Who

Th'bek, Tavuqth, F'in, Rhakanth, Delila, Amazolith, Jaelynn, Otsoath, Sa'id, Vojeth

What

Firestone relay!

When

It is afternoon of the first day of the first month of the third turn of the 12th pass.

Where

Igen Weyr

OOC Date

 

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Weyrling Training Grounds

Here, a wide and spacious field, devoid of all but more of the glare of ubiquitous, fine white sand of Igen: not even a blade of grass dares lift its head against centuries of clumsy draconic antics. To one side, ever-present firestone bins are set, kept supplied by many a hand, while agenothree tanks line the curving angle just outside the barracks, primed and ready for use. Very often, a glimpse of classes in session or dragonets at play may be caught under the open sky under the watchful eye of diligent Weyrlingmasters and older dragons.

It is the sixty-first day of Winter and 32 degrees. It is a bright, sunny day with a gentle wind.


Thread won't fall until tomorrow but the weyrlings are ringing it in early by sorting the material into different grades and sacking it. Th'bek is doing his duty as he should be performing it: not much talking and with a sadistic deference for it all. Two assistant weyrlingmasters oversee this task— the others are supervising/detonating at the older weyrlings staging their first flights. Now and then a sailor's ode to expletives can be heard on the faint breeze. Generating a lot of heat, Th'bek is in shortsleeves and Tavuqth is wrestling with one of his clutch siblings. There's a lot of posturing.

A lot of posturing and clacking of teeth. SO FIERCE. Wings mantled. Tail lashed. Rhakanth's head dips low then raises high, chest expanding with a breath (that will soon be unleashed in a most dischordant ruckus if the past few quarter candles are any indication) and wings flaring wide. The late sun is nearing golden hour and Rhakanth, fresh from a bath and oiling (that is taking longer and longer each day), is respendent, shifting bands of gold and brown and honey luminous in the falling light. For all that Rhkakanth is bigger, Tavuqth is HARD. Unyielding. Rhakanth is still in play-mode, though, his feints light hearted, his movements, bouncy, bounding. F'in hustles back to the cluster of weyrlings sorting 'stone from the bin having dropped off a labelled sack. Cold as it is, breath plumes, "Betcha we can finish this before that lot." He tosses a chin. 'That lot' is a host of weyrlings that have proven that misery loves company. Where misery = assholes who make people miserable. "OI. Your dessert at chow says we finish first." Fuckers.

Jaelynn has no problem getting the firestone ready for tomorrow, in fact she is not that far from Th'bek working on a stack of firestone by grade and size so it is all nice and neat in the stacks that she is making. She goes about starting to pack it into the sack she has hold of once having enough to fill it as needed. Hearing F'in she peeks up slightly and is sending a glance to the others before she peeks back to Fin curious like. "Sure.." This said with an amused tone at the idea. Of course they will win! Otsoath warbles out as he wiggles about in his spot near his wrestling siblings, he wants to jump in as well it seems. « I want a turn!! »

The dragonets are matched well. Tavuqth's wings are suspended at his sides, long bones like javelins. His balance is steady on four feet— now two as he rears and threatens to bear down on Rhakanth. Lately he's been head bashing for prime spots in the sun, surplus food, or just because he prefers to feel the vibrations thunder through the serrations on his frontal lobe. « Dodge less, fight more! » As his jaws hang open, prepared for something to stray between their gap, he turns to assail Otsoath, his Brother in Brown. INCOMING TEETH. Th'bek jerks hair out of his eyes, sliding his eyes to F'in as he transports a sack in each hand. It's… strenuous. "Done!"

Delila comes back into the training grounds from the North Bowl as she and Amazolith have both had a check up. She gets waved over by the weyrlingmaster and she goes over to join F'in, Th'bek and Jaelynn, "Hey guys how can I help?" She asks as Amazolith goes over to watch what the boy dragons are doing. « I get winner! » She declares as her tail lashes back and forth.

