The following is a log of roleplay on Star Stones MOO, logged by D'ney.
All references to the world and characters of Pern™ based on Anne McCaffrey's fiction are copyright© 1967 by Anne McCaffrey, all rights reserved. The Dragonriders of Pern® is registered U.S. Patent and Trademark Office, by Anne McCaffrey and used here with permission.

Tonight Igen Weyr hosts a Groundcrewing class, followed by Telgar Weyr's
Threadfall over Crom Hold. To participate, please head on over to the Hold
Courtyard (@move me to #206). The class will be held at 6:00 pm MOOtime,
with Threadfall following at 7:00 pm MOOtime. See you there!
Entered by Leigha (#7319) at Thu Jun 14 18:01:54 2001 MDT

Hold Courtyard
Crom hold's courtyard stretches out, its rooms standing tall against the
mountains behind. Imposing and dark, the previous inhabitants have mostly
never thought much of decoration, but Crom's newest Lady Holder has taken it
to her personal attention to add joy and color to the rather barren
countryside.
A road leads out towards Telgar and the Hold's gather grounds, while little
trails by the hold take twists and turns to a pleasant garden, the stables,
the minercraft hall, and a charming and scenic trail through the valleys and
hills of the Crom Area.
The sky is clear and bright without a cloud to be seen. Belior is a quarter
full and Timor has a small sliver of light. It is a winter night.
You see Scoundrel, Spice, and Evreth here.
Leigha, Harry, Ulerae, Eddy, Eir, La'en, and Jillien are here.
The following dragons are here: Murath
From here you can go:
Hold Doors    Crom Road    Hold Gardens
Cothold Path  Mine Hall    Scenic Trail
Guard Office  Stables

[+][CH-CY] Leigha is standing next to a heap of flamethrowers and a largish
tank with several gauges. She busies herself filling 'throwers and getting
everything ready for the lesson. "Well met, all," she says, finally noticing
the fairly good turnout for the event, and smiling, her old Threadscore scar
pulling down the right side of her mouth. "I'm Leigha, Assitant
Weyrlingmaster for Igen Weyr, and this is my lifemate, Murath." The big
brown dragon is positioned further along the courtyard, right next to several
bales of hay marked with targets.

Leigha
Very large, very grey eyes hold the world in steely regard from this mature
woman's pale face. Sprinkled across her upturned nose like flecks of
cinnamon are a fading raft of freckles, which sail on the high sea of her
cheekbones like miniature ships, only to cease abruptly on her right cheek at
the angry white line of an old Threadscore, from eye to chin. Her
remorselessly brown hair is bobbed across her collar to keep it neatly under
her riding helmet. She has a commanding presence, despite her petite frame -
making 5' 1" on a good day - and an aura of smooth confidence in herself and
her abilities. Her hands, which were habitually white from flour and
pastries before she Impressed Murath, are bony and long-fingered, with nails
kept short.
Sleek, tight fitting wherhide superbly outlines her muscular body. Her black
riding jacket hangs loosely from her narrow shoulders, eye-catching
CactusSquatters Wing badge worn proudly on her sleeve. Black wherhide riding
trousers are specially padded for fighting Thread and long sweepriding with
an extra layer of wherhide from groin to knee. Calf-length wherhide boots,
polished to a mirror-like shine, completely engulf her tiny feet.
Double corded, triple looped knot in the maize and jet of Igen Weyr, sporting
a milk chocolate ribbon entwined 'round, and bound with gold thread, proclaim
her position as Igen Weyr Weyrlingmaster, and rider of brown Murath.
She appears to be in her late twenties.
She is awake, but has been staring off into space for a minute.
Carrying:
Princess Skywalker
Somewhat nostalgic as she watches her 'lings grow up...

D'ney has arrived.

Glancing up to the sky as she comes out, curly-haired Jillien tugs on a
button-up sweater as she follows down the stairs with a quick step. Clearing
her throat, looking a little flushed, she falls in near the rear of the
collected people.

Jillien just looked at you.

Reian has arrived.
Reian arrives.

From Sky Above the Hold Courtyard, Buggleing a greeting, Remorth winks in from
::between::

Eddy fiddles with the edge of her shirt, yawns, and eyes the courtyard
suspiciously. Luck /would/ have it so that having bribed a ride to a
Somewhere Else, the particular Somewhere Else she chose would be more crowded
than the place she was escaping. Blobeth and G'lob have left, though, so
there's nothing to do but wait. And she's good at waiting. "Hn," is the
articulate response to Leigha's introduction. Of course. Thread would also
be falling here today. Good luck, indeed. So she stands there.

Ailaeth has arrived.
Ailaeth arrives.
Re'a swings a leg over forest neckridges, a graceful forelimb offered to help
slide from Ailaeth's neck.

Eir shifts nervously from foot to foot, eying the flamethrowers with all their
metallic ominousness. One hand ruffles her nonexistant hair, which only
serves to make her more self-concious. Out of desparation more than any real
companionship, the weyrling shuffles towards D'ney with a mutter: "Hey."

Eir
Sharp but round - bony but sculpted - Eir's face is deceptive childish, for
its Turns. Eyes sparkle like sun off white-capping waves - a mischevious
sparkle, to be sure - with a slight upward lilt and a sensible ammount of
framing lashes. Thin nose leads to thin lips, the latter a cheerful cherry
red against her skin's rather patheticly tanned hue. Hair has been neatly
clipped into a deep red fuzz that's barely rufflable by fingers, downy soft
and only serving to make her head look even odder atop her slender neck.
Golden-yellow linen tunic drapes from Eir's shoulders, belted with a simple
black wherhide belt. Black linen trousers tuck into sturdy boots of polished
wher-hide, all of it somewhat loose due to the girl's skinnyness.
Double cords of maize and jet intertwine in a single, simple loop, wrapped
with a sepia-brown sisal ribon to denote her rank as an Igen Weyr Junior
Weyrling, rider of Aidubaith.
Eir may look a few Turns younger than she is, but mannerisms and general
moodiness suggest blooming adoloscence, coupled with the responsibility of
weyrlinghood.
She is awake and looks alert.
Carrying:
Eir's Wingleader Manual
Eir may look a few Turns younger than she is, but mannerisms and general
moodiness suggest blooming adoloscence, coupled with the responsibility of
weyrlinghood.

From Sky Above the Hold Courtyard, Innokasth shimmers into exsistance, form
icy from ::between::'s frigid nothingness.

Murath rises to his haunches, fluting warble greeting the blue from Igen
before sidling slightly towards the lovely green lady just arriving.

Remorth lands lightly on the ground and furls his wings.

(Nhaeth) Halis walks in from Weyrling Grounds.

Remorth offers a leg down for Betha, who slips off and dismounts.

Innokasth lands lightly on the ground and furls her wings.

Ulerae furtles. Scurtively. Honest she does. Igenite slips to the back of the
crowd, cyan gaze flickering idly over person and person before settling back
on Leigha. "Well met, Leigha and Murath of Igen Weyr." She's joking. Really.

Reian has disconnected.

Ailaeth circles a few times before finding a place to land, long enough for
her 'mate to dismount before taking to the fireheights to watch. Wings rustle
against her back as she waits for Thread to come.

Jillien looks up again, this time less speculative and more interested.
"How're they all going to fit in the courtyard?" she muses to no one in
particular, a quirk of amusement before she turns an attentive smile toward
the Igen rider who seems to be in charge. No daydreaming!

Leigha begins by handing out flamethrowers to everyone. "Now, just make sure
that the safety is on - like so -" she demonstrates, motioning for D'ney and
Eir to help her distribute the 'throwers to everyone in the snowy courtyard.
"Everyone have one yet?"

Re'a doesn't take one, leaving it for another to have since she has a dragon
above. For now, she stays towards the back of the crowd, here to listen and
watch.

Harry throws a brilliant beam at Leigha, baring pearly whites, a gentle trill
of giggles escaping him. "Oh yes, and it's very lovely, too," the lad
enthuses, running his fingers up and down the flamethrower. "Very lovely,
indeed. I think I may be in love, actually, yes..."

D'ney was jostling for space with her fellows; she's just been pushed away by
a largish boy of late. Head turns to regard Eir, and aloof, she returns the
greeting with double -her- loudness. Nothing to be scared about. Then
proceeds to hand out throwers, shedding the occasional grimace-smile.

D'ney
Short, slightly gaunt around the edges, this adolescent bears Igen's glare in
the burnt brownness of her skin. Uncertain growth has worked away the
childish plumpness from the avid angles of nose and chin, further accenting
pinched features with their harsh planes and abrupt peaks. Below forehead's
darkness, a primal acidity informs her hazel eyes, restrained by stubborn
mahogany curls -- but flaring inevitably into the compact rebellion of a
muscled shape and habitually agile motion.
A golden-yellow linen tunic drapes from her shoulders, straggling under a
thick jet belt at the waist and falling nearly to her hips. The trousers of
black linen are similarly buckled in to keep the outfit snug against the
hazards of adolescent frolic, its hems disppearing into a pair of
extra-polished wherhide boots.
Double cords of maize and jet intertwine in a single, simple loop, wrapped
with a brown sisal ribbon, to denote her rank as an Igen Weyr Junior
Weyrling, rider of Nhaeth.
She is awake and looks alert.
Steady as a rock, and as apt to peel.
[15 turns, 6 months, 5 days now.]

Eir again mumbles something about weyrling exploitation as she hefts a
'thrower, foisting it off on the nearest pair of empty hands she can find
before dragging her feet back to get another. The more time she wastes in the
distribution, the more D'ney has to distribute. Hah.

La'en has a flamethrower. Oh. Brown eyes peer down at the thing warily, and
she manages a greeting towards Leigha before attempting to figure out exactly
what she's supposed to be doing. She should've watched Hotaru in weyrlinghood
more often. Bleh.

Some drudges arrive to cart Reian off to bed.

Eddy coughs. Loudly. "Uh. No, not me," curly-headed lass raises her hand
grudgingly. It's not nice playing groundcrew without a flamethrower, after
all. "Oh. Never mind. Yes." All this said in the most enthusiastic
monotone, the Igenite yawns and hefts the contraption up, peering at it.
Yeah, all good in this .00001 percent of the world.

Jillien waits in line properly, casting a quick smile at the weyrlings as she
collects a flamethrower for herself. It's obvious she has no idea what she's
doing with the thing, but she still hauls it back where she started, looking
speculatively toward Leigha.

Ulerae hefts her flamethrower experimentally, flicking fingers at the safety
and beaming, slightly. She has a flame-y thing.

Betha meanders off towards the crowd but keeps her distance, after all she to
has a dragon. Of course she does take a moment to find out who's handing out
the firestone around here.

Leigha thanks the weyrlings then glances around to see that everyone has one
before smiling at the crowd, her steely eyes scanning to ensure that no one
is playing with fire before being called upon to do so. "First thing we need
to do is go over the various parts of the flamethrower. Anyone care to
begin?" Try not to stand out, she's looking for a volunteer...

