==== September 24, 2013
==== Aleile, K'tir, S'tin, Vorick (NPC)
==== A nightmare unfolds in the psyche of a young man.

Who Aleile, K'tir, S'tin, Vorick (NPC)
What A nightmare unfolds in the psyche of a young man.
When It is 3 turns 1 month and 24 days into the 12th pass.
Where Southern Weyr

Aleile-Adult_Icon.jpg Sytin-Teen_Icon.jpg Vorick-Icon.jpg kultir2.jpg]


The darkest pitch of night covers the Weyr, the stars blotted out by heavy cloud cover that crackles with the imminent threat of a downpour. The hour is late, perhaps two or three in the morning, only the lone watchrider standing guard over Southern's expanse, dark and dreaming.

It is in this void of night that S'tin jolts awake, sitting upright in his bed, breath coming in gasping heaves as he orients himself. A bronze firelizard pops in from between chittering alarm, eyes rolling red and yellow. Images pour into his mind and his feet hit the floor and he's moving before he even realizes it, hauling clothing over his tall, athletic frame. Cinolth! I need you to wake Veritath. Tell his rider to hurry! Flying leathers are thrown on, his fingers struggling with the buckles in his haste and he forces himself to take a deep breath, slowing down and finally getting them right. Belt and boots somehow get hauled on and tightly laced before the young man is grabbing his helmet and flying for the ledge.

Large eyes turn toward S'tin as he moves into the weyrcouch, tossing aside the curtains. I have woken Veritath. They will hurry.

"Thank you!" Straps are forgone as the rider simply vaults up Cinolth's burnished forearm, swinging in between the two foremost ridges of the bronze's withers. "Go!" The word isn't even out of his mouth before the dragon is moving for the ledge, falling and snapping his wings open to catch the current, soaring upwards and toward the verdant fields to the south.


K'tir. Veritath rumbles at his somnolent rider, eyes whirling redly at Cinolth's urgency. KUL! The dragon roars at his lifemate who jerks awake and looks up blearily. "What?" K'tir asks, rolling upright from where he sprawls on the edge of the weyrcouch still fully dressed in leathers. Cinolth's rider needs you to hurry.

The young bronzer scratches his face and yawns as he climbs his dragon's side without bothering to strap him up. "Take us there, Veri." he says and clutches his hands and legs tight as the big bronze drops off the ledge and opens his wings with a snap, soaring across the bowl to the verdant fields where the other bronze waits.


Hooves thunder across the plains, two riders on sleek runners moving at a full tilt. The reins of the second are held in the hand of the larger rider, the smaller rider flopping and clinging for dear life as their beasts devour the earth beneath them.

Above the plains the brazen form of Cinolth soars, the wind buffeting the dragon as he slides through the air, eyes whirling a bright orange hue as the other bronze slides up alongside him. About time you got here! S'tin leans forward, trying to scour the ground with his own eyes but it is simply too dark. He looks over to K'tir and gestures wildly down at the fields. Tell your rider that Vorick has taken Aleile!

Veritath swivels his long neck around to focus on the lead rider, rumbling disgust at the wildly running beasts. Cinolth says Vorick has taken Aleile. the bronze tells his rider. May I sweep him?

K'tir laughs into the wind of his dragon's passage and yells, "Let's go, Veri!" The young daredevil crouches over his strapless dragon's neck and pulls his feet under him to crouch on between the ridges as if he's standing in the stirrups of a much larger runner. Just before his bronze pulls up next to the running beasts he waves to get S'tin's attention and point to the smaller rider. Then Veritath sweeps his wings back and K'tir leaps forward to tackle the larger rider, knocking the beast completely off his feet and plowing the fleeing man a half-dragonlength into the ground. They roll a few times until the dragonman loses his hold on the shorter man he's tackled.

The runner screams with panic as it rights itself, getting hooves underneath and bolting toward the jungle. Vorick snarls as K'tir tackles him, rolling with the fall as they fly across the ground, finally coming loose. He's dazed momentarily, but after only moments he rises to his feet, drawing his blade and looking at the bronzerider. "You have messed with me for the last time, boy…"

Cinolth descends, keeping pace with the other runner as it too panics and runs shrieking away from them. Cin, cut the runner off! S'tin perches, holding onto the neckridge as the bronze sweeps forward and banks, diving in front of the runner. He rolls as he lands, finally loosing enough momentum to right himself. Scare it my way! The bronze obliges and S'tin snags the reins, trying to calm the runner down. "Ali! Are you all right?"

