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Moonflame Wing's First Threadfall


Date:  April 1, 1999
Places:  Telgar Weyr's Southern Bowl and Airspace; Air 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:  The time has come, the WLM said, to fly with Telgar's
Wings, with gallant hearts and firestone sacks, which the good rider
flings.  Moonflame Wing, the latest (and newly-graduated) Weyrling Wing 
of Telgar, flies resupply in Fall for the first time, prompting at least
one call of "Bomb's away!"  And afterwards, of course, is the time for
Wingleaders to descend like vultures... and Kassi picks out one 
particular carcass--err, new rider--for Thunderbolt.  All in all, it
was a good Fall, and many thanks are due to those who made it 
possible. :)

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The Log:

You backwing for a landing on sands of the bowl.

You slide off of Lysseth's neck to land beside her easily. She rumbles, 
cocking her head down at you, and you rub her eyeridges gratefully.

Meli slips smoothly down from Juliath's neck to her foreleg and to the 
ground, giving her a gentle caress.

S'dar walks out of the records cavern.

Juliath whuffs at the studly bronze.

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

S'dar wanders out, cheerful as always, but his mind looks somewhat 
preoccupied. "Good afternoon," he bids as he wanders over to Chezroth.

K'dar checks over Leventh's straps once more before heading for the 
firestone himself. "Afternoon, all"

Meli settles Juliath into Shadowflame's section of the bowl, instantly 
turning to call out orders to her wing as she checks Juliath's straps and 
gives her a good looking over.

M'rgan slings a few firestone sacks over each shoulder before trudging 
back across the bowl to join his lifemate. While he was away a few more 
Skyfire dragons landed in their section of the bowl and his eyes scan 
each one with a critical eye, making sure that all are ready for the 
Fall.

Kassima swings down from her lifemate's neck, the green having parked 
herself neatly at the point of Thunderbolt's forming formation. "Looking 
good," she shouts to her Wingmates. "Grab plenty of stone sacks; you know 
the drill!" She heads to take her own advice, hefting two sacks of 
smallish medium sized stone over her shoulders.

Dossa stands at the ring of activity, watching with clasped hands. Her 
gaze drifts to the sacks of firestone, watching as the supply is 
replenished by nearby drudges.

K'dar grunts as he lifts some sacks himself, heading for Leventh. 
Grinning, he says to his wingleader, "Here I was, hoping that the rain 
would continue just one more day..."

Meli pulls her gloves from her belt, snugging them securely on her hands 
before she heads off to collect some sacks as well. En route, she yells a 
word here and there to Shadowflame.

Telgar Weyr> Meli idles briefly.... assume Sflame is being obnoxious and 
unruly. ;)

Telgar Weyr> Syri arches a brow.

Telgar Weyr> Trila doesn't wanna know.

"Rain always senses an upcoming Fall," M'rgan replies back, his voice a 
near grunt as well as he's burdened under the heavy sacks of stone. "No 
change to the formation, by the way. Only Rilana's blue is still out and 
since we've been drilling without him as it is it doesn't affect the 
formation. We'll start off in the forward V. If you could pass that 
along."

Dagazth lumbers north.

K'dar nods. "Will do," he replies simply. "Faranth only knows Lev'll be 
talking to them all anyway.." The brownrider grins at a protesting rumble. 
"Well, you always are, lout."

Kassima pulls her sacks of stone open, bringing out chunks and tossing 
them neatly to Lysseth, who crunches them with a sound not unakin to that 
of someone eating Pringles. "Good lass," Kassi tells her green, giving the 
dragon's shoulder an affectionate slug. "S'cot, you're going t'be needing 
more 'stone than just that! Faranth's fecud feces, lad, where's your 
*mind*? Honestly. R'huen, toss him an extra sack, would you?" Mutter, 
headshake, grumble. She claims two more sacks for herself, and works on 
securing them to her dragon's neck.

Dossa spots a young drudge girl having difficulty balancing a large box of 
healing supplies, and rushes over to help her. "Here, let me carry that, 
dear," Dossa says to the grateful girl, who smiles and runs off to 
complete more of her pre-Fall tasks. Dossa turns to look around, and then 
looks woefully lost. "I have no idea where this goes," she grumbles to 
herself.

M'rgan bobs his thanks to K'dar before veering away from the man and 
joining his lifemate who is still lounging on the floor of the bowl, idly 
chewing. A *scritch* and a *crunch* from Ularrith now and then shows that 
he's found a bit of firestone between his teeth to munch on. Dropping the 
firestone sacks at his feet, M'rgan sets to fixing Ularrith's fighting 
straps, adjusting the buckles and bracing.

Dagazth lumbers here from the north.

R'yn walks here from the north.

Ansuth lumbers here from the north.

Trila walks here from the north.

"Jays," Trila murmurs softly, high-tailing it into the bowl on the heels 
of R'yn and Dagazth, Ansuth on her way in, too. "G'day," she adds.

Dossa sets the heavy box of healing supplies down, and scratches her head, 
looking bewildered. She spots Dagazth's huge shape coming near and smiles, 
seeing R'yn nearby. Finally, she notices a small cluster of journeymen 
healers, and hauls the heavy box over to them.

K'dar extends his hand to Leventh, who snuffles up the first bit of 
firestone. As the brown is chewing, his rider begins attaching other sacks 
of firestone to the straps, clambering over a helpfully extended foreleg. 
Absently, he waves to the arriving ex-weyrlings

Syri walks here from the north.

Hagalath lumbers here from the north.

"No no no!!" Meli yells as she drops her sacks near Juliath's head. "Set 
up in th'altered formation, th'one we went over yesterday!" Several rider 
and dragon pairs in Shadowflame glance about and start maneuvering to 
their proper positions.

R'yn salutes out of habit to everyone and immediately starts to work on 
the extra sacks of firestone that need to be loaded.

M'rgan checks several times with his lifemate as he adjusts the dragon's 
straps. Only when Ularrith responds with a bright rumblewhuffle does his 
hands drop away from the lengths of leather. "Now for the stone." Scooping 
up two of the sacks, the brownrider clambers up the dragon's straps to 
carefully clip the sacks of 'stone to the D-rings near where he normally 
sits.

Kassima tugs the last fastening into place, checks the last buckle, then 
steps away from her dragon and begins to walk briskly down the length of 
her Wing's formation--eyeing each rider's straps, and pausing an extra 
moment or speak with those most recently back from the inactive list. 
"If'n Servoth shows the least sign of favoring that wing, C'row, I want 
t'know about it at once. I've told Jal t'be keeping his eye on you."

Trila stifles a grin as she offers a last pat to Ansuth, followiung R'yn 
to'ards firestone, bagging neatly.

Hagalath crunches firmly, his wings tucked down around his hunched 
shoulders as he dips his head for another lump of stone. Already the 
rumblings in his belly with the gas production are clearly audible, but 
only when he pauses in his chewing. Syri tosses up another lump, snapped 
sharply out of the air.

Dossa walks over to where R'yn is bagging, and smiles at him. "Nervous?" 
She asks him quietly.

M'rgan jumps up onto Ularrith's back, using his foreleg as a step.

R'yn smiles at Dossa, "Nervous?! Nawwww." he responds as any typical male 
would. With a huff, he lifts up another sack to get it fastened onto a 
D-ring for Dagazth. "So what are they having you work on?"

Meli returns to Juliath, beginning the slow process of feeding her 'stone, 
Meli's face taking on a characteristic scowl as she helps her lifemate 
concentrate on her second stomach.

Leventh chews, eyes slowing as he concentrates on the task at hand. 
Finally, the stone is crunched to dust, and he turns his head for the 
next. His rider is caught by surprise, scrambling down and providing 
another with a grin

Dossa shrugs lightly. "Wherever I can help. I don't like to flame, because 
I can't keep up with everyone else. So I'll be helping here. Bagging, 
healing supplies, whichever." She smiles sadly. "I want you and Dagazth 
home in once piece, R'yn."

Trila hefts, ties, fastens, methodically, orderly, Ansuth obliging by 
crouching low and watching, with slowly whirling eyes tinged with 
curiousity.

S'dar watches over those riders that were once Weyrlings... they're full 
riders now, but he still can't help but poke his nose into how they're 
doing. Still, he lets them work autonomously unless they have questions of 
him.

Syri strike that, reversits, and with Hagalath hovering in his protective 
way, carts sacks of 'stone about to those that need them, her jaw set and 
grim.

Atop sturdy Ularrith, M'rgan, after attaching the last 'stone sacks to the 
straps - he always has Ularrith fly with more firestone than necessary -, 
remains perched atop the dragon's neck, his gaze torn between an 
examination of the former weyrlings and ensuring that everything is 
going well with Skyfire. He twists and turns in his seat, peering all 
about.

R'yn stops for just a moment. "Don't worry bout us. We will be just fine. 
Dagazth here is in good hands with me, and I'm in good wings with him." he 
manages a nervous wink to the girl.

Dossa bites her lower lip, but nods at R'yn and forces a smile. "All 
right. Just... take care." She moves to take a step back, but falters 
somewhat, glancing from R'yn to his lifemate and back again.

Maylia walks here from the north.

Once Juliath is prepared, Meli walks back to confer with her wingseconds 
on the weather and terrain they'll be facing.

Trila lifts a hand, shoving back an errant curl 'fore hefting final sack 
of stone, balancing it neatly to tie, tug, and fasten. Bada bing, bada 
boom -- and they're done.

S'dar smiles reassuringly at the recently graduated Weyrlings.

Maylia heads into the southern area of the bowl, cajoling weyrlings of 
Beneth's clutch into assisting. "Moonflame!" She calls. "The wings leave 
soon! Hustle it up!"