Betha gooses a volunteer in to talking. hehehe.

Jillien is too busy looking at the whole thing to get a chance to stand out.
Crouched down so she can better view the flamethrower, she looks interested
in a hm-that's-neat kind of way.

Re'a glances to Betha, waving to the bluerider before she too looks around for
the firestone sacks. Always good to know where they're being kept before the
thread starts falling.

D'ney tries to look wise for a few breaths, arranging her limbs just so, hand
resting on the flamethrower she's holding -- the facade splits after that,
though, and she simply leans over to the next weyrling in line, perhaps Eir.
A light nudge, a pair o' fingers. "You want to start?"

Betha spies Re'a and waves back, "Hey, you find any firestone around here? I
know there's a shortage but jays, we going to use flamers instead?"

Leigha's gaze falls upon Eir and she prompts. "These are the tanks, that hold
the agenothree, then we have the..." She points at the gauge used to tell if
the tank's full or empty.

Harry doesn't try to stand out, he just does, like a sore thumb. It's
probably because he never. shuts. up. Yeah, maybe. "...mm, yes, very
pretty, don't you think?" Telgarian lad turns to a nearby spectator, or
student, whichever you prefer, who happens on freak accident to be Ulerae.
Poor darling. "I think mine's actually prettier than yours. Waa-a-ait. Aw,
/no/! How come mine has a scratch thing here and yours doesn't! That's not
fair! Hey! /No/." A pause, then, in a far gentler tone, "Do you think we
could switch?"

Harry
Sandy blonde locks fall gracefully around an eager face, curling tightly
beneath his cheekbones and cascading, held tight by a glaring fuschia bow, to
mid-back. Periwinkle eyes lie framed by long lashes in a pale-skinned, almost
effeminate face. Short, stocky build detracts very little from the
tastelessly bright and the feminine about him.
A wherhide vest, perhaps the most impractical article of clothing ever
commissioned, drapes over a long white tunic and brilliantly purple trousers,
tied together at the waist with a violet sash and an undeniable flair.
He looks to be in his late teens.
He is awake and looks alert.

Re'a gets the message from Ailaeth and heads towards the far wall, grabbing a
couple of sacks and setting them off to the side. She's preparing for when
the green has room to leave the fireheights and load up on firestone, of
course. She listens to the class with half an ear, while surveying her old
home.

Jillien peers over toward Harry's dialogue and then the girl who happens to be
next to him. Leaning slightly to see around one of the taller people nearby,
she glances at their flamethrowers and then her own, frowning a touch. "So
this thing should be pointing to 'full', right?"

Coming through, gang way, watch your toes, watchout for my tail, oops sorry.
Remorth makes his way towards the firestone sacks then bounces up and down a
couple of times. Oh. Betha laughs, "Alright, coming."

(Nhaeth) Nhaeth basks in whatever light he can get at the edge of the
barracks, ruddy head resting on his pillow of a tail. Even if it's just
moonlight.

P'tir interrupts, responding in that eager junior weyrling way to Leigha's
question: "OOooooo, that's the gauge to tell if it's full. And that's the
wand that you use to spray! And that..." His enthusiasm for the subject is
cut short by a sudden elbow in the ribs from a weyrling pal.

Eddy checks her own flamethrower, eyes half hooded, slouch still perfectly in
place. "It looks fine to me," she mumbles, and leaves it at that. After
all, why waste the time and energy to go /ask/? Except, of course, for the
nagging possibility that if she does this wrong she could seriously screw up
the whole maneuver, but hey, this is a girl who has faith in herself. Or at
least in the concept of energy conservation.

Leigha nods to the enthusiastic weyrling, pointing at the various parts as he
describes them. "Very good, P'tir. Now then, let's have a demonstration.
Anyone want to try to hit the targets?" She grins at the crowd, seeking the
first flamer of the evening.

With the help of a leather strap and gracefully offered forelimb, Re'a swings
up between the forest neckridges of Ailaeth.

OOC: Re'a leaves for a bit.. brb

Ulerae stares, slightly, at Harry. "Uh. If you really want to." So much for
paying attention to the lesson. Igenite continues to stare, eyebrows slooowly
lifting upward. Who let the psychotic out?

Closing softly whirling eyes, Ailaeth tucks her head under a wing, dreaming
of flowers...

Jillien's brows pull together as she peers at P'tir. "Full. Right." She nods
to herself then taps the tank experimentally just to hear the sound it makes
before she nods at it next.

"Eh?" Eire wasn't paying attention, of course - too busy fiddling with her
appararti. She'll know better than to sear off a limb of her own, or anyone
elses.

Betha glances towards the group as she stumbles and buffets her way through
the crowd to get to Remorth and the firestone. "Let's see, I'll get you a
couple of 'emmmm, maybe more." She grabs a quartet of sacks then clambers up
Remorth and ties 'em down then slips back down. She and Remorth walk back
over to trailing edge of the crowd and get themselves comfortably situated
and listens to the lesson.

"Ah, thanks," Harry sighs, holding out his own flamethrower with a graceful
smile. "You're an angel, really. An angel from heaven, you are, and your
flamethrower is like Faranth's... breath." Well, sue him (or the Pernese
equivalent of that), he's no poet. He's just another poor lad wanting to
switch flamethrowers. That's all. "Were they talking about gauges? Oh, the
gauges are absolutely lovely... look at them, so beautifully crafted.
Stupendous." Hi. I know big words. "Absolutely... targets? Oh, /those/
targets..." Plug your ears, he's off on another thesaurus run of the word
'pretty.'

Fiana has arrived.
Fiana arrives.

Jillien has disconnected.

Leigha's steely gaze finally rests on Harry. "Ah yes, step forward young man,
let's see you have a go at the targets," she calls, motioning him forward.

D'ney nods, but stays put, unlike bright P'tir. She slings the flamethrower
across a knee, waggling the wand experimentally. A grim matter, this. Never
mind the grin spreading from cheek to cheek. "Now they can't say I--" goes
the confidential whisper to a nearby ally.

Eir lugs her tank over, dull sloshing sounds of a full canister echoing
faintly as the liquid's inertia disrupts her trajectory slightly veering the
girl a pace in either direction. Keeping clear of Harry who seems unhealthily
overjoyed by his 'thrower, she siddles off to one side to watch.

Murath rumbles encouragingly towards the young man, setting himself up near
the target and standing ready to put out the flames produced.

Some drudges arrive to cart Jillien off to bed.

Lauryn has arrived.
Lauryn arrives.

Halfway through his spiel, Harry stops. "Me?" Surprise suffuses the lad's
face, quickly replaced by a large dosage of arrogance. Watch him show off
his perfect, new, unscratched flamethrower, world! "Why, of course, I'll
try, yes, with this lovely, sublime piece of craftsmanshi--- ah. Right, I'll
try." And try he does, and misses too, hitting, luckily, just the bit of
ground next to the target. "I can't.... who cursed me? Someone did
something! I wouldn't have missed otherwise! Someone cursed me!" Such is
his explanation. It's better to leave him under this delusion.

Tarlin has arrived.
Tarlin arrives.

Tarlin is here. Never fear!

S'olan has arrived.
S'olan arrives.

Ceayrth arrives.

Leigha's eyebrows rise slightly at Harry's words, then she shakes her head.
"How about D'ney, you're next," says the weyrlingmaster, indicating that
Harry is to clear the way. "Followed by Eir."

S'olan has been here the whole time. Ayup. Just... sort of toward the back,
listening attentively. He cranes his neck to see better; even tall as he is,
S'olan is still succeptible to one of the firmest laws in the universe: no
matter where you stand, someone taller will stand in front of you.

Lauryn approaches the group, with a slightly used looking flame-thrower on her
back. She holds the nozzle like someone who has done this kind of thing
before. She sees that Leigha is running the class, so she moves closer,
waiting, eyes entreating someone to notice and invite...

From Sky Above the Hold Courtyard, Chaddyth flares in a fiery explosion of
russet from ::between::

Chaddyth lands lightly on the ground and furls his wings.

P'tir is also ready, over-eager weyrling that he is, and he muscles his way to
the front of the crowd, throwing off the safety and sending flame spurting
towards the target. Murath rises in a fluid motion to his haunches as the
flame overshoots the mark and nearly singes the big brown. "Oooops..."

Eir makes some sort of strangled 'Erp' sound before launching into a short
ramble of complaints to those within earshot. "You know, it's not really
/fair/. We're never going to use this." Just like algebra. Waddling with the
added weight of her thrower, she checks the gauge with a novice eye, sets it
square in the middle -- that way she's not throwing it all the way to one
side, which could just as easily be 'low' as 'high' -- and lets it rip.
Fwoosh!

D'ney was watching the others, edging her wand's tip well away from her. "He
missed," she points out at P'tir with the benefit of objectivity and
distance. But that's before she's volunteered too -- the weyrling bats at
the kid who shoved too close as she makes a beeline to the spot. She aims
quickly, fires, and gets a fair hit, singeing the edge of the thing. Frown.

O'no descends from Chaddyth's neck, steps off bent foreleg to land with a
*thump* on the ground.

Leigha moves towards P'tir. "Careful! Aim /before/ shoot!" Watching Eir's
attempt out of the corner of her eye, she ensures that P'tir's 'thrower is
safetied before sending him back to the end of the line. "Good flaming, Eir
and D'ney!" she calls, then motions towards Lauryn. "You next, harper girl."

Tarlin arrives, better late than never and trots over to where the groundcrews
are gathering. She flashes a bright smile at those nearby before her
attention is snagged by the flamethrower practice.

Harry mumbles to himself, settling down after the great disappointment of A)
missing and B) finding nobody to blame. But he will survive. Hands pat the
flamethrower lovingly, while, in a much abated tone, he offers it his
condolences, "Well, you're a good 'thrower anyway, and I can aim better than
that. Someone cursed us and only we know it, but it's all right. Ahh, so
shiney..."

Leigha hears Leigha's command, and nods, getting this neat little grin across
her elfin features. She turns towards the bales, and braces her feet in a
combat stance. She squeezes the trigger gently and bathes the bales in a
spiraling curtain of flame. Odd picture, pretty little thing, spouting flame
like a dragon.
make that /Lauryn/. :)

O'no slides off of Chad's forelimb with a *whoop*, seeing as the dragon gave
it a bit of a muscle flex and she sorta went airborn for a moment here.
Brownrider turns her head about to give the dragon a rather scathing glance,
only to notice that the brown already has his attention elsewhere then on his
surly lifemate. Rider scowls all the more before she is tugging down her
vest, eyes moving to the flamer practice occuring. At all the errant flames,
she makes a point of standing well and back.

Eir lets a triumphant 'Ha-hah!' slide out on a ghost of a breath as she's
awarded the Leigha-praise of 'Good flaming'. She waddles with a jaunty air -
only she could pull it off - towards S'olan's side. "It's not so hard," she
confesses to the bronzer, looking faintly exhilerated. Fire.

