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Threadfall Over Woodcraft Hall


Date:  July 16, 1998
Places:  Telgar Weyr's Living Cavern, Southern Bowl, and Upper Skyspace; 
Woodcraft Hall's Skyspace and Courtyard
Game:  PernMUSH
Copyright Info:  The World of Pern is copyright(c) to Anne McCaffrey 
l967. The Dragonriders of Pern(r) is a registered copyright.

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Kassi's Note:  This was an enjoyable Fall, thanks to the participants
and to Mart's coded Threadfall Emitter. :)  It's basically a standard
log; some relevant knot chat and IC dragon-chat has been left in, but
the majority has been snipped.  Ground poses and air poses during the
Fall itself have been separated to make things easier for the reader.
Things prefixed by <*> take place away from Lysseth while I'm riding
her.  Thanks again, everyone who either flew or served on ground-crew... 
you were all wonderful. :)

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The Log:

You walk past the lintel and into the wide living cavern.

Pierron humphs thoughtfully as the Wingleader of Thunderbolt arrives.

Richenda is sitting at the table nearest the hearth, right leg propped up, 
eyes closed, chest rising and falling. Her cane is leaning against her 
chair.

"That man," Kassima observes, eyeing Pierron, "never ceases t'befuddle me. 
You'd think his only way of communicating was through odd noises." This 
observation made, she grabs up a meatroll from a plate left laying on her 
table, and sits down to eat and oil her straps. "Faring well today, 
Riche--oh. You're asleep. I suppose that could be seen as faring well, 
depending on the perspective."

Richenda snorks, twitching as she babbles, "Not asleep, just resting, 
sorry, Jehri...oh." She rubs her eyes, adding with a yawn, "Kassima, lass. 
Hello."

Kassima's eyes twinkle just a bit as she assures Richenda, "Don't worry, 
Headwoman; I don't think anyone who *wasn't* asleep could mistake me for 
the Weyrwoman. Getting in a bit of rest ere the fun and games?" She rubs 
an oilcloth along the dark brown leather of Lysseth's straps as she says 
this, leaving a muted sheen on the timeworn surface.

Richenda nods, indicating the direction of the infirmary (generally 
speaking) with a nod. "You lot had better bring back the riders unscathed. 
Understand?"

Kassima gives the Headwoman an ironic salute. "Methinks 'tis safe t'say 
that we always try our very best, Riche. By all reports, this Fall 
shouldn't be a particularly bad one... though it never pays t'be 
underestimating Thread."

Richenda waggles her fingers at Kassima, noting sternly, "You just 
remember that and don't let my lambs get themselves Scored. I've a mind to 
sit here and rest, not run about patching up injured riders and dragons." 
She rubs her leg, then asks quietly, "Are you doing all right, my dear? 
Busy?"

"Very, as always--but I can't really expect aught else, can I?" Kassi asks 
rhetorically, with a ghost of a grin. "Especially nay a'fore a Fall. The 
new drill schedules have whittled away most of the free time I had, but I 
suppose it all comes with the job... just as does looking out for the 
riders. They're good fighters, all of 'em--and," she notes, laughing 
slightly, "with Thunderbolt out at the front line, you know there's naught 
t'fear. Best of the best, and all that." Wink. "What of you? How's your 
leg been healing up?"

Richenda says with a thin sort of smile, "I've got a bloody long scar to 
show for it, and the skin and muscles aren't quite up to snuff yet, but 
I'll get there, worry not. Oh, do sit down, child. Please. Hurts my neck 
to look at you."

Kassima obligingly resumes her seat, having stood up for a moment to reach 
across the table and snag a second roll. "Sorry, Headwoman. I'm glad 'twas 
nay worse than 'twas, for what that's worth--which is little enough, I 
know. I don't suppose there's aught that I can get you?"

"More time with Rennick?" Richenda offers, eyes bright. "Or perhaps 
oysters? That would be good."

Kassima laughs and sets her straps back on the table, wiping the oil from 
her hands. "The first, I don't think I can manage--though if'n I ever 
discover a way t'add hours to a day without the risk inherent in going 
*between* times, I'll let you know. I'll see what I can do about the 
second." She sets off into the kitchen, whistling some old Harper ballad 
or other.

You walk off towards the kitchen.

From the living cavern, Richenda calls toward the kitchen, "I don't think 
there are any raw ones, but if there are, send 'em to the steward's 
office!!"

From the living cavern, R'val wanders into the cavern, waving amiably. 
"Evening."

Several clatters and such can be heard as Kassi pokes around, looking for 
oysters--much to the indignance of the drudges, who know full well that 
the greenrider is *supposed* to be banned from the kitchen. "Why," she 
yells towards the 'Cavern, "would Rennick want raw oysters? That sounds 
just *disgusting*. Ugh. Nay that oysters alone aren't pretty disgusting... 
ah, he--nay, wait, I think those're clams. Mrph."

Telgar Weyr> Richenda likes sending Kassima off to get her raw oysters for 
Rennick.:)

Telgar Weyr> R'val peers. Kassi? Raw oysters? Fear.

Telgar Weyr> Kassima says, "Not that Kassi as any idea of the significance 
of raw oysters. She just thinks Riche's lost it again. ;)"

Telgar Weyr> Maylia nahhs, it's Rennick and raw oysters that instill Fear 
in me.

Telgar Weyr> Aurian raises her eyebrows

From the living cavern, Richenda smiles at R'val, then calls back, "No, 
must be oysters. Clams don't work!"

From the living cavern, R'val blinks at Richenda, "Oysters?"

From the living cavern, Aurian walks in from the bowl.

From the living cavern, Richenda nods to R'val, explaining, "Raw ones work 
wonders for the appetite, R'val m'dear."

From the living cavern, Aurian walks quickly to the food, ushering some of 
the younger weyrlings with her.

Kassima, alas, doesn't realize how apt she is to regret this next 
question: "Work for *what*, Riche?" She favors the various drudges who are 
snickering and sniggering with odd looks, and continues her search. 
"Oysters, oysters... I don't really imagine that we'd *have* such a thing; 
around here, they're probably gone within days--some of those bronzeriders 
have the weirdest propensity t'munch the things, I hear, though I doubt 
they eat 'em *raw*. That's just sick."

From the living cavern, R'val spots Aurian and smiles, waving.

From the living cavern, R'val snickers quietly, shaking his head at the 
nattering greenrider.

From the living cavern, Aurian waves to R'val, "Evening sir." She nods to 
Kassima, "Evening wingleader." She then elbows the other weyrlings.

From the living cavern, The startled young weyrlings, chorus with 
multitudes of 'evening sir' and 'evening ma'ams'.

From the living cavern, Richenda uses her cane to leverage herself to her 
feet, wincing as she stands. "Never you mind about it, Kassima. I have 
other things to help Rennick's appetites. You're very curiously naive for 
a longterm greenrider, you know? Aurian, dear girl, how are you?"

You walk into the Living Cavern.

Pierron humphs thoughtfully as the Wingleader of Thunderbolt arrives.

Jessalyn walks here from the Inner Cavern.

Aurian smiles at Richenda, "Fine ma'am thank you. How is your leg these 
days?" She returns to shoving the younger weyrlings towards food.

Kassima walks back in, eyebrows both arched and hands empty of raw 
oysters. "Naive? Depends on how you mean, I suppose... 'tis naught I've 
nay heard a'fore. I'm sorry, but I didn't see any raw oysters in there 
anywhere. Maybe K'nan ate 'em. He's proddy, y'know." The logic being, of 
course, that proddy riders eat strange raw foods. "G'deve, Weyrlings."

"My leg is entirely fine if a useless stretch of scar is considered fine," 
Richenda answers cheerfully. "Oh, likely K'nan did eat them. I'll just 
have to find something else for Rennick tonight. Thank you for looking, 
Kassima. Jessalyn! Dear, dear girl, come here, come here."

Jessalyn brushes hair out of her face as she walks into the cavern, and 
changes direction automatically at Richenda's request, though she manages 
to look faintly wary about it.

Richenda holds out her free arm toward her foster daughter. "Come on, come 
on, give us a hug."

Kassima waves the thought aside, returning to her strap-oiling. "Don't 
mention it, Riche. Why nay let him have some stuffed mushrooms? Those're 
certes better'n *oysters*... or a pepper salad. Ofira makes *wonderful* 
pepper salad, and rivergrain pudding... mmm, mmm. I may have t'help m'self 
t'some after the Fall, if'n there's any left."

Richenda eyes Kassima before answering frankly, "Oysters help get a man 
going and keep him strong in the sleeping furs, greenrider. Might do to 
remember that."

Aurian and her cluster of weyrlings all drop their jaws at the same 
moment.

Jessalyn hugs Richenda without reservation and smiles. "Are you 
comfortable? Can I--" She breaks off at the Headwoman's statement to the 
greenrider and sits down instead.

Richenda looks around at the sudden silence. "What? You all didn't know 
that?"

Blink. Blink, blink, blink, blink-blink. "Oh," Kassi answers faintly. "I 
see. Um. Well, I suppose that's good t'know, though I doubt I'll really 
need the knowledge. Nay much time t'eat right a'fore flight's-end, 
y'know." She ducks her head to pay very studious attention to her straps. 
It probably wouldn't do for her Wingmates to see their Wingleader blush.

Jessalyn coughs lightly. "Usually you don't have these kinds of 
conversations when I'm around," she remarks.

Jayna walks in from the bowl.

Pierron tells a lower cavern's girl to hurry up with the dishes.

Riding leathers in place, Jayna enters grimly, glancing around. She starts 
to salute Kassima and R'val automatically, then remembers that she's 
indoors. She nods respectfully instead. "Evening, Wingleader," she says 
crisply to Kassi. "Evening, Richenda, ma'am."

Richenda winks at Jessalyn. "You've heard me mention things like that 
before. It isn't as if Rennick and I are celebate. Far from, far from. 
Jayna, m'dear, hello."

Kassima waggles the end of a stray strap towards Jayna. "Evening, 
Weyrling." Casting a glance over towards Riche, she grins, some of the 
flush fading from her face (yay, alliteration). "Celibacy makes life much 
less complicated," she mutters to herself, holding up the straps to 
inspect them critically.

Aurian waves Jayna over to join her and some of the younger weyrlings.

Jayna smiles. She spots Aurian and moves quickly to her fellow weyrling's 
table, sliding in beside. "Are you ready?" she whispers. Rather loudly.

Jessalyn blushes. "I don't ever pay attention." Quietly, she adds, "I got 
good at not listening, sleeping in the dorms."

Richenda laughs goodnaturedly at Jessalyn while calling Kassimawards, "If 
you're going to be celibate, Kassima, why bother at all with life? It's 
simply a question of basic needs. I eat when I'm hungry, I drink when I'm 
thirsty, I sleep when tired, I tumble Rennick when I'm itching. That's all 
there is to it."

