The Weyrlings' First Threadfall

L'tan stands up as he hears the bugling, "And speaking of threadfall, the time is upon us. I thank each of you for coming and welcome you all to stay safe within the weyr while the dragons of Ista fly. I'm sure there will be more cookies and sweets available."

Numerous children scoff and make faces at the little prim girl. "Teria...ooh! It's falling!" The children scramble for cookies, some to peer out of the entrance.

Rykel doesn't look at all surprised and frowns even more at the weyrlings ensembled about. She stands, making a display of sliding on her gloves and she claps, loudly. "Let's go and prepare the sacks." Ut oh, it's gruff time.

A boy in every bit as nice clothes as the prim girl sneaks up behind her and grabs at her braid to try for a good hard -yank-. He yells out, "MY da says we owe riders our lives! You go sit out in Thread, you stupid wherry!"

Daria leaves her seat, starting to organize the lower caverns staff for Threadfall support.

Teria, the prim girl, squeals loudly. "I am NOT stupid, you.......ingrate!"

Carinah pushes herself away from the table she's leaning against as the drums commence, her eyes shifting uneasily towards her fellow weyrlings and then Rykel. At the assistant weyrlingmaster's direction, she begins to file out of the living cavern with several other weyrlings.

Jommel glances up at the sudden sound, looking over to Lal.

L'tan grabs his helmet and jacket off of the back of the chair and pulls both on. As he strides for the bowl he passes Malachite'. He doesn't recognize the man but he nods politely in any case.

Carinah walks outside, into the bowl.

L'tan walks outside, into the bowl.

You walk outside, into the bowl.

Ista Weyr Bowl -- Southeast

Clusters of dragons group around the large entrance to the living cavern. Smaller entrances line up to lead to the lower caverns and the infirmary. Smoke issues forth from square holes cut into the mountain high above the living cavern. The bowl extends to the northwest, and high above, the southernmost points of the spindles reach for the sky. The sunset bathes the northeastern side of the bowl in red light.

Ruddy evening light filters down from the partly cloudy summer sky, over the bustle of the active Weyr. Winds swirl around the peaks, through the forests, and along the beaches, causing frothy whitecaps on the surf. The temperature hovers in the comfortable range, while visibility is excellent.

Weyrs and entrances to the lower caverns are visible on all three sides of the Weyr walls that bound you.

Contents:

L'tan

Carinah

Parth

Kalendrith

Habrith

Cyth

Obvious exits:

Lower Caverns Center Bowl DragonWeyrs INFirmary Hatching Grounds

Jh'rin walks out of the living cavern.

Carinah goes to the center of the bowl.

Lusani walks out of the living cavern.

You go to the center of the bowl.

Ista Weyr Bowl -- Center(#900RJ)

The evening sun shines its reddish glow through the opening in the bowl wall to the northwest, across the beast corrals. Scanning around you, you can see the wide stretch of wall housing the Weyrling Barracks to the north. To the east of here, the reddish glow shines upon the entrance to the Hatching Grounds, as well as the queens' weyrs. To the southeast, activity is beginning to form around the areas leading to the lower caverns as well as the Living Cavern.

Ruddy evening light filters down from the partly cloudy summer sky, over the bustle of the active Weyr. Winds swirl around the peaks, through the forests, and along the beaches, causing frothy whitecaps on the surf. The temperature hovers in the comfortable range, while visibility is excellent.

You see weyrs all around you, many close to ground level.

Contents:

Berizeth

Carinah

Zoe

Ioth

Faerth

Tesith(#275OVaepqs)

Obvious exits:

SouthEast NorthWest DragonWeyrs

Myndirth arrives from the northwest, near the corrals.

Carinah leaves northwest, toward the corrals.

Lusani arrives from the southeast, near the living cavern.

Areseth lumbers into the room.

Areseth travels southeast towards the living cavern.

Carinah arrives from the northwest, near the corrals.

Phediath has arrived.

Madelynda arrives from the southeast, near the living cavern.

Madelynda sighs with relief as Phediath nears, fastening her riding gear around her with taut hands after donning her helmet, managing to shove the long brown braid up and out of the way.

Rykel starts barking orders, her finger jolting about like a spark of lightning with nothing to slam into. "You, get that bag of blue. Hike it up." She slaps her thigh in frustration at a slow moving weyrling. "Come /on/! Get moving, they'll need us and need us to be ready."

