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Harper's Tale 2 - Tuesday, May 14, 2002, 4:23 PM
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Training Grounds
The marks of thousands of claws give testament to the shuffling of the young dragons that have torn up what little grass once grew in this corner of the bowl. Tucked in between the feeding pens to the south and the curve of the Weyrleader's complex, the training grounds are home to daily exercises and classes, all taking place well out of the way of the hectic bustle of the rest of the bowl. Cut deep into the cliff face, the large, covered openings leading into the extensive weyrling barracks rise high over the heads of any who come near, although the height of the caldera's spindles far above cast their own reaching shadows across the hard packed earth.
It is an autumn midmorning.
To the west, you see a gold dragon.
To the southeast, you see a Brown dragon.
Soaring high overhead are four firelizards.
Green Vespurath, green Miravith, blue Tsulryth, green Zhesteth, green Imbriath, blue Urzketh, blue Kihaelth, and brown Sidramuntalath are here.
You see LlamaMama here.
Fyria, Tevya, and Sii'kyn are here.
Obvious exits:
Weyrling Barracks     Northern Bowl     Pens     Fly

Slithering down the straps-ladder, Wyn slides from Vorkoroth's neck and gently touches earth.

Sii'kyn slinks forwards. "I haven't had my new ones checked, no, ma'am - but N'zgul and V'der need theirs checked, too, if you want them in the class." He pauses, clicks his heels together, and snaps off a salute, and unwraps his straps. "Mind checkin' 'em, ma'am?" Innocence.

Hyzen, glancing towards the ground far below, slips down the smooth hide of Imbriath and towards the ground with help of lifted paw.
Hyzen slides down Imbriath's shoulder after unstrapping herself. Dusting leathers off, she nods sharply at the three weyrlings. "Fine. Sii'kyn, let me have your's first." Greenrider reaches out and lightly takes the new straps, lips pursing slowly. Running them through her hands, she gives them a good tug in several spots. A sniff of them is taken, the stitching eyed critically before she hands them back with a grin. "Very well done, Sii'kyn. I'm glad you learned your lesson." The other two weyrling's straps are taken and given the same treatment before they are handed back as well. "Good job. Now place them on your dragons."

Vorkoroth senses Hyzen looking at him.

Fyria laughs softly as she tightens the straps around Urzketh's neck. "There...well done, love. Ready for some serious flying?" She turns to give Hyzen a quick glance, as well as the others while she scritches the blue's neck gently.

"See Kihaelth? I told you they're just fine." Tevya comments, giving Kihaelth's straps one last tug. "That and they look great on you. I had to stay up all night long last night to get them finished." Neckridges are given a quick caress before Tevya turns to offer Fyria a grin, "How's Urzketh liking his straps Fy?"

Hyzen, with the kindly help of a delicate forelimb, manages to pull themself up Imbriath's straps and betwixt ridges of star-kissed emerald.

Urzketh's wings extend, neck arching proudly. Eyes turn on Fyria, glittering with jeweled happiness. We fly now.
Urzketh's crystalline eyes whirl with excitement as he watches Fyria scramble up to settle between amethyst-edged neckridges.

Kihaelth watches as Tevya hops onto Kihaelth's outstretched forelimb, before getting a boost onto %

Wyn has been here all along. Honest. Because, after all, Wyn and Vorkoroth would never be nearly-late for a /lesson/. Ignore the fact that both blue and rider are slightly out of breath, and slightly less spit-and-polish than the norm. But Vorkoroth's straps, at least, are right and proper, Wyn polishing a spot off one of the buckles with her sleeve before quickly mounting.

With the courtly offer of a foreleg, you alight upon Vorkoroth's neck. Good to go.

Vorkoroth [Training Grounds]
Sleek, clean lines are traced in tarnished steel, gleaming bright against the secretive navy of his hide. Form follows function in the simplicity of his face, neither overly snub nor equine-long, eyeridges hooded slightly over unsettling gaze and headknobs contoured close to a short, broad neck. A noble filigree, feathered like a crest of honor, hides in the surreptitious shadows of low-dipping neckridges and sneaks across boxy shoulders and swell of breast. There is only slight narrowing at his waist, leaving his short tail to taper abruptly to its fork, efficient and slick. Thickset limbs plunge into polished boot-black around his paws, silver starlight in his talons tiptoeing in the comet-streaked heavens of wings.
The faint glitter of oil gilds the glossy darkness of a fine pair of riding straps. Looped securely about neckridges, and fastened with military precision by gleaming polished steel buckles, the leather is dyed in a deep and unrelieved shade of midnight blue, wool padding dyed cromcoal black and fitted with a uniformity that speaks more of a desire for symmetry than a need for protection from the supple hide. Straps in the colours of High Reaches deserve the full appearance of livery, after all.
Vorkoroth seems to be listening.

Sii'kyn straps Ram up, quickly and efficiently, glancing over at V'der and N'zgul, before shaking his head and beginning the long climb up. Up - up - up!
Sii'kyn is assisted up the dark stretch of Nothingness by a silver-touched talon, to settle firmly in betwixt Sidramuntalath's magma-cooled neckridges.

Entymeth and S'titch are present as well, off to one side, the green patently embarassed by the design and colouration of her new set of straps, although S'titch looks pleased with himself, in between long gazes over at Sii'kyn and V'der. N'zgul is scary! Like, so /eeek/, lovies.