K'dar feeds Leventh one last bit of stone, then eyes the brown carefully. 
Satisfied, he hops up again, settling down and strapping in before pulling 
on his flying helmet. Both brown and rider look to M'rgan for 
instructions

K'dar hops up onto Leventh's back, the dragon's sparkling eyes watching 
closely.

Th'lon walks here from the north.

Kassima finishes her inspection of her ranks, gives a satisfied nod to 
J'lyn, and reaches for Lysseth's straps in preparation to swing herself 
aboard. "Mount up!" she bellows to Thunderbolt in best Wingleader tones... 
read, *loud*.

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.

<*> Algizth lumbers here from the north.

<*> Syri hoists another sack up to a waiting rider and whirls back to 
stalk toward the piles, her blue trailing after. She darts a look at him, 
and he raises his head to examine the others of Moonflame with a duty-
calls kind of expression.

<*> R'yn smiles at her, but before anything else can happen between the 
two, Dagazth lets out a rumble. R'yn looks back at Dagazth, "Oh yes!" He 
starts to feed Dagazth firestone, letting the big brown slowly chew and 
swallow, chew and swallow.

Dragon> Telgar Weyrlings sense that Hagalath inquires of the Moonflamers, 
<< All is well? All others are prepared to flame, no more need 
firestone? >>

<*> Dossa backs off reluctantly, and retreats quickly to help with hauling 
healer supplies.

<*> Th'lon runs in late, pulling his riding jacket and gloves on as he 
makes his way across the bowl.

<*> Meli finishes her conference, then jogs back to Juliath, giving her 
wing the signal to mount before she does so herself.

<*> Meli climbs smoothly up Juliath's extended foreleg and settles herself 
between the neck ridges, as the green gives a welcome rumble from deep in 
her throat.

Dragon> Telgar Weyrlings sense that Ansuth idly adds his query, mind 
reaching out to soothe, comfort; though at the same time it tingles with 
excitement as he wonders: << All are ready? You have done your jobs? >>

<*> Atop sturdy Ularrith, M'rgan flashes his arms through the air to get 
his wingseconds attention. Once their eyes are on him he makes the form up 
gesture while shouting the words and the command ripples down the ranks. 
Skyfire dragons begin to rise to their feet and shift positions. Ularrith 
ends up behind the bronzes on the left flank, one slightly larger brown in 
front of him.

Dragon> Telgar Weyrlings sense that Dagazth simply relays, <<I chew.>>

<*> Syri dusts off her gloves, pulled up well over her elbows for 
protection's sake. She shoves her hair back off her forehead and yanks her 
helmet out of her belt to pull it on and fasten it. Hagalath dips his head 
to nip up another of the 'stones she's set aside for him, his eyes 
whirling quick and steady, excitement and concentration.

<*> R'yn looks back to return his attention to Dossa, but she is gone. He 
lets out a sigh and returns to preparations.

<*> Ansuth lowers his head, parting his maw and accepting the stone Trila 
feeds, munching lightly and swallowing, rumbling lightly as he prepares. 
Trila smiles dutifully, sending a gaze over the rest of Moonflame before 
relaying up another piece. Gloves are pulled on as the blue chews, and 
hair is tugged up in a wild sweep of curls, tied together with an elastic 
'fore tugging on the helmet. That done, more firestone's relayed to her 
ready blue.

Kassima settles back on Lysseth's ridges, pulling her goggles down over 
her eyes. The green, muscles tensed, lashes her tail with impatience as 
she waits the cue to fly--an impatience echoed by several more dragons 
down the Thunderbolt line. The formation steadies into solidity at a 
silent command from the leading greens.

<*> Astride Juliath, Meli licks her lips, then unhooks her helmet from her 
belt and tugs it onto her head, tucking wisps of hair under the wherhide. 
Goggles she leaves for now on her forehead, as Shadowflame lines up and 
then all eyes center on M'rgan and Ularrith.

<*> Th'lon grunts with the effort of trying to carry too many sacks of 
firestone at once to Algizth. He looks up at the bronze who is swallowing 
a chunk of stone, quickly popping another smaller chunk into the waiting 
maw before beginning the task of securing the extra bags for resupply to 
his riding straps.

<*> Maylia moves amongst the preparing riders, snagging moonflame riders 
as they dash past her. "When you're ready, get your lifemates prepared." 
Are her instructions to them, and nervous recent weyrlings dash off to do 
so.

<*> R'yn finishes attaching the last of the sacks to Dagazth for 
re-supply, then mounts up while getting his helmet fastened.

<*> Atop sturdy Ularrith, From M'rgan's back, Phenix spreads her wings and 
dives from the narrow ledges on the wall.

Dragon> Telgar Weyrlings sense that Hagalath takes his duties seriously, 
certainly; even while chewing -- which echoes through his thoughts, as 
well -- he keeps watch, and leaves a mild inquiry hanging, status 
required.

<*> Algizth rumbles deep in his chest, looking between the sky and the 
other dragons scattered about with slowly whirling yellow-tinged eyes as 
his rider pulls on the last of his gear and mounts up.

<*> Ansuth snaps up yet another piece of stone, excitement building in 
demeanor, manner, tail flicking furiously even as he chews obediently, 
Trila patting him lightly on the neck.

<*> R'yn hops up Dagazth's foreleg nimbly to find his place between his 
neckridges.

<*> Th'lon vaults to Algzith's neck, settling between the high neckridges.

Dragon> Telgar Weyrlings sense that Ansuth is still ready -- even more so 
now, silvers and ices faded in favor of the crimson of excitement. << I am 
ready. >>

<*> Trila lays a hand on Ansuth's deep-blue neck and, with a foreleg, 
vaults on up with a smile.

<*> Lysseth gives a deep-throated rumble, swallowing the very last of her 
stone. "Patience, Sky-Lady," Kassi murmurs, stroking the dragon's neck 
soothingly. "We'll be kicking Thread's arse soon enough." Pause. "Nay that 
Thread *has* an arse."

<*> Atop sturdy Ularrith, M'rgan scans the formation around him before 
lifting his fist high into the air. Suddenly he pumps it as Ularrith gives 
the Skyfire dragons the command to rise and the bronzes immediately in 
front of them lift into the air.

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

<*> 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.

<*> Leventh rises up from the bowl.

<*> Juliath rises up from the bowl.

<*> The Skyfire dragons maintain their forward V formation as the rise 
higher into the air, making space for the dragons still on the ground.

<*> Ularrith flies up and out of the bowl.

<*> Leventh flies up and out of the bowl.

The rim of the bowl falls away from you and you soar into the open skies.

<*> Juliath flies up from the northern half of the bowl.

Dragon> Threadfall Comm sense that Ularrith sends the image of Bitra Hold 
that his rider has provided him with.

<*> Lysseth and Thunderbolt follow suit, soaring into the sky in a V of 
burnished bronze, gleaming brown, shimmering blue, and brilliant green, 
with one dark and one jade green at the fore. Kassi keeps her eyes trained 
on the Fall-leader, awaiting the signal to jump *between*.

Dragon> Algizth bespoke Telgar Weyrlings with << We are ready. >>

<*> Ularrith disappears into Between.

<*> Leventh disappears into Between.

<*> Juliath disappears into Between.

<*> Lysseth disappears into Between.

Between
You gasp as the icy black nothingness of Between surrounds you! You hear 
nothing, see nothing, and feel nothing. The trip takes five heartbeats...
Black...
Blacker...
Blackest!

You suddenly emerge...

<*> Lysseth emerges from Between with a blast of cold air!

Dragon> Telgar Weyrlings sense that Hagalath checks, one and another, 
until he's marked in mind each and every member of the wing.

<*> Leventh emerges from *Between*, almost palpably relieved at the lack 
of clouds. The brown maintains his position just inside of Skyfire's 
greens. With his ledgemate's rider still weyrbound, that's one fewer thing 
for his rider to think about... not that you'd know there are any 
distractions at all, the way the two are flying.

<*> Solarith emerges from Between with a blast of cold air!

<*> Kvasith emerges from Between with a blast of cold air!

<*> Ularrith's and M'rgan's heads swing around at the same time to examine 
the formation of dragons streaming behind them. Minor shifts take place 
along the lengths of Skyfire dragons as they tighten the formation.

<*> As Telgars' wings arrive over Bitra's skies, an oily grey slick mars 
the northeastern skies. The day is bright, sunshine lightly touching the 
valley and rivers below, sparkling off mountain peaks.

Dragon> Threadfall Comm sense that Juliath forwards a ready indication 
from Shadowflame, as the wing finds its place in the sky and prepares to 
meet the oncoming wave of Thread.

<*> Lysseth arrives in a puff of logic and a burst of cold air, wings 
stretched wide to cup the winds and make them hers. A resounding roar of 
fury escapes her throat at the sight of the Thread-mar *just* out of 
reach, one echoed by similar roars or bugles of challenge depending on the 
dragon. Kassi spends only a second looking back over the formation; it's 
flawless, and they are ready.

Telgar Weyr> S'dar says, "Falls are always exciting :)"

<*> Comfortably mounted on Solarith, T'saren looks back to check 
Dawnslight's formation as they come out of *between*, then nods to himself 
and gives the 'all ready' signal to M'rgan before turning back to watch 
the eastern skies for the impending glimmer of silver.

Dragon> Threadfall Comm sense that Lysseth seconds the signal of readiness 
wordlessly, tense eagerness winding its way through her mindtone in 
streaks of fiery blood-carmine.

<*> Shadowflame, for its part, brooks no challenge to the approaching 
silver, the somewhat smaller wing holding up its auxiliary position in 
near silence, near imobility, with just the passing clouds to mark their 
momentum through the sky.

<*> An ill-timed swerve by a Starblaze blue causes a large clump to filter 
past he and his rider. Leventh is the closest to the rapidly-falling 
tangle.

