. "Erp! Hey…Careful," he says, staring at the thread falling. Ok then. Uhm. That's…not good, is it? Watch yourselves indeed…Seems those predicitons of a bad fall were right.

Pyrene all but drops her flamethrower, gaping at the wall. Cadgwith bellows her alert as do the other Reaches golds and the wing shows their renowned spirit as they fly at the sheets of Thread left to fall as the riders above are forced to between. "Shards, I hope the groundcrews are on form today!" Pyrene hisses, as she watches uncharred gouts fall beyond them. "We can't cope with this much… what's going on??"

Vespurath ascends on a thermal from below.

Sakuruth is surprised at the new moments in the Fall. This is clearly obvious because… okay, actually, it's really hard to tell, since he flames much like usual. His rider, however, pauses for a long moment, staring, before jolting herself back into action with renewed initiative. Also a steady stream of heady invective. "… sharding star…" Luckily, very little of it is understandable, what with the melee.

Tevya's shout is cut off as kihaelth banks quickly, narrowly missing a clump of thread as it sails towards him. There's a panicked moment as Tevya glances behind her, watching as the Thread sails behind her and Kihaelth and is seared by a fellow Rider. This puts her in the position of not seeing the clump Kihaelth was headed towards, Kihaelth too busy flaming another clump to his left. "Kiha! Between!" The shout accompanied with a thump of her hand to his shoulder, gaining his attention, before Kihaelth and Tevya disappear between.

Kihaelth skips ::between::!
Kihaelth appears from ::between::, with only the bone-chilling blast of cold air to announce his arrival.

The winds aloft start to dissipate the bizarrely thick thread, and the wings angle off to catch the more manageable clumps. Gouts of dragonfire light up across the sky, and Thread turns to char under the assault.

From Nezdarvyth's neck, X'ner does /not/ like this. He doesn't like this at /all/. Not normal. Nezdarvyth bugles, head twisting around as a clump descends on the pair, a bugle of alarm sending the bronze quickly between.

Nezdarvyth skips ::between::!
Nezdarvyth appears in a flash of spinning gears and broken cogs. Drat! The super duper invention of world domination broke!

Imbriath screams her warning towards one of her dragons as a clump descends upon them, turning instantly to flame once the younger beast is out of harms way. Hyzen shakes her head, clinging to the straps. "Not right… Imbriath, be careful. Something's wrong." The green makes no obvious reply as she scans for more Thread, accepting a hunk of rock as she does so.

Experiencing Vorkoroth's forward momentum, "Bloody sharding Eggshells…" Wyn's swearing like the worst of the weyrbrats she used to be. "What in the name of little green firelizards /is/ this?" Editorial comments aside, the not-so-bland bluerider still guides her lifemate, directing his attention with little mental pokes as Vorkoroth shifts to chase down a tendril escaping from one of the rare Mudslide bronzes. Hah. Never send a /bronze/ to do a /blue's/ job. Flame.

Among Vespurath's sage-shadowed 'ridges, Tatia shoots after a clump with determined vengence, not deterred in the least by the odd formations that it seems to be coming in. Tatia, however, is more than a little concerned, and the greenrider alternates between watching for Thread in their path and twisting around to visually check on the status of her wing. Her head is whipped forward violently as her tiny lifemate twists and dives, hunting a clump of Thread downward before returning to her posistion.

A misaligned patch of Thread seems to have been awaiting a skipping dragon, catching the bronze along his haunches and sending him back into between with a pained shriek.

Vespurath shoots after a clump with determined vengence, not deterred in the least by the odd formations that it seems to be coming in. Tatia, however, is more than a little concerned, and the greenrider alternates between watching for Thread in their path and twisting around to visually check on the status of her wing. Her head is whipped forward violently as her tiny lifemate twists and dives, hunting a clump of Thread downward before returning to her posistion.

Zaqith shrieks her frustration, pumping her wings even as she flames in a wide fan, trying to clear as much of what surrounds her as possible. Thread seems to literally engulf the wings even as the Fall begins to dissapate a bit. The winds are still high, though, and that's never good. Below, weyrlings wink in and out, delivering sacks of firestone to those who need it. R'sli looks over his shoulder, and bawls at the younger browns and bronzes. "Watch yourselves! B'lack, you and Smyth watch that turning! You almost caught that clump in your hindsection!"

From Urzketh's neck, Fyria grips with white-knuckled fingers within her gloves, though she manages to toss another lump of firestone into his waiting maw. Fyria's eyes are wide-open behind her ash-dusted goggles, scanning for more errant clumps and strands that almost have a mind of their own. Blue chews, roars, and spews another crimson-streaked geyser of fire towards a net of Thread. Blackened, it falls lifelessly to the ground below as the blue regains his position amidst the wing.

Zaqith skips ::between::!
Zaqith bursts from ::between:: in a shower of mica sparkles!

Pyrene grits her teeth. Stay positive. "That was first score?" she asks, Cadge passing on the query. "That's pretty good, especially with this wind. We can do this!" « We fly well! » Cadgwith declares to the wings at large. « The Thread goes wide, but we go farther! »

Clumps of Thread fall, twisting and spiraling downwards. Irregular patterns causing some clumps to fall heavily, barely spersed evenly between, while others seem to drizzle.

From Akilth's neck, Who knew Sraine's little packets of luck would be needed so soon? Quickly passing a load of firestone to Akilth's waiting maw, the brown barely has enough time to chew it before he's required to gout a heavy clump threatening to fall past his watch. Take that! Rar! Short bugle of defiance before another bit of quick-thinking and ever faster flying prevent a nasty threadscore along the dark-pale dragon's flank.

Yajisarath accepts a refresher lump of firestone from her rider, then WOOSH! flames a horizontal tangle into nothingness. Take that, and that, and…uh-oh. She skips between, but not soon enough to keep the smaller bit attached to her rider's head from doing any harm. Reappearing, with a flame ready for the clump she meets, it can be seen that Lorsalia's hair has suffered, if nothing else. And this, weyrlings, is a reason why your hair should be kept short.

"Shell it!" Tevya exclaims, after Kihaelth slips back from ::between:: and slips into position, Tevya sliding forward to insert chunks of firestone into his waiting maw; the blue wasting no time in masticating it before bleching out flame, searing any clump that dares come close enough to *him*. Though shaken, he continues his flight, sliding over to cover a patch missed as a young brown skips ::between:: after suffering a minor score to his flanks. "What is /happening/?" Tevya mutters, squinting beneath her goggles, a hand raised to wipe at her forehead.

Nezdarvyth lets out a scream of frustration, nearly breaking his own formation in an attempt to stay out of harm's way, wings opening wide to allow him to remain in place. Flame bursts forth though, rending the Thread before him to ash as X'nere hangs on, more firestone at the ready.

Shirasuth seems mostly unconcerened, although he is being a little more careful than usualy. However, if K'nex was worried before, he's nearing panic now. "Careful!" He shouts at his mount, guiding him back into the wing formation. Shira dives after a clump sending a rather large fireball to turn the silvery strands to harmless ash. The brown is followed by another random clump of thread and is forced to skip between in a narrow escape.
Shirasuth skips ::between::!
Shirasuth blazes in from ::between::, tawny-gold wings shimmering like Rukbat.

