Halloween Night, 2011 - thar be gore and language in there here logfile.
Ista Weyr - Southern Bowl
Compared to that of other weyrs, Ista's bowl is small, and incomplete - northwards, one wall was blown clear away several millennia ago, leaving the view clear towards the plateau, the jungles, and the ocean beyond that. Somewhat elliptical, the breadth of the bowl seems to run northwest to southeast, the bustling epicenter of the weyr being here, towards the southwest. Several large entrances have been dug into the great bowl walls - northeast are the hatching grounds and south the living caverns, these being the two largest caverns in the weyr.
To the east, a small entrance leads in to the ground weyrs - the ledges of these line the bowl wall above, often filled with dragons of gold or bronze; westward is another ledge, but with a staircase built into the wall, allowing access to the Sable Sands. The infirmary is located towards the southwest.
It was a DARK and STORMY night. So what are a crapload of weyrfolk doing out in the bowl with the sky coming down in buckets? That's a good freaking question. And Cenlia asks it. "A'ight, the shards is goin' /on/ out 'ere?" in all due eloquence as a senior weyrwoman, "Somebody better tell me why I got dragged outta bed with a bronzer b'fore I smash some heads with a SHOVEL." Okay, well. Eloquent for /Cenlia/. In fact, the girl is in a pair of drawstring pants which hang off her hips, beige like most of her clothing, but the shirt she's wearing is a bright red halter top, with a hastily thrown-on sarong. Not that it's doing any good, what with the downpour and the.. lightening. And the green glowing thing in the middle of the bowl. Oh yeah, it's a great big metal cylinder, in fact, half the size of Pern's smallest dragon, the S&R wing having spotted it on sweeps just offshore and somebody from transport having dragged it up out of the ocean. Made R'mero puke his breakfast it did, but folks have been coming to gawk at the oddity ever since, Pern a-buzz about the strange treasure of the Ancients the Istans found. Half of Pern must have stopped by this sevenday to peek at it, or touch the tingly goo. Cen though, had thought it was disgusting, which is why they didn't shove it in the stores.
As for being awake at this hour, A'ra isn't exactly pleased by it. But at least he's fully dressed, despite the fact that he's already thoroughly soaked. Standing out in the rain will do that. Drenched hair has been messily pinned back, thankfully, not clinging in scraggly tendrils around his face. As for that goo? Yeah, he's /not/ touching that thing. What he /is/ touching, however..is a bit more disturbing than glowing green goop. Although a part of it..might really /be/ goop by now. The slight, and rather grimly expressioned bronzerider walks toward Cenlia…dragging something. And indeed, plops down his burden near the Weyrwoman. "I wouldn't go banging shovels around /just/ yet. Think this is worth getting out of bed for?" The light that's shined on the burden he was dragging, however wet, is definitely a corpse. Or at least a partial one, thoroughly mangled. "A right mess..found it practically out in the open makin' rounds around the bowl…"
Grumbling about the rain, comes the pierced up bronzerider orginally from Eastern, Impressed in Xanadu, and transferred at last to Ista. None other than P'rel himself, rumored to be the grumpy sort who'd just as soon scowl at you as kick a puppy. He looks throughly displeased, which was not uncommon for the seventeen turn old, wearing his riding jacket over a blood red tank top. Legs are dressed similar to Cenlia, in black track pants with twin red stripes down the sides, hanging some off of narrow hips. Where his lifemate is, would be anyone's guess as it would be hard to hide a bronze that large with whirling red eyes as Malphath tended to sport regardless of his mood. He's got an umbrella in one hand, black of course, held over his head likely at the insistence of his weyrmate. He frowns deeply at the gathering around the strange container, not having bothered inspecting it or going anywhere near it since it had arrived. Sandaled feet carrying him in a wide circle around the gathering of people, golden eyes darting over to the Weyrwoman as she threatens poeple. Okay that may even bring a twitch of a smile to his face. That is until the guy there with his exact same coloring arrives in the gloom of the evening. Yeah, he'll just stop and stare there a second, at least till he notices what the dude was dragging around. The expletive that follows is best not repeated in polite society. "What are ya draggin' it around for?" he growls, not stepping back, but certainly not heading over to poke at the corpse. Might be his first experience with a dead body. Who knows.
