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Spring Threadfall Over Bitra Hold


Date:  December 2, 1998
Places:  Telgar Weyr's Living Cavern and Southern Bowl; Skyspace Over
Bitra Hold
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:  This was another Fall run as part of Telgar's rotational
schedule, and though I couldn't participate quite as actively as usual,
I thought it was a fun one. :)  Chaos, mayhem, and burps of fire reigned
supreme over Bitra this cool spring evening.  If you want to know more,
read on!

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The Log:

J'lyn walks in from the bowl.

Jayna glances at A'lex consideringly, eyeing up his strength, size, all 
that wrestling stuff. "Sure," she says simply, eyes gleaming wickedly. 
"Assuming all goes well with Fall. Oh, evening Schmitt, J'lyn," she says, 
somberly.

A'lex nods to Schmitt and J'lyn, "Heyla."

"And if'n 'tis a boy?" Kassi wants to know, a touch drolly. "Poor lad 
seems doomed t'pink frilly things... nay that any lass of mine would wear 
pink frills anyway. Argh! Probably makes newborn eyes bleed, if'n nay the 
mother's! J'lyn!" Waving the Wingsecond over, she asks, immediately 
businesslike, "What's the Wing's status? Are all ready t'be flying 
tonight, or have there been any new injuries?"

Neliea smiles over at Schmitt and J'lyn adding an "Evening" to both as she 
shudders at Dossa's comment and wisely not saying anything to that.

Schmitt sits down, looking around. "She glances at Selaye, "I don't think 
I know you. I'm Schmitt. You?" She nods and says hello to everybody else, 
then eyes Kassima wickedly. "Pink, eh? I think you'd look good in pink...
it goes with green."

J'lyn wanders in, tucking his black gloves in his belt and holding his 
dark helmet under his arm. Nodding towards Kassi, he gets himself some 
good strong klah. "Aye, we're ready, and no injuries that I'm aware of."

Jayna takes another swallow of klah, slightly stiff where she sits in the 
corner, arms resting lightly on the table. Only the light drumming of her 
fingers on the table reveal her pre-Fall restlessness.

Telgar Weyr> J'lyn gahs. Did I really say 'dark helmet'? Erf. Spaceballs 
on the mind...

Telgar Weyr> A'lex dies.

Telgar Weyr> Jayna laughs!!

Telgar Weyr> Neliea laughs.

Telgar Weyr> Dossa laughs.

Telgar Weyr> Jehrina says, "hee."

Dossa looks around at all the riders dressed for Fall, and sighs. "I 
suppose wine will be needed later," she mutters, and gathers herself up to 
take a brief catalogue of the serving table.

A'lex snickers, "Suppose? Aye, it surely will."

Kassima says quite, *quite* firmly, "I look hideous in pink. Far too pale 
for it, for one. Good, good... remember t'warn S'cot off letting Kilth get 
too close to Guarith, mind. He has a weakness for that. Which you already 
know, bah." Shaking her head ruefully, she says, "Sorry, Jal. I'll try 
t'be less mother-wherryish."

Schmitt wanders over to the table, scanning the contents. She mutters to 
herself as she fills her plate, "Some o' this, and -this-, and oooh, that 
looks good, and..."

Neliea shakes her head as she listens to Dossa, "A fresh pot of klah is 
also good to have on hand..."

Dossa peers at Schmitt warily, noting where Prismatica is. "Evening," she 
murmurs, while noting how much wine is out.

A'lex belches, "Oooh! Excuse me, dinner coming back on me... eesh... stew 
is spicy tonight."

Kassima makes a face at A'lex. "Mayhaps you won't even need Nraith 
tonight, Weyrsecond. You can just burp at the Thread and kill it that 
way."

Jayna glances up at A'lex and snorts her disgust. "I guess people get 
ready for Fall any way they can," she mutters into her klah mug.

A'lex laughs, "I don't think so..."

Schmitt looks at hte cat attached to her foot (as long as she's carrying 
food around) and says, "Oh, I'll just take her back to the quarters and 
leave her with a bowl of stuff."

J'lyn waves his hand in front of his face. "Oof, A'lex. Did something die 
in your mouth, or does your breath always smell that bad?"

Schmitt scoots out with the cat and a minute later comes back in without 
her.

Maylia remains standing, eyes fixed on the weyrlings of the younger 
clutch, scurrying around in the living caverns now that they've resumed 
chores. But her attention's grabbed by A'lex's imitation of Nraith. 
"Shells, 'Lex. That happen often? Take it to the Healers,t hat's what 
they're for when not tending 'scores and such."

A'lex looks aghast, "Faranth, people, it wasn't that BAD!!"

Jayna blinks. "It was bad," she mutters again, flatly.

J'lyn nods. "Yes, it actually was that bad."

Telgar Weyr> A'lex says, "No! It was supposed to be a little burp!!! No no 
no!!"

Dossa looks over at the tables. "What was bad?"

A'lex says "Nothing."

Schmitt smiles. "A'lex's burp."

A'lex rolls his eyes.

Telgar Weyr> Jayna laughs as the burp takes on a life of its own. Unlife.

Telgar Weyr> J'lyn says, "Then you should have specified 'burps a little' 
instead of 'belches'."

Dossa blinks. "Oh. I thought that was Pierron's tone."

Telgar Weyr> Maylia nodnods. Belch seems to imply loud, smelly, and 
big. ;)

Telgar Weyr> A'lex says, "Ohhhhh, I see... you could have taken that the 
wrong way..."

"'Twas bad," confirms Kassi, pinching her nose shut. "Methinks I just saw 
a drudge or two drop dead, over there in the corner."

Telgar Weyr> Jayna says, "Don't forget proud, Maylia. ;)"

Jayna grins. "No, they were already there, Kassi. They had the stew, too," 
she notes.

Telgar Weyr> Maylia nodnods! oh yes, proud, too!

A'lex sneers, "Ha ha. Excuse me and my gastly stomach..."

A'lex grins at Jayna.

Schmitt laughs. Then checks her plate to make sure she didn't get any 
stew.

Dossa smiles. "Stew! That sounds wonderful! I haven't had dinner yet." She 
walks over and ladles herself a smallish bowl of the spicy hellstew.

A'lex says "Careful Dossa..."

Schmitt suggests, "Eat something, uh, soothing with that, Dossa."

Maylia chuckles softly, dark green eyes hovering watchfully over her mug's 
rim as she sips. Needless to say, weyrlings on errand duty and such hop to 
it through the living cavern under such a watch.

Kassima asks, shuddering, "And people think the things I concoct are 
bad? Salted redfruit muffins in blueberry sauce have *naught* on that 
stew."

Neliea arches an eyebrow and adds on her way towards the bowl to Dossa, 
"I'd suggest roll with that too..."

Dossa grabs a spoon and pours herself a mug of cider. "Eat what with 
what?" She brings it over to her table and settles down, no doubt many 
pairs of eyes watching, and waiting for the little kitchenhand to 
combust.

Neliea walks down the short tunnel and out into the bowl.

A'lex laughs, "Bovine milk... it'll keep it from burning a hole in your 
gut."

Telgar Weyr> J'lyn says, "Can other Weyrs fly Fall with us?"

Schmitt shudders to. "Salted... That's almost as bad as, what were they, 
Canus's oysters." She shudders again, "I'll stick to friendlier foods.

Dossa pops a spoonful of the stew in her mouth. And chews. And swallows. 
"Goob!" she says with half-full mouth, sipping some cider to wash it 
down.

Telgar Weyr> A'lex says, "I don't see why not, J'lyn..."

Maylia considers Kassi's delectables suggestion, and shudders. "Nay bad 
suggestion, but I'll pass on the salt, myself." A long sip of M'kla's brew 
is taken, as though to wash the conjured flavour away. "And you thought 
crabapple catsup sounded awful," she mutters softly, smiling behind her 
mug.

Telgar Weyr> Kassima says, "Sure can, though if it'd be a full Weyr 
contingent, it'd be better if we had some warning. ;) But else-Weyr riders 
can, sure."

Schmitt looks at Maylia, raising an eyebrow, "No, that's worse." she 
corrects her, smiling.

"Redfruit muffins with blueberry sauce and salt," Kassima repeats. 
"Delicious. But *don't* mention those bloody oysters! May, I really don't 
feel like going into labor seven months early...."

Dossa coughs a little, looking down at the stew. Her eyes start to water 
as she sips some more cider. Delayed reaction, but it finally hit her.

A'lex just chuckles at Dossa.

Jayna drains her klah with one long swallow, wincing at the temperature, 
and stands, sauntering to the sideboard to deposit the empty mug. She 
glances around briefly.

"Crabapple catsup's good." Maylia states firmly, then flashes a grin to 
Kassima. "Are you certain? 'Twould be a much easier labour than in seven 
months."

Schmitt looks at Dossa, "Want milk?"

"I intend t'have a *living* child, thankee," replies Kassi with a good-
natured roll of the eyes and grimace. "Dis*gus*ting, 'tis."

K'gen walks in from the bowl.

A'lex nods, "Telgar's duties to Igen and her Queens."

K'gen comes in, carrying a small wherhide bag and waves.

K'gen nods and salutes A'lex. "Thanks."

Telgar Weyr> Kassima says, "Okay, all, roll-call: which riders are going 
to be in the Fall?"

Telgar Weyr> M'rgan is.

Telgar Weyr> J'lyn is

Telgar Weyr> A'lex says, "I shall!"

Telgar Weyr> Jayna is.

Schmitt nods to K'gen, "Watch out for Flamebreath over there." She looks 
at A'lex.

Telgar Weyr> Neliea is too. Queen's wing though.

K'gen says "Flamebreath? Otoh, is S'dar cooking again?"

Telgar Weyr> Maylia will be :)

Dossa forces down a few more mouthfuls of the stew, but can't cope with it 
much beyond that. "Good Faranth this is spicy!" A tear rolls down her 
cheek as she gets up for more cider. No, water. Water this time.

A'lex says "Hey!! It was one small burp!!"

Jayna blinks at A'lex. "It was a belch. A big one," she corrects.

A'lex says "Milk, Dossa, you want bovine milk, trust me."

