Who

El'ai, Gustaf, Jedi, K'lir, Loe, Nadilee, Rielle, Rocio (Cameos by Bentley and Scrappy)

What

Angry at the fact that they've lost their haven, several residents of Black Rock take matters into their own hand and burn it to the ground. Dragonriders from Southern Weyr are alerted, and they catch many of the baddies.

Blood, violence, fire, language.

When

The twenty-fifth day of the seventh month of the sixth turn of the 12th pass.

Where

Black Rock Seahold

OOC Date 08 Dec 2015 05:00

 

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"Yer one 'o them, are ye?"


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Black Rock Seahold

True sunrise is still more than an hour away, but the eastern horizon is just beginning to lighten from black to deep blue. The Dawn Sisters twinkle overhead in a clear, starry sky. And a claxon-like bell ring ring RINGS from atop the fireheights of the hold proper, clanging out a warning. But that warning is about twenty minutes too late to do anything about the fire spreading through the shantytown along the waterfront. Mostly abandoned, the rickety wooden homes and ratty little shopfronts catch the flames like lovers, stoking them, exciting them. By the time the bell wakes anyone who might not have already been alerted, the docks is alive with fire, and the flames are cracking and popping their way up toward the warehouse and its surroundings. The hold proper might be made of solid stone, but everything else? It's all going up in flames.


(To K'lir and Rocio) Along the coastline, visible as a bright smudge of orange in the darkness, you can see the light of Black Rock Seahold. Only, is it supposed to be so bright? The east is just beginning to pale with the first hint of dawn, but that definitely isn't the glint of sunrise reflecting against the sea. Flying on, the glow becomes brighter and realization dawns: Fire. Black Rock is in flames, flames spreading through the shantytown along its waterfront, flames consuming the wooden docks, flames chasing toward the warehouse.

< Southern Weyr > Valmoth senses that: The iridescent trail of tiny glowbugs becomes brighter as the sudden urge to act is brought into realization. Flicker fast, urgent. Cool ice tinkling upon mason jar glass reaches out to the dragons of Southern Weyr for immediate aid. « Fire confirmed at Black Rock Seahold. » Sweet wheatgrass, smoke, blazing. « We are responding but will need help… » (Niamyth)

The guard (what's left of them) pour out of their barracks, some with the good sense to pull handkerchiefs over their faces. There's no proper fire brigade, but a bucket-line would normally be the first line of defense; alas, between the guards and the seafront, where all the easily accessed water is, there's a wall of hot orange death. The few dozen lingering residents of the shantytown race uphill, following the sloping paths upward, congregating in the courtyard near the hold to watch their homes burn to the ground.

Somewhere in among all this burning death is Gustaf, in among a pack of about six men and women who share a similar mindset: fuck this place, fuck it right in the neck. Most of them have spent the better part of the last few months locked in the brig. Now, broke and mad, they've taken matters into their own hands. Theirs were the torches that set foundations aflame, and now they dash madly through narrow back-alleys, racing ahead of the fire.

Bryntaeroth and K'lir had been detailed to show the newest wingriders the methods Jaguar used to sweepride, the bronzerider choosing to 'sweep' toward the small seahold nearest the weyr when that alert had been sounded. Sending one of the other seasoned Jaguar riders back with the group of greenies he send the antiqued bronze winging swiftly in the direction of that orange glow without a second thought.

< Southern Weyr > Valmoth senses that: A subtle shift of fur against flesh, the rumbling of a purr in the dark at creation when all the world was furry. « Valmoth. » beat. « Inbeth. » Sweep riders; an order lies subtle in the scent of jasmine and night-blooming flowers held in the cusp of a forest primeval. More names are called - Sekhaenkath's assembly of Ocelot riders along with the wingleader himself. Time to practice those still-fresh drills! (Sekhaenkath)

< Southern Weyr > Valmoth senses that: Denivoth is still asleep, since this all takes place at dawn, and he's got Drovketh's job for now. Suckers.

< Southern Weyr > Valmoth senses that: The fires of Bryntaeroth's mind smoulder in response to that summons as the blackness hovers at the edges of thought. « We are close. » Jaguar names are mere hisses and sizzles on the wind as wingriders are called in to assist as needed, the knowledge that Ocelot comes with their specialized training a warm breeze through the sending. (Bryntaeroth)

Niamyth lands off in a clearing as smoke billows into the orange blazed sky. With quick hands and nimble fingertips, Rocio is dismounting as one of the first on the scene. Quickly, with a keen hunter's eye, the greenrider scans the terrain in rapid assessment as she lands with a solid thud of her boots. "Nia, send coordinates!" Already the huntress is wrapping a handkerchief around her nose and mouth to help lessen the amount of smoke inhaled into her lungs. "And stay back from the fire!" Think, girl. Think. Don't panic!