Another figure comes into view, emerging from the ground weyrs, a pair of nice trousers - if in need of a good ironing - and an unbuttoned long-sleeved shirt. He's getting swiftly soaked, but his eyes seem fixed on one thing right now, or one person. "Cen, come on, the Weyr'll still be standing in the morn— uh. What's that?" X'hil's voice rises in pitch rather more than he'd care for, and a finger /points/ at A'ra's fetching accessory. He scrutinizes the corpse, which is to say he squints at it from as far away as possible, then pales. "Looks important. Weyr business." he squeaks, and backs quickly away. "Nevermind me. Take your time." And then, ZOOM, he's gone.
Cenlia pauses halfway across the bowl as SOMEONE seems to have an answer for her, though judging by thw weyrwoman's expression, it's definitely not one she likes. And her reaction to getting a mangled, gooey corpse dropped at her feet? "AUGH." Yeeah, she's just going to STARE at the pretty pretty bronzerider now. Her upper lip curls slightly, in a vague expression of disgust, eyes widening just slightly in what might be alarm, or maybe she's just wondering if that stuff splattered on her pantleg is mud or worse things. At least she /is/ wearing decent boots, sturdy with tread, probably tougher than most whers. "The shards're ya carryin' that /around/ for?" is demanded of A'ra in vague exasperation, practically at the same time Py asks, before another pause, eyebrows climbing toward her hairline, "..Where 'xactly didja /find/ that? Dun tell me got another moron letting loose felines out 'ere.." is groaned with a hand coming up to drag across rain-wet "/Last/ time somebody did that, half the weyr ended up in the infirmary, and I nearly lost a leg. Right," is huffed out, "Show me where ya found it-" half-turning with an, "OY! Git back 'ere!" at X'hil, "Or fetch me a shovel!" Muttering something else about flying ovines under her breath, she turns back to squint at the corpse. "Is.. is that /B'ky/?" hard to tell now, "Why ain't there been no keenin'…" crouching down to try to peer at the.. shoulder for a knot. It might be a kneecap, who knows.
A'ra does look at P'rel, brows lifting ever so slightly. Sure, he doesn't know the other rider by name. Who can remember /everyone/ in the whole Weyr? But with both him and Cenlia asking the same questions, the bronzerider just shakes his head. "You guys'd prefer me to /leave/ it where I found it? Was practically /on/ the Sands' steps, and there's people still partying in there, even at this hour. I figured moving it away would be better than people running around screaming in the wet and the dark." That'll come /later/, after all. Cenlia's…questioning identification though earns a slightly bewildered look…although he doesn't look down at the body again. "..Is it? Definitely haven't heard anything dragon-related out here, I don't see how.." X'hil's arrival and abrupt..scurrying is given a faint sigh though, but he busies himself with wiping off his hands..sadly, on his pants. Maybe the rain will wash any stains out.
Golden eyes dart the way of X'hil, brows twitching towards their center as the third bronzerider on the scene flees before too long, though this does nothing to encourage P'rel to approach the nastiness that A'ra has deposited at Cenlia's feet. He'll just be over here if you need him. "Dude, I dun care whatcha do with it. Long as it ain't anywhere near me." he grumbles, chin lifting upwards slightly. He doesn't look particularly scared of the mangled thing, more grossed out than anything. Though when Cenlia leans in and looks at the thing more closely, naming it as a bluerider he must find familiar, well now the kid edges a bit closer, peeking over in an attempt to make his own identification. There really wasn't a whole lot to identify left, but then Py ughs and takes a measured step back. "It's B'ky." he confirms, pointing a slender finger at what looks like the head. Maybe. "See that braid, it's blue." Much like the braid of blue in his own hair, a deep midnight blue, the same color as his weyrmate's dragon. I'srie was after all, not an unfamiliar face around the weyr, even if people didn't know his name. The pair didn't exactly blend into background. His gaze goes distant, and brows knit indefinately towards the center of his forehead. "Malphath says he ain't gettin' nothin' but static when he tries to contact Avideth. He says he there, but…" he murmurs looking between A'ra and Cenlia, and then back down at the body. "Somethin' frickin' chewed on him."