A weyrling winks out of *between* and tosses a fresh sack of firestone to one of the bronzeriders, who deftly catches it. The 'ling looks pleased with himself, but a quick bark from the bronze sends them scurrying back to the Weyr and safety.

Among Vespurath's sage-shadowed 'ridges, As Vespurath pulls back into position, Tatia twists, screaming into the wind. "Hold formation!" Too man greens and blues, it seems, have been diving and doding the odd falling Thread, leaving wide gaps in the formation that's meant to be tight and Thread proof. A weyrling appears at her elbow, and Tatia hoists a new bag of firestone atop Vespurarth with difficulty as the winds threaten to rip it from her grasp.

From her seat atop Sakuruth's back, Quara has never seen such a pattern before, and scrambles for a formation that might help. The command to reorganise, Wing high, is sent, and Inferno is singled out as high wing. She trusts them, sort of. Knows how they'll react, at least. She keeps a worried eye on the Thread, and the other on her fellow riders, especially the daredevil types. Kh'ryn and Zylpheth are flying flamboyantly, and she winces as the ex-Messenger executes a loop that brings him precariously close to a twirling clump. "Watch yourself, Khor!"

A bending smear of Thread heads its way towards Yajisarath, off to the green's right before being lashed by a heavy gust and sent hurtling towards Vorkoroth.

From Akilth's neck, Sraine has given up trying to figure out -why- this is happening and is focusing more on what to do about it. Confident to escape most harm, the brown twists hard and ultimately skips to avoid an unavoidable clump. Coming back to the still organized chaos, Akilth ashifies a clump that someone else had let by. One last flame is spewed before his rider grabs a tossed firesack for reloading. This was insane!

Experiencing Vorkoroth's forward momentum, Wyn's earlier anal-retentive practicing of variations of feeding firestone seems to be paying off. The little bluerider is being blown sideways as she leans forward in her straps, but her tossing and Vorkoroth's catching and chewing are that of a much more experienced pair. Good thing, too, because no sooner is the 'stone chewed then Vorkoroth is chasing down the clump escaping Yajisarath. "Watch to your right, Lorsa!" calls over Wyn, unnecessary due to mental communiques, but hey, Wyn's in the Zone.

Esprit fan out, trying to cope with the breadth of Fall. Fortunately, there's a full complement of blue and green dragons in the wing today, while their riders are settling into their second trimester. These zip around the more cumbersome gold dragons in aesthetically pleasing fashion. And they make a pretty darn good fighting force too.

Among Vespurath's sage-shadowed 'ridges, As Inferno goes high, Tsunami follows, taking up a corresponding lower position. "Careful!" Tatia calls needlessly, a concerned command that's echoed by her lifemate to her wing. « Thread Falls strangely. Watch yourselves. » If ever there was a statment of the obvious…

Farleth dips and rolls, unmindful of the lunch-losing power of some of his moves. Any verbal expressions of T'am's are ripped away on the wind, which is probably for the better. There's nothing either can do about it anyway, they move to stay alive, short bursts of flame spewing forth to catch an enemy that is suddenly unfamiliar.

Heavy clumps twisted and writhing here and there. One sepereates from the wall and rapidly descends upon Sraine and Akilth, too late for any swift warnings.

Akilth receives a medium score on the tail!

From Akilth's neck, Sraine receives a slight score on the thigh!

Another bizarre shift… and the thread seems to suddenly spiral around itself in a vast swirling vortex of writhing hunger. The only way to fight it is to fly right at it… and dangerously close to each other, as well. The winds almost seem to draw the dragons inward towards the cyclone of Thread.

Akilth has given up, along with his rider, trying to figure out the reasoning behind the oddly falling Thread. It was Thread no matter how it fell, and it needed to be taken care of. Businesslike in his dealings, the dark-pale has found some sort of odd pattern to the randomness of the clumps and manages to burn to ashes a good clump before… PAIN! "AGh!" And oops. There they go.
Akilth skips ::between::!
Akilth appears from ::between:: with a twist and a flutter of wings.

Nezdarvyth moves high indeed with his wing, a string of flame blasting out with all the bronzen might the dragon can muster up. He'll teach that thread a thing or too about messing up /his/ perfectly good plans!

Shirasuth flaps his wings hard, fighting the wind to get and stay in position. K'nex clings for life to his dragon, peering around to keep and eye out of any thread that threatens to hit him or any other. He /is/ watching, despite the desire to just hide…that could get him hurt or worse however, and so the brownrider peers all around his dragon, directing Shira to thread and away from it as Fall continues.

Yajisarath angles to char a bit of thread to smithereens before it can reach Vorkoroth, who only protected her from that last clump. Or so she says. "Watch it, Jisarath…" The rider cautions, more grimly than before. Hey, she's missing a large amount of pretty hair here and the fall isn't even over. When the green surges forward for flaming, yet again, char finds its way into the Mudslide Wing, straight to the pink-wearing pair. For the moment, Lorsalia can not see through her goggles and only Yajisarath's innate awareness keeps them from flying into Ayola and Crayoth to fight the thread.

From Urzketh's neck, Fyria urges the blue to rise with the wing yet maintain their position amidst the other dragons. "Steady love, we need to cover the others…" she yells, though her voice is stolen by the whipping of winds above. She shrieks at the sudden cyclonic viciousness of the Thread - though her mount has his wits about him and sears a rather nasty looking clump to his left. Dust covers them both - but more Thread follows. Fy, is /not/ pleased.

Among Vespurath's sage-shadowed 'ridges, A waved signal is followed by a mental command from Vespurath as Tatia calls Tsunami into a tighter formation until they're flying almost wingtip to wingtip. Vespurath pulls alongside Shirasuth, and Tatia casts a worried glance at K'nex as she leans forward, buffeted by winds, to toss another chunk of firestone toward Vespurath's open maw.

Akilth appears, a semi-nasty score on his tail and a determined and angry look whirling in his eyes. Score him will you? Sraine herself is clutching at her thigh and gritting her teeth angrily, muttering insults at the Thread as if it really mattered. That is, before hurtling head first along with her wing to attack these strange walls of danger.

Fiviath shifts along with her wing, her eyes ever watchful of the thread and the dragons around her. Dive and flame and another tangle is turned to harmless dust. Mhairie is mindfull of the danger, yet even now she still loves the exhileration of fighting.

Rubyth sidles to the side, before dipping to introduce a clump of thread to a short burst of flame. "Easy, Ru…", yells H'well, before he tosses yet another chuck to the blue.

Pyrene recoils instinctively. "Oh, /shards/! What is /that/? Thread doesn't /fall/ like that!" An order is received from Areiah, and the far flung wings of Esprit sweep forward, curving into a broad arc with the smallest dragons to the fore. There's too much Thread escaping the higher wings again.

Tevya's liable to gain an injury..so fast is she feeding the firestone to Kihaelth. The blue crunching it between two powerful jaws and belching out flame just as quickly as he can find Thread to sear. Which, unfortunately enough, there seems to be more than enough of. Unfortunately, most of that searing goes to no avail, as the Thread shifts away or Kihaelth does a last-minute swerve to avoid many head-on collisions. Imbriath's command is heard, Kihaelth sending a bugle back in response before doing just that..or attempting to. Blue tucks his wings in and dives after that clump. It would die. And Tevya? Tevya is holding on for dear life.