Phediath bugles loudly, head upswung to watch the foul grey cloud of Thread-haze. Quickly, she lowers herself a little toward her lifemate, giving her a softer and more supportive croon.

Lusani gulps several times, then starts making herself busy, pulling gear onto herself and straps onto Myndirth, then walking over to a pile of firestone-sacks...

Carinah jogs over, her flight jacket now on, its pockets stuffed with her gloves, soft helmet and goggles. As she draws near her fellow weyrlings, she pulls out her gloves and slips them on. She circles Berizeth, who waits among his cluthmates, testing his straps before jogging over to help with the firestone bags.

Berizeth stands still in the bowl, his slow whirling eyes turned toward the sky. The gray tip of his tail swishes like a whipcord behind him, close to the ground, and his sorrel wings flex restlessly against his lean and lanky sides.

Madelynda, still double-checking the various fastenings of her leathers, begins to test the buckles of Phediath's straps, her fierce eyes admitting a sense of urgency in this familiar act that seems newly present. Satisfied, she dashes with a few other weyrlings toward the firestone sacks, face pale as Belior.

Myndirth stands straight, his whirling eyes turned toward the line of thread. A low, challenging rumble emerges from his throat.

Dragon> Habrith bespoke Ista dragons with << My rider believes it is time to fly, ask your riders to mount. >>

Dragon> Ista Weyrling dragons sense that Faerth rumbles along with Myndirth, the challenging tone met with equal ferocity. << We do not fight today, but help the fighters with sacks. We do what is important. Do not worry. You will fight soon. >>

Rykel motions her finger for the young ones to mount with their sacks as well. She herself hefts a load with her up onto Faerth.

Lusani grabs a riding strap and pulls themself to a seat on Myndirth.

Dragon> Habrith bespoke Ista dragons with << We rise. >>

Carinah climbs onto Berizeth's proffered foreleg, reaches for his riding straps and hefts herself up to a seat between the brown's neckridges.

Dragon> Ista Weyrling dragons sense that Phediath rumbles threateningly, too overcome by the menacing feeling of Thread to comment, but does so obediently.

Above you, Habrith beats his wings, against the ocean headwinds, and sails out over the corrals.

Away from Faerth, Zoe raises her wings like tender new leaves reaching for the sun and follows that path *between*

Away from Faerth, Above you, Areseth beats his wings, against the ocean headwinds, and sails out over the corrals.

Away from Faerth, Madelynda reaches out and grips Phediath's riding straps, and the queen bends her neck into a graceful arch to set a whirling eye on her lifemate. Using the leather loops for leverage, Madelynda climbs up the dragon's side and ultimately settles between two of her shadowy-gold neckridges.

Away from Faerth, Daria arrives from the southeast, near the living cavern.

Rykel sits patiently, her eyes for the rising wings of Istan dragons.

Away from Faerth, Above you, Parth beats his wings, against the ocean headwinds, and sails out over the corrals.

Away from Faerth, From between Berizeth's neckridges, Carinah dons her helmet, cinching it, and her goggles then checks her fastenings. She lifts her face to the sky, watching as the fighting wings rise into the air above her.

Away from Faerth, Tabith spirals down from a ledge.

Away from Faerth, Atop Phediath, Madelynda busily buckles herself and the firestone sacks into the wide straps, shifting in between the neckridges a little to test them before inhaling deeply and fastening her eyes on the weyrlingmaster.

Away from Faerth, Tabith flies up into the air

Away from Faerth, Above you, Tabith beats her wings, against the ocean headwinds, and sails out over the corrals.

Away from Faerth, Above you, Tabith soars over on the winds from the western opening of the Bowl.

Away from Faerth, Above you, Habrith soars over on the winds from the western opening of the Bowl.

Away from Faerth, Above you, Areseth soars over on the winds from the western opening of the Bowl.

Away from Faerth, Above you, The air around the bowl is perfectly still. Striating cirrus cloud dance across the deep azure of the sky far above, stretched by the winds that abandon the lower reaches of sky. The very presence of the bowl is filled with an ominous foreboding - one the denizens know well. Far off in the hazy western distance of the gloaming, a grayish mass seems suspended in perfect sill life. After Rukbat hastens it's descent into the oranging horizon, its movement is not discernable, but felt... like a pulsing wave that pushes heat - a wall of tangible threat.