In a blink of an eye, there are more dragonriders to shake a stick at as El'ai and a few others pop out from between above K'lir and his riders. Not a battle to be fought from the air, the Ocelot wingleader directs his dragonriders down towards the nearest landing spot. Orders stick out such as, "Get the injured!" and "Help put out the fire!" Who does what is probably not easily discernible from the outside, but each Ocelot knows what to do. Hopefully. In THEORY, since this is the first big 'rescue' since El'ai's started their training. A warning of, "Be careful!" is thrown into the mad mix. Oh and a final, "Catch what you can!" of the culprits. And thus, Ocelot is on the ground. Or something. Rocio and K'lir are spotted — well more likely their dragons — which bring another level of relief that more reinforcement from the weyr has arrived.

As much as Loe might like to be asleep, the transition from weyrling to wingrider hasn't been exactly replete with glamour and glory. There seem to be an awful lot of dawnsweeps set aside from the newly graduated. The upshot: she's already awake and dressed in leathers when this shakes down. The downside: she's stopped finding sunrises at all beautiful and started hating the Dawn Sisters on principle. Still, she and Valmoth respond to the summons of their Wingleader, bursting out from between in formation and hitting the ground running (so to speak). She somehow winds up in charge of leading people out of smoking wreckage and up the hill to safety. "Why can't bad things happen in the afternoon sometimes?" she asks irritably, while running full-tilt by Rocio.

K'lir leaps from Bryntaeroth's neck, his fingers tugging at the pocket of his trous for the swatch of fabric kept there for less needful things than currently necessary. Once he can breathe the bronzerider pauses as El'ai shouts out those orders, glad to see someone other than him in charge since he'd simply run in carelessly. Which would not be good. The 'catch what you can' and what seems to be stealthy movement from the corner of one eye draws the ex-hunter's gaze, a man seen slipping away and seeming to be up to no good. Glancing toward the fire where wingriders are converging on injured and fire, he takes off after the fleeing culprits, hot on Rocio's heels.

The fire spreads. A woman with her whole family - like, seven kids under the age of ten - comes wailing out of the smoke toward K'lir, sputtering and crying to the tune of, "Help help!" The kids manage to convey their hysterical worry that their father is still in one of the little shanties whose roof is pretty much about to collapse.

K'lir skids to a halt when he hears those hysterical cries, an exasperated look sent toward the fleeing man who is scrambling up and away from the blazing Hold. Through the babble and tears the bronzerider can make out the fear of the children and nods curtly, an abrupt gesture up the hill away from the fire where Loe is ushering others. "F'ris … take care of them. Kel … with me!" Dashing toward the indicated shanty, he frowns and tugs his riding gear a bit tighter around him. It's not fire-gear but it'll do a little to protect him from flying embers. Though if that roof falls … He shakes his head to dispell that thought and motions the young bluerider to wait at the door in case he needs further assistance before cautiously entering that blazing shack.

While Ocelot has played with fire (much like firefighters) under the strict supervision of the Guard Captain, this is something wholly new. This fire is full of rage with a life of it's own. As some break off to help K'lir and his fellow Jaguar wingriders he brought with him, and Rocio should she join and have called forth any Lynxes, but with Loe given her assignment and charge, the bronzerider breaks away from the pack. He's chasing after someone else. "Better not get burned or Lisette will own me," he mutters to himself after getting a face full of SMOKE. It's chaos, but men still move in the shadows, but first El'ai helps an aging gentleman get free of some wreckage. "THAT way," he yells to be heard over the din, "lies water and safety. GO!" And then he's heading deeper into Black Rock.

Gustaf and the band of arsonists skirt around the back-edge of the fire, moving between the border of the wooden buildings and the terraced courtyards that move up toward the hold proper that overlooks the burning chaos. Two of them have had the sense to ditch their torches and run, as soon as the dragonriders arrived. Gus isn't one of those people; see, he's been around before when dragonriders descend en masse to save the day (MORE THAN ONCE) and always wriggles free somehow. His aim now is that warehouse, 'cause fuck it. Burn the whole thing to the ground at this point.

Inside that shack where dear ol' dad is supposed to be sleeping, some planks of crappy old wood fall down, trailing long fingers of flame. It's hot - not hot like a summer day, hot like the inside of a furnace. Oily smoke pours out. This is fate's way of asking just how brave/selfless K'ir is, perhaps?