Leigha grins at Lauryn, nodding approvingly as the harper demolishes the bale
in style. Murath obligingly spurts water at the bale to put out the flame,
then snorts. "All right then, Eddy, you're next."

O'no flutters her eyes, moments before they shut tight...too boring, time to
take a nap.

From Sky Above the Hold Courtyard, A cool breeze preceeds Pralanth as he
appears out of the cold of ::between::
From Sky Above the Hold Courtyard, Pralanth glides with the beat and thrum of
dragonic magesty, honey glistend wings taking him toward Drumheights.

D'ney makes her way to the back of P'tir and Co., locking her 'thrower along
the way. The harper's flaming has her rapt attention, together with the
motley crew, with whistled approval from the dark-skinned weyrling, to boot.

From Sky Above the Hold Courtyard, Pralanth would much rather be flying in
from Drumheights.
From Sky Above the Hold Courtyard, Pralanth glides with the beat and thrum of
dragonic magesty, honey glistend wings taking him toward Sky Above Scenic
Trail.
Pralanth would much rather be flying in from Scenic Trail.

Pralanth lifts his forleg so that J'avia may dismount, carefully helping her
to the ground.

Murath rumbles greetings to the many dragons who're arriving for Threadfall.

Tarlin leans in towards the nearest person, her eyes still on the flaming
lesson. "Where kin I get a 'thrower?" she asks in a near whisper, looking to
each person filling out the back of the crowd.

"'Kay," Eddy nods, stepping forward and aiming carefully at the target. She
hits, barely, and sidles back. Good enough for her. The results are
regarded with a blank, apathetic stare.

S'olan grins at Eir, and says, "Good job!"; whispering, but whispering
excitedly. Eyes track back to the target, watching Eddy. "I'm a little
nervous, myself."

Leigha nods at Eddy's targeting and grins. "There you go, all right now -
S'olan, your turn!" The weyrlingmaster beckons the young bronzerider to join
her.

Fiana just changed the @party!

Thread is due to fall at Crom Hold! Telgar and Igen's wings are gathering,
the groundcrew is putting the finishing touches on their practive--come on
over to the Hold Courtyard (@move me to #206) to join in!
Entered by Fiana (#8152) at Thu Jun 14 19:06:41 2001 MDT

R'vian has arrived.
R'vian arrives.

Some drudges arrive to cart O'no off to bed.

Lauryn grins, as she switches the safety of her 'thrower back on. She steps
back, and watches the others practice. She grins as the new Weyrlings char
and singe targets. She only shifts the heavy tank once on her shoulders...it
being almost as long as her.

From Sky Above the Hold Courtyard, With a shimmer of moondusted 'sails,
Lhanath appears from the darkness of ::between::

From Sky Above the Hold Courtyard, Lhanath extends elegant moondusted 'sails
and glides toward Drumheights.
From Sky Above the Hold Courtyard, Lhanath slinks, swishing svelte tail
rhythmically in from Drumheights.

S'olan walks forward, staggered a little by the weight of the thing. He
checks the settings, though he, like Eir, probably doesn't know what they
mean well enough to do anything useful with them, and then takes a breath,
squares himself up a little, and firms his grip on the wand. Aim, push the
trigger, and.... foom of flames, scoring a little off to the edge, but
scoring nonetheless. He relaxes marginally, and then grins in spite of
himself.

Lhanath has arrived.

R'sha unbuckles herself and taps Lhanath's shoulder lightly. She is rewarded
with one foreleg grudgingly extended, and takes the offered opportunity,
sliding carefully down her side to the ground.

Tarlin starts from a doze with a gasp, her head lifting from her arms and her
eyes wide.

From Sky Above the Hold Courtyard, Sayurith pops in from ::between::
Sayurith lands lightly on the ground and furls her wings.
Siobhan slips gingerly from sunset tipped 'ridges to proffered golden paw as
she dismounts from Sayurith.

Fiana moves from a small knot of wingleaders going over the last of the plans
to stand next to her lifemate. She runs a smooth hand over Ceayrth's golden
hide, tugging straps to ensure their safety. Glancing around, she makes note
of the wings situated and where they are, murmuring a message or two for Cea
to pass on. Like a wave rolling slowly over the Telgar dragons, the mental
memo notes them to prepare. The time is nigh.

Eddy turns to S'olan, slowly -- you can almost hear the joints creaking in her
neck -- and blinks solemnly. "Your turn," the lass repeats after Leigha,
stifling a yawn. As he figures it out himself, the resident turns her
attentions away, sniffing at her flamethrower.

Leigha allows herself another grin and nods approval to the weyrling. "Good
flaming, S'olan. Anyone else want a turn?" She glances around the
courtyard, noting the arrival of yet more dragons.

Tandal has arrived.
Tandal arrives.

Lereth is one such dragon heeding a leader's call, raising his head and
letting a rattling bugle rumble up. It's not loud, but R'vian complains
nonetheless, sticking a finger to one ear and wiggling it. "Oh go soak it,
Lere, it's not here yet and it's not gonna get here any sooner if we go up
now. Wait for it, will you--and stop moving, or else I won't get this
buckled fixed and I'll end up one flat 'rider."

Eir claps her hands in a brief applause for S'olan, stifling it as she soon as
she catches herself. "Good job!" she calls in return to the bronzer, checking
the safety every now and then on her thrower out of paranoid delusions.

Tarlin spots Fiana and Ceayrth among the riders gathered on the edge and
waves, offering a smile to the goldrider before turning her attention back to
the class in front of her. Apparently no one heard her. Eyes roaming the
congregation, she finds where the flamethrowers are being guarded. She
doesn't need to show an official ground crew card, does she?

Tarlin
Spikes of rich honeyed hair stand out from her head in an uneven nimbus,
longer strands, weighted by their length, falling in clinging tendrils across
pale golden features. Bright hazel orbs of tawny almond shade are set within
a wide frame of slightly darker lashes, an occassional hint of verdant hue
flashing in their depths. A splash of freckles washes chubby cheeks and
bridges her pert nose between the impish arch of full brows. Pouting bowed
lips complete the youthful visage while prominent cheekbones add a hint of
maturity to her rounded face. Burgeoning womanhood blooms into full curves
upon a still sprouting form, boosted by child's chub that threatens to linger
beyond adolescence as her height fails to accept puberty's subtle nudge into
lengthening, keeping her among the shorter of her peers.
A slate-blue tunic drapes loosely on her small form, scooped neckline
revealing the gentle curve of her collarbone. Long sleeves fall just beyond
her wrists, the hem, sides split, brushing mid-thigh. Brown trous, equally as
loose, descend in gentle folds to be engulfed by the tuck of heavy
calf-length brown-leather boots.
She is awake, but has been staring off into space for 2 minutes.
Carrying:
Sam Confundo
Bebbe Spiritus

Opening eyes, Ailaeth shakes, sending flowers petals all over. <<How did
/those/ get there?!?>>

Siobhan dismounts from Sayurith, leaving the sunset gold to flirt with the
male dragons as she wends her way towards Fiana. "Igen's duty to Telgar,"
she salutes jauntily, then scans the groundcrew ranks. "Good crowd out
today, dragonriders and holders alike." Practical as ever, she automatically
checks the tanks on her back, reminding herself to also check those on her
lifemate's neck.

Re'a swings a leg over forest neckridges, a graceful forelimb offered to help
slide from Ailaeth's neck.

Leigha motions for Tarlin to position herself in front of the target. "Want a
try?"

Re'a exits the hold, having taken a moment to check on a few things while the
ground crew practiced with the flamethrowers. She notices the extra dragons
in the courtyard and takes a moment to look them over to see who's here. She
heads towards Telgar's queen, nodding to a few others she's met before.

D'ney uncrosses her arms. Her sprayer has been settled against her feet,
weighing painfully against booted toes, and the teen bends over to pick it up
now, running her hands over the surface smoothness. "Doesn't hurt to rest a
bit now," she quips to someone, only the other is preoccupied with watching
the arrival of dragons. Back to the targets, then.

Sayurith ducks her head slightly, narrowing her brilliantly jewelled eyes as
she aligns herself just /so/, taking advantage of the position of Rukbat to
arrange herself before fluttering first lids at Pralanth and Murath.

Tandal arrives with a Telgar bluerider, sliding down with a perfunctory
'thanks'. She's trained, you betcha. So she doesn't need to show off her
skills. Right? Right. Hands rest on her hips, and she skulks to keep from
getting in the way. Skulking is an excellent skill, doncha know.

Fiana catches Tarlin's wave just as the girl turns back to her own devices,
missing Fi's reciprocated greeting. Ah, well... there will be time after,
hopefully. Blue eyes scan for someone recently landed--who happens to now be
directly before her. Smile stretches and she salutes in return, "Telgar's
duty to Igen, as always, and I'm optmistic about today. The winter air is
cold, and the sky is bright. It shouldn't be too heavy a fall." As she
speaks, she bends to heft her tank to her side, and from her side to her
back, strapping in expertly.

S'olan beams back at Eir, checking his safety, too, as prompted by her
checking. "Whew," he says. "Fire." Eyes are bright. Fire. Scared? Not
any more.

Tarlin blinks, glancing back at Leigha and then at the flamethrower she was
about to don. She looks at the crowd and then shrugs. Flamethrower is
lifted to her back with an expert tug here and there. When she's done, she
appears to have lost a couple of inches. "I've been ground crew before," she
admits, though she squares herself in front of the bales, her step a bit
heavy with the weight upon her back. Nozzle is pointed and just enough flame
sprouted to singe the edge. She grins. "Just testing."

Betha clambers up limb and straps, finally settling on Remorth's neck.
Remorth launches powerfully into the air!

Lauryn looks about as more and more dragons arrive, from both Igen and Telgar.
She notes that the tension in the air has started to rise a little bit. She
casts her eyes up to the sky and waits...

Leigha grins at Tarlin's test. "Very good. Looks like everyone is ready for
'fall now - remember one thing: when it's all over, you must discharge any
remaining agenothree into the charging tank over there." She demonstrates
with one of the unused 'throwers, setting the gauge to discharge and
inserting the nozzle into the device. "Any questions?"

Lereth launches powerfully into the air!
Lereth lands lightly on the ground and furls his wings.

Eir bites her lip around a giggle, the mirth spilling over into her eyes and
the upturned corners of her mouth as she peers up at S'olan. "That was a
hoot, huh?" She bounces from toe to toe, a little anticipatory of the Fall to
come.

R'sha checks Lhanath's straps for perhaps the dozenth time, then glances
around to assure herself that the other DawnRunners are similarly preparing.
No matter how many times she does this, you'll always see her nervous
beforehand, saying and doing things time and time again until they can
finally go up. Lhanath, on the other hand, is cool as ever, standing
stoically still during the frequent tugs. But her gaze too sweeps the wing,
before rising skyward, and her nostrils flare.

