Strike number three

[Lyrikitty]

((Hitting Muuth, with permission from Desert))

A dark ghost haunted the skies of Pern these nights, more dangerous than the terrors haunting the dreams of many. Blows dealt low, harsh, queens were being targeted, sterilized. A sack of firestone was hooked to her fighting straps, and Mia lay flat against the silken hide so less would be seen.

The Wildfire's six wings grew still, not flapping, but gliding, circling Solainoti slowly. An Illusion had been lurking through the day, hidden from sight and undetected, and he appeared slightly below her, unable top keep his mass aloft and gliding as smoothely as the Wildfire, his wings working slowly. An image of the Weyr was projected into Veseleth's mind, and she found the one she wanted, the Chrome. She wsn't going to strike big this time, no, not dragon-wise at least. she had... More interesting plans for this Weyr, and it's secret treasures.

This would be, perhaps, her most artful attack yet, the most carefully articulated and constructed. She could not go about it as directly as she had the Gold and Snow. One had been so groggy from sleep, and being an unmutated creature her intelligence was not so high. The Snow... Well that had been a personal pleasure, to watch the beast that had given her Xanturnoth chew stone and forever damn herself to the same life her daughters led, as well as a blow to the fool Xyurith's pride. No, she was wary, and with reason, of this particular Weyr, only because they knew so very little of it.

With a slight nod to the Illusion, she tilted her wings, dropping altitude gently, just in time for Misery to appear in the space just vacated. They were short a mmber of the team this time, a single Illusion, remaining back. There were some... Complications, with ihm, he hadn't taken as well to this task as they had hoped, and was suffering from guilt, to the point where both he and his rider were violently ill. A shame, but not a crippling loss.

A crippling loss would have been for Veseleth, the mastermind of this evil scheme, to befall some terrible fate. The odds of that were slim. no beast could catch her, she was a Wildfire, and no meek youth, but among the older of her breeding. Evn if some poor sap managed to get close to her, she'd bring the temperature up, and watch them squirm.

With a sly smiirk, she landed lightly on the Chrome's ledge, and the only sound which could have been heard was a scant whisper of her claws as they settled to the ground, or a faint rustle as her wngs folded to her sides. Beautiful by the standards of anyone, she mused to herself. Mia loosened the straps that held her in place, one by one, and lay the material against the Wildfire's hide, to avoid the slap of leather as it struck the dragon lightly. They were good at this, better than they should be in reality. Ready, Mia lay a hand on Veseleth's neck, and lay flat once more, becomming a slight lump on the dragons back, barely visible at all.

~Muuth, wake up, lovely Chrome. Leave your weary rider to rest and come have a chat with me.~[/color] Veseleth's voice was sweet as honey, innocent and docile. Listening to it, one could have easily been convinced that she was there only for a social calling, despite the late hour.

Noise could be heard from inside the weyr, and Veseleth silently cringed, listening intently for the sounds from her partners to indicate a time to flee. None came, and the groggy Chrome emerged, peering out at the Wildfire cautiously, wary despite the dulcet tones. ~Who are you, and what are you doing in this Weyr?~[/color] A stubborn streak that was perhaps wider than even the Weyr portrayed itself in those words and the tune they were spoken in. This would not be an easy task at all.

~I only come to talk. Well... Not really..."[/color] She turned her head away, looking at her paws somberly. ~I am... Ashamed, of why I come here. You see, I have seen the stones you wear around your neck, and I do so wish I too had one, to commerate my own Hatching. I have searched everywhere to find one but, sadly, I am unable to.~[/color] Her sweet tone had dropped, heartbroken, dejected, and her wheeling eyes gave just that image, as her slumped posture did. ~I couldn't bear the shame, of appearing here in daylight to plead my case, and I've heard you to be a fair dragon, who wouldn't be so cold as to turn me away with nothing to show for my efforts...~[/color]

The Chrome stiffened as she listened, and while it nagged at her mind that this could be a deception, the Wildfire seemed so heartfelt that it was hard to imagine this an act at all. She frowned as she thought, her attention flickering about as if hunting for something, or someone, but nothing was there to catch her attention. All the while, Veseleth remained slumped, defeated and at her last hope to wear a stone like the dragons of Solainoti. Muuth felt not the presence in her mind of a Misery, nor did she notice the faint whisper of thoughts, the gentle nudge of a practiced artist to sway opinion. Did not the Wildfire have at least a right to have a birthstone? Sure, bad things were said of Black Sands and their dragons, but this one seemed so sweet, so different.

Muuth dipped her head slightly, and looked once more about. ~Alright... Alright, but I will have to go with you. You cannot look, while we go, so I will lead you. Come, down to the Weyrbowl we go.~[/color] the pair of them glided down as soundlessly as possible, which for Veseleth was easy, though the Chrome seemed to have some difficulty with silence. Once they landed, Muuth instructed the Wildfire to keep her eyes closed, and the touched Veseleth's side with her tail, a form of taking another by the hand to lead them. Through tunnels and turns they went, With an unknown companion watching from Muuth's eyes. Ves didn't need to see, only the Misery did. They arrived at the storehouse of the rare mineral, Riosian. ~We are here. Take a piece, and we will go. Hurry, I do not wish to be caught.~[/color]

Veseleth, ever the actress and puppeteer, nodded eagerly and padded forward, cautiously taking a chunk in her maw. So gentle was she, not a mark would be made on the Riosian. Her eyes wheeling an excited hue, she turned back to the Chrome, her silent look thanking Muuth eternally. She closed her eyes again, and once more was led through tunnels and turns, twists and curves. In the Weyrbowl, Mia unhooked the firestone, dumping it out and keeping a firm hold of the sack itself. They would need that soon. Very soon.