Away from Faerth, Phediath rumbles very quietly, eyes swirling with an angry heat as she gazes upward into the grey void of Thread. Her rider, steady on the young queen's back, gives her a firm pat as she, too, looks up into the maw of the Fall.

Away from Faerth, Above you, The leading edge is scarcely visible now. Smallish gray masses are spiraling out in delicate spindles in chaotic array, but conversely held in tight formation - as if leaving the course of its intended path would herald just a touch more chaos than the vile parasite can muster.

Away from Faerth, Above you, Tabith twitches her tail as she keeps her place in Belior's formation, impatiently awaiting the falling of the Threads where she can get at them - that's when the /real/ fun begins - while her rider nudges unruly chunks of firestone more into place in the sack so they're not nuisancely poking the dragon's hide.

Away from Faerth, Above you, From Habrith's neck, L'tan looks to the left and right, making sure his wingriders are in position. Siaroth's color seems to cause a bit of consternation but the Weyrleader puts that thought out of his head as thread makes it's arrival.

Away from Faerth, Above you, And now... it begins. Dashing frenzied swirls from the leading edge, the silver threads come careening down towards the waiting wings of dragonriders that are in full array and florid dignity. Dazzling light from the setting sun filters through the hazy filmyness of the evening to spark it's life upon the silver clumps of foul death.

Away from Faerth, Myndirth 's eyes begin to turn red as he watches the scene in the sky. Tail lashing the dirt of the Bowl, he bugles in angeratching.

Away from Faerth, Above you, Parth soars over on the winds from the western opening of the Bowl.

Away from Faerth, Above you, Habrith opens his maw and spews forth a blast of gaseous flame. Take that.

Away from Faerth, Above you, Parth soars forward within the formation he knows so well. His wings slice the currents of wind as a premature curl of fire sparks from his jaws.

Away from Faerth, Atop Phediath, Madelynda gasps audibly as the Thread suddenly spins in on the riders above, hands tightening on the sacks and straps, keeping steady as Phediath bucks her head ever-so-slightly, as overcome as she is by the scene.

Away from Faerth, Above you, Areseth makes a mighty belch of fire as he prepares to fight the menace.

Away from Faerth, Above you, It's starting out a typical 'fall. The leading edge is crystalline in the evening sky, crisp and angling without waver. Clumps tumble ever downward and are summarily flamed with gouts of blinding orange and yellow that erupt from Pern's saviors' mouths. The shimmering tendrils that luckily escape the searing force of the wings of Ista Weyr are dashed against the spray from the Queen's Wing below. Ever stalwart, the groundcrews await. No spindle-like foe has made such a getaway as yet.

Away from Faerth, Above you, The first roar of pain is heard as one blue in the rear of Timor's formation blinks between - only to reappear quickly and continue the flight.

Away from Faerth, Above you, Parth arches upwards, head shooting forward like the striking dart of a snake. A spear-thin blast of fire incinerates a spiral of thread as it coasts toward him, turning to ash as the flames lick across its strands. Char dusts rider and dragon as they continue onward in search of threat.

Away from Faerth, Above you, Belior is bearing the brunt of the leading edge right now, the bronzes in the forefront breathing masses of of the reeking phosphine-engendered flame to slay the silver menace. The merest hint of a weather change finds itself lashed upon the back of a sudden gust of wind. The gust totes the icy bleakness that is promised along with ferocity, and whips a clump of thread away from the pack and towards Tamma and Tabith.

Away from Faerth, Phediath creens softly as the roar of the blue is heard, eyes picking up their fierce whirl, tail flicking at the ground impetuously.

Away from Faerth, Above you, Astride Areseth's back, Banking left, Areseth gathers a clump of teh deadly stuff up in his fiery breath, singing it with enthusiasm.

Away from Faerth, From between Berizeth's neckridges, Carinah watches the airborn wings with a quiet intensity, leaning back into Berizeth's neckridge as the young brown shifts his lanky frame restlessly, causing his rider to sway in her perch. Berizeth's tail slashes back and forth behind him, whip-like now, a surprisingly low and menacing rumble resounding in his chest.

Away from Faerth, Above you, Tabith rumbles low in anticipation, catching sight of the wayward clump. Myturnmyturnmyturnmyturn... my turn! The writhing gray mass tumbles downwards within reach of flaming, and she doesn't hesitate an instant. *FWOOM!* The air in front of the green explodes into flames, taking the Thread with it. Char, lovely char! Tabith snorts at the char. That's what you get for falling over Ista's coverage.