Experiencing Vorkoroth's forward momentum, Wyn *blinks* at this new wrinkle in the fall. "Dear Faranth, Thread tornadoes now?" is her disbelieving murmer, before she silences to consider the problem and direct Vorkoroth accordingly. "Watch your spacing with Yajisarath, Vor, but take it straight in and stones to the wall." she opines.

From Fiviath's neck, Mhairie is suddenly thankful for the straps as the new phenomon of thread is seen. "Shards!" she exclaims as they nearly hit one of teh whirling dervishes. Fiviath barely manages to avoid being hit by the seering mass as she wheels on a wing and dives, flaiming it clear from the sky.

Dancing silver strands shift with the air, going with the current. And catching a blue pair unawares, sending both rider and dragon into between - and back home with multiple scores. Spiraling down more, it manages to hit the Queen's wing, taunting the flamethrower's touch.

Shirasuth swerves as his rider catches the signal from the wingleader and pulls in closer to the rest of the wing. The brown flames at a small stray clump, trying to stay close to the wing and Vespurath as he does so. K'nex sits up a little and glances around at the wing, before he glances over at Tatia and gives her a nervous smile. Very nervous.

Dragons spiral around and chase the erratic Thread, blasting it to ash. The Fall lightens a bit, offering the wings a chance to regroup, and catch their breath.

Among Vespurath's sage-shadowed 'ridges, "Faranth…." Tatia draws in a deep breath, letting her gaze slide toward K'nex again as Vespurath sends out a violent bursts of flame. That short moment of inattention costs her, and while Vespurath's holding her flame to char the threads into ash, a clump is caught by the wind and lunges backwards to wrap around Tatia's calf. Her scream is instantaneous, as is Vespurath's reaction as the pair disappears *between*.

Vespurath skips ::between::!
Vespurath twinkles in from ::between::.

Another clump splits off and showers itself upon Tevya and Kihaelth, despite warnings and the rescue attempts of wingriders.

From Kihaelth's neck, Tevya receives a medium score on the chest!

Cadgwith tilts to her side, one wing furled as she dives forward in an odd looking motion. It works though, Pyrene fries the Thread from top to bottom even as the gold skips between to avoid another clump - which in turn is caught by a pregnant bluerider's dragon. Who said blues were useless?

Kihaelth skips ::between::!
Kihaelth appears from ::between::, with only the bone-chilling blast of cold air to announce his arrival.

From Akilth's neck, Sraine takes this small lightening in the Thread to rest a minute, taking a glance at the wound underneath her glove. Well, it looked like she'd survive. Now that that was over, Ine tries to catch Hyzen's eye before doublechecking formation position. With any luck she could toss her friend an encouraging smile that also said 'I'm fine.

From Yajisarath's neck, Lorsalia twists and peers and does what she can to clear her goggles as Yajisarath backs off from the fight. Green needs a refill on firestone, which is duly done, and rider must redetermine the best way to flame this mess of Thread. What can be flamed without actively chasing is done, but no more for fear of entanglement.

From Rubyth's neck, H'well clings to the straps, just as Rubyth dodges another 'whirlwind' and flames it. "Careful!" A quick movement to the side, and they're back in formation again, though.

Nezdarvyth bugles at an approaching clump of Thread, angrily glaring it down before the flames come forth, winging his way up slightly higher as the ash flutters in the wind.

From her seat atop Sakuruth's back, Quara's creative tactics get a wingmate scored. This is bad. Her worry, however, is soon put aside for the sake of the group's safety, and she scowls, wincing a little in twice- and thrice-transferred pain at every threadscore. "Fly carefully!" is yelled, with a mental echo to the dragons, as they take a collective break.

From Fiviath's neck, Mhairie wipes at her goggles, removing ash from her vision as she momentarily catches her breath as Fiviath repositions herself. Taking stock of the fall, Mhairies face is no longer exhubiant and the fighting of thread, but is now grim as they rise with their wing.

A small, twisting shear-off of the larger body of Thread beats its way towards Fyria and Urzketh, sinking burning tendrils into tender flesh.

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

Well above the wings, some of the Thread suddenly starts to burst into flames, for no apparent reason. There are no dragons up there. Dragons and riders alike peer upward, apprehensive.

You know it's bad when there's Thread right infront of you when it use to be on the side of you. And this is the pickle Tevya finds herself in, before it's on her, and she's screaming. One short curse and Kihaelth is hopping ::between:: his mind echoing Tevya's words (not very gentlemanly of him) and pain. The pair re-emerge moments later, Tevya pressing forearm against her chest as she leans against Kihaelth's neck. The blue is mad. V. mad. The Thread was going to die.

Urzketh sears yet another clump of Thread, much to Fyria's delight - but they miss slender tendril approaching them from behind. That is until Fyria's screams rip through the winds themselves. Urzketh roars with the echo of painthrough their link - and without hesitation, they wink ::between::.
Urzketh skips ::between::!

Perhaps destracted by burning Thread not caused by dragons, T'am and Farleth fall prey to the spiraling Thread.

From Farleth's neck, T'am receives a medium score on the ankle!

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

Nezdarvyth stops, hovering in the air as he and X'ner both look up. Dragon's eyes whirl faster, the rider's own widening behind his goggles. There /is/ no one up there! "What the blazes..?" Definate serious Ner here at this point. Yep.

Nestled on the dusty warmth of Shirasuth's neck, K'nex was only /close/ to panicing before. Now he /is/ panicing. "/Tatia/!" He screams wincing as he stares at the spot momentarily where Vespurath went between. He can't repeat the same mistake the cost Tatia, though, and imediately turns his attention back to the wing, taking her palce as Wingleader and trying to lead the wing in this very odd Fall. Very odd. "What the…" Shira and Kez glance upwards, but the brown suddenly lunges after a clump, leaving Kez no time to ponder the oddities above.

From Fiviath's neck, Mhairie stares "Oh sweet Faranath.." is mutely whispered as her thoughts are answered by Fiviath. "What the blazes is going on?!" she exclaims, but her ponderings are quickly abated as she is nearlyjerked from her seat as Fiviath dosges a falling patch, bringing her attention where it should be, and also trying to stay alive.

Farleth and T'am are quick to seize the opportunity to rest, mindfull of the lighter patches, but grateful for the chance to end the insane twists and dives. Air-sick bronzer is busy shoveling a chunk of firestone into the dragon's maw when a stray spiral. "Aaiiiee!" Girly-scream. The pair disapear Between.
Farleth skips ::between::!
Farleth appears from ::between:: with a warble in his throat.

Experiencing Vorkoroth's forward momentum, "This is /decidedly/ not in the training scrolls!!" is Wyn's cry at the sudden cessation of Thread. Dire, dire thing, that.

A fiery rain begins to fall, amid the Thread… only it's not rain, nor is it thread. Small points of flame shower down through the wings. Where they touch the Thread, the Thread ignites and burns. Where they hit dragons… a blue shrieks in pain as one of the burning rocks falls too close, going right through his wing and continuing down towards the ground below.

Betwixt Imbriath's absinthe ridges and creamy straps, Hyzen winces as cries of rider and dragon alike ring out, her eyes scanning for Thread and hurt ones alike. And in thus catching the burning Thread. Staring. "What the…" Blink. Imbriath pays it no mind, instead picking off the little clumps that insist on falling in her line of fire.

