A Dragon's Purpose [THREADFALL]

[Zen]

10th Pass, 6th Turn, 1st Month
Four Days After Turnover

A'zael :: Bronze Fath

The vast majority of Mavros's protectorate might be safe from Thread now that winter was well and truly upon them, but winter didn't mean A'zael got any break from keeping track of every harmless Fall that occurred and predicting the next. Unseasonably warm weather could mean the odd Fall that would need to be flown – which was part of what sweepriding was for - and if he didn't keep up with the predictions, when the season turned to spring he'd have a hard time figuring out just where and when Fall was going to happen next. And besides that, a couple of the more southern isles that they still protected remained relatively warm throughout the turn, which meant the occasional short Fall that would need to be flown against. Such as today.

All the newly graduated riders had been tapped into their respective Wings and this would be their first real Fall. It would be a good test for them; it would hardly be longer than an hour, enough to give them a decent experience in the fighting Wings. Five of the new riders had joined his own Wing, and he'd chosen the day's formation all the better to keep an eye on them all, so long as unexpected Fall pattern didn't warrant any last moment adjustment. They were lucky as well with the weather. It was a clear day and though there was a steady wind, with the short span of the Fall, it shouldn't cause too much issue, even for the greens. There had been some note of gusting, however, which was more concerning. He didn't have to tell his Wingleaders to remind their Wings, for the sake of the new riders as well as the rest, to be mindful below them as well as above, for stray gusts could very well fling Thread back up at a dragon while a pair was focused on the menace above them.

The short Fall meant there was no real reason for rotation groups, or rotating the Wings, and with Breeze Wing claiming the fewest new riders, A'zael had given the high position to B'rax, with his Wing flying middle and Gust flying low. B'rax had been rather pleasantly surprised, for it wasn't often A'zael ceded the starting high position to another Wing, and he'd been prepared to suggest it had the Weyrleader not come to the decision himself. Threadfall was perhaps the one area no one at Mavros could say a negative word on when it came to A'zael's leadership. He may have been hesitant at first, but he'd learned quickly, and B'rax had been impressed with how easily he took to it. He was more than comfortable commanding the Wings now.

Standing in front of his assembled Wing, his gaze flitted over the new additions. He didn't normally take the time to speak before a Fall, trusting his seconds to brief his riders on the planned formation, weather conditions, and to see that their straps were inspected and that they were preparing their dragons with firestone. There was no reason, generally, for any sort rhetoric from him until after a Fall. But with new riders among them, he felt the need to reassure what were likely some very anxious young men and women with a brief word, “Though this is the first Fall some of you are facing in the fighting Wings, remember that you don't fight alone. Trust your wingmates and remember your training.” Here he even grinned, casting a quick glance toward where B'rax spoke to his own Wing, of which K'ton was a member, “Consider also that you survived K'ton, and had he found you lacking, you most certainly would not be here, in this Wing. You are ready. If you don't trust my word, you at least should be able to trust K'ton's.”

There was some chuckling at that - for half the Wing had had K'ton as Weyrlingmaster - which helped ease some of the tension that always pervaded before a Fall. And with that he signaled for them all to mount their dragons, pulling himself up onto Fath's back and waiting for the rest of the Wings to ready themselves. After a moment Fath must have gotten confirmation from the other Wingleaders. They're ready. Already a growl edged Fath's tone, the bronze quite ready to meet the ancient enemy of dragons. He raised his arm in the signal to take off and the Wings rose and quickly sorted themselves into proper formation. Another confirmation from Fath and he gave the signal to go Between.

Appearing again over the isles, he watched B'rax lead his Wing higher into the sky and shortly followed. The leading edge of Fall could already be seen approaching over the water, strands of silver falling harmlessly into the sea to be eaten by the marine life waiting below the surface. When he'd first started flying against Thread, he'd thought the stuff rather deceptively beautiful from a distance, now he just hated it nearly as much as Fath did. The bronze growled beneath him, the deep sound rumbling in his chest, eyes whirling an angry red as he watched Thread grow ever closer. Steady. He watched the Fall carefully for a long moment and decided no adjustments were necessary, confirming the Wing formations to the other Wingleaders with a brief word through Fath. Fath was generally terrible at relaying messages, but there was no time during a Fall for anything complicated enough for Fath to mess up. He had a few moments to survey the riders in front of him, and then Fath's growl rumbled again, and flames burst forth high above them as Breeze Wing met Thread. It wasn't much longer until Thread was descending on them as well, and Fath's broad flame erupted from his great maw as Gale Wing rose to meet it.

S'fin :: Green Rusath

S'fin was just as surprised as B'rax that Gale wasn't taking the High position for this Fall. Az stubbornly claimed it every short Fall it seemed, which was not at all a surprise. His brother had always had a habit of putting himself into the most dangerous positions if it would spare others. So when Rau told him the strategy for the day's Fall, he'd expressed his surprise, and Rau told him it was because of the new riders in their ranks. Breeze Wing had the fewest. Something about that made some sort of sense to S'fin, he supposed, but he didn't take much time to dwell on it. There was more reason he wasn't a ranking member of a Wing than the color of his dragon's hide.