OOC: Fiana does a bit of OOC prep, now. Dragonriders: when the call to go up
happens, just go straight 'up'--all poses of Thread that you need worry over
will be in that room directly. Groundcrew: there are specific poses for you
guys, too, and those will be given down /here/, so you can keep track easier.

Re'a grabs some firestone bags from the pile and begins to strap them to her
green as Ailaeth lands nearby. Once the straps are filled with bags she
checks over a few things before climbing up to take her place.

Siobhan prepares her own tank, then, nodding with satisfaction, she runs to
her lifemate and mounts up, getting herself strapped in and the big tanks
checked before she gives the all clear sign to Fiana.

Siobhan alights upon golden paw, scrambling to claim a seat 'pon Sayurith's
sunset tipped 'ridges.

S'olan nods, giving the wand a rather admiring look. "Wow. It's... wow." He
chuckles, looking up at the sky, fairly quivering with anticipation. "I feel
like a very small, landbound dragon with this thing." After a moment, "Lae
wouldn't appreciate that comparison."

With the help of a leather strap and gracefully offered forelimb, Re'a swings
up between the forest neckridges of Ailaeth.

Fiana makes a last minute check on her tank and straps, then Cea's bindings,
before lofting herself up her lifemate's side. She settles in, and prepares
for the 'Fall.
Fiana snatches a nearby handhold, hefting herself up to settle between
tarnished neckridges, helped by a politely offered foreleg.

J'avia moves to Pralanth as the others prepair to take flight, turning to
check on her wing and make sure they are filing up in formation behind her.

Remorth lands lightly on the ground and furls his wings.
Remorth offers a leg down for Betha, who slips off and dismounts.

Betha shakes her head, "Well, why didn't you go before we got here?" Remorth
and Betha look appoligeticly at each other, then sit quietly.

Harry plants a quick kiss on his flamethrower, for good luck as much as for
sentimental purposes, and peers upwards expectantly, for once silent -- thank
Faranth.

R'vian watches the weyrwoman and then his wingleaders, nodding sharply to
himself. Yes, it's about that time. Slapping hands together, he grins
heartily at Lereth and opens his arms wide. "Ready, 'mate? -- Aye! Ready!"
Then up and away onto his brown he goes.
R'vian mounts Lereth.

Leigha dismisses the class, motioning to the Igen weyrlings to stand beside
her. "We're about to be groundcrew, and there's a few more things you need
to remember. First, keep your eyes open - we don't want friends flamed,
here! Second, if you do find Thread, let someone else know before you flame
it, just in case you need help. Third, form trios and /stick together/. Any
questions?" The weyrlingmaster's steely eyes scan the weyrlings seriously.
Raising her hand in salute, she releases them to their duties.

Lhanath stares moodily off into the distance, grudgingly extending one mossy
limb out for R'sha, who swings up and deftly buckles herself in.

Strapped securely to Lhanath, R'sha secures the silver buckles of sky blue
riding straps around herself.
High between forest neckridges atop Ailaeth's graceful neck, Re'a glances
across at the brownrider, chuckling as she hears R'vian's voice. She buckles
herself in, and begins to feed the green firestone.

Tarlin watches the riders prepare for Threadfall, fiddling with the gauge to
the tank. Making sure no one is around her, she lets off a couple of short
bursts to be sure it's at the right setting. Grinning in satisfaction, she
turns her attention to Leigha's directions. Trio's, huh? She idly considers
the weyrlings and residents gathered in the Crom courtyard.
High between forest neckridges atop Ailaeth's graceful neck, Re'a buckles the
straps securely around herself.

Betha looks around, "Where are we riders to be staged at?"

Lauryn sees the group disperse, then says outloud. "Hey there folks. Is
there a pair I can join up with?" She hefts her tank up, checking gauges
once.

Eir lets a giggle out this time, grinning beamishly at S'olan before she
attempts to secure the tank... well, securely. Having to waddle from
Thread-burrow to Thread-burrow wouldn't make her very effective in the
ground-crewing.

D'ney manages to nod while she's hoisting the 'thrower onto her back, and she
takes some time doing it too, having to compensate for the too-long straps.
"Fall," she spouts, tone neutral as she steps up to join the Assistant
Weyrlingmaster. "You two together, right?" That's for Eir and S'olan, with
a grin's quirk.

Tandal ponders this as well. Trios. She glances around, looking for a
familiar face, and lights on Lauryn. Not familiar, maybe, but friendly.
"I'm not paired, but I could use someone to be with," she says. "And then we
could find a third." Eyebrows lift quizzically.

A dark cloud forms in the distance, roiling and tumbling in upon itself. It
enroaches upon Crom with sickening speed an no promise of relenting any time
soon. A young dragon bugles in alarm--or is that challenge? The time for
preparation is over: Thread has come.

From Sky Above the Hold Courtyard, Xiareth pops in from ::between::

Astride Ceayrth's gilded gold neck, Fiana buckles the straps securely around
herself, giving them a testing jerk to assure security.

S'olan beams back at Eir, and then at D'ney. Ayup. They're together. He
checks his own tank, joggling himself up and down a little to make sure it's
quite secure. "Sure. Want to join us?" More checking. Is everything okay?
He glances up at the sky and, despite himself, catches his breath. Oh, my.

Tarlin bounds over towards the group consisting of Tandal and Lauryn. Well,
maybe not /bounds/, but she certainly tries. She flashes a bright smile at
the pair. "I'll join ya, ifn you don't mind?"

Ailaeth lifts verdant head to peer into the horizon, an answering bugle taken
up as the thread is spotted.

Xiareth lands lightly on the ground and furls her wings.

Betha smirks, shaking her head then gets upon Remorth.
Betha clambers up limb and straps, finally settling on Remorth's neck.

"I'm not seeing the Thread yet. Thread's pretty, and I haven't seen it yet.
I mean, it's bad for you, but it's also very pretty, you know." That would
be Harry, indeed, not paying attention and eyes glued to the sky. "Hey,
we're forming trios? Hey.... who'm /I/ with?" A quick glance around
confirms that Eddy and Ulerae are probably the only ones left, so he'll go
thataway, mumbling to himself the whole time.

Lauryn smiles brightly at Tarlin and Tandal, then hears the roar of the
dragons begin. She turns, and her eyes lock on the approaching cloud. Her
skin, pale as it is, reflects the grey. "I think we're about to start." she
says in a detached sort of voice.

Eir almost chokes at D'ney's quipping, following S'olan's brave lead. "Yep.
Stickin' together to watch each other's backs and whatnot. But, sure, you can
can keep us company," she offers congenially, almost waving her hand -- with
the wand in it -- before catching herself.

Astride Xiareth, A'resh eyes the group gathered in the courtyard and then the
imminence of Thread forming in the distance. He tugs at the strap to his
helmet as Xiareth snorts impatiently, a hint of red swimming through the
green's whirling orbs. "Patience," the greenrider urges his lifemate.

Tandal grins at Tarlin, albeit it's a slightly nervous, tight-edged grin.
"Fine by me, Tarlin." She, too, looks up at the sky, pursing her lips and
pushing a strand of hair back into its tight knot, and then taking and
releasing a deep breath. "Here we go." Stating the obvious, of course.
The anticipation is almost worse than anything else.

D'ney's here, as it is. "Yeah," she mutters short answer -- to Eir,
apparently -- palm encircling wand. And she looks up along with the others,
draconic bugles mirrored in eyes' snapping alertness. Fervently: "Fly well,
dragons."

Astride Ceayrth's gilded gold neck, Fiana glances up at the sky as Ceayrth
rumbles, a flash of anger sending her blue eyes the deep darkness of an
ocean. The ancient foe dares fall again, and Pern rises to fight back. At
Fi's signal, Ceayrth sends the bugling call out mentally and physically for
Telgar to take flight beside Igen.

Ceayrth launches powerfully into the air!

High between forest neckridges atop Ailaeth's graceful neck, Re'a finishes
tightening straps and glances up to the sky as her green begins to bugle. A
hand pats her neck as the green rustles her wings against her back, ready to
hit the skies.

Leigha nods approvingly as the weyrlings and the groundcrew break into threes
smoothly. Murath rumbles discontentedly as he watches the other dragons take
to the skies. "Another day, love," murmurs Leigha, her Threadscore white
against her fair skin.

Sayurith launches powerfully into the air!

Tarlin's features take on a certain grim sobriety as she pulls a pair of once
borrowed, now gifted, goggles over her eyes, her hair standing out at odds
and ends to the strap about her head. She shifts her grip on the nozzle of
the flamethrower as her hands grow clammy with anticipation.

Lhanath wrinkles her nose at the growing stench of firestone around her, but
doesn't hesitate to make short work of the pieces she's given. Though her
attention is drawn to the enemy's approach, still she glances now and then to
the dragons of DawnRunner, always the leader in her thinking. Now looking
even smaller on her neck, R'sha pulls down her goggles so her face is
completely covered and peers around as well as her pumping hand echoes
Fiana's order.

Xiareth launches powerfully into the air!
Lhanath launches powerfully into the air!

Fussy has arrived.

Ailaeth launches powerfully into the air!
Lereth launches powerfully into the air!

From Sky Above the Hold Courtyard, The first silver spores trickle down,
teasingly easy to target and scorch. Erratic, but light, it seems as if it
might continue like this for quite some time... but with a sudden gust of
wind, the havens open up and the once-gentle flow of Thread becomes a
pock-mocked torrent. Thick clumps drop from the sky, bent on battering the
land of Pern.

Remorth launches powerfully into the air!

Eir tries not to spend her time looking up and watching Thread descend, but
the dangerously fascinating quality of the spores can't be denied, and so she
sneaks glances up at it from time to time. "You know, it's almost beautiful,
in that deadly sort of way." Like a certain brown down-home Igen.

From Sky Above the Hold Courtyard, Xiareth, no longer the lady when it comes
to facing the ancient foe, lets out a bugling challenge to the shimmering
skies, rising to meet the falling threads with a burst of flame.

J'avia grabs onto the sturdy leather straps and pulls herself up to sit
comfortably astride Pralanth.
Pralanth launches powerfully into the air!

Lauryn hears the grinding of firestone, hears the mighty wings beating into
the air, and every hair on her body stands on end. Then she sees it, silver
Thread, falling in clumps. She holds her 'thrower at the ready, and stands
beside her team, watching as the first of the Dragons start clearing the sky.
She starts forward, slowly, watching for strays.

From Sky Above the Hold Courtyard, Remorth trods along getting himself in some
sort of position amidst the dagons not of the queens wing. Oooh, that looks
like a good spot. Bugle, bugle, coming through.

From Sky Above the Hold Courtyard, Ailaeth is there too, her voice lifted to
call out a challenge to the silver thread that heads towards the hold. Flame
bursts forth from her muzzle, searing the first to fall before the green.