The Wildfire took the sack and slowly moved it out of sight, pushing it away with her tail until it was far enough for an unseen creature to creep up and take it. not yet though, first...

~Thank you, Chrome, you are far too kind. I wish to repay you, with a gift on my behalf. It is from my Weyr, and can be found nowhere else. She gestured to the stone.~[/color] It was, in essence, normal firestone. The only difference being a far darker coloring, making normal quality seem more gray than black, and a softer texture, easier to chew, the highest quality so soft a human hand could crumble it, if the human were a strong one. The dark color was, like ecerything else on the Weyr, due to the black sand of it's beaches. The texture was what made it unique, along with the limited quantity. There was a very thin vein of the stone running along some walls, and it was from there this had been carved out.

While Veseleth spoke, the Illusion moved. He had landed while the Wildfire and Chrome were in the storehouse, and waited patiently for them to emerge. His maw closed over the sack, and he back away again into hiding, though he'd camoflauged himself already. His rider took the sack from him, and when the Chrome's attention was fully on Veseleth, they padded into the tunnels, following the imaged projected to them from the Misery above.

~What is it?~[/color]

~This stone is where our abilities come from. We chew it, and we are able to do marveous things. Each breed is different, and I can only imagine what great lengths a Chrome such as you might accomplish, with this stone. But you must swallow it all, or it won't work...~[/color]

Muuth debated, for a long moment, and dropped her head to inspect it. She was not clueless, of what firestone was, had seen it plenbty f times in her life, and she had to admit, this did not look like firestone. She picked a chunk up and chewed it, the soft stone crumbling in her mouth at a single bite, and she swallowed, a little shocked at how soft and smooth it was. that was enough to convince her it wasn't firestone, and she beamed at the Wildfire, before obediently digging into the pile of stone, chewing and swallowing, chewing and swallowing. It was only natural to send the stone to her second stomache, and so she stocked up, while in the Riosian storehouse, an Illusion and his rider stocked up, filling their sack with the stone and heading back. They waited, just out of sigfht, until the Chrome had ingested enough firestone, and Veseleth crooned softly at her. ~Silly Chrome, you are perhaps the most dimwitted beast I've encountered yet!~[/color] Without another word, she jumped into the air, her wings snapping open and lifting her aloft instantly, with a single coordinated sweep. The Illuision followed, and as he reached an altitude safe for a Black Sands dragon to Between Veseleth bugled her victory once again, and vanished, followed in this act by the Misery, and then the Illusion, leaving behind the Chrome, who felt the gases startiong to build in her, and realized then what had just conspired.

[Desert]

Muuth knew she had been deceived as the wildfire creeled scornfully at her and leaped into the air. The chrome bellowed in rage and leaped into the air after them, her neck frill flared angrily, but was unable to catch up to the Black Sands dragons before they blinked between.

Sh'kith! Xanntorith! Muuth bawled. She coasted a broad spiral back down to the Bowl floor and roused her rider and Weyrking from their slumber. Only Xann, though, and not Isionyth. She knew how vengeful the brimstone could be when crossed, and while the chrome herself was quite willing to take a chunk out of that conniving wildfire, she knew things would only be worse if Isionyth tried exacting revenge for the betrayal.

Of course, she was also aware that Isionyth would be very upset at her for not contacting her at once, but Muuth was ready to bear her queen's displeasure, for there was a crisis at hand. It was easier to beg forgiveness than ask permission.

Besides, she was under orders. As Sh'kith was Weyrlingmaster, he and the Wingleaders and Seconds were all instructed to alert N'yx directly when something bad happened that had anything to do with Riosian. He was one of the older riders who was there during the time of the addiction, and had access to all the information Solainoti had on the mineral as Weyrleader. None of the current Wingleaders' or Seconds' dragons had any clue what this precaution was about: most the golds, bronzes, browns, blues and greens who had been victims of that affliction were either dead or retired, though several of their dragons -- like Xann and Muuth -- were Hatched of the first Riosian clutch.

The Weyrlingmaster and Weyrleader of Solainoti both stumbled out of their weyrs, rubbing sleep from their eyes. Xanntorith, in his usual manner, snapped into full alertness the moment his chrome clutchsister's words reached his mind. Leaving N'yx to descend the steps on foot, the big tempest swooped down into the Bowl and landed next to Muuth, lightning-marked wings mantling in agitation.

Both riders staggered down to their dragons in record time; Sh'kith predictably tripping, though since he was well-used to such occurances, he simply let his momentum carry him in a tumble until he got his feet back under him, and carries on running without even breaking stride. The stocky Weyrlingmaster threw his arms around Muuth's neck, stroking the mantled frill soothingly until it folded back again. "There now, love, hush. Tell us what's going on," he crooned to the still angry chrome.