From his place in formation, he glanced behind him at Fath, at the back of the vee, and then toward his new wingmates at their various positions. He would keep an eye out for them. Just don't forget to keep an eye out for yourself, Rusath growled, red eyes fixed on the strands of silver falling closer and closer over the water. Don't worry Rusy. I've no desire to be scored, he assured her, patting her neck, feeling her tension and hatred. She was too focused on the Fall to correct her nickname. And then flames were loosed above as Breeze Wing began the fight, and S'fin relinquished his steady hold on his green and let her loose as Thread fell on Gale Wing, the green emitting bursts of flame as she darted for clumps and strands missed by the higher Wing. Remembering what Rau had said about gusting, S'fin made sure to check below them on occasion to note Thread that might be blown back up at his wingmates.

A'zael Color: Orange
S'fin Color: Teal
NPC Color: Black

---

Threadfall Specifics
Standard Fall, clear day with steady wind, stray gusts. Short Average Fall, no rotations (all dragons fly the entire time). Since there are no weyrlings old enough to deliver firestone replenishment, a few riders from each Wing have been tasked with the duty.
High Wing: Breeze, Level Forward Vee Formation.
Middle Wing: Gale, Level Backward Vee Formation.
Low Wing: Gust, Level Triple Trail Formation.
Queen's Wing: Zephyr, Level Trail Formation.
Please reference the Mavros Wings, Threadfall 101, and Roleplaying Threadfall threads as needed. Remember that there are 6 rounds and you have 48 hours to post for each round before we move on without you. And don't forget to post a color for each of your Active characters from the following list:
Red
Orange
Gold
Yellow
Lime
Green
Teal
Cyan
Blue
Indigo
Violet
Purple
Pink
Tan
Bronze
Brown
White
Silver
Gray
Black

Alyx Hiko Taxx @kiba

[Hiko]

Doriath was silent as the Gust Wing prepared to take flight. It wasn't uncharacteristic of the proud bronze to lose all focus outside of Thread; it's what the dragons were bred for, and naturally, Doriath was attuned to the oncoming Fall.

T'lyron, however, uneasy; it was to be a short fall, he reminded himself, and short of a catastrophe, shouldn't leave the fighting force too injured. Except, he thought darkly, for all of the newly-graduated weyrlings. Slugging firestone and training for a fighting future was one thing, but to actually be face to face with the menace of Thread? The first Fall for a new rider was always the worst, and he quietly hoped that there would be no freeze-ups within his own ranks. Caustically, he eyed F'mol, as if to silently broadcast his concerns. It would be their job to reign in the new riders, and theirs to insure that X'ar's formation held true.

As the command to take off brought Doriath into the sky, T'lyron felt the familiar lurch of worry pit in his stomach. Almost instantly, crafted chaos ensued. As thread fell unchecked between the fires of Breeze and Gale, the Gust Wing was ready. Doriath flamed, T'lyron checked positions, and the pair repated with every stray strand.
Fighting was in his blood, in his veins, but every new fall brought the gut-punch of uncertainty.
–

Talera felt numb, listening to the peptalks and laughter for and from the new graduates. Numb was better than stark fear, and numb was functional. She'd recalled her life before Mavros at every new fall, remembering how sacred and scarce queens were, and how fighting a Fall had always been a hot debate; but Mavros was not other Weyrs, and her home understood the value in using every resource available.

Aerroth emitted a low growl as they took flight; the gold preferred to be in the sky, and though her personality was one of prestige and perfection on the ground, in Fall Aerroth became a vicious beast. The gold might not burn Thread herself, but she lived for the days when Talera could sweep and char with the flamethrower. She wanted to be a part of the action, and rued the days when she was stuck on the hatching sands, watching the wings take off.

Talera cleared her throat, irritated with the mask around her mouth. As they settled into their position, the queen rider looked up to take in the various formations. Through thick gloves, she flexed her hands and fingered the flamethrower.
–

T'lyron Color: Cyan
Talera Color: Silver

[Taxx]

Ishal was nervous, her fingers picking apprehensively at the dangling straps that would buckle her to her green, but Sleeduth was raring to go. Her eyes flashed between orange and red, signalling her feelings toward the threat they all knew was coming, and the dragon’s deep-seated hatred for Thread. She was shifting from one side to the other, only to still as A’zael began to speak, both dragon and rider focusing on their Weyrleader and Wingleader as he addressed them.

A ripple of amusement crossed the ranks at his words and Ishal forced herself to breathe deeper. He was right, anyway; as hard as the Weyrlingmaster was, if he’d had the slightest doubts than he wouldn’t have hesitated to hold back any he felt weren’t ready to be riders, with all the duties and responsibilities it meant. We are ready, Sleeduth agreed.

At the signal, Ishal pulled herself onto Sleeduth’s back, quickly securing the straps, and giving both one strong tug to ensure their soundness. A second motion and the Wing went aloft, the sound of wingbeats suddenly filling the air. They arranged themselves with ease of practice; they went between into the icy blackness, and emerged again, every eye now trained on the silver Thread approaching across the water.

