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Author Topic: Event Point of Ignition [ 31.3.2563; 11 AM ] || Event  (Read 726 times)

Offline Alahn's MNPCs

Point of Ignition [ 31.3.2563; 11 AM ] || Event
« on: June 07, 2018, 10:55:36 AM »
Viscionis
Age:
2536  // 27 turns
Rank:
Holder || Drudge
Physical Description:
Had circumstances of the Pass been better, Viscionis would have been far larger and more imposing than he was; bodily, he was given to both height and muscle, but a lack of nutrition in childhood left him both shorter and thinner than he was meant to be. Liberally covered with scars from hard work, though, he still looks no-nonsense if rather plain in a drudge’s clothes. His most recognizable features are dark brown hair and a long scar that slashes across his right cheek and over his mouth, twisting his expression into a permanent grimace.
Personality:
Serious – Hardworking – Ambitious
Backstory:
Like his wife Ophyria, Viscionis was born a drudge and wants to be more than that, working hard to give his children a better future even if ultimately things don’t work out that way. That being said, he is firmly Holderfolk and Nabolese to the core in that he distrusts and resents dragonriders. He’s usually the sort that’s slow to anger and keep out of reactionary bullshit, but even he gets caught up in the rage that causes the riots. His hope is that some pushback will show the Weyr they can’t always have their way. Viscionis is Ophyonis’ father.
Intended Outcome:
Death; I established in Ophy’s history that Viscionis died here, but how that happens isn’t important to me so long as it’s violent. Staff death is fine; otherwise I’ll figure out a way to kill him off. 8D



He saw it the same moment most of the other drudges did.

Tithe days were always tense already, with everyone on edge as they watched precious food and other resources being loaded up for the ungrateful Weyr. Especially with a small contingency of riders standing awkwardly in the Great Hall while they waited and watched the pallets be filled, the people of Nabol were even more waspish and suspicious than normal. And no matter how tempting it might be to steal something, anything off of the tithe piles, the swift and brutal retaliation of Lord Holder Vandrae’s Keepers stopped them. The people of Nabol had learned that lesson quickly when things became really desperate.

But not all of the drudges were from Nabol. And as conditions grew worse and worse, more and more of the refugees from other settlements were falling in not only with the ranks of those drudges, but with the more criminal elements and impulses lurking around the Hold.

Viscionis recognized the offender as someone from Crom. His anxious behavior and furtive glances were enough to draw attention to him to begin with—but then he reached up to pluck a wrapped bundle off the stack of goods meant for the Weyr. Openly, where anyone could see.

The man’s life ended quickly after that, as one of the Keepers standing by in uniformed and watchful ranks released their wher with a low whistle of command. Heavy and hulking, the Bronze knocked him over hard enough to break bones, and the drudge’s scream was cut off as those thick jaws crunched down on his skull. Eyes spinning a quick and menacing red, it turned to growl and snap at those others nearby, sending other workers scattering away from the pallets.

If anything, that was the calm before the storm. Everyone was shouting at once—native Nabolese snarling in the faces of other drudges from different Holds, and the refugees yelling back just as loudly. Expletives, pejoratives, each seeming to condemn the other to Thread for their stupidity, their complacence, their very existence. And then the Peacekeepers were raising their voices too, telling everyone to back up:  away from the pallets, away from each other. To drop whatever they were holding.

Almost without realizing it, Viscionis’ grip tightened on the wrapped food he was holding. It would feed his family well that night if he kept it… and didn’t they deserve something? Something better than all of this?

“Hey! I said drop it!”

“It’s their fucking fault!”

He looked up, a Keeper staring him down with their wher hissing at their side as they advanced on him—but then the Keeper was distracted just as quickly as another drudge yelled nearly in his ear, one hand outstretched in an accusatory point at him… and then at the riders watching this unfold from nearer to the exit.

“Why should we listen to what they say? They brought all this down on us!”

The Keeper turned away, and Viscionis didn’t drop what he was carrying.

Things got… hard to keep track of after that. He saw the distinctly terrified expression of those few from the Hold that had accepted Searches the previous day. Young and scared behind the geared riders, who were now drawing their belt knives as they got advanced on. They were better trained, sure, but they were severely outnumbered.

It didn’t take long for one of them to go down under so many grasping fists and kicking feet, and the sound of a dragon’s death keen boomed into the Hold even from outside.

That was when the real mess started.

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« Last Edit: September 05, 2018, 01:27:02 PM by Alahn's MNPCs »
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Re: Point of Ignition [ 31.3.2563; 11 AM ] || Event
« Reply #1 on: June 11, 2018, 08:54:39 PM »
Qirelai
Age:
2551 // 12 turns
Rank:
Candidate
Physical Description:
*Skinny and malnourished
*Dark haired and light eyed
*Wearing varying degrees of clothes that don't fit together, nor do they fit her. Ragtag bunch of hand-me-downs.
Personality:
*Scrappy - Qire has always done whatever she had to do in order to survive. Her days have been spent with a dagger against her thigh and her nights with one under her head.
*Loyal - If you succeed in gaining her trust you'll have a loyal friend for life. Qire always repays her debts.
*Dreamer - As much as outwardly she's always spoken about keeping a realistic view on life, she's always harboured a hope for a better life.
Backstory:
Qirelai was your typical Nabol Hold street rat. Born into the life of drudgery with no real way out except into the streets. With so many other, and much more experienced refugees coming into the Hold, even the life of a drudge was looking less and less reasonable for Qire's future. Quick with her hands and quick on her feet, Qire was quickly absorbed into a gang, but she purposely stayed away from some of the less... tasteful jobs that were brought their way.
She didn't seek out the dragonriders, didn't hear of their arrival, just happened to be skirting through the backstreets as a blue flew overhead, and the swooshing of the wings as the dragonrider landed to seek her out was the only thing that alerted her. After she got over the initial daze of seeing a dragon up close and personal, Qirelai didn't hesitate to accept search. Collecting her meagre belongings, Qire slunk her way to the courtyard for their departure. 
Intended Outcome:
Injury is fine - staff or player is fine. Porque no los dos?
Medium serious, not something that will cripple her permanently, but hard core scars? Ugly, ugly wounds which will play up for the rest of her life? Yes please.




Slipping through the crowd, Qirelai kept her meagre belongings clutched close to her chest, the cloth wrapped items hidden underneath her shirt. She probably looked a mite strange, but she was skinny enough that the sack made her look like someone with a healthy amount of meat around her stomach. If they looked closer, they'd see a stark comparison to her skinny arms, twig-like legs, and bony face, but not many looked closer anymore.

Her face should have still held baby fat, if the world had not turned so harsh, she would have been delightfully cute, with wide grey eyes and chubby red cheeks paired together so anyone older than her would rush to do her bidding to seek the favour of an unfiltered smile of happiness. But alas, Nabol right now was certainly not the place for unfiltered things. Qirelai however, couldn't help the gleam that wanted to burst from her. The pressure building up somewhere dangerously close to her heart, as she wove between legs and hips of people standing around and waiting. Even the anger tension she could feel squeezing the crowd did nothing to deter her own thrill.