Muuth turned her head toward N'yx and explained, though her rider had to translate for N'yx. I was woken up by a female, smaller than me, but I believe she had six wings. Her hide was the color of flames. She told me that she envied we of Solainoti for our Birthstones, and wished one for herself. I wish now I had directed her to the Grounds where we all get them -- I cannot think why I did not -- but instead, I took her to the stores. I made her close her eyes, though, and made sure she could only see when we arrived. She only took one piece. When we got back up, she showed me a sack of something that she said gave dragons marvelous powers if I chewed it.[/color] She growled to herself, annoyed that she would allow the wildfire to dupe her, and had to be soothed again by Sh'kith before she finished the narrative. The fool I am, I chewed. Then the six-wing took off. I gave chase, but before I could catch her, she betweened. I saw one other in the air with her, a tiny, pale thing.[/color]

As the Weyrlingmaster relayed what his chrome told, N'yx kept his face impassive. Xann was, by now, weaving his weight side to side on his forequarters, wings mantled and tail lashing as he regarded Muuth with blazing eyes. N'yx forestalled his tempest's sharp tongue. "What was it you chewed, Muuth? Was it like firestone?"

Yes. It looked different, though, and it was soft, like chewing dried mud rather than stone.[/color]

Hearing that, some amount of tension ebbed from the Weyrleader. Still, he continued the interrogation. "Are you sure you saw a second dragon before the wildfire transferred? Was it a small white dragon?" When Muuth nodded, N'yx pursed his lips. "Then, my friends, we can assume that our Riosian stores have been raided."

Xann snarled and crouched, as if about to launch himself into the air after the intruders, but his rider placed a calming hand on the tempest's foreleg. Sh'kith and Muuth both looked puzzled, so he explained. "The only place six-winged dragons come from is Black Sands. The small white one you saw, Muuth, was a misery. That misery watched you lead the wildfire to the stores, doubtlessly. So they know now exactly where we store our Riosian. And I'd be willing to bet they stole some. Tomorrow I'll send someone down to have a thorough look around to try and guess how much was taken." The usually unflappable Weyrleader looked shaken, much to the shock of booth dragons. Sh'kith, though he had been mostly absent throughout the addiction, was equally unsettled and clung to Muuth's sturdy neck for physical and psychological support.

"What can we do?" Sh'kith asked, managing to calm himself from the moment of panic when he realized that there was the possibility of another Riosian addiction elsewhere on Pern. It had been bad enough in Solainoti, with just the canon colors, but with some of the dragons on Pern... he shuddered to think.

N'yx shook his head slowly. "Not much, right now. We know that they came from Black Sands, but Faranth only knows if they took that Riosian somewhere else other than their home Weyr. Very soon all hell will break loose when Isionyth finds out what's happened. We need to keep her from going berserk: right now, the last thing we need is for Isionyth to lead the Weyr in an attack on Black Sands. It would mean too many deaths, and too much damage on both sides."

Xann, as his rider's logic registered within his quick mind, soon calmed. You're right. The best thing to do would be to alert all the other Weyrs about this. It's not hard to imagine that we aren't the first Weyr they've hit.[/color] The big tempest glanced at Muuth and snorted. It's just folly on their part not to remember that firestone doesn't sterilize our females the way it does others.[/color]

Muuth averted her head from the other three to release a thin stream of emission. I do apologize for being such a dimglow,[/color] she said to Xann, ducking her head. I should have known better than to trust the six-wing. I fear my actions will cause much suffering in the future.[/color]

Xann parted his jaws in a kind smile at the chrome and touched her head reassuringly with his muzzle. It is not your fault, sister Muuth. Wildfires and miseries are renowned for their powers of manipulation. You did well even under their spell, by escorting her blind to the stores personally instead of just telling her the way. Put it our of your mind. You will need all your concentration to help keep your Senior queen from murdering half of Pern![/color] N'yx grinned slightly at Xann's parting line, said only half in jest. Muuth managed a chuckle as well.

Sh'kith slapped his dragon's muscular shoulder encouraging. "That's the stuff, m'love!" The Weyrlingmaster in no way felt the confidence his tone oozed, however, and he traded an uneasy look with N'yx. If that wildfire fed the Riosian to some unsuspecting dragon elsewhere on Pern, it would be more than just an angry brimstone they would have to worry about.
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[Onyxaeon]

Vsiasi & Isionyth
>~>Angel((of))Mercy<~<


Her mate had wandered off. As ashen tail swept across the floor, thrice splaying over the stones smoothed from dragon weight to locate the tail tip the Brimstone would not admit she brushed against during the night. She was not dependent on any male, let alone Xanntorith. Frustrated orbs pried themselves free from their imprisonment, her many faceted lids scorched in varying shades of irritation. She needed none of this. Not the unease pouring through her veins from continents apart from her own, nor the rush of hormones from a Rising soon to be. This was not the time for her beloved-her mind slithered disdainfully over the word-mate to wander about when she needed him to fetch her some midnight delicacy from the caverns. Yes, a Cion would do lovely right now. Something hard to find and bittersweet to watch squirm as she pulled out one of its two hearts. Or was that some other crawly thing that possessed two pulsing organs? Ah well, she cared not.