S'olan licks dry lips, fingers tightening reflexively around the wand. He
conscientiously relaxes his grip, and says, "I don't know. The roiling...
looks like a burrow of baby tunnelsnakes, to me." He laughs, tightly,
tension making what isn't really amusing amusing. "But it is silver. And
bright."

Tarlin watches Leigha for further instructions, but when Lauryn begins to move
forwards, she follows, assuming that a bit of a spread allows them better
coverage. She shifts the weight of the tank on her back with a wrinkling of
her nose. Nomatter how often she does this, that weight never grows more
comfortable, though she's learned to ignore it.

Harry, of course, murmurs what you'd expect him to murmur, periwinkle eyes
fixated on the falling Thread, "Oh, /pretty/. It's so lovely, and beautiful,
and ..." On. And on. And on. Flamethrower, nevertheless, is held at the
ready, because psychotic as Harry may be, he doesn't /quite/ have a death
wish. "It's falling, so pretty, so delicate and moving and lovely."

From Sky Above the Hold Courtyard, Ceayrth wings aloft easily, eyes ever
upwards to await the the measly /scraps/ of Thread she is allotted. Fi runs
a hand over her lifemate's back, soothing her agitation as she watches the
wings in the higher altitude begin the attack.

Tandal moves to stand a little bit beside Tarlin and Lauryn, her position
making them into a rather lopsided vee. Dark eyes scan the ground, bright
and alert, and her pale skin is even paler beneath the gray sky, in contrast
to her bright red hair. Her gaze flicks over to her team again, keeping pace.

From Sky Above the Hold Courtyard, Strapped securely to Lhanath, R'sha has
only a moment to assure herself that they're in formation before it's every
pair to theirselves, grabbing onto to a strap suddenly to steady herself as
Lhanath lurches to deliver her first mouthful of doom. Eat fire, Thread, the
DawnRunners are here right on time.

From Sky Above the Hold Courtyard, Remorth reaches out to his rider as she
debags some firestone and starts stoking him. Eyes swirl firey crimson as
the mennace begins to show itself.

From Sky Above the Hold Courtyard, Sayurith lofts gracefully into the sky,
great wedge-shaped head swivelling from side to side as she scans her zone
for stray 'Fall.

From Sky Above the Hold Courtyard, Xiareth remains in place, though her
agitation is clear as she surges forward and must be held back by her
lifemate's soothing touch.

Leigha remains at her post next to the flamethrower charging unit; she watches
the groundcrew disperse, ready to assist in any way she can.

Silver strands flutter softly as they stream downwards. A clump wiggles past a
wing, and heads for the ground below, digging and burrowing upon impact.

From Sky Above the Hold Courtyard, Ailaeth spreads her wings, catching a draft
upwards leading to another falling clump of thread which gets flamed easily
enough. Ever the lady, she waits for the thread to come to her, not surging
forward as several of the dragons above her.

From Sky Above the Hold Courtyard, Lereth sticks regimentally close to
formation, keeping an easy gauge on his speed and height. He catches and
updraft that banks him left, bringing he and his lifemate into the path of a
small group of strands. Following it down to better set the target, he
belches up a flame and scorches the enemy from existence. "One down...
/several/ more to go," shouts R'vian to the wind.

D'ney eyes her nozzle, then points it to the ground, weaving steadily onward.
It's an effort, even with those turns behind her, and she spares little
comment. "Tunnelsnakes or not, they'll be flamed." The words are pragmatic,
as always, but incised within is a faint horror. Forward. "Is that--"

Tarlin runs, slightly breaking formation to flame the clump that managed to
make it to the ground, using a good gust of agenothree to kill the writhing
/thing/.

Lauryn sees a smallish clump hit the ground, and her voice rises higher than
most humans can, and much louder, thanks to her Voice training. "Tandal,
Tarlin, over there!" she point with a gout of flame to the mass of burrowing
Death ahead of them.

From Sky Above the Hold Courtyard, Two strands follow neat, slightly angled
trajectories, their fall quite predictable until they collide, long
filament-strands winding together. The impact skews their descent, knocking
them wildly sideways.

Eir spares a glance towards Harry every so often as well. "He's going to catch
Thread in his mouth, if he doesn't shut up," she comments to those within
earshot, mainly D'ney and S'olan. "Ahh!" yelps Eir as Thread makes contact.
"Ah! It landed." She was always under some sort of impression this stuff only
did that over oceans and mountains. Yellow-bellied, she trots after her
fellow weyrlings, lagging behind slightly.

Tandal strides after Tarlin, nodding at Lauryn's words, at the ready to back
Tarlin, though it looks as if she's got it taken care of. She hisses a
triumphant breath between her teeth, not a cry or a shout but a gust of
breath. "Get it?" she asks, nozzle pointed toward the scorched earth, eyes
alert for anything that might still live or move.

Halis has arrived.
Halis arrives.

S'olan's head snaps around at D'ney's words, though he relaxes as Tarlin's
crew covers the burrow. But not much. Tension still paints through his back
and neck, and he switches his hands on the wand to rub sweaty palms on his
trousers.

From Sky Above the Hold Courtyard, Remorth and rider lean towards a wrything
mass of thread, like one hated lover to another Remorth lets out a gout of
flame to turn the thread to ash. **fwoooof**

From Sky Above the Hold Courtyard, Ailaeth flames a clump before turning her
head, her rider ready to feed her more firestone. Chewing it quickly, the
green turns, ready once more to sear the enemy from the skies.

D'ney looks away, stepping sidewards to maintain the ragged line, since that
clump she might have seen is in good hands. The weyrling stumps on doggedly
with Eir and S'olan, hunting down possible burrows and stray streamers.

Tarlin grins triumphantly, the expression almost a sneer as she raises the
muzzle of her 'thrower. "Got it." If it were a gun and she were dirty
Harry, she'd be blowing smoke from the barrell. As it is, her eyes go
towards the skies, ever watchful for more clumps.

Lauryn looks into the charred burrow, and smells the acrid stench of putrid
Thread. "Clear here." she calls out. She moves forward again, slowly,
keeping the V formation close.

From Sky Above the Hold Courtyard, Xiareth, finally calmed by her lifemate's
attempts, hovers in place until she notes a clump drifting down towards them.
Rather than waiting as A'resh urges, she rises to meet the foe with a gout of
flame.

Harry watches Tarlin's team with blissful interest, tagging along his own,
flamethrower held ready -- not that his poor aim would be able to make good
use of it. "Ah, pretty," the lad calls out once again, for those of the team
who still haven't caught on.

A single bright-silver Thread snakes between the dragons, falling almost
lazily toward the earth, twisting and twining in the wind. It slams to earh
and begins to burrow, worming blindly into the dirt.

From Sky Above the Hold Courtyard, Ceayrth darts quickly as a bit of Thread
slips loose from the gridlocked sky above. She trumpets to her lifemate,
though Fi is perfectly synchronized with the gold. The nozzle is aimed,
agenothree shoots out, and the Thread is soon no more.

From Sky Above the Hold Courtyard, Strapped securely to Lhanath, R'sha's green
neck snakes almost just like the Thread she faces, twisting 'round to blast a
little sneaky clump that nearly slipped clean out of her wedge of the sky.
Even the smallest strand can cause some pretty bad damage, after all, but
she's a little slow in whipping her head back for the next bunch. The
belated flame catches only most of the swirling mass, and the wind from her
movements causes stray pieces to scatter and drift down to the Queen's Wing
below.

From Sky Above the Hold Courtyard, Ankhoth slides from between with an audible
hiss of air.

Tarlin eyes Harry as though the lad had gone mad. "Where's yer formation?"
she grumbles at the strange one before her eyes catch the slicken silver fall
and burrow. She gestures for a closer team to go after it. "You guys!" she
calls to catch their attention, just in case.

S'olan is momently startled by the strand, but manages to shout, "Thread!" to
his compatriots and lunge that way, wand in hand. When he reaches the
burrow, he fumbles -- but only very slightly -- before shooting a gust of
flame toward the silver death.

Ankhoth lands lightly on the ground and furls his wings.
Velynth has arrived.
Velynth launches powerfully into the air!
Ankhoth launches powerfully into the air!

From Sky Above the Hold Courtyard, Sayurith watches the Fall, vigilant for
strays. She glides smoothly through the air, till she notices bits of Thread
drifting their way. With one graceful turn, she angles up slightly, and
Siobhan flames the bits to crackdust. When they bits are gone, she resumes
her position in the Gold wing.

Eir hasn't managed to do anything useful quite yet, spouting a gout of flame
or two into holes already mostly-charred. "Whoo!" comes her valkyrie-whoop, a
little half-hearted under all the stress. Death From Above and what not.

From Sky Above the Hold Courtyard, As the Thread shifts, the wings shift,
dancing in an age-old battle. The heavy downpour lightens, though it is just
barely perceptible. Among the bugling cries of warring dragons, there are
screams of pain as well. Some snap *between* and return just as quickly into
the fray, others fall *between and come back only to seek the Healers below.

D'ney sticks her head forward, floundering for a heartbeat before her feet
remember to follow. Snaking the nozzle forward, she depresses the trigger,
sending a bloom of scarlet flame down the burrow their trio's at. A pause to
pump on the handle, and she follows with another, making sure that the
ground's the only target. "Clear!"

From Sky Above the Hold Courtyard, Astride Remorth, A queer shift of thread
catches Remorth and rider off guard there is a loud draconic yelp of
pain......

From Sky Above the Hold Courtyard, Remorth glides, facing windward then
vanishes between.
From Sky Above the Hold Courtyard, Buggleing a greeting, Remorth winks in from
::between::

From Sky Above the Hold Courtyard, Ailaeth bugles to the blue before turning
back to the thread. Flames bursts time and again, searing the silver stuff
from the skies even as wingmates come and go ::between::.

From Sky Above the Hold Courtyard, Astride Lereth, R'vian shifts as Lereth
takes a dive right, one hand wheeling to keep balance. A chiding remark is
lost in the wind, though Riv's open mouth sets him up to receive charred
Thread from Lereth's flame. Nearly gagging, he works to rid his mouth of the
taste, yet stay alert to 'Fall, as well. Sharding Thread.

Lauryn hears Tarlin's call, and turns to see the myriad Silver filaments
squirming about on the ground, caught on a patch of rock and soil both. "On
the count of three. One....two..." she aims her nozzle at the mass, and on
"...THREE!" lets loose a sustained blast of flame.

Harry is still muttering daft praises while following the two much more
productive members of his trio around, when a stray bit of Thread from a
falling clump comes his way. "Oh, look, here comes some of the pretty Thread
stuff," he enthuses at the others, fumbling with his flamethrower. "All
right, steady, now, you lovely fire-shooting thing, let's get this one." But
of course, he misses, and it keeps falling, brushing past his arm to land in
the far more receptive ground. "F-... F-fa-/ranth/!" would, naturally, be
the first nearly unintelligible shriek out of Harry's mouth at this.

Halis goes home.

