Libby often worked the late shifts. In fact she often worked the day shifts too. The other cooks often scolded her sleeping habits, but they did so with good intentions. They couldn't know. When the commotion and scuffle had started in her halls Libby had taken her little knife from its place and waited again for the right moment. She crept closer, more in the noise than the stillness. She saw the dead man slumped against the wall, a silent confirmation of what she had already hoped was not true. She left quietly and heard a double pair of steps moving through and waited. It was a skill she had picked up out of necessity, shunned out of despair, and loathed to return to, and yet it was one needed in these times.
So Libby found herself quietly aiming the knife at the back of this creeping and unfamiliar man's neck.
A hand from the axe man was placed on the bowman’s shoulder. The bowman lowered his weapon, and the spearwoman dashed forward, her axe companion close behind her. Their target was close now, and they could not allow her to drag herself to the Black-Green. Arrows had not done enough. The woman with the spear aimed a strike at Lithena’s leg, determined to strike before it was too late. He burly compatriot spotted her with his axe, ready to employ their team work again.
As the cries of alarmed dragons began to rise, the woman in the hall clung to her knives grimly. Her eyes glazed over for a moment and she looked to the bowman, who threaded one last arrow to his string, and eyed the dragon beyond the humans.
The two men with swords moved out along the edge of the bowl and back toward the jungle. It would be easy for them to be lost, but they kept close together. One of them clutched his sword uneasily, as they got into the jungle proper and with his voice low, slightly breaking, he ventured to speak.
“Is it over yet?”
His companion tilted his head and frowned. Then he shook his head once. No. It was not over yet.
A draconic scream caught the attention of one particular individual. Silent and unnoticed, she made a beeline for where it came from, guided by uncertain methods. She spotted the Gray Wyerling pair taking shelter, and made for them, finally announcing her presence.
“Prrrrr.” A Black Wher tinged with a little Gray stepped toward the pair, strutting around them before getting too close. She turned back, growling, until a tall guard lopped into view.
“Are you okay?” Lan didn’t look straight at them, brandishing a poleaxe and keeping aware of his surroundings. Something was wrong, but he had to keep his weyr safe more than he had to figure out what was happening. He whistled low a series of notes before the Wher turned and moved into the jungle behind them, becoming almost instantly impossible to see.
V’lan stared up at Anaela, his breathing labored. The woman’s expression was caught, like she could not move forward, not yet. Her brother’s name was spoken, and it hung in the air. Despite everything, V’lan’s own nature kicked in. He was, at his heart, a mediator. So he could almost, possibly see things from her side. Was there something he could say to make her see things his way? Would there be a way to reconcile? The thought though came through, loud and defiant. Did he even want that?! She just stabbed him. He should be angry at her. He was mostly stunned. Even if he could almost see it from her side, reality of being killed by someone else was something he couldn’t come to terms with. The fact he was dying was all too real though.
He started coughing as Anaela’s accomplice pulled her away, and the wet coughs made him realize where exactly the knife had found purchase. He was starting to feel a little woozy, but he turned not to those that stabbed him, but back to his lifemate. With a great effort he pushed himself from his bed, to the floor. He held the knife, still sticking from his body and used his other arm to pull himself toward the Bronze. Doramath stopped trying to break into the Weyr and pulled back, moving from brute force to delicate operations. V’lan wanted to spead his last moments with the Bronze.
Doramath wanted to make sure those were not his last moments.
He reached forward with his claws, trying to gently pick up his rider without harming him further. Then he stretched out his wings, not launching, but pushing gently off his ledge to glide.
Hold on Mine. The Bronze having pushed into the air, started pumping as fast as he could to the Aerie, worrying that his rider was starting to fade. V’lan’s head leaned against his dragon’s grip, his breathing shallow. The Bronze’s claw was always so big, but it was gentle.
You always were the best dragon Doramath. A fighter to the end.
Stay with me V’lan. Doramath’s eyes whirled with worry, but he never slowed his beeline for the Aerie. They would fix this. They had too.
V’lan did try, but he felt like his head had been dunked underwater. He could taste blood, but his body was starting to get cold. Must be the night air. Something the back of his mind reminded him that Rainbow Mists never really had cold nights, unlike Igen. He was starting to not care so much about the warning signs. Maybe he just needed to go get some rest. He could feel his consciousness drift, very inviting.