A weyrling nearly careens into the Igen bluerider, dashing out to the bowl 
on some errand or other. A quiet meep, and he salutes, calling back over 
his shoulder, "Telgars' duties to Igen ..." as he disappears out through 
the tunnel.

J'lyn agrees with Jayna. "It was nasty, 'Lex. Truly unbecoming of a 
bronzerider and a weyrsecond." Ohwait...

Telgar Weyr> Kassima says, "Hokay. Got it. All might want to head out to 
the Bowl for firestone-chomping and such; we're a bit overdue to 
start. :)"

K'gen chuckles at the weyrling and nods, "Well, looks like we know how to 
have the riders fight threat directly now...."

A'lex stands, "Oh, Nraith says Talibenth is giving orders... best we get 
out there, eh??"

Kassima rolls her eyes at the burp-talk and asks, pointedly, "Haven't you 
all got a Fall t'be getting ready for, O lunatic fringe refugees?"

Telgar Weyr> Ro says thoughtfully "Wuh oh."

K'gen takes a seat and CAREFULLY sets down the satchel.

Jayna heads out toward the bowl, grimly. "On our way, Wingleader," she 
says, tightening her jacket.

Jayna walks down the short tunnel and out into the bowl.

Schmitt glances at the satchel curiously, but refrains from asking.

A'lex walks down the short tunnel and out into the bowl.

J'lyn chuckles. "Aye, Kassi, I'm on my way," and he's gone.

J'lyn walks down the short tunnel and out into the bowl.

Kassima stands, herself, and heads out to... supervise. Yeah.

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

Seated atop Nraith, A'lex adjusts straps and such, hauling a firestone 
sack up with him. He lobs a couple stones into Nraith's mouth between 
adjustments.

M'rgan gives the leather strap a hard yank, pulling it through the buckle. 
He pulls until the tendons of his neck stick out from the strain and only 
then does he secure the buckle and loop the strap through the other side. 
"That should do, lump."

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

Nraith chews, rumbling in antici..... pation.

Jayna triple checks Sioneth's straps as the thundering brown crunches 
heavy firestone grimly, eyes whirling.

J'lyn checks over Lorieth's straps, then replaces his helmet on his head 
and his gloves on his hands. He dumps a largish sack of stone on the 
ground in front of Lorieth, and waits for the green to start chomping 
away.

Kassima and Lysseth give Nraith identical odd looks, but the greenrider is 
swift to turn her attention to her own Wing's ranks. "For Faranth's sake, 
V'dan, would it *kill* you t'put your riding jacket on *frontwards* for 
once?" she yells up to Chymeth's rider.

Xylath crains his neck around to look at the large tank strapped to back, 
eyes awhirl and rumbling just as loud. Meanwhile Neliea is mounted up and 
checking her straps.

Jayna passes another stone to Sioneth, pushing on her riding gloves as she 
glances around, expression somber.

M'rgan hunches down and slips under his lifemate's neck as the brown 
dragon noisily consumes the 'stone, the dragon's eyes vague as he 
concentrates on his other stomach. Only after checking the straps on the 
dragon's other side does M'rgan appear in front of his lifemate's head, 
picking up the remaining firestone sacks there.

Sioneth rumbles and belches. The sound is vaguely familiar.

High atop Nraith, A'lex directs the Firestorm riders into formation. A 
formation amazingly like some of the newer Skyfire formations... go 
figure.

Kirina Waves to M'rgan, remembering his help from yesterday.

Maylia herds Weyrlings around, as the bowl suddenly fills it seems with 
dragons and riders. Hefting large sacks of firestone, troops of weyrlings 
assist the riders in preparation, however they might.

Jayna finally nods her approval and mounts Sioneth efficiently, her face 
assuming the businesslike expression she generally wears during Fall.

Jayna steps onto Sioneth's foreleg and scrambles to his back.

The look Kassi flashes to Sioneth is disgusted. "You've been listening to 
Nraith, haven't you?" she demands, even as she leans back against 
Lysseth's side to watch the preparations. The green rumbles 
disconsolantly, clearly unhappy to not be a part of the Weyr's death 
squad.

Astride Nraith, A'lex calls, "Z'ort! Left strap on the top looks 
loose..."

Nraith looks up with one of those << Who me? >> looks.

M'rgan slings the firestone sacks over his shoulder and after a few words 
with some of the other Skyfire riders, he approaches his lifemate, easily 
clambering up to his perch on Ularrith's neck. The sacks are quickly tied 
to the dragon's straps and M'rgan works to secure his helmet and goggles 
as he looks around for the signals for Skyfire.

M'rgan jumps up onto Ularrith's back, as the dragon rumbles softly.

J'lyn nods as Lorieth makes a hefty inroad into the bag of firestone, then 
heads to mount up to get away from her breath, which reminds him oddly of 
A'lex not too long ago.

J'lyn uses Lorieth's forelimb as a step and seats himself between the 
green's neckridges.

Sioneth relaxes, poised and expectant. She glances toward Kassi and J'lyn.

Telgar Weyr> Maylia wonders, who's ICly leading the Fall, and who's OOCly 
doing the emits and such? :) Kassi?

Telgar Weyr> Jayna does that.

Telgar Weyr> A'lex says, "Hey!!! You guys quit pickin on me!! :P @set 
me=Whiney"

Telgar Weyr> Alyssa says, "Poor Woofies."

Telgar Weyr> Kassima is taking care of the OOC end. ICly, it'd probably be 
either M'hryn or A'lex, I'm guessing. :)

Astride Xylath, Neliea gives her straps and gloves another check, looking 
about and wishing just as much as her lifemate that they were part of 
their wing. Other than that, the rider assumes her usual business manor 
about thread.

Telgar Weyr> A'lex salutes, "Reporting for duty Kassima'am.."

From Sioneth's back, Jayna relaxes, poised and expectant. She glances 
toward her Wingleaders and the other riders, ignoring Sioneth's agitation 
as he swivels his great neck.

Telgar Weyr> A'lex oooohs and will have to teach THAT one to the 
weyrlings...

Telgar Weyr> Kassima does note, "The @emits for this Fall couldn't have 
been possible without Mart's magical mysterious Threadfall Coding Device. 
So everyone be sure to worship him and sacrifice many cheeky bronzeriders 
to his glory." ;)

Telgar Weyr> M'rgan sighs. Kassi, you do realize that since you said that 
the threadfall emitter is going to break now. ;)

Telgar Weyr> Maylia cools, thanks Kassi, Mart :)

Telgar Weyr> A'lex says, "Tonight's fall was brought to you by the letters 
K and M..."

Telgar Weyr> Kassima says, "In that case, everyone can lynch you instead, 
brownie-san. ;)"

Telgar Weyr> Kassima says, "Does forty-five minutes sound like a good Fall 
length for everyone?"

Telgar Weyr> J'lyn nods. Plenty. :)

Telgar Weyr> A'lex yeas, works for me...

Telgar Weyr> Jayna nodsnods.

Telgar Weyr> Neliea agrees.

Telgar Weyr> Alyssa says, "Where are you all?"

Telgar Weyr> J'lyn says, "In the bowl, O Swoonable One."

Telgar Weyr> Kassima says, "Southern Bowl. Y'all want in? :)"

Telgar Weyr> <Alyssa> @set me=!swoonable

Telgar Weyr> A'lex says, "We're in the woods, waiting for Fall... need the 
colored leaves, ya know."

Telgar Weyr> Alyssa, who just had the living bejeebers scared out of her 
by her cat faking some catastrophic illness, will try to get her mind on 
Threadfall. :)

Darloth rumbles softly.

Kassima shakes her head slightly at Jayna, to indicate that she should 
look to J'lyn for the command. Arms folded, she herself turns to watch the 
Fall leaders for the starting signal.

Maylia gives a cursory glance towards the 'stone piles, where the younger 
weyrlings hastily fill sack after sack of the stones, a chore they've been 
at for most of the day. Those carting the sacks to riders are now and then 
directed to a mounted rider, but for the most part they've been well 
drilled in the pre-fall process.

Adonith backwings for a landing.

Darloth rumbles, curious at the goings-on.

Deep furrows are left in the ground as Ularrith impatiently slashes his 
talons across the hard-packed dirt. The oak-brown dragon's throat pulses 
with every breath as he stokes the flame that is growing in his belly.

Seated atop Nraith, A'lex calls out a few more commands to Firestorm, as 
does his fellow Wingsecond B'geesus. They signal the ready once everyone 
settles down.

Adonith settles into the bowl with the tidy efficiency of a toy dragon 
placed atop a child's mantle, nary a speck of dust raised while Alyssa 
catches, and neatly so, a bag of firestone tossed her way. With that, she 
begins feeding Adonith the best chunks of the lot, face impassive and 
demeanor businesslike.

From betwixt Nraith's neckridges, A'lex waits patiently for the other 
wings to signal ready.

Lorieth belches slightly, smelling sweeter than a certain bronzerider, and 
rumbles herself to a loud roar. She's ready to go!

From betwixt Nraith's neckridges, A'lex gets the signals from the other 
Wingleaders and signals M'hryn who nods. "Let's do it," he calls.

Astride Xylath, Neliea points with her freehand towards the golden area of 
the Queen's wing, all the while making sure that the bulky tank strapped 
to the blue's back is in place and wand ready, waiting for the signal 
rise.

From Sioneth's back, Jayna salutes J'lyn and waits for the signal to lift.
Nraith takes flight, using the thermals rising from the bowl to carry him 
aloft.

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

Sioneth takes flight, using the thermals rising from the bowl to carry him 
aloft.

Adonith takes flight, using the thermals rising from the bowl to carry him 
aloft.

Xylath takes flight, using the thermals rising from the bowl to carry him 
aloft.

On Lorieth, J'lyn shouts to his wingriders and urges them aloft.

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

Above, Ularrith rises into the air with the rest of Skyfire wing, 
carefully maintaining his exact position in the formation.

Above, Sioneth angles into position, as his rider keeps eyes trained for 
the signal to go *between*.

Dragon> Threadfall Comm sense that Nraith visualizes (dtu btw Bitra). 
<< We go... >>

Above, Adonith skims the thermals as he rises in his place in formation, 
borne aloft by the deepest of wingstrokes as he drafts off Ularrith's 
larger body to conserve energy.