From Sky Above the Hold Courtyard, A thick clump of Thread writhes as it
falls, fast and hard, its density preventing it from moving too much from
side to side as it descends. The thick clot may be straight in its fall, but
it is swift, too, falling like a hammerblow in the path of the oncoming
dragons and riders.

From Sky Above the Hold Courtyard, Xiareth, despite her efforts to disobey,
appears to have manage to go unscathed thus far. With a groaning belch, she
flames yet another clump from it's falling trajectory.

Tandal swings her wand around, finger off the nozzle until she sees the burrow
Tarlin and Lauryn referred to. Another hissing between the teeth breath, and
on three crimson blooms at the tip of the wand, shooting out in a cascade of
red-gold to consume the burrow. Her eyes are wild, skin nearly as red as her
hair in the moment of the flaming as fire reflects off her skin.

From Sky Above the Hold Courtyard, Weathered brown and aging stone shift into
the myriad of colors within the sky, Ankhoth and rider joining the fight as
others drop in and out. A gutteral bugle escapes the small brown's throat,
and with it a burst of flame jumps into the dragon-filled skies, catching the
end of a falling clump of Thread. The ashes left float harmlessly, L'is
scanning above as Ankhoth's insides rumble with the next oncoming fire spout.

Eerie soft shrieks fill the air as the living strands of Thread that have
survived the descent past the dragons smack into the ground borrowing quickly
into the soil. The air is filled with the caustic smell of firestone, burning
thread and agenothree from the flamethrowers.

From Sky Above the Hold Courtyard, Ailaeth surges forward to flame the larger
clump that falls in her path, the silver threads moving with a life of it's
own. A bout of flame errupts from her muzzle, searing most, but at the last
moment, a small clump floats past her head, and a yell goes up from both her
rider and the green before they blink into the cold of ::between::

From Sky Above the Hold Courtyard, Ailaeth dances ::between::, already
thinking of the flowers to be found...

Eddy goes home.

From Sky Above the Hold Courtyard, Ailaeth dances in from ::between, the
cheerful scent of flowers following after.

S'olan draws back, breathing hard -- almost panting, nose twitching with the
heavy scent in the air. His grip on his wand is tight, and his back still
tensed up, the muscles of his neck hard. Fear, but also excitement, courses
through him, and his eyes skirt everywhere, looking for more burrows.
Focused by the rush of adrenaline.

From Sky Above the Hold Courtyard, Ailaeth circles to the courtyard, and the
healers below.

Tarlin peers into what was a burrow of thread and gives her teammates a thumbs
up before her gaze lifts again, nose flaring at the acrid scent of burning.
She catches the fall of Thread past Harry and frowns. "You okay!" she calls
out.

From Sky Above the Hold Courtyard, Astride Sayurith, Siobhan watches the
hammerblow clump of Thread fall, and signals to her lifemate. The queen's
wing shifts, and moves towards it. A bugled call to a wing of Browns and
Blues is sent out as well.

From Sky Above the Hold Courtyard, Remorth wings back, nearly upright. The
crimson tongue that which is flame flicks out across the sky to seer the
bulbous mennace.

From Sky Above the Hold Courtyard, Xiareth, wearied and about ready to drop
out of the 'Fall, rises for one last burst of flame, charring the enemy from
the skies and then is ordered by her lifemate back home before either of them
are hurt.
From Sky Above the Hold Courtyard, Xiareth goes ::between::

From Sky Above the Hold Courtyard, Strapped securely to Lhanath, R'sha hazards
a glance downwards as a brown pair drops to the courtyard for healer
assistance, but from up here it's hard to recognize anyone, and so she looks
up again, gloved hands gripping anything they can as Lhanath takes advantage
of that greenie agility. An adept participant of the deadly dance, she
spreads flame before her, leaving the black remains in her wake like a
curtain.

Eir peeks around herself paranoidly at all the soft shrieking, disappointly
lacking in the adrenaline department. She attempts to feed off her dragons
vibe of Thread-destroying anguish, but she can only flick a tounge of flame
at Threads that have bounced past and are in their death throes.

D'ney hops back swiftly as a streamer falls near her, urging a short ignition
from her 'thrower. She shakes her head, steeling herself, and chases the
accidental burst with a decent spray, charring the fragile-looking strand to
dark ash. She glances back, goggles grotesque over her head. "Any more over
there, Eir?"

A clot of Thread is gusted sideways, out of the range of the green who sought
to flame it. Freed, it tumbles downward, spinning as it falls, strands
snaking and worming out as soon as it comes to ground.

(Nhaeth) [*] Remorth twitches the pain of scoring is much <<I return to the
weyr.>>

From Sky Above the Hold Courtyard, Remorth glides, facing windward then
vanishes between.

Serina walks in from Guard Office.

From Sky Above the Hold Courtyard, Ankhoth follows on the edge of a wingmate,
slithering through the mass of ashes and dust created by the charred Thread.
A blast of flame glows through the air in front of him, the motion of the
orange mass mirroring that of it's giver's agility. Snaking, it hits the
midsection of a small clump, and L'is raises her hand to wipe her eyes free
of the dark soot created by so many flaming dragons.

"Uh, I don't think I saw any," Eir offers, peeking over her shoulder from
time, as if Thread were apt to combine into some sort of bipedal supermonster
and loom over her with a scary shadow. "I'm pretty sure we got 'em." They got
'em, anyhow.

(Nhaeth) [*] Ailaeth sends thoughts shimmering with reds of pain as she
circles to the courtyard, thoughts already worrying for her rider upon her
neck.

Lauryn has connected.

Reni walks in from Guard Office.

From Sky Above the Hold Courtyard, Threads rain down from above recklessly,
unpredictably... clinging to the air, to dragons, clawing their way down with
ruthless intent. Mercilessly, they fall, constantly met by flame--whether
from above or below. It begins to lighten more, seemingly daunted by the
resistence.

Harry just shrieks, Harry-fashion, checking first to see that the flamethrower
is unscarred -- which it is -- then to see that he is unscarred -- which he
is not. But he's definitely not about to die. Then again, this is Harry.
Cue shrieking. "I thought you were pretty! I thought you were lovely! Why?
Why're you so malevolent and evil? Why do you insist upon preying on
others?" wails the lad mournfully, allowing the other 2/3 of his trio to take
care of another clump.

Reni walks out of the guard office right after Serina staying close on her
adopted aunts heals.

From Sky Above the Hold Courtyard, Perched precariously upon Velynth's
quicksilver neck, H'navu has nothing of his usual demeanor in the air, even
when his role in 'Fall is, for a moment, to do little more than hang on as
his lifemate challenges the limits of his dexterity ... nearly as ardently as
he challenges the descending silver. Flame blasts with heady eagerness, no
halfway measures ... even if it means more respites for precious stone.

From Sky Above the Hold Courtyard, Sayurith's golden lids droop drowsily over
curiously whirling eyes, while vermilion touched tail curls gently 'round
lithe and graceful form as the queenling falls asleep.

Tandal is trying to look all around him, eyes tracking back and forth and
forth and back, catching his breath as a strand shrieks down next to him.
Caught off guard, he hops sideways and points his wand at it, only briefly
glancing up to make sure no one is in his way. "Thread!" he calls to the
others of his trio, and then depresses the trigger. Fwoom.
Tandal * makes that S'olan. Muy.

Tarlin lifts her nozzle to let out a short burst and end the shrieking misery
of a falling clump, half charred by a falling dragon. Despite the goggles
she wears, she closes her eyes as soot is blown into her face, features
wrinkling in disgust at the smell of mingled agenothree and charred thread.
She checks to be sure her crewmates are okay before scowling in Harry's
direction, wondering why /his/ 'crewmates aren't doing anything.

From Sky Above the Hold Courtyard, Sayurith welcomes the day with a yawn, a
stretch, and finally, the opening of her ever-curious eyes.

Leigha has connected.

Serina looks at the sky then back at Reni and says to the girl "go back inside
Reni please you don't need to be out here in hte way in side you can make
sure there are drinks ready for everyone ok." the little girl nods and does
as she is told "Can someone hand me a flame thrower so I might be able to
help?" she asks

Reni walks into the Hold.

"Can't someone just stuff a sock in his mouth?" wonders Eir wistfully
regarding Harry. "Or leave him out in Threadfall? Nah, but he'd scream too
much." Luckily for the motormouth, the girl's morbid plots die a quick death,
much like the ash she makes a show of fluttering about with her flamethrower.

Blue and rider shift their course just slightly to pursue a particular clot of
Thread, but just as dragon opens his jaws wide to spew flame and destroy it,
another Thread, wind-buffeted, strikes him in the hindquarters. His bellow
of pain is cut off as he blinks to Thread-killing /between/, but the clump he
was to destroy falls onward, to the ground, burrowing deep into the soil.

Tandal waves ash out of her face, squinting around her. Not that she need
squint with goggles on, but habits die hard. A glance goes back to Harry, and
a raising of eyebrows, but the twisting of her mouth is her only comment as
she studies her surroundings.

Ailaeth lands lightly on the ground and furls her wings.

From Sky Above the Hold Courtyard, Pralanth flames at the lead, transfering
orders from his rider to the rest of the wing as she calls them, Formations
shifts here and there to meet this erratic thread falls as best they can. One
particularly large clump comes down on the browns right side and he angles
out of position so that he can char it with out charring himself or hsi rider.

Lauryn is surrounded by people flamming on the ground, dragons in the air.
She uses short burst, conserving agenothree as much as possible. She steps
over a small rise in the ground, and sees a nebulous, writhing, clump
descending. It's falling fast, faster than the others. She tries to call
out to her trio, but her voice is lost in the fwoosh of the flame. She
starts searing the clump, using big sweeps of her wand to cover as much of it
as she can quickly...but she can't get all of it at one, now can she?

From Sky Above the Hold Courtyard, For all it is mindless, one silver snakey
Thread filament moves as if with malevolent purpose. It wavers back and
forth in the wind, swinging from side to side, dancing just out of reach,
suited for pursuit only by the quickest and most agile of dragons.

From Sky Above the Hold Courtyard, Ankhoth narrowly misses a strand of
unguarded Thread, rolling away with very little time. Struggling to right
himself, he finally does so, L'is clinging to his back with tight knuckles.
Rider and reader respond to each other, red-haired woman pointing upwards and
Ankhoth following her directions with only momentary hesitation. Neck twists
as a sudden shift in body weight warns of a clump of falling Thread, and
flame licks the air near his side -- and his rider, risking burns to get rid
of the threat of the sky.

Thread -- here, there, up there? Dallan happens to spy the former, however,
and leaps to assist with her flamethrower. Aimed spraying sends the ground
in front of her into a flood of stench, and she coughs an apology, waving at
the ash. "Too--much."

Ailaeth circles the courtyard, finding an area to land with a bugle and call
to healers. The reds of pain whirl within her eyes, even as Re'a clutches at
her thigh, pain lining her face. A healer hurries to the green, climbing the
straps to help the rider down.