Doramath roared against the forces he could not control, and to the Aerie he hoped would fix his rider. He drew closer, feeling every second was an eternity. When he finally touched down it felt like it all would be okay. Healers were already running toward V’lan. He could see V’lan look up at him, distantly recognizing the dragon. His eyes closed once, twice, and at last thrice, and the man’s head dipped to the side.
The Bronze grasped at his bond to V’lan, a thin thread not yet snapped. He was still there! They had to bring him back. He had been hurt before, he had only a limp to show for it. They could do it again. They had to. THEY HAD TO!
The Healers moved expertly, assessing the issues and gathering a Lifewing pair. They moved at speeds that would baffle outsiders, and they threw their all into it.
Lithena hissed with the pain of moving. She saw them approach only vaguely. Terror. Panic. She felt some strange strength from Hrith. A spear cut into her leg. She didn't stop. She yelled in protest, leg pulling away. Her mind raced through the simple fact that this was bad. This was very bad.
A rough claw grabbed her. She wasn't sure exactly when, or how. It hurt, it made everything else hurt more. The arrow pushed in harder. She groaned and her vision blurred away for a long moment. When she could form a coherent thought again, she realized:
The Black-Green felt blades and arrows cut her hide. She roared and pulled away in a flurry of wings, sending all around her spilling to the ground. And then the ledge, and dark open sky, and she fled. A dark dragon in the night sky. Lithena nudged Hrith towards a healer, and to think of a warning.
[smear:#151814]Archith! Attack! Lithena, my Lithena...[/smear:#233f1e:0] Hrith mourned.
The Gold was at the entrance to her weyr, looking out over the Bowl for something she could get her claws into. Doramath was heading to the Aerie with V'lan, Hrith was panicking for Lithena. Those who dared this would pay dearly. She flexed her claws into the hard stones, hearing the scattered scrapes.
And then Doramath's presence vanished. A cold, nauseating, horrible grip. Her keen came as a roar. Archith threw herself into the sky. She sought a target for her anguish.
He had guided her away before V'lan got up. And while it nagged at him to only stab the man once, it was Anaela's fight. One true strike would be enough. He kept them to the same tunnels, listening, waiting, and then moving forward. They passed the same slumped body put there not long ago. He had to reach out for Anaela's shoulder when he saw her turn toward the other hall. It disturbed him to realize she was shaking.
Anaela stopped, feet planted. The other way then. She clutched her hands together tightly. Not much later they found the first entry way, out through here would be open ground, but so much closer to... to what? Surely V'lan knew it had been her with the knife. She had made it so. Maybe he hadn't the consciousness and wit to-?
A churning and sickening keen slicked the air. A dragon dead. Was it Doramath? Was it the Weyrwoman's sister? Another? Her hands slid apart and picked up their tremors. It had to be that Bronze. It was her mission. Now complete, what was her purpose? Would B'telli have peace now? A choked laugh slipped through, short and strangled. "We did it." She took his arm, hands constricting. Still, they had to go, go back? She felt her feet following the pull of the man next to her, who lead on despite her. The danger was not passed.
The riders were buffeted back by Hrith’s take off. There were grim frowns, but the spearwoman and man with the axe got up quickly. The man with the bow started to swear under his breath, though he stopped when the woman with the spear grabbed his arm. Time was running out. The problem was that the next issue was the most difficult.
From the jungle, dragons started to move. A Purple rose, followed by a Blue and a White. Last, silent and swift, a Darkblue could only just be made out as she flew toward the weyr behind the others. They made toward Lithena and Hrith’s now vacant weyr to attempt a pickup of their riders. The problem was an angry Gold dragon.
The two men weaved through the jungle, stopping short when they heard keening dragons. One of them stopped, grimacing, while the other clenched his sword tightly, looking back to his compatriot. They waited while the man steadied himself on a tree, staring at the ground, and trying to steady his breathing. The other man waited, hand still on his sword. After a time he walked up to the man steadying himself, and put his hand on his shoulder and gave it a squeeze. In response, the man let out one long unsteady breath, and biting down on his lip, he pushed forward. The other man followed, silent but looking concerned.