The young Harper doesn't respond at first, eyes glazed over. Aleile groans as a voice penetrates the fog, lightning flashing to reveal the face of her foster-brother. "Sy!" she cries, muffled by the gag and struggling to free her hands, strapped to the saddle's pommel.

K'tir rips his long-blade from its sheath at his belt, having looked forward to this meeting for the past four Turns, as he rolls to his feet facing the older man. "I'm just starting to mess with you, Vorick." is the growled response a he circles the other man warily. Stay back, Veri but … avenge me if …

I will, then I will join you and our beloveds. The strong mental caress of the big bronze steadying the young man as he faces the man who has terrorized his two best friends for too long.

A laugh erupts from the older man, echoed by a peal of thunder from the recent lightning strike. "I always knew riders were nothing but empty sacks that flew Fall." He rotates his blade, testing the balance of it. "Such a shame because I was hoping for so much more…" Vorick rushes in suddenly, bringing the blade down in a high sweep.

S'tin's fingers struggle with the bindings holding his sister and with a snarl pulls out his dagger and simply slices through the rope. The blade falls from his hands as Aleile loses her balance and he catches her, carrying her over to Cinolth as he lands, the runner fleeing for good now. "Cin! Take her back to the Weyr! Wake a Healer!"

The dragon rumbles acknowledgement, taking the semi-conscious Harper into his forearms and lifting off. His rider doesn't even wait to see him go, instead turning in the direction his best friend was last seen and bolting toward it, flashes of lightning becoming more frequent now.

A bitter laugh echoes the older man, blending with the thunder, K'tir's eyes staying on the older man's blade hand but also the eyes to see what he will do next. When the man attacks, the bronzer blocks, parries and riposte's with a strong defensive movement.

After the riposte, a rapid three strike attack of high-mid-high advance. K'tir's eyes flash in the lightning strikes, a feral green reflection that just matches his dragon's whirling eyes as the big bronze mantles over the pair. He doesn't waste his breath on answering the old man, knowing he'll never be able to best the man with words.

What Vorick lacks in raw strength, he makes up for in experience, coolly deflecting the younger man's weapon away from him. The first drops of rain begin to fall now, heavy and large and splashing off the flat of the blade when they strike. "It's a pity that Pern will lose two of its protectors tonight." He circles around K'tir, waiting. "Maybe I'll leave some little orphans too."

Veritath roars a denial at the same time that K'tir laughs bitterly. Peace, Veri. The dragon calms though his eyes still whirl redly as he watches the fight between his lifemate and the other human. "My children are loved and cared for by their foster mothers." he says calmly.

Long strides finally eats away at the gap between then, S'tin's face set in a scowl. "The only one being sent between tonight is you!" Blade sings as he pulls it free from the scabbard and the youth lunches forward, using his longer reach to lash out at the elder Harper with a snarl.

He launches a rather desperate attack high —low -low- high, knowing he has the strength to bully the older man but he doesn't know if he has the stamina to work the other man to exhaustion. He smiles sadly as his friend reaches his side and they meet the older man together. "Stay back, Sy … you need to take care of Ali …" He stumbles as the rain soaked ground clings to his boots and he hits a rut and skids a few inches.

The rain falls harder now, flashes of light followed up by angry thunder. The ground is turning to mud beneath their boots, rendering the footing dangerous. Vorick seems to recognize this fact and starts to fall back for higher ground, still parrying their rain of blows as he moves backwards up the hill. Teeth are bared in a disdainful expression, voice silent.

"Cin's taking care of her!" S'tin calls out to K'tir, though with the growing sound of thunder it may be drowned out. The Harper's snarl is met with one of his own, lips curling. "We can take him together!" he urges the other rider, keeping up the barrage as they move further up the slope.

"And what happens if he gets a lucky strike in and you go down?" he yells over the rain, his own blows keeping the older man from attacking his best friend and clutchmate. "Back off … I've got him. You take Veri back to the Weyr and make sure she's okay."

"I could say the same of you!" S'tin countermands the older dragonman with a quick parry blocking Vorick's blade. "The Healers can take far better care of Ali than I can! You need me!"

Veritath …. make sure that he goes back to his sister.

Cinolth wishes to return, I have told him I will bring his lifemate.

