Changeover goes as smoothly as it ever does. It's the chanciest part of Threadfall with exhausted dragons taking their leave and replacements skipping cold into the heat of a fight in progress. Commands ripple through the tiers from Whirlwind to Mirage and covering formations shift back to fighting formations and the fight is on again. Fury and flame. Ash. Heat. Hissing Thread. Bellowing dragons. Screams. The rank smell of dragonfire. In the flurry of fight and 'Fall, dragons and riders report…

« In position. » Esanth's mindvoice is calm and collected, his place on the formation's flank resumed, though acrid smoke and the scent of heated oil haze his mindscape. « We're clear to the south. » No sign of storms or other oddities off over the water. The low buzz of intent communication, dragon-to-dragon, hums along Esanth's bones as he relays a request for eyes to the north, « Kabelkath? » T'ral hunkers low over Esanth's neck and preps a bag of 'stone. Their last.

« Ready and in position. » Kabelkath's mindvoice flickers out, a crackling line of blue flame and sparks, « Wind seems stable for now. No fluctiations. » The bronze makes a slight adjustment, keeping his flying pattern even in his position in Whirlwind. R'ku, goggles in place and expression intent, leans forward to adjust their own bags of firestone. Kabelkath pauses only to swing his head back to accept some more firestone before turning back to his mission with deadly focus. A precise gout of flame erupts from him, charring the clump of Thread that had been sailing his way. More ash and char to float down helplessly to the ground below.

There are a lack of queens in Mirage during this threadfall and the lower tier wing is lead by an older bluerider with many Turns of experience. There is little activity to be had at this altitude with the upper tiers doing an excellent job at obliterating Thread from the sunny blue sky. It's almost too pretty for fight the silver menace, though Igen isn't fooled. « Steady as we go, Mirage! » Blue Chinolth reassures his wing as he leads a wide swept V formation at the very base of the tiers.

Eala is — no big surprise — exactly where she should be, keeping an eye on Parhelion's ranks as the green pair tackle the silvery meance. With clear skies ahead, Oriahysciath makes the most of her space, pressing the edges of formation with her darting jumps. She chases down each silvery tendril as it passes, eager in her destruction.

Flying in a new Wing, even Mirage, is a change on multiple levels. The conditions of this 'Fall are almost a relief, though Divale has her hands full just keeping Lukoith in line. She understands the purpose of them being there; the brown does not. He'd much rather be where more of the action is. It's not like before, being here. When a swarm of Thread drops nearly right in front of his face, Lukoith is in pursuit, yet hesitates as if to draw out the moment. A sharp mental retort from Divale has him snapping out of that terrible habit and flaming the thread to harmless char. « Clear. » Lukoith reports back in a tangled snarl.

Fighting for Parhelion, Horith and Lemia blink in from ::between:: for the changeover, Lemia ducks to avoid a gust of hot ash that blows her way while Horith roars her defiance to the skies. Lemia looks to R'xim for orders, though she moves Horith into position, the green flaming at a knot of thread that goes streaming by. Moss green eyes scan the sky carefully for any of the silver menace that might be in her area. «What a beautiful day for a fight!» Horith comments, a burst of flame ejecting from her maw as she catches a clump missed by the top wing.

Rhakanth folds wings and stoops, flaring to brake and twist as F'in leans out to toss a bag of 'stone to a Parhelion rider who called. His partner in resupply, a sturdy blue and his struggling rider, swing wide and into the hot wash of a blast of flame, « Stay close, » Rhakanth's rumbling voice urges the blue nearer, the golden cord of his mind looping and tumbling forward to describe the shifting path they'll fly through the wheeling formations.

Shalnth flames that waltzing tangle of thread — it was clearly mocking his efforts the way it gently danced in front of him. How dare it. With a hissss and a crackle, the silver turns to ash in a matter of seconds. « Winds are favorable. We will change direction. » The projected image of their formation is shared with Parhelion riders and the wing sweeps around to criss-cross once again with Arroyo.

Twisted strands of silver weave a taunting dance, as a tangle of Threads snake across Esanth's path.

As a dragon disappears ::BETWEEN::, another moves over in the formation to cover for her.

A silvery tendril of Thread reaches out to curl its deadly grasp around Eala.

