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Lysseth's Fifteenth Flight


Date:  January 21, 2001
Places:  Telgar Weyr's Living Cavern, Southern Bowl, Feeding Grounds, 
Skyspace, and Guest Weyr
Game:  PernMUSH
Copyright Info:  The World of Pern is copyright(c) to Anne McCaffrey 
l967. The Dragonriders of Pern(r) is a registered copyright.

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Kassi's Note:  Another comeback flight of sorts:  I was even guiltier
this time than with the last, waiting nearly a year between one flight
and the next.  Still, it was worth the wait. :)  Many thanks, as always,
to everyone who attended and posed so beautifully.  Thanks also go to
everyone who put up with Kassi while she was proddy, whether they wound
up involved in the flight or not. ;)  And finally, the last thanks are
due to Monty Python and Steeleye Span, who are most notably to blame 
for pose inspiration. 

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The Log:

You walk past the lintel and into the wide living cavern.

Pierron humphs thoughtfully as the Wingleader of Thunderbolt arrives.

Lysseth> Imanath lumbers here from the north.

Kassima is whistling as she ambles in. Yes, whistling. Cheerfully. Stop the
presses. Of course, this fact is probably connected to the stick she has
resting on one shoulder, to which several dead fish and tunnelsnakes have
been tied by the tail; the grisly relic almost seems to stare at people as
she totes it across the Cavern.

Lysseth> Imanath spirals down from overhead, landing with a quick sweeping
of her wings. Her rider jumps down, gives the green an affectionate pat on
her side, then walks into the living cavern while Imanath croons greetings
towards the other dragons.

Lysseth> Talisha hops down from Imanath, landing on the ground with a soft
thump.

Talisha walks in from the bowl.

Lysseth> Lysseth spares a glare after her chipper rider's wake, settling
herself in for a good session of claw-sharpening. A suitably-sized rock is
found; she wraps her foreclaws about it, drawing the tips across its side.
Screeee. Screeeeee. Intermingled with an annoyed hiss, which would be her
greeting to Imanath.

Talisha walks in from the bowl, her usual smile displayed upon her face.
She tips a look towards Kassima and shrugging, calls out, "Good evening!"
with another of the same directed towards K'ran.

Lysseth> Tovith backwings for a landing.

Lysseth> Leya slides down off of Tovith, her feet landing on the ground
with a soft *thump*.

Leya walks in from the bowl.

"And then the war did soon engage; 'twas woman t'woman and man
t'man--chaotic brawling was the rage, and a row and a ruction soon began,"
Kassi breaks her whistling to sing outright as she disappears into the
kitchens with her stick-o'-death. Returning without it, she dusts off her
hands and treats Talisha to an actual smile. "Evening! If'n you're wanting
tunnelsnake slices, they should be ready in a bit," she reports, rather too
brightly. "Have t'soak in alcohol first, y'know, t'kill the worms."

[Editor's Note:  Credit goes to whoever originally wrote 'Finnegan's Wake,'
the song Kassi was lightly twisting here.]

Lysseth> Imanath shrinks back a little from the screeching of claws against
rock - but curioustiy gets the better of the green, and she cranes her neck
just a touch, peering at the rock, peering at the claws, and most of all
peering at the dragon attached to them.

Lysseth> Tovith lands near the entrance to the Living Cavern so his rider
doesn't have to walk to far to enter. After she's left, he looks around,
rumbling cheerily to the other dragons gathered there, oblivious, at least
for now, to any proddiness.

Lysseth> Lysseth slants a sidelong, suspicious look at the younger green,
but that head-craning doesn't fall within the range of things she can
mantle at; so she lets it bide, and spares the moment for growling at
Tovith instead. Hey. You. Stay over there, you. The poor rock is rapidly
developing thin furrows across its surface, and as for Lysseth... well. She
glows. A lot.

Lysseth> Fasolth backwings for a landing.

Lysseth> T'kar slides carefully off of Fasolth's neck.

Lysseth> Fasolth bugles brightly to all his friends!

T'kar walks in from the bowl.

Talisha walks over to the serving table after a quick scan of Kassima's
clothing. Blink. But, deciding it might be better to keep her mouth shut
about such things, she merely offers an eyebrow raise, "Uhm. No thanks,
I've already eaten." That would be the reason she's filling up her plate
with sweetrolls. That done, she walks over to a table, plunks herself down,
and starts waving to those entering.

T'kar raises his hand in a cheerful wave, as yet oblivious to any dangers
the living cavern might offer.

Lysseth> Imanath creeps forward, sneaking closer and closer to take a look
at that rock. Another crane of her neck, and she's rather close to the
glowing green. Perhaps she wants to die quite soon. But no, Imanath slinks
back again, hiding herself close to the wall of the bowl. She croons
greetings to both Fasolth and Tovith.

Leya somehow manages to walk half way into the Living Cavern without seeing
Kassima, but when she does she stops dead in her tracks. "Oh no..." she
breaths. "Oh no..." She begins to slowly back up toward the entrance and if
T'kar or anyone else happens to be behind her she probably won't see them
until it's too late.

Lysseth> Ularrith, in a manly show of compassion and concern for the
obviously glowing green, buries his head between his forelegs so that his
headknobs are hidden underneath them. The dragon's tail twitches and
shudders with discomfort at every *screeeeeee*.

Kassima shrugs to Talisha with rare amiability, skipping on over to where a
bowl of something ominously red already awaits. Scooping this up, she
likewise procures a knife with which to spear the contents, and does a
brief jig-step with this. "And Biddy, well, she began t'cry, 'Such a nice
clean corpse did you ever see?'" she sings, before neatly biting a mouthful
of the raw wherry meat from the end of her knife. "Suit yourself," she
mumbles while chewing. "All the more for *me*, then." And she saunters to
her table, after snagging a mug of Klah and using it to wave to the
incoming with. Little wonder that droplets of the smoking death-brew and
blood follow in her wake, with all this dancing and waving about.

Lysseth> Tovith sees Lysseth at about the same time his rider spots Kassi,
he stares for a long moments, then warbles in unusually high pitch, causing
it to sound rather like a whimper. He quickly looks around for something to
hide behind. Ah hah! There! He scoots behind a rock, that though it's large
for a rock only manages to hide Tovith's head, nothing else. I can't see
you, so you can't see me, right?

Lysseth> Lysseth snakes her head back immediately upon realizing Imanath's
proximity, the better to show fangs again in another red-eyed hiss. Abandon
Hope, All Ye Who Approach Her(e). Since the younger dragon does have the
sense to retreat on her own, she doesn't pursue the matter. Instead, she
snarls at Fasolth a moment before setting back to rock-mutilating with new
vigor. The stone starts making sounds like something being tortured--the
better to make males wince, my dear.

T'kar notes Leya's backward progress, reaching out a steadying hand before
she trips over a stuffed toy abandoned by its young owner. "Err...it can't
be that bad, can it?" He stands next to the Thunderbolt Wingsecond with a
foolish grin. Rather like a sheep patiently looking forward to being
slaughtered.

K'ran steps into the living cavern incautiously, nearly walking right into
Leya, but sidestepping her at the last moment. "G'd'eve," he says
pleasantly, to her and to the others.

Lysseth> Ularrith's nose is so far buried into the earth as he tries to
hide from the rock torturing that great puffs of dirt fly out from between
his forelegs with every hot breath. The poor brown drums his tail against
the ground in the hopes that the thundering noise will drown out the sound
of the proddy green doing proddy things.

Lysseth> Fasolth, like his rider, retains a brightly cheerful innocence. He
luckily didn't land too close to Lysseth, but he stretches out his neck
towards her, inquisitive snort sounding in the air. His big eyes also take
in the other dragons, whuffling his confusion to them.

"Why, whatever could be wrong?" Kassi coos to the brownriders. At least, it
would be cooing, if it weren't for that whole undertone of malicious glee
thing. "There's Klah and raw meat *all* ready for dinner, and what in the
world could be better'n that? You'll like the tunnelsnakes especially.
You'd better. I spent *all morning* hunting them." And she catches another
scrap of wherry meat on her dagger-point, shaking it at them for emphasis.

Talisha remains firmly fixed in her seat. The meat on the edge of Kassima's
dagger is eyed with a faintly curious look that is mostly disgust, though
she manages to hide that by taking a bite of her sweetroll. "Evening
K'ran." she calls across as she spots him.

"Ah." K'ran's gaze wanders to the Thunderbolt Wingleader, and a thin smile
tugs one corner of his mouth upwards in amusement. He gives Talisha a quick
wave, and steps over to seat himself beside her. "You, ah, recovered from
the other night?"

Leya stops and stares at T'kar's steading hand with an expression bordering
on panic, before she hears what he's saying and looks at him as if he's
gone mad. "It's /Kassi/," she hisses. "She /proddy/." She takes a steading
breath, then asks, "Don't you /see/ her?"

Lysseth> Tovith peeks over his rock to rumble a low warning to Fasolth,
before ducking back behind it, his wings tight to his back as he cringes at
the noise coming from the poor tortured rock.