Lynx riders respond to the call of their wingmate and Niamyth is acting as a second pair of eyes for Rocio off in the distance. Though the green is small, she's still quite capable to salvage items that have yet to meet the flames. Children in the distance can be heard crying and people are shouting from somewhere within the walls of the fire, which motivates the greenrider to run closer and help. So much movement. Flames. Chaos. "Mister El'ai!" Did she really see him go into Black Rock by himself? Not for long, because she's bolting after the bronzerider without a second thought.

Branch blinks from *between* in with a watering can clutched between his paws. He's here to help!
Firelizard en flambe, anyone?

An old man comes stumbling towards Rocio when she chases after El'ai, and he babbles incoherently, tries to cling to her before stumbling off into the direction of the docks and water and safety. Other Ocelots are mobilizing fairly well (it's not perfect, they've not been training that long) in forming a line of bucket tosses while one bluerider's dragon is scooping a big tub (self-designed with the Captain's input) of sea water as their water base. The design has flaws, so it'll be reconsidered for next time. El'ai, meanwhile, is unaware of Rocio's following and spies some shadows breaking off of the group of ruffians. "You fuckers," the Ocelot wingleader hisses and dodges a falling FLAMING BEAM OF DEATH (seriously, narrowly avoided that one) and chases after the arsonists about to hit that warehouse. He's got a few steps before he gets there, but he's at an all out run. Maybe it's a good thing Rocio chased after him, because going in alone is probably stupid.

The falling planks from the roof fall directly in front of him making K'lir halt and peer upward, eyes squinting as he tucks his mouth and nose in the crook of his arm to ease hise breathing. He knows fire is inanimate but it feels like it's trying to make him stop and one thing this bronzerider isn't is a coward, his innate stubbornness making him skirt those fallen timbers around the edges of the shack still looking for that old man. He just can't disappoint those little kids, can he? Or himself, really.

Ah, but they're fuckers armed with big knives and burning torches. And there are four of them, all clustered together. When it comes to fight-or-flight, Gustaf is equally prepared for either eventuality, but he tries running first. They beat it up the ramp toward the hold (where the holder's family don't seem to be pouring out to help combat this blaze, fucking one percenters), torches trailing sparks in the smoky dark. Two break off to the left, ducking into an alley and shoving their torches into the foundations of a building, setting it alight and trying to dive into the darkness. Gustaf and one other keep running, only a hundred yards or so from the warehouse.

Rocio pulls people out of her way, sending them in Niamyth's general direction as she presses onward in pursuit of El'ai. It's hot. Flakes of hot ash lift into the smoky air as she attempts to keep up, though one old man stumbles right into her from out of nowhere. She grunts and before she can help steady the gent, he's staggering out into the clearing and she almost gets clocked by that freakin' FLAMING BEAM OF DEATH. "El'ai!" He's running now and she can't keep up… But, she tries! Little by little, the greenrider draws closer and closer to the arsonists without even knowing.

Just at the moment that the roof is really definitely going to fall, when the pop and crack grow too loud to ignore and the beams holding up the rickety roof begin to crumble into still flaming cinders, someone that smells decidedly of nasty booze and so much fire lurches out of the alley near K'lir. The man is thin, yellowish from too much alcohol for too long, and launching himself headlong at a dragonrider with a snarl of, "Get outta my house, you putrid twat!" Fists a-flailing.

Among those of Lynx popping in is Jedi. She eyes the scene from above, before Llioramasith lands, and will dart in to help a few people, after she's dismounted, continue towards the water since that seems to be where they're directing them - wet is safer than fire right now, after all. Llioramasith relays orders darkly to some of those who haven't yet started helping, and will continue his own efforts to help where the big brown may.

Branch pours what water he has left sloshing around in his watering can over the fire - well. more like right next to the fire. He's smart like that. And promptly disappears *between* again. Whether he'll return with more water or promptly forget what he's doing and be distracted by something else remains to be seen.

Just as he's about to give up on finding the man the children had been so adament had been here, that slurring voice sounds at his side before fists start coming at him. The falling beams decide K'lir that the house is a loss but that thing trying to tackle him pulls him back a bit. Sweeping an arm out and around the drunkard's neck, the bronzerider puts the man in a headlock out of instinct before shoving his attacker away and toward that hill. "Git yer arse up where the rest of the residents are." Drawing himself up to his full height, the bronzerider advances on the man until either the attack continues or the man retreats. If a retreat occurs, he'll take off after Rocio where he sees her heading toward that warehouse in the distance.