She'd been searched. She was winding her way to a dragon right now... at least to a dragon ride, and then the Weyr. And then she'd be able to stand with her toes in hot hatching sands, in front of a magnificent golden Queen. That was if they didn't change their mind once she got there, realising that she was far too ratty and beneath them to be allowed to place her dirty little feet in their Weyr.

Stop it, Qirelai. You're walking to a dragon.

Managing to slip her way beside the other somewhat fearful looking candidates, Qirelai looked hesitantly out towards the crowd, as the din started to crow louder and louder.

Cringing further into the pack of candidates, riders and tithe, Qirelai could do nothing more than try to blend in. Become invisible, as she always had. But where it was easy to meld into a wall, or become part of the furniture in a busy hall, a skinny little street brat amongst the tall figures of dragonriders… she’d never stood out more.

Quick fingers slipped under her tunic to grasp the smooth handle of her knife when the death keen rose and Qirelai crouched as low to the ground as she could. If all turned to shit, she’d duck out of her current awkward positioning, find her way amongst drudges and serving girls. But if any of the riders survived… Qirelai had to get herself on a dragon.

Offline Jarak's MNPCs

Re: Point of Ignition [ 31.3.2563; 11 AM ] || Event
« Reply #2 on: June 14, 2018, 03:39:02 AM »
D'rak
Age:
2539 // 24 turns
Rank:
Searchrider - Blue Quorith
Physical Description:
*Tall and lean
*Dark almost black hair, dark brown eyes
*Wearing well worn leathers, but clearly still in good condition.
Personality:
*Curious - He loves seeing and visiting different places. He's often wistfully thought that it's a pity he wasn't born a hundred turns earlier.
*Sarcastic - He's quick witted and any less than intelligent comments will gain a witty response, because he just can't let the moment pass by without making sure he's rubbed in that they said something rather silly.
*Hot headed - If there's something going on he'll often be the first to respond to it as he jumps without thinking and only regrets it later when his brain has had chance to catch up.
Backstory:
D'rak, (called Dirakal), was born in High Reaches Weyr, his mother was a cook in the caverns, his father was a brown rider. He was searched at the age of 12, but didn't impress until he was 15. As is usual he was immediately in love with the blue dragon which tripped to land face down in the sands at his feet and he couldn't quite remember why he'd even dreamed about riding a bronze. His Quorith was tagged as a search rider when he started giving D'rak hints about who to put marks on for impressing.
Searching and collecting Tithe is getting more dangerous to be sure, but this was just another routine pick up. The children that presented themselves, often refugees from the look of their clothes, were generally quick to accept a search, no doubt thinking of the tithe that was going back to the Weyr. They had a solid group gathered that Quorith liked and D'rak was looking forwards to getting back to the Weyr.
Intended Outcome:
Whatever happens, happens.



Not a bad search. D'rak says to Quorith as he looks over the newly searched and he can imagine the blues croon at the praise despite him being perched on the fireheights somewhere.

They will do well. There's a pause and then the blue adds with a hint of smugness, I found them.

D'rak chuckled, of course he would get the last word in. Still shaking his head he continues to count in the candidates as they arrive, most of them nervous. He can't blame them, while they both like the trips out from the Weyr, there's just a feeling in the air right now that he doesn't like. He'll be glad to get back to High Reaches. Hopefully the little green Quorith had his eye on this morning won't have risen yet, a good flight would help loose the last of the tension he can feel building between his shoulder blades.

The noise in the courtyard swelled. “What?” He muttered as he straightened up, hand going to his knife hilt.

They are angry. Somebody tried to steal from the tithe and the Wher killed him.

“Shards!” He muttered as the noise grew, shouts echoing around the courtyard, one voice standing out above the others 'They brought all this down on us!' and the crowd turned. His knife was unsheathed before he realised what he was doing and he pulled a couple of the candidates back towards the wall as he got past them to help his wingmates. He didn't see who went down, too busy keeping the crowd at bay, but he felt it as Quoriths angry bellow from the heights abruptly switched to a keen.

“We need to get the candidates out of here.” He wasn't sure who he was talking to, his wingmates, Quorith, possibly the candidates themselves. But they weren't going to be able to do anything here except get killed, the crowd outnumbered them by a long way.

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Re: Point of Ignition [ 31.3.2563; 11 AM ] || Event
« Reply #3 on: July 12, 2018, 09:37:53 PM »
The Keepers and the riders both would have their work cut out for them, with the tides of the crowd swelling to a breaking point. Emboldened by the surge of the mob, by the first rider going down and the keen of a dragon, others rushed forward to attack. Most of them might not have weapons, but that didn’t matter. Not when a righteous sort of anger was upon them and they already had the taste of blood.

And some of them did have blades, hidden under clothes or in boots just in case things got ugly, which they inevitably usually did in the deep tunnels where the drudges lived. One enterprising individual slipped past the ring of Peacekeepers that started to coalesce around the riders, drawing a knife from under his shirt where he’d had it hidden thrust through his belt. He struck out at the closest rider—who happened to be D’rak—slashing wildly with a wordless roar of anger.

Behind the riders, the would-be Candidates were a target too. Someone shouted, “Traitors!”, though the face was lost in the crowd. But then people were rushing them too, breaking past the well-intentioned but too-small line of protection. Some further back threw things—there were no stones at hand, but as others ripped open the tithe bundles in the confusion, there were other objects—bits of ore and wood and other things that would hurt just as much if they struck, which one did across Qirelai’s forehead, the gash shallow but jagged and pouring blood down her face.

Amid all the chaos, smaller fights were breaking out among the drudges too—as they all scrambled for the goods being spilled onto the floor. And the conflict rippled outward like a stone thrown into a pond; as items were snatched from the hands of another, those further back in the crowd then set their sights on the one that had done the snatching.

And so it went. Though Viscionis pulled the bundle he held tight to his chest, someone else noticed what he was holding. They laid hands on him then, trying to pull it from his grasp. Similarly, those others who had still been holding items for the tithe were set upon just the same.
« Last Edit: July 13, 2018, 08:10:34 AM by SirAlahn »
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Offline Alahn's MNPCs

Re: Point of Ignition [ 31.3.2563; 11 AM ] || Event
« Reply #4 on: July 12, 2018, 09:38:07 PM »
Viscionis
Age:
2536  // 27 turns
Rank:
Holder || Drudge
Physical Description:
Had circumstances of the Pass been better, Viscionis would have been far larger and more imposing than he was; bodily, he was given to both height and muscle, but a lack of nutrition in childhood left him both shorter and thinner than he was meant to be. Liberally covered with scars from hard work, though, he still looks no-nonsense if rather plain in a drudge’s clothes. His most recognizable features are dark brown hair and a long scar that slashes across his right cheek and over his mouth, twisting his expression into a permanent grimace.
Personality:
Serious – Hardworking – Ambitious
Backstory:
Like his wife Ophyria, Viscionis was born a drudge and wants to be more than that, working hard to give his children a better future even if ultimately things don’t work out that way. That being said, he is firmly Holderfolk and Nabolese to the core in that he distrusts and resents dragonriders. He’s usually the sort that’s slow to anger and keep out of reactionary bullshit, but even he gets caught up in the rage that causes the riots. His hope is that some pushback will show the Weyr they can’t always have their way. Viscionis is Ophyonis’ father.
Intended Outcome:
Death; I established in Ophy’s history that Viscionis died here, but how that happens isn’t important to me so long as it’s violent. Staff death is fine; otherwise I’ll figure out a way to kill him off. 8D



All of this was getting so, so bad, and so, so fast. Even as much as he hated riders like most other Nabolese, Viscionis had still felt a chill run up his spine at the sound of a dragon keening. Something about the noise just radiated grief, even muffled from outside as it was. It was in his head, vibrating through his very bones—just as insistent as the demands the riders always had for more, more, more. He grit his teeth against it, but didn’t bother trying to press his hands against his ears as some others did.

