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Snowstar Wing's First Threadfall


Date:  January 16, 2001
Places:  Telgar Weyr's Southern Bowl, Central Bowl, and Skyspace; Sky
Over Telgar 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:  It's traditional at Telgar for the Weyrlings to fly in
at least one PC Fall prior to graduation; this was the first Fall for
Snowstar Weyrling Wing.  For the rest of us it was a pretty standard
affair. ;)  (Which is to say, a fun, well-run Fall--thanks, May!)  
There's an NPC death or two here, but no PC injuries.

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The Log:

You fly downwards towards the bowl.

<*> Sielth glides across the bowl, settling back in her old place among the 
skyfire wing. Aisling just looks skyward for a moment.

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.

Kassima skids down the glossy, oiled slide of Lysseth's shoulder by the seat 
of her leather pants, straightening immediately upon hitting the ground to 
check on which of her Wingriders are already present. "Good, good," she 
murmurs under her breath.

M'rgan is just finishing up a discussion with a group of Skyfire riders. The 
men and women surround him in a semi-circle but the ones on the outskirts 
start to turn and walk off as the announcements are over.

Dragon> Telgar dragons and Telgar Weyrlings sense that Tierth OOCly notes, 
that if you're flying Fall, we'll be meeting in the central bowl in a few 
minutes :) Tierth is visualizing the location we're fighting at (Telgar 
Hold, it's the weyr's multi-room)

T'kar waits beside Fasolth. His face is serious and his brown suppresses his 
excitement with only a few muted bugles to his friends. "Kassi," T'kar 
greets briefly, leading Fasolth closer to her and Lysseth as a few other 
Thunderbolt riders do the same.

Indrath comes out of the weyrling barracks.

K'ran comes out of the weyrling barracks.

Aisling offers M'rgan a salute as she wanders by the group, enroute to the 
weyrlings. Sielth just rumbles and sulks.

K'ran is still fiddling with Indrath's straps as the pair emerge from the 
barracks and join the other weyrlings in the bowl. He reserves quick, grave 
salutes for the wingriders and their leaders.

Cariath leaps from Cariath's Ledge and flies into the air.

M'rgan returns Aisling's salute with a jaunty wave as the last of the 
Skyfire riders walks away. He turns towards Ularrith briefly and then both 
dragon and rider turn to look at Sielth. The brownrider chuckles and mutters 
something under his breath to his lifemate and then gives the brown an 
affectionate thump of his fist against the brown's side.

Valrieth backwings for a landing.

"Once your dragons are ready," Aisling begins. "Start moving through the 
wings, see if they need firestone or anything."

Kassima, arms crossed, waits for her Wingriders to assemble before she 
begins speaking. "The reports say that we'll be flying in cloudy conditions; 
there might be rain, though we'll nay be counting on that--and there'll be 
wind, more like than nay, so we'll have t'be alert. T'kar, you're knowing 
Siuenth's in the Infirmary again after last Fall; I'll be wanting you t'move 
up a slot t'cover his place. Any questions?"

Greylin comes out of the weyrling barracks.

Maylia comes out of the weyrling barracks.

Tierth backwings for a landing.

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

Sielth just looks sad and pitiful, even adding a mournful croon for 
Ularrith's benefit. "No" Aisling states firmly to the green.

Valrieth soars down and lands with her wing, to let Lanryi dismount

Lanryi climbs off from between Valrieth's neckridges.

Maylia comes out of the barracks, herding a group of weyrlings ahead of her. 
Several dash, heading for their clutchmates already out, aflutter with 
excitment. "Assist the riders, weyrlings!" She calls, sending a nod to her 
assistants.

K'ran gives Aisling a quick nod and then hurries, deadly serious, to comply.

Dragon> Telgar Weyrlings sense that Tierth okies - any questions from y'all? 
:) This'll be mass confusion, I promise, but I hope it'll be fun.

Tarlo climbs down from between Cariath's neck ridges.

Tarlo finishes up getting Cariath's tanks up onto her back, salutes the 
riders, and lets herself be taken by whichever rider needs her.

Ularrith chucklewhuffs at Sielth's pitiful croon which earns him another 
thump from his rider though this time it's to correct the dragon. But not 
for being rude. "Quit it, lump," M'rgan calls out. "You're gonna cough up a 
hunk of ash and 'stone doing that. Just settle down."

T'kar nods to confirm Kassima's instruction, looking up to Fasolth. "We're 
ready," he says quietly, Fasolth nudging his side and receiving a 
muzzle-scratch. He doesn't seem to have any questions, and the other 
Thunderbolt riders shake their heads or remain silent for the most part, 
likewise preparing themselves.

Talisha jumps down from Imanath, saluting here there and everywhere and 
muttering her greetings. She dances about around Imanath, hopping from foot 
to foot before spotting Tarlo - sending a wave in her direction.

Kheprith rumbles with excitement as Greylin lopes over to him, and she 
salutes those who need it, intent on her preparations.

Dragon> Telgar dragons and Telgar Weyrlings sense that Tierth OOCly notes - 
I haven't written in NPC weyrling deaths. In my opinion they'd happen - 
please assume that they do, but I know well how it upsets people. I'd rather 
have y'all RP with us, than not, out of the worry of having death-rp.

Dragon> Indrath bespoke Telgar Weyrlings with << Just one quick question, 
May -- have we stoked up our dragons, as a precaution, or no? >>

Dragon> Telgar Weyrlings sense that Alerith <OOC> waves real quick and 
sorries she can't join you all, she'll see you tomorrow night for grad. Have 
fun!

Dragon> Telgar Weyrlings sense that Tierth nopes, not yet :) You will once 
the Wings head off, though :)

Kassima murmurs a word or two to her other riders before straightening to 
clap her hands once. "All right, then; into formation, forward chevron, and 
bring enough 'stone. Just because we've 'Lings flying supply doesn't mean we 
want t'run out at crucial times, hey? Go to!" And with a quick, fierce smile 
for her Wingmates, she turns to signal a Weyrling for firestone, Lysseth 
having placed herself in formation-position upon landing.

After ascertaining that yes, in fact, all the wingriders are adequately 
prepared, K'ran returns to Indrath's side, favoring his own wingmates with a 
quick smile. He's clearly in the grip of adrenaline, here, and rocks back 
and forth on his feet while going about his duties in deadly earnest.

Aisling moves through the wings, hauling bags of firestone as well. She 
pauses to offer Sielth a gentle scrith. "Sorry, dear one. Soon." That being 
said, she moves towards M'rgan "Need any firestone?" She asks quietly.

Dragon> Telgar Weyrlings sense that Sielth doesn't understand stoked?

Maylia's not simply commanding, she works as hard as she pushes her 
weyrlings to. Firestone sacks get hauled to a bluerider, their cording 
yanked to allow him easy access to the stones within, then she's off to 
assist a bronzerider with his straps. "How many times..." Grump, grumble, 
about her having trained him, and he should know to store his straps better.

Dragon> Telgar Weyrlings sense that Tierth assumes it means ready to flame :)

Dragon> Telgar Weyrlings sense that Indrath chuckles. "Stoked, as in, stoked 
the burners, ready to flame."

T'kar nods, serious expression suddenly breaking into a smile as he shares a 
few more thoughts with his brown. "Let's go!" He pulls a good amount of 
firestone up with him after double-checking all of Fasolth's straps.

Dragon> Telgar Weyrlings sense that Sielth ducks her head. Okay. ;)

Tarlo begins to haul firestone sacks up and over to Kassima. "Just say when, 
Wingleader." she says, expression intent.

"It won't be that long now," M'rgan comments to Aisling as the assistant 
weyrlingmaster approaches him. He must've heard something unsaid in her 
quiet question. "You'll both be back in a fighting Wing soon enough."

Kassima, considering the size and fullness of the sacks--one element stable, 
one variable--decides, "Three should suffice, Tarlo, thankee--" Those words 
and a quick smile of gratitude, and she's already hauling up one to lash to 
Lysseth's straps, tugging the leather tight.

Talisha walks around, hauling firestone sacks around to the rider that need 
help, hands quickly sweeping the corded openings wide. She goes about her 
duties quickly, Imanath looking suprising relaxed amidst of it all.

Children of the weyr dash between the dragons too, bringing skins of water, 
handkercheifs, and the older ones helping to heft firestone. A line forms 
near the piles, the heavy sacks are 'tossed' down the line, making the 
distance easier to cover.

Tovith backwings for a landing.

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

Tarlo starts seeing to getting the sacks up Lysseth's side, giving the green 
a pat for luck. Once she's gotten Kassima's supply taken care of, she moves 
to the next rider.

Aisling just shakes her head slightly, looking almost amused. "I should have 
known just how much she would have hated it. But, like you said, it will 
soon be over." She pauses to lower her tone. "Besides, I think she is doing 
it for effect now." It seems to be working as a couple of her wingmates are 
trying to console the green, much to -their- lifemate's dismay.

Dragon> Telgar Weyrlings sense that Cariath's mind seems an odd center of 
calm within a coriolis of whirling excitement. <<We will fly well!>>

Maylia stands by one of the older riders in Maelstrom, boosting up a heavy 
sack and supporting it so he might buckle it to his brown's gear. Once 
secure, the weyrlingmaster gives it a thump, and moves on, constantly 
keeping her eyes out for weyrlings.

T'kar secures the three bags he has with Fasolth, then decides to slide down 
and grab two more, since there is plenty around. He runs his hands over the 
lumps within, likely checking the quality for himself. Meanwhile Fasolth 
peers over the young ones for a long moment, finally turning down to T'kar. 
The swirl of his eyes seems satisfied and ready.

Greylin moves toward a green whose rider needs some more sacks of firestone, 
giving the rider a grin and good luck sign before trotting off to another one.

Lanryi gives Valrieth's straps a little tug here and there, pausing in her 
inspection to offer a wave to Leya, and signal a weyrling over to bring a 
bag of firestone to load on the jungle green dragon.

