Plot
Moderator
Deus Ex Machina
Posts: 11
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Post by Plot on Oct 27, 2010 0:16:31 GMT -5
Who: Anyone not on the Sands who wants! What: Cattle slaughter. When: About ten minutes after Trith's announcement. Where: Feeding pens. Warnings: Violence, possibly death.
A quiet morning, it had been, and a happy one once the herders and drudges had felt the voices of their Queen and leader. Yes, things would look up now that she was on the mend. A few dragons were winging in, and the herders made sure to let a few more herdbeasts out of the pens to join the roaming herd. Well-fed dragons meant a well-protected Weyr, after all. It was all very routine, so many of the staff paid little mind to it.
Except one of the younger stable-lads, who noticed something a bit strange. Nudging his senior, he motioned over to the dragons. "I dinna recognize them, thought they were a bit odd, sir-"
"Nonsense. Like you'd know every dragon in the Weyr," was the quick dismissal, the head stablehand not even looking up from where he was coiling some rope.
The youth glared for a moment, but his uneasiness took precedence. "But...dun the riders usually dismount before the dragons feed? An'...an' I thought I saw sommat else there too."
That brought a frown to the elder's face, and he peered out at the dragons currently ripping into their kills with single-minded hunger. After shuddering off that lovely image - it still freaked him out, even after all his years with the Weyrs - he finally saw what the other had meant. "Now ain't that strange..." The riders were indeed still sitting on their dragons...and...no, was that a person by its flank? Who in Faranth's name was crazy enough to go out there with a ravenous dragon?!
"HEY!" he called over, giving a loud whistle. That just wasn't safe, it was. "You shouldn't be over there! HEY!!!"
"...Sir...those dragons...they look kinda..." was the severely uneasy voice behind him, starting to be laced with fear.
"...Oh Faranth." The dragons, though a bit distant, were still noticeably...dirty. With streaks of brown along their sides that the man didn't want to think about. ...Just like that other one had been described... No sooner had he called an alarm than the dragons rose from their feeding, leaving behind a small cadre of humans. While some of the humans began attacking the roaming herd, the majority made their way to the pens at a run - blades at the ready. The dragons themselves descended on the pens, frightening the cattle before they made work of slicing into a few.
OOC NOTICE!!! The herds are being attacked. There is one brown dragon and two blue dragons, all of whom are as dirty and blood-streaked as the mystery bronze. Their eyes whirl a dark red, and though their minds are not unreachable their thoughts are definitely a mass of chaos.
There are a total of fifteen humans on the ground. Four went after the roaming herd, while eleven went toward the pens. They are armed, and while many are not especially trained they are reckless in their swinging and will use full strength against any opponent. The three riders are still on their dragons' backs.
There will be a mass of herders and the like running to fight off the humans; feel free to control them as NPCs. They will steer clear of the dragons, knowing they have no chance.
The outcome and total amount of damage incurred is dependent on the actions of the players. (Yes, YOU!)
((Note: if your dragon is injured here, he will probably not be able to chase Dalisth. Keep injuries light or none at all if you wish to do so!))
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Thorney
Dragonrider
Let's remove the space between me and you.
Posts: 203
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Post by Thorney on Oct 27, 2010 7:57:37 GMT -5
Despite now having a rather large brown to take rides with as he wished, K’ron still enjoyed visiting the stables occasionally to take a runner out. Unlike his wonderful Calzanth, they couldn’t react to his every thought, which in turn made them a bit more of a challenge. It reminded him of the days on Conner’s ranch, working the cattle with Riona. Things had certainly changed since then. Of course, the boy wouldn’t have wished a single thing different, for Calzanth was his everything.
And you are mine. The brown rumbled in his mind, causing a smile to stretch across his rider’s face. Will be done soon, K’ronMine?
Guiding the borrowed runner back to the stable, the lean boy dismounted, patting the animal’s neck fondly. Just finished, Cal. I’ll be there in a bit. After he had unsaddled and rubbed down the runnerbeast, the weyrling grabbed his bow and quiver before leaving the stables. K’ron had planned on some archery practice that morning, but it turned out he had ridden longer than planned. Of course, being the diligent worker he was, the boy had already finished his chores for the day, so he had nothing to worry about until lessons. Although, he needed to take his brown out soon, to feed and bathe. He did love to spend time with Calzanth physically, even if the dragon was always with him mentally.