Lysseth> Lysseth finds this an ideal time to extend and show off those
sharpened claws, with an unmistakable malevolence. The message is clear:
Beat it. Just beat it. The damaged rock is tossed aside--in the direction
of Ularrith's tail, as it so happens--and a new one is procured, larger and
smoother and much nicer for making sounds with. *Sc-r-r-r-eeeeeeeeech!*

T'kar tosses a quick wave to K'ran as he passes, the bronzerider's amused
expression catching on T'kar's own face. "Sure," he replies to Leya, eyes
flashing with the prospect of a challenge. "Is it safe to eat that stuff?"
he questions, for all the world as though he's about to go try it.

"Oh yeah. Klah works wonders." Talisha grins slightly at K'ran as he seats
himself. "What about you and Tarlo?" she asks quietly, the question likely
referring to the other night but he could take it any way he likes. "Did
you see Lysseth out there?"

Kassima's glee, whatever its source, disappears beneath a black scowl as
she catches K'ran's smile. "Cease the smirking," she tersely suggests.
Then, swivelling back towards her prior targets, "And *you* should
certainly know better, T'kar. You've been a rider long enough. Safe? What
does safe matter?" She snaps off another bite of raw flesh. Alas, poor
wherry. "Go to the kitchens, get some, and eat it. Then if'n you die, we'll
know 'tisn't safe."

Lysseth> Fasolth sits back on his haunches, tail whipping back and forth as
he watches Lysseth with puzzlement.

K'ran answers Talisha's first question with a dismissive wave of one hand
-- he's here, more or less alive, isn't he? The second earns a real
response: "Mmm. So did Indrath." Then he turns a positively beatific smile
on Kassima, and says, "Why, Kassima. I would *never* smirk at you.
Certainly this is nothing to be amused about, yes?"

Lysseth> Head snapping up, Ularrith /bellows/ as the rock bounces against
his tail before rolling off towards the wall of the Bowl. His lips are
pulled back, revealing firestone sharpened teeth, and his eyes whirl a fast
crimson as the brown looks around for the source of the toss. Lysseth has a
screeching rock still so it can't be her. A few menacing looks are given to
the other browns.

"No!" Leya exclaims, before continuing in a slighly calmer tone. "Don't eat
it and most definitely don't drink the klah." She gives Kassi a wary look,
then turns back to T'kar, surreptitiously trying to edge behind him as she
speaks, "Remember that black eat through spot on the wing table? That was
caused by some of that klah spilling."

Dragon> Telgar dragons sense that Ularrith bellows << $#@@@!@!#$@ !!!!!!! >>

Dragon> Sielth bespoke Telgar dragons with << You bellowed, oh illustrious
leader? >>

Erdrick walks in from the bowl.

M'rgan walks here from the Inner Cavern.

Pierron raises an appraising eyebrow at the Wingleader of Skyfire.

M'rgan bursts through the living cavern at a dead-run, barely missing
several people on their way to the tables. His bootheels screech against
the floor as he skids to a stop at the Bowl entrance and stares outside.

"Most certainly nay," Kassi drawls out, a hint of a hiss to the words--but
to her credit, just a hint. "Nor 'tis it aught t'be lying about, or smiling
about either one, I'd personally argue. But then, you're male; I should be
*expecting* that." Leya, naturally enough, gets a glare. "Don't you *dare*
spoil m'fun."

Erdrick walks quietly in, carrying a bunch of Record hides, and heads
toward the serving tables.

Lysseth> Lysseth... chortles? Oh, surely not. Proddy dragons can't laugh.
Still, she hunches into a veritable ball of rather vicious amusement, being
very careful to pay no attention to *anything* but her sharpening rock. No,
indeed.

T'kar ponders Kassima's and Leya's suggestions for a while, deciding,
"Well, I'll join you for a mug of -this- klah then, Kassi," he grabs
himself a mug and pours a bit out from the common klah pot, tasting it
before he decides it's all right and fills his mug. Strides of doom bear
him nearer to his Wingleader, while he raises his mug in a greeting towards
the other Wingleader.

Lysseth> Tovith's head jerks up and he stares at Ularrith, his eyes
whirling fast. He darts a look around, gaze lingering on the proddy,
vicious green before ducking back down. He wraps his tail around his back
legs though, tucking in underneath him, just in case.

Again, that dismissive wave, this time accompanied by an easy chuckle. "Of
course, of course," K'ran says, his eyes dancing -- he seems to be finding
this all quietly hilarious, his demeanor of innocence to the contrary. "We
men often find humor in unlikely places."

Erdrick pours himself a mug of klah heads toward his chair. Kassi's attire
makes him pause a moment while nodding greetings to those he knows before
sitting in his usual chair. "Evening."

"Me?" Leya squeeks in response to Kassi's glare, "No, no, no." As her human
wall of protection moves away, she quickly darts behind a table, attempting
to hide behind it, while looking around for a means of escape. T'kar is
given a sad shake of her head. It was nice knowing you...

Kassima favors T'kar with a dark, bloodshot, 'I am seriously in doubt of
your intelligence at this moment' sort of stare. "*That* klah," she
emphasizes, "is bloody *dishwater*. Why the shells would you want t'drink
that? You can't even taste that. Nay. I'll tell you what you're going
t'drink." She's out of her chair then, striding purposefully to fetch the
pot; she slams it down on Thunderbolt's table in short order. "You're going
t'drink *this*. And K'ran... I'd call those places more inappropriate than
unlikely. Tell me: if'n Indrath decided t'growl in your head, constantly,
and argue, constantly, and keep you from sleeping, constantly, what would
*you* do t'people who laughed about it?" Her stray hand is tracing over the
hilt of one of her knives as she asks this. Miracle of miracles, she hasn't
noticed the others yet.

Lysseth> Ularrith harrumphs draconicly just once before lowering his head
once again so that his chin rests on his forelegs. Having established the
pecking order to his satisfaction the brown is greatly mollified but though
his eyes are now a dusky coral instead of crimson they still spin like a top.

Lysseth> Fasolth shoots a look back at Ularrith, a slightly disgruntled
look at the accusations of the older brown, when the younger one seems to
find it obvious who's chucking rocks aroud here. He ignores Ularrith after
a moment, though, in favor of watching Lysseth.

M'rgan slaps his hand against the wall dismissively before slowly turning
around. He pinches the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger
as he paces towards the serving table. His mouth moves as he grumbles
something under his breath.

Erdrick looks from Kassi to T'kar to the klah and raises an eyebrow,
glancing at his own klah a bit warily before taking a small sip and nodding
to himself.

T'kar eyes Kassima's pot while he takes down the dishwater, which seems
perfectly tasty to him. His free hand opens the top of the pot so he can
peer at the murky liquid within. A finger extends towards it hesitantly,
then withdraws as though expecting something to jump out and bite it off.
Meanwhile, his sipping slows, though he has less than a third of his mug of
dishwater left already.

"I suppose that depends," answers K'ran cheerfully, without giving the
implied threat even a moment's attention. "I might consider, were I capable
of such deep thought at that moment, whether this mirth in my moment of
weakness was simply turnabout." He lifts one shoulder in a diffident shrug.
"Of course, *I* would never make merry at your expense." He even manages a
straight face, there.

Erdrick chuckles quietly at T'kar's reactions and watches quietly,
wondering if the pot in question is filled with Flirk's klah.

Leya crouches behind a table, peeking out through the slats in a chair. She
glances at M'rgan as he walks grumbling by, she chews on her lower lip as
she tries to decide whether to stay and perhaps save her wingmate from an
untimely death by klah or to flee back to her weyr and safety. She sighs
and finally stops her lip chewing and settles in behind the table and
chair. She's watch and wait, but from the relative safety of her hiding place.

Kassima grins a fulsome, toothy grin at M'rgan as he passes by, with little
of mirth in it. Quite willingly, she leaves the Klah to T'kar's
investigations, taking up her other knife to resume her dubious dinner. "I
once tried t'castrate a man with that stuff," she comments around a
mouthful. "I don't think it worked. But Meri could tell you, since 'twas
K'nan I attempted it with." Ouch. Ouch, too, for the look she shoots K'ran;
if looks could kill, the drudges would be coming out with mops to clean his
splattered pieces up. "Well," she says finally. "That's good. Because Mart
can tell you what I've done t'him for that very thing. *Can't* you, brownie?"

Dragon> All dragons sense that Lysseth checks her watch and taps the mic
cheerfully. << Good evening! Just a quick note: I'll be having a flight at
Telgar Weyr tonight; blooding will start in fifteen minutes or so. So if
any of y'all are interested in chasing, you're welcome to come on over. :) >>

Erdrick looks over toward Leya a moment and grins, leaning back in his
chair and sipping his klah.

K'ran lifts fingers to lips, turning a gaze of feigned incredulity upon
M'rgan. "How... dreadful," he says, very softly.