M'rgan crouches down, picking up a sack of firestone. He rests it in the 
crook of his arm as he idly reaches back and grabs hold of Ularrith's 
straps. "The lump would be more sympathetic but he's convinced that Sielth 
isn't rising soon."

Lysseth would probably at least rumble to acknowledge the pat, but she's in 
full pre-Fall mode, tensed and impatient; her tail lashes a staccato beat 
against the Bowl's ground, and her eyes spin full and smoldering red. Kassi 
seems calm enough, opening up the remaining sack to toss the chunks into her 
dragon's maw. Crunch. Crunch. My, what big fangs you have, Lysseth. The 
better to chew 'stone with, my dear. "Leya," she pitches to her Wingsecond, 
"take an extra look over Shiara's preparations if'n 'twould. This is her 
first Fall since the Healers cleared her."

Leya quickly grabs a sack from a nearby pile and begins to toss firestone 
into Tovith's maw, though she does keep on eye on her half of the wing 
between tosses just to be sure everything is running smoothly. She catches 
Lanryi's wave between tosses and waves back, then looks around for a 
weyrling as her bag is almost empty.

"Ullarith is very wise." Aisling states before moving off, slipping between 
the various dragons as she checks on the weyrling's progress.

Talisha keeps hauling sacks to the riders who need them, ripping open the 
cording to make the process even quicker. Job seemingly done, as another few 
weyrlings take care of some more sacks needed, she heads back over to her 
lifemate, Imanath giving a light rumble-exitement plain in her tone.

As Ularrith nudges him with his nose and rumbles smugly, M'rgan snorts and 
feigns a slap at the dragon's head. "I heard her. I heard her. She was 
/joking/. No one calls you very wise and means it. Now get back to work and 
tell Skyfire to mount up."

Deep brown eyes watch the rest of the riders as Fasolth finishes his tasty 
meal of firestone. T'kar turns to rub Fasolth's jaw for a moment, then looks 
to Kassima as he senses the renewed flurry of activity and waits for the 
order to mount.

Dragon> Telgar Weyrlings sense that Tierth ooohs, and lets y'all know in 
case you didn't hear. The first half of Fall, when the wings are there 
without us, is 'canned' - ie, prewritten (thanks Tarlo, K'ran, and Greylin!) 
A bit after we arrive, I start winging it ;) Oh - and Talisha is still 
weyrling wingleader, so she'll be ICly leading you folk, Aisling and I are 
along to assist.I'll ICly explain how it works once the wings take off, but 
just know that I'm gonna be /spammed/ between emitting Fall and being here :)

Lanryi looks through her wing and seeing that everything is in order gives 
the signal you've all been waiting for. "Alright Dawnslight, mount up." she 
calls before mounting up herself and giving Valrieth a firestone-dusty pat.

Leya nods to Kassima. "I'll do that," she calls back. She catches the sack 
tossed to her by one of the weyrlings and stokes Tovith's fires with the 
firestone. Once Tovith is ready to go, she wanders among the riders of her 
half of the wing. Her seeming nonchalance betrayed the sharp look in her 
eyes as she makes sure everyone is in top shape. She pauses a little longer 
by Shiara watching her and her lifemate, pointing out a few things, then 
walks on once she's satisfied.

Kassima finishes her work and tosses the sack to one side, scrubbing dust 
from her gloves off onto her riding pants. Why relocation of dust is 
necessary is a mystery. Maybe it's one of those reassuring little rituals 
that riders perform before Fall. She pivots on her heel to give first her 
half of the chevron, then the Wing entire a long look. "Looking good, 
Thunderbolt. Now just be sure t'be staying that way." Raising a hand into 
the air, she yells, "Mount up!"

M'rgan vaults up onto Ularrith's back, as the dragon warbles a greeting.

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.

<*> Lanryi climbs between Valrieth's neckridges using her foreleg as a step up.

<*> As the call to mount up is passed down along the wings, Maylia finishes 
assisting a greenrider. "All-RIGHT!" She calls, her voice carrying 
reasonably well over the clamour. "Weyrlings! Assemble by the barracks, 
let's get out of the way. Get firestone sacks - as many as your dragon can 
carry plus one extra for your dragon."

<*> Leya finishes her rounds, returning to Tovith's side and climbing up.

<*> Leya uses Tovith's leg to climb up, then sits between his neckridges.

<*> Aisling moves back to Sielth's side as the wings begin to mount up. The 
green greets her lifemate with a soft croon before they watch the others 
leave, without them. "Soon" Aisling says quietly.

<*> Without delay, K'ran heads for the makeshift depot for sacked stone. He 
hoists as many as he can carry up onto his shoulders, and then, under this 
load, heads for the barracks with Indrath.

<*> Atop sturdy Ularrith, M'rgan settles himself between Ularrith's last 
neck ridge and his first back ridge. With the sack of 'stone sitting on his 
lap, the brownrider digs his toes into the stirrups hanging from the straps 
and rises slightly from his seat, making a few adjustments in his position. 
Only after a look of satisfaction has crosses his face does he busy himself 
securing this last bag of firestone to the dragon's straps.

<*> T'kar hoists himself up to Fasolth's neck.

<*> Tarlo starts to gather her own sacks - thankful of Cariath's huge girth, 
for she can carry a lot. This pleases the gold, who rumbles at her 
life-mate. "I know, Cariath...I'm getting your haul, as fast as I can." Once 
finished, she and Cariath head to the barrachs.

Telgar Weyr> Maylia okies, for folks riding Fall, I'm leaving flight/between 
up to the wingleaders' discretion :)

<*> Greylin hears the whip-crack of Maylia's voice and hustles to complete 
the task given to her by that voice. She and Kheprith get to where they're 
told to get, and there is a pile of firestone sacks on her back.

<*> Tovith rumbles deep in his throat as he looks around, mimicing his rider 
in surveying the riders around them. Leya pats Tovith's neck, then looks up 
at the sky studying the weather above.

<*> Talisha shoos Imanath off to the side as she drags some firestone sacks 
over, and starts loading Imanath up. She continues to haul the sacks up 
until Imanath can't carry any more, and both scoot into line with the others.

Dragon> Telgar Weyrlings sense that Tierth giggles - doh! I meant 'by' the 
barracks, no in'em. But that's okay.

<*> Astride Fasolth's neck, T'kar is up on his lifemate's neck as soon as he 
hears Kassima's order, checking all the straps and making sure all his sacks 
are secured as well. He looks up, mount and rider ready for departure.

Dragon> Telgar Weyrlings sense that Cariath hehs. Will we be able to watch 
the Fall before we ICly arrive?

<*> With a *slam* of his tail against the ground, Ularrith releases the 
tension that has built up in his muscles and springs into the air. The rest 
of Skyfire Wing rises as well, the air groaning from the effort of 
containing all of these dragons.

Dragon> Telgar Weyrlings sense that Tierth hmmms. In the interest of 
minimizing spam for me, let's keep us in the same room as the departing 
folks. Come on back out? :) Oooh - send a fl via the dutypair, if you like 
:) That'll land them in the ground room, and you'll be able to watch.

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

Kassima buckles herself in with leathery creaks and buckle-y clinks, 
lowering her flight goggles only once everything seems in order. At which 
point she twists again on Lysseth's neck to survey her riders one more time. 
"All right, beast," she murmurs to her lifemate, shifting back to face 
forward. "Let's see what Thread has in store for us today." Her right hand 
lifts into the sky, and once Lysseth assures her that the riders behind have 
seen, she drops it in the signal for take-off.

<*> Lysseth springs from the ground, the air from her wings churning up dust 
as she takes to the skies.

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

<*> Tovith rises up from the bowl.

<*> Ularrith soars upwards into the open sky above the weyr.

Dragon> Telgar Weyrlings sense that Cariath doesn't have one.

<*> Valrieth rises up from the bowl.

TGW-Bowl>> Aisling tilts her head to the side as if listening to something. 
"Well, good point." She states before she begins to feed firestone to the 
green, just a couple of chucks in case.

Dragon> Telgar Weyrlings sense that Sielth is assuming that it will be logged?

TGW-Bowl>> Maylia isn't just telling the weyrlings what to do, she's doing 
it herself. Lugging sacks past Talisha, she notes, "Alright. You're still 
the wingleader for them, so you're in charge." A nod goes to the assembling 
weyrlings, and she continues. "They're to secure those sacks, and then 
listen up, I'll let you all know how this works.

<*> Fasolth rises up from the bowl.

Dragon> Telgar Weyrlings sense that Lysseth has a log going, certainly. (I 
can imagine the surprise that causes. ;)

Dragon> Telgar Weyrlings sense that Imanath has one, but would prefer to 
just read a log later, cut down on the spam.

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

<*> Ularrith disappears into Between.

<*> Tovith flies up from the southern half of the bowl.

<*> Fasolth flies up from the southern half of the bowl.

<*> Fasolth disappears into Between.

TGW-Bowl>> Tarlo is inspecting her straps yet again before starting to 
secure her supply and check her tanks. She looks up briefly to see Fasolth 
climbing the sky and disappear. "Good luck." she murmurs, and goes back to 
her duties.

<*> Valrieth flies up from the southern half of the bowl.

TGW-Bowl>> K'ran has already begun securing sack upon sack of 'stone to 
Indrath's riding straps, the bronze rumbling in mild protest against the 
burden. "I know," he says soothingly, although firmly. "So would I. But this 
is every bit as important."

Kassima, once her Wing is properly amassed and in formation, gives the 
signal to go *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!

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

TGW-Bowl>> Greylin quickly lashes each sack onto Kheprith's back, and he 
watches the activity with avid interest. Both are quiet, focused on their task

TGW-Bowl>> Talisha appears calm in spite of it all, eyes dancing with the 
excitement she's managing to keep hidden in all other ways. "Hush." she 
murmurs down to Imanath as the green croons softly, likely her 'good lucks' 
to the other dragons. Tali secures the last few sacks to Imanath's straps, 
making sure everything is down tight. Her gaze travels along the line of 
weyrlings, hands tightening by her sides.