Above, Astride Nraith, A'lex drops his hand in the signal to go *between*.

Torinth backwings for a landing.

Above, Nraith disappears into Between.

M'kla climbs down from Torinth's neck.

Above, Sioneth disappears into Between.

Above, Adonith disappears into Between.

Above, Ularrith disappears into Between.

Above, Xylath disappears into Between.

Above, Lorieth disappears into Between.

M'kla slides down Torinth's welloiled hide as the green watches the 
fighting wings disappear with longing. The greenrider herself is already 
dressed as if she too, were going to go burn Thread from the skies.

Sky Over Bitra Hold> From betwixt Nraith's neckridges, A'lex bugles loudly 
as he emerges from Between.

Sky Over Bitra Hold> Nraith does too.

Telgar Weyr> A'lex says, "Hey, get the mav out of the way early."

Kaath backwings for a landing.

Lirra clambers down Kaath's side to the ground, the dragon's sparkling 
eyes watching closely.

Maylia's head cranes upwards, watching the Wings aloft disappear as one. 
That done, and a firm nod, the weyrlings are sent back to work. "Fill 
those sacks all the way, C'lot! S'nar, untwist Echoeth's strap, he'll not 
thank you for the rub it'll give him!" The young Weyrlingmaster nods to 
M'kla, heading towards her assistant and Torinth.

Kassima lets a long, low sigh escape her, one which is echoed by Lysseth, 
as the Wings disappear *between*. "This is what I hate most about being 
grounded," she mutters.

Darloth rumbles at Kassima.

Sky Over Bitra Hold> The Telgar wings turn and head toward the silvering 
in the skies that herald the leading edge of Fall.

Sky Over Bitra Hold> Lorieth bugles back to Thunderbolt Wing in neat 
precise formation, just as they drilled. See? All that insanity on Kassi's 
part pays off every once in a while.

Sky Over Bitra Hold> Ularrith's wingstrokes briefly quicken with 
anticipation as he emerges from *between*, a flicker of golden flame 
wisping around his mouth. But as his rider lays a hand on the neckridge in 
front of him, the brown dragon's wingstrokes slow, matching the beats of 
the others. The flame just as quickly disappearing as he conserves it for 
the approaching Thread.

M'kla chuckles a bit at the green Wingleader as she saunters up to the 
knot of riders watching the Weyrlings prepare, "Aye....doesna suit, does 
it?"

Sky Over Bitra Hold> Sioneth tests the wind by slightly dipping a wingtip. 
Making an adjustment, he closes into tighter formation and glances redly 
in the direction of Fall's leading edge.

Sky Over Bitra Hold> Xylath slides into formation with the Queen's wing, 
blue wings almost soundlessly moving in the air below all of the other 
wings.

Lirra jumps down from Kaath's neck and crosses to join the knot of riders 
on the ground, arms wrapped about herself and staring at the sky with a 
rueful grimace. "This just feels odd," she murmurs.

Dragon> Lysseth bespoke Threadfall Comm with << Okay, I just set off the 
@emitter. If memory serves, the first @emit should go off shortly, 
followed by others at three-minute intervals. (If it doesn't, everybody be 
sure to blame Mart. ;) Kidding!) >>

Sky Over Bitra Hold> Curving into the familiar locale for the blues, 
maintaining position at the forefront of his like-colored dragons, Adonith 
digs his wingtips far below to hold position and inhales deeply, inspiring 
oxygen in his system to help create the combustion that will become his 
firestone's flame.

Kassima agrees with both wholeheartedly: "It feels *wrong*. We should be 
up there... nay that we're nay still here for a good reason, but that 
doesn't stop Lyss from being frustrated. Nor me."

Telgar Weyr> A'lex sings, "Flame on! Flame off! Flame on, flame off... the 
flamer!"

Torinth rumbles quietly, curling her tail around her hindlimbs by way of 
comment.

Sky Over Bitra Hold> A brown dragon's bellow of pain is abruptly cut off 
as he and his rider seek the Thread-killing cold of *between*. By the time 
he reappears, it has gone beyond his range and crossed into the skyspace 
near Firestorm's Nraith.

M'kla nods, commenting softly, "Aye. Some fer better reasons than o'ers." 
She turns on a heel, and marches towards Maylia, to see if the 
Weyrlingmaster needs help.

Telgar Weyr> Myklan quirks a brow.

Sky Over Bitra Hold> Nraith dives adroitly to catch what little of the 
silver menace DIDN'T get pulled between with brown and rider. Flame 
billows forth, searing the air and the Thread, leaving only black dust 
behind.

Telgar Weyr> A'lex says, "Stealth Thread Myklan..."

Telgar Weyr> Myklan ehs? Me?

Kassima asks Lirra, tilting her head back towards the Cavern, "Should we 
go in there, d'you think, or keep watch out here?"

Telgar Weyr> A'lex says, "Oh, thought you were quirking at the Thread 
emit... my bust."

Sky Over Bitra Hold> Lorieth screams defiance (imagine such a thing) at 
the nasty dirty silver icky stuff clouding her vision of the lovely 
countryside surrounding Bitra. It takes no notice of her, and continues 
falling. Slightly put out, Lorieth gets back at it by swooping deftly 
towards it, flaming it to char-broiled nothingness. Her smug bellow says 
it all: she's better than anything mindless.

Pale and with shakey hands, S'nar tends to his lifemate's straps, glancing 
skywards now and then as though Thread's overhead. Watching him, Maylia 
sidles up to the riders left on the bowl floor, nodding. "Tierth's fussier 
than a vtol after a blooding, and we go partway through." She notes, with 
sympathy for the others. "G'deve, M'kla. You're fine with drilling the 
younger ones on Fall specifics while I lead resupply?"

Sky Over Bitra Hold> As the 'Fall goes up another notch in intensity, 
brown Ularrith seems to almost be targeted by two small patches at once, 
one above and the other coming in at a diagonal from the east.

M'kla snorts, and grips the head of her walking stick, "Aye...I'll put the 
fear o Thread into this lot too, if ye need."

Sky Over Bitra Hold> Sioneth roars, his russet muzzle emitting a trickle 
of flame. Sinking, arrowing toward one thick patch, he flames it, 
swiveling his head to avoid the dust of char that blows back in the chill 
thin air.

Sky Over Bitra Hold> Firestorm follows Nraith in an arc, keeping to the 
higher altitudes.

M'kla glances to S'nar, and then back to Maylia, lowering her voice, 
"Lass...think he shoul' be fine this trip? He looks a bit rattled, 
compared t'the rest."

Telgar Weyr> Myklan grins. Nono.

Lirra watches the sky for a moment more, then makes a sound of irritation 
and grabs a nearby sack, starting to toss firestone into it. "I'd rather 
do -something- with my hands," she sighs, but pauses to scan the sky 
again, brow furrowed before she looks back.

Sky Over Bitra Hold> Atop sturdy Ularrith, M'rgan goes rigid as he hears 
the injured dragon's cry, adrenaline spiking into his system. Gripping the 
straps in front of him more tightly, he hunches over his lifemate's neck, 
his head swivelling back and forth as he searches the nearby sky for any 
clumps. His lifemate though doesn't even react to the scream, his body 
remaining an arrow shooting across the sky. As his rider shouts and slaps 
his neck, the brown leans back, racing towards the small clump coming in 
from above.

Maylia chuckles softly, her gaze on Echoeth and his lifemate. "I think 
someone's done a good job of that, with him." she states, and nods with 
agreement. "He was like that last Fall, too. I took him off resupply, but 
he can hardly keep putting it off."

Sky Over Bitra Hold> Xylath sends a warning bugle towards the silvery 
menance, while Neliea is always on the watch for any clumps or half clumps 
falling though the wings from above, flamethrower nozzle at the ready.

Sky Over Bitra Hold> Adonith bugles to Ularrith and banks eastward, his 
intent from the brown's flank clear. With a gout of fiery defiance he 
vaporizes the clump of Thread, sending it along its grey, snowy way to the 
ground. Harmless.

Sky Over Bitra Hold> Three seperate strands of Thread are whipped together 
by the wind to form a thicker cord, almost as though they'd been braided 
together. The result falls swiftly within the range of blue Adonith.

M'kla nods, guardedly, "Aye...aye..." She lowers her voice even furhter, 
"We've nay lost any from this clutch yet, have we?"

Sky Over Bitra Hold> Settled between Adonith's neckridges, Alyssa senses 
as much as sees the thread near her dragon and herself and, as one, they 
glare at the undulating cable of spores before Adonith sucks in chill-
kissed Bitran wind and exhales with a flaming answer to the trio of 
silvery ribbons. 'Nuff said.

Kassima nods, at first absently--but then she joins Lirra in sacking the 
'stone, apparently no fan of idleness herself. "It helps that M'hryn's 
letting me keep up the hidework," she murmurs to the other greenrider. 
"But after they've left for Fall, I still feel useless. There's naught I 
can do t'help from here."

Sky Over Bitra Hold> As the wind whips a clump of silvery menace toward a 
nearby brown whose attention is diverted by a second, large patch, Sioneth 
thunders a warning. His rider shouts, pumping her arm to warn her engaged 
wingmate. Although the icy wind swallows her warning, the rider, 
Thunderbolt-trained, sees the menace and singes it deftly to a gray 
memory.

Maylia's head shakes, her eyes on the young blue. "Not since they started 
between training. One never returned from a jump to the Woodcraft." Her 
voice is a bit distant, being a weyrlings' a perilous occupation, but that 
hardly means she's unfeeling at the loss of one.

Sky Over Bitra Hold> Several clumps drop from the sky at once, those not 
already charred by vigilant dragons falling nearer and nearer to Lorieth, 
Adonith, and a few others nearby.

Lirra flashes a distracted smile at a nearby weyrling, but returns to 
sacking at almost a frantic pace for something to do. "Or worse..." she 
agrees. "Just when I was getting used to my place in the new wing," she 
sighs.

Sky Over Bitra Hold> With an explosion of flame that first crisps the 
Thread and then shatters it into dust, Ularrith destroys the clump he was 
chasing. His flame cutting off as quickly as it started, the brown dragon 
stills his wings, dropping back into the formation with precision. He 
misses seeing Adonith's next battle with the silver menace but he hears 
his wingmate's release of his flame and rumbles support in response.

