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Lysseth's Sixth Flight


Date:  September 19, 1997
Places:  Benden Weyr's Living Cavern, North Bowl, South Bowl, Feeding
Grounds, Upper 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:  Oh, boy.  *Here* was an interesting flight.  Not only did
Kassi get a shot at corrupting the Candidates and introducing them to 
the wonderful world of knife-throwing, but the flight itself also turned
out to be an absolute delight.  All the chasers posed well, and I found
myself having to pause in my own typing in order to finish laughing more
than once.  The moral of the story is:  if you happen upon a proddy
greenrider dressed disturbingly like Pern's first anti-Elvis, run away!
Run away!  As far as technical foo goes, most of it is self-explanatory;
however, I should note that my poses did have a theme.  The original
theme was supposed to be the 7th Guest computer game; somewhere along
the line, though, I found myself picking up several other themes:
Shakespeare, song lyrics, and finally, Monty Python and the Holy Grail.
Many thanks go to all the sources of inspiration for these poses (I bet
they're not hard to identify), and also to all the dragons and onlookers
who participated in one way or another.  Things prefixed by Lysseth>
are from Lysseth's perspective, which begins in the North Bowl and then
travels on upwards to the Skyspace.

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The Log:

It's far from uncommon these days for Kassima to walk into a room with her 
gitar in hand, quite prepared to torment the ears of any who don't have 
the foresight to flee. However, seeing her stride in carrying not only a 
gitar but a bunch of dead fish tied together by their tails is a whole 
other matter. "Kestar!" she snaps to a Candidate on serving duty who was 
trying to scamper away. "Take these to the kitchen. Give 'em to a Baker, 
or just set 'em on a counter somewhere--I don't really care." The boy eyes 
the dead fish dubiously for a moment, before taking them and scampering 
off with a hasty reply of, "Aye, Cousin Kassi."

Ceria jumps up and eyes Kassima nervously as she enters. "Can I get you 
anything, ma'am?" she inquires politely.

Nikhshar perks up a bit, and finishes his klah with a quick gulp. "Evening 
ma'am."

"Alcohol," the greenrider croaks, plunking herself into a seat and 
flicking the fish-scales from her fingers. "Strong. Klah. Also strong." 
Articulate doesn't seem to be the word for her today.

Dikka walks here from the Inner Cavern.

Dikka wanders into the living cavern and takes a look at the food that is 
offered she takes a plate and a few select items and makes her way to a 
table to nibble on her dinner.

Ceria scampers off to get the requested items, returning quickly with a 
mug of klah and a skin filled with some sort of alcohol. "Here you are, 
ma'am," she says, handing them to Kassima.

Dikka chooses a table that is away from the others and keeps mostly to 
herself.

Kassima sets the thing that the fish were tied to next to her chair. It 
seems to be a long, sturdy stick to which a knife has been securely 
attached. What's still dangling from the end of that knife is best left 
undescribed. Frowning, Kassi frees the blade and sets to work with 
cleaning it. "Ice-fishing is messy work," she mutters in a harsh rasp. 
"Fish-cleaning, marginally moreso. At least the green demon-spawn enjoyed 
herself." She doesn't *quite* grab the profferred items from the 
Candidate, but is swift enough to take them and start mixing them anyway. 
"Good. You're better at this business than some other Candidates I could 
name, lass. Those shell-blasted cousins of mine being among the first and 
foremost; I'll be surprised if'n Kestar even manages to *find* the effing 
kitchens without a bloody map."

Benden Weyr> C'vadan snugs everyone goodnight :) Happy flight Lysseth. I 
hope you get what you deserve, kassi ;)

Benden Weyr> T'ren yays at the usual 10 line Kassi pose :)

Benden Weyr> Kassima is getting the spam out of her system now, T'ren, or 
so she hopes. :) And thanks, Cav. I think. ;) *Snugsnugs.*

Nikhshar hopes sorely that Kassima doesn't start screeching... Err... 
Playing that guitar again. "May I offer my help?" He asks, gesturing 
towards the fish.

Ceria leaves Kassima with a slight bow and a mumbled thanks. She walks 
over to Dikka with a smile on her face. "Can I get you anything?" she 
inquires politely.

Maylia intently studies her scroll. In fact, she has since right the 
moment the greenrider stalked in.

Kassima eyes Nikhshar critically for a moment, then shrugs. She unhooks a 
bag from her belt and lets it fall on the table with an odd-sounding 
*thunk.* "You could always get rid of the remains for me, I suppose. Nay 
that there's too awful much left, but I care nay for the bones and skin of 
creatures from the waters."

Dikka shakes her head and says in a tone that can only be described as 
iritating at best, "No Candidate." She doesn't offer any thanks for the 
gesture, her grey-silver eyes regard Ceria carefully, her chin lifts 
slightly as...waiting.

Nikhshar quickly moves over next to the greenrider, ready to help in 
anyway he is told.

Maylia rolls up her scroll, and quietly heads for the inner caverns, 
muttering to herself.

Maylia walks towards the inner cavern.

Ceria's smile wavers a bit, before becoming a sickly-sweet as ever. "Are 
you sure?" she says helpfully. Her green eyes appear almost catlike as she 
narrows them slightly.

Dikka says condesendingly with an even look, "Do you have a hearing 
problem?" She inquires, "Perhaps you should speak to the Healer, I believe 
I spoke clearly."

Kassima doesn't wait to see whether or not her ever-so-eloquently-phrased 
'request' is carried out. She simply turns her attention to her mug. For 
all that it already contains acidic klah and what's probably rotgut liquor 
if her request for strength was carried out, she nevertheless pulls two 
more vials from her pocket--one a peculiar amalgam of blue, green, and 
gold, and the other a clear white--and pours them into the mug as well. 
Funny. The casual listener might *swear* that the entire brew is beginning 
to bubble and hiss.

The sweet smile remains on Ceria's face as she says in an equally sweet 
voice, "My hearing is fine. I just thought that someone who appears to be 
as helpless as you might need help with something."

Maylia walks here from the Inner Cavern.

Maylia returns, and stops to grab a redfruit before returning to her 
vacated seat.

Dikka says sharply, "And what do you mean by that Candidate?" She 
inquires, "I don't believe my cousin set you as charge over me, so why 
don't you simply mind your business hmmm?"

Kassima lifts the lethal mug, gulping down a measure of the heavily spiked 
liquid without so much as a wince. Her eyes do narrow perceptibly as she 
overhears Ceria and Dikka, though. "Candidate," she says coldly, pitching 
her gravelly voice so as to be heard, "I'm certain that you've been told 
what the penalty is for fighting. 'Tis amazing how quickly words can lead 
to that. 'Twould be watching more carefully what I said, if'n 'twere you." 
Never mind that she's hardly one to talk.

Ceria shrugs innocently. "If that's what you wish," she says to Dikka. She 
starts to turn away and then hears Kassima. "Yes, ma'am," she says meekly, 
as she walks away from Dikka.

Dikka makes a little vindicative sound in the back of her throat much like 
'humph!' and goes back to her meal, she basically pokes at what she has 
selected pushing it about on her plate this way and that.

Ceria pauses as she hears Dikka, but quickly continues walking. She 
returns to her seat and picks up her klah mug.

Maylia perches in her chair, legs tucked up, supporting a scroll while she 
reads. She absently slurps at the juice of her redfruit, lifting her eyes 
to look questionningly to Ceria.

Kassima nods once, tersely, in satisfaction. "Good," is all she says 
before slugging down another shot of her devil's-brew. "I get enough 
arguing from my sharding lifemate; I'll be blasted if'n 'twill sit still 
for it in here, too. A cool head would like as nay be a useful thing, 
should you Impress." Again, it's not like she's one to talk... not right 
at this moment, anyway.

Dikka drops her fork into her plate and stands up, leaving her plate where 
it is she leaves the table and wanders over towards the direction of the 
inner cavern.

Dikka walks towards the inner cavern.

Ceria sighs. She mutters to Maylia, "... that... so spoiled..." 

Ceria looks up at Kassima. "I'm sorry, ma'am," she apologizes.

There's a moment of blessed silence from Kassima before the greenrider 
answers gruffly, "All right, all right, enough already with the ma'aming 
and apologizing nonsense. I suppose there's nay harm done." She heaves a 
long, gusty sigh. "I don't suppose," she finally asks, "that any of you 
know whether there's enough snow left in the Bowl t'make a few decent 
snowmen? I couldn't help but note on m'way here that a great deal of it 
has been used up by a snow fort. And how I'm supposed t'throw m'knives 
without m'snowmen, only Faranth could know."

Ceria blushes at the mention of the fort. "I'm sure there's enough left 
for a few snowmen," she assures the greenrider politely.

Maylia watches the girl leave, and with a sigh nods agreement with Ceria. 
"I know, and I can't stand it either. But we've got to." But there's an 
interresting gleam to her eyes. She turns her attention to Kassi, 
considering for a moment. "I think there should be enough." Is her 
cautious reply.

Ceria looks at Maylia curiously. She mutters to Maylia, "... and... I... 
a..." 

Kassima scowls, looking suddenly irate. "There'd *better* be. If'n I don't 
get m'chance to hurl knives at the snowmen every eve that Lyss glows, 
'twill likely nay be a very personable person." If this is personable for 
her, it probably wouldn't be pleasant to see her be unpersonable. "Can any 
of you lot build a decent snow-person?"

Ceria starts to shrug. "I've never done it before," she admits, "but if 
you'd like, I can try."

Maylia gives Kassima an uncertain look, before assuring her that she could 
help. As she rises she whispers to Ceria She mutters to Ceria, "... I've 
got... up... might take her... two.... little time,..." 

"'Twould be useful to have helpers," the greenrider responds. "It takes 
some time t'build decent snow-people. Especially if'n you want to embed 
the skins of Tillek Swill in their heads and whatnay. I'll tell you 
what... either of you have any interest in learning to toss knives?"

Ceria's eyes widen a bit as she glances at Maylia, but she remains silent.
Ceria looks at Kassima curiously. "I might like to try it," she says 
uncertainly.

Maylia downs the last of her klah, now quite cold and places the mug in a 
bussing-bin on her way to her coat, hanging by the wall. She smiles 
eagerly. "I'd like to, I think."

Kassima folds her hands on the table, regarding the two Candidates levelly 
for several moments. "All right, then. Here's the deal: you help me craft 
the targets, and I'll teach you a few of the rudiments. Enough t'get you 
started, 'tany rate. If'n you want more lessons after that, I can give 'em 
whenever I'm off-duty and your chores are done. Bargain struck?"

Maylia blinks as the deal is outlined, then nods her head. "Deal." She 
answers with a smile.

R'val walks in from the bowl.

R'val ambles into the living cavern, whistling softly. He stops when he 
spots others, and smiles, "Evening, all."

Kassima nods sharply. "Good," is her flatly-spoken reply. Which is soon 
followed by a shout, made all the less pleasant to listen to by the 
hoarseness of her voice: "Eyrian! Get me five skins of Tillek Red from 
Stores, and be quick about it, or I'll tan your hide and use it as an 
entrance-curtain!" The lad, who bears an astonishing resemblance to Kestar 
from earlier, flees off to fulfill Her Proddiness's request. "That should 
be all we need, beyond the snow itself. Let's get a move-on. Faranth only 
knows how much yet remains that's nay already been dragon-trampled."

Ceria nods to Kassima. "Sounds good to me," she says.

Maylia struggles into her coat, fumbling in her pockets for mittens. She 
smiles amiably to R'val, "Evening!"

R'val grinsn at Maylia as he stops near the klah pot, "What's going on, 
all?"

Ceria stands up and pulls on her jacket and gloves. She smiles at R'val.

Kassima favors R'val with a stony *look* and doesn't deign to reply. She 
instead flips her cloak and hair back over her shoulder, tapping her foot 
impatiently until her unfortunate cousin returns with the requested 
liquor. "Aye. This should do well enough." Eyr nods rapidly and darts from 
the room before he she can think of anything else to request.