"Harry! Why doncha go back to the hold an' get yourself checked out, 'stead
of standing there shrieking!" Tarlin calls out before the burst of sound
emitting from behind her catches her attention. She turns, 'thrower
instantly flaming to assist Lauryn.

S'olan coughs as well, aiming to help D'ney, shaking his head from side to
side and for the first time appreciating why he had to cut his hair --
nothing falls in his eyes. More coughing, and as soon as he's convinced the
burrow is dead he steps back, seeking marginally cleaner air.

Tandal cries out inarticulately, lifting her wand to Lauryn's aid, though it
probably does little good at this point and at this range. Her teeth bare in
a silent gesture of... anger? Defiance? Frustration? Does it make sense to
snarl rage at an insensible thing? Perhaps not, but then, she must vent her
frustration at someone.

From Sky Above the Hold Courtyard, Lhanath is lucky to be a green with speed
and agility on her side, but unfortunately stamina isn't included in that
package, and she's beginning to show signs of fatigue in this incredibly
taxing Fall. Just one more shimmy to the right and a flame to the left and
she's victorious again, but how long till her luck runs out? R'sha begins to
glance towards Aida and Helicyth, wondering if she should let her wingrider
take over and give her lifemate a rest.

(Nhaeth) Nhaeth dozes but restlessly, the tips of his foreclaws twitching
spasmodically in the throes of sleep.

Harry would. He'd keep you all up late with his screaming. Betrayal and that
whatnot, you know. "Oh." is sniffed innocently at Tarlin. "I guess."
Leaving the groundcrew in (thank Faranth) peace and silence, at last, Harry
slides off, injured faith -- and arm -- in tow.

Eir feels like nothing so much as the third well, letting S'olan and D'ney go
galavanting off on crusades against the dreaded Thread while she plays mop-up
back here. Some people were just more cut out for being recruiting clerks
than front-line grunts. Trotting along doggedly, she spares peering in the
burrow due to the stench coming from it.
High between forest neckridges atop Ailaeth's graceful neck, Re'a slides down
the green's side with the healer's help, wincing as she uses her right leg. A
hole within her leather's show a nasty burn underneath. She refuses to leave
her green until another healer appears to take care of Ailaeth. Only then
does she allow the healer to help her off to the side to be tended too.

As Thread weaves its way through the atmosphere, spiraling down toward the
fertile fields near Crom Hold, splash's of color spread flames through the
Pernese sky. Fewer and fewer the number of thread though a streak continues
it's decent, burrowing deep into the soil with a quiet sizzle as it begins to
eat it's way deeper beneath a canopy of leaves.

Ruilan walks out from the Hold.

Serina has disconnected.

From Sky Above the Hold Courtyard, Velynth is never one to ignore a challenge,
veins singing with fierce fury that holds up only to respond to and relay
orders. In this chaos, compounded by the visual cacophony of Thread and
dragons, everything should be a blur, but H'navu is already accustomed to his
bronze's flight. Razor-fine corners shaved, swift mid-air twists ... as if
anything to get past Velynth - never mind the rest of the wings - were an
unthinkable crime.

S'olan glances back at Eir, quirking his lips as he pauses momently to brush
sweat out of his face -- not from exertion so much as from the heat that
flushes back from the spewing flames. "Y'okay?" he asks, the words slurred
with his excited-fast breathing. Eyes continue to track, looking for Thread.

From Sky Above the Hold Courtyard, The slow build-up that marked the beginning
of Threadfall returns to commemorate the end. The rebuttal too strong, or
the time just right, the 'Fall dissipates with an ending trickle... only a
few brave spores attempting the flight through dragon's fire downward.

D'ney /is/ mopping up: that which the dragons don't get, they do. Flicking
her arm over her forehead, the weyrling backs away to resume the crew's
formation, keeping Eir and S'olan in sight as well. She toys with the wand,
looking up to the air-fight at intervals.

Eir waves a hand arily, dismissing S'olan's concern. "First Fall outdoors,
y'know," she explains, fixing a sheepish grin onto her face with the hope
it'll stick and convince. Flamethrower speaks seldom now - even more seldom
than usual.

Some drudges arrive to cart Serina off to bed.

From Sky Above the Hold Courtyard, Astride Ankhoth, L'is slaps her leg,
grinning through soot. Glancing upward, she's shaken backwards as Ankhoth
lurches forward to grab one last stray sprinkling of Thread, before he stops
to float and scan the skies above, rider watching as the last bits of Thread
are seared in the wings around her.

From Sky Above the Hold Courtyard, Lhanath lets out a final small spurt of
flame before drooping tiredly, already beginning a downward spiral to give
room for the dragons with more energy left to nip in and mop up the last
bits. R'sha signals for those DawnRunners who can to assist, and the rest to
follow her as they return to the courtyard, where some things are just
beginning.

Lauryn tries to catch it all, flame surrounding her on all sides, ash and
crackdust filling her eyes. She's aware of her partners' flames, and is
thankful for it. She guesses where the last of that nasty clump is, and
presses the trigger...only to find her tank is empty. She presses the
trigger again, out of reflex, nothing. She turns to look at her tank's
gauge, eyes wide, mouth open. Then, there a sinuous hissing approaching her
left ear. She turns, and sees that last bit of half-charred Thread approach
her like a silver spider. She dissappears behind a cloud of ash and
flame....and all you hear is the highest, loudest scream you have ever heard,
which is suddenly, savagely cut off.

Lauryn whips out a stylus and begins penning a note.

From Sky Above the Hold Courtyard, Ceayrth bites at the wind as the Thread
falling through lessens and lessens, once again annoyed at how little action
she truly gets during a 'Fall. To Fi, however, the less the better. She
sighs a bit, eyeing the wings finishing up. "Let them know to come down once
they've finished up. We'll send fresh riders out for sweeps and cleanup."
Ceayrth delivers the message as she makes her way down to the courtyard,
wheeling about to survey the area before landing.

Lauryn has arrived.
Lauryn finishes whatever note she was writing and pays attention again.

Ceayrth lands lightly on the ground and furls her wings.
Lhanath lands lightly on the ground and furls her wings.

Tarlin stops flaming, finding her attempts futile as the Thread burrows into
Lauryn. Realizing she doesn't know the woman's name, her shout comes out as
a choked shriek before she starts running back towards the hold. "A healer!
A healer! We need a healer!" she cries out, fingers fumbling at the straps
holding the agenothree tank to her back, already having turned it off.

From Sky Above the Hold Courtyard, Pralanth chars one final lonley tendril as
it falls past him and then checks for further enimy. Fimding none and sencing
fall is over, he looks back to check on his wingmates and pass on the
instruction to land.
Pralanth lands lightly on the ground and furls his wings.

High between forest neckridges atop Ailaeth's graceful neck, The healer that
was dealing with Re'a's scored thigh lifts her head as she hears Tarlin's
scream, tucking the end of the bandage under before hurrying off.

Ankhoth lands lightly on the ground and furls his wings.

D'ney raises her sooty face at the piercing scream. It's not too far away, at
that, and she clenches her jaw even as she swings the nozzle to torch the
remains of a clump.

Strapped securely to Lhanath, R'sha unbuckles the silver-studded straps of sky
blue from herself.
R'sha unbuckles herself and taps Lhanath's shoulder lightly. She is rewarded
with one foreleg grudgingly extended, and takes the offered opportunity,
sliding carefully down her side to the ground.
High between forest neckridges atop Ailaeth's graceful neck, Re'a unbuckles
the riding straps from herself.

Re'a swings a leg over forest neckridges, a graceful forelimb offered to help
slide from Ailaeth's neck.

Astride Ceayrth's gilded gold neck, Fiana unbuckles the riding straps from
herself, slipping free of the confines to prepare for dismount.
Fiana swings a leg over gilt 'ridges, slipping down Ceayrth's lithe neck and
eventually reaching ground by way of propped foreleg.

OOC: Re'a was down, reallly.

Slipping 'tween cinnamon 'ridges, L'is slides off of Ankhoth, landing steadily
on the ground.

Tandal takes a step back, taking a deep breath to shout as well, though she
inhales ash and hacks before echoing, "Healer!" in a wheazy voice. "Healer!"

Ruilan watches the progress of the fall from the security of the overhang and
does his best to keep an eye on the ground crew also. He smiles as the
riders land and then blanches as he hears the tell tale cry for a 'Healer'.

Fiana vaults from her lifemate's neck, sliding down the straps to plop to the
ground easily. She rocks back from the shock, weary from 'Fall, and glances
around to see what she can see. Sooty fingers run through sooty hair as
helmet is removed, and the weyrwoman sighs.

Still fumbling with the catches of her flamethrower and out of breath, Tarlin
gestures to the area from whence she'd come. "One of my crewmates's been
scored.. real bad!" The girl didn't actually /see/ Lauryn through the cloud
of smoke and Thread, but the cut off cry was plenty to give her an idea. As
the 'thrower finally slips from her back, she leaves it where it lies,
running off in search of water. "Need a bucket of water!"

Lereth lands lightly on the ground and furls his wings.

A healer is there, with bucket of water, meeting Tarlin half way. "Where?" is
asked as the healer looks about.

Velynth lands lightly on the ground and furls his wings.

OOC: Fiana goes fwump. That was great, you guys. Consider Threadfall met. ;)
I'm going to post to *ann, then skidaddle out of here. Friend just got back
in town. :)

R'sha climbs down stiffly, wincing as the cries reach her ears. Already it
starts, the worst part of the fall. Unable to offer assistance, she just
slowly peels off her gloves and turns to her own lifemate.

Tandal points to the smoke-hazed place where Lauryn made her last stand.
"There. I couldn't see... too much smoke."

Lereth dozes off...

Tarlin meets the healer and gestures to the fallen body where she'd left
Lauryn. "Over here. Hurry!" She takes the bucket of water from the healer
without asking and runs back towards her fallen comrade, her legs bowing
around the swinging bucket.

When the smoke and ash clears, you see Lauryn lying on the ground, not moving,
a small pool of bright crimson starting to form under her shoulder. Her tiny
form was tossed down by the force of the Evil that tried to consume her. Her
shouler is a bloody, Scored mess, and a tendril of raw, open flesh extends
across her throat. She seems to be breathing, but only in ragged, shallow
gasps. Thanks the First Egg that her teammates had flammed in her direction,
or else there would have been even less left of this little harper girl.

Oh, dear, it seems R'sha has drifted off into her thoughts again.

S'olan goes home.

Fiana bends over a little sheet of paper and begins penning a letter.
Fiana has arrived.
Fiana looks up from her letter and ties it to the leg of a waiting firelizard
who promptly goes ::between:: with the message.

OOC: Fiana now must dash. Thank you /all/ once again. You rocked.

Fiana goes home.
Fussy curls wings and tail about her tiny frame, taking a short nap.
Slowly, almost wary of shutting out the world, Ceayrth's lids close and she
curls up where she is, taking a short nap.