However, as he exited the stables, the weyrling caught sight of a rather odd thing. Filthy dragons feeding with riders still on their backs. That didn’t seem right, and the boy approached one of the senior beastcrafters and was about to question the odd occurrence when all Fall broke loose. Staggering back as the strangers rushed the herds, K’ron felt his face darken into a deep and dangerous scowl. So…they were back, only this time, they had brought far, far more. The senior was calling all of the beastcrafters together now, to send them to the defense of their herds, and without hesitation, the brownweyrling stepped forward. “I’ll fight.” He said stoically, nodding to the others. Sent towards the eleven attacking the pens, K’ron knocked an arrow as he ran with the others.
Mine! What are you doing?! Calzanth cried, leaping up and scrabbling out of his room. I am not there to protect you. You WAIT for me. The brown snarled, leaping into the air with single-minded intensity. He saw the four strangers hovering over the rider’s weyrs, attacking them, but he couldn’t help them. He had to get to His.
Taking careful aim with his trained eye, the weyrling lowered his shot until it would land in the attacker’s calf. Even if these were hardened and evil men, K’ron couldn’t take another life. Not unless he had to. So, the boy decided to incapacitate as many as possible, and the others could decide what to do from there. Leaving a couple alive to interrogate wouldn’t be a bad idea, though. Letting loose four more arrows, aiming for the legs, K’ron would only hope they all flew true. No! He practically yelled back, a bit of panic awakening within him. Don’t you dare come here, Calzanth! Stay where it’s safe.
Snorting, the brown ignored his rider and landed near the eleven men, directly in front of the pens. Bellowing, the mammoth brown stepped and swung his tail at the attackers, aiming to take down as many as he could. Nowhere is safe now, Mine. They cover the weyr.
Upon hearing that, K’ron felt his whole body grow cold. The whole weyr? How was it possible?? How had this happened? However, the sight of his dragon trying to fend off the attackers broke him from his shock, and the weyrling knocked another arrow, icy fury within his veins. He would still take down as many as he could, but…if one even looked like they were going to hit Calzanth, K’ron knew that he wouldn’t hesitate to land a killing blow.
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Kira
Cerulean Weyr Staff
Evil Mod of DOOM!!!!!
Posts: 266
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Post by Kira on Nov 3, 2010 21:40:16 GMT -5
It had been awhile since L'cin, Queth, and Brillia had gotten a chance to go exploring just the three of them. It had admittedly been rather nice, despite L'cin's teasing that Queth would know every inch of this island by the time he turned two. They'd stocked up on a few wild fruits for later, but were more than ready to come home for a proper meal. Plus, Queth was a little hungry, and they rather didn't want to run into anything large enough for him to fill up on that lived in the jungles.
Winging back to the Weyr's feeding grounds, they caught sight of something odd. Were those dragons right over the feeding pens? L'cin squinted into the distance in confusion for only a moment before Queth let loose a reverberating rumble of a growl and dropped quickly to the ground. 'Queth, what-?' They are not ours,[/color] Queth cut him off, before giving a shake. Off now, Mine. I don't want you hurt. 'Wha- HEY, nono! I'm not leaving y-!'[/i] Queth turned his head and yanked at one of the straps on his harness with his teeth, jolting L'cin again. NOW. Calzanth already fights, I will not be alone. Trust me.
With a grimace, L'cin undid the straps and dropped down as quickly as possible. He didn't want to, but he didn't think the stubborn dragon was giving him another choice in the matter. Queth wasted no time leaping into the air again and taking off toward the attackers. They were as dirty and disgusting as that bronze that had hurt him, his queen, and his brethren. Well, he had learned one thing from that. Rocketing toward them, he extended his claws forward at the last minute as he barreled into one the brown - just as the bronze had done to him. They shot off into the field, rolling one over the other in a tangle of limbs. His claws had hit, but it wasn't a mortal blow. Separating and righting themselves in a scramble, Queth crouched threateningly and roared back when the other challenged him. There was a Rider atop the dragon, and that could be a problem. He was much bigger than the attacking brown, but he would have to watch out for the other two blues. Calzanth, I fight alongside you! he called over to the other massive brown, letting him know that he wasn't alone and hoping that they could work together.