R'val fails to notice kassima's look. He smiles at Maylia, "Some sort of 
activity being planned, hm?"

Kassima gathers the dropped skins, picking up her slender stick as well. 
She walks from the room without so much as a backward glance.

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

You walk south.

Maylia walks here from the north.

R'val walks here from the north.

Ceria walks here from the north.

Kassima dumps the wineskins carelessly on the ground, even going so far as 
to spit in their general direction--her distaste for the Swill plain--
before she plants her stick in the ground and kneels to begin gathering 
snow. Despite lacking any gloves, she seems impervious to the cold. "I 
don't suppose," she asks dryly as the first footsteps herald the 
Candidates' arrival, "that either of you happened t'bring throwing-knives 
with you?"

Maylia scans over the remains of two snow walls, burried mostly in drifted 
snow. As she drops to the ground to gather snow she shakes her head, 
blushing. "My belt knife is just an apprentice's blade, not a throwing 
knife."

Ceria shakes her head. "I just have my belt knife," she says.

R'val smiles at Maylia, "I'm sure Kassi'll let you use one of hers."

Kassima shapes the first of her snow into a rounded base, equally heedless 
of her gitar or what the cold's probably doing to the strings. She does, 
however, heave a long sigh. "Well. I *suppose* I have enough to consider 
loaning you one, though of course I'll need some token of good faith in 
return. Nay that 'tis likely to matter, since 'twill nay be starting out 
with knives. You've got to get the aim mastered first. That means 
practicing with rocks. And *those* are hardly in short supply. Another 
thing--now, and later on, *I'll* be the one t'say whether or nay I'll loan 
out my weapons. Pay nay heed to what anyone else tells you."

Ceria nods at Kassima and after observing what she's doing with the snow, 
moves to help her.

Maylia starts to roll a base, hastily nodding to Kassi's comments as she 
glances at R'val. She frowns at the skins, asking "You said we'll imbed 
the skins in the snow?"

R'val taps his fingers on his hips, listening.

Kassima nods, packing snow around one of those skins to form her snowman's 
midsection. "A'course," she replies matter-of-factly. "How else t'simulate 
blood when y'make a good hit? Alcohol doesn't freeze, y'know. It serves 
the purpose admirably. Put 'em either in their guts or within their heads; 
either will suffice." Teams of fire-lizards begin popping from *between*, 
three or four at a time, each carrying a warped and bent dead tree-
branch--presumably to be used as arms.

Ceria finishes the base of a snowman and then begins packing snow around 
one of the wineskins, to form the midsection.

Maylia fetches a skin, and holding it over the base she'd constructed, 
considers the best place anatomically speaking to place it.

As Kassi's snowman continues to take shape, it's obvious that it's not 
going to be a normal figure at all. The fact that she's got it doubled-
over, clutching the stake that protrudes from its upper chest, might be 
the first clue; the next could well be the expression of utter horror on 
its face and the claw-marks raked across its head by Kassi's own long 
fingernails. For added amusement, she's placed another stick in the back 
to make it look like the first is long enough to have impaled him. 
"Methinks m'first one's finished," she declares after a moment's 
consideration.

Benden Weyr> Kassima has always admired Calvin from Calvin and Hobbes's 
method of making snowmen. :)

Benden Weyr> Caitria rah Calvinesque snowmen. ;)

Ceria glances over at the greenrider's snowman and her eyes open wide. 
"It's very..." She hesitates. "...detailed," she finishes finally.

Benden Weyr> <Kelset> Calvin shouts back to the house, "What do you 
/mean/, well-adjusted?!?"

Benden Weyr> Kassima grins at Tria. Want to come down to the Bowl and help 
us build some? 0:)

R'val shudders, "Too detailed."

Benden Weyr> Caitria ponders a snowman with a snowemasculator. ;)

Ceria shoots a glance at R'val, silently agreeing with him, before turning 
back to her own snowman.

Benden Weyr> Ceria shivers. :)

Benden Weyr> R'val shudders!

"Detail is m'specialty," Kassi proclaims with pride before moving to start 
on another one. This one seems small, and she doesn't include a wineskin 
in its making. It would seem to be a child-snowperson. One who is, it 
might be noted, lacking an arm. Another young snowperson soon comes to be, 
carrying an extra arm in its 'hand' and chasing the first with it.

R'val winks at Ceria comically.

Benden Weyr> Kassima beams at Tria. You're a genius. ;)

Maylia, still holding the skin, eyes Kassi's snowman. She makes subtle 
changes to her snowman as she works; only one arm is formed, the other is 
left on the ground. For good measure, she opens a skin and coats where the 
arm should've been attached with the red liquid, and the end of the arm on 
the ground with some too.

Caitria pats the neck of Thiva's mottled green Avivth, thanking them for 
the ride from Dulath's Ledge.

Benden Weyr> Maylia laughs as she and Kassi are of one mind ...

Ceria smiles uncertainly at R'val. She places the snowcovered wineskin 
onto the base of the snowmana and starts on the head.

Benden Weyr> Danton inspects Kassima. This is that proddy thing again, 
isn't it.

Caitria thanks Thiva and Avivth, then does a doubletake at the snowmen. 
"Dear Faranth, what are you lot doing?"

Benden Weyr> Kassima says, "My mind is your mind; my thoughts are your 
thoughts. Be afraid. Be very afraid. ;)"

Benden Weyr> Danton grins.

Benden Weyr> R'val says, "Maylia, be afraid. :)"

Benden Weyr> Ceria is always afraid around here. :)

Benden Weyr> Maylia yelps and dives under her cot again.

Benden Weyr> Caitria ACKS! Kassi! You didn't tell me you were proddy!

Kassima waves downright *cheerfully*--cheerfully? With Lysseth more 
luminescant than a full glowbasket?--to Tria as she packs snow around a 
wineskin to form a snowman's head. Said snowman has no *body* yet, 
mind.... "Weyrherder, g'deve! Care to help us with this most enjoyable 
task? I believe there's still one wineskin left...."

Maylia builds the head of her snowman gazing down at the severed arm, and 
tries her best to mold an appropriate expression on its face. A wineskin 
is incorporated into the head, positioned so that a hit near the eyes will 
suffuce. R'val gets a wicked grin from her. Perhaps she's been around 
Kassi a bit too long?

Caitria just....stares. She stagewhispers to Maylia, "Don't encourage 
her."

Ceria eyes Maylia's snowman and continues with her own. She avoids the 
gruesome detail shown in the other two snowmen.

R'val watches Maylia's work in particular as he walks by, and shivers at 
the fear-inspiring glance, eyeing Maylia cautiously.

Devlin walks here from the north.

Devlin heads towards the lake, bucket in hand.

Devlin heads in the direction of the shimmering lake, leaving the South 
Bowl area of the Weyr.

Kassima sets down her snow-head, its expression as horrific as would be 
expected from her, and begins work on a body. The arms of the hastily-
crafted shape, made mostly out of leftover snow from the fort, extend up 
into the air. She gingerly places the head backwards within its 'hands' 
and begins work on another just behind it. "Tria," she calls over her 
shoulder, "could you aid me with something? There's an item that I want 
t'craft, but I'm nay certain I can do a detailed enough job of it...."

Caitria shrugs and moves over to Kassi. "Sure, whaddya need?"

Ceria places a rather plain-looking head atop her snowman. It is nowhere 
near as detailed as Maylia's and Kassima's, but then, she's never done 
this before.

Maylia stands back to admire her work, considering what to build next. She 
furrows her brow in concentration as she builds the next. Taking 
inspiration from Kassi's first, she builds this one standing up, looking 
with horror at a spear protruding through its abdomen, holding it with 
both hands.

Breenah heads into the South Bowl area from the lake shore to the 
southwest.

Kassima favors Tria with one of her more feral grins when the Weyrherder 
wanders up, and lowers her gravelly, raspy voice to speak more quietly to 
her. She mutters to Caitria, "... Emasculator.... snow;... wish..."  She 
pats the right pocket of her jacket fondly, where the indicated item seems 
to be residing. "Think you can help?"

Ceria gives Maylia a strange look and then steps back to stand with R'val.

Breenah smiles a greeting as she walks toward some of her cot mates. "Hi, 
what are you all up too?"

Caitria flashes a rather wicked grin to R'val as she hears what Kassi 
wants. "Sure, that sounds like fun. But I don't know if blades can be made 
out of snow."

Devlin heads into the South Bowl area from the lake shore to the 
southwest.

Devlin walks by with a bucket full of water now.

Devlin walks north.

R'val winces at Caitria, "You, madam, are a sadistic individual."

Maylia grins evily at Breenah, glancing at her snowman with a red-wine 
bloodied arm on the ground. "Knife throwing lessons." Is her only 
explanation. R'val gets another grin.

Caitria bows, with a flourish. "Why, thank you! Just don't tell my kids, 
okay?"

"Perhaps sticks?" Kassi suggests ingenuously, while putting together the 
body of the snowman. Its arms are outstretched; its expression, one of 
malicious and quite probably mad glee. "It'd have t'be light enough nay 
t'break his--ahem, her--hand...." Absently, she packs on enough excess 
snow for a sloppily-sculpted snow-braid on the figure.

Ceria smiles shakily at Breenah. She looks at Maylia and Kassima's snowmen 
with a confused expression on her face.

Caitria nods thoughtfully. "Light sticks, maybe. Or straw? There's some 
straw in the beasthold."

R'val wrinklse his nose at Caitria, "No doubt the poor mites will find out 
with time!"

Makear walks here from the north.

Breenah :stops short as she views the snowmen and their expressions. "Oh 
my!" She looks around the group as she takes a step back. "This is 
creepy."

Ceria shrugs at Breenah. "That wasn't my idea," she mutters.

Kassima agrees, "Straw would work admirably. Oh, excellent work, Maylia!" 
she exclaims upon seeing the Candidate's snowmen. "And yours is all right 
too, Ceria... I'd say that you're ready to start practicing. Find 
yourselves a good selection of rocks. Nay too large, nay too heavy, but 
just the right size t'fit into your palm--the sort that you could throw 
easily. Got that? Anyone else who wants t'start learning 'throwing, do the 
same."

Zerra walks here from the north.

Above, Solarith leaps from Solarith's Ledge and flies into the air.

Makear stops in her tracks and surveys the gruesome sight before her. SHe 
shivers maybe not totally from the cold, but then grins, "This is 
interesting." SHe comments with s grin.

Solarith backwings for a landing.

Zerra walks over to the group, shivering a little, holding her cloack 
closer to her, 'Heya, what's going on out here?' she aks smiling.

Caitria blinks, and inquires of Kassi, "What're you doing with the rocks?"

From Solarith's back, T'saren pauses for a moment before dismounting, 
surveying the snowmen and the sculpted looks on their faces with a raised 
eyebrow.

Ceria moves around the bowl gathering rocks. She brings a couple to 
Kassima. "Are these alright?" she asks.

Breenah glances about for the right size rocks, still not sure she really 
wants to learn to throw at such sinister looking snowmen. "Can I make my 
own target?" She asks in hopes of adding another sence too the snow 
covered bowl.

"Knife-throwing lessons," Kassi explains to Tria and all of the new 
arrivals briefly. "Rocks are good enough t'start learning to aim with. 
Though the balance with a knife is quite different, getting the hang of 
aim is important indeed... aye, Ceria, that'll suit. And Breenah, you can 
indeed--but I fear that we're out of wineskins, unless y'care t'fetch 
more."

Maylia packs the last snow over a wineskin embedded in her snowmans' head 
and nearly beams with the praise. She makes note of how to handle *this* 
proddy rider. Heading off in search of rocks, she smiles nearly 
affectionately at the snowman.

Ceria glances over at T'saren before turning back to her rocks.

T'saren slides down Solarith's shoulder to the ground, using the riding 
straps and the bronze's helpful foreleg for assistance.

Caitria lifts a hand in greeting to Tas, and ahhs at Kassi. "Shoulda 
known."