Sky Over Bitra Hold> Firestorm closes ranks and makes a sharp turn, so 
they travel perpendicular to the leading edge. Sweeping across, they 
terrorize the falling meance, charing it deftly.

M'kla nods at that, and shakes her head, "Nay a bad group then." She gives 
S'nar another appraising look, and to his handsome, if edgy, blue.

Sky Over Bitra Hold> Lorieth dives after the Thread that is trying to get 
past her guard. Bad, bad naughty Thread! Try and get past her, will it?? 
Not likely! Belching forth her fiery breath, is sizzles into dust.

Sky Over Bitra Hold> No less than *four* small patches target a single 
Duskfire bronze at once; while he manages to deal with two with admirable 
speed and precision, the second pair are coming too close, too fast. His 
bugle serves as a warning to Xylath, the blue left to deal with the 
remainder as he winks *between*.

Dragon> Threadfall Comm sense that Tierth's voice, crystal clear as a cold 
mountain spring, arrows through the general chaos of background dragon 
voices, targetting several of the fighting dragons. << My rider requires 
knowledge of the Fall. How does it fall? >> can be sensed through various 
calls of << Watch your left! >> and << I follow! I dive! I flame! >>

Dragon> Nraith bespoke Threadfall Comm with << It falls heavily... started 
very fast. >>

Sky Over Bitra Hold> Adonith has not enough time to reposition himself 
after the sudden appearance of two clumps in jarringly separate locations 
near him; as the tendrils drizzle toward his flank he does what comes 
naturally and ensures he is not there when the Thread descends. With a 
flicker of violet blue he is gone, reappearing a few seconds later, safely 
and above the Thread that was seared by his green wingmate, Faunath.

Sky Over Bitra Hold> Astride Xylath, Neliea widens the nozzle on her 
flamethrower, arching the orange-red flame towards the Thread and searing 
the remainder of the patches just as well as her blue can. Falling 
slightly out of formation, Xylath is careful to not go *between* yet as 
she silver clumps go to ash about them.

A weyrling in the younger clutch reaches for a clump of firestone, her 
hand nearly colliding with Lirra's. As the girl becomes aware of who she's 
sacking next to, the stone goes tumbling, her hand snatched back into a 
salute. "Evenin' Ma'am!" Is exclaimed hastily, before she resumes her 
work.

Sky Over Bitra Hold> Unexpectedly, a sheet of Thread is broken up by a 
wave of turbulence, to send several small patches falling towards brown 
Sioneth and those close by.

Sky Over Bitra Hold> One Thunderbolt blue pivots on a mark as his rider 
gestures. The blue lifts his muzzle and forces a curling gout of flame, 
which embraces a smallish but heavy patch of fluttering silver strands.

"No, a fairly decent group on the whole," Maylia agrees, noting the young 
girl's reaction. Her attntion returns to M'kla, and the nervous S'nar. 
"I'll send him up. He's been drilled throroughly, and he's one of the last 
of his clutch to go."

Sky Over Bitra Hold> Sioneth rumbles, dipping his right wingsail to bank 
and turn, for a better shot at the nearby patches of deadly silver. He 
breathes fire in a carefully directed stream, sweeping his head to char 
the menace, following the dictates of instinct as he does the work for 
which he was bred.

Lirra slips her own stone in the girl's sack to make up and winks broadly. 
"Evening," she murmurs back. "Don't fret the salute for now...you're 
busy," she explains, then grimaces as she hefts a stone far too large. 
"Take a bronze at least for this," she mutters and tosses it towards a 
pile still to be broken.

Sky Over Bitra Hold> Falling like heavy rain, the Thread seeks out the 
luscious growth below to ruthlessly try to devoid Pern of its beauty and 
resources. Fortunately, dragons like Ularrith are in the air, prepared to 
char such strands as those which now descend towards the dragon's 
skyspace.

Telgar Weyr> A'lex says, "Here he comes to save the day! Mighty 
Ularrith! :D"

Telgar Weyr> Alyssa whaps A'lex.

Sky Over Bitra Hold> As the Threadfall decides to menace someone else for 
a moment, Ularrith swivels his head back, maw agape to receive a few 
chunks of stone from his rider. While the dragon chews the 'stone, M'rgan 
takes the opportunity to wipe his ash-streaked goggles with a rag. A rag 
that is immediately shoved back under his jacket as he hears some warning 
calls from other members of Skyfire. The battle rages on and he and 
Ularrith are ready to fight.

Telgar Weyr> Alyssa has Mighty Mouse on the brain now, thanks. :)

Sky Over Bitra Hold> Lorieth darts up and back thru the wing, making 
certain of her wingmates's stone and flame. SHe catches single strands of 
the nasty goo falling.

M'kla nods, not gainsaying the Weyrlingmaster's judgement. All riders must 
eventually face Thread in a Pass, and the first time is always terrifying. 
"Aye."

Sky Over Bitra Hold> Adonith trumpets to Ularrith before saving his breath 
for more effective usages: for torching Thread. And thus does he do, while 
his flying is still strong and his hearts continue to beat a martial sound 
for their battle of the deadly spores.

Sky Over Bitra Hold> A scream of pain from above serves as a warning as a 
Duskfire blue disappears into *between*, his wingtip scored. What Thread 
does not go *between* with him continues its descent towards M'rgan and 
Ularrith.

Telgar Weyr> Kassima says, "Y'know, Mart, your emitter really doesn't like 
you. ;)"

Sky Over Bitra Hold> High atop Nraith, A'lex directs Firestorm to about 
face and sweep back along the face of the leading edge once again...

Telgar Weyr> A'lex was just going to say that...

Sky Over Bitra Hold> Xylath falls back into formation with the golden and 
much larger queens, an odd contrast of color as he trumpets a warning to 
the ash falling about. Any clumps that manage to get though are quickly 
extinguished with a wide, but efficent spray from Neliea's flamethrower 
and the tanks straped securely to the blue's back.

Kassima seems prone to filling green-sized sacks for some reason, with 
reasonable efficiency. "Haven't heard of any casualties yet," she mutters, 
darting a look back at her dragon.

Sky Over Bitra Hold> Unexpectedly, a sheet of Thread is broken up by a 
wave of turbulence, to send several small patches falling towards green 
Tierth and those close by.

Sky Over Bitra Hold> Sioneth dives, taking a studied low position in 
comparison to the brown next to him, as one particular outspread patch 
falls nearby. The two dragons flame in unison, high and slightly lower, 
Sioneth charring the few threads of gray that his wingmate's fiery breath 
can't encompass.

Sky Over Bitra Hold> Ularrith's hide starts to turn grey from the coating 
of ash, every bit of it a badge of honor. The first clump is easily 
destroyed in a belch of fire. Almost too easily as if it was merely the 
bait while another group of the silver threads closed the trap. Turns of 
experience cause Ularrith to check his side and that's when he sees the 
clump descending towards him. A bad wind shift brings him too close to the 
dangerous threads and he pops into *between* rather than flaming it, the 
spores drifting back through Skyfire's formation.

Maylia nods to M'kla, her expression serious. "Alright, then. Let's get'em 
strapped down with sacks, so we're ready." Raising her voice to carry over 
the echoing rumble of sacks being filled with 'stone, and larger clumps 
being broken up, she commands, "Alright, those of you on resupply, load 
up!" With a firm nod to the nervous S'nar.

Sky Over Bitra Hold> Nraith dives for a clump of Thread caught in a 
downdraft, leaving B'gee and Cripeth at the fore of Firestorm until he can 
get back into position.

Lirra hands her filled sack to a weyrling for hefting, then picks her way 
through the piles of stone for a fresh sack, eyes flitting to the sky 
worriedly.

M'kla begins directing, "Greens! No more than six bags each! Blues, eight! 
Browns, ten! Bronzes, twelve! Carry EVEN numbers, and don't get them 
lopsided!"

Sky Over Bitra Hold> The winds carry three patches of Thread, two small 
and one rather large, towards a Thunderbolt blue. The beleaguered dragon 
takes out one of the small patches, but the other two are coming too 
close, too fast--so he blinks *between* with a last warning trumpet to 
Lorieth and Tierth, who are now closest to the Thread that remains.

M'kla looks up as a Fortian blue comes out of *between* and lands in the 
central bowl...then points as she has Torinth query, "Healer arriving!" 
She goes back to directing the attachments of bags.
Duchov walks here from the north.

Maylia walks among the weyrlings, assisting here with straps, there with a 
weyrling who's struggling with her armload. A firm grip on the shoulder, 
and an "Easy, Weyrling." Is directed to S'nar. "T'day, do it now! don't 
procrastinate, we leave when we're called!"

Sky Over Bitra Hold> As a Thunderbolt green is forced to veer swiftly to 
one side to avoid having Thread slamming into her, the ragged tangle 
drifts towards Xylath and M'rgan's brown in a downward spiralling motion.

Sky Over Bitra Hold> Adonith is tiring, and understandably so, but within 
him exists the wherewithall to further extinguish Thread from the Bitran 
sky, preventing its deadly descent from continuing. As Alyssa mops 
perspiration and ash from her delicate features and far less delicate 
goggles, her dragon twitches in warning and flames; the result renders 
useless her efforts at tidying up.

M'kla sighs at T'day's twin, "T'morrah! Stop fooling around and get Sloth 
loaded up!"

Telgar Weyr> Maylia cackles at M'kla!

Duchov and other healer apprentices walk up and over. A trail of slightly 
lost, and rather overwhelmed Apprentices. Duchov, who has somehomw ended 
at the head of this trail, glances back and blinks. "Pardon me," he says, 
with enough firmness to be heard by some of the riders perhaps.

Sky Over Bitra Hold> A green flash in the making, Lorieth dives down to 
get under the Thread scattered by the blue's leaving. Shooting upwards, 
she sears the silver enemy in a gout of flame that fountains upwards. Not 
quite catching all of it, though, a miniscule piece lands on J'lyn's face 
and the right side of his flight goggles. The rider bellows in pain and 
anger as Lorieth takes them *between* and right back into action.