M'rgan starts his grumbling way past Leya again though this time he's
carrying a bowl of thick stew topped by a hunk of bread. The bread is
slowly sinking into the stew as the oil, grease, and other liquids grab
hold of it and draw it down to its soggy death. But for some reason he
stops, confusion furrowing his brow as he looks around him as if sensing
something. The brownrider begins to turn around and he takes a step back
with surprise as he sees a face behind the slats of the chair. Hunching
over a little to see who is hiding there he mumbles a quick, "Hello." Pause
and then without even looking over his shoulder he asks, "What, Kassi?"

Lysseth> Lysseth twitches restlessly under this regarding eye, tail lashing
once, before she resorts to the simple expedient of turning her back on the
male array and ignoring them totally. She'll just pretend they're not
really there, and woe to anyone who tries to tell her otherwise.

T'kar looks flatly over to Kassima, then grins, downs the last of his klah,
and pours himself a nearly-full mug of the deadly brew. "We all have to
face our death sooner or later," he notes cheerily, raising the mug towards
the only other occupant of Thunderbolt's table.

Telgar Weyr> Aisling stays on her ledge, where its safe. eeeuuuw. M'rgan.

Lysseth> Fasolth flaps his wings and noses at a nearby tree, almost bored
now but anticipating more exciting events in the future.

"Tell the nice people what I do t'people who laugh at me," Kassi bids,
almost pleasantly. "*You* remember. The knives. The rumors. The public
humiliation. The bruises around your throat after I took hold of it and
squeeeeeezed." The deathklah seethes quietly in T'kar's mug; Kassi spares
him a glance from the corner of her eye, anticipatory. Will he drink it?
Will it melt his tongue if he does?

Leya has been staring steadfastly, watching T'kar drink his dishwater, safe
klah. She's concentrating so hard she doesn't even notice Mart walk back
and back until he speaks to her. She squeeks and nearly jumps out of her
skin until she realizes who it is. "Oh, sweet Faranth. I thought you were
Kassi," she gasps, holding a hand over her rapidly beating heart. She then
glances back at T'kar, just in time to see him pour the deadly brew and
pick up his mug to drink. She jumps up, reaching out a hand toward him as
screams, "No!!! Don't do it!"

Telgar Weyr> Kassima says, "Awwwww, *Leya*, you're not supposed to *save*
him. ;)"

Lysseth> Above, From the Telgar Star Stones, L'klal's burnished bronze
Pteynth rears on hind legs and bugles a greeting to brown Konnevath and his
rider, Divya of HighReaches Weyr.

Telgar Weyr> Leya says, "Yes, she is! She can't let a wingmate die from
Kassi's deathklah. It wouldn't be good for wing morale. ;)"

"Oh. *That*." M'rgan still hasn't turned around and he parrots Kassima's
words in a dead monotone as if he was giving a lecture on Economics or
calling off a roll-call and looking for some kid named Bueller. "The
knives. The rumors. The public humiliation. The bruises around your throat.
Squeezed." He is almost completely crouched down in front of the chair that
Leya is hiding behind, his bowl of stew resting on his knee. "Did the mean
greenrider scare you?" he inquires soliticiously and then drops to his rear
as the wingsecond jumps up. A little of the hot stew splashes against the
floor but luckily it missed all of his important bits.

Telgar Weyr> Erdrick remembers K'tyn drinking Flirk's klah once upon a
time. :)

Telgar Weyr> Leya says, "Was he in bed for weeks, moaning in great pain?"

Telgar Weyr> Erdrick says, "Don't think so."

Lysseth> Konnevath lumbers here from the north.

Lysseth> Divya jumps down Konnevath's side to the ground, as the dragon
rumbles softly.

K'ran's attention remains fastened, rapt, upon M'rgan, as that of an eager
pupil upon a favored instructor. The glint of mirth dancing in his eyes and
the trembling smile on his lips, though, give the lie to this act --
clearly this is one who knows bluster when he hears it. "The knives?" he
repeats, feigning horror. "The rumors? The... public *humiliation*? The
bruises around your throat? *Squeezed*?"

Divya walks in from the bowl.

Dragon> Flight sense that Lysseth gets out her happy fun clipboard. << All
right! Mouseketeer Roll Call: who's up for tonight's fun and games? ;) >>

Dragon> Ularrith bespoke Flight with << Bueller! >>

Dragon> Tovith bespoke Flight with << Me! Me! >>

Dragon> Konnevath bespoke Flight with << Yo! >>

T'kar decides not to sniff at the klah too much. Rather than spend too much
time in thought, he raises the mug to his mouth and takes a generous sip,
by no means a gulp but not a hesitant little taste either. Leya's cries are
too late, but at first it seems the brownrider is fine. That's before
paleness seeps across T'kar's slender face, his grip weakens, and the mug
is hastily set down. Fasolth's rider follows the descent of the mug
shortly, teetering woozily for a second before he slumps backwards off the
bench.

Dragon> Flight sense that Kazeth is too scared. ;)

Divya walks in and waves a cheerful greeting with one hand, while holding
onto a bottle with the other. "High Reaches' duties to Telgar!"

"That isn't nearly good enough," Kassi snaps, abandoning her meal to go
stalk up to Mart and glower at him. "You're *supposed* t'tell him about how
you and 'Lex and G'har all had wild manic threesomes at Ista until you
turned impotent and couldn't do aught anymore, and how you screamed like a
little girl when--" She is, unfortunately, distracted from this litany by
the need to whirl on her heel and flick out a hand--who knows where it came
from, or how it got into her grasp so quickly, but all of a sudden there's
a knife quivering in the tabletop about an inch from K'ran. "Don't," she
suggests with deadly calm, "tempt me nay t'miss. Oh, and duties, right."
She'd aim a kick at T'kar while he's down, but now she's too far away.

Erdrick nods over to Divya, "Telger's duties to 'Reaches."

Dragon> Flight sense that Lysseth grins at Kazeth, and cheers the willing
masochists. All righty then--blooding begins at your leisure; the Feeding
Grounds are CB, FG from the Southern Bowl. I'll join y'all in short order. :)

Divya stops in her tracks and says, "Uhhh, I brought some glowbasket brandy
to share with Kassima. Did I choose a bad night?"

Leya stands, frozen in horror as T'kar drink the deathklah, but as he
begins to show the effects she unfreezes and races over to his side. She
catches him just before he hits the floor and gently lowers him the rest of
the way. She leans over him, her face above his and upside down. "T'kar,
T'kar. Are you all right? Can you hear me?" she urgently asks.

Lysseth> Konnevath lumbers north.

K'ran, whose attention had momentarily gone to his poisoned mentor, likely
does not deliver the hoped-for reaction. Certainly, there's an instant of
panic -- bladed thing within inches of the family jewels, stopped only by a
thin piece of wood -- but the rapidity with which he schools his expression
back towards pleasant calm suggests that he's often been on the receiving
end of crockery and footwear hurled by the overprotective parents of holder
daughters. He holds a hand out in front of him, to study his fingers
carefully for a few moments, and then plucks the knife free of the table
and begins cleaning his nails with its point. "I wouldn't tempt you to
anything," he answers cheerfully.

A woozy groan sounds from underneath Thunderbolt's benches, where T'kar is
no doubt discovering interesting things about the undersides of those
benches, when his view of them isn't impaired by his eyelids and the pink
and orange dragons. "Umm.." A hand reaches out to helpfully pat the nearest
leg of the bench.

From his position on the floor, M'rgan stares up at Kassima, calmly letting
her blather of words wash over him. His blue eyes are guileless but wide.
When she turns around to torture the others he heaves a sigh of relief and
spends an extra few seconds handling his important bits to make sure that
there aren't any scorch marks in them. Then, and only then, does he grab
the chair Leya was hiding behind to pull himself to his feet.

Erdrick nods slightly over at Divya and says quietly, "Probably."

Divya backs up several steps, but refrains from making a headlong dash to
the door. That might attract the wrong sort of attention, and a knife in
the back.

Telgar Weyr> Kassima rubs her hands together. This should be fun. ;)
Everybody tuned onto the flight channel who needs to be? And apologies to
anyone I didn't get to be too evil to. :)

Lysseth> Tovith dares to look over the top of his rock and finally notices
that Lysseth has her back turned. He looks around, looks at her, scoots out
from the behind the rock, darts another glance at her, then takes to the air.

Lysseth> Tovith takes flight, using the thermals rising from the bowl to
carry him aloft.

Telgar Weyr> Aisling advises you all to run. ;)

Lysseth> Above, Tovith flies towards the north end of the bowl.

TGW-Bowl>> Above, Tovith flies downward towards the feeding grounds.

Lysseth> Ularrith abruptly lifts his head from his forelegs, his jaw ending
up a few feet above them. His nostrils quiver as he sniffs the air and his
eyes start to mottle towards crimson once more. Muscles twisting, he digs
his claws into the ground and springs into the air.

Lysseth> Ularrith takes flight, using the thermals rising from the bowl to
carry him aloft.

Lysseth> Above, Ularrith flies towards the north end of the bowl.

Telgar Weyr> T'kar says, "Did I miss Lysseth's pose?"

TGW-Bowl>> Above, Ularrith flies downward towards the feeding grounds.

Telgar Weyr> K'ran says, "I appear to have missed it as well."