Jayna blinks at Richenda's comment. She glances at Aurian, with a "what am 
I missing here" expression.

Aurian makes a gesture that clearly says long story, "Yes I'm ready." she 
grins at the other brown weyrling.

Kassima counters, bundling up the finished straps, "There's plenty t'enjoy 
in life without *that*, Riche, and plenty t'make it worthwhile! There's 
more'n enough t'keep me busy and occupied without worrying about men. 
There're already enough complications in life without adding another. To 
each their own, though--even if'n 'twill be sharded if'n I understand the 
raw oysters thing. There must be something weird about 'em, like there is 
about the Water."

Jayna flushes slightly at Kassi's comment. She drums her fingers on the 
table nervously.

Jessalyn, still a bright healthy pink, just shakes her head.

Jayna belatedly waves absently to Jessalyn, and half-smiles, obviously 
distracted.

Kassima stands, picking up the straps. "'Tany rate, 'tis past time t'be 
getting ready for Fall. Riche, I'm certain there'll be a chance t'resume 
this... ah... illuminating discussion later, eh?"

Sionelle walks in from the bowl.

Pierron glances up as the Weyrsecond enters.

Richenda nods, a bit sobered. "Good luck. All of you come back safe."

Sionelle steps in from the bowl, her fighting gear on and securely 
fastened. She looks profoundly preoccupied as she stands in the doorway, 
letting her impatient presence speak for itself.

Richenda excuses herself, sighing, to check the infirmary.

Richenda walks towards the inner cavern.

Jayna stands promptly. "Evening, ma'am," she says somberly to Sionelle, at 
attention.

"We always do our best. Just as your dragonhealers always do theirs." With 
a nod to the Weyrlings and a salute to the Acting Weyrleader, the 
greenrider steps outside, followed by those of her Wingmates who were in 
the Cavern.

You walk down the short tunnel and out into the bowl.

Telgar-LC> Aurian stands an nods to Sionelle, "Ma'am."

Telgar-LC> "Good evening," Sionelle agrees, returning the salutes that she 
receives from around the cavern. "At least for now. And I trust we'll all 
do our best to keep it that way. Wingleader? If I might have a word with 
you in the bowl?" She barely looks Kassima's way, sparing the greenrider 
just enough of a glance to make it clear to whom she's speaking. The rest 
of her attention is on Pierron, until the man turns around. With a 
momentary twitch of the corner of her lip, and a very slight lifting of 
one hand at her side, the weyrsecond turns on a heel and follows Kassima 
out.

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

Kassima waits just outside the entranceway, and nods to the Weyrleader. 
"By all means, ma'am. My attention is yours."

Telgar-LC> Jayna stands, folding her thumbs into her belt. Nervously, she 
glances around. "I...I think I'm heading out for the bowl. To get ready," 
she says, and abruptly does just that.

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

Quickly on Kassima's heels as she exits the living cavern, Sionelle slows 
her steps as the wingleader stops, in order to join her side-by-side. "I 
want you to pay special attention to the original Telgari in your wing," 
she says in a low voice, just loud enough to carry over the bustle of 
dragons in preparation for Fall. "After the last Fall, I'm concerned with 
their lack of familiarity with some of the old Benden terrain, and the 
winds are bound to be tricky this time out. I know it's been long enough 
that we should stop thinking of them that way." Sionelle holds up a hand 
to forestall the objection she thinks is coming. "So don't make this a 
public issue, but make it an issue. Understood?"

Telgar-LC> Aurian stands and places her mug into the appropriate bin, 
behind serveral of the newer weyrlings follow.

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

As two riders jog past curtly, nearly knocking Jayna over as she gawks, 
the weyrling hastily remembers to snap off her salute. She turns to one of 
the newer werylings who's busy stuffing firestone into a sack. Asking 
permission first, she pitches in to help.

Kassima nods slowly after a moment, her eyes darting towards her Wingmates 
who are assembling even now into formation. "Understood, Weyrleader," she 
replies in a voice that's just as low. She shows no sign of making much of 
an objection. "They've all been doing well, but harm can never be found in 
extra caution. With permission, I'll pass that on to m'Wingsecond as 
well." Tilting her head slightly, she asks, "How tricky are the winds 
predicted to be? I understand that the weather's been clear, but that the 
opposing temperature fronts might cause some trouble."

R'val comes out of the short tunnel from the living cavern.

Aurian salutes various riders as she steps along to help Jayna and the 
other weyrlings.

Jayna continues to vigorously stuff firestone into sacks, along with her 
fellow weyrlings. Another rider jogs past holding a torn strap, luckily 
discovered before the wing lifted.

"Permission granted," Sionelle answers quickly. She too darts a glance at 
the wings gathering into loose groupings and more precise formations, 
depending on their state of readiness. With a long inhalation of breath 
that's let out as a resigned but intently concentrated sigh she turns back 
to Thunderbolt's leader. "Exactly," she confirms. "As nearly as the 
sweepriders can tell, there's an unpredictable updraft where the two front 
are colliding. But it's just that-- unpredictable. We'll all need to be 
sharp." Raising her voice on the last sentence, she addresses it to any 
riders who happen to be nearby.

Aurian adds another lump to the bag, she works quickly.

Tierth backwings for a landing.

Jayna nods as the bag is filled, and pulls over another. A rider gruffly 
calls over one of the newer weyrlings and sends her off on some errand. 
She salutes and sprints toward the inner caverns.

Aurian salutes as more riders arrive, she then carries her bag over to the 
pile before starting on yet another.

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

Kassima inclines her head in a grave nod. "We'll be alert, Weyrleader, and 
awaiting your command." With a snapped salute, she adds, "If'n you'll 
pardon me, I need to ready m'dragon."

Sionelle returns the salute, and nods her acquiescence. But the clipped, 
military gesture is accompanied by a brief and genuinely entreating smile. 
"You really don't need to call me that, Kassima. Weyrsecond will do just 
fine." She shakes her head. "That's the least of your worries now though. 
Go."

Maylia dismounts, as Tierth sets her down close to the weyrlings, and 
quickly clears out of the way for more dragons to land. The assistant 
Weyrlingmaster strides closer to them, directing one of the newer 
weyrlings where to go. "Jayna!" she calls, with a salute, "How're the 
sacks comming?"

Jayna jogs over to Maylia and salutes. "Everything's about ready, ma'am," 
she reports, wiping a stray hair out of her face. "We've got another half 
dozen sacks, and it's a go," she says crisply.

Aurian picks up another sack and starts carrying them.

Sionelle strides over to Maylia and the weyrlings gathered around her. 
"You're ready for resupply, Maylia? Or can some of the riders help you get 
ahead of the demand?"

Kassima flashes a brief grin, and nods. "Weyrsecond, then." Turning on her 
heel, she strides over to her dragon, signalling a Weyrling for firestone 
sacks of the appropriate size. "V'dan, get your head out of the clouds and 
straighten up your position!" she roars over the sounds of preparation, 
much to Chymeth's rider's probable embarrassment.

Jayna turns. Noting a younger weyrling...a lad only perhaps at the 
minimum, but slightly built...struggling with a heavy sack, she runs over 
and grabs the other end. "You'll hurt your back, C'rell," she chides. 
"You'll get bigger, don't push it!"

Brynarth leaps momentarily aloft, gliding smoothly to his unaccustomed 
place near the head of the Skyfire wing. Settling into position next to 
A'lex's bronze Nraith, the smaller blue awaits his rider's arrival.

Aurian scoops another bag up carrying it to the piles, she checks a bag 
and drags it back because its still partially empty.

Jayna exhales nervously, glancing around. Seeing one of the dragonhealers 
gesturing, she approaches, but another weyrling gets there first and 
listens intently to the barked orders.

Solarith backwings for a landing.

"Stand still much longer, and you're liable to get trampled," Sionelle 
points out to Jayna, pausing to tug her gloves more firmly into place 
before hefting two sacks of stone up to her shoulders to carry them to 
Brynarth.

Maylia nods crisply, her hand shading her eyes still as she scans the 
crowded bowl for the weyrlings under her charge. "Good Jayna, keep going 
though. Can't have too many sacks of 'stone. K'mash! Give'im a hand!" She 
yells to one of the newer weyrlings. AT Sionelle's voice, the hand shading 
her eyes turns to a saluting hand. "Yes, they're all set. Aladis will be 
leading them on Resupply."

Sioneth lumbers here from the north.

Sionelle nods crisply back to Maylia. "Good," she says simply. "Tell them 
to be careful. The winds are especially tricky today. There's no good in 
trying to deiver stone to a fighting dragon if you get killed on the way. 
That's just a dead weyrling and still no stone for the wingrider." On that 
cheerful note, the acting weyrleader turns to slog through the sand toward 
her blue.

Aurian works and adds another more stone to the formerly ill filled sack, 
she nods as its at the appropriate weight.

Juliath backwings for a landing.

Kvasith lumbers here from the north.

Maylia nods understanding, but whatever response she would make is cut off 
by an arriving weyrling. With a shake of her head, he's redirected to help 
out with the firestone sacking.

Kassima tosses chunks of 'stone into Lysseth's waiting maw, where they're 
chewed, swallowed, and digested in efficient procession. Tugging on the 
green's straps, she reassures herself--again--of their soundness, and then 
signals J'lyn. The two confer a moment, then start to yell orders, 
pointers, and suchlike back to the waiting Wing. The formation is 
perfectly straight and ready before the Wingleader finally turns her 
attention to affixing extra sacks to Lysseth's straps. "More over here, 
please," she calls to the Weyrlings.

Mounted upon Solarith, T'saren waves a quick hand towards Kassima as 
Solarith lands, calling out, "Still clear at the Woodcraft, but there's a 
bit of a wind starting up." His slight grimace is barely visible behind 
his mask and helmet.

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

Jayna approaches Kassima promptly, listening to the Wingleader, and 
mindful of the fact that she's been assigned to groundcrew.

Aurian moves the sacks to Kassima's wing, several weyrlings assisting her.

Tierth soars over the bowl, swerving to avoid landing dragons, and darts 
to a landing at the southern end of the bowl with a trumpet. At that 
sound, Maylia turns quickly, and yells a summons to her crew. "Let's GO, 
weyrlings!"

Jayna glances up and immediately jogs toward Maylia.

Meli settles Juliath at the edge of the activity, finding her way toward 
the ground crews with a distracted expression.

Dragon> Telgar Weyrlings sense that Tierth's prompting mind to mind sifts 
through the noise of the bowl. << Assemble now. >>

Kassima calls over to Tas, "Which way is the wind pushing?" even as she 
nods her somewhat preoccupied thanks to the helpful Weyrlings.

Kharty walks here from the north.

Virroth lumbers here from the north.