You know who would not lose her cool in a situation like this? Zhailly. We'll give her credit for establishing a bucket-line from the waterfront to the tavern, trying to keep the flames from eating what's left of her livelihood. Jedi, passing near, gets hailed by one of the muscular boys that work for her; "'EY! Give us a hand here!" He pushes a bucket at her and points to where the flames are a-creeping toward the foundation of the building.

You know when you're having a really, really nice dream and then all of the sudden you wake up AND YOUR WHOLE WORLD IS A BURNING HELLSCAPE?? Yeah, well that just happened. Nadilee comes charging out of the hold via a secret back exit (there must be one!), still hopping to tug on her second boot before she heads down toward the chaos at a flat run. Does she have any idea what's going on back inside the hold? Nope. So she'll just stand there looking shocked, while everything burns.

Biting, kicking, flailing, the man insists, "We don't need no fecking dragonriders here! Get offa me! GET OFFA ME!" See, this guy? Had been one of the ones with a torch a minute ago, and he's not pleased that Southern Weyr is trying to save the hold he was trying to burn down. Neither is the friend that materializes behind him, with a big stick that he intends to use to bludgeon K'lir over the head. Anyone in the vicinity could probably hop in and save him. Yes? No?

A transition pose to keep the flow going: El'ai stumbles and lands against a building with only his palm to absorb the shock. That's when he catches sight of Rocio and when he does, he puts a finger to his lips and points at her to go around and try to distract the guys running. They'll tag-team this (sort of) and then he's off: Gustaf is in his sights. It is a face that just looks like it needs a few bruises.

Rocio is running at a decent clip toward the warehouse and doesn't stop when she adjusts her handkerchief. Her nose and mouth are covered by the cloth, but it doesn't seem to stop her coughing every so often — the smoke is ridiculous. She slows her pace when she spots El'ai, acknowledging that he wants her silent and moving this way to distract the other men. She does just that. But, that cough of hers… It might be distraction enough on its own.

The way the man flails and kicks, teeth latching on K'lir's leather covered arm briefly earns a darkening frown from the bronzerider as he keeps shoving the man up toward the safety of the hilltop. However, the words give him pause and makes him snarl as he makes a leap to a conclusion that might or might not be accurate. "Yer one 'o them, are ye? Well … I know where you'll be when we get this under control, now don't I?" With that, he pulls back and unloads a punch that might have downed a bull in full charge right to the bridge of the man's nose. The one behind him isn't seen yet and as soon as the one is down the bronzerider starts off in the direction of Rocio and the warehouse. Will he get a bludgeon across the back of the head or will he catch sight of the stealth attacker in time?

Somewhere around here there lurks a Bentley, who may not be on of those torch-wielders, but he's still not looking particularly concerned about the flaming surprising that Black Rock is suffering. He mostly looks amused, though that expression will turn stony the moment he catches one of those dragonriders looking in his direction.

Another of Ocelot is here, blinking in above Black Rock in the form of Obhaeroth with Rielle astride. A brief, assessing circle above the burning buildings allows the new wingrider to sight a place to land while her lifemate checks in with Sekhaenkath. The water line is spotted, along with a likely looking spot to get her boots down, so that's where the brown pair lands. Obhaeroth immediately bounds off to go help with water, per his lifemate's order, unless he's rerouted by another. Rielle keeps her scarf over her face against the smoke, looking first to the waterline, then to see if she can spot El'ai or one of her other wingmates…or anyone looking panicked. Or dodgy, for that matter.

"Keep going," Jedi tells the folks she was helping, before taking the bucket from the kid. "This the bar?" She asks him grimly, even as she hurls water at him. "It catches fire, stop trying to save it." A warning word from prior experience, perhaps? Because when liquor explodes, well… K'lir's predicament is spotted, and Jedi shouts, "K'lir! Behind you!" She's too far away to help, but perhaps the warning will do what the brownrider herself cannot. "I'll be back." She promises as she shoves the bucket back at the kid, and takes off to go after the would-be bludgeoner.

Can someone please catch Bentley and kill him? That would be awesome.
Sorry, Gustaf, you're going down first.
#fml

Gustaf has a torch in one hand and a big knife in the other. The former - well, time to admit defeat. He flings it toward the warehouse, and it does in fact manage to crash through a window and find something inside to set alight (BONUS!), but he's too busy grabbing Nadilee by the arm to notice that part. Big knife meets holdergirl neck, and he pins that one arm behind her, putting her directly between his own body and El'ai's. Deja vu, anyone? "I leave or she dies," are his simple terms.