No, he needed his hands for other things.

He clutched the bundle of food tight against him and drew a knife with the other. It wasn’t anything fancy, just a kitchen knife that he’d nicked during a kitchen assignment, but it was better than nothing. As much as he might not want to get physical with someone else, he might not have a choice.

What he needed to do was get back to his family. Maybe they could use their cots to barricade themselves in their tiny room… Or find somewhere deeper in the Hold to hide… There had to be somewhere safe to ride out the storm.

How he was going to cross the chaotic sea of fighting, though, he didn’t know.

Especially not when, as he turned to try to make for the back tunnels, another drudge slid up in front of him, very obviously intent on the package he was carrying. The man didn’t look armed, but he had the glint of desperation in his eyes that Viscionis had grown familiar with, living and working where he did. Angled as he was, though, with one arm down by his side, Viscionis’ knife was hidden.

“Give it!” And with that, the man launched himself forward. His hands found the top of the package, but couldn’t quite wrest it free. That wouldn’t stop it from tearing, though, and the last thing Viscionis wanted was for the contents to go spilling all over the floor.

He’d never actually hurt someone before. Not that badly, anyway, and not with a knife. There had been scuffles when he was younger, and sometimes looking intimidating was enough for someone else to leave you alone. But so did keeping your head down, which was usually what he did around the more dangerous sides of Nabol. It would only end badly for his family if he got mixed up in it all. So though he’d had a knife, it was more as… insurance. Back up.

Viscionis hadn’t really thought he’d need to use it, but he’d been prepared to.

But the hot rush of blood over his hand was still a surprise. Reasoning with a man like this just wasn’t going to be possible, so he took the quickest route to getting away, getting clear of all of this—by sinking his knife deep into the man’s belly and jerking it sideways.

He fell heavily to the floor with a scream, which was the kind of attention Viscionis didn’t really want to draw. Surely that would mean others would be after what he had too. Hopefully they would stay back.

But he could see the entrance to the tunnel from there. He just had to get to it.
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Offline Jarak's MNPCs

Re: Point of Ignition [ 31.3.2563; 11 AM ] || Event
« Reply #5 on: July 14, 2018, 02:41:17 AM »
D'rak
Age:
2539 // 24 turns
Rank:
Searchrider - Blue Quorith
Physical Description:
*Tall and lean
*Dark almost black hair, dark brown eyes
*Wearing well worn leathers, but clearly still in good condition.
Personality:
*Curious - He loves seeing and visiting different places. He's often wistfully thought that it's a pity he wasn't born a hundred turns earlier.
*Sarcastic - He's quick witted and any less than intelligent comments will gain a witty response, because he just can't let the moment pass by without making sure he's rubbed in that they said something rather silly.
*Hot headed - If there's something going on he'll often be the first to respond to it as he jumps without thinking and only regrets it later when his brain has had chance to catch up.
Backstory:
D'rak, (called Dirakal), was born in High Reaches Weyr, his mother was a cook in the caverns, his father was a brown rider. He was searched at the age of 12, but didn't impress until he was 15. As is usual he was immediately in love with the blue dragon which tripped to land face down in the sands at his feet and he couldn't quite remember why he'd even dreamed about riding a bronze. His Quorith was tagged as a search rider when he started giving D'rak hints about who to put marks on for impressing.
Searching and collecting Tithe is getting more dangerous to be sure, but this was just another routine pick up. The children that presented themselves, often refugees from the look of their clothes, were generally quick to accept a search, no doubt thinking of the tithe that was going back to the Weyr. They had a solid group gathered that Quorith liked and D'rak was looking forwards to getting back to the Weyr.
Intended Outcome:
Whatever happens, happens.



The crowd surged, pressing forwards and D'rak lashed out from beside one of his wingmates, knowing he struck several people, hoping that he hadn't actually killed them and that pain would make them draw back, make them stop. Shards, he'd known things were bad, but this was madness. They were so angry and it was all aimed at them, at the peacekeepers that tried to help, their whers valiantly putting blockade in place against the mob. He took a step back, letting the peacekeepers form a ring as he checked all the candidates were safe.

So far, they all looked alive, a few scratches in places perhaps, but alive. Some of the holders were trying to get out, those not caught in the grip of madness making a break for any exit they can. It was what the riders needed to do too, if they could just press towards the exit. He risked another glance towards the nearest gate and felt Quorith roar, anger and pain at the forefront and for a moment he wondered how they had got to his dragon.

Then pain caught up and he snarled at the holder who had managed to duck under the nearest wher and slice across his shoulder and arm, his own blade lashed out in reply, no real aim, just a warning to backup - he dimly realised it was lucky that had not been his knife arm that had been struck - and that he'd turned to look around, that strike had been aimed at his throat.

Quorith roared again, launching himself off the heights and spiralling down, hovering above the courtyard, his anger/fear/concern battering at D'rak as his dragon was unable to land to help.

Offline Inki's MNPCs

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Re: Point of Ignition [ 31.3.2563; 11 AM ] || Event
« Reply #6 on: July 17, 2018, 04:18:28 PM »
Qirelai
Age:
2551 // 12 turns
Rank:
Candidate
Physical Description:
*Skinny and malnourished
*Dark haired and light eyed
*Wearing varying degrees of clothes that don't fit together, nor do they fit her. Ragtag bunch of hand-me-downs.
Personality:
*Scrappy - Qire has always done whatever she had to do in order to survive. Her days have been spent with a dagger against her thigh and her nights with one under her head.
*Loyal - If you succeed in gaining her trust you'll have a loyal friend for life. Qire always repays her debts.
*Dreamer - As much as outwardly she's always spoken about keeping a realistic view on life, she's always harboured a hope for a better life.
Backstory:
Qirelai was your typical Nabol Hold street rat. Born into the life of drudgery with no real way out except into the streets. With so many other, and much more experienced refugees coming into the Hold, even the life of a drudge was looking less and less reasonable for Qire's future. Quick with her hands and quick on her feet, Qire was quickly absorbed into a gang, but she purposely stayed away from some of the less... tasteful jobs that were brought their way.
She didn't seek out the dragonriders, didn't hear of their arrival, just happened to be skirting through the backstreets as a blue flew overhead, and the swooshing of the wings as the dragonrider landed to seek her out was the only thing that alerted her. After she got over the initial daze of seeing a dragon up close and personal, Qirelai didn't hesitate to accept search. Collecting her meagre belongings, Qire slunk her way to the courtyard for their departure. 
Intended Outcome:
Injury is fine - staff or player is fine. Porque no los dos?
Medium serious, not something that will cripple her permanently, but hard core scars? Ugly, ugly wounds which will play up for the rest of her life? Yes please.