S'ayde has just been summoned for changeover, he and Kataskiath burst into the air with a roar, flames bursting into open air to make sure they are not taken unawares by thread. Lucky for the green pair, no riders or dragons are in the immediate area. Immediately S'ayde's hazel orbs search for wingleader and wing, once found, he jets into place, Kataskiath streaming fire at any thread that dare get in her way.

Silver upon silver: deadly strands interweave to form an intricate quilt of roiling Thread, awaiting to blanket Horith.

A sheeting ribbon of Thread drops silently off S'ayde's wing.

On the ground, the healers are ready as ever. It's too much to ask for there not to be any injuries, but hopefully there won't be many serious ones today. So far, so good. There isn't absolute chaos as there only seems to be a few patients here and there. Doji doesn't have any patient of her own right now. The tall apprentice is keeping busy running back and forth to fetch supplies for whichever journeyman might be calling out for something at that particular moment.

Kestrath's been here the whole time doing what she does best. Being a loud mouthed bossy green that rolls and dives after Thread, flaming and skipping as needed. Agertha feeding her green firestione also as needed.

A rushing waterfall of Thread cascades from the heavens above, reflecting an eerie, distorted image as it falls before Oriahysciath.

Curling movements pulsing with every contorted twist, a clump of Thread reaches out towards towards Lukoith.

A tumbling ball of Thread sinks in deadly silence, just ahead of Kestrath.

Lemia and Horith slam on the breaks and turn, (not an easy thing in the air!) to follow orders and criss-cross with Arroyo again, nearly getting snagged by a net of thread. Hopefully the lower wings catch that one because Horith is on a mission!! With a belching roar of flame she takes out a knot that falls in front of them. Lemia takes a moment to check on her 'mates. Arroyo seems to be flagging, oh dear.

A tangled mass of Thread descends above Shalnth.

R'xim receives a medium score on the hip!

Shalnth receives a medium score on the mainsail!

Oriahysciath hisses at the needless conversation, a spout of flame taking out that mirror of cascading thread as it passes in front of her. « Is the thread interrupting your chit-chat? » she questions dryly, her rich feminine tones cutting through the conversation. Following Shalnth's orders, they shift direction, eager to seek and destroy.

Jerelloth's mouth belches fire all around as he does what he can to keep the Threads from slipping past him to the wings below. R'mar catches a resupply from a nearby rider and the brown turns his head for more of the phospherous producing stone. "You doing okay bud?" «Of course I am. This is what we do» the brown remarks, rather matter-of-factly. During the brief break, rider surveys below, picking out familiar shapes and he smiles. "Horith and Kestrath fly well today." «Of course they do. They are mine» R'mar chuckles as the brown lurches down, streaking after a sliver of Thread that got past Whirlwind's ranks.

A bronze dragon trumpets alarm and disappears ::between!::

A silvery tendril of Thread falls near Kataskiath, fanning out as if to ensnare her.

Kataskiath receives a slight score on the mainsail!

Lukoith veers slightly to come around the next clump that reaches them, avoiding collision when it twists away. This time he does not 'play' with his quarry and immediately lets loose with a gout of flame to reduce the silvery tendrils to nothing but ash and char. Divale remains grimly determined where she sits, ignoring the ache in her leg and keeping a sharp focus on what's happening, both around them and to the rest, if the feedback does not overwhelm. Slipping back into formation, it's not long before she's having to keep that hold on the brown, when activity below dies down again.

Kestrath manages to chase the missed bit of Thread from Horith, and chars it the rest of the way to ash. « You missed! » is called out in challenge to the Thread. Agertha sighs and gives a determined look as more of the silvery menace falls. A now empty bag is tossed at one of the sr. weyrlings on resuply, and a fresh bag is deftly snagged from the air to be attached to the riding straps for easy access, "Careful there, Kes," Agertha says under her breath as they dive after more Thread.

Red and fire and pain erupt in S'ayde's mind as a tendril of thread eats through part of her mainsail. Kataskiath roars and blinks between. «Devioussss threadssss….» SHe complains when she pops back into the skies. As much as S'ayde wants her to land and get checked, thre green insists she can still fly. «We are not done yet my love…..» SHe chides and moves herself back into position.