Swearing more than he ever had in his life, L'cin was running. Thankfully his muscles and stamina had built up over the time spent training with his dragon, and he was able to sprint the remaining distance across the field without getting too winded. Still, fast as he was, it seemed like it was taking him forever to reach the melee. Brillia screeched as she shot along beside him, keeping pace with his stride, his fear and anger reflected in her eyes. Thinking quickly, L'cin focused on sending her with a message. 'Brilli, go get help! We need help! People are attacking the herds! Go get a picture of it, and then go get help!' The flit gave an imperious chirp and winked between. A tiny flash of gold could be seen about the attackers for only a moment before it was gone again. L'cin gave a mental sigh of relief, thankful; as wonderful as all the colors could be, he was glad that he got one of the ones known for being more intelligent.
Finally arriving, to the area, he stopped short. All he had were the small knives, and he wasn't all that good with them. One was just a beltknife and the other he wore whenever they went exploring, just in case. He'd put on a bit more muscle these past few months, but he was still no match for strength for any of those men. Hesitating as he eyed his surroundings quickly, he decided to improvise. Grabbing a shovel, he turned to run into the fray. His feet stuck for a moment as fear gripped him - he was no warrior, and the idea of harming another person made the bile rise in his throat - but he shook it off. For the safety of his Weyr, he had to. Hefting the shovel, he took off at full speed. Coming to the first attacker, he snarled and swung with all the momentum he could build.
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Thorney
Dragonrider
Let's remove the space between me and you.
Posts: 203
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Post by Thorney on Nov 4, 2010 12:47:37 GMT -5
Sliding to a stop as he neared those attacking the herd, K’ron once more took careful aim, landing more arrows in the men’s calves. When they struck just right, puncturing muscle in vital areas, the attackers went down with a snarl, but others…others just kept fighting, as if they didn’t feel the pain. There’s something wrong with these guys, Cal. I can’t bring them down! The weyrling’s brows pulled together as yet another man kept fighting after being struck by an arrow, ignoring the pain in his leg as he slashed through a herdbeast. Suddenly, the bronze’s words were in his mind, echoing with a chilling realization. Of course. Now it made perfect sense. As the macabre truth sunk in, K’ron’s face turned grim, and a dark determination set in. If these men and dragons were of Silver Cove, then they couldn’t allow them to live. Swallowing, sucking in a calming breath, the brownrider raised his bow higher, knocking another arrow and finding a new target before him. Hesitating for a moment, the boy almost lowered his weapon, but then one of the madmen slipped past Calzanth’s wildly swinging tail and paws, club drawn and fully intent to injure the dragon.
K’ron didn’t think. He didn’t stop to consider what he was doing. He didn’t even hesitate. When the man dived towards his brown, a dark promise in his eyes, the boy moved. In a flash, he turned, pulling the bow taut as his sharp eyes zeroed in on the one who would dare to harm his partner. In a flash, the arrow flew, it’s aim true. With a sick, dull thud, it buried itself in the man’s chest, stopping his life as it pierced his heart. For a moment, the brownweyrling was silent, inwardly horrified at what he had done, but…
Mine…you did what was necessary. You saved me. His brown crooned, even as he fought viciously. As the dragon and his rider battled against the men from Silver Cove, as well as the beastcrafters, the men slowly fell to their attacks, their numbers dwindling against the onslaught they faced. Finally, Calzanth felt that His would be safe, and was about to see to the enemy dragons when a familiar voice echoed in his mind. Whirling, he found his fellow weyrling facing off against the brown. Bellowing, his voice loud and challenging, the dragon bounded into the air, knocking another attacker off his feet with a whack of his thick tail as he took to the sky.
Knocking another arrow, K’ron blinked as his dragon rose into the air, making for the dirty beasts and the song of battle sounding strongly within his mind. You can’t fight those dragons alone, Cal! The weyrling cried, panic setting in as he realized what his partner was doing
Queth is fighting them, Mine. He will NOT fight alone. With that, the brown rocketed forward, whirling gaze trained upon the three enemies. Two blues were left, and Calzanth was determined to keep them busy while his fellow weyrling dealt with the largest of the bunch. I come, Queth! He said, roaring as he crashed into the nearest blue, shoving all of his massive body weight against the much smaller dragon. He had noticed the rider on the enemy’s back, of course, and so had angled himself just slightly, dragging the blue with him as they rolled across the ground from the sheer momentum of Calzanth’s furious tackle. As they turned, the brown battered against the smaller dragon with all four of his legs, wrapping his tail and wings around him as much as possible. Finally, they slowed, and the brown used one massive foot to stop them, on top of the blue just as he had planned to be. With ruthless efficiency, he shoved down with his mammoth front paws, pushing the blue against the ground as hard as he could. With a sickening crack, one of the attacker’s wings broke under the onslaught, and though Calzanth’s belly and inner legs were being scored by his frantic scrabbles, the weyrling wouldn’t relent. The blue’s rider, trapped under him, was useless, and with a final shove, the brown managed to push his dragon’s own weight against him, crushing the man. With a scream, the blue went mad, and Calzanth leapt back, watching the other go between with a hidden sadness in his eyes.