X'hil's fear response is not, apparently, all powerful. Soon, he returns, shovel in hand. Where did he find that, in such a short time? Unless Cenlia keeps one in her weyr. He moves cautiously on the return, holding the shovel out at maximum length, handle towards Cenlia, keeping Cenlia between him and the mangled body. "Uh. Your shovel?" he says, to draw Cenlia's attention.
Cenlia makes a face as she looks for evidence of the knot. But as Py points out the blue braid in the corpse's hair, there's a lowly muttered, "Ugh," and the goldrider straightens up again with a grimace. It is, in fact, that of the assistant weyrlingmaster and soon-to-be transport wingleader. Or, well, would have been. "Shardit all, /just/ got Sig off m' back about the whole wingleader mess," softly growled under her breath, "/Zeek/. Wake Ittibuttwhatsth up, an' tell 'im to get Sig's ass over 'ere. Shardin' mess in the middle've the night," grumblemuttering into incoherency as she starts chatting with her lifemat nonverbally. X'hil's return is, at least,m greeted with a lopsided grin, and a head-bob to the man as she promptly takes the shovel and wields it expertly. "Couldja go grab some healers? Figure one've 'em might be able t' tell us if this was.. stab-" and then she's just going to blink a bit at P'rel, "..Chewed?" browquirking at him. She finally steps /away/ from the corpse, and is about to thead toward the Sands. Except it totally twitches. The corpse that is. It twitches at ..A'ra!
"/Chewed?/" Even A'ra looks a little disgusted over that. Granted, the corpse does look…mangled beyond belief. Perhaps B'ky had an encounter with a runaway meat grinder. The positive identification though just earns a headshake from the bronzerider. "I don't know how he could be giving any..images at all. I mean../that/ is a dead person." And dragons don't just keep on living with dead riders. Hands make another swipe at the back of his pants, wiping off water and…some sort of grime, at least. He probably wouldn't have even noticed the movement of the corpse if he didn't look down at his shoes to make sure he hadn't stepped in anything. "HOLY FARANTH'S CROOKED TOES!" A foot then goes flying right at the poor corpse's twitchy head…booting right into it. There's a bit of wide-eyed…chest heaving panting to follow as he jerks backward. "That thing /moved!/"
P'rel seems to be all set now being anywhere near the gnawed on remains, especially when the other two seem to confirm his assessment, moving back another couple of steps and even half turning, as if to follow Cenlia to the hatching sands. He does hang back though as X'hil returns with Cenlia's shovel, focused on this exchange while A'ra wipes his hands and exaimes his footwear. "I dunno, have uh…yer lifemate check, if ya dun believe me." He doesn't know A'ra or his dragon but he can see and read knots just fine, having glanced over at the other blond haired bronzerider's shoulder long enough to get rank and color. "Malphath ain't makin' this shit up, man." A pause and then he points at the corpse. "That's B'ky." Course then the thing has to move, twitching towards A'ra's foot and Py all but jumps out of his skin. He saw that, he totally did. "What the fuck?!" he exclaims, not bothering with the niceties of polite conversation now, nearly dropping his umbrella. "That thing fucking just moved, Cen. He ain't kiddin'." Moving dead people, certainly a first, and boy's eyes glaze over again. "I dun fuckin' care if he's sleepin' wake his ass up and tell him to wake up Iess. I ain't playin' Malphath."
X'hil bobs his head. "Healers. Sure." he says, turning and bolting for the infirmary, but he might take a bit of a wiiide arc. Must be absolutely safe. Yes. Honestly, it's a good thing he didn't see that twitch, he probably would've fainted right there on the spot. Healers are sent out to investigate the scene, but the bronzerider is nowhere to be seen. Probably cowering under a cot in the infirmary, causing Kinseth everlasting shame, you know, the usual.