As the tumult grew louder, and the press of bodies started to crush, it was impossible to duck the haphazard objects being throw in her direction, and a feral snarl escaped her when the piece of ore impacted her forehead. Her own dirty hand coming up to smear the blood trail out of her eyes.

Qirelai ducked behind an older candidate, hoping that the larger male would be a much more interesting target than a skinny little street girl. If she was smart, she'd stay hiding here, keep out of the way until a dragon could pluck her from the ground. But in all honesty, Qire had no idea if any of them were getting out alive, and as much as she hoped the old stories of dragon bravery was true, she could very well be left for dust when the dragonriders escaped the press.

Using her size to her advantage, she crawled along the dirty floor of the Hall, she ended in a crouch between the leathered legs of the line of riders. Hoping that the rider's angry yells and their own blades would distract from what she was doing, Qirelai flicked her own blade out towards the calves of their assailants. Each time she felt the thin blade dig into flesh, scampering away in the hope that anyone looking belatedly down would see only the empty space were she once was.

The skinny girl left droplets of blood in her wake, and red handprints when she steadied her scrambling self with a hand on the ground. Frequently reaching up to clear more blood from her eyes, smearing dirt and muck along with it. Why did head wounds always bleed so sharding much?

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Re: Point of Ignition [ 31.3.2563; 11 AM ] || Event
« Reply #7 on: July 30, 2018, 12:13:47 PM »
Qirelai’s efforts weren’t in vain. Hidden from sight by the press of the crowd, she proved herself a menace—many of the would-be attackers stumbling or pushed back as she struck at their legs. Some even slipped on the blood starting to slick the floor, going down hard and lost under the feet of those eager to get at the riders and hopeful Candidates.

But not all of them were out of the fight so easily. Now eye level with her, one of Qirelai’s victims spotted her as she darted back from her latest attack. “You!” The word came out as a snarl, contorting his narrow features into a mask of anger. Quick as a tunnel snake, he grabbed at her, fingers catching on the fabric of her clothes, and seeking to drag her closer—down and down and under the stomping, heedless feet of those moving around them.

Before she could be pulled fully under, another’s hands hooked under her arms to snake around her waist. “Let go of her!” The rider that had nearly tripped over her kicked out at the drudge’s face, and there was a sickening crunch as his heavy boot connected and broke the man’s nose.

He hauled Qirelai to her feet then, mouth twisted down in a frown beneath his thick beard. “What’re you doing, girl? You gotta get out of here.”

Her assaults on the crowd, as well as the riders’ blades, had pushed back the crowd just enough that some could retreat toward the exit. Others were already herding the Candidates out to the courtyard, to the dragons landing there, giving up the tithe as lost. But the future of the Weyr, maybe that they could save. The tall rider that had helped Qirelai to her feet pushed her toward D’rak. “Take her! We’ll cover—!”

His sentence broke off in a roar of pain; the Nabolese didn’t hesitate long when they saw the riders making their escape, and one had lunged forward to sink his knife into the bearded rider’s side. His leathers kept it from going deeper, but dark, dark blood was still flowing down his leg. Big as he was, though, he stopped his attacker from darting past him toward D’rak and Qirelai even as the Holders surged forward again, delivering the man a stunning blow to his jaw and pushing him back to off-balance others.

Across the chaotic hall, Viscionis’ flight to the tunnels came up short as he reached the entrance nearest him. Impossible to see from a distance, a Peacekeeper had taken up a spot there, he and his hulking Bronze wher set back just enough in the hallway that they could take those escaping by surprise. He sneered when he saw Viscionis approach with a bundle held to his chest.

“Not so fast, thief.”
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Offline Alahn's MNPCs

Re: Point of Ignition [ 31.3.2563; 11 AM ] || Event
« Reply #8 on: July 30, 2018, 12:14:00 PM »
Viscionis
Age:
2536  // 27 turns
Rank:
Holder || Drudge
Physical Description:
Had circumstances of the Pass been better, Viscionis would have been far larger and more imposing than he was; bodily, he was given to both height and muscle, but a lack of nutrition in childhood left him both shorter and thinner than he was meant to be. Liberally covered with scars from hard work, though, he still looks no-nonsense if rather plain in a drudge’s clothes. His most recognizable features are dark brown hair and a long scar that slashes across his right cheek and over his mouth, twisting his expression into a permanent grimace.
Personality:
Serious – Hardworking – Ambitious
Backstory:
Like his wife Ophyria, Viscionis was born a drudge and wants to be more than that, working hard to give his children a better future even if ultimately things don’t work out that way. That being said, he is firmly Holderfolk and Nabolese to the core in that he distrusts and resents dragonriders. He’s usually the sort that’s slow to anger and keep out of reactionary bullshit, but even he gets caught up in the rage that causes the riots. His hope is that some pushback will show the Weyr they can’t always have their way. Viscionis is Ophyonis’ father.
Intended Outcome:
Death; I established in Ophy’s history that Viscionis died here, but how that happens isn’t important to me so long as it’s violent. Staff death is fine; otherwise I’ll figure out a way to kill him off. 8D



He'd been lucky to get away quickly, weaving a path through those pushing forward like a fish against the current. If he could just get to the tunnels, Viscionis knew he could lose anyone following him there—through shortcuts and mazes that only drudges knew from working them long enough. And once he was sure he hadn’t been tailed, he could get back to his family before anything more went wrong than it already was.

The Peacekeeper at the entrance he’d made for was unexpected. Viscionis had thought most were already in the hall; but maybe this one had been drawn by the commotion, or by the comrades of his who had fire lizards to transmit messages. Whatever the case, he and his wher were taking up the center of the path.

There was no way he was going to be able to get past them. Not this way.

But there were other exits. Less ideal, and further back, harder to get to—but they would have to do. Practically spinning on his heel, Viscionis took off, hoping he could use the bulk of the crowd to block the wher if—when—it came after him.

He didn’t get far. The beast roared behind him, and suddenly a crushing weight was bearing him to the floor. Viscionis managed to turn as he fell, ending up on his back, but the wind was knocked from his lungs. Bringing the bundle up out of reflex, he managed to block the first of the Bronze’s savage bites at his face.

Foodstuffs went scattering across the floor, and he tried to scoot back, using the small space left to him to get out from underneath it. But as it tossed the ruined bundle away, eyes a deep and bloody red, whirling quick and hectic, it caught one foot in its jaws and crunched down, shattering bone and tearing through muscle.

Viscionis felt rather than heard himself cry out. He kicked at the thing’s snout with his free leg, and the creature’s growls vibrated up his body, but it didn’t let go. Nor was he at an angle to get at its eyes.