Ichor was oozing from the scores across his lower body, but the brown didn’t stop to consider them. They seemed minor enough, and he still had one more blue to deal with. Calzanth didn’t pause to think about what he had just done. About how he had killed another dragon. There was no time now. Whirling, watching the other blue approach the other weyrling, the brown bellowed a challenge, his voice ripping through the air as he called the dragon out. Darting forward, knowing that the same trick wouldn’t work twice, Calzanth slid to a stop between the stranger and Queth. He wasn’t about to let the strangers team up on his friend. With a snarl, he hunkered down much like the other brown, muscles tensing as he prepared to fight. This blue was larger than the other, but still nowhere near his size. But it would be trickier, especially with the little stinging cuts on his body.
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Kira
Cerulean Weyr Staff
Evil Mod of DOOM!!!!!
Posts: 266
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Post by Kira on Nov 5, 2010 1:48:20 GMT -5
Queth welcomed the presence of his fellow Weyrling, sending him a brief brush of thanks and sympathy. There would be time for more later, as the snarling beast in front of him was not going to allow him much more than that brush. The other charged him, and he reared up to avoid being stomped on. Their foreclaws met and dashed across each others forelimbs and shoulders as they each tried for an opening to get in a bite. Their hindlimbs kept sliding in the torn up ground below them, and eventually they were forced to separate or fall. Regaining their footing took only a moment before they were back to it, raining clawmarks about each other again. Again and again they clashed, each momentarily gaining the upper hand at one point, before the sliding forced them to release again. The last time brought Queth an advantage as it forced his enemy to turn, exposing his flank. Dashing forward, he was quick to sink his teeth and claws in, attempting to maintain grasp. The frantic bucking that accompanied the other's bellows eventually knocked him off, and at a shout from its Rider it was trying to take off into the sky again. Queth instantly followed, his bulk hindering his upward speed, but not by much compared to the frantically flapping other. In the air, there was a whole new range of movement to their combat. Twists and turns made harsh blows glance off, spinning creating more momentum, but also left more space to be taken off guard. They would retreat and gain altitude, then fly together again in a clash of limbs, dropping quickly. Queth carefully kept his barrage toward the front and the sides, the twisting in his gut at the thought of harming the human Rider keeping him from attacking the back as much as the Rider's brandished sword. The other brown had no such qualms, and Queth was doubly glad he had made L'cin get off of him. A strike across the enemy's abdomen severed a few straps of the shoddy harness, and Queth had an idea. Taking a few extra blows so he could aim for those, he weakened the harness to the breaking point. On the next pass, he surprised the other by swerving to his back for the first time. Grabbing a mouthful of strap, he yanked hard and felt the last of it break, separating the flailing Rider from his dragon. Holding tightly to it, he then sought to tear into the exposed back of his foe. A wingsail was torn here, a shoulder muscle there. Queth did his best to keep his position, even as the other thrashed and attempted to reclaim his bonded. Queth registered that it was actually rather cruel of him, but not as much as what would have happened otherwise. Getting a solid hold on the frenetic rogue brown, Queth angled them toward the ground. The other was too concentrated on trying to turn about and reclaim His that he wasn't aware of the dropping altitude until much too late. Letting go with a shove, Queth did his best to pull up from the dive at the last moment he could. There was a sickening sound as the other slammed into the ground, alive for only a moment more, which he used to slip between. Queth himself hadn't pulled up quite fast enough, and found himself skidding on his claws off to the side. When one stuck as he was finally slowing down, he hastily released the straps in his mouth to keep from toting along the Rider as he tumbled. Tucking in as best he could, he felt a very slight wrench and the sting of dirt in his wounds, but was thankful that he hadn't broken a wing. Righting himself, he looked up in time to see the Rider free himself from his tattered harness. Screaming in rage, he ran toward Queth with sword raised. Queth roared at him harshly, pressing a violence of thought into his mind. The Rider balked, now somewhat afraid, and then screamed again at the agony of losing his partner. Before Queth