Betwixt Imbriath's absinthe ridges and creamy straps, Hyzen watches the other weyrlings before she mounts gracefully back into her dragon's saddle. "Very well. If everyone is ready, mount up!" She waits to give them time to do so, keen eyes watching each mounting before she continues. "Formation flying is what you learned on the ground. Now, you're going to try it in the air. It's a bit trickier this way, since instead of just watching your sides, you have to watch above and below you as well. Hmm. We'll go in standard 'V' formation. Tevya, you're wingleader. Sii'kyn, right wingsecond; Wyn left wingsecond. I'll be behind Wyn and Fyria behind Sii'kyn. In the air, Kihaelth will take his commands from Imbriath and the rest of you will do as Kihaelth instructs. For this sense, he /is/ your wingleader and unless Imbriath pipes up, you listen /only/ to him. Understood?"

From Urzketh's neck, Fyria adjusts a buckle here, strap there --gives a little wiggle to her hips, then nods as she settles her helmet on her head, goggles pushed up on the helmet. "Ready when you are, Tev." She leans forward, giving Urzketh's shoulder a quick pat and gentle nudge. "Behind Ike and Sidramuntalath, love. There we go."

Kihaelth couldn't be any prouder as Tevya relays what is said to him. The blue puffing his stance up several inches while head swirves 'round him to survey all of the others. Tevya can only grin and shake her head, before swinging into place atop Kihaelth's neck. "Okay Kihaelth. Let's do this like we practiced on the ground. Be careful..dearling, please be careful." Customary scritches are delivered and Tevya offers Hyzen and Imbriath a nod and half salute, "Understood Assitant Weyrlingmaster." Kihaelth then manages to lumber into position, Tevya offering Fyria a grin as she passes by her, "Kihaelth is so loving this. This can't be good."

Urzketh sidles over behind the brown, nose briefly twitching. wings arch proudly, then settle again as he crouches, ready to launch himself skyward.

Wyn runs a hand along the nearest of Vorkoroth's 'ridges in a long and calm stroke, before tossing off a salute to Hyzen. "You heard the lady, Vor." she notes simply, tugging her riding gloves more firmly into place with a pair of delicate pinches and pulls. Vorkoroth heard all right, haunches tensing and wingsails rustling slightly in a preflight check, all business now, even if Entymeth is given a sympathetic little rumble.

From between a pair of Sidramuntalath's starstruck, magma-touched ridges, Sii'kyn gives a light nod, buckling himself in fully, and checking his helmet clip. "Understood," he murmurs lightly, gazing up at the sky for a long moment or five. He swivels to glance back at Fyria for a moment, before glancing at Tevya and Kihael wryly. So, Ike and Ram settle, ready for action.

Betwixt Imbriath's absinthe ridges and creamy straps, Hyzen watches the weyrlings assemble into the formation, lips quirking slightly into a grin. "Remember your spacing! No flaming the dragon in front of you now!" That would be bad. Hand patting the ridge in front of her, she awaits until all are settled. Imbriath shifts slightly backwards to keep a proper distance between her and Vorkoroth. Making sure everyone is ready, she straps herself in and goggles are lowered over her eyes.

Entymeth, not having heard her name mentioned, but being the brains of her weyrling pair, decides that she must be assigned one of the positions near the back. And moves into place accordingly, despite S'titch's nattering on that "Oooh, Entymeth lovie, they really didn't say where we were to go... I think she really means us to stay on the /ground/, yes?? And not go flying?" An odd pleading tone. Could S'titch be scared of heights?

Betwixt Imbriath's absinthe ridges and creamy straps, Hyzen belatedly motions towards the remaining weyrlings. "The rest of you take spaces behind Imbriath and Urzketh."

Tevya waits until she's sure every rider is ready, every dragon is in place..everything is as it should be. And then there's a doublecheck before she gives Kihaelth a pat and raises her arm into the air. "Let's go!" Left hand grips the straps as Kihaelth shifts his position, legs tensing underneath him, and then the pair are sky born and gaining altitude. "Watch out for them below Kihaelth. Make sure they don't run into one another."

<Local> Vorkoroth senses that Kihaelth thinks << ;'s command comes with a sudden burst of color, and bold voice. << Weyrlings rise! >> >>

From between a pair of Sidramuntalath's starstruck, magma-touched ridges, Sii'kyn gives a nod, and they are good to go - up, up, up!

Sidramuntalath coils and then bursts upwards into flight.
Above, Sidramuntalath bursts up from the bowl below.
From Urzketh's neck, Fyria quickly drops her goggles down over her eyes and giving Tevya a thumbs up, tickles Urk's neckridges. "Let's do it, love!"
Kihaelth coils and then bursts upwards into flight.
Above, Kihaelth bursts up from the bowl below.
Imbriath coils and then bursts upwards into flight.
Above, Imbriath bursts up from the bowl below.

New wings or old, they work because suddenly you are airborne.
Above the Training Grounds
Weyrling pairs have trampled the ground below into the hard-packed training grounds: ash pits near the pens, targets on the walls, the occasional loose Weyrling out of control here in the gentle thermals. The Weyr curves north towards large ledges and the Hatching Grounds beyond, and south towards pens and lake. What ledges are occupied here are high above the noise and smell of the Weyrs' youngest riders.
It is an autumn midmorning.
Below, you see five dragons.
Brown Sidramuntalath, blue Kihaelth, and green Imbriath are here.
Obvious exits:
Up     Training Grounds     Central Bowl     Northern Sky     Northwest     Ledges

From the training grounds, Urzketh coils and then bursts upwards into flight.
Urzketh bursts up from the bowl below.

<Local> Vorkoroth senses that Imbriath thinks << Make sure to check your wing. You have to correct those that did not launch with the rest and make sure they're all still in proper position. When we are ready, you may take us higher. >>
<Local> Vorkoroth senses that Imbriath thinks << As we rise, circle slowly towards the right and upwards. Keep them in formation as we do so. >>

Vorkoroth arrows up from the bowl, his personal liking for swift, speedy launches designed to leave one's breakfast somewhere back on the ground tempered to a more sedate rise as he attempts to keep pace with the rest of the formation. Tempered with a bit of reluctance one might guess, from the vaguely impatient flicker in whirling eyes and the bemused look on Wyn's face, even with eyes semi-unfocused in order to keep a firm mental grip on any showboating.

