Plot
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Post by Plot on Nov 10, 2010 7:34:03 GMT -5
From the sky, two greens dove at the blue holding their leader at bay, flaming and forcing the large blue back to break his concentration. Jaxith dove for the edge of the cliff, aiming a well placed blow at one of the green’s wing joints, effectively crippling the dragon as she left the safety of the ground and floundered out of the air over the ocean, splashing down with an anguished bugle. The leader bronze was free to act, hissing his displeasure that a blue had barred his path in such a manner. Regaining his feet, he aimed his malevolent gaze back to Trith once again.
From the group remaining around the eggs, a threesome of men gathered up the Fireside Egg and quickly shoved it onto the harness around the closest blue, tightening the straps without further ado. The blue launched itself from the ground with a massive leap, breathing a wave of flames below that actually caught one of the men who’d help harness the stolen egg. Screaming, the man fled into the crowd while the second blue stepped up. Two more browns from the wing overhead hovered close to the ground, dropping another six men to the sands to further bolster the waning numbers. With the added wave of men, they successfully snagged quick hold of the Phoenix Pearls Egg and worked it into place under the second blue on the Sands who sent a rolling layer of flames towards another group of Cerulean defenders trying to approach the Sands. Ignoring the gore that now littered the reddening sands, the men had hold of the Orange Zest Egg in a thrice, and were levering it into the carry-sack when the blue suddenly shied to the side as the green wildly seared his side with friendly fire. Giving a pain filled bugle, the blue leapt upwards, the jolt of movement loosening the Orange Zest Egg’s partially captured shell, and it was with a sickening thud and crack that it fell free of the sack to land on and crush the Yellow Tea Egg, itself breaking from the impact.
A piteous wail rose up from somewhere on the Sands, and a sudden movement from Trith showed her breaking free of the bronze’s hold, the rage of a mother bearing down on the lot of unfortunates left behind. The huge gold moved like lightning and suddenly a man was torn in half, his body flung far to land completely outside the ring of sand.
This sudden change in Trith heralded a bellowing trumpet from far overhead as all of a sudden, a full Wing of dragons appeared from between, their colors brilliant compared to the dirty blood-streaked forms of the invading beasts. They quickly slipped in among the fighting Ceruleans, bolstering their numbers with their precise aide. With their own numbers dwindling and the numbers of those defending now increased by almost a fourth, even the maddened attackers realized that they were in a desperate situation. A dragon from above bugled, and their bronze leader’s concentration broke from Trith with a snarl.
He pondered only a moment before the outcome became clear. They wouldn’t get another go at the eggs. They had underestimated the defenses somehow, and now they must retreat - NOW. He gave another snarl that gradually raised into a roar and then a bugle, signaling them to fall back. He and the egg-carrying blues had to make it away, and the others were to protect their retreat. The humans still on the Sands began to frantically fight their way back over to the dragons, intent on grabbing hold and flying away with them. Several were still locked in combat, too caught up in it to realize they should run.
Of those, two were being fought off by a wounded Samhara. Knocking one down, she aimed what would have been the killing blow - had the other not delivered a deep slice to her abdomen. In the moment she faltered the first man regained his feet and gave a second stab to her chest, causing her to fall back from them a little. In the span of a blink, her mind whirled. She knew what would happen - and just as quickly, she accepted it. She would die for her Weyr this day...but sure as Fall she would go down fighting. With her own yell of uninhibited rage, she flung herself back upon her attackers, battering at them with all of her iron will. They tried to defend themselves, but the fury of her attacks quickly felled them both. Staring down at their corpses, Samhara gave a harsh pant, awash in her one small victory.
The adrenaline beginning to wear thin, her vision started to get a little hazy. Trith stilled immediately as she sensed her beloved Rider’s whirl of thoughts and emotions. Samhara gave her a humorless grin and staggered over to rest against the great golden hide, sliding down it and patting a great foreleg. She tried to speak, but decided against it when it only made her choke and taste blood. ’I’m sorry, my love. I think today is my final day.’ NO! No, my Samhara, you can’t! You can’t leave me! I-I can’t go![/color] the gold’s voice wailed in her mind, gaze sweeping out across the eggs. The only time a dragon wouldn’t between along with its Rider...a gold with a clutch on the Sands. A rare tear rolled down Samhara’s face, stricken now at the thought that they would be parted for that time.