Sioneth roars and lumbers to stand near Tierth. Jayna, panting, catching 
up, and salutes. "Reporting, ma'am."

Maylia oversees the scramble for flamethrowers and ground crew gear, 
calling out crips orders as she works. "Mount up when you've checked your 
tanks, Weyrlings, and prepare to fly."

Virroth follows his lifemate closely, eyes whirling about the area, taking 
everything in.

Aurian dashes for flamethrower, and checks it quickly, before dashing to 
Kvasith.

Sionelle offers stone to Brynarth with the same well-practiced effiency 
displayed by the rest of the Telgar riders. When her blue has digested a 
sackful, she tosses the empty canvas to a passing weyrling, and relieves 
him of a full burden. Fastening the bags to a rope on her dragon's straps, 
she climbs up to his back then pulls the stone to within easy reach, all 
the while conferring with members of the queen's wing.

Jayna nods. Having already checked her flamethrower twice...alright, three 
times, she checks it again, then secures it and mounts Sioneth.

Jayna steps onto Sioneth's foreleg and scrambles to his back.

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

Settled between Solarith's neckridges, "From both north and south, 
Wingleader," T'saren replies to Kassi's question. "It looks like it might 
get a bit rough up there." He turns toward Sionelle and calls the same, 
hoping the Acting Weyrleader hears him.

Kharty snags her tank, looking over the hose and nozzle. "Looks alright to 
me," she notes then prepares to mount Virroth.

Kharty reaches up to take a firm grasp on Virroth's riding straps, and 
swings up into the seat between his neckridges with the help of his 
foreleg.

Maylia is the last to select a tank, and she quickly checks it over for 
damage, and to ensure that it is full. Two extras join that one as she 
straps them to her lifemate securely, before she mounts up.

Maylia swings up to her place astride Tierth, her lifemate welcoming her 
with a rumble.

Kassima nods to T'saren, a touch grimly. "Naught we hadn't expected. 
Thunderbolt, mount up!" she yells to the dragonriders waiting behind her. 
"Be prepared for the unexpected, and in the name of Faranth's golden 
grit-filled gizzard, don't do aught that's stupid!"

You place one hand on Lysseth's neck and she warbles down at you fondly. 
You grin and scratch her eyeridges once before climbing up onto her lower 
neckridges, using the riding straps and Lysseth's thoughtfully offered 
foreleg.

<*> From astride Tierth, Maylia calls to her weyrlings, "Double check that 
your tanks are secure!" She gives them a moment, then brings up her hand 
in the signal to rise. "Let's go!"

<*> From upon Kvasith's dark toned back, Aurian tugs on a strap for a last 
time.

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

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

<*> From Sioneth's back, Jayna pumps her arm as Sioneth trumpets his 
excitement.

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

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

<*> Above, From astride Tierth, Maylia waits for the wing to form up, 
before leading them higher.

<*> Meli walks beneath the lintel and disappears into the living cavern.

Dragon> Telgar Weyrlings sense that Tierth sends an image of the forests 
expanding 'round woodcraft Hall, from a point just above the courtyard. 
<< We go here! >>

<*> Sitting her dragon with an easy grace, Sionelle looks up from her 
discussion with the goldriders, and lifts a hand in brief acknowledgement 
of T'saren's report. A few more words are exchanged with the weyrwomen, 
then the acting weyrleader reorients her attention to Solarith's rider. 
"We're expecting it," she calls back. "But not looking forward to it. 
North-south it is, then. We'll jump in as staggered Vs. Skyfire in the 
lead, with Thunderbolt and Dawnslight behind. Firestorm in the rear. 
Brynarth will change that pattern if necessary, when we arrive." Even as 
she speaks, her blue relays the commands to the dragons waiting quite 
literally in the wings.

<*> Above, Virroth trembles with excitement, his rider holding his 
enthusiasm in check.

Dragon> Telgar Weyrlings sense that Sioneth projects *woodcraft*, roaring.

<*> Above, Kvasith bugles with his excitement.

<*> From atop Solarith, T'saren waves over one of the newest weyrlings 
who's carrying firestone sacks and adds then to Solarith's straps with a 
brief thanks. He nods to Kassi, then calls the rest of the Firestorm Wing 
into place. "Watch the winds, all of you. We don't need any casualties 
tonight! Faranth only knows we're light enough as it is." The last is 
muttered into his riding gear, though still audible. He finally nods in 
answer to Sionelle's orders, then checks over his straps one last time.

<*> Above, Tierth disappears into Between.

<*> Above, Kvasith disappears into Between.

<*> Above, Sioneth disappears into Between.

<*> Above, Virroth disappears into Between.

<*> From her customary place between Brynarth's neckridges, Sionelle 
checks her buckles with superstitious care, one last time. She turns in 
her seat to check the readiness of the wings.

<*> Wings rustle impatiently and eyes whirl red with anticipation as 
Thunderbolt receives their orders. Kassima snaps her chin-strap into place 
and pulls her goggles down over her eyes, turning once to check over her 
Wing's formation. Satisfied, she settles back against Lysseth's comforting 
neckridge and signals to Sionelle that Thunderbolt is ready to go.

<*> Firestorm checks out in all readiness, and from Solarith's back, 
T'saren gives Sionelle the go-ahead signal for his wing. The Wingleader's 
hand pats his lifemate's neck, then braces for the coming lift-off.

<*> From her customary place between Brynarth's neckridges, Sionelle lifts 
her arm in the standard signal to leap aloft, craning her neck to catch 
the eyes of all the weyrleaders. Brynarth paces impatiently beneath her, 
taking a step to the side to avoid Nraith's wings as the bronze prepares 
to launch. She drops her hand, and Skyfire takes to the air.

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

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

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

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

<*> Solarith rises up from the bowl.

Dragon> Telgar dragons sense that Brynarth's steady presense becomes an 
image of the woodcraft hall. A sense of time pervades the picture, then 
the time becomes now.

<*> Brynarth disappears into Between.

<*> Lysseth disappears into Between.

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

You suddenly emerge...

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

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

<*> From the Grounds, Kharty swings her leg over Virroth's neck then 
slides down the blue's side, pausing to give him an affectionate pat.

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

<*> From the Grounds, Aurian waits for Maylia's orders , were she stands 
next to Kvasith.

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

<*> Chymeth settles into position deftly, as V'dan rechecks the sacks and 
peers out across the vista.

<*> From the Grounds, Kharty keeps one hand on Virroth's quivering side to 
steady him. "Shards, calm down, Vir", she tells him in as calm a voice as 
she can muster.

<*> From the Grounds, Jayna scrambles down from Sioneth's back.

<*> Brynarth bugles his satisfaction with Telgar's formation as he arrives 
over Woocraft to sense the winds for himself. The sturdy blue's eyes whirl 
with anticipation as his riders peers forward, waiting.

<*> Lysseth trumpets her usual challenge to the Thread as she and her Wing 
blink in from *between*, steady in formation and eyes seeking out the 
incoming silver on the horizon. The winds, turbulent indeed, are just 
twisty enough to cause a bit difficulty in maintaining one's place... but 
it might be a whole other story when Thread comes into the picture.

<*> From the Grounds, Kvasith gets caught up in the excitement and bugles 
again.

<*> Solarith trumpets brassily as he comes out of between, the rest of 
Firestorm spread out behind him in a precise V formation. Wingsails snap 
in the brisk, shifting winds, and his eyes whirl red-orange as he turns 
his head to the east.

<*> From the Grounds, Maylia hefts her tank onto her back, summoning the 
weyrlings closer. "Alright. You're all familiar with the usage of these 
from class, but remember, NEVER point the wand at a person, and always 
wear your eye guards. Keep CONTROL on your mounts."

<*> From the Grounds, Tierth rumbles menacingly, her whirling eyes taking 
in the young dragons nearby.

<*> A brown dragon's bellow of pain is abruptly cut off as he and his 
rider seek the Thread-killing cold of *between*. By the time he reappears, 
it has gone beyond his range and crossed into the skyspace near 
Firestorm's Solarith.

<*> A hissing sound can be heard from above as a large tangle, apparently 
made from two smaller clumps entwined together, hurtles downwards. Vidarth 
is in the best position to catch it.

<*> Dragonfire cuts blazing swaths through a thick curtain of Thread that 
is suddenly falling from above, but a few scattered patches manage to 
escape nonetheless. Bronze Solarith of Firestorm might be near enough to 
catch one of these, but it would be a stretch....

<*> From the Grounds, Aurian jerks a bit as she hears the cry of pain from 
the dragon, Kvasith doesn't like the sound much either he leans his head 
onto his rider.

<*> From the Grounds, Virroth sends his whirling eyes skyward then down to 
his lifemate, sending her multiple bellows of requests to fly up with the 
older dragons. "Steady, blue...", Khar comforts him. "We've work to do 
here."

<*> From the Grounds, Vima comes through the gate from the Courtyard.

<*> From the Grounds, Lyxia comes through the gate from the Courtyard.

<*> Like the snow that falls in the highest mountains in wintertime, the 
most lethal enemy of dragonkind shows no mercy. Falling just above and 
ahead of blue Brynarth and green Chymeth is a nasty looking clump of the 
tangled silver harbringer of death.

<*> From the Grounds, Malia comes through the gate from the Courtyard.

<*> From the Grounds, Krystyna comes through the gate from the Courtyard.

<*> Seated upon Solarith's neck, T'saren winces slightly as the nearby 
brown and his rider disappear into *between* this early into the 'fall, 
but immediately send Solarith into a surging flight towards the ancient 
menace, flame billowing from the bronze's mouth. The 'stone-born fire 
sweeps up the silvery strands, crisping them into black ash.

<*> From the Grounds, Vima Aims her flamthrower high

<*> From the Grounds, Maylia greets the groundcrews comming from the Hall 
with a crisp salute, beckoning them closer. As the flames of the dragons 
overhead flicker as they fight, she aids getting all on the ground suited 
up. "Work in partners or groups of three." She advises.

<*> From the Grounds, Malia appears, leading a small army of apprentices, 
young journeyman, and a few older masters.

<*> A loosely-packed tangle of Threads that had fallen past the reach of 
the higher-level dragons is suddenly borne back upwards by a thermal, 
approaching green Lysseth from a dangerous angle.

<*> From the Grounds, Lyxia looks at Krystyna, "Want to work together?"

<*> From the Grounds, Jayna turns quickly, nodding a greeting to the 
Master and apprentices, clutching her flamethrower and concentrating hard 
on the dragons above.

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

<*> Chymeth lets out a preemptory flame, warming up the jets so to speak. 
Sooner than expected, however, a clump is headed in their direction and 
the small trickle grows to a charring roar of light against the sky. Ash 
filters through and down, as does a small tangle of Thread that somehow 
escaped.

