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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 eight years.

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Winter, 17th Turn, 11th Pass

Upcoming Flights:
Cyan Ijreth
Cyan Ridesk

Upcoming Hatchings:

Winter continues on but for a lucky few it is not a factor as they travel south. Grove Weyr has called on Dalibor to assist them with exploring the deep jungle to the southeast of the Weyr. Warm weather sounds great and for a few days it is for the explorers.

Good things never last and those on the expedition soon meet huge snakes capable of crushing a human, huge felines - some of which are taken alive to be delivered somewhere, new fruits, new medicinal plants, and also a gorgeous bloom that no one has ever seen the likes of before! Other fauna in the jungle proves to be far more friendly as a number of riders and handlers return with winged snakes and some kind of bushy tailed rodent? No one is quite sure what they are but the beasthall will surely be interested in the new species!

Illness spreads through the expedition goers and then through Dalibor as well - possibly spread by someone who returned early from the expedition. No one is entirely sure what the catalyst for the illness was and it has an alarming fatality rate. For days there are large groups of people that are touch and go, healers work non-stop to keep them from perishing; for some their effort is in vain.


Leadership
Weyrwoman
Rayna of Gold Couineth - Boo

Weyrleader
Z'dyn of Iron Baihujinth - Rhia

Jr. Weyrwoman
Jali of Copper Laanasuth - Rii

Jr. Weyrleader
Arlya of Burgundy Xerocleth - Rowana

Alphahandler
Norla of Bronze Norsk - Ivy

Betahandler
Nevitheran of Gold Nevisk - Rhia

Weyrlingmaster
Rilorden of Blue Gabranth - Zane
Nia of Pink Koeneth - Catsitta
B'tor of Green Tavistrath - Sakoru

Wherlingmaster
Ijo of Brown Isk - Rhia

Candidatemaster
Al'dr of Blue Fortath - Raining
Zanii of Black Zansk - Leo

Staff
Head Admins

Ruin

Moderators

Ivy
Rii

Historian

Rhia

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Tigersilk
Zane
Credits
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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 Burning Night, SU:11 {Open All}
Ruin
 Posted: May 21 2015, 09:04 PM
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Everything was quiet.

Peaceful.

She still felt the cool steel in her breast and an accompanying ache from where the dagger had pierced her, but it was fading into the past. The dragons slept; well one of them slept, the other two standing silent vigil near her prone shape, their eyes scanning the foliage that was burned back from the edges of the stone Hold. They would take watches, one asleep, one awake, both alert in their own way. Thus time passed across the sea from the Weyr into which they had been born.

When the iron bolts blossomed in the hide of Blue, the soft thunk was pierced through by the cry of a distant wher, and echoed in Shalith's own angry howl that brought Geth and Valeath to their feets with echoing cries. The fields and copses of trees exploded in noise and suddenly there were scores of bright faces painted in dark colours. Sticks of fire joined the twang of loosed bolts and arrows and flames erupted in the courtyards, catching errant piles of hay, refuse, and crafter's bazaar's ablaze.

Irohvyne threw open the inner door but was at once urged back again by K'oa, who waited only a moment to ensure his Lady would not be rash, before he charged out into the night, Sian quick on his heels drawn by her injured dragon. The Lady considered and was pulled towards her own fearful Yellow, but then duty called her back, and she slammed tight the door and barred it, seeking out her children. Valeath warbled and was urged down into the great hall; its doors had not been made for dragons, but its size had been crafted for formal meetings and celebrations alike.

It was a tight squeeze, but she made it.

Sian was astride her Blue and away, a handful of the iron spears sinking into his flanks before she could find the clearance from the ground to slip between leaving K'oa and Geth to muster the men, women, and whers responsible for the Hold's protection. It seemed as if the outer world was full of angry shouting, but if they thought they could win against dragonfire they were mistaken. The Brown was feeding himself the stone before the Riders had even roused from the inner halls, and now he was aloft with K'oa, the heat of fire burning in his throat.

They waited only on the order of their Lady, but she was caught upon which order to give. Land was as valuable as lives during Fall. The surrounding feeding plots and sown fields would be harvestable in short sevendays and meant surviving the winter and paying their tithe. She had been born to lead with politics, not with military. It was an order she could not yet give, so K'oa and Geth brandished gouts of flame at the men who charged through the fields for the gates of the Hold.

One was brave enough to make that first step into the tradition-ordained dearth of vegetation, removed and burned by the Holders to protect the Hall from Thread. That one man's flesh crackled and fell away like paper as dragonfire consumed him.


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Rowana
 Posted: May 21 2015, 10:40 PM
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N'rik and Onith popped from between high above the walls of Western Hold. The smoke rising from the numerous fires made N'rik cough, but at least it would hide Onith's dark hide nicely. It did remind him of one very important detail though. They hadn't thought to grab any firestone before they left. N'rik called himself ten kinds of an idiot as he gripped his straps tighter. O'sho, his wingleader, was probably going to have him cleaning stables for months after this stunt. Well, they were here. There was no turning back now. The others would be along soon enough. Hopefully.

Let Geth know we're here, N'rik nudged Onith tensely. He could see the big brown dragon and the attackers below. It was hard to imagine people being much of a threat to dragons, but they had hurt Shalith. Nothing was certain tonight. Onith kept them high, hiding in the smoke as he bespoke the brown dragon. For once, he didn't even joke, though his tone was still lighter than most probably would be. Geth! Dalibor is with you! Just give the word! He conveniently forgot to mention how unprepared they were, but the other wingriders would be along too. They would probably be more ready.
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Sari
 Posted: May 21 2015, 11:34 PM
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(Tag: Ruin? or anyone with a character that has a mind to tell someone what to do XP) ... if anything needs to be fixed give me a poke

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They were off duty, deep within the safety of the rock the hold was carved. Silsk was pushing the pieces of his meal about in his bowl, separating out the best pieces so they would be left for his cyan queen. Perhaps today she would come and she might be hungry. Silonel ignored the blue's antics, already having tried to gently discourage his bonded from this ritual, but wher, unlike dragons did not let memories take flight quite so easily, and his blue would not let his queen go hungry. Silonel, for his part, didn't wish to press the other into giving up on his longing to see the flitter seeing fruition. If nothing else, at this point, it seemed that the wher was pleased enough to finish off his meal by the time the next one was due, and figure that his queen would surely return later. So it was simply another normal passing of the candlemarks, until....

Silonel stiffened as he felt the abrupt change in Silsk, before the sounds of alarm reached him. If it was early (or late) enough that the sun could present challenge, he grabbed Slisk's tinted goggles, securing them over the wher's head, before arming himself. They needed to know what position they should take, and, well it seemed that the captain of the guard position had fallen to the brown rider that hard returned with their lady. It wasn't a problem persay, except that arriving at the first open set of windows and seeing flames brandished against the fields the hold savy guard half snarled. Idiot rider, holds had survived thousands of years guarded by man, wher and canine, burning down their means of lasting the winter and keeping dragon fire where it was supposed to be aimed was not the answer, especially as it would limit how far those on the ground could dare go forward to fight without risking death by that same fire. Still, whether he agreed with the tactic or not, chaos would always be the worst possible action to take, and one couldn't blame dragonriders for thinking like dragonriders.

"Find out where we should go"

~Silsk ready, no orders. Where go? Way in? Secret ways in? ~ Silsk reached out to the remaining dragons, but also to any wher that ranked higher than him, not sure who was organizing the hold forces, and sensing their was no time to ask one by one until he found someone who could answer. The blue knew this was no game, this was what the games were to make sure he was ready, and all his training taught him, always someone had to make sure, in case the 'secret ways' the Lord Holders had in place for their families to escape were found. Secrets didn't always stay that way, even so, most of the hold forces would need to be present at the main entrances, and would go to meet the onslaught head on. ~Through dragon fire?~ Silonel could see the bad men were in the fields as they paused to find out if they should make for the action, or go back through the hold proper to one of the 'other' ways in, in case someone meant to find their way in while their forces were distracted, and Silsk knew he meant to go for those bad men if that was their orders, even if the spreading fire could hurt if they were not careful. The blue agreed, friendly Silsk had no place here, it was time for guard Silsk to defend.
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Boo
 Posted: May 22 2015, 09:36 AM
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Having departed ahead of many of his fellows, Shirath burst forth from Between shortly after N’rik and Onith. Unlike the black dragon, Shirath’s purple hide marked him like a beacon. A bolt soared past his shoulder as he darted downwards, turning in on himself as he came close to Onith.
“N’RIK!”
Onith, you forgot your firestone. This is why I never want to be a father. I have to already look after my nephews.

The smoke was thick in the air, C’ian’s goggles being the only thing to prevent the smoke from getting into his eyes. Shirath did what he could to stay out of range of the bolts that soared through the air. Soon, the rest of the Wings would follow. They would be here but they had known they could not let N’rik and Onith come here all on their own.

What were you thinking?! Honestly. Ah!
The dragon had firestone in his mouth, chewing furiously. With a roar he ripped forth the flames stupidly as a show of force rather than being particularly effective. Privately, the pair was terrified. These people were attacking riders. They had no qualms about hurting the young. With so many Wings leaving the Weyr, it was almost defenseless. Of course the Queen’s Wing remained and the Weyrlings.

Shivi was a palefolk wasn’t she…?