Heaving her mass up, wing membranes burnt soot black shook faintly, relieving the tension that had coiled in the sinews since the queen had taken to slumber. Absently, Isionyth's skull pivoted about the open weyr, searching about on the off chance she may have missed seeing the male return from getting a snack of his own. Empty. A slow, rolling breath found itself locked inside the confines of her lungs, an equally even paced sigh later sending the very same air to gush forth from her nostrils and tickle the atmosphere. Hmm. If he was not returning, he must still be out eating. Lazy idiot. I'm the one who needs food, not his fat arse. Why, I'm practically skin and bones! How am I supposed to nourish eggs if that blundering fool wont get me food? Faranth knows I shouldn't have to work to get it. Talons clicked rapidly against the stone as the Brimstone queen waited patiently-well, as patiently as she could manage-for the Tempest to return. Several minutes passed by and the female finally gave, letting loose a low, muttering rumble that border-lined on a snarl. Well, if he wasn't going to feed her she would have to rouse the Tempest's Mine and get him to make up for his beast's failure. After all, Hers needed her rest simply because she had not slept well the past few nights.

The senior queen frowned at that, a pause of thought halting her irrational temper tantrum and ceasing her forward march. Hers had been having cruel night terrors as of late and had woken several times during the last few nights at the most obscure of hours, screaming her pain as her lungs clamped together so tightly air nearly refused to get through to them. It was distressing to not only the Weyrwoman, but also to her mount. Hardened and calloused as the queen was, even she was not immune to her bonded's pain and suffering. But, she was sleeping peacefully now. The Brimstone allowed a rare, soft smile to break across her maw as she glanced over her Mine tucked, more like wrapped, in the furs. It was then that Isionyth truly glanced at the bed before her, her eyes narrowing as she crossed the scare distance and peered down to a sorely occupied bed. No N'yx either. This was a challenge to her authority! Both of her meal servants had wandered off without even bothering to protest their cases or plead to leave her side while she was in such a delicate-Isionyth, delicate? Ha!-state of being. Wherry headed fools!

Rediscovered, irrational anger tainted her vision, coating the first few layers in a faint shade of crimson. Oh, he would pay. Maybe not in blood, it wouldn't do to hurt him that badly before a Flight, but he would understand his mistake. They both would. Only Vsiasi's gently dosing state for once kept the queen perfectly silent as she stormed out of her weyr, her keen eyes skimming over the Bowl before she spotted a familiar hide in the darkness along with his rider and another dragon and Hers. Hers? HERS?!?!? Faranth be damned, the dead glow was flirting with another female! Rage seeped into her muscles, the tendons coiling, ready to pounce at her command as a warning, menacing snarl bellowed from her maw. She didn't care who she woke, didn't care that Hers may be woken or what she had to go through to tear one of them apart. She was only concerned with getting someone's blood on her claws and maw. He would pay, and poor Xanntorith didn't even know exactly why yet. Oh, but he would.

The queen discontinued her waiting, dropping from her high ledge and spiraling down toward the ground with a rivaled speed, her wings flaring out, tilting slightly to bring her to pass just behind Muuth, the senior queen's ridged back nearly brushing the Chrome's flesh as she broke through the close knit group to create space for herself. Her barbed tail nearly coming into contact with the Weyrling Master as the man backed away to avoid being hit. Isionyth lifted herself upward once more, diving through the group again to further scatter the two dragons and their Mines before she landed forcibly, the ground stuttering from the sudden impact though she showed no signs that she had been harmed during the act. You brainless, spineless, coward! Where do you come off stealing him from me? He is MINE! The Brimstone had mass on the Chrome, that much was painfully obvious as the senior queen's talons drug into the soil, her maw looming over Muuth with fangs bared, barbed tail lashing out violently from side to side. Her restraint was not infallible, though, as Isionyth hissed, the acidity to her tone dripping through as she lept from the torn soil beneath her, her front forepaws extending and coming into brute contact with the Chrome female, sending her toppling over and onto her side with a deliciously exposed underbelly before the queen. No, she had not broken skin. Yet. You have three seconds to explain before I begin breaking every bone your pathetic frame possess one by one. We'll start with your shoulders. The queen applied pressure with one clawed paw, growling as her eyes bore down on Muuth, continuing to bear down with increasing pressure. Give me a reason you waste of space dragon!

[Desert]

Xann heard the malicious snarl from the ledge he shared with Isionyth and turned his white-veined head in time to see the brimstone launch herself into the air, heading in their direction, radiating bloodthirsty rage. He quickly ducked out of the vengeful Isionyth's flight path as she swooped low, nearly clipping Muuth as she went by. In his haste to avoid Isionyth Sh'kith fell over; a fortunate accident, as the wicked barbs at the end of Isionyth's tail flashed by where his head had just been.