TGW-Bowl>> Konnevath springs into the air for a quick flight over the fence
and into the feeding grounds, where he settles again.

TGW-Bowl>> Indrath springs into the air for a quick flight over the fence
and into the feeding grounds, where he settles again.

Telgar Weyr> M'rgan nopes. She said on the flight channel that the males
could start blooding.

Telgar Weyr> K'ran missed that, then. Thanks, M'rgan.

Telgar Weyr> Kassima says, "Lyss's? Nah. I gave directions over the flight
channel; she'll join in in a minute or two. :)"

Lysseth> Fasolth lumbers north.

TGW-Bowl>> Fasolth springs into the air for a quick flight over the fence
and into the feeding grounds, where he settles again.

Erdrick heads over by Divya and mutters, "Lysseth's Proddy." on his way to
put away his now empty klah mug.

Kassima does aim a kick at M'rgan's ribs, since he's conveniently floored,
and picks her way across to where K'ran sits in order to attempt to snatch
her weapon back. "You already tempt me," she corrects, quietly,
conversationally, "t'see how long 'twould take you t'die if'n I opened your
gut, tore out your innards, and looped them around your neck a'fore tying
them in a pretty little bow." And she'd probably go into more detail, but
something snaps her attention straight to the Bowl, and she likely narrowly
avoids slicing K'ran's nose off as she turns. "Lyss-eth! Wait until I'm
done gutting him, at least! Or until T'kar's dead, c'*mon*!"

TGW-Bowl>> In the Feeding Grounds, Konnevath lands in the pens with a
distinct *thud*. He looks around the pens as various animals run in terror
from the descending dragons, and selects a half-grown bovine as his first
target. He uses his wings to give him leverage, then leaps onto his choice,
breaking its back instantly. He lowers his head and tears out the throat of
the dead animal, to make drinking easier.

Leya places her hands on T'kar's shoulder and gives him a little shake in
an effect to bring him back to reality or at least what passes for reality.
"T'kar! Please, can you hear me?" she repeats, raising her voice.

K'ran presses hand to heart as Kassima turns, and with a dreamy smile
curving his lips asides, to those nearby, "She must really like me."

TGW-Bowl>> In the Feeding Grounds, Fasolth sweeps around the Bowl in an
easy curve, effortlessly gliding over one of the beasts and letting it run
for a moment before his claws flick out to slice deeply into its neck. He
settles down, bathing his muzzle in the spouting blood and various other
gory stains.

TGW-Bowl>> In the Feeding Grounds, Ularrith's wings barely whisper in the
wind as he glides over the feeding grounds, silently shadowing the panicked
stampede of the animals within. Two bovines *thud* into the stone fence as
the stampede abruptly turns and that's when Ularrith strikes. Lifting his
wings high, he drops towards the ground and plucks one of the stunned
bovines with his back legs. One strong downbeat later and he's gliding over
to a low ledge. A ledge stained a rusty brown like the floor of a
slaughterhouse.

Erdrick gives K'ran the 'ohhkay, he's nuts' look and stays well away from
the riders as he sits back down into his chair.

T'kar sits up with a start, neatly bumping his head against the bottom of
the bench. Something pulls him urgently through a brief struggle with
consciousness and he tries to stand up, holding his head and threatening to
fall without help. "Fasolth? Leya?" He wonders to himself as he teeters for
a bit. "Oh, Lysseth."

TGW-Bowl>> In the Feeding Grounds, Indrath glides above the feeding grounds
for a few moments, herding the enclosure's occupants beneath him, perhaps
savoring their terror. This play does not last long -- he swoops downwards
quickly, taking an ovine whilst still on the wing, and settles into a
corner of the enclosure to drink of the screaming animal's lifeblood. The
coppery scent is torn away by the warm summer breeze.

Dragon> Flight sense that Lysseth gets ready to head to the Grounds
herself. :) Rules and regs: one pose per Lyss-pose; no line limit, no limit
on rider poses. The flight channel's OOC, the Guest Weyr's IC. I usually
indulge in a lot of jokes over the channel, so bear with me. And I
absolutely promise that no one will get killed. ;) Any questions?

Dragon> Indrath bespoke Flight with << Nope. :) >>

Lysseth> You spring into the air and catch the thermals rising from the
bowl floor to carry you aloft.

Lysseth> You fly downwards towards the feeding grounds.

Dragon> Konnevath bespoke Flight with << No questions. And thanks for the
reassurance of no death! :) >>

Dragon> Fasolth bespoke Flight with << I'm good. >>

Lysseth> Tovith circles the feeding ground once, his shadow passing
overhead causing the animals to panic. He flies through a chaotic group of
wherries, his mouth open until one very confused bird flies in and *chop*.
He lands, finished sucking the blood from the wherry, then spits out it's
remains the group. He flicks his tail as he looks around for his next kill,
then lashes out with it toward a herdbeast bringing it down so he jump on
it and slice in it half with a deft swipe of his claws.

M'rgan sticks his tongue out at Kassima's rapidly retreating back. Nyah.
Nyah. You missed me. The man straddles a chair, sets his bowl on the table,
and grabs for the last bit of bread that is still above the oily surface of
the stew, intent on saving it. But instead of saving it he merely beheads
it because his hand jerks suddenly during this delicate task, ripping the
dry part from the soggier body. "Oh no. Ularrith," he groans as the bread
burbles once helplessly and sinks out of sight.

Kassima mutters an imprecation involving greens having their skin ripped
off, turned inside out, and salted, and throws herself out the exit with
nary a glance for any former victims along the way.

You walk down the short tunnel and out into the bowl.

TGW-LC>> Teasing demeanor drains from K'ran's whole body, leaving him
somehow deflated as he rises to his feet. He rakes a hand back through his
hair and sets out after Kassima.

K'ran comes out of the short tunnel from the living cavern.

TGW-LC>> Divya mutters several curses under her breath before jerkily
rising. She gives the bottle to Erdrick and asks, "Will you please hang on
to this for me? I've got to go, and don't want it lost or broken while I'm
outside."

Lysseth> O, but for a green of fire! Lysseth will not suffice; her glow is
green, eminently green, and so too cool for flame, but the red of her eyes
is a different matter as she hurtles across the sky over the Grounds. Those
rocks were not sacrificed for naught: long claws flicker out to rake across
the back of a running buck, drawing screams which end abruptly in wet and
pitiful gurgles as teeth snap down to catch at his throat. There is the
fire, in the blood that splashes over muzzle and neck to add ruby droplets
to her jaded raiment.

TGW-LC>> Leya tries to help T'kar with his balance, then choaks as her eyes
unfocus for a moment and she nearly falls over herself. "Faranth, too
late." She quickly turns to follow Kassi, whether she ends up dragging
T'kar with her or not depends on whether her hand slips off or stays.

Lysseth> With blood and gore dripping from his mouth and plinking onto the
ledge, Ularrith lifts his head from his snack to watch Lysseth's flight
over the grounds. His tongue snakes out, licking at his lips, and his
neckridges begin a thrumming sort of quiver.

TGW-LC>> T'kar wobbles towards the Bowl, one arm flailing lightly to
maintain contact with Leya so she can help him along.

T'kar comes out of the short tunnel from the living cavern.

Leya comes out of the short tunnel from the living cavern.

Divya comes out of the short tunnel from the living cavern.

Kassima is not precisely the picture of maturity at this moment. Having
rushed out only to find her lifemate already departed, she's indulging in
ranting fury, calling the absent Lysseth everything from a watchwher to the
illegitimate daughter of two drunken sailors and a caprine. "*Blood* it,
shardit. Blood it! We've done this *how* many times? You know this by now!"

Lysseth> Fasolth lowers his head, entire neck dripping with dark redness.
He raises his neck, then, nostrils flaring before he joins in Ularrith's
low rumble.

TGW-LC>> Erdrick sets Divya's bottle on the table by him.

Lysseth> Konnevath finishes his bovine, and kicks the drained carcass
aside. He croons (from a safe distance) to the glowing green dragon, and
selects his next victim--a fat female wherry. He snatches the terrified
animal out of the air in midflight, and holds it high to let the gushing
lifeblood flow easily down his throat.

TGW-LC>> M'rgan stares helplessly at the deceptively smooth surface of the
stew, his mouth twitching into a deep frown. "But I wanted to eat that," he
remarks mournfully to himself as he gets to his feet, abandoning his meal.
"Stupid dragons."

M'rgan comes out of the short tunnel from the living cavern.

Lysseth> Indrath ensconces himself in that corner of the pens, reaching out
almost lazily to catch the throat of a caprine driven too close by
Lysseth's arrival. The deep crimson is almost invisible on hide set
a-glitter by the brilliant Telgar sunset as the young bronze drains this
beast with a strange, almost feline elegance, but his eyes, his eyes --
they're fastened to the jade jewel that has joined them, now.

TGW-LC>> Erdrick walks towards the inner cavern.

Pouting, M'rgan makes his way out of the living cavern and towards the
riders watching the dragons feed. Along the way he makes a point of
dragging his feet in the dirt and kicking every pebble that crosses his path.