Esanth flames, charring the Thread that fans and slows dancing before them. It's a dance the pair bluepair knows well and the stalwart stardust blue roars his defiance. T'ral throws the last of their bags of 'stone as Esanth dips. « 'Stone! »

Lemia gives Horith the order to ::between:: As a mass of thread threatens to take them both out. SHe re-appears slightly above and Horith emits a burts of flame, singing at the thread until the flame runs out. Lemia catches a back of stone from a nearby rider and re-stocks her green. Horith cannot eat the stone fast enough for her own liking and grumbles when she misses a knot of the silvery menace due to chewing. «WATCH OUT BELOW!»

During the change in direction, Shalnth is caught unaware by a tangle of thread that's too close to char in the moment. Oh shit. It's the first thought in R'xim's mind as he, too, gets burned by thread - his poor hip! - a second before the bronze pair dives ::between:: for relief. When they return, Shalnth falters from a wing injury, but regains his position shortly afterward as R'xim curses up a storm. « Firestone. » The order is relayed to Mosaic in a surprisingly calm tone compared to the wingleader's.

Rhakanth wheels urging his more agile wingmate to cut the angle and feed the call for firestone up in Whirlwind. The pain of Threads bite whickers through the mindscapes of the dragons and Rhakanth rumbles low, a long call that lifts, the walls of the Labyrinth stretch down into the ground and up into the sky.

A writhing knot of Thread drops alongside Kestrath.

Agertha receives a slight score on the foot!

A large chunk of Thread slips past Kabelkath, writhing in hungry eagerness to reach the ground below.

R'ku receives a slight score on the thigh!

Kabelkath receives a slight score on the wingtip!

Ash and destruction, it's the name of the game, and Nokteryth is glad of it. With the ease of turns spent fighting this particular menace, the big nowtime bronze chars clumps and strands alike, if it comes within reach of his flame it is toast! Battle-red eyes scan his section of airspace, hungrily searching for more chaos to combat.

A writhing knot of Thread drops alongside Kestrath.

Agertha receives a slight score on the foot!

A large chunk of Thread slips past Kabelkath, writhing in hungry eagerness to reach the ground below.

R'ku receives a slight score on the thigh!

Kabelkath receives a slight score on the wingtip!

Agertha hisses even as Kestrath blinks ::between:: only to return roaring out a flame to char the offending Thread. Agertha's foot throbs but is otherwise ignored as the green pair chase after, and flame Thread. Kestrath turns her head to look at Agertha, « Land? » she asks, only to be given a slight headshake, "I'm fine," there's still Thread to burn.

A green and a blue both go for the same patch of thread, and the green quickly dodges as she sees the other dragon.

Wounded dragons and riders land, healers rush to triage.

A delicate spiderweb of Thread sinks, almost lifelessly, past R'mar.

R'mar receives a severe score on the scalp!

Jerelloth receives a severe score on the neck!

A knotted tangle of Thread tumbles like a dandelion past Oriahysciath, twirling downward towards the ground.

Eala receives a medium score on the upper arm!*

Flame, *between* and return - Kabelkath works in cold and calculating determination as he flies, keeping in formation and staying alert. His wiry, lean form makes for an easier time in maneuvering for his color and he uses it to his advantage, dipping lower for some of the more awkward to reach clumps of Thread. A riotous gout of flame sears a lazily spiraling clump near his shoulder and the lean bronze twists to try to sear a second clump trailing right at its tail. He manages to get a majority of it, but a writhing filament careens off his wingtip, sailing downwards and hitting R'ku in the thigh. There's a hiss of pain from R'ku, inaudible in the rushing wind in the skies, and a roar of defiance from Kabelkath. The bronze winks *between* to kill any lingering Thread before reappearing, rejoining Whirlwind. « Just a flesh wound. We are good to continue. » Cool and calculating blue flames simmer out from Kabelkath's mind.

Mirage is kept busy by a few clumps of thread that escape the upper tiers, and wingleading blue Chinolth is happy to share the wealth. « On the left side! » Thread gently wafts downward to meet its fate in the form of a fiery wall of flame. Hissssssss. Crackle. Ashes once more!

Dragon and rider work in tandem as the delicate spiderweb passes nearby. As they turn together to search for another clump to sear, the clump above, unseen, lands. R'mar slumps in the straps and Jerelloth screams in pain, blinking between to freeze off the offending Threads. He reappears instantly, lower in altitude than normal, still screaming in pain. «IT HURTS!» He screams. R'mar, unconcious on the straps, slides dangerously close to falling off, blood covering much of his face.