T'saren slowly slides down Solarith's neck, still eyeing the snowmen. He 
waves to those gathered around, then leans against his lifemate's flank to 
quietly observe.

Benden Weyr> Kassima waffles to 'Lani, and offers to teach her knife-
throwing along with some of the Candidates? ;)

Benden Weyr> Mehlani can juggle. She'd probably be pretty good at knife 
throwing.

Breenah shrugs not wanting to run back to the weyr and miss anything. 
Swallowing a lump in her throat. She tosses the rocks into the air to get 
a feel for there weight.

Zerra shifts form one foot to the other, watching the goings on curiously.

Mehlani comes here from the direction of the runner pasture.

Benden Weyr> Jehrina . o O ( Knife throwing, along with some of the 
candidates. Now, why do I parse that as: Kassi is throwing knives, and 
candidates? )

R'val waves amiably at T'saren, his eyes on the gruesome work.

Ceria gathers up a few more rocks ane piles them with the rest of the ones 
she's collected.

Benden Weyr> T'saren just wonders when Kassi will commision a Smithcrafter 
to make throwing stars instead of plain ol' knives. ;)

Kassima places the snow-emasculator into her last snowwoman's hand once it 
has been put together, nodding with satisfaction at the result. "It really 
looks authentic, Tria," she enthuses. "Methinks *this* gallery of targets 
will serve admirably." Gallery... or Snowman House of Horrors?

Benden Weyr> Kassima, in turn, somehow managed to parse that as 'Kassi is 
throwing knives, at Candidates.' Hrm. How peculiar. ;)

Mehlani, her ever-present bronze fire lizard riding for once on her other 
shoulder, comes padding silently up from the runner pasture, her breath 
hanging in a cloud about her head. The girl slows when she spies a 
gathering. And halts when she sees what Kassima is doing.

Caitria gives Mehlani a smile. "Hiya, kiddo."

Mehlani draws near to Caitria and bobs her head once at her by way of 
greeting, but the girl's blue gaze lingers on.... whatever it is Kassima 
is doing. From the look on her face, the girl isn't exactly surprised by 
her father's wingmate's activity, but then again, she's not going anywhere 
nearer, either.

Maylia adds more rocks to the pile she's accumulated, stepping up to her 
missing-arm snowman to adjust the look on its face a little. She glances 
to Kassima, wondering what's next.

Breenah shivers as she moves closer to the group. "It feels like their 
eyes are following me. Are you sure there isn't anyone under all that 
snow?" She bites her bottom lip as she realizes that she has admited that 
she's scared.

Caitria nods approvingly at the strawmasculator, then flashes a grin to 
Breenah. "Realistic, eh? Kassi's really gifted."

Kassima bends to extract a slim-bladed throwing-knife from her boot, 
gazing at the edge critically. Finally, she shrugs, and turns around as 
though to walk back... then abruptly spins, her wrist flicking outward. 
The knife lands point-blank in the head of the armless snow-child. A shame 
that there's no wine embedded in this one.... "Good t'see I've nay been 
getting rusty," the greenrider says with satisfaction. "What I just did 
shows part of why aim's so important. If'n you truly want to consider 
yourselves skilled with knives, you've got t'learn to hit a *moving* 
target at a point of your choice. It takes quite a lot of learning. For 
now, practicing with the rocks will get you started. When you can hit the 
dead center of one of the snowmen with a rock five times in a row, without 
fail, then come back t'me and I'll loan out a knife for you t'practice 
with."

Ceria finishes piling rocks, and then she turns to Kassima. She nods at 
the greenrider's words and then picks up a rock, weighing it in her hand 
for a moment before throwing it at her snowman. She hits it in the head 
with enough force to break it, a bit of snow showering to the the ground.

Kassima glances at Mehlani, slightly amused by the girl's lack of 
surprise. This activity must be putting her in a *very* good mood indeed. 
"If'n you want to try too, Mehlani, go right ahead and pick out a target 
and rocks--or build one if'n there aren't enough," she offers 
magnanimously.

Makear grins at this game, she likes this! WIth a quick motion she turns 
around and searches for rocks, after last nights practice and just her 
usuall skill woth knives, she should do well i this.

T'saren grins a bit as he watches, then realizes if any of these 
Candidates Impress, he's going to have to deal with their knife throwing.
The grin fades into a less amused expression, almost a grimace.

Mehlani blinkblinks, _now_ looking surprised, probably due to having been 
hailed. Holl PEERS at the green rider, trilling curiously, as 'Lani shakes 
her head solemnly.

Zerra blinks and stops still as she watches Kassi, and looks around 
worridly at the group, woundering what /has/ she stumbled apon. She steps 
back a little and resumes her feet hopping to keep herself warm.

Maylia counts out her rocks, toeing them with her boot. 20. Won't be 
enough. She shrugs, and decides to try. She takes aim, but the rock swings 
a little wide, knocking the ear off her armless snowman. With an "eep!" 
she tries again, getting his hip.

Breenah takes aim at the center snowman and lofts her rock. Her face falls 
as she watches it fly over the head and land softly with a plooth.. on the 
fluffy coating of snow on the other side.

Ceria picks up another rock and holds it for a moment. She eyes her 
snowman again and then lobs the rock at it, hitting it squarely in the 
midsection, imbedding the rock in the snow.

Mehlani, in fact, looks just a touch shy-stricken, and flicks a look left 
and right, as if considering to flee to either a) her father's weyr, or b) 
back to the beast hold.

R'val smiles, "Good shot, "He says to Ceria, watching her throw.

Caitria patpats Mehlani's shoulder, reassuringly. "S'okay, kiddo." She 
adds, in an undertone, "Lysseth's just a weensy bit glowy, that's all."

Kassima flashes Tas a downright malicious grin, as though she can sense 
his line of thought. With a shrug, she reclaims her knife from the snow-
child and starts packing snow into its open wound. "Oh, and don't forget 
to repair your snowmen when they start looking shabby. That's the one true 
advantage of using them as targets: you can fix what you've done. If'n 
you're certain, Mehlani... though I'll tell you, this is the sort of skill 
that will come in handy for all of one's life." Easy for her to say. She 
finds it useful every time Lysseth gets a touch luminescent.

Makear steps up by Maylia holding about 7 small rocks. She grins at her 
twin and takes aim at her chosen target with her first stone. With a 
motion that shows practice she pelts the snowman in dead center.

Ceria nods at R'val with a slight smile. "You don't live with seven older 
brothers without learning to defend yourself," she comments as she picks 
up another rock. She throws it, and it joins the previous one in the 
snowman's midsection. This time, she throws it with enough force to break 
the wineskin inside and the snowman takes on a red tinge.

Mehlani looks up at Caitria, swallows once, then peers over at Kassima. 
"I'm not a rider," she points out, her voice soft as usual, though clear 
enough to carry.

Maylia tries again, after watching Kassi for a moment as if trying to 
remember just what she did. She launches another rock, this time hitting 
her speared snowman... somewhat below the spear... With a blush, she tries 
again, finally getting one in its middle.

Caitria nods agreeably at that. "No, you're not. Looks like Kassi's being 
odd to everyone today, though." Seeing Maylia's 'below the spear' shot, 
she applauds. "Good one, lass!"

T'saren rolls his eyes at Kassi, stepping away from Solarith to a safe 
distance behind the practicing Candidates. "Good point. No need to call a 
Healer for snowmen, and they don't quite scream like real people either." 
Whether this was said as a joke or in seriousness is hard to tell, because 
he keeps his expression deadpan.

Kassima being odd does not appear to surprise 'Lani either. She eyes the 
green rider a moment more, then leans over, standing up slightly on her 
toes to murmur something to Caitria.

Mehlani mutters to Caitria, "I fed... brushed..."

"So?" asks Kassi as she steps back from her handiwork. "Neither was I, 
when m'cousins taught me throwi--oh, fine shots! You've the mark of a good 
'thrower, Ceria--and Maylia, it takes some natural gift to make a hit like 
that so soon!"

Solarith lumbers north.

Caitria gives Mehlani a bright smile. "And I'm sure he's very grateful to 
you, too. If you like, you can give him a treat. Maybe a bit of redfruit."

Makear hefts anouther rock in her palm and watches Maylia's hit, she grins 
encourage meant to all her friends. And then with a good aim she hits the 
snow man again in the chest.

Breenah palms another rock and throws it more in a straight line. It 
wizzes past the left side of the snowhead taking off a bit of the snow 
that would have been an ear. "I almost hit that time." She shouts as she 
bounces up and down in excitement.

Ceria shifts her gaze over to T'saren for a moment before moving to repair 
the slight damage she has inflicted on her snowman. She smiles at Kassima. 
"I've had some practice throwing things at my brothers," she admits.

Lysseth> Solarith rumblecroons to the glowing green, then settles down in 
the snow with only his tailtip twitching.

Maylia blushes furiously at the praise for the region where she hit. She 
nods, and tries again, hitting not quite center of his body, just a little 
off to the right. She stops to cheer for her sister, "Where'd you learn to 
do that?"

Zerra watches as her sisters, do this thing rather well, but she still 
watches in the sidelines. SHe notices Mehlani, as she seems to be the only 
other one not trowwing things and trys to smile to the girl.

R'val winces, "ERm. Good shot, Maylia. Yikes, scary...."

Lysseth> One of Lysseth's eyes slowly opens, burning a shade of red that 
challenges her hide for brightness. She snorts once, audibly derisive, 
before resuming her uneasy not-quite-slumber.

Maylia tries to give R'val an evil grin before launching another rock, but 
totally fails and laughs instead.

Mehlani's mouth turns up briefly at each corner as she nods to Caitria; 
then, spying Zerra and catching her eye, the girl peers back at her 
quietly.

Ceria moves back to her pile of rocks and pikes up three, throwing them 
rapidly at her snowman. She scores three hits in the center of the 
snowman.

Breenah picks up another rock and throws it hard. Holding her breath she 
watches as it hits below the neckline. "I'm getting closer." She tells 
herself as she quickly tries again.

T'saren blinks in surprise at Ceria's skill, whistling softly. "Nice 
shots, Ceria. Dead on. Literally."

Makear grabs anouther rock and moves it about in her hand. She grins at 
Maylia with an impish glint in her eyes. "All the times I got in trouble 
with Leara, which was a lot trust me, I went to the lounge and took out my 
frustration on the knife throwing game. After all that time, I guess I got 
good at it, just a bit." WIth that she throws the 3rd rock and gets a 
little off and hits him right in the face. SHe oohs at that would hurt.

Kassima beams, watching the Candidates with what you'd swear is a 
downright proud expression. "'Tis a fine thing, when those who may become 
some of our next riders take so quickly to the finest of life's arts!" she 
can't help but exclaim. Restlessly, she keeps on making snowmen from what 
fresh snow yet remains. As this isn't all that much, these are smaller and 
tend to be missing body parts here and there.

Ceria blushes at T'saren's notice. She shrugs and goes to gather some more 
rocks.

Caitria shakes her head a bit at Kassi, then asks of Mehlani, "Did you 
groom Tsornin yesterday? He looked quite nice."

Mehlani smiles a little more up to Caitria, though her young face is still 
quite sober as she nods to the woman.

Zerra smiles warmly to Mehlani, but then jumps as she catches Ceria's 
throws in the corner of her eye. She blinks, eyes wide as she watches 
Ceria.

Breenah brings a rock close to her shoulder to better aim it. With all her 
might she throws the rock and squeels in delight as it hits the nose of 
the snowman's head.

Caitria gives Mehlani a grin. "I still think you should be a Herder, 
kiddo," she comments, absently watching the rock-throwing.

T'saren raises an eyebrow at Ceria, then turns to watch Kassi at her 
snowman making. He fingers his beltknife for a moment, then pulls it out 
and wings it at one of the snowmen she just completed. The knife buries 
itself to the hilt, just below where the heart would be.