Breeze Wing entered the fight first, Ishal’s gaze watchful as the higher Wing scorched Thread as it came in reach, bursts of flame rendering the spores harmless, falling as specks of ash. It wasn’t too long before some fell through the higher Wing, and Rusath darted forward, intent on burning what was missed by Breeze Wing. Sleeduth’s head jerked to one side and Ishal’s hands tightened reflexively as the green burst into motion, mouth opening wide as a stream of fire spilled forth at a clump falling to her right.
---
Ishal Color: Blue

[Alyx]

G'rett and Bronze Mastromideth

G’rett was quietly terrified. He’d checked over his gear a dozen times or more, hoping that if he did it again, maybe the Fall would be something they didn’t have to fly? Through all of the classes, they were told as Weyrlings that this was something they would do, their Dragons were born to do, but that didn’t make him any more eager to have his big monster of a Bronze in the way. Haella had laughingly sworn she’d be there to keep his rear safe, but she wasn’t here; the greenrider was, thanks to the speed she’d shown during the races, behind used to relay Firestone from the mines to the riders if needed.

He listened to the directions, leaning against Mastro’s side with his arms crossed, frowning softly. The Bronze rumbled, almost vibrating with eagerness. He wanted to fly, wanted to fight… G’rett was all but resigning himself that it was something he was going to have to face, but the healer would rather be tending the wounded rather than getting wounded himself!! He looked over his classmates nearby, the cold realization that he might not see them again once they leaped into the air – STOP IT!

If Mastromideth felt any of G’rett’s uncertainty, he didn’t let on, instead seemingly focused on those around him and the fight they were about to wade into. Part of G’rett wanted them to stop talking and just get it over with; the other part wanted them to keep lecturing to buy them more minutes. Sadly, soon enough, Az was waving them to mount. G’rett swung up onto Mastro’s shoulders with a little help from the Bronze, settling himself and snuggling the buckles into place. Pulling the goggles down, he pulled the collar closed on the coat and tied it, then Mastro launched into the air with the others.

The Bronze dropped down and to the outside, into a position where he could move his bulk without hindering others. G’rett watched as the Green and Blue forms – Rachel’s Aslith and a greenrider he barely knew, moved into pose near him. They would make sure that he didn’t miss anything; and that, he hoped, not of the clumps would catch Mastro’s bulk if he couldn’t maneuver fast enough. I will be fine. ‘I know, I know. I worry though.’ Mastro rumbled, clearly more confident than his rider. There was the slap of cold from Between, then the sea and sky opened up in front of them. G’rett’s eyes widened and his throat dry.

There there was no thinking; only fire and smoke as dozens of angry dragons bleched flames into the air, and the smoke swung around them. G’rett pulled the scarf up over his mouth and nose and simply held on as the Wing entered the fighting.

Rachel and Blue Aslith

Rachel was more looking over the young ones as the final instructions were given; it wasn’t anything she hadn’t heard before, and she was more focused on making sure she knew which of the newest riders she would need to keep eyes on. They always made mistakes the first time up, always. With luck, they would be the type of mistakes they could live to learn from. Others stood, but Rachel was already sitting partly across her Blue’s shoulders; no one had directed her to get down, and since Az’ael hadn’t come over to pull her butt off… well, she’d just remained. She watched the others climb into their straps and leaned forward, patting the Blue’s neck.

‘Ready, Old man?’ <Passably so.> Aslith held none of the rage the those around him felt. He hated the Thread as much as the others, but the Blue was past the point of blindly loathing something that didn’t seem phased by it; he simply burned it, killed it so it couldn’t hurt them. It was his job, and the sooner it was done, the sooner he could return to attempting to draw Rachel into reading him another chapter from his book. ‘You sure? After that strain-’ <I am well enough for a short Fall, Heart Sister.> The Blue was silent as he launched into the air with the others, then leveled out. <How are you?>

‘Worried about you.’ She didn’t even try to lie to him, and the Blue funneled waves of love back at her. <I will be fine. Worry about yourself, please.> ‘I do, but I worry about you more.’ Aslith rumbled with a sound liked laughter. <And I worry more for you then me, what a pair we make.>. Rachel leaned over, wrapping her arms around the Blue and pressing her cheek against his warm hide, eyes closed as they flashed Between. <Ready?> She took a deep breath, then shoved up and yanked her goggles down. ‘Ready. Burn it.’ Aslith bellowed, then flamed out as the Thread felt to greet the Wings.

G’rett/Mastro Color: Bronze
Rachel/Aslith Color: Purple

[Zen]

Possible Threadscore Roll Results

Critical – Your character and/or their dragon have received critical Threadscoring. They are unable to continue fighting and require medical attention immediately.

• Your character makes their exit from the Fall thread. If your dragon is the one with the wound, they may require assistance from another dragon to reach the ground safely.
• Your character will spend time in the infirmary.
• You have free reign to decide where the wound is located, but it MUST be extensive. Be aware that major wing injuries will have your dragon grounded for several months.
• Your character will acquire scarring from this wound.
• Your character will not be able to participate in the next Fall thread as they will still be healing, and may be grounded for longer depending on the type of injury you gave them.
• Your character WILL NOT die or be crippled and forced into retirement unless YOU choose to do so.

Serious – Your character and/or their dragon have received some serious Threadscoring. Medical attention is required, but they may be able to rejoin the fight after the wound is seen to.