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Azhdarchid
 Posted: May 22 2015, 12:23 PM
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Westesk's awakening cry left a soft ringing in Tussbuul's ears, and Tusk writhed on the ground a few seconds before recovering just quick enough to grab the brown by the neck before he ran out of the room. Her teeth did not hurt, could not even hold him, but the hold wher recognized the gesture as a kitten might its mother, and stilled his powerful legs. Tusk let him go after, and wound her head around toward her handler. All the shutters on the study window gaps were open, and Tussbuul looked out, but there was still a wall between him and the wilderness. All he could see, rising in the distance, was an orange glow.

A distant scream sent Westesk rigid, then with a roar he launched out the door and down the hall.

"Shardit," the Master hissed. Westesk was just a turnling after all, and not bound to him. He took Tusk out into the hallway. Station in front of the Lady's door. She will be a priority target, he told the green, who loped off and curled up in front of the barred entrance. Her eyes glittered at him from a scant half-dragonlength off, wide and yellow but not whirling without focus. Turn them off, he added, and the watchwher shut her inner lids, dimming the glow and rendering her near invisible in the shadow of the door. He closed the glowbaskets in the vicinity, leaving a stretch of corridor only a wher could navigate.

A few holdfolk came jogging up, most of their heads still turned over their shoulders.

"Westesk!" one swore. "He looked hellish!" And that was good in one small way, Tussbuul noted, for it vetted the three of them as blooded folk of the hold. Westesk would not have passed them by otherwise, no matter how feverish his charge.

"You three," Tussbuul said. "Close the shutters in the rooms surrounding the Lady's suite. For this study, drag the Record shelves in front of them as well. Anything you can use to barricade the gaps in the wall. Quickly now!" The three obeyed, and Tuss delayed only to change out his choice of cane, and sling a shoulder strap and bolas over his back. Then he headed out to find his belligerent ward, and better assess the situation.

Westesk report, Tusk gurgled. The brown passed an impression of fire, ash, and roars that did not come just from lungs. He had already made it to the runners' short stable, where a boy had been caught between a flaming arrow and a frightened, kicking mare in her stall. Westesk kicked the burning hay further into another stall, scuffing out the remains with his paw before he grabbed the corner of the boy's shirt with his teeth, pulling him up. He lowered his head at the penned mare, then snapped the rope across the back of her stall with his jaws. Once standing, the boy appeared to remember his job, and seized her bridle. He backed her out, then Westesk snapped up the lead from him.

You go family. Close door. Stay inside, he told the boy, who ran off. Westesk walked the mare out into the courtyard, and spent little time finding a peg to hang her lead on. One of the holders ran over to secure the strap, but Westesk did not let him tug at it for long before barking him back inside.

Any others bad? the green asked him.

Not yet. Burnt place but they run away, he chittered back, pacing the courtyard and tilting his head up at the huge speckle brown dragon spewing fire over the entrance. Some smalls outside! Hiding, scared! Main stable burn!

Hiding in cool place?

Yes, Westesk allowed grudgingly. He was trying to time the spaces between dragon breaths. If he could run out...

Then SAFE! Tusk snapped back at him.

Tussbuul arrived to the court just in time to see a man running aflame, while the fire that killed him receded back into brown Geth's snarling mouth. The dragon spit out another wave a second later, and the running man was only one glow in a sea. Lone sparks drifted through the air, and the man collapsed away, as though there had never been a real body beneath the flames. Westesk had been standing very close, and flinched away with a yelp.

Guards were mustering on the court, but milling about once they arrived.

"Orders?" he asked of the nearest cluster, but they shook their heads, all looking up at the man-killing dragon. "You six on Westesk." The men blinked at him, briefly startled, then one nodded and whistled for the brown. Westesk darted over. "Peri-meter!" the Master instructed the brown, who perked. The full command was perimeter check, no breaking of words, but Westesk had not learned it all yet. More importantly he knew the routine: the hold had the outer wall, where Geth was sitting, then inner stonework with numerous gaps that passed for windows and doors. "Start with this court, close off all the other entrances. I will get the great hall. Then go around the sides, and wherever you see something open you leave a man to direct the holdfolk to close it. Then that man sees the 'folk are inside their rooms and rejoins the rest of you. Westesk, anyone you do not know you put down, unless the guards tell you otherwise. Understand?"

Understood! the brown broadcast to all of them. They loped off to the east side of the court to close the first door. The invaders could throw all the fire they wanted, but they could not melt stone, nor boil the deep caverns. So it was a question of keeping them outside. Assets were the increasingly regimented lines of gray leather guards and what hounds they could scrounge up- Silonel though had returned with his blue watchwher.

"Don't tempt Geth," he said, limping to the two of them. "Westesk cannot climb the walls, but I expect your blue can, and see through the darkness that is coming. Get up there and count the enemy, find out where they are shooting the dragon-bolts from and tell the Daliborians."

"Master," one of the other guards said.

"What is it?"

"Shouldn't you be inside with the other holdfolk? Your wher..."

Tussbuul struggled not to be taken aback, but he saw the logic. Even trained, he was an old man with a bad leg. And no Tusk at his side, thanks to Westesk's belligerency.

"I'm going to the main hall anyway. Send two of your men to accompany my wher outside the Lady's bower."

"Just two?"

"We don't know how many they are yet," he replied, glancing sidelong at Silonel. "Try bespeaking Geth and get him to calm down long enough to add to your information. They are going to shoot him if he stays in too small an area." With that he made his retreat toward the grand hall, quickly noticing its yellow stuffing. She would be safer high aloft, but he imagined she did not have the gumption without her Lady, and she was already here. "Children out!" he shouted hoarsely as he strode into the hall, barely noticing his own cane. He had seen several devils in makeshift hideouts under the tables. "To your minders now! Your classrooms if your homes are not close enough."

He could not guess what the condition of the Crafthalls would be, but more dragons were arriving every second, and he could not be in three places at once. He had been sent by Dalibor to achieve protection of one rock: Western Hold. Aside from the children, who scattered, there were kitchenfolk and others at dinner, plenty to work with. "I need ten to help close off this entrance. The rest of you split into groups of four and take a tunnel. I want the intersections inside closed off as well. We are aiming to limit progress if anyone breaches the walls."

Lady cannot give order from inside closet, Tusk said just as he was about to ask her. Valeath spooked. I ask. Valeath, she reached out to the yellow. Lady order? Tuss, guards good. Shalith good. Geth bad. Geth fight like wher. Dalibor arriving. She raised her head out of her pile of coils as two men came down the hall, but recognized them as guardsmen. They took posts somewhat ahead of her, so as not to disrupt her camouflage.

Billy appeared with all the substance of a wraith, his legs quaking as he hovered beside Tussbuul's head. The firelizard had finally amassed enough bravery to offer his services. But he could not be sent outside, lest he be caught in stray dragonfire. Before Tuss could direct him, the white sneezed.

Then the same terrible impetus came over his own chest, a smokey boiling in the lungs, and Tussbuul bent double, backing away from the work of the 'folk closing off the main entrance as he tried to clear the sensation. Billy fluttered after him, landing on his shoulder and rubbing his wing against a small patch of the Master's back. He was left hand over hand on the pommel of his cane, hunched and hacking, then standing in a quiver as he recovered his breath.
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Ruin
 Posted: May 22 2015, 03:06 PM
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The wind was rushing past her ears. She had forgotten her flight cap.

That wasn't right.

Her fingers bit into stone and she tasted blood in her mouth, the ground was firm beneath her feet, but her body swayed. There was no dragon, no sky, just war. She could not leave her people to burn without her strength; this day would prove the worth of dragons on the heights. The Lady gathered a calming breath and reached for Valeath, the Yellow stilled where she lay, her eyes whirling bright yellows and dark oranges. Report! she barked at Geth, her voice strained and confused, but strengthening under the force of her Rider's will. Aloft, K'oa scanned beyond the open fields where the Palefolk ran to the timber beyond, flashes of metal glinting in the waning light. There!

The long arrows come from weapons hidden in the trees, do not fly low there, Onith, Shirath the Brown banked into a wide arc around the outer limits of the Hold, searching for any Palefolk that had folly enough to step to stone again. Until the Weyr arrives, fly in guard over the walls, never stop moving! The Palefolk poisoned Kalith! K'oa turned his attention to the growing ranks below, and spotted Silonel below; Use your wher eyes, Silonel, help the guards see through the smoke, you have the ground! The Brownrider would be no use to the Guards while he was airborne, watching for flying metal and slipping through acrid smoke.

But the trees!

My Lady, Geth reached, and Valeath passed the words along to Irohvyne along with the images of the weapons buried among the precious trees. The Palefolk knew the worth of wood on Pern. The Lady would not be held hostage, and surely the Weyr would answer their call. The Whers! Can they secure the weapons and save the timber? Only they can fit between the trees! The Yellow sent the broadcast to all available dragons, possibly to those just coming from between into the fray. Dalibor's tithe depended on the wood lots as much as Western's survival did, and they would want to examine the weapon surely, rather than destroy it with dragon fire.

The dragon turned her attentions to Tusk and warbled into the darkness to the wher she could not see. The Lady says, these people have sheltered you while you...taught their protector...things happen during war. Protect the people, but if the Hold falls, slip away and live. Until then, fight like whers the Yellow didn't particularly understand what she was saying, but even she would be roused to protect the Hall in which she lay if the Palefolk got that far; better that than rising in the sky like a bright target for the metal sticks beyond.