could dart forth to pin him, the man turned his sword on himself and joined his bonded in death. Queth keened loudly. He had tried to save the human, even if he had killed the dragon! He'd failed at that, even if he hadn't landed the strike himself. Turning his distraught mind toward L'cin, he sought the consolation of his bonded. Instead he felt the pain, fury, and panic that had taken hold of him, and in an instant he was charging back toward the pens. I'm coming!.o0O0o. L'cin managed to only get one strike in with his shovel before it was ripped away from him by the much stronger man. Despite how hard he'd been hit, the man didn't even do more than stagger once before turning and grabbing hold. L'cin was knocked back, falling hard on his rear but trying to grab hold of the shovel again. The man ended up toppling over with him, and in retaliation pressed the handle of the shovel down against L'cin's throat. Gasping for breath and clawing uselessly at the wood with one hand, he could feel his lungs burning as his vision flickered. The other hand was scrabbling along his side, trying desperately to free his beltknife. Finally finding the clip and freeing it, he thrust it upward into the man's chest. His fear for his life was what pulled his hand back to thrust again. And again. And again. He forgot how many times he did it, but he didn't cease until the man collapsed atop him. Gasping in precious oxygen, L'cin wriggled out from beneath him and scrambled away, shuddering in revulsion. He'd...he'd just killed a man. Wide eyes stared back at him from the corpse, and he bent forward retching violently for a moment. A scream from one of the younger stablehands was what brought him back into the moment, the shock having dulled his hearing to block out the clanging of weapons and shouts of men. Darting up from his knees, L'cin drew the other small knife from his boot and rejoined the fray. The younger boy was yanked back just before a rearing herdbeast could do the job of the attackers, and quickly obeyed when L'cin growled at him to run. Movement quickly drew his attention to the side, and he had barely dodged back before an arcing blade whirled by him. It just barely caught him across his cheek, but it was better than the alternative - the attacker had been looking to take off his head. Gripping his two knives harder, he steeled himself to fight again. The man swung again, aiming for his stomach, and L'cin just managed to arc back his midsection. L'cin was untrained, but fast; however, so was his opponent. It was almost like a deadly dance as L'cin dodged, darted, and spun to avoid the swipes of the blade, unable to find an opening to sweep in to start his own attack before he had to move back again. Not paying attention to the action around him, another fighter got in a slash to his back. L'cin's breath caught as he waited for the pain, but thankfully the thickness of his leather riding jerkin had taken the malicious strike for him. And that is why we wear them even in the middle of the hottest summers, supplied that odd bit of his mind that was so out of place for the situation. The second fighter was thankfully distracted by a group of stablehands, but his pause had still cost him precious time. He did manage to dodge the blow that would have come down on his right shoulder, but the tip of the blade still sliced down the length of his upper arm. He cried out in shock and pain, the sight of his own blood setting a rushing in his ears. Fury bubbled up in him, unlike any before, replacing the fear. These were the men who hurt his people, his queen, his Weyr. These people would take from them for no reason. These people would hurt his people without regard. One of theirs had hurt his comrades, his friends, and his dragon. And now...now they dared to hurt him too. He would not stand by and allow it. Issuing his own yell of blinding rage, he deftly ducked away from the next attack, batting the man's hand away. Lunging forward, he swung down, burying both of his knives to the hilt in the man's chest. It was he who fell atop his attacker this time, the force of his lunge carrying them both to the ground. A blood tinged wheeze was heard as they hit the hard-packed dirt - and then nothing. L'cin sat there, panting and seething, for only Faranth knew how long, his hands never once letting up their grip on the knives still buried in the enemy's chest. What brought him back from the brink of his fury was the touch of his dragon's mind, and then the world snapped back into place. I'm coming! 