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Dalibor is a semi-canon Dragonriders of Pern site. No knowledge of the series or site is required to join; players of all experience levels are welcome here. Founded in 2008 on Proboards and moved to Jcink in 2013, Dalibor has been running for nine years.

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Autumn, 18th Turn, 11th Pass

Upcoming Flights/Runs:

Upcoming Hatchings:
Copper Laanasuth
Copper Zelsk

With two clutches hardening on the Hatching Sands the big question seemed to be: which will hatch first?

The answer came in short order with Copper Zelsk's clutch breaking shell moments before Copper Laanasuth's. With so many eggs surely the dual hatching offers hope to the numerous Candidates who fill Dalibor's ranks. Only time will show who will come away with a lifemate of their very own...

... and who will forfeit their life in hopes of Impression.
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Rayna of Gold Couineth - Boo

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Z'dyn of Iron Baihujinth - Rhia

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Os'nin of Blue Alwanath - Aerona

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Norla of Bronze Norsk - Ives

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Oreanda of Bronze Osk & Blue Oresk - Ruin
Der of Grey Desk - Rii

Weyrlingmaster
K'ton of Blue Ironth- Jenn
S'vor of Green Absinth - Ruriko
Nia of Pink Koeneth - Catsitta

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Ijo of Brown Isk - Rhia
Pavir of Blue Pavisk - Captain
Swithin of Blue Swisk - Ives

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Ulian of White Rivath - Ruin
Zanii of Black Zansk - Leo

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Dalibor was created by Bre, continued by Cathaline, and is now owned and operated by Ruin. Most of the information, rules, and graphics were made, compiled, or written by staff with credit given to those whose resources they used. Stock thanks to credited parties. All characters and posts are copyrighted to the members of the game. No material from this site should be copied in any way, shape, or form without utter express permission from the members and staff. All references to worlds and characters based on Anne McCaffrey's 'Dragonrider of Pern' series are copyright Anne McCaffrey 1967-2017, all rights reserved. The Dragonriders of Pern is registered U.S. Patent and Trademark Office, by Anne McCaffrey, used here with general permission for non-commercial purposes without monetary gain.

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 Watch Out, I Bite!, AU 18 {Copper Zelsk's 1st Run}
Catsitta
 Posted: Apr 3 2018, 12:55 AM
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Weyrlingmaster





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Zelsk felt her ichor stirring days ago. A restless, persistent burn of instincts that demanded satisfaction. Was done waiting. It was no longer want, but need. Every primal urge and desire collected and collided, and she had no wish to deny the ache. The will of her biology. The innermost wishes of a born mother. She could picture it, the prides hale and numerous with her children. This was her purpose. Her oath. Her duty. From the day she stepped out of her shell onto the hatching sands, she followed its call. Tonight, she could at long last act.

Are you worthy of Zelsk?

The copper maneuvered through the lower caverns and out into the bowl with practiced ease. With knots firmly on her bonded's shoulder, there was nothing holding them back. A snarl built at the back of her throat as she burst into the night, hide alit by the twin moons above. She was a burning ember in a blacksmith's forge. A rippling drop of blood seeped with rain. A storm gathering upon the horizon. She was Zelsk. She was Copper. The cycle anew. Metamorphosis in motion.

Tonight was hers.

And her suitors best not forget that.

Lithe compared to many other whers of similar size, Zelsk was agile. Sleek. (A viper in waiting.) A possessive fury curled in her belly as she tore out of the bowl. Only the best would suit. They would be Hers. All Hers. Her mate. Her run.

Z E L S K ' S.

Are you Worthy of Zelsk? Zelsk repeated. Are you MINE? Her call was now for both bonded and wild whers. Where would she go? The river, the shore? She kept running, not looking back yet. She would judge them. (None of them are worthy and it infuriated her, why, why, why?) It was her duty. I dare worthy to Chase. I bite. If they displeased her she would remind them that Mothers were not something to be trifled with. Their ire was great. Oh, she preferred adoration and awe, but a little fear kept naughty children in line.

.

As Zelsk lost herself in runlust, so did Zel.

She hoped that this particular event wouldn't happen when it did. Graduation night. Really? Hazy from the wine she tipped back before leaving the dining hall and the copper's potent emotions, Zel barely made her way back to her wherhole. At least her belongings were all here and not at the barracks. THAT would have been the epitome of embarrassing and inappropriate. With a ragged sigh she leaned against the cool stone of the wall, trying to endure the heat in her blood. She could feel--see, taste, hear--Zelsk's need. It was hers. It was furious and jealous. Consuming.

She knew intimately the raw possessiveness of her bonded.

It didn't frighten her.

In a way, it reminded Zel of when she woke after the jungle plague. That she belonged to Zelsk. And the wher essentially declared that she would drag her bonded out of Death's clutches with her own claws if she must to keep Zel separating from her.

A tiny, not quite nervous laugh escaped her as she murmured aloud, "Who is your king tonight, love?" Who would capture the copper's attention?


[ooc// Run occurs during copper class graduation feast! Uh oh. Also, if you are open to or want maulings on your male, just post preferences in your first post. Zelsk may react violently to a suitor she is 'displeased' with. Wilds welcome! Tags are welcome though I will be keeping an eye on this thread. Given that the hatch is at the start of May, this run will not last all of April. I'll be doing timely replies~]


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Ruin
 Posted: Apr 3 2018, 01:19 AM
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Osk answered her only once, in the Dining Hall, then fell silent as he followed her out into the Bowl. He gave her space, would not crowd her, but maintained a similar pace so the distance did not widen unnecessarily. He was muscled and broad where she was sleek, save for the wired ripple of his felinesque hindquarters. He shone like a sun in the night, but even he paled against her glow--he knew it, and did not mind such a truth. Where she was fresh and untested he carried marks of previous skirmishes against wilds and Traditionalists alike, they appeared as pale furrows across his ribs and in a knot of scarring beneath his jaw. The light in his eyes flashed with a persistent attentiveness as he followed along behind his Queen, settling more to the right of her than the left, at least for now.

Beyond the powerful stride of his form, Oreanda excused herself from the festivities. The Handler's quarters laid so far across the Bowl that it hardly seemed worth the effort of walking there, especially when seeing even as the dolphins had taught her would be so difficult with Osk filling her mind. She felt the movement of his shoulders through her own, felt the urge to move! To release the pent up energy coursing through her muscles, so rather than go one way or the other, rather than pick and choose, she simply wandered with her hands outstretched and as much attention as she could give on her surroundings. The cooling night air felt good on her hot flesh, and she never really had figured out if it was Osk who burned, if it was her, or if it was the both of them.

Osk's breath came in short, measured chuffs. His breath steamed in the night, and his muscles rippled and caught the starlight in echo of the constellation-like patterns on his own hide. Now as she called the world to her, now as the Chase took form and gathered together, he spoke into her mind once more. Weyr waited, my Queen, now give all for you. Another rumbling hough from the thickness of his throat and a shake of his broad head as he settled his wings around himself and settled in for what suitors she would bring. Dalibor had known very few wherqueens, Osk had known even fewer than that, but that made this one all the more important. The hatchlings were needed. The Prides were needed. It was an instinct beyond the call of anything else.

You learned a lot about a lady from how she Ran, reasoned Osk once, so he settled in to shadow her movements and follow her lessons. He would learn from her, and he would be compelled to compete against those who rose to Chase her, but that was his drive. His duty. To his Weyr and to his Queen. His talons dug into stone and soil alike no matter where she would lead, at least on this night. Anda's fingertips trailed against rocky walls and fell into open space as she wandered safely within the Bowl, she Chased along with her wher, and he welcomed her beside him in his mind. The tightening noose of lust wrapped around them, but they were far too observant to succumb so soon to blind emotion; not when they were still waiting for the others.


ooc: He needs his eyeballs for Oreo, and his wings for gliding like a fat pidgeon.


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Zane
 Posted: Apr 3 2018, 11:09 AM
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Wingleader





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Zelsk was on the move.

So was Osk.

Soon other suitors would join their ranks, and the copper would be left with a choice to make. Surely she would want to choose the strongest, among those available, to give her young the best chance they could possibly have. Ollisk would never know this burden, and there was a part of her that was grateful for this fact. What she was not grateful for, however, was Ollivander's rising concern. The boy had worked himself up as he made his way through the caverns, and to Zel's new quarters. He and Ollisk had secured a wherhole of their own, though it felt appropriately small and hidden away.

Ollisk stood alongside Hers, silent as the boy paused before the outer door. Ollivander, hand trembling, reached up to knock on the copperhandler's door. He stopped himself, pulling his arm back. Instead, he angled his body against the stone, and called out: "Z-Zel... I just came to..." he fought through his speech, trying not to choke too terribly, "make sure you're okay. You okay?" His concern came from the most sincere of places--a friends concern for someone they cared about. Olli was rather incapable of being deceptive, and was instead an open book.

He didn't want to overwhelm her, but at the same time he didn't want her to feel like she was alone. If she needed him, he was here. If she didn't, he could just as well go away. His aim was not to embarrass her, nor embarrass himself. He couldn't imagine what she was going through, not yet at least, and would completely understand if she needed her privacy. Perhaps she had never intended to let anyone in, perhaps come Ollisk's run he would have to take the same approach. Whatever Zel chose, it would be the right choice for her (and that's all that Ollivander wanted).

If no answer we go. Best go if girl need time alone. Ollivander simply nodded, leaning his weight against the wall now, waiting in silence. Was it possible that she may find his presence offensive? He hoped not, but feared that she may. It was none of his business, really, but he had done what he felt was right to do. He couldn't speak for Zel.

@Catsitta
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Harbinger
 Posted: Apr 3 2018, 12:53 PM
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Priderunner





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The nights were getting chilly, and old joints creaked as a dusky Brown roused. Cold time meant hunger time. Short days but long nights of looking and not finding. Not find food. Not find Ysk's. Grumblings and grunts softly escaped the beast as stone-cooled muscles were stretched in preparation of the night's activities, of the hunt that would be coming.

Strange hunger. Ysk blinked, considering this. Not normal hunger, the need to fill the belly. That was there, the little annoyance in the back of his mind that drove him nightly. Different hunger. Strange hunger. Wantneed hunger. Yes, that was it. An urgency of want. Urgency in general - more than a belly empty for a sevenday. A need of now, of movement and heat. It came to him.