From Rubyth's neck, H'well cusses loudly, before noting to whomever migt be around to hear "At least whatever it is is killing the sharding Thread!" Another few chunks are shoveled into Rubyth's maw, before another few strands of thread come whirling down.

Thread and meteorites fall together, a deadly rain showering down on the unprotected dragons and land below.

From Yajisarath's neck, Lorsalia twists yet again on her dragon, her goggles only briefly cleared, "What is it?" She yells at wingmates, close enough to just maybe catch her words. The fiery rain, though, sends greenrider into alert mode again, and Yajisarath is back to blinking between after every char of thread she gets, rather than be hit and hurt.

Nezdarvyth bugles in alarm, immediately disappearing out of the way of the first falling rocks, X'ner hanging on tightly. Yeeeeeek!
Nezdarvyth skips ::between::!

From Akilth's neck, Sraine finishes her relative 'break' and gets back to business: paying back those Threads for her thigh and for Aki's beautiful tail. Die. Ash. Buuuuurrrrrrrn. Yeehaw! Another long line of flame erupts from the dark-pale brown's mouth before head twists to take in more firestone. Must be prepared for these vicious things. But….they certainly weren't prepared for -this-. "!!" An unintelligable gasp of horror and surprise escapes Ine's lips as a burning rock streaks by her - close enough that she can feel the heat without being burned. And another coming straight at her, which requires both rider and dragon to skip or be impaled by the dangerous new arrivals.

Akilth skips ::between::!

Among Vespurath's sage-shadowed 'ridges, The green pair /should/ be heading home by now.. but as Tatia and Vespurath reappear from between, far behind their wing, her gaze is caught by the unusual sight, and she draws in a breath, holding it as she stares. Vespurath, too, watches intently, hovering. « Fire Falls! » she announces in alarm.

Nezdarvyth appears in a flash of spinning gears and broken cogs. Drat! The super duper invention of world domination broke!

Akilth appears from ::between:: with a twist and a flutter of wings.

From Urzketh's neck, Fyria hisses with both irritation and pain as she checks the belt around her waist. "Shardit, /shardit/…" she curses - but /what/ in Faranth's golden tail is /this/??? Fy and Urzketh find themselves surrounded by a rain of fire from the sky, the blue warbling confusedly. Thread is being charred, but /whoa/….those are hot rocks there! "Dodge Urk….dodge!!" And dodge he does, just in time to avoid a sizzling bullet that fires past his left fingersail.

Betwixt Imbriath's absinthe ridges and creamy straps, "Between, between! NOW!" Hyzen's scream to her dragon echoes many others before the green ducks into the somewhat safe blackness, escaping for the few breaths it takes to skip.

Imbriath skips ::between::!
Imbriath abruptly appears from that no-where, bugling loudly as the freezing winds of ::between:: follow her.

From Fiviath's neck, Mhairie has never been this scared since her first thread fall. In fact she has never been this scared in her life. "Oh sweet Faranth, let nothing happen to us." she murmurs to Fivath, her face white under the layer of ash. Scared but yet deteremined, Mhairie urges Fiviath on, the green resoulutely burning thread that the fiery rain misses, and instincts protecting them.. for now as they take them between to miss a chunk of "rain"

Fiviath skips ::between::!

Pyrene stares upwards and her eyes widen impossibly behind her goggles. "What in Faranth's name is /that/?" she screams. Cadgwith skips frantically between, returning with her tail tucked under, only to skip between almost immediately again. Too large, she is. « We /can't/ fight fire with fire! » she sends shaken waves of thought against popular idiom.

Fiviath emerges from the depths of ::between:: in a shimmering wave of green.

Experiencing Vorkoroth's forward momentum, "It could be killing /us/, old man," snaps a scared-looking Wyn to H'well as Vorkoroth dodges past them to narrowly avoid a cannonball-sized chunk of space debris. "Vor, to the right, one'o'clock." A neat skip ::between::

Among Vespurath's sage-shadowed 'ridges, Tatia suddenly finds her breath again, and as fire streaks toward the wings, she screams toward Vespurath, echoing many other riders to lifemates. "Home! /Between/! Vesp!" And then they're gone.

Imagine Kihaelth's extreme disappointment as the Thread stops when he comes back from ::between::. He wanted to maim, decimate, obliterate - otherwise kill anything silver. Still, he gives a puff of pride. He scared the Thread off. Go him! Tevya's not so out of it however, that she doesn't notice something wrong. "Kiha.. the..things!" Yes, the things. That explained what it was that Kihaelth had to watch out for - and the blue gives a warble of slight confusion before trying to flame one. No luck there, he has to skip between to avoid getting knocked on the head. This was not good.

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

Vespurath shimmers for a moment before fading ::between::.

Kihaelth skips ::between::!
Kihaelth appears from ::between::, with only the bone-chilling blast of cold air to announce his arrival.

From Rubyth's neck, H'well snaps back, as he graps for his straps, "I noticed… " just before Rubyth ducks between to dodge a particularly unfriendly looking bit of flaming… whatever…

Rubyth skips ::between::!
Rubyth slides out from ::between::!

Farleth and T'am emerge from Between into a sky filled with…firey rocks?! Remnants of pain all but forgotten, the pair are forced into an immediate dodge. "Whats going onnnn?" The shout of surprise is whipped about on the high wind. Far tries flaming, even though he knows from the others that it won't make a difference. Nothing to do but duck.

The Thread tapers off, the fall ending early, and what little is left of it seems to be consumed by the falling fire-rocks. The meteorites increase, falling like burning hail. A brown dragon tries to dodge, but a meteorite strikes him right in the head. He doesn't even have time to go *between*, and simply falls…. his rider's scream fading as they plunge to the ground below.

The remaining wings start to think this is a good time to flee.

It's really hard to appreciate a meteorite shower when you're fighting Thread. And whne the meteorites are falling /at/ you. Yes, K'nex is definantly panicy now. "Wha-what?" He stutters, grunting as his dragon suddenly turns under him to avoid the 'falling fire'. "Augh! Skip! Skiip!" He shouts to his dragon as a meteorite just misses them. Unlike the other brownrider…Gulp. This is /way/ too dangerous.

Shirasuth skips ::between::!
Shirasuth blazes in from ::between::, tawny-gold wings shimmering like Rukbat.

Assorted sizes of flaming rocks fall, indiscriminate as to who they choose to lash out at. Multicoloured patterns of skipping dragons make up the wings of High Reaches, screams disputably more terrible than when Thread-scored. One young weyrling pair, arriving to offer firestone and not knowing the danger, is stuck by a group of tiny, blazing meteorites. The green screams, which is cut off as she escapes into between.

Yajisarath stops trying to even keep in formation when the rock hits the brown. She and Lorsalia scoot their booties away from the line of fire, doing what they can to stay out of range. « What is happening? » The green asks for her rider, completely bewildered. But then, everyone else must be too. And poor Lorsalia has lost the bulk of her hair.

Nezdarvyth reappears, only to find himself in the midst of chaos once again, hurriedly diving out of formation. Forget /that/! Formation doesn't work against erratically falling rocks from he - -erm…the sky. Wrong way. Spiraling quickly, the dragon bellows in alarm, flame useless. "MOVE Nez!" And the dragon does, not really needing any encouragement from X'ner to do /that/. Eek! Eeeeeek! Falling rocks! Falling FLAMING rocks! The sound of falling fire whizzes past, a sudden scream coming from above the dragon. In the saddle, X'ner's jacket torn open at the arm, a rock having gotten just too close, ripping through. The dragon shrieks, twisting midair before vanishing.