'It's alright, Queth. I'm alright,'[/i] he assured his mindmate, though his own mindvoice had a frightening flatness to it. Finally letting his hands drop back, he stared down at the chest of the man he'd killed. He couldn't bring himself to look into the face of this one. Around him, the sounds of battle quieted, the last of the attackers captured or killed. The stablehands took to calming the terrified beasts that still rushed around them, trying to prevent any more injuries. ...L'cin? Queth's voice was worried, the muted feelings passing from the human side of their connection not making much sense. It was his dragon's worry that allowed him to finally rise, drawing his knives back from the man's chest; that out-of-sync practical part of his mind saying it wasn't a good idea to leave them behind. Quietly, he shuffled over to where his dragon waited a decent distance from the pens, not wishing to scare the herdbeasts any more. He stopped just in front of the brown giant, lifting his head. Their eyes met for just a moment, and that was all that was needed. Without words, they shared their horror and their sorrow, the hollowness left in the anger's wake. Stumbling forward to fall against his dragon's foreleg, L'cin dropped his weapons thoughtlessly and let the tears finally spill over. As he clung there and sobbed, the great brown curled up around him, enclosing them in his wings. Together they rode out the maelstrom of their emotions, forgetting the world around them for an unknown length of time. Thankfully, as if sensing their need, the stablehands left them to themselves. When L'cin pulled back, it was with a guilty jerk. He'd vaguely registered the shout that the whole Weyr was under attack some time ago, and now two faces flashed into his mind in rapid succession. His sister, his twin, his best friend - thankfully, it took only a moment for Queth to search out the mind of Feynth, a triumphant feeling emanating from him, and they knew that S'ren must still be okay. The next was a newer face, one that he would have been a bit more embarrassed over thinking of so quickly had the day not drained him of any ability to be embarrassed. But Asileth lived still, so of course K'vin did as well. Another sob of relief passed his lips, and he relaxed. He would find them when he got back, just to make sure of their safety with his own two eyes. He might need his sister first before he could find the strength to approach the other boy. ...Possibly a trip to the infirmary too, for both he and Queth. Shaky as he was, it took four tries to get his knives back in their sheathes. Queth almost had to pick him up to get him back in the saddle, and then they ambled back to the Weyr, Queth too bone-weary to fly again. The whole ride back, Queth reached for the minds of their dragon-friends, checking one by one to see if they all yet lived. ((Since the Touching battle isn't over yet and I'm not certain what K'vin would do, I left it vague. Kristin said she wasn't going to kill either of her boys, so...I figured it would be okay?))
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Thorney
Dragonrider
Let's remove the space between me and you.
Posts: 203
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Post by Thorney on Nov 10, 2010 15:16:35 GMT -5
While Queth and the strange brown struggled furiously behind him, Calzanth hunkered down even further, belly almost brushing the ground as he glared at the blue before him. Lip curling, the weyrling gave a low, continuous growl, the furious sound growing louder and louder until he was practically snarling at the stranger. Flexing his claws, the sharp tips digging into the soil and churning up dirt, the massive dragon eyed his enemy, trying to decide which point of attack would be the wisest. A tackle wouldn’t work this time, for they would see it coming and keep him from pinning the dragon to the ground. If he tried to get behind the blue, then his flanks and wings would be exposed. Another unfavorable option. His eyes were trained on the stranger, sharp and keen, and focused on every single movement he made. If the blue twitched his tail, Calzanth saw it. If his rider shifted, the brown knew. Nothing escaped his scrutiny.
Finally, the rider gave a hoarse cry and the blue leapt forward, smaller but faster than the large brown. With impressive speed, the stranger closed the distance between them, roaring as he used his chest and forelegs to slam against the weyrling with enough force to knock Calzanth breathless for just a moment. However, he quickly recovered, and a vicious snarl was ripped from the brown as he shoved his hind legs down, refusing to allow the stranger to batter him back further. Lashing out with his forelegs, the dragon returned the blue’s attack in kind, leaving scores across the stranger’s chest that oozed ichor freely. As he reached out again, the stranger suddenly darted to the side and under one of the brown’s sweeping paws, using his smaller stature to his advantage. Quickly, the blue clamped his teeth down on Calzanth’s hind leg and locked his jaws, trying to sever muscle. With a scream, the weyrling jerked his leg, the sudden flare of pain disorienting him for a moment.