Away from Faerth, Above you, The winds commence their coy twisting. Those Istan thermals and updrafts giving the barest allusion of their upcoming onslaught. The dragons in the west forefront, the ones who can spy the impending ferocity of wind, are dealt a nasty hand - L'tan and N'ben are sent a frothing mass of sideswept Thread.

Away from Faerth, Faerth snorts in anticipation, his madly swirling eyes falling to watch the weyrling dragons.

Dragon> Faerth bespoke Ista Weyrling dragons with << We will rise ourselves soon. They will need to refuel. >>

Away from Faerth, Above you, Habrith slices through the air, puffing out blasts of flame whenever any stray thread crosses his path. His flame is economical, a quick on and off which neither wastes nor is stingy on stone.

Dragon> Ista Weyrling dragons sense that Phediath rumbles anxiously, eagerness and pride in her tone. << We will rise soon to help the dragons above. They need us. The world needs us. We all need each other.>>

Dragon> Ista Weyrling dragons sense that Myndirth croons, lifting his head and picking up some of Phediath's pride. <<Yes. We are needed.>>

Away from Faerth, Above you, That sideswept thread is actually somewhat below Habrith and to his rear, he is in absolutely no position to respond to it. He seems to be letting it pass by when a gust of wind changes its trajectory. A warning bugle comes from somewhere and without thought, Habrith blinks between, only to appear a bit below the thread. Another quick blast and the thread is no more.

Away from Faerth, Above you, N'ben is luckier in his draw and is able to respond to the thread directly, his green is agile and a quick flick of her wings brings her weapons to bear on her one true enemy.

Away from Faerth, Above you, The frantic zephyr tumbles about with its own indolent laziness, it heeds not the taxing pressure it deals the dragonriders of Ista. Bursts of heat rising from the plateau and corrals send bubbles of easily ridden thermals, but they are few and far between and dissipate quickly under the new and increasingly violent stream of windy jet. The leading edge is not so perfectly sharp any longer. Clumps and individual willowy Thread gets scattered about, one quickly thinning cluster aims straight for Lal and Areseth.

Away from Faerth, Above you, Areseth is non-plussed at the Thread coming his way, his muscular wings spreading wide to position him in front of it. With his customary agressive bravado, he FIRES the Thread as though he were excessively annoyed with it--it's an overkill bred from his burning hatred of the stuff. He banks slightly right to gather up teh rest of the clump, bugling triumphantly.

Away from Faerth, Above you, Gusts pick up speed. Thermals ripen for a rider, to only vanish in the hectic swish and faltering dance of the crosswinds. The leading edge is a gaping wound, no longer straight and aligned for ease of searing. Groups and single slivers of Thread are swarming in the fray. It can undeniably be described as a reign of chaos. A piercing cry is a claxon across the hazy evening sky - yet another scoring. The Dawnsflame wingleader - Shodrie and her lifemate Dranth blink *between* to seek the aid of the dragonhealers below.

Away from Faerth, Above you, Parth sweeps to one side, though keeping within the basic formation as his jaws open, emiting a fiery blast of air that catches several threads within a clump, turning them all into ash which drifts down. However, within this ash seems to be a bit of thread still active -- still alive. It slowly spirals down to the lower tiers of dragons.

Dragon> Ista Weyrling dragons sense that Berizeth grows antsy and shifts from foot to foot to foot to foot, his wings flexing almost rhythmically against his lean flanks. << Now? >> he queries, like an impatient child.

Dragon> Ista Weyrling dragons sense that Faerth bugles at the impatient brown, himself shedding his frustrstions. He blares a query up at the wings.

Dragon> Faerth bespoke Ista dragons with << Are you ready for more firestone? We are ready to come! >>

Dragon> Habrith bespoke Ista dragons with << I need more stone. >>

Dragon> Ista Weyrling dragons sense that Phediath, despite her growing fury, stands calm and firm where she awaits the command, watching with gleaming eyes.

Dragon> Areseth bespoke Ista dragons with << I am running out. >>

Rykel's eyes come alight and she gives the signal to launch up into the sky.

You rise into the air.