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Sari
 Posted: May 22 2015, 06:18 PM
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Tussbuul's arrival, to later be joined by the brown rider's orders were exactly what was needed. Orders were needed to keep the forces of the hold working as the well trained unit they were. Neither Silonel nor Silsk doubted the master's authority, or his plan, with direction given there was no time for questioning or being uncertain, that would only leave the hold vulnerable, and the hold, its Lady's family, and its people were everything that mattered, more than safety, and more than any man's ego or life. Silsk and Silonel were trained to take the wall, and to help each other get into position where one or the other of the pair was lacking.

From their position on the wall, Silsk's wings were spread wide, the claws on each gnarled toe scraping into the stone below, ready and wanting to tear into those invaders like so many sickly little heardbeasts, but his job was more important, the mind of his Silonel present to remind him of discipline beyond wher instinct. Red whirling eyes sought out the movements of friends and foes alike, sending those images directly to his bonded before receiving words to offer to those leading charges.

~Weyr Whers, Geth find bad weapons, Silsk sees~ The dragon was airborn, though he had identified the hiding place of the bad weapons, showing the whers might be difficult from his current perspective, with Geth's information, the blue's multifacited eyes had already started to search signs in the trees the dragon had noted, and spared little time in showing what he saw to the Weyr cousins. He wanted to help better than that, but he was to stay here, and help his Silonel see and show. Silonel's next concern though was the Lady's family. Seeing yellow Valeath aloft, no doubt inspired those of the hold to greater valor, whatever the yellow might represent to the weyr, she was a part of their hold, and a sign of what they were loyal to, and fought for, but Silonel was always the sort to worry about what he couldn't see safe for himself. Silsk was about to ask Lady Yellow, but his bonded stopped him, now was not the time to cause the pair concern, instead the blue reached out to Tusk

~Lady Green, Master Tu know secret ways? Silsks not see all, not see secret ways for little ones safe~ His Silonel was concerned for the heirs of Western, especially with their Lady both away from them, and in the line of fire.

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(if anyone needs this changed, or needs these two to do/notice/ect, or not do/noticed/ect something to make life eaiser, give me a poke, I got no problem with whatever it might be, just want to be sure I'm clear on what is needed, if anything )
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Tigersilk
 Posted: May 23 2015, 05:24 AM
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The dragons of Dalibor arrived.

Admittedly not all of them, and not at once. Meridian and Horizon Wings were left behind to help guard the Weyr while Heritage Wing flew guard over Crescent Hold, in case the Palefolk attacked both places tonight as well. Mayday Wing jumped ahead of the remaining Wings to start the process of driving the attackers back. The remaining five Wings followed a few minutes later.

Daybreak! Midnight! Start flying recon clockwise around the Holding! See if you can find the edges of this intrusion, and block their escape routes! Mayday! Sunset! Fly recon counterclockwise and do the same! Avoid flaming the trees and crops unless you want to ferry tithes to Western for the next turn! Dawn, follow Dusk over the main Holding and find any attackers there! Zeuth bellowed out G'len's orders, while picking up whatever information was being broadcast about enemy positions by the Western dragons and whers. Those trees, my boy, have the dragon bolts in them. Whers are needed to get at them, the Bronze informed his rider, relaying Iroh/Valeath's specific request for aid.

Yes, was G'len's simple response before giving out the revised orders. Everyone! Do not fly low over the trees! The dragon bolts are hidden there, Zeuth advised the rest. The Bronzepair broke formation with their Wing. Do not follow; we'll return shortly. We're summoning whers to take down the dragon bolts, as they positioned themselves high above the copse that they knew held the anti-dragon weapons, getting a fix on where it was in relation to the Hold proper to send to their counterpart at Dallibor. Couineth! At least some of the weapons firing the dragon bolts have been found here! We need whers to clean them out! Send what the Weyr can spare!

They flew a bit further, finding a decent landmark far enough away (a quarter mile, thereabouts), they hoped, to land a team of whers and not risk their dragon transport in the process. This spot seems safe enough to land a team in, they told the Goldpair, informing them of who they were setting as a guard there to help guide the transport dragons when they were ready. Then, Worsith! Shirath! Watch this spot! Wher teams will be arriving shortly to start clearing out the Palefolk weapons. Make sure no-one is here to interfere with their arrival! That idiot boy thought himself better than him? He can start proving it to G'len. On his terms, of course. And Shirath, being Shirath, would likely annoy the Burgundyrider just enough to make him grumpy while doing his job, he was sure. The thought made him grin maliciously before he covered it in a more deadpan expression. This was not the time to indulge a grudge to that extent. Later would be a better time.

Once the guard was set, the Bronzepair returned to their Wing and resumed their position, scanning for the enemy. Hopefully they could resolve this soon, and return home to bed.
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Azhdarchid
 Posted: May 23 2015, 11:04 AM
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You will don your straps, and arm yourselves in preparation.

Be careful.

Halventh emerged inside a cloud of smoke, sparks bouncing away from his rising wingtips. A single downbeat cleared the false weather, left only the hot air over Western's tiny fields. Firelight blossomed and died against the blue dragon's belly as he cruised with the rest of the wing. L'xon, now at his eighth turn fighting the deadly Thread, held his breath out of Between and waited for the smoke to clear before he drew it. His mouth was further protected by a scarf, his blond head and brown eyes replaced by bald leather and goggles. He looked as much the reptile as Halventh.

But whereas he processed the field and forest's tactical advantages, Halventh bucked at the sight of char piles near the hold gates. L'xon did not need to grip anything to stay on- he had his straps, and that intuitive, seemingly natal knowledge of how his blue was going to move, even in surprise.

Back in line now.

Halventh glided down, and turned his head toward a burning stable fit into the outer wall of the hold. Runners reared in their stalls, abandoned. Then the wing began its patrol pattern outwards, over the farms and the trees, rising away from the threat of the "dragon-bolts".

What are we supposed to do here? Halventh moaned. He did have a bag of firestone on his flank like most of the others. L'xon, lacking any special weapon of his own, had requisitioned a bow from the Weyrfolk before departure. It remained strapped to his back. Halventh's question was valid. He would not put any behavior past the defectors, but a good Weyr dragon would never use his fire on men.

Could be we are just going to scare them. Await orders. Halventh warbled, and L'xon twisted around in the saddle, looking back at the hold. Inform the Wingleader about those nags. Dawn and Dusk are staying there, but they may be too close to see them under the outcrop. If they cannot handle it, we can. Turning forward, he looked over the blue's sides between wingbeats. There's a river to the west, if we dare go down for water.

The runnerbeasts in the hold stable remain alive, but cannot escape. River west, we have bags to carry water, Halventh popped to Baihujinth, his collected verbal report accompanied by fierce images: hot and cold. All these farms too. The blue lowered his head.

***

Maybe has secret, Tusk hissed back at the blue wher Silsk. Not tell Tusk.

Master Tussbuul wiped the back of his hand against his mouth and stood up. The main hall had been sealed. Now it was a matter of keeping Valeath from any panic in her temporary sanctum. And to keep her, the yellow dragon, safe. Killing her would be as good as killing the Lady. He left the corner and shooed off the holders to their homes, or whatever sanctuary they could find with their neighbors. He headed over and helped himself to a lean against Valeath's folded leg. Didn't even ask!

How fast do you think you could get here if someone were to break in on this end?

Good Tusk tunnel I know. Mans not fit, not crawl upsy-down good. One minute. But, no outside fast.

More like they will go to you anyway. Sounds like the Weyr is here. Talk to Westesk. Tussbuul rubbed Billy's head as he coordinated, the white landing on his shoulder and pressing a velvet nose to his grizzled cheek.

Baby done? Tusk asked the brown.

WEST-ESK, PERI-METER. Safe! the hold wher barked back. Though riled at the green's designation of him, he knew what she would inquire next. Holder scared but safe, he grunted. Now go stop holder scared.

No. Courtyard go. Wait there. Stop mans come in.

That what said! Westesk snarled. Tussbuul could feel his green tilting her head knowingly at him, even across the hold. The brown needed more work on his temper when the holders were emotional. When they left, he would have to make all these tactical decisions on his own.

Everything was a teaching opportunity, really.
^
Minute
 Posted: May 24 2015, 03:41 AM
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Western Hold was under siege. That meant, dramatic as the phrasing may be, that they were at war. Or was this just a battle? Whatever, it didn't matter in the end. There was fighting going on and he was about to dive into it.

When people spoke of battle they often painted it as grand and glorious. This was exciting and heart-pounding, yes, but it was also horrible. V'nar came to this conclusion when he and Worsith first popped out of between to the smell of smoke and the sight of flames. How many people were going to die tonight? The answer could be 'tons' just as easily as it could be 'none'. The burgundyrider had always been a hothead and his dragon more brawn than brains. None the less, there was something about this that made him sick.

The Dawn Wing was to investigate the main holding. However, that apparently did not apply to them. Despite all the chaos surrounding him V'nar still managed to feel a prickle of indignity. Everything was going to hell around them and that man wanted him to play watchwher? With a purplerider? As his ego momentarily flared it was Worsith who supplied the voice of reason. People need protecting. I can crush enemies. Granted that wasn't how this was supposed to work but an over-sized burgundy never hurt when it came to intimidating the palefolk.

The direness of the situation meant that even V'nar didn't spend too long fussing. Having heeded his dragon's advice he simply nodded and replied, alright. Focusing on the image of the location the two of them popped between.

Within three blinks of an eye the pair appeared above the specified location. Worsith folded in his wings and landed heavily. He moved off to the side as to allow ample room for the wher teams but bared his teach and emitted a rumbling growl as a warning to any lingering palefolk. To Zeuth he offered a simple, we guard. His next words were aimed to a largely unfamiliar mind. Shirath received a brief, watch from above. We will watch close. It was a simple enough method to allow for observation from both angles. If more than observation was needed... hey, he didn't know about Shirath, but Worsith was pretty good at crushing things.

