|
|
Post by maiwolf on Mar 11, 2009 22:13:38 GMT -6
Astoth said Ilayria wants you to take the wings out to the South today and find someone.
“What?”
Yes, she wants us to capture and, or kill—
“No, I meant ‘what’ as in, why hadn’t she said something like that last night?”
Oh, should I ask her?
“No, that would be rude.”
So?
Silence
B’oone?
“Tell the wings to get ready for a skirmish.”
Yes, B’oone. All wings report to the Eye Rock ready for battle. We will be attacking the South.
“Very to the point.” B’oone said, mounting his dragon. “To our weyr so we can get ready.”
B’oone loved Ilayria, he really did, but sometimes he had to disagree with her on-the-spot fight plans. The large Bronze landed in his weyr and B’oone helped put on the various riding pieces. Then the two disappeared between and ended up at Eye Rock. When the dragons from all wings had appeared, he quickly told them what they were going to do—there would be a skirmish and they were to try and find and take, or kill, a dragonrider named R'lyn. Then B’oone raised his hand after telling Brennanth to show the dragons where they were going.
The man lowered his hand and a score of dragons disappeared between.
B’oone and Brennanth were the first to appear. The bronze, in anticipation for a fight, bugled, flaring his wings. They were high in the air, but below them, there were dragons already racing to meet them. Let them come! Brennanth blared in B’oone’s mind. B’oone felt himself beginning to smile. |
|
|
|
Post by stolenhart on Mar 12, 2009 10:09:25 GMT -6
They come!, Castogath roared loudly, shaking the foundations of the Weyr. Dragons to the defense. Like a hill of disturbed insects, the Weyr exploded in a frenzy of action. Firestone was hastily chewed by dragons as their riders harnessed them. Precious seconds were wasted as the Weyr was caught unawares.
Hold Lidal was not though, and the steady twang of ballistas and catapults began to ring through the air. Though a mindful dragon would never fall to those horrible weapons, the shower of fist size rocks kept the dragons out of the Hold's space, far enough away they could not flame the holds and dragons. Overholder Lidal took his place in the tower, directing the weapons as was his right.
"Tell them to get into the air. Down the bronzes, take prisoners", R'lyn shouted to Castogath as he dressed himself in flight leathers. Take prisoners! Into the air, the large bronze was at the center of a mass of humans, as the stench of firestone began to climb into the air. "Find me the Weyrleader", R'lyn ordered his dragon as the massive bronze launched himself into the air. Greens and blues converged on the massive bronze but Castogath batted them aside as if they were balls of yarn.
As one green came for him, the bronze let loose a bright plume of fire and the green screeched and dropped lower. Castogath climbed high into the air, letting his rider search for his enemy while the dragon kept them safe. There, the man spotted B'oone and Castogath gave a roar of triumph as he began to dive towards the invading bronze dragon.
|
|
|
|
Post by Femisis on Mar 12, 2009 11:40:20 GMT -6
Mine, mine, the order has gone out! There’s a skirmish coming! Meryldeth cried as she stood up, displacing Hers from where he was sitting against her side. I don’t like it.[/i]
“Neither do I, love.” R’nor replied with a heavy sigh as he stood up to put his book away and fetch his weapons and Meryl’s gear. “They know we don’t like to fight, so we’ll just hang back, alright? Someone else can kill that rider we’re looking for.” He grunted as he lifted the saddle onto the Green’s shoulders, snorting in amusement as she squirmed around beneath it to settle it better. She knew just how to cheer him up when he really needed it.
That is a good plan.[/i] Meryl agreed as she crouched to allow R’nor to mount. She wasn’t a large dragon by any means, but he needed a little boost to get on her shoulders.
Once mounted, R’nor sighed. “Let’s get this over with.” He said. With a nod, Meryl crouched, then leapt into the air with a sweep of her long wings. Once they joined their wing, sitting far at the back, the entire mass of dragons disappeared between, returning moments later.
They’re here.[/i] Meryl noted grimly as the rest of the wing dove to meet their opponents.