Scrabbling on the floor, he managed to find the handle of his dropped knife, fingers clutching around it even as the wher pulled him unerringly closer.
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Offline Jarak's MNPCs

Re: Point of Ignition [ 31.3.2563; 11 AM ] || Event
« Reply #9 on: July 31, 2018, 05:18:49 AM »
D'rak
Age:
2539 // 24 turns
Rank:
Searchrider - Blue Quorith
Physical Description:
*Tall and lean
*Dark almost black hair, dark brown eyes
*Wearing well worn leathers, but clearly still in good condition.
Personality:
*Curious - He loves seeing and visiting different places. He's often wistfully thought that it's a pity he wasn't born a hundred turns earlier.
*Sarcastic - He's quick witted and any less than intelligent comments will gain a witty response, because he just can't let the moment pass by without making sure he's rubbed in that they said something rather silly.
*Hot headed - If there's something going on he'll often be the first to respond to it as he jumps without thinking and only regrets it later when his brain has had chance to catch up.
Backstory:
D'rak, (called Dirakal), was born in High Reaches Weyr, his mother was a cook in the caverns, his father was a brown rider. He was searched at the age of 12, but didn't impress until he was 15. As is usual he was immediately in love with the blue dragon which tripped to land face down in the sands at his feet and he couldn't quite remember why he'd even dreamed about riding a bronze. His Quorith was tagged as a search rider when he started giving D'rak hints about who to put marks on for impressing.
Searching and collecting Tithe is getting more dangerous to be sure, but this was just another routine pick up. The children that presented themselves, often refugees from the look of their clothes, were generally quick to accept a search, no doubt thinking of the tithe that was going back to the Weyr. They had a solid group gathered that Quorith liked and D'rak was looking forwards to getting back to the Weyr.
Intended Outcome:
Whatever happens, happens.



Land in the courtyard. The rest of the riders were shifting towards the exit of the hall, if they could get through then the dragons could help. He felt Quorith do as instructed, dropping the last few feet to the ground and hissing at anyone coming near him. Fuck but right now he would give anything to have firestone. Nobody came near a flaming dragon, since they didn't know that it was all show and he'd not actually turn the flame on anyone.

He pushed a couple of the candidates towards the door, swearing at them when they seemed too petrified to move, what did they think cowering here was going to do? “Sharding MOVE!” That finally seemed to work as they stumbled between the riders as they backed up.

Another candidate was pushed into his arms and he hissed in pain as he used his slashed arm to instinctively steady her. It was a good thing she was just a slip of a girl. “Keep moving.” He said, reaching out to pull his wingmate after him so he wouldn't be left behind. “Our dragons are landing, get to one of them.” Quorith always had a good memory for candidates, he would be able to tell who was meant to be getting onto the dragons and who he had to keep away.

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Re: Point of Ignition [ 31.3.2563; 11 AM ] || Event
« Reply #10 on: August 01, 2018, 10:30:05 PM »
Qirelai
Age:
2551 // 12 turns
Rank:
Candidate
Physical Description:
*Skinny and malnourished
*Dark haired and light eyed
*Wearing varying degrees of clothes that don't fit together, nor do they fit her. Ragtag bunch of hand-me-downs.
Personality:
*Scrappy - Qire has always done whatever she had to do in order to survive. Her days have been spent with a dagger against her thigh and her nights with one under her head.
*Loyal - If you succeed in gaining her trust you'll have a loyal friend for life. Qire always repays her debts.
*Dreamer - As much as outwardly she's always spoken about keeping a realistic view on life, she's always harboured a hope for a better life.
Backstory:
Qirelai was your typical Nabol Hold street rat. Born into the life of drudgery with no real way out except into the streets. With so many other, and much more experienced refugees coming into the Hold, even the life of a drudge was looking less and less reasonable for Qire's future. Quick with her hands and quick on her feet, Qire was quickly absorbed into a gang, but she purposely stayed away from some of the less... tasteful jobs that were brought their way.
She didn't seek out the dragonriders, didn't hear of their arrival, just happened to be skirting through the backstreets as a blue flew overhead, and the swooshing of the wings as the dragonrider landed to seek her out was the only thing that alerted her. After she got over the initial daze of seeing a dragon up close and personal, Qirelai didn't hesitate to accept search. Collecting her meagre belongings, Qire slunk her way to the courtyard for their departure. 
Intended Outcome:
Injury is fine - staff or player is fine. Porque no los dos?
Medium serious, not something that will cripple her permanently, but hard core scars? Ugly, ugly wounds which will play up for the rest of her life? Yes please.




Crap, crap, crap, crap, crap. Qirelai scrabbled at the ground, trying in vein to find purchase on something so that she couldn't be dragged away. But he was too quick, and too strong for her, and her nails scraped against the ground, breaking and bleeding as she was buffeted by shoving thighs and arms. But still being held tight by that hand, before she could think of... some sort of plan to get herself out of his grip before she was pulled into an escapable grasp, she felt the arm wrap around her waist, yanking her back.

She stared up at his bearded face, eyes wide at the realisation of what could have happened to her if it wasn't for him. Not flinching at the gory snap of the drudges broken nose. A little annoyed now that her slighter body weight was being used to simply haul her from one riders arms to another, she nodded at D'rak, eyes wide but determined. Squirming away from any hands that sought to push her and steady her.

With a sickening sound, she watched the blade sink deep in her original rescuer, and she cried out with outrage, attempting herself to drag him along with the crowd and dragonriders and candidates that were making their retreat. But she wouldn't be much help against his heavy build, and once she saw D'rak would not be leaving the other dragonrider behind, Qirelai allowed herself to let go of the bearded rider.

Kicking out at someone's hand as they attempted to grab onto D'rak's leathers, she kept herself close to the riders. It was all well and good that their dragons were landing, and by Faranth she hoped to be on one of them. But if their riders fell underneath the wave of this crowd, well it wouldn't do her any good to be sitting on their dragon without them would it?

No she'd keep close to these two. Besides, bearded-guy had saved her life, and by the looks of the blood flowing down his side, he'd be needing someone to save his some time soon.

Spoiler for Hidden:
I'm in love with bearded guy, (not Qirelai, but Inki. Inki is in love with bearded-rider-guy), and I have a feeling he's going to die SO THANKS
@Jarakrisafis and presumably @SirAlahn for NPC

Offline L'ok

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Re: Point of Ignition [ 31.3.2563; 11 AM ] || Event
« Reply #11 on: August 12, 2018, 11:47:04 PM »
“What’re you doing, girl? You gotta get out of here.”

We need to get out of here, L’ok.

Iskelaith was right. But he knew as well as his rider did that they weren’t going to just abandon the Candidates to whatever fate awaited them here. Nabol was imploding, in a fashion that neither of them would have ever thought they would see. It was like something out of a nightmare, and L’ok could feel the blood thrumming in his ears as he pushed the thin young girl toward D’rak. “Take her! We’ll cover—!”

He never finished his sentence, the words breaking off in a bellow of surprise and pain as he felt, with eerie clarity, the blade of a knife sinking into his side.

It was a mad grab to stop the man from getting around him, but L’ok managed to stop the attacker, his side throbbing with pain as the blood began to pour down his leg and puddle in his boot. Hitting the man hard in the jaw, L’ok pushed him back into the oncoming wave of Holders, succeeding in off-balancing them hopefully just long enough—

Don’t you dare! Iskelaith knew what he was thinking. Of course he did. And the Blue was furious, flapping down to the courtyard with his tail lashing behind him, wanting to claw his way into the Hall. Don’t you dare sacrifice yourself and leave me alone!