___________________________

Among the dragons flying counterclockwise recon along the outskirts and territories were two greens of very different minds. The first one, Lucith, eyed the flames with more delight than disdain. We're so high, she complained. There are people at the rods, why don't we go lower and give those barbaric palefolk a taste of one of their own weapons? We have fire, I say we use it. As she spoke she opened and closed her jaws with a threatening snap. Dragons weren't meant to hurt humans and she would do no such thing directly. But oh, flames were indirect enough, weren't they? When one set a tree ablaze you just couldn't help it if someone perched inside caught alight. Or down below. Really, everything was just so flammable.

Those aren't our orders, Garna reminded her. I somehow doubt that the leadership would react well to outright attacking at this point.

So passive, Lucith hissed. I don't know how they plan to get anything done. At this rate everything will burn. Garna didn't know what to say for that.

The other green, one by the name of Kaheksath, was overrun with an entirely different sort of rage all together. This is wrong. This is wrong! These people are innocent and, the palefolk, we must stop them. Every fiber of her being was crying for the chance to do something different, something important. However, they had a job in flying pentameter. What if by abandoning their position she and K'rin missed something that would have been important? So they kept flying, seething internally all the while.

___________________________

R'nar and Mulonimath were silent as they flew. What was there to say about this? Rather than wasting time on words they flew fast and kept their eyes peeled, flying as low as they dared while attempting to stay out of harms way. Twice a bolt was aimed at them and twice they dodged. Was it reckless flying? Perhaps. But the black was smaller than any other in his wing and so possessed a great deal of speed and the ability to turn on a dime. They could afford a bit of recklessness, especially when it may end in better results.

___________________________

The Dawn wing was assigned to the main hold. That was good, Tiana had always been a woman of action and Sitath, horrified by what was occurring before her very eyes, was all but dying to get involved.

Although it was not within the confines of the courtyard the fields were still close enough to the hold itself that they assumed it counted. Sitath popped out of between above the fields, her eyes whirling a mixture of orange, yellow, and purple, while Tiana's face was all but made of stone. In one hand was the bag of firestone she had grabbed before they arrived, already partially empty from the dragon's first few bites.

The pink set a flame free into the sky in a display of intimidation and threat. That's what it was, a threat. Geth may have set to flame but she wasn't about to risk lives without first allowing them a chance. In a sharp but hopeful voice she projected into the minds of any nearby palefolk, leave now! Turn yourselves in or you may have mercy, otherwise you will force our hand. Otherwise they may burn. Whether it was at the hand of flames or thread all depended on if they made it to official punishment or not. Of course, Tiana and Sitath didn't actually have the authority to make such an offer. That being said the pink was of the mind that there was no authority when it came to mercy, nor was there always time to stop, ask, and debate in times of crises. There was no way that any palefolk would get away without punishment. Death was another matter entirely. If there was a way they could create one less death, palefolk or not, they would take it.
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Kestrel
 Posted: May 24 2015, 05:47 AM
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Western Hold.

V’yeri and Vespasiath popped into the black air with the rest of their wing, V’yeri looking back through the smoke to check if their formation was remaining intact. Sunset was a tightly run threadfighting machine, but that didn’t mean panic wasn’t possible in such a surreal situation. But the wing seemed to be accounted for. So far so good.

The pair turned their attention downward first, scanning over stone walls and charred earth. The gates were shut, the hold locked down, and it was clear to see what had happened to one assailant who had tried to enter. There could be more inside who had not met with Geth’s fire, but they would be for Dawn and Dusk to spot. Their wing was sweeping out toward the border, where the lifeless zone gave way to fields, and beyond them, trees. The more dangerous zone, if the palefolk were lurking in the fields and forests. Vespasiath eyed the ground below, searching for them, while V’yeri turned his attention back to the surrounding skies, to gauge if anything important was occurring with the rest of the wings.

What stood out to him, chiefly, was that there were a lot of other wings. All but Horizon and Meridian had been ordered out of Dalibor, with six all swarming over the burning hold like so many insects to the firelight. V’yeri had his doubts about such a tactic. Mobilizing nearly the full force of the weyr to Western did have a shock and awe value, if G’len hoped to intimidate the palefolk into submission, but at what a risk. Can you see the palefolk? he asked his dragon. We’d better hope this attack is the main event.

There was so much smoke. And dragon’s eyes were not made for the darkness. Whers, who could hunt their targets in the forest without burning it down, were the better fit for the mission. G’len must have realized it too. But who was to bring them? None of the wings at Western were leaving their station. Was it to be left to the only two wings left to guard Dalibor, patrol their home island, and receive the injured dragons? Surely they must be stretched thin enough already. Zeuth, we suggest you send riders from the wings here back to transport the whers, so as not to weaken the home defense.

------------

He was a dragonrider.

Riders were brave. If there was a threat, they faced it down. They protected the people of Pern.

Riders followed orders. They did not complain, did not shirk their duty. Their perfect obedience kept the wing in harmony, kept them all alive.

Baz’el had reminded himself of these things as he fitted Wurupuruth in her flight straps and tried to check them. He couldn’t focus. That clasp, the one up there, had he checked it already? Or had he skipped it? He couldn’t remember. Better check it again, just in case. And what about that other one? Had he forgotten it, too?

The wing needs us in the bowl. They are almost ready, Wuru had told him gently, but her eyes, a deep and shifting yellow, didn’t match her tone.

He had joined them, trying to keep his hands from shaking as he hoisted up firestone for a purpose he did not dare to think about. He tried to tell himself it was for threadfall, to see if it would help. It didn’t.

They took to the sky with their wing, with Mayday, the familiar wingmates flying around and above them. Some of them had even been in his weyrling class. Zindy and Jasjitta. But Zindy would not be with them. Zindy was a dragonhealer.

Zindy was lucky. The blackness of between became black smoke, rising up from fields and buildings on fire below. Terrified animals, trapped. Were there people trapped, too? Suffering just out of sight? It was not a natural fire, one fatal reaction growing and devouring like a monstrous thread burrow in its own right. There were too many fires, scattered. People had started them. The palefolk had started them. But people, nonetheless.

Baz’el had brought no weapon. He didn’t own any, and hadn’t had time to ask for one. He was a weaver. His whole family were crafters—jewelers, instrument-makers, glassworkers. Makers of fine things. Beautiful things.

There was a body near the gates, burned black. Irohvyne’s brown guardian was still drifting along the field border, firestone rotting in his belly. Wurupuruth’s firestone sacks rested in their usual place, within easy reach, stuffed full with the familiar rocks.

Baz’el? The pink’s voice was strained, unable to stop from painting over the words with a worry quickly verging on panic. Her rider didn’t answer. Something wasn’t right—his mind seemed frozen, overwhelmed. Inaccessible, even to her. Baz’el!

Still no answer. The pink’s resolve, long the stronger of the two, was broken. We can’t do this! she cried to Ietermath, pleading. We can’t. Please, let us ferry whers or firestone. Let us help another way. She lasted just another moment in formation as she continued to press at Baz’el’s mind for the image they needed, the image that could make things alright again. The only image she got was that of the body, burned black.

Home, she pressed again, and it flickered—just enough. Returning to Dalibor to await orders, were her final words to Ietermath, and one pink vanished from Mayday’s formation.

They returned to the skies above Dalibor, alone. A blue dragon stirred on the heights, but Wurupuruth dripped no ichor, and the slight unsteadiness of her flight was not from any physical damage. The blue dragon sat back again, resuming his vigil. He did not ask questions. Wuru and Baz’el did not land, but drifted in the wind above the bowl.

When the shock began to ebb, the first feeling to come back was shame.
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Boo
 Posted: May 24 2015, 06:22 AM
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Aye Aye Captain! C’ian responded to the Weyrleader, borrowing his dragon’s voice for the brief acknowledgement. He saluted in the direction of Dalibor’s Wings and then soared over to catch up with Worsith.
Hey, as long as it also involves watching you handsome, I’m game for anything.

Shirath whistled to the burgundy dragon and then shot over towards the area they had described and flew a tight circle above Worsith.
Oooh look at you fly like that. So fabulously draconic I can’t even handle it.
Deep underneath their jokes and humour, the pair were frightened. What would happen once they’d opened fire on the people…? What could they do? C’ian closed his eyes momentarily and then opened them again, determined smile cemented on his features. If he was going to die dammit he was going to die smiling, the last joke broadcast to the whole of Dalibor if he had to.
// // //
Mine, this is not right. We cannot do this. We cannot harm these people, we’re supposed to help them… What should we do? Ooooh.
Silvianith’s claws twitched as she flew with the Wing, eyes swirling with worry. She wasn’t sure what she should be doing. How could they harm people? It was wrong. Everything told her it was wrong. Where oh where was Waroth when you needed her? Waroth would fix everything.
// // //
Their duty was to the people. How could they perform their duty when people tried to harm them? Deretsoth was a dragon who saw his role in black and white. He fought Thread and protected people. This was all kinds of grey. He had an answer though.
These people have broken their duty to us. This is the only answer I can give.
They twisted away from a bolt as they flew in the lower formation with the Junior Weyrleader. C'at was terrified. He'd never had good luck at the best of times and this was just one of those times he could see himself getting injured or worse. The tall man was pale as a sheet just about standing out against the smoke that filled the air.
Mine. Western is your Home.
I know... I can't think about them. I can't worry. I have to fly with you.
Good. We can protect them.
// // //
Another member of Mayday was composing himself quite well, surprisingly. When it came to fighting Thread, he had to be calm. This was no different. Z’is accepted his orders right away and took half of the Wing higher above the other half.
Everyone keep an eye out for thothe boltth. They will stay in our hide. We are trying to capture, remember. If we can, we mutht get their leaderth.