Maylia shouts encouragement to Ceria, though her eyes flicker to T'saren, 
and back again as Ceria blushes. She stares at the rock in her hand before 
throwing it, managing a third hit though she did not impart enough 
velocity on it to really make the hit hard.

Makear rapidly fires two more rocks at her snow victim and watches as one 
hits true and anouther flies to far to the right. She then counts up her 
hits and only needs on more.

Ceria grabs a rock off her pile and narrows her eyes slightly as she 
contemplates her snowman. The rock is rather large and after a moment, she 
throws it. It smashes into the snowman's head, knocking it off the body. 
The girl quickly moves to repair the head, and she places it back onto the 
snowman's midsection.

Mehlani admits to Caitria softly, "I've been thinking about it."

Kassima doesn't scowl, and doesn't frown, but instead laughs as the knife 
thunks into the heart of the snowman. Extricating it neatly, she flicks 
her wrist to send it shooting towards the snowman nearest Tas in turn. 
*Thunk.* The spinning blade, tossed in an odd sideways arc, lands in the 
side of one snowman's neck with enough force to upset its precarious 
balance. The head falls off and rolls towards the bronzerider's feet.

Caitria ohs?, her attention turning fully from rocks to girl. "Thinking 
positively about it, I hope?"

Above, Pleiath answers Gelth's bugle with one of her own. She turns a lazy 
circle as she descends.

Breenah gasps at the skill or the green rider as she watches the head come 
to a stop. With more determination she throws another rock, only to see it 
miss it's mark.

T'saren stares at the head for just a moment, swallowing hard before 
grinning at Kassi and applauding her throw. "And here I was thinking the 
balance wasn't good enough for throwing," he chuckles, lifting his knife 
from the now headless snowman.

Makear frowns as Maylia reminds her with a quiet whisper that she has to 
get all of them in a row. scrounges up some more rocks and begans again.

Pleiath backwings for a landing.

Shrugging shyly, Mehlani gives Caitria a look not unlike that her sire is 
known to give people who ask him, 'You Impressed _ANOTHER_ green fire 
lizard?' -- which is to say, a shy little half-smile. But she murmurs 
plaintively to Caitria, "I don't want to leave Benden Weyr, though...."

Maylia lends a little more strength to her next shot, determined to make a 
solid hit. And she would have, too, if she'd left the arm attached were 
there's a red-wine soaked stump. The rock whizzes past the snowman, 
plunking into snow.

Caitria nods rather sympathetically. "Apprentices are usually posted to 
the Hall, though." She ponders for a moment, then says, "Tell you what. 
Why don't I talk with Leara about this, and see if we can work something 
out, how's that?"

Emlyn slides down Pleiath's shoulder to her forelimb, then jumps to the 
ground.

R'val pats Maylia's shoulder consolingly and smiles, "Nice shot>"

Ceria tidies up her snowman and then moves back to throw more rocks, each 
one hitting it's target, the snowman's midsection.

Emlyn looks up at the clearing sky. She tugs off her flying helmet and 
runs a hand through her short hair.

Caitria lifts a hand in greeting to Emlyn, but turns most of her attention 
back to Mehlani.

Mehlani's head quirks a bit, making the bronze keeping her company chirple 
and have to resettle himself. "You could do that?" Her voice actually 
gains a little volumne -- it would seem that the lass is eager about this.

Makear fires three shots rapidly and watches as the thrid one makes a deep 
dent were the snoe victims heart would be. She decides to clean up the 
thing when she finally gets all 5 hits.

Caitria lifts a shoulder in a shrug. "I can try," she says, with a slight 
grin. "Leara's not too positive about Weyrs in general, but I can give it 
a go, see what she says."

Maylia smiles up at R'val, commenting, "Sure, it would've been if I'd not 
given him a severed arm..." She turns back, contemplateing her snowman 
with the spear sticking from its abdomen again. Sizing him up, she sends a 
stone flying at him, to embed just next to the spear.

T'saren cleans the snow from his blade while waving to Emlyn. He bends 
down and picks up the snowman's head, carrying it to Kassima and 
presenting it to her with a flourishing bow. "Just trying to get 'a head' 
in the world, Kassi?" he asks with a grin and a wink.

Mehlani's eyes brighten up, and for an instant, she smiles widely up to 
Caitria, showing white teeth in her pale young face. All she says, 
however, is, "Alright...!"

R'val chuckles softly, "Ah well, one must take into account such 
things...>"

Emlyn returns the waves and speaks up, "Expecting another Fax to arise, 
are we, even though there hasn't been a disaster like that in over 300 
turns?" She nods at the 'head' T'saren is carrying.

"A good thrower," Kassi says, with no false humility, "can throw 
regardless of balance... though it does have some impact on the 
*effectiveness* of the throw. Has anyone gotten five hits yet?" Taking the 
head from Tas, she surveys it a moment before burying one of her belt-
knives in its skull. "One might say that."

Caitria chuckles quietly, and patpats Mehlani's shoulder. "But I'm not 
going back to the Hall until I finish the most recent batch of hidework, 
so I should get on it." She gives everyone a wave, and starts the trek 
across the bowl.

Ceria turns to Kassima. "I have," she admits with a blush.

Mehlani nods gravely to Caitria, then looks somewhat askance as she 
realizes this leaves her alone on the fringe of the knife-throwing crowd.
Dathon walks here from the north.

T'saren laughs and nods at Kassi's comment, tucking his knife back into 
its sheath as he turns to Emlyn. "And Faranth forbid another one," he 
murmurs before retreating to a safer spot to watch.

[Editor's Note:  At this point, my 'Net disconnected me.  I missed a few
poses--but hopefully not too many.  I think the storyline can still be
followed nonetheless. :)]

Ceria reaches a hand out to Kassima, taking the knife carefully. She 
stares at the blade carefully for a few moments before looking back at 
Kassima. "How..." she trails off.

T'saren steps up behind Maylia, wary of stray rocks. "You aren't doing too 
bad, but your aim seems off a touch," he comments to her softly.

Emlyn attends to something Pleiath tells her. The greenrider nods and 
rejoins her dragon.

Emlyn uses Pleiath's forelimb as a step and seats herself between the 
green's neckridges.

Zerra smiles and continues her shuffle dance, moving from one foot to the 
other, 'I'm Zerra.' she smiles and extend her hand to Mehlani.

Ceria glances over at T'saren and Maylia briefly, before turning timidly 
back to Kassima.

Mehlani turns to Zerra more fully; the bronze on her shoulder croons 
amiably, as the girl puts forth a slender, callused hand. "My name is 
Mehlani," she murmurs, her voice soft.

Kassima extricates another blade from the sheath strapped to her arm, 
hidden by the sleeve of her jacket. Balancing it for but a moment, she 
transfers her grip to the blade. "Watch carefully," she instructs Ceria, 
though her voice is pitched loudly enough to call attention from anyone 
else who might feel like listening... even if the greenrider's scratchy, 
hoarse, and nearly-croaking voice isn't that pleasant to listen to. She 
sends the blade spinning once again, so that it lodges right between the 
eyes of the snowman carrying his own head. Red Tillek Swill gushes from 
the 'wound.'

On Pleiath, Emlyn urges her dragon aloft.

Pleiath takes flight, using the thermals rising from the bowl to carry her 
aloft.

Makear walks over to where ceria and Kassima stand she looks at Ceria with 
a slight grin and then turns to Kassima and asks, "Can I try a knife now?"

Maylia nods, trying not to show her frustration. She takes a deep breath, 
before asking T'saren, "Besides practice, is there any way t'get better?"

R'val smiles at Maylia and can't help answering, "Nope. Practice makes 
perfect, as they say."

"Have you made your five hits?" Kassi asks Makear in turn.

Zerra grins widely and shakes the offered hand, admiring the flit on her 
shoulder, 'Well meet. Are you a herder, like Master Caitria?'

T'saren glances at Kassi's hit and chuckles before turning back to Maylia. 
"Practice helps, but so does a good teacher. Would you like me to show you 
a bit?"

The girl with the bronze is evidently rather taciturn, for she simply 
shakes her tousled auburn head to Zerra's question. The bronze, on the 
other hand, trills brassily, pleased at the attention.

Makear nods in answer and glances over towards Maylia who is begining to 
sound frustrated.

Ceria focuses her eyes on Kassima, tuning out all else. She watches as the 
greenrider throws the knife, hitting the snowman between the eyes. She 
carefully throws the knife at her snowman. She doesn't quite hit the area 
she was aiming for, but she doesn't miss either. The knife lodges in the 
lower lefthand edge of the snowman's midsection.

Dathon folds his hands and watches the knives fly with rapt attention. 
Noticing the trilling bronze on the girl's shoulder, he turns slightly and 
grins.

Maylia meets T'sarens eyes, a hopeful look on her face. "Would you?" She 
quickly glances down at the rock in her hand. "It seems to be just luck 
for me, so far."

Zerra smiles and respects the girls quietness, 'Ok,' she smiles and says 
to the firelizrd, 'Ahh and hello to you too little sir.' she grins.

Kassima nods in what could only be approval, walking over to retrieve both 
knives. "Nay bad. And thankee for nay aiming for where I hit. Hitting 
m'blade once its in place could damage both, and I think you can 
understand that 'twould nay be happy about that." She tosses one knife 
lightly to lodge in the ground an inch in front of Ceria's feet, before 
spinning to regard T'saren with narrowed eyes. "Are you saying she doesn't 
have a good teacher then, bronzerider?"

Having viewed the lesson again, Breenah picks up anouther rock and throws 
it strongly. Smiling at the hit, she takes another throw. This time she 
turns too much and winces as her rock flies ascrew into the path of 
another's throw. "Sorry." She calls out to the candidate, as she tries 
again.

The bronze on Mehlani's shoulder chirps proudly and sweetly, fluttering 
red-tinged wings at Zerra. "He is Holl," observes the solemn girl he 
accompanies.

Ceria flicks another glance at Maylia and T'saren before stooping to 
retrieve the knife Kassima has tossed to her feet.

T'saren smiles softly at Maylia, nodding. "I'd be glad to." Kassi's 
whirling on him takes him by surprise, and he shakes his head. "Not at 
all, Kassima. I just meant a one-on-one session is sometimes better than a 
group lesson."

R'val smirks at T'saren briefly , before turning his attention back to the 
group.

Zerra grins and nods respectfully to Holl, "nice to meet you Holl.' she 
chuckles and reatches out to sritch the lizard, looking to Mehlani, to see 
if she can/

Mehlani bobs her head softly, letting Holl set the pace in this. The 
bronze leans forward, craning his little head at Zerra, eyes beginning to 
whirl quite bluely.

Zerra chuckles and sritches the litlte one's eye ridges, smling as she 
does.

Kassima scowls, evidently not entirely mollified. "I suppose," she grates, 
"that you've a point in that. I've always found group lessoning t'be 
effective when 'tis the mere basics that are being taught, but what the 
shells! What do I know? Go *right* ahead, Assistant Weyrlingmaster." 
Forcibly smoothing her expression, she focuses her attention on the 
already-damaged snowman and works on making as many holes in it with her 
throwing-knives as she can. The poor thing looks downright mutilated by 
the time the greenrider's thrown all of her blades.

Another chirple, this one a little off-key, emanates from Dathon's 
shoulder and a small bulge in his jacket. A little squirming and 
scrabbling ensues, and a bronze head peers out from his collar. The 
Candidate mutters something to the firelizard, who chirps again, 
clambering out onto his shoulder from under his jacket.

Mehlani peers over at Dathon's emerging bronze, and for another moment, 
the lass gives a small smile, each corner of her mouth curling up.

Maylia rubs the stone in her hand, giving Kassi an unsure look. As the she 
truns back to working with the knives, she looks up to T'saren. "Alright, 
so where do we begin?"

Ceria narrows her eyes as she grips the knife carefully and looks at a 
fairly untouched snowman nearby. Her eyes seem to flash slightly as she 
concentrates on the snowman. She throws the knife and hits the snowman's 
midsection, once again, off-center.

