Who's Afraid of the Big Bad Wolf?|Medeath's Flight

[Desert]

ooc; since Driven is pretty much done, i'm opening this now. this Flight is open, so all comers from any Weyr who're brave enough are welcome.

It was a rare sight, one some members of the Weyr would be surprised to see. Curled up on her couch, legs tucked under her long body so that she looked like a coiled serpent, the magma queen Medeath was peaceful. Her nictitating membranes formed a filmy cover over her eyes, which held a calm light blue with the faintest tinges of green here and there, swirling at a leisurely rate behind the myriad of facets. Her chest rose and fell slowly, mimicking the deep breath of the slumbering, though the fierce queen was wide awake. Her gaze was fixed on her rider, her Dilove, the only being on Pern Dea held in highest esteem. In their weyr with just the two of them, they seemed like a normal dragon and rider and not a pair infamous throughout the Weyr. Di stroked the spiky, scaled head softly and gazed back at her Dealove, a faint smile playing on her lips. Moments like this made life worth living.

All too soon, the spell was broken. Dea's eyes took on a few smudges of red and spun faster. Her legs emerged to brace against the stone surface of her couch. LoveMine, now is the time,[/b][/color] she announced, more red staining her swirling eyes.

A heavy sigh slipped past Diardi's lips as she stood, reluctant and slightly sullen. Her magma had been acting quite proddy of late, being more than usually nasty toward the Weyr's kings and Daisyth. It would be wise of the gold and her rider to make themselves scarce. Even several Passes ago when it was only the canon dragons, queens had fought to the death over mating rights. With the current Turn and vicious dragons like magmas around, it was even more perilous for queens to be within proximity of one another when one was near Rising. Dea would soon transform into an even worse monster than normal, prone to lash out with her evil temper at even her beloved Di; nothing her blood-colored eyes fixed on would escape harm.

Now that Di was paying attention, the noises coming from outside the weyr in the Bowl were of kings blooding their kills in preparation for a queenFlight. Dea gaped a sadistic grin – only the boldest dared chase a magma. The small, wiry queen rasped her tongue lovingly over her rider's cheek before completely shattering the tranquil setting.

Abruptly and without warning, Dea uncoiled from her couch. She moved so fast that the tip of her long tail cracked sharply like a bullwhip as she threw herself off the high weyr ledge with a bloodcurdling scream at all and sundry. Her eyes were now a bright, blazing ruby red, wheeling rapidly until the hues in them ranging from orange to maroon blurred into an unrecognizable single, muddy red-orange spot in her mostly yellow-gold scaled head. The kings gathered in the Bowl scattered from the feeding pens quickly, backing well away from the enraged magma as she flung herself toward them.

The herd of fodderbeasts lowed and squawked in terror as the molten-colored dragon bore down on them. Medeath swooped into a glide at the last moment, pursuing her quarry the length of the pen, running them down a bit before making her choice. Diardi took that chance to dash headlong down the steps from her weyr, arriving breathless from exertion in the Bowl. Her feet touched the floor and her dragon finally pounced simultaneously; the rider pelted across to the pens just as Medeath was about to sink her teeth into the herdbeast buck’s tender belly. “No! Dea, you cannot eat, do you hear me? Blood it only!” Diardi bawled, skidding to a halt a dragonlength from the pens.

The magma hissed venomously and tossed her head back, her tail lashing and wings mantling; she was an intimidating beast, at the peak of her formidable temper. Two strong-willed minds battled for dominance. It was the only time the pair of them ever truly were at odds, when Diardi checked her dragon’s gluttony before a Flight.

One of the magma’s taloned paws crushed the herdbeast’s skull, and she dipped her head to slurp up the brain matter oozing from the shattered bone cavity. “Don’t you dare, little bitch!” Di shrieked, her dark eyes blazing. “If you eat one scrap of meat from that carcass I will personally peel that scaly hide from your body and make it into a handbag!”

A defiant scream tore from Medeath’s throat as she whipped her head to and fro. Unwittingly, her flailing tail impaled a second herdbeast on the sharp spikes protruding from the whiplike limb. Dea suddenly whirled on the second kill, latching her jaws around the animal’s throat. “That’s right!” Di called, her tone much more reasonable; almost encouraging now. Dea sucked the hot lifeblood from her prey’s body, her tail still flipping and twitching like a feline, as if it possessed a mind and life of its own.

“Blood it, Medeath! Do not eat!” the rider warned darkly when Medeath turned back to her first kill. Her teeth had hovered inches from the herdbeast’s belly, which she had just flayed open with a slash of her talons. She hissed and glared daggers at her beloved, a harsh growl grating up from her chest. Di was not impressed. “You’re scary as a newborn kitten, Dea. Blood it.”

Stung by the insults and threats from her rider, Medeath buried her fangs ill-temperedly into the buck’s throat and drained its body of blood. Her scales took on an extra sheen, almost seeming to pulse with vivacity and glowing health, but the magma wasn’t done slaking her thirst yet. She needed more blood.