Muuth interposed herself between her rider and the angry queen as she made a second pass, this time almost puncturing Xann's wings before the big tempest flattened himself against the stony Bowl floor. He was taken aback by his mate's vicious attack on Muuth, and just barely managed to pull Sh'kith out of the way before his chrome's stocky body was pinned under Isionyth's seeking claws. The Weyrlingmaster clung gratefully to Xann's muzzle for a moment before regaining his balance. He wore a pained expression and reached out with one hand as if to aid his ensnared dragon, though he knew better than to get between the brimstone and her prey. N'yx put a hand on the man's shoulder to hold him back, while Xann dared to inch closer to his mate. Isionyth, I am flattered that you still consider me as yours, but you must not kill Muuth. She has not done what you accuse her of doing, he told the angry brimstone, his mental tone cajoling. He let Muuth do most of the talking, however, knowing that Isionyth wouldn't accept the tale from him, whom she apparently thought was being unfaithful.

Muuth wheezed painfully as Isionyth's taloned paw bore down heavily on her shoulder. I was woken by a stranger, Isionyth, and she tricked me into giving her a piece of Riosian, but I made sure she did not know the way to the stores. The stranger then convinced me to chew a soft stone that is like firestone, and she fled. N'yx believes they were from Black Sands and that the small white one with the six-wing stranger was a misery who manipulated my mind and stole some of our Riosian. I roused Xanntorith to tell them what happened. I swear to you on the shell of my Egg, my Birthstone and my rider's life that I was not attempting to steal your mate from you. I would not do such a vile thing, and Xanntorith is as faithfully yours as Sh'kith is Mine.[/color] The chrome babbled her story, trying to keep it abbreviated so that she could get it all out before Isionyth decided to start breaking bones, but not leave out any important details. Her piece said, Muuth lay under the brimstone's paws, awaiting her queen's verdict. She knew that, if Isionyth decided she was telling the truth, she would likely be punished by the vengeful brimstone for telling Xann but leaving her out, and was prepared to accept it.

Xann edged closer so that he could reach out daringly with one wingtip and lightly touch Isionyth's shoulder. You can ask Sh'kith and N'yx if you disbelieve my sister, Isionyth. She speaks true. Can you not smell the firestone on her hide, and see the sack yon which held the stuff that wildfire fed her? Please, release her. Muuth was the unwitting victim of trickery from Black Sands, and we need to concentrate on that rather than accusing each other.[/color]

N'yx glanced back up at their weyr, wondering if Vsasi had been roused by her dragon's antics. He'd been woken up himself on several occasions by the Weyrwoman's sleeping troubles; but for fear of rousing Isionyth's protective ire, especially touchy now that she was close to Rising, he had foregone drawing attention to it. She seemed to have been sleeping peacefully when he'd left the weyr; N'yx hoped Vsasi remained unaware of Isionyth's fit tonight and got a sound sleep. She needed it.
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[Onyxaeon]

You be quiet you insensitive flit! Isionyth's barbed tail lashed blindly out, hoping one pointed barb had scrapped across his snout to remind him exactly who and what she was. You, dear Xanntorith, are on my shit list. I wake up to find you gone and I only wanted a snack, maybe a nice little Cion. All you had to do was trot off to find one but, no, you had to wander off to deal with this wretched mess that she has made of things without even bothering to inform me of any of it! Isionyth snarled as she glared daggers down at Muuth, a snort rumbling from the depths of her throat. And then you have the gull to call me dimwitted and assume I intend to kill this Chrome. Bite your tongue before I bite it off for you! Isionyth shot the Tempest a quick, venomous look before turning her attention to the dragon beneath her claws, a rush of gory images swaying her vision and clouding her thoughts as she wished oh so very much to see her blood spilled across the Bowl with various limbs tossed about the place, maybe her head as a wall ornament for her weyr. The fool. The damned fool. But, she was her fool, her responsibility and, even for admitting her error and her actions to make amends for this, she would still suffer: Isionyth would make certain of that.

An explanation is what I asked for, and now I have one. Your bones are spared in being ripped from their sockets and shattered, but they are at my entire whim now. I don't care what duty you have to ignore, what meals you have to skip, or what you have to put on hold to do so, but you will find yourself at Watch Duty for the next five seven weeks from dawn to the first candle-mark of night. Yours is safe from this: I have no quarrel with him. In addition to Watch Duty, you are to personally keep your eyes on the Riosian stores. If so much as a fly gets inside the caverns I will finish what I started and I wont be so kind. Now get out of my sight before I change my mind and, for Faranth's sake, bring me a wretched Cion before I stab someone and eat them for my snack! Isionyth shoved off of the Chrome, her attention now upon Xanntorith once more as her tail began to curl in anticipation: blood thirsty. If your idiocy woke Mine, I swear to you you wont be male much longer. I could very well neuter you the moment you even attempt to catch me. With a hummed sighed, Isionyth lifted her wedged skull, inclining it toward the weyr to hear tale is indeed the large Tempest would have to call himself an it soon. Much to his fortune, the Weyrwoman was still slumbering softly in her bed, not a flicker of night terrors lurking about in her thoughts. Faranth finds you lucky. I don't care what you have to say, what you have to defend yourself with, or that you intended to tell me about it in the morning if you even did at all. I'm only concerned with what we are going to do and if my eggs will be safe on my own sands. Now open your mouth and give me an answer so that I don't have to do everything myself around here.