Lysseth> Tovith looks up from his feast of blood, so warble pleasantly at
Lysseth as she rips the buck apart. Now that the lust of the flight is on
him, he is no longer afraid. He's a big, strong, manyly brown and shards
and fardles he can take on any green. And herdbeast too, he rests leisurely
on the bloody, hoof churned ground and enjoying the view, he languidly
reaches out with his own sharp claws and snags a passing herdbeast and
silence it's screams by biting off it's head. Why go to the food, when the
food comes to him?

Lysseth> Lysseth snakes tail around her kill, even as she mantles her wings
to protect it: hers. Hers. Hers. They may not have it. Any more than they
may have her--but that isn't her concern right now, is it? Now is the time
to drink the blood, the blood so sweet, so rich; taste the flesh,
salt-coppery in tang... but not to eat. That would defeat the greater
purpose. And so it is that she leaves the desanguinated corpse behind her
to take her second prey, a cow which disappears near-soundlessly beneath
the cowl of jealous wings. And now we see the violence inherent in the system!

T'kar's faltering steps eventually take on a little more confidence and he
regains the ability to stand and walk on his own. He still touches a big,
fresh red spot on his head where a nice piece of wood has left its
benchmark. Slightly blurry vision tries focusing on a pair of evergreens.

K'ran spares nary a glance for the dragons making wreckage in those nearby
pens, his eyes focused as they are on Kassima. Where usually he might
regard the Thunderbolt Wingleader caught behaving thus with amusement, now
there's just narrow-eyed thoughtfulness, distraction, perhaps a bit of hunger.

Divya lags behind the other riders. While her attention is mostly fixed on
Kassima, her sense of self-preservation is still awake enough to keep her
well away from the greenrider's knife. She hugs her elbows and silently
watches the other riders.

Everything in M'rgan's stance, from his rolled shoulders to his crosses
arms to his creased forehead, shouts 'Help. Help. I'm being oppressed' as
he stares across the bowl at his lifemate. "Stupid dragons," he comments
quietly again while repressing the urge to stick his tongue out at Ularrith.

Lysseth> Fasolth partakes in one more feasting, eyeing the fleeing rump of
a big ovine while his tail twitches, almost as though this will be a game
of Catch-The-Tail with his clutchmates. Rather than catch the tail,
however, great teeth sink savagely into the poor beast's hindquarters,
tossing it to the ground before he rips open the chest to taste the heart's
blood.

Lysseth> Tovith continues to lounge, as if he considered himself an emperor
just because some brazen hussy tried to lob a scimitar at him, though
neither he nor his lifemate would put it past Lysseth's rider. He finishes
with his second herdbeast and looks around for some variety. Ah! An ovine
runs past, squeeling like made or least it squeels into it's throat is slit
open by Tovith's claw.

Kassima blows out a breath, relaxing minutely as the distant glint of green
complies. Slowly, she straightens, most of the fury draining from her to be
replaced by... coldness; aloofness. Purpose. "Aye," she murmurs, "oh, aye.
That's the way of it, my heart--" One of those wind gusts whips through her
long hair to send it flying every which way; there's more than one reason
not to stand too close.

Dragon> Lysseth bespoke Flight with << I'm thinking takeoff after Lyss's
next pose; does that sound all right with everyone? >>

Dragon> Fasolth bespoke Flight with << Yeppers. >>

Dragon> Tovith bespoke Flight with << Sounds good. >>

Dragon> Indrath bespoke Flight with << Sounds fine here. >>

Lysseth> Konnevath finishes with the wherry, and drops the dessicated
carcass. He croons to the green again, before chasing after a fleeing
caprine and knocking it to the ground with a shove of his chest. Before it
can regain its footing, the brown uses one talon to slice open its jugular
and lowers his head to drink greedily.

Dragon> Konnevath bespoke Flight with << Sounds good here as well. >>

Dragon> Kazeth bespoke Flight with << No, absolutely not. >>

Dragon> Flight sense that Lysseth throws a stray wherry head at Kazeth. ;)

Dragon> Kazeth bespoke Flight with << Yum. >>

Lysseth> Ularrith curves a forearm protectively around his snack as a blue
tarries far too close while chasing a caprine. He treats the dead animal
like it was a sacred gourd dropped by his savior. Or perhaps like a shoe,
gone from that same savior's foot. In any case the bovine's his and his
alone and to prove this point he fastens his fangs around the animal's
throat again and sucks. *Slorp*

Dragon> Ularrith bespoke Flight with << Fine by me. >>

Leya stops a little ways behind Kassi, though she keeps her in view. She
blinks and she notices that T'kar is standing beside her and she's helping
him stand. "Oh! Yeah..." She closes her eyes for a moment, then grumles,
"You're no help." She opens them again to look at T'kar, "Is Fasolth
chasing too?" she asks in the rather loud tone of voice most people reserve
for hard of hearing.

Lysseth> Discarding the drained remains of his last catch with a restless
disgust, Indrath abandons his corner of the pens to vault, soundlessly,
down upon another helpless creature. A wherry, snatched up with force
enough to separate its head from its body, completes his repast -- he
drinks greedily, soundlessly save for a quiet rumble thrumming low in his
throat.

T'kar steps to the right, or rather his body does, but his foot would
rather stay where it is. He sprawls nonchalantly out on the packed ground,
looking a little puzzled but not uncomfortable. A few blinks obscure the
brown eyes before he scrambles to stand. "Fasolth. Yes, him," he confirms.

Lysseth> Lysseth is rather a brazen hussy, isn't she? Or at least brazen:
she raises herself from this latest kill with a trumpet whose notes are
harsh with scorn. So these are the suitors who would seek her favor?
Contempt rings through motion as through voice, as she turns her back on
them to bring down a final wherry with more violence than strictly
necessary perhaps. Quick, get the knives out, she wants to cut its head
off--but claws will serve that purpose, and do. It rolls a short distance
to stare up at the sky, testimonial to green ire... and unseeing watcher,
blind to Lysseth's abrupt vaulting into the heavens and deaf to her cry of
challenge. It's meant more for the males, anyway. The race is on!

Lysseth> You spring into the air and catch the thermals rising from the
bowl floor to carry you aloft -- much to the relief of the wherries.

Lysseth> Fasolth rises up from the feeding grounds.

Leya bends over to help T'kar, before he manages to stand by himself. She
straightens back up and nods, "Oh, okay." She eyes Kassi or rather her back
as that's all she can see, that and lots of hair, then turns back to T'kar.
"Are you all right?"

T'kar nods cheerily.

"*Took* you long enough," is all Kassi mutters, before she shoves hair back
from her face and runs pell-mell for the dubious sanctity that waits.

You push aside the curtain and enter the guest weyr.

Dragon> Flight sense that Fasolth errs and wonders if he's supposed to pose
on the ground first.

Lysseth> Ularrith rises up from the feeding grounds.

Dragon> Lysseth bespoke Flight with << Nah, not unless you want to. C'mon
up. :) >>

Lysseth> Konnevath rises up from the feeding grounds.

Lysseth> Tovith rises up from the feeding grounds.

Lysseth> Indrath rises up from the feeding grounds.

Divya comes into the guest weyr from the bowl.

M'rgan comes into the guest weyr from the bowl.

T'kar comes into the guest weyr from the bowl.

K'ran comes into the guest weyr from the bowl.

Leya comes into the guest weyr from the bowl.

Telgar Weyr> Tarlo wavels.

Divya warily enters the room, and chooses a spot near the door to watch
everything. This way a quick escape is possible if necessary.

Telgar Weyr> Leya snugs Tarlo from the Weyr of Doom. ;)

Telgar Weyr> Talisha snugsa Tarlo :)

Telgar Weyr> Aisling says, "Heya Tarlo! ;)"

Hello, Guest Weyr, my old friend. I've come to hide in you again. Not that
Kassi would admit that hiding's what she's doing, you understand, and
certainly her bearing is proud enough as she makes for her favorite wall
and stakes her defiant claim on it. Approach at your own peril.

Telgar Weyr> Kassima waffles cheerfully, and oohs. If this is the Weyr of
Doom, can I be Indiana Kassi? ;)

M'rgan is in mid-kick at a pebble as he heads into the guest weyr and he
catches the toe of his boot on a step sending him stumbling towards the
back of the weyr. Which is good enough as the back fo the weyr is usually
where he ends up anyway. After stopping his flight with a well-placed hand,
the man spins around, braces his back against the wall, and slides to the
floor, his legs outstretched in front of him. "Stupid dragons."

Leya looks around the weyr, then strides over to a corner or what passes as
a corner in here and of course, it's just coincidence that's it's the
corner farthest away from Proddy Kassi. She leans back against the wall,
then slides down to huddle in the corner, eyes peeking over arms that rests
on top of her knees.

Lysseth> Fasolth springs up with a mighty bellow, doubly deafening any
listeners. Eyes whirl with the purple of the hunt, barely tempered with a
touch of green delight at the fun of racing! Broad wings work with powerful
purpose, eager to give chase. After a few moments, though, his wingbeats
lose some of their frantic rhythm. He expects a long and difficult trail to
catch this one.