Ista Weyr Lower Bowl Sky

Here, you are barely thirty meters above the ground, at the center of the large bowl. The evening light pours through the great gap of the plateau to the west, illuminating the entrance to the Living Caverns to the southeast and the great opening of the Hatching grounds along the sharp eastern curve of the wall. The light glints off the bay visible beyond the plateau as the sun slowly swings to set over the ocean.

Ruddy evening light filters down from the partly cloudy summer sky, over the bustle of the active Weyr. Winds swirl around the peaks, through the forests, and along the beaches, causing frothy whitecaps on the surf. The temperature hovers in the comfortable range, while visibility is excellent.

(Use '+lhelp weyr' for a better look at the bowl beneath you.)

Contents:

Parth

Areseth

Spart

Habrith

Tabith

Obvious exits:

DragonWeyrs Lower Caverns Center Bowl Northwest Bowl Hatching Cavern West Corrals

Away from Faerth, Phediath flies up from below.

Away from Faerth, Berizeth flies up from below.

Away from Faerth, Tabith picks off three strands of Thread as she tilts a wing to move outwards more, Belior's formation adjusting slightly to compensate for the fact that the Thread is no longer being quite so obliging about letting the dragons scorch it into ash. Woosh! Woosh! Gaaa-wooo...oosh! Tabith lets out an apologetic kind of trill, and Tamma tosses some more chunks to her dragon's mouth.

Dragon> Parth bespoke Ista dragons with << I could use more. I am close to being out. >>

Away from Faerth, Areseth dives lower as a clump of thread escapes one of his large brown companions, screeching flame from his mouth to get it as best he can. After the blast, his fiery breath fizzles, and you can hear Lal shouting something over the wind--whatever it is, it isn't pleasant or cordial.

Away from Faerth, Faerth takes wing, getting buffeted by the mad and raging winds, more than normal for the isle. He gets jarred by a particularly nasty blow of one racing jet and is close to Parth. He bugles and Rykel hefts a sack. She sends a thumbs-up to E'ryn....ready to catch?

Away from Faerth, Phediath flies upward in perfect formation within the Weyrling wing, golden wingsails outstretched wide as she negotiates the challenging wind patterns. Smoothly, she nudges closer to the brown figure of Parth, Madelynda poised and ready to toss a bag of 'stone.

Dragon> Ista dragons sense that Tabith 's thoughts of her second stomach get a little muddled with her attempting to convey the message. << We have some 'stone left but more would be nice. >>

Away from Faerth, Habrith soars through the air, unharried for the moment, L'tan yells out something, but his voice is snatched away by the wing. An empty firestone sack flaps against L'tan's leather encased leg.

Away from Faerth, Faerth gets whacked as Rykel's bag goes careening down as well. Swearing just as vociferously as Lal, she grabs another sack only to realize that the chuff of air knocked her clear away from Parth, right near Habrith. Another thumbs-up...ready to catch?

Dragon> Areseth bespoke Ista dragons with << I need more NOW. >>

Away from Faerth, Behind Parth's first neckridge, E'ryn nods, turning slightly in order to catch the bag that Rykel prepares to toss over. Parth remains steady, watching for signs of thread even as his rider's attention changes focus. But when Rykel moves on, he looks around, a little disconcerted. Perhaps he misread the signal. He checks around and notices Phediath near with Madelynda.

Away from Faerth, Berizeth beats at the gusting winds with mighty downstrokes of his wings, gaining altitude until he draws near to Areseth. A fickle gust slows his approach, but as the wind turns, he moves into position beside Areseth, emitting a loud bugle.

Away from Faerth, From Habrith's neck, L'tan releases the straps with both hands, putting one hand into a thumps up gesture.

Rykel tosses the sack with well-adjusted ease and despite the wild winds, it aims straight for L'tan's awaiting arms.

Away from Faerth, A collective sigh is sensed as Dranth sends out that he is only scored along his hindquarter, less than a handspan wide and is already under the blissful effects of numbweed. The relief is just a flash in the pan - the streamlined jet that was racing so swiftly through the middle of the leading edge stills for a pregnant pause. All at once there is no screaming torrent of wind to muddle the 'fall. The pattern the dragonriders have taken to maintain proper formation to sear the scattered clumps now threatens their very life and limb as the silvery parasite begins to drop headlong onto the now poorly situated men and women of Ista.

Away from Faerth, Areseth banks and turns to make the toss easier. Lal's strong arms are outreached. "NOW!"