Bolt.
The pair darted out of the way, the bolt just barely scraping Hephaeth’s hide. The dragon hissed slightly at the pain but was pleased they had mostly managed to get out of range for the moment.
Ietermath, have we attempted to thpeak with them? We mutht try it. Please. Athk Zeuth...
It was an odd suggestion but like many of the other dragons, Hephaeth was hesitant to do damage to the fragile humans. They had to think of another way. Even if talking did nothing, perhaps rejection of discussion would be enough to spur the dragons onwards. If it was clear they did not want to talk…

((If your character addressed any of mine and I missed them just give me a poke!))


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Chimera
 Posted: May 24 2015, 02:29 PM
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Obsidian.

It was a familiar color for her.

Dardrask was a stronger association than Between. He had the blue shades of day and the red light of evening shining down his hide too. The latter reflected as a dramatic edge on his form, as he rose to attention. The sun could sink away into the skies. They did not have that liberty; the skies did not protect the dragons from the unfamiliar weapon in any case.

Any wher was a wher. One that had been trained for turns, and had through whatever difficulty become twin-like to their handler, was in some ways even more of a wher. Dardranel had lolled into an excessively forlorn, stagnant period of her life. Her sister's ghost never left her (even an actual ghost would have brought her more comfort). She managed her patrols, and little else. So it was that she'd try to distract herself from this by preventing deaths waiting to happen. The girl (no, young woman now) could only understand a faint neutrality, reverence only by tradition and not by real encounters with the dragons. To wish their deaths entirely could obviously be seen as foreign and redundant.

Philosophy had not much of a place here, in the current action. It resided in the past, of any planning or negative predictions, or in the future--in records and discussions and hopefully rallying speeches in the Dining Hall.

Couin (it sounded like queen, and much to his handler's chagrin he thus used it to refer to the gold) reports us for taking care dragon-bolts. Ready? Concerned with speaking the obvious statement as he was--as much as he still disliked talking, Dardrask did not care for dying from hastiness or stupidity, even if he was certainly devoid of the latter--the wher barely resisted being strapped into the harness. He was far closer than normal to a dragon's comparatively giant body for his trip Between; it was an odd feeling that he had little time to notice. Three counts, like flies against their skin. Dardranel closed her eyes, and when she did the negatives of Dardrask's own still burned in her eyelids.

He knew the forests. Knew how to deal with them, or any forest, from patrols and training and lessons and dreams and Runs and now it was not any sort of love, no matter how shallow, that ran through him, but energy nonetheless. Not lust, not even bloodlust. It was hot in his lungs and hotter still in his maws, which made a purposeful sort of exhale. Knew forests well enough to execute his purpose.

Still regret not Impress dragon? The wher reminded his human of the deadly spears that they the people of the Weyr had become so unfortunately acquainted with. His wings were small, not like the canvas-like expanses of his kin that were both mightier and more vulnerable; the last drops of the latest Rukbat winked on the bony digits giving them structure, and on the leathery skin in between. Then they melted and pressed into the shadow of his rib-spiked sides, and Dardrask joined with the growing shadow of the world around them.

Obsidian.
^
Rowana
 Posted: May 24 2015, 04:20 PM
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N'rik heard C'ian before he spotted him. Not that his purple dragon was hard to miss, even in this smoke. So much for the element of surprise. Though, that was mostly his fault, N'rik realized. He really should have waited for O'sho and the others. That didn't stop him from rolling his eyes at the reminder of how unprepared they were.

We noticed! Onith shot back sharply. Thanks for the news flash, uncle! Like they hadn't already noticed the lack of fire stone. Still, N'rik was grateful to see the other pair, even if Onith wasn't good at expressing it. It was a bit more frightening here than the boy would have liked to admit. Thread was one thing. People actually trying to kill them, was something else.

Yes, what were you thinking, N'rik, Onith asked N'rik privately, his tone annoyed. Didn't you have a plan? N'rik rolled his eyes. I don't remember you having any bright ideas! he shot back. An arrow wizzed past Onith's nose, making them both catch their breath in surprise. The time for arguing was long past. N'rik gritted his teeth and Onith flew higher, banking over Western's walls as Geth had instructed. Please let the wing get here soon. If something happened to Onith or C'ian because of this, he wouldn't forgive himself.

Luckily the Wings did arrive a moment later, and N'rik gratefully. Here! Onith reported to they're Wingleader and Wingseconds, taking their place within Dawn Wing. It looked like they would get the middle ground over Western. Not that they could do much as unprepared as they were. N'rik would have felt better if they had...

A familiar grey shaped winged over them, having arrived with the rest of the wings. "N'rik here!" Dolly tossed them a bag of fire stone, eyes wide at the scene around them. "You forgot this!" N'rik could have hugged his old classmate if they hadn't been flying. "Thanks!" he grinned in relief. Sutiexth dipped her head in response. Next time you should consider more before taking action, she advised solemnly, before the pair betweened back to the Weyr.

N'rik tossed Onith some firestone, eyes scanning the Hold's grounds and the fields around. Now they were ready to do their part.
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Rii
 Posted: May 25 2015, 11:53 AM
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Wurupuruth's is in distress.

Aren't we all. T'yandon grimaced. He understood, he did. They trained and drilled for Threadfall and common emergencies. Fighting people wasn't in it.

They can't function. The bronze huffed softly. Go, he told Wurupuruth. That was weakness they couldn't afford in the wing, not right now. Banking in a turn with the rest of Mayday, he focused a call to all Mayday Wingriders. If you can't focus and keep up say so now so we can adjust and send you back to start ferrying whers. Things aren't going to get any nicer tonight.

Hephaeth asks that we attempt to talk.

A little late, isn't it? T'yandon returned dryly. Still, it was a request. Fine, we'll ask.

Zeuth, my wingsecond asks if we can try to talk them down. Personally, I think we need to find their leaders first.

***

Gloooooo-ry. Elianne adjusted her goggles, squinting through the smoke. She knew that her wing was around her, that the majority of the wings were spread across the area to protect the Hold, but between the smoke and the night it was hard to tell. What's the word, Maery?

Smoke and spears, he retorted, And enough wings to choke the main hold's airspace.

Dandy. She gripped the straps, peering downwards. You know, there's a great bloomin' whack of land out there. Shouldn't some of us be spanning out -

Zeuth orders our wing and Mayday to branch off moonwards and fly the extended holding, Maeradith cut in.

Elly grinned beneath the facecovering. That answers that. A secret relief to her; she felt for the cotholders that tended to the lands far outside of the main hold, with no one to defend or care for them.

We have to cover not just the main hold, Vespasiath, but all of Western in case the little holds and fields are in trouble. And someone needs to find where they're coming from. He paused, speaking privately to his rider. Halventh seeks a way for us to put out the fires.

Good for Halventh, but we're gonna need a bigger bloomin' bucket.


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Ruin
 Posted: May 25 2015, 01:52 PM
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The appearance of the Wings did not deter the force on the ground, in fact it seemed to push them to greater resolve. What fear did they have of dragonfire if their mission was accomplished? For the first time, the weapons in the trees moved. Forward, and back, up and down, seeking the targets in the sky. Preferably the Riders--knowing the dragons would follow them in death--but they would prickle many dragonhides if they could that night. The force of bow-armed men, numbered in the hundreds, that did not man the weapons in the woods, charged across the open fields for the walls. They reasoned that they could not all be slain, and it was true, but Hold walls were formidable, and an obstacle themselves.

They had been prepared.

Handmade wood and sinew ladders lay hidden in the growing grains and they moved them swiftly across the open gather fields until they could begin scaling the walls in earnest. And even if all the Wings broke tradition to flame humans like Geth had, the courtyards of Western were soon breeched by scores of angry men who met the Guards within in close combat and fought for their very lives. They'd take as many with them as they could until they'd pushed the scourge of the Hold off their birthright.

Hiolair came from between with Dawn Wing and following her Weyrleader's orders the Wing swept over the Holding as the breech occurred. The Hold is breached, the whers are needed below Kemarahath called, but they both knew that the dragon-spears were of equal importance. Dawn protect the Hold as best you can, we do not flame unless our Weyrleader orders it! the Green pulled the Wing forward on the tail of their Bronze Wingleader, and he urged them into a sweep of beating wings that would knock the Palefolk from the walls with the force of the wind.

Valeath heard the breach when it happened, and informed her Lady, who could only hope from the suddenly claustrophobic confines of her stone prison that the Weyr would be able to turn the tides.


[ooc]: From this point on, assume that whers have been delivered to the outskirts of the area where they can sneak in from behind! Take out the weapons, or rush to the Hold's defense?


*click for plot page*
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Tigersilk
 Posted: May 26 2015, 02:56 AM
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Zeuth passed the image of the bolts to the rest of the dragons, showing the size of the thing. This is what they're using against us. It cannot pierce our hides, but it can hurt our eyes, and kill our riders. Protect yourselves and your riders. Privately G'len didn't think the bolts were designed just to irritate the dragons; more likely it was a design flaw that'd be corrected the next time these people attacked. If they couldn't figure out how to talk to these people before then, that is.