HIP CHECK. Thud. Rhakanth crashes towards Tavuquth, tail whipping around to offset the strange balance of collision (should he make contact), his head maintains station, shifting only forward as his body meets Tavuqth's. « Now. » golden thread winds from Otsoath to Tavuqth's chest and left foreleg an enticement for his clutchmate to join the hunt, stone grates on stone in the distance, a musical sound, but… forboding. SNICK. Rhakanth's jaws dropping open to gape right along with Tavuqth's awesome array of snaggle teeth, that dischordant bugle splitting the air. "No, not 'sure," F'in exhorts Jaelynn. "This is WAR!" He bellows. Smiling. "That!" Two bags. YES. They've totally got this. Though mostly the host of asshats is ignoring them. "Delila, get some bags ready!" F'in pounds his chest with a fist and roars defiance in the face of indifference. Tipping their whole basin over for faster sorting. Whoops. Did that mess up your neat stacks Jaelynn?

Otsoath is shifting on his paws, he is expecting one of them to turn to him as he is calling for it after all. When Tavuqth turns towards him he is quick to bounce out of the way and lashes out head a headbutt towards his bronze sibling that was going for him in some attempt to push him off balance. Someone isn't afraid to dive headfirst into the 'game' it seems. Jaelynn sends a glance back towards Oat to ake sure all is well before she is back to stacking those firestones into the pack in the right position so they are easy to grab and pull out when needed. She pauses as she is about to pick up another stone and is blinking as the stacks she had all nice and neat and sent falling around and she sends a slight 'really' look towards F'in while she just smirks.

Tavuqth staggers from the slam, a hind hock just off the sand-coated ground. The brown's heavy head pitches forward like a ship's hardwood prow and with it comes his muscular shoulders and the rest of his saurian mass. At Rhakanth's bugle he times a basso current of notes to bog it down (or drown it out). They'll have to doggedly pursue the more agile Otsoath and Amazolith. Th'bek has his own tests of strength to whip, namely the bite of the coarse fabric into each palm. He barely has a stride, feet scuffing the ground to keep the bags from getting too mobile. With a grunt of pain and resolution the double loads of firestone crash into the end pile and he's stalking to get more, hands frozen in rictus until the hurt leaves them.

Delila moves over to get the bags ready and she starts to fill them up. She hmmms as she starts to take out any of the pieces that are too big and she fills up one of the bags and she goes to hand it off to F'in once it's ready. She starts to fill up another one and she looks over at the dragons. Amazolith can't wait for the winner as she comes barrelling in. She ducks her head down and instead uses the spade end of her tail to whip back and forth to hit any of the boys before she zips out of the mess and starts to turn around for another strafing run.

« Lookou- » Too slow. Rhakanth is smashed on the nose by Amazolith's lashing tail. He snapsnapsnap and clawgrabs after it, but the green is too agile and Tavuqth and Otsoath are too RIGHT VERY HERE. Rhakanth growls and snaps his wings closed, presenting less of a target to his wilier clutchmates. He circles the two browns, keeping a weather eye on that green. He SEES YOU Amazolith. His nose SMARTS. F'in winces apologetically at Jaelynn and takes the sack from Delila, doubletiming it to the dropoff. If he moves twice as fast with one bag as Rev with two, it's just as efficient, right? TOTALLY.

Otsoath warbles out towards Tavuqth while he shifts to bounce on his paws and this push himself away from the bronze in case there is a turnaround attack upon his haunches at the moment. Which he is guessing there will be seeing how he knows this sibling rather well after all. Oat lashes out towards Rhakanth with his tail now, though it is going for the bronzes side to get him off guard and have it looking elsewhere. Jaelynn grumbles a bit while she is busy picking up stones that are needed to finish filling her bag and once that is done she is hauling the one back over to the right spot.

Th'bek always was the type to bog himself down with weight in the stables if it meant fewer total trips. PRIORITIES. His hands still smart, red streaks from thumb base to the edge of each hand— bisecting those life lines. The gypsies would salivate at those predictions and still overcharge. "C'mon off it smith, can't you swing at least four?" It takes a lot to blanket his smile so the brownrider comes clean as smug. "Let me help," Rev falls to his feet to help Jaelynn sort stone— I know, he can't believe it either. Tavuqth calls after Amazolith, a sound like a dying raven and a steam vent. He'll eat that tail.

Delila continues to pack the bags and she makes sure to get them full with the right kind of firestones. She watches the dragon as Azamolith holds her tail up high and it wiggles back and forth like the tail of a scorpion. She holds the next back out to F'in, "Here you go F'in. Don't worry we can beat them." She says with a wink as she gets another sack and she starts to fill it. Her green circles around the bows and she rushes in to try to tag the boys on their hind flanks.