Away from Faerth, Habrith flies steadily as Rykel makes the toss. A quick snatch and L'tan has the sack safely contained. He ties it on quickly and then greatfully grabs back at the straps.

Away from Faerth, Behind Parth's first neckridge, E'ryn gives Madelynda a thumb-up gesture as well. Twisting toward her. He's ready for the sack of firestone. He also gives her a smile as he nods his head toward her.

Away from Faerth, From between Berizeth's neckridges, Carinah, having released a sack from Berizeth's straps, waits until Areseth's in position. When she sees Lal stretch out her arms, she heaves the sack across the space separating the two browns, trusting her straps as she leans into the throw.

Away from Faerth, Atop Phediath, Madelynda sends an exagerated nod toward the brownrider, lifting up the bag of 'stone, it hanging there for a breathless moment before the goldrider finally sends it sailing toward the figure of E'ryn. Suddenly, Phediath instinctively ducks away from a clump of Thread, Madelynda siezing the flying straps as she shrieks in surprise.

Away from Faerth, Astride Areseth's back, Lal makes the catch so easily it's frightening. It's tied on and being emptied at a fair clip. Lal hands Carinah a hearty thumbs up, and Areseth sweeps up towards the thick of the fall.

Away from Faerth, Belior's leadership is quick to order a change in the formation, the larger dragons going more quickly to their positions while the blues and greens dart about to cover their wingmates' movements on their way to their own adjusted places. The change is not without its hazards - several of the dragons flicker *between* at least once due to near misses or even 'scores before the adjustment is finished.

Rykel sends the last of her bags off down the line of the Wing and banks with Faerth sharply to the right. The air stills and she watches with horror as the Thread starts falling, aiming right for the top of the heads of the forefront riders. Faerth lets loose a wild scream as he instantly goes back for the weyrlings.

Dragon> Ista dragons sense that Phediath's mental roar is heard as she successfully avoids the Thread. << It shall not hurt my rider! >> she declares.

Dragon> Faerth bespoke Ista Weyrling dragons with << Land! Now! I'll get the remaining dragon's sacks. >>

Away from Faerth, Parth rears up to catch the thread over Madelynda and Phediath, just as E'ryn dips forward to catch the bag. His fingers just barely snag the bag, though it hits against his thigh, hard. Parth flames the clump viciously. How dare it threaten the life of a queen?

Dragon> Habrith bespoke Ista dragons with << You are quite agile, Phediath. You are beautiful in the air. >>

Dragon> Ista dragons sense that Parth's mindvoice is tinged with the threat of a roar. << I got it for you, Phediath >> He says rather confidently.

Dragon> Ista Weyrling dragons sense that Phediath obediently rumbles an affirmative response, quickly sailing downward.

Rykel gets tossed a few lasts sacks from the other assisstant weyrlingmasters and finishes up the refueling with her last stop - Tabith. She thumbs-up for Tamma. Ready?

Away from Faerth, Berizeth banks away from Areseth with an agility surprising in a brown his size, getting out of the way of the fighting wings as the Thread radically shifts course. Swiftly, he circles down for a landing.

Away from Faerth, Berizeth manages the unruly updraft originating from the lower west part of the bowl, and backwings neatly to a landing directly below in the Center of the Bowl.

Away from Faerth, Atop Phediath, Madelynda quickly shifts the position of her broad wings enough to send her sailing toward the ground, in harmony with the rest of the Weyrling wing, eventually only a small golden figure swallowed up by the blackness of the bowl below.

Dragon> Areseth bespoke Ista dragons with << Good, Berizeth. THAT is a young brown. >>

Away from Faerth, Phediath manages the unruly updraft originating from the lower west part of the bowl, and backwings neatly to a landing directly below in the Center of the Bowl.

Away from Faerth, Tabith was one of those who had to flash *between*, though she remained unharmed. Upon reappearance, Tamma can be seen to be trying to find any last chunks of firestone in the sacks - then realizes Rykel is above her with the Good Stuff, and raises her arms, ready to catch it.

Away from Faerth, Behind Parth's first neckridge, E'ryn manages to fasten the sack next to the emptied ones, feeding a stone to Parth who turns his head to snag it delicately in his teeth.

Rykel tosses it with economy and she salutes with a quick apology. Faerth goes dizzily down to tend to the weyrlings.