Ietermath says his Wingsecond wants to know if we can talk them down somehow, if we can find their leaders, that is, the Bronze told His. Likely wouldn't work, my King, even if we knew where they were out here. Their people are too fired up to listen to any order to stand down, and won't be listening for one anytime soon, G'len told his partner a bit sadly. From the POV of the Palefolk, the time for talk was clearly pass, if they were attacking the Hold in such numbers. Besides, he had no way of identifying who was leader and who was just following orders, assuming there were any leaders out here tonight. For all he knew the leader were safe in some cothold nearby, far from either the fighting or dying here.

But the question pointed up one major problem the Wings had: dragonkind and their riders had it ingrained into them from Weyrlinghood onwards to never knowingly flame humans, no matter what the provocation. A good many of the dragons here tonight were very likely to break ranks and leave if he gave that order, and that was something he - and the Weyr - couldn't afford right now, or ever. Besides that, he didn't want to give that order unless it was the very last option he had left that night. So start thinking of alternatives fast, tricky one, and hope they'll work both in the short term and the long term, G'len thought to himself.

Couineth! The invaders have breached the walls! Whers must be sent there as well to drive them off! He sent the Queen an image of the Palefolk swarming the walls, and the fighting within, to give her an accurate idea of what was happening right then. How long were they planning this assault? he wondered with a growing spike of fear. All these armaments weren't set up here last night, he'd lay good marks on that. No way this many people could get this close to the Hold undetected in a day. Not unless they had some sort of underground tunnel hidden somewhere.

But that was a question for tomorrow to answer. Tonight they had to drive off the invaders and protect the Hold without burning it down. A couple desperate ideas sprung up in G'len's head on how to deal with these people this round. He passed them to Zeuth to make sure there weren't any obvious flaws the drake could see, then started giving the orders to the Wings. To his little Pink, Vela, and the two Burgundy flit brothers, he gave certain orders before sending them on their way.

Dawn, Dusk! Flame just above the heads of those invaders still outside the walls, to chase them back. Destroy their ladders and ropes if you can! Avoid flaming inside the courtyard lest you hit the Hold's defenders by accident! Use your fire to keep the base of the outer wall clear! Down and up to avoid getting hit by the bolts in the trees! The Bronzepair demonstrated what they meant, diving down and flaming just above the Palefolk heads before sharply rising up again, banking a bit to keep the rider pointed away from the trees and their deadly bolts.

The other four Wings got slightly different orders. Keep any fleeing Palefolk from escaping the area if you can! Use fire as a barrier if you must do so! Find their supply routes if possible and destroy them! Protect the cotholders! Anyone with flits out here, have them fly recon and find out specific enemy positions to relay back to the whers! The trio of flits returned then, landing on their human and telling him what they found. Great! The perfect prison for their captured enemies was still clear for use.

Spotting a couple of invaders that were separated from their fellows for a moment, Zeuth swooped down and grabbed them in his paws, careful to not hurt them as much as he could under the circumstances. He barely cleared the ground before jumping between; a breach of the rules, but justified under the circumstances.

The Bronze reappeared over an island somewhere in the Western Sea. The Bronzepair had found the place a few turns ago during one of their yearly explorations (when they still had the time available to do so), a lonely, solitary little place, far from the sailing routes used by either the Fishercrafters, Sea Traders, or pirates. At least, as near as they could figure the various shipping routes in the area, that was. The flat windswept place had no trees, no edible food plants they could find, no caves for cover, and some fresh water. The perfect place to deposit some captured Palefolk, far as the place was from both Holds and Weyr, and hopefully from Palefolk allies to rescue them as well. This was the place G'len had sent his flits to, to make sure no-one was on the island, nor getting ready to arrive there. Better this place for the prisoners than taking them to the Weyr and risk their escaping and killing everyone there, or finding someplace on the mainland and risk Palefolk allies rescuing them before they could be questioned.

Zeuth landed just long enough to drop off the captive invaders before rising up into the air. They hovered above the island just long enough to fix the coordinates in G'len's mind before returning to Western. Arriving well above the others, Zeuth broadcast the island's location to the rest of the dragons. Take any captured Palefolk to this location! We will sort out who's who among them once this seige is over and done with! Disarm them first if you can, though. Do not linger there; just drop them and return so they can't try and take you prisoner themselves! They then returned to their place in their Wing, to lead again.

Hopefully this would be a good enough solution for what to do with the attackers overnight.

((Will post more of my chars and their reactions to the attack later.))

This post has been edited by Tigersilk: May 26 2015, 03:02 AM
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Azhdarchid
 Posted: May 27 2015, 06:01 PM
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"You see it?" one voice urged. "Do you have it? We practiced!"

They had, but not on dragons.

On targets much smaller. And more variable in their movements. Dragons, he thought, spent a lot of time gliding, showing off their wings. "Wait!" she told him. "I think they are coming around. Yes, they must be getting called back. Our kin provoke them." She giggled, high and fierce like some wherry about to gobble up a child. Not her fault, he thought.

No one was perfect.

"Won't get many shots," he said, as a line of similar contraptions creaked softly, finding their own lines of sight through small gaps cut in the canopy. The dragons flew in their wings, the Weyr's formations. That much was expected. Half of Mayday was out of range due to happenstance, some guess from the leader. No way the bullbrain knew.

"Rider or eye?" his spotter asked, holding out her thumb to approximate the sight.

"Eye," he said, and so did several of the others. Like an affirmative, or an oath to their duty. Eye-eye.

"Rider," said one.

Riders did not glow. The aim was hard.

"At your leave!" he replied. They aimed. The line of fire set along the treeline between them and the nearest cot field set the shadows from which their bolts would spring at just a little too high a contrast for a dragon to make out at night. To be successful they had to be faster and less visible than Thread, even in the evening light.

"Fire, fire," the spotter whispered, though she knew it was up to him. Because of the formation, they would all be firing in synchrony. Their targets would not be far apart. His muscles ached beneath his chalky skin, aching with the effort of keeping the machine on its target.

The bolt snapped free, and only after did he mouth "fire" to himself.

His malice flew, twisting slightly in the air as if wound on an invisible thread between the earth he owned and the dragon's eye. Lucith's. Another danced out of the firelight toward Ietermeth, but banked wide on the wind, able to punch through only the wing membrane if anything. Two more fell without really flying, striking the canopy. The final bolt flew true however, with that practiced turn to the bolt, like a drill through wind and flesh. Due to the angle, it would have to buzz past Deretsoth's head and neck before it could reach the belly of his rider, C'at.

"Their watchers?" he demanded immediately of the spotter. She shook her head. "Reload!"
^
Boo
 Posted: May 27 2015, 08:11 PM
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BRAVO PRIDE WE ARE HAVE OUR HOLD! PROTECT!
The handler and her wher ran to protect the hold, Yalesk leaping at an invader with a roar. The fury of her mother showed in the green as she bit into the leg of the person before her. They had to be careful, so careful. Her handler was nearby, close but far. An arrow was loosed into the shoulder of the person from Yalenia’s crossbow. Yalesk roared and landed on the person’s chest but moved as Shirath grabbed the bloody, screaming man, and betweened to the Western Ring Islands.

NONE ARE GET PAST YALESK! BRAVO BEST. BRAVO DEFEND WALL!
With another guttural roar she tripped a woman with her tail. These beasts, these creatures would not get past her. This was her Hold darnit. This was the place she had sworn to protect. She was a ball of wild fury, moving erratically. Eyes were blood red.

This was utterly terrifying. He hated being close to the weapons but someone had to be. They needed to attack them, do something to harm them... Neither he nor the brown dragon wished to do anything though. This was not what he'd had in mind when he had agreed to become a dragonrider.

“DERETSOTH!”
An arrow came towards them. Deretsoth did all he could to protect his rider but it was unsuccessful. The pair screamed their terror and pain as the bolt wedged itself in C’at’s shoulder.
HELP!

Then the pair betweened.


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Rii
 Posted: May 27 2015, 10:21 PM
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Only their Threadfall-honed skills saved Ietermath from wing damage, as he backwinged abruptly to try and avoid the bolt that suddenly flickered in the light of their flames. It grazed his hide, leaving a shallow mark, and T'yandon's chest hit his bronze's back with the sudden jolt. Mayday Wing! Between and regroup higher! We're too low!


***


Western's courtyard and outer walls were in chaos. The pale-skinned intruders cared nothing for honor, only their cause. Together in ones and twos and threes they swarmed guards armed with swords and clubs. Handlers provided more targets, more foes to meet their ire.

On the walltop, more of the invaders wreaked havoc from that hard-won vantage. Some armed with bows aimed their arrows down into the courtyard to pick off their opponents wherever the palefolk were not already attacking on the ground, or shot at guards on other parts of the wall.

Some of their ladders burned. But they'd made many of them, and it seemed they had an advantage, one they were all too willing to push: the dragons were hesitant to actually flame them. Winged cowards, so sure of their right to rule that they couldn't see their death even as it aimed for them. An enterprising archer aimed and fired, aimed and fired again at the riders that swooped down into range. It was unlikely to do much to dragonhide, but it could serve quite nicely as an additional danger to the people who rode them along with the dragonspears from outside.

"Break them! Break their guard! Clear the doors!" roared one of the swarm assaulting the courtyard. The doors. If they could breach the Hold itself, they would win. Far too many corridors where no dragon could fit, only their smaller cousins, the whers. Whers that were already beginning to enter the fray. "Crossbows! If you see a clear shot at one of their whers, take it!"