L’ok thought, as the crowd moved forward, he was going to be lost beneath it. He towered over them, but there were too many, and they were too fast—and then he felt a hand on his arm, gripping tight and pulling him away from what he knew would be a certain and bloody death.

They had already killed one of the riders, and he could hear the cry of another that sounded like a wail of grief, through the deafening sound of his own heartbeat.

Just get to me! Iskelaith snarled, eyes a deep and ruby red as he worked with the other visiting dragons to keep the Holders pouring out of the doors from getting to their riders, the Candidates… The tithe was lost, but it wasn’t worth their lives.

You’ll be fine. He was adamant, even while L’ok pressed a hand to his side and was stunned to pull it away covered in his own blood. Already he was starting to feel cold, and the idea of going Between to get away seemed insurmountable. We’ll be fine. I promise. Just get in the straps.

L'ok wasn’t sure he was going to be able to.

Spoiler for OOC:
I just can’t help myself, apparently. >:C

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Re: Point of Ignition [ 31.3.2563; 11 AM ] || Event
« Reply #12 on: August 12, 2018, 11:47:29 PM »
Not all of the riders that had arrived at Nabol that day would be leaving it. But those that were had been saved by their quick actions once things had devolved into chaos. No matter how brave the mob might be within the main hall of the Hold, many of them shied away from the dragons now landing in the courtyard. Regardless of the fact that the creatures were known in the Weyrs to not to be aggressive toward humans, generations of misinformation and paranoia had skewed that knowledge at the Holds.

No matter how harmless they might usually be, the dragons were still huge, armed with teeth and claws that could easily kill a person. And, as far as any non-rider knew, flame as well.

Other riders were already herding Candidates toward the dragons. A break in Thread had allowed them to remain outside Nabol, but there was no telling how long that luck would last. They would need to get back to High Reaches as quickly as possible, both to escape that danger and to treat those who had been wounded in the violence.

Within the Hall, the fighting was showing no signs of stopping. With it now spilling over into the tunnels and the deeper reaches, even Nabol’s many Peacekeepers were having difficulty containing it all.
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Offline Alahn's MNPCs

Re: Point of Ignition [ 31.3.2563; 11 AM ] || Event
« Reply #13 on: August 12, 2018, 11:48:07 PM »
Viscionis
Age:
2536  // 27 turns
Rank:
Holder || Drudge
Physical Description:
Had circumstances of the Pass been better, Viscionis would have been far larger and more imposing than he was; bodily, he was given to both height and muscle, but a lack of nutrition in childhood left him both shorter and thinner than he was meant to be. Liberally covered with scars from hard work, though, he still looks no-nonsense if rather plain in a drudge’s clothes. His most recognizable features are dark brown hair and a long scar that slashes across his right cheek and over his mouth, twisting his expression into a permanent grimace.
Personality:
Serious – Hardworking – Ambitious
Backstory:
Like his wife Ophyria, Viscionis was born a drudge and wants to be more than that, working hard to give his children a better future even if ultimately things don’t work out that way. That being said, he is firmly Holderfolk and Nabolese to the core in that he distrusts and resents dragonriders. He’s usually the sort that’s slow to anger and keep out of reactionary bullshit, but even he gets caught up in the rage that causes the riots. His hope is that some pushback will show the Weyr they can’t always have their way. Viscionis is Ophyonis’ father.
Intended Outcome:
Death; I established in Ophy’s history that Viscionis died here, but how that happens isn’t important to me so long as it’s violent. Staff death is fine; otherwise I’ll figure out a way to kill him off. 8D



Viscionis had managed to get ahold of his knife, but he could barely focus through the pain of where his foot had been crushed in the wher’s jaws. As it dragged him closer, he lashed out wildly, drawing ichor across its snout but dealing no serious damage. If only he could get at its eyes… but as the wher realized that he was fighting back, it shook him by the grasp it had.

He felt his bone fracture further, flesh tearing along with it. But still the creature didn’t let go -- not until it had pulled him nearer. And the way it shook him made Viscionis’ head crack against the floor, making darkness bloom in his vision as it stunned him.

It crunched through his arm next, when he tried to slash at it again, blindly this time. But unlike how it had held him by the leg for several moments, it quickly let go of his forearm. Its target then became his throat.

The bite sprayed his blood on the floor and quashed any further cries. Before it crushed his windpipe, all he could understand was pain.
MNPCs and their threads listed here. || All staff powerplay allowed.

Offline Qirelai

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Re: Point of Ignition [ 31.3.2563; 11 AM ] || Event
« Reply #14 on: August 13, 2018, 01:44:16 AM »
Shard it. This stupid rider was going to let himself get killed.

"Which one's his dragon?" She yelled up at the other rider, the one that was pulling the larger man along. Qirelai ran around the two of them, and started to push from the other side. Crap crap crap crap crap.

Reaching into the rucksack thrown over her shoulder, she pulled out her only spare tunic. One she'd shoved in there without bothering to fold, it was hard to show care for your clothing when it was already destroyed anyways. Qire had always just... done what she had to do to get more. And if she made it to the Weyr alive, who cared if this one was ruined by attempting to stop this riders blood from leaking everywhere?

Stupid man. Saving her life, and stupid her. She should just run off and jump on the nearest dragon, leave the two of these guys to make their own way, hope that their dragons could scoop them up in time to make it to safety. But the stupid man had saved her life, and she was stupid enough to think that now she owed him the same.

Pressing her tunic onto his abdomen, she wrestled to remove his hand, before placing it back over the wound again. A quick glance over her shoulder showed that the crowd wasn't thinning but thickening. The Peacekeepers hadn't found a way to stem the tide yet, and soon enough, if the dragons showed that they wouldn't take action, the innate fear of their attackers would give way to hunger. "Hey guy? You need to get your heavy ass onto your dragon right now."

@Jarakrisafis @SirAlahn

Offline Jarak's MNPCs

Re: Point of Ignition [ 31.3.2563; 11 AM ] || Event
« Reply #15 on: August 13, 2018, 05:55:36 AM »
D'rak
Age:
2539 // 24 turns
Rank:
Searchrider - Blue Quorith
Physical Description:
*Tall and lean
*Dark almost black hair, dark brown eyes
*Wearing well worn leathers, but clearly still in good condition.
Personality:
*Curious - He loves seeing and visiting different places. He's often wistfully thought that it's a pity he wasn't born a hundred turns earlier.
*Sarcastic - He's quick witted and any less than intelligent comments will gain a witty response, because he just can't let the moment pass by without making sure he's rubbed in that they said something rather silly.
*Hot headed - If there's something going on he'll often be the first to respond to it as he jumps without thinking and only regrets it later when his brain has had chance to catch up.
Backstory:
D'rak, (called Dirakal), was born in High Reaches Weyr, his mother was a cook in the caverns, his father was a brown rider. He was searched at the age of 12, but didn't impress until he was 15. As is usual he was immediately in love with the blue dragon which tripped to land face down in the sands at his feet and he couldn't quite remember why he'd even dreamed about riding a bronze. His Quorith was tagged as a search rider when he started giving D'rak hints about who to put marks on for impressing.
Searching and collecting Tithe is getting more dangerous to be sure, but this was just another routine pick up. The children that presented themselves, often refugees from the look of their clothes, were generally quick to accept a search, no doubt thinking of the tithe that was going back to the Weyr. They had a solid group gathered that Quorith liked and D'rak was looking forwards to getting back to the Weyr.
Intended Outcome:
Whatever happens, happens.