<*> On Leventh, K'dar drops low over Leventh's neckridges, as the pair 
spot the clump. A pale tongue of flame appears around the great teeth, as 
the brown closes on his first clump of the ancient enemy for this fall. A 
pass and a sheet of flame, and only dust is left to fall on to Bitra's 
fields

Dragon> Telgar Weyrlings sense that Hagalath steadies, waiting as well, 
and 'listens.' There is little point, after all, to going until battle is 
engaged and supplies run low. He snaps another check, testing each 
Moonflamer in turn. << All bags are tied closely, straps checked, flame 
ready? >>

<*> Ularrith's inborn eagerness is displayed in the constant surge and ebb 
of his forward push after he catches sight of the approaching silver 
curtain. He buglesnarls as the battle is joined, his instincts taking over 
immediately.

Dragon> Dagazth bespoke Telgar Weyrlings with << Bags ready, straps 
checked, flame ready. I am ready. >>

<*> Solarith gives a bugle of warning as the first tangles of thread begin 
descending suddenly, letting a small jet of flame trickle from his maw 
before waiting for his turn in the battle.

<*> A large, thick clump is split in twain by a sudden gust, which sends 
one half veering towards Ularrith, and the other zooming rapidly nearer to 
green Lysseth.

Dragon> Telgar Weyrlings sense that Algizth responds quickly, though his 
tone impatient his training prevailing as he awaits, << I have flame in my 
belly and my rider says everything is tied securely. We are ready. >>

<*> Lysseth is anything but upset to see the leading edge finally within 
reach of dragonflame--she's ready to fight, more than ready! Her wingbeats 
quicken, her increasing speed urging her Wing onward as well, towards 
where the ancient enemy is falling. Flame blossoms from several throats 
towards the head of the formation--including Lysseth's--to wrap the Thread 
in tendrils of flame, an embrace which leaves the silvery coils only 
blackened crackdust.

Telgar Weyr> Kassima waits to see whether the @emitter will declare war on 
Mart again. ;)

<*> 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 Skyfire's 
Leventh.

<*> Kvasith glides easily as he awaits the threat of thread. He snarls his 
threat.

Telgar Weyr> T'saren chuckles. Looks like it's going to be a war on K'dar, 
actually. ;)

<*> As his rider bends over his neck at his mental warning, Ularrith 
suddenly banks, veering off to chase the straying clump. His wings just 
start to fall into the airspace of the brown on his left flank when a ball 
of flame bursts from his wide maw. The force of his fire is so strong that 
first it breaks the clump into two before turning the silver lengths to 
char, the cloud of dust drifting over the dragons on the left.

Dragon> Telgar Weyrlings sense that Hagalath readies, rises, and requires 
attention. << We go. Rise to formation, three lines as instructed. >> He 
lists off each dragon in turn, instructing them to positions.

<*> Leventh roars, turning his head to incinerate the clump that dared to 
injure a /brown/. That clump is made ash, but another coming fast ahead 
requires the pair to blink between, allowing their nearest wingmate to 
flame through their position

<*> Solarith lets out a burst of flame to char a strand of thread that 
drifts towards him, leaving only ash to rain down to the ground.

<*> When dragon meets Thread, only one will survive the encounter 
unscathed; which it will be as a large clump falls perilously near 
Lysseth's green shoulder remains to be seen.

Dragon> Telgar Weyrlings sense that Hagalath runs down the 'list' of 
Moonflame, adding in, << Dagazth flies with Rinath's line. Meara, Trila. 
Th'lon, here. >> He finishes off, then quiets--

<*> The leading edge finally reaches Juliath and the rest of Shadowflame, 
and the wing quickly begins its task of annihilating the offending 
substance, ash beginning to fill the otherwise pleasant sky, serving as a 
dusky backdrop for gouts of orange and yellow flame.

<*> Lysseth intends it to be *she* who'll fly home with nary a mark on her 
hide, thank you, and twists in her flight-path to meet the clump head-on 
with another whiplash of flame. Even as Kassi ducks the cinders, Lyss 
banks back to the formation, just in time to greet another tangle with a 
most incindiery salutation.

Dragon> Telgar Weyrlings sense that Hagalath checks the lines, then 
steadies his wings to soaring position and instructs, << We go to 
Bitra. >> He snaps up a crisp image of their destination, checking for 
readiness. << All remember that? >>

<*> Though a blue at the foremost lines of formation targets a clump of 
Thread with accuracy and skill, the tangle is too large for his burst of 
flame to eradicate. Half-charred remains drift past, very near to brown 
Kvasith, as the front-line blue catches his breath enough to bugle a 
warning.

<*> Kvasith shifts easily as he breaks off from his wing towards a stray 
clump. He blows a heavy blast of flame towards it, turning the entire 
thing to ash.

Dragon> Telgar Weyrlings sense that Dagazth  returns the message, <<I 
remember>> along with the image that was sent to him.

Dragon> Telgar Weyrlings sense that Ansuth parrots the image back, more to 
make sure it's accurate for others than to check it.

<*> Leventh and his rider reappear almost exactly in formation, rumbling a 
thank-you to their obliging green wingmate before being swept up in the 
'fall again

Dragon> Telgar Weyrlings sense that Hagalath acknowledges the return 
images. << My lifemate reminds that we fly resupply; you flame ONLY if 
Thread comes for you when you go to a rider with sacks, or falls to strike 
you. >> He pauses, holding the image steady, then says, << We go! >>

<*> Hagalath emerges from Between with a blast of cold air!

<*> Algizth emerges from Between with a blast of cold air!

<*> Dagazth emerges from Between with a blast of cold air!

<*> 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.

<*> Ansuth emerges from Between with a blast of cold air!

<*> Hagalath checks his airspace, then over the three lines that snap into 
being behind, one headed by himself, the others by Saskia and Rinath, and 
Trila and Ansuth. All accounted for, he turns his attention forward again 
and leads the resupply wing up to take their positions and wait for their 
signals.

Telgar Weyr> Meli says, "Well, gosh, Jul and I have it easy it seems. :)"

"Tighten up that left flank!" Kassima roars to her Wingmates, as a glance 
over her shoulder proves a pair of blueriders to be a smidgeon out of 
place--but one enough so that a tangle fell through his position. The 
distraction causes her to be unmercifully jolted by Lysseth's next 
maneuver: the green's wings snap out to full length and push down once, 
sending her arrowing for a patch of spore. Whoosh! Ash feathers across the 
warm wind, some sprinkling her hide, but she takes no note of this new 
decoration, preferring to keep her attention on the Thread that falls more 
and more thickly as the Fall progresses.

Telgar Weyr> Kassima grins at Meli. You're just asking for the @emitter to 
name you in the next three @emits. ;)

<*> Algizth roars mightily as he see's thread for the first time. The 
ancient enemy stirring up feelings of wrath in him he never knew existed. 
Fighting the urge to go flame the tendrils to a crisp, he banks slightly 
to ease neatly into position with the rest of his wingmates.

<*> Solarith waits until Kvasith is back in formation before peeling away 
from the tip of Dawnslight's V to take up a trailing spot for a few 
passes. Once there, he attacks a stray clump of silver death mercilessly, 
breathing out a gout of roiling flame that sends the entire bunch of 
thread crisping to its death.

<*> Ansuth swivels his head, eyeing Isath and Meara only briefly to rumble 
an unspoken command, his line tightening up 'fore he hovers, waiting.

<*> The almost hypnotic, spiralling shapes of separate Threads can be made 
out within the loosely-packed tangle that is heading in Kassima and green 
Lysseth's direction with considerable speed.

<*> Ularrith bellows a cry to Leventh as he rises towards the smaller of 
the clumps, his wings beating furiously. The clump seems to be targeting 
his shoulder and the more he banks the more it twists as well. When the 
tendril starts to lick at his brown flesh the dragon suddenly goes 
*between* letting it fall to the dragons behind him. Three heartbeats 
later Ularrith pops back into the formation from *between*, unhurt.

<*> With a roar, a blue at the edge of Shadowflame pops into *between*, 
the last of his flame dotting the sky a moment after he himself has 
disappeared. An eyeblink later, blue and rider re-emerge, the clump they'd 
jumped to dodge now a casualty of the ongoing battle.

<*> Nestled 'tween Ansuth's midnight 'ridges, Trila sucks in a breath at 
Ularrith's disappearance -- which doesn't let out until the brown is seen 
again. Ansuth is stolid. As ever.

Dragon> Telgar Weyrlings sense that Hagalath marks approval of the 
formation crispness, even his sendings clipped and sharp with the need to 
convey as quickly as possible. << Algizth, >> he directs. << Darrath's 
rider signals. >>

<*> A medium-sized mass of silver Thread strands falls slowly towards 
brown Ularrith, wafted about by the winds to make its precise path 
unpredictable.

<*> Lysseth bugles a warning to her rider, who bites back an oath and 
ducks closer to her dragon's neck--less resistance for Lyss as the green 
veers in an attempt to catch this incoming cluster. Half meets dragonfire 
and is in the process destroyed, but half remains, and Lysseth must dart 
*between* to save her wing a scoring. The unharmed portion falls to C'row 
and Servoth, and Lysseth's muted roar upon returning is one of great 
frustration.

<*> Leventh turns at Ullarith's call, and a billow of flame shoots out. A 
second or two of heat, and the clump which had threatened so much is so 
much dust in the wind. Leventh turns his head for more firestone. It is 
supplied, but it depletes a bag, and K'dar looks to find the nearest 
resupply

Telgar Weyr> M'rgan thinks it hates me.

Telgar Weyr> Syri agrees. ;)

Telgar Weyr> M'rgan says, "Feel free to ask the weyrlings for resupply, PC 
riders. :)"

<*> At the rightmost tip of the Thunderbolt V, two riders of the smaller, 
more agile greens who've used up a lot of flame in catching what was 
missed by their less maneuverable brethren signal the resupply Wing for 
more stone.