<*> From the Grounds, Krystyna looks at Lyxia and nods. She readies her 
flamthrower.

<*> Astride her blue Brynarth, Sionelle swears loudly and creatively at 
the sound of the brown dragon's bellow, directing a scathing criticism of 
the brown's fighting technique and his rider's dubious parentage right at 
the unfortunate pair. Brynarth spares the lightly scored pair no attention 
at all, spending his energy on a quick dart forward, ahead of the larger 
bronze at his side. Flame erupts from his muzzle, and the Thread in 
Skyfire's path burns away to ash.

<*> From the Grounds, The woodsmiths huddle together in small groups, 
nervously jumping from one foot to the next, casting worried glances up at 
the skies.

<*> From the Grounds, Kvasith moves to slumber near his clutchmates, he 
rumbles low.

<*> From the Grounds, Krystyna spots the clump that escaped Chymeth and 
uses the flamethrower to destroy it.

<*> At the rear of A'lex's wing, two greens separate from the formation, 
to chase a tumbling ball of Thread through the winds. As they pass through 
the ash, a thin strand of silver cascades down behind them, toward the 
waiting ground crews.

<*> Lysseth *roars* at the Thread tangle that's approaching her, spreading 
her wings to allow the winds to lift her upwards towards it. A gout of 
green-tinged golden fire erupts from her throat, washing over the silver 
strands and turning them to gilt for the briefest of moments before 
they're eradicated into crackdust. She rumbles with fierce satisfaction, 
then turns her attention towards annihilating the next lethal clump.

<*> From the Grounds, Weyrlings begin pairing off, sometimes in groups of 
three including the crafters in their midst. Several of the weyrlings have 
obviously never really done this before, but all are well trained in the 
use of flamethrowers. And amid this, the Assistant Weyrlingmaster can be 
heard to shout out orders and advice. "Keep your eyes up, and your 
flamethrowers DOWN! Watch for falling thread, I don't want any inuries!"

<*> A bugle of pain from above announces the wingtip injury of a Duskfire 
brown, a tangle of Thread uncharred as he blinks rapidly into *between*. 
The Thread is left free to fall towards Solarith.

<*> Vidarth soars up within the formation of the Dawnslight Wing. As a 
cluster of wildly spiraling Thread moves towards the group at perilous 
speeds, the blue raises his head and valiantly chars a portion of the 
Thread within his range.

<*> From the Grounds, Having been only recently trained, a few of the 
newer apprentices stay back, letting more experienced woodsmiths take the 
lead.

<*> From the Grounds, Lyxia readies her flamethrower, watching a tangle of 
Thread fall...

<*> From the Grounds, Virroth again and again bugles loudly with his young 
voice into the air. Why can't Kharty see they should be up there? Again 
and again, his rider comforts him. "You've done well to bring me here. 
This is where we do our work. We'll have time soon.", Kharty tells him, 
her own eyes looking upwards, watchfully waiting for loose silver strands 
to plummet their way.

<*> Chymeth repositions with a slight bank, as both she and her rider scan 
the skies continuously in search of the silver menace. Buffeted by the 
swirling winds, the green spends precious energy making constant 
adjustments as she flames.

<*> From the Grounds, Weyrlings spread out, craning their necks upward, in 
little clusters of twos and threes.

<*> Solarith turns almost on a wingtip to chase the thread that scored 
another brown nearby, a move that could almost be envied by smaller 
dragons. The deadly exhale from the bronze singes across the skies, and 
the Thread as well, decimating it. T'saren just curses, tossing the big 
bronze another chunk of 'stone in the brief respite afterwards.

<*> Ylysse and her blue Alymbrith, positioned in Thunderbolt's flank, 
blink *between* to avoid a single piece of Thread among a cloud of cinders 
and char. "Watch it!" the woman shouts hoarsely to her more agile green 
Wingmates, and those who fly below.

<*> From the Grounds, Aurian sears what few threads fall near her, she 
tilts her head as she glances away from the puff of ash as she turns off 
the thrower.

<*> From the Grounds, Krystyna continues to watch the skies. Her 
flamethrower ready...

<*> From the Grounds, Malia stands at what she hopes is a safe distance, 
unsuited for crewing. Her arms are crossed above her stomach as she 
watches her woodsmith mingle with the weyrlings and fan out to sear stray 
Thread.

<*> Brynarth backwings slightly, to regain his place in the even ranks of 
the Skyfire wing. Sionelle's teeth are tightly clenched as another brown 
disappears, screaming, into between, her eyes distracted as she listens to 
the traffic of mental messages that fill the sky during Fall. Long 
accustoned to his role in this dance, Brynarth moves automatically to 
intercept a clump of Thread just above and to the right. The ash blows 
harmlessly over his flank as he dives, wheeling back into formation.

<*> Two truly titanic Thread-tangles travel towards Skyfire, traitorous 
thermals twisting them terrifyingly... transporting them towards their 
targeted trajectories. Blasts of dragonfire punch seriously sizeable holes 
in the mammoth masses, but another crosswind blows what remains out of 
range and towards blue Vidarth.

<*> From the Grounds, The groups begin spreading further afield, prompted 
by the called commands of the assistant weyrlingmaster. Their beasts 
shuffle back and forth, warbling, trumpeting, and obviously chafeing at 
the proverbial bit to Fight.

<*> Lysseth gapes open her jaw to sear another twist of silver to a 
charbroiled crisp, making adjustments in her flight path for the 
treacherous thermals and unexpected, unexpectable gusts. Shouts can be 
heard faintly from her direction; Kassi is no doubt shouting to a few of 
her Wingmates to watch themselves, orders reinforced in a more effective 
and silent manner by the leading green. Dusty wings extend themselves and 
beat once, twice, to allow Lysseth to catch the next clump that blows 
towards her from the south.

<*> Vidarth gives a mighty roar of challenge, eyes whirling a violent, 
vibrant red as he tilts himself upwards, streamlined blue body aimed at 
the descending patch of Thread. A powerful blast of flame is issued, 
searing the Thread into harmless ash, which coats the dragon and rider.

<*> From the Grounds, A careless weyrling, her eyes fixed on the fighting 
wings above, does not notice a hole in the ground where she's walking. 
With a yelp of pain, her ankle rolls over.

<*> As the formations ebb and flow through the leading edge of the Fall, 
dappled hides of brown and blue and green and bronze flickering in and out 
of both the natural and unnatural clouds, a small clump of Thread sinks 
free, twisting and twining about itself as it aims toward one group of 
weyrlings and apprentices.

<*> From the Grounds, Lyxia runs over to the weyrling, still watching the 
skies, to see if she's all right.

<*> From the Grounds, Vima runs. then halts and fires at the falling 
htread

<*> From the Grounds, Krystyna spots the falling clump of thread and sears 
it with her flamethrower.

<*> From atop Solarith, T'saren sends his lifemate after a nearby clump, 
but misses it as a gust of cold wind from the north blows the tangled 
strands out of range. L'mis and Tenli are close enough to the menace's new 
path, and both let loose a burst of flame in tandem, carefully charring 
the silver Threads into ash without hitting each other in the process.

<*> From the Grounds, Maylia spins at the sound of the weyrling, yelling, 
"Orione! Watch where you go!" But she's quickly distracted by the roar 
from Tierth as a young brown spies the falling threads. He's nearly aloft 
when the green's reprimand overrides his instinct.

<*> From the Grounds, Kharty rushes toward the site of impact, silver 
streams aiming toward the ground. She aims the 'thrower and lets go the 
nozzle. <whoosh><whoosh> the red sparks flow outward and char the burrow. 
One final aim of the nozzle and the spores are deadened.

<*> A loud curse and a short, sharp bellow of draconic pain sound in 
unison as W'ger and his green Chanceth blink *between*. The injury is not 
serious--a wingtip, nothing more--but still, by the time they return, a 
clump has fallen through their place to drift down towards the forests 
below. An agile Aerie green swoops down to mop it up with a searing blast 
of light and heat.

<*> Skyfire, reacting to the shouts of its wingleader and the unspoken 
reinforcement of Nraith's instant communication, divides in two as the 
spiralling Thread whips into their midst. On the right flank, strand 
touches the tail of an older bronze who, not agile enough to dodge, 
bellows in irritaion more than pain as the greens to his left and right 
dispatch the remainder of the clump. The left flank has considerably more 
difficulty, as the line of blue and brown dragons meets the infamous 
updraft head-on. Brynarth and the dragons to his left and right tumble 
backwards, away from the Thread.

<*> From the Grounds, Orione clings to her ankle, tears springing to her 
eyes. "My ankle! I twisted it!" But she rises as the Crafter nears, 
smiling her thanks. "I'm Ok, really." She limps a little, but it's not 
broken.

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

<*> From the Grounds, Virroth roars in his young voice, wings fanning out 
beside him as he shares the joy of the smoking charred ash where Khar's 
flamed it. Pride swells within him. If he can't be up there yet, her joy 
is his!

<*> From the Grounds, Maylia growls, much like Tierth did, as the brown 
weyrling starts to launch himself. "N'shius! Control your dragon, 
weyrling, unless you want to loose him!"

<*> From the Grounds, Kvasith rumbles towards the other dragonet, and 
leans near him.

<*> Brynarth struggles to regain control in the turbulent winds over 
woodcraft hall, his beryl blue wings straining against the chaotic 
changes. Leaving the previous clump to the sturdier browns behind him, he 
sprints forward for the ragged patches scattering across the breeze 
directly ahead. The silver strands seem to move with a life of their own 
in the swirling, inconstant wind.

<*> From the Grounds, Kharty walks steadily but quickly to Maylia's side. 
"I think it's gone, ma'am. You'd want to check?" Hearing the 'voice' she 
knows so well, her eyes glance quickly over to Virroth. A simple nod to 
him is all it takes to calm him.

Dragon> Telgar Weyrlings sense that Kvasith directs his thoughts to the 
other brown, << If you go up we won't be allowed to fly to fight! >>

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

<*> Lysseth bugles a warning as one of her Wingmates--less familiar with 
this skyspace than some, perhaps--starts to veer slightly off-course. The 
correction is made just in time for the green to turn her attention 
towards a more important matter: the writhing gathering of Thread that is 
falling towards her at an alarming rate. She tilts her broad wings and 
banks, drawing back far enough to send the clump off to Thread heaven with 
no risk to herself. Ash washes against her chest and belly, adding yet 
more grey to her natural coloration. She ducks *between*, then, to avoid a 
second oncoming tangle, leaving it to J'lyn and Lorieth behind her.

<*> From the Grounds, Lyxia's eyes dart from place to place to place in 
the sky, then back to her immediate area.

<*> Chymeth does a quick *skip* between as she chars at a medium-sized 
clump, disappearing just as the last of the flame completes its work in 
the space she was about to occupy. Reappearing slightly above formation, 
she repositions herself while V'dan wipes ash from his goggles, yelling 
something that is completely lost in the confusion.