She suddenly swung her head around to stab a wherry with her dorsal spikes, gape-grinning sadistically when it squawked in alarm and twitched its life out on her neckspikes. She shook it off and dragged it by one leg to her. She shot an evil-looking glare at Di, narrowing her eyes; her rider returned the look, arms crossed over her chest. They stared silently at each other to match wills this time, neither moving except for the wild lashing of Medeath’s tail. Then, with a hiss of defeat, the magma bit into the wherry’s neck and blooded. A small, triumphant smirk showed on Diardi’s lips.

Medeath leaped a short distance to bring down her fourth victim, this time immediately burying her maw in its neck to drink the precious crimson liquid from its body, the wherry’s body twitching fitfully until it died and went still. A fifth item of prey went down similarly, as the watching audience of kings waited impatiently, their eyes aglow with lust, their heads weaving in anticipation. The riders of these males gathered around Diardi, though she had eyes only for her magnificent queen, who by now was shining as a sculpture of molten metal, beautiful and deadly. What a sight.

Halfway through her sixth victim, Medeath raised her head. She looked over her suitors scornfully, her harsh blood-colored gaze raking over them. She bared her teeth contemptuously at them. All those stupid, weakling males. Who were they to think they any of them could best her in the air? She mantled her wings aggressively and made a mock-charge at the kings, letting a sibilant snicker escape her maw as they ducked fearfully away. Fools, idiots, stringy beasts! You fools would dare to chase me, to think yourselves worthy to sire my clutch? I pity every one of you, for your stupidity will be your downfall. Come after me, you who have the guts to try, see what a magma can do![/b][/color] She ended her short speech with a shriek of malicious defiance at the rutting kings before her. Some flinched from her fierce appearance, but the rest crouched readily, eyeing her for the signal to start the race.

She fanned her wings grandly, arching her neck and curling her tail around her lithe body. Light played over her glossy scales, showcasing her lean frame. No doubt, for all her prickly personality, she was a beauty to behold. Like a cobra rearing to strike, hood flared and mouth agape, she was hypnotizing in her glory, and dangerous. The magma posed for a moment to give her suitors a good look at what they would be battling for – and battling against – before she took off. When she did it was sudden, abrupt; she crouched down with every muscle tensed like a coiled spring, wings flared up to their full massive extent, then she launched herself into the air. The wind kicked up by her leap made one or two of the clumsier males spill air, but the more quick-witted ones avoided the churning backwash and surged after her.

Higher and higher into the air she darted like a molten crossbow bolt, wind whistling through her spikes like a shrill warning to her pursuers. This prize was armed, and unlike some mere gold, she wouldn’t go down without being paid in blood. Oh no, she would put up a fight; not the usual token resistance most queens did in their Flights. She would make those kings fight for their lives if they wanted to earn the right to twine with her. Any who entered this Flight with any assumption that he’d come out of it unscathed would be wrong, unless he stayed safely at the back of the pack and made no move to catch her. But if that, what would be the point in participating?

She tossed her head back to warble to the wide sky above, claiming for all to hear that she was Medeath, and she was the champion of these skies! None could equal her in agility, not even those pitiful greens who flitted about like oversized fire lizards. These males stood no chance against her, they would soon see what gave magmas their reputation across Pern. She would show them was a true queen was made of!

As she sped upward in her steep climb Dea executed a corkscrewing roll, letting the bright autumn sun play over her glossy-scaled body. She taunted her chasers by tucking herself into a ball and rolling head-over-paws; her spikes whirled through the air like a burgundy buzz-saw before she straightened up and darted upward into the upper atmosphere again. The agile maneuver had been a clear warning: watch out, or you will discover just how sharp my spikes really are!

Medeath suddenly stalled in midair, her huge wings flared to check her progress. She had her back toward the males as she came almost to a hover, as if waiting for a daring king to crash headlong into her and impale himself on her spikes. But no – she suddenly pulled a nimble wingover and went into a steep dive, rowing her wings at the air to push herself faster, ever faster toward the unforgivingly rocky ground. She uttered a mighty roar that echoed off the rocks below, taunting the males behind her to join this deadly game of chicken and possibly be dashed against the ground.

Another dizzying barrel roll spun her glittering figure, her metallically shining lighter scales flashing in the sunlight, stained by the duller luster of her darker scales. For a moment, as she spun through the air, she truly looked like lava ejected from an active volcano that was spat from the deep earth and sent rocketing into space, bent on destruction wherever it landed. Yet again, a savage bugle tore from her maw as she pulled out of her dive. Her broad wingspan snapped to its fullest and cupped air around her, throwing it with furious energy ahead of her to halt her perilous descent toward the ground.