Sky Over Bitra Hold> The icy wind notwithstanding, Sioneth pushes against 
a stray thermal to solidify his position in formation. The same thermal, 
though, lifts a light but nevertheless deadly patch of silver upward, in a 
startling change in direction. Sioneth, eyes whirling in rage, swivels, 
flaming at an angle to char the menace. His rider glances up with wide 
eyed concern as Lorieth and J'lyn blink *between*.

M'kla turns away from bellowing at weyrlings readying for resupply in 
Thread, to look to the Healer, "Aye? Did they not warn the Healer ye were 
coming?"

Lirra returns to her place at the piles of firestone, tossing her sack 
over her shoulder to throw her hands out to an overburdened small 
bluerider. "Steady, girl...straighten your back for it," she suggests, 
then heads towards Kassima. "Bag only holds so much..."

Sky Over Bitra Hold> Xylath's blue hide is looking more like an afternoon 
cloudy sky from all of the ash falling about down here. Tossing a wider 
dispersal of flame from the thrower's nozzle, the long spray of orange 
shrivles the tangle into dust as it continues to fall downwards as a 
charred clump of ash.

Sky Over Bitra Hold> The winds carry three patches of Thread, two small 
and one rather large, towards a Starblaze blue. The beleaguered dragon 
takes out one of the small patches, but the other two are coming too 
close, too fast--so he blinks *between* with a last warning trumpet to 
Adonith and Lorieth, who are now closest to the Thread that remains.

Sky Over Bitra Hold> Nraith blinks between momentarily as a rather gangly 
patch streaks too close for comfort. He returns moments later, eyes awash 
with red.

Duchov ahems, "We're a bit earlier than we were expected." Shrugging, with 
a basket of healer goods in his arms, the apprentice adds, "We're to find 
Journeymen... Portock and ... Marrah?"

Maylia double checks Weyrlings' straps as she goes from dragon to dragon, 
ensuring all firestone sacks are full, balanced, and within reach of the 
weyrling when mounted. "Strap'em evenly! We'll not have needless 
wingstrains!" She calls to a lad. A nod is directed to the apprentices, 
before she stalks off to round on another of her charges.

M'kla steps away from the flurry of preparation, to join the small 
grouping, "Ah...They'd be in the Infirmary..." She points to a pair of 
large caverns back in the main portion of the bowl.

M'kla gestures, "There...that's the outer part o the infirmary...you can 
get to the caverns through there. Portock or Marrah or Ushu...all's likely 
to be there."

Kassima shudders, completely by reflex, at the name of the dreaded Ushu.

Sky Over Bitra Hold> Dragonfire cuts blazing swaths through a thick 
curtain of Thread that is suddenly falling from above, but a few scattered 
patches manage to escape nonetheless. Blue Xylath of Queen's might be near 
enough to catch one of these, but it would be a stretch....

Sky Over Bitra Hold> On Lorieth, J'lyn wipes blood from his face, and 
knows pain the like he's never before felt. However, the old poop -will 
not- end a Fall early. He directs Lorieth after the rest of the Wing and 
she attacks the falling Thread with a vengeance.

Telgar Weyr> A'lex says, "I didn't know Xylath was from Queens! Nraith is 
from the Bronx!!!"

Telgar Weyr> Neliea laughs!!

Telgar Weyr> Myklan groans.

Duchov nods at M'kla, "Thank you, ma'am..." Then a glance to his fellow 
slave- apprentices. They beging their trek only to be shuted at by a 
harried looking healer. Proclaiming the assistants are 'early,' Portock 
drags the leader (and by no choice of his own) off and over to outer 
infirmary. Put to work, they set up a triage outside the entrance.

Sky Over Bitra Hold> Freshly restoked, Adonith has enough flame remaining 
to torch, and efficiently so, the tendril of Thread approaching. It has 
split, however, and while they can eradicate part of the clump, the rest 
must fall to their wingmates. With a jerk of her head Alyssa glances 
behind her and gestures for Faunath's rider, but the inexperienced green 
is out of position and down the Thread tumbles.

M'kla gives the youngsters a sympathetic look, glancing to see if her boy 
Meesh is among them...not seeing him, she turns back to what she'd been 
doing, "T'morrah! The sun's gonna come out afore you get your act 
together! Careful with Sloth's strapping, it's too tight. He can't 
breathe!" The poor brown looks nearly strangled, indeed. "Maylia, can you 
give him a hand?"

Telgar Weyr> <A'lex> Nraith projects, << Are YOU bespeakin' to ME? >>

Sky Over Bitra Hold> The almost hypnotic, spiralling shapes of separate 
Threads can be made out within the loosely-packed tangle that is heading 
in M'rgan and brown Ularrith's direction with considerable speed.

Telgar Weyr> Myklan ROLLS.

Sky Over Bitra Hold> Strech? That clump isn't thinking on it's own is it? 
Leaning about as far as she dares to, Neliea widens the thrower's nozzle 
to it's fullest to catch those patches. Xylath breaks formation, swinging 
over to the direction and back effortlessly like a skipping stone.

Dragon> Lorieth bespoke Lysseth with << Have a Healer ready for my rider. 
He has a facial scoring near his right eye. >>

Maylia listens attentively to her green for a moment, then turns to face 
the ranks of waiting weyrlings. "Resupply wings! Mount up!" Is ordered, 
and another firm look given to the nervous S'nar. The Weyrlingmaster 
pivots, heading for her own dragon, the green already bearing her load of 
firestone. A flurry of dashing weyrlings ensues, as they mount their 
dragons with varying attitudes. Some eager, some defiant, one or two 
looking near ready to be ill. On her way, though, T'morroh's given 
assistance with a glare. "Listen to your brown. If it's too tight, he'll 
tell you, and you'd sharding well better listen!"

Kassima blinks and snaps to sudden attention. "There are Healers here?" 
she wants to know.

Maylia swings up to her place astride Tierth, her lifemate welcoming her 
with a rumble.

Telgar Weyr> <M'kla> Nraith bugles << I gotcher mating flight right HERE, 
Baby! >>

Telgar Weyr> M'kla ducks before A'lex kills her.

Telgar Weyr> A'lex dies...

Duchov and the other apprentices haul out benches and set things up on teh 
side. Exhaling a bit, Duchov gets nudged and he looks over at Kassima, 
"yes, ma'am," he says, shaking his shock of hair out of his face.

Telgar Weyr> <J'lyn> Lorieth croons << Peeeeeeeempdiddy... >>

Telgar Weyr> M'kla dies.

Telgar Weyr> Jayna LOL!

Telgar Weyr> <J'lyn> Lorieth is most likely from Manhattan. ;)

Kassima corrects at once, "Kassima. Nay ma'am. Lyss tells me that J'lyn, a 
greenrider, will be coming back with a facial scoring that will need 
attending to shortly."

Telgar Weyr> A'lex is laughing so hard he's having a coughing fit...

Dragon> Lysseth bespoke Threadfall Comm with << Okay, all... ready for me 
to stop the emitter? :) >>

Sky Over Bitra Hold> Ularrith folds his wings and begins to spiral after 
the clump of Thread, his wings whistling through the air as he gives 
chase. A blast of orange-yellow flame bursts out of him, crisping the tips 
of the strands but nothing more. He is still too far away and rapidly 
falling further out of formation. He bellows to the tangle as if 
challenging it but his rider pulls him back. With a thurble of regret, the 
dragon abandons the tangle to a Skyfire green and rises back into his 
proper position.

Sky Over Bitra Hold> Suddenly, a warning is cried out from above! A half-
charred tangle of Thread falls with alarming speed towards bronze Nraith 
and wingmates, helped along its way by a freak gust of wind.

Dragon> Nraith bespoke Threadfall Comm with << We live only to server YOU 
Lysseth... >>

Dragon> Adonith bespoke Threadfall Comm with << Yis! >>

Dragon> Threadfall Comm sense that Sioneth is ready!

Lirra stops sacking and straightens, pushing hair out of her face as she 
gestures towards the infirmary, then pauses to tilt her head as if 
listening herself, eyes closing.

Dragon> Threadfall Comm sense that Xylath agrees!

Dragon> Threadfall Comm sense that Lorieth is definitely ready.

Dragon> Threadfall Comm sense that Lysseth stops, then. :) Might want to 
keep posing for an extra three minutes, 'cause I'm not sure whether it'll 
toss out one last @emit now.

Duchov ohs and nods at Kassima, "Kassima," he registers that in his head. 
"J'lyn?" A glace at the journeyman and Duchov nods. "I can assist, I'll 
tell the journeymen."

M'kla frowns, looking up at Kassima's words. "Shard...y'er Wingsecond? Of 
all the luck!"

Dragon> Threadfall Comm sense that Tierth laughs at herself, spending too 
much time on the ground. Assume the w'lings flew resupply.

Sky Over Bitra Hold> Nraith reacts with surprise, doing quite a barrel 
roll while flaming, only catching half the clump, the rest of which passes 
down towards the Queen's wing.

Kassima nods grimly to M'kla, looking ill-pleased. "Nay kidding. It must 
be minor, though, since he's still flying to the end of the Fall; Faranth 
be praised for that."

As one, in close formation, the resupply wing rises, to hover above the 
Star Stones. A moment later, they've disappeared, to meet Fall.

Sky Over Bitra Hold> The almost hypnotic, spiralling shapes of separate 
Threads can be made out within the loosely-packed tangle that is heading 
in Alyssa and blue Adonith's direction with considerable speed.

Duchov listens and watches a bit as he pulls out basins and bandgaes for 
ailing riders. The area is set up rapidly, as many apprentice hands make 
light work. Even when there are dragons for distraction.

Dragon> Adonith bespoke Threadfall Comm with << HEY now. >>

Dragon> Threadfall Comm sense that Sioneth laughs.

Sky Over Bitra Hold> Lorieth dives from one end of Thunderbolt to the 
other, making certain of everyones flightworthiness as the end of the Fall 
nears.

Sky Over Bitra Hold> Firestorm circles, waiting to see if any stragglers 
are left behind...

Sky Over Bitra Hold> Adonith obliterates the tangle without delay, the 
exhaled conflagration accompanied by a brilliant, brassy note of 
triumph...that is tinged, however, with the blue's growing fatigue.