"ACK!" that about sums up Cen's reaction to mangled death thing springing at one of the bronzers. She backpedals speedily, shovel in hand, "The shards- he was DEAD. Dead an' fallin' APART." Nevermind that Ara's /foot/ is still in the ..corpse's head. The corpse, which is now gnawing on the bronzerider's boot, despite most of the rest of it having ..fallen out across the ground when it moved. Cen looks vaguely ill as she mutters a horrified, "Whut. The. /Fuck/." A pause, "Er," and a glance at the arriving healers, some of whom… are looking less than in tip-top shape. "Git yer butts over 'ere! An'-" hand-wavey as the chewed-on bronzerider, "/Do/ somethin'!" One poor, very hollow-eyed Nimen is first to arrive with a protest, "We're full up, there's no more cot-space, tell him to just grab some bed in a guest weyr and a healer will be with-" only the man stops dead in his tracks to.. gawk at the scene. Hopefully A'ra has thick boots, yeah? Cenlia just growls something under her breath and mutters to P'rel, "Gimmie a hand gettin' it off-" And all this time people have been gathering in the bowl to morbidly watch the goings-on from a distance, but there's some sort of commotion building in the Sable Sands. Granted, there's a party going on, but some of the music has gotten a little.. off. And is that.. /moaning/? The sudden rush of people /out/ of the nightclub though has Cen's attention snapping that way, "Now what? The shards is-" quite promptly before someone nearly bowls her over as several dozen terrified people stream across the bowl. And from somewhere above, a dark shape passes over the nearly-full moons.
No, A'ra is not at all happy. These are /new/ boots being gnawed on! Wide-eyed, he can really only gawk a moment before he starts flailing further, hopefully dislodging working jaws from that boot before he falls backward in the mud. A few feet are scrambled backward away from the moving body before he manages to get back on his feet again. There's a bit of panic there. After all, it's not really often that corpses start trying to gnaw on your toes. But then, there's chaos erupting around the Weyr, and the bronzerider gives a wild look around as people start streaming by. "What the hell?! What..Kapalith, what /now/?" It's elsewhere that the bronzerider looks, in fact, before he takes off into the darkness, splashing water and mud in his wake as he disappears across the bowl.
Admittedly when X'hil leaves this time to cower under a cot or whatever, P'rel isn't paying any attention at all to the mate of the senior weyrwoman. Instead he's very focused on the whole corpse chewing on the booted foot of the bronzerider with the same coloring as he, though considering that A'ra was older than Py, one would suppose that the former Xanadu harper had similar coloring to him. Whatever. "I dun fuckin' care Malphath, ya tell his big blue ass to wake up Iess /NOW/." Perhaps the boy was freaking out just minutely at this point, though he's thoroughly dragged out of this half spoken aloud arguement with his lifemate by the screaming and such coming from the direction of The Sable Sands. He'd missed the arrival of the bedraggled healer staff, but the commotion over younger from the tavern distracts from A'ra fleeing the scene. A glance back the other guy's way has him gone and Py can only growl and close the umbrella now, pointing the metal tip at it's peak at the shambling remains of bluerider B'ky. Like a sword. "Tell 'im to bring me somethin' I can hit shit with." he tells the air, and he's totally backing up towards Cenlia, "What the fuck is up with the chickenshit bronzeriders ya got here?" he asks her, well aware that one of those happens to be her mate. He obviously doesn't give a wherry's backside, or he'd not caring enough to pay attention to what he's saying at the moment. You know, with reanimated corpses about. The shadow overhead blocks out the light of the nearly full moons, and for whatever reason the blond shivers. "Fuck. This is messed." He's keeping one eye on the body still twitching on the ground, leaving bits of itself all over the place, the slim line of his back making contact with the weyrwoman's. The moaning, sets the bronzerider on edge, teeth clenching. "And where the FUCK is my weyrmate?" he calls aloud, probably screaming after Malphath again. Or asking the sky. Who knows.
"aaaaaaaAAAAAAAA!" Something terrified this way comes. Though it may be difficult to hear over the rest of the panic, there's a scream approaching from the infirmary. Accompanying said scream is one of Ista's terrified bronzeriders, arms flailing wildly. There doesn't seem to be a mass exodus behind X'hil, did he see a sheep or something equally harmless? Who knows. He doesn't stop until he reaches Cenlia, and then he hides behind the smaller woman, clinging to her like a frightened child.