She pulled out of her dive with an elegant swoop and let her armored, razor-sharp scales skim lightly over the top of a rock formation, a grimly triumphant growl bubbling up from the depths of her chest. She looked up to see the clumsy, bumbling kings overhead, having not the courage to follow her in her headlong dive. She roared scornfully at them. You see, dimwitted fools? Who is the queen of these skies? You have no chance! None of you, not one of your useless number, are worthy to even breathe the same air! Now come on, show me what you’re made of, let’s get those muscles of yours really working![/b][/color] she screamed, then surged upward again in a much shallower climb. She’d make these males waste some energy yet, then see how they fared when the one they chased turned at bay![/size][/color][/font]

[elainsie]

F'ariyan reclined lazily against the pillows, arms behind his head, his lips twitching with amusement at the woman who stood before him. She had been there for a good half hour at least, berating him over something or another, but he had not the slightest idea or concern. Instead his appreciative eyes roamed over her form, the words a faint buzzing sound in the background.

"And I bet even now you're not paying any attention. I don't know why I bother to put up with you. You never listen, you're always off with other women, you're as bad as that sister of yours. Your mother really should have set a better example for her children. I certainly hope you do, once we have children." The chrome rider folded her arms over her chest, her face pulled into lines of displeasure.

Children....? It was the word that snapped him out of his reverie, that finally provoked a repsonse in the indolent rider. "Woah, you have it all wrong. I am hardly the father type, in fact I could not think of anyone more unsuitable. Surely your list of my less desirable characteristics would deter you from even considering such a notion." The tempest rider's eyes had grown wide in an alarm, and he now sat up straight, back against the headboard.

Now how had Shiara got such a notion in her head? The tempest rider shook his own at the thought. Oh he cared about the woman on some level, but as far as he was concerned what was between them was nothing serious, nor would it ever be. And yet Shiara seemed to think they were a 'proper' couple, that they had a future....F'ariyan thought the woman slightly dense. How had she not picked up on the singnals that he was not so inclined? And yet she seemed to forgive him for his 'dalliances' with other women, and in the end he was never going to push away a woman who so willingly warmed his bed.

Magma Medeath has risen at Crystal Cavern. His tempest, Laronith, pronounced, a welcome distraction to the disturbing conversation F'ariyan had now found himself a participant of.

The pair had first seen the Magma Queen at the Gather, and since then they had had designs upon winning the Queen's flight. It was not as if they were unaware of the risks, everyone knew about the infamous Queens of Pern and the danger they presented, but that, as far as F'ariyan was concerned, simply upped the stakes for him. No doubt the prize would be worth the trouble and F'ariyan fervantly hoped that when they won, not if, Diardi's renowned fiery temper would bring that extra bit of excitment to the aftermath. His smile widened at the thought, and he swung a leg off the side of the bed, only to be followed by the other. "Would love to stay and discuss baby names, and how just how many children we will have Shiara, but unfortunately I must reluctantly fufil my duties as a rider of one of Pern's most virulent Kings. A task I know, but someone has to do it," his voice sounded sufficiently forlorn although his hazel eyes danced mischievously in his face as he pulled on his boots and clothes.

He gave the chrome rider's cheek a quick peck, before grabbing his leather jerkin off the back of a chair. "Don't wait around for me Shiara, I'll probably need to rest a bit after the flight, I've heard Diardi is quite the passionate one." And with that he took leave of the now silently fuming woman, using the leg of Laronith to propel himself onto the Tempest's back. To Crystal Cavern and the lovely Magma pair, the man pumped his fist in the air, and then quickly grabbed for a hold as his dragon rose fluidly from the ledge.

They winked between and then hung in the air momentarily over Crystal Cavern Weyr before Laronith dived down steeply, F'ariyan rolling off the dragon's back onto the ground, as the Tempest sweeped over to the feeding pens. Standing up quickly, the man dusted himself off, and strode over to the circle gathering around what was a rather unimpressive looking woman.

F'ariyan had never seen Diardi before, and could not hide the disappointment at her lack of feminine charm. Surely a woman with such a reputation would have had that something about her that sparkled. Instead she seemed like a rather surly individual who had little to offer him aestithically. But then again, the plain ones are usually more skilled in bed to make up for their looks, he reassured himself.

Laronith ignored the disappointment emanating from his rider, concentrating on the buck he had caught between his razor sharp talons, his teeth sinking into the jugular vein and sucking the warm blood greedily. Once the vein was emptied his rough tongue licked over the beast, capturing the dark red droplets that had spilled, before rising and diving once again to capture a wherry. Around him the other males blooded until the shadow of Medeath fell over them.

He noticed the Bronze to his left quickly rise, despite having only just captured the beast he had been about to drain, and other Kings around him also taking to the skies. If they were so scared of the female how in the name of Faranth did they think they were going to win her? The Tempest thought, as he shook the wherry between his teeth, not letting it drop down to the ground until he had sated the blood lust despite the female's presence.

Siring your Clutch is a poor second to having your beautiful body twined around my own. What happens as a consquence is merely a bonus. The Tempest shot in retort as the Magma called out her challenge, spreading his wings out wide as he joined the other males in the sky. They were of no concern to him, they had fleed at the first sign of the Queen's fury, and no doubt earned her contempt as a result.

He followed her ascent quickly, his wing muscles powering him on relentlessly as they cleared the puffy white clouds, careful to remain close to her but so close that should she choose to stop suddenly he would become impaled on one of the dazzling and yet highly dangerous spikes that protruded from her back.