Romping! Racing! Hard labor! And where have Vojeth and Sa'id been throughout? Well, nature called and when it calls for a dragon of Vojeth's appetites, it takes time to sort these out. Time and the largest of the wheelbarrows. Now shed of that intestinal burden, the bulky bronze steps with lumbering dignity from the barracks. Each step is set precisely and with great weight as he sways from side to side, wings fanned the tiniest bit to aid with that storm-sick ship's tilting his build requires for on-land travel. In his lee is Sa'id, the collar of his uniform damp with the sweat drawn up by pushing that blasted 'barrow ahead of him. It is piled high and pungent with carnivore scat. He pays little enough attention to the others, casting off at an angle for the middens pile, but Vojeth sinks back onto his haunches to observe the controlled chaos that is the training grounds these days. A huff from the bronze might just be amusement, for Tavuqth's designs on green tail.

"Yeah, but the ladies gotta step up the sorti—oof!" Delila's stuffing a bag at him. He squints at Rev. Pondering. Travel time was time he couldn't be sorting and bagging. He nods, "You got the right of this Rev." He sets the bag down and asides to Rev, "I'll start with three. No need to show off." Three? Maaaaaybe. He sets to with the others sorting. This rock? Medium. Chucked. That rock… hmmm? Sniff. F'in chokes, eyes watering, "Low." He tosses into the low grade pile. This, medium. Seemed most of their pile was medium. Medium. Medium. Medium. "Come on, Jaelynn!" Rhakanth pounces after Otsoath, diving after him, as close to a stoop as one can get a foot or two off the ground. At the very least a tackle. There's a raucous bugle, earsplitting (and shouted complaints in said ear-splitting bugle's wake), for Vojeth's arrival onto the field of battle. Amazolith's tail is snapsnapsnapped at again and a low growl follows the green's swift passage.

Th'bek has his doubts about the quality of ore, about the size of a calf skull, in hand. It looks like a fine vein of phosphine but is darker, somehow oxidized? Bringing it close to his face Rev tastes it under his tongue instead of asking F'in, the Ore Man. "Give this piece to the Weyrleader. Too bad it wasn't bigger." Spitting off to the side, not the side with Jaelynn, he cleanses his tongue but not exactly his palate. Tavuqth finds the taste alluring, or maybe it's because the brown's feeling rapacious again. Th'bek loosens a sigh and bids Sa'id come to the vacated position. A hunter's looping game call and the brown retires to eat and rest and then resume holy terror.

"I was doing well having it sorted out until someone knocked it over." Jaelynn points out as she is back and is moving to work on collecting the firestone once more and try to get it put into stacks once more which would then make it easier to put into bags as long no one knocks them over again! Otsoath warbles out as he is bouncing forward skidding to a stop there before Rhakanth and he is dropping into a crouch which has his rump wiggling about in the air and tail lashing a few times.

Vojeth, having had previous mishaps with accidentally bowling over clutchmates, is none too eager to go charging into the fray again. But he is not above rearing his thick neck back to bellow an answering roar to Rhakanth's call- it's just more an encouragement than a tally ho charge. Yes, yes, the bronze remains on the sidelines. But not so Sa'id. The load shaken off into the middens, he abandons the wheelbarrow and paces over to the pile. The size of it is eyed, as well as the bags mid-fill. Grimy hands are wiped off on the seat of his trousers, dusty smears against crisp black. "What're we doing?"

Delila continues to put the stones in the sack and she picks out the right pieces. She fills up the sack as quickly as she can so she can have it ready for F'in so he can move it over. "What's wrong with that piece?" She asks curiously as she takes a look at it as she continues to fill up the sack and she ties it tightly before she holds it out for F'in to take. Amazolith whips her tail back and forth keeping it out of Rhakanth's muzzle. She zips past Otsoath and he tail whips out to try to smack the dragon upturned and wiggling rump before she bugles and sprints off away from the boys.