From across the Sands, she could see a frantic Tess dodging and weaving to get to her. They would both know it was too late, but Sam also knew that Tess wouldn’t stop trying until long after her heart stopped beating. She might be almost as reluctant to let her go as Trith would be. A remembered conversation flitted through her mind, and an idea bloomed. It wasn’t perfect, but she would do what she could for her beloved dragon. ’Listen to me, love...’ she began, her words wending through her bondmate’s fervent protests.
Several of the attackers managed to make it back through the battlefield on the Sands, reaching frantically for handholds on the rising dragons. Few found purchase, and most were left behind on the ground crying out piteously. Turning to face the battle that still raged, they were certain of the fact that they would die. The thought of capture never even entered their minds, as they themselves would never have offered such a luxury. A yell went up, and they turned back to the battle with a vengeance. If they would have their lives taken from them, they would take as many from Cerulean while they could. Three turned away from the battle, however, instead setting their focus on the eggs. They would take their hope, too. Setting upon the Maté Egg, they rained blows upon it until the thick shell finally cracked open. Having seen their attempts, several Ceruleans made to bring them down. Too late for the one egg, but saving the rest.
The battles across the Weyr waned as the Silver Cove attackers made their escape, leaving the battered Weyr behind to lick its wounds and tally its damages. The mysterious Wing that had brought them aide seemed to have disappeared as quickly as it had appeared, with seemingly none the wiser - save for one man, who held a thoughtful tinge to his battle-distraught expression.
OOC Note: The bronze leader and the two blues escaped with three of the eggs: Aureum, Fireside, and Phoenix Pearls. The rest of the Wing retreated with them, though those locked in battle were left behind. Three of the eggs were destroyed in the attack: Orange Zest, Yellow Tea, and Maté. Weyrwoman Samhara was mortally injured in the attack, and despite the frantic best efforts of the Weyr’s Healer, she will die momentarily. Due to her clutch remaining on the Sands, Trith will be forced to remain behind. D:
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Plot
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Post by Plot on Nov 2, 2010 8:24:12 GMT -5
Watching mostly unseen and blending with the happy crowd of onlookers, several people since Trith’s initial announcement, had been sending messages of their own to a hidden group of comrades. These few, marked in no way to differentiate themselves from normal Ceruleans, slowly filtered forward on some unseen signal. No more than ten in all, they waited for their time.
With the Touching proceeding so smoothly, it was quite easy to notice when a tiny gold form appeared over the sands and winged her way over to the Bigwinggold. Brillia, chattering away in a frenzy of chirps and shrieks, was clearly very agitated as she swept for Trith. The much larger gold mantled slightly, raising her wings in challenge, but the flitter overrode the warning signs and laid siege to the gold with a barrage of information and images. Sensing something deeply wrong had disturbed her, Samhara made her way over. What’s she saying? She’s too panicked to make sense of. Something about Hers and the food beasts. Try and calm her down to make sense of things. The gold shifted stance, and breathed air over the flitter still hovering and chattering before her. Hush little sister. We cannot aid Yours if you cannot tell us what has happened.[/color] The soothing waves of thought did much more for the small gold than the actual words, and soon Brillia had found a perch on Trith’s shoulder. Her tiny heart beat so fast, and she was shaking in a mixture of fear and anger that they would ever touch Hers! Hers needed help now!!!!
Trith jerked a bit as the message finally became clear, and her eyes tinged with orange. The food beasts are being attacked by three dragons that are not from Cerulean. Cut down, and carried off. Hers is there with his weyrling trying to fend them off with others of our people. Very good little sister, rest a moment before you go back, or you will be no use to Yours. The last statement was made to the tiny panting Brillia who spread out on Trith’s shoulder to catch her breath. Samhara’s face hardened into a frown as she pointed at three nearby riders. “You you, and you. Take your dragons to aid them.” From the gathered dragons, two browns and a blue peeled away, where their riders vaulted up and then they all dropped off the cliff to aid their flight towards the feeding grounds.