<*> From the Grounds, Maylia nods curtly, already on her way to double 
check the strands that have been flamed. With a long metal spike, the 
assistant weyrlingmaster digs around a bit in the scorched ground. "Well 
done, weyrling." She says, heading off quickly to check the crafter's 
work. Each location is cleared with a nod, and a couple words of approval.

<*> From the Grounds, Vima keeps her eyes on the sky

<*> Two of the smaller greens in Dawnslight, buffeted by an unexpected 
gust, rise out of formation with trumpeted surprise. One dragon fights her 
way back to her place in the ranks. The other struggles futiley against 
the blast of air for a few moments, then disappears between, returning to 
the Weyr. An equally slight blue from the other end of the fight follows 
suit.

Dragon> Telgar Weyrlings sense that Tierth's thoughts come through quite 
clearly. << My rider says that without flame, direction, or experience, he 
would go *between* >> There is an aire of finality to this statement.

<*> As a Duskfire green is forced to veer swiftly to one side to avoid 
having Thread slamming into her, the ragged tangle drifts towards Brynarth 
and R'val's blue in a downward spiralling motion.

Kassima tears open one of her extra sacks, digging out lumps of firestone 
to toss towards her dragon. The pair practice skip-and-dodge techniques 
for a minute or two, until Lyss has digested the rock and is ready to 
fight again. Fresh flame of brilliant golden coloration licks out towards 
one of two small, ragged clumps, enveloping it with light; the second is 
destroyed similarly, and the green battles her way back into proper 
formation--no easy task, lacking the sturdy mass of a bronze or brown as 
she does.

<*> Vidarth spots the clump of Thread nearing him, as the green veers 
away, and roars defiance. He lifts his head, as it nears, and chars it 
with a strong, bright red flame which turns the portion of it nearest the 
little blue into ash.

<*> Solarith singes a clump that streaks toward him like silver rain, and 
more deadly. The flicker of fire runs up the nasty tangle slowly, leaving 
the Firestorm bronze no choice but to go *between* to avoid both life-
stealing Thread and his own flame that continues to devour it. The clump 
drifts on, finally meeting its end in Wroxath's more complete burst of 
fire just as Solarith and T'saren reappear.

<*> From the Grounds, Tierth trumpets, her voice ranging across the range 
she's capable of creating, ending in a low ominous rumble. As the sound 
tapers off, Maylia's shout can be heard. "Winds are bad up there, keep 
your eyes wide open ground crew!"

<*> From the Grounds, Aurian whirls about and catches another clump that 
the winds had whipped towards the grounds.

<*> From the Grounds, Lyxia takes a deep breath and takes Maylia's warning 
seriously.

<*> From the Grounds, Vima breathes deeply

<*> As a Duskfire green darts down to catch a clump missed by a blue 
wingmate, a patch of Thread falls through her position and down towards 
green Chymeth.

<*> From the Grounds, Krystyna continues to carefully scan the sky.

<*> From her customary place between Brynarth's neckridges, A'lex's once 
perfect formation is ragged now, with the Acting Weyrleader's blue and two 
other browns almost isolated form their wingmates. Brynarth surges back 
toward Nraith as Skyfire struggles back into a single wing, the blue 
searing a patch of Thread to ash as he crosses beneath Solarith and the 
Firestorm wing. Sionelle turns in her seat as her blue sweeps forward, 
trying to see the full picture of the Fall. Instead, she catches sight of 
an errant strand slipping away from the Queen's wing. "Catch it!" she 
shouts in vain. Her dragon echoes the cry with a bellow to the weyrlings 
below.

<*> From the Grounds, Lyxia runs in the direction of the strand of Thread, 
charring it with her flamethrower.

<*> From the Grounds, Vima spots some thread falling nears her and 
scortches it wil her flamthrower

<*> From the Grounds, Aurian signals a thumbs up towards Lyxia thanking 
her for catching that bit from working some mischief.

<*> Blue Guarith's flame claims the life of more Thread as he fights to 
keep his place in formation, having better luck due to his unusually large 
size. When Shiara and green Riatth, blown astray by the fickle winds, 
leave a space open for a crucial instant, the elder dragon seeks out and 
chars half of the sizeable clump that fell through the ranks. Brown 
Terliuth clips the edge of the remaining strands, but a small, half-
charred cluster is still left to float down towards the Queen's Wing--or 
perhaps the ground-crews below.

<*> From the Grounds, Krystyna follows behind Lyxia and helps sear the 
thread that had fallen.

<*> From the Grounds, Kharty catches sight of a small chunk of silver 
flickering down to the ground. Almost instantly beside it, she aims the 
nozzle and lets go. Crackles and sputters of flame scorch it as she lets 
go of one more blast. Wiping her forehead, she takes a deep breath. 
"Shards, that's hot!"

<*> Unexpectedly, a sheet of Thread is broken up by a wave of turbulence, 
to send several small patches falling towards blue Brynarth and those 
close by.

<*> From the Grounds, Vima spots some thread and scorthes it

<*> From the Grounds, Lyxia carefully searches the ground for anything 
that might have gotten through. Just in case, she sears the ground a bit, 
making sure no fires start, of course.

<*> Solarith swerves out of the way as Brynarth scoots beneath him, the 
unneeded manuever bringing him directly into line with a single twisting 
strand of Thread. Almost too late, the bronze sends a gout of flame 
billowing from his mouth and dives at the same time, leaving the now-
harmless ash to pepper his lifemate's flying gear. Just the heat of the 
cinders is enough to make Tas send Sol *between* for a brief instant, 
coming back out in their more proper place at the head of Firestorm.

<*> From the Grounds, Maylia tramples back and forth, her gloved hands 
becomming dark with the charred earth as she checks each site of 
threadfall. As the spike turns up nothing but ashes and dirt, Vima gets an 
approving nod. "Well done." And with that, she's off agian.

<*> Skyfire finally pulls back into a semblance of order, the lead wing 
returning to a V to face the winds head on. The winds fight back with 
several small patches thrown at Brynarth and his neighbors, but the 
dragons respond with a well-directed blast of flame. Nothing falls 
downward but ash. Sionelle wipes it from her goggles, and leans forward to 
offer her blue more 'stone.

<*> From the Grounds, Vima thanks

<*> Lysseth roars a chide towards her Wingmates, urging them to keep 
formation as best they can. She herself continues to have difficulty with 
this; sheer obstinance is about the only thing that allows her to succeed 
as she works against both Thread and unruly air-currents. With a manuever 
abrupt enough to jar her rider's bones, she furls her wings to fall 
downwards, fire blazing outwards towards a ragged tangle there. Just as 
suddenly, she snaps her wings out to full extention and rises once more 
into place when her mychorrizoid archnemesis has been obliterated.

<*> From the Grounds, A young weyrling overreacts to some debris tumbling 
in the wind, sweeping flame across it with the nozzle on a wide setting. 
Whoooosh! With a shout, her parner begins stamping out the flame, while 
she stammers appologies.

<*> The winds carry three patches of Thread, two small and one rather 
large, towards a Skyfire blue. The beleaguered dragon takes out one of the 
small patches, but the other two are coming too close, too fast--so he 
blinks *between* with a last warning trumpet to Vidarth and , who are now 
closest to the Thread that remains.

<*> From the Grounds, Kharty stands by the burrow as smoke from her 
thrower curls up into the hot air. Again she wipes the perspiration from 
her brow, squinting up into the smoke filled air. Behind her, another 
small piece of Thread hits the ground. Virroth roars as loud as he can 
toward his lifemate, sending her images of the ground behind her. "Aeee!" 
she yells, then twirls to shoot flame at it, burning it to a charred heap.

Telgar Weyr> Mehlani waves groggily. threadfall over? did we win?

Telgar Weyr> Sionelle's charred, Thread-eaten skeleton waves back. Nah. 
Lost. ;)

Telgar Weyr> T'saren grins. Nah, we're all toast and the Woodcraft is too. 
Igen and High Reaches are taking over Telgar. ;)

Telgar Weyr> Kassima says, "No, the Thread captured our forces and has 
enslaved the Weyr. It's forcing us to make cheese-noodles for it until the 
Red Star falls into the sun or the Beastcraft breeds caprines that can 
tap-dance, whichever comes first. ;)"

Telgar Weyr> Kharty laughs and tickles her mentor!

<*> Chymeth and some of the other greens are showing evidence of their 
weariness now, as the constant struggle against the winds and the turning 
and darting of their maneuvering takes its toll. Riders replenish their 
lifemates with the precious 'stone and with constant mental encouragement.

<*> A burst of red-gold dragonfire briefly illuminates a twisting tangle 
of entwined Thread, which at first seems to be descending towards a blue 
in Starblaze, who even now opens his mouth in preparation to flame. But 
instead, a stray gust of wind blows it straight towards Chymeth and those 
nearby.

Dragon> Threadfall Comm sense that Brynarth's mental presense is suddenly 
keenly sensible as he broadcasts an order to the wings. << Send the 
smaller dragons home. The Fall is almost ended. >>

<*> From the Grounds, Vima spots some thread and scortches it with her 
flam

<*> Vidarth lifts his head with a roar of challenge, and flames yet 
another tangled, wildly descending clutch of Thread that gets too near his 
position, flying through the ash, covering himself and his rider.

<*> From the Grounds, Maylia heads across the field, notified that the 
large flame burst was a false alarm. Instead, she heads for real thread 
landings.

<*> Chymeth gives one last large *whooosh* of flame that in short order 
diminishes the clump quite thoroughly into ash and then into invisibility. 
With a roar, the exhausted green prepares to return to the Weyr.

<*> Skyfire's ranks are suddenly thinner, as several of the smallest 
greens and blues wink out of the sky, returning to the Weyr and out of the 
winds. The remainder of the wing continues to sweep forward, dodging and 
flaming scattered patches of silver. Two browns break off to chase a clump 
downward.

<*> From the Grounds, Lyxia waves her hand in front of her face as hot ash 
descends upon her. She moves so it won't distract her from her job.

<*> Chymeth disappears into Between.

<*> As the Fall begins to draw to a close, fewer patches drift downwards 
towards the weary Telgar Wings. However, it never pays to let one's guard 
down. As Thunderbolt's greens and smaller blues--with the exceptions, of 
course, of Lysseth and Lorieth--blink back to their home, the rest of the 
Wing is caught up in trying to cover more ground with fewer dragons. One 
anguished cry is heard as the brown who had his wingtip clipped before is 
hit more seriously. His return is instantaneous, but so is his second 
disappearance into *between*, with a sizeable wing score. The remaining 
dragons focus even more steadily on the Thread that's left.