<*> The day is somewhat overcast, high clouds of uniform grey are lit from 
behind by the sun, and scatter rays of brilliance to the land below creating 
patterns of light and shadow. The light but steadily-increasing breeze 
brings with it the sharp tang of ozone, and occasionally can be heard the 
distant rumble of thunder -- indeed a few of the clouds in the distance 
possess those dark bellies beneath towers of white characteristic of 
thunderheads. Though cool, the air feels heavy with moisture.

TGW-Bowl>> Sielth begins to relax, now that the wings are gone and she can 
pay attention to the weyrlings. Aisling wanders around the various pairs, 
spotchecking the straps. She pauses by one pair and just shakes her head as 
one jerk causes a split. "Get a new set. Hate to lose you now." She states 
before moving on.

TGW-Bowl>> With sacks of 'stone tied securely to his lifemate's straps, 
K'ran turns to simply wait in line, hands clasped behind his back. He 
remains restless from adrenaline, though he nonetheless projects a quiet and 
perhaps even infectious confidence.

TGW-Bowl>> Maylia assists weyrlings, firmly insisting that one of the 
less-eager and more scared weyrlings continue preparations. "This is what 
you've been trained for - fighting Fall. Your first taste of it, and yes, 
you won't be going up flameless. I want each of you ready to flame your way 
clear, but a jump *between* is far preferable. If you need incentive, just 
recall your last ropedrill the other day, not all of you escaped paint-free. 
It's not paint, today." Nice, happy thoughts.

<*> On the horizon, Thread amasses, a silvery haze at first, as if 
hesitating in the upper atmosphere, building its forces before an assault on 
Pern's lush soil. Finally -- yet all too soon -- the first threads of the 
fall peirce the greyness of the clouds, arrowing for Telgar's Wings.

<*> Lysseth emerges from *between* not with a bugle, but with a roar: her 
traditional, defiant battle-call to the Threads. Her impatient twitching as 
she waits for them to appear is transmuted into an immediate sense of 
purpose once she does, and her growled rumble is a warning that her Wing 
likely doesn't need as she rises towards the first patch of Thread to come 
near.

TGW-Bowl>> "Do not go out of your way to fight Thread." Aisling states,eying 
each weyrling pair "Your job is to fly resupply. If we see you doing 
anything but that, I will send you back to the weyr. Understood?"

TGW-Bowl>> Greylin grimly cinches the last sack to her brown's back, 
checking the settling of the sacks before moving to Kheprith's head, her 
eyes following the weyrlingmasters.

<*> Fasolth pops out of *between* after Lysseth in perfect formation, 
echoing her rousing roar. He surges forward, one with his rider and his 
Wing, neck craning to stop the nearest silvery strands with a well-focused 
burst of flame.

TGW-Bowl>> "Understood." Talisha echoes several of the weyrlings around her, 
eyeing each briefly before her attention settles on Maylia and Aisling. 
Nervousness starts to creep into her expression, brows twitching a little as 
she struggles to contain her emotions, one hand placed against Imanath's 
side to settle the green slightly.

TGW-Bowl>> K'ran gives Indrath a light poke at Aisling's warning, as if to 
draw the bronze's attention to it. "Understood," he answers, then stoops to 
retrieve that one extra sack of 'stone, and begins sorting through it.

TGW-Bowl>> Maylia sends a firm nod towards Aisling, agreeing fully. "No 
heroes. No aero-gymnastics. When a dragon calls for resupply, and you're up, 
go there, toss the sack, and return to the wing. You'll be flying under 
Talisha's lead, so watch and listen to her. She'll lead you in two paralell 
lines, flying under the fighting wings but above the Queens - they're often 
too low for us to safely be underneath, so keep your eyes overhead and get 
out of the way of what thread falls your way." She takes a deep breath, 
tension showing in her face, too.

<*> It doesn't take long before those few hesitant threads become an army, 
and the air becomes thick with clumps and tangles over all of the wings. 
Spearing down from above, an array of Thread is caught by a spiraling eddy 
of wind, borne into a silver-hued cyclone headed for Thunderbolt.

TGW-Bowl>> Tarlo adds her voice to the sentiment, a hand similarly placed on 
Cariath's leg. She nods upon hearing Maylia's instructions.

<*> Tovith swoops down out of *between*, for once silent, his eyes focused 
on the oncoming mass of thread and immediately drop into his place in the 
formation beside and a little behind Lysseth. He drops his silence to rumble 
defiantly as the thread comes even closer. Once the silver strands are in 
range he lets out a gout of flame turn the silver to black char.

<*> As the leading edge begins trickling over their formation, Thunderbolt 
dragons engage in the age-old dance: dive and skip, flame and rise, blink 
*between* and back again. It is a dance whose measures only become more 
intent, more focused as the full weight of Fall begins. Lysseth spears 
herself towards a portion of that tangled tornado; her fire leaves a swath 
of it nothing but ash and cinder, and she trumpets warning to the dragons 
behind: head's up!

TGW-Bowl>> Maylia rubs her hands together - a telltale sign of that tension? 
She's not going to just leave it at that, though, and she continues with a 
deep breath. "If I did not feel you were ready, I would not send you up 
there. Each and every one of you knows well how to fly in a wing, how to 
flame and evade Thread -- I have every confidence you will do just fine. 
Keep your wits about you. Remember your training. And, if you get injured at 
*all*, signal, and return to the Weyr." Another deep breath. "Are you ready?"

<*> The breeze becomes a wind, those distant thunderheads aren't so distant 
anymore. Over the roars and challenges of the dragons, thunder rolls can be 
discerned still. A clump of Thread is buffeted by a sudden gust of wind and 
torn into fragments that drift downwards as a cloak, spread across the 
entire formation below.

TGW-Bowl>> Greylin still doesn't speak. She merely nods, her features giving 
away the focus that she learned back home as a guard.

TGW-Bowl>> Cariath bugles fiercely, a contrast to Tarlo's determined nod.

TGW-Bowl>> Talisha fingers the edge of her jacket, then turns around to 
re-check Imanath's straps. She gives them a firm tug, and still another 
check, nervous tension displayed across her brow. "I'm ready." She calls 
over to Maylia, voice as least unwavering as Imanath adds her bugle to 
Cariath's.

TGW-Bowl>> Kiyoth leaps from Kiyoth's Ledge and flies into the air.

TGW-Bowl>> Alessandra was here the whole time. Really.

TGW-Bowl>> Kheprith doesn't bugle. He ROARS! the way only a male dragon can 
roar. The kind that starts at their tail and works its way forward.

TGW-Bowl>> Aisling does add anything further, taking one more round about 
the weyrlings as if to ensure her that they a ready.

TGW-Bowl>> K'ran gives a curt, wordless nod in answer to Maylia, and lets 
his eyes move to Talisha.

<*> Tovith flames at the section of the silver mass that comes writhing his 
way, he and his rider have time to see his fire licking around a large part 
of it turning it to crack dust, before he *betweens* out the way of remains 
portion. He lets Jesith behind him catch the rest, before drops back into 
formation.

TGW-Bowl>> Maylia waits, as the answers vary in tone from nervous or solemn 
nods, to shouts of preparedness and draconic bugles. "Then," she says, 
"Talisha is leading the wing. Talisha, get them chewing 'stone, we'll leave 
once they're ready." A glance finds Aisling in the crowd, though her 
expression is blank.

Kassima spares a moment to frown at those distant thunderheads--hey, clouds, 
don't you realize this sky ain't big enough for *two* sets of 
Thunderbolts?--but she's distracted by a sharp jerk on the straps as Lysseth 
performs one of her characteristic maneuvers: the slender green cuts up and 
to the left, where Thread threatens to fall beneath reach, and gifts it with 
a thorough baptism in fire. Good night, sweet Thread, good night.

<*> Fasolth stays in tight position, wings dipping up and down, grasping for 
control in the strong winds. He is forced to drop down for a brief moment, 
fiery blasts taking out the threatening ball of silver. T'kar urges his 
brown back up into place as the constant rhythm of charring and twisting 
continues. The blue ahead of the pair still fights well, helping them to 
face the wall of Thread.

<*> Thread begins to fall in thick patches all around Skyfire as if someone 
was purposefully bombarding them from above. But these are no dyed ropes, 
there's no Weyrlingmaster nor Wingleader above tossing them, yelling at the 
formations -- this is nature. The masses of Thread fall steadily, almost in 
a distinct rhythm.

TGW-Bowl>> Alessandra stands at attention next to Kiyoth, the green bugling 
to express her anxiousness to get going.

TGW-Bowl>> Aisling glances back to meet Maylia's gaze for a few moments 
before she offers an almost jaunty grin and a salute.

Dragon> Telgar Thunderbolt Wing sense that Lysseth takes a moment to flash 
fierce approval along her link to her Wingmates: << We fly well, and skip 
properly. Continue to do so! My rider does not like the look of those 
clouds--we must brace for strong winds, and stay on the alert! >>

TGW-Bowl>> "Alright," Talisha steps out in front of the line, glancing over 
at Maylia and Aisling once, before letting it travel up and down the line as 
she speaks, "Start your lifemates with the stone, then we'll all mount up, 
and I'll give you the command to go." That said, she shoots another glance 
at Maylia - looking for confirmation that was okay perhaps, and starts 
picking through the firestone near Imanath, choosing *just( the right chunks 
for her lifemate.

TGW-Bowl>> Tarlo checks Cariath's straps once more, and goes over the guages 
of the flame thrower and checks that the nozzle is firmly secured while the 
others feed their dragons.

Dragon> Telgar Thunderbolt Wing sense that Fasolth's mind, usually a 
complacent, happy stream, is a rushing river of concentration and effort 
now. << Yes, we see this and agree. >>

TGW-Bowl>> K'ran had already begun sorting through a sack of 'stone, and so, 
upon Talisha's command, begins, businesslike, feeding Indrath the largest 
chunks of rock. The bronze chews quickly, the pair having settled into a 
practiced rhythm, and enduring the tension of the moment in silence.