Almost as soon as they winged out of sight, screams arose from the nearest set of stairs leading further down into the Weyr. Several people stampeded up through the opening and dashed across the space to the sands. “There’s tunnelsnakes in the Hall!” “Oh Faranth, I saw someone bit!” “They dropped crates full of the things and ran for the docks!!” K’roi strode over to lend his assistance to Samhara, who was trying to calm someone enough to get them to speak intelligibly. Finally, a young drudge gave them the whole of the story in brief, and K’roi sent for more riders. Go and stop the intruders in the Hall from escaping on their ship. Break the mast if you have to. Aid those Ceruleans who were bit and clear the Hall. Flame the tunnelsnakes out. Gareth’s deep mindvoice relayed out to several dragons, a slow rage building in the back of the bronze’s tones, and more peeled away to do as instructed.
Suddenly, the booming thunder of grating rock echoed up from the cliff face, and one of the dragons winging over relayed this new edge of attack. Four more dragons are trying to cave in the rider weyrs! Two browns hurtling themselves against the rock, and two greens throwing boulders at the cliff! Without being told, half a dozen dragons and riders leapt for the air to try and stop the ruination of all they had worked for so far.
Shaken, Samhara went over to lay a hand on Trith’s shoulder. The gold’s eyes were tinged with red, and her frustration at not being able to help was an obvious thing. These dragons. Their minds feel the same as ..His. Chaotic and nearly unresponsive. They will not obey. “It’s alright my dear. We could not have foreseen something like this happening. No dragon has ever been able to disobey a direct order from a Queen.” The Weyrwoman tried to keep her own emotions free of the sending, but the gold picked up her anxiety and a low growl vibrated deep in her chest.
As if to mock her words, a bugle pierced the air, an alarm sounding from the watchdragon closest to the ocean. Her voice broadcast through the minds of all present. A wing of dragons incoming from the ocean. They do not answer a request to land or identify themselves. Nearly right behind the announcement, Gareth sent his own warning. Cerulean, we are under direct attack. Prepare yourselves. The call to arms set half the Weyr to panic, while it galvanized the other half into a determined mindset. These intruders wanted to destroy their new home! So close on the heel of the tragedy that sent them fleeing from their initial home, many would not give up the Weyr without a fight.
Cresting the cliff face, a full wing of dragons led by the unmistakable bronze swept low and fast, cutting through with claws and flames any dragon still struggling to get off the ground, and those who yet lingered in the air. Cerulean dragons fell wounded back to the ground, injuring those unable to get out of the way, and killing at least one, as with an agonized screech of despair a blue broke free and vanished between. The wing made another sweep, and then broke apart into relative chaos. Over half of the wing kept making strafing runs to keep the few remaining dragons grounded, while the rest made for the hatching sands, creating a veritable shield made up of dragons to keep Ceruleans from assisting. Five of those peeled away and made to land around Trith, while the hidden ones within the crowd rushed forward to aid their comrades.
Each of the five dropped two more people, evening the number of interlopers on the sands to twenty, each armed with a sword, club or whip -mostly the latter two. The riders remained mounted, and each dragon went to its task like a well choreographed dance. The bronze went immediately for Trith, while a large brown went with it to keep others from interfering. The other three, two blues and a green, headed for the clutch. The green spewed a blast of fire at a charging group of Ceruleans, setting many on fire. Screams rent the air and the smell of charred flesh rose up. The men cut into the candidate line with a vengeance, striking indiscriminately between those who fled and those who fought back. They were dirty as the dragons, with wild, red-rimmed eyes and fiendish grins or scowls on their faces. Then three of them snatched up the nearest egg, the Aureum Egg and tucked it into a carry pouch strapped to the chest of the nearest blue. Each pouch only looked like it would carry two eggs, but from the dragons overhead, many also wearing such pouches, it was clear they were there for the entire clutch.