D'rak could only keep moving, his wingmates weight resting more and more on him, not pleasant with a slashed arm, but he'd live, a gut wound on the other hand was far more likely to kill. The candidate had a good head on her shoulders though and she fumbled with something in her pack as they stumbled on.

“Head for the dark blue dragon on the left, I'll need to take him with me, his Iskelaith can follow us.” There was no way he'd be able to stay up and give proper references between on his own, they'd probably just not reappear. Shard it, for that matter he'd prefer not to be going between at all with either of their injuries, but they didn't exactly have another choice.

D'rak spared another glance back before they got out the doorway, wincing at the sight of a Wher tearing a mans throat out. How the fuck had this gone so wrong so quickly? He shifted his grip absently to allow the candidate to shove the bundled up fabric she'd pulled from her bag against the wound to try and stop the blood. She was very quick, he'd be putting marks on her impressing first time she stands if they all make it out.

Quorith, get over here, look menacing!
They'd just been given a very visceral reminder of what Whers could do, a dragon roaring at them should give them more time before they work out it's all show. Tell Iskelaith I'll be taking his rider and he is to follow us.

“Come on, help me get him up.” He said, hoping the candidate would continue her intelligent streak and get herself and him up at the same time because he's not sure his arm is good for pulling him up too well.
« Last Edit: August 13, 2018, 06:02:40 AM by Jarak's MNPCs »

Offline L'ok

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Re: Point of Ignition [ 31.3.2563; 11 AM ] || Event
« Reply #16 on: August 13, 2018, 12:17:13 PM »
L’ok recognized that he was being moved, pushed along by D’rak and… the small slip of a Candidate that he had saved from the mob? She was wrestling with the hand he’d pressed to his side, and he resisted at first, not understanding what she was trying to do. What he knew, from the training he’d gotten in first aid as a weyrling, was that he needed to keep pressure on the wound. He couldn’t think about much of anything else -- the implications of where he’d been stabbed, what Between might do to complicate it.

She’s trying to help you, L’ok. Iskelaith’s voice was harried, worried and rushed. He and the other dragons had moved forward as much as they could -- and the Blue snapped at some of the non-riders rushing toward them. It might not be in his nature to actually attack them, but the showing of his teeth was still an intimidating thing, coupled with the quickly whirling yellow and red in his eyes.

His telepathic prodding managed to coax L’ok into no longer fighting Qirelai. He might not know her, but he trusted his dragon. A hiss of pain worked its way up out of his throat when she pressed hard on the wound, but at least she was helping to staunch the flow of blood.

“Y-yeah…” L’ok knew she was right, but Iskelaith looked so big now, too big to climb despite turns of practice.

But then he was being turned away from the familiar hide of his dragon, moved in a different direction, and he tried to struggle, but it was weak. “What--”

Put even more on edge by his rider’s confusion, Iskelaith reached out to Quorith in a panic. What is your rider doing? He didn’t intend to fight them, but he didn’t understand -- until his fellow Blue answered his question. Iskelaith might not like it, but it made sense. With the shape L’ok was in, it would be safer.

It’s okay, he told his rider then, stepping up next to Quorith. Eyes still a deep and menacing red, he bared his teeth and snarled at others who might seek to draw too close. Go with them. I’ll be right behind you.

Offline Qirelai

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Re: Point of Ignition [ 31.3.2563; 11 AM ] || Event
« Reply #17 on: August 13, 2018, 06:23:37 PM »
Right. That's got to be the big guys dragon, Iskelaith. Qirelai thought to herself as she shimmed away slightly when the big blue stepped up next to them, snarling, not at her, but still in a way as to be pretty sharding scary. Don't eat me please. Pretty sure I'm helping him.

She leapt up lightly onto the leg of the other blue dragon, the one she'd been directed to by the not-so-injured-rider-guy, which put herself at a much more useful height to assist. It did however, put her closer to eye height with lean-rider-guy's arm, and she saw the gash, noticing with annoyance how he held it to keep it from hurting more. For Faranth's sake. This time she tore a strip from her own tunic, and (as he was holding large-rider-guy) she tied it tightly around the wound. It would probably make it hurt more, but at least it would stop him loosing too much blood as they tried to wrestle the larger rider into the saddle.

"Here." Qirelai said, "You help me push him up, and then once he's settled, I'll... figure out how to get you up here." This guy was lean, but still a lot larger than her 5 foot frame, and if his arm was as bad as it looked... she'd have to come up with another solution. Huge-rider, they got up with a lot of struggle, but eventually, using her entire body weight to heave him one last time into the saddle, they managed to get him situated.

It was then she noticed all the leather straps hanging from the dragon. "Yes!" She said aloud, whooping with delight. Haphazardly, as she had no real knowledge of how the straps actually worked, she threw a few things around large-rider and clipped a variety of other things in his belt. Sure, he probably wouldn't fall off the dragon now. Then, she threw one of the longer ones she'd put aside down to lean-rider. "Attach it to your belt loop. You won't wrench your arm as much, and I won't fall off trying to pull you up." Qirelai called down to him.

As an offside, to the hide beneath her, she added. "He's probably going to need a leg up too if it won't hurt his pride overly much." She wasn't sure the dragon could hear her, as Qirelai knew vaguely that riders talked to their dragons in their heads, but she might as well try.

Spoiler for Hidden:
Y'all let me know if you've got a problem with any of this, I sort of... filled in a few gaps.
« Last Edit: August 13, 2018, 06:27:46 PM by Qirelai »

Offline Jarak's MNPCs

Re: Point of Ignition [ 31.3.2563; 11 AM ] || Event
« Reply #18 on: August 14, 2018, 12:00:31 PM »

Worry did improve how fierce a dragon could look. Iskelaith was doing a grand job shielding them and being very protective as they heaved L'ok upwards. And that was a struggle with only one arm, even if it was now bound tight enough that he might actually be losing feeling in it. That'd stop the blood loss though.

He was going to tell the girl how to put the straps on but he couldn't sort them out in his own mind, besides, she was getting it done. Somehow. Even if they had to cut them free, as long as they stay on he'll count it as a successful attachment method.

Quorith turned his head to look at him as the safety tether appeared in front of him and he stared at it blankly for a moment before reaching out. That was a good plan too. He grabbed hold of it, clipping the loose end to his belt as instructed. This probably wasn't going to work though, he was still heavy and Quorith seemed a lot bigger with only one working arm and the world starting to spin more than it should be. Still he could feel the tug on his belt from the candidate and he scrambled up as best he could to stop her from wrenching anything.