From Urzketh's neck, Fyria is stunned speechless with horror as the brown is hit, both rider and dragon - what's left of them - falling to the ground below. Both she and Urzketh are visibly shaken, yet as she glances up she screams in terror: "URK!! Go ::between:: NOW!!!" Sure enough, both are barely able to skip ::between::, nary avoiding the same fate as that unfortunate brownriding pair.

From her seat atop Sakuruth's back, Quara is seriously confused. "Uh…" First the Thread was flaming before they got to it. Then /other/ things started flaming. This calls for an organised retreat. "Run away! Run away!" Or disorganised, as the case may be. "Oh, shards, get gone /fast/!" She pauses in silence a moment, for the sake of B'lack, and then ignores her own orders and stays to watch. A command is sent to the weyrlings, and they begin skipping down, groundcrews clambering aboard, while a select few - older riders, mostly - stay to help organise things.

Urzketh skips ::between::!

From Akilth's neck, Sraine looks horrified as one of her fellow browns gets struck violently with one of the falling rocks, unused to that particular violence appearing in Fall. True, the Thread was burning rapidly, but there wouldn't be many dragons left for future falls if this was how it was going to work. Sending a futile spurt of flame at an already burning rock, Akilth can do nothing more then dodge. One particular hunk nicks his already sore tail, sending an outraged cry from the dark-pale brown's throat and a small shriek form his rider.

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

From Rubyth's neck, H'well swats at a few warm patchs on his shoulder, before ducking another bit of overly warm junk. 'Dodge, blast it!" he squeaks, wincing as a bit gets more than a bit too close for comfort to his beloved blue.

From Fiviath's neck, Mhairie is stunned by the sudden falling of the brown, her eyes wide under the goggles. Her grip on the straps nearly cuts through her own hand, and then a scream rips at her throat as a meteorite blazes in front of them, the heat searing as it goes past. "Between! NOW!" she yells in fright, even has Fivath takes them away from here, her wings singed by the near miss.

Nezdarvyth vanishes into the void of ::between::, leaving behind the echo of an evil cackle.

<High Reaches Weyr> Cadgwith senses that Vespurath lets out a mind-numbing wail as she settles at home. The green is no longer in danger, and thus she can mourn for those who's last Fall was the one where fire fell from the sky. The keen echoes forlornly, rising higher and higher.

Fiviath dissappears with a wave of green into the depths of ::between::.

<High Reaches Weyr> Cadgwith senses that Nezdarvyth keens loudly upon his return home, in mourning, and fear for his own rider.

Experiencing Vorkoroth's forward momentum, Wyn is running on the knife edge of adrenaline and fear, muttering directions to Vorkoroth with a throat clenched tight and painful. "To the left. Watch it. Bank right, bank /right/, and take us /home/! Home, Vor, for Faranth's /sake/." Vorkoroth keens sharply, and stands not upon the order of his going, whirling, dodging, and skipping into the safety of ::between::, eyes a terrified white.

Vorkoroth vanishes ::between:: with the focused grace of a mirror dance.

Kihaelth remerges once more, Tevya still ducking quite close to Kihaelth's neck. It's the falling rocks that cause her paranoia, and Kihaelth's too. "Yes I know you can't flame them!" Tevya calls, instinctively ducking as she catches sight of a flaming-something-or-another passing by her shoulder. The duck turns into a full out wince and startled gasp as she catches sight of the dragon falling, "What in-" She has no time to ponder those particular matters, because Kihaelth is soon dodging a chunk of rock heading his way, while sending enraged bellow out to one. And he tries to flame it again..having little to no success. Tevya lifting herself upright enough to wildly point in front of her, "Kihaelth! STONE-" And the blue makes a last minute dive, avoiding a particularly large chunk.

The meteorites continue their deadly rain, blazing down around the wings. Another dragon is hit in the wing… then another in the tail…. roars of pain echo across.

Cadgwith peels away from the gold wing, bidden by Ysbryth. Sliding beneath the falling brown she bears up underneath it, it becoming a macabre shield from any further flaming rocks. Pyrene risks her face for long enough to check the rider - and then grimaces with unshed tears. The gold goes between with the brown, but she'll reappear at the weyr without him.

You visualize Above High Reaches for Cadgwith.
Cadgwith thinks to you, « Ok, I am now envisioning… »

Cadgwith throws herself ::between::, her pounding wings breaking through the barriers of air.
:::BETWEEN!:::
You hang, senseless, in the dark nothingness of ::between::… absolute darkness surrounds you, and the profound cold stings you… you wait, and count…
Black…
Blacker…
Blackest…

Above High Reaches

Cadgwith bursts out of ::between::, a gilded wave threatening to break over the land below.

You abandon the view from high above the bowl and circle lower, passing the Spires and Star Stones on the way down.
Above the Bowl

Wings tired? Or you just want to feel solid earth beneath your paws…
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 an autumn afternoon. High cirrocumulus clouds diffuse the sunlight into a silvery glow. The air is calm and cold.
Clinging to footholds in the boulder-mound are nineteen firelizards.
Green Kelitath, green Zoryanth, brown Revnath, bronze Jhanath, brown Sevareth, gold Ysbryth, brown Druseth, blue Mzadith, blue Tsulryth, brown Uzasnyth, bronze Telynth, green Vespurath, bronze Nezdarvyth, and blue Vorkoroth are here.
Wyn and X'ner are here.

X'ner drops off Nezdarvyth unsteadily, clutching his arm tightly with his free hand. The dragon creels, a sound he's nary made since a hatchling as he tries to stay near, and yet not touch his injured rider. Blood. There is /blood/! Blood is bad. Oh dear.

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

Vorkoroth keens a deep and vast emptiness, of tangled darkness and deadly confusion, while Wyn slides bonelessly from his 'ridges to collapse in a shocked little heap, hugging the blue's lowered muzzle to her chest. "Faranth… good Faranth, what's /happening/?" she mutters wth unfocused eyes.

Among Vespurath's sage-shadowed 'ridges, Tatia has slid off Vespurath's neck, and she's currently collapsed against her shoulder, sprawled on the ground as she eyes the incoming dragons anxiously, ticking off each Tsunami who arrives home safely. The nasty, raw score on her leg is forgotten for the moment - adrenaline can do wonderful things.

Pyrene slides down Cadgwith and just sits on the ground, leaning against a forelimb and weeping. Above her, the gold raises her face to the air and keens wildly.

Across shades of pine and sage, Tatia slides down Vespurath's side, landing on the ground with a slight bounce.

Yajisarath drops in from above, landing with a light *thud*.
Yajisarath pulls her wings in tightly as she lowers her upper body towards the ground, allowing Lorsalia to dismount.

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

<High Reaches Weyr> Cadgwith senses that she is wordless, agonised and near tangible in her grief. Tribute is paid to their dead, and even draconic memory is unlikely to be proof against this event.

A labyrinth of dragon to climb down, Lylia descends slowly down from the safety of Druseth's neck, to land on the ground with a soft *thud*.