Clearing the courtyard, if they could do it, was only the beginning. They had more than ladders and dragonspear throwers hidden in the darkness.


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Boo
 Posted: May 28 2015, 08:01 PM
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Some whers have been sent to the walls. Bravo pride is there at the moment. I am sending some of Gamma pride too.

Bravo are defend walls. Stop intruder. NO ARE GET THROUGH. YALESK EAT ALL. KILL ALL.
We need to capture them.
UGH FINE! YALESK KILL MANY AND LEAVE ONE FOR QUESTION. HAPPY?!
With that the green wher launched herself onto a man before her, tearing at his flesh with her claws until the screams subsided and then she darted out of the way of the weapons leaving behind a bloodied mess.

Yalenia felt shocked but could feel the wildness of her wher. Yalesk had always been hard to control but this was something different. The smell of blood filled her nose and… she liked it. Yalenia wanted to fill the attackers full of bolts from her crossbow. She didn’t want to control her wher. They knew what they were coming in for, they knew why they were here. They wanted to die.

But that was wrong.

Shaking her head, she managed to exert her control over Yalesk before the wher laid her assault on another individual, leaving this one alive but maimed. She did, however, loose a bolt towards the wall where the attackers were seeking the upper footing.

They are seeking to take control of the walls. They wish to take out the handlers. We need to take control of the walls.

Up in the skies, Hephaeth maintained his higher position but was able to watch as the bolt flew into C’at. The blue roared and then watched as the brown disappeared.
We have lotht Deretthoth.
And yet there was no keening. He must have still been alive. Perhaps.
What do we do Mine…?

Meanwhile, with all his guard training, Hulair had not only defied orders in coming here away from the rest of his pride, who was defending the walls but he was also trying to sneak around the weapons on his own. Hulair was armed. He was always armed. Silence was needed and Hulair had always been good at silence. Hulsk not so much but he was exerting his control over the green wher as best he could. Each time there was movement, the pair dropped low and watched carefully through the dark smoke.

They had covered themselves in dark colours but for the most part managed to blend in with the scrub. It was Hulsk he had to keep his eye on. She was moving slower at least, shuffling quietly as Hulair exerted his control over the wher.

Hulair had been here at the beginning and now it seemed he might very well see the end of Western Hold.
Hulsk smash?
The wher whispered to her handler causing Hulair to look at the green with some small surprise. Hulsk was not scared but her eyes swirled her usual angry red. The trusting gaze fixed him in place as a palefolk ran past. She lay on her belly, watching the people running past them. Hulair shook his head and turned his attention back to the matter at hand. They were close now, close to the weapons… Well, they could hear them anyway.

As soon as the coast was clear, the pair continued their wide bearth around the people, seeking to do what they could to flank them. It was reckless but his duty was to the Lady of Western. D’lios had saved his life and that of his children. All he could do to repay that debt was ensure Lord D’lios’s family survived.

(ooc: Want to participate with a wher but don't have one? Take one of the NPCs from Gamma pride!))


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Azhdarchid
 Posted: May 29 2015, 11:45 AM
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Westesk's bellows filled the courtyard like a storm. The young brown tackled down the center of a palefolk unit, three men under his sturdy legs, though he could do naught but restrain them while the guards at his flanks took out the rest. A young man was knocked off the sword he'd planted in one of the trapped pale's chests by an arrow, and Westesk squawked, looking after him. Another guard fell on his right in that instant.

Westesk jumped, catching a third arrow on his hip. It bounced harmlessly to the ground, and the brown swung his short, flat head towards its origin. Two archers had made it up onto the outer wall before their ladder burned. One fell off then, leaping to evade the dragonfire flashing by his head. Westesk stayed with the men assigned to him, no matter how much he wanted to pursue the squirming figure on the distant ground.

Something clunked against the hold's main door. Just a body, or a weapon. Something light. But Tussbuul stood up, one hand on Valeath's arm as he watched the new hold's barrier tremble between them and the fire.

"What's the endgame?" he muttered at the yellow dragon, who knew nothing of conflict. She could not know even if it unfolded before her eyes. "Do they really think they can take the hold?"

They knew the dragons would come. Were they counting on the beasts' aversion to killing men? Geth aside. Did they not expect the Weyr's whers to be delivered too? That made little sense...the palefolk had watchwhers of their own, monstrous things, much bigger than their civilized equivalents. They knew the utility of whers in a night scene. We will have to hunt down all of them after this, he thought rather than said, to spare Valeath. That was the only gain the palefolk would achieve here: the Weyr would be fixed on them till they were no more.

He heard a watchwher knell outside.

Baby in trouble, Tusk reported.

He is near full-grown, the Master swore back at her. And has your petrified hide. He will be alright. His lips roiled back in a naked snarl, not that anyone was around to see it. The palefolk had not waited for the hold wher to be fully trained. They might have even included his infancy in their scheme. If only he had not run out like he did! Tusk had far more experience, and was stuck guarding the most secure location in Western. Billy, he reached to his firelizard, who flicked off his shoulder and vanished to the courtyard.

The white flit saw Westesk surrounded by a surge of the enemy, standing over a guard with a bolt straight through his leg guard. Because the brown did not want to bare his friend to their crossbows, the palefolk had surrounded him, and were now shooting at close range from all sides, taking their time to find the weakest, softest skin around the joints and belly. Green blood trickled from the feathered crooks and sags of his body, but he refused to run.

Go away! he shouted, parting his jaws to bay at them, only to receive an bolt between his fangs, into the gumline. The young guardian writhed, throwing his head from side to side and pawing his own face.

What a scorching waste! Tuss seethed.

Baby run away, Tusk tried.

No! he shrieked back petulantly. A baby through and through. Westesk had really been at the worst age for this encounter: big enough that he outclassed several kinds of adult whers, but lacking the mental polish of a mature guardian.

Tussbuul saw the future: a Lady, unwilling to take a replacement. A dead man failed again. A hold disheartened by the loss of its "reborn" little lord. Were it any other case well- a hold wher was born to guard his hold till death.

But Westesk was not even being given a proper chance.
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Tigersilk
 Posted: May 30 2015, 03:07 AM
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G'len had Zeuth hover above the Hold for a bit, far enough away from the enemy's bolts but close enough to get a good view of the fighting. He had the Bronze send images of the numbers and locations of the Palefolk - at least, of those they saw in the fields and courtyard - and broadcast that to Irohvyne and Valeath, as well as Tussbuul and Tusk. He knew the latter pair were training the Holdbonded wher(et), and thus likely knew the land around Western proper than he did. Maybe the old Miner had an idea on how best to proceed here?

They know the dragons won't flame them willingly, and act accordingly, G'len said, using Zeuth's voice. We have four Prides on the ground; two defending the Hold, two in the forest targeting the dragonshooters. The Palefolk are targeting the doors to the Hold proper now. Lady Iroh, you and your children must leave now while the inner Hold is clear, if you're going to leave at all. Neither Dalibor nor Crescent Hold are under attack at last report; I can give Valeath the coordinates to jump from where's she's at now to open sky to do a proper jump elsewhere. Unless you know of ANYONE who'll send an army to your defense on a moment's notice; if so, call them now 'cause you need them bad.

So far I've avoided setting fires to your fields and woods so you can feed your people this winter, and avoided having flames in your courtyard to avoid hitting your guards. But unless either of you have a better idea I will likely have to order the fields flamed to start stopping these people. They're using the crops as cover for hiding their weapons. I don't want to order it, but I don't know what else they have to bring out against us either. You know this land better than me, though; if there's an alternative to destroying the crops, tell me now.

His report finished, G'len resumed hovering for a bit longer, to await an answer from the Lady and the MasterMiner.

******************

Steady, girl, steady. We need to make this shot, Kahnasunita told her dragon, Ibith. The Cyanpair were banking around the walls of Western, with the rider taking aim with her crossbow at her latest target: an enemy archer standing on the wall who was looking down into the courtyard. She released the arrow, not staying still long enough to really see if it hit. They had to keep moving to avoid becoming targets themselves.

Wh-why are they shooting at us? Why are they mad? Did we do something wrong? Ibith worriedly asked her partner. The gentle dragoness could not comprehend hatred on the level the Palefolk were showing tonight. She literally couldn't imagine any offense anyone might have done to so rouse so many to such anger. It confused her.

Sunita had no answer; she didn't know either. Her crossbow skills were normally used to hunt wild herdbeasts and wherries; not in a thousand turns did she think she'd really have to use them on humans. But here they were, in effect hunting humans. What else would happen next, she wondered to herself, but didn't let that thought reach her Cyan.

I don't know what they're doing this. They didn't say. But we must defend the people of the Hold, my love, and chase these intruders away to their own Holds. Our leaders will sort out any other problems later. She had full confidence that her Wingleader in Dawn, O'sho, would and could do so, once this was all over. To believe otherwise wasn't something she wanted to do right then.

**************

Shall we have some fun tonight, FrankieMine? We were told just to take them alive, were we not? Not told how to take them, yes? Scikath asked her rider. Far from being either (totally) outraged or fearful by the Palefolk, the Cyanpair was actually intrigued and impressed by the boldness of the attack. Not so impressed that they'd stand by and allow it to proceed unopposed, of course, or let themselves be targets of this new anti-dragon weapon, either. They did have some self-preservation instincts, after all.

Of course. Anything in mind, Sci? Frankie had a few thoughts already on what they could do to these people they were to take prisoner, none of them nice. Both rider and dragon had a sadistic streak a mile long, and had few opportunities to truly exercise it. At least, in their opinion; others in the Weyr had different ideas on that score.