• Your character will miss out on the next Fall round while they are being treated.
• You have free reign to decide where the wound is located, but it should be sufficiently large or deep enough to require treatment.
• Your character will acquire scarring from this wound.
• You may decide to make this scoring serious enough to take your character out of the fight, in which case your character can make their exit from the Fall thread and should spend some time in the infirmary.
• Your character will still be able to participate in the next Fall thread, even if you take them out of the fight.

Minor – Your character and/or their dragon have received some minor Threadscoring. After a quick jump or two Between, they are all right to continue fighting.

• You have free reign to decide where the wound is located, but it should not be terribly large or deep.
• Your character can continue fighting as normal and the wound may not even result in scarring, though treatment after Fall is over would be wise.

None – Through a combination of your character's quick wits and their dragon's fighting skills, they have both managed to escape any Threadscoring. For now.

Round 1 Results
A'zael/Fath – None
S'fin/Rusath – Minor
T'lyron/Doriath – Serious (Do not choose a color for him this round, he'll be out until the next round being treated, and can be out longer if you want)
Talera/Aerroth – None
Ishal/Sleeduth – None
G'rett/Mastromideth – Minor
Rachel/Aslith – None
NPC – None

Remember to choose a new color!

(Sorry for the delay, was having a bad mental day yesterday!)

---

A'zael :: Bronze Fath

From the back of the formation, between Fath's flaming, A'zael had a decent view of how the Wing was faring, keeping a particular eye out for the new riders, which were spaced out between more experienced riders who could hopefully compensate and keep them relatively safe. This was his first experience as Weyrleader with new riders in the Wings, with the only experience he had to go off about just how new riders in the Wings could go was his own class's graduation. And they'd lost two blues in their first Fall.

Those were the only losses his class had suffered thus far, and with nothing else to go on, A'zael could only hope that wasn't normal for a class's first Fall and that all their new riders would come out alive, if not completely unharmed. That was a bit too much to hope for. He would settle for alive. They only had to make it an hour. Once they got through their first Fall relatively unscathed, they would be more confident next time.

He watched Thundosomth wink Between as a large clump fell where the brown had just been, but he reappeared only a moment later to flame it. Fath let loose a cloud of fire and ash rained around them. A tangle of clumps descended near Rusath and Mastromideth. His brother's green flamed, disappeared from view behind writhing silver, and soon popped out of Between above his previous location, and then his view was obscured by Fath's flame.

S'fin :: Green Rusath

Mastromideth's broad flame was quite impressive, S'fin thought, as he had a front row seat to witness the bronze charring Thread to ash from his place near the younger pair in formation. He couldn't help thinking what an asset he'd be when Thread fell in those horrid thick sheets. Then a stretch of tangled clumps descended and Rusath tried to flame it before S'fin could tell her not to. He felt the searing pain as though it was his own, Rusy! They winked out and S'fin sent them back above the clumps and strands that had managed to score the green on her flank. Already the pain was fading, numbed by the absolute cold of Between, and he let his green chase down the menace that had dared harm her.

A'zael Color: Red
S'fin Color: Lime
NPC Color: White

[Taxx]

Cheerfully Sleeduth flamed the Thread into harmless dust. She was thrilled at the success, no matter how minor it was, and doubly pleased at the praise Ishal heaped on her. Yet both rider and dragon kept their focus, knowing well that it wouldn’t do to become complacent now, and they kept to the formation as well. Another clump fell, but Rusath was quick to follow it and Sleeduth let the other green have it. Instead she spun for another, tucking her wings into a shallow dive and opening her jaws to let loose a jet of flame to sear the Thread while Ishal kept an eye out for any strands or clumps that might fall or be blown their way. Above and below the other Wings were doing the same, and as Sleeduth attacked the Thread, Ishal made sure she stayed well clear of the Wing below.

Ishal Color: Cyan

[Alyx]

G'rett and Bronze Mastromideth

As a child, the fear of Thread was pretty much bred into children. You heard stories, horrible ones, and often saw the scars on the Elders and older relatives from fighting with Flamethrowers against what the dragons missed. He was sure, like him, a lot of children had more nightmares about the falling, silver string than anything else. Once the fighting started, there wasn’t much for G’rett to do other than hold on and keep his eyes open. Mastromideth’s flames touched the waving strands, making them curl and turn black, then blow back over them as the Bronze winged forward. Crackdust blurred G’rett’s vision for a moment, and even with the scarf over his face, the man could almost taste the ash.

There was a sudden burn; a flash of pain. G’rett slapped at his shoulder, his glove contacting the leather as the Bronze bellowed under him; it took a moment to realize the pain was Mastromideth’s, not his, and a panicked shove drove the Dragon Between to kill the attacker. The pain pulsed then faded to a dull drumming. He counted, worried they’d mis-jumped, then in a rush they flashed back into the skies. The Green was to their left, flaming again – Aslith was banking around over them, lining back up to act as cover. ‘You good?’ Indeed. The Bronze’s voice was deep, angry.

G’rett almost lost his breath as the big Bronze shot forward, curling around the Green to avoid the direction she was flaming, and belched a wave of flame high over her head, cleaning the Thread that dropped in her wake to make sure both where safe before he banked around back into the rough position he should be in in the mass of fighting.