H'well slides from Rubyth's neck and lands gently on the ground.

Shirasuth glides swiftly down towards the bowl, landing hurriedly, but still with his usual precision and grace, K'nex still holding tightly to the riding straps on his neck. The pair is dirty and shaken, but otherwise unhurt, as is most of the wing is seems, despite the freakish Fall. There will certaintly be a few riders out for awhile, and a few others with minor wounds, however. The brownrider unstraps himself after a few long moments and nerly falls off his dragon, leaning against the sturdy brown a moment to catch himself, a bit shaky fro mthe events.

K'nex climbs careflully down from Shirasuth's neck, using the bulky brown's extended limb, and steps safely onto the ground.

X'ner leans back on Nezdarvyth, a little too dazed to move much, despite the bleeding of his arm, clutching it tightly in his hand almost impulsively. Well..at least it helps to stop the bloodflow there, right? Nezdarvyth almost wails, the sound grating as it comes out of the bronze, grieving and torn.

H'well lands akwardly, a worried look on his face, as he quickly moves along Rubyth's side, ignoring any damage to himself to check the worst of the blue's hurts…

Tatia hugs her arms tightly around herself, pressing them against her stomach as the dragons finally settle around the bowl and riders join their dragons in mourning. Vespurath's tail curls toward Tatia, and her head tilts backward to join in the long wails of keening. No, this Fall won't be soon forgotten.

Lorsalia and her dragon are both grimy as they settle onto the bowl floor. Rider heaves a sigh when her feet touch solid ground, but before she takes a rest, Lorsa searches her dragon over for any scores ignored through shock. "Yaji-babe, you okay?" She asks, running her fingers through the char coating green hide. "We'll both need baths, that's for sure."

Wyn clings to Vorkoroth's muzzle like a small child seeking comfort, too shocked to cry. Blue and bluerider draw strength from each other, just leaning until some semblance of control is regained, for as long as the pair is in public. Wyn unclings, but keeps close to Vor as she shambles over towards the other Mudsliders, noting Ike's facial score that she's supposed to tell everyone that he got, and drawing up by Lorsalia. "Did we… all make it?"

<High Reaches Weyr> Cadgwith senses that she joins a chorus of voices, as the Weyr's golds issue an order in that To Be Obeyed voice. « Return home! The ground crews are safe. Thread no longer falls! There is danger in the sky! Return home! »

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

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

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

Urzketh's sapphire-black tail-tip twitches a moment as he watches Fyria slither down from herself seat between his amethyst-infused neckridges.

A quite, mournful rumble is offered as Druseth slinks towards Cadgwith, his eyes guarded except for the depths of sorrow that lurk behind the whirling cobalt. "Pyrene," Lylia murmurs, her voice soft. She approaches the gold dragon slowly, casting a quick glance over her before glancing at the rider. "Pyrene. Are you okay? Talk to me."

K'nex leans against his dragon, forehead pressing on a big brown brown forearm as the dragon attachted to the arm raises his head to join the others in a sad keel of mourning for those who're gone forever. It's a long moment before Kez actually, looks around, noting which of his wingmates are here, injured or not. The brownrider pauses, his glances settinging on Tatia, and he gives his brown a fond pat before toddling over to the greenrider. "…Tat?"

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

Pyrene is sobbing bitterly, although at Lylia's approach she does take off her helmet and goggles, revealing a face streaked with blood, soot and tears. Cadge's keening takes on a new pitch, but she tips her head against Dru, finding consolation in her old mate.

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

Farleth turns a whirling eye to watch as T'am slips from between rusted ridges and past sunburnt sorrels toward the ground.,

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

Quara slithers down Sakuruth's neck and side, avoiding one indigo wing.

X'ner is sorta…numb, as he stares at the sky, watching dragons appear from battle and land..far less in number than when they started out. Just /how/ many had they lost? The hand still clutches his arm, blood seeping through, though he fails to notice at the moment. Stickily, he lets go of the injured arm, pulling off helmet and goggles. Ooh..look..handprints. The numbness is there though, the bronzerider's eyes simply wide, rather horrified at the whole event. And he's dirty, too. All sooty and smudgy.

Jacobi walks in.

A strange combination of brown, blue and green descend rapidly from the skies above the bowl, the two males landing with green upon their shared, though awkwardly, backs. Imbriath's cries join those of the other hurt dragons as she's settled upon the ground, her wing shivering with the pain of the hit. Hyzen scrambles down, weeping as she stumbles to her dragon's head to try and sooth the thrashing green. Her words have no meaning to those listening and Imbriath doesn't seem to be listening to her as she jerks her head away from her rider's hands.

Hyzen, glancing towards the ground far below, slips down the smooth hide of Imbriath and towards the ground with help of lifted paw.

Fyria visibly winces as she dismounts from Urzketh's neck, though her wince is more for the loss of life, of dragons, of friends than any threadscore she might feel. Still, one hand gingerly goes to her back even as she glances around, wide-eyed, for Hyzen and Imbriath. Faranth, she hopes they'll be alright - though at least their fate wasn't met on the rocky grave of Tillek.

Mosiah appears from ground weyr's overhung shadows.

Lorsalia is assured of Yajisarath's wholeness, but when the green apparently nibbles at her head, she shrieks. "Yajisarath! What are you /doing/?" Tenatively, rider reaches to her head and touches goggles, cap, singed wherhide and hair?! "Oh shards and shells. Flaming Faranths…Oh no oh no." Lorsa clings to her lifemate, dirty and gloomy as Yajisarath is acting, and wails silently. So many dragons lost, such a horrible Fall, and to top it off, she's gone and lost her braid.

Tatia glances up, expression stricken as her arms tighten around her stomach. "Kez!" she nearly chokes on his name as supressed tears struggle toward the surface, and the greenrider drops her arms to push herself upward. A mistake, given that nasty raw spot on her calf that she's conviently forgotten about. She winces as her weight catches the score, and her arms reach for Vespurath's forelimb, struggling for something to lean against.

Akilth descends, trying the best he can to cushion Imbriath's own downward motions. A creel of worry and condolence is offered towards the green to the best of the dark-pale brown's ability. Not that it'd help, probably, if Imbri wasn't even going to listen to Hyz at the moment. So, the brown does the best he can by just being there for the green through her pain - trying to ignore the blazing burning in his own tail. Sraine herself is just as teary as Hyzen now, unable to hold back the accute anguish she feels. In fact, she doesn't want to feel it alone. Dismounting, she limps the best her sore thigh will allow over to her younger greenrider friend. "Hyz…"

Sraine swings a leg over and slides down Akilth's neck to land gently on the ground.

Quara arrives, at long last, and peels off her goggles and helmet, sliding the scarf down so that it bunches under her chin. "By the first egg, that was horrid. And B'lack…" She looks quite a bit nauseated; she's paler than usual, and just a little green-tinged. Her blue, uninjured, has his bags of firestone claimed by one of the stray weyrlings before he shuffles off. She, meanwhile, leaves a trail of things behind her, dropping goggles, helmet, gloves, and scarf on her way to find Lylia.