Each dragon was equally as dirty and unkempt in appearance as the great bronze, who even then was squaring up with a frantic Trith. Her eye where whirling nearly pure red and yellow now, her wings flared in an attempt to appear imposing as both her antagonist and his lackeys placed her children in danger. The bronze began forcing his powerful will on her, forcing her down in a mimicry of the disastrous Goldflight. If he could subdue their Queen, the hated males of Cerulean would yield to threats. The brown faced the two enraged bronzes closest to the clutch, and it was clear he’d do whatever necessary to keep them at bay long enough for his leader to gain control of the queen, despite what would obviously happen when a single brown faced two large bronzes.
Of a sudden, the sands were filled with fairs and fairs of flitters in all colors, lead by the victoriously crowing Brillia and several other flitters of the Weyr. At the first sign of what these -others- were there for, she'd disappeared with the intent of bringing her own kind of assistance. They wouldn’t take the bigeggs, no!! Those were the bigwinggold’s eggs, they were!! The flitters went for the attackers on the clutch with a vengeance, scratching where they could, and spewing tiny flames. They didn’t or couldn’t bring themselves to attack the dragons, but their riders were fair game. Another set of three men handled the Fireside Egg nearly into the carry sack beside its clutchmate while the blue’s rider fended off enraged firelizards. The blue bucked in reaction to his rider’s distress, preventing the securing of the last egg, which was nearly dropped before the men had firm hold of it once more. They waited for the blue to settle while the other men worked to clear the hatching sands of combatants made up of both candidates and not, who’d managed to slip through to help. Two of those figures were Samhara and K'roi, Weyrwoman and previous Weyrleader fighting for their Weyr.
OOC Alert: A full wing of dragons is attacking the hatching sands, their intent to steal the clutch. Twenty men armed with swords, clubs and whips are driving back attackers to give them space to work, while less than half of the wing is hovering around the sands in a chaotic whirl of wings to keep other dragons and humans out. The others are strafing in to keep the few remaining Cerulean dragons grounded.
Each dragon is armed with firestone, and they're ready to use whatever means necessary to succeed.
Everyone is now free to react to all plot posts happening throughout the Weyr. Be aware, these men are dangerous, but lack finesses and are swinging wildly. They are clearly not trained, but strong. Kill them at your leisure. Feel free to have the flitts aid in whatever way necessary to 1. Keep your characters safe or 2. Help you take someone down
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Plot
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Post by Plot on Oct 27, 2010 0:26:30 GMT -5
Who: Anyone not on the Sands who wants! What: The sky is falling! When: About twenty-five minutes after Trith's announcement. Where: Rider weyrs. Warnings: Violence, possibly death.
As the smoke began to rise from the Lower Caverns and the screams began to sound from below, several Riders and their dragons were apt to leave their Weyrs to go in search of the cause. However, by doing so, they revealed exactly which parts of the weyrs were currently inhabited. Just what this quartet needed.
Winging in silently from above as the chaos erupted below, they stopped to hover and take careful aim. And then they dropped. Four giant boulders fell from the sky at once, crashing into the inhabited portions of the cliff-face. Several screams echoed as a couple people dropped from the ledges. Riders, weyrfolk, or drudges - who knew.
Watching the giant stones roll down the cliff, all four dove in unison. Two threw themselves against the already battered ledges, hoping to do more damage to the living quarters. The other two swept to the bottom to take hold of their boulders for a second barrage.
OOC NOTICE!!! Four dragons are attacking the Rider weyrs. There are two browns and two greens. The two browns are now ramming into the various spaces, while the two greens are swooping in for their boulders to rain them down again.
Beware, there will be damaged ledges and hallways leading to or from any of these places on foot. Cave-ins and rocks and dust falling from the ceiling are both very possible. The majority of the weyrs affected will have been living spaces for any number of weyrfolk, but mostly Riders. As it was mid-morning and a fair amount of people might have been alerted to the events elsewhere, the occupancy level was likely low...but not deserted.
Fend off the dragons, rescue trapped people, provide medical care to those who have fallen or been hit by falling debris - or simply run like hell. There will be plenty of NPCs about.