Thank you, Veri. I love you, my heart …

The older bronzer steps slightly in front of his best friend and hipchecks him as Veritath scoops him up in his foreclaws and leaps for the sky, bearing him away from the fight. Continuing the upward attacks toward higher ground, K'tir shoves his fear and hopelessness down and concentrates on keeping his footing as he beats back the older man.

S'tin's feet suddenly go out from under him as K'tir shoves him, the blade flying free as the rider suddenly clips his chin on the ground, dazed. As Veritath scoops him up he comes to enough to shout. "What about Kalea?! What in Faranth's name am I going to tell her!" He screams in frustration as he is carted away, impotent.

Veritath's voice echoes down a long tunnel as he speaks to an unfamiliar mind. Cinolth's own, our beloveds have gone, surely you heard the keening. Then the big bronze is dropping to the bowl of Southern Weyr to set the younger bronze rider down and then leaps back into the sky, returning to his own lifemate.

Rain soaks through everything and Vorick finds himself at the summit of one of the hills suddenly, the ground leveling off behind him. "It was thoughtful of you to make my task easier, boy, but hardly necessary." He feints with sweep of his blade from above, only to suddenly drop down, sliding to kick K'tir's legs out from beneath him.

K'tir swallows hard as he hears the echoes of his dragon's words to S'tin though he hadn't asked that courtesy. Tears sting his eyes as he circles the older man and suddenly he is flat on his back. Surprise lasts less than a second and he's rolling, out of the way and up onto his feet, clinging to the sword as he tries to keep the older man in his sights.

Vorick completes his slide and rolls quickly back to his feet, suddenly upon the bronzerider, blade lashing out to slide into K'tir's left arm, right at the shoulder, the sharpened blade cutting through the leather easily. He pivots then, coming around to the other side to slide into the side of the younger man's thigh before withdrawing into the downpour, the mists hiding him. "Did you really think I would go down so easily?" he taunts from the gloom.


Tears spring up in S'tin's eyes at the bronze's sharp reminder of the green's absence. It knocks the wind out of his sails and he sinks to the earth as the dragon lets him down. Cinolth is suddenly there, eyes whirling yellow and he grits his teeth, watching Veritath depart. Is she safe with the Healers?

They have seen to her.

We've got to get back to K'tir then! S'tin hauls himself up the slick forearm, wedging himself between two ridges and holding on tight, fixating in the image of his friend near the summit of the hill, even as the bronze leaps skyward, wings beating furiously in an effort to gain enough altitude to between.


K'tir's hand goes numb as the blade slides into his shoulder, the sword dropping from his numbed fingers and a stumble as the older man gets a hit in on his thigh as well. "I never expected easy … but you will go down." the young bronzer calls out over the sound of the storm.

The rain is freezing cold as it pours down, steaming as it hits the warm Southern earth and sending up mists all across the fields. It carries Vorick's laughter with it, sinister and snide. "So confident even in the face of your own certain death."

Veritath's hearing and night sight finds the older man and relays the position which allows his rider to leap in that direction, attempting to catch the man around the shoulders to bear him to the ground.

Vorick grunts suddenly, clipped by the hefty man and they both go down, though the Harper uses the slick grass to his advantage and quickly wriggles out of the poor grip and away, catching a glimpse of the blood flowing from the two wounds and grinning eagerly as he circles inward once more.


Cinolth finally gets high enough to go between and they vanish. S'tin's heart hammers in his chest, the seconds stuck in the black pure agony as they tick away. Suddenly they're out again, but the ground is rolling in mist as the storm lashes out around them, the bronze's flight suddenly bumpy as gusts and drafts wage war around him. Find him, Cin!


K'tir grunts softly when he takes the man down though his grip is uncertain due to the newly opened wounds so the man wriggles free. He scrambles to his feet, listening hard for stray sounds on the wet grass, trying to fight a ghost in this gloom. He has to use his dragon's eyes till he finds the older man, this time … he leaps, grabs and pounds his good fist into the older man's body as he clings like a burr.

Cinolth's eyes whirl crimson and amber as he sweeps for the other rider, spying them just as K'tir leaps for the would-be kidnapper and dives down with a roar of rage, claws outstretched whilst S'tin clings to the neckridges for dear life.

The Harper grunts as the hefty bronzerider slams into him, knocking them both to the ground again. The punches hit home occasionally, causing Vorick to snarl in anger. His hand moves to his hip, suddenly drawing a long dagger and shoving it up into the bulk straddling him, grunting with effort to drive it as deeply as possible.