Run.

Dalibor Island had been relatively quiet - enough that the aged Brown could ignore the lusts of the young - but this was different. This was strong. Something that clawed at him from his hidey-hole outside the Weyr. He stood, eyes whirling faster as he peered out, snuffling and huffing to catch her scent. New scent. Unknown scent. Female scent. Run scent.

Before any other thoughts could come to him, his legs took off. Brush scratched at grayed hide, but he didn't notice. All that consumed the ancient beast was run. Run.

Ysk run, the Brown said, mind voice as gravelly and hoarse. He sounded like he hadn't spoken in turns - quite possibly true - even though his mind was as keen as it had been since he came to his senses so long ago. Joints popped. Brush crashed down. It took time for him to get to his stride, though he had the time as Zelsk made her way out of the Weyr.

Ysk worthy! The power of age came with the quiet words as he pressed them against the Copper's mind, falling in step behind her. The younger whers had strength, but he had wisdom, and old eyes searched for the tiny details that would gain him the advantage. Ysk ran. Ysk would run. Ysk would succeed!

((OOC: Do as you will to old Ysk, he's probably survived it already http://files.jcink.net/uploads/daliborweyr/smiley/Yuck.png))


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Jenn
 Posted: Apr 3 2018, 01:42 PM
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Weyrlingmaster





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A heavily scarred head pushed through the underbrush. Something called him. Something hot and bright and terrible. He'd been on the island for some time, finding himself here from the mainland some turns before when his Maelista had perish during that awful time. An awful time he refused to remember even if he could have. Maelisk's eyes blazed red, the whirls and swirls moving more swift than any river and the iron moved forward with purpose. He knew this feeling, this call to him for what it was and he knew it had been some time since the last time. Some time since he run with such need.

Scars littered his body from runs and fights, his heavy body muscular and fit as he moved silently towards that bright, bright light. A queen. Something he had not seen in too long, her color new and exciting but quickly forgotten with the strength of the call. Maelisk comes. Maelisk dare, he called to that copper queen. He joined the bronze, growling low in his throat and took a swipe at the brown upstart who thought he was worthy of this beauty. Gone was any hint of the level headedness normally seen in his color. He would run and he would win at all costs.

Maelisk was far more worthy than a paltry bronze and an equally unequal brown. They dare to take from him?! Maelisk was not young but he was not old, the iron was in the prime of his life and he knew it. He had the scars to prove it. The territory he stalked proved it. Neither of these worthless ones would do for this shining copper beauty. It would be Maelisk and only Maelisk. He would make sure of it.

Come, come Zelsk. Let us run, run! he called out to her as he picked up the speed he would need.



(Totally maul this dude! Even if he was bonded I'd let ya XD)


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Ruriko
 Posted: Apr 3 2018, 03:17 PM
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Weyrlingmaster





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@Catsitta, @All

OOC: Would prefer poor Lykask not be mauled or hurt, and nothing lasting on Zenisk. The npc/wild one, however...that's free game. c;

Lykaios hadn't expected Lykask, a blue, to bother trying to chase Zelsk, a queen. He didn't particularly care for the copperwherling--now copperhandler--but it was because she'd said things that had gotten under his skin. Things that had made him actually pause to think. Things he didn't want to think about. The fact that he had graduated and was now a handler had done little to change the bluehandler's aloofness. He was still distant, distrustful deep down of anyone but Lykask, Ijo and Isk--whom he'd worked with as a wherling for so many months that he had ended up growing to respect and trust the man more than anyone else--and perhaps Norla and Norsk. He could not explain that last, outside of the fact she made his blood run hotter. Lust wasn't something he was unfamiliar with. If anything, it was anything outside of it that was unfamiliar. He simply had not expected his wher, who had shown little interest in Zelsk outside of a deep respect and admiration, to desire to run and catch her. The feelings in the wher were so unexpected, that they caught the tall young man quite by surprise.

Lykask had announced he would chase, and then simply run off. He'd stood in the dining hall after Ijo's speech, feeling...pleased? The wherlingmaster had placed him with Norla, in her pride. Had he known, or recalled, Kaios' desire to find her that day in the mines? Whatever the case, his opinion and positive feelings towards the man raised yet again. He was...grateful. He had not made 'friends' like some of the others had done. He felt nothing but a sense of duty towards the others in his wherling class. He had a job to do, to protect any in Dalibor. He would do his job, and do it sharding well. He had nothing to prove, unlike his wher, who was ever seeking to prove to His that he was every bit as good as a larger color. By this point, Lykaios, who had seen that a greyhandler had been promoted to Betahandler, and watched the blue grow from a portly wheret with a too-large head and stumpy legs into a powerful creature who was eager to please, capable and loyal...well, he'd begun to believe it some. He was still irked that the girl, who he considered weak-willed and a pushover, had bonded the copper. He thought that Kaizre or himself would have been a better choice. Kaizre, at least, had gotten an orange. Not a fighter. He was still convinced that size and hide color of a wher held some weight and bearing. Lykask was determined to show him that this was not the case.

Now the newly graduated bluehandler found himself striding out of the dining hall and after the wher. The feelings he had begun to experience were not his own, and he was not pleased. He had zero desire to bed Zel. Not an ounce. Yet through his bond, growling under his breath though he was, he was headed 'sort of' in the direction of the copperhandler's wherhole. There was a fire in the ichor that ran through Lykask's veins, and fire in the blood of his handler.

Lykask joined the chase, noting the larger males that surrounded him, sturdy feet hitting the ground in a rhythmic motion. He was the smallest there, yet he was also perhaps the most determined. He had something to prove, and he very much liked and wanted to catch Zelsk.

Lykask may be smol-not-bronze, but Lykask worthy! He show Zelsk what blue can do! What he did not say was that he would also show His what he could do. He might have been smaller, but his musculature and strength was still formidable for a blue. He had trained and worked hard with His to see to it that his stamina and staying power were just as good as any sub-king or king's. The fact of the matter was that he had to try harder, and would tire faster. He was just too stubborn to give up or give in until he fell over from sheer exhaustion, if need be. He wasn't aware that this was a possibility. He was determined to see it through, regardless if he was chosen or not!




@Ruin

Meanwhile, there was another fighter in the Weyr who would be chasing the fiery copper tonight. Zenisk, though a black, had just as much muscle for his size--if not more--than Lykask did. He was a hulking brute of a black, no fat to be seen on him, corded muscle standing out even though his hide was so dark, save for his starker, light markings. He wasn't in the least intimidated or phased by his competition. He was a wher with confidence and no fear. He had seen Zelsk in passing a few times, and he had known her time was nearing. When she ran, he, Zenisk, would give chase.

He had won three runs already, though not a queen's. He'd won a sub-queen's, however. That had only served to bolster his confidence that he, though a black, could indeed win if he was given that chance. The other two runs he'd won had been a cyan and green's. Runs were thrilling to the black--and his handler never protested. Indeed, Zen was already making his way to Zel's wherhole, running a hand through his pale blond hair as he noticed someone else seeming to be heading that way. Well, it was a copper run. There'd be competition, for sure. He didn't really know if Zenisk stood a wherrie's chance with a dragon in winning this. Still, he knew better than to try and stop him, or to doubt him. He had doubted Zenisk would win the sub-queen run, and the black never let him forget it.

We are Zenisk. We accept your challenge. We are worthy!

Zen chuffed lightly, chuckling. That way Zenisk had of speaking wasn't about to impress anyone. Still, the whers he'd chased hadn't seemed to mind, so far. He might have spoken a bit oddly and he might have been volatile, unpredictable and...odd. Yet he was sure as shells a wher to contend with. Put him up against bronzes and irons, or browns and viridians...he had stood up to the best of them. Overconfident? Definitely. Yet he'd done pretty sharding good for himself so far. Even if he was hot-headed and difficult to control as a red. It wasn't far to Zel's wherhole, and yet while he crossed the bowl, he spotted someone he recognized. Zenisk had ichor that ran hotter than most at the most normal of times. This run already had Zen feeling hot under the skin himself, trying to keep the run lust at bay. He didn't know anyone here--not really. While he had no issue with the outcomes of runs--most who bonded or Impressed did not--he did wonder if there would be anyone about to share the lust with once it was all said and done. He didn't underestimate his black, and yet through Zenisk's eyes, he could see there were already a couple of bronzes there.

The Betahandler, he knew, was blind. She was perfectly safe in the bowl, and yet perhaps she wanted to go to the wherhole where Zel was. Could she find her way without her wher? She was an attractive young woman--he'd thought that from the day he'd been given a run-down of who was who. Blind or not, she was a bronzehandler, now betahandler. She was clearly fiery, capable and interesting as an individual. Biting his tongue as the heat in his chest moved down lower, he cleared his throat and addressed her, coming to stand a few feet away.

"Were you heading to Zel's wherhole, betahandler? Zen of black Zenisk. He chases everything," he said with a grin that she could not see, perhaps, but could be easily heard in his tone of voice. The haze was thickening, the lust a live thing in him. Still, he kept it under as much control as he could.




His iron hide shone faintly in the light of the stars overhead. It was the color of silver, nearly, so light it was. Still, there were darker markings that most wild whers bore: scars from past battles, runs...he had experienced both in their measure. He was a wher in his prime, at eight turns of age. Healthy, not too old but old enough to have experienced what mattered in life. What mattered now was there was a queen whose challenge rang clear into the crisp night air. The only queen who mattered; the lone copper in all of Pern.

There were whers that knew of her, of course. Those that lived on the outskirts of the town and were called wild. He had, like the other bronze who chased, had a human, once. That human had passed with the plague that had struck so many down. Once, he had been called Lorsk. He still thought of himself as such, though His was gone. He was still intelligent, and had enough foresight to have fled when His had died. He had no desire to be culled. He knew what was done to whers that 'went wild' after theirs passed. Yet he was brave enough to return here, to chase this queen copper. He would risk even life to make her his.

He did not even glance at his competition in passing. They were not what concerned him. She was. Her glowing copper hide shone like a beacon in night. She was stunning. He desired her, and only her.

Lorsk is most worthy. Choose, and not be disappointed. You deserve only best, copper queen. Choose best.

There was no arrogance in the tone. Simply stated as fact. He was a survivor. He had been bonded, and now was wild, and yet thrived. He had fathered clutches, both bonded and wild. There had been none culled nor unhealthy. Here was a wher who knew his own worth. He was a huge beast, powerful and with the strength, stamina and virility to not only win, but give her a clutch worthy of her greatness.