You know what to do, love. R’nor repled, patting the Green’s side before she, too, followed the rest of the wing into battle, making sure to avoid the brunt of the fighting for the time being.
-----
Marth had been restless all morning, pacing back and forth across the weyrledge, taking numerous trips to the pastures to terrorize the wherries, then come back with empty claws, and other trips took him deep into the ocean only for him to jump right back out and into the sky. Frankly, it was annoying H’dan beyond all reason despite his above average patience. “Marth, will you stop it? I don’t see any rising Greens about.” He replied flatly, shooting the Bronze a glare.
Something doesn’t feel right.[/i] The dragon replied firmly, still pacing back and forth. He was favoring his scarred foreleg, so H’dan simply assumed that his leg was bothering him. It happened sometimes, he knew, that injured extremities would pain a person, or dragon, from time to time, so he let the topic drop. Marth continued to pace, however. Just as H’dan’s patience had worn thin and he stood up to leave, the Bronze was at the weyrledge trumpeting his challenge to the skies.
“What is wrong with you?!” He snapped, instantly quieting as the faint echo of another bugle, this one far away and not at all familiar, reached his ears.
The North is here![/i] Marth roared, rearing up on his hind legs to loose another roar.
“Shardit…” H’dan growled as he turned to gather his gear. They were going to be hard pressed to fight back undermanned and unaware as they were, but they were going to fight as hard as they could. He was grateful that his new sword had been finished but days before as he belted it on and dragged Marth’s gear over to the eagerly awaiting Bronze. He seemed to be having trouble staying on the ground, impatient to get in the air and sink his fangs into the flesh of other dragons. “Steady… We don’t need any more injuries.” He reminded the dragon. While he stopped moving long enough to allow H’dan to saddle him, he was up in the air even before His had properly seated himself.
Murders![/i] Marth roared as he rocketed up into the sky, eager for battle, but H’dan held him back.
If we don’t wait for backup, they’ll tear us to pieces! He shouted, but relented as other dragons began to appear behind them. Go! He cried, directing Marth’s attention to where Castogath was aiming for, presumably the North’s Weyrleader. If he knew anything about battles, other dragons would follow if that was indeed their Weyrleader and R’lyn was going to need the support. That, and there was no way he could stay out of such a fight.
Marth didn’t need any prompting. Circling around behind Brennanth, he darted up toward the Northern Bronze with the goal of grabbing him by the tail to distract him, at the very least. No, he wanted blood, lots of it.
|
|
|
|
Post by saidaltam on Mar 12, 2009 13:10:42 GMT -6
T'rel had always been swift to respond to summonses. It was what made him a good dragonman. He had prided himself on that from his weyrling days. When Vijaith relayed the call to arms, therefore, he was swift to prepare, seeing the two quickly with their fellows. The passage between was swift, and the sight of the hold far below made a shudder dance up his spine. This was it. Fleetingly, he wondered if he would be going home, again, but thoughts like that were hardly going to help anyone or anything. The sight of the dragons of southern taking to the air to defend their home was almost awe-inspiring, and in that instant, T'rel felt himself humanizing them, but humanizing the enemy was a dangerous game. With a surge of will, he banished the thought. These were not men, he reminded himself, but foes. And with that, they were on them, and all thoughts were banished. ---------- Isiloth's fury surged through Siten, catching the woman's attention sharply. She rarely felt such rage from her dragon. More often, it was cool disdain or icy pride. To feel fury such as this startled her. "What the...?" Her head whipped around. :I told them to leave!:[/color] Isiloth snapped, voice filled as much with rage as her mind. :This place is not for them! Now they come, and they will kill my dragons! They will attack my Weyr! They do NOT belong here!:[/color] The words explained everything, and Siten felt a surge of concern, fear, and anger, pulling her own passions into play. The two fed swiftly off eachother, and for a moment, Siten feared that her control may escape her. She closed her eyes, locking down sharply, and fought to temper her emotions. 'Isiloth, watch from somewhere where they won't see you. Let me see what's happening. Stay out of sight. They will come after you, if they see you.'The gold didn't like it, but with as sharply as Siten was focusing at that moment, she did not protest, though she was still unquestionably enraged. |