Loe is sneaky. Not like Scrappy sneaky, but like 'I see what you're doing there' sneaky. She was meant to be helping funnel the scared people of the hold toward safety, but - being poised there at a higher elevation - she had a good view to see torches being snuffed in foundations, and to see the silhouettes of the men (or women; equal opportunity) that did the torching. She may not be the last action hero, necessarily, but she grabs the hand of the nearest familiar face - hi, Rielle! - and whispers, "This way," before darting into the orange-tinted shadows on the heels of a burninator.

The guy that K'lir has collared (literally) continues scrabbling and fighting, too drunk and stupid to know when he's been licked. The guy with the big stick is about ready to bring it down with a resounding crack - or Jedi has tackled him. Hopefully, Jedi has tackled him, or Arianne's gonna be piiiiiiissed.

After a few moments of staring, it seems to occur to Nadilee that she should do something. Because she'll never get to sleep with a hot, dangerous guy if they all die in the fire! Plus, this is her home, fire isn't good, yadda yadda. But mostly the hot, dangerous guys thing. So Black Rock's youngest sets out to shove any lingering people toward the stone embrace of the hold. Which is how she ends up by the warehouses, with a hot, dangerous guy grabbing her and PUTTING A KNIFE TO HER NECK?! Unlike cooler heads who might not struggle in the face of such danger, Nadilee is going to do just the opposite. One arm may be trapped, but the other can be used to try to sink an elbow into him.

Somewhere in the background, Bentley is laughing at you, Gustaf.
Gustaf gets caught, he's naming names, mofo.

Jedi's warning comes just barely in time as that bludgeon has already started it's descent toward his unprotected head. As it is, K'lir's half turned and the big stick impacts the point of his shoulder, the pain ricocheting up into his head and down to numb his entire arm. "Fuckin' ass!" he roars and swings with his left fist as he stagger-steps toward that new attacker, intent on bodily harm to the man. Growling and shaking that numbed arm to get some life back into it the bronzerider reaches out and grab stick, wrist, whatever to pull the ruffian within the dangerzone.

Bentley knows better than to go by Bentley, suckah.
#fml again

Rielle only just has time to register that the person grabbing her hand is another rider, the voice identifying Loe for her soon after that. "Wha- Where are we going?" She's running after the bluerider, too, of course; there's something or someone to be gone after, obviously. If it's someone, she might not be as effective as she wants…but she's resolved to do whatever she can, at least.

We already know K'lir's a deadman as soon as Arianne finds out what he's done today. ;)

Rocio makes quick mental inventory of the weapons she has on her person, because when she catches a quick glimpse of one of the shadowed men off in the distance, she's chilled. Even amongst the ash and heat, the greenriding huntress senses danger that she and El'ai are in the thick of. She fights an urge to yell for the bronzerider right before Gustaf grabs hold of Nadilee as a hostage. Rocio freezes when the girl struggles with a blade to her throat. Not good, not good. WTF do they do now? She keeps her focus on Gustaf and her hearing pinged to El'ai in case he calls for her and needs her to move.

El'ai is going to use Nadilee's elbow-trick as a distraction when she catches Gus off guard, and hopefully with some distraction techniques from his former wingrider (distract, Rocio! distract! - that seems to be the look El'ai tries to convey and they've worked together long enough that Rocio might be able to read that!), which should leave him free to launch and tackle Gus from the side. "Not today, fucker." A hissed grunt in the man's ear and he tries to get Gus into a half or full nelson to disable him. Guard training, ftw. It's not the best move he's made, but he's going to come in with a punch that hopefully lands. Time to fight, Gus. FIGHT FOR YOUR LIFE. (and not party).

Somewhere, Scrappy lets loose an arrow. Does it hit him? PLEASE LET IT HIT HIM.

Meanwhile, Bentley will casually wander to a position where he can watch Gus get his ass handed to him by the dragonriders. It's not as good as actually doing it himself, but it is entertaining. And if Gus tries to point a finger in his direction? He'll vanish into the convenient haze of smoke around this place.

Almost the entire waterfront is in flames by now, so there aren't many back-alleys left where people can effectively hide. But Loe and Rielle get to chase someone anyway, because BIG DAMN HEROES. They turn a corner - hi, flames! The person they're chasing knows the place better than they do, but he knows it when it's not burning down around him. So now the guy, who turns out to be a pretty big fella, has his back to the fire and his face to a pair of dragonriders; he also has big knives, and zings one through the air. It sails fast at Rielle.