Damage and injuries have already been incurred - how far it gets is up to the players. (Yep, that would be 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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Plot
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Post by Plot on Oct 27, 2010 0:23:15 GMT -5
Who: Anyone not on the Sands who wants! What: Get these m-f-ing snakes out my m-f-ing...Hall? When: About ten-twenty minutes after Trith's announcement. Where: Docks and the Great Hall. Warnings: Violence, possibly death.
The dolphins were acting funny. That was the first thing the dockmaster noticed. They didn't like something about the ship that came in. But a stock delivery was a stock delivery, and there was naught to do about it except take it to the Hall to be sorted out by the drudges. There were quite a few full crates and that meant a great deal. Still...that one guy glaring over the railing at the dolphins was a bit odd. Didn't all sailors love the dolphins? Considered them lucky, even.
Well, who knew, but he did keep a scrutinizing eye on those unloading.
Those unloading were a quiet sort, not even responding when the other dockworkers tried to joke about such heavy loads. Unnervingly quiet, most of them. There were a few that grinned in return, but it was...somehow disconcerting.
When about half the stock was unloaded, the captain made an odd motion. One that got passed down along the line to those in the Hall. Who then promptly either dropped, opened, or smashed the crates they were carrying.
It wasn't long until screams of horror erupted, people trying their best to get out of the Great Hall...as it was now filled with more than a thousand tunnelsnakes, most of whom were quickly identified as the poisonous variety. The 'workers' of course did their best to impede the flow while simultaneously attempting to flee the very angry reptiles.
OOC NOTICE!!! There are now more than a thousand tunnelsnakes all over the Great Hall. The vast majority of them are poisonous, though there are a few larger constrictors here and there. It is entirely possible that they might escape into other areas of the Weyr, as well.
Be mindful of the stampede of people attempting to exit the Hall and escape from the creatures.
Also, there's a ship with a forty person crew in the harbor. About twenty of the crew are trying to make their way back to the ship after letting loose the tunnelsnakes; the other twenty are hastily trying to cast off back to the ocean.
The outcome of this is up to the players! Feel free to NPC some of the crowd, and do as you will with both the snakes and the attackers. Keep in mind that around half of the attackers are armed with belt knives, and not a single one of them will hold back while fighting. If those on the ship can get away from the docks, they would also willingly leave behind the others. Be wary of the tunnelsnakes and their venomous bites, which range from annoying to deadly!
((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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Plot
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Post by Plot on Oct 27, 2010 0:18:39 GMT -5
Who: Anyone not on the Sands who wants! What: Pyromania? When: About fifteen minutes after Trith's announcement. Where: Main cooking area of the kitchens. Warnings: Violence, possibly death. Note: Yes, I swiped the drudges' names from the gossip entries. <3
Kavvi was working hard kneading the dough for the midday meal, a bit before the others would all file in and make a crazyhouse of things. She knew she'd better be working hard, since she was in enough trouble from the night before. She'd been caught gossiping with Leywin again - but who could blame her! That tidbit Cally had given her was too juicy to resist!
Sighing and blowing her bangs out of her face, she glanced up and had to blink. "...Jelian? Jelly! I havena seen you in four forevers! Where you been hidin'?" Her face lit with a grin as she abandoned the dough. It would live. "Didja get moved elsewhere? That's gotta su-" Pausing just as she was wiping the flour from her hands, she noticed that something wasn't right. Jelian wasn't greeting her in return, but was instead fiddling with some of the cooking equipment. Normally that would have just been so rude...but something felt off here.
Getting a bit closer, she finally saw what the other was doing and gasped. "What-?! No, stop that!" So focused on the items, as she darted forward to stop the other, she didn't realize that he had grabbed a pot. Her forward motion was abruptly halted as he swung it back and knocked her out cold. Wide, bloodshot eyes regarded the fallen woman for only a moment before returning to their task with a frightening intensity. Two more were barely acknowledged as they came to help him, revealing the forms of three prone figures just outside the main kitchen.
Wood was built up in the fireplaces and ovens, spilling out onto the floor. Grease was flung about and vats of oil smashed. A final flick of a burning log was all it took to start the flames. It wouldn't be long until they were raging.