|
|
|
Post by kusuri on Mar 12, 2009 16:58:31 GMT -6
((Can be anyone who wants to be a little jolted  )) At the deep roar of Castogath, the other bronze sprang to his feet.He shook the sand from his cradle off his hide and gave a tremendous bellow.Trembling all over in anticipation Hatath called desperately for His.Where was the wherry legged fool? But then he saw the man striding coolly toward him, a satisfied smirk in place and a swagger in his step.Other humans were scurrying like ants and here was this one calm man,reveling in the chaos.The great bronze was almost awed and shuddered his soft hide. They didn't talk,there was no need.They were old hands,they knew what to do.Hatath lay down and the heavy leather straps were thrown upon his back and buckled.D'mon set a small pile of stone for the dragon to chew and so he did,eyes closed,mastication thoughtful.Finally his eyes flew open,flaring red,bleeding orange, and the lithe man was upon his beast's back as the great wings beat for the air. Hatath flew past intruding greens and blues,jaws snapping idly.He dipped and spun,performed wing overs and corkscrews.Greens and blues were plentiful,but they wore out fast.It was the bronzes and browns they had to fight,for the South had few of the great males themselves, and every metallic hide was needed against this northern malice. So the bronze flew upward,climbing toward those hated hides,aware with every wing beat that his position was inferior and that he was at a disadvantage.He bugled to get their attention and the goateed man on his neck was spitting fury as shimmering copper Hatath collided with the nearest hide. |
|
|
|
Post by maiwolf on Mar 13, 2009 21:59:01 GMT -6
Brennanth saw many of the dragons that rose to fight in the beginning to be Bronzes and Browns. He could work with Bronzes and Browns. The large Bronze dove toward a Brown, hissing and roaring with anger. He managed to quickly down that Brown, or at least make him lower himself.
“From above and below!” B’oone yelled, out loud and to his dragon.
Brennanth quickly looked up to see Castogath plummeting toward him. Then he looked down to see Marth climbing very quickly. The Bronze knew they probably weren’t coordinating their attacks, and so folded his wings and barrel-rolled away. With any luck the two would jam into each other.
However, if they did not slam into each other, Brennanth had learned tricks of his own from B’oone, and he whirled upward, way higher than Castogath was now, and ultimately still higher than Marth, too. Htattath, Bronzerider heading toward you. [/b] The Weyrleader’s dragon bugled, and the small green and her rider saw who they were talking about. Evelie heard her dragon’s relayed message, and nodded. ‘ Alright, Htattath, show them what you’re made of.’ Htattath bugled, and raced forward, flipping around underneath the Bronze’s stomach. She flitted in and out, circling and doing figure eights underneath the larger dragon. She used her miniscule claws to try and slice away at his belly, and then Htattath fell away. ‘ Good job. Shall we rest?’ Only until we are needed again. I must keep my strength.[/b] [/blockquote] |
|
|
|
Post by kusuri on Mar 15, 2009 10:51:48 GMT -6
Hatath quickly winged away from his opponant,who dropped quickly toward the ground.The poor dragon was flying this way and that so that his unbalanced rider could gain purchase.Hatath huffed with satisfaction and was winging off when he saw a flash of green.
The small Northern dragon whipped around his belly quicker than the bronze could think,and suddenly the dragon could feel searing pain on his underside.The green had already flitted away as the great beast kicked under himself and squealed in pain.His soft belly was scored and the angry gashes gaped in the sun like thin hungry mouths.