<*> Solarith relays Brynarth's order to his lifemate between bursts of 
flame, leaving T'saren to turn in his straps and send the signal for 
greens and blues to depart from Firestorm. As they do, the wing suddenly 
looks rather barren, but the few remaining browns and bronzes pick up 
where they left off, searing the few last clumps and strands that descend 
from the skies.

<*> Flashes of red-gold flame flicker through a large sheet of Thread, 
cutting a swath through the veritable curtain of spores. Brynarth is quite 
near to a pair of patches that have escaped the assault.

<*> From the Grounds, Weyrlings and crafters alike keep forging out after 
any possibility of ground contact, the steps of some growing weary from 
the wieght of the flamethrower tanks they're carrying around. Shouts range 
across the area, teams keeping in touch with one another.

<*> Brynarth fades back from the apex of Skyfire's V, letting the more 
powerful bronzes and brown take the lead into the wind. His agility serves 
the Weyr bettert than strength, however, as it takes a turn on a wingtip 
to intercept the patches that escape. He sears one with a strong burst of 
flame, and the second with a guttering spurt, his supply of stone 
expended. Thankfully, the Thread is equally depleted, leaving the skies 
clear.

Kassima holds up her hands to signal for watchfulness from the remaining 
dragons in her Wing as the Fall tapers to a close. Short flashes of fire 
still dot the sky as the dragons get rid of the last of their unspent 
flame; it doesn't look as though it will be needed now.

<*> Astride her blue Brynarth, Sionelle lifts a hand to signal the wings 
to return. With a more complex gesture, she orders the wingleadeers to 
descend with her to the ground below.

<*> Seated upon Solarith's neck, T'saren turns back around just in time to 
see that the 'fall has come to an end. With a weary, ash-flecked hand, he 
signals Firestorm down, keeping Solarith in the air just long enough to 
check over the wing's members that remain, then sending the bronze down on 
Sionelle's comamnd.

<*> Brynarth backwings to a landing in the WoodCraft Area Grounds.

<*> Solarith backwings to a landing in the WoodCraft Area Grounds.

<*> From the Grounds, Malia breathes an audible sigh of relief as the 
skies clear. She wipes a little at her face that is coated with stray ash, 
blown about by the wind.

<*> Lysseth waits for Kassi to signal the rest of her Wing to depart, then 
spirals downwards after Brynarth, the leaden motions of her wings 
bespeaking weariness.

<*> From the Grounds, As the wings begin to clear out, Maylia's shout is 
drowned out by Tierth's trumpet.

You backwing to a landing in the WoodCraft Area Grounds.

<*> Vima wipes the ash off her face

<*> Vidarth backwings to a landing in the Grounds.

<*> Virroth adds his own voice to the departing dragons, bugling triumph 
out over the winds.

<*> Lyxia takes a deep breath and relaxes her hold on her flamethrower.

<*> Krystyna shifts her 'thrower to a more comfortable position.

<*> Vima takes a relaxing breath

<*> Aurian salutes the arriving riders, she hefts her thrower carefully, 
its considerably lghter by now.

<*> Brynarth comes to a less-than-graceful landing, his broad blue chest 
heaving with the effort of a full-length Fall. His rider thumps his back 
affectionately, then raises her voice to call across the grounds. 
"Craftmaster Malia! My thanks for the work of your groundcrews. It's been 
some time since I've seen such a disciplined bunch."

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

<*> Lyxia watches the huge dragons with awe and moves closer to the other 
crafters.

<*> T'saren slowly dismounts, gingerly tugging off his helmet and goggles 
and wiping ash from his face. Wearily, he turns to Sionelle and Brynarth, 
trying to straighten up into a more presentable posture to the acting 
weyrleader.

<*> R'val slides down from Vidarth's back and lands in a crouch.

<*> R'val clambers off Vidarth, and raises his helmet and goggles, wiping 
at his grimy face with a weary arm.

<*> Malia smiles, a smile still tight with worry. "Thank you" she 
responds, glancing proudly at her woodsmith, who are gathering around her.

<*> Lysseth lands as gracefully as she may... which really, all things 
considered, isn't saying a great deal. A faint shower of ash drifts down 
from her hide to join that already on the ground. The grey-green dragon 
rumbles tiredly to the others of her kind here, even as Kassi unbuckles 
herself from the straps and slides down to a somewhat less cumbersome 
landing.

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

Kvasith warbles with welcome.

Maylia keeps her flamethrower in position, her eyes scanning the distance 
even as the leading dragons land, waiting for the furthest teams to return 
with reports. As she sees them comming in, without signalling burrows, she 
turns to the assembled weary riders and the craftmaster, with a crisp 
salute.

Vima Salutes the riders and the craftmaster

Kharty hefts the flamethrower over on her back a little to send a snappy 
salute to the returning riders, her eyes filled with admiration. "Well 
done." she beams a big smile at them.

Devon comes through the gate from the Courtyard.

Kassima pulls free her helmet and goggles, which leaves her looking 
something like a raccoon in reverse given the ash-smeared state of the 
rest of her face. Untying the scarf that kept her braid in place, she 
stuffs it into her pocket before standing at attention and nodding, 
respectfully, to the Craftmaster whom her Weyrleader addresses.

Lyxia looks at Devon, "Well look who's decided to show up."

Krystyna nods a greeting to Devon.

Sitting her dragon with an easy grace, Sionelle favors T'saren and the 
rest of the weary Telgarians with an inclined chin and distinct approval 
in her gaze, as well as concern. Once she's satisfied that they're merely 
tired, she returns her attention to the woodsmiths. "You've good reason to 
be conscientious, with the forests all around," she admits, one hand 
rubbing a sore shoulder muscle as she sits straight-backed on her blue. 
"Still and all, it's a relief to know the grounds below us are so well 
protected."

Vima sets down her flamthrower

Virroth bugles out again, his voice filled with excitement. Blue body 
quivering with excitement, he comes close to Lysseth, sniffing her side 
curiously.

Malia looks around at the group of riders "Thank you again, for protecting 
our trees" she says in a voice filled with gratitude. She appears to relax 
a little more as each 'all clear' report comes in.

T'saren spares a quick smile for his weyrmate, then turns to Sionelle and 
Malia with respectful nods for each of them. At the acting weyrleader's 
glance, he manages to straighten himself up just a bit more, attempting to 
pass off the slight burns he's taken as all in a day's work, which they 
really are.

Lysseth, more grey than green and with weariness written in every part of 
her posture, nevertheless summons the energy to give Virroth a faint 
whuffling in greeting. Kassima, smiling slightly, dips her head in a 
second nod to Malia. "'Twas nay more than our duty, Craftmaster."

Maylia wipes her hand across her forehead, smearing sweaty black marks 
over her face. She, too, looks quite relieved not only with each 'all 
clear,' but also with each ground crewer who returns without injury. So 
far, there's just the one twisted ankle. Relieved, she can return 
T'saren's smile, and wait to report with ease.

Brynarth turns his placid gaze to regard the woodcrafters as well, sending 
a breeze of firestone-scented air toward the gathered crafters with each 
deep exhalation as he tries to catch his breath. On his back, Sionelle 
nods crisply. "It's our duty," she says plainly, agreeing with Kassima. 
"Though I'm pleased by the fact that the relationship between our Weyr 
and your Hall has never been that black and white. The forests are clear?" 
she inquires. "If so, then we'll take ourselves home, and out of your 
way."

Malia grins at Kassima "A duty that protects our livlihood...so is then 
very important to us...and we're always grateful." She raises her voice 
"Everyone is welcome inside. There should be some hot food and klah for 
everyone...and you can clean up in the baths"

Lyxia drops her 'thrower with a thud and a relieved sigh. She quickly 
looks around to see if anybody heard that.

Astride her blue Brynarth, Sionelle's official smile appears on her lips, 
the one she takes out when protocol requires her to be pleasant. "You're 
kind to offer," she says to Malia. "A fine example of woodcraft 
hospitality. Riders, weyrlings, you're welcome to stay if you like. 
Brynarth and I have to get back to the weyr I'm afraid, Craftmaster. We've 
work to finish at home."

Kharty sends a glance to Sionelle. "I've some things to do back at the 
weyr, might I accompany you home?"

T'saren looks at Maylia questioningly after Malia's offer, trying to see 
if his weyrmate wants to stay or head back. His hand absently reaches up 
to caress his lifemate's side, brushing some of the ash from the bronze 
body.

Krystyna holds her 'thrower in a more relaxed position as she watches 
Master Malia for further instructions.

R'val uses Vidarth's side straps to mount up agilely, settling onto the 
little blue's back and straightening. He pets his lifemate's head once as 
Vidarth rumbles excitedly, ready to fly.

From Vidarth's back, R'val waves wearily as he mounts Vidarth, "Time for a 
bath."

Vidarth lifts up into the air.

Malia nods "I understand" she says, smiling up at Sionelle. She steps 
back, gesturing for her woodsmiths to move tgive the riders some room for 
their dragons. "

Krystyna follows Master Malia's example and moves back.

Maylia shakes her head as well. "My thanks, Craftmaster, but the weyrlings 
must return to the weyr. Duty ever calls." She gives a warm smile with her 
salute, and begins fastening tanks to Tierth's riding straps.

Lyxia returns her 'thrower to it's rightful spot and moves closer to 
Master Malia.

Kassima glances towards T'saren and the other Wingleaders, somewhat torn. 
She arches one brow in silent query as to just what they intend. Upon 
hearing the latter part of Sionelle's statement, she salutes the bluerider 
sharply. "Clear skies, Weyrsecond. M'report will be in your hands first 
thing, I promise you."

From her customary place between Brynarth's neckridges, Sionelle nods to 
Kharty, tugging her loose glove back up to a proper position. Brynarth 
steps backwards, clearing a space betwen himself and the crafters, to 
provide room for a takeoff. "You're welcome, of course, if you have 
permission, Weyrling. Maylia, your wing did a fine job. All of the wings 
did. Clear skies to you, Woodcraft." With a nod toward Malia, seh signals 
her blue to launch.

Brynarth lifts up into the air.

Malia calls out "Clear skies", her hand partially raised in farewell.

Dragon> Lysseth senses that Brynarth fills your mind with a momentary 
image of his rider, and a sense of patience. << She says you may finish 
the report in the morning. The wings fought hard today. All need their 
rest. >>

Tierth whuffles over the crafters as her rider fusses with straps and 
buckles, though her atttention is constantly on the weyrling dragons. Once 
she's all set, Maylia calls to the weyrlings, "Alright, mount up!"

Kharty steps gingerly, still watching for hot spots in the ground as she 
makes her way to Virroth's side. Catching a fast hold of Virroth's straps, 
she prepares to mount.

Kharty reaches up to take a firm grasp on Virroth's riding straps, and 
swings up into the seat between his neckridges with the help of his 
foreleg.