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Blot
 Posted: Apr 3 2018, 07:20 PM
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Wingrider





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We guard.
The words were simple but true. Their queen had earned their loyalty through kindness and gentle coaxing. Syrene’s rebellious spirit had been somewhat tamed, both by interactions with her classmates and Syrsk’s own mind. Hands balled into fists as she picked up the pace, qot quite running. But still walking faster than needed. Syrsk padded alongside her, taking great strides, his craggy shoulders brushing the edges of the tunnel. There was a flash of green ahead an instantly Syrene knew they weren’t the only ones concerned.

Ollisk, Syrene didn’t need reminding, but it was good that Syrsk knew. Syrene had not spent much time with Ollivander, but she knew he was like her. Loyal to Zel, loyal to their queen. To Zel. There was a moment there where Syrene’s heart ached. She was no fool. She knew what runs entailed. She was jealous and part of her was angry. She knew she was too young. She knew Syrsk would not chase while she could be hurt from it. But part of her, her heart, ached in a way that proved Zel was more than a friend in her mind.

But that was why she had to keep her safe. That was why they would guard her door. Suitors would come, and suitors would go. But ultimately the pair would make sure no one tried to take advantage of the run.As they neared her Weyrhole, Syrene stopped. Syrsk, however, pushed ahead. He settled down, sitting like a stone, watching and waiting.
We guard you, Zel’s. Always safe. It was rare for Syrsk to speak to others than his handler, but he felt she deserved to know.

- - -


Another Iron sat back, comfortable in the darkness, resting. But not for long. Her call was loud and brazzen. She called for suitors, and who was he to deny her? A hulking beast of muscle and scars, Rhysk rose to his feet with surprising ease. He was built like a brick outhouse, but that didn’t mean he had no grace. Blunt of head and long of leg, the iron let out a roar that echoed through the canopy around him.

Dirt was churned underfoot even as oppressive hints of summer heat clung to him like flies to a herdbeast. HE would not let that stop him though. No heat, no wher, no barrier would stop Rhysk and his need to chase. Bursting out of the underbrush he charged, head down like he was going to crash into the other suitors.

There were others to her call. Smallones. Bigones. None mattered to him. Rhysk was here. The iron was not at the prime of his life, that was true. He was young, though ichor-green scars on his hide showed he had fought and survived this long. Dirt was kicked up as he ran, roaring once more to let all know he was there.
Rhysk chase BrightQueen. BrightQueen not need tinysmalls. Only need Rhysk. He was full of himself, but why shouldn’t he be? He was obviously the best choice out of all of them. Let the others pursue her. He knew what she needed in her life.


[[Feel free to maul and damage Rhysk as wanted/needed!]]


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Leo
 Posted: Apr 4 2018, 12:24 AM
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Candidatemaster





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Kaisk complained the whole way to Zel's quarters, but she went. She had nothing against Zel after all. In fact, the copper handler was shaping up nicely in her personal opinion, probably because she had to deal with that wherry-brain of a copper all the time. Good for her. Besides, Kaizre's bleeding heart was a weight heavy enough to drag the orange to the bottom of the sea, how could she possibly let her bonded carry that burden alone? Not to mention, guarding Zel's home was a good look for them. Maybe somebody important would come along and take notice- like her prideleader. It showed initiative and leadership qualities, all things important for a future Betahandler. Hint hint.

Kaizre himself could care less what it looked like; he had never concerned himself with politics. What mattered was ensuring that Zel had a choice in her future partner. He could only hope someone would do the same for him should Kaisk run. 'Kaisk WILL run.' Okay, make that when Kaisk did run. His father's fears still haunted him even if he was no longer afraid of what his father thought anymore. The idea of a man forcing his way into Kai's bed under the guise of runlust was more than enough to make the handler feel physically ill. He couldn't let that happen to him and he couldn't let that happen to Zel, or any of his classmates, really. No one should have to endure that. The type of person who would do such a thing was less than scum, worse than thread, and deserved to pay for their crimes in full. Shells. How could human beings be so cruel?

Something new, something hard and fiery, burned in his breast as these thoughts circled 'round his mind. His hands curled into fists and he walked a little faster to Zel's wherhole, adrenaline flooding through his veins. It was rage- and not Kaisk's too. It both scared and excited him. Kaizre wasn't used to being angry, so it was a relief to feel it lull at the sight of Syrene and Olli. He nodded to both, but said nothing, just took a spot next to the entrance with his arms crossed against his chest. Kaisk joined him, a miniature dragon, her tail at the ready to snap at any wayward intruder. 'Kaisk also guard.' Maybe her handler didn't care about receiving credit, but she sure did. Still, her words had a surprisingly gentle edge to them, proving that there was a part of Kaisk that could be soothing. When desired.

---

Ithuriel had planned only a short visit to Dalibor on behalf of her brother who was a healer stationed there. But then she had learned that there was to be a feast on behalf of the Weyr's graduating handler class, and well, one thing had led to another and now here she was: weak-kneed and heavy-eyed, her body thick with undesirable heat. Or should she say, desirable heat? The truth was she had already been eyeing more than one of Dalibor's handlers for some fun after several glasses of wine. The brownhandler could hold her liquor, so the wine wasn't the problem, but her spontaneous nature could be. If Ithusk wanted to Chase the pretty little Copper queen, who was she to intervene? All she had to do was make the best of it: lovely ladies and handsome men alike.

The only problem was...um, where was she supposed to be going? The Southern handler was more than a little confused by Dalibor's layout. Which was why when she spied Lykaios, she jogged up to meet him, and if allowed, slung an arm through his. He appeared to be about the same age as her and had that brooding, bad boy look about him. Consider her intrigued. "Hellooo." Ithuriel smiled. "Mind if I tag along?" If Ithusk didn't win, it was always nice to have a back-up plan. And a good back-up plan too.

Of course, Ithusk had no intention of doing anything but winning as he joined the Chase. The brown was thick and round, yet well-muscled and scarred. His hide was of the deepest brown and his wings were almost nonexistent. He was not the biggest of Zelsk's suitors, but nor was he the smallest. Still, what it came down to was whether he could impress Zelsk or not. She would find him to be quiet, but adoring, his feet thudding energetically after her and his body pounding with his desire. 'Ithusk prove worth through actions. Not words.'

(Maul away!)
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Mopsy93
 Posted: Apr 4 2018, 10:30 PM
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Pridesecond





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Tarele wasn’t big on getting involved in runs in general, and especially Queen runs though there wasn’t that many risings of Queens in either Dragonkin or pillies with the most recent Queen or Queen equivalent being an Amber pillie. With the past of few Queen runs since his Brown was mature physically enough to chase Tarele managed to keep his Brown away from the runs with one reason or another. With Zelsk’s run, however, Tarele wasn’t so lucky this time with Taresk dashing off before Tarele could distract the Brown with something else to do. You better not get yourself badly injured, I’ll have to do most of the patching up of you after all, said Tarele to his wher clearly not happy with Taresk at this point and not entirely sure what he should do now.

Taresk hadn’t really have anything to do with the Copper in the past, after all he was a full grown Brown of a Pridesecond with the only one on one experience he had with Wherlings recently being a Viridian. Taresk comes, Taresk thinks worthy of at least chasing though it’s hardly my choice now is it? Taresk in a good natured tone, he didn’t have much in the way in experience with more violent females though. Taresk took up a good competitively position among the sizable amount of suitors though giving the Copper a good healthy lead.

(OOC: Please keep in mind Tarele would probably not be at all happy with Taresk, seeing as he's against him chasing Zelsk in the first place, getting too beaten up, i.e. more than a few scars especially ones that might impede movement or worse.)


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Ives
 Posted: Apr 4 2018, 11:09 PM
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Alphahandler





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Molten flames in motion, that’s what she looked like to the bronze from his vantage point on the weyr ledge. He had known, as had many of the older male whers he assumed, that she was close to running. It was either unfortunate timing on her part that she chose now to do so or it was proof of her willpower; had she been feeling the urge to run and pushing it aside for duty’s sake then he admired her ability to do so. Nevertheless here they were, the crisp night air acting as a tether to keep his mind from being completely consumed by the primal need growing deep within his belly. Norsk was patient. While others snapped into action immediately he watched the way she moved through the weyrbowl, heard her question - no her command - and waited. Finally when it seemed as though it might be too late, like he might offend her by not having been more prompt in his response he spread his wings so he could glide down. Claws dug into the dirt and rock that made up the weyrbowl floor and he used the momentum from his brief stint in the air to propel himself forward. Powerful muscles rippling beneath bronze hide in order to bring him up to speed, quickly surpassing the smaller fighters heeding her call.

Like a vtol drawn to the flame of a flickering candle he followed, Want best, best come. He did not need to say anything more, he was not an overly verbose wher when the time did not call for it. This was not the time for words but for action. Zelsk was a queen and he a king, yet he was not foolish enough to think the color of his hide or his rank within the Weyr would give him an edge with the copper. She was as clever as she was fast, he’d been watching as she grew and matured. Watching and waiting for the time that she would call for a mate and he would be there to answer such a call. Watching and waiting for tonight. As he ran he took stock, albeit briefly, of the males who acted as challengers against his claim to Zelsk. Whers that were familiar to him, and then as they tore out of the weyrbowl in chase of their queen the wilds came as well - whers that were not known to him. Snorting he gave a guttural growl, the choice was ultimately up to Zelsk but he would die before he let one of the wilds try and force her into choosing them.

Feet led the way, pulled as if by an invisible string towards the entry to the wherholes. Zel’s was among them, the new handlers having chosen their wherholes just a few days before. She knew exactly which tunnel it was down and where to find her - yet it was not the copperhandler that interested her but a number of handlers in the weyrbowl. Spying Oreanda first she arched a brow when she saw a blackhandler talking to her. Interesting. Next she spotted Lykaios and her interest was piqued. She made to close the distance between them but before she could another woman had slipped her arm into his. A friend? Did he have any of those? Lust clouded her mind and made it nearly impossible to focus entirely on what was going on in front of her. Stopping she glanced between the other bronzehandler and the bluehandler, each who had seemingly found someone - or so she assumed. Frustrated she took a deep breath and focused on the feel of the ground beneath Norsk’s claws, the stretch and strain of his muscles as he powered after Zelsk. Losing herself to those sensations she closed her eyes and stood still. There was still plenty of time to choose and for now she was enjoying living through her wher.