Aiding the beastcrafters in rounding up the last of the attackers, K’ron suddenly gave a violent jerk, yelling wordlessly as he felt the pain and confusion of his dragon. Pure terror gripped his heart, and the boy whirled and began running towards his brown as fast as he could, the world a blur about him as he focused on…one…thing. CALZANTH! He cried, fury suddenly coursing through his blood hotly. The brownrider had been angry before, but nothing could begin to compare with how enraged he was at that moment. Someone had hurt his dragon, and someone was going to pay. Skidding to a stop at the edge of the grounds, K’ron’s blood turned to ice when he saw the blue’s jaws locked on Calzanth’s leg, ichor running down his dragon’s hide freely. The blue’s rider held a club, and though the massive brown was thrashing wildly in an attempt to get free, the man was swinging his club haphazardly at his wing, hoping to cripple the weyrling with one blow. The sight infuriated K’ron like nothing ever had. Flatten your wings, NOW! The boy commanded harshly, his voice harder and stronger than it ever had been.
Roaring madly, Calzanth did as his rider commanded, snapping at the smaller dragon’s tail. The blue was so much shorter than he, it was difficult to the brown to get a hold of him, and he knew that he would have to change tactics. With a snarl, the weyrling suddenly folded his legs on the opposite side of the blue, crashing on his side and bringing the stranger with him. As they toppled over, Calzanth sent a quick mental plea to his rider, whirling eyes focused on the crazed man with the club. He raised his weapon, ready to strike the brown, but an arrow suddenly embedded itself in the man’s arm, causing him to drop the club and clutch at the wound with a howl. Now that he didn’t have to worry about the human, Calzanth wound his neck up and clamped down on the blue’s tail, jerking viciously in the opposite direction. With a squeal, the stranger was forced to let go of his leg to keep his tail from being bitten off, scrabbling at the larger dragon desperately. Suddenly, another arrow lodged itself in the dragon’s snout, and the blue reared, flailing back and battering at the offending projectile with his paws. Dropping the attacker’s tail, Calzanth leapt to his feet and slammed into the stranger again and again, hoping to wear the smaller dragon down. With one more body slam, the blue went rolling, rider clinging to the saddle in an attempt to keep from being crushed. Rushing forward, the large brown was fully prepared to continue his assault when the stranger abruptly cried out, leaping into the sky and betweening in a blink. Snorting in surprise, the weyrling curled his neck around and stared at the rest of the weyr, wondering why the blue had retreated. It was abruptly clear, however, as he saw what remained of the attackers peeling off and retreating, having been beaten back. The blue clearly knew that he had no chance, and had given up.
Well. That was just as well for the brown, since he had no desire to kill yet another dragon on top of the first. With a low moan, Calzanth dropped to the ground, suddenly raising his voice to keen to the skies. How had he not known?! The weyrling raised his head and cried into the sky, a great lament bellowing from his lungs. He was so busy fighting the two blues, he hadn’t known until it was too late! Gone! They were gone, gone, gone!
Seeming frozen in place, K’ron’s knuckles were white where he gripped his bow, still standing in firing position even after the blue betweened. Body rigid and taut, the weyrling finally moved after his brown collapsed and began to keen, wailing forlornly into the sky. With a jolt, the boy ran forward, terrified for his dragon. What is it, Cal? Are you hurt? He asked, skidding to a stop beside his massive brown and immediately looking for any dangerous injuries. His leg was still oozing ichor, of course, as were the lacerations across his chest and belly, but they were minor enough, not life-threatening in the least.
Not I, Mine. Not I. They are gone! Gone! Again the brown keened, the sound full and unbroken as he wailed with one continuous, heartbroken note.
WHO? K’ron cried, fearing the answer when his brown was so clearly distraught. Instead of replying with words, however, Calzanth sent his rider a mental picture of a blue and his lanky rider, and the boy stilled, bow dropping to the ground from limp fingers. H’seo and Reinth, gone? It wasn’t possible! Staggering forward one more step, K’ron slumped against his dragon and slid to the ground, leaning against the brown for support and comfort. It just wasn’t right. It wasn’t right! How could a man and dragon so kind be murdered? H’seo had been the first person at Cerulean to befriend K’ron, had always supported and helped the boy when he was just a candidate lost in a new world. They practiced archery together, oiled flying leathers together, and had even explored the island a bit in their free time. The bluerider had almost been a father figure for the weyrling, and now he was…dead. Burying his face in his hands, K’ron did something he hadn’t in a long, long time. He cried. Sobbing against his brown, the boy sat, Calzanth still keening while his rider mourned at his side. They cried for H’seo and Reinth. They cried for the eggs and the other murdered dragons and riders. They cried because they, too, had killed men and dragons, and they cried because there was nothing else they could do.
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