[Desert]

Muuth barely suppressed a groan as Isionyth delivered the sentence upon her. No physical punishment, but over a month of consecutive double watch shifts. This meant that Sh'kith would be on his own for the Weyrling lessons until her penance was fully served. But how, in Faranth's name, was she supposed to stand watch and at the same time keep a round-the-clock surveillance on the Riosian? She could easily fix the problem at night by simply sleeping in front of the entrance to the stores -- she was a light sleeper, an unusual trait for a chrome -- but during the day when she was sitting among the Star Stones watching the traffic in and out of the Weyr?

But Muuth knew better than to argue, and hauled herself to her paws, trotting as briskly as her recent imprisonment allowed, into one of the network of maze-like corridors she knew to be the stamping grounds of some cion. Sh'kith stayed when N'yx gave the Weyrlingmaster a slightly pleading look. It would be easier to get a translation directly from him if they needed to question Muuth further.

Xann shook off the ichor that was beading on his muzzle from the laceration Isionyth's spiked tail slashed across it. Of course we will be doubly vigilant from now on, until the problem is resolved -- N'yx and I will post extra watchdragons around the Rim in every shift, and wherever else you or I or one of Ours deems in need of surveillance. There surely are others who have been attacked by Black Sands, so if no one calls a meeting of Weyrs, we will. Once the issue is aired to the other Weyrleaders, then we can take action. It would be foolish to try and go after the culprits immediately, since we have no idea if they will go elsewhere before returning to their home, and following them back to Black Sands would be suicidal. The tempest shrugged, hoping Isionyth would follow the advice. A lot of what he told his mate was prompted by N'yx, by far the more level head as Xann himself was still liable to go chasing after the intruders if given the least provocation.

Muuth returned then with not one, but three dead cion. The trio of stone-colored omega cion were draped limply between her teeth , slumping onto the ground as she placed them deferentially in front of Isionyth. I found a whole swarm and managed to get several at once. There are two more yonder if you want them.[/color] The stocky chrome then backed up, giving the brimstone a wide berth, and promptly shoved her head against Sh'kith's chest for him to stroke and scratch soothingly. He managed to get his dragon calmed down by finding her favorite spot to scratch: just where her neck-fin met her skull, the underside that was always sheltered by the frill being folded. She sighed happily as her rider's fingers found and scrubbed dutifully at the perpetually itchy spot.
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[Onyxaeon]

Isionyth eyed the three omega cion almost distastefully, vaguely displeased at how swiftly the Chrome female had returned. That had been meant to be difficult: the little things were so terrible agile, nasty, and violent. Especially the three the Chrome had come across. Even her punishment was designed to be a test of the mind as well as body for the Weyrling Master's mount. After all, only the fit could tolerate being up and alert for such awhile, let alone ponder over how to be in two places at once. No, the queen was not dense in her sentence. She was, in fact, terribly clever. It was something she /knew/ Muuth would fail at, everyone has a breaking point, and then she could later snap at the female again for another failure and exact her deserved revenge and pleasurable punishment. Her craving won over her displeasure eventually, though, and the Brimstone's tongue wrapped around the three bodies and, in one swift motion, drug them down her throat and into the bowl of one stomach. Her tail extended, curling about the two remaining and bringing them closer before a flick of sinew sent them into the air, her parted jaws allowing her to scoop them up and there they vanished from view. One draconic brow-or at least the area above her eye where one would be if it existed-lifted in irritated question as her tongue raked across her maw, savoring the taste. Do not you have something you should be doing now? Be gone. Isionyth flicked her tail in dismissal, turning her attention to the remaining Weyrleader, Weyrking, and Weyrling Master. One idiot down, three to go. Oh joy.

I want as many shifts on watch duty as we can possibly allow. The only place I don't want touched is my nesting site. I have Riosian arranging to do and you, the queen gestured to Xanntorith, aren't getting out of helping me with that. I want it to be perfect and those stupid flits keep fouling up the area by leaving trash in there. Is clean too much to ask for? Isionyth muttered a low, rolling growl, a deep sigh escaping her maw as she lowered her head slightly, enough so to where she now had to tilt her eyes upward in their sockets to hold eye contact with the Tempest before her. Her previously crimson orbs had bled to a soft, pleading shade, traces of yellow wandering about the depths in the form of a light dusting of specks. Oh, lovely. Mood swings. You will keep them from making it such a mess, wont you? It's very, very important to me. I can't have a dirty nest with little dragons trying to grow healthy. And this clutch is going to be a big one: I can feel it. Can you fix it? What in the name of Faranth...? She was being...nice?

[Desert]

Xanntorith suppressed a sigh as Isionyth mentioned arranging and cleaning the Grounds. It was inevitable, and though it was a chore that the big tempest found irritating and tedious, he still knew better than to object. If he wanted to keep on the brimstone's good side and have a chance in the upcoming Flight, he needed to cooperate, even if it meant acting as a winged drudge for his mate. He vaguely wondered if any of the other Weyrkings had the same problems with their queens as he did.