Laronith watched the Magma dive, her body a bloody blurr seeming almost intent on crashing into the ground far beneath him, and a number of males give chase behind her. Stupid fools, as if she will allow herself to be caught this early. And for their efforts all they will have done is exhausted themselves that much earlier on. With a flip of his right wing the King banked towards his left side, turning a wide circle in the sky so that he was just to the left and above Medeath as she began her shallow climb.

I would hardly call it dimwitted that while you attempted to splatter us across the rocks in your wake, some of us chose to conserve the energy and simply wait until you regain your altitude. You will have to be cleverer than that to get rid of me. Laronith sided up to the Magma as he spoke, careful not to actually touch her, and then dropped back quickly before the Queen could take offense.

[Desert]

Ah, so an Easterner decided to crash the party, did he? Medeath watched the stranger from Solainoti, her eyes narrowing at the pure arrogance in his tone. So far, he wasn't doing very much for his chances: talking back to a magma is dangerous at the best of times, but a proddy magma is twice as liable to lash out. And the fool's retort to her initial challenge was ill-thought out as well -- it didn't do much for her first impression of him if all he seemed to care about was the sex. Granted, most magmas were hardly good mothers, but since Dea went counter to that trend she counted the resulting clutch by far more important than the fleeting pleasure of the Flight itself. The tempest obviously couldn't know that, but a little fact like that didn't change the way Medeath viewed this arrogant king. And Medeath was the one in charge here, from beginning to end, no matter what anyone else thought.

She snarled viciously as Laronith slipped close to her for a moment before dropping back, but she didn't turn to maul the impudent tempest like a few of the other kings thought she would. This stranger, unlike most of the Crystal Cavern kings, had the gall to defy her. It delighted her at the same time it infuriated her, so she decided to leave him in the running and see if he really had it in him to try his luck.

She surged ahead with a few beats of her wings, and pulled a maneuver none of them were prepared for: she tilted her wings in a steep climb, and when momentum ran out, instead of pumping her wings again, she continued the arc and barrel rolled so that she was just above the kings and facing the opposite direction. Her wings became a blur of orange as the magma made up for lost speed. Between the rate at which the kings were all going and her own velocity, soon there was a wide gap between herself and her pursuers before they managed to turn around. A few of the kings bumbled into each other, tangling limbs and wings, taking out almost half the pack while Dea surged ahead with a derisive shriek.

She glided leisurely for a while until the remaining males caught up. They all expected some new trick, and were caught all unawares when Medeath performed the same about-face again. But, instead of carrying on past them, she quickly dove again -- right onto one of the kings. The topaz squawked in alarm and pain as Medeath's wicked foreclaws pierced the hide around his wing-shoulders. Jraneth had been the one to catch the feisty magma on several of her previous Flights, being one of the only topazes in the Weyr bold enough to chase her. After one or two bronzes had twined with Medeath, most of the soft-hided dragons had realized that Medeath's razor-sharp scales were good at shredding skin and wished to keep their bellies in one piece.

Jraneth flailed desperately, helpless against the magma, keening in pain and fear. He knew what was coming. Medeath let their combined weight carry herself and the trapped topaz dangerously close to the ground, then released her victim. With his wings crippled by Medeath's savaging of his muscles, he was unable to stabilize his flight path soon enough, and crashed to the ground. Medeath circled once, long enough to see the topaz twitch fitfully, before taking off into the sky again.

You have not chased a magma before, have you?[/b][/color] she asked Laronith. The magma set a pace that was grueling enough for the males to work after her, but otherwise kept a relatively straight path so she could sound out this tempest. Since you are in the sky after me, I doubt it. What I did to poor Jroneth is just a taste of what you can expect from this. He has caught me a few times before, you know. He impressed me by coming back for more so many times. But I decided today that he was getting too complacent.[/b][/color] Her mind-voice was a sultry purr, rich with lust for blood and for body, as she bespoke the Eastern king. I don't usually warn my males, so you should count yourself lucky. Even if you do manage to defy the odds and convince me to let you win, you are far from safe. Jroneth was the longest-lived of all my mates -- I've killed them all at one point or another.[/b][/color] She rumbled a sadistic laugh. The only one who will think you a coward for pulling out is me,[/b][/color] she added languidly.[/size][/color][/font]

[elainsie]

The snarl that emanated from her maw as he whipped passed, caused him a moment's worth of pleasure, the Tempest taking delight in her obvious fury. But now was not the time to get overly cocky, Laronith knew there was still plenty left in this flight and he would be there at the last no matter what tricks and stunts Medeath pulled, his pride would not allow anything less.

Laronith had been steadily gaining speed, surging through the pack of males rather easily though with long wing strokes to propel him continously forward. However, like the rest of the Kings trailing behind the molten beauty that was Medeath, he had been unprepared for her mid-air one eighty degree turn, and only just managed to dodge a Topaz that seemed to come out of nowhere. Laronith counted himself lucky as he looked around at the carnage, males having careened into one another only to impede their flight and any chance of capturing the Magma Queen, his strong wings steadying him in the air as he corrected his flight, and did a neat little turn back the way they had come from.