Sky Over Bitra Hold> Xylath had just gotten back into position with the 
other golds, assisting with this newest clump that is gotten by another 
gold. Neliea can't tell but it looks like Jehrina and Leilanth sent that 
clump into ash, sending it harmlessly towards the ground.

Sky Over Bitra Hold> As Sioneth banks slightly, maintaining position in 
the uncertain icy winds, Jayna gestures "all OK!" to J'lyn, as her 
Wingsecond makes his rounds. She glances around, wiping her face with one 
gloved hand, surprised, as usual, to see that the time has seemed to pass 
so quickly.

Lirra shakes her head abruptly and bends to continue sacking, even if the 
resupply wing has gone and left already, single-mindedly. "Bhalth says 
J'lyn's doing admirably, Kassi," she calls over to the Wingleader, 
stuffing another rock in the sack.

M'kla snorts a bit, "Torinth...I'm nay gonna repeat that. It weren't 
nice."

Torinth snorts, and flicks her tail...apparently she doesn't care.

From astride Tierth, Healer Ushu, one of the Weyr's healers, totters among 
the apprentices, his attention more on the grounded riders than on his 
'charges'. Tsking, as he sets out various concoctions of rose petals, he 
grumbles about certain Wingleaders acting pregnant for the attention of it 
all. Hmph.

Dragon> Lysseth bespoke Threadfall Comm with << Okay! Thread emits should 
be done, then, and y'all can just RP the post-Fall foo at leisure. Thanks, 
y'all... I hope you had a decent time. :) >>

Sky Over Bitra Hold> Firestorm closes ranks for the return to Telgar.

Duchov glances at the riders, with visiable intrest. A faint flicker of a 
smile touches his face before he mutters to himself, "Would that Leigh 
could see this one..." and then all work and no play is the young man.
Kassima can't help but grin at that. "Well, a'course he is, Lirra. He's 
F'hlan *and* P'tran-trained, you know."

Sky Over Bitra Hold> Astride Nraith, Once the fall has stopped, and the 
sweeps have begun, A'lex signals for the return.

Sky Over Bitra Hold> Nraith disappears into Between.

Above, From the Telgar Star Stones, Kl'loh's brick-brown Yoxath rears on 
hind legs and bugles a greeting to bronze Nraith and his rider, A'lex, 
welcoming them home.

Nraith backwings for a landing.

A'lex slides down Nraith's riding straps and lands carefully beside him. 
Nraith rumbles quietly as A'lex pats his side in thanks.

Sky Over Bitra Hold> On Lorieth, J'lyn nods toward Jayna on his way by, 
noticing that of all his riders, he's the only one to suffer any Thread 
damage. Giving the signal, he sends his wing *between* to Telgar.

Lirra pauses, then laughs, shaking her head as she pushes back that same 
lock of hair. "Yeah, but this is Bhalth. Ego enough for a bronze, 
sometimes, I think," she explain amusedly before stopping sacking 
abruptly.

Sky Over Bitra Hold> Sioneth disappears into Between.

Above, From the Telgar Star Stones, Kl'loh's brick-brown Yoxath rears on 
hind legs and bugles a greeting to brown Sioneth and his rider, Jayna, 
welcoming them home.

Sky Over Bitra Hold> Adonith disappears into Between.

Sky Over Bitra Hold> Astride Xylath, Neliea wipes soot from her goggles, 
catching a signal go to between and doesn't resist that, compling without 
question.

Above, From the Telgar Star Stones, Kl'loh's brick-brown Yoxath rears on 
hind legs and bugles a greeting to blue Adonith and his rider, Alyssa, 
welcoming them home.

Sky Over Bitra Hold> Xylath disappears into Between.

Adonith backwings for a landing.

Sky Over Bitra Hold> Atop sturdy Ularrith, M'rgan, as he always does near 
the end of Fall, leans forward across Ularrith's neck, reaching for the 
firestone sacks that still hang from the dragon's straps. Most are empty 
now but a few still have firestone in them and he carefully weighs each 
one by scooping his hand under it. Upon the completion of his inspection 
he nods in satisfaction. His lifemate continues to consume the expected 
amount of 'stone. The crashing sound of an entire wing going *between* 
draws his attention back to the wing and he waits for K'tyn's signal to 
begin the sweeps.

Above, From the Telgar Star Stones, Kl'loh's brick-brown Yoxath rears on 
hind legs and bugles a greeting to blue Xylath and his rider, Neliea, 
welcoming them home.

M'kla looks up as the young bronzerider appears, along with the rest of 
the returning dragons.

Sioneth backwings for a landing.

Sky Over Bitra Hold> Lorieth disappears into Between.

Jayna scrambles down from Sioneth's back.

Above, From the Telgar Star Stones, Kl'loh's brick-brown Yoxath rears on 
hind legs and bugles a greeting to green Lorieth and her rider, J'lyn, 
welcoming them home.

Duchov and the other healers (well, the apprentices) look up at Nraith. In 
danger of getting his ears boxed, Duchov pauses with a jar of redwort in 
his hands. but he's snagged by an ear soon enough. "Sorry, sir," he blurts 
and moves to help the brownrider with a leg score. The journeyman hands 
Duchov scissor. "First you cut away the hide," says the aprentice, and so 
he does.

Lorieth backwings for a landing.

J'lyn slides down Lorieth's shoulder to her forelimb, then jumps to the 
ground.

A'lex immediately circles through the Firestorm riders, checking, 
commenting and occasionally snapping at a few...

Jayna pats Sioneth's side and peels off her gloves. Her face is streaked 
with thread char. She turns immediately toward J'lyn and rushes toward 
him. "Are you alright? J'lyn?" she asks in obvious concern.

J'lyn slides to the ground, his face red and puffy and laid wide open from 
the scoring. "Ow," he says. "Can someone maybe help me with this?"

The Weyrling wing, divested of the sacks they'd been carrying, spirals 
down to a landing, several more awkwardly than the others, towards the 
infirmary and the dragonhealers set up there. As Tierth lands, Maylia's 
face is dark, with soot and ash as well as mood.

Alyssa eases off of Adonith's torso and uses a proffered foreleg to assist 
in making her way down.

Telgar Weyr> J'lyn hehs. And the Threadscore makes a sound of Ow. I got a 
boo-boo. Help. ;)

Maylia slides to the ground, giving Tierth a parting caress and a tender 
smile.

Lirra pelts towards a landing polka-dotted blue to help the tall rider 
down, thankfully uninjured if exhausted.

Telgar Weyr> Jayna laughs. "You need somebody to kiss it better."

One of teh Healer journeymen walks up to J'lyn. "here, Wingsecond, I can 
help you."

Kassima blinks at Lirra, surprised. "Oh, wait. You mean Bhalth's doing 
exceptionally well? Thought you meant Jal was... well, good t'be hearing 
about Bhalth, anyway." At the riders' return, she springs to her feet, 
immediately striding over to J'lyn. "Healers are over there." With a point 
in the right direction, she adds, "Go! A'fore the sight of that makes me 
vomit again, all over you this time. Methinks I can recall how t'look over 
the Wing for the report."

Telgar Weyr> Alyssa says, "Ooh me pick me!"

M'kla looks up to Maylia as she arrives, making her way over.

Alyssa slides to the ground and lands neatly, briefly checking her 
exhausted lifemate before doffing her gloves, helmet, and goggles to shift 
into healer mode. It is a transition with which she has a decade's worth 
of experience.

Telgar Weyr> Myklan says, "Nono! Pick me!"

As the healers take J'lyn in hand, Jayna sighs approval and returns 
tiredly to Sioneth, who's managed to wallow into the ground. "Whew," she 
mutters, under her breath.

Telgar Weyr> Myklan O:)

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

Telgar Weyr> A'lex says, "Pick me! Pick me!"

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

J'lyn sits down and lets yon un-named Journeyman Healers get to work on 
his face. "Careful, lad. If you hurt me too much, there's no telling what 
I'll do to you." He tries to grin, but it ends up hurting more, so he 
stops.

Myklan comes scrabbling out of the living cavern, and stops just out of 
harm's way, watching one of the injured riders with wide-eyed worried eyes 
of green.

K'gen blinks and looks around, "Can I help?"

Kassima pauses by Jayna and Sioneth, giving the pair an assessing look. 
"Lyss says there're nay other injuries t'report, so I'm taking it that it 
went well. You and he are all right?"

Alyssa spares J'lyn a glance and, catching hold of a drudge, murmurs, 
"Give that greenrider some wine, please. And be sure his 'Score is 
redworted as well as 'weeded..."

A'lex finishes his rounds and stops near Kassima and J'lyn, "Oh, wow, that 
looks painful..."

K'gen reaches into his pocket and hands a skin to the healer near J'lyn, 
"Wine."

The J'man, Namastan, grins at J'lyn. "Of course not. Tell that green lady 
of yours we'll have you right as rain faster than an apprentice eats a 
bubblie. Let me take your helmet off." He moves to unbuckle.

Duchov meanwhile, unders strict supervision, cleans the brownrider's 
legwound.

Maylia grumbles as she spots M'kla, heading towards her. "S'nar had 
Echoeth hover still, watching to be sure a rider caught his tossed sack." 
She informs her, nodding towards where the blue's landed, his rider 
anxious with good cause - scored wingtip.

M'kla stands near Tierth...waiting for Maylia's commentary as she looks 
over the newest Fall-flying dragons.

Jayna nods, wiping her face again and smearing ash across its sweaty 
surface. "Sioneth and I are well. J'lyn took a scoring, but I guess you 
heard... No other injuries, Wingleader... Nothing serious, that is," she 
notes, promptly.

M'kla snorts, "I /see/...well...that's a lesson for him."

Namastan nods at K'gen, "It's hard to drink with a face wound," he says, 
and makes sure there's redwort.

K'gen chuckles, "Well, it was called out for.... is there anything else 
you need?"

Lorieth overhears the young man working on her rider and settles down 
close-like to make certain her rider (and the most important person in the 
world, who happen to be one and the same) isn't hurt more.

Myklan hovers nearby, watching and stuffing his hands into his trous 
pockets, chewing on his lip.

"Report the minors, then, please," Kassi replies to Jayna, before nodding 
to A'lex. "Probably is. Just don't remind *him* of that, eh?"