OOC NOTICE!!! There is now a large chemical fire in the kitchens, as well as containers of flammable liquids and sealed containers that could burst at any moment. Feel free to try your hand at dousing it and/or saving any of the six prone people within (they could be unconscious or already dead, mind). Also, the three assailants can be seen exiting the kitchen area; feel free to do as you will. Take note, they will fight back, and with no reservations...but also little finesse.
How this plays out and how much damage is incurred is in the hands of the players! (Yes, that means 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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Plot
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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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Plot
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Post by Plot on Oct 27, 2010 0:13:02 GMT -5
This is an OOC Plot message! ALL Candidates will have had a chance to get to the Sands and walk amongst the eggs before anyone here notices the events elsewhere in the Weyr. Even if you don't have your Candidates in yet, feel free to bring them in and have them drift among the eggs to touch as many as they like.
They will have about an IC twenty-five minute window to do so. We will put in another notice when people here may begin reacting to the events elsewhere!
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Post by Plot on Oct 8, 2010 23:40:37 GMT -5
He had taken the blows of the others with barely a flinch, his mind so focused on his goal. His hind-quarters, back, and tail all bled now, the ichor leaking to mingle with the dried patches of brown along his hide - leftovers of both red and green blood. But it was worth it, for the golden one was now in his grasp. She would be pleased. And he would take his own pleasure from this.
He carried her far and quickly, making sure to be thorough. The clutch he sired would be large - he would make certain of that. He wasn't exhausted as most usually were at the end of the flight, and he showed it in the span spent bringing her down. A good clutch it would be indeed. She would be proud.
They were beginning to near the ground now, and he knew he needed to slow. The dragoness would need to survive in order to lay the clutch, after all. If she never flew again, though, he cared not. Fanning his wings out, he slowed their descent as they approached the ground. He took them low, then suddenly disentangled from her, letting her drop violently to the ground.
Staying on the same glide, he beat his wings once, twice, and then with a mocking look behind him he went between. They knew not whence he came, nor where he would go. The pain of the cold in his wounds was worth the work he'd done that day. He knew She would say so. Reappearing above his own demesne, he bugled his mad triumph.
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Plot
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Post by Plot on Sept 27, 2010 11:03:18 GMT -5
Now was the time. She had made him wait, but now it was time. The gold was a beauty, surely, as she streaked across the sky. He felt his lust for her form rise as he neared her on an angle at breakneck speed. This one would be his. She had said so. And he would make it so. Dropping from where he had followed their progress from the clouds as she made her final rise, he silently swept toward them.
He lost a little of his streamlining as he extended his claws before him. Those males were crowded a bit too close. No matter - he would disperse them. They were distractions. Silently, he angled his dive to directly collide with one of them, knocking that one to the side without a thought. He struck out at two others with his claws and tail, tearing several gashes and trying to sabotage a wing. His roared and snapped his powerful jaw at his worst competition - one's who would try to stop him and take what was his instead. Getting right along Trith's flank, he claimed his space.
To those who looked at him, they might not realize at first that he was a bronze. His hide was dulled with dirt, dust, and grime. Patches of dry skin flaked in several places along his hide, and scars littered his form. Dried blood streaked down his body from his muzzle and his claws, and a few spatters decorated him as well. His size was the clear giveaway for his color, as he was massive for even a bronze - easily matching the masses of Gareth and Dysiiliouth. His eyes swirled a dangerous dark red color of anger, lust, and something else rather disconcerting as he snarled. His mind was closed off from the others, emanating a discomfiting feeling to any who would try to bespeak him.
He continued to fly aggressively, ignoring most challenges called to him with an eerie single-mindedness. There was an intense focus about him for a few moments as he kept his gaze on Trith. Suddenly, she wobbled in the air. Her wings snapped closed to her sides, one shoulder wrenching visibly. Her limbs also seemed to wick close to her sides as if bound - an audible crack signalling that at least one of her forelimbs had somehow broken. Ignoring her startled cries of pain, he swerved to the side as she fell, guiding her away from the others. Her protest fell terrifyingly helpless against the swirling chaos of his barriers. He twined his neck with hers and swept her to his body with sharp, too-long claws, claiming his victory of the Flight.