Aurian reattaches the flamethrower to Kvasith's straps. She pulls herself 
up wearily.

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

From Virroth's back, Kharty buckles herself in securely then waits for the 
order to rise.

Maylia gives Malia a weary smile, and inclines her head to her. "And to 
you, Craftmaster." With that, she scrambles up the green's hide.

Maylia swings up to her place astride Tierth, her lifemate welcoming her 
with a rumble.

T'saren nods to himself as his weyrmate gives her answer to the Woodcraft 
Master. With an inclination of his head to Malia, he comments, "Thank you 
for your hospitality, Master, but I need to get a report on this fall done 
for our weyrleader. I'm sure some of my wingriders would be more than 
happy to take you up on the offer though." And true to his words, many of 
the remaining Firestorm riders are making their way to the Hall, stripping 
off their gear as they go.

From Above, Brynarth circles lazily, the winds less troublesome now that 
there's no Thread demanding precise turns and directional control. His 
rider casts a glance down at the grounds waiting for the remainder of the 
departees.

Lysseth> Brynarth senses that Lysseth sends a flash of blue-green 
comprehension and assent, laced with the silver-grey of weariness. 
<< Thank you; I will tell my rider. I think she will be grateful to hear 
it. >>

Malia chuckles, glancing after the riders "Be assured that you're always 
welcome here"

Kassima relaxes slightly at some unheard impetus, but nods a slightly 
reluctant agreement. "Much though Lysseth would probably appreciate the 
rest, 'twould be better for her to get it at the Weyr--and I really do 
need t'see to m'Wingmates who are injured. Which isn't t'say that m'riders 
should feel obligated t'follow m'example," she adds with a flicker of a 
smile. "Clear skies and our duties t'you, Craftmaster."

From astride Tierth, Maylia raises one arm, making eye contact with her 
weyrlings. Checking that the path is clear, she gives the signal for the 
weyrling wing to rise.

T'saren nods again to Malia, then turns to mount his lifemate. "As you and 
yours are always welcome at Telgar, Master. Clear skies and good crafting 
to you!" are his departing words as he mounts and sends Solarith up.

Lyxia wipes ash and sweat off her face and looks longingly towards the 
hall and the baths.

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

Solarith lifts up into the air.

Tierth lifts up into the air.

From Virroth's back, Kharty nods her head to Malia, smiling, "Clear 
skies," she adds as well then gathers herself for Virroth's jump.
Virroth lifts up into the air.

You place one hand on Lysseth's neck and she warbles down at you fondly. 
You grin and scratch her eyeridges once before climbing up onto her lower 
neckridges, using the riding straps and Lysseth's thoughtfully offered 
foreleg.

<*> Kvasith lifts up into the air.

<*> From Above, Tierth circles slowly, awaiting the weyrlings to join her 
in formation.

Kassima snaps her strap-buckles into place, caressing her lifemate's 
ash-covered neck with affection. "Just one more short flight, Lyss," she 
murmurs, before saluting the Crafters below and nudging her lifemate 
aloft.

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

You lift up into the air above the WoodCraft Hall.

Dragon> Telgar Weyrlings sense that Tierth instructs the weyrlings to 
return to Telgar's star stones.

<*> Kvasith glides along carefylly until he takes his place near Tierth.

<*> From the Grounds, Malia turns to her tired, hot and dirty woodsmiths 
"Everyone...off to the baths" she says wearily.

Dragon> Telgar dragons sense that Brynarth inobtrusively echoes his 
rider's satisfaction with the performace of the wings. Together with her 
approval comes an acknowledgement of the need for rest.

<*> Tierth brings the weyrlings to a hovered halt, watching Brynarth and 
the acting Weyrleader.

<*> Brynarth trumpets a brassy farwell to the woodcrafters gathered below, 
and the watchdragon keeping vigil on the heights. Then he blinks into 
nothingness.

<*> From the Grounds, Krystyna nods as she wipes ash off her forehead. She 
heads towards the hall.

<*> From the Grounds, Lyxia is more than happy to do what she is told.

<*> Brynarth disappears into Between.

<*> From astride Tierth, Maylia's hand drops in the signal for the 
weyrlings to go Between.

<*> Tierth disappears into Between.

<*> From the Grounds, Devon nods to Malia and starts toward the hall.

<*> Kvasith disappears into Between.

<*> Solarith disappears into Between.

<*> Lysseth disappears into Between.

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

You suddenly emerge...

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

<*> From the North, From the Telgar Star Stones, Kl'loh's brick-brown 
Yoxath rears on hind legs and bugles a greeting to green Lysseth and her 
rider, Kassima, welcoming them home.

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

<*> From the North, From the Telgar Star Stones, Kl'loh's brick-brown 
Yoxath rears on hind legs and bugles a greeting to blue Virroth and his 
rider, Kharty, welcoming them home.

Telgar Weyr> Kassima snugs and thanks you all again for coming. :) I'll 
have the log up on the WWW within a few days, I promise.

Telgar Weyr> Maylia snugs Kassi! Good job on organizing that!

<*> Solarith echoes Yoxath's welcome tiredly, slowly spiraling down to the 
bowl floor.

Telgar Weyr> T'saren snugs Kassi. Very good job, and thank you for doing 
it. :)

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

<*> Tierth returns the watchdragons' welcome with considerably more energy 
than the fighting wings. After all, she had been on the ground, not 
exerting energy. With that, she leads the weyrlings down.

<*> Kvasith moves again near Tierth so he is in proper formation.

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

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

<*> Lysseth trumpets as much of a greeting to Yoxath as she can manage, 
drifting downwards towards the ground in a lazy, tired spiral.

You fly downwards towards the southern end of the bowl.

You fly downwards towards the ground.

You backwing for a landing on sands of the bowl.

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

Kvasith backwings for a landing.

Virroth backwings for a landing.

Tierth lands carefully, finding a clear spot in the bowl. Her rider 
quickly dismounts, and the green takes off again, whooshing out of the 
way.

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

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

Sionelle leaves her blue where he comes to a halt, and strides off toward 
the infirmary. The unfortunate riders inside are about to have their minor 
injuries augmented by a blistering lecture. As she passes a wingmate, 
though, the acting weyrleader's stern face softens for just a moment, and 
she claps the other woman on the back in the shared weary satisfaction of 
a job well done.

T'saren tugs off his helmet for the second time tonight, then dismounts 
with a wince, pulling off his jacket as soon as his feet touch the ground. 
"Shells, what a mess," he mutters as he looks at the ashy leather. "Be 
needing a new one soon."

Kvasith stretches his wings before curling up for a few moments.

Maylia dismisses her weyrlings, advising them to help where needed, as 
usual. Weyrlings scatter, some dashing to fetch wine, others to aid the 
healers and dragonhealers.

Kassima at once attends to a check of her dragon's hide and wing-muscles, 
relatively brisk and efficient about the task; after all, she's done it 
hundreds of times. Only when assured of her lifemate's health and well-
being does she turn towards her next priority: the health and well-being 
of her wingmates. Flagging down a dragonhealer, she converses quietly for 
a moment with him. "Only the one serious injury," she sighs when the 
report is complete. "Shards. Siuenth will be out at least three months, 
though... were there many major casualties?" she inquires of the various 
Wingleaders around her. "Lyss told me most were minor."

Aurian lends her hands to the healers, she is instantly put to smearing 
numbweed.

Ro emerges from the infirmary.

Ro looks at the dragons, her expression one of concern, but not alarm.

Maylia's eyes make out the figure of T'saren, and the greenrider makes her 
way towards him, a wineskin for him in her hand.

T'saren slowly goes over Solarith's bulk, checking for any injuries or 
even the slightest scoring. Satisfied the bronze is unharmed besides a 
dusting of ash, he begins looking over himself, finding only a small ash-
burn on his cheek. The approach of his weyrmate brings a small smile to 
his lips, as does the wineskin in her hand.

Ro leaves T'sar and Maylia be, managing somewhat of a smile in the 
direction of Aurian and Kassi.

"Can't you duck ash yet?" Maylia gently teases, her fingertips brushing 
over Tas' ash-burn. She gives her weyrmate a light kiss, briefly pressing 
her lips against his before she hands over the wine. "Rough fight up 
there?"

Aurian grins at Ro as she deals with one of the more crochety riders, 
"Just hold still."

Kassima summons a tired smile for Ro, liberating a wineskin from the hands 
of one of those who are passing out such things. "That didn't go *too* 
badly," she observes before knocking back a hefty swig of the stuff.

T'saren returns the kiss with more weariness than usual, then takes a long 
pull from the skin before answering, "If that bronze lump of mine would 
warn me before going into a dive, I might have a chance to duck." The 
fierce look in his eyes softens quickly when he realizes he snapped. 
"Sorry about that, love. And sorry to you too, Sol. It was just a lot 
worse than I thought it would be." He looks extremely abashed.

Ro says "I brought some numbweed and a few other things out, in case 
anyone might need them."

Kassima comments with a sigh, sitting down beside Lyss with the wineskin 
cradeled close, "Even fair weather can be trouble, and Woodcraft's right 
in place for clashing fronts. Still, at least we didn't lose anybody."

Vidarth backwings for a landing.

R'val slides down from Vidarth's back and lands in a crouch.

R'val clambers off Vidarth, and waves amiably, "Hi gang."

Maylia's eyebrows rise just slightly at the ferocity of her weyrmate's 
response, but she smiles quickly. "Love, the winds were bad on the ground. 
They must've been treacherous up high." Her eyes meet his for a moment, 
before her gently smile turns to a fairly rightfully proud grin. Proud for 
her weyrmate's wingleading as well as the whole weyr. "You fought well. I 
know. Hardly any got through the wings despite the winds."

Telgar Weyr> Maylia stares at her fingers. Gah. Bad novel-writing. 
stopit. ;)

Telgar Weyr> Ro snugs Maylia "Stop reading those heavy breather novels.

T'saren glances over at Ro with a smile. "I'll take some of that numbweed, 
if you would. If I can get it put on through all this ash..." He nods 
absently to Kassima. "You can say that again. Nasty winds tonight." He 
shudders lightly, then looks back at his weyrmate. "Thank you, dearheart. 
I think I just need a long soak and a chance to rest my mind. Or a bit of 
something else later." He briefly gives her a leering look.

Telgar Weyr> Maylia chuckles. I think we'll earn Kassi's gagging this 
time...

Telgar Weyr> T'saren giggles. Sorry. Had to. ;)

Telgar Weyr> Maylia heees!

Telgar Weyr> Aurian says, "I feel like I'm reading a harlequin, but a well 
written one"

Kassima complains good-naturedly, "Guys, I'm *trying* t'drink, here. How'm 
I supposed t'get drunk if'n you make me retch up the wine before it can 
get into m'blood? Sheesh, people!"