<Local> Vorkoroth senses that Kihaelth's next order of business is to reply to those who were not correct on the liftup. Kihaelth knew who they were, afterall. The trailing greens in the far back are corrected first, << Do not dip your wings; and have yours watch for the commands of Mine. >> A gentle reassurance that soon washes into a reminder for all of the group, << Watch your spacing. Do not fly into the others. Ask if you aren't sure. >> Imbriath's commands passing through, Kihaelth interpreting them before passing them on, << Keep in close formation. On Mine's signal and mine, we go higher. >>

From Urzketh's neck, Fyria glances briefly down at the bowl as it falls farther away, finally twisting her gaze back upon the others. She adjusts her grip on the straps slightly, eyes instinctively narrowed against the onrush of wind despite her goggles. And through it all, she grins like a feline.

Urzketh throws himself skyward, angling just slightly ot of formation as he overbalances slightly. he gives a chirp as he manages to strike balance, and minds his spacing.

Betwixt Imbriath's absinthe ridges and creamy straps, Hyzen easily stays in formation-- considering her turns on doing so-- all the while head swiveling this way and that to check up on the weyrlings. They were /her/ responsibility, you know. Wings lazily fan the air, keeping her level with those before and behind her. Hyzen watches as well, one hand lightly gripping her straps while the other rests upon leg. Helmeted head is turning with her dragon's, keeping an eye out as well.

Sidramuntalath gets dizzy with all those Mine and mine's, but indeed keeps with the pack, although his long wings - muscled for fast, long flight - itch to take him higher and far off. Ike snaps his goggles down, finally, and shifts Ram slightly over, right into perfect formation. Hey, they practiced this on the ground so much, that they'd /better/ have it perfect.

"EEEEeeentyyymetttttthhhhh!!" comes the Wail Of The Weaverboy as the agile green in question attempts to catch up with the boys, tomboy streak refusing to admit that she surrenders anything to them besides a few feet in length. S'titch's hands aren't fluttering for once. No, they're locked in a deathgrip on Ent's neckridges, even as the greenling settles into a smooth poisition in the formation.

Kihaelth rises steadily with the remainder of his wing; eyes whirling quickly as he takes his position seriously. Straying wing members are given instant correction, Kihaelth directing them where to go, before he checks positions once more. Double-cautious as ever, Kihaelth doesn't move on until everyone is looking alert and in position. Tevya watching as well, waiting until she gets the go-ahead from Kihaelth before raising her arm once more, shouting, "Let's go up!" The wailing Weaverboy is given a glance as Kihaelth raises, Kihaelth offering a rumble to the green. And..up they go.

Kihaelth pushes their way upwards through wind and thermals.
Sidramuntalath pushes their way upwards through wind and thermals.
Imbriath pushes their way upwards through wind and thermals.

Past ledge and rock to Star Stones and higher still, you circle up past even the Spires themselves.
Above High Reaches
Quite, quite high, nothing braves these heights but stone and dragon and cloud; the Star Stones jut dutifully above the Weyr proper, flayed by the mountain winds that are consistant at this altitude whilst the rest spreads below, protected by its crown of jagged stone spires'-teeth.
It is an autumn midmorning.
To the southeast, you see a blue dragon.
Gliding around are four firelizards.
Blue Kihaelth, brown Sidramuntalath, and green Imbriath are here.
Obvious exits:
Weyr     Over The Mountains     Star Stones     Weyrling Air

Urzketh battles up from the Weyrling grounds far, /far/ below.

Wyn laughs quietly to herself as Vorkoroth spots Ram's precision, and decides that it must be matched even more so. So, even as the wing rises again, the blue redoubles his efforts to hold steady off the port and starboard of Kihaelth, and a mirror image of Sidramuntalath. So far, so good, so long as some evil thermal doesn't decide to cause trouble.

From Urzketh's neck, Fyria eeks slightly at the sudden power felt from Urzketh's upthrust into the higher elevations above the weyr. She adjusts her goggles slightly, noting the positions of the other wingmembers and keenly watching Tevya for her next signals. "Alright Urk --here we go!" Of course, no one can hear her --call it a force of habit for her to talk.

<Local> Vorkoroth senses that Imbriath thinks << Since you all have been practicing flying and are stronger than the first time you flew your riders, you may now advance above and beyond the star stones. Do not go too high, though, Hyzen says that the air is not breathable up there. Ask them to loosen the formation, putting two dragonlengths between themselves rather than one. Head over the mountains. >>

<Local> Vorkoroth senses that Kihaelth offers a ripple of approval for those in 'his' wing; flickering highlights of golds and greens that tumble along with his words, << Good. >> A singular word that is offered, and Kihaelth is once more back to watching and directing. His words then changing to strong orders once more, << Do not go too high. Stay at this level. Put two dragonlengths between yourselves, and then head over the mountains. >>

From between a pair of Sidramuntalath's starstruck, magma-touched ridges, Sii'kyn shakes his head lightly. Indeed, as Vor redoubles his own efforts, Ram's flying becomes stronger and more assured - thermals couldn't make the built brown move, he would have some believe. And then, he slips back, gliding with ease, adjusting to the two dragonlengths. Much harder to stay in perfect formation this loose, but it will work. Yes. Ike merely grins in the face of flying.

Imbriath angles her wings slightly, dropping back away from Vorkoroth after making sure the ones behind her were doing the same. So far, so good. She hasn't had to correct anything Kihaelth's instructed and none of the weyrlings were doing horrible in their flight. Proud of them, she is.