TGW-Bowl>> Maylia returns the salute, cracking a half-smile for Aisling. She 
heads for Tierth, the green's already loaded with her firestone sacks, and 
begins selecting lumps from the stones before her. It doesn't take long for 
the practiced pair to be ready, and soon she's fastening the remains in her 
bag within easy reach once she's astride her dragon.

<*> Shiara and Riatth, a Thunderbolt pair nearest the fringes of the 
Skyfirean bombardment, jump *between* just in time to avoid laceration as a 
sharp wind sends one of the tangles gusting towards them. The newly-returned 
green roars rage upon her return, and dives sharply to catch the Thread with 
a full blast of fire before it can slip too far away.

TGW-Bowl>> Aisling is soon ready, Sielth looking much more cheerful than she 
had all evening. She has her firestone, she is ready to flame.

<*> The faint rumbles grow louder, like the rolling rhythm of a drum. 
Despite the sun burning through the overcast sky, the clouds seem to almost 
sigh, and thick, fat drops of rain begin to slowly fall, splattering to the 
ground. Fall itself continues, though most threads now fall limply, 
rain-drowned. The wings remain, though - showers like this might be 
intermittent!

<*> Skyfire's formation is spread out farther than usual because of the wind 
gusts. So as the clumps of Thread reach their level, the dragons have to 
flit back and forth to reach and sear the silvery tendrils rather than just 
plowing through the deadly swarm. The effort this causes shows in the 
dragons' deep but puffing breaths and in the determination in their eyes.

TGW-Bowl>> Greylin finds a decent-sized chunk or two for Kheprith, and 
watches him critically during the chewing and swallowing process, murmuring 
a soft reminder about which stomach to think about.

Dragon> Telgar Thunderbolt Wing sense that Tovith sends in response his 
agreement in the vibrant autumn shades that are his, swirling close together 
in a concentrated pattern.

Kassima calls encouragement to her Wingmates between dives, swerves, and 
skips--not that the words can really be heard over the winds, the belches of 
dragons, the inevitable yelps of pain, but Lysseth no doubt passes on her 
rider's message. Wiping her goggles clear, Kassi sits back against Lysseth's 
neckridge at this intermission, not urging the green to chase the drowned 
Threads though Lyss continues to spit fire at any that fall near her.

TGW-Bowl>> Alessandra picks out a good amount of the right sized firestone 
chunks for Kiyoth, then stands at her muzzle and watches over the green 
carefully. "Your other stomach, remember that..."

TGW-Bowl>> Tarlo calls over, "Ready, Talisha." after a moment's conference 
with Cariath.

TGW-Bowl>> "We're ready, Wingleader," K'ran offers, out of his silence. 
Indrath swallows the last bit of stone and echoes his rider with a quiet 
rumble.

Dragon> Telgar Thunderbolt Wing sense that Lysseth's concentration relaxes, 
if that can be termed the word for it, into an impatient itchiness. << Do 
not waste your strength against this Thread which will not harm. Stay calm 
and in formation. If the rain does not last, we must be ready to fight again 
the moment it ceases. >>

TGW-Bowl>> Greylin looks up and nods to Talisha. "Ready to go, Wingleader," 
she reports.

TGW-Bowl>> Alessandra looks up after Kiyoth finihses, and nods once to 
Talisha. "We're ready, Wingleader!"

TGW-Bowl>> Talisha walks up and down just a few paces, watching as Imanath 
swallows her last few pieces. "Alright everybody." She calls out, voice 
louder than would normally be, "Everybody mount up." She walks over to 
Imanath's side, reasurring her green as she mounts up, and lifts one hand. 
"Let's go!"

TGW-Bowl>> Talisha scrambles up the sun-kissed green of Imanath's hide to 
perch in an unoccupied neckridge.

TGW-Bowl>> K'ran clambers upwards onto Indrath's back.

TGW-Bowl>> Imanath takes flight, using the thermals rising from the bowl to 
carry her aloft.

TGW-Bowl>> Tarlo sits down between Cariath's neck ridges.

<*> Fasolth redoubles his efforts in the onslaught of Thread, protecting 
himself and his rider, the other pairs, and Pern. He follows the larger 
movements of the Wing as Lysseth directs, weaving within his own area to 
catch every one of the strands in a puff of black dust, still going strong.

Dragon> Telgar Weyrlings sense that Tierth OOC Okays - everyone got the 
image for where we're going?

TGW-Bowl>> Once the order is given, Aisling clambers up Sielth's side, 
quickly fastening her straps then rechecking them out of habit.

TGW-Bowl>> Aisling uses Sielth's straps to make their way up her side and 
settle between pale green neckridges.

Dragon> Indrath bespoke Telgar Weyrlings with << Yep. >>

TGW-Bowl>> Maylia swings up to her place astride Tierth, her lifemate 
welcoming her with a rumble.

TGW-Bowl>> Indrath takes flight, using the thermals rising from the bowl to 
carry him aloft.

<*> Tovith is rocked a little to one side as one particularly strong gust 
hits him along with the pelting rain, but he quickly readjusts and is back 
in his place. Leya uses the rather wet break that's afforded by the rain to 
feed Tovith more firestone from her sack, though she keeps a wary eye on the 
rain clouds in case they suddenly decide to stop dropping moisture.

TGW-Bowl>> Kaneth leaps from Kaneth's Ledge and flies into the air.

<*> The slow fall of the sun shower drizzles down, thinning perceptably. By 
the time it's done, droplets have left puddles and rivulets of running water 
along the ground below, and turned ash on dragonhide to oily grime. Thunder 
rolls continue to the north, low and ominous, but seems to be moving away.

TGW-Bowl>> Tierth takes flight, using the thermals rising from the bowl to 
carry her aloft.

TGW-Bowl>> Cariath takes flight, using the thermals rising from the bowl to 
carry her aloft.

Dragon> Kaneth bespoke Telgar Weyrlings with << Where are we going? >>

Dragon> Telgar Weyrlings sense that Imanath OOCLY - Thread fall.

TGW-Bowl>> Sielth takes flight, using the thermals rising from the bowl to 
carry her aloft.

Dragon> Telgar Weyrlings sense that Tierth's supplying an image of lush 
forests over a valley, a hold within recognizable as Telgar, for Imanath to 
pass on to the wing. << When they are ready, tell them to go there. >>

TGW-Bowl>> Greylin manages to get aboard Kheprith.

TGW-Bowl>> Kheprith takes flight, using the thermals rising from the bowl to 
carry him aloft.

TGW-Bowl>> Kaneth takes flight, using the thermals rising from the bowl to 
carry him aloft.

<*> Lysseth, indeed grimed, begins rumbling with agitation as the rain 
thins; by the time it has stopped, she is nearly roaring outright, her flame 
re-stoked during the interval so that she is ready for the resumption now. 
The first 'live' Thread to reach her is treated to flame at full force, the 
gout blazing a long flash of green-tinged golden light against the 
lightening skies.

TGW-Bowl>> Kiyoth takes flight, using the thermals rising from the bowl to 
carry her aloft.

Dragon> Telgar Weyrlings sense that Kiyoth OOCly mrrs and got pulled away 
from the comp, sorry!

Telgar Weyr> Kichevio waves! How late am I?

Dragon> Telgar Weyrlings sense that Imanath projects the image to crystal 
clear sharpness, passing it across to the wing. << Is everybody ready? >> 
She pauses for confirmation, a shout from her rider to the others, then << 
Let's go! >>

TGW-Bowl>> Above, Sielth keeps to the outside of the formation, hovering and 
waiting.

<*> Fasolth saves his strength until the rain passes, still moving along 
with good speed and bright flames, but letting the most difficult to reach 
strands pass. T'kar likewise takes a moment to refuel his brown, then 
Fasolth strikes out hard again, twisting about to catch all the Thread he can.

TGW-Bowl>> Above, Saulith bugles loud and clear as she finds her place in line.

TGW-Bowl>> Above, From on top of Imanath's back, Talisha flicks her gaze 
between the weyrlings closest to her, hand rising in the signal to go, then 
dropping back down just as fast as she settles herself - Imanath's wings 
sweep out, and in an instant, they blink between.

TGW-Bowl>> Above, Imanath disappears into Between.

Dragon> Telgar Weyrlings sense that Indrath confirms his own readiness, and 
gives a short burst of jubilation at the order to move.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

<*> Tovith waits impatiently as the rain thins, then finally ends, belching 
the occasional flame at the thread that drops close to him. He saves his 
great bursts of fire for the live thread, the dangerous stuff. As it begins 
to fall in silvery tangles again he treats it to a royal roasting in a wave 
of flame.

<*> Ranged beneath the fighting Wings, the dragons flying resupply appear - 
several wings of them, notably one of rather young and untried dragons. The 
latest Weyrlings have joined the Weyr, hues of green, gold, brown, blue and 
bronze aligning themselves into their formation.

Dragon> Telgar Weyrlings sense that Saulith is jittery, red zigzags 
twitching around and up and down. <<What do we do? Whom do we go to?>>

<*> Lysseth would greet the Weyrlings, really she would, but there are 
distractions: a patch of Thread threatening to clip her on the muzzle right 
now, for instance. Jerking back to bank mid-air, she snakes her head to 
catch it with a short and succinct burst, then disappears *between* to avoid 
the char and cinder that result. The rest of Thunderbolt fights similarly; 
grimed by the rain, with Thread-char clouding the air around them, a full 
Wing fighting still makes an impressive and pyrotechnic sight. Several of 
the flame bursts visible from below are weak, signifying that the resupply 
has probably arrived none too soon for this Wing's members at least.

<*> The sun continues to shine relentlessly, burning through patches of 
cloud and creating shafts of light here and there, easily confused for thick 
patches of Thread cast in shadow. A patch, half hidden in the transitory 
shadows, spirals towards Lysseth, while shimmering sickly greenish silver 
drops to the right of Tovith.