His wings now had to work hard to regain the lost momentum, the wiry muscle pumping to catch up to the figure of Medeath well ahead of him. Some of the larger dragons made up the ground more quickly than Laronith, their larger wing spans parting the air and using it to aid their movement that much more readily, however when Medeath spun around once again Laronith felt relief wash through him that he was not at the front, and hence an easy target for the Magma's desire for blood.

He watched with sick fascination as Medeath raked at the Topaz, capturing his body beneath hers in a rather twisted imitation of the end of a flight, heard the sound of shredding hide and sinewy muscle. And as grotesque as the whole scene was Laronith could not take his eyes off the stunning form of the Magma. Even amidst the carnage she was making of the Topaz, it was undeniable that in her own right she was a beauty. A dangerous one, of that there was no doubt, but dazzling nonetheless.

And yet he felt no pity for the Topaz, relief that it had not been himself on the receiving end, but not a shred of concern for the Topaz. After all it left him with one less contender, and if what Medeath had said was true, the Topaz had surely known the perils of the contest upon entering.

It was with mild surprise the Tempest felt the touch of the Magma upon his mind, however he did not falter in his persual of her. No, I have not chased after a dragon such as yourself before. Laronith admitted. But that does not mean I do not have any inkling of what to expect. You are spoken of often throughout the Weyrs, as I am sure you well know.If you choose to rip me to shreds, that is your decision. If nothing else at least it breaks the monotony of chasing after the more placid, and yet highly unentertaining females. His tone sounded a lot braver than he actually felt, but there was no use in allowing fear to color his tone. You on the other hand are incomparable to such foolish creatures, your hide glistens with an intensity that none may rival. The very thought of being with you at the end is enough to cause such a large number of males to chase after you, despite the consquences. Despite knowing that death will come for a large number of us. He edged a bit closer to her, though still far enough away that he was nowhere hear her barbed tail. You are well worth the risk, and this is why I will prove myself to you. I will not grow complacent as your Topaz mate did. I will not underestimate the havoc you may wreck should you desire it. His voice grew velvety and soft, like a caress against her mind. And it is only your opinion that I care for. But let it be known, I am no coward.

[Desert]

Medeath snorted scathingly. He hoped to win her favor with flowery praise, that much was obvious from Laronith's impassioned speech. Too bad for him that unlike many females, the magma queen was far from vain and was immune to pretty words. The only way to win this prize was to be able to hold his own not only against the other males, but against Medeath herself. Mere words meant nothing -- if Laronith intended to come away the victor (and alive), he needed to walk the walk as well as he talked the talk.

Oh really?[/b][/color] she drawled scornfully. I know your type, tempest. You think your silver tongue will even the odds, but from my experience, males like you are all talk and no game.[/b][/color] She curved her neck around to level a challenging look at Laronith.

Abruptly, the magma queen pulled another stunt. She folded her wings and went into a steep dive again, but only for a moment. Medeath quickly pulled out of the dive, her trajectory curving upward just in time for her to rise up under Lanorith. She curled into a loose fetal position and allowed her momentum to carry her up; those wicked dorsal spikes came within a hair's breadth of impaling the tempest. Instead, she continued her roll for another heartbeat, letting Laronith pull away from her and out of range of her spikes. She suddenly unfolded, bashing her whiplike tail into the skull of the bronze just behind Laronith. One of her spikes pierced the bronze's eye socket, and with a keen of agony the male blinked between forever. It was apparent from her gape-grin of malicious glee that the bronze had been her target all along, and getting so close to Laronith was a mere intimidation tactic.

The magma flared her wings and carried on in her climb, ascending ever higher until she penetrated the thin cover of clouds. This was a favored trick of hers, and one that frustrated her pursuers to no end -- they were loath to pass through the screen of clouds, knowing Medeath would use the cover to ambush one of them, but at the same time they didn't want one of their competetors to slip through and snatch victory for himself. Though since only the Crystal Cavern kings were familiar with her tricks, perhaps Laronith would fall for it and she could give him a little something to remember her by. Her thin tongue caressed her maw in anticipation.
[/font][/color][/size]

[elainsie]

I am more than just words and hot wind. The tempest replied, his voice taking on a sharper edge. I back up what I say with my actions. However I don't think as much can be said about the rest of the Kings that trail you. He gave a scornful snort to his competitors. But enough banter on my behalf. If its actions you require than that is what will be delievered, have no fear dear Queen. He met her gaze steadily, ignoring the chill that ran down his spine as his wide eyes took in the bloodied gaze of Medeath. He had committed himself to this flight completely and nothing, not even the small voice that screamed a warning within his mind, would deter him from his goal.

Lanorith was just preparing to follow Medeath's dive, wings tucked against his stormy hide, when the queen abruptly rose up towards him, the sharp spikes coming closer and closer to his unprotected belly and the tempest felt a sickening dread claw at his insides. Wings still curled alongside him, he could not open them quick enough to dart out of her way, however was saved at the last moment as she rolled lazily around him only to catch the bronze that had been close behind him for the majority of the flight.