Alyssa's jacket finds the ground near her helmet, and within a minute's 
time she has scrubbed her arms with redwort and rubbed sweet oil along her 
hands and wrists to help tend to those dragons in need of aid.

Namastan smiles at K'gen, "Wash your hands off and redwort them, rider, 
and I'm sure Usha can put you to work." To J'lyn, the helmet is removed 
with extreeme care, "I hate to say it, wingsecond, but don't smile if you 
can help it."

"Aye, 'tis," Maylia answers M'kla. "Other than that, they flew well. Tail 
tips, here and there, the result of sloppy flying. I'll schedule the class 
for more drills, over the next sevenday. IT'll wear them out, but they'll 
survive." She likely means in the long run.

Adonith rumblechuckles and lays his head near Lorieth, protectively.

J'lyn hehs mirthlessly. "Never fear you that, puppy, if it hurts that 
badly."

K'gen nods and salutes at Namastan and goes quickly to do so, having his 
hands prepped in a jiffy.

M'kla has not, to this point, noticed her youngest out here making a 
nuiscence of himself, moving with Maylia to go and peer at S'nar's poor 
little blue's wingtip, "Aye...teach ye to not pay attention. Thread 
doesn't wait for good neat catches."

Duchov carefully cuts away the rest of teh brownrider's pantleg and 
remarks to the fellow supervising that it needs stiches. "So it does, let 
me show you how to do that, if the rider doesn't mind?" The rider smiles, 
weakly and lets his leg be a training lesson.

Telgar Weyr> Maylia peers at the spam... is the brownrider duchov's 
working on NPC, or PC?

Namastan dips a clothe in redwort and gently daps at the facial wound. 
"There's not much dirt in here, Wingsecond J'lyn. You're very lucky."

Alyssa's gaze slides toward Duchov and his work before her attention is 
garnered by the blue whose left forefoot has been sliced by Thread.

Telgar Weyr> M'kla says, "NPC apparently :)"

K'gen assists Usha as best as he can, kept busy.

Jayna nods, straightening. "One minor ash char, Kassi. The winds were a 
little unpredictable, and some of the ash was flying helter skelter, hard 
to dodge. And one blue... Ralenyth, I think it was... got a slight strap 
burn, from repeatedly having to dodge in the same direction. And the rider 
was diligent about the straps, too," she adds protectively. "I'd seen him 
working on them."

M'kla's attention gets caught by Torinth's rumble, and she looks up, to 
spot Myklan just being in the way, "Boy! Get back in the caverns and out 
of the healer's way!"

Lirra seems to be brushing off a spot on the tall bluerider's jacket 
sleeve, frowning and murmuring something about diving faster.

Myklan startles as his mother bellows at him, and lingers a few seconds 
longer, watching before he ducks back into the living cavern with obvious 
reluctance.

Myklan walks beneath the lintel and disappears into the living cavern.

Darloth rumbles a bit, looking slightly nervous.

Jayna keeps a concerned eye on the group working on J'lyn.

Kassima nods with relief, though she does seem to make mental note of 
those. "None will be kept from the air, then, if'n I don't miss 
m'guessing. Excellent. *Very* excellent." She follows Jayna's gaze, 
though, and her mouth purses.

Maylia makes her way through the bowl, beside M'kla, headed for the 
wingtipped weyrling. "Aye, lad." She nods agreement. "Thread doesn't move 
away to convenience a sack throw. That's why your mounts' ready to flame. 
Throw, and move, flame if necessary." The young blueriding weyrling looks 
aghast, and pale, though he's ignoring his own ash-burns to tend his 
dragon first, as he's been taught.

Duchov exhales slowly as he starts to numb the needle in his hands. 
"Steady and even, yes sir." Is the thread for the stiches oiled and 
prepped? "Yes sir." And Duchov holds it up for approval. At his 
supervisor's 'good good', Duchov lets the older healer begin the stiches.

A'lex turns the Firestorm stuff over to B'gee and heads inside to meet 
with M'hryn.

A'lex walks beneath the lintel and disappears into the living cavern.

K'gen slowly helps out with the injuries as much as he can, assisting, 
redworting his hands frequently as he goes.

Jayna sighs, glancing at Sioneth. "I think I need to get some clean 
clothes from my weyr, and maybe soak in the springs. Good work, Sioneth," 
she says quietly to the brown, half smiling despite her tiredness. She 
stifles a yawn, hands still gloved.

As she passes by J'lyn and those tending to him, Alyssa smiles 
supportingly to the greenrider and tells him gently, "You should have some 
of that wine," while studying what has heretofore been done to ease his 
suffering.

Namastan makes sure the wound is clean before applied the Faranth blessed 
numbweed. "You're going to need a couple stiches here, Wingsecond."

Above, Ularrith bugles a greeting to the watchdragon as he spirals past 
the Star Stones on his return from the sweeps. His wingbeats aren't nearly 
as strong and quick as usual, the Fall having taken a lot of energy out of 
him, but he still has enough strength to fly rather than glide down.

J'lyn quirks his left eyebrow at Alyssa, fearing that the right will hurt 
too much. "I need to let this young man numb me and stitch me, then I'll 
get all sauced with ya, Lys."

Nraith takes flight, using the thermals rising from the bowl to carry him 
aloft.

Ularrith backwings for a landing.

Alyssa smiles faintly and, nodding, continues along to her dragonhealing 
duties, allowing them to consume her attention for the moment.

Jayna steps onto Sioneth's foreleg and scrambles to his back.

Kassima nods to Jayna, almost absently, since she's already started her 
way towards her Wingsecond. "Name your drink of choice, and 'twill 
provide," she offers with a faint smile. "Won't have much use for the 
stuff m'self for awhile. Any word on whether 'twill be out 'tall for 
this?"

K'gen makes it over to J'lyn after assisting with the other cases and 
says, "Are you okay?"

Sioneth takes flight, using the thermals rising from the bowl to carry him 
aloft.

Duchov gulps and takes over part of the stiching, pushing it through next. 
There. He exhales a breath he didn't know he was holding. "There.." The 
supervisor nods, calling it acceptable, while the brownrider watches, 
muttering about being a test dummy. He is handed wine and promptly quiets.

Namastan gets a needle and threads it for stiching. "it won't take long. 
Has the numbweed started to kick in, Wingsecond J'lyn?"

J'lyn doesn't nod, wishing that the stitches were done. "Aye, it has. And 
K'gen, aye, I'm fine. Just the Ancient Enemy getting back a little of its 
own."

K'gen nods and stands by to hand anything to Namastan if he needs it.

Kassima departs a moment to dig about in Lysseth's strap-pouch, ostensibly 
for strong liquor. "Mart, I forget--d'you drink after Fall, or nay? And 
J'lyn, what's your drink of preference?"

Lirra makes shooing motions with her hands towards the tall bluerider, 
urging him to mount. He does so and takes off, and the small green rider 
heads to her own dragon to follow.

Lirra hops up onto Kaath's back, using her straps as handholds.

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

The tall, slender blonde presence in the guise of a dragonhealer moves 
from patient to patient in a ghostly manner, dispensing mercy and numbweed 
before flitting on to the next job. As healers go, Alyssa is as 
inobtrusive as can be.

Namastan looks at K'gen, "Would you get me," he asks, "more redwort?" The 
needle is heald aloft. "I want to be sure this is clean."

Duchov's needle is less still, as his hesitance fades with the strict 
supervision. Tying off the knot at the end of the stiches, the apprentice 
says,"You'll have to have this looked at by a healer tomorrow... These... 
aren't too tight?" The supervisor shakes his head, clapping the boy's 
shoulder. A hesitant nod, and Duchov begins to wrap a soft clothe around 
the brownrider's leg/

Atop sturdy Ularrith, M'rgan sheds his goggle and helmet before climbing 
down Ularrith's straps. The dragon is tiredly stretched out on the ground, 
his wings nestled at his back but not tightly folded. M'rgan shakes his 
head at Kassima's offer as he strips his gloves off. "I don't drink," he 
states mildly.

M'rgan hops down Ularrith's side to the ground, as the dragon rumbles 
softly.

K'gen nods and hands Namastan some, after locating the healer's bag, "Here 
you go...."

Namastan smiles at K'gen and cleans off the needle. "All right, Wingsecond 
J'lyn, this shouldn't hurt a bit." The joy of numbweed. He artfully, and 
skillfully, passes the needle through J'lyn's cheek.

Weyrlings scattered across the bowl begin migrating towards the north, 
heading for the lakeshore to cleanse the stench of firestone from their 
hides. Those that've not met with mishap, at least. The few tail-tip and 
wing-tip injuries among the weyrlings remain near the infirmary, until 
they've been tended, under Maylia's close supervision.

K'gen watches Namastan's handiwork, impressed and curious.

Kassima nods as though half-expecting that, which perhaps she was. "Didn't 
*think* so, but I've heard you ask whether there was any liquor about 
a'fore, so I thought I'd check. You and Ularrith survived intact, I take 
it?" As she speaks, she hauls a fairly good-sized black box from the 
strap-pouch, opening it to reveal a collection of small bottles of 
different liquors. These are passed out to those of her Wingmates who look 
most to need them.

Telgar Weyr> J'lyn shudders. I can feel those stitches going in...

Telgar Weyr> Myklan sighs. Poor J'lyn.

Alyssa climbs up to join Alyssa mounted on Adonith.

Adonith takes flight, using the thermals rising from the bowl to carry him 
aloft.

As he tucks his gloves under his belt and opens up his wherhide jacket, 
M'rgan gives the box in Kassima's hand a long, pointed look. "You 
shouldn't either," he observes. A glance back at his lifemate and a smile 
of affection and relief accompany his next words. "We're fine. As usual. 
Not a scratch yet." Of course M'rgan is willing to let a clump of Thread 
fall to the ground below rather than letting Ularrith stretch himself to 
reach a dangerously positioned clump so the lack of injuries is no 
surprise.

Duchov gently binds the brownrider's leg. "You flew very well," he says, 
both to the rider and the worried brown behind him. Other words like that, 
and the explanation that the wound isn't so deep as it is in an awkward 
place, Duchov manages to, in his calm way,relax the brown pair. "We'll get 
you a crutch. Stay off it for a couple days at least. The weyr healers 
will tell you when it's fine."