T'ral reels with the shock of Jerelloth and R'mar's wounds. » Got 'em! « Esanth and T'ral peel out of formation to assist the brownpair to the ground. « Kabelkath, you've got the conn. » The four hit the ground, rough, T'ral shedding straps and calling for help as they land.

There's a roar of anger from Oriahysciath as she fails to flame all of that thread into oblivion, and her rider is clipped ON THE ARM. No one saw anything about the scalp, shhh. The pair blink between, reappearing in Parhelion's ranks as though nothing happened. Eala might be holding her arm kind of funny, but she's managing to hold on, and the pair doggedly continue to flame, following their Wingleader's example.

The GhostShip sails on high, damning colors risen, announcing no good deed to come. It's with cannonfire that he makes himself known, large bronze dragon within Whirlwind's ranks, risen of purgatory itself doth he shudder bone-deep and purge the sky before him of that which trespasses upon his waters. It has consumed His, utterly, fully, as it always does when Thread falls. For they stand together on bridge of black and corroded timelost wood, swaying on an endless and timeless water. Vengeance, greed, wrath. Oh do they feed this corrupt and insatiable power, all of which is turned upon this silver-stranded enemy. It's the former that burns in Ko'an in this moment, and in many moments- burns whiter and hotter than even the sensation of cannons that roar beneath him. He seethes, and he grins some terrible and nefarious twist of lips. Too-blue eyes are far sunken into the abyssal depths of the one who tethered him long ago, the hue storm-tossed and dangerous.

A ropy clot of Thread kites past Zodaiyath, fluttering as it sails downward.

Zodaiyath receives a medium score on the wingtip!

Ko'an receives a medium score on the hand!

Kestrath grumbles as she continues to chase Thread. Jerelloth's scoring does not go un-noticed by the variegated green, » Steady. We're not done yet. « Agertha gives the green a pat on her neck. Kestrath simply continues to grumble as she chases after Thread. Someone's grumpy today.

Things are picking up on the ground as more and more wounded trickle in. One of the journeymen in charge of triage catches Doji right as she turns around from finishing a supply run and points up at the brown screaming in pain and the clearly slumped rider. Uh-oh. The pair are off running to the area where it looks like the group is going to land. Getting unconscious riders off dragons is unfortunately something that the weyr healers have a lot of practice in, so tall girl is ready to help as soon as she's over there.

There is a minor dip in Kabelkath's wing beats as the mental anguish from R'mar and Jerelloth's injuries ripples over the links, but the bronze recovers himself quickly - Thread must be fought or others will meet the same fate. « Got it, » Kabelkath's lick of fiery, cool blue flames reaches out in acknowledgement of the pass of the reins to him. « Be alert. Be safe. Stay focused. » A mental whip of blue flame, encouraging those remaining to stay clear and focused on the task at hand despite the other dragon's injuries. R'ku, for his part, is gritting his teeth against the pain - both physical from his Threadscore and the mental from the shockwave of the other dragon's injury. He remains focused, though, and grimly continues feeding firestone at the appropriate moments.

Weyrlings start to fill in the ranks of the Wings as injuries take their toll. Thread is on the wane, thinning as the day stretches on. Sooty ash skirls through the air, coating the Seahold's buildings in black dust and fouling the white foam at the shoreline to dingy gray.

As L'xan concentrates on the logistics of firestone supply and keeping their place in formation, Nokteryth continues to flame and destroy the space-born spores that continually spawn out of the void, he's good at his job. Born of darkness an agent of destruction. ALL FOR A GOOD CAUSE THOUGH! He's a bloody hero in'he? Perhaps inappropriately the large bronze radiates joy even in the midst of this days anarchy.

Rhakanth and F'in wheel to toss a bag of 'stone to R'xim and Shalnth. Maybe he can toss it right to Shalnth. Likely the last they'll need this 'Fall.

Guided to the ground below, Jerelloth is still yelling. The thread appears to have ran it's course on the browns neck, his rider just barely attached by the straps, which also got hit by the Thread. The brown lands with a thud and simply lies down on the ground, almost rolling onto his back as his rider now slumps against the open score on Jerelloth's neck, causing another roar of pain from the brown.