Meanwhile Vessk had been sent on a mission, to tag along behind Syrsk and His. She would be no match for the iron if he decided to break with tradition and give chase - he was a king after all and no doubt he’d feel the primal urge same as the other males. Yet whers and dragons alike were not known to run or chase until their bondeds were ready. Syrene was just so young, how could she be ready for that? Yet her worst fears were cast aside when she realized the iron was not chasing but was instead set on protecting the copperhandler’s door. Protecting from what though? Vessa was puzzled when she spied through her green’s eyes and saw not only Syrene but Kaizre as well. Why were they there if they were not pulled to her by runlust? Snorting as she settled in the tunnel behind the small group she regarded them curiously. Silly be guard when no need guard. Zelsk’s ready, if not Zelsk no run. Ready and waiting for to be caught just like Zelsk caught. Be not happy if no caught because guard when no need guard. It was admirable they wanted no harm to come to the woman inside the room but she was just that, a woman and Vessk was keenly aware of the effect her runs had on Hers; to think the copper didn’t have the same effect on her handler was a bit misguided. What if someone came and was so disoriented by their own runlust that they tried to hurt one of the fledgling handlers? Another snort showed just what she thought of it yet the green made no move to leave them there alone. If someone came and roughed one of them up they might deserve it but she knew Vessa would be unhappy if she allowed it.


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Zane
 Posted: Apr 6 2018, 05:35 PM
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Wingleader





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{I am so sorry, and yet not. ;o; He's weird.}

Salazarsssssk... come for Copper prize. Belong to him now. Belong to this. To us. Saliva oozed from the corners of the bronzes mouth, dripping all over the damp soil beneath his feet. He could smell her, and he desired the blood that she would undoubtedly cause to run... It would follow her, the trail, and he would not be far behind. Heavy paws thundered on the ground, curled claws ripping up the dirt beneath. There was loud panting sounds as he pursued the shimmering queen. Yes, they would know he was coming. Oh, it was perfect.

His gaze was focused dead ahead, his eyes whirling a rapid red. He could taste it already... it was so close to being his. He resisted the urge to cry out victoriously, though the growls and grunts that he did sound into the air foretold of something truly evil. The demon King was coming, and he wanted his Queen. Nothing would sate him but her, and the sight of her victims painting the unforgiving wilds. If she were to open her eyes, and take a real look, she would see that there was no other who would value the raw power that she stood for. Together they could take it all--take everything. How badly did she want it? How badly could he make her want him?

Darkness seemed to follow the creatures form as he caught up with the others in a matter of moments. He had started off running alongside the group, watching, and waiting; evaluating the situation from afar. Scars lined his form, his body acting as a canvas, detailing all of the battles he had seen in his ten turns of life. The bronze was a ruddy shade, splotched with batches of a sickeningly vivid coloration. It appeared, almost, as if there were rust forming on his hide.
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Sakoru
 Posted: Apr 6 2018, 07:26 PM
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Wingrider





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Didnala felt rather strongly that she’d hardly had time to breathe in the air of Dalibor before Didnask was scenting out some female on a Run. Horrifyingly, the female (she discovered through further prodding), was a… copper? A queen, anyway – one previously unseen on Pern, or so she thought, but more disturbingly, twice her blue’s size. Oh, come on, she complained, shifting her bag of things on her shoulder. We just got here, Didnask!

Is pretty. Pretty queen! Didnask wants. The blue announced, just as he went scuttling off after his hopeful new love interest. Unstoppable in the heat of a Run, he plowed through his handler’s attempt to control him, away to freedom on his stubby legs. Why he bothered was difficult to say; catching up was difficult on such tiny limbs, but he certainly tried. More dogged than swift, Didnask powered along at full speed until he somehow managed to catch up to the other suitors – a whole field of irons and bronzes and browns, bigger than he almost to a wher. Pretty queen! Strong pretty queen, he complimented the copper. Faranth, but she was fast! She ran too fast for his little legs!

But he was Didnask! Didnask did not give up. Such a concept was unknown to the mottled blue. Perhaps with a slower mate-hopeful, he might try to argue with the other suitors – but the stubby wher simply ignored them, concentrating on waddling after Zelsk. Oh, how he wanted to please her! Perhaps she would like him. Perhaps she would like little Didnask!

Left behind, Didnala could only stand in the Bowl, despairing. She had been planning to ask directions to the wherhandlers’ quarters… with her wher. Now, she was obliged to do it without, and like as not starting to flush with her wher’s desire. Someone was kind enough to point the way; the bluehandler trudged in that direction only to find a knot of people standing around the entrance to the queenhandler’s room – no surprise there.

Rather than barge her way in, she stood at the fringes and, setting her bag down, kicked it into a corner. Perhaps if she was lucky, Didnask would lose and she could avoid spending her first night at Dalibor in someone else’s room.


ooc// you may maul if desired!


"Branches may stop the ordinary man, but B'tor "slapper of jungle cats" is no ordinary man."
- Zane
plotter
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Tigersilk
 Posted: Apr 6 2018, 08:49 PM
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Wingleader





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Ordinarily Busk wouldn’t have wanted to leave his beloved handler alone, given the man was still recovering from injuries sustained in the jungle explorations almost a turn ago. But this was a Queen who called to them, the only one left at Dalibor. And she did request the best males to come after her, so....

Burl go down to where Zelsk’s is at, he nudged his handler’s band before turning towards the Dining Hall door to go after the chasers. Busk go do duty to young Queen, show her worthiest male in Weyr.

And with that the little White took off after the others. It took him a bit to catch up to them, but he did so. Busk is here, Zelsk, he called out to her. As much a King as all these others. Just come in smaller size for easier hunting and digging people free from fallien rocks.

Burl groaned as he grabbed his cane and pushed himself away from his table to go down to where Zel was. He’d been more than happy to not deal with Runlust in his life, given how it made folks act crazy and all while under it. On the other hand, so long as his wher didn’t indulge in it real often, he could handle it.

The miner walked down to where Zel was, using the run instinct to guide his way. He paused when he saw the small crowd of guard whers standing about her door. He waited and watched them, trying to figure out if the Queen’s handler truly wanted them there or not. If he wasn’t welcome, he would leave and find some other way to deal with his lusts.
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Catsitta
 Posted: Apr 6 2018, 10:13 PM
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Weyrlingmaster





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She summoned. They answered.

From weyr and wilds came males of varied rank and color. Brash bronzes, sturdy irons, hardy browns, enthusiastic blues and even a foolishly bold black. Twelve...no, thirteen (a white joined as well) heard her call and thought themselves capable of meeting her demands. How dare they? Lust and fury roiled in her veins. It pleased her vanity immensely to know she was desired by so many, that she could ensnare their attentions all unto herself. They should be in awe of her. They should want her. Yet...

Some. Did. Not. Belong.

She hurled around a rotting log and charged directly at her suitors, her focus on the few that sparked her anger into a ravenous fury that wished to consume. Any who attempted to catch her preemptively would be met with claws across their eyes and fangs in their jugular. The king did not choose. She did.

Zelsk's teeth flashed and she snagged Zenisk by the neck. Oh, she did not close her jaw, crushing the black wher's neck as she wished. She merely used her momentum to drag him a pace before releasing, fully intending on tossing him off his feet for the other males to trample if he didn't catch himself. Leave. Now.He would bleed, but no lasting damage done. Yet. If he continued to be a dimglow and kept pursuit, she might not let go of his throat next time. He should be happy with her mercy. He was a bonded wher like herself, His needed Zenisk. It would be a pity to permanently damage a member of the already dwindling prides.

A few of the other males received a brush of her shoulder or tail in approval as she passed them. Loyalties and alliances all played across her mind.

Osk understood duty. No need to say more.

Norsk used her own words from months ago, an echo of a long spoken mantra. 'Not want best now...need best.' She could seek no less.

Taresk was a stranger to her, but his uncertainty was not unwelcome. She flicked his shoulder with her tailfork. He was right. The choice of who was worthy this day was hers and hers alone.

She was of Dalibor, it would only be sensible to choose a male who she could share weyr and Sands with come time to clutch. But...Zelsk was not ignorant of her wild roots. Her heritage not of weyrborn stock. The Wilds tempted. She flashed her teeth at Rhysk and Lorsk, and even grazed a razor sharp wingtip across Ysk's scarred hide. Her admiration did not cause her to linger; her path yet incomplete.

The copper passed Lysask, a hum of something considering in her chest. Zelsk was fond of her clutchbrother, even if she thought His wasn't good enough for him. He was loyal and kind. His was restless like the Wilds. 'Show me what Blue can do? Show Zelsk what Lysask can do.' Whers weren't like dragons; less constrained by the color of their hide. A blue could become a Pridesecond or Prideleader...like that white.

'Busk either very brave, or wherry-brain.'

She huffed. No doubt he would tire long before the run ended.

A second blue seemed to be bringing up the back of the back on tiny, stubby legs. Zelsk growled but her path went wide, avoiding him entirely to close in a certain bronze that was skittering on the edge of the group.

Salazaskwas her destination.

Her eyes flashed red with the want to spill his ichor. I. AM. NOT. YOURS. How dare he presume that she belonged to him. To anyone. This was HER run. These suitors were HERS. Not the other way around. And with that, she charged past him into the shadows, purposefully flaring her thorny wings to rake across the wild bronze's face. Perhaps she would pluck out an eye or gore them both and render him blind. She didn't linger to see the damage. No, she was off again, leading her suitors in a new direction. She had no plans of running back through them. It was up to the males to keep chasing. To endure.

Zelsk darted through the trees and led them towards more uneven ground, scrambling down slopes and up rocky trails, weaving betwixt stones and thick underbrush to ward off the weak and clumsy. She eventually broke into a clearing and once again called to those behind her.

What makes You best? Why Zelsk choose You?

Cleverness. Agility. Strength. Endurance. Loyalty. They all held their appeal. There were many in this Chase she would greedily covet if that were the way of things.

.

She heard talking.