Away from Faerth, Timor Wing. Bastion of the eastern front of the 'fall. Dragons to the far east of Timor's formation can see it - the wind whipping back. Somehow, the wild zephyr wound it's way down and around, then backpedaled its course straight through the leading edge again. But this time, its backwards. It throws the writhing clumps out towards the riders instead of a scattered array like before. To another Weyr this could mean a marathon of scores and casualties. To Ista, it is not such a portent of doom. Take caution, Parth, Areseth and Nereith of Timor -- nastiness at one o'clock.

Away from Faerth, Astride Areseth's back, Lal is feeding firestone quickly to her lifemate, who is already sweeping upwards to catch a clump of thread. The brownrider barely gets her hand out of the way before Areseth banks to grab clumps of Thread all around him.

Dragon> Ista dragons sense that Parth takes time to ask, << Did you get singed, Phediath? >> A wealth of concern rings in the tone of his voice.

Away from Faerth, Areseth screeches as he is forced to wink *between* to avoid one particularly clump. He winks in somewhere just above it, but cannot reach it with his flame.

Away from Faerth, Tabith lets out one more burst of flame - it's one of her more ragged ones of this Fall - then turns her head for more firestone. Tamma, just having caught the new sack, turns it around and gets it situated so she can get the firestone chunks out and throw them to her dragon. Toss, catch, chew, swallow - woosh! Tabith jerks her head back, a clump of Thread narrowly missing her muzzle while she was busy chewing.

Dragon> Areseth bespoke Ista dragons with << Don't worry abotu Phediath, worry about that clump Parth! >>

Dragon> Ista dragons sense that Tabith warns sheepishly, << Queens' Wing, we missed one. >>

Away from Faerth, The Queens' Wing bugles a retort and the careening clump gets sprayed within an inch of it's life. Well, to the inch of it's life as it is incinerated quite nicely. Ash blows softly to the ground.

Away from Faerth, Parth seems to take some kind of mental warning to heart. His body jacknifes as he swerves, his attention obviously flagging over the concern of the gold that was almost touched by the deadly thread. He attempts to avoid the burst of thread comming at he and the wing now, and nearly does so, even as his jaws open to let a cascade of heat searing flame emerge. He starts flaming with a vengence even as he moves. Unfortunately, he doesn't get it all, and he doesn't miss all of it either. The tail ends of a half-seared and dying thread catches E'ryn on his arm. Another, longer strand touches against Parth's side, nearest to his neck. Instants later, the two blink between and Parth's flame cuts off. Seconds later, the two reemerge, after some of the thread has passed. The brown comes in, flying and flaming, though he's in obvious pain.

You manage the unruly updraft originating from the lower west part of the bowl, and backwing neatly to a landing in the Center of the Bowl.

Ista Weyr Bowl -- Center(#900RJ)

The evening sun shines its reddish glow through the opening in the bowl wall to the northwest, across the beast corrals. Scanning around you, you can see the wide stretch of wall housing the Weyrling Barracks to the north. To the east of here, the reddish glow shines upon the entrance to the Hatching Grounds, as well as the queens' weyrs. To the southeast, activity is beginning to form around the areas leading to the lower caverns as well as the Living Cavern.

Ruddy evening light filters down from the partly cloudy summer sky, over the bustle of the active Weyr. Winds swirl around the peaks, through the forests, and along the beaches, causing frothy whitecaps on the surf. The temperature hovers in the comfortable range, while visibility is excellent.

You see weyrs all around you, many close to ground level.

Contents:

Phediath

Berizeth

Myndirth(#4849OVes)

Ioth

Tesith(#275OVaepqs)

Obvious exits:

SouthEast NorthWest DragonWeyrs

Use '+lhelp' for local help.

Away from Faerth, Above you, As the streaming jet takes it toll, the smaller greens must take their leave and be replaced. Spiraling down, fatigued and weary, the verdant sight is lovely. More greatly so when the fresh greens take to wing aloft. Gnashing and raring to go and sear their vile foe, the unspoiled vigor and lust to flame spreads itself anew through the wings. To strive, to sear, to flame... and not to yield.

Away from Faerth, Above you, Areseth sees Parth's predicament, andbreaks formation briefly enough to scorch the remaining thread Parth missed. As he swerve upwards, twisting to get back into position, he bugles a call at the companion brown.