Cenlia just growls a semi-frustrated, unintelligible swear under her breath, and hefts her shovel. "Sharding-" she doesn't get more than that out as a loud snapping and gurgling sound by her feet drags her gaze downward. The corpse on the ground is twitching and jerking after the escaping A'ra, limbs bending and snapping freakishly at totally /wrong/ angles as it clambers, with speed, after the fleeing bronzerider. Like some mangled, mutant crawler, except it seems to have left most of itself behind. Eyes WIDE, Cen kind of gawks after the ZomB'ky in absolute silence for a sec before muttering, her voice rising an octave, "Tell me ya didn't just see that?" to Py. Then, as a bunch of fleeing weyrfolk are overrun by decidedly ..bitey tourists, "The fuck is going on!?" is demanded of no one in particular, though as people scramble past, she continues to backpedal till she's spine-to-spine with P'rel. "Shards, dun't ask /me/, I'm from South Boll," is replied over her shoulder, like she could wash her hands of the apparently lack of manliness in Ista. "Shit- watch out!" called to Py and Nimen both - the latter no so lucky as some bloody, oozing ..one-armed thing sideswipes the healer. And takes his head clean off. "WHAT THE FU- AUGH!" and then there is a terrific WHACK as the shovel comes up, sending what /looks/ like a very nibbled-on firelizard careening off into the darkness. :Shit, we gotta get under cover," back-to-back with P'rel, Cenlia scowl, and takes a swing at something /else/ that gets to close - something else that has a gigantic hole clear through its chest. But her suggestion comes a tad late, as something massive and blue drops to the center of the bowl, crushing half a dozen fleeing folk in the process, dripping ichor from a hundred different bites and /still/ being chewed on by a gaggle of firelizards. It's Avideth. And one leg is missing a chunk, the bone visible, though the dragon's head produces a thoroughly.. gurgly growlhiss which no /living/ dragon ought to be able to make - especially given the great piece of its neck missing. The thing lands ..just in time to spot X'hil flailing out of the infirmary, the indigo and blood-splattered muzzle descending toward the trio, jaws wide, with the remnants of.. that looks like someone's leg still hanging from between two teeth.
How could P'rel miss the grotesque display of what remains of B'ky making icky shlorping noises and dragging itself on after A'ra. Golden eyes widen to the size of dinner plates, back pressing up hard against Cenlia's and cursing none to quietly. "I fuckin' saw it all right." he says, unable to lie to the woman, after all they both saw and heard the damn thing, the bronzerider now thrusting the point of his umbrella straight out towards the head of what can only be the corpse of a nine or ten turn old girl. What was left of her anyway. Half her jaw hanging loose from the rest of her partially exposed skull, and without thinking as she reaches out with a strangled gurgling down impales her through one dark eye socket making a disturbingly satisfying squishing sound before she goes down and doesn't move again. That was enough to even make the boy turn a bit green and he yanks the umbrella back, turning his face away from the dark clotted spray that shoots out as a result, splattering up the side of his neck and half of one cheek. While he was busy doing this, Nimen was getting his head lopped off, and all that Py sees of this is the guy going down. Well this, and the head rolling around and coming to rest up against the body of the kid he just offed. "I'm all set being out in the open, Cen. For reals." he says, sounding more than a little freaked out now. Hey, he was seventeen, and this was some jack up, out of control shit. Of course then what was left of Avideth arrives, cuing the arrival of X'hil complete with flailing about like a little girl, this time shoving the blond boy away from his safe position of being squished up against Cenlia. He swears at the older bronzerider, if only to swing his umbrella at another groaning dead person who very nearly takes a chunk out of his arm in the process, managing to snap it's neck with the sheer force behind the blow and down it goes. Unsure of who or what that just was, Avideth becomes his major concern at the moment especially when the undead dragon opening up jaw wide and heading straight at them. Or was. Malphath descends from the sky on top of Avideth's head, successfully stopping the beast from eating anyone just that second. "Are ya fuckin' nuts? Yer gunna get ate. Get somewhere safe." he hisses at his lifemate, apparently his getting freaked out has passed, and the continued lack of his weyrmate was causing the boy to grow increasingly annoyed. "Well tell him to hurry his ass up or he's gunna be minus a weyrmate." He holds up nothing less then an umbrella bent towards its middle. It was useless now, and the bronzerider had no other way to defend himself other than to punch these things in the face. Something about them, said no touchie though.