Telgar Weyr> Leya grins, "Of course, though I think all would prefer that
you forgo the whip." ;)

Lysseth> Lysseth doesn't pause, doesn't look back, doesn't hesitate: she
plunges straight into the cloudy sky as one of her rider's knives might,
did it have such lofty ambitions. Let fire-eyed fury be her conduct now,
carrying her on its course straight and true. They that would follow her
shall have to chase to the stars... and more, beyond.

Lysseth> Finally, finally -- Indrath lets that rumble grow into a fierce
cry to match Lysseth's, an almost sneering retort to the bankruptcy of her
final, contemptuous kill. Brilliant sunset-glinting wings sieze the gusting
wind jealously, carrying him upwards, ever upwards after the jade prize.

Telgar Weyr> Kassima awwwwws. ;)

K'ran undertakes his own ritual upon entering the weyr: he steps
confidently to within an arm's length of Kassima, wherupon his jaw sets,
his eyes harden, his hands peel open the front of his jacket violently,
and, finally, his arms fold icily across his chest.

Lysseth> Tovith follows, wings beating heroically at the air as he keeps
his eyes steadfastly on his grail, the oh so holy grail. This is his quest
and he will not stray from his divinely appointed path, not for fire, hail,
or killer rabbits.

Lysseth> Konnevath rises into the night air, piercing the clouds like a
bolt of brown lightning. He keeps his eyes on Lysseth, but doesn't try to
follow too close. He knows greens are capable of sudden changes of course,
and that he will lose too much distance trying to match her unless he has
room to work with. His wings steadly pump against the night in pursuit of
his goal.

T'kar grins widely and sits on the floor, crossing his legs. He looks up at
Kassima and rubs the red spot on his head, which seems to be fading into
darker shades with the promise of a bruise tomorrow.

Lysseth> Ularrith's pace is slow and measured as befitting a dragon of his
size. For every downbeat there is a multi-second pause as he glides,
oak-brown wingsails stretched to their limits to give him lift. Beat.
Glide. Beat. Glide. Steadily onward and upward. Plodding but neverending.
Workmanlike but determined. Like the trundlebug in the story of The
Trundlebug and The VTOL. And we know who won that race.

Kassima echoes, only half-aware, "Stupid dragons." And a moment later, less
absently and more coldly: "Back up. Get *away*." She crosses her arms,
uncrosses them, leans back, straightens--my, someone's restless.

Lysseth> Lysseth is indeed capable of sudden changes. Witness this: without
deterring from her determined upward flight, she angles her wings to a thin
and double-bladed line that will veer her away from any true path and down
a less certain road. Here is cloud, and she shall use it to cloud their
eyes if she can, slipping into the mist to play hide-and-seek while the
advantage is still hers. Wicked, bad, *naughty* Lysseth.

M'rgan grits his teeth, glaring at no one in particular. Stupid dragons.
What did they ever do for us anyway? Oh, there's the companionship. That's
true. And the quick flights to other areas. And saving everyone from
Threadfall. That goes without saying. But apart from the companionship, the
quick flights, and saving everyone from Threadfall, what did they ever do
for us anyway? The brownrider sucks in a breath of disgust and then
releases it, the air whistling through his gritted teeth.

Lysseth> Fasolth finds a good pace, one shared by most of the pack. Buried
egotism surges to the forefront of his mind, filling him with confidence
and vigor. He coasts along near the front of the pack, veering with
dangerous suddenness to follow Lysseth's twisted trail, heading for the
heart of the cloud. He narrowly avoids collision with a slower dragon as he
does so, but luckily all these dragons are seeking the same goal, so the
slower brown's adjustment comes just in time to prevent disaster.

Lysseth> Konnevath starts to chase Lysseth into the cloud, but at the last
moment lessons from other, older browns take over. Instead, he stays just
below the cloud and flies alongside it, ready to turn in any direction. He
risks a croon in the direction he last saw her lovely tail, to reassure her
that he means her no harm.

Lysseth> Indrath knifes through the dusky skies with speed and athleticism
incongruous for his size, angling ever onwards after that splash of pale
emerald that dances through the clouds, towards the empty air into which
she leads. The cloying mist deters him not at all -- this streak of sunset
veers after, keeping determined distance from the encumbring pack,.

Lysseth> Tovith tries to follow but his way is blocked by a bronze and a
brown that are in front of him as if they were trying to protect him from
the perilous danger of Lysseth. Tovith darts back and forth behind them
trying to find a way around - come on, just a little bit of peril? He
finally makes his way around them and pushes his way forward toward iminent
peril, he's now farther back, but he's not going to give up now.

Telgar Weyr> Merielan waves

Telgar Weyr> Tarlo snuggahs!

T'kar looks around the weyr suddenly, perhaps keeping a suspicious eye out
for benches. Satisfied (perhaps falsely) of his immediate safety, he looks
back to Kassima, making sure he's not too close to her.

Telgar Weyr> Talisha snugsa Meri :)

Telgar Weyr> T'kar smooches. "Hey Meri!"

Telgar Weyr> Aisling snugs a Meri ;)

Telgar Weyr> Leya snugs Meri. :)

Telgar Weyr> Merielan erps at missing Kassi's flight!

K'ran neither moves nor gets away from the restless greenrider, his
breathing growing slow, steady, easy as he continues to watch her through
narrowed eyes gone ice-pale.

Lysseth> Ularrith watches as the others follow after Lysseth though the
brown never wavers in his course. He rises higher and higher towards the
stars that are just coming out in the darkening sky. The brown follows the
lesson he learned from an old brown many, many turns ago. You are all
individuals. Yes, we are all individuals. And so he finds his own,
individual way towards his goal.

Leya stares down at the ground in front of her feet, her legs still tucked
up against her. Her eyes are open, but they are unseeing. They see other
things, things far above them.

Telgar Weyr> Tarlo is sensing a 'theme' to this flight...

Telgar Weyr> K'ran says, "Eh?"

Telgar Weyr> M'rgan grins. Dunno about a 'theme'. ;)

Telgar Weyr> Tarlo says, "Everybody's making Monty Python references!"

Divya tries to press herself into the rock wall to back away further from
Kassima, but it doesn't work. So she gathers herself, and remains still,
her eyes focused partly on the proddy rider and also on what her lifemate
is seeing at that moment.

Lysseth> Lysseth carries herself in the cloud's cloak for only a minute
more before her impatience and her *purpose* outgrow mere children's games.
Leaving trails like smoke in her wake as the mist's tendrils reach after
her as though to mourn their loss, she breaks free to colder, clearer air
and a path that's free, and smooth, and broad. Don't you see yon broad,
broad road that lies across the lily leaven? That is the road to
wickedness, though some would call it the road to heaven. Chase her as you
may, determined pursuers; chase her with your gourds held high, your
croons, your confidence. Chase her with your certainty that you can
*handle* the peril. For though for forty days and forty nights you ride
through red blood to the knee, you shall never have her, and her mockery
roars like the roaring sea.

Telgar Weyr> Kassima snickers. Many refs are flying. I just exploited
Thomas the Rhymer mercilessly m'self.

[Editor's Note:  Steeleye Span's version, to be exact. :) ]

Telgar Weyr> Tarlo says, "I noticed. That was /lovely/, Kass."

Telgar Weyr> T'kar feels outclassed ;)

Telgar Weyr> Leya says, "There is no class system here! This is an
autonomous autocracy!"

Kassima can take but one step back; that she does. She can close her eyes,
too; that she does. And she can mutter profanities under her breath about
wicked, bad, naughty, *evil* dragons who must be spanked. She does that, too.

Telgar Weyr> Kassima grins and thanks much. :) And laughs, too.

Lysseth> Konnevath bugles with triumph as Lysseth bursts free from the
cloud. He falls into place behind her, not intimidated by her mocking
challenge. He is large and strong, and has the power to fly high and long.
He /will/ outlast her, despite her valiant efforts, and give her the
protection and rest she deserves when this is over.

Lysseth> Mockery? Indrath answers contempt with sunset's silent laughter,
chasing Lysseth out of the cool mists that clutch and grab and rake
impotently after wings that hiss through winds now tamed. This shall not
take him forty nights -- back into the welcoming embrace of day's last
light, he once more angles away from that pack, letting them pursue her
towards the empty skies he surges to claim.

Lysseth> Ularrith leaves a contrail in his wake as he soars briefly through
a whispy cloud, his wingtips having sent whorls through out it. As he
bursts out the other side, he is surprised to see the area in front and
below him empty of other dragons. With the surprise of a naked man who
threw open his window in post-coital pleasure only to find a crowd staring
up at him, the dragon bugles and sharply banks, twisting back to find the
dragons he overshot.

Lysseth> Fasolth is not startled by Lysseth's sudden emergence from her
cloudy hiding place

Lysseth> Tovith keeps presses on, through the wind, the clouds, the mist he
keeps the divine prize in sight, giving him courage. He can sail this sea
of air and he's already gone throgh much, much red blood. He will follow
this road to the end and then see who will be the conquerer. As he flies he
seems to be making an odd sound in the back of his throat, it's probably
only the wind, but it sounds almost like - Ni!