Always, FrankieMine. Want to see them? Scikath showed her rider what she had in mind for their targets. The woman laughed; this was perfect! She added a couple of details to the plan that the dragon overlooked, then gave the order. This was going to be FUN!

Spotting a pair of Palefolk running towards the woods, the Cyanpair swooped down on them and captured them in Scikath's front paws. The dragon promptly rose back into the air, holding her captives upside-down by their legs. Once she achieved enough height to stay out of reach of the dragonbolts, she started hovering in place. Scikath then started tearing the clothes off the captives with her teeth and tail to disarm them, taking care to not tear human flesh while she did so. Once the captives were stripped to their boots, the Cyanpair betweened to the prison island to deposit the captives before returning to Western and their place in Midnight Wing. They repeated that action whenever they could, both enjoying the screams of their victims too much to really consider stopping.

Hey, may as well have some fun while obeying orders and defending the Hold, ya know?

*****************

Vindicator.

Was.

MAD.

Bad enough that everyone had to get out and fly around this Hold when they all should have been resting, but then to have the enemy fire BOLTS at HisJasjitta and her BigPink, bolts big enough to actually hurt them if they hit? That the young Blue flitter wouldn't stand for. They were under his protection, and protect them he would. The bolts had already hit a BigBrown in their Wing and driven him between; they wouldn't hit His without a fight.

Calling to the rest of his fair, Vindicator told them his plan, such as it was, and dove for the trees. He knew, from overhearing the Big Ones talk, that the treetops had the glittery bolts in them. From hunting and Weyrling training with HisJasjitta and HisPink, he knew that people had to fire the bolts. Those were the targets of his fury; the strangers threatening His. He would make them rue targeting those he cared for, he'd make sure of it.

With the rest of his fair behind him (the two Kings, Presidenta and Brigadier, having decided to let the Blue lead them into battle this time), Vindicator swooped between the branches, seeking the targets of his wrath. The fair soon spotted the people with painted faces sitting with the glittery bolts at hand. There! THEY were the ones to pay for threatening Theirs and TheirPink!

The Blue didn't hesitate in the slightest. He immediately attacked the first human he saw, going for their eyes in a spitting hissing ball of furious claws and teeth that would've made any true feline proud to witness. Whether he drove them out of the trees or managed to really tear their eyes out, he didn't care. He was merciless to those who threatened the ones he loved and cared for, and was more than willing to kill to protect them if he had to. That was his nature, and he wasn't going to change it for anyone.

The five others in the fair also choose their targets and attacked in identical fashion to Vindicator, though with less obvious fury. The Bronze and Iron both took one person apiece, being big enough to do some very serious damage to a person when they had a mind to. The other three fighters teamed up to take down their targets, tearing and ripping at clothes and exposed flesh alike to disable their human foes. Once one target was down, the flitters moved to the next, repeating the attacks.

How successful they ultimately were, or how long the fair could keep this up, was unknown.
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Sari
 Posted: May 30 2015, 03:12 AM
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(Silonel, Tag: Westesk whers who want to help?

====================================

The walls were at risk of being scaled, even with the arrival of more dragons and the assistance they offered, it was a very real threat, made even more real by those that managed the feet. Staying put was not much of an option now, their skills to fight were needed far more, and Silsk ad seen all he could from his initial place on the wall. Once the blue had offered his last bit of tactical input and the information that he and his would be moving to other whers of the hold and their guests from the weyr, the two of them were on the move along the wall, trying to be mindful of dragons flaming, sending forth any useful intel to others in need, but most importantly, to try to further weed out those that were making it into the hold proper.

~bad men on wall, arrows come down, eyes open!~ He warned those on the wall and in the courtyard below. Usually he didn't speak to other humans, but this was a special case. ~Whers ready! If get in, some fall back, bad men don't know hold, shut light baskets, use shadows, hiding places, surprise! Fight smart, make team Weyr and Hold. ~ Hopefully the guard's message was well conveyed, his blue was good for many things, but he was no dragon to be able to fully pass on a message with ease.

Silsk's whirling keen eyes caught sight of something that the blue was sure he should not see as he 'dropped' an unknown person off the proper side of the wall, likely leaving said person with a broken neck as a souvenir, after he'd given the invader a good shake.

~Westesk run free, no Master Tu~ Despite the furiosity the current situation had evoked in the blue, there was clear tones of worry. ~No Tusk, just men~ As yellow mixed with red in his partner's eyes. Initially the guard discounted this, they had a job to do. It wasn't until later, when the brown's bellow sounded that Silonel found himself in a dilemma. He was a practical man, the life of one could not outweigh the lives of many, in most cases, and it was the duty of the watchwher to give its life in defense of the hold, just as it was his own duty, and that of his wher. However, there were cases when there was more at stake, when the loss of a specific life could be more devastating to the heart and will of the populous than what swords and bolts could take, Westesk could very well be that case. Even though the guard didn't buy into this Lord reborn nonsense, it was significant to the hold, and that little brown could make the difference between Western finding the will to continue on once the dragon fire waned and the dust cleared, or giving in to the despair of the destruction left behind. He was their sense of security and being watched over by their gone lord, and besides, Westesk may have been a wher, but he was also a comrade and additionally a child of sorts. Was it right to let children face death with his cries unanswered just because they happened to have gnarled wings and claws? Silsk didn't think so, he could feel the wher urging him to come to the conclusion that came so naturally to the blue.

"Let the others know of our intentions, I will get to you as quickly as I can." He didn't like it, being separated from is wher at a time like this, but Silsk would be quicker getting down the wall, and unlike the climb he could offer no support for his large handler. Silsk, passed on the information to others. Without concern, he launched from the wall, wings not as stunted as so many of his wher brethren fanning out so he could glide, slowing his decent while covering ground. He didn't dally though, dragons could fly, but whers had less control and were more vulnerable without their claws beneath them. Folding his wings a few feet from the ground, he was off running. Unbonded guards did not know how to help whers, and could not help Westesk in the way his Silonel helped him. It was likely then, whatever had caused Westesk to call out, it was serious.

By the time he'd drawn near, the brown was surrounded and in dire straits, but Silsk made no noise. Mental voice reaching out to whers that were near enough to help ~Westesk danger! Help ~

~No sound, kill. No sound, kill~ ran the Blue's mind, only to be heard by his own, as Silsk was not talking, just reminding himself, remembering their work together and all that his wise Silonel had taught him. Sound was used to make bad men stop and think twice before they harmed, but these bad men were the kind that were to be simply dealt with, they would get no warning. The full force of that charging wher drove itself into those men, the blue lunging himself as he lept, aiming for the the chest, to likely drive the wind from the man, and perhaps knock him into at least one of his fellows. It was only than that Silsk let out a blood cuddling snarl, tearing into the assailants armor, and trying to shake the life out of his man prey, while his stout tail lashed out in case anyone was close enough to try for his flank.

~Silsk here, Silonel comes~ the 'assurance' was given to the injured Westesk, though likely only whers, or those who understood them could find it as such, the blue's tone heavy and carrying over some of the harshness that was directed at this invader that dared to hurt their Westesk. ~Leave hurt stick, will make hurt worse. Tu help, find Master Tu~ It was likely that the younger wher would not listen, but at the very least, he was here to help, and his Silonel would be here. Their Westesk would not hurt alone, surrounded by the bad men.

-------------------------------------------------------------------

Silonel, for his part, had had to find his way down the wall without breaking his own neck, or an ankle, which would only slow him down, and then, well, fit and well trained though he was, no man could outrun a wher, at least not a wher that was tearing through like the cold of between was at his tail. Sword drawn, he followed after Silsk, using the occasional image, and his sense of the wher to follow the blue when he lost sight of his dark hide. He could feel his usually affectionate wher, angry, primal, and full of adrenaline; he had to try to keep both of their emotions under control, and is wits about him. The last thing he needed to do was to run himself into someone else's sword for them, the invaders certainly needed no help to spill holder blood.

=======================================

(I am fine with whatever consequence throwing them into the situation incurs, just please make sure I get it, so I don't accidentally powerplay cause I missed/didn't understand something <3 )
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Ruin
 Posted: May 30 2015, 09:06 PM
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Valeath warbled charmingly at the Master, fairly oblivious to everything that was going on, only the slightest glimmer of yellow in her eyes giving away the anxieties that were bleeding through from her Lady and processing in her happy head. The woman inside the walls prompted her to send a reply to the Weyrleader, and though confused, she complied willingly. I-roh says...food feeds the Weyr as well, it would be best if both peoples don't starve, easy to transplant a Hold, easy to find a Weyr to support. Uhh oh, she also says to carry the whers into the Hold, drop them off like...like fun little packages from the sky that looks so funny I-roh! She's so clever, oh but so are you, Zeuth! And Zeuth's! Oh and, Westesk says they have a big log from one of our trees and they're going to try to break in now!

As if on cue a loud impact sounded from the other side of the metal doors, causing the steel to shudder and echo sonorously in its wake. The Palefolk had escorted the ram up the walls with ropes, and taken the lull in battle to position it at the entrance to the main hall. That wasn't to say the other entrances had been give up. Even now the people were working to push the Guards back so they could begin banging at any door they could find, looking for a chink in the Hold's armor. Valeath, who had quite forgotten her conversation, was urged back to attention by her Lady, whose head was pressed against the cold stone deep within the Hold.

Oh, I-roh also says she can petition Benden for aid if Dalibor has need, and uhh oh, that Jali might also send word. Who is Jali Zeuth?


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