Zel shifted, shaking slightly from the intense play of emotions radiating from Zelsk. She was so angry. She needed to do this. She wanted this. She wanted them. Dazzling hides of many colors...wait. No. She wasn't a wher. Those weren't her suitors. But there were voices coming from outside her room. The copperhandler peeked out of her door (unlocked and unbarred as Isk instructed at their lesson on runs) and saw a rather unusual crowd. Orange, green and iron. Her classmates. Were...were they here to protect her? She swore she heard them say they were guarding her door.

Allies. Friends?

A flush heated her face that wasn't purely fueled by the Run taking place.

"Ollie? Syrene?" A held breath and a tilt of the head. "Kaizre?" Ollivander and Syrene were the classmates she was closest to, with Zelsk taking noted interest in building healthy relationships with them. Both were younger than her, though Ollie was...he was an adult now, wasn't he? As for Kaizre, they didn't speak much, but...she was pretty sure they were the same age. 'Was he always that handsome?' Zel blinked and swallowed, glancing away as soon as she realized she was staring. There were a couple handlers standing further down the hall (white and blue), an older man she vaguely remembered in passing and a woman she didn't recognize at all. There was also a green wher. Huh.

Natural uncertainty faded as a rather indignant anger swelled in her chest.

Ichor on bronze.

How dare they! How dare they show up? How dare they not come at all?

Oh, oh. That wasn't...Zel pushed down the feelings and leaned against the wall again. She didn't want to be in this hallway. She didn't want...want to be alone. Long ago she came to the realization that she didn't exactly hold much worth in the fanciful ideals of love. Her mother insisted she was in love with a man that saw her as lesser. Only useful through the sons she was supposed to bear and the home she kept tended. She didn't want that. But weyr life was different.

'You're free.'

"We having the copper class feast in the hallway? Less crowded this way."

Her jest was accompanied by a strained chuckle as she laid a hand on Syrene's shoulder and Ollivander's arm. She smiled and dropped her hands, peering over at her orangehandler classmate. Maybe she should have let Zelsk help her 'find a King'. Then again, it wasn't as if she wasn't without options...Maybe. Oh this was confusing.

.

@Ruin @Ivy @Zane @Harbinger @Jenn @Ruriko @Blot @Leo @Mopsy93 @Sakoru @Tigersilk

(@_@ This post was getting too long. Oh my.)


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Ruin
 Posted: Apr 6 2018, 10:25 PM
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Betahandler





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One by one the suitors materialized out of the darkness around them. First an ancient old Brown who looked as if he’d been mauled by all the whers in the world, though he could live for many decades longer so long as he was not culled by Dalibor’s own Handlers. Osk’s lips curved up slightly at the thought. He was smarter than the majority of them, far and away, it was his dam’s breeding and the mind he was bonded to. True, a Wild may have nothing to lose and be willing to give their own life where Osk must consider his Handler, but two minds were far better than one. His hot breath steamed out of his nostrils as he continued at an effortless lope after his Queen. As in all things, the larger you were, the more stamina you had. It was important for him to stay close.

How easy it would be for a little Black to put on a burst of speed and spring between them.

Osk houghed deep in his throat with a tickle of mirth. He would have loved to see a wher try to take Zelsk for their own without proving themselves worthy of it. There would be little need for his ‘protection’ tonight. Whers of all sizes were more than capable of caring for themselves, but a Queen? She could lay waste to the Weyr if she wanted to and they’d have to call in the dragons to stop her. His talons dug deep into the ground beneath his pads and he couldn’t help but feel another ripple of mirth. It piqued Oreanda’s interest from where she was roaming the Bowl. Rather than answer he sent her flashes of pure imagination. A banner of copper consuming endless flowing rivers of black, blue, brown, and bronze.

An Iron came bounding out of the wilds as a suitor appeared at Anda’s side, even her shock of surprise could not cause Osk’s legs to falter, so focused on Zelsk was he. ”Oh,” she exclaimed. ”No, I wasn’t headed there at all. The first time is always the most awkward,” and she didn’t have any interest in reliving that again, that was for sure. Her spine rippled against her will, or maybe it was always the Bronze’s muscles and hers just pulled with the need to follow. She would have rather been running alongside him than trapped here in such a small, weak form. Did the Riders feel this way? To hear their voices...Oreanda had always assumed they were so much less powerful than the whers, accounting for size of course.

A dragon-sized wher, now that would be magnificent.

A world eater.

”Please,” she pulled herself back from the song of Osk’s lungs breathing in night air, ”go on without me. I’ll find my own way...to wherever I am going.” Where was she going? A Blue and the previously imagined Black appeared in the spinning crimson peripheral of Osk’s vision, and the sight of them clouded into his Handler’s mind as she continued on her way through the Bowl, hand falling to her side when the Wall gave way to open sockets of rooms and tunnels and even weyrs. The suitors received only a cursory glance from the Bronze, and then were settled somewhere in the awareness of his mind. It was Zelsk he yearned to watch, to follow, to serve and to Chase. They did not threaten him, the others, but he had willingly dropped out of Runs before to protect the Weyr’s whers.
The Weyr, the Pride, came first.

Another Iron. The Queen called the beasts out of the wild, their numbers had grown. Osk’s lip curled; perhaps it was time for another culling. His pace did not change, he would match hers and remain there, to her right, in the view of her swirling eyes until she turned on him to chase him off or accept him as the best. They would jostle for these visible positions eventually, ride five deep behind her all shining metal beneath the moons, but he wouldn’t give an inch of ground, nor would he pick a fight that might detract from the Copper’s attention. Another foreign Brown, but this one bonded, perhaps a future transplant to the Weyr. This one wasn’t Pride, but could be, so if he didn’t cause trouble he wouldn’t be harried.

Osk’s hide started steaming in the cool Autumn air as his muscles worked into a rhythmic state of warmth and need. He stretched as he went, pulling out his legs and tightening them to his body as he went, preparing for the full length of the Chase ahead. Anda had moved away from the Blackhandler, though if they had gone on to find Zel’s wherhole, that was not her concern. She turned away from the Wall at last to make a dive across the Bowl without any concern for where she was truly headed. There was a river somewhere, and a lake. Beastpens with a fence, and even, somewhere, a Weyrlings Barracks on this side. That was all before she even got across to where the Wherhandler Quarters were.

However, all her planning aside, she didn’t get that far at all when she ran into another person. Well, it wasn’t much of a collision, it wasn’t as if the woman couldn’t see her. Anda’s hands fell on Norla’s (@Ivy) arms and she knew at once it was her Alphahandler. ”I told you, Boss,” the girl hummed not unlike the deep-throated purr of her wher as he Chased his Queen. ”As soon as she was able.” She slipped her arm loosely around the other woman’s waist and hooked her thumb in Norla’s waistband, ”you know, my wherhole is right there at the entrance, secret doorway and all. Private tunnel,” now that she was near someone she knew, she couldn’t help but let that playfulness come out, turning her head to nip at Norla’s shoulder much like Osk would like to do to Zelsk.

If he could prove his worth to her.

Another Bronze came bounding out of the darkness, panting already and drooling. Osk appraised him briefly with one large crimson eye then returned his gaze forward, minding the roots and reaching branches. Then another, a Blue. The Bronze smelled human all over him and was placated; the bound whers understood duty more than a deep seated desire to maim and murder. At the end of the Run there must still be a victor to ensure the strength of Dalibor’s Prides. Osk’s lips pulled up to reveal his teeth, a smile if it could be called such a thing when done by a wher.

His Queen was ready to begin culling her suitors he found all too soon. The Copper rounded on the Black and sent him on his way, without harm no less. Osk chuffed respectfully. A true Queen, to show displeasure but impart no lasting harm: He had, afterall, answered her call and done as she had otherwise bid. And that last Bronze, she was not so kind to him, Osk did not spare a glance to see what befell him, much like the Queen. Instead he too turned to follow her into the dark foliage. He kept his pace even with hers, did not seek to close the distance or run her down, simply to follow. His stamina would allow that.

Never did he move from his spot, guiding any suitors that collided with him away with a push of his shoulder or wing--as long as they kept their teeth to themselves. They broke through the darkness and fell beneath the starlight, Zelsk's glowing hide burned with a silver tinge and Osk no longer had to avoid grasping roots or vines. She called to her suitors, questioned them. Osk had all of the attributes most females liked. He was cleverer than most whers, stronger in his own way, and as loyal as could be. Agility, speed? Perhaps he lacked those things due to his size. Another would come to claim those sorts of traits.

He wanted to be the first voice she heard, and the last voice she heard, but for all his way with words Osk was not a talkative wher. He was more than the sum of all his parts. More than the attributes the Wherlingmaster might have noted long ago. I am adaptable he whispered into her mind. I lead. I follow. I protect. I serve. I endure. I can be only Osk, but for Zelsk? Can be everything


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Blot
 Posted: Apr 6 2018, 11:34 PM
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Wingrider





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Syrsk felt the pull. It was like a hook in his mind. He was all too aware of Zelsk. But he knew it was not time yet. He chewed on that thought. Digested it. Someday he would chase his queen. Someday he would make her proud. But until then, he would prove his loyalty in other ways. Like keeping an eye on his misguided young handler. Syrene, herself, thought she was doing something good. She wasn’t barring the way to Zel. But she was giving everyone a healthy dose of deathglare. Even her former classmates were given a steady stare.

Why was she doing this? It was hard to say. On one hand there was her loyalty. She had thrown her lot in with Zel, she didn’t want her hurt. The other part? That terrible little crush. Syrene harkened back to the Run talk, and already she felt her cheeks heating some. No, no she was not ready for that. She couldn’t even bring her courage up to hold Zel’s hand. She knew how silly her crush was. She was determined to wait it out. She looked to Vessk and hung her head a bit. She knew this wasn’t a place for her. Not yet, anyways.
“I just wanted… You know, in case someone got out of hand.” She was a stocky kid. Sturdy. Strong. Built to be big like her brother, though turns had yet to see her growth spurt. Wher training had only made her stronger. But it was questionable if she could help at all. Syrsk could help. Syrsk could devour suitors if things got rough. But Syrsk was also not one to hurt people, not without serious provocation. He was a stone. A watcher. A base.

Syrene turned quickly when Zel made her appearance. She looked… Different? She didn’t know how to say it, or put it into words. But Zel looked so far away from them. She smiled at her friend, though it wasn’t there for long. Syrene looked at Syrsk, who looked at her in turn.
Syrsk not have answer. She almost laughed. Of course he didn’t.