<*> Atop sturdy Ularrith, M'rgan pulls back the thin wherhide cover he'd 
tossed over his firestone sacks and shoves it back into a bag. He then 
quickly handles the sacks after stripping off one glove, feeling around for 
any soaked patches. With a nod to himself he tugs back on his glove and 
lifts his eyes to the sky again.

Dragon> Telgar Weyrlings sense that Indrath answers with relaxed confidence. 
<< We wait for Imanath's rider's orders. We resupply the older dragons, when 
we're told. >>

<*> Kiyoth checks her position in flight and, finding herself in the 
appropriate place, looks forward towards Imanath.

<*> Sielth bursts from between, ready to flame. Aisling keeps a wary eye on 
the weyrlings as they move into formation.

<*> Behind Imanath, Indrath glides easily, keeping tight in formation.

<*> On Saulith, Kichevio bends low over Saulith's neck to soothe the green, 
then sits up again to watch the skies, eyes narrowing against the incipient 
sunlight.

<*> Tierth appears from *between*, a chaperone and assistant for the 
weyrlings. For now, it's easy for her and her rider to keep an eye on their 
charges - but soon won't be, as the wings above start to call for resupply.

<*> Kaneth bursts out of between, looking about and carefully making sure he 
is in the right position, then looking toward Imanath for direction.

Dragon> Telgar Weyrlings sense that Tierth OOCly peeks in again, for those 
of you who weren't here earlier :) We outnumber the PC riders fighting fall, 
so feel free to resupply NPCs. ICly, there are LOTS of dragons up there. :)

<*> Tovith bugles a greeting to the arriving weyrlings, though his welcome 
is cut short by the thread that is falling, calling his attention away from 
the new arrival. He dives to his right, flaming up at the sick tangle of 
greenish silver reducing it to char the he quickly *betweens* to avoid and 
pops back into his place in the formation.

Kassima catches that approaching patch even though her dragon doesn't, 
directing Lysseth's attention so that the green may snap her wings out to 
extension and allow the wind to carry her up to meet it. Light, heat, and 
the sulfuric stench of a firestone emission ensues; the Thread is crisped, 
though one slim strand escapes to weave its way back towards the Wing 
proper... perhaps too quickly to be caught by the busy Wing dragons, though 
there's always a chance.

<*> Imanath sweeps quickly into formation, urging the other weyrlings to 
ease in behind her, making sure everybody keeps tight formation. She lowers, 
taking them under the fighting dragons, and just above the gold wing. 
Talisha's gaze turns to the sky, eyes widening with the first sight of the 
silvery rain. She takes a moment to compose herself, then shouts across the 
weyrling wing, pointing out riders that need resupply, while Imanath zips in 
t provide before returning to the end of the line.

Dragon> Indrath bespoke Telgar Weyrlings with << Should we just pose more or 
less freely, May? >>

<*> Miryenne, one of Thunderbolt's pairs, curses under her breath at the 
visible guttering of her blue Guarith's flame. Keeping an eye on the sky 
around her, she signals her need of fresh firestone to the resupply Wing.

[Editor's Note:  I leave in the following bit for humor's sake. ;)  My
FL Kyril was spying on the Weyrling Barracks, and saw the following:]

Kyril> The puddles on the ground below sometimes catch sparkles of sunlight, 
which may reflect back into a rider or dragon's eyes if they aren't careful, 
allowing yet more hiding places for clumps of thread to conceal themselves 
in. Three strands, separated from a clump, coil and writhe, their silvery 
form glimmering with reflected light -- right overhead of Fasolth.

Long distance to Maylia: Kassima has to blink for a moment, then snickers! I 
think the cloud is dropping Thread in the Weyrling Barracks. ;) Not a 
problem as far as I know, but kinda amusing. ;)

Telgar Weyr> Maylia laughs. For those of you with 'eyes' in the weyrling 
barracks, no, Thread is not falling in there. OOPS!

<*> Atop Ralgeth, Gianna, normally immaculate when seen at the Weyr, looks 
bedraggled now with grime on her face and rivulets of dirty, dark water 
streaking down her leathers. The Skyfire bluerider signals for a resupply 
even as Ralgeth breaks out of formation, dropping down and to one side to 
give room for a weyrling to drop a firestone sack from above.

<*> The puddles on the ground below sometimes catch sparkles of sunlight, 
which may reflect back into a rider or dragon's eyes if they aren't careful, 
allowing yet more hiding places for clumps of thread to conceal themselves 
in. Three strands, separated from a clump, coil and writhe, their silvery 
form glimmering with reflected light -- right overhead of Fasolth.

Telgar Weyr> Aisling giggles.

<*> Saulith heads for Ralgeth, cutting smoothly through the air toward the 
blue. Kichevio tosses the sack quickly, only watching just long enough to 
make sure Gianna and Ralgeth are headed back into formation before skipping 
/between/ and back to their place.

<*> Hyla spies the single strand of thread heading straight toward her as 
she wipes the grime from her goggles. She quickly directs Omnith attention 
toward it and he quickly flames the strand before it can cause any harm, 
then returns his attention the large patches of thread.

<*> Fasolth taps into his reserves, the brown's stamina coming in handy as 
he maintains his efforts to destroy all the Thread he can without leaving 
formation. His enthusiasm eventually catches up with him, though, and T'kar 
looks to the resupply wing, signalling his need in anticipation of Fasolth's 
flame running out. Neither of the pair seems to mind the grime, fighting on 
with determination. Almost too late, the two are warned of the approaching 
threat by a nearby green. Fasolth's struggling flame barely manages to char 
the silver Thread before it would have been disastrous.

<*> At Talisha's command, and not an instant before, Indrath peels out of 
formation at his rider's urging. The young bronze dances upwards with 
startling agility, surging to bear a sack of 'stone up to beleaguered 
Miryenne and Gaurith. K'ran gives the sack a deft heave before he and his 
lifemate dive again, skipping *between* to avoid a clump of Thread and 
weaving back into formation with the other weyrlings.

Dragon> Telgar Weyrlings sense that Tierth okays - anyone else having 
troubles getting to the room we're in? :) Plus,don't forget you've probably 
got three, four, or more sacks to toss, so it's not a one-time thing :)

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

<*> Distant rumbles continue, drawing nearer again as the wings fight Fall. 
As several greens and blues in the wings trade off, being replaced by fresh 
pairs, lightning streaks across the skies as a bolt comes just a little bit 
too close for comfort, arcing from cloud to cloud. The winds gust slightly, 
shifting their direction for a few minutes. Visibility lessens for that 
time, until the bank of cumulonimbus slides northwards, following the march 
of the preceeding storm. This time, though, no rain falls, and the thread 
fall continues.

<*> As Miryenne catches the firestone sack with the deftness of a longtime 
rider, yelling a quick thanks, C'row makes his need of bronze-sized pieces 
for his Servoth known with great waves of his arms--a carelessness which 
earns him a scathing snarl from Lysseth before the green twists on her 
wingtip to attend a nearby patch.

<*> From on top of Imanath's back, Talisha continues to send the orders to 
the weyrlings, voice carrying just loud enough to point out where riders 
need re-supply.

<*> Sielth moves in to the fray, tossing a sack towards a dawnslight 
wingrider. The greenrider catches it deftly before moving back into 
formation, a flameplume flairing before her.

<*> Weyrlings and, in the distance, older riders who cannot fly full Fall, 
dart into the upper ranges. Fall at this point can be hectic: there are 
occasional draconic squeals of pain, cut short as they transfer to the safe 
cold of *between*. Some return, some head back to the Weyr. In Maelstrom, 
blue Malith's wingtip is caught before he can turn to flame a clump, leaving 
the tangle to tumble towards the weyrlings below.

<*> From Cariath's neck, Tarlo arches her wings and brings herself to level 
with C'row, sending him sacks in a series of hauled tosses. She gruns with 
the effort, and then the pair move back to the wing. They veer sharply, 
avoiding the clump midway as they return to formation.

Dragon> Telgar Weyrlings sense that Cariath alerts the others. <<Thread 
comes!>>

Telgar Weyr> Maylia notes for those of you in Fall, I had Aurian's okay to 
injure her NPC wingsecond :) I'd not just do that out of the blue :)

<*> Tovith continues to flame, dodge, *between*, then flame again in a 
steady rythmn. His flames begin the diminish as the stone he acquired during 
the short rain break begins to run low. Leya signals for a new sack of 
firestone, allowing Tovith one more blast of flame before dropping out of 
formation so as to be more easily reached by those riding resupply.

Dragon> Telgar Weyrlings sense that Saulith flares a sharp snap of flame-red 
in acknowledgement. <<I see it!>>

Telgar Weyr> Aisling says, "You just did it to the blue. ;)"

Telgar Weyr> Leya grins.

Dragon> Telgar Weyrlings sense that Sielth's tone is calm assurance, <<Flame 
or Between...Now>> She orders.

<*> Imanath cranes her neck up at Cariath's warning to the weyrlings, maw 
dropping open as she lets out a belch of flame that sears up, burning bright 
against the sky to scorch the tangle headed towards her, mentaly urging her 
clutchsibs help.

"Thankee," Kassima yells on C'row's behalf, since the bronzerider is 
suddenly rather preoccupied by blinking out of the way of a thick patch; the 
smaller bronze just behind him catches it, and good thing, too. The 
Wingleader watches her own mount's flame carefully as the green--tiring 
enough to be skipping *between* more often than chasing Thread, but far from 
out of the game--catches a sidewinding twist with a searing tongue of fire. 
The strength of the flame must not please her; she makes a swift gesture for 
another sack.

<*> Almost at the end of Thunderbolt's formation a young blue, Beweth, 
whirls frantically to char a few badly-timed clumps of Thread headed his 
way. Though he's fairly fresh into the fight, having replaced an older 
green, he quickly runs low on firestone and has to signal for resupply.