<*> Teiwazth emerges from Between with a blast of cold air!

<*> Astride Juliath, Meli controls her wing with a combination of yells, 
hand signals, and projections from her lifemate, as the pair dance and 
twist and flame. A bank, a fast downward stroke of wingsails, a bellow... 
and they return to formation to wait for the next threat.

<*> Kvasith winks between as a clump flies too close to him and his rider. 
As they return the brown follows through catching the thread into a little 
more than char. Its at this time Aurian raises her hand signaling for a 
weyrling pair to resupply.

<*> Suddenly, a warning is cried out from above! A half-charred tangle of 
Thread falls with alarming speed towards brown Leventh and wingmates, 
helped along its way by a freak gust of wind.

<*> Chezroth emerges from Between with a blast of cold air!

Telgar Weyr> Kassima thinks it just hates browns. ;)

Dragon> Telgar Weyrlings sense that Ansuth rumbles, command stern, swift: 
<< Teiwazth. Kvasith's rider needs more firestone. >>

<*> Atop sturdy Ularrith, M'rgan grabs a tighter hold on his lifemate's 
straps, his curse at the vagaries of Fall going unheard in the wind. This 
time though it's a simple matter as Ularrith only has to target the clump 
for a few seconds before the silver menace almost lazily drifts into his 
reach. With a puff of orange flame the clump is turned into ash. Ash that 
quickly covers M'rgan's face and goggles.

Telgar Weyr> Aurian says, "Browns and leventh"

Telgar Weyr> Aurian corrects herself, "Reachian browns."

<*> Astride Algizth, Th'lon acknowledges Syri with a wave as he and 
Algizth break formation and wing up just above one of the Shadowflame 
riders. Quickly unhooking a sack, Th'lon deftly flips it to Darrath's 
rider before dropping slowly back into position in his wing.

<*> On Leventh, K'dar glances up, quickly judging the speed of the clump. 
With a curse that should, if there were any justice, fry the Thread all on 
its own. He and Leventh disappear between, again allowing their wingmates 
to clear up the Thread that would have injured them

<*> Solarith pulls up and out of the trailing position to resume his place 
at the forefront of the Dawnslight Wing, just as his rider tosses him the 
last bit of 'stone from his lefthand sack. The pair blink *between* to 
avoid three patches of thread whipped at them by a blue going by in the 
next tier above, then reappear quickly, T'saren waving his arm in the 
signal for a fresh sack of 'stone.

Dragon> Telgar Weyrlings sense that Hagalath catches T'saren's signal and 
snaps it to Rinath, who relays to the nearest. << R'yn, Solarith. >>

<*> A scream of pain from above serves as a warning as a Starblaze blue 
disappears into *between*, his wingtip scored. What Thread does not go 
*between* with him continues its descent towards K'dar and Leventh.

Telgar Weyr> K'dar really hopes he's getting double-marks for this fall, 
let me tell you...

Telgar Weyr> T'saren laughs! Did you buy a new cologne, K'dar? Something 
with thread pheremones in it? ;)

Kassima opens one of Lysseth's spare sacks, tossing the chunks of stone 
into the green's maw; Lyss darts and veers to avoid Thread while crunching 
the new 'stone, and attacks it with renewed vengeance once her furnace is 
sufficiently stoked. With all the flakes of ash flying down out of the 
sky, you'd almost think the dragons had dandruff or something. The other 
members of the wing dip, swerve, and flame similarly, performing an aerial 
ballet that's the ultimate in pyromaniac indulgence.

<*> Leventh has only just reappeared from the last dodge, but dragons who 
don't get their bearings quickly don't last long in fall. The frustration 
that the brown feels over having /had/ to dodge is shown in the somewhat 
extravagant burst of flame which converts the clump from silver to black

Dragon> Telgar Weyrlings sense that Hagalath checks those not carrying 
currently, and those nearest, and indicates to Algizth: << Carry to 
Juliath. >>

<*> Teiwazth sideslips, an unexpected maneouvour for her rider. A moment 
and Daffy recovers, deftly unfastening and tossing fresh stone to Kvasith.

<*> As the 'Fall goes up another notch in intensity, green Lysseth seems 
to almost be targeted by two small patches at once, one above and the 
other coming in at a diagonal from the east.

<*> Dagazth lets out a rumble and falls out of formation making for 
Solarith for re-supply. He fights the urge to swerve and attack a nearby 
clumb and follows orders per instructed. Winging up to Solarith, R'yn 
unhooks at bag of firestone and tosses it towards T'saren. He then turns 
to return to the Moonflame wing. As he arcs back, a clump of thread goes 
unanswered in his path.... <<Woooosh!>> Dagazth flames, sending chared 
remains of the thread all about.

<*> From upon Kvasith, Aurian leans way over and makes the catch neatly. 
She lashes it down quickly and works it open, giving her brown a fresh 
peice immediatly.

<*> After a particularly intense flame, blue Sherath's R'nus lifts a hand, 
waving wildly at the weyrling wing for resupply.

Dragon> Telgar Weyrlings sense that Ansuth commands once more, his tone 
sharp, swift, though not uncaring: << Isath. Sherath calls. >>

<*> Atop sturdy Ularrith, M'rgan finishes wiping his goggles clean just in 
time to see Leventh menaced by another clump. Commands are quickly sent 
down the formation and a brown and a blue move from one flank to the 
other, to back up the harried brown.

<*> A heavy sheet of Thread drops from above, causing various wingriders 
near the silver menace to pick up the pace in order to deal with it. Among 
the flickers of flame, a previously unnoticed tangle can be seen falling 
towards Leventh.

Dragon> Ularrith bespoke Threadfall Comm with << Leventh, do you need to 
resupply? >>

<*> Lysseth rises to the challenge, whipping her neck about to fount an 
arc of flame out towards the two clumps--both of which are consumed in 
heat and gold-green light. Again, the pair blink *between*, this time to 
avoid the smouldering cinders, but must blink *between* again immediately 
upon re-entry; a clump, blown off course, was coming far too close to 
their position. The green snarls and fumes; her rider curses--and signals 
for another sack of firestone.

Dragon> Threadfall Comm sense that Leventh's tone is tight. << If the 
Thread will give us a chance >>

<*> Algizth's wings pound furiously as he wings higher into the sky, a 
small tendril of flame leaking from his snout though no thread is near to 
them. Getting to the position he wants, his rider tosses a sack of stone 
to Juliath's rider, before slowly decending out of the direct fall line.

Dragon> Threadfall Comm sense that Ularrith's voice rises a notch, taking 
on an urgency. << Drop back. We will cover your spot. >>

<*> Settled between Solarith's neckridges, T'saren easily catches the sack 
R'yn tossed him and waves his thanks, then buckles it into position and 
throws his lifemate two chunks rapidfire. The big bronze masticates them 
just in time, for a heavy patch of thread gets whipped towards the pair 
suddenly. A jet of flame from Solarith toasts it neatly to charred embers 
that float gently, and benignly, to the ground below.

<*> Juliath uses her small size to great advantage, shifting and swerving 
easily to catch errant patches and sent them to oblivion. Orange-gold 
flame sends her gold highlights to shimmering, then ends as Algizth 
approaches. Meli leans to the side to catch the sack, the straps holding 
her securely in place as she opens it and turns to feed the first piece to 
Juliath.

<*> Above, a Dawnslight bronze runs out of firestone at just the wrong 
moment. Yelled curses from the rider are carried by the wind to the ears 
of other fighters as he and his dragon disappear *between*, leaving brown 
Kvasith to deal with the Thread.

Dragon> Telgar Weyrlings sense that Ansuth speaks swiftly, calmly: << I 
resupply Lysseth. >>

<*> Hagalath rises abruptly from the line to attend green Luith's need, a 
tinyspat of flame wiping a bare handsbreadth of Thread from the air. Syri 
hoistsand flings a sack across to the greenrider, then holds as they drop 
rapidly back into line.

<*> Leventh swings his great brown head up, with a roar of defiance. Not 
Between again! Glancing quickly around, to check his wingmates are clear, 
Leventh quickly and efficiently reduces this latest challenger to dust. 
Then, with a satisfied look, he drops back out of formation, and K'dar 
signals to the resupply wings for aid

<*> Siuenth disengages from formation long enough to catch Lysseth's 
missed clump, backed up in turn by Miryenne and Guarith, though the latter 
dragon gives an undignified yelp as a strand of Thread wraps around his 
outstretched wingtip. A trip *between* takes care of the Thread, and the 
blue returns to fly... more cautiously, it may be noted. The Wing's 
formation widens on command, their breaths a net of flame intended to 
catch the dropping Thread.

Dragon> Telgar Weyrlings sense that Hagalath signals Algizth sharply over 
to supply Leventh even as he steadies his wings to glide again at the head 
of their line.

<*> Ansuth drops quickly out of position, rumbling a final command to one 
of the dragons he cares for, darting 'cross the sky to sidle up near 
Lysseth, Trila tossing a sack swiftly to'ards the rider, lip bitten in 
concentration. Ansuth rumbles, turns to return, and is met with a clump of 
Thread that is flamed with a hiss and a whoop from his rider.

<*> Ularrith, as he experiences a brief lull in the Threadfall around him, 
twists his head around to take some more stone from M'rgan's hand. One bag 
is emptied and quickly tucked away and another sack is half depleted 
before the dragon once more faces forward.

<*> The Skyfire dragons shift their positions as Leventh drops back, 
closing around the space he left.

<*> Kvasith practically turns on his tail as he sears more thread. Silver 
strands turn quickly to blackest ash.

<*> An unexpected gust of wind suddenly rises in the otherwise mild air, 
sending a writhing cluster of Thread past a brown in Shadowflame, angling 
back toward the resupply lines. Shifting, shimmering, it suddenly splits 
apart, one piece near Algizth and the other approaching Dagazth.