Telgar Weyr> Kassima belatedly thanks everyone who participated. It looked 
like y'all did great, from my Kyril-Cam. :)

Namastan swiftly stiches up J'lyn's cheek and then ties the knot off. He 
snips the thread and applies a little more numbweed. "There, shouldn't 
even scar much, sir. You're as brave as rider as any and YOU," the j'man 
looks up at the green dragon, "must be one of the most calm and trusting 
greens I've had the honor of meeting."

Kassima rolls her eyes, continuing to distribute the bottles. "I'm nay, 
Mart. You think I'd be giving these away if'n I could drink 'em? I'm nay 
philanthropist... well, good. I defy you t'say there's nay some measure of 
luck in that, though." She winks, and jerks her thumb towards Lyss. "I'm 
certain our scoreless state is more than half due t'luck, m'self."

K'gen whews and nods, "Good job, Namastan."

M'kla finally sees to the last of the clutch of weyrlings she was tending 
to, and nods to Maylia, looking to be dismissed.

Namastan smiles at K'gen, his eyes all but dissapearing in the crinkling 
smile. "I made a study of linear wounds. You've a strong stomach, maybe 
one day I'll see you doing more assisting?" The Journeyman looks over to 
check the other wounded and tsktsks. "No no...Excuse me, rider..." And 
Namastan walks over to explain that you CLEAN the wound THEN apply 
numbweed to a senior apprentice.

As the turns old argument lifts its head in front of him, M'rgan 
immediately rises to the bait and lifts his chin proudly. "It's not luck. 
It's skill. All skill." Crossing his arms in front of him he silently 
dares with a single arched eyebrow for Kassi to argue otherwise.
K'gen nods to Namastan and moves on.

Lorieth whuffles Namastan for keeping her rider happy and not hurt.

M'kla snorts as she wanders past, "Skill. Luck. Same difference..."

M'kla climbs onto Torinth's neck.

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

Duchov's patient is helped into the infirmary and then the young 
apprenitce looks at the cleared out area. "It went so fast," he murmurs to 
no one in particuular...

Maylia finally leaves the side of a young green who's rider - a short 
brunette girl - seems far more upset over the pin-hole scorings of her 
darlings' wings than the dragon herself does. A nod is given to M'kla, as 
the assistant Weyrlingmaster is spotted, a smile of gratitude making an 
appearance.

Kassima folds her own arms in perhaps conscious, perhaps unconscious 
mimicry, tilting her own chin and regarding the brownrider with amused 
eyes. "*All* skill? Everything you do? I don't *think* so, brownie. You 
may have skill in Threadfall, but with other things...." She trails off, 
shaking her head with mock-sorrow.

Usha hears Duchov's remark and pinholes him immediatly. "Idle hands lad! 
Follow me." And the apprentice is dragged off to the infermary, words of 
'scrubbing bedpans' is heard.

Duchov moves beneath the rocky overhang that protects the Infirmary 
entrance.

K'gen adds his partial mark, "There's a lot of luck in anything...."

K'gen walks beneath the lintel and disappears into the living cavern.

M'rgan waggles his eyebrows at Lysseth's rider while behind him Ularrith 
picks up on his rider's thoughts and looks appropriately smug. "But with 
the other things, *certain* other things, I've got even more skill." 
*waggle*waggle* At K'gen's comment he rolls his eyes and shouts after the 
Igen rider, "It's *all* skill."

J'lyn lightly touches the stitches in his face. "Erf, I don't like that. 
It looks all yucky, I'm sure."

Kassima's amusement increases a notch, and she doesn't even bother to 
stifle a grin. "*Do* you, now?" she drawls, pouring all the dubiousness 
she can into the phrase. After K'gen, *she* yells, "You said it, 
bluerider!"

Maylia, weyrlings dismissed for the evening, wearily heads into the sea of 
dragons and riders still in the bowl, in search of someone distributing 
wine. A double take is given to J'lyn, as she spies him. "Shells, J'lyn. 
You're alright?" She asks, the officiousness of Weyrlingmaster dropped for 
now.

"I've never heard any complaints," M'rgan comments, doing his best to 
imitate the woman's drawl. He leans back against Ularrith and just smirks 
at Kassima. Nothing like a little jibing with another person to work some 
of the post-Fall jitters off.

Kassima replies, only too glad to provide said jibing--so what else is 
new?--"Perhaps we've all just been too polite? I mean, we do have *some* 
sense of kindness, after all. Buried deep in our wicked greenrider hearts 
somewhere." Lysseth seems to be finding this nearly as amusing as her 
rider, rumblechuckling wickedly while her eyes whirl bright blue.

J'lyn picks up a skin of wine that some angel left beside him. "I think 
I'm gonna go up to my weyr and drown my sorrows in this," he looks at the 
label, "Benden Red." Waving, he gets up on Lorieth and goes up.

J'lyn uses Lorieth's forelimb as a step and seats himself between the 
green's neckridges.

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

Despite Kassima's words, the smirk never wavers on M'rgan's face. He 
merely leans forward to whisper something to Kassima. In fact, if anything 
his smirk seems to grow ever wider.

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

Darloth takes flight, using the thermals rising from the bowl to carry him 
aloft.

The phrase Wicked Greenrider Hearts seems to draw Maylia's attention like 
a magnet. But the look she gives the pregnant Wingleader is a wary one. 
Only a fool wouldn't.

Did the tips of Kassi's ears redden just a touch? Nah. Must've been a 
trick of the light. Her own grin is taking on a hint of the smirkish as 
she replies, oozing innocence, "Why, I do believe that was you, Mart. 
Don't you remember?" Her turn to waggle eyebrows.

"Me?" Brownriders have the copyright on innocence, not greenriders, as 
M'rgan tries to show. "I don't think so. I'm not much of a talker." 
Swiftly turning around as he doesn't dare continue this conversation any 
further for fear that Kena will come walking up, he gives Ularrith's side 
an affectionate slap. "I'd better get the lump scrubbed before he falls 
asleep. I'll talk to you later, Kassi."

Kassima snorts, then laughs, unfolding her arms to take hold of one of 
Lysseth's straps. The black liquor box seems to have disappeared sometime 
during the verbal fray. "Be sure of it, Mart. After all, you know what 
they say about greenriders: you can run, but you can't hide... and let's 
face it; you really can't even run."

Maylia finally gets her hands on a wineskin, and breaks the seal with 
ease. Despite her trepidation at /anything/ involving quiet murmurings 
between M'rgan and Kassima, she heads their way. Curiosity killed the 
greenrider.

"Now why would I run from you, Kassi?" Not wanting to hear a litany of 
horrors she's capable of doing to his person to give him a reason to run, 
M'rgan wisely clambers up Ularrith's straps after making that comment, 
pulling himself out of the fray. With a wave and a smile he calls down to 
Maylia, "Have a good evening, /weyrlingmaster/," and directs Ularrith 
rise.

M'rgan hops up onto Ularrith's back, as the dragon rumbles softly.
Maylia offers a salute to the brownrider, seated high on Ularrith's 
ridges. "Good evening to you," She calls, before turning her curious gaze 
on her mentor. "Uh-huh?" she asks. Nosey? her?

Darloth backwings for a landing.

Kassima does indeed begin that litany, but breaks off with a mock-pout as 
the brownrider runs away. Brave Sir M'rgan ran away, bravely (and wisely) 
ran away, away. "Clear skies, chicken!" she calls up after him.

K'gen walks beneath the lintel and disappears into the living cavern.

Kassima then lifts her brows at Maylia, the very picture of angelicness. 
Butter wouldn't melt in her mouth. "What? Is something amiss?"

Maylia chuckles softly, shaking her head. "Nothing, mentor-mine," She 
answers, her own brows lowered somewhat suspiciously. For now, the wine in 
her hand's ignored in favour of juicier topics. "I just get concerned for 
m'life when I see you conspiring, is all."

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

"Conspiring! *Us*?" Oh, Kassi can do affronted innocence very well, when 
she has a mind to. "Nay, nay, May, you've got it all wrong. We plot 
against each other, nay together."

"Sure," Maylia drawls. "I'll believe that when wherries flee, flying 
upside down." Of course, this isn't aided by a ruckous in the feeding 
grounds - a hungry blue sending wherries flying in all manners.

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

K'gen waves as he climbs up on Darloth.

Darloth takes flight, using the thermals rising from the bowl to carry him 
aloft.

Kassima abandons the pretense of innocence, in order to be evil. She has 
good priorities, after all. "Actually," she drawls, "we were discussing 
his sexual prowess." That'll teach May to be curious.

Maylia coughs, but attempts to disguise it in a sip from her wineskin, 
brows raised nearly to her hairline. That'll teach her, for certain. 
"Well, I'm sure you'd know about that far more than I would, Kassi," she 
finally answers.

Kassima does redden slightly--reflex, you know--but admits, "Oh, probably. 
But just wait; I'm certain Ularrith will catch Tierth sooner or later, and 
mayhaps then we can compare notes. Meli mentioned the idea of gathering 
all the femaleriders whose dragons Ularrith has caught and discussing the 
matter someday." Now there's a cheerful thought.

Maylia frowns slightly, not disapprovingly, just contemplatively. 
"Perhaps, though she's not shown a particular preference for browns," she 
jests, as though Tierth's ever /let/ herself be caught by any male by 
choice.

Kassima grins and advises, "She's young, yet... give her time." This from 
the lofty vantage point of seven more Turns riding experience and just a 
few more flights. "Lyss was only caught by blues until her fourth, after 
all. And speaking of which, she and I need t'get some sleep. Clear skies 
and suchlike, eh?"

Maylia nods, heading for her own green. "Aye, clear skies." She calls. 
"Must get Tierth cleaned, and the weyrlings settled before I listen to my 
bed calling."

You place one hand on Lysseth's neck and she warbles down at you fondly. 
You grin and scratch her eyeridges once before climbing up onto her lower 
neckridges, using the riding straps and Lysseth's thoughtfully offered 
foreleg.

<*> Lysseth spreads her wings to their full extent, bringing them down 
with a rush of wind as she leaps nimbly into the air.

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