From Kihaelth's neck, Tevya retains her loose hold on Kihaelth's straps, while she turns her gaze to the obstacles ahead of her, and to the right. "Double check your position Kihaelth.. Make sure the others know where you are, dearling." To which her lifemate offers the softest of rumbles as he does what he's told. Leaving the others under his scrutiny as he falls into place in the lead once more. A moment is given for the dragons to fall back an extra dragonlength, before Kihaelth angles his wings and heads towards the mountains, followed with Tevya's hand signal given to direct the others in that direction.

<Local> Vorkoroth senses that Imbriath's voice tickles through all the minds, showering with heavy pride and praise for 'her' weyrlings. << You fly well. Keep up the good work. >>

Urzketh sideslips to keep from bumping into Sidramuntalath, and settles down to the joy of thermal flight, careful to remain two dragonlengths behind the brown. He gives a trumpet of pure gleeful exhuberance. He has always flown well -- but this! This is better.

Wyn's smile is growing larger, although likely still unseen, as Vorkoroth rumbles, and continues his friendly little game of oneupmanship with Ram. As the order to disperse is given, not only does he slip back, but also makes it a diagonal move with a twitch of a wingsail, sliding back and outwards in a single motion. Hah. Showing off? Ohyeah.

<Local> Vorkoroth senses that Kihaelth thinks << When you are ready, turn towards the mountains. Keep the distance brothers and sisters. And watch your speed. No need to frighten Yours. >>

Kihaelth gains enough height to make it over the weyr wall, disappearing from sight.
Imbriath gains enough height to make it over the weyr wall, disappearing from sight.

<Local> Vorkoroth senses that Sidramuntalath's return of the comment of Imbriath's is the low, heavenly trickle of soft brandies and the full-bodied redness of a twenty-turn Benden Red. << We shall, >> he rumbles forth, before casting an affirmative smokering of faded shadows and fire at Kihaelth.

You rise up and cross over the weyr wall, moving out over the open land.
Above the Mountains
Swirling air flows buffet you from all sides, a culmination of the threads of many different weather patterns as you soar high above the Alpine Meadows, a rippling, shimmering sea of green beckoning from below. The blackness of volcanic rock cuts off your view of the weyr, though the Star Stones remain as a reference point, forever reaching for the stars.
Clean, cold, crisp air takes your breath away, flavoured with the tang of a myrriad of different aromas.
It is an autumn midmorning.
Below, you see three dragons.
To the southwest, you see a brown and a blue dragon.
Gliding around are two firelizards.
Blue Kihaelth and green Imbriath are here.
Obvious exits:
Alpine Meadows     Towards Tillek     Towards the Weyr
You are shocked by the increased winds that whip around you.

Sidramuntalath slices through the air in from the southwest.
Urzketh zig-zags in erratic fashion in from the southwest.

<Local> Vorkoroth senses that Imbriath thinks << You are a good wingleader, Kihaelth. Your dragons trust you, which is the most important thing in a wing. Now, we don't want to over stress you, so Hyzen wants us to land, in formation, in the meadows below us. Take us at a slight downward angle and to the left and land. >>

Speaking of frightened... S'titch is no longer shrieking. Nope, instead he's attempting to burrow deep into Entymeth's neckridges. And are his eyes closed? Yup. Buttoned tight, as a matter of fact. Entymeth seems unfazed, although the odd concerned little croon is aimed back at her rider. None of the /other/ weyrlings are making noises like that... is he ill?

<Local> Vorkoroth senses that Kihaelth offers commands once more, Kihaelth directing while showing what he wishes for his clutch siblings to do, << We must go down now. Land in formation in the meadows below. We'll angle to the left and then land. Watch your distances,>> And a partial rebuke to some of his fellow wingmates, << And your speed. Do not go fast if you can not stay in control. >>

From Kihaelth's neck, Tevya dips her head in a nod to Kihaelth's words, before turning to glance to her left and right. Shifting within her straps, she gives Kihaelth a gentle nudge with her knee before signaling to the rest of the wing to begin their descent. Everyone accounted for, Kihaelth will angle his wings to the left, before heading in a slow descent towards the grounds below.

Sidramuntalath almost yawns. Almost. Childs-play, really; as Kihael gives the order and turns into the manuver, he sideslips, keeping his angling between wingspar and nostril, indeed flying the angle instead of angling. And then, he twitches 'sails, and follows Kihae downwards. Down - down - down.

From Urzketh's neck, Fyria steels herself for the drop, having caught the orders from Urzketh, originally from Kihaelth. "Alrighty love...no death-defying antics, though, yes?" Fyria may have a steel stomach, but she /knows/ Hyzen has a steel will when it comes to discipline. No need to test that out again!

Betwixt Imbriath's absinthe ridges and creamy straps, Hyzen is watching critically, though her eyes can't be seen behind her goggles. Hehehe. She might be looking at Fyria... or Sii'kyn. Or even Wyn. You can never tell, can you? Imbriath bugles loudly as they begin to head downwards, her wings tucking and angling to bank through the air, keeping herself on level with the rest.

Urzketh snorts. He wouldn't dare have any antics, now would he? Wings flap, angling him as he slides downward, crooning assurance. He'll land alright, but he'll do it under protest.

Wyn checks the tightness of her straps as the order to descend is relayed. Ah, but it looks like, mercifully, Vorkoroth has decided that he's shown off enough for one flight, and concedes to the slow and easy pace being set, albeit with a private grumble that /really/ it would be much more effective to try these drills at speed, and of /course/ he's not getting tired. But still, down he goes, with an easy angling of wings.