Lukoith's growling is so low it's mostly felt by Divale than heard; not that it could carry well over the wind anyhow. As activity picks up again for Mirage, the brown is eager… maybe too eager, before being recalled into place. They avoid injury, however and the thread they pursued is flamed and rendered harmless. As injuries trickle in, Divale's mood turns all the more grim and dark and the hit that Jerelloth and his rider takes sends an icy chill through her. Cursing, she regroups and focuses back on keeping Lukoith in formation.

A brown backwings to flame a large clump of thread.

The pain on Shalnth's wingsail is quelled only by the ice cold of ::between:: and upon his return, R'xim signals the wing to descend and return to Igen. « Go to the dragonhealer yard for those with injuries. » Because it appears he and R'xim will be there tending to their own miseries instead of leading a post-threadfall wrap in the bowl. So, looks like Eala will lead said meeting instead~ With threadfall at its end, Parhelion is will soon retreat to the desert Weyr.

Lemia has to work hard to rein Horith in once the thread of Jerelloth's pain reaches her end of the link. "Steady Hor, we need to finish this out." Her voice is strong, but Lemis nearly has a heart attack when she notices R'mar unconscious in the straps. "LOOK OUT" is shouted from a fellow rider and Horith darts to the side, narrowly missing being hit with a clump of thread. The orders for retreat are given and while Lemia and Horith definitely retreat, it is is to Jerelloth's side on the ground. "R'mar!!!!" The pained exclimation comes from Lemia as she struggles to free herself from the straps, mind torn between making sure her weyrmate still breathes and going back to the weyr for the post-thread meeting.

Eala is more than happy to ignore the pain in her arm and lead a meeting. The longer she can avoid the healers, the better.

Scratch that. NAOMI will lead said post-threadfall meeting… Sorry, Eala~

NO.

YES. NOW GET MOVING.

IT'S JUST A FLESH WOUND.

Kestrath is on a roll of flaming, and skipping as needed. Still, Agertha's starting to reach a point where she'll be very greatful when the 'Fall is done. She will need to visit the healers for her injury. The order is soon given, « Injured are to report to the healers. » Agertha will just put off her own trip to the healers until after the post-Threadfall meeting. Then there will be the round through the infirmary and dragonhealer's yard to check on the injured of her wing, and then Agertha will seek out medical aid for herself.

Well, if Eala has been exiled — good luck in getting her to actually listen — the greenrider will busy herself with seeing that her weyrmate is still in one piece before she seeks out any kind of treatment. OUT OF SPITE.

Finally the order to fall back is given and S'ayde and Kataskiath head to the groundso that he can check her sail. Once done, the pair take off and head for the dragonhealers, it might not be bad, but that wing needs tending to.

The healer journeyman pulls the injured brownrider to the ground, with the help of a willing apprentice. The pair take R'mar away from his injured dragon (but still in his sight), so the dragonhealers will be able to do their work as well. First things first, Doji is given some shears and told to make sure the area of the score is completely clear of hair. Bye, bye locks. After that's done, then it's time for a very thorough cleaning, plenty of numbweed, and a stylish set of bandages that make R'mar look like he's wearing a white turban. Probably more bandages and numbweed then needed, but Doji's nothing if not thorough.

Zodaiyath turns to bid passage to the underworld yet another clump of twisting alien mass, but so obsessed, so single-minded in this destruction had they become, that it is too late that they notice the ropy clot that the wind snares to pull right into them. It burns through the wingtip of black sails, tattering them further and causing haunted vessel to list abruptly, and before they may Between, another falls on the rider himself. It hooks around man's left hand, eating through-and-through the riding gloves that attempt to protect. Seering at flesh, deep.. deeper.. and unforgiving. Pain lances as Ko'an clutches his wrist to hold his hand to him. They vanish. Three long seconds where heartbeats aren't felt, where breath is lost, where mortality surrenders to the cowl'd figure who awaits on the other side…. But they reappear, the bronzen psychopomp of Black Pearl'd sheen spewing forth fire from haunted maw still. Even with rider hunched forward and dragon waning as he struggles to balance against the pain- his, his rider's, it does not matter for soul-stolen Brethren are they- their battle does not yet end until the last strand is no more.

Thread thins more and more. F'in never really believes it until it's been very long after the last tendril burned. That honor goes to Zodaiyath. And with that, the 'Fall is over. With a bellow, Rhakanth commands the Weyrlings home. Commands flicker through the Wings and within moments, save stink of 'stone and ash, within moments, the skies over Keroon are clear once more.