Isionyth's mood swing, though not entirely unexpected given her hormonal state, still caught him a bit by surprise, and he eyed her warily for a moment before replying. Of course I can. I'll help you clean up and arrange the Riosian to your satisfaction, as I always have,[/color] he was unable to resist adding. It was true: as long as he'd been Weyrking to Isionyth, he'd dutifully aided the broody brimstone to get the Hatching Grounds in spotless order for the impending clutch. Naesth hadn't been so finnicky about the Riosian that she recruited her mate to help, but then again, she had been as possessive of the Grounds from conception to laying as she was from laying to Hatching. And if it looks like the Riosian in there is running a bit low -- we haven't replenished it in a while -- I'll go myself to fetch a new load.[/color] Usually a smaller dragon who had nothing else to do was "volunteered" to run errands back and forth while Xann was helping to clean the Grounds, but considering the recent breach in security, he trusted few with access to those stores.

While Xann was dealing with Isionyth's sudden shift in mood, Muuth had stood sullenly in place. She had used the time it took to catch those cion to do some thinking, and had worked herself back into a temper before she confronted the brimstone about it. Displaying a typical chrome's recalcitrant nature, she remained where she was after Isionyth dismissed her, eyes swirling with red and orange as she regarded her Senior queen. Sh'kith tried encouraging her to go back to sleep -- it wasn't long until dawn and she had a long day on watch ahead, but Muuth wasn't going to move. She stubbornly ignored her rider and addressed Isionyth. No, I don't have anything to do, and I won't begone. Not until you hear me out. I'll suffer my penance when it fits my crime, but you've given me a punishment much worse than what I did. You and I both know that I won't be able to keep watch through two shifts for thirty-five days straight, and keep my eye on the stores twenty-four-seven. Pick one or the other, Isionyth, and I'll do it to the best of my ability, but don't ask me to do the impossible.[/color] The stocky chrome had her neck-fins half spread and her lower jaw set belligerently.

Xann had to admire Muuth for having the chutzpa to stand up to Isionyth. He looked from his clutchsister to his mate, wondering how she would react to the chrome's sudden defiance. Sh'kith shot N'yx an apologetic look, which the Weyrleader returned with a slight smile. He and Xann would try to keep the brimstone from doing too much damage, should Isionyth take too much offense to Muuth's attitude.

ooc; -snickers- go Muuth![/font][/size]

[Onyxaeon]

Isionyth's twitching tail stilled, her momentary kindness fleeing from her irises as she began to isolate each and every syllable of the Chrome's words. Defiance? Ah, what a lovely yet utterly foolish thing it was. Defying a wingleader or weyrling master was one thing, but to defy the senior queen? Did a punishment exist that should suit her now crimes? The queen's voice was low, a guttural sound as she lifted her skull from it's lowered position. Crimson orbs tilted in their sockets to lock with Muuth's own irritated shade: the anger only fueled her own rage, and a snarl slithered from between clenched fangs. The queen's wings slightly unfurled, the curved barbs along her tail tip as well as the horns atop her skull gleaming in their apprehension. You are disposable: the fact that you must testify is the only thing allowing you to draw breath at the moment. After, you don't need to remain alive any further. Do you even realize what you have done? You've dragged our Weyr into a battle that is not our own and put hundreds if not thousands of dragons at risk. One lick of that mineral is enough to begin an addiction. Do you know our stores cannot feed those who will come? Do you understand the withdrawal symptoms, the anger and the blinded torment, and that all manner of dragon kin will possess those symptoms? A Magma, an Amber a Raven, Black, to name a few who sizes far exceed our own here. It would be a massacre. That blistering passion without cause for anything other than that drug will send wave after wave of winged demons-yes, their sanities will be lost-crashing over the walls of our Weyr, storming the Bowl and destroying everything in their path to get what they believe is theirs. Isionyth dared to edge closer, her bulk virtually removing the space between the two female dragons as one bore down on the other with malicious intent strung across her every word and written into each sinew without so much as thought on the matter. The impossible? What you've created is an impossible situation. The crimes suits the disobedient, thoughtless creature. If it is a punishment you want, keep your wings close to your body and don't let me catch you flying. I'll watch your wings clipped inch by wretched inch and adore the screams that will come from your maw. As of now, you are Grounded from duty and from pleasure. The skies don't belong to vermin, Muuth.. The words hung ill in the air, the tension churning as the waves of the oceans do just before a great storm would wash over the area. She meant every word she had spoken, and, the worse part of the whole matter, her rage did not die at the sentence of forbidding an air born creature to taste the skies, even with her urges. No doubt, the Chrome would indeed Rise and, when that came, she had best to hope Isionyth was tending to her eggs when it did.

The queen's tail searched for something behind her, out of her vision, raking across the ground before she nudged Xanntorith's foot and then came into contact with human feet. She could tell by the boots feel alone, this was not her Mine's Weyrleader, and the muscled mass encircled the man's legs with unbreakable force: his struggles would not hurt him, but he would not find it well to move. The beauty of life is that it can be taken away at such a short notice. Your Mine, for example. The quickest way to get to you is through him. Even I am not that cruel, though. Or, am I really so heartless? Tell me, Muuth, am I cruel enough to strangle him where he stands and find another way to tell the same story at the meeting? The Brimstone's tail curled about the man's legs, steadily climbing up his waist and then torso.Still, she had yet to apply much force, only enough to lock him in place. If pushed, though, well, they would see just how far she could go without the threat of guilt.