X'hil just takes one look at the dragon, (is that even Avideth any more?) and suddenly looks a little woozy. "Yeah, okay, /bye/." he says, turning to run. He makes it about a step before the smell hits him - blood and ichor and death, and he just slumps, looking a little wobbly on those flee-happy feet of his. "I'm gonna <mumble mumble> nap <mumble?>" he says, voice wavering in pitch, before he falls to the ground. Kinseth comes thundering out, launching just off of the ground and grabbing X'hil in a front paw. Poor man is going to suffer some nasty scratches from that, not the least of which, his /pants/, but at least he's alive. The bronze flies off, up to his ledge. Though… if they have /dragons/, how much safer could it be?
Cenlia is a bit busy. Swinging that shovel like she was /born/ for it. Nothing more badass than the senior weyrwoman bludgeoning walking corpses in the middle of the bowl during a thunderstorm. Oh yeah, baby. Blood and guts go flying, though as that.. NOISE comes from what's left of Avideth, the goldrider utters a slightly panicky swear, raising the garden tool like she might take on the undead dragon all on her own. Of course, she's also screaming a, "ZEEK! GET YER GIANT SHINEY ASS OVER HERE!" at the top of her lungs. Thankfully, Malphath gets there first, before any rider-chomping can happen, and Cen's turning abruptly to hollar commands to what remains of the search and rescue wing, and what few guards made it out of the training grounds, "Into the caverns! Go 'round the back! Send the dragons between to Red Butte! DO IT NOW!" Nziekilth herself descends like the HAND OF THE ALMIGHTY, smashing what's left of the undead blue, and taking out a couple greens who were missing most of their limbs and making ready to maul the bronze. Washing over the weyr like a shot of straight whiskey /to the face/ is the rumbling, almost-deafening voice of the senior gold. « GIT YER ARSES INTO THE CAVERNS. BARRICADE TH' LEDGES IF YA CAN'T. REST O' YOU LOT WIT MEH! » And she's launching skyward like some great golden mountain, wings thundering in defiance of the storm, half a dozen still-living dragons behind her, about twice that number of dead ones scrambling in their wake. « THEM THINGS CAN'T BETWEEN. AND DUN'T GIT BIT! » meanwhile Cenlia is yelling that exact same thing, even as X'hil makes an epic show of cowardice and then … faints. The /look/ she gives the man might border on incredulous, but when Kinseth hauls the bronzer off in a rescue attempt, she just turns, in time to see what's left of the ..litle girl. And Nimen's head. Which is /still moving/. Jaws gnashing, the ex-healer stares freaky-eyed at bronzerider and weyrwoman. Cenlia? After a second of looking utterly sick, jabs her shovel tip through the skull, then uses her foot to wrench the tool back out, "The. FUCK." There might be an /edge/ of hysteria there, but with people getting torn apart and chaos all around them, the girl manages not to follow her 'mate's example and just lets out a seriously pissed-off growl as she rounds on Py. "/Duck/!" shovel swinging at the great shuffling shape of what /used/ to be one of the minecrafters, the thing intent on taking a chunk out of P'rel. But Cen's apparently got his back, now that she's got a plan. "Come on!" head jerking toward the ground weyrs, "Living cavern's a fucking /mess/," so definitely not that way. The dinnertime crowd's still in there. Mostly eating each /other/. Cenlia isn't much older than Py, but crazy shit is not new to her. This though. This is so far beyond crazy, it's practically crapped out the other side of apocalyptic. She starts to say something, but another dragon-voice, this time midnight-dark and studded with fiery stardust, interrupts, « Falling weaponry incoming. Apologies for being late- » and the midnight form of Tscyleth cuts off abruptly as a screeching green missing half its side makes a grab for him. Luckily, Tzimiceth is on its tail, literally, and shreds the undead thing's wings before it can take a bite out of either Tscy or I'srie. And as promised, the bluerider yells a, "Py! Catch!" to his weyrmate, tossing down ..a frying pan. The thing careens through the air, neatly clonking an armless shuffling drudge on the way down. As it lands near Cen and Py, the weyrwoman just gives P'rel a brief stare, and a muttered, "Yer weyrmate's somethin' else." It might be admiration there, for the guy's aim, Iess totally dropping what look like blades and.. a number of other large metal bludgeoning tools on nearby walking corpses. But both Tscyleth and Tzimiceth are soon forced nack to the star stones, by a small horde of other dragons, which have clearly turned into something other than sane. "FUCK," Cen sidestaps and bashes at some blood-covered barkeep trying to take a bite out of her, scowling all over again, "Get 'em in the head!" apparently catching on quick after dispatching ZombieheadNimens. "Shards, wish I had m' flamethrower," is muttered darkly under her breath, but after a second's consideration, there's a rather more grimly stated, "Actually, no I don't." It might be because of the shuffling, flaming wave of corpses making its way out of the training grounds, "Fuck fuck fuck.." she is backing toward the grounds weyrs so fast, "Some idiot got out the firestone! Ugh, COME ON!" waving to all the still-living riders and weyrfolk out in the bowl.