Dragon> Flight sense that Fasolth errs and loses a huge bunch of pose
somewhere.

Dragon> Flight sense that Lysseth wingsnugs Fasolth. Wanna retype? The
wait's no problem. :)

Dragon> Flight sense that Kheveth rumbles to his fellow brown. << Use this
opportunity to fowl her wings and catch her. Noone ever said you have to
play fair. >>

Dragon> Flight sense that Kheveth drops chickens on Lysseth's wings. See?

Dragon> Flight sense that Lysseth squawks. << Help! Help! I'm being
repressed! >>

M'rgan presses a hand against the wall behind him as he starts to push
himself to his feet. The wall itself is devoid of graffitti. Nothing about
Ruathans Go Home or anything like that. Heels digging in to the rough floor
and with a lost look on his face, he staggers upwards.

Lysseth> Fasolth is not startled by Lysseth's sudden emergence from her
cloudy hiding place, after all, he can follow her with his mind. Noting
Ularrith's strategy, though it seems to have failed, he breaks from the
main pack of dragons who still doggedly follow along Lysseth's trail,
arcing and spinning away. He no longer faces exactly in Lysseth's
direction, and his back is turned to most of the dragons, enabling him to
move more quickly if Lysseth should come back over him. He arcs back and
up, though, keeping track of the action and not straying too far.

Dragon> Fasolth bespoke Flight with << Thanks, I think the problem was a
semicolon. Didn't work with my code. >>

Dragon> Flight sense that Konnevath chuckles and says, <<I will save you,
Lysseth!>> A big "S" starts to shine on his chest as he attacks the falling
chickens. <<Yumy!>>

Dragon> Kazeth bespoke Flight with << Yep, those stink. Try [;] instead. >>

Dragon> Flight sense that Umirieth coughs. << Males! >>

Dragon> Kazeth bespoke Flight with << It depends on how you have your force
code set up, if that will work. >>

Dragon> Fasolth bespoke Flight with << That's ok, I'll fix it later, thanks
though. >>

Dragon> Flight sense that Kheveth croons. << Yes, Umirieth?"

Lysseth> And they saw neither sun nor moon... for the sun is not out
tonight; the moons hide their faces behind the clouds. Only starlight
exists to enhance Lysseth's natural glow, compounded by blood, drained by
the chase... but oh, she has a trick or two to play yet. For at the end of
seven leagues, she pays her teind to hell--and pay it in male flesh, she
will gladly, if she can. A dive now, sheer, swift, a plummet towards the
rocky crest of the Bowl wall that has been waiting beneath the treacherous
clouds. Only at the last second possible does she cut from those deadly
fingers, not willing to be claimed by them any more than by wings of blood
and fire. Let them eat rock!

Dragon> Flight sense that Lysseth considers. << How do capture attempts
after Lyss's next pose sound? I know we got started late, and I don't want
to keep anyone up later than they should be. ;) >>

Dragon> Flight sense that Konnevath likes that plan.

Dragon> Tovith bespoke Flight with << Great. >>

Dragon> Indrath bespoke Flight with << S'fine. :) >>

Dragon> Fasolth bespoke Flight with << Yeah, great! :) >>

Lysseth> Konnevath also dives, but at a little less than full speed.
Practice around High Reaches' Seven Spindles have taught him a few things,
and he is well aware of the danger of hitting the bowl rocks head-on! He
pulls out of the dive with only a dragon-length to spare, and uses his tail
as a rudder to aid him in his pursuit of the glowing green comet. She is
his whole world now, and he will /not/ be denied!

T'kar runs a hand through his hair briefly, leaning back on the other arm.
He almost starts to say something, but just lets his jaw gape open as his
eyes fuzz out a little more.

Lysseth> Ularrith, still up high, manages to re-join the rest of the swarm
of dragons. Or at least see them directly below him. His path back was
meandering, like that of a man being chased by some bellowing guards or a
crowd of worshippers, but as it was mostly downhill it was also quick.
Furling his left wing until it is half-closed, he spirals ever lower -
plummeting really - and the air screams as he rips through it. But the
brown has too much experience to end up in a crash-landing below.

Dragon> Flight sense that Lysseth goods. << Then that prolly means that
anyone who *doesn't* want to win should page my rider about now. :) >>

Kassima tips her head as far back as the wall will allow, the leather of
her jacket creaking as she folds her arms, and the leather of the pants
doing likewise as she stretches out her legs, taps one foot. Casual. Act
casual. Lysseth's nowhere near tiring, no no no.

Lysseth> Tovith is far to large sharp, swift maneuvers such as Lysseth's so
he has to make it up in other ways, like learning from experience. He
doesn't dive with the rest, merely dropping in a swift glide to follow her
horizontal path if not her vertical. He swerves around a small elderly
blue, growling imprecations to him as he sails past - your mother was a
hamster and your father smelled of elderberries! - then regains his chosen
path.

Lysseth> Fasolth loops around, not having gained much at first from his
activities. By the time he begins to descend, Lysseth is already darting
away from the rocky edge of the Bowl. Seeing a chance, Fasolth arrows over
the rest of the dragons as they turn below him, gaining speed as he puts
his whole massive heart into the chase.

Dragon> Indrath bespoke Flight with << Damn. I'm having that same semicolon
problem. Sorry. >>

Lysseth> Wind protests where once it welcomed as Indrath strains to match
that long dive. Here, though, the young bronze's size puts him at
advantage, for, unable to answer the challenge of her steep angle, he
descends instead at a shallower plunge towards the sky just beyond the
precipice, the sky into which fierce jade beauty races. A streak of fire
through the gathering darkness he chases, chases -- tear him from her on
grey stone's cruel embrace? No. Not this night.

Dragon> Lysseth bespoke Flight with << It's no problem. If anyone wants, I
can share my controller code after the flight that lets you use 'em in
poses and @emits both. >>

Dragon> Indrath bespoke Flight with << I'd appreciate it muchly. :) >>

M'rgan snaps his shoulders up and back as he straightens to his full
height. Chest out, chin up, eyes...lusty, mouth...leering. With Ularrith's
confidence spilling back down the link to him, the brownrider has given up
pouting and any pretense of hiding. No hiding in a basket for him. No
tossing a sheet over himself and pretending that he's an unusual shaped
piece of furniture. No ducking out on a rickety balcony that threatens to
collapse at any second. Nope, it's just smugness and loin-driven moods for
him from now on.

Dragon> Lysseth senses that Tovith sends his mindscape of autumn colors
around a rushing stream, but oddly enough the mindvoice that comes along
with it is - singing and singing in a rather amused tone. << Bravely rode
Sir Tovith, fly up from Telgar Weyr. He is not afraid to die, not brave Sir
Tovith! He is not afraid to die or be killed in nasty ways... >> The song
doesn't end it just fades away as he removes contact.

T'kar stretches out a little on the floor, Fasolth having his effect as
well. His head rolls back with a grin, tongue touching briefly on his white
teeth.

K'ran stirs, just the tiniest bit, to slowly run a hand back through his
hair. Ice-pale eyes remain clasped to Kassima, and the barest hint of a
confident smile begins to gather at one corner of his mouth -- waiting, ready.

Lysseth> Lysseth has avoided the embrace of death; she has no mark to soft
underside, no mar to flesh, no tear to wings. Yet there is a cost to be
paid for such a narrow brush: her glow is much-diminished, so that now she
has only a sullen, smouldering ember's light to grace her dust-swept frame.
Ah, but no matter, that--to admit it, she would have to admit defeat. Which
she will not do. Faced with a horde of pursuers, or with an army of nights,
or with the Holy Roman Empire, still her response is the same: she *flies*.
Oh, she flies. Her wings, like her hearts, flurry, for desperation and
speed are her recourses now--there is no room for guile, no room for a
large wooden rabbit.

Telgar Weyr> K'ran searches for appropriate music, and finally settles on
'Battle for the Mutara Nebula' from the ST2 soundtrack. :)

Telgar Weyr> Erdrick blinketyblinks.

Telgar Weyr> Aisling oohhs. Excellent choice ;)

Divya doesn't move from her position against the wall. First her eyes
change, losing the last traces of fear and changing to desire. Her lips
twitch briefly into a small smile, and her muscles relax slightly. She
shifts her weight slightly, and continues to simply wait until the time is
right.

Leya doesn't move, not an inch. She might as well be the aforemention
strangely shaped piece of furniture, though there is no sheet thrown over
her. Only her eyes betray her. They are no longer staring blankly at the
floor, but straight ahead, at Kassi, and they are very aware.

Telgar Weyr> Kassima was going with Tom Petty's 'Don't Back Down,' herself. ;)

Dragon> Ularrith bespoke Flight with << Catch attempt poses now? >>

Telgar Weyr> K'ran says, "For a while I was working with Cheap Trick's
"Mighty Wing"."

Dragon> Lysseth bespoke Flight with << Righteo. :) >>

Telgar Weyr> J'lyn usually plays Weird Al, or Garth Brooks.