Farleth lands with a weary *thunk* and equally weary rider unfastens himself and slides to the ground. T'am just stands there for a moment, leaning against Farleth, unsure what to do. His ankle score isn't bad, he's scarcely aware of it. A little dazed, he glances around and checks the faces in the bowl. X'ner. He focuses on that one, wandering over and gingerly reaching out as if to touch the injured arm. "Ner? You need a healer." Yes, the obvious statement. At the same time, Farleth is edging closer to Yajisarath, inquiring after her well-being. He really doesn't notice Loralia's hair, but then he is focused on the green and not the rider.

Kihaelth lands, albeit akwardly, skittering out of the way to allow room enough for Hyzen and Akilth to do the same. Once out of their way, he's crouching as low as he can to the ground, pressing belly flat against the ground while turning to watch Tevya as she dismounts. Arm is still pressed firmly against her chest as she slides back-side first down Kihaelth's side, landing and nearly tottering forward before catching herself..and as one, Tevya and Kihaelth move towards Hyzen and Imbriath. Sraine is glanced at as she comes near the woman, "Good catch," She offers quietly, before gaze flickers towards Hyzen and Imbriath, "Hy?"
Kihaelth lowers himself to the ground, before profering forelimb with which Tevya can use to dismount.

Wyn leans bonelessly against Vorkoroth's flank, the blue doing his best to comfort her, despite the chaos whirling in his gaze. Dry-eyed, she swallows hard a few times, and looks about to speak, but the words fail to materialize. To paraphrase Donkey, a la Shrek: Wyn could use a /huuug/.

X'ner turns his head slowly to look at T'am, oceanic eyes rippling with the tears building up, unable to be contained. A part of him is detached though, still, in disbelief, while the rest of him breaks down, tears falling. And there's a T'am there. Therefore, he's now on slot number one for Shoulder. The bronzerider turns, promptly leaning on T'am wearily, shaking his head. "I know." Yeah. He knows he needs a healer. His arm /does/ hurt like the blazes after all. And then there's the bleeding. Yeah. That..probably needs a healer.

Mosiah bustles out of the area of the groundweyrs and into the chaos of the injured riders and dragons. Just one of a good number of healers coming to see just what help they can accomplish, fanning out to see to this person and that. And the first person that that Mosiah comes across is the faltering Tatia. He crouches near to her, "Tatia? Tatia?"

"Pyrene. Pyrene. Dearest, it'll be okay. It'll be okay. Just calm down. It'll be okay," Lylia repeats, softly, scooting close to the goldrider. "Just calm down. Please?" And the worry, a faint hysteria has crept into her tone, perhaps as the keen and her lifemate's thoughts slowly darkened into her mind. "Are both of you okay?" Druseth slinks closer to Cadgwith, offering a soft tail-touch as he merely remains a stolid, guarding presence, glowering at any dragon that steps a hair too close.

"Hey there," K'nex responds softly, giving Tatia a small, weary smile…that is until the greenrider tries to stand and only manages to hurt herself. "Tat!" He squeaks, reaching out to her her out, althoguh he's hardly the best person to lean against at the moment, still being a little wobbly after the Fall. The brownrider winces himself as he catches a glimpse of her score and closes his eyes to avoid looking at it again. Eww. "You…you need to get that /looked/ at!" Thank you, Senor Obvious.

Hyzen turns into Sraine's hug, sobbing. "She won't listen to me. Her wing's hurt." In other words? Make it better, will you? Imbriath continues to thrash, creening for the pain to stop like so many others were. She pays no attention to whom she might hit with her limbs, shaking and seeking reassurance only to reject it again. "Tev… Ine… make her better. She hurts. Oh Faranth, how could I have let her get hit?" And the greenrider crumbles into sobbing once more.

Pyrene has one up on Wyn; she has a Lylia to hug. Squeezing the brownrider as if her life depended on it, she manages to swallow back her sobs. "I'm fine… it's just B'lack and Smyth, and Ly… it's my /turnday/…" Out of nowhere comes a hysterical laugh which seems to shock her back into some coherency. "I need to get drunk," she whispers, trying to lurch to her feet.

One arm clutching at Vespurath's foreleg and the other reaching to tug at K'nex, Tatia finally spares a glance downward. "Shards," she breathes in wonderment. "I'm scored." She lifts her eyes to Mosiah, who's given a tentative smile of relief before the greenrider promptly collaspses. Sh didn't quite faint - it's just that that darn leg seems to be refusing to support her weight.

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

Yajisarath warbles at her rider, who really is doing nothing better than smearing the grime even more over her pretty hide. When Farleth comes near, she replies in kind, her eyes whirling quickly with sharp oranges and reds intermingling with the green signaling relief at being done with Fall. At the movement, Lorsalia wipes her eyes and wanders off to check on riders, and manages to find a blueriding wingmate. "Er, are you doing okay, Wyn? Need ahealer?" Lorsa herself is weary and dirty, but she's whole. Except for her missing hair.

Quara goes home.

As riders mingle from wing to wing, seeking out loved ones, one Inferno brownrider looks rather lost as he wanders. N'sync ends up next to Wyn, expression forlorn and completely shellshocked - he doesn't even offer a come on. Yet.

Sraine puts her arms around her friend and allows her to cry on her shoulder, letting her own tears fall at the enormous losses they suffered today. "There, there..it's okay…let it out." Said softly and broken amidst her own grief. "It's not your fault…shhh.." Being the mother and big sister all at once. That, and she didn't want her arms empty. Emptiness was the last thing she wanted. Akilth himself tries to go about the task of settling Imbri. A neck strained out and a head semi-forcefully trying to get her to calm down.

Mosiah is quick to reach over and scoop up Tatia in his arms before she can flop without a bit of grace onto the ground. With one arm behind her knees and the other around her back, he picks her up with a wince at the sight of the 'score, at the sound of the keening dragons, the sight of the other riders. He flickers a glance to K'nex before muttering, "I'm taking her to the infirmary…"

Hyde appears from ::between:: in a cloak of dark blue and a flash of polished talons.

K'nex stares at Tatia with this 'Yes, you didn't /notice/?' look on his face before she collapses. "Eep…"Yes, yes…Please do…," he says, glancing over at mosiah and nodding quickly. "Need any help?"

T'am gingerly wraps both arms about his wingmate, careful not to jostle X'ner's bleeding arm. Hey, can we get a Healer over here? He knows they're busy. Too busy. It's something he'd rather not think about, all the injured and those who aren't coming back. Searching gaze casts about the sea of faces while he wonders if there is something more he can do. Farleth has wandered off, certain that his rider is going to be fine and utterly engrossed in reassuring Yajisarath.

"We'll get her a Healer Hy.." Tevya responds, "She'll be okay.. Just..don't let her hurt herself." As if Hyzen didn't know that already. "Numbweed..can we use numbweed on them?" The answer is most likely a yes, though Tevya is far from realizing such a thing. "I'll get some." And she's made up her mind, even if it's not exactly sure of where she can get it. She leaves Imbriath and Hyzen to Sraine and Akilth, turning on her heel and scanning the area for numbweed. Might take her a while to find some, but she does and heads back with as much as she can cary with one arm.

"What?" is Wyn's astute and intelligent reply to Lorsalia, from amidst a wrap up Vorkoroth's tail. Erzatz hug, if not quite human contact. "Am I okay? Oh, just fine, Lorsalia. Did you get a haircut recently?" is the somewhat-spacey reply as she uncoils herself from Vorkoroth's tail. She spots N'sync, and doesn't even bother with a properly insulting greeting. Whoah.