[Desert]

Xann watched warily as Isionyth turned to deal with Muuth's abrupt defiance. He wanted to come to the chrome's defense, knowing it had been the skilful manipulations by the wildfire and misery that had caused Muuth to divulge the secret, and no fault of her own, and also that rebellion was in a chrome's nature, as much as Isionyth's own temper was in her nature as a brimstone. But, he also knew that if he stepped in now and tried to throw in his lot with Muuth, he could say good-bye to being Weyrking forever. His tail twitched and flickered agitatedly: the only part of him to move, as the rest of the big tempest's body was stone still, every muscle wound tight as a coiled spring. N'yx kept one hand on his dragon's leg as an added insurance that Xann didn't jump into the conflict.

Muuth shrank back as Isionyth came to tower over her, though despite a lot of the initial resentment at the unjust sentence having been cowed, her temper smoldered on. She clenched her jaws so tight it felt as if her teeth would shatter to keep silent while the brimstone was speaking, frill folded securely against her neck, tail curled around her self so she wasn't tempted to tuck it between her hind legs. Muuth privately raged at the injustice. It wasn't her fault that she had been tricked: did Isionyth expect her to be omniscient so that she could head off such random and completely unexpected disasters? She was well aware of the repercussions if that Riosian got out: Hers had been in the Weyr during the addiction, and as she had been trained as a weyrling, she'd even seen the last of the addicts free themselves from the affliction. But Isionyth was too young to have seen that, unlike the other two dragons in the Bowl.

When Isionyth's tail curled inexorably around his leg, Sh'kith stiffened, not daring to move left he be stabbed by the wicked barbs. He mentally pleaded with Muuth to keep her composure, which she did as best she could: though the chrome would have liked to tear the brimstone's tail away from her rider's body, she only allowed a faint hiss to slip from between her clenched teeth.

By the time Isionyth had concluded her speech, Muuth was crouched down so that her belly nearly brushed the ground, trembling slightly in a mixture of fear and anger, her eyes mirroring it in splashes of fiery reds and oranges among streaks of white and yellow. She glared daggers back up at the brimstone and, with great difficulty, replied without launching into a tirade. As you said, I am expendable. I have already given my account to Xanntorith, so if you saw fit to execute me and Mine for the invasion that I had no control of in the least, then certainly you could share with the others what happened without my personal testimony. But what I don't see is why you do not go ahead and take my wings, to remove the temptation for me to fly. Or, if I am never to help Mine drill the weyrlings or fight with the rest of my kin to char Thread, why do you not just kill us now, and spare the Weyr the strain of supporting us? Shall I go between now, to save you the effort, or will you carry out your threat immediately the moment I start gaining the altitude to make the jump?[/b][/color] Muuth's tone dripped hate and fear, though from her entire demeanor, the chrome had again reverted to her color's essentially cowardly nature, and was no longer interested in standing up to Isionyth's bullying: right now, she was simply stewing in impotent rage, despising the brimstone but knowing she didn't dare disobey again.

Xann dipped his head with a rumbling sigh and nudged N'yx away. He wasn't about to jump in, seeing that the fight had gone out of Muuth, and wanted his rider to go get some sleep while he could. The tempestrider quirked an eyebrow at Xann, but the Weyrking was adamant. He would have to hang around and make sure that Isionyth settled down, and that was something N'yx didn't have to be present for. The Weyrleader of Solainoti shrugged and took a few steps away; out of the zone of conflict, but not making much headway toward his weyr in case Isionyth decided she didn't want him to leave quite yet.
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[Onyxaeon]

Because removing the temptation ruins the delightful pleasure to be found in watching you squirm knowing you are capable of something yet forbidden to performing the task. Isionyth replied without missing a beat, her head lifting up in a slight, mocking scoff of a testimat. Yes, there was so much pleasure to be found in Muuth's pain, though even the irate Brimstone knew when she must contain her temper. Mayhaps she had pushed a touch to far in grabbing the dragon's Mine, but the action had been done and she could not more change it than she could pour rain back into the clouds. To return to your punishments, you shall not have to endure holding extra watch duty, nor guarding the stores any night or day aside from this one. No, I believe being Grounded is enough to haunt your thoughts. That being said, the tail curled about Muuth's Mine disentangled itself carefully, being quite certain not to poke the man with her barbs, Your rank leaves another problem with which I must handle. I will be Rising soon, and that means weyrlings. I'm not dense enough to not have you instructing them: few can get something like that right in any case. It will be a case of wait-and-see. Now, it is rather late, and we cannot do anything else without being foolish. I believe the best thing to do is return to our weyrs and get some sleep before we can think clearly and deal better with this muddle in the morning. The Brimstone stepped away from the Weyrling Master and his mount, brushing past Xanntorith and His as well as she glanced up to the Weyrleader's weyr in almost wishful thought. Well, are you coming? Se said curtly, her skull turning back around to catch full view of her Tempest mate.