Kihaelth drops down through the heavy winds to land in Alpine Meadows.
On the Upper Alpine Meadows below, Kihaelth lands gently despite the buffeting winds above.
Sidramuntalath drops down through the heavy winds to land in Alpine Meadows.
On the Upper Alpine Meadows below, Sidramuntalath lands gently despite the buffeting winds above.
Imbriath drops down through the heavy winds to land in Alpine Meadows.
On the Upper Alpine Meadows below, Imbriath lands gently despite the buffeting winds above.
You drop down through buffeting thermals.

Upper Alpine Meadows
A vast alpine meadow stretches to the foot a glacier, flanked by the flat reach of a dozen more peaks; snow lurks at the higher elevations, capping the valleys in thick, endless layers of ice and new-fallen flakes. In contrast, during the spring and summer months a carpet of wildflowers spreads over a base of springy green turf, perfect for picnics and days outdoors. A small stream runs off towards the distant weyr, running cool and clear from out of the nearby blue-toned glacier.
It is an autumn midmorning.
Above, you see a blue dragon.
Draped for sunning on the large volcanic rocks is a bronze firelizard.
Gold Cadgwith, brown Druseth, blue Sakuruth, blue Kihaelth, brown Sidramuntalath, and green Imbriath are here.
You see Hatching Rules (read OOC) here.
Obvious exits:
Ice Caves     Glacier Stream
You land on a rolling slope, dotted by volcanic rocks.

Above, Urzketh drops down through the heavy winds to land in Alpine Meadows.
Urzketh lands gently despite the buffeting winds above.

From Kihaelth's neck, "Well done!" Tevya gleefully calls, slapping Kihaelth on the shoulder. As he tucks wings against his side, he'll turn his gaze up towards the sky, watching expectantly as the remaining wing drops and lands; while adding his own croon of approval. "Well done everyone!" And Tevya turns towards Hyzen and Imbriath, awaiting next instructions.

From Urzketh's neck, Fyria cheers loudly as they arrive in the meadows --from /above/, for once. "Excellent flying, love. I daresay, our whole weyrling class makes quite a view from below." She gives Urzketh's neck a good, long scritch, watching the others settle in the meadow. "Nice job, Tevya!" And thus, Fyria gives her the wingleader's salute with a grin.

From between a pair of Sidramuntalath's starstruck, magma-touched ridges, Sii'kyn gives a light nod. "Very well done," he murmurs assent. "Everyone took orders quite well." A nod, and beam of pride. Ayup. N'zgul and V'der scowl. Of course they didn't /want/ to take orders from a /blueling/... but they did. Sniff. Ike beams a wide grin, however. That was wonderful. Mhm.

Urzketh croons with lofty pride, arching shamelessly into the scritching fingers. He likes to fly.

"Ill fly on your wing any time, Tev," grants Wyn, as Vorkoroth backwings to a landing that kicks up a small puff of dust, but little else. A concerned look is directed at S'titch, who, the minute Entymeth touches ground, unbuckles his straps, scuttles down, and scurries behind a boulder where the sounds of muffled retching can be heard. Lovely.

Betwixt Imbriath's absinthe ridges and creamy straps, Hyzen shoves her goggles back up onto helmet and gives a wild, cheerful wave to the weyrlings. "/Very/ well done! I'm proud of all of you! You will practice this formation and all the other ones you've learned every chance you get. Just don't overwork your dragons or yourself." Stern words before rider brightens again. "Now, let's fly back. This time in the inverted 'V' formation. Tevya, sorry dear, but you've been demoted." she winks at the blueling before pointing towards Sii'kyn. "Your turn as wingleader, boyo. I'll be right wingsecond and Fyria will be left with Wyn in front of me and Tevya in front of Fyria. Understood? Now, get into position as fast as you can without hurting someone or yourself! You'll need to practice that as well..." Imbriath shuffles to her position in front of and to the angled right of Sidramuntalath. "Wait a moment, dear," is murmured and S'titch is glanced after. "S'titch? Are you alright?" is called out in concern, a hand held up towards Sii'kyn to keep him from launching the wing.

From Kihaelth's neck, Tevya is proud..yes indeed. "Thanks." Gushing call that results with her having a red face..until Kihaelth reminds her..and Tevya straightens up. "Oh..right. You all did good." Not an understatement..but Kihaelth said that..she should say that. And Tevya always listens to Kihaelth. "Right Hyzen." And.. Kihaelth and Tevya head back to cover where Sii'kyn had been, before she too turns concerned glance on S'titch, "Shells.. I hope he's ok.."

From between a pair of Sidramuntalath's starstruck, magma-touched ridges, Sii'kyn blinks for a long, long moment, and shakes his head, idly. There'll be no living with Ram, now. However, he glances after S'titch, rocking back in his straps to gaze after the errant venturing greenling. "Get them ready," he murmurs at Ram.

From Urzketh's neck, Fyria laughs at Urk's comment, only to glance up with alertness at hearing her name. "Right, left wingsecond. Come on love, you know the drill at this point." With a gentle mindtouch, she urges Urzketh into position in front of Sidramutalath, to his left. "Perfect, my dear. I believe, we have the hang of this." Cheers!

<Local> Vorkoroth senses that Sidramuntalath waifs along the streams of blood-red and livid darkness. << On my mark, we go up, >> he warns, all rust and aged metal, now. << Be ready - and wait for the signal. Entymeth, is your rider okay, or does he require assistance? >>

Wyn cues Vorkoroth to move to the indicated place, even as she cranes her neck around to spot a pale greenish looking S'titch (And green is just /so/ not his colour!) emerging from behind the boulder and taking up a seat of Entymeth again. "Airsick." announces Wyn in a tone of decision. Entymeth warbles a blithe reply that S'titch will be fine, and she'll look after them both. Like this is a change.