Rachel and Blue Aslith

Rachel cursed as Aslith dove to breathe as the dropping Threads, but not in time. Both S’fin and G’rett vanished into nothing, and she felt that cold knot almost instantly. Aslith rolled up, flaming at the falling strands, then turned his head to greet the pair as the Bronze and Green forms winked back into existence. Both looked fine – Rachel felt her heart kick, then the need to breath made her gasp a little as her Blue dropped down and under Rusath to chase down some Fall that that avoided the Green’s returning wrath.

G’rett/Mastro Color: Brown (Mastro is taking the hit, score to the right wing-bow and shaking it off)
Rachel/Aslith Color: Lime

[Hiko]

Doriath, above you!
The bronze, too large to maneuver around the sudden tangle that had been missed from a higher wing, impacted with the mass before the dragon could wink between to avoid the collision. Pain flared in both man and dragon as the writhing silver clumps attempted to bore their way through both draconic neck and human thigh.

Just as immediately, bronze and rider felt the soothing bliss of utter nothingness; deep cold turned the attacking Thread into brittle debris. When they returned to the fight, T'lyron hissed. The fire in his leg renewed, and Doriath's neck oozed green ichor.
Hit the ground, Dori. We'll lick these wounds and return.
–

Aerroth, above!
The queen snaked her head up and screeched in angry focus; an injured rider had disappeared between to avoid a serious collision and in his wake had left a series of stray Thread strands. The gold surged forward, and Talera's grip on the flamethrower tightened. As she triggered the flame and shot it toward the missed Fall, Aerroth dunked her head low, signaling that she would be dipping as soon as Talera was finished. When her hand eased on the switch, the gold dunked lower and returned to her initial position, already scanning once more for stray Threads.

Talera Color: Black

[Deleted]

Karredy - Gold Zalmaranth

Doriath and T'lyron are injured! Zalmaranth called to the queen's wing, though with only two wings for the short Fall, at least some dragons in the fighting wing would hear her as well. Karredy shook her head to get the Thread ash off her goggles as someone else surged up to meet the clump of silvery Thread.

Karredy saw someone flying up to meet the straggling Thread clump that escaped Doriath's flame, but a gust of wind blew ash in her face.

The new riders are doing well, Zalmaranth told her. Many are afraid, but that's good for their first few Falls.

She felt a twinge of amusement: Of all dragons, why would YOU say fear is good?

It keeps you awake, was the gold's response.

In a few more moments, both of the pair spotted another clump of Thread slipping past the fighting wings, only a few dragonlengths from their side of the wing.

WE GO, Zalmaranth called to the rest of the queen's wing. Karredy raised her flamethrower nozzle as they cut up above the main wing, flaming it steadily. In a few moments it dissolved into ash, and Karredy sighed with relief, though it was unheard over the wind.

C'mor - Blue Zardilath
Their first real Threadfall was one of the short ones over the sea, so the blues and greens wouldn't have to be rotated out. Neither that nor A'zael's reassurance to the new riders was any help to the infamously nervous C'mor, but at least he wasn't the only one this time.

As the Threadfall went on, C'mor and Zardilath flamed their first two clumps of Thread (well, two and a half if you counted the stragglers) and the wriggling pit in C'mor's stomach settled down into a comfortable numbness. Sure, Thread was dangerous, but so were rams in heat and badly-trained canines and wild wherries--

Doriath and T'lyron are injured! The two of them heard from Zalmaranth in the queen's wing.

Why is she so loud? And there went C'mor's "comfortable numbness." Is it bad? Did she say anything else?

I don't think it's too bad, Zardilath mused. Zalmaranth's always loud. And it's Threadfall--we hear a lot of the other dragons, too.

Oh. Everyone knew Zalmaranth didn't bother too much with using an indoor voice. And Threadfall makes everyone yell everything--that made sense, too. But the knot in his stomach only loosened a little.

A clump of Thread was writhing down towards them, and C'mor tightened his grip on the straps as Zardilath swung up to meet it, eyes whirling orange to match his fire-breath. The parasite caught fire and turned to ash in a few moments--nobody ever mentioned how FAST Thread died in the ballads--and then the blue's eyes calmed down (somewhat) to yellow.

It's like flour, C'mor said queasily to his dragon. Burns fast and really hot. We don't even have to flame it all the way sometimes, it just kind of... catches a spark?

Of course, this kind of flour tried to eat you instead of the nice, normal way around, and--

A gale blew hard as they were heading back to position, jarring them back up.

---
Karredy color: Teal
C'mor color: Pink

[Zen]

Round 2 Results
A'zael/Fath – None
S'fin/Rusath – Critical (Saved by G'rett)
Ishal/Sleeduth - Minor
G'rett/Mastromideth – Serious (out for one round, don't pick a color next round)
Rachel/Aslith – Critical (Saved by Ishal)
Talera/Aerroth – None
Karredy/Zalmaranth – None
C'mor/Zardilath – None
NPC – None

Round 3 has started. Remember to choose a new color!