R'val smiles, and murmurs a congratulations to Ceria at her shot.

Dathon grins to the girl. "I'm Dathon, and this - " - with a gesture to 
the small nuisance on his shoulder - "is Lanzecki." He holds out a hand, 
but (pre-empting him to it) the little flit holds out his head for a 
scritch.

Zerra chuckles as Lan emerges from Dathon's jakect.

T'saren winces at Kassima's ire, glad that target snowman isn't him. The 
words 'Don't taunt a proddy greenrider' run through his head and he 
winces, then turns back to Maylia. "Okay, first we'll look for a good rock 
that right for you." He begins digging through a small pile of stones, 
coming up with one that's nicely shaped and handing it to Maylia.
Suzot walks here from the north.

To Dathon and his companion, Mehlani bobs her head gravely again; her own 
bronze sits back up on her shoulder and surveys the two young people 
before him, evidently deciding they are authorized to be in his person's 
presence.

Ceria flashes a smile at R'val, a strange expression on her face. She goes 
over to the snowman and pulls the knife out and then walks back to her 
place.

Lysseth> Above, From the Benden Star Stones, M'nar's mint green Gelth 
rears on hind legs and bugles a greeting to brown Ularrith and his rider, 
M'rgan of HighReaches Weyr.

Maylia compares the rock handed to her with the one she had in her hand, 
noting the differnt size and shape. She drops her first rock into the 
pile, smiling to T'saren as she does so. "Okay, next?"

Suzot walks out into the Bowl after her day at Candidate chores plus re-
cataloging some of the ales she'd bottled during harvest-time. She frowns, 
spying the lineup of people throwing things at snowfigures, and hangs back 
a ways to watch.

Kassima fetches her various knives from the skull, midsection, and 'below-
the-spear' section of the snowman in question. She replaces each in its 
proper area, lifting the snowman's head from its neck and tossing it idly 
from hand to hand. Not that it *looks* much like a head anymore. "How's 
the knife-work coming?" she inquires of the two Candidates who've already 
progressed to blades.

T'saren slips his knife from its sheath again, holding it at the ready. 
"Okay, now see how I'm holding the knife? Hold your rock the same way." He 
watches Maylia to correct any slightly off parts of her stance.

From his perch on Dathon's shoulder, Lanzecki Lanzecki chirps 
peremptorily, neck still outstretched towards Mehlani. He chrrrrs in an 
obvious attempt to endear himself to the girl.

Above, Ularrith bugles to Gelth as he slides easily through the layers of 
crisp air, circling lower and lower into the bowl. He skims low across the 
South Bowl, his rider leaning out and peering down, but as M'rgan sees the 
flashing of knives, he is urged to land in the North Bowl instead.

Lysseth> Ularrith backwings for a landing.

Mehlani's mouth curves into a slightly larger smile; she doesn't look very 
surprised at Lanzecki's crooning, as if she's received this sort of 
treatment before. But she also looks pleased, and she lifts a dainty hand 
to scritch the little beast even as Holl peers curiously at the other 
flit.

Breenah steps back to free her spot for another to take. "I think I'm to 
stiff to do any good tonight." She rubs her arms as she walks over to the 
spectating people and turns to cheer on her fellow candidates.

Maylia examines how T'saren's holding his knife, and tries her best to 
mimic his stance, and hold. "Like this?"

Lysseth> M'rgan clambers down Ularrith's side to the ground, the dragon's 
sparkling eyes watching closely.

Ceria smiles at Kassima. "I think I'm doing ok. I could definitely be 
doing better though," she says.

From his perch on Dathon's shoulder, Lanzecki produces an oddly pleased 
trill in his throat, cocking his head at the girl. He directs an enquiring 
chirp at Holl.

Lysseth> Lysseth rumbles irately as the arrival of yet another male 
disturbs her precarious hold on relaxation. Her eyes, attuned to her mood, 
flash brilliantly crimson. Do Not Taunt the Proddy Fun Green.

Zerra smiles watching Dathon, Mehlani, and their pets , standing rocking 
on her heels.

T'saren nods to Maylia as he walks over, making a tiny adjustment to her 
grip on the stone then stepping back. "Now, it's just sighting on your 
target area and giving a hard flick of your wrist. Like so," and he flips 
his knife at a nearby snowman, watching the blade burrow into the 
snowman's throat.

On Mehlani's shoulder, Holl welllll... okay, if you insist. He chirrups 
magnanimously enough at Lanzecki, allowing him to distract Mehlani's 
attention. For now, at any rate. But the bronzeling nuzzles up close to 
the girl's hair, his tail curled possesively around her neck.

Dathon turns, distracted as Breenah approaches. He directs a quick grin 
her way, then his attention is dragged away kicking and screaming by the 
little bronze troublemaker on his shoulder.

Lysseth> M'rgan stares up at his lifemate as he finishes climbing down. 
"But you were the one who wanted to look at the eggs." The brown dragon's 
rumbled reply is noncommital and his gaze wanders elsewhere. M'rgan shrugs 
and turns his back on his lifemate. "Fine. Stay out here in the cold. It's 
up to you." Without a backward glance, he wanders towards the hatching 
cavern.

Lysseth> M'rgan walks into the hatching cavern.

Mehlani ohs, very softly, at Lanzecki's ruckus, her small hand jerking 
back out of the way.

Suzot crosses her arms, walking slowly behind the lineup of those 
practicing and teaching. Not that one can see her arms, as she's taken 
them inside her cloak for warmth.

Lysseth> Solarith doesn't bother to rumble a greeting to Ularrith. Instead 
he just cracks one eye open a bit and increases the speed of his tail's 
twitching.

Dragon> All dragons sense that Lysseth rumbles, hisses, glows, etc etc. 
<< Heya, all. According to my digital watch, I'm due to have a flight at 
Benden tonight. Blooding will start in about ten minutes, and all 
interested males are invited to join the +flight channel. :) >>

From his perch on Dathon's shoulder, Lanzecki chirps, his tail curled 
tightly around the Candidate's throat. Dathon shoots an edgeways look that 
could stun a wherry at the little bronze, who relaxes his hold.

Ceria holds the knife carefully by the blade and after a moment, she hurls 
it at a snowman. This time, the knife hits a little closer to the center 
of the snoman's midsection.

Kassima frowns abruptly, flopping down into the snow to sit beside one of 
her snowmen. Almost absently, she uses her wherry-skewer to start carving 
chunks of snow from his already misshapen form. "Bloody greens," she 
mutters. "Bloody, sharding, effing greens. Can't go for even a *moment* 
without complaining."

R'val glances warily at Kassima, his attention drawn from watching Maylia 
learn.

Maylia does her best to imitate the motions this time, after giving the 
snowman a long, hard look. Focussing on her target, she takes aim, and 
launches, the stone embedding itself in the shoulder. Not quite within 
Kassi's specifications, but closer than most of her shots had hit. She 
looks at T'saren, a smile beginning.

Ceria jerks her gaze to Kassima as she flops down onto the ground. She 
eyes the greenrider nervously for a few seconds. Then she carefully 
retrieves the knife from the snowman.

Breenah glances at Dathon and his flit. She reaches into her pouch and 
pulls out a piece of smoked wherry. "Mayhap, he's hungrey." She offers the 
meat to him.

T'saren turns to look over his shoulder as he overhears Kassima's 
muttering. He frowns, then glances back just in time to see Maylia's 
throw. "Much better!" he says, walking over to remove his knife and her 
stone from the two snowmen. "All you need now if a bit more practice at 
improving your aim."

Dathon, his attention drawn by the soft muttering noises, peers anxiously 
at the greenrider. A rather loud squawk from Lanzecki draws his attention 
back, and he pauses long enough for the little bronze to snatch the smoked 
wherry and tear at it in a rather feral manner.

Mehlani edges slightly away from Zerra and Dathon, her blue gaze slipping 
to Kassima; the girl chews her lower lip a moment, and starts quietly 
creeping away.

On Mehlani's shoulder, Holl flitters, looking more restless now, and 'Lani 
lifts a hand to calm the creature, almost by reflex.

Kassima glares irately at those who glance at her, however briefly. 
"What're you staring at?" she snaps, her already mercurial temperament 
taking a sudden turn for the worse. "Get your eyes back in your sockets 
where they belong!"

Ceria starts to walk away from the snowman, her gaze still resting on 
Kassima. She almost walks into T'saren as he's retrieving his knife. She 
blushes and mumbles an apology before continuing to walk.

Ceria quickly snaps her gaze away from Kassima. Emmy chitters at her pet.

Dathon jumps back a bit, his right hand flicking instinctively to his left 
shoulder. THe corners of his mouth tighten a little, but he quietly turns 
to the snowmen.

Suzot turns a contemplative eye upon the proddy Greenrider. Without a word 
she turns back for the Weyr proper.

Suzot walks north.

T'saren murmurs an 'it's okay' to Ceria, hoping she heard him as she walks 
on. He sighs at Kassi's temper, then removes his knife and the stone from 
the snowmen and returns to where Maylia stands, handing over the rock 
wordlessly, still sneaking glances at the proddy greenrider.

Makear walks over to the group of Breenah, Dathon and Zerra. She smiles in 
greeting and then glances back at Kassima, before she quickly looks away.

Lysseth> Torinth backwings for a landing.

Mehlani mutters only, "Tsornin..." And abruptly whirls, darting off in a 
flurry of auburn hair and bronze wings for the beasthold.

Mehlani opens the gate and enters the runner pasture, closing it behind 
her.

Dragon> Flight sense that Lysseth clears her throat, and taps the mic with 
her number-two pencil. << Testing, testing... okay, it looks like all 
systems are go. :) Mousketeer roll call! Could all you chaser-types speak 
up, s'il vous plait? :) >>

Lysseth> M'kla climbs down from Torinth's neck.

Lysseth> Ularrith's eyes whirl a smidge faster to keep time with the 
twitching of Solarith's tail. He subtly stretches, arching his neck for 
the best effect. His rumbling is in the smooth tones of a confirmed 
bachelor on the prowl. Hey there, little lady.

Lysseth> Suzot passes through the Bowl with a purposeful stride, heading 
directly for the Weyr proper. She pauses as a familiar Green lands. 
"Torinth, M'kla," she says a trifle more quickly than is her usual 
speaking tempo, "you'll want to stand out of the way. Kassima's proddy."

Dragon> Flight sense that Ularrith is here, hot mama.

Lysseth> Torinth gives a grumbly, cranky SNORT and settles down as her 
rider dismounts.

Dragon> Flight sense that Solarith rumbles. << And I am here as well. >>

Zerra frwons slightly as the young girl leaves and smiles as her sister 
approches, 'You lookes like you were having fun.'

Lysseth> M'kla chuckles some, "Aye, is she now?" The older greenrider 
apparently has cojones of steel too ;)

Dathon quietly steps back a few paces, studying the snowmen - 
snowpersons? - quietly. A knife appears in his hand, hilt outwards, and he 
pauses for a moment.

Breenah smiles to Makear. "You were doing quite well out there."

Lysseth> Suzot nods. "Aye. She's been throwing knives for a while now, 
eating raw wherry for near on a sevenday...and just now she was 
complainin' of her lifemate. It looks bad."

Lysseth> Solarith still never moves, though both his eyes are open and 
whirling now as he stares at Lysseth.

Kassima growls under her breath, lashing out with her knife to separate 
the mauled snowman's midsection from its base. The snow-creature topples 
immediately. He happens to land on one of Kassi's blues, but the 
greenrider pays the little one's frantic chirps no heed, leaving him to 
struggle free all by his lonesome. "I," she snarls, "am going to have a 
new set of riding gear. And 'twill be made from green dragon hide."

Lysseth> M'kla fehs a bit.

Makear shrugs "fun, I suppose, but it is sorta sadistic fun when you think 
abou it."