Still squealing,Hatath was tempted to land,but His would have none of that.The forty year old quickly straightened out his mount and sent him after another Northern bronze, Vijiath of T'rel. Eyes bleeding red, Hatah quickly surged toward the other,maw gaping and he belched flame toward the other male,fury and pain making the usually laid back bronze reckless.
|
|
|
|
Post by stolenhart on Mar 15, 2009 17:00:37 GMT -6
Castogath hadn't caught the last gold at Southern without learning a few tricks of his own. As Brennanth went up, peeling away from the bronzes coming at him, Castogath barrel rolled out of the way. Hatath stay out of my way. Isiloth be quiet!, the bronze roared loudly, making sure those two particular dragons behaved themselves. Ease up old man, R'lyn chided his bronze as they rose up chasing the same thermal that Brennanth now rode. Castogath was rising up and down in the sky, he knew the Southern thermals like he knew his rider's scent, it was easy to catch up on the Northern Weyrleader.
Stand and fight you mangy cur!, Castogath sent the bronze as he reached forward to take a bite out of the younger dragons tail. See if you can foul a wing and force him to land. Perhaps we can get the other gold egg from Northern in exchange for their weyrleader, R'lyn sent his dragon who gave an approving growl and began to slowly work his way up Brennanth's length, heading for a wing.
|
|
|
|
Post by Femisis on Mar 15, 2009 18:52:59 GMT -6
Frowning as Brennanth flew up out of their reach, H’dan cursed and checked Marth’s flight as they followed on the same updraft. He heard Hatath’s pained squealing, but forced himself to ignore it. He knew that he would lose his resolve if he listened, as it was all too reminiscient of when Marth was wounded. Marth, ask Castogath where he wants us. H’dan said. He wanted to be in this fight, but once too many dragons got involved, their presence would cause more harm than help and they couldn’t afford to lose any Bronzes.
If you say so…[/i] Marth grumbled sourly as he loosed a plume of flame at a rather vicious looking Blue. He dodged, but didn’t make it any further as the Bronze tore his throat out. Where do you want us?[/i] Marth asked Castogath, winging away to the left to keep the other Bronze in sight in case he was called upon to aid in the capture of the North’s Weyrleader.
|
|
|
|
Post by stolenhart on Mar 17, 2009 14:25:10 GMT -6
Don't distract me Marth, keep the smaller dragons off of me, Castogath ordered the younger bronze as he veered away from a crosswind. He rolled back under Brennanth and found a thermal, and shot up towards his counterparts stomach. Hang on mine, the bronze sent to R'lyn.
Warning sent the bronze rolled and shoot just under Brennanth, raking his claws near his stomach hoping for a solid score. Then he tilted down and dived away, Southern streamers floating out behind him as he dashed back into the fray that was the skirmish.
|
|
|
|
Post by saidaltam on Mar 18, 2009 14:19:14 GMT -6
T'rel hated skirmishes. Dragons were too large for this sort of thing. It was dangerous, not only to the combatants, but to any unfortunates below. It didn't help that, because of Vijaith's size, he was slow, even for a bronze, despite his steadiness. It set T'rel's nerves on edge.
It was, perhaps, because of that that he noticed Hatath and D'mon winging toward them, and swiftly urged Vijaith to move. The dragon, mimicking a maneuver from Htattath's flight, dropped a wingtip sharply to whip around, but he was not built for speed the way that the small green was, and while the turn was faster than his norm, it was nothing like fast enough, and though he managed to avoid being rammed, he didn't manage to dodge the other dragon's flame entirely. Savage burning raked down his side, and he squealed, reeling in shock.
"Come on, Vi, up! Falling won't fix it! Up and finish this, and we'll get you to a healer, c'mon, c'mon," T'rel intoned softly, mentally and verbally urging the dragon.
It was a long, terse moment before Vijaith stabilized himself properly, but once he did, borrowing T'rel's focus, he wheeled around, looking for the bronze who'd flamed him. Seeing Vijaith's direction, T'rel furrowed his brow and tightened his grip on the straps. It was a foolhardy maneuver, and he was not happy about it, but he knew better than to argue.
The bronze threw himself into a short dive, then whipped upwards again, using his momentum to give him the speed that he otherwise lacked and aiming for where he roughly anticipated Hatath's wing would be, when he reached there. It was a very coarse estimate, but he was hoping that, barring taking out the other's wing, he might at least shed him of his pennants and force him to land to avoid being shot from the sky by his own weapons. Anything to take another bronze out of the sky.