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Plot
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Post by Plot on Aug 12, 2010 12:54:08 GMT -5
It had been a long journey, but the palpable excitement that thrummed through all of the soon-to-be spectators was more than worth it. Caravan Master Cassin let a large smile leak toward the curious who were already gathering. The other acts would be picking their spaces along the beach or in the jungle clearings right now, but it would all start here. Only the largest acts would take place in the enormous Great Hall. His people had made quick work - admittedly with a little help from eager workers, drudges, and who-knows-who-else who had been around - and the tables and benches in the Great Hall were now lined up like an auditorium surrounding a good three-quarters of their 'stage' area. Here was where he would open the festivities, in the heart of the Weyr itself. The smile on his face took on a dreamy aspect as he thought about the connotations of that. Here, in the heart of their home, they would bring these people joy. And shouldn't joy start in one's heart? But enough of my musing, he chided as he shook off his contemplation. The stage was set, the props aligned, and his people waiting for his signal. With a final pat to his clothes and a straightening of his top-hat, he strode regally to the stand that had been erected and expertly hopped on it, doing a single somersault - without losing the hat! - and then standing again. Taking his hat off with an over-elaborate flourish, he bowed to those assembled and grinned when he heard their small sounds of delight. Prentending to inspect the hat for injury and dust, he made it sound as if he were murmuring to himself, but with enough volume for all to hear over the quiet of their bated breath. "Oh, no damage. Good, that." Then the hat was replaced, and he was beaming out at them to the sound of a few giggles. A good start. "Lovely ladies, gallant gentlemen, and my darling chittering children - oh, and let me not forget you daring dragons, whimsical whers, and friendly fire-lizards! - I bid you hail from the furthest reaches of all Pern!" his voice rang out, loud and clear and full of genuine mirth. "We, for the time being your ever-humble servants, are Vivacious Vivacity! We are thoroughly thankful for your warm welcome, and intend to repay every kindness you do us by being our hosts ten-fold!" And they would, so help him. They had a purpose, this troupe, and these people were more worthy than most for its fulfillment. Speaking of... "First, my wonderful Weyrfolk, I have a rather embarrassing situation that I think you might help me with. See, my memory is just not what it used to be." There were chuckles around as he waggled his bushy eyebrows humorously at those gathered. "I must ask: who of you knows what it means to live vicariously? Or just the meaning of 'vicarious'? You sir, over there." He motioned to an unsuspecting member of the crowd, who was met with grins and playful shoves from around him. The young man had looked a little shy, but Cassin liked dragging people out of their shells. "U-um..." The man looked around for help, but instead found all eyes on him. "It means...that...er...you don't experience something yourself, but...you try to learn enough about it to feel like you've experienced it...?" He bit his lip uncertainly, before almost boldly adding, "Like some of us riders did when we were still just Candidates stuck waiting." He grinned sheepishly, but the response around him was of positive amusement. Smiling broadly, Cassin dipped his head in a quaint bow. "Exactly, my boy! Well on you!" He clapped his hands briefly, encouraging the rest of the crowd to accompany him - and wasn't disappointed, especially with the few hoots and whistles that were added. "Now, how about 'vivacity'? Hmm...let's see..." His eyes scanned the crowd, as if looking for a volunteer. He saw several people's hands shoot up, and one child even jumping up and down. But no, he needed...there! A younger girl - not necessarily shy, just...quiet-looking. He smiled kindly at her, his eyes twinkling merrily. "My dear girl, can you tell me?" His perfectly-controlled voice took on the air of being softer and gentler, but retained its volume. The girl shuffled a little, looking quickly around her to ascertain that he was indeed speaking to her. "That is...sir..." she trailed off. Cupping his ear in apparent confusion, he leaned closer. "I'm sorry, my dear? It would seem my hearing isn't what it used to be either, for I only heard the barest whisper of the lovely voice of yours!" There were a few laughs, but they were quickly shushed so that the girl might be heard next she spoke. A small blush lit her cheeks, and she reached up to tuck a strand of the hair falling in her face back. "I think...it means being alive. Or lively. Or, um..." A small frown creased her brow as she searched for the right word. "A state of liveliness?" she finished with a small amount