<*> A brief gust of wind pushes two patches of Thread off their 
anticipated course, bringing them comfortably within green Juliath's 
range.

<*> Lysseth adjusts her flight angle a trace to let Kassi catch the tossed 
sack neatly, which she proceeds to open and empty down her dragon's gullet 
after waving a hasty thanks to Trila and Ansuth.

<*> Astride Algizth, Th'lon hangs tightly to his riding straps as Algizth 
breaks formation and wings up above Leventh. Giving K'dar a quick once-
over, he flings a fresh sack of stone to the rider, probably grimmacing 
behind his goggles at the sight of the pair who have been in the path of 
much thread by their looks.

<*> Juliath, now successfully resupplied, turns her head back toward the 
front and coughs out once with no result before a second attempt restarts 
her flame. *Whoooosh* and one clump is no more, ash all that remains. A 
bank, a downbeat, and the second clump evaporates in equally short order, 
followed closely by a sharp bugle of triumph.

Dragon> Threadfall Comm sense that Ularrith joins the bellows as the wind 
shifts, the older dragons still protective of the younger ones. 
<< Moonflame, look out! >>

Dragon> Threadfall Comm sense that Hagalath seconds the warning sharply, 
particularly toward the pairs targeted by the Thread. << Keep 
formation! >>

<*> The Fall lets up, but only briefly. The clear skies whose tranquility 
was broken only by the beating of dragon wings just a moment before become 
marred by the writhing silver strands of Pern's ancient enemy: Thread! 
These clumps are swiftly approaching the Weyr's Wings; one, thick with the 
deadly spiralling shapes, comes within range of brown Ularrith.

Telgar Weyr> Meli says, "Stay on Target!"

Telgar Weyr> T'saren laughs! I was just going to say the same thing, 
Meli. ;)

Telgar Weyr> M'rgan laughs.

Telgar Weyr> Syri snickers. Didn't /quite/ say that. That's Jaralth's 
line.

<*> Dagazth splits formation to protect the group. R'yn holds on as the 
brown shoots up quickly to flame the menacing thread falling onto the 
Moonflame wing. As the thread burns and distentegrates, Dagazth falls 
quickly back into formation, per Hagalath's orders.

<*> On Leventh, K'dar catches the sack, tossing Th'lon a thumbs-up in 
thanks. He quickly supplies Leventh with more stone, then the pair return 
to the thick of the action, watching the skies warily

<*> Ansuth holds tight. Wings flap only briefly, propelling him upwards, a 
swift breath of flame incinerating silver death midair for the blue drops 
back in front of his line, head swiveling to check.

<*> An ill-timed swerve by a Starblaze blue causes a large clump to filter 
past he and his rider. Juliath is the closest to the rapidly-falling 
tangle.

<*> Algizth banks quickly, the appearance of thread in front of him 
obviously giving him a start. He quickly opens his mouth, a concentrated 
plume of fire snaking out that reduces the small clump that has driften in 
front of him to ashes. His rider waves his arms about as the ash clouds 
back around him but otherwise the pair escape unharmed as they make thier 
way back into formation.

Dragon> Telgar Weyrlings sense that Hagalath sends tight approval as the 
Thread sears away to nothing, but snaps right back to business as he 
directs a few more of Moonflame up to signalling riders. << Dagazth, 
Gilarith requests 'stone. >>

<*> Kvasith moves agily his wings pull tightly against himself as he 
pushes through after more thread. He roars another blast of flame before 
stretching through.

Telgar Weyr> Aurian says, "That starblaze blue has been in more trouble"

<*> Solarith banks slightly higher in the skies to give a bit of covering 
flame to Lorina and her dragon as the young pair fly their resupply duty. 
The threads streaming their way are singed to impotent blackness, but as a 
result, a small clump passes through where the Wingleader and his bronze 
should have been flying, drawing a loud curse from T'saren and a waved 
fist to indicate no catch.

Telgar Weyr> Syri grins.

Dragon> Telgar Weyrlings sense that Ansuth approves himself, elated 
filaments of silver and ice weaving to support tone even as he directs: 
<< Teiwazth. Corveth needs firestone. >>

<*> Ularrith's concern for the former weyrlings evaporates the instant 
that a clump falls towards him. All that he can be concerned with now is 
his own life and that of his rider. Caring for others will have to wait 
until after he survives this battle. If he survives. He and the clump 
spiral around each other in an ancient dance that can only end with the 
death of one partner. With a gout of orange-yellow flame, Ularrith 
declares that he is the victor.

Kassima mutters under her breath as she crouches close to Lysseth's neck, 
"'Tis times like this methinks I'm glad I'm nay riding a brown." Whatever 
reply Lysseth might've ordinarily made to *that* statement is drowned out 
by the beating of somewhat wearied wings, the whoosh and hiss of flame, 
the roars and screams of the mildly injured and the slithering sizzle of 
Thread.

<*> Astride Juliath, Meli's head snaps back to the front as she finishes 
signaling a formation adjustment, just in time to note the approach of the 
new tangle. She crouches low, Juliath flaming furiously, but there is not 
enough time and the pair must skip *between*, leaving a bit of the clump 
to fall past, still threatening.

<*> Juliath disappears into Between.

<*> Juliath emerges from Between with a blast of cold air!

Telgar Weyr> Syri says, "Does the queens' wing fly above or below 
resupply?"

Telgar Weyr> Meli says, "Below, I think...."

Telgar Weyr> Trila says, "Below."

Telgar Weyr> Daffela says, "Must be below..."

Telgar Weyr> Syri says, "Gotcha."

Telgar Weyr> T'saren nods. Below.

<*> 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. Green Lysseth of Thunderbolt might be near enough to 
catch one of these, but it would be a stretch....

Dragon> Telgar Weyrlings sense that Hagalath marks and warns: << Ansuth, 
Thread approaches. >> There was another, he saw it, but now he can't see 
it. << Another, as well. >>

<*> From atop Dagazth, R'yn nods as Dagazth falls out of formation again, 
banking for Gilarith. He makes it over easily without threat and tosses 
stone over to the other rider. Dagazth turns back and slides into 
position.

<*> A certain Starblaze blue, that one the Thread seems to love as much as 
it loves Leventh, bugles yet another warning--this time to Moonflame, as a 
tangle that managed to slip by him breaks apart to threaten ex-Weyrlings 
tendril by tendril. One can imagine that L'taru is going to have a lot to 
yell at this poor bluerider about later.

<*> Ularrith, since he is already out of formation, continues on this 
path, leaving Skyfire Wing behind as his rider signals for re-supply. 
Tyroth takes his place in the formation, ensuring that the wing remains 
unbroken.

Dragon> Telgar Weyrlings sense that Ansuth is urgent, furtive, waiting, 
ready: << Where? >> Pause. << Exactly, where? >>

<*> Above, a Dawnslight bronze runs out of firestone at just the wrong 
moment. Yelled curses from the rider are carried by the wind to the ears 
of other fighters as he and his dragon disappear *between*, leaving brown 
Kvasith to deal with the Thread.

Dragon> Telgar Weyrlings sense that Hagalath scans. << More. Flame 
ready, >> he snaps, his own boiling to get free; he's not as cold as all 
/that/. << Algizth, to Ularrith. Isath, to Benraith. Mind Thread, more 
falls through! >>

<*> On Leventh, K'dar crosses his fingers, as Thread seems to be cured - 
for the moment - of its unholy fondness for him. He's only had to flame... 
oh... a clump every 30 seconds or so, these last few minutes. Of course, 
there's no wood to knock on in 'fall

<*> There's the wind-up... and the pitch! It's a high, fast curve, but 
Lysseth swings her proverbial bat--read, another burst of acrid flame--
with a lot of skill and perhaps just a little luck, sending the Thread 
that threatened her back to the bleachers... or wherever Thread goes when 
it dies.

Telgar Weyr> Syri says, "Thread heaven, of course."

Telgar Weyr> Syri hmms. Must be the harpstrings. ;)

<*> Ansuth's unspoken query would die upon his lips if he had seen it -- 
which he now does -- almost too late. He turns on his wingtip and his maw 
opens to flame. Flame cinders, the entire clump gone as he quickly slides 
back into position.

Telgar Weyr> T'saren wonders if that's where all of Liberace's clothes 
went too? ;)

<*> Kvasith bellows as he takes pursuit of the thread. IT comes to him but 
he has more than enough flame to take out that tangle of silver threads.

Telgar Weyr> Kassima *groans*. ;)

<*> As the Fall wears on, several greens appear out of *between*, just 
behind the ranks of Skyfire dragons. The smallest of the Skyfire greens, 
exhaustion showing in their slower wingbeats, fall back and disappear into 
*between* as their replacements move into position.

<*> Algizth banks quickly, the appearance of thread in front of him 
obviously giving him a start. He quickly opens his mouth, a concentrated 
plume of fire snaking out that reduces the small clump that has driften in 
front of him to ashes. His rider waves his arms about as the ash clouds 
back around him but otherwise the pair escape unharmed as they make thier 
way back into formation.

<*> Dagazth cranes his head around as R'yn tosses more stone in for him to 
chew.

<*> With many of the front-line dragons busy clearing the sky of a sudden 
spurt of clumps, it is little wonder that a few ragged patches manage to 
make their way towards Kassima and green Lysseth.

<*> Hagalath plumes a considerable bit of flame before him as one of the 
missed clumps falls directly toward himself and Syri, then bellows a 
warning to Teiwazth as some approaches on her off-side.

<*> Astride Algizth, Th'lon watches the plumes of dragonfire above him and 
the ash rain down as the battle continues. Catching sight of brown 
Ularrith's rider, he and Algizth wing towards the pair at Hagalath's 
command. Soaring just above, he tosses a fresh sack to M'rgan before 
dropping back to into formation. This time wary of any stray clumps.