--------------
Isiloth was not happy, but she was not stupid, either, and with Siten's mind locking down on their shared rage, she was strangely compliant despite that. Still, hers would hear about this, in painful detail, even if she kept the words private so that no other could.
And she did. Almost as soon as the idea occurred to her, she launched into a thorough tirade in the privacy of Siten's mind. The woman didn't reply, back pressed against the nearest wall and eyes closed tightly as she worked on slowly piecing down her dragon's fury and her own into smaller, more manageable packages and disposing of it a little at a time. It was a time-consuming process and not aided at all by Isiloth's ranting, but it spared them the problem of her interfering where she was neither needed nor wanted.
:They cut one of my bronzes!:[/color] she complained to Siten, catching the girl's attention sharply. :I have too few as it is, and that stupid green cut one! And now, they're going after another one! And the same one! Mine, I want to tell them to go. I am not pleased and they do not belong.:[/color]
:Stay out of it, Isiloth,: Siten snapped, distracted from her task, and the girl moved swiftly to look skyward, brow furrowing darkly and eyes flashing. They had done nothing, this time, and the north acted against them? This was no case of southern pride doing harm! This was purely northerners and their domineering attitudes. The thought only served to anger her more, which brought her back to herself, and she moved back to the wall, closing her eyes tightly and resuming her task as Isiloth parroted her own thoughts back at her.
|
|
|
|
Post by kusuri on Mar 18, 2009 18:59:34 GMT -6
D'mon was red faced and yelling mentally and orally as the dragon shot by the other bronze.
You fool! You wher-brained idiot! Do not act in anger! You could have got us killed! That was the dumbest thing I ever-
My flame scorched his flesh.
The dragon stated smugly,unaware that the painful squeal had stopped and that the other dragon was diving back toward him.D'mon was still spluttering but saw a shadow rocketing closer.The man looked up and yelled at his mount,but too late,the blow struck and wings fouled, Hatath plummeted toward the earth.The dragon gave a terrified bellow,his wings snapping around,trying to catch the air beneath the membranes and slow his fall.Green ichor splattered the fighting dragons as he fell down,down,down. D'mon saw his worthless life flash before his eyes and almost gave in to what he believed was his death.All at once,the great dragon's membranes flared and he cupped the air,rising again rapidly.But at a price.His wing sockets were badly sprained and he had a pulled shoulder.The dragon was ready to go back into the fray, wings straining and trembling, but D'mon ordered the bronze down.
You heard the old man. We're useless now.You're too beat up now to do much good.
The dragon's mind stirred,as if to protest,but the steady throbbing of the dragon's various injuries stopped him.Sighing,the beast released his cupped air gradually until his hind feet touched the earth.With prodding from his rider,the dragon sent a tired report to the Weryleaders,hurt pride audible in his tone.
Hatath and D'mon out with wing and body injuries.Took down a bronze and blue.
D'mon patted his mount reassuringly and then directed them both Between,straight into the hands of competent Healers.
|
|
|
|
Post by kat on Mar 22, 2009 17:25:22 GMT -6
Z'ayn didn't think when he fought, he merely did. The thinking part was done before battle, to prepare him for any and all mishaps and situations. Then, by the time he and Kilzanth entered the actual fighting, they worked like a well oiled machine.
Brown to your right, blue to the Southeast, came the silent instructions. Kilzanth responded by suddenly winging sharply to the right, smashing into the much smaller brown and then suddenly backwinging and doing a one eighty to face the blue, shooting a flame right at him, sending, the brownrider draws a bow. To the left.
Z'ayn didn't like to kill if he didn't have to. Still, those who rode and used bows were dangerous. He drew his crossbow and shot a bolt for the brown's flank, fitting another in a lightning quick movement and pointing it straight at the rider's head. As he expected, the bolt hit and the brown gave a bellow of pain, dropping down lower as he focused on a pair of greens coming at them. Greens, in his opinion, were perhaps deadliest of all. Bronzes were slower and he and Kilzanth could deal with most of them together, same with the browns. But greens and sometimes blues were just that much quicker and therefore required both of them to fight.