Finally his wings started to unfurl, buffeting the wind to keep him aloft as he kept one eye on the magme queen, his chest heaving from the fright he had receieved. She was toying with him, he realised, and yet she must consider him a contender because as of yet he was remarkably scathless, although for how much longer Lanorith could not be sure.

Thank you for taking care of my competitors. At this rate you will simply have to choose me because the rest will be so debilitated. His voice however was not as cocky as he may have wished.

As the queen ascended so too did the tempest, with a quick glance at the other males still in the race. Not all that many were left now, and Lanorith conisdered himself more than capable of outflying them. However it was more than just that, any of them could be the victor, depending on which one Medeath took it upon herself to favour. As they reached the cloud cover he noticed the males familiar to the Weyr waver, and the tempest reduced his own speed, uneasy as he lost sight of the Magma. And yet surely if he just sat there indecisive he would prove just as easy a target for the queen should she choose to mete out revenge for his glib tongue. If he timed it right, if he could spot her in time, then perhaps he could win her. It was foolish yes, but it would also set him apart from the other males.

With thatg thought foremost in his mind, Lanorith climbed up passing through the level of the clouds, all the while expecting to feel the raking claws of Medeath slash through hs hide.

[Desert]

Medeath coasted easily on the wind above the clouds, waiting as patiently as any crocodile for her prey to draw within striking range. With the wind up here, while it was a bit turbulent, it was enough to let her simply glide and give her muscles a brief rest. The native kings were probably perplexed -- she usually saved this particular stunt for when she was ready to choose a mate, and had never before ducked into the clouds so early in a Flight. Stupid males, expecting her to follow patterns! They should know by now she was unpredictable.

The sound of beating wings alerted her to the approach of her first victim. And of course, it was the arrogant tempest who was the first to penetrate the haze after her. Well, she would give him a surprise! Instead of flying forward to meet him, Medeath again pulled a stunt none of her pursuers were prepared for, and folded her wings to dive back below the clouds again. She emerged right above another topaz, and used the surprised king's back as a springboard to launch back up into the clouds -- right under Laronith. She reared up behind him and sank her talons into the tempest's flanks; with her wings still loosely folded, her weight dragged the foreign king down out of the clouds again. A high-pitched creel, much like a human child's giggle of delight, trickled from her maw as she unclenched her claws from Laronith's hindquarters. But instead of simply letting go, she dragged her forelegs toward her across the tempest's cloudy hide, causing her sharp scales to lacerate Laronith's hide. The puctures and gashes were all relatively shallow and inconsequential, but the message was clear.

She shoved Laronith away from her and lurched to one side, wings outspread to check her glide while the males -- who had scattered as soon as she had appeared from the clouds -- scrambled to follow.[/color][/size]

[elainsie]

As he penetrated the cloud cover and hung above it he got a glance of Medeath, however was perplexed to see her dive back down again, leaving him unscathed and alone above the level of cloud. Lanorith had been sure she would make an attack on him and wavered for quite some time before preparing to dive back down again. However his moment of confusion cost him the tempest realised as he felt a sharp pain at his flanks, and the feel of something sink into them.

With a jerk of his head he looked below him to see that Medeath had once again risen up, sinking her razor sharp claws into him. He bit back the howl of protest that threatened to escpae his maw, trying to shake off the queen but to no avail.

It was with relief he finally felt himself being released from her death like grasp, but it was short lived as Medeath dragged her dangerously sharp scales against his hide, leaving gashes across it that oozed ichor. This time he did make a noise, not so much for the pain, but for the indignation he felt, his loud cry causing the other males to jostle some distance away from him and the furious queen.

With that it seemed the Magma tired of the sport, and dropped back below the cover while Laronith tried to regain his balance and prevent himself from plummeting to the ground below. It took quite some time, the minor injuries having thrown him, but finally he dived back below the clouds making ground on the male dragons who trailed behind Medeath.

[Desert]

Medeath burbled a laugh at Lanorith's indignant squeal. What's the matter, big boy? Did I wound more than your rump just now?[/b][/color] she jeered.

She whistled scornfully over her shoulder at the tempest, then swerved to the side and down, banking in a wide arc, passing under the line of kings trailing after her. It was like an aerial game of crack-the-whip as Medeath led her pursuers in a merry chase -- sometimes doubling back on her own path so that the frontrunners zipped by directly above the stragglers. This was a game that none of them could win: all the kings were built for endurance, not agility, so Medeath could easily fly circles around them all.

All her swerving and banking made a yet more of the weary kings drop out, and by the time she was bored with the aerobatics the pack had thinned to a mere handful of males. She glanced back at the remaining contenders and snorted. Well, at least we've gotten rid of the riff-raff. But don't think you're out of the woods yet, boys![/b][/color] The magma put on an extra burst of speed and drew away from the kings, then went into a shallow but steady climb. Another trick or three, then she would make her choice. An idea popped into her head that made another giggling trill bubble up from her throat, and she couldn't resist implimenting it.