Teeth bared, shoulders bulging despite the bleeding gash in his shoulder, the young bronzer ignores the pain of the shoulder and leg wounds as he concentrates on pounding the older man into the ground. A wave of ice washes through his body as a fiery pain blossoms beneath his ribcage, eliciting a soft gasp from the young man. K'tir chokes as he tries to draw a breath and spews crimson blood over the Harper renegade beneath him before falling sideways.

"NO!" S'tin screams in agony even as Cinolth roars, the air shaking with the violence of the sound, thunder rolling in to fill the void as breath dies and the rider finds himself unable to breath as grief constricts his lungs. The bronze narrowly misses a collision with K'tir, banking sharply and sending his rider tumbling to the damp earth.

Veritath bellows his anguish and leaps for the sky causing the mist to swirl briefly. The big bronze swoops down and attempts to seize the murderer of his lifemate, his razor tipped claws not nearly as careful where they pierce as when he'd carried S'tin. The bronze circles above his failing lifemate, keening his own deathsong as he waits for his beloved to join him.

The Harper pulls the dagger free as the rider falls away from him, quickly wiping the blood away from his eyes with his soaked sleeve. As Veritath dives for him he quickly rolls out of the way, instinct taking over as he narrows avoids being snatched by the beast. He sneers in disdain at it as it flies off, instead walking over to peer down at K'tir. "I told you boy," he growls. "You are no match for me. A pity, really."

Dazed from the sudden tumble, S'tin lays on the ground for an eternity of breaths, finally able to breathe again. Head full of fog he struggles to right himself, groaning with effort as he flails and his hand suddenly finds his dropped sword and curls around it.

K'tir blinks up at the man standing over him, unable to see for the rain streaming into his eyes. He gasps for breath as a heavy weight settles on his chest. Something catches his eye behind the older Harper and tugs a small smirk onto his lips. "Y … you're no … match … f'r … 'im …." the bronzer whispers.

Like a ghost in the fog, S'tin moves through the wind and rain like a wraith, covered in debris but filled with infinite purpose. His eyes are unfocused as he sees through those of his lifemate, careening above. He has become death, a dark angel of vengeance.

Vorick sneers down the dying rider, eyes alight as the cold rain runs red with K'tir's life. "Cling to your false hopes and die unfulfilled, rider. It matters not to me." He turns, starting to walk away from the rasping dragonman.

Suddenly steel erupts from the Harper's chest, blood coating the blade. His blood. He looks down at it in disbelief, suddenly coughing fluid of his own and his knees buckle, sending him crashing to the ground and lying there, prone and choking on his own gore.

S'tin pulls the blade free as he shoves Vorick off of it, shaking suddenly as he watches the life leave the Harper's eyes, the terror of his childhood dead by his hand. The sword clatters from his grip and he turns away, rushing to K'tir's side and collapsing to his knees. "Oh, Faranth… There's so much blood, K'tir… You need a Healer!"

K'tir blinks and gropes with one bloody hand to grasp his friend's hand weakly. A racking cough leaves him breathless and gasping as his eyes lock with S'tin's. "No … Ali … okay?" he asks, a whisper barely heard over the wind since the thunder has died away for the moment.

"Ali's fine," S'tin manages, tears welling up in his eyes as the despair threatens to choke him. "Stay with me, Kul!" His voice trembles as he begs the elder man.

He smiles weakly up at the other man and somehow manages to sit up a little to grasp S'tin's shoulder and say in a stronger voice, "Home … is where … your heart is, Sy …." Then the bronzerider sinks back with a soft sign, the light in his eyes dimming till it is gone. The keening dragon overhead utters one last despairing cry that is cut sharply off as the big bronze blinks between to join his lifemate in death.

"No. No. No no no no no no!" S'tin bursts into sobs of denial even as Cinolth lifts his voice in the ancient death keen, gut-wrenching as it is suddenly carried up by the whole of Southern Weyr's dragons, leaving no doubt in the youth's mind that his friend is well and truly gone. Head falls back and he wails skyward, an impotent cry of rage, pain, and injustice erupting from his depths wordlessly.


Sytin suddenly wakes up, gasping for breath and clinging to his covers. Eyes wide, he scans the room, breath coming in heaves as he finds himself back in the Candidate's barracks, surrounded by nothing more than the snores of several dozen others. He lays back down slowly, staring up at the cavern's ceiling as a shudder runs through him and tears spring unbidden to his eyes. He rolls over onto his side, but it is a long while before sleep claims him as its own…

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