Lylia is indeed good to hug, and tries to be a properly comforting creature for Pyrene, wrapping her arms 'round. "You did what you could," she murmurs, eyes widening just slightly. "Your Turnday? Oh, Py… Let's get you something to drink. Some nice, hard drink. Everyone'll need some. C'mon, sweet one, let's get you inside. Okay?" Though Druseth looks mildly perturbed by that, glancing towards his rider, with a forlorn flicker in his eyes.

Cadgwith leaves off her keening finally, as soothing other dragons usurps her grief.

"I was distracted," Tatia snaps, temper flaring as the pain returns. Seems that now that she's remembered, she's quite aware of the searing pain shooting up and down her leg. As Mosiah scooped her up, her arms clutched at his neck, and now she's settled quite firmly. "Please… I'd give an awful lot for a sharding big bowl of numbweed about now," she mutters.

Pyrene sends a nervous look to the sky, reassuring herself that no flaming rocks followed them here before following Lylia to the caverns. It's her turnday and she'll get royally legless if she wants to.

X'ner merely leans on T'am, finding it much easier to do than stand on his own weight. Rock..is..still there! Look! The stuffed llama is intact, in the rider's belt, if a little bit sooty. Oh well. The rider moves his arm a little bit, sharply inhaling as pain lances through. Oh yeah. /There's/ the pain starting, finally, now that the last bits of shock are wearing off.


[And a few days later… Sunday August 11th]

Quiet Corners
Thick woolen tapestries dull the noise from the rest of the caverns, turning this well-lit little room into a welcome escape. The stairs up place it against the bowl wall somewhere above the living caverns, carpeted against the winters chill or left as cool stone floor in summer. Some high and narrow windows can be opened to the world outside, or secured with their heavy metal-sided shutters and blue-threaded curtains.
Glowlight gleams, brightening the well-cushioned stone couches and lighting the weyr residents half-finished projects: knitting undone, sewing only started, leathers being worked soft, and even a hide of sketches or half-finished Thread-chart spread out across one of the tables.
Curled up amongst the baskets of wool are two firelizards.
Tyara and Lylia are here.

Tyara perches on a chair, an air of… quietness about her. Yes, she's brat-free for once! And the nanny looks like she appreciates the little break, a tunic and thread and needle in her hand.

Pyrene wanders in looking like death warmed over. Her eyes are shadowed, but then so are everybody's. "H'lo," she murmurs wearily. "Everything pronounced shipshape in here then?" And she sits down before she falls down.

Lylia slinks in, appropriately grumpy as she tries to pick the dirt out of her fingernails. "Mmmph," she mutters, her voice low. "Stupid annoyin' people…" But glancing up from her woefully disgusting, she offers a little nod towards Tya. "Hey. Hi. You escapin'?" But there is a little concern as she turns to look at Pyrene, a little frown appearing on her lips. "Py. Honey. How are you doin'?"

Tyara glances up as people enter, and nods curtly at Pyrene. "T'is. Seems like we're not hit as hard as other areas… yet." Leave it to the nanny to be pessimistic. "Hi, Lylia. Yes, I decided to take a little break. I haven't slept for… longer than I care to think of." The dark circles beneath her eyes speak volumes.

Pyrene and Tyara are evidently using the same make-up artist. "Ugh… I've been hearing reports left, right and centre from other areas. Thank Faranth we're not needed at Fort. I don't want to see any of that… Thank Faranth we've not got a clutch right now too…" Lylia gets a weary look. "Same as anybody else? At least there's enough to do to keep me from sleeping."

"You should get some rest, Tya. Get a few hours of sleep. It'll be good for you," Lylia says softly, before slinking over to drop down into a chair. "I've got a few of the weyrlings running messages, and I think we'll be okay… The destruction in some places, though… It'll be a lean Turn." But Py does get a curious little nod, a wince at the mention of stuff to do. "Aye, you've got that. But taking a few moments to relax will do everyone some good."

Tyara sends Pyrene a rather grim look. "Imagine if we'd had a clutch…. I wonder how Ista is doing. They must be hit pretty hard," she states in a dark tone, fingers stopping their mending without her really noticing. "Hm, I can't sleep in peace. The 'brats keep wailing and otherwise disturb me," nanny says gruffily to Lylia, though she doesn't look nearly as displeased as one would think she'd be. "A lot of them have family in Fort and Ista… and Tillek too."

Pyrene shudders and draws her legs up so that she can hug them. "I'm almost happier busy. But it's so useless.. what could we do against /that/?? Thread from the sky we can cope with… fire… Fire should come from /dragons/! Or flamethrowers." Her own pedantry seems to halt her outburst and she shakes her head at Tyara. "Ista can't be doing too badly or we'd have heard by now. I'm sure Cadge has asked… Has anything been set in motion to get word of people's families? Not everybody has a firelizard - I'd forgotten…"

"I haven't heard from Ista, much… I know the Hold was pretty hard-hit, though." The mention of Tillek does get a wince from Lylia. "I've heard Tillek ain't faring so well… But I'd lock the brats up in a storage cavern, or have the rest of the nannies take 'em out. Or you could always sleep up in my weyr, dear." Lylia does enjoy luring others into her trap. But she blinks, peering at Py for a moment as her brow furrows. "I don't think so? I'm not sure. I mean, with everything going on, I don't know if it's happened yet…"

Tyara shrugs lightly at Pyrene. "I guess we would. And I've tried to get messages sent to those holds… but there're so many. We have brats from all over Pern." She laughs, a quick and joyless sound. "This is one situation where it's no good mixing the heritage." The half-mended tunic is placed on the table with an angry shove of her hands. "My assistants are trying to gather up everyone's family ties, though, and I assume they're sending messages as they go." She doesn't need to think for /everyone/, does she? Shells. "Oh, thank you, Lylia, but M'rin has already offered that I can sleep in his weyr if I need it. I might send some brats your way, though, if it's needed. Thank you for the offer." Nevermind that the weyrlingmaster never offered housing for the brats. Bwaha.

Pyrene isn't offering housing either, not that she's exactly using her weyr at the moment. Flat fingers drum nervously against her shins. "I got a message through from Kernow - they were fine. Bad waves of course, but they were sheltered from the worst of it. I think the south coast was worse off… Tillek, yeah." She shakes her head, snapping the other two women into focus. "Good practice for the weyrlings this, though, Ly? When I think how we used to grumble about ferrying messages…. At least this lot can see the purpose in it. What little purpose we can manage…" The patter of her fingers stops as they clench abruptly, frustrated.

Tyara has no opinion on the weyrlings, and she can now barely keep her eyes open, so with a clatter of the chair, the nanny rises to her feet. "Well, I'm sure you'll excuse me… I think I'll take M'rin up on his offer and get some sleep. If anyone needs me, you know where I am."
Tyara goes home.

"The weyrlings are doing pretty well with it all.. I wanted to give 'em a break, since the stress isn't good for their lifemates, but they really are doing a wonderful job with handling everything. A good lot, for the most part." Lylia does allow a little beam of pride, eyes glinting as she sleepily snuggles into her chair. "Glad to hear that Kernow is fine, though." But a quick look is cast at Tya's retreating back. "Oh, she's /so/ not gonna sleep up there." Smirk.

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