---

S'fin :: Green Rusath

The Fall was going decently well, as far as Falls went, with minor scoring mostly, at least in Gale Wing. S'fin had little idea what was going on in the other Wings. There wasn't really much he could do for them anyway, being at vastly different altitudes. So he didn't concern himself with wondering about things that couldn't be helped and had a moment to be grateful that his own Wing hadn't lost anyone from the fight. All the new riders seemed to be holding their own. Some of them had managed to avoid getting their first scorings thus far, but it wasn't likely that would last. If they could just keep the injuries to a minimum....

More concerned with the new riders than himself, S'fin didn't see the mass of tangled Thread being flung back at them on the wind while Rusath was occupied with flaming the Thread above her.

Alyx G'rett to the rescue! XD



A'zael :: Bronze Fath

A'zael was a bit more informed than his brother. Gamath had no problem reporting anything serious from Breeze Wing directly to him, to bypass any muddling Fath might cause, and even Historith grudgingly spoke to him during Fall for the same reason. The old bronze had no love of Fath and seemed to prefer the alternative of speaking directly to his less obnoxious rider, rather than having to deal with the younger bronze. So he knew when A'vel and his green winked out from Breeze Wing to be treated for a scoring, one of the high flying Wing's three new riders. He when T'yer and his brown followed, the big brown caught under a tangle of Thread his rider had been too slow to react to, and there was more concern over this injury than with A'vel. He knew when A'vel returned, and was still waiting to hear if T'yer would. He knew when T'lyron left the Fall for treatment from Gust Wing, but so far the Wingsecond seemed to be the only casualty that needed treatment from the lower Wing.

None of his own Wing's riders had been forced to leave the fight yet, though he knew better than to expect that to last. Rusath and Mastromideth had both had some minor scoring, as had Thundosomth. Neither of the two new riders had seemed to panic overmuch over it as far as he could tell, even G'drin had handled it well. Fath. He noted the bronze's weakening flame and reached for the firestone at his sides. Fath turned his head, maw open for refueling, eyes whirling red, Hurryhurry.

A'zael: Cyan
S'fin: Yellow
NPC: Indigo

[Alyx]

G’rett and Bronze Mastromideth

Given the rocky start, G’rett was starting to feel better about this whole mess. Not like he was doing much in the Fall, to be honest. Mastro did most of the heavy lifting, while G’rett felt like he was living some sort of daydream and nightmare all mushed together. He had worried about the big Bronze’s size, so much that they had been training – and none of that had eased the fear he’d felt at the thought of putting the Bronze up against the falling Thread.

And yet? Mastro moved like he’d always fought Thread; banking and belching forth walls of red-orange flames, raining ash back over himself and his rider. Rachel banked over them, Aslith’s belly seeming so close G’rett could have reached up and brushed the Blue’s hide as he passed over. Mastro rumbled, turning his head back to look at G’rett. More. ‘Right.’ G’rett leaned, reaching to pull the sack of Stone free from the hook – ‘Mastro!’

The Bronze wheeled around, coiling back on himself in a move that G’rett would have been overjoyed for in any other moment; nose up, then folding his wings to drop backward; then rolling, flipping his belly from the sun to the ground, and snapping his wings open and raced at the green that had been covering him since the start. Rusath! Drop! Mastromideth’s breath scorched the clump, raining ash down over the green and her rider.

Rusath… that meant S’fin, right? G’rett looked down, wanting to make sure the Greenrider was okay – then fire and pain, lancing his mind and his Bronze bellowed in pain. Reflex, G’rett spun around, slapping at the silver strands on the Bronze’s hide – and instantly regretting it. A thought sent the Bronze into the cold of Between, and the pain and burn faded. ‘Mastro?’ I didn’t see it. The Bronze’s voice was soft, shaking.

‘Out and down. Let's get you checked out.’ The Sky flashed back into view and with it, the pulsing pain slowly did returned. Mastro groaned, winging away to drop down to ground. G’rett shifted, and felt the harness move with him. Shards… What? ‘I think we lost a strap. Try not to drop me.’ I will do my best. G’rett pulled the scarf away from his lips, coughing, and looked at the remains of his glove. That had been so stupid. Are you okay? ‘Yea, just going to need new gloves after this. Let Fath know we are breathing.’ After a silent moment, the Bronze rumbled. Done. ‘Good. Now, land so I can check that shoulder.’

Rachel and Blue Aslith

G’rett had seen the thread a moment before Rachel had; the big Bronze’s speed got him there first. When they’d bellowed and flashed away, she wished he hadn’t. ‘Aslith?’ The Blue banked around, pulling up to flame a stray clump. <They are landing.> The woman gave a small oath, both upset and thankful. Aslith banked around, flaming at more falling strands, before turning his head and opening his jaws. Rachel leaned, catching the bag, and tossing it to the Blue. ‘Don’t choke.’ <Wouldn’t that be entertaining?>

Rachel snorted, glancing over at S’fin and his green to see if they were still safe; perhaps she should have been looking over her shoulder. Then she might have seen the ravenous silver stands dropping toward Aslith’s back – and her.

(There’s your setup Taxx !)
G’rett/Mastro Color: -Out for the round-
Rachel/Aslith Color: Orange

[Deleted]

Karredy - Gold Zalmaranth || C'mor - Blue Zardilath
Mastromideth is injured! Zalmaranth called to the queen's wing as they spotted the telltale signs of thrashing before the bronze and his rider went between.