Suddenly she flared her wings and balked, slowing down until she was almost hovering. When the males were dangerously close, she pulled an agile wingover and swerved to the side, arcing around until she drew alongside a persistent young emerald who had been doggedly occupying the third-place spot since the beginning. The emerald looked at her warily, expecting an attack, but the magma actually started coiling her tail possessively around his. I have to say, Kritalth, I am impressed. You've been flapping along this whole time and you've held your own against all these kings, even as young as you are,[/b][/color] she purred. Medeath nibbled playfully at the emerald's head-knobs as Kritalth slowly realized what she was up to. He rumbled a sly chuckle and meshed his claws with hers, shooting Lanorith a smug look.

Medeath was known for doing this -- choosing a dragon no one had expected her to, a young male or one who had been plodding valiantly after her always in the wake of the faster kings. Kritalth looped his neck once around the magmas and pulled her close. She uttered a low, sensuous croon and clutched the emerald tighter to herself. Hmm. Who needs those silly tempests, eh? They have no business in Crystal Cavern or anywhere in the North,[/b][/color] she remarked, deliberately broadcasting it to all the other males in the air.

Oh yes. They should stay in the East where they belong, and leave the Northern skies to us. None of them can compare,[/b][/color] Kritalth replied in kind, also allowing the others to hear him.

A throaty chuckle bubbled up from Medeath's chest. Kritalth didn't have time to pull away before the magma's teeth sank viciously into his neck just at the base. He keened in pain for a moment before Dea's sharp teeth severed his spine, and as she shrugged free of the emerald's limp body it fell bonelessly toward the ground so far below.

Most of the dwindled pack had started to spiral downward when Medeath curled herself around Kritalth, so only three were left close enough to Medeath to continue the chase when she took off again. She shrieked a laugh, knowing how indignant the kings must be for that stunt.[/font][/color][/size]

[elainsie]

Lanorith ignored the taunts from the Magma, he had not time for the silly games any more, knowing that she was merely bating him on to provoke a response. And while he would not admit it to the tormenting queen she was right. She had hurt more than his hide, and Lanorith knew which of the hurts cut the deepest. It would not happen again if he had any say in the matter, although it was becoming blaringly obvious that as far as things went he really had very little control. Which is why I should make the most of what I do have, he thought to himself, as he gained valuable ground and swerved around an emerald.

What in the name of Faranth did that over large green think he was doing, pitting himself against the kings of the Weyrs? Large the dragon may be but that was hardly an advantage in a flight such as this where agility and intelligence counted for so much more. He watched as Medeath flew above him again, every stunt she pulled causing a little more frustration to bubble towards the surface. Lanorith was starting to feel more than just the fatigue of the flight, recognising that Medeath was wearing them down psychologically too, so that one of them would make a foolish move.

He bit back the frustration, it would not be he who made the careless move only to have Medeath attack him again. Being a victim to her administrations already once this flight he vowed that the next time she sank her claws into him would be as they completed this flight, spiralling down towards the ground.

Allowing himself a moment to regain his composure, the king unfurled his wings to the fullest, a large crack resounding as they met the sharp air. He watched as the queen came within a few dragonlengths of him, the silly emerald flying close to his right flank as they ascended behind her. He thrashed his tail, hoping to catch the emerald and set him off course, only to become dismayed when he watched Medeath circle around him and approach the emerald.

The embrace she gave the dark green dragon was nothing like the savage hold she had taken upon the tempest, and Lanorith wondered if this was indeed the end of the flight. It seemed so...anticlimatic, that Medeath would succumb so readily, that she would fly into the clutches of a dragon who was not even a king. The tempest shook his head in denial. Surely something else was going on behind those crimson eyes of the queen. She was planning something, and unlike the other male dragons who had started to sink back to the ground, he kept himself aloft watching as the scene unfolded.

His assumption was confirmed as Medeath sank her teeth in the emerald, and Lanorith's mouth took on a draconic smile. He was right, and he crowed his delight, not giving a second look as the emerald was discarded. That left just he and two others, but Lanorith was no longer content to fly behind Medeath and wait for her to pick another one of them off.

With a burst of speed he narrowed the gap between them, closer and closer, the other two males left behind in his wake. With a clawed foot he scraped the scaley hide of Medeath as if caressing her, giving little heed to the pain such a gesture caused as the scales sliced against him.

[Desert]

When Lanorith's paw brushed against her flank, Medeath glanced over her shoulder at the tempest and pouted. Spoilsport, you saw through my trick![/b][/color] she said indignantly.

Suddenly, the queen spun on her wingtip and hurtled stright into the topaz who had flown up behind Lanorith, and lashed his face with her tail. The topaz squealed and dove out of the way, just as the bronze behind him darted up all unawares. The bronze squealed in alarm and banked out of the way before Medeath could sink her claws into his eyes. She banked in a circle and shrieked down at the pair. Out of my sight, you pathetic cowards! Go back with the other spineless weaklings and lick your wounds![/b][/color]

That said, she again wheeled around Lanorith. You are a lucky tempest, Lanorith. You're much too clever for your own good. You've got more guts than half the males in my Weyr, which I suspect is half the reason you've made it this far. So then, come on and prove yourself right. This Flight isn't over until I say it is![/b][/color] The magma queen went into a steep climb, blasting through the clouds and carrying on even higher until the air was too thin to go any farther.