Dragon> Flight sense that Lysseth dragongrins. << Fantastic. :) Blooding 
starts as soon as you're ready, gents. >>

Lysseth> Suzot actually stands at attention for M'kla, something barely 
ever seen since shortly after she moved to Benden. "Aye, feh, but you're 
no malerider."

Dathon flicks his wrist, as unobtrusively and negligently as he can. The 
knife spins to lodge itself in the left lower section of one of the 
snowpersons off to one side.

Lysseth> M'kla chuckles some, "Aye...and I'd flee the Weyr if I were."

Maylia accepts the rock back from T'saren, uncertainly looking at Kassi. 
As the blue firelizard pulls free, she nods, tries to stand correctly and 
hold the rock with the proper grip. Still unsure, she glances to him for 
verification.

Ceria jumps at Kassima's outburst, but she avoids looking at the 
greenrider.

T'saren swallows hard at Kassi's words, then blinks in startlement as a 
comment from his own lifemate intrudes. "Sharding excuse for a dragon," he 
mutters, turning to watch the corral for the bronze's arrival, knife 
throwing forgotten.

Lysseth> Lysseth raises her head, shaking off the last remnants of her 
restless slumber. Torinth is favored with a low growl of warning. The 
others, she seems to deign below her attentions and pays no heed to as she 
stretches out langorously along the floor of the Bowl. If this green is 
feeling... lonely tonight, she doesn't seem to be showing it--save in the 
unmistakable glow of her silvered green hide.

R'val mutters softly, "Shards..rising."

Lysseth> Torinth mphs, unipressed by the younger green, and equally 
unimpressed by the weather.

Lysseth> M'kla offers her arm to Suzot, "Here lass...let's get out o the 
cold."

Lysseth> Suzot clears her throat. "Aye, weel. Can I help you with 
Torinth?" As a Candidate now, Suzot's required to be of assistance 
wherever possible.

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

Ceria looks nervously at R'val, not sure she's heard him right. Then her 
gaze slides to T'saren.

Dathon quietly moves to retrieve the knife, eyes flicking once - twice - 
nervously towards Kassima. He nabs it and resheathes it, rapidly putting 
some distance between himself and the greenrider.

Above, Ularrith flies over from the north end of the bowl.

Lysseth> M'kla chuckles, "The ole crank dan't like Candidates." As she 
says that, the older green turns her head to give Suzot a baleful, red-
tainted look.

Lysseth> Solarith also stretches, though with a bit more urgency and 
posing than the glowing green. He rears back on his hind legs, then leaps 
into the air, beating his wings hard as he heads towards the feeding 
grounds.

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

Above, Ularrith flies downward towards the feeding grounds.

Above, Solarith flies over from the north end of the bowl.

Ceria holds Kassima's knife, unsure of what to do with it.

Above, Solarith flies downward towards the feeding grounds.

Lysseth> Suzot steps back; somehow this wasn't something she'd expected. 
"Aye." She clears her throat again. "I'll just go inside." Her voice is 
too quiet; but she pivots smartly enough on her heel and walks under the 
lintel, into the cavern.

Lysseth> Suzot walks beneath the lintel and disappears into the living 
cavern.

"Very astute," Kassima snaps, climbing to her feet and slamming her knife 
into its place at her belt. The gitar was abandoned long ago. A Harper 
would likely cry to see the mess the weather will make of its strings. 
"Stay away from me," she warns the Candidates, before shooting a look off 
towards the North. She's been a rider long enough to know the signs in 
advance... even if Lysseth isn't among the dragons heading for the Grounds 
just yet.

Lysseth> M'kla walks beneath the lintel and disappears into the living 
cavern.

In the Feeding Grounds, Ularrith settles to the ground with an abrupt 
*thud*. His hungry eyes stare at the flocks of animals, contemplating 
which one will soon be in his teeth.

In the Feeding Grounds, Solarith flings himself down into the groups of 
bawling herdbeasts with reckless abandon. His weight and the force behind 
it snaps the bawling beast's back, and the large bronze tears its throat 
into shreds in his eagerness to get to the blood inside.

Ceria backs away from Kassima, and bumps into R'val. She throws a startled 
glance in his direction and quickly scrambles away from him.

R'val touches Ceria's shoulder, and smiles at her gently, reassuringly, 
"It's ok." he murmurs, tryign to calm the candidate.

Dathon quietly sidles over to Ceria and hisses: "Don't let her get her 
hands on that knife. Unless she asks, of course." He glances at Kassima, 
turning quickly to pretend interest in the brutalized snowmen. "This could 
get ugly."

Ceria nods at R'val. She mutters to Dathon, "... been... flights." 

Breenah gasps as she realizes what is going on. She back away to the side 
of the bowl but can't seem to make herself leave.

In the Feeding Grounds, Ularrith looms over the herdbeasts, his jaws 
spread wide. He's all crimson glowing eyes and glittering sharp teeth. 
With bleats of "Run away!!" all the beasts scatter but one. Staring up at 
the oak brown dragon, this one ovine gives out a high-pitched *erk* and 
collapses on her side, suddenly suffering a fatal heart attack. Ularrith 
bends to drink her life's blood.

Ceria glances down at the knife she holds and quickly holds it out of 
Kassima's sight.

A gleeful, and almost sadistic, smile spreads across Tas' features and he 
nods to himself as Solarith takes down his first kill. He edges backward 
towards Kassi, still watching his lifemate as the bronze rends his kill.

R'val murmurs quietly to Ceria and Maylia, gesturing towards the cavern.

R'val mutters to Maylia, "... no place to be... are..."

Lysseth> A brightly green tail lashes contemptuously in the snow, its 
owner rising to her feet to survey her surroundings with feigned 
disinterest... but if there's one thing she can't feign, it's the need to 
fly, free and unfettered and far from the Weyr. A furious scream is ripped 
from her throat as she spreads her wings and leaps, at once, aloft.

R'val mutters to Ceria, "We should go.... be... are rising."

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

Benden Weyr> Dathon is suddenly reminded, by the sheep-killing and the 
dragons, of Warcraft. Dunno why. ;)

Keriann has arrived.

Ceria nods at R'val.

Lysseth> You fly towards the south end of the bowl.

Keriann turns her head and smiles when Nyth wanders near.

Nyth springs into the air for a quick flight over the fence and into the 
feeding grounds, where he settles again.

Above, Lysseth flies downward towards the feeding grounds.

Benden Weyr> Mehlani just hides. ;) And decides her Da is off on.. sweeps, 
yeah, that's it. ;)

Maylia drops the rock in her hands, following the others attentions for a 
moment. Hearing Kassi's treasure of advice, she backs away, one step, then 
two. With a glance at the expression on T'saren's face she nods agreement 
with R'val, and turns tail for the north.

Ceria tosses a backwards glance at T'saren before making a hasty retreat 
north.

Makear looks about, knwoing what is going on, but not really wanting to 
leave in some ood way.

R'val turns tail as well, moving away.

R'val walks north.

Maylia walks north.

Ceria walks north.

In the Feeding Grounds, Solarith raises his bloody snout and hisses at 
the 'Reaches brown and a Benden blue, turning it into a croon as Lysseth 
lands. He stares at her glowing form for a moment, then returns to his 
drinking of the lust-giving fluids.

Makear walks north.

Breenah walks north.

Zerra walks north.

From his perch on Dathon's shoulder, Lanzecki chirps frantically.

Dathon walks north.

In the Feeding Grounds, Lysseth plummets from the sky like a meteor carved 
of jade, lit from within by some unholy fire. A buck herdbeast is her 
target, the fierce creature cowed--pun quite intended--by the emerald 
euminide falling inescapably towards him. *CRUNCH.* Bones shatter as Lyss 
lands on the critter with all her weight, lowering her muzzle to rip out 
the beast's throat. Fresh blood, dead animals. The rest is just icing.

Benden Weyr> M'rgan eeeks at Kassi's 7th Guest theme.

In the Feeding Grounds, Ularrith's eyes become tinged with blue as the 
ovine's hot blood soothes some of his tension. Flinging the corpse away 
from him, he spies a bovine trying to hide behind a boulder and he darts 
towards it, his wings spread for balance so that he gives off the 
appearance of a overgrown, crazed, clip-winged chicken who dogs the 
beastholder's heels as the man starts scattering the feed around.
Kassima's eyes are fixed on her dragon as Lyss makes that first kill, 
determination replacing outrage as she forces the dragon to accede to her 
will.

In the Feeding Grounds, Nyth folds his wings to his back and drops the 
final small distance to a bovine that's resigned itself to its fate. 
Crushing the head of the bovine by merely landing with his talons on it, 
Nyth doesn't lower his head to drink its blood until he's given Lysseth a 
long look. Once his sight is filled with her vision, he begins to fill his 
need for blood.

Dragon> Flight sense that Lysseth takes a moment to set the ground rules 
before the flight actually begins. :) We'll be going up two skyspaces, to 
save on spam. There's no limit on dragon pose-length, but I'd appreciate 
it if you could keep it to one pose per Lyss-pose unless an evil enter key 
or semi-colon intervenes. Rider poses aren't limited at all. Page Kassi 
sometime before the flight's ending if you don't want to win. The channel 
will be used primarily for OOC commentary (though both IC foo and heckling 
are allowed), and the Guest Weyr will be IC. Any questions? :)

In the Feeding Grounds, Solarith finishes his first beast and flips the 
carcass away from him with a toss of his head. Eyes whirling violet, he 
casts around for his next victim, this time a stampeding wherry. Flashing 
fangs and talons, and the avian has suddenly lost its head.

Dragon> Flight sense that Ularrith has no questions, O' Lovely One.

Dragon> Prometh bespoke Flight with << I have a question!!!!! >>

T'saren eyes Kassima, breathing heavy plumes of steam into the chill air. 
The lust his dragon bears makes him want to take her right there, but he 
forcefully restrains himself, knowing it's not the time.

In the Feeding Grounds, Lysseth drains the corpse to a desiccated carcass, 
some of the blood pooling from its veins to spread in a veritable map of 
gore beneath her. Her tongue darts out to lick the last drops from her 
muzzle, and now she deigns to notice the males--enough to snarl at them. 
Warning. Rage. She will not be easy to catch, and has no problems with 
letting them know the fact. Launching herself once more, she skims over 
the Bowl's surface and sinks her claws into an ovine ewe. The creature 
screams helplessly as it is carried aloft, then dropped to the ground with 
a sickening thud--the carcass left for Lysseth to ravage. Which, it may be 
assured, she does.

Keriann is frowning as she comes back from the pasture to the southeast, 
hard on the heels of her lifemate's blooding. The area around Kassima 
having cleared rather quickly, the greenrider is easy to spot, and Keriann 
moves to a spot where she can see both Kassima and Nyth.

Dragon> Flight sense that Prometh grins. << Why is the sky green? >> 
*ducks right off channel. Good luck., all!*
Dragon> Lysseth bespoke Flight with << Shoot, Prometh. :) That? That's 
because the Powers That Be changed the tint of their giant colored light-
bulbs.... >>

In the Feeding Grounds, Ularrith abandon's the half-drained body of the 
bovine as Lysseth oh-so-delicately drifts into his view. He answers her 
snarl by rising up on his haunches and throwing back his wings. He poses 
before her like a balding, middle-aged bronzerider who spots a maiden in 
the living cavern and immediately sucks in his gut, shoves on a riding 
helmet, and pushes up his sleeves to reveal Thread-scarred arms. All the 
while muttering in a voice loud enough to be heard on the other side of 
Pern about the difficult Fall he was just in.

In the Feeding Grounds, Nyth lifts his head, his forked tongue cleaning 
rivulets of blood from his maw as his whirling eyes seek out Lysseth's 
glowing form. As she launches into the air, Nyth bugles, watching until 
she lands again. The feeding of other males drives a small stampede of 
wherries toward Nyth, and Nyth stretches out talons to snag one. A small 
part of the bovine he squished earlier is dangling from his talons, but 
that doesn't impair their sharpness, and he slices the wherry hen open, 
lowering his head to drink the blood from the native creature.