Karredy had a niggling feeling that there'd been a lot of serious injuries for such a short Threadfall, especially since they were taking out the experienced riders instead of the new graduates.

Some falls are bad ones, Zalmaranth assured her. This is why--

The queen stopped to keep an eye on one of the blues, chasing down two clusters of escaping Thread about three or four dragonlengths apart. It's Zardilath, she told Karredy.

That was C'mor's dragon, the Weyrwoman noted. She didn't really know him that well, aside from what everyone else did--nice, did well in training, but a bit of a wreck. They didn't have the numbers to put him in a lower wing or the queen's wing so he could settle down, but so far the pair had been doing well.

Zardilath flamed one of the Thread clumps without much issue, swiveling nearly upside-down to flame the next one.

But then came the third cluster, tossed up towards Zardilath by one of the rogue winds that kept blowing ash in everyone's faces or messing up flight-paths. And this was a messy one, blown apart into something like a net--Karredy could only see two main chunks, and unseen Thread was never a good sign.

Go, go! Karredy got her flamethrower ready as Zalmaranth skipped between, but when they came out of the blackness, Zardilath was already bellowing and flailing above them. Thread was gnawing a patch of his neck and C'mor's leg, and he skipped between to get rid of it.

When the blue reappeared, a rain of heavy chunks startled Karredy until she realized it was C'mor's firestone sack emptying out. The strangeness of the sight made her panic and try to catch the rocks bouncing off Zalmaranth's hide: They can't lose any firestone, they need it to fight Thread--

Leave it! Zalmaranth reminded her. Zardilath! What happened?

He's burning! Zardilath pleaded.

Thread burns when it eats you!

No, C'mor! HE'S BURNING! Zardilath repeated. I was flaming the last piece of Thread and then the wind blew it all back to us!

And there it was: The lower half of C'mor's leg was wreathed in smoke. Fire accidents were thankfully rare, but it also meant that nobody really covered them aside from "don't get in front of a flaming dragon" and "keep your distance in Threadfall."

Of course we'd get two fire accidents in a SHORT Threadfall, Karredy thought with a sinking feeling--S'fin was out of action, too. No wait, S'fin was fine--was it G'rett that got burned?

Worry later. Zalmaranth flew under Zardilath so they could start transporting the two back to Mavros. Zardilath, we'll take you to the Weyr--

More straggling Thread was coming towards them, writhing silver and tossing like a ball in the wind.

Zalmaranth didn't bother with niceties like warnings by now--instead she pivoted sideways like a capsizing boat and SHOVED the blue out of the way. SOMEONE GET THAT! ZARDILATH IS HURT!

With that, Karredy held the Weyr's image in her head as they went between, and there wasn't much time to notice how QUIET C'mor was.

---
A moment or two later, the four reappeared above the Weyrbowl and landed. Karredy undid C'mor's riding straps and did a quick check on him and Zardilath: Neither of the pair's wounds seemed too bad once the chaos of Threadfall was gone--ichor seeped from the blue's Threadscored neck, but not very quickly, and C'mor's leg only had a few lashes of Threadscore with patches of red blisters. The smoke Karredy saw before was probably from his riding leather, crumbling off from so many temperature swings.

But the healer who came up shook his head immediately when he caught C'mor's waxy face and shallow breathing--and to Karredy's confusion, he just put the bluerider flat on his side. To his credit, he also gave C'mor a blanket and started cutting away the remnants of C'mor's riding gear, but the ground was hardly a place to treat someone.

"Is it really that bad?" Karredy asked as another healer started coating Zardilath's neck with numbweed. "It looks like his riding gear got the worst of it."

"It doesn't matter," the healer said. "He's going into shock. If we move him too soon, he'll get worse."

She didn't quite grasp the healer's meaning of "shock," but C'mor was eerily quiet and still (normally he fidgeted from some kind of worry), and the healers' main responses to his mumbling questions were a practiced, gentle shushing. There was nothing left to do here, so Karredy went back to her waiting gold and remounted.

They took off by the lake, went between, and reappeared a few dragonlengths below the rest of the queen's wing.

Zardilath is injured! Zalmaranth called again, heading back to her position.

---
Karredy color: White
C'mor color: Bronze

[Hiko]

What is Zalmaranth doing?
Talera peered from her position at the back of the wing. As a wingsecond, she tended to fly either fore or aft, depending on the number of golds with them. As great a vantage as this was for a wider viewing range of those in the wing, it didn't do much for trying to see Karredy and Zalmaranth's position and plans.
Acting poorly, Aerroth sniffed, unimpressed at the Weyrqueen's response to Zardilath's predicament. No one needs to hear about every injured dragon. It distracts. Below us.

Talera almost missed the clumps that had passed just by Aerroth's left wingtip. She lit the thrower and flame spouted in an angry line.
Do not lose focus, the gold chided. Someone has to be a good example for the new riders.
–

T'lyron grunted as he mounted once again; numbweed or no, the wound on his leg would remind him of his faults for weeks to come. Doriath snorted, refusing to consider his own painful neck.
Get on, and let me get my revenge!