You know what to do.
Kilzanth did, and dropped like a rock, as Z'ayn aimed upwards with the crossbow, and fired at the larger of the greens, always aiming to hit somewhere damaging but not vital. He missed. He fit another two bolts, firing in succession, and this time one hit the larger green, though the smaller was dropping after them. Brace yourself, came the warning, as Kilzanth waited until the green was almost atop them, before he suddenly snapped open his wings, flipped upside down, and snapped his long, powerful tail in her face. The green shot a small flame, but in her surprise it went awry and barely missed the pair.
Kilzanth took off again, upwards now, the smaller green being occupied quite suddenly with a blue. This was battle, and this was retaliation. He didn't question it but he didn't have to like the idea of killing man or dragon. He considered it more of a matter of defending himself and his own dragon, and the North. That way if someone forced him to make a killing wound, he could still sleep at night...or at least most of the time...
|
|
|
|
Post by maiwolf on Mar 24, 2009 18:28:54 GMT -6
Brennanth flared his wings to keep his height. He saw Castogath bank and climb toward him. B’oone-mine, the Bronze is coming. B’oone spotted him, and was slightly put off that there was only one Bronze chasing him and Brennanth now. But it was Castogath, and they were sent to kill and/or take Castogath and his rider hostage.
Castogath quickly caught up to the duo. He tried desperately to bite the younger dragon’s tail, but Brennanth dipped quickly, becoming lower than the other Bronze. He did feel a slight tear on his tail, but nothing more. Then Brennanth rolled and flapped his wings quickly, gaining height. He scraped my tail. [/b] Brennanth confirmed, feeling the wind ripple across the rendered skin. B’oone laughed, but his laugh was lost in the wind. ‘ That’s all they got?’ Then Castogath bolted at them from below. Be warned. They are coming below.[/b] Brennanth cautioned, but stayed there. ‘ What are you doing? Take evasive action!’ But Brennanth did not listen. He just kept the height, and watched as Castogath neared. As soon as Castogath was within clawing distance, the Bronze pushed his wings powerfully downward, hoping to send the Bronze falling. At the same time he was pushed upward. But Castogath’s claws had still scored him. Castogath would pay. With the loudest bugle Brennanth had given other than the one he had given when he won Astoth. He folded his wings about him and dropped like a stone. He hurtled down to Castogath, and clawed (or attempted to, since there is no god-moding!) the Bronze’s back first, then rolling forward to his front. His tail narrowly missed R’lyn. ‘ Flame him! Flame him!’ B’oone cried, leaning forward. Brennanth opened his mouth… And a large flame enveloped Castogaths’ right wing. [/blockquote] |
|
|
|
Post by stolenhart on Mar 24, 2009 18:40:30 GMT -6
Castogath roared in victory as he slashed Brennanth's stomach. He tried to drop away and was caught up by a quick green coming at him, keeping him from moving. It wasn't but a moment later that pain slashed through both Castogath and R'lyn. Brennanth had not only connected with the bronze, ripping and tearing muscles but he'd managed to catch R'lyn in a claw as well. Land, the Weyrleadr commanded his dragon.
Inflamed with pain and anger Castogath refused, charging straight at the young bronze, green ichor falling away from him as he flew. R'lyn saw the bronze open his mouth, saw the other rider's face set in determination and knew what was coming. Betwe...., but he as too late. Castogath's wing became a useless pile of blisters and torn skin. The smell was like so much cooking meat. Mine!, Castogath bellowed mentally and verbally. Dragons froze as the great bronze gave a chilling death keen before flipping between.