Betwixt Imbriath's absinthe ridges and creamy straps, Hyzen frowns faintly as she studies the weyrling before turning back around. Lowering her hand from keeping Ram at bay, she resettles her goggles and checks her straps. A sort of test on the weyrlings, as she tells them nothing of the sort, though gaze searches each one. "When you are ready, Sii'kyn, lead us on." Imbriath crouches slightly, her tail weaving behind and head tilted upwards slightly.

Urzketh cranes his neck about, staring at the greenish rider with utmost curiosity. A snort curls out from his nostrils before he turns just slightly to eye his own rider. She had better /not/ be turning green.

From Urzketh's neck, Fyria flicks her hand faintly at Urzketh's wary expression. "Oh please, love. Me? Sick? I'm insulted." She mock pouts, then chuckles and gives him a tickle between a neckridge.

From between a pair of Sidramuntalath's starstruck, magma-touched ridges, Sii'kyn rocks back, nods, and leads off with Ram's mental cue of up-we-go!. In a swift flurry of soft, flame-touched wings, they rise with the heady grace of a warrior.

Sidramuntalath bunches powerful muscles, wings pumping with strength, before leaping into the air.

Above, Sidramuntalath sweeps in from the sloping meadows below.

Imbriath bunches powerful muscles, wings pumping with strength, before leaping into the air.
Above, Imbriath sweeps in from the sloping meadows below.
Urzketh launches skyward, forgetting promplty whatever he was going to say. Flight still takes precedence over derision at his age.
Urzketh bunches powerful muscles, wings pumping with strength, before leaping into the air.
Above, Urzketh sweeps in from the sloping meadows below.

Wyn rocks back and worth in her straps, checking for any looseness. Finding none, she cues Vorkoroth to rise. Which he does with a touch of a suave bugle, rather enjoying himself.

Wings arc and pump, and upwards you go!
Above the Mountains
Swirling air flows buffet you from all sides, a culmination of the threads of many different weather patterns as you soar high above the Alpine Meadows, a rippling, shimmering sea of green beckoning from below. The blackness of volcanic rock cuts off your view of the weyr, though the Star Stones remain as a reference point, forever reaching for the stars.
Clean, cold, crisp air takes your breath away, flavoured with the tang of a myrriad of different aromas.
It is an autumn midmorning.
Below, you see four dragons.
Gliding around are two firelizards.
Brown Sidramuntalath, green Imbriath, and blue Urzketh are here.
Obvious exits:
Alpine Meadows     Towards Tillek     Towards the Weyr
You arrive in the air above the meadows, buffeted once again by the strong winds.

On the Upper Alpine Meadows below, Kihaelth bunches powerful muscles, wings pumping with strength, before leaping into the air.
Kihaelth sweeps in from the sloping meadows below.

<Local> Vorkoroth senses that Imbriath thinks << Because you are now able to see your wing and they not see your rider, you must guide them at your rider's command, Sidramuntalath. This is a test upon their trust in you and how well they listen to your commands. When you are ready, have us head back over the mountains at flaming pace, keeping two dragonlengths between us. >>

<Local> Vorkoroth senses that Imbriath's mind enters the whole wing's, her stern words echoing in vibrant purples and yellows. << Your rider's did not check their straps. Only Wyn did so. Something might have gone wrong. Hyzen says this will be your only warning. Do not forget again.>>

<Local> Vorkoroth senses that Sidramuntalath twines an affirmative twist of fiery, silver metal towards Imbriath, before offering light little suggestions here and there. << Urk, if you'd sidle just a bit to the left it'd make my life easier - Vor, that's not two lengths. >> A pause. << Darth. You're slipping out of alignment - a little to the right. >> Then, a brief pause. << Kyn says to 'cruise' for a bit. We shall go just a tad bit slower, wing, shalln't we. >>

<Local> Vorkoroth senses that Urzkethis all shattered crystal and smoked mirrors. <<We will not forget again.>> Apology seeps, glittering and hesitant, over the link.

Urzketh sidles just a bit to the left, obediently. Fingersails twitch gently and he snake shi head 'round, checking to be sure his position is right.

<Local> Vorkoroth senses that Kihaelth offers apologetic tones as well, somber greys that flicker his words. << I will not forget again. >> Strong tone deepend with confidence that..they'd be as paranoid about straps as they were about flying.
<Local> Vorkoroth senses that Imbriath's soothing words rush through young minds, calming and gentle now that she has corrected them. <<Hyzen does not wish to lose any of you. She reprimands you only in concern for your rider's and your safety.>>

Naturally, Wyn checked her straps. Being anal-retentive occasionally has it's advantages. That, and Vorkoroth will be critiqueing her afterwards. Vor, meanwhile, bristles a bit at the order from Ram, but painstakingly obeys after a sharp tone from Wyn, opening up his spacing a precise two weaverlengths.

From Kihaelth's neck, Tevya and Kihaelth follow the rest of the wing, Kihaelth keeping his distance and pacing equal to that of those with him, while still watching out for others. S'titch and his dragon are watched carefully, Tevya doing her best to keep attention focused on those infront of her, and not on the itch burning in her back.

From between a pair of Sidramuntalath's starstruck, magma-touched ridges, Sii'kyn gazes at his wing, shaking his head at his own forgetfulness. A tug or two at the new straps - a belated thing, none the less, but. Shifting, he studies a side of the wing, then nods approval of Kihaelth's perfect precision in formations. "Up and over we go," he murmurs, listening in as Ram carries the order.

<Local> Vorkoroth senses that Sidramuntalath twines more twists and snags of metal and earth; << We head over the mountain, >> he crisply announces, << Now. Thank you, Vorkoroth. Very good, Kihaelth -- and wonderful, Entymeth. >> Praise. Wow.