of uncertainty. He beamed at her exuberantly. "Yes, child! Indeed it is so!" He flourished an elaborate bow toward her. "My gratitude to you, my lady." The answering smile and blush was perfection to him. The titters from the crowd were a bonus. "Ah, and now, with my memory rekindled by these lovely-" "Victims?" came a cheeky shout from one of his crew from behind the stage curtains, eliciting a few laughs. Cassin gave an over-exaggerated glare to the curtain before continuing, "- Volunteers - whom I suggest you all thank vigourously, for without them we would be lost! - we can begin!" He grinned. The shy young man and the quiet girl would hopefully get enough praise and thanks - even in jest - that they might slowly become more vibrant themselves. "We of Vicarious Vivacity come from every walk of life and every corner of the settled world. We bring you music, plays, dances, humor, and feats from all over! The lives we have led and the lives who have touched ours influence everything we do and everything we will show you," he rhapsodized. "Let us show you all we have seen and heard and done, and let our experiences lift you! For even in the bleakest despair there is always the spark of hope, and with a determined heart that hope can be kindled into the brightest of flames! You have shared with us your home, and hopefully you will share with us your hearts as well. Come, now, and live with us. Let our vivacity course into you as we share our experiences, and let us all be left with a brighter flame than before!" The last shout echoed from him for only a moment to the silent room before the cheers began. Cassin smiled; this had been a very good idea, for both the caravan and the Weyr. "Let the festivities...begin!" Loud and sprightly music wound it's way up as dancers decorated by bright cloths and sheer nets spun and twirled out from behind the curtains for the first act. ((Feel free to post in this thread or to create your own in The Beaches or The Jungle! If there is something you can imagine them doing, they're probably doing it somewhere(though I made a short list of ideas here)! ♥))
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Plot
Moderator
Deus Ex Machina
Posts: 11
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Post by Plot on Jul 21, 2010 20:46:10 GMT -5
A glint of light over eyes filtered through the dusky darkness that falls right after sunset. Another glint, and another joined the first –several pairs of hungry eyes lured in by the promise of easy kills. Ahead, lay the fourfooted meat by the lot, contentedly grazing on the hardy island grass and completely unaware that they were the prey. The twolegs were gone now, further away than they'd been all night. Their scent was mixed with that of the large winged hunters, and it would be prudent to avoid them unless completely necessary.
A brownish clawed foot stepped lightly over a betraying twig, but another small noise from behind had the closest fourfoots glancing upwards in alarm. The hunters froze their forward movement and waited in silence for their prey to relax again. They were patient, ever so patient, and the fourfoots, ears twitching, finally did return to grazing. Another long moment did they wait for the meat to settle before stealthily moving forward again. They were as silent as a breeze and as quick over the ground.
Suddenly, three of the fourfoots dropped in their tracks, lowing urgently in confusion as a dark shadow swooped overhead. That was the signal, and the hunters all sprang from their hiding spots in a riot of silent movement. A few converged on each of the downed animals, silencing them quickly with strong jaws as they finished the kill with efficiency.
Splashes of blood hit the ground from the many rending tears as the hunters drew their prey back with them to the shelter of the jungle, some helping, others guarding. The rest of the fourfoots began kicking up in terror, rushing to the other side of the enclosed field and making quite a ruckus. The hunters ignored them, focused on their catch. Even the twolegs couldn't reach them now.
They withdrew far enough into the shadows to enjoy their well earned repast, feasting in an oddly silent manner without the ruckus of fighting and quarrels over the choicest pieces. The meat was finished quickly and the three carcasses, now stripped of all the best flesh, were left behind as the hunters faded into the darkness, the scent of the much larger winged hunters driving them back into the jungle they’d come from. The eyes disappeared slowly until only two pairs were left to watch, and to learn. This place was good, it had good meat. The larger winged hunters and their twoleg pets were a curiosity, despite their size and dominance. They weren’t prey, but they were standing between the hunters and good meat.
A keen intelligence watched the Weyr’s feeding pens. They would sneak in, they would kill, and they would eat. It was their way, and they had young to feed.
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