“Er, no we were just making sure you were ok. It was so sudden and all… But you seem fine, uh, right everyone?” There were suitors waiting for Zel, and Syrene was suddenly aware she shouldn’t be there. She pulled away, moving to stand next to Syrsk, leaning against his bulk. It was comforting. She felt foolish now, and Syrene never dealt well with such a feeling. She was trying, oh was she trying, not to let it become anger. Her mind was pressed against Syrsk’s, trying to steal his calm as she repeated to herself not to lash out.

- - -


Rhysk let out a rough bark as Sel turned on her suitors. Good! A fight! Just what he was waiting for. His sole eye whirled reds and purple hues, the colors bleeding into each other. Rhysk was a creature of battle. A young tank. He charged in heedless, roaring his fury and willingness to clash against others. He did not need to though, as she took hold of one of her suitors and dragged him away. If the iron could laugh, he would. Impressive that she left him unharmed. One by one she picked at her suitors, showing them either favor or ire.

Her flash of teeth was met with a flash of his own, each thick and pointed, though some were broken from battles long since past. The Iron was more than scars and fury, though. He was young. A good sire, or so he thought. Runs were part of his nature, nearly as much as battles were. He had won a fair few with lesser whers. But a queen! A copper queen at that! That he would see as a true victory.

And this queen? She had fire. Her attack on the bronze caused his blood to boil. Heat filled his body, not just from the chase, but from the scent of ichor on the wind. Warmth made the smell more pungent. Potent. And Rhysk breathed it all in deep, letting out a rough sigh of contentment. This was what he was looking for.

Rhysk survive wilds. Teeth on Smallones. Win fights. Win runs. Fight for life. Rhysk bring strong eggs, smart eggs. His jaws parted in a toothy, almost foxy grin. Or what could be called a grin from the large, blunt-headed beast.
Rhysk show BrightQueen.

As terrain got worse, he slowed some, though not much. Between trees his singular eye caught glimpses of other hides. Bright hides. It was tempting. The battleworn wher charged, trampling budding greenery beneath foot and claw. His target came into view, closer and closer, until all he could focus on was brown. Dark brown. So dark. Bloodlust heating his body, he charged, jaws open wide to snap around a hindleg if Ithusk was not fast enough, or somehow missed the young iron’s noisy approach.


{@Leo - Sorry! Ithusk is free to dodge and everything! I tried to leave it open ended.}


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Zane
 Posted: Apr 8 2018, 02:26 PM
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Before the door opened, both Syrene and Kaizre had come to join him. Both former wherlings were accompanied by their whers, and both the younger girl, and the older teen, possessed grave expressions. Ollivander could guess at why Syrene and Syrsk had come. He had seen them hanging around Zel, he knew that the younger girl looked up to her. Despite, this was no place for a child, and his protective instincts kicked in the moment she came up alongside him to wait by the door. Kaizre, on the other hand... Why was he here? No matter how many times he pretended as if he didn't know the answer to the question, he was only fooling himself. He had seen the glances exchanged between the orangehandler and Zel during the lesson. He knew why Kaizre was here. Olli couldn't bring himself to glare at the older boy, instead peering down at his feet. Ollisk regarded both Syrsk and Kaisk with a bow of her head, glad that both of them had come (regardless of the reason). They may have all been separated into different prides, but they were still one pride: Copper pride. This proved that. Despite their differences, they cared for one another, and the copper queen. Zelsk frustrated Ollisk, to no end she frustrated her due to her desire for power and her intent on using Hers. Ollivander was not a pawn. He was a good boy, and he deserved better. Even so, both she and Hers were loyal, and loyalty led a person to act against their better judgment. Ollisk looked to Kaizre, knowing precisely what was on Olli's mind. He hid nothing from her, mostly because of the fact that her willpower was stronger than his.

Before the door opened, one of the Prideleader's greens came padding up. She looked none too impressed, and Ollisk could hardly blame her. This was not a place for children. Syrsk ought to take His out of here, before she saw something, or was made to engage in something, that she wasn't prepared for. Flightlust, especially from a queen, was difficult to combat. She could feel the rippling of emotions, even in Hers, despite his childlike tendencies. Olli was an innocent boy, and if she could help it he would be able to retain his innocence for a while longer. A woman stood back from the group, one she did not recognize, though she was, indeed, a handler. Ollisk regarded her in the darkness, keeping a careful watch of all of those present.

When Zel emerged, Olli's eyes widened. "Zel, y-you..." He was gonna ask if she was okay, but the look on her face said it all. He had been expecting tears, but instead there was an undeniable heat to her gaze; said gaze was not turned on him, nor thankfully Syrene. She placed a hand on his arm, and a faint blush spread across his cheeks. She was his friend--a friend he respected. He was glad she was alright, but... And then he saw it; the same thing Ollisk saw, for she saw everything. Zel, like before, was intently watching Kaizre. His heart sank, not due to the lack of reciprocal feelings, but due to the fact that he felt as if he was losing a friend to something he couldn't yet understand. Apparently the mere turn that separated him from both Zel and the orangehandler was enough that the flow of communication between them eluded him. He was smart enough to know when to back off, and let things be. He would not press her, nor Kaizre. If that's what they wanted--each other--than it would be wrong of him to try to protect her from something that she didn't need protecting from. He had done his part. He had showed up. She had chosen, and in his heart he knew he was better off for it. Someday there would be someone he cared about, in that way, and then maybe he too would understand. For now, he had other responsibilities. He could feel Ollisk nudging at his mind, her yellow tinted eyes observing Syrene.

The ironhandler was a child still, and despite the fact that she indeed possessed an iron, he still felt it was his duty to see to her safety. "Syrene," he called, moving past Zel so that he could stand alongside the young girl. "I think I saw bubbly pies at the party. Could you come with me, I don't want to go alone." He was sure that Syrene would understand what he was trying to do, given that Olli wasn't particularly skilled at subtlety. The boy offered the ironhandler his hand, sporting his best smile. He had forgotten all about Zel, and Kaizre, because that's all he could reasonably do. Ollisk became a heavy presence, sending her love and affection through their bond. She knew that he needed her, and she could think of no better focus of her time and attention.

@Blot

--

The copper queen turned upon him, and for the briefest of moments he had her attentions. She commanded him to correct his err in judgment, and all he could do was... laugh? There was a clear rumble that echoed from his chest. Oh, yes, she was everything he thought she'd be and more... What a fiery queen--what a prize. He would have given anything to have her, for life without a true queen by his side meant nothing. HE did not fear loneliness, no, but with copper Zelsk he could have true status and power among both the wilds and the bonded's. She could give him everything.

She came up alongside him viciously, dragging sharp appendages up his form. She cut right over his face, to which the bronze turned his head to the side--in vain. Yes, these were the actions of a true queen! Salazarsk roared in agony, but did not slow his pace. Ichor stained his hide, and the dirt floor beneath him. It was his own blood that left a trail... Yes, he would mark the way... His eye had been torn right through, his vision all but gone on the left. He could feel his senses heightened by the rush of adrenaline! What more would she take from him? What more did he have to do to show her that they were destined to run together?

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Ruriko
 Posted: Apr 8 2018, 07:27 PM
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Weyrlingmaster





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@Leo, @Ivy, @Ruin, @Catsitta

OOC: Sorry Leo, and Ruin! The plotting betwixt Lykaios and Norla was pre-discussed a while ago. If anyone is interested in Zen or one of my other unattached...let me know! c;

Lykaios was not easily caught off guard, and yet this was his first experience with run-lust. So, when someone suddenly thrust an arm through his, his immediate reaction was to growl and yank his arm away, nostrils flaring as he bared his teeth in a feral looking snarl. Green-gold eyes came to rest upon an unfamiliar face, and he shook his head as if to shake off the hazed vision that was his own, and yet Lykask's. Her words registered, as did the fact that the person standing in front of him was female. His mind was warring. She smelled female, and she wasn't unattractive. Yet he didn't know her. Mind if she 'tagged along'? He didn't even know where he was going. In the moment of clear, he realized the general direction. Zel. Zel's wherhole. That wasn't where he wanted to be. His expression turned into a brooding, heated and yet somehow chill, hard, stare. He wanted. He needed. And yet...he sensed something...someone...else. Looking up, he spotted a face that was familiar. It was a face he knew, and probably better than most in this Weyr.

In this place he'd come to, there were few--if any--who he felt could come remotely close to some form of understanding of him. It was perhaps chemistry of some kind, perhaps instinctual, but in that moment it didn't matter. This woman in front of him, whoever she was, was not what he wanted. It had nothing to do with who she was. It had everything to do with who she was not. What she was not. He regarded her a brief moment longer, before he strode away without a word. Instead he stalked over to where Norla stood, eyes closed, and came to stand a mere foot or so away in front of her. There was another woman beside her, but he didn't even look at this one. He barely knew her, either. Had not heard her prior words. She was, like that other handler, of no interest to him. His breathing was a mix of sharp inhales and exhales in which he felt the very center of his being was on fire. He looked down at her, even while her eyes were closed, waiting, feeling on the edge of something ready to implode at the slightest invitation...

Lykask's chest swelled with pride and a fierce feeling of elation. He had seen what had happened to the big black, and yet he respected, not feared, the copper who permitted him, Lykask, to continue in giving chase. She alone had ever really and truly seen him for who he was, and not what. He would follow her to the ends of Pern. Words were not needed. Not now. Actions were what she had asked. To be shown. Muscles coiled and uncoiled as he kept aware of his surroundings, and those others who chased. He knew to be wary of wild whers, for they were unpredictable, and while he was wary, he would not stray from his path of following the glorious copper queen, even if it brought him nearer them. Her words struck deeply, and Lykask did not hesitate to speak, no hesitation in his mind voice.

Lykask respect Zelsk--do a great care for Zelsk. Be loyal to Zelsk--and other kind loyal to all wher in Dalibor. Be strong, be brave, be all things! The blue paused but a moment, before stating with emphasis, Zelsk matter to Lykask even when not chase. Lykask not say am best. All wher have thing to make best. Best at something. Best at be selves. Yet Lykask can be best for Zelsk, if Zelsk let be. Zelsk choice. Only Zelsk's. No wher best for Zelsk but Zelsk say is best. Be great honored to be Zelsk's best. Will not do a disappoint! He stood taller than he'd ever stood, then. He was proud to be among her chasers. It was an honor to even be thus. She saw him, and he saw her, and was proud to know her and Hers.