Sidramuntalath :battles through the whipping winds, intent on reaching the weyr.
Imbriath :battles through the whipping winds, intent on reaching the weyr.

You battle through the winds, heading to calmer weather on the other side of the weyr wall.
Above High Reaches
Quite, quite high, nothing braves these heights but stone and dragon and cloud; the Star Stones jut dutifully above the Weyr proper, flayed by the mountain winds that are consistant at this altitude whilst the rest spreads below, protected by its crown of jagged stone spires'-teeth.
It is an autumn midmorning.
To the northeast, you see two blue dragons.
Gliding around are four firelizards.
Brown Sidramuntalath and green Imbriath are here.
Obvious exits:
Weyr     Over The Mountains     Star Stones     Weyrling Air
You are surrounded by relative silence, the howling winds beyond the weyr wall left behind.

Kihaelth seems relieved to be out of the raw wind beyond the weyr walls.
Urzketh seems relieved to be out of the raw wind beyond the weyr walls.

S'titch is surviving. Sorta. No longer burdened by his breakfast, he's actually sitting up a bit straighter aboard Entymeth, although hands are still white-knuckled on the riding straps as the green glides as gently as possible. For all her insistance on her way or the highway, she /did/ Impress to him, after all. Green preens at the praise from Ram, giving a little wing dip in reply before stopping abruptly at a meeping noise from S'titch.

From Urzketh's neck, Fyria taps her helmet a little, making sure it's nice and snug as they return back to the weyr proper. "Well done, love, well done!" She eyes the other weyrlings in front of her, particularly S'titch (one doubts they make airsick bags on Pern, after all), before glancing at the others a moment. Ooo...does someone look slightly out of place?

Betwixt Imbriath's absinthe ridges and creamy straps, Hyzen reaches out to pat at Imbriath's ridge, smile hidden by her riding jacket. On sudden impulse, the assistant casually turns in her straps to look behind her, towards Sii'kyn. A test perhaps... but will the 'wingleader' notice the fault of her actions? Green continues on, keeping the proper lengths between her and the dragon in front of her. She issues no commands as of yet, instead seeing if the brown or his rider would catch the flaw Hyzen is presenting.

From Kihaelth's neck, Tevya sits patiently atop Kihaelth's neck, still aware of what needed to be done and what to watch for. Kihaelth doing much the same as Tevya, in that he watches and double checks his position constantly. Kihaelths wings are banked to the side as he adjusts for wind-turbulance, and then he's checking his position once more.

<Local> Vorkoroth senses that Sidramuntalath berates Imbriath, of course, tone low and chiding. << Your rider is not to look back. It is a flaw within a nearly perfect manuever. >> A pause, a rumble of amusement, then he echo's out, << Do not forget again. >> A pause, then, privately towards Imbriath - << Shall we tighten up?>>

Wyn's gaze roves forward and to her periphery, and if it lingers now and again on S'titch and Entymeth, well, so is everyone else's it seems. A mild mental sally calculating the effects of gravity on the products of motion sickness, and the likelihood of someone standing in the right spot to recieve such a present prompts a distinct chuckle from Wyn, and a rumble from Vorkoroth, the pair intent on keeping their formation based on the positions of those in front of them, in the absence of intelligence data from Ram.

Betwixt Imbriath's absinthe ridges and creamy straps, Hyzen makes no move to correct her position at first, possibly for the fact that she has to wait for Imbriath to relay the instructions. Amusement ripples in the green's tone as she rumbles and Hyzen laughs, though it's not heard, and gives Sii'kyn a thumb's up in well done. Turning back around, she straightens her posture and goes back to watching those ahead of her.

<Local> Vorkoroth senses that Imbriath thinks << Very observant, Sidramuntalath. Hyzen says to tell you and your rider well done. Yes, tighten us up and bring us down at a steep slant, though not enough to be considered a dive. Place us above the training grounds to bring us out of the slant. >>

From Urzketh's neck, Fyria /thought/ she saw something errant. Hyzen's improper glance backwards, is what it was. "Tsk tsk, Hy...you should know better," she murmurs, knowing Hyzen won't hear her. Leaning forward slightly, she pats Urzketh on his neck again, offering a private comment to his mind. And at his response, she simply laughs again.

From between a pair of Sidramuntalath's starstruck, magma-touched ridges, Sii'kyn beams quietly, jubuliantly, and gazes at his wing - apparently deep within conversations with Ram, belying orders to send.

<Local> Vorkoroth senses that Sidramuntalath is all husky earthen scents, now, no sulpheric action whatsoever. << Tighten up to one length, wing, and proceed at a forty-five degree angle. We shall aim for the weyrling barracks, and pull up at the sky above the training grounds. Proceed with manuver... now. >>

Sidramuntalath drops a little farther into the confines of the Weyr's wall.
Imbriath drops a little farther into the confines of the Weyr's wall.

You circle down towards the ground far, far below.
Above the Training Grounds
Weyrling pairs have trampled the ground below into the hard-packed training grounds: ash pits near the pens, targets on the walls, the occasional loose Weyrling out of control here in the gentle thermals. The Weyr curves north towards large ledges and the Hatching Grounds beyond, and south towards pens and lake. What ledges are occupied here are high above the noise and smell of the Weyrs' youngest riders.
It is an autumn midmorning.
Above, you see two blue dragons.
Below, you see four dragons.
To the northwest, you see two blue dragons.
Brown Sidramuntalath and green Imbriath are here.
Obvious exits:
Up     Training Grounds        Central Bowl     Northern Sky     Northwest     Ledges

Urzketh drops down from above.

*insert appropriate dive-bomb noises here* Down skims Vorkoroth, wings angled sharply and precisely enough that one might guess he's carrying a large protractor somewhere on his personage. Or would that be 'dragonage'? In any case, down he goes.