I can do that.

That made no sense.  He was going to tell his sharding dragon that when the world span again and he realised Quorith hadn't even been talking to him. A warning would have been great.

Spoiler for OOC:
Any gaps from D'rak can be attributed to his bloodloss. Go nuts if you want, he's only going to remember bits of the day once he's been stitched back up.

Offline L'ok

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Re: Point of Ignition [ 31.3.2563; 11 AM ] || Event
« Reply #19 on: August 19, 2018, 11:21:54 PM »
Just stay with me, L’ok. Try to help them if you can.

The Blue kept up a constant line of communication open with his rider as D’rak and the would-be Candidate moved him, recognizing that L’ok needed to be as coherent as possible. He was so much bigger than them, and Iskelaith knew they would have difficulty getting his bulk onto Quorith—if only he could actually help them, pick the man up and just place him on the other Blue’s saddle. But that wasn’t how any of this worked, and Iskelaith knew he’d only hurt L’ok more by trying to cradle him in his claws or mouth.

Gritting his teeth, L’ok did his best to swim through the haze of pain, even as it spiked each time he was jolted badly enough to aggravate his side. Though his hands were slippery with his own blood, he tried to help rather than hinder the others’ efforts to get him on Quorith, leaving sticky red handprints on Quorith’s hide and straps. //Tell him I’m sorry,// he thought distantly, sucking in a pained breath as he was finally settled in place on the Blue’s neck. His own hands were shaking too much to buckle himself in.

I will. Iskelaith pushed as much reassurance through their bond as he could, shielding L’ok from his own worry. It looks like she’s going to strap you in.

The girl might not know what she was doing, but he’d take it. Anything to prevent him from slipping off Quorith when they took off and had to Between.

As Qirelai helped D’rak climb upward onto his own dragon’s back, L’ok felt himself slipping toward the edge of consciousness. He tried to keep his hand still pressed tight against his side, but frustrating as it was, he could feel his strength flagging. That wasn’t a typical sensation for him, but his fingers felt numbed, and the dark, dark blood swam in his vision where it was staining his skin.

Iskelaith himself pushed forward to wedge his body between Quorith and the increasingly large crowd, roaring again in a bugle that would have done a Bronze proud, if he did say so himself. Go as soon as you can, he told the other Blue. Before these people try to pull them off you.

Spoiler for OOC:
If y’all want to finish out them arriving at High Reaches and such, feel free. ^_^ This thread will work fine for it since it’s not conflicting with anything anyone else is doing.
« Last Edit: August 19, 2018, 11:22:21 PM by SirAlahn »

Offline Qirelai

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Re: Point of Ignition [ 31.3.2563; 11 AM ] || Event
« Reply #20 on: August 20, 2018, 05:50:32 PM »
Qire, completely unaware of the interactions occurring between the riders and their dragons, was sitting impatiently, and a little worried on the blue's back. When the other blue roared an almighty roar, she once again sent a prayer to Faranth that he was going to eat her for trying to save his rider. In reality, she should have been able to tell given the blue's head was turned threateningly towards the crowd of steadily approaching Holders, but with everything going on, she should be forgiven for misinterpreting.

With lithe-rider safely in the driver's seat, and large-dying-rider wedged between them, all the straps taken up with holding the two of them onto the dragons back, Qire knew she would just have to hold on for dear life. With the amount of blood that was dripping off both riders and down the dragons side, neither of them would be much use remembering she was there. Her own clothes were drenched, but at this particular moment in time, she didn't particularly care. They were one step closer to surviving this, and she didn't need these clothes to keep on livin'.

Wrapping her hand underneath one of the big-rider's straps, and squeezing her thighs tightly, she thought that was about as good as it was going to get for her.

"Uh. If we could get going now, I think we're all good." She shouted ahead of her.

Spoiler for Hidden:
I'm happy to just keep going with this until we have to stop 8D
« Last Edit: August 20, 2018, 05:52:07 PM by Qirelai »

Offline Jarak's MNPCs

Re: Point of Ignition [ 31.3.2563; 11 AM ] || Event
« Reply #21 on: August 21, 2018, 09:20:57 AM »
Quorith did not like this, the crowd was pressing closer with every passing moment and Iskelaith would need to move soon, lest he be attacked.

Are you secure? We must go before you are pulled back down.

D'rak cursed softly and Quorith could almost feel the confusion as he worked through what had just been said. He needed to strap in? Had he done that? No, the candidate had done that. Quorith could feel him started to twist round, trying to find the words to ask if she was ready.

Quorith wasn't planning to wait. Qirelai had said they were all good, that was good enough for him. She was no rider. (Yet). But she was the only one thinking clearly. D'rak was foggy but still there. L'ok seemed to be slipping further away, though he wouldn't delve too deeply into his mind, it would be extremely rude, but there was simply no time to keep talking about it so Iskelaith would hopefully not mind a softer poke at his rider.

He was already half way through a skyward leap before D'rak realised what was going on. That was worrying. Come Iskelaith, we are free. He said as soon as he cleared the ground and got high enough to be out of reach of any weapons or tools.

We are going between Qirelai. He didn't usually speak to others, but since his rider was too busy clinging, physically to his neck and metaphorically to an image of High Reaches, it would only be polite to let her know. He shared the image with Iskelaith and without wasting any more time, made the jump.

Quorith bugled as soon as he exited between, turning into as smooth a descent towards the infirmary as he could manage. Hold on, we are nearly safe.

Spoiler for ooc:
Also good to just run with this to whatever end.
And I may have convinced myself to app D'rak... :para:

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Re: Point of Ignition [ 31.3.2563; 11 AM ] || Event
« Reply #22 on: October 24, 2018, 04:56:36 PM »
For a moment, Iskelaith’s attention strayed from Quorith and his passengers. While his bond with L’ok was still secure, it was growing ever more tenuous. And between that worry, that borderline panic and the adrenaline of the situation, the Blue was simply focused on pushing back those that had chased them into the courtyard. Distantly, he was aware of other riders rushing past him, their leathers setting them apart and saving them from his red-eyed rage. But he scarcely noticed whether or not there were other Candidates with them also intent on escaping the chaos of the Hold.

At last, Quorith’s voice reached out to him again. The other Blue was already in the air, clear and away from the crowd. And as other dragons rose into the sky as well, Iskelaith knew he had to leave. He couldn’t linger—nothing in him would let him stay behind while L’ok Betweened to whatever fate awaited him at High Reaches. He would be there, whatever happened.

But without his rider conscious enough to give him an image of their Weyr—again Quorith was his savior, sharing the image that D’rak had managed to summon to mind. I’m here, he told the other Blue, to confirm he was not being lost.

Blinking Between was almost painful. Now that they were away from the site of the violence, Iskelaith’s anger was rapidly giving way to fear. When they finally emerged, he could tell that L’ok was still alive… but he was still drifting between awareness and what felt like a dream.

Don’t leave me, he begged, and shot toward the ground near the entrance to the infirmary. He spotted someone wearing Healer’s colors, as the medics rushed out to greet the returning riders. Propriety, for the moment, didn’t matter as he reached out to them: Help us!

 

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