"Rev! Deserter!" F'in calls after the brownrider. He eyes that massive hunk of stone. He shrugs at Delila. Valiuth could certainly gnash that in short order. F'in snags the sack from Delila and with a grunt, heaves it to the staging area. One more and it was time for a trip. To Sa'id, "Sorting, sacking, stacking." F'in's hands go in precise parallels to one another indicating where each of the activities occurs. Sorting there. Sacking there -this is what F'in's currently occupied by- and stacking waaaaay over there. "Take two or three sacks a go." Oh. "AND, we're kicking their asses." A thumb tossed over his shoulder at a crowd of holier-than-thou weyrlings sorting, sacking and stacking with military precision and surly mugs. Rhakanth drums his tail on the ground, lashing it back and forth, as he circles Otsoath waiting for the brown to make good and that rump-wiggling and pounce. Amazolith and Vojeth cannot be spared any attention… faced off as Rhakanth is with Otsoath.

Sa'id tilts a look off towards military precision over there. Surly mugs? It is possible that the grim-faced weyrling is rather regretting wandering to this pile. "We are?" and yes, he sounds just a liiiittle skeptical of ass-kicking claims. Hey, military precision is a phrase for a reason! But, having claimed alleigence through proximity, he girds his loins and steps up to the plate. "Sack faster," is his instruction for the others. Why? Because with a grunt and a heave, he's pulling finished sacks up onto his shoulders. One, two, a third…and there's a fourth, wedged between hip and crooked elbow like the world's ugliest baby. Not gonna lie, it's an effort, it's heavy, and the big guy isn't exactly running to the stacking station. Staggering might be a better descriptor.

Delila ignores the stone that Th'bek picked up as she grabs another sack and she starts to fill it. "Well we better hurry up then." She says as she picks out the best kinds of stones to use and she tosses the unusable ones out of the way. She glances over her shoulder at Sa'id and winces, 'Careful that's a good way to hurt your back." She calls out over her shoulder as she finishes off another one, "It think this will be the last one." She goes to pick it up herself and she gets it over her shoulder. She stagger steps a bit as she gets her balance and starts to head to where the others are stacked.

F'in goggles. WHAT? That's it? They're done? Well dang! But the surly Sa'ids are bagging their last too and, though they've been pointedly ignoring the not-so-standard-issue group, situational awareness was the name of the game in all regards and with low tones and hard looks they sack up the last several bags, making a slow run for the stockpile. "Crap! Come on!" F'in chases after Delila and snags the bag off of her shoulder swinging it up to his. He snags that 'ugliest baby' and slings one end at Delila, "Catch!" They'll buddy carry it. He snags a third, the most precarious looking, from Sa'id's tower o' 'stone and leans forward, "Come on, we're ahead!" Barely. BARELY. Rhakanth's head comes up, sensing the intensity rolling off of F'in, pausing in mid snap at Otsoath's flank. That earsplitting bugle comes again.

This whole "teamwork" angle hasn't really gelled for Sa'id yet. Sure, it's been a few months, but most of that time has been spent focused on Vojeth- who is happily bellowing out moral support, let it be noted- and less so on his classmates. So it's probably more that than the weight that leaves him to bare his teeth at F'in when the other bronzer goes and delegates bag-snatching. He had it, damn it! But less weight does lead to more speed and the relatively fresh weyrling is able to push ahead as a result. Two sacks? That's nothing, though he does grunt in loud and manly fashion as he shrugs each off onto the almost completed stacks.

Delila holds onto the ends of the sack so that she can hurry along and carry it with F'in. She looks over her shoulder to see where the others are. She goes as fast as she can so they can complete the stacks. Amazolith decides to stop playing with the boys and she goes after the weyrlings to bugle and encourage them along.

Who would honestly quit playing? Not Otsoath as the brown is bounding back into the fray up until that snap which has him turning about and snapping out playfully at Rhakanth before he offers a deep loud bugle of his own. Jaelynn peeks up slightly as he is working on carrying of another sack she has finshed with. Looky there she managed to fill a few other bags as well after her shorting them so that is good, right?

F'in grunts (is there any question it's manly?) as he dips his shoulder and shove-tosses the not-Delila-side bag at Sa'id. "Swing and toss," He swings his side of the buddy carry back and tosses it on the forward sling with another grunt, letting the momentum carry him forward as he shrugs the last bag he's got onto the stockpile. He turns to see Jaelynn coming along. "Throw it Jae!" A flying bag moves faster than a running bag, right? They'd been practicing slinging bags. "Come on!" He claps and makes 'hit me' hands at Jaelynn. Toss it to anyone! FAST! The surly weyrlings are nearing the stockpile. One of the sacks had slipped and the offender was getting a roaring tongue-lashing from the self-appointed leaders of that happy crew.