<*> On Kaneth, Lorrin glances nervously up at the thread that falls toward 
the weyrlings, as Kaneth flies up toward Tovith so that Lorrin can heave a 
few sacks of firestone to Leya. He disappears *between* for a moment and 
then reappears in formation with the other weyrlings, letting out a belch of 
flame.

<*> Saulith almost _roars_ out an extra burst of flame to add to Imanath's, 
not even minding as the Thread's ash settles over her.

<*> Tierth flies resupply, too, her rider directing her to the uppermost 
wings in a quick skip *between*, bringing sacks to two riders speeding 
across the sky. Following her rider's advice to the weyrlings, the green 
doesn't attempt to join the wing in fighting, she only lets a trickle of 
flame out as her wings fold, keeping a clump above her from contacting her 
silvery hide. A heartbeat later, she's *between*, then back with the weyrlings.

<*> Kiyoth flies out of formation, the small green covering the distances 
with wide wingbeats. Alessandra tosses a bag of firestone towards Beweth's 
rider, then blinks between to arrive back in formation.

<*> From atop Tovith, Leya calls her thanks to Lorrin as she catches the 
sacks, though it's doubtful whether she's heard over the noise that 
accompanies 'fall. She hurredly replenishes Tovith, then blinking *between* 
to avoid a fast falling patch the pair return to their place and begin 
flaming in earnest once again.

<*> Fasolth sights the scattered flames among the Weyrlings and seems 
inspired by it, a huge gout of fire destroying a drifting clump. Even the 
briefest glance suggests that the sturdy brown is both protective and proud 
of his young friends.

<*> Still towards the back of the rotating formation of resupply riders, 
Indrath spits narrow tongues of fire to pick off what little Thread comes 
near him that has managed to find its way through the Flight above. The 
young bronze punctuates his work with sharp, vicious cries, as if the 
spiralling silver has given him some personal effrontery.

<*> Sielth relies on skipping between rather than flaming, her energies 
moving towards keeping the wings supplied.

<*> Lysseth spares a disapproving note for young Beweth; her rider will no 
doubt be having words with his rider about how much 'stone is good to bring, 
but for the nonce, they have other concerns. Nor are they the only ones: 
Shiara and Riatth, on the edge of returning to the Weyr to be refreshed, 
find themselves in the path of a thick snarl and decide that discretion is 
the better point of valor. Their place near the end of formation makes this 
silver snarl difficult for the Wing to catch, and the weary green bugles a 
warning to the queens--and Weyrlings--below.

<*> Two of Skyfire Wing's smallest greens veer off from the formation in 
unison, exhaustion turning their normally bright hides grey. They fall back 
behind the rest of the dragons and only when all of the Wings are gone from 
overhead do they blink into *between*, returning to the Weyr. Their 
positions do not remain empty for long though as a few seconds later the pop 
of *between* signals the arrival of fresh Skyfire greens to replace them. 
During this shuffle, Polete and brown Tyroth and P'list and blue Valnith 
take the opportunity to signal their need for fresh firestone.

Dragon> Kiyoth bespoke Telgar Weyrlings with << Thread above! >>

<*> Kheprith drifts out of formation long enough for his rider to toss a 
sack up at a fellow brownrider, Polete. Then, they are swiftly back in place 
in their own formation.

<*> Through the resupply stage, thread does not only not let up, but its 
relentless rain of silvery tangles seems to increase. Resupply becomes 
tricky: wings send spiralling eddies of wind to whip clumps from their 
predicted paths. There's hardly a free breath of air into which a dragon 
might appear on resupply.

<*> From Cariath's neck, Tarlo pops *between* quite suddenly, to appear 
nearby P'list for resupply. But before she can start hauling, Thread falls 
in such wicked clumps that Tarlo snags the flamethrower nozzle to clear up 
some space first, letting the flame arch out in a widespread to clear the 
air. Sliding it back into her strap, she then tosses bags over to the 
bluerider.

<*> Kiyoth angles her long neck upwards and to the side, letting out a 
rather efficient burst of flame to char the patch missed by Riatth.

Telgar Weyr> Tarlo says, "First dragon-mav of the night! Yay me. ;>"

Telgar Weyr> Maylia will start posing that we're winding down, this has been 
a looong fall :)

Telgar Weyr> T'kar says, "Yeah, I'm about ready to quit too."

<*> Imanath blinks *between* in a moment, leaving the thread to fall lower 
as she reappears next to Polete and brown Tyroth. Talisha's hand grab for 
one of the firestone sacks secured to her dragon, and she hauls it up and 
across to Polete, grunting with the effort straining her muscles. In another 
heartbeat, they're *between* again, bursting out next to a blue, before 
re-joining the line.

<*> Jesith wings her way down, out of formation as her flame has begun to 
thin. G'wain raises an arm to signal for some more firestone before having 
to blink *between* to avoid a few falling strands of thread. He reappears 
farther back, nearer to the resupply wing. As he waits he attempts to whipe 
some of the wet grime from his leathers, but only suceeds in smearing it.

Kassima catches her resupply from a Weyrling in time for the pair to blink 
away from the torrent that's gathered to attack the Wings. Flame-low, 
Lysseth skips *between* several times consecutively, an almost strobe-like 
effect. A brief interval allows her to duck below into the net of protection 
offered by her Wing long enough to have her flames rekindled, though her 
roar of frustration would suggest she's not at all pleased by the time this 
takes--and that's frustration she's only too happy to take out on the Thread.

<*> Kaneth flies quickly and carefully toward Jesith, his rider throwing 
G'wain a few bags of firestone, and then Kaneth blinks *between*, back to 
the other weyrlings.

<*> Though riders still call for resupply, the intensity of the fall slacks 
off, easily recognized by a reduction in frequency of flame bursts from the 
upper levels. Wind remains a peril, though Telgar's fought in far worse, and 
silvery threads continue to be tossed about.

Telgar Weyr> M'rgan waves. Have a good night, everyone. Skyfire will 
continue to fly the Fall and will return to the Weyr unscathed. Thus 
ensuring that there will be no extra drills during the next Sevenday. :)

Telgar Weyr> Maylia says, "Thanks so much for comming, M'rgan! :)"

<*> Fasolth soars along now with fewer powerful strokes, even browns as 
strong and confident as himself growing tired. He neglects no clump of 
Thread, but his movements are easier now, and he has taken in the last of 
the firestone he should need.

<*> From atop Tovith, Jesith bugles her thanks, then ducks behind a pair of 
flaming dragons so G'wain can refuel her with the fresh 'stone. Once she's 
been fully stoked, she drops *between* and reappears back in her place in 
the back of the Thunderbolt formation.

<*> Kheprith makes one final jump to resupply another rider before returning 
to formation once again. His rider checks what firestone they have at hand.

Telgar Weyr> Maylia gives K'ran a pose, then will finish off :) This's been 
a looong Fall.

<*> Once again, Indrath surges out of formation on a resupply run. K'ran 
leans tight against the young bronze's neck as the pair dart smoothly in and 
out of clumps of Thread, dancing /between/ here and there, delivering a pair 
of sacks to Skyfire wingriders before returning to formation.

<*> On his brown Khorith, weyrling T'mas makes a quick resupply run up 
towards a weary Thunderbolt wingrider. What seems routine quickly turns 
tragic: after delivering the sack, Khorith is caught on the haunches by a 
lone tendril of Thread. The pair blink /between/, only to emerge from the 
void in the midst of a curtain of the stuff. Both dragon and rider blink 
/between/ again, screaming -- and do not reappear.

<*> Saulith stares, eyes paling from fighting brightness to ghost-grey in 
shock, before letting out an agonizing keen for lost Khorith.

<*> Atop Kiyoth, Alessandra swivels around on Kiyoth, eyes widening in 
disbelief. "Oh Faranth, no, T'mas..." Kiyoth beneath here takes up Saulith's 
keen, never once wavering in her position.

<*> Lysseth keeps almost strictly to her place in formation: no more sharp 
maneuvers, no dives, no brisk rises. A Wingleading green can't afford to 
leave formation midway through Fall, and these are the methods she has 
chosen to avoid that necessity. Still, she keeps the skies directly around 
her clear and continues supervising her Wing carefully. An alarmed bugle 
escapes her at the initial Threading of a Weyrling; it turns into a screech 
at the tragic misjudgment on return, and a muted keening note at the very 
end. Not long-lasting, though. The fight continues. Grief is for later.

<*> From on top of Imanath's back, Talisha leans forward, clutching at the 
straps. Her eyes fling wide in shock, and she droops for a moment, reality 
sinking in. "Oh no.." she trails off, whatever she says unheard as Imanath's 
keening joins the others, before at her riders urge, stops, and the pair 
return to their duties, delivering sacks as needed.

<*> The wings mop up the final tendrils of thread, leaving the air clear 
except for clouds of ash, which soon begins to clear in the wind. Still, the 
sun shines through the clouds, it's incongruous cheerfullness illuminating 
what's below. Forests, waving greenly - and safely - in the wind. Sweep 
wings peel off, while far below ground crews are ferried in a-dragonback.

<*> Kaneth lets out a low keening moan, staring at the place where Khorith 
and his rider had been just a moment before, as Lorrin gasps, "Shards, T'mas!

<*> Atop Kheprith, Greylin turns her head as she hears a scream. Her eyes go 
wide, but she quickly shouts, "FOCUS! We're not done yet!" If to herself or 
the others, is anyone's guess.

<*> Cariath seems to shudder, letting out a keening wail. Atop her neck, 
Tarlo gasps - pushing aside whatever thoughts first flash across her mind. 
Tossing sacks, searing Thread, that is all there is in the world now, this, 
and her bond with Cariath.

<*> On Saulith, Kichevio waves tightly, to Talisha and to Greylin. Still 
here, still flying.

<*> A deep, resonating bellow sounds through the clearing air and across the 
waving treetops. Fasolth pushes on, following his Wingleader's example and 
trying to be strong for the others, though he is not one to treat losses 
lightly.