Kassima folds her arms, scowling blackly at the Grounds in general. The 
cape and scarf that she borrowed from E'vis fly behind her on the wind, 
giving her the semblance of someone's twisted idea of a super-hero for 
just a moment. "Get it *over* with, beast," she croaks, her voice worn 
over several days to a harsh rasp. "Don't play this game. Just *go*."

In the Feeding Grounds, Solarith fastens his teeth around the spurting 
neck of the wherry and sucks, hot blood pouring down his throat and 
fueling his lust. No posing for him, huh-uh. He knows he is in top form, 
and he shall show Lysseth when she is in the air.

T'saren closes his eyes for just a moment, reveling in the feelings of 
eagerness and hot-blooded passion his lifemate is sending. After a few 
heartbeats, he opens his eyes, letting them drink in the sight of Kassima, 
scowl and all.

In the Feeding Grounds, Lysseth doesn't even bother to move from her first 
kill. Why waste the energy that these deaths are bringing her, sucked in 
through their lifeblood and revitalizing every bone in her body with a 
reckless adrenalined glow? Instead, she kicks out with her hind leg, the 
wickedly curving talons catching a wherry in the throat. She looms 
triumphantly over the dying creature, like a mad sorcerer/scientist 
gloating over the murder of an enemy. Only for a moment, though. She needs 
the blood too much for any longer span of time. Once that beast is 
finished, she raises her head and regards each male with eyes of enraged 
crimson... and takes off, faster than a speeding bullet and able to leap 
tall piles of dead bovines in a single bound.

Above, Lysseth rises up from the feeding grounds.

Above, Ularrith rises up from the feeding grounds.

Keriann shoves her hands into the pocket of her jacket, taking her eyes 
from Nyth only long enough to be sure she has Kassima's precise position 
in her mind. As luck would have it, that's when Lysseth springs into the 
air, and a low curse escapes Keriann as her eyes move back to the feeding 
grounds and her lifemate, who is following Lysseth into the air.

The very second that Lysseth takes off, Kassi whirls on her heel and 
shoves her way past the riders and spectators--presuming that any remain--
to storm off towards the North and the dubious sanctuary of the Guest 
Weyr.

You walk north.

Lysseth> Ularrith springs into the air after Lysseth with the sort of 
enthusiasm commonly seen on an awkward, geeky adolescent about to have his 
first meeting with a pretty girl. With the eagerness of his movements, one 
might think that he was chasing her with a bouquet of flowers and a box of 
candies in hand rather than just giving her a lusty yet poetic thurble as 
he gives chase.

Lysseth> Solarith rises up from the feeding grounds.

Lysseth> Nyth rises up from the feeding grounds.

T'saren walks here from the south.

M'rgan's gaze immediately snaps to the greenrider as she wanders into 
view.

"Get out of my way!" Kassi barks, shoving aside a hapless Candidate or 
two, and even managing to knock a Resident over in her straight and direct 
path--without passing Go or collecting two-hundred marks--to the Guest 
Weyr.

You push aside the curtain and enter the weyr.

Lysseth> You soar upwards and into the open sky above the Weyr.

Lysseth> Nyth flies up from the southern half of the bowl.

Lysseth> Ularrith flies up from the southern half of the bowl.

M'rgan comes into the weyr from the bowl.

T'saren comes into the weyr from the bowl.

Lysseth> Solarith flies up from the southern half of the bowl.

Keriann comes into the weyr from the bowl.

The stamp of M'rgan's boots against the stone harks his appearance in the 
weyr. He stomps towards the back of the room with the ramrod stance of a 
Ruathan guard on duty just as the Lord Holder passes by. But as he nears 
the center of the room, and like the guard once the Lord Holder is gone, 
M'rgan slumps and stops there, finding all his determination gone. He 
sways on his feet as the varying winds of Benden's bowl buffet him/
Ularrith.

Lysseth> Lysseth screams her challenge to the males still below her as she 
ascends, each flick of a wing sending her soaring up to new heights in the 
heavens. Though young, she's an old hand--claw?--at this game, and knows 
that *they* want to take away the glory and freedom that are rightfully 
*hers*. Tough luck! She's not about to go without a fight, and she taunts 
them jeeringly in an assertion of her obvious superiority. Feeling... 
lonely? Then follow her where she flies, gliding upwards and Northwards 
with the speed of a thought.

Kassima preceeds the maleriders into the Weyr by only a few seconds, long 
enough for her to cast an irate look at the spot she usually takes. The 
wall there *always* seems to get in her way. Forget that. With a bizarre 
logic that will no doubt make sense to her and her alone, she chooses a 
corner to stand in instead. She folds her arms and proceeds to glare at 
each malerider as though questioning their right to be here.

Lysseth> Ularrith makes his way through the pack of males that flock after 
Lysseth with the stealthly skill of a duck waddling across a rocky 
shoreline while tunnelsnakes pounce out of the holes all around him and 
his right foot is tied to his wing. But grace doesn't matter. Results 
matter. And despite a series of near misses that would cause scar-faced 
blueriders to swoon, he manages to make his way to the front of the pack, 
where he can see Lysseth for himself.

Lysseth> Solarith finds the perfect thermal that will lead him on the 
merry chase behind the spot of emerald that has ensnared his attention. A 
flick of his tail is all the comment he needs to give, stroking the air 
with powerful beats in Lysseth's wake as the chase heads towards the 
mountains.

Lysseth> Nyth, not nearly as fleet of wing as Lysseth, concentrates on 
gaining the height that he'll need to share the skies over Benden Weyr 
with the glorious grey-green Lysseth. Having visited the Weyr often enough 
to find his way around these skies but not to know them as well as 
Lysseth, he stays in the middle of the pack of males chasing Lysseth, just 
behind and to the outside of some of the Benden blues.

T'saren takes a place near to Kassima's claimed corner, waiting with harsh 
breathing for the flight progress and eventual culmination, all the while 
returning the greenrider's gaze.

Lysseth> Lysseth extends her wings just *so*, letting a chance thermal 
fill her sails and carry her along her course. Some consequence yet 
hanging in the stars has bitterly begun this fearful date, and may end the 
term of a beloved/despised freedom all too soon for this child of the wind 
and sky. For now, though, she flaunts her aerobatic skill with a series of 
complicated and twisting manuevers guarenteed to be tough to follow. Up 
and down and side-to-side; that's the way this green does glide.

M'rgan stares at Kassima with the sort of slack-jawed, bug-eyed, drooling 
expression most commonly seen on a stonemason taking a break from work on 
a hot day and watching all the holder women pass through the courtyard in 
their light summer clothes. His tongue whips out, licking his lips, but he 
retains enough of a sense of himself to refrain from wolf-whistling at 
her.

Keriann isn't subdued by Kassima's glare, in fact, Keriann's lips curve 
into a smile at the show of passion, in some sense, from Kassima. Taking a 
position against one of those walls that Kassima seemed to spurn, 
Keriann's position near a glow basket is well placed, with the empty space 
around her that her lifemate is also trying to obtain.

Lysseth> Ularrith croons to Lysseth with ardent passion as his ruby-
swirling eyes follow her twisting maneuvers, entranced. It's the kind of 
passion that only a Herder has. A sweaty, muck-covered Herder that had one 
too many glasses of beer to quench his thirst and he now kisses his love 
with open-mouthed lust only to realize as the kiss is broken that it isn't 
his love but an ovine he was supposed to be examining for footrot. But for 
that one brief instant, he really meant it. And the ovine did too.

Benden Weyr> M'kla comes back to her screen to see Ularrith's pose....
ergh. Nice...imagery there.

Benden Weyr> M'rgan chuckles. Tonight's theme -- Bad Metaphors. ;) :)

Benden Weyr> Meli, having actually /treated/ ovines with footrot, found it 
particularly evocative.

Lysseth> Nyth doesn't waste blood-born energy in trying to mimic the 
complicated, supple movements that Lysseth makes, although there is a 
certain sensuousness to her movements that he strives to partake of with 
her. Flying a straighter trajectory, to where he thinks she'll end up, 
Nyth uses these early moments of the flight to continue to gain altitude 
while admiring Lysseth's flaunting of her skills in the sky.

Lysseth> Solarith takes the straight and narrow course instead of the 
acrobatic one the object of his desire has chosen. Persuit is his 
specialty, and his form streaks across the night sky, almost splitting the 
air like a thunderbolt in a storm. She will tire eventually, and when she 
does, he will be there to make her his and his alone.

Outrage is a passion, one might suppose. And so is the joy of flight which 
smooths Kassi's features to perfect blankness, eliminating her snarl as 
her mind is enmeshed by her lifemate's. Tricksters and gamblers, both; it 
should be interesting to see what hidden cards the pair have up their 
sleeve. Not that they really *hide* cards, of course. It'd be beneath 
their dignity to cheat at dragonpoker. They'll leave that for certain 
others to do.

Benden Weyr> R'val ughs, I dont' wanna know :)

T'saren runs a hand through his hair, pushing from his eyes so that he can 
better observe Kassima in all her knife-bearing, black leather glory. 
Nothing hidden here, his mind is on one thing, and one thing only, the 
flight above.

Lysseth> Can you sing with all the voices of the mountain? Can you paint 
with all the colors of the wind? Lysseth can, or so she fancies, and she 
puts every ounce of her not inconsiderable skill into using the elements 
to gain what *she* desires. That being escape, of course. Espying a thick 
cloud, heavy and grey with the snow it bears, she folds her wings closer 
to her body and veers directly for it. Amongst the mists, she's only 
visible by the telltale shine of green. They'll all be *dead* by the time 
they solve this puzzle to find her, or so the brilliantly quicksilver-and-
tanzanite dragon has surely convinced herself.

Dragon> Flight sense that Lysseth whaps her player upside the head for 
watching Pocahontas *toooo* many times lately.

Benden Weyr> Meli says, "Uh, tanzanite?"

Benden Weyr> Ceria eeks as he Disney radar goes off. :)

Benden Weyr> Kassima says, "A lesser-known semi-precious green stone. A 
nicely iridescent shade of green, if I recall correctly. :)"

Benden Weyr> M'kla says, "Least it wasn't Aussie Lime."

Lysseth> Ularrith whizzes towards Lysseth like a knife crafted by a Master 
and thrown by a proddy greenrider -- giving it the extra ability of being 
able to turn, stop, and go backwards when necessary. Just as this knife is 
about to thud into Lysseth, a clumsy, anvil-like bronze lumbers into his 
path. After a brief discussion involving trying to take ribbons of hide 
out of each other with the whapping gestures of women in a slapfight, the 
two dragons separate and fly after the green that dares them to take such 
risks. Only to realize that she's since gone missing. Ularrith warbles. 
Here, Lysseth, Lysseth. Here, Greenie.

Kassima stirs restlessly in her corner, blinking as though it were her own 
sight recklessly impeded by the mists and not her dragon's. Not that it 
really *matters*, since all she's staring towards at this point is the 
ceiling... but it's not at all difficult to tell how closely linked with 
her dragon she is. The answer could only be 'very.'

Lysseth> Solarith grumbles softly to himself as the malachite dream of his 
darts into the cloud. Above or below, for he will not follow her in there 
and lose all sight of her. He takes the low road, keeping his eyes focused 
on the slight glistening that is the mist-shrouded Lysseth.

Lysseth> Nyth would certainly like to come fly the hidden pine green of 
the sky, and his chestnut wings and sandy brown hide have the colours of 
the richness of the earth. Those wings drive Nyth directly to the spot 
through which Lysseth passed some moments ago, high above the rocks and 
trees and creatures far below.

Lysseth> Lysseth suddenly bursts from the cloud, but several meters away 
from where it might have been thought she would emerge. Funny; it's almost 
as though she'd taken some secret passage, shrouded by the mists... but 
rather than ending up in an oven or library fireplace, Lysseth is still 
flying against the diamond-studded black velvet of the nightly heavens. 
With every assurance that she could glide farther to capture Timor and 
Belior as trophies if she so wished, the green disdains their paltry light 
and seeks instead to illuminate the grounds below in a reckless, breakneck 
dive. Look out below!