The elbow is pretty well-aimed, so props to Nadilee on that one. It gets Gus in the windpipe, and he chokes. Also, an arrow tags him right in the shoulder, and his guttural response probably has the words "drown that little cunt in her own blood," right before El'ai tackles him. So now he's already been gagged, shot, and punched; that big knife looks to do some damage, though. He lands flat out on his back (arrow sticking out the side of his shoulder) and brings his knife hand up, looking to stab El'ai in the <wherever>: head, shoulder, neck, anything north of the equator will do.

The stick that was trying to bludgeon K'lir clatters harmlessly across the ground. The guy that was wielding it still has his fists, though, and he aims a big punch at the Weyrsecond's jaw. The other guy reels, falls onto his side, gets sick, and lays there moaning about how "this is not turning out to be the best party after all."

Rocio recognizes that look from her former wingleader and makes with the the distracting with the help of one very loud Niamyth. The little green lets out a piercing bugle and launches into the air despite the smoke from blazing fires within the Hold. "HEY!" she hollers right before El'ai makes his move. GET 'IM MISTER BEAUTIFUL! Err, Mister El'ai~ And in a blink of an eye, Rocio is bolting forward to help in anyway she can.

Nadilee breaks free with a triumphant shout, wrestling herself free of the threatening grip of that giant knife with out spilling her blood everywhere. Job well done, team. And then she immediately turns around to try to land a kick on the fallen Gustaf for good measure. Does she hit him, or perhaps hit El'ai in the process? EITHER WAY, someone is getting kicked.

Falling down on Gus, El'ai isn't able to block in time and that knife lands right into the meat of his shoulder, luckily missing too much vital except possibly a glancing knick of bone. Thank Faranth for thick musculature as protection. A sound of pain wheezes from El'ai, but he's determined. Blood immediately rushes, pooling between them, but the bronzerider might be winged, but he's not out. He'll try to grab Gus's head for a nice (hopefully knockout-and-not-kill) bang against the street before throwing another throw. This isn't going to be as elegant as it would have been in his mind, but pain drives a frenzy and he's hell-bent on getting Gustaf subdued for questioning later. (Sorry, pirates). His is not a homocidal anger (Gus can be thankful for that), but he's no slouch either.

Well, at least her warning did some good. Jedi arrives just as the man is punching at K'lir, and grimaces. K'lir can handle himself in a fight, right? She'll pick up the man's stick all the same, and aim a low blow at the man's leg. Just to try and hobble him before he can do any more damage.

K'lir's head rocks to the side as that punch lands, his eyes narrowing and a brazen bellow coming from that hill where Bryntaeroth probably terrorizes the residents in reaction to the wash of anger that floods his rider. One would think K'lir's eyes belonged in his dragon's head as they whirl with red light, the bronzerider falling into a rage he hasn't felt since before he came to the Southern continent. The man grovelling on the ground behind him is ignored, the words swept away in the rush of blood he hears in his ears, and he focuses on the man before him — intent on pounding the man into a bloody pulp. One long leg sweeps out to kick the other's knees out from under the assailant, assisted by Jedi's swipe, before a feline-quick leap lands him atop the ruffian, blows from both fists raining down as the bronzerider snarls ferally in his face.

Gustaf's is homicidal anger. He brings a knee up (Does Lisette want kids? Hope not.), he brings his elbow around, he brings his knife down for a second - nope. Whether it was Nadilee's kick or El'ai banging his head on the ground, his eyes unfocus and roll back in his head. Rocio gets there in time to pull the knife out of his limp fingers, and he's knocked cold. But I WOULD LIKE YOU TO NOTE that it took two dragonriders and a holdergirl to bring him down, so stfu bentley you're a gd pussy

Don't forget Scrappy.
Right. + Scrappy.
Scrappy CHEERS when Gus goes down and then lets loose another arrow. Double-tap, yo.

Oh. NOW Rielle gets it. Of course it's a person, and of course it a person bigger than her and Loe both. The sudden surge of flames prompts the lift of an arm to block the sudden glare of heated light…and then time seems to drag for a moment as the form of the man comes into focus before them, an arm cocked back. Rielle sucks in a gasp, a sudden shock of cold zapping through her veins as firelight glints off metal. Simply willing her legs to stop working, she hits the ground on her stomach, arms splayed…the thrown knife whistling past just above her. Wide-eyed she looks down, up again, to Loe, rolls unceremoniously to her side and scrambles to her feet again, up to her wingmate's side.