It is probably a fortunate thing that Sa'id isn't bellowing his own "encouragements" at this happy crew. Vojeth might have something to do with it, the way the bronze is making all of that noise- and possibly drowning out his chosen partner's own thoughts to keep him from being a grumpy bastard at people. He might have joined the race late, but there's a competitive streak a mile wide in the man. Luckily, he can indulge it by catching without fumbling the bag shoved at him by F'in. He coils, swinging it a little backwards for momentum and then giving a good heave to send it up there to the top of the pile. Bwargh!

Delila swings her end with F'in and she watches as it flies up. She whews as it manages to stay together when it lands. Delila moves to get into a spot so they can start to toss the firestone sacks firebucket style. She has her own cheerer as Amazolith warbles her encouragements.

Jaelynn hears F'in at the talk of her tossing the bag of stone over.. Really, right now? There is a moment and she takes in a breath before turning swiftly and tosses it towards F'in with a good amount of movement. It is tied tight so no stones will go flying out of it at least.. Hopefully F'in will be able to catch it!! Otsoath supposes he'll have to stop playing as everyone else is not playing anymore and turns to see how it should play out..

Yes now, Jaelynn! There's dessert at stake. AND PRIDE! F'in snatches at the bag, fumbling his first grab as the sack reaches the zenith of its arc. It starts to fall and F'in scrabbles again, the subsequent grab anchoring in rough fabric, it holds. The grab and the bag. He he pivots, letting the falling momentum swing him around to toss it to Sa'id! Think fast! One of the sacks is shifting on the pile, "Delila!" He points over her shoulder.

Whoa, hey. Sa'id wasn't exactly expecting another bag to come flying at him. He's just turning from his previous successful throw to discover burlap filling his vision and is saved from braining only by virtue of jerking his upper torso to the side. The bag, as a result, collides with the larger stack. Does it split? No, though there is a suspicious bulge along the seam now. Aaaand right on schedule, a dark look goes towards F'in before he stoops to collect the thing and pushes it up atop the rest.

Delila blinks as she sees the sacks shifting, "Oh no." She hurries over and she pushes on the shifting sack to get back in line with the others. She looks over the stack that they have, 'There that should do it." She looks over at Sa'id, "Come on hurry those should be the last ones." She says as she goes to help straighten them out so they'll sit.

Jaelynn grins as F'in has grabbed it.. Yay! She is running over to help keep the stack and sacks from falling one way or another. "Don't let 'em fall!" If they fall they will be picking firestone out of everything for hours to come honestly. She doesn't want to deal with that!

Situational awareness, Sa'id! Like the surly bunch has. Like F'in hasn't. He watches that last bag go onto the pile and is turning to whoop at the crew when he catches a divot in the ground and makes a bad step. He tumbles towards the stockpile and thuds into that sack with suspiciously bulging seam, rebounding off of it and going ass over teakettle. The seam bulges more. The Surly Bunch toss their last sack onto their stockpile and look over, expressions dark. Delila, F'in, Jaelynn and Sa'id (and Rev!) had beat them! Except… except… that bulging seam splits wide and the sack spills its contents right at sprawled-on-his-ass F'in's feet. "Damn!" He raises hands to high-five his crew, "Next time!" The Surly Bunch don't even sneer. That's how surly they are. Their victory was assured. It's no thing for THEM to win. One of them raises a hand, finger pointed in command, voice raised so he doesn't have to even turn to look at them, "Desserts." He doesn't even have to say 'punks.' It's implied.

Wait, what? Sa'id helped the girl team and they still lost? Graceless loser that he is, the man throws sweaty arm in the air and makes a belligerant, unhappy sound. It's a little like, "Grargh!" They're all getting glares for that but thankfully only brief glares, before he is stalking off to join Vojeth. The bronze takes it more in stride and wingflips at his compatriots- the visual equivilant of a thumbs up- before hauling himself up to lumber after his young man.

Delila aws a little bit as they were so close to winning only to lose right at the end. She sighs softly as she starts to pick up the stones, "That stinks. We'll have to do better next time." She says as she starts to repair the sack so they can put the pieces back into sack.

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