She caught the movement of wings and turned to strike them. Archith could see them! But they could see her. The Gold lunged at the large Purple. He roared a protest but did not backwing soon enough. Queenly teeth grabbed and shook the wing joint, foreclaws striking out. One, two sets of cuts along his chest as Archith pushed him from the sky. Her anger had a physical place to go, and yet it angered her that still others were flying past. Intruders! They attack! To me! To me! she called for her Weyr amongst the terrible keening. A pair of wings on watch came racing over the other side of the Bowl's wall.
Post by PhoenyxStar on Sept 2, 2018 20:16:37 GMT -8
The girl trembled with fear only to bite back a scream as a huge creature came out of the shadows from the forest. She held onto the grey alittle tightly causing the grey to dig claws into her legs.
"mine it hurts.." The whine came from the small dragon as she tried to squirm into a better position in her rider's arms. The young grey's tail wrapped around the girls waist as the wher circled them hissing with fear her eyes glowed an orange. "Stay away" She shrieked as a claw lashed out trying to protect her rider even though she was still to little to do much harm other then cause some minor wounds.
The girl tried not to look like a wreck as she wiped her eyes smudging khol down her cheeks that she had yet gotten off for bed. She sniffled and looked at the male before trying to regain some semblance of sanity. There is an attack she jerked and covered her ears as the set of pipes on her dragon were set off with a keen for the dead bronze. She panted as she looked wild- eyed at him "They are killing our own!!!" ... She gasped as her back went ridged before slumping "They are killing the riders or dragons I don't know. Make it stop!" She cried hoarsely as she rocked her and her dragon burying her face into the soft hide not knowing what to do. The mixed feelings of two beings was to much stress for her and none of her healer training was kicking in yet perhaps with time she could master that but for the moment she was just a girl afraid and feeling very much alone dealing with the images that were coming from her dragons mind and the pain. Sh gasped and tried to breath as the pressure coming from her dragons thoughts was driving her down a hole.
The Purple cried out in pain, his wing and chest getting slashed. He was pushed down, wings grabbing desperately at air to right himself. His busted up wing did not work quite right and despite his best effort he hit the ground, with an audible thud. Something broke. The Purple didn’t even have time to make a noise. He was already gone.
The Blue landed on the ledge, keening. In the room, the man with the axe mounted the Blue, before looking back. The woman with the spear had dropped her weapon and was now shaking the man with the bow. He looked devastated. She grabbed him and pulled him into a hug. The man on the Blue turned away and took off with his dragon. The White landed next, looking impatient.
The two men in the Jungle found the clearing again, two Browns waiting for them. The one who was shaken was pushed forward by his companion. Once he was safely on his dragon, the other man got on his Brown. The pair of Browns, lifted off, and immediately got high enough to go between. A moment later, they had disappeared, escaping from the cacophony of keens and roars.
Lan looked down at the weyrling pair and frowned. The keening was loud and panic was very inviting. Ethilask’s own sorrow was quick and infectous. But he was a guard.
“I understand. But I have to get you back to the other Weyrlings. We need you safe.” His voice was sure even where he could be nervous. It was easier when he was working. “Can you stand? I can carry you if not.” His pole axe remained at the ready, and he could feel his Wher near even now. He would make sure the pair of them remained safe.
Archith followed the Purple down, releasing before the ground to avoid the impact. Her claws had barely let go before the Purple vanished. She blinked and looked away to the ledge of Hrith's weyr. There were still others! Her great legs pushed away from the ground to regain the air she'd lost.
Archith STOP! Rilora cried out. Stop! Stop! This is madness!
They killed Doramath! They meant to kill Hrith! They- the Gold slammed into the opening for Hrith's weyr, clawing at the White who was utterly dwarfed by the massive queen. She felt her claws connect with something but with her torrent of passion mixed with Rilora's insistence it was nigh impossible to notice anything else.
You killed him! You killed him! she screamed at the minds that did not belong.
The White, faced with the Golden Queen, immediately took off and dodged artfully. Her eyes whirled with stress, but she was about to use every last bit of her tiny dragon maneuverability to keep herself safe.
In the weyr, the woman with knives entered, only to join her conspirators in getting shook around under the weight of the large Gold’s attack. Archith’s angry voice penetrated their minds, with mixed results. The woman with the knives looked panicked starting to hyperventilate, the man lay distant, tears falling from his eyes unchecked. The woman holding him closed her eyes for a moment. Then she opened them and picked her spear up and wacked the other woman with the blunt side. This wasn’t over.