<*> Seated upon Solarith's neck, T'saren lets Solarith drop back through 
the Dawnslight Wing again, giving the signal for the smaller dragons to 
return to the Weyr and their replacements to take up their place in the 
formation. Duty done, the bronze and his rider again take up point 
position, flaming a path through the deadly silver rain.

<*> Thunderbolt follows Skyfire's lead, Lysseth silently signalling 
several of their own smaller dragons to return to the Weyr and be replaced 
by fresh reinforcements. Of course, there's no rest for the wicked, which 
means Lysseth must continue to deal with the unholy fondness Thread seems 
to have developed for *her*--does it have something against dragons whose 
names start with L?--and, ascending, meet small clump after small clump 
with controlled firebursts. Here some Thread, there some Thread, 
everywhere a Thread-Thread. Finally, she has no alternative but to 
disappear *between* again in order to regain her breath, leaving a tangle 
or two for Servoth and Lorieth to attend.

<*> An ill-timed swerve by a Dawnslight blue causes a large clump to 
filter past he and his rider. Juliath is the closest to the rapidly-
falling tangle.

<*> Atop sturdy Ularrith, M'rgan grimaces as always as the sack thumps 
into his arms with almost bruising force. If not for the thick and padded 
leathers he wears his arms would constantly be black-and-blue. As he leans 
over to secure the sack to the straps, Ularrith drops his shoulder and 
banks back towards Skyfire Wing. As the brown dragon approaches, Tyroth 
pulls out of the formation, moving away to get his own re-supply of 
firestone.

<*> Astride Juliath, Meli lets out a loud yelling curse as the Dawnslight 
blue's maneuver leaves her tired green facing an unexpected clump. Juliath 
flames, a flame long and wide and overzealous, adrenaline suddenly pumping 
through her veins again and rejuvenating her flagging energies. Meli gives 
the green a thump on the side of her neck, then the pair drop back from 
point to have a short rest while the rest of the wing continues.

<*> The Fall lets up, but only briefly. The clear skies whose tranquility 
was broken only by the beating of dragon wings just a moment before become 
marred by the writhing silver strands of Pern's ancient enemy: Thread! 
These clumps are swiftly approaching the Weyr's Wings; one, thick with the 
deadly spiralling shapes, comes within range of brown Kvasith.

Lysseth> Juliath senses that Lysseth remarks, sparing a brief second for 
impishness, << Not bad, Lard Legs. >>

Dragon> Lysseth senses that Juliath sends back a very weary, gray-tinged 
sense of triumph. << You also do well, SkinnyButt. >>

<*> Hagalath rises to another resupply jaunt, slipslide gliding over the 
signalling brown so Syri can drop the sack off as easily as possible. 
Keeping an eye to the sky, he drops, slides back, and retakes his position 
as another few rise from Moonflame to other waving pairs.

<*> Though clumps still fall, the curtain of Thread no longer seems so 
stifling. Blue sky can be seen beyond the silver menace and the grey 
clouds of ash.

<*> A large, thick clump is split in twain by a sudden gust, which sends 
one half veering towards Solarith, and the other zooming rapidly nearer to 
green Juliath.

<*> Mounted upon Solarith, T'saren catches that swerve by one of 'his' 
riders and curses almost as loudly and vehemently as Meli. There's one 
rider he needs to talk to later, but right now he's got more important 
things, like having Solarith flame that tangle of thread that's racing 
towards them from below, caught in an updraft. The bronze's burst of flame 
turns the threatening patch to ash, accomplishing this part of their 
mission.

<*> Juliath has no time and no energy to do more than skip *tween* 
abruptly, Meli on her neckridges thrown violently to the side as she 
swerves first to give them a scant extra millisecond to avoid the thread. 
The clump continues on, it must surely land right on Hagalath if not 
stopped first.

<*> Algizth's sharp eye catches just a glint of thread that has escaped 
fire and started drifting below the main wings of dragons. As Hagalath 
sends the command to resupply Kukath's rider, he banks wide to intercept 
the small tangle. Charring it to ashes, he wings up through the remains 
before getting into position and tossing the fresh sack to the waving 
rider, giving a quick thumbs up before drifting back down.

<*> Leventh may not be quite so persecuted as before, but that hardly 
means he's free from worry. Brown and rider have barely returned to the 
wing from chasing down one clumb when another appears, and by the time 
that has gone it takes a few moments for K'dar to notice that no more are 
falling. His brown looks decidedly grey

<*> Solarith sideslips after firing the first clump that whipped up 
towards him to catch his half of the patch that split in two. Flame 
barrels from the bronze's mouth to wash over the thread, leaving only a 
dusting of harmless particles in their wake.

<*> Hagalath cups his wings, slowing himself just enough to snap his head 
back and sear the Thread clump out of the air, his rider throwing up an 
arm against the cloud of ash that flutters back along her. The instant he 
drops back to a wary glide, he tips his head around to check her. Then the 
blue faces forward again, and breathes out again, casting off the last of 
his flame into the finally clear sky.

<*> Dagazth drops out of formation making a b-line for Candeth. With 
little problem, R'yn tosses a sack over, but it was a bad throw. The sack 
goes barrellig down to the ground below. He picks up another sack and 
tosses it. This time it finds its mark. Dagazth arcs back and returns to 
the Moonflame wing.

Dragon> Telgar Weyrlings sense that Hagalath checks, taking status. 
<< Skies clear? All accounted? Injuries? >>

Dragon> Telgar Weyrlings sense that Ansuth is fine. << I am wonderful. >>

Telgar Weyr> Syri snickers. 'Ware below!

Telgar Weyr> K'dar grins. The ground crews aren't out /during/ Fall, 
right? I can just see a sack of firestone being a /really/ unpleasant... 
GOMH, Syri! That's twice today

Telgar Weyr> Meli grins. Bombs away :)

Telgar Weyr> Syri laughs.

<*> Lysseth's fire gutters and dies not long after the last straggles of 
Thread have gone to dust, her head beginning to droop as adrenaline is 
replaced by weariness. Already grey-marked by nature, she's much more so 
now by ash. And Kassi's not much of a picture either. Straightening, the 
greenrider looks back over her ranks in survey, nodding with a grim 
satisfaction to see most of them still flying with nothing more than a 
wingtip score or ash burn or two.

Dragon> Dagazth bespoke Telgar Weyrlings with << My rider is safe. I am 
fine. >>

Telgar Weyr> R'yn snickers.

Dragon> Telgar Weyrlings sense that Hagalath is tired, that's quite clear, 
but has only a few spots of irritation from fallen ash; nothing serious. 
<< Fall to line, >> he orders, checking his own, and then the other two as 
well.

Dragon> Telgar Weyrlings sense that Algizth mentally checks himself over 
before replying, << We are well. >>

<*> Kvasith glides downwards as he begins a sweep. He rumbles anxiously as 
his rider scans.

<*> Leventh rumbles gratefully at his instructions, preparing to go home

<*> Ansuth turns his head, rumbling softly to order an errant bronze into 
formation, 'fore twitching his tail in satisfaction. There.

<*> Leventh disappears into Between.

<*> Juliath returns to the front of Shadowflame's formation, as Meli 
checks her lines with a pleased but strained smile, then waits for the 
release signal.

Dragon> Telgar Weyrlings sense that Hagalath waits, checks again, then in 
satisfaction flashes up the Telgar image of the Starstones. << On signal. 
Repeat the image back first. >>

<*> Teiwazth glides for a moemnt, peering around her anxiously for a 
moment. Her rider too concerned with scrubbing away flecks of ash from the 
neckridge in front of her, that and listening.

Dragon> Telgar Weyrlings sense that Ansuth parrots the image back with a 
swift rumble. ((OOCly: Telgarweyr, yes?))

Dragon> Dagazth bespoke Telgar Weyrlings with << Resends the image, 
exactly as it was received. <<I am ready.>> >>

Dragon> Telgar Weyrlings sense that Teiwazth drops her own image into the 
air, edged with tiredness and but still vivid in it's clarity.

Dragon> Telgar Weyrlings sense that Hagalath acknowledges each in turn, 
then says simply, << We go. >> (Telgarweyr, yes.)

<*> Hagalath and the Moonflame wing vanish.

<*> Hagalath disappears into Between.

<*> Dagazth disappears into Between.

<*> Ansuth disappears into Between.

<*> Algizth disappears into Between.

<*> As a few of the Skyfire dragons begin their sweeps, Ularrith 
disappears into *between*, to return to the Weyr and check on the 
injuries.

<*> Ularrith disappears into Between.

<*> Juliath disappears into Between.

<*> Lysseth disappears into Between.

Between
You gasp as the icy black nothingness of Between surrounds you! You hear 
nothing, see nothing, and feel nothing. The trip takes five heartbeats...
Black...
Blacker...
Blackest!

You suddenly emerge...

<*> Lysseth emerges from Between with a blast of cold air!

<*> From the South, From the Telgar Star Stones, Requa's pale green 
Ninnenth rears on hind legs and bugles a greeting to green Lysseth and her 
rider, Kassima, welcoming them home.

<*> Teiwazth emerges from Between with a blast of cold air!

<*> From the South, From the Telgar Star Stones, Requa's pale green 
Ninnenth rears on hind legs and bugles a greeting to green Teiwazth and 
her rider, Daffela, welcoming them home.

<*> Solarith emerges from Between with a blast of cold air!

<*> From the South, From the Telgar Star Stones, Requa's pale green 
Ninnenth rears on hind legs and bugles a greeting to bronze Solarith and 
his rider, T'saren, welcoming them home.

<*> Ularrith flies downward towards the southern end of the bowl.

<*> Kvasith emerges from Between with a blast of cold air!