All dragons to the Weyrleader, no mercy!, came the deep and deadly mindvoice of another bronze dragon. Every Southern dragon fell out of whatever battle they were in, joining forces in a large wing that would be devasting to any dragon caught before it. It was a veritable wall of flame. Greens and blues came shooting out of it, headed for only one dragon. The only one that mattered now. Brennanth. If they could, they would repay the loss of their Weyrleader in the only way the Southerners knew how. With blood and death.
|
|
|
|
Post by Femisis on Mar 24, 2009 19:30:23 GMT -6
For a long while, H'dan and Marth had been weaving in and out of the dragons, fighting smaller battles that they were determined to win. They were mostly picking off the smaller Blues and Greens, though they fought without mercy when one of the larger dragons sought to challenge them. So far, they'd won every battle, but not without injury. Three long gashes lay along Marth's flank, dripping ichor everywhere, but they weren't bad enough to force the lithe Bronze to the ground. They wouldn't leave the sky unless faced with life-threatening injury, and maybe even then it would be difficult to get them out of the action. They were oblivious to anything but the here and now, but things weren't going as smoothly as they'd thought.
It wasn't until a split second before it happened that Marth winged about to give both rider and dragon a front row seat to the torching of Castogath's wing. Eyes widening in horror, H'dan could only watch as the other Bronze fell, then went between. Mine...[/i] Marth trailed off, voice shocked, but slowly building toward rage. Those MURDERS! When would they be satsfied with the death that they caused?! He let out a furious roar as the call was sent up, diving as he went to join the newly formed wing. He was going to take the murderer!
Steady, Marth. H'dan said, though he was having a difficult time keeping his voice steady. He certaily hadn't been good friends with R'lyn, but this was unforgivable. Still, they'd be lost without any Bronzes at all, and with D'mon and his beast already out and Marth injured. They might just have to retreat. All he knew was that Marth wouldn't be the only crippled dragon after this. Don't do anything foolish. You don't want to be hurt again, do you?
The thought of further pain sobered Marth quickly, though he wasn't any less angry at the Northern Weyrleader. Alright. Watch my back.[/i] The Bronze ordered before breaking away from the pack to get underneath Brennanth. It was risky business, though if he had timed it right, the other Bronze would have been too preoccupied with the renewed force that was gathered against him and his Weyr. Quickly dispatching a Green with his claws, he flipped over on his back and, with a great deep breath, flamed with all his might at the Northern Weyrleader, hoping that he'd be distracted just long enough so that he'd be reduced to a pile of ash.
|
|
|
|
Post by maiwolf on Mar 25, 2009 16:45:22 GMT -6
’Okay, stop.’ B’oone cried, and watched as, almost as if in slow motion the flame recessed. Nearly a moment had passed and during that time Castogath had called his last goodbye. B’oone saw clearly the wing and the dragon’s pained expression. Castogath and his rider disappeared forever. B’oone felt only a second or two of sadness, but the battle had been won. R’lyn had died. Brennanth let loose another bugle. B’oone’s elation, though, quickly died. Brennanth quickly betweened away from the battle before the South knew that Castogath had died.
‘Brennanth, tell everyone to converge behind us.’ B’oone commanded. When the Bronze did not listen, he hit him with a closed fist, and angrily repeated his command. Then Brennanth realized why B’oone had said that. The South was trying to kill them. All Northern dragons! Converge behind me, be ready to flame! [/b] B’oone would not let himself get killed like R’lyn had gotten killed. ‘ Brennanth, you must listen to what I say and relay the commands precisely! Do you want to end up like Castogath, because I sure don’t want to end up like R’lyn!’ Brennanth hastily nodded, What plan have you?[/b] B’oone felt his mouth crack into a smile. ‘ No plan, but a prank.’ The wings of the North—much larger than the South in some ways but smaller in others—converged behind Brennanth. The large Bronze dragon seemed small, miniscule, compared to the wing behind him. What prank will we play?[/b] Brennanth asked his rider while saying, Hold the line to the large wing behind him. B’oone’s grin widened. ‘ You know the one with the mirrors?’ Brennanth could have laughed out loud, if, our course, he wasn’t so interested in the approaching mob. Of course I know the mirrors prank.