T'saren wishes he was the ceiling about right now, if only to have that 
gaze fixed on him. He contents himself with fingering his riding gloves, 
wanting to feel Kassima against his hands instead of the cold, damp 
wherhide.

Strong emotions of any type can be a link to passion, and along with her 
brown lifemate, Keriann gives her all to the pursuit at the moment. Her 
eyes pin on Kassima, the greenrider isn't going to disappear from sight as 
Lysseth has, but perhaps the greenrider herself will give a clue as to 
where Lysseth will reappear. Whether that's true or not, Kassima is 
certainly a sight in her black leather, and Keriann takes a moment to 
fully appreciate that sight.

M'rgan arches an eyebrow as Lysseth disappears into the cloud, his face 
taking on an expression of wary and yet pleased respect. The kind of 
respect he gives to a dragonpoker player who just manages to beat his hand 
by pulling out the third Harper. But M'rgan has never come away from a 
table without a few extra marks in his pocket and he isn't about to stop 
now. He is mind and soul with his lifemate now and his craftiness he 
shares with the brown.

Kassima's lip curls slightly, making her look all the more like a dark 
version of E'vis. Thank you. Thank you very much. Her hands clench into 
fists as she mutters, "Foolish, foolish... going to get yourself 
killed...." One would hope that isn't directed towards any of the riders 
in here, though all those knives still at her belt might make one wonder.

Lysseth> Ularrith's confusion is brief as the emerald glints back into his 
view. He spirals down after Lysseth like a kite that tumbles from the sky 
after its controller trips over a rock in the field and drops the line. He 
plunges down through the sky but it isn't a winter-bare tree he seeks to 
be entangled with but the lush verdant flesh of Lysseth.

Lysseth> Solarith strains forward as Lysseth dives, having placed himself 
in a good position by going beneath the heavy snowcloud. Unfortunately, 
he's quite a distance away still, and has to bank a bit to continue the 
pursuit. A tilt of a wingsail, and he resumes the chase against time like 
a piece in a chess game.

Lysseth> Nyth climbs upward, out of the cloud he flew blindly into, a 
mournful croon issuing forth from him as his head swivels, searching for 
Lysseth. When she reappears in an unexpected location, the mournfulness 
turns enticing, as he sweeps his wings to his back to follow her 
enchanting form to the lower, relatively warmer air below. His limbs held 
tightly against his body, he flattens out into an aerodynamic form as he 
attempts to close some of the distance between himself and Lysseth.

T'saren swallows hard as green dragon and knifebearing wingsecond merge 
into one passion-raising image. He groans softly as his and his lifemate's 
inner fires try to gain control of him, but he forces it down to a dull 
roar with supreme effort.

Lysseth> The sky is Lysseth's chessboard, herself the queen--and those 
behind her could perhaps be likened to knights who joust and fight for her 
honor. Well, maybe for something *besides* her honor. Yet the queen is 
still the most mobile piece on the board, with every move at her 
disposal--and she veers now in her downward-slanting coarse to wheel 
sharply and skim back the way she came while those above still follow. 
Chase away, you silly animal food-trough wipers--but her will is formed of 
tempered steel, and she is quite determined to prove that she shall 
overcome!

M'rgan takes a step closer to Kassima as his lifemate moves closer to his 
own goal. One hand reaches up towards the metal device that he can just 
see peeking out of her jacket pocket. For once he doesn't shudder back 
from the emasculator but instead he takes an interest in it. Because like 
everything else about Kassima at this moment, he finds it fascinating. And 
putting his hand there certainly wouldn't upset him any either.

Kassima's breath escapes her in a hiss of warning from between clenched 
teeth, and she places her hand possessively on her emasculator. Why, she's 
probably not quite sure... but it's *hers*, and no one will take what is 
hers without facing the peril. It's not healthy to face the peril--it's 
too perilous. Backing up a step, she seems surprised to find that the 
corner doesn't magically give way behind her any more than that sharding 
wall did last time.

Lysseth> Solarith vents his passion for the gemlike vision of Lysseth by 
crooning as she whirls in an about-face. To be her pawn in the game of 
mating flights is all he desires, and to be captured in this chess game is 
not to lose but to win. His wings are strong, his quest is mighty, and his 
passion and lust are pulled along by her glowing radiance.

Lysseth> Nyth does chase, but he's chasing toward Lysseth and any pieces-
parts of that skull-smashed bovine have long since been cleaned from his 
talons as he soars through the skies over Benden. Chestnut wings extend 
again to fill with air, the cold air rushing over warm hide with a 
crackling hiss as Nyth flies strongly toward Lysseth's new position, her 
ever-changing game leading up to an unparalled ending, an ending of pure 
pleasure.

Lysseth> Ularrith doesn't play chess. He also doesn't play checkers or 
marbles or even jacks. On a scale of 1-10 if you were rating intelligence, 
he'd be a -3. But what he does have is arrogant confidence, brute 
strength, and a determination never to look foolish. So with an 
impassioned effort, he soars after the green dragon like an extremely 
heavy, very oversized, straight stick with a pointy hard end and flexible 
lashings on the other to keep on target. An...err...umm...what's the 
word...arrow focused on Lysseth's underbelly.

T'saren curls his lips back in a snarl of jealousy as that High Reaches 
piece of dung lays his hand on anything that belongs to 'his' desire. His 
hands curl into a mimicry of talons, seeking to rend and tear.

Benden Weyr> M'kla HOWLS at Ularry's last pose.

Keriann's reaction to M'rgan's approaching Kassima with outstretched hand 
is a low noise sounding almost like the growl of a feline defending her 
food from the spit-canines. But Kassima is well able to take care of 
herself, and Keriann stays where she is -- for now, only her eyes glaring 
at M'rgan.

But M'rgan only wants a little bit of the peril. It's not like he has to 
deal with a bum-nibbling, throat-rending, killer rabbit after all. So 
despite the glares he takes another step forward.

Dragon> Ularrith bespoke Flight with << Catch attempts next? >>

Lysseth> Lysseth taunts the hapless males still following, much like a 
Frenchman driven by madness and sheer, stubborn determination to deny her 
opponents what they want. Fire sears her veins and soul; she *is* fire, 
borne on the wind, made from the earth, disguised by the water's own 
mists. Each element is hers, as she is each element, and all are used in 
her desperate attempts to escape--yea, even earth, for it is towards the 
Bowl wall that she now heads. So what if she's done this before? It worked 
rather well *then*. Confident in her grace and power, she leads the others 
along in a game of musical follow-the-leader; it will take the ability to 
follow along with each of her soaring crescendos of flight to win at this 
game. Having fun yet, mortals?

Dragon> Lysseth bespoke Flight with << Sure, why not? Hopefully, that'll 
keep anyone from getting killed in the Guest Weyr. ;) >>

Okay, so Kassi isn't a bum-nibbling, throat-rending killer rabbit. Nor is 
she an enchanter named Tim. But she *is* a fully desperate, entirely 
furious, and somewhat panicked greenrider who doesn't *like* being backed 
into corners, shardit. Forgetting her knives completely, she lashes out 
with her sharpened nails instead, snarling rather like a rabid beast. 
"Get. Away. From. Me," she rasps.

Lysseth> The time is nigh. There is no time like the present. The early 
avian catches the wriggler. Always make sure you have a shrubbery handy 
when travelling through the forest of the Knights That Say Ni. All of 
these thoughts would be running through Ularrith's head as he nears 
Lysseth if he actually had a braincell at this very moment that wasn't 
consummed with making ga-ga eyes at her. With his typical 
singlemindedness, he focuses on her and nothing else, teeth, talons, and 
wings at ready, as he drops down towards her.

Lysseth> Solarith dances in the air to Lysseth's tune, letting her choose 
the steps. He will be there when the time comes for her to pay the piper. 
To walk on the wild side is what she wants, and he will walk it with her, 
or fly it with her rather. As the chase nears the wall, he soars behind 
her, appearing to become a perfect straight line in midair as he reaches 
out to capture her in his passionate embrace of neck, tail, and wings.

Dragon> Flight sense that Lysseth just has to hum along as the Ballad of 
Brave Sir Robin gets stuck in her head. << While we're on the catch 
attempts, I'd just like to thank you all for making this a fantastic, fun, 
and rather... interesting... flight. ;) I've not had this much of a blast 
in awhile. Thanks a million, y'all! :) >>

Lysseth> Nyth has only one thing to expend his energy upon now, but it's 
not a thing at all, it's what is entirely consuming his every thought, his 
every effort: his desire for Lysseth. Reckless in his use of the energy 
provided by the hot blood he consumed earlier, Nyth makes a last 'dash' 
and stretches out toward Lysseth with neck, limbs and even his tail 
snaking forward, as Nyth approaches Lysseth from behind her and to the 
left.

T'saren is glad he is out of range of Kassima's own talon-like nails. A 
spitting feline holds less danger than she, and he is well aware of the 
risk to his life he would have by approaching any closer to her.

M'rgan suddenly finds the spot he is in much more fascinating as Kassima 
makes him an offer he can't refuse. Although he doesn't soil his armor, he 
does decide that maybe it was a bit more perilous than he had originally 
though. He takes a single step back as the strains of a ministrel's harp 
starts to echo in his head. Fixing his gaze on Kassima, he stands his 
ground right there.

Lysseth> Brave green Lysseth ran away. Bravely ran away, away. When danger 
reared its ugly head, she bravely turned her tail and fled. Yes, brave 
green Lysseth turned about, and valiantly, she... well, didn't *quite* go 
smack into the Bowl wall. She manages to beat her wings with several 
strong beats, enough to carry her upwards and escape that fate. Or rather, 
it *would* have been enough--if she hadn't crashed into Ularrith instead. 
Curses! Foiled again!

Lysseth> For an instant, Ularrith stares at the green dragon in his wings 
with the surprise of someone who had just seen a Southern avian carrying a 
coconut north. But his arrogance quickly wins through and he closes his 
wings around her, rumbling something about saving her from terrible peril.

Lysseth> Nyth's rumble of frustration carries him beyond the entwined 
dragons, and he banks to glide downward to the bowl.

Lysseth> Solarith bugles his displeasure at seeing Lysseth captured by 
that piece of mud named Ularrith. With a last hiss of unhappiness, he 
spirals up and away from the bowl wall, then reverses his course to slide 
through the air to a landing on its floor.

Lysseth> Solarith flies downward towards the north end of the bowl.

Keriann's breath catches with an audible grunt, and she stares at Kassima 
and then M'rgan for only a split-second before she turns and almost runs 
out of the guest weyr.

Lysseth> Nyth flies downward towards the north end of the bowl.

Keriann leaves the weyr and heads out into the bowl.

Benden Weyr> Meli just giggles softly to herself.

T'saren snarls in disappointment and almost rage as M'rgan claims what is 
rightfully his. He turns and stalks out of the weyr with nary a backwards 
glance.

T'saren leaves the weyr and heads out into the bowl.

Lysseth> Lysseth wants to go back and *face* the peril! But as she twines 
her neck with her brown savior's, she apparently decides that perhaps it's 
too perilous after all. Non-peril just might turn out to have its 
advantages.

Dragon> Flight sense that Lysseth thanks y'all again for an excellent 
flight. I was honestly amazed by the overall quality of poses--even if you 
did make it horridly difficult to choose from. :P ;)

Dragon> Flight sense that Ularrith always enjoys your flights, Lysseth. 
They make me laugh as only a few comedians can.

Dragon> Flight sense that Solarith was honored to chase, and considers it 
one of the best his player has attended. :) Congrats, Ularrith.

Dragon> Flight sense that Nyth thinks fun flights are the best, and 
anytime you laugh as much as at this one, it's most definitely fun. 
<< Thanks, everyone, congrats, Ulie. >>