<*> Solarith flies downward towards the southern end of the bowl.

<*> From the South, From the Telgar Star Stones, Requa's pale green 
Ninnenth rears on hind legs and bugles a greeting to brown Kvasith and his 
rider, Aurian, welcoming them home.

<*> Juliath flies downward towards the southern end of the bowl.

You fly downwards towards the southern end of the bowl.

You fly downwards towards the ground.

You backwing for a landing on sands of the bowl.

Dragon> Kvasith bespoke Threadfall Comm with << Good fall all >>

<*> T'saren slides down from Solarith's neck, using the bronze's foreleg 
and riding straps for assistance.

<*> Th'lon gives Algizth an affectionate thump on his leg before striding 
over to his wingmates, innefectually trying to dust himself off, "Shards, 
but this stuff is sticky."

<*> Juliath backwings for a landing.

<*> Kvasith backwings for a landing.

<*> Aurian slides off Kvasith after unfastening her riding straps. She 
lands neatly on her feet this time.

<*> Syri swings down from Hagalath's higher neckridges.

<*> Ularrith lands heavily, the strain of the long Fall reflected in his 
slow, tired movements.

<*> Juliath lands with an audible *thump*, her hide gray-tinged both from 
ash and from exhaustion. Meli unbuckles quickly, holding a hand lightly to 
her side as she dismounts.

<*> Aurian leans heavily against Kvasith as she slides off the dragon. She 
oooofs.

<*> Meli slips smoothly down from Juliath's neck to her foreleg and to the 
ground, giving her a gentle caress.

<*> Lysseth drops, quite literally, to a landing, ash falling from her 
wings and hide to litter the sand of the ground below. Kassi, lips thinned 
in worry, spends a moment in silent commune with her mount before 
unbuckling herself from the straps.

You slide off of Lysseth's neck to land beside her easily. She rumbles, 
cocking her head down at you, and you rub her eyeridges gratefully.

Syri ides down from Hagalath's ridges, patting him in tired gratitude as 
the blue dips very low to help. Then with a grin, strained but honest, she 
tilts her head back and sighs. "Good fall, Moonflame." Definitely trying 
to fit that Wingleader mold, yes?

Trila almost reluctantly dismounts, a leg swinging over before she slides 
down to make contact with the soft earth. A pat is given to his shoulder, 
and Trila turns away.

T'saren tugs off his goggles as soon as his feet hit the ground, making a 
disgusted face as he inspects the filthy glass and leather. "Be needing 
another pair soon," he mutters to himself, then turns to give the rest of 
the Dawnslight Wing a once-over, looking for injuries.

Meli pauses to bend over, catching her breath, before she straightens and 
tugs her goggles off along with her helmet. Reverse raccoon face, now. She 
moves to start checking over Juliath, rubbing idly at her side as she 
stretches to reach various places.

Kassima gives her green's shoulder a brief caress, never mind that this 
gets her hand considerably ash-covered. "I know, lump, I know. A long and 
tough one, 'twas. But we didn't lose any this time." The green lowers her 
muzzle to treat Kassi to a whuff of firestone breath; lovely. Nose 
crinkled, Kassi checks over her straps rather than offer further 
comment.

Hagalath lowers his muzzle to rest against his lifemate's shoulder very 
lightly. She leans on him in turn, her arm settled over his nose for 
support. She murmurs something softly to him with a smile at once relieved 
and triumphant.

Trila sends a smile to'ards Syri. "That was awesome," she decides, 
removing goggles and helmet and hooking them onto straps, wiping slightly 
ashed face 'fore laying a hand on Ansuth's hide and turning around to look 
at her line. "Anyone hurt?"

Aurian pushes her goggles off and her helmet. She lets them pile next to 
her as Kvasith snuffles her sweat dampened hair.

Atop sturdy Ularrith, M'rgan unclips the empty and full firestone sacks 
from his lifemate's straps. Settling them on his lap, he leans over the 
straps once more, pulling a few things from one of the satchels there and 
tucking them inside his flight jacket. After peeling off his helmet and 
goggles and putting them into their proper satchel, he collects the 
firestone sacks and clambers down.

R'yn immediately starts to check over Dagazth, examining his straps, 
checking for stress marks and possible burns.

M'rgan clambers down Ularrith's side to the ground, using his foreleg as a 
step.

T'saren tries to catch Aurian's eye as she strips off her headgear, waving 
her over to him.

Th'lon drops his helmet and goggle to the ground as he begins untying the 
unused bags of stone from Algizth's straps, "I thought I packed too much 
on."

Aurian stands awkwardly, she walks to T'saren with a grin, "Aye?"

Syri, tired as she is, moves around to haul off Hagalath's straps, gloves 
shoved into her belt so she can work the buckles. "Yes, love. You did 
/wonderfully/." The straps come off in a heap, which she coils up as best 
she can to set aside, leftover sacks hauled into the pile over at the Bowl 
wall. "Of course we'll get you washed up."

Meli unbuckles Juliath's straps, then tosses them into a messy pile. "Tha' 
set's seen it's last," she mumbles to herself, giving Juliath another 
thump before turning to watch the rest of her wing.

Only when assured of Lysseth's well-being and the well-being of her straps 
does Kassi tend to her own, insofar as removing gloves and helmet goes. 
What a mess. The gear is hooked onto Lyss's straps; there are riders to be 
checked, dragonhealers to talk to. But her expression as she speaks with 
one of the latter who hovers over Guarith's wing is quite pleased. 
"Excellent," she says, then raises her voice to yell over to Mart, "Nice 
piece of leadership, brownie!"

M'rgan rids himself of the firestone sacks, leaving them slumped on the 
ground, and starts to circle his lifemate, looking for any wound, even a 
scratch. Now and then he asks his lifemate to spread his wing or flex a 
muscle but Ularrith's constant whuffled reassurance lets him know that all 
is well. Peeking out from under Ularrith's wing, he chuckles at Kassima's 
cry. Cupping his grubby, glove-covered hands around his mouth, he shouts 
back, "Let's see if Lord Bitra agrees!"

T'saren returns Aurian's grin, giving a nod in the direction of the 
weyrlings. He mutters to Aurian, "... well... it's..." 

R'yn unfastens Dagazths straps, carefully inspecting them in the process. 
He then looks around at all the other with a numb, but excited look. "That 
was something." is all he says softly.

Aurian nods, "Sounds like an idea... before or after a bath?"

Kassima yells back, "Want t'be wagering on it?" Yes, Kassi would wager 
even about the Lord of Casino Hold. No surprise here. Duties done, at 
least for the moment, she elects to amble in the direction of the *former* 
Weyrlings. "So," she asks, not sparing any time for pleasantries, "what'd 
you think of your first Fall?"

"Wasn't it, just," Syri sighs, hauling off her flight jacket to drape over 
her shoulder. "Faranth, I can't believe we're through that." She glances 
up at Kassima's question, managing a tired, faintly amused salute. "Ask me 
when I'm not about to drop in my tracks, Wingleader?"

"Shorter'n I expected," Trila replies, turning to grin at Kassi 
cheerfully, offering yet another pat to blue's hide.

R'yn looks over at Kassi, still with a numb expression. "That was.... 
something."

T'saren glances down at himself, then sighs. "Much as I'd like to say 
after, we'd probably do it now. Less headaches that way." He begins the 
slow walk in that direction as well, a few paces behind Kassi.

Meli speaks with her wingseconds, getting a headcount and checking on 
injuries, jotting a note or two on a scrap of wherhide so that she can 
report to M'rgan and A'lex later. That done, she finally heads off toward 
the healers to speak to them as well.

Th'lon finishes tugging the last of the straps off of Algizth as Kassi 
asks her question, "Sharding awsome!" he says loudly, stepping around the 
bronze, "Well, except for a time or two it was kinda scarey."

"None of that saluting crap," Kassi scolds, too tired to watch her 
language. "You're nay Weyrlings anymore." A considering look is granted 
all four. "And how d'you think you did? How d'you think the Wings did? 
You're just out of training, after all--you've fresh eyes."

Aurian walks next to T'saren, her eyes drifting over the various young 
riders.

Syri shrugs, grinning wearily. "We're alive. Most of Moonflame is alive. 
We did our duties. I'd say we did... well, sharding good, Wingleader."

After a moment of thought, Trila replies equably, thoughtfully: "Well," 
she says. "Some dragons were plagued with more Thread than others," and 
isn't that an understatement, "but no one was /really/ hurt. They did 
their jobs. And we?" she adds, a gloved finger tapping against her thigh, 
"We did well. None of us were hurt at all, I don't think."

M'rgan's mouth twitches and curls up in a knowing smirk as he watches 
Kassima and T'saren and other wingleaders stroll over towards the members 
of Moonflame Wing. Leaning against Ularrith's side, he affectionatly 
strokes the dragon's hide as he watches the pleasantries. "Remember when 
that happened to us?" he asks, smiling at the dragon's rumbled reply. 
"Well, I do."

Telgar Weyr> Trila is loving all this stuff.

Th'lon looks a bit confused at the question and shrugs, "I'd say it was 
good if nothing hit the ground. And I didn't see any."

R'yn looks around at the other riders. "I think we did well. We stayed in 
formation and followed orders as we should have. All the wings performed 
well in my opinion... watching each other back when things were 
missed."

Meli gets her bruise attended to, then joins the rest in wandering over to 
hover around Moonflame.

T'saren stops at the fringes of the group of former weyrlings, listening 
to their replies to Kassi's questions. "Just that one sack of 'stone, I 
believe," he interjects after Th'lon's words. "Like to know who the guilty 
party was for that one." A slightly upset look creeps across his lips, 
though his eyes hold a bit of a twinkle of humor.