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

Telgar Weyr> T'saren is flattered, Aurian. Of course, most of them are so 
bad I wouldn't line a bird cage with them. :p

Mehlani's arrival is unobtrusive as always, as the young woman emerges 
from the living cavern and casts a glance about the Bowl. She's a bit out 
of breath, as if she's run a distance to get here, but she manages to keep 
from bursting onto the scene nevertheless.

Maylia mmmmmms, softly, obviously pleased by that idea. Then again, she's 
nowhere near as weary as the fighting riders are. With a laugh for Kassi's 
comment, she states, "It could be worse. YOu could have A'lex and Channie 
out here, too."

Aurian lets the rider escape her clutches after she finishes getting the 
numbweed on, she rolls her eyes, "He should know there is always plenty of 
wine."

Kassima also adds, unable to resist, "Faranth save me from weyrmating, 
too. I can't imagine what 'twould be like t'be exhausted from a Fall, and 
have this man who *should* be exhausted turning into some kind of letch. 
You can't imagine the temptation for me to make some crack about what this 
must say about your stamina, Tas." She then groans, loudly, at Maylia. 
"Don't even *suggest* that!"

T'saren grins over his shoulder at Kassi. "Well it could be worse. Tierth 
could take it into her head to rise all the sudden." As his weyrmate adds 
her own threat, he grins wider, despite how it pulls at his cheek burn.

"That would only be a problem," Maylia corrects Kassi, "If I objected to 
his, ah. Stamina." With a broad grin and a wink, she reaches for the 
wineskin she'd handed to her weyrmate. "C'n I have some? Love, you really 
should get some 'weed on that burn, and clean it out." Someone's torn 
between lover, and mother wherry.

Ro smiles at the bronzerider and produce a washcloth and a small jar of 
numbweed.

A'lex walks here from the north.

Kassima snorts with faint amusement. "Oh, let her. At least it'd get you 
love-sick lechers out of here, and leave us normal people in peace. May, 
shardit, now *you're* trying t'make me puke! Don't deny it!"

A'lex strides over from parking his Dragon with waves and salutes. He's 
not looking extraordinairly thrilled at the moment, but his waves are 
friendly enough.

Aurian is busily applying numbweed like the rest, she rolls her head on 
her shoulders.

T'saren shakes his head at Kassi, then sags back against his lifemate, 
holding out the 'skin to Maylia. "You probably need it as much as I do, 
love." He turns to Ro with a smile of relief. "Oh thank Faranth! Who wants 
the honors, or should I just do it myself?"

Mehlani gestures silently to a passing youngster running errands, and 
leans over to whisper a question as to who might need what kind of aid. 
The lad hands over the numbweed pail he'd been fetching, and while he 
scurries off to fetch more, Mehlani silently approaches the nearest 
dragonriders with the pail she's appropriated.

Ro looks a little worried "I will, just so long as the healers don't get 
mad at me. I'm not supposed to treat people, you know."

A'lex looks concerned as he asks, "What DID you people do?"

Maylia flashes another grin at Kassi, nodding as A'lex approaches. 
"There's half of the worst-case scenario comming now." She takes a quick 
swig of the wine, and hands the skin back, shaking her head. "No, love. I 
had it easy, on the ground. Have another sip, and let Ro clean y'up."

A'lex shakes his head, "With as much numbweed as you were using, you'd 
think you were flying with Skyfire."

T'saren nods slowly, presenting his burned cheek to Ro for tending. "I 
won't tell them if you won't," he murmurs before taking another pull from 
the 'skin and stilling his face for the cleaning. A'lex's question makes 
him blink in surprise and almost snarl again. "We fought thread over the 
Woodcraft Hall, what's it look like?"

A'lex snorts, "At least you could call what you did fighting, unlike 
Skyfire."

Kassima shakes her head at Maylia, taking another swig of wine. "Nay, 
nay... worst case would be t'have *all* the weyrmated pairs here, acting 
all lovey-dovey and gooey sweet. 'Lex, Skyfire didn't do *that* badly. Nay 
deaths is always a fine thing in a Fall."

Maylia reaches out a hand to T'saren's shoulder, grimacing. She squeezes 
gently, with understanding, before releasing him.

Mehlani moves up silently near Ro, leaning forward to put down the pail in 
immediate grabbing distance. From under her hat, 'Lani's blue gaze flits 
around to take in the nearest dragons.

A'lex nods, "I know, I know... but the only reason there wern't any is 
because they were all so out of formation that we were no where near the 
fall. I swear B'don was flying over Southern at one point."

Kassima rolls her eyes up towards the sky. "Flying the lead position in a 
Fall like that is never *easy*, 'Lex... ach, nevermind. I'm too tired 
t'argue over how every Wing did. I'm just going t'be content with only one 
serious injury in m'own."

T'saren nods slowly to A'lex, calming himself down. Maylia's squeeze helps 
too. "Shards, but I'm touchy tonight. I'd think Solarith was going proddy 
if he were a green." He shakes his head, then looks back at his fellow 
Wingleader. "Sorry 'bout that. Skyfire did look a bit sloppy tonight, but 
then so did parts of Firestorm."

A'lex nods, claping T'saren on the other shoulder, "A bit?" He laughs, 
"You're being generous..."

Kassima nods to Tas. "And parts of Thunderbolt, too. But for all of that, 
little Thread got through the Wings, and I'm just going t'be grateful for 
Faranth's small favors."

A'lex nods to Kassima as well...

Maylia clucks her tongue at Kassi, in a blatent attempt to lighten the 
situation and continue with the light conversation. "I keep telling you, 
mentor-mine, not to fight it. You'd find it so much less nauseating if we 
could find you a lovey-dovey weyrmate to call your very own." She's 
obviously teasing. As Tas calms down, she gives him a soft smile. "Very 
little indeed, and none had a chance to burrow. No injuries on the ground 
besides a twisted ankle, either."

Mehlani slips quietly off again, to help the ferrying of numbweed and wine 
around to what riders are still lingering in the Bowl. She doesn't go far, 
though, and she pauses once to smile timidly as a brown -- Camelth, though 
his rider isn't in immediate sight -- cranes his nead down to croon 
rumblingly at her.

A'lex looks at Maylia, "Oh, no, not this again..."

Kassima makes a face at Maylia, which is all the more horrific due to the 
streaks of ash along her cheeks and chin. "Don't even try it, May. You 
might as well go hunting wherry-teeth, or try t'move the Red Star off-
course all by your lonesome."

T'saren just nods to A'lex, Kassi, and his weyrmate, relaxing a bit more. 
"Aye, it could have been worse, 'tis true."

Aurian sits down as she smears the last of her patients. She runs her 
fingers through her hair.

A'lex looks at the other Wingleaders, "By the way, did any of my wing find 
their way into yours during Fall? I think I'm missing a few..." He winks, 
then sighs, "Ya know, joking about it isn't making me less unhappy about 
the situation, how many hours of drills will make me feel better?"

A flask of water materializes at Aurian's right elbow, held there 
suspended by Mehlani's slender hand.

Aurian takes the flask and smiles up at 'Lani, "Thank you."

Kassima shrugs at A'lex. "If'n you truly want t'feel better, train more 
down south, or over areas like Woodcraft where the turbulence is worse. 
Our Wings are full of steady, strong, skilled fighters. They gave their 
all today. 'Twas just a spot of bad luck and some admitted carelessness. 
Which isn't t'say that I won't have serious words with those who *were* 
careless, mind...."

T'saren snorts at A'lex's question. "Probably too many to count, my 
friend. I know Firestorm's going to rack up quite a few as well." He sighs 
softly, followed by a sudden yawn. "Gah, but I'm beat. Flying sweeps and 
fighting thread are worse than a straight sevenday of mucking stalls back 
at the Beastcraft Hall."

Maylia just grins at Kassi, and her expression becomes more serious at 
A'lex's comment. "It'll be good for the weyrlings to see the Wings being 
put through serious drilling, actually. Perhaps now they'll take their own 
more seriously."

Ro cleans the ash from the bronzerider's burn with a featherlight touch 
before applying the numbweed. She says softly "It wouldn't hurt to have a 
healer look at it, anyway.

T'saren nods again as Ro cleans his burn. "Aye, I will. I know better than 
to let a wound go unchecked, trust me."

A'lex sighs and nods at he various comments, "Well, time to go make some 
plans with the Wingseconds. I'll see you all later for food."

Kassima nods to A'lex, and waves her wineskin after him. "Clear skies, 
'Lex... oh, don't grin like that, Maylia. You know 'tis truth, even if'n 
you won't believe it."

Aurian stretches as she relaxes at last.

Maylia rolls her head from side to side, then eases her shoulders. A tired 
sigh, and she reaches again for the wineskin, inquiring, "Any left?"

T'saren jiggles the wineskin just barely, then hands it over to Maylia. 
"Not much, but enough." He sighs as well, then stretches his entire body. 
"I think Sol and I are going to forget about that soak and just head up to 
the weyr. Be along soon, love?"

Maylia takes a long sip while Tas stretches, and then nods. "MMm. 
Definetly." she murmurs, reaching a hand out to him. A grin, and the 
greenrider chuckles at herself. "I won't be long at all, love."

Kassima finishes off the last of her own 'skin, then makes a half-hearted 
attempt at pantomiming gagging. "You two are too sickening for words... 
which I suppose means you're a good couple," she remarks with a wry grin. 
"Weird though you are."

T'saren smiles and nods, giving his weyrmate one of *those* looks despite 
his weariness. "Then I'll wait up for you." He takes her hand and pulls 
her to him for a quick kiss, then turns to mount his lifemate, just 
winking at Kassi as he does.

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

A'ser emerges from the infirmary.

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

A'ser marches quickly, glances at Aurian, and without a word, grabs hold 
of Yasinth's flight straps and jumps aboard.

Aurian chuckles softly as she rakes her hand though her hair, she is still 
filthy from the activities of this night.

Aurian watches A'ser curiously for a moment.

A'ser walks north.

Maylia gives one of those silly-kissed sighs, watching her weyrmate's 
dragon carry him aloft. With suprising speed, she starts rounding up the 
newest class of weyrlings, getting them back to the barracks.

Kassima asks Maylia with some real amusement, "How in Faranth's name 
d'you stand it? After a Fall, I'm lucky if'n I can crawl up t'bed... men. 
Feh."

Maylia flashes Kassima a grin. "It's relaxing." she mock-whispers to her 
mentor. "Besides, I hardly fought fall. Just wandered around, shepparding 
crews, and carrying a flamethower."

Kassima snorts slightly at Maylia, still amused. "You have odd ideas of 
what's relaxing, mentee mine."

Ro sees that everyone else is either unharmed or tended to, then 
disappears back into the infirmary.

Ro moves beneath the rocky overhang that protects the Infirmary entrance.