Call Bentley a pussy all you want, he's not the one in chains. And that's exactly what that smug smirk on his face says as he makes sure to pass by Gus to get a good look at his fallen former crewmate. And then he's off to join Scrappy, so they can get their asses to safety before anyone starts asking too many questions.

Gustaf hopes she eats you.

El'ai is kneed in the junk and that shit hurts - which means he's definitely making sound (growl) of pain but then the man goes limp. There's no screamed expletive because honestly? As bad as a junk shot is? It's not at all taking over the SCREAMING agony of his shoulder. So, he rolls off Gus (haw haw) and motions to anyone around (Rocio?), and croaks, "Tie him up." El'ai's got only one real functional hand at the moment and he's using that one to press to the freakin' KNIFE wound that Gus gave him. "Are there any more arsonists?" Is he heard over the noise? Right now, it's all he's got. "I'm taking him back to the weyr on Sekhaenkath." Resolute. Firm. And also the worst ride possible since Sekh is all spikes and pokes and discomfort. Like riding the iron throne… in dragon glass!

One knife misses. The second one doesn't. Loe takes that one for the team, right in the calf when she's trying to help shove Rielle to the ground. Thankfully, it only glances off instead of actually sticking in, slicing through her leathers and leaving a gash in her skin before it clatters into a flaming darkness that mysteriously swallows it up. The guy (now out of knives) advances to kick at the fallen brownrider, bringing his foot back. Whether or not it makes contact with Rielle's midsection before or after Loe reaches for the nearest big-heavy-thing and clubs the guy on the back of the head is up to Rielle-p to decide.

Well, Jedi isn't needed to make sure that man doesn't do anymore damage - so she'll stand watch over the other guy, the puking guy, and make sure no one runs off with him, or something. For a bit, at least, and then she'll slide a glance to K'lir. "K'lir. Weyrsecond. I think he's unconscious." Oh so helpful, Jedi. But hopefully it'll at least bring the Weyrsecond back to his senses a little bit? She can hope, because Jedi might be a fool some days, but even she knows she couldn't take K'lir in a brawl, if it came to that. "Sir?" As pointed as her sir's from the other day - but with wholly different purpose.

Rocio does get there in time to grab hold of the Gustaf's knife before he can use it to injure anyone else. "Mister El'ai, you all right?" A hand reaches up to pull down the handkershief from her nose and mouth, revealing a pale line from where the ash has yet to smear. Light colored eyes look the bronzerider over for blood and when she's told to tie Gustaf up, she does. But not before tucking the knife away in typical huntress form. "Yessir. I got 'im." And very quickly does she find herself something to restrain the assailant with.

The guy attacking K'lir hits the ground hard, face-first. His jaw cracks on the dirt, he absolutely knocks a couple of teeth out, and - after another punch or two - he's out just as cold as Gustaf up there. So, for anyone keeping score: K'lir and Jedi just caught their second bad guy; El'ai, Nadilee, Rocio (and Scrappy) combined forces to pin Gustaf; and Rielle and Loe have captured a dude. 4/6 is pretty good work!

Nadilee had every intention of making come-hither eyes at El'ai once he got that knife-wielding psycho subdued, but he seems rather intent upon leaving. Plus, it does occur to her that flirting with your savior is probably in poor taste in the middle of things burning to the ground. So she'll just mark that down on her to-do list, utter her thanks, and head off to help corral any drunks who might try to wander away from the herd that's heading for the hold.

El'ai is stabbed and kneed in the nuts. Any come hither looks would not be appreciated (though in truth, they wouldn't go very far without the injuries!). "Thanks." There's plenty of his blood on his shoulder and splattered across Gus, but for the moment he seems able to hold himself up. "I think the others got this. Let's get him back to the weyr before he wakes up." Hobbling to his feet, the Ocelot wingleader sways, but he's made of sterner stuff and gets a grip on the black dots that threaten. As Nadilee rushes off, he leans down and asks Rocio, "Help me get him to Sekh?"

Someone around here is a guard. They have some shackles or whatever that can be used on the unconscious Gustaf. Also probably they should get some rope. And maybe some legirons. If they could get one of those fullbody things with the creepy facemasks like they used on Hannibal Lecter, that'd be best, really. Anyway, a guard brings some handcuffs and hands 'em to Rocio with a, "Here."