Syri adds after a pause, shoulder pressed into Hagalath's muzzle for 
support, "The Wings looked good. We were..." She rumples a hand through 
her hair, clearly seeking proper words for it. "Well, distracted. But I 
didn't see any real breaks for very long, 'cept a couple of blues who 
kept diving sideways." Hagalath protests, and she adds, "In the other 
wings."

Kassima gives Syri and Trila a long, thoughtful look, silent a moment or 
two. "As it so happens," she finally says, "I agree. In part due t'your 
leadership--" That to Syri. "And in part due to the leadership of your 
'seconds. It could almost make me regret that I'm going t'be taking one 
from you." She buffs her ash-coated nails against her jacket; when she 
opens that hand, there's a diamond-shaped Thunderbolt Wing patch in it. 
How'd she do that? Answer: it's maaaaagic. "That is, if'n you'd care t'be 
flying with us, Trila?"

Syri glances sideways at R'yn and back to T'saren. "I'll deal with it, 
sir?" she says, more a question than anything, and cracks a sudden grin 
for Trila.

R'yn coughs, hearing the stone comment. "T'was me sir." He owns up to the 
truth. "A gust of wind caught..." he looks over and smiles at Trila, words 
forgotten from before.

Eyes widen, and Trila's eyebrows dart up in surprise, face flushing even 
under a thin coat of dust. "Me?" she asks, fingers lifting to press 
against her collarbone, voice a mere squeak as 'lashes flutter, the girl 
obviously recovering from her elated surprise in feigned innocence. Then: 
"Yes, Wingleader Kassima. I would like that very, very much." And Ansuth 
rumbles ever-so-lightly, head swiveling to gaze at Kassima with eyes of 
blue and green.

Th'lon blinks at T'saren, "Sack of stone?" he looks between the other 
former weyrlings, "I guess I didn't see that." As R'yn speaks up, he grins 
slightly at his wingmate.

T'saren shakes his head quickly in reply to Syri. "No, they're full riders 
now, so they should be treated as full riders would be if they err, and 
that includes words from a Wingleader." He turns to R'yn as the brownrider 
admits it was his doing. "So, you're the one that missed your throw? I 
expect you'll do better in the future, will you not?"

Telgar Weyr> T'saren congrats Trila on her selection by the Thunderbolt 
Wing! :)

Teiwazth backwings for a landing.

R'yn nods quickly to T'saren. "I will sir. I need to take into account the 
winds changing and such... I should have earlier."

Telgar Weyr> Trila woohoos!!

Syri nods slightly, occupying herself in brushing ash flecks off her 
blue's muzzle. "Understood, sir." Hagalath settles heavily to the ground, 
his wings tucking up stiffly against his spine.

Telgar Weyr> Syri echoes that. :)

"On *one* condition." Kassi holds up a finger, and solemnly intones, "If'n 
you ever call me ma'am again, I'll kick your butt from here t'Boll. 
Agreed?" Without waiting for an answer, she flashes a tired grin and, 
straightening, hands Trila the patch before saying formally, "Then 'twill 
consider it an honor t'be flying with you. Welcome to the Wing."

Daffela slides down to the ground from their perch on Teiwazth's neck, 
probably useing her foreleg as they do.

Telgar Weyr> Kassima muwahahas. Caught another one! ;)

Telgar Weyr> A'lex says, "WOOO HOO!"

Telgar Weyr> R'yn holds up a little flag. "Yay Trila!"

T'saren glances over at Aurian with a wink, then back to R'yn. "Then I 
take it Dawnslight will not have any repeats of that missed throw while 
you're flying for us?" He pulls a circular patch with the Dawnslight 
blazon from his beltpouch and holds it out to R'yn.

Th'lon doesn't miss the exchange between Kassima and Trila, piping up 
quickly, "Yay Trila!" before chuckling at R'yn, "Blame the wind. Heh."

Telgar Weyr> Syri grins. "Gratz, R'yn."

Aurian smirks a touch at R'yn, "Don't you have anything to say 
brownrider?"

Telgar Weyr> Th'lon says, "Way to go R'yn!"

R'yn mouth drops then shuts. It drops again. "It will happ... I mean It 
won't happen again sir!" he says in shock. "I would be honored, as well as 
Dagazth to fly Dawnslight!" he takes the patch.

Meli grins. "Dawnslight... s'where I started," she comments toward R'yn. 
"S'a great place t'start."

Telgar Weyr> T'saren also congrats R'yn on his selection by the Dawnslight 
Wing! :)

Dagazth lets out a croon. Dawn.... his favorite time of day....

Telgar Weyr> Syri reminds herself to trade with R'yn when she gets dawn 
sweeps. O:)

"If'n nay as great a place as Thunderbolt," Kassi feels obligated to 
comment.

T'saren grins and nods as R'yn takes the patch. "That's good. See that you 
do as good a job for us as you did for Moonsflame today."

Aurian snorts at Kassima and then glances to Meli, "Not just a great place 
to Start."

R'yn nods again. "I will!" he looks down to regard the patch.

As the first of the riders with sweeps reports approaches him, M'rgan gets 
distracted from watching the wingleaders circle Moonflame like wherries 
and he turns his back as he takes the rider's report.

Meli sighs as she straightens, groaning slightly as her muscles start to 
tighten up. "Time f'a nice soak...."

Trila stifles a giggle, taking the patch and replying formally: "It will 
be an equally huge honor to be flying with you." Beam. "And I didn't call 
you ma'am, either." Grin.

Th'lon claps R'yn good naturedly on the back, "Congrats R'yn." before 
turning back to Algizth, scooping up the heavy load of straps on the 
ground as the dragon whuffles him, "I know you need a bath. Lemme get this 
stowed and we'll go to the springs."

"Soak sounds good," Syri muses, leaning away from Hagalath with a slap for 
the blue's neck. "What say I meet you in the springs?" she adds, 
retreating to reclaim their straps. "I don't think I could climb aboard 
again just now..."

T'saren raises a brow in surprise at Aurian, then chuckles. "Aye, it's a 
great place to be at any time, not just to start." He turns away from the 
new Dawnslight rider, then stops and turns back. "Oh, and drills are at 
dawn tomorrow, brownrider. See that you're not late." With a wink, he 
strides off towards his lifemate and 'fall reports that are most likely 
waiting for him.

Meli grins, chuckling at the graduates. "I feel s'old sometimes...." she 
mutters, stepping off. Carefully.

T'saren uses the straps and Solarith's offered foreleg to mount the 
bronze. T'saren thumps Solarith's neck affectionately in thanks as soon as 
he is settled.

Kassima suggests dryly, "Let's just wait until you've first flown dawn 
sweeps with L'cher a'fore you decide whether you're honored or nay--though 
I'm being merciful; you've dawn drills tomorrow, first light, but nay dawn 
*sweeps*. That, we'll save until day *after* tomorrow."

"Thank Faranth for that," Trila says, tone equally dry as her nose 
wrinkles and she lifts a finger to scratch it. Ansuth rumbles lightly, and 
Trila smiles adoringly at the blue at whatever comment he made.

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

Lysseth rumbles a wearied congratulations of her own to her newest 
Wingdragon, then drops her head again to receive a chin-scratch from 
Kassi. "I try," the Wingleader answers breezily. "But when you see what 
our drills are like, I doubt you'll thank me. A'course, if'n you intend 
t'celebrate the tradition of going somewhere and getting sloshed 
t'celebrate your new rank... well, 'tis possible t'be surviving them with 
a hangover, I assure you."

Th'lon vaults to Algzith's neck, settling between the high neckridges.

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

Sniff. "I don't think that'd be such a good idea," Trila says, lips 
curling in amusement. "At least not before a nap or a soak or a bath or 
/something/," she adds as she leans against Ansuth's foreleg.

Kassima gives her ash-covered lifemate a wry look. "You do have a point," 
she acknowledges. "'Twould likely be best t'get this ash off m'beast 
a'fore m'nose becomes re-sensitized t'firestone stench."

"I think that's what I'm going to go do," Trila decides with an 
affectionate thwap to Ansuth's shoulder.

Telgar Weyr> Bronwynn waves, How'd the fall go?

Telgar Weyr> Trila says, "It was spiffy!"

Telgar Weyr> Kassima says, "Well! Mart did a good job leading it, the 
ex-'Lings did a good job with resupply, and the riders kicked arse, as 
ever. ;)"

Aurian scowls, "R'yn had best not get sooo drunk I have to haul him out of 
his weyr... else he really will be afraid."

Telgar Weyr> Bronwynn grins, Always good to hear.

Kassima makes a grand gesture towards the Springs. "After you, Wingrider? 
I doubt he will, Auri. Drunk enough t'be getting up on a bar and wiggling 
his rump, now...."

Aurian waggles a fist at Kassima, "Why I oughtta.." She grins and walks 
back towards Kvasith.

"Stop, stop, my virgin ears," Trila complains amusedly, lifting her hands 
and waving them around as though to dispel such thoughts. And then she 
heads to the springs.

Kassima sets her thumbs at her ears and wiggles her fingers, in an oh-so-
mature retort. "You'd have to catch me first!" she catcalls to the 
brownrider. "Virgin ears, hah... if'n they're nay corrupt yet, they will 
be soon enough. Wait until you've gotten used t'hearing L'cher boast about 
his prowess over dinner!"

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.

<*> Trila lays a hand on Ansuth's deep-blue neck and, with a foreleg, 
vaults on up with a smile.

<*> Ansuth takes flight, using the thermals rising from the bowl to carry 
him aloft.

<*> Aurian pulls herself up onto Kvasith, carefully. Her fingers grip at 
the straps as she eases herself onto his back.

<*> Kvasith takes flight, using the thermals rising from the bowl to carry 
him aloft.

Dragon> Kvasith bespoke Lysseth with << My rider said to tell yours that 
you are hard to catch.. its your rider who is easy >>

<*> 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.