[/b] ‘ Then relay the coordinates. Make sure there’s an equal number of wings at all four points.’ Brennanth only took a moment to survey his surroundings. Then, determinedly, he nodded. The images he were going to send were to be where the wings came out of between. To the Golden Warriors’ Wingleader, H'zu of bronze Erusth, he sent the view thus following: the sky, only the Southern dragons were flying to the left towards the Northern wing. To the Honor Warriors’ Wingsecond, T'rel of Bronze Vijaith (B’oone and Brennanth were the Wingleaders, and could not waver from this spot), he sent this: the sky, only the South’s dragons were flying away from them, as if fleeing. They would be stationed behind the large wing. To Scarlet Warriors’ Wingleader, Z'ayn of bronze Kilzanth, he relayed this: the South was flying to the right, towards Brennanth. The Gold and Low Sweep wings would stay behind with B’oone and Brennanth… for extra protection. When he was sure the Wingleaders had relayed the information he called to all Northern dragons, Converge [go between] upon the enemy when the leader’s arm falls.[/b] Thusly meaning, fly forward when B’oone gave the signal. Don’t forget to flame, and don’t let anyone escape above or below![/b] They would create a box, an impenetrable box that Brennanth knew was failsafe. If they went between to another place, then the box would follow them, and the box would slowly get smaller if they betweened in smaller groups. The Northern dragons were more than the Southern ones. South would not prevail.[/blockquote] B'oone raised his arm... then let it drop. |
|
|
|
Post by stolenhart on Mar 28, 2009 22:13:52 GMT -6
F'shr and Voracth saw the plan of attack the North was taking and the great bronze loosed a roar in frustration. Easy old man, F'shr checked left and right and nodded. The wings were well-trained, coming into wings with him and Voracth. Except the North wasn't playing nice. Well if they want to do it that way, the rider thought to himself. Send the wings to Lidal. If the North wants us they can fight the weapons for us, he ordered his reluctant bronze.
Voracth shot a plume of fire into the air and dutifully sent to his dragons, Pull back to Lidal Hold. Let the cowards contend with the weapons. Every dragon in the south was treated to a demonstration of the weapons upon a helpless beast, they knew what those warmachines could do and remembered. Did the Northern dragons press their attack, their banners would give them away and Lidal would launch the weapons. Many a dragon had been brought to earth by those dangerous machines.
|
|
|
|
Post by kat on Mar 30, 2009 20:32:00 GMT -6
Z'ayn grimaced as he watched his Weyrleader's dragon bring down the Southern Weyrleader's bronze. It was war, plain and simple, but that didn't mean he liked it. He had read of a time when all dragons mourned the death of another of their kind. Now, dragons killed other dragons--would it always be so? He had hardened himself to the deaths of others, because they were Southern, they were the enemy. It was how it was, and the South would have no remorse if its dragons brought down one of theirs. So, he could only fight with his own bronze and pray the same fate didn't befall him and Kilzanth.
At the order from B'oone, he had no choice but to comply. It was strategy, and strategy he knew. Still, the South was outnumbered, and they might easily see what B'oone was about. The Scarlet Warrior's wing was his to command, but sometimes he didn't like that he felt he was ordering them into a situation that might cost them lives or further endangerment. This, however, would force the Southerners to back off. They would see they were outnumbered--or they'd be boxed in and attacked from all sides. It wasn't a bad plan, just it seemed to him to lack a sense of honor. And lo and behold, the Southerners were backing away already. Still, he pressed on to follow the command of B'oone as best he could, coming in fast with Kilzanth in the lead of the formation, forming a wall...it wasn't going to work if they Southerners were already alerted. Still, they might box in some, but still...
Tell them to keep an eye on their backs! Some of the dragons retreat, don't leave our backs open to attack! Kilzanth was already on it, and sent to their wing, An eye in front and an eye behind, dragons! Do not give them opportunity to attack your tail ends! The message relayed, they kept formation, trying to capture what dragons they could who might not have flown so fast or caught on to their plan. Z'ayn kept his own eyes both ahead and behind, ready to warn his Wing of any approaching threat. It was caution that was the better part of his judgment oftentimes. The mostly unmarred hide of Kilzanth said as much.
|
|
))