<*> The screams catch K'ran's attention as he and Indrath surge back into 
formation, a momentary wince flickering through the young man's expression. 
Then, simmering anger: the young pair watches the skies, ready to burn 
Thread that might dare to try claiming the life of *another* friend.

<*> From atop Tovith, Leya's head jerks up the screaming cry of the weyrling 
pair that then disapears *between* to never return. She shakes her head 
sadly, as Tovith lets out a low keening note. The time of mourning for the 
lost must wait though. Tovith banks and rises to meet the few remaining 
strands of silver thread, flaming them out the sky with bright flame. His 
revenge against what it has taken.

<*> Atop Kiyoth, Alessandra tosses a grateful look at Greylin as the girl's 
shout brings Alessi crashing back to reality. Kiyoth spots another patch 
near her that escaped the upper wings; just a small patch, but it shrivels 
into dust under Kiyoth's vengeful flame.

<*> From on top of Imanath's back, Talisha waits for the silvery threat to 
stop, never once looking back in the direction the scream came from. Someone 
left, and that's all that matters. "Alright, Snowstar!" She calls their 
attention to her, Imanath bugling to draw the weyrling dragons around too. 
"I want everybody back in formation, /now/!" She shouts across the wing, 
expression hard, jaw set as she watches, waiting for everything to obey.

Dragon> Telgar Thunderbolt Wing sense that Lysseth rumbles out, her 
mindvoice's silver streakings muted to a dull grey, << We will mourn for 
them later. We cannot now, or more lives might be lost. >> A pause while she 
blinks *between*; she then resumes, << You are doing well. Hold on just a 
little while longer; the Thread should slacken soon. >>

[Editor's Note:  Voila, confusion!  In the spam, I managed to miss the
end-of-Fall pose, and so did both of my Wingriders.  We got things 
straightened out with May in a bit.]

<*> Kheprith keeps his place in line, eyes scanning just in case anything 
made it through. His rider's teeth can be seen, gritted tightly.

<*> Kiyoth edges back into formation; she was only a few feet away from her 
position anyway.

Telgar Weyr> Talisha ers. For everyone in the thread fall, that wasn't 
/everything/ everyone. ;>

<*> Saulith is in formation, and has been--and so waits for the next order, 
hide faded to the palest glimmer of its former spring green.

<*> From Sielth's neckridges, Aside from Sielth's creel, she and Aisling 
show no reaction. There is work to be done and thread to fight.

<*> Cariath betweens as she finishes her last toss, righting herself and 
settling into formation immediately.

<*> Indrath and K'ran are already there, back in the resupply rotation 
though, by now, far less encumbered by sacks of 'stone.

<*> From on top of Imanath's back, Talisha waits until each and every 
weyrling is back in formation, one blue taking a little longer than the 
rest. Once he's set, she raised her arm, signalling for them to meet back in 
the bowl.

<*> Imanath disappears into Between.

<*> Saulith disappears into Between.

<*> Indrath disappears into Between.

TGW-Bowl>> Imanath backwings for a landing.

TGW-Bowl>> Indrath backwings for a landing.

<*> Kheprith disappears into Between.

<*> Kaneth disappears into Between.

<*> Sielth disappears into Between.

TGW-Bowl>> Saulith backwings for a landing.

<*> Tierth disappears into Between.

TGW-Bowl>> Kheprith backwings for a landing.

<*> Kiyoth disappears into Between.

TGW-Bowl>> Sielth backwings for a landing.

TGW-Bowl>> Kiyoth backwings for a landing.

Dragon> Telgar Thunderbolt Wing sense that Tovith replies his mindvoice's 
autumnal color muted under a grey sky. << Young ones...>> A pause, then << 
Later. Yes. Must finish what we have begun. >>

<*> Cariath disappears into Between.

TGW-Bowl>> Cariath backwings for a landing.

TGW-Bowl>> Kaneth backwings for a landing.

TGW-Bowl>> Aisling is off of Sielth quickly, removing the green's straps as 
she checks her over for injuries. Her expression is closed and guarded.

TGW-Bowl>> On Saulith, Kichevio calls, voice a little raspy from ash and 
dust. "Okay? Everyone's okay?"

TGW-Bowl>> Kichevio slides down easily from Saulith's neck.

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

TGW-Bowl>> K'ran eases down from Indrath's back.

TGW-Bowl>> Talisha slides down from Imanath, face showing weary sketchings 
across her brow. "Everybody here?" Her eyes scan the bowl quickly, noting 
each dragon as it arrives. She nods across to Kich before dragging a hand 
over her face, wiping soot over her skin.

TGW-Bowl>> Lorrin slides down from Kaneth's neck.

TGW-Bowl>> K'ran waits to dismount until after Talisha's done so. Once on 
the ground he pulls off his gloves and threads them through his right 
epaulet, as is his habit, and runs a hand back through ash-streaked hair. 
"Here," he mutters, a bit gruffly.

TGW-Bowl>> Tarlo climbs down from between Cariath's neck ridges.

<*> Once the Fall has reached its final dregs, and at last the conclusion, 
Kassima keeps her Wing in the air for several minutes--for caution's sake, 
and to send low-flying Wingriders down to check the immediate area for 
burrows. Once they have returned with a negative report, she signals for the 
Wing to follow her back to Telgar.

<*> 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, L'klal's burnished bronze 
Pteynth rears on hind legs and bugles a greeting to green Lysseth and her 
rider, Kassima, welcoming them home.

TGW-Bowl>> Greylin slithers down Kheprith's side to the ground.

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

<*> From the South, From the Telgar Star Stones, L'klal's burnished bronze 
Pteynth rears on hind legs and bugles a greeting to brown Fasolth and his 
rider, T'kar, welcoming them home.

TGW-Bowl>> Saulith drops her head almost to the ground, and Kichevio leans 
limply against it. Her expression is blank as she watches her friends arrive.

TGW-Bowl>> "Check over your dragons." Aisling instructs once she has watched 
them all land, minus one. "They could be some ash burns that they haven't 
noticed yet"

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

<*> From the South, From the Telgar Star Stones, L'klal's burnished bronze 
Pteynth rears on hind legs and bugles a greeting to brown Tovith and his 
rider, Leya, welcoming them home.

TGW-Bowl>> Tierth backwings for a landing.

TGW-Bowl>> Tarlo yanks off her helmet, letting her braids tumble down past 
her shoulders. Her expression is twisted angrily, and for a moment it looks 
like she's about to kick something. But she doesn't, she only leans against 
Cariath and breathes slowly in and out. "We're fine." she reports as her 
shoulder heave from fatigue. Cariath's similarly heaving, and as Aisling's 
instructed, Tarlo begins to inspect her.

TGW-Bowl>> Alessandra covers her face for a long moment with sooty hands, 
hiding her eyes. At Aisling's instructions she looks up, rubbing her eyes to 
clear them of soot before checking over Kiyoth carefully. "Kiyoth and I are 
just fine..."

TGW-Bowl>> Greylin slides down Kheprith's side and then flops against him. 
His greyed hide is prevalent as he nuzzles his rider. At Aisling's prodding, 
she rouses herself to make the check, just to be safe.

You fly downwards towards the central part of the bowl.

You fly downwards towards the bowl.

<*> Tierth lands heavily, her hide grey with ash though not as badly as the 
dragons from the fighting wings. Her rider pauses a moment, then strips off 
her riding helmet, eyeprotectors, and gloves, before dismounting.

<*> K'ran does as instructed, after first giving his own left shoulder an 
experimental squeeze through his riding leathers. He makes a slow circuit of 
his lifemate, letting a hand trail against bronze hide. "All fine," he 
finally announces. "Just a bit tired. And wanting a bath."

<*> "Just ash and soot, no burns," Kichevio murmurs as she runs her hands 
over Saulith. "We're okay." Shaky, oh yes. But okay.

<*> Tovith backwings for a landing.

<*> Talisha manages to school her expression back to calm, glancing around 
at the other weyrlings. A single tear streaks down through dark stained 
cheeks, and she turns to check Imanath over, hands rubbing across her greyed 
hide. She checks straps, circling her lifemate before announing to the area 
in general, "She's fine. We're fine."

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

<*> Aisling glances towards Maylia a moment before she slips her own helmet 
off, laying them atop Sielth's straps.

<*> Lysseth and most of her Wing, following behind the others due to a delay 
from sending sweepriders, land in the Bowl where the ground is clear enough. 
The lead green slumps with exhaustion the moment she's on terra firma; 
Kassima spares her grimed neck an absent but fond caress, before unbuckling 
to slide down.

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.

Lorrin nods to Kichevio, then to Talisha, and she does as Aisling instructs, 
and then quietly murmurs, "He's fine. We are all right." Her face is pale, 
and she leans against Kaneth as he croons softly to her.

Greylin nods as she completes her examination of Kheprith. "Nothing wrong 
here," she says quietly.

Maylia takes a deep breath, mopping her hand across her face, but her 
expression is as usual. Granite. Aisling is given a brief nod, as the 
Weyrlingmaster begins a quick check of Tierth. Assured that her green is 
fine, she heads for the weyrlings.

Dragon> Fasolth bespoke Telgar Weyrlings with << Thanks, all of you. It was 
a good Fall! >>

Tarlo nods. "Cariath is fine." she asserts, and the gold warbles an 
affirmative.

Dragon> Telgar Weyrlings sense that Fasolth meant that to be OOC :)

Dragon> Telgar Weyrlings sense that Tierth thanks all of you for comming out 
and RPing :) I do hope you had fun :)

Kichevio disappears up onto Saulith's spring-green back.

Saulith lands on Saulith's Ledge.

Dragon> Telgar Weyrlings sense that Kiyoth had a great time!

Dragon> Lysseth bespoke Telgar Weyrlings with << I always have fun being an 
instrument of death and destruction! ;) Seriously, great 'Fall, y'all. :) >>

Tovith lands a little after Lysseth with a muted rumble. Leya reaches up and 
pulls her goggles down, letting them hang around her neck as she unbuckles 
herself and slides down.