Zeniayr watched the bronzehandler walk off before turning to head back in the direction of Zel's wherhole once more. Yet again, he came into contact with someone decidedly not the copperhandler. He stood in front of Ithuriel, having watched the bluehandler stalk off for another woman. He regarded her a moment, before giving her a 'well, that was interesting, wasn't it?' sort of expression. Yet if she was in the same boat as he was...

"Zeniayr--you can call me Zen. Or whatever you'd like, really." He flinched as he felt Zenisk's pain, taken aback. The black was quite suddenly seized by the copper, and told to leave, and Zen wasn't entirely sure why--did he do something untoward? It wouldn't have surprised the blackhandler. The black's frustration and fury at being singled out had the lust mixed with the tall blond struggling to reign his wher in. Zenisk would have gone right on chasing, even if she turned on him again. For whatever reason the copper had seized him, Zen wasn't about to let the black be a fool and get himself permanently harmed. He bled, but it was hardly anything--he'd had worse, and it could have been worse.

'Not worth it, Zenisk! Do NOT continue chasing her. Count your losses, and don't piss her off.' The tone he took was equal parts command and understanding. The black raged, shaking himself off and growling low in his throat, snarling and spraying spittle on the ground, frothing at the mouth. Shardit! The shells did she have to do that for? He'd heard wher runs were brutal, but through Zenisk he'd seen a blue and even a white and another blue in pursuit. Maybe she didn't like blacks? Well, whatever it was, it was his job to be sure to keep Zenisk getting himself killed or losing it. So, he made a split decision to try and turn the wher's own run lust into something that would have him concentrating elsewhere. Looking down at the young woman in front of him, if she allowed it, he would slide a hand down along the side of her waist, and give her an apologetic smile before slanting his mouth across hers and sealing his lips over hers in a slow and sensual kiss. If the wher's own run lust could not be met, perhaps he could deviate by having Zenisk share in a bit of his own? It was a last minute idea, but they were both frustrated. She hopefully was, too...

Lorsk flashed his teeth back at the copper queen, a snarl of approval rising from deep within. She had brought her wrath down upon that black, and yet challenged the blue to show her what he could do. What a fascinating creature she was! He did not question her actions, and yet how she made his ichor burn when she attacked the bronze who dared presume upon her. This was what it meant to be a wher! They were no dragons, far tamer and reserved. What a queen she was! She took control, she measured and found wanting or worthy, she challenged, she was fearless! Then she was whirling about to ask a question. Ah, so she knew the blue she had spared her ire, did she? Well, it was of little concern to him. He was no puny blue! His response came immediately following Lykask's, no less powerful in conviction, though of a different sort.

Lorsk know prides, Lorsk know wilds. Both worlds have Lorsk lived. Lorsk survived! Lorsk endure, have much strength, give strong clutch to most formidable of queens, Zelsk. Weyr need strong whers. His tone was a reverberating rumble, as he finished, Why tell why best? Lorsk willing to show! He would chase her, and if she chose him, catch her. He was no smaller wher, to tire out in this run. To give her weak wherets. His get would be strong, and a Weyr, he knew, needed strong whers, as he'd said. He was willing to bet the copper queen knew it, too. That she, like many queens before her, would put her Weyr and those in it first...even above him, should he win. He would disappear into the wilds until her next run, after all. She would go one to lead, as a copper should, and be a queen of the prides.
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Harbinger
 Posted: Apr 8 2018, 08:20 PM
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His breath came in even huffs as Ysk trailed the copper streak that was his Queen. He ignored the other suitors to a point; he couldn't completely dismiss them but he could avoid them and focus on the his goal. He dodged this way and that, using his limber frame to make the movement easily. Turns and turns in the wild had kept him lean; having naught but what he provided himself kept his form down to the most efficient possible.

A hiss escaped the Brown as a wing claw lacerated his hide, but the wound was neither deep nor painful. He was much more annoyed that Zelsk had the audacity to do so than anything, even if her lashing out had been in admiration. He twisted quickly to keep after her, intending to pay back that wound with a few love scratches of his own - namely, those that would keep her in his grasp once he had won the Copper over.

Ysk wise, the Brown replied to her query, pressing into her mind the ancient feeling of an old Wher. See much. Know much. Much strong, much keen. Speaking may not be his strong point, but the point of a run was not to speak the way into the female's heart. It was to prove oneself as the strongest, the keenest. He would do so as they bound up and down the slopes of the continent, through trees and underbrush... whatever Zelsk would throw at them, Ysk would tackle without hesitation.


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Mopsy93
 Posted: Apr 8 2018, 11:32 PM
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Taresk was certainly not the last male that joined the run, not by a long shot being more in the middle of males that had joined and wasn’t the smallest male there, that being a White that had joined in last. It was a good thing that he gave the Copper a wider berth than what he would with a more even tempered female, well even tempered for a wher in the middle of a run, just barely dodging a rotten log that she threw at the suitors. A fellow Pridesecond’s wher, more specifically Black Zenisk seemed to draw her ire first of the suitors to be dismissed though at least Taresk didn’t suffer a similar fate only being flicked by a tailfork before she moved on.

Zelsk took offense to Salazask’s attitude though, considering the fact that she intentionally raked her sharp wings, well what would be considered wings for a wher which wasn’t much even by standards of a Queen, across Salazask’s back. Taresk is steady in many things, both in terms of endurance and in terms of personality, said Taresk. He couldn’t really say much of anything else not really sure what the Zelsk would think if he said anything else and keenly remembering what Tarele had said at the outset and coming away without too many injuries.


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Jenn
 Posted: Apr 9 2018, 08:50 AM
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Not worthy of chasing. Not worthy at all, Maelisk gave a hum of approval as Zelsk set herself against a few of the other whers. Blacks. Blue. Whites. None of these ave the wild wher any kind of pause. They were all unworthy to chase after any he himself chased much less chasing and catching a queen such as Zelsk. A brush of her shoulder and a caress of her tail sent Maelisk into a faster pace. Need to chase. Need to catch. Maelisk ignored the rest of the whers around him, focused on the copper tail that darted and ran in front of him.

He watched dispassionately as she dragged the black with her momentum, Maelisk's own amusement cutting into the lust as the copper demanded he leave. Yes leave. Take himself away, better suited to chase a green than a copper. Pretty words. Flowery words. Best to show he bugled at the blue with his flowery dragon like words. Maelisk never understood the younger whers' need to shower the queens with words that meant nothing in the long run. It was better to show a queen how much better it would be to choose him.

Maelisk picked up speed, copper tail still in sight. Let the younger whers wear themselves out with long speeches about Zelsk's beauty and grace, Maelisk would show her what it meant to choose an iron. He would show her with his strength and speed and stamina. Maelisk knew he had it all in spades, his iron hide shown in the moonlight as he slid around a bush and leaped over a log. He caught a bronze in his sights and growled low and mean as he came to Salazask and it was only his need for the copper that kept him from leaping on the bronze to tear into him as Maelisk passed by. Maelisk was cunning and quick, he knew that if he stopped to fight now, he may never win this queen.

Maelisk here, Maelisk come, he called again to Zelsk, Maelisk show who is best. The best is Maelisk and Maelisk will chase into the sunrise if needed


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Ives
 Posted: Apr 9 2018, 07:29 PM
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Alphahandler





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Norsk was no fool. Others would try and press the issue by crowding the queen or by making themselves seem her equal - Osk was playing a dangerous game by running so close the copper - but he was patient and thoughtful. In the end it was her choice and it was but his duty to give her the best options to choose from. Temperamental as they come it was only his quick reflexes that saved him from having a rotted log wallop him across the snout. Ducking and dodging he lost some ground but beneath his bronzen hide his muscles tensed and flexed as he pulled himself forward again. Claws dug into the loamy soil of the wilds surrounding the Weyr as he pursued the glorious queen. He watched with careful interest when she turned on her suitors, she was the judge, jury, and the warden; those she did not find worthy of her presence were dealt with swiftly but with the compassion that spoke of a wise leader.

It would not do to weaken the Weyr in any way by killing off a valued wher - she had shown remarkable restraint all things considered.

If need best then Norsk is best. Being best for Weyr long time. Now time for being best for Zelsk. Strong king for stronger queen. Help pro-tect and serve. Show others how be best too. They would be a formidable pair, in his mind at least, each of them bound to the Weyr and to the other whers by a strong sense of duty. All he could do was hope she saw it that way as well - until then he would choose her until he collapsed if that is what she wished.

Norla had been alone… and then she was decidedly not. Oreanda (@Ruin) wandered from the blackhandler and found her in the abyss, fingers playing over her arms before one arm wrapped about her waist. Heat flooded the woman’s cheeks as she felt Norsk’s determination and lust coursing through her veins. Leaning into the other bronzhandler her lips parted against her shoulder to offer a soft nibble. It was a very tempting offer and her wherhole was not all that far away. Yet before she could offer a more solid reply there was another standing before the women. Oreanda could not see him but Norla definitely could. ”Lykaios.” (@Ruriko) It came out in a soft breath, a whisper as if his name was some long held secret. They were not so different, were they? Much like the copper being chased through the jungles outside the stone walls they too were wild. Perhaps not bred and born there but molded by the harsh reality that befell all those who were not safe within stone walls. While one hand fell and encouraged Oreanda’s hand to continue its exploration the other reached out for the bluehandler, snagging the cloth covering his chest and pulling him closer. It would not be unheard of for one to take more than one lover during a run - runlust was such a powerful thing after all - yet her voice failed her. Instead her hands explored and encouraged as eyes that spoke of a desperate need danced from the man to the woman and back again.




Vessk grumbled but remained otherwise silent until Zel entered the hallway. As soon as the woman touched Syrene she was on her feet, ready to charge in and break things up if needed. Thankfully such actions were not needed and when words were exchanged it became obvious that they had heeded her words. Eyes followed the greenhandler as he began to gently lead the younger ironhandler back towards the feast. It was admirable that they had come with hopes of offering protection but now that they realized none was needed they were doing the right thing.

Littles come back to feast now. Vessk settled back on her haunches and continued to watch - just in case she was needed. She very much doubted the younger handlers would return but one could never be too careful.