In the end, it seems not the Thread, but the flame which destoryed which has
done L'is the most harm. Sliding off her brown's back, she winces as ankle
feet hit the ground, steadying herself on Ankhoth's side. Removing helmet and
such, she wipes her eyes, beforeleaning down to examine her leg. Where
leather meets leather, a small tear shows splotchy black and red underneath
-- soot and burnt skin mixing where the hole came open during fall.
Grumbling, she tugs the pant leg out of the top of her boot, and rolls it up
to knee-length, bending down to push gingerly at the skin around the burn.

D'ney checks the surrounding stone, shifting the tank to a less-than-sore spot
on her shoulders. "You two okay?" she turns back to her trio, preparing to
head back to the courtyard together with the rest of the ground crew. "Think
someone," Pant, "got scored."

Tandal draws back, lips pulled over teeth in an expression somewhere between
horror and anger. Shard it. Shard it all. She steps back again, out of the
way, letting the healers do their work as she brushes ash and sweat from her
brow.

Halis has arrived.
Halis arrives.

Tandal goes home.

Tarlin is wheezing when she reaches Lauryn's prone form with about half the
water left in the bucket that had originally been there. She dumps it in the
hopes of drowning what Thread remains about her fellow's fallen body. That
done, she bends over, gasping for air.

Leigha has disconnected.

Some drudges arrive to cart R'sha off to bed.

Re'a winces as she moves, scooting up against the wall where she sits, blue
and green eyes darting here and there around the courtyard, watching and
listening to the cries for Healers from people here and there.

L'is limps around the length of brown Ankhoth, examining him top to bottom
before even thinking about attending to her own needs. A few scratches mark
the weathered hide, but nothing more than that. Concered eyes turn upon L'is
now as she hobbles over the stones in the courtyard, glancing around to see
if help is needed somewhere else.

Eir goes home.

A healer bends over the fallen woman, equally out of breath, quickly surveying
the damage with a sweep of his eyes.
"Get this flamethrower off her," he orders.

Halis shows up finally, ok so she's late, but she can help still right? She
had to help post fall when she lived at Telgar. With a slight blink she
glances around and tries to figure out who she might possibly be able to help
though healer she's not.

Ruilan walks out from under the shelter of the overhang and moves closer to
the injured. He reaches out to take take anything there would be need of. "I
can take that." he says of the flamethrower "Not much use for anything else,
but I can help."

Some drudges arrive to cart Leigha off to bed.

D'ney shuffles back to the courtyard with a few other weyrlings and begins to
help with discharging the 'throwers. Best to have her hands somewhere -- a
weary nod goes to Halis as she spots the girl through soot-ringed eyes.

Re'a would help, but even as she makes a move to stand, she's being pushed
back down by another healer while Ailaeth turns to glare back at her. "I'm
ok, dear heart. Really. You couldn't help it.." The green sighs as she lowers
her head, neck sporting a wide bandage where thread scored her neck.

Tarlin quickly fumbles at the buckles, aided by the healer, and then gently
slips the straps from Lauryn's shoulders, leaving the woman's injured side
for the healer.

A haggard looking healer joins the first, moving closer to Lauryn. She, very
quickly, checks for any remaining Thread. Finding none, she whips out a
clean cloth and cleans off the worst of the mess from the girl's shoulder and
neck. She finds the site of injury, and presses the clean side of the cloth
against the bleeding wound with cool, but very rapid motions. "Hey, all of
you, give me a hand. This little one needs to get inside, now!"

Halis feels rather bad about not being there during the fall and to make up
for that she quickly sets to work helping remove flamethrowers and fetching
things for the healers. Hearing the healer she hops over to help cart Laury
inside.

L'is limps off to the side of the courtyard, leaning against the wall in a
spot which will hopefully not put her in the way of anything. Ankhoth
trundles after her, staying as out of the way as possible for him to be, tail
curled around his lifemate protectively.

Tarlin steps back as the second healer and a couple of others move forward to
aid in Lauryn's removal to the hold. When the woman is lifted, the cook
takes the flamethrower, her features paling beneath the rims of goggles she
still wears. She hefts the flamethrower over her shoulder and, weary,
carries it back to the hold's precincts.

Ruilan begins to move forward but cannot for the press of helpers. "And I had
so hoped to avoid injury this fall. Such a nice young girl." He steps back
to get out of the way of those helping to bring her inside "Plenty of room in
the hall, tables should help, and grab blankets and pillows for those who
need them. No sense letting them get over cold."

Ailaeth lifts her head to peer at Ankhoth as he moves closer. Whuffling
lightly, verdant head turns back to watch her rider who sits against the wall
out of the way. Re'a nod to L'is, a frown covering her mouth as she hears the
healer's taking care of the woman who'd gone down. Only as she's lifted up,
does the rider spot the harper knot upon the woman's shoulder. Harper?

Lauryn, if she were conscious, would have seen various people gathering around
her, helping to lift her little form off the hard ground. She would have
felt intense flame coming from her shoulder, and wrapping round her neck.
She would have felt her flamethrower get lifted away. There no weight to
the girl, and she is utterly limp in your arms, light blond hair marred by
black ash, and flecks of crimson and grey.

From Sky Above the Hold Courtyard, Sayurith flies toward Drumheights.

A trio of blue 'lings scuttle away to allow space for the injured to pass,
having handed their sprayers to D'ney by the tanks. Nodding an assent to
some leader's question, she steps aside too, dumbly helping a drudge hand
blankets in.

Tarlin works almost mechanically, discharging the contents of the flamethrower
into the charging tank. A rider comes up behind her, the one who'd brought
her to Crom in the first place and pats her on the shoulder. "Ready to go
home, Tarlin?" he asks, to which the cook nods numbly.

Chang pops in from ::between::
Vitesse pops in from ::between::

Doesn't look like this greenrider will be going back to the weyr just yet, and
for now, Re'a waits to see where she'll be staying until Ailaeth's neck is
healed well enough to go ::between:: to the weyr again.

Chang sees his human, and goes into a great, ululating cry. He zooms around
above Lauryn, searching for signs of life, agitated beyond reason.

Vitesse watches his partner go into fits, and spies thier mutual human being
carried in by the Healers. He watches the procession, but restrains himself
to crooning concernedly, and watching everything that is done.

OOC: Lauryn says, "This has been a blast, folks. Feel free to RP me being put
inside, and whatnot. XXXXOOOO for all of ya. :-)"

Tarlin disappears suddenly for parts unknown.

Ankhoth gives a rumbling greeting, the last bits of firestone churning in his
stomach, to Ailaeth -- and as he does so, L'is gives a nod back to Re'a.
Injured foot dangles a bit as it pretends to rest against the stone wall she
leans the rest of her weight against, watching the girl being dragged inside
and tended for.

Halis finishes helping take Laury inside and then goes over to take over for
Tarlin as she goes, pausing at an injured person here and there, asking if
she can get them anything or help in any way.

Pralanth launches powerfully into the air!
From Sky Above the Hold Courtyard, Pralanth lids his eyes in concentration
before he flashes into the cold of ::between::

D'ney joins Halis, whether at Tarlin's abandoned spot or elsewhere -- where
isn't the question of note right now. She hisses a greeting, crossed with
the locking of a 'thrower, hoarse alto grating under the easing tension.
"Guess they were right to leave our 'mates behind." The great lumps of
dragonflesh couldn't really fit anywhere else, but that's another matter
entirely.

Ruilan walks into the Hold.

Lauryn goes home.
Vitesse dozes off...
Chang dozes off...

Halis sighs and nods at D'ney as she answers softly, "Aye it seems like it was
a /really/ good idea." She'd hate to see her bluelet hurt. She then frowns
slightly before adding, "Sorry I wasn't here for the fall. I feel bad about
that." She might as well say she's sorry to ever fellow 'ling she comes
across.

Tarah walks out from the Hold.

D'ney pauses in her task to stare at Halis. She's hearing too much of this
nowadays, apologies and such, so that glare will have to do for reproof.
"Shells, Halis. We'd better get our ride back. Look, isn't that P'tir--I
bet Lex is missing you." A huff, aimed at a swatting hand that's attached to
a passing weyrling.

Re'a sighs tiredly, a hand lifted to wipe at her face, soot smeared across her
skin. Soon enough, she'll move into the hall, but for now, she'll stay here
out of the way.

La'en's head leans forward, and, eventually, her brown eyes flicker closed.
That's enough work for today. Time to sleep.

Halis sighs a bit at D'ney, she felt bad enough before, but now she feels even
worse. Ah well. She simply shakes her head at D'ney, "Lex is fine I'll see
you later." And off to help she goes..

D'ney has never been paid for her sensitivity -- she trots off with a
backwards shrug at Halis, striding straight through the tired slink that
marks her gait.

You click your heels three times.

[+][CH-CY] Some drudges arrive to cart La'en off to bed.

[+][CH-CY] L'is lets out a breath through clenched teeth, as Ankhoth
apologizes profusely for brushing her leg with the tip of his tail.
Crouching, brownrider examines the burn on her leg again, lips pursing
slightly as she decides upon the amount of damage actually done. A bit of
leather is peeled off the outside, from where the hole was torn open in the
ankle of her pants. After a moment, she glances at her pants. She'll have to
get those repaired...or maybe new ones.

(Nhaeth) [#iww] Nhaeth sleeps -- stirs -- snores -- rises with a jarring of
wingsails perceptible through the draconic links. His boy is back, after
all. Fanfare.

[+][CH-CY] Ruilan walks out with a few drudges, "Bring those to the healer,
and let them carry the injured in on them." he says, though he doesn't seem
pleased at all about something "And don't drop anyone. That's all we need.
Injury on injury." He purses his lips with the injuries "At least no-one is
dead." he mutters to himself.

[+][CH-CY] Re'a fingers the bandage upon her thigh, her leathers are ruined.
And these were her favorite pair!

[+][CH-CY] Following the first of the injured in to the hold, Tarah sighs as
she now sees how many are injured.

--------------------------
Message 14 of 14 on *Announcements (#697):
Date: Thu Jun 14 20:53:50 2001 MDT
From: Fiana (#8152)
To: *Announcements (#697)
Subject: Threadfall met!

The combined forces of Telgar and Igen's wings met Thread in the sky,
excellently supported by the groundcrew below and seared it from existence!

The word has it that injuries were minimal, there were no fatalities, and all
burrows were stomped out with little damage to Crom's territory.

Thank you to all who flew, and to all who worked on the ground. The turnout
was amazing, and the RP was magnificent! Special thanks goes to Tarlin for
help with posing, to Leigha and the Igen crew for giving the groundcrew
lessons, and to Tandal, T'chia, and Tad'ra for submitting those wonderful
@emits!

Log coming soon, and more Thread is always on the way--stay tuned for the next
on camera 'Fall!



};{ Fiana and Ceayrth
--------------------------

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