Her lungs and muscles burned, and with the exhaustion her bloodlust gave way to the inevitable surge of hormones that made the sadistic red in her eyes give way to a lusty orange. At the apex of her climb she spun around to face the approaching tempest, then tucked in her wings to dive down at him. They crashed together and Medeath twined her tail and neck securely around the Eastern king, locking his paws into the iron grip of her hooked talons.

On the ground, Diardi spun around to pull the tempestrider possessively to her, yanking the man's head down to her and clamping her mouth demandingly over his. Whether he expected it or not, he'd likely garner a few bruises from this Flight, for in the grip of her dragon's mind Di was equally fierce, though likely the man wouldn't be disappointed if he wanted an enthusiastic partner. For all that Dea was more concerned with the resulting clutch, she didn't dislike the Flight itself, and her enjoyment was translated into Di.

ooc; Dea isn't quite done with your tempest. she's gonna want to play with him a little once they finish doing their thing -- just a warning.[/font][/color][/size]

[elainsie]

Lanorith's mouth quirked at her sulky tone, a low throated bugle emanating from deep within his chest. Did you really think I would believe such a ruse? You greatly underestimate me if so. The great temptest fell back as the Magma pivoted lashing out at the remaining two contenders. Feel better for that little display? His tone was lazy as he watched the bronze and topaz retreat. The field was his now, the prize within inches of his grasp.

And have no fear, sweet queen, I will prove myself until the very end of this, and sire upon you a clutch that will do us both proud. As she tucked her wings to dive down at him, he let his expand at his side as he glided up shallowly his claws gripping tightly to her own talons, his outstretched wings closing in on her, Laronith oblivious to the number of shallow cuts he was receiving, the lust and pride of having won spurring him on.

As they plummeted he kept one wing tightly around his prize, the other buffeting the air around them and causing a decrease in the velocity at which they fell. His tounge flicked over her sinewy neck, his tail curling around hers though he was carfeul to keep it away from the barbed end.

On the ground F'ariyan pulled the Magma rider towards him as tightly as his dragon held the queen, returning the hungry kiss with one of equal intensity, the mating lust giving that extra bit of fierceness to the man's natural hunger for women. He was almost so far gone that he would forgo the neccessity of privacy, however with great reluctance he pulled himself away long enough for the pair to make it to the neareat unoccupied weyr.


OOC:She reminds me of a type of grasshopper I think it is? They copulate and then the female rips the head off the male or something along the lines of that if I remeber my Bio lectures correctly.

[Desert]

The tempest's snarky attitude was what made this all the sweeter. It had been too long since one of her kings had dared talk back to her like this one did. Granted, during most of the Flight she was just as likely to rip the head off of any of her males who showed such impudence, so perhaps the fact that Lanorith was a foreign king and a novelty kept him safe. Well, not completely safe.

The magma queen gave herself over to the visceral rush as she and her mate glided toward the ground, their bodies entwined tightly. Her razor scales lacerated Lanorith's skin whenever their movement made his body chafe against the grain of the scales, and she deliberately overexaggerated her writhing in order to further cut up the tempest's hide. Where her neck was twined with his, leaving her spiked head tucked just under his chin, Medeath's playful nibbling at his throat became not so playful as the Flight drew to an end.

Just before Lanorith tried to detach himself from her, Medeath clamped her jaws down around his throat. She applied very little pressure though, just enough to warn him what she could do if she wished to. Meanwhile, she uncoiled her body from his, releasing his paws from her tight grip. Her forepaws reached up to dig into the muscles around his wing-shoulder while her hind claws raked repeatedly across the tempest's belly.

You did your Weyr proud,[/b][/color] she remarked, her mind-voice laden with wicked anticipation. This Flight has been exciting, and my next clutch will be a fine one, with strong hatchlings. The Eastern blood you will introduce to the clutch will enliven our stock. Yes, I am glad that I chose you.[/b][/color] Medeath dragged her foreclaws toward her, tearing deep, ragged gashes through the muscle of Lanorith's shoulders. It is only unfortunate for you that I won't allow a foreign king to monopolize my Flights.[/b][/color]

The queen snapped her wings open, and with a deft twist whirled them over so that Lanorith was between her and the ground. Her hind-claws shredded through his belly, her foreclaws raked furrows in his forequarters. They thudded into the ground with Dea standing on her mate's chest, and she gape-grinned wickedly at the tempest. But since I took a liking to you, Lanorith, I'll leave you alive. I just hope you know better than to fly another Crystal Caverns female, eh?[/b][/color] Medeath dipped her head to give the tempest's jaw a parting lick before she jumped lightly into the air and kited back toward the Weyr.

ooc; i was actually just about to remark that during her Flights, Dea ends up acting like a mantis. XD great minds think alike.[/font][/color][/size]