Urzketh angles sharply, wings peeled back to the correct angle. Make way for the blue bomber!

From Urzketh's neck, Fyria shakes her head as Vorkoroth dives down, looking quite smug that Urzketh hasn't done so so faAAARRRR!!! Spoke too soon, she did. Force is weak in her, yes. "UUUUURRRKKkkkkk!!!!" Yes, we are /all/ thanking Faranth she has a really strong stomach.

Imbriath follows instructions, angling down into the stoop after tightening her portion of the formation. Flowing with the rest of the wing, an errant warble shoots behind her as she heads downwards, enjoying the activity just as much as the weyrlings. Poor S'titch though... ahem. Hyzen takes the thing in stride... for one used to it. For two... she commanded it! She's evil. Ahem.

<Local> Vorkoroth senses that Imbriath thinks << You are a good leader, Sidramuntalath. Have them circle gently down to land in the training grounds. Keep formation and have them do so as well, for young dragons like to skimp out at that part. >>

<Local> Vorkoroth senses that Sidramuntalath thunders out high praise. << Wonderful. Wonderful. But next time, Urzketh, remind your rider before you do something like that. My Kyn's ears are still ringing from your beloved's squeal. Really... >> A mental snicker. << We shall circle down. And this will not be a dive - a gentle descent, needless shall I remind you. Tight formation, all the way down to the landing. Hover for a count of three when I give my mark, and then land fully. >>

Whimper. Mommy! S'titch looks like he's either about ready to burst into tears, or hurl again. Entymeth is starting to look concerned, but is still far too competitive to do something like break formation.

From between a pair of Sidramuntalath's starstruck, magma-touched ridges, Sii'kyn grins slightly, half to himself, and watches as Ram proffs advise and angles as they spiral down.

Sidramuntalath drops towards the ground.
From the training grounds, Sidramuntalath glides in from above.

From Urzketh's neck, Fyria glares at Sidramuntalath and Ike as Urzketh passes the comment on to her. "I do /not/ squeal!!" The nerve.

Imbriath drops towards the ground.
From the training grounds, Imbriath glides in from above.

Urzketh brakes -- gently -- and radiates pure, sweet innocence. Who, him? He'd never do any such thing as startle his rider, now would he? If dragons could whistle, he'd be whistling.

"Oh yes you do..." drawls Wyn to Fyria in a carrying tone as Vorkoroth slides into tight formation, and glides downwards.

The earth really /is/ flat after all. At least the ground you drop towards.
Training Grounds
The marks of thousands of claws give testament to the shuffling of the young dragons that have torn up what little grass once grew in this corner of the bowl. Tucked in between the feeding pens to the south and the curve of the Weyrleader's complex, the training grounds are home to daily exercises and classes, all taking place well out of the way of the hectic bustle of the rest of the bowl. Cut deep into the cliff face, the large, covered openings leading into the extensive weyrling barracks rise high over the heads of any who come near, although the height of the caldera's spindles far above cast their own reaching shadows across the hard packed earth.
It is an autumn midmorning.
To the west, you see a gold dragon.
To the southeast, you see a Brown dragon.
Above, you see a blue dragon.
Soaring high overhead are four firelizards.
Green Vespurath, green Miravith, blue Tsulryth, green Zhesteth, brown Sidramuntalath, and green Imbriath are here.
You see LlamaMama here.
Obvious exits:
Weyrling Barracks     Northern Bowl     Pens     Fly

Above, Urzketh drops towards the ground.
Urzketh glides in from above.

<Local> Vorkoroth senses that Sidramuntalath gives the gracious count. << Mark, >> he commands - and hovers for a count of three, << Land, >> he advises, and backwings to a gentle landing. << And... my rider says that your rider does squeal. Though why he akins it to a stuck porcine, I don't get it... >> Innocence.

Imbriath coils and then bursts upwards into flight.
Above, Imbriath bursts up from the bowl below.
Above, Imbriath battles the thermals that brood and whirl about the Northern bowl.

From between a pair of Sidramuntalath's starstruck, magma-touched ridges, Sii'kyn half-yawns. "Dismount!" he thunders, and does a precise dismount, himself.
Sii'kyn slides down the black hole -- that is, slithers down Sidramuntalath's neck to thud lightly on the ground.

And on the mark, but not before, Entymeth kisses earth again with a gentle delicacy most unlike the haste that S'titch uses to dismount. ex-Weaver then procedes to kiss the ground. Literally. Thrice.

Sii'kyn stares, disgusted, at S'titch. "Goodness." He sidles over towards Fyria, whistling a little diddy. "Wasn't that where the the drudge.. um'd?" He cringes, and eyeballs S'titch. Wince.

<Local> Vorkoroth senses that Urzketh's tone is pure acid. <<She does not squeal. Your rider misheard.>> So there.

Vorkoroth is down too, Wyn unbuckling her straps and and alighting in a dual hop, from 'ridges to foreleg, and from foreleg to ground. Petite 'ling then posts a hand on her hip and sidles over to regard S'titch. "Clearly," she notes to the others. "He has problems." She turns to S'titch, tilts her head and then... wait for it... inquires "Have you considered therapy?"

Slithering down the straps-ladder, Wyn slides from Vorkoroth's neck and gently touches earth.

From Urzketh's neck, Fyria wrinkles her nose at the brownriding pair, following with a gentle caress to Urzketh's neck. See? Urzketh knows. And that's all that counts in her book. "Thank you Urk. At least some of us have sense." With a click as she unbuckles herself free, she slips off the blue's neck and turns, giving him a good once over. "Any soreness love?"
Urzketh's sapphire-black tail-tip twitches a moment as he watches Fyria slither down from herself seat between his amethyst-infused neckridges.