She started to drag the man wholesale back out to the hall and the woman with the knives, stunned for only a moment, followed. Once they were both dragging him, they moved faster, looking for another exit. Not toward the bowl, but to the fields.
The Darkblue, detecting the change in plans, silently shifted course away from the angry Gold.
The White evaded her. The humans crept into the shadows. The whole Weyr knew now. They had to have known now. Confused and alarmed, but alert. The Gold's claws scraped the stone of the much smaller weyr that belonged to a little Black-Green. Under no circumstances would she ever fit even the slightest bit. And her grasping came back empty. She turned her head to the dark skies. Empty.
Empty. empty ...empty she pushed herself back into the sky.
Archith. Come get me. Rilora insisted. Her arms were tightly wrapped around herself. The summer night felt particularly cold. She pawed for her warm riding jacket.
The Gold paused a second as if to consider the fact that she had left her Rilora all alone in this mess. She wailed to the stars and the night and its hidden dragons. She felt that itch and scratch to prowl. Rilora's sense was that they were all gone, or they would be now that there was a Purple dead. The cold queen slid into her weyr and Rilora wavered a moment in the dark light. She couldn't see that Archith looked any different, but she knew that her hide was sticky with blood. Still she put a hand on the great Gold's nose. This was her heart. She would never turn her away. "They're gone," she whispered.
...you are not.
In a minute the pair were back over the Weyr, searching, warding away whatever chance there was they'd return. Or maybe they knew it was for none of those things. The riding jacket kept Rilora warm enough, but her face burned icy cold.
Those who stalked the night were never alone. The wherhandlers of Rainbow Mist were always lurking, always ready. And yet, somehow, once again, the meticulous and intricate rounds that Dalonia had devised to route just such an attempt on the Weyr had been in vain. Once again death crept past her wher handlers and night watch to deal a blow to the Weyr and the fragile peace they sought. The night went from calm to absolute hell in a matter of moments and Dalonia was there, Dalosk vibrating at her side as she barked commands to those around her. But it was too little too late. The death keens of dragons filled the weyrbowl once more and though she remained the growling leader of her little band of defenders, fear gripped her that she would discover that one of those cries had belonged to Ancalantah.
With a deafening scream of fury that only Archith could match in that moment, the Abyss took to the sky, a shadow streaked with golden lightning as she took off after another dark shadow in the sky. The darkblue who carried no rider and no allegiance to their Weyr. Dalonia tore her gaze away from the sky when she heard a nearby scream and with a rattling growl, Dalosk launched into action as soon as the woman lifted her hand from his shoulder. Sword drawn, Dalonia ran after him. Before long the pair came upon a weyrling and one of her guards. "Situation report, now!" She barked as her hand moved to her crimson wher's shoulder. His eyes were whirling rapidly with rage as he ugly head swung toward the forest. The ever present low, ratting growl vibrated through the air.
Post by PhoenyxStar on Sept 3, 2018 14:26:52 GMT -8
Nyx shook her head as she tried to stand up only to stumble and sit back on the ground. "I ran.." She choked back with fear for her partner. The girls eyes searched for the grey wher in hopes that she was finally safe before she glanced back up at him calmer as she got more use to the keening though it was still pulling at her heart. Biting her lip listened to the night as she listened to the rawr from a dragon. "I think they are leaving..." She whispered as she reached up to push her hair behind her ear to try and hear it only to hear another rawr though closer this time... "Umm what the.." Her eyes landed on a woman and a crimson colored wher.
"does death ring a bell" She murmured as if the woman had to be out of her mind not to hear the dragons keening. Her eyes reflected pain and fear from her grey dragonet. Reaching a hand as she slightly loosened her grip only to rub her eyeridges with her thumb.
Sudden shouting. Lan shifted to a straight standing position, rest his poleaxe with spear side on the bowl as he faced Dalonia. His eyes only shifted to the Weyrling when she spoke again. Hmm.
“Daxon’s dead, I saw him on my way out.” The guard’s position had described a fight, but no need to get into it. He shifted to look down at the new weyrling. “She’s unharmed, physically, but shaken. I was going to carry her back to the barracks for safety.” She had ran? Not from the keening, he’d heard the scream before that. If she’d ran before that, why? He thought back to her words.
‘They.’ She had said they were leaving.
Lan shifted suddenly to the girl fully. “You saw something.” Not a question. He shifted to look at Dalonia. She’d order what she wanted, but now she knew as much as he did.