As soon as the pair were back in the air, they melted back into position in the wing. Formation was key, he reminded the overeager bronze. It helped no one if they were to attempt some daring return, flaming everything in sight. Until they were acclimated once more to their aerial surroundings, they would need to merely be aware and at the ready.
–

Talera Color: Silver
T'lyron Color: Black

[Taxx]

Even in the midst of danger, Sleeduth couldn’t help the excited flow of thoughts, emerging as a constant stream of commentary to her rider as she dipped, soared, and flamed all as necessary. This was her first, and while she knew well enough that the danger was real, the threat of injury or death remaining as a possibility, she wasn’t afraid to give her usual flair to the fight. She didn’t act out, kept to the formation and kept a sharp eye on Thread as it fell, but the inner dialogue was full of cheer.

She did sober a bit as the Fall went on and injuries amassed- Mastromideth’s Threadscore and Zardilath’s rider burning, but so far most of them seemed to be minor- and anyway, not for her to worry about. Not now.

Sleeduth, there! They don’t see it!

A second’s look was all that the green needed, and she bellowed a warning even as she dove- Aslith! Duck!- and waited just long enough for the blue to heed her call before charring the Thread to ash. Her dive, however, put her in the path of another single Thread, and she gave a sharp, short squeal as it connected with her chest, pain an instant hot burn as the Thread began to devour the flesh it met. Between! was the shared command, and the short trip killed it, crumbling away into dust. The pain, momentarily numbed by the intense cold, returned as they appeared above Mavros once more, but Sleeduth refused the suggestion to have it looked at. It was manageable, and she wouldn’t abandon her wingmates for such a trifling score. Instead, she took aim once more at another clump dropping past her and again, reduced it to harmlessness.

Ishal color: Silver

[Zen]

Round 3 Results
A'zael/Fath – None
S'fin/Rusath – Serious (no new color needed, out for the next round)
Rachel/Aslith – None
Karredy/Zalmaranth – Minor
Talera/Aerroth – None
T'lyron/Doriath – None
Ishal/Sleeduth - Minor
NPC – None

Round 4 has started. Remember to choose a new color!

---

S'fin :: Green Rusath

Mastromideth's command was met immediately. Rusath didn't need to stop and ask why when she was told to do something in the middle of a Fall. Folding her wings, she let herself drop down as the bronze flamed right where she had been only a heartbeat before and ash rained down over them. S'fin looked up as Mastromideth passed over them, just as he bellowed in pain and was gone a moment later. Rusy!? She rumbled soothingly, They land, on their own power. That was a relief, he supposed. If they didn't need help landing it was highly unlikely it was anything life threatening. Shard it! We were supposed to watching their backs, not the other was around! Perhaps if we were watching our own backs a bit more, they would not have had to step in. It was a chastisement for him, for she knew how he put everyone before himself, at the cost of himself at times. Only now his supposed selflessness had cost someone else. He cursed again.

Zalmaranth's huge gleaming form was difficult to miss when it suddenly appeared in the Wing. Shards and shells, who else was hurt? Was a dragon hurt bad enough to need an aerial rescue? Why wasn't anyone covering them? S'fin's heart seemed to skip as he saw the Thread falling, but the gold and her rider seemed occupied with one of the new blueriders. Rusath! He didn't need to explain anything to her, the two of them winking out and back over Zalmaranth and Zardilath, flaming away the Thread before it could reach the two, but coming in awkwardly to avoid collision with them, too close to the threat they had come to protect them from.

As Zardilath and Zalmaranth disappeared Between, so did S'fin and Rusath, numbing the searing pain of Thread across her back and his. He had a thick flight jacket and layers to slow it, at least, but Rusath didn't. They skipped out, testing, but S'fin could feel her pain as clearly as his own. Back, Rusy... we need a healer. He felt her protest though she did not speak through her pain, more Thread was falling nearby and her instinct was to stay, to fight, but the pain won out. Leave it, someone... someone else will get it. He clutched tightly at the straps as they disappeared Between again, coming to land back at the Weyr where healers waited.

A'zael :: Bronze Fath

Mastromideth was the first serious casualty of the Wing. A'zael hadn't seen what happened, but when he'd looked for the source of the bellow of pain after refueling Fath with firestone, the big bronze was gone. His grip on his straps tightened, Fath. Mastromideth? Hurtsafe. The bronze responded quickly before loosing more flame at clumps of Thread descending upon them. Hurtsafe. Not terrible then. Not Hurtbad. His grip relaxed slightly and he watched Sleeduth cover Aslith from his vantage point. And then suddenly a flash of gold caught his attention. What?

They seemed to be helping one of the young blueriders. Suddenly S'fin was over them, covering them from the Thread that did not stop falling even for queen dragons, but he came in wrong. Too close. Thread was on them. No. All three winked out almost simultaneously. Rusath popped back out and he had a moment's relief before they were gone again. Fath anticipated him this time, his rider's thoughts whirling with worry for his brother, Hurtsafe.

Hurtsafe. Not Hurtbad. The relief gave way to confusion and no small amount of anger. Where the shell had Zalmaranth come from? Why didn't she warn anyone? She should have been covered if she'd been called for an aerial rescue. Gritting his teeth in a grimace, he did his best to put it from his mind. There was no time to try and puzzle it out now. He could only hope they didn't do it again.

A'zael: Tan
NPC: Gold