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Leo
 Posted: Apr 9 2018, 10:47 PM
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Candidatemaster





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Kaisk snorted inwardly at Vessk's little 'reprimand' although she allowed no sign of displeasure to make its way onto her physical form. They had learned under Ijo's tutelage, after all, and she remembered the gist of Isk's speech - won't Run until ready, blah blah blah. She wasn't stupid, and neither was Hers! This wasn't about preventing everyone from reaching Zel, but about only allowing Zel's choice to make their way to the copperhandler. Zelsk was far too busy with her own suitors to be preventing unwanted people from getting too handsy with her handler. It was true that perhaps the orange pair was doubting Zel's ability to handle the other handlers herself, but then again, she was only one person and one person feeling the full effects of runlust for the first time too. That had to be nerve-wracking. Kaizre didn't want her to feel alone in this venture.

So while he didn't know if his, Syrene's, or Ollivander's presence accounted for something or not, he knew they were stronger together than by themselves. He also knew that he couldn't just head back to the feast and pretend that Zelsk wasn't running. That would require him to ignore everything that he was and everything that he stood for. Thus, Kai didn't so much as move a muscle until he had caught his first glimpse of Zel's face, at which point the tension in his arms began to drain a little. She seemed to be okay. Well, there was color in her cheeks that hadn't been there before, but she didn't look like the world was crashing down on her head. That was good. She even made a joke! He hadn't been expecting that and it was enough to cause a crack in his lips because, well, she wasn't wrong. He met her eyes without hesitation, wanting to be bold, though the stiffness of his body told a different story. He wondered if she would send him away; he wasn't Olli or Syrene after all.

And yet, Syrene seemed to have lost some of her inner fire as she fell back to press herself against her wher. Kaizre didn't think her actions were wrong - hadn't he done the same thing? - but looking at her now, he realized how young she was. Her build and her height were enough to fool a stranger, but she had to be about thirteen turns old. Too young to be caught up in all of this. Olli was a different story. Still, compared to Kaizre himself, the other boy (young man?) had a lot of growing to do. It was strange to think that the orangehandler had always known this fact, but never recognized it until now. Kaizre was a man. And it was not his posture or his clothes that made him so, but his age and his actions. It was time to prove it.

"Ollivander- thank you." For being a good friend to Zel. For watching over Syrene. Kai's hazel eyes settled on the greenhandler's back for a second, before returning to Zel where they stayed. "Zel, we came here because we care about you. I care about you. And not just because you're bonded to a queen, but because you are the most selfless soul...even if you can't see it for yourself. Zelsk saw it. You really are going to change the Weyr. So please, let me be your guard. Let me do this little thing for you." Don't send me away. He realized he was pleading with her, but he didn't care anymore. The words themselves were still raspy and raw, like they had always been, but they were also thick with emotion and it felt right to say the things he had held back for so long. It was just so...freeing to express what was on his mind. He wasn't even embarrassed in front of these witnesses.

Okay, that was a lie. His face was on fire. But he stood his ground all the same, heartbeat fluttering like flit wings.

---

Ithuriel's smile soon turned into a frown as Lykaios...growled at her? Well, that was not the reaction she had been excepting. The woman was left speechless- but not for long. The approach of the blackhandler was met with a fresh smile and she laughed at his expression. "Ooh, a tempting offer, but I think I'll stick with Zen. I'm Ithuriel, but Uriel is easier on the lips." She didn't know why Zeniayr flinched all of a sudden, but she could guess why as the run was heavy on her mind as well. Ithusk's desire was her desire, at least for the time being, and even without her wher chasing, she had to admit Zen was an attractive prospect. He also was way too smooth for his own good with his hand slipping around her like it was the natural thing to do. (Maybe it was.) Ooh, that kiss. Ithuriel was only too happy to oblige in a little, ehem, distraction and she made sure to press her own hands against the blackhandler's form. Though she would suggest moving things to somewhere more private, eventually.

Ithusk seemed to have gained neither Zelsk's ire nor admiration so far. The former he did not want, but the latter he craved. The brown took note of her words - she did not wish to belong to any of them. He was okay with that. It was her choice after all who the winner was. They were merely options in a lovely suitor buffet. Speaking of, the brown only paid enough attention to the other suitors to avoid them, knowing that they did not matter in the end. Zelsk did. The spike in his handler's emotions only made him more eager to impress the copper queen and he bounded after her with a toothy grin on his face. This was what he loved; the pumping of his ichor as he slipped past underbrush and burned up slopes. The brown's head swiveled at the sound of footsteps and he narrowly avoided the snapping jaws of Rhysk, though not fast enough to escape injury completely.

A thin line of ichor stained his flank, but it was little more than a minor annoyance. Ithusk huffed. 'Rhysk should focus on Queen.' The brown leaped over a stone that the iron might not notice if he retained his focus on the brown. Would serve him right, if he did trip on it. Otherwise, the iron was all but forgotten, once again. Ithusk was almost disappointed when the group finally reached clear ground after the obstacle course Zelsk had led them through. He had little to work with here to prove his strength or enthusiasm. No matter; he would show her why he was the best! With a fierce roar, the brown declared his love. 'Ithusk do anything for Zelsk! Zelsk worthy. But not hurt Ithusk's, she worthy too. What want from Ithusk? Ithusk will do.' He thought it was better to do what the copper wanted rather than try to guess.

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Tigersilk
 Posted: Apr 10 2018, 07:45 PM
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Wingleader





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It was true, Busk was beginning to tire a bit, though he'd never admit it. 'Both' would be the best answer to whether the little White was brave or stupid. The Copper Queen called. and he answered as best he could. He ran after the others, in the back of the pack, dodging assorted fights and scrambling over rocks and through the brush as best he could. He'd just be feeling it in the morning, something his handler wasn't looking forward to.

Why is Busk best? Because he smart. Smarter than these others. He knows things. Knows best ways to dig tunnels to keep them from falling in. Good knowledge to have when living in stone. Which was true, a good knowledge of the earth around them in the Weyr proper was more than useful when it came to digging out new quarters and seeing which stone walls might fall in sooner or later.

Busk also knows where to find pretty rocks to give to humans to make pretty decorations with to wear. Humans like to give pretty rocks to other humans to make friends and allies with. Or at least that's what his beloved Burl told him when he asked why miners spent so much time digging shiny colored rocks from the ground. All the wher really cared about was digging; what he sometime dug up was inconsequential in a way.

Meanwhile, back at the Wherhandler Quarters, Burl watched the goings-on of the younger handlers. He didn't know any of them well save by what their teacher said of them, but some of them looked far too young for this run. And when Zel herself appeared, well, she was clearly little more than a girl herself. Barely grown, if that, by the looks of her. If by some miracle Busk was chosen, well, he hoped that he wasn't her first. Or if he was chosen, he'd be gentle with the girl. Not that she didn't already have someone close to her own age already present, and catching her interest. That would be far preferable to her going to him for such..services.

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Sakoru
 Posted: Apr 10 2018, 10:29 PM
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Some of these whers were not doing well.

Didnask didn’t have time to watch too closely as Zelsk tossed the black wher aside, for he had to concentrate too hard on moving his little legs faster than they were naturally meant to go. Try as he might, the blue just wasn’t speedy. Stout, yes, but not speedy. He was, however, quite astonished when the copper turned, angling toward him – or so he thought – until he realized that she was going wide, heading for the wild bronze to the far side of the pack.

She didn’t want him?

Stifling his disappointment that the queen was not in fact making an early choice (of him!), Didnask ran as fast as he could after her, even as she slashed the bronze across the face with her wingtips. Not so incredibly, to such a stubborn creature, the bronze kept chasing – apparently he just couldn’t get enough. All of the other males were still swarming after her too, answering the question she put to them all: why them? What made them best?

I Didnask! the blue called, diving between two rocks after the queen. Didnask’s heart was strong, but his aim was not true: the gap was not wide enough for him, and like a cork in a bottle, the blue was abruptly stuck. Too wide to make it through a gap that the lean copper slipped through with ease, the blue was stuck with his forelegs flailing just off the ground, his hind legs desperately trying to push him out of his predicament. Is strong! Is have much good! Is… Zelsk pretty… Didnask cried, sagging as he realized that the queen and her suitors were getting farther and farther away.

Was this it? Was this how it ended – bottlenecked, trapped, squeezed between a rock and a hard place?

Everyone was so far away now. Didnask wailed, wriggling pathetically as he tried to extricate himself. I coming! he called, stubbornly trying to free himself even now. And then, after some minutes of struggle, when all of the others’ voices and footsteps had faded away, I stuck.

Oh dear.

Didnala knew how this tended to go. Particularly in a new place, with strangers all around and whers that had never met her own before, she didn’t expect her blue to win. Still she lingered in the hallway, quietly observing the proceedings. None of these handlers were familiar to her, of course, but it soon became evident that they all knew each other. Several of them were quite young – one at least had to be a child – the girl with the iron wher. Neither here nor there, the bluehandler wavered somewhere between Didnask, determinedly scuttling after Zelsk, and her own existence here in the hallway.

Entertainment was not lacking in either locale. Peeking out for the first time since the beginning of the run, the copperhandler was assailed by the presence of what seemed to be her friends. Didnala watched through a lowered gaze, and did not fail to notice the apparently unimpressed gaze of a green wher. She seemed to be bonded to the tall boy near Zel’s doorway. Rather than invoke the creature’s ire, Didnala acknowledged her with a half-smile and a slight nod, and then shifted her gaze to the wall in front of her. Ostensibly she was looking at nothing, but her peripheral vision was focused on the other run participants: the boy, declaring his interest in the copperhandler – the greenhandler, trying to escort the youngest girl away.

Didnala drew in a deep, silent breath, and leaned her head back against the wall. Her blood was searing with her bondmate’s lust, her muscles twitching occasionally in response to something that he did. Never one to disappoint, let alone during a run, the blue wher chose this exact moment to leap between two rocks, graceful as a barrel full of sand – and he was stuck. Suppressing the need to cringe, she let her mind blend with his again, experiencing the surge of lust and then the dull frustration as he realized that he couldn’t go any further.

Was he kidding?

Deciding to forsake her blue to the pity of the wilderness for now (it served him right), the bluehandler stayed where she was. Half of it was annoyance with Didnask – and the other parts, she had to admit, stemmed from an interest in this unusual drama… and, of course, curiosity as to whether she could find someone with whom to spend this throbbing need.


"Branches may stop the ordinary man, but B'tor "slapper of jungle cats" is no ordinary man."
- Zane
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