Dragon> Telgar Weyrlings sense that Saulith did too. :)

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

Talisha pulls her helmet off, placing it down as she shakes her head 
quickly, braids falling apart so her hair falls messily around her 
shoulders. She attempts to send smiles across to everyone around her as 
gives Imanath a tender caress along her side. Gloves are pulled off finger 
by finger and put away before she leans heavily against her lifemate.

Dragon> Telgar Weyrlings sense that Imanath had fun too :)

Dragon> Telgar Weyrlings sense that Cariath enjoyed. :)

While the wings arrive behind her, Maylia heads for Talisha. "The wing did 
well," she says quietly, nodding to the weyrlings. "They've all checked 
their lifemates?"

Dragon> Telgar Weyrlings sense that Kaneth had fun too. :)

Aisling rests against Sielth's foreleg, watching impassively.

Telgar Weyr> T'kar says, "Goodnight folks, thanks!"

Kassima lifts her goggles from her ash-streaked face to set to her foremost 
task: checking Lysseth's wings and shoulders for signs of strain, and 
getting her hands thoroughly filthified in the process. "Apart from that 
wingtip 'score of Servoth's, and the glance to Kilth's flank," she murmurs 
to Leya, keeping her voice low, "were there any injuries?"

Talisha nods slowly to Maylia, looking around at the weyrlings as some 
continue to check their lifemates over, prodding here and there just to be 
extra sure. "Yes, Aisling told us all too as soon as she arrived."

Greylin nods to the question, not trusting herself to say anything else.

Tarlo clenches her jaw and looks at the ground. "We lost T'mas." she grits 
out softly.

Leya gives Tovith's sturdy side a pad, then pulls down whats left of her 
last sack of firestone dropping it to the ground for someone else to pick up 
later. She answers to Kassi, her voice pitched to only carry a short ways, 
"I think that's it." She glances over her shoulder to where Hyla is going 
over her Omnith. "Though Omnith might have a minor wing sprain." She turns 
to inspect one of Tovith's wings as she finishes, "But he should be fine."

"Good." Maylia says, quite firmly, nodding. "Dragonhealers are to see to 
each and every injury, no matter how minor. Now," and she raises her voice, 
to address the entire Snowstar wing. "You all flew well. Do not, please, 
focus on the negative, instead know that each one of you flew your best, and 
you've gotten through one of the hardest steps in weyrling training." 
Tarlo's comment draws her eyes. "And others. You'll loose more, too." The 
words aren't harsh, simply ... there.

Alessandra stays in front of Kiyoth's muzzle, eyes focused firmly on those 
brilliant rainbow orbs. "Does it ever get easier?" is her softspoken 
question, pitched to just barely reach Maylia.

Greylin once more leans against Kheprith, the two dealing with the shock and 
loss as best as they cna.

K'ran keeps quiet, his lips pursed into a pensive frown. Post-Flight 
adrenaline has left him trembling slightly, and he has his hands curled into 
loose fists to hide it.

Maylia's expression doesn't change, remoteness is how she deals with this. 
"Easier?" She asks, shaking her head. "These next few sevendays will see 
more weyrlings going *between* and not returning. All you can do is do your 
best, support your wingmates, drill, drill, drill."

Aisling's gaze moves from weyrling to weyrling, eyeing them curiously as if 
gauging their reaction.

Talisha drags her hands over her face again, expression revealed to be hard 
set as her hands run to her neck then, and she drapes them in her lap as she 
slides down to sit next to Imanath. She doesn't say anything about the 
deaths, jaw clenched and lips pursed in a tight frown. Her gaze follows 
Maylia, then several of the other weyrlings as they comfort their lifemates.

Alessandra closes her eyes, sighing deeply, then turns to face Maylia, chin 
lifting, the weyrling calm and steady. "And when Thread falls next, we'll be 
ready."

Kassima tugs loose the empty sacks from Lysseth's straps, draping them over 
her arm in all their damp and grimy glory. "The Dragonhealers should look 
over it anyway--" She breaks off; Lysseth swivels her head towards Omnith 
and gives a commanding rumble, no doubt passing it along as an order. "Nay 
use seeing it get inflamed. Considering how thick the Thread was today, 
that's good flying. I'm going t'call a rest day tomorrow for most of the 
Wing... duties, but nay drills; yourself included. I'll run drills for those 
I thought were flying careless." Even as she speaks, her eyes slew over 
towards the Weyrlings and she murmurs, "Nay group ever finds it any easier, 
do they?"

Lorrin says nothing, pressing her lips together firmly and blinking back 
tears for her lost friends as she sinks down against Kaneth, resting her 
head against his soft hide.

As more names begin to get noted as having not returned, Tarlo turns her 
face and presses her forehead to Cariath's soot covered hide. She swallows, 
but does not cry.

Maylia gives a sharp nod to Alessandra. "You'll all be better prepared next 
time; you'll know what's up there. We'll work tomorrow on avoidance drills, 
watching where you're jumping to," a wince breaks through that granite for 
an instant. "Work on turns, judging turning radius. For tonight, though, 
you're excused from duties beyond those to your dragons. Get them clean and 
oiled, reassure them, though they'll forget today soon. Spend time together, 
as you will."

Quiet, K'ran says, "Thank you, Weyrlingmaster."

Maylia brushes at her riding jacket, focussing on that gesture, though it 
does little to dislodge ash. "Does anyone have any questions?" She asks, 
sounding weary.

Greylin shakes her head silently as she lifts her goggles off her eyes finally.

Alessandra walks the few brief steps over to Greylin, resting a hand on her 
shoulder briefly and giving it a brief squeeze before she and Kiyoth escape 
to the steam baths.

Telgar Weyr> Maylia snugs you all :) I've *got* to get offline for a bit, 
haven't had my dinner yet. But i'll be back in an hourish, should anyone 
want to quietly chat/RP :)

Telgar Weyr> Talisha snugsa Maylia.

Telgar Weyr> Tarlo conspires to ply May and Aisling with booze. :)

Telgar Weyr> K'ran says, "Thanks, May. Happy food."

Telgar Weyr> Aisling snickers.

Lorrin shakes her head at Maylia's question as she takes a deep breath, and 
tries to brush some soot off Kaneth's hide distractedly.

Telgar Weyr> Lorrin snugs Maylia and idles to get something to eat herself. :)

Leya gives a small smile as she watches Omnith pout at the order, but it 
quickly fades as her eyes are drawn back to the weyrlings. She begins to tug 
on Tovith's straps, unbuckling them and wrapping them around her arm hang 
loosely until they can be properly hung up. She sighs, not looking up as she 
blinks away tears, "It's never easy. No..."

Talisha rises smoothly to her feet, Imanath following a little more shakily. 
"We're off to the steam baths then." She murmurs to no-one really, gaze 
flicking back and forth between the weyrlings. She sighs softly then, mounts 
up, and the pair are up.

Talisha scrambles up the sun-kissed green of Imanath's hide to perch in an 
unoccupied neckridge.

Imanath lumbers south.

Tarlo nods. "The water will do us good." she mumbles, and scrambles up Cariath.

Kiyoth lands on Kiyoth's Ledge.

Tarlo sits down between Cariath's neck ridges.

K'ran reaches up to unbuckle the riding straps from Indrath's neck, and 
tells the young bronze, "Follow Imanath. I'll meet you there in a minute. I 
want to stop by the living cavern first." Looping the straps over his 
shoulder, he sets off south.

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

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

Kassima nods, a simple agreement, and looks away from them with a sigh. "I'd 
imagine they'll be needing the Springs more than anyone tonight, so I'm off 
t'wash Lysseth in the Lake--oh," she adds belatedly to her Wingmates, 
"dismissed, a'course."

K'ran walks south.

Lorrin murmurs to no one in particular, "Yes, we should go take a bath."

Lorrin climbs onto Kaneth's back.

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

Kheprith enters through the big entrance into the Weyrling Barracks.

Greylin walks through the entrance into the Weyrling Barracks.

Aisling watches the weyrlings disburse without expression before shrugging 
slightly to herself.

Leya nods, rubbing at the inside of her nose in a gesture of weariness and 
so acquiring a black smudge on the side of her nose next to her eye. "I'll 
be following a bit later, with Tovith, of course. I'll just finish up here 
and make sure Hyla gets Omnith looked at by a dragonhealer."

Kassima gives her lifemate a slap on the shoulder after divesting her of her 
straps. "Get on to the Lake, love, and start soaking that grit off. You can 
relax; you did wonderfully, as always." Lyss indulges in a muzzle-nudge of 
her rider before complying, leaving Kassi to smile after her, then nods 
agreeably to Leya. "Much appreciated. Tell the Dragonhealers t'send the 
reports on Omnith, Kilth, and Servoth t'me, if'n 'twould--they aren't 
serious enough injuries that methinks I need t'be checking in person 
tonight." Aisling is given a curious look. "Is everything all right, Ais?"

Lysseth lumbers in the direction of the shimmering lake, leaving the central 
bowl area of the Weyr.

Aisling nods her head. "It will be," She says finally. "We'll come and join 
you in a little bit."

Leya finishes pulling off Tovith's straps, pushing away Tovith's muzzle as 
he reaches over to whuffle concernedly in her face. "I'm fine, Tovith. 
Fine," she murmurs as she bends over to pick the end of one strap that'd 
dropped to the group, tucking it in with the rest that's looped over her 
arm. She nods to Kassi, "I'll do that."

Kassima gives the Assistant Weyrlingmaster a smile without much of mirth in 
it, but elements of regret and sympathy. "A'course... and company's welcome. 
See you in a bit, too, Leya. You and Tovith flew brilliantly today." She 
gives the brown a smile too, this one mingling weariness with approval, and 
salutes the pair before turning to the Lake.

Aisling lets out a deep breath before she slips on the straps that she had 
just recently removed. "We'll be back in a little bit." She says before she 
scrambles up.

You head in the direction of the shimmering lake, leaving the central bowl 
area of the Weyr.