Away from Faerth, Berizeth creens for the injured Parth, his sides working like a bellows. From atop Berizeth, Carinah watches pair come in. A rough hand unbuckles the top of her flight jacket to reveal a tight frown of concern, and her gray eyes flick to Faerth and Rykel as they, too, land.

Rykel gives the weyrlings a quick thumbs-up and hops down off Faerth, releasing her goggles at the same time.

You climb down off the unusually large blue as he offers a foreleg

Dragon> Areseth bespoke Ista dragons with << Parth! Are YOU alright now? >>

Phediath's golden head, stretched upward to watch the scene above, dips toward the ground as her angry-whirling eyes follow a clump of seared Thread char sailing harmlessly to the ground. Blinking all three eyelids at the motionless pile, examining it for a few moments, she stretches her neck toward the ashen grey and resentfully snorts at it, scattering the stuff away from her, a hint of "take that" in that action.

Above you, Parth returns the bugle to Areseth, even as he continues flaming as Thread comes his way. However, neck extension is shallow, and E'ryn signals to another rider.

Dragon> Parth bespoke Ista dragons with << Neck hurts. Shoulder hurts. We will land soon. We can bear it for now. >>

Above you, A bugle declares the sight of the trailing edge of this treacherous 'Fall. The end is in sight. Boosting the spirits of the dragons again, a wave of bugles dash along the bronzes in front, only to be echoed by the chromatics in the rear in one sweeping crash of sound. The frantic spinning of the wind slows is fretful sway, dissipating with the last remnants of the edge of silver spindled menace.

Atop Phediath, Madelynda nods at the weyrlingmaster's signal, a wavering smile appearing at Phediath's meager attempt to fight the menace, char though it may be, and dismounts after unfastening herself from the straps.

Madelynda swings a leg over her lifemate's neck, one hand softly carressing Phediath's golden hide as she grips the riding straps with the other. Using each loop on the straps to slow her descent, she carefully slides down the queen's shoulder and lands safely on the ground.

>From between Berizeth's neckridges, Carinah unfastens herself from Berizeth's straps with fumbling hands. Taking a moment to steady herself and inhale a deep breath, she removes her helmet, her goggles and then her gloves, stuffs them into her jacket pockets and only then does she dismount.

Carinah uses Berizeth's riding straps to lower herself from his neckridges to the brown's proffered foreleg and then slides to the ground.

Above you, Tabith comes down from the wings later than most of the greens, though also probably later than she should have. The green wingsecond pushed her limits to stay in the air as long as possible, and it shows in the way she descends using as little energy as possible.

Above you, Areseth circles for any remaining clumps of Thread, gliding gently in an informal sweep.

Above you, The sky is sprinkled with starry gimmers. Blanketed with it's blackened azure embrace, the twin moons shine brightly in the Thread-free bowl of night. The violent wind that was driven on by the presence of threadfall, almost a screaming defiance of Pern itself to it's ancient enemy, fled right along with it. Now the sky lies peaceful and crystalline as it did once before. Until the next time...

Tabith looms above, then backwings to a landing with a huge rush of air.

Above you, Parth wheels around slowly, taking care of his injuries as he leads this particular wing. His rider makes a signal: Home. From there will be directions in order to carry out sweeps of the Thread-hit areas to make sure they're still thread free, after the attention to wounds is taken.

Berizeth tears his whirling, red gaze, their color slowly fading, from the skies to regard his rider as she walks around him, checking the young brown for any sign of injury first thing, as lectured. Once satisfied, she turns to face Rykel, and begins unfastening her flight jacket.

Parth looms above, then backwings to a landing with a huge rush of air.

Areseth looms above, then backwings to a landing with a huge rush of air.

From Tabith's neckridges, Tamma is pulling off her helmet and her gloves even as Tabith hits the ground, and stuffs them into a half-full sack of 'stone for safe keeping so she doesn't drop them. She hurriedly shrugs out of her jacket and does the same with it after unbuckling the straps, then slides off her dragon to inspect the green for injuries.

Tamma slides down Tabith's leg to the ground.

Madelynda exhales slowly, the nervously-held breath in her lungs no doubt forced out in an effort to calm her frazzled nerves. Slowly, she unfastens the buckles on helmet and riding gear, takes up the bag of firestone that went untossed, and walks it over to the pile, her eyes looking inward.

Astride Areseth's back, Lal is lookinbg her clothing, tsking gently, and patting Areseth as she check him over as well, lookig at him from head to tail.

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