Telgar Weyr> T'kar has Moby :)

Telgar Weyr> J'lyn waits for a squeal. :)

Telgar Weyr> Erdrick wonders what he's missing out on.

Telgar Weyr> J'lyn says, "Greenflight."

Telgar Weyr> Leya isn't listening to anything except the Brave Sir Robin
song in her head. ;)

Telgar Weyr> Aisling was listening to "Lots of Drops of Brandy ;)"

Telgar Weyr> Erdrick knows /that/ much. :)

Telgar Weyr> J'lyn hees at the squeal. Private, but still nice. :)

Telgar Weyr> J'lyn grins. BLPs. Taking over the riders, one green at a
time. :)

Telgar Weyr> Kassima is afraid to ask what Weird Al songs might be
appropriate for flights. ;)

Telgar Weyr> Alessandra happily dances around the knot showing off her
brand new pair of buttless leather pants.

Lysseth> Ularrith drops ever lower, hovering above Lysseth and her sharp,
sharp claws. He starts to reach a forehand down to try and foul her wings
though this puts him directly into danger. He could end up as a hero or he
could end up as a martyr, destroyed for his cause. Ah, well. Always look on
the bright side of life.

Telgar Weyr> J'lyn says, "Yoda, any of the polka mixes, This Is The Life,
One More Minute, and of course, Dare To Be Stupid. :)"

Telgar Weyr> Keara says, "Everything You Know is Wrong". This /is/ a
Kassi-flight."

Telgar Weyr> J'lyn says, "Yeah, that too. :)"

Telgar Weyr> Merielan ah hah's "BlP's!" *pounces Jaly*

Telgar Weyr> J'lyn says, "Nonono, Brownrider...."

Telgar Weyr> Merielan sighs "How many times do I have to tell you Jaly?
Alerith is -green-.."

Telgar Weyr> Alessandra says, "Isn't Meri an honorary greenie?"

"Nay," Kassi whispers, without opening her eyes. "Nay, nay, *nay*--" She is
the Greenrider Who Says Nay. Yet this denial, full-hearted though it is,
cannot stop the inevitable; that her green tires is simple fact. That she
is powerless to prevent capture, likewise. Still, she presses against that
wall, fingers curving into stone: look if you must, leer if you must, grin
if you must, smile if you must. But come one step closer and she'll kick
you somewhere awkward.

Telgar Weyr> J'lyn says, "Not yet, she's not. :)"

Telgar Weyr> Aisling peers at Alerith. Looks brown to me ;)

Telgar Weyr> Merielan is so!

Lysseth> Fasolth beats his sturdy wings for all they're worth. That seems
to be a considerable amount, at least in his mind, a confident bugle
chasing down Lysseth as he strives to do the same. The minor advantages and
efforts of the earlier flight melt away now as every male makes his mad
dash for the final goal. Lysseth's fading glow seems to marshall him to
further efforts, his final song beckoning to the green ahead, entreating
her not to go gently into that good night. He has no doubts though, that
she will rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Lysseth> Tovith flies after her, sailing on the wind across the air the
place where his holy quest will be at an end. Nothing, not even taunting
men with outrageous accents can stop him as he surges forward like an
unladden swallow. He goes forward to meet with destiny, coming close, so
close he can almost touch the prize. He reaches out for her, wishing her to
fly into his embrace.

M'rgan, still exhuding so much smugness that it almost drips from him,
takes a step forward as his lifemate also makes his attempt. Come to me,
dearie. I come bearing gifts. But no bombs. Just balms. And other
interesting stuff in my pants.

Lysseth> Konnevath digs into his reserves and surges forward. He croons to
the green who is putting up a valiant effort to remain free and wild. He
will protect her and never cage her. He will love her and respect her. He
will never try to tell her what to do, nor will he allow any other male to
do so. He reaches with his neck and tail to try and enfold her into his
warm embrace, to shelter and support her.

Telgar Weyr> T'kar doesn't want to make Meri mad, but he's pretty sure
she's not green too. :)

Telgar Weyr> Kassima says, "If Alerith's green, man, will Saulith be
surprised. ;)"

Lysseth> Desperation and speed are fine arrows to save in one's quiver, but
even they must be fired -- he'll, instead, armor himself with fierce
determination, and belt on the blades of stamina and cunning. Indrath lets
Ularrith have his space above the pale emerald ember, lets the brown waste
precious wind *reaching* for her. Still in that shallowing dive and riding
on those fierce gusts, he angles instead for the sky ahead of her, the sky
into which she flees, his tail coiling with intent twine about her sleek
form and pull her close to him.

Telgar Weyr> Merielan sighs "You are all just -wrong-. Alerith is green!"
She hides the bucket of green paint and the paintbrush.

Telgar Weyr> Tarlo says, "...o O (Dragon version of drag?) O o ."

Telgar Weyr> Leya peers, "He, ah, she's is a rather odd shade of green. And
a big for a green too." ;)

Dragon> Flight sense that Lysseth okays and consults with her Judging
Committee before coming to a decision. I have to say, y'all have made this
a terribly difficult choice, and I wish draconic menage a six wouldn't make
AM spawn cows. ;)

Telgar Weyr> Merielan well's "He's big boned.."

Dragon> Semeth bespoke Flight with << That's an interesting mental image. >>

Telgar Weyr> Leya says, "/He/'s?"

Telgar Weyr> Talisha says, "Don't you mean -she- Meri? ;)"

Dragon> Fasolth bespoke Flight with << Whoa ;) >>

Dragon> Flight sense that Tovith laughs.

Telgar Weyr> Merielan nods "Of course I did--I -am- a greenrider.."

Dragon> Flight sense that Kheveth regrets he must point out that that that
would be 'menage a sex'. Like in 'sextuplets'.

Dragon> Flight sense that Konnevath chuckles, but agrees that Anne would
/definitely/ not like that image.

Dragon> Ularrith bespoke Flight with << I've gotta watch Meaning of Life
again so next time I can use references from that. >>

Telgar Weyr> K'ran changes music, at this point. Molly Hatchet, "Flirtin'
With Disaster". :)

Dragon> Flight sense that Fasolth thinks menage a six is right, since it's
French. :)

Dragon> Tovith bespoke Flight with << I've only seen The Holy Grail. >>

Dragon> Semeth bespoke Flight with << Yeah, sex is German. >>

Dragon> Flight sense that Lysseth okays. Sorry for the pause there--this
one's a thorough lip-chewer, was the general consensus, but I'm getting the
catch pose ready now. Thank you again for the wonderful, *wonderful* posing
tonight. :)

Lysseth> Lysseth is valiant, yes, but not immortal; her reserves are not
infinite; capture is indeed inevitable. And though she fights it with every
last iota of her energy, the mead of life is at last drained to the dregs.
One last bitter push for freedom, a final angry cry--to fall into silence,
as Konnevath ensnares her in, not cage, but folded wing and supple hold.

T'kar quickly gets to his feet and slips out.

T'kar leaves the guest weyr and heads out into the bowl.

Dragon> Fasolth bespoke Flight with << Good fun, thanks! Congrats
Konnevath! >>

Lysseth> Fasolth flies towards the south end of the bowl.

Leya blinks, sighs, then stands and quietly walks out to the bowl.

Lysseth> Martyr it is as Ularrith flashes past Lysseth, missing her
completely. His bellow of anger and loss echoes in the bowl as he tumbles
down.

Leya leaves the guest weyr and heads out into the bowl.

That hint of a confident smile vanishes from K'ran's lips suddenly, and
without a word he turns and stalks from the weyr.

K'ran leaves the guest weyr and heads out into the bowl.

All smugness instantly gone, M'rgan mutters under his breath, "Stupid
dragons" and stumbles out of the weyr.

Dragon> Flight sense that Konnevath is stunned! And very grateful. :>

Lysseth> Ularrith flies towards the south end of the bowl.

M'rgan leaves the guest weyr and heads out into the bowl.

Dragon> Ularrith bespoke Flight with << Congratulations, Konnevath. I
enjoyed the flight, Lysseth. >>

Lysseth> Tovith bellows as the last moment the prize is taken away, the
police vans came tearing through, he's arrested, and dragged off - well,
not literally, but that's what he feels like. He really just drops down to
the ground of the bowl.

Dragon> Tovith bespoke Flight with << Great fun. :) >>

Lysseth> Indrath's gambit failed, he drops soundlessly away, back towards
the floor of the bowl.

Lysseth> Indrath flies downwards towards the bowl.

Lysseth> Tovith flies towards the south end of the bowl.

Dragon> Flight sense that Indrath nodnods. Thanks for having us, Lysseth. :)

Lysseth> Konnevath croons as he enfolds Lysseth in his embrace, letting
nature takes its course to the end.

Dragon> Lysseth bespoke Flight with << My definite pleasure. :) I'm looking
vastly forward to getting to read all the poses over again when I edit the
log, you'd better believe. :) >>

Dragon> Sielth bespoke Flight with << That was fun to watch. Good job ;) >>

Dragon> Flight sense that Konnevath joins in the praise of the flight. It
was great fun!