Malphath is saved by the arrival of said giant shiney ass, far too busy with trying to mush what was left of Avideth's head into a puddle beneath his talons. He chuffs gratefully at the senior queen as she takes out the greens that were so close to adding him to their legion, and makes sure the blue below was no longer moving before he spreads his fire cast wings and thrust himself up and into the air. His lifemate was beating back the horde with his busted umbrella, merely pressing his back up against Cenlia's again once X'hil the cowardly had fainted and was carried off. "Good luck." he grumbles under his breath, golden hues casting upwards for a few seconds as Malphath hovers in the air above the weyr and then winks out into between. He did not like being separated like that from his dragon, even if the bronze was far safer with the others at Red Butte, then here with all this to deal with. Not that the dragon half of the bronzepair was any more happy about being apart from his bonded, but the situation was most dire. P'rel winces under the commanding voice of senior queen, perhaps some faint inking to do as she says echoing off his lifemate and he stiffens and straightens. Or maybe it was the fact that Cenlia was spearing bodiless heads with her shovel right there, though this hardly interferes with the way the boy ducks the second he hears the word from the woman behind him, moving with a practiced stride of someone used to a good brawl. "I gave up tryin' to figure this shit out." he quips back to the weyrwoman, taking another swing at one of the healer staff before he could snack on Cenlia, who was apparently distracted taking out the minecrafter trying to eat him. "Thanks." he mutters, golfing the brains of the fallen healer right out of her head and up against a wall for a rather artistic display of his displeasure. "Bitch." They had each other's back. Literally. He nods once, his expression blood splattered and serious as she tells him to come on, not even bothering to look the direction of the living cavern. About then though, familiar midnight wings and a mindvoice that was probably not strange to him stops him in his tracks. Relief washes over the boy's features noticeably, only momentarily, as something awful tries to take Tscyleth out, only to be saved at the last second by another bronze. "Great." Probably knowing who Tzimiceth is, or rather who his rider was with. No time to be spared on lamenting owing one to some stupid greenrider's whatever V'lad was to D'len, it's the yelling of I'srie that draws Py's attention, practically grinning upwards at the former holder as he drops a frying pan and takes out one of the shambling horde. "Dun fuckin' die! Or I'll kill ya!" he yells affectionately back after the star stones bound bluerider. He drops his voice though soon after, snarling at one creature that had tried to sneak up on him, lifting a leg up effortlessly and kicking it's skull in with a powerful leg attached to that sandaled foot. Course now his foot was covered in gore and saturated his footwear. Gross. Despite this, he's shaking the stuff off best he can before round house kicking another, casting off most of the stuff sticking to his foot. "He's fuckin' amazin' and he's so gettin' some later." he tells Cenlia when she compliments his weyrmate, taking up the fallen pan and brandishing it about much like the woman had with her shovel earlier. Practiced ease. He then wheels around with pan in hand and smooshes the head of some stablehand who was dragging the remains of a runner in his wake. The guy goes down, but the horse is still twitching. Being smashed into oblivion with the business end of a kitchen aide certainly takes care of that, as well as three or four more of the creatures as Py attempts to hold them off as best he can along with Cenlia to cover the escape of the living.