< Ocelot Wing > Valmoth senses that: Red-fire underlies the rumbled purr that's louder and felt down to the very bone of the bronze's mental touch. « Subdue the rest, bring them to the weyr. » The primordial jungle awaits in utter stillness as the bronze tries to hold back his lifemate's pain from the wing. « Assemble at noon for debriefing. » A final order for the rest of the wing. « Leave only when the fires are out. » Ocelot, the weyr, aids those within their coverage. (Sekhaenkath)

Jedi's words might not percolate through the red haze of berserker rage K'lir is experiencing for the first time in Turns but the clarion call of his bronze causes him to blink rapidly as he gasps in a ragged breath. Looking down at the man he's straddled and apparently beaten senseless for a moment, the Weyrsecond moves faster than his muscles really want him to attempt if that cut off expletive is any indication. Listing to one side, his right arm hanging limply at his side while blood drips from his fingers. The bronzerider slews his head around to glance at the brownrider for a moment before forcing himself upright and looking around to where most of the situation is under control despite the still raging blazes engulfing the seaport. His good, split-knuckled hand lifts to pull down that kerchief around his mouth, his voice hoarse as he grates out, "Tie 'em up … we'll take 'em back for the guards." It's going to be a long walk up to where his dragon is.

Rielle was so busy trying to get out of the way on her own that she didn't even notice Loe's attempt to assist. What she doesn't miss? The pained scream that marks the bluerider getting caught by that second knife as she's getting to her feet. Then there's a kick coming her way, which she twists to avoid…but doesn't entirely. It makes a glancing blow across her ribs - enough to leave a bruise tomorrow, enough to make the brownrider cry out and send her back to the ground. But it's with a purpose. She knows how bones break and joints get disclocated, and she kicks at the man's knee with all her might, even as whatever Loe's gotten her hands on aims for his head. Between them both, he'll be in a world of hurt. And assuming it's all over an done after that, Rielle gets right to her feet again and straight to Loe. "Where'd he get you?" she asks, voice strained with her own pain, but it doesn't much matter to her at the moment. Loe's got an open wound; she doesn't.

< Ocelot Wing > Valmoth senses that: Valmoth shares the details of what Loe and Rielle have been doing, a hazy rendition of the truth that neglects to mention how his rider got her leg cut and how Rielle got kicked in the ribs. The salient points are there: they were awesome ninjas and caught a baddie and will bring him along, boss.

"Yeah. Let's get 'im outta here." Rocio says while accepting the irons from the guardsman. Once the handcuffs connect around Gustaf's wrists, the Lynx rider glances over at El'ai with a tinge of worry to her expression. "And lets get you t' the infirmary." Because the poor bronzer has blood on his shoulder and clothes. Rocio straightens and helps haul Gustaf over to Sekhaenkath, though it might take some effort since the man is out freakin' cold.

Paler than she normally is, even, Loe manages a fractured (and dirty and sooty) smile for Rielle, now that the guy is basically unconscious on the ground between them. And his knee is broken. "My leg, but I'm okay." Adrenaline is awesome. "Let's - " Grab him by an arm a piece and hobble their way out of this burning alley, getting him far enough along that bigger and buffer people can see them and help them tie the guy up and bring him back to the Weyr with the others.

"Thanks, Rocio," El'ai flashes the greenrider a cheshire-cat grin, which means his spirits are good even if his body is OMFG WHAT DID YOU DO TO ME. "Yeah, Lisette is going to kill me when she finds out I've been knifed." He doesn't talk about the junk hit, okay? And then with Rocio's help, the pair of Lynx and Ocelot get Gus to Sekhaenkath where El'ai has the greenrider help him strap him down to the prickliest part of Sekhaenkath (think… sharp rocks) and then off they go where El'ai will probably need her help all the way to the infirmary after they've dropped off Gus. Thus, his exit, stage-left.

Jedi simply nods in understanding, and will go ahead and tie the vomit-guy up, and then return for the other guy. The one is unconscious but the other is, well awake of sorts even if it's the miserable kind of awake. "At the Weyr?" She asks, with a quick glance about. Things around them are still up in flames, and she grimaces. "Fine mess this is." Jedi's knots are at least sturdy - the men would have to have knives on them if they were in any shape to use them. "Ll's over that way," she nods in the brown's direction. "I could have him clear out for Bryn." Too much going on for full names, right now! And then she has a promise to keep to the bar's people. If it's not yet on fire.

Also, the fire is just going to have to burn itself out, at this point. The wooden shantytown is destroyed, the warehouse is going down. Anyone who's going to get out has done so, and mills around in the courtyard while the sun peeks up over the horizon, sees this, and decides 'fuck it.' Clouds thicken and the drizzle starts, right about then.

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