Log: Patrol Finds Evidence, News At 11
Who: B'kaiv, M'try, Ronari, NPCs: L'sos and brown Gharaith, random rider extras, raiders (T'rev)
When: Afternoon, day 7, month 7, turn 22 of the 10th interval
Where: Hills, Peyton Area
What: A patrol finds some lingering raiders and a bunch of evidence.
Hills, Peyton Area(#1080RJ)
Rolling foothills, thickly wooded stretch out for miles from the western side of the Western Range that marches like a tall spine down the middle of the Fort-Boll peninsula. The wind can blow strongly up on top where there are no trees and the view is both stark to one side and lush to the other, with the tangle of dense undergrowth difficult to penetrate.
Oh yay! Blended patrol duty! Darn Weyrleader. And go figure, it's /Peyton/ with all that thick foliage and the sloping hills and the deep gullies. Fun, fun, fun. It could be tempting to succumb to boredom and not pay attention, given the summer sun overhead and the difficult terrain to squint at. But that temptation would lead to missing slight movement in the underbrush, a flash of color and the dip and dive of a group of firelizards suddenly going 'radio silent'.
All the way from the Weyr, it's been a chorus of "Can you please shut him up?" and << Do you have to be so loud? >>, with Mohraith happily telling everyone HOW INTERESTING EVERYTHING IS. Finally, M'try seems to have gotten a handle on his loud-minded situation, and the brown has settled into only an occasional comment that he tries to keep at a reasonable volume. The flash of color? The dive of firelizards? Trigger a resurgence along the lines of, << THAT'S WEIRD. >>
Blended patrol duty, yay! Any excuse for flying is good enough for Chielyth, now that she's had a chance to settle down and stop flying circles around the bigger dragons and cheering every one of Mohraith's observations. Now she only dips and dives like an overgrown firelizard herself, keeping (mostly) within her designated airspace, until Mohraith's hail causes her to almost double back on her own tail. << I see them! >> she agrees, touching each of the other dragons in turn. << Gaharith, let's land! >> In the heavy underbrush and tree cover? Not likely.
The patrol's leader eyes that activity and there's a quick response from his dragon. << Yes. That is definitely weird. Are you getting anything from them? >> And he's veering off slightly, not towards the cover-break but away. It's hard to see, but it looks like there's some hurried covering up of something going on down below. Branches moving and someone especially observant might catch a glimpse of the edge of a wagon as it's shoved ... away somewhere. Is there a hillside cave down there? Probably. The thread of a road lies not too far ahead and a small clearing. << L'sos says to land over there, pretend like we didn't see it and fly 'casual'. Riders will go check it out on foot. We are to try to keep any firelizards from leaving, if we can. Or find out where they go if they leave. >> There's a snort in his sending. How do you stop a firelizard from popping Between as close to the ground as they can?
Mohraith paws the air experimentally, snatches at nothing, and then-- lifting his mitt-- repeats confusedly, << Keep firelizards from...? >> Thankfully, when he opens his paw, there are no squishy firelizards guts in there, and he just leans into the wide turn that will have him chasing L'sos. He tries to fly casual, << Whatever that means! >> But he can't quit peering back at the oh-so-intriguing underbrush while he goes.
<< Nope! >> Chielyth reports cheerfully of the silent firelizards, distracted - she's probably still trying to coax them out with happy crayon-y pictures. She completes her loop and follows after Gahraith, la la la, casual green. << Kai says he hates sharding Peyton! >> in case anyone wanted to know. << There's a blue, I think he likes me, he says, >> green and movement and worry and leaves and rocks, all scribbled together by Chielyth and shared with the rest of the patrol.
<< Don't ask, >> is Gahraith's dry humor in return about the 'lizards. << Good, keep makin pals, but not so he'll get upset. We wanna find out where they're from, L'sos says, without spooking them. >> The leggy brown keeps on flying, pace 'casual' and picks a spot on the road where it's slightly lower and their landing will be masked from anyone trying to play lookout from the ground at least. << Seems like a big group? You getting that? >> L'sos swings to the ground upon landing and checks to make sure the sheath holdin his weapon is secure at his waist. "Suggestions on approach, B'kaiv? You know Peyton better than anyone here."
So, you know how MOHRAITH drives everyone crazy? Yeah, Chielyth's, er, unique take on the world? Would account for M'try scrubbing his forehead with his hands while he finds the ground with his feet, his eyes turning back toward the green with a brief flash of pained accusation. "I suppose 'hello, nice weather, isn't it' is out of the question," he mumbles in an unasked for response to L'sos's question. << We're bigger than they are, >> his dragon contributes, equally unasked for, equally useless. Why do people invite them to things like this, again?
<< Okay! >> Gahraith's directive keeps Chielyth quiet until the entire patrol has landed, the little green's attention fixed back the way they came. Her rider snorts dryly at M'try as he lands, feet kicking up little puffs of dust from the road. "Shoulda brung Dashaya," he says absently as he shrugs deeper into his jacket, eyes following Chielyth's before he considers the rest of the group in turn. "Chielyth says as there's a cave or something. Could try circling around, coming at 'em from up there. Don't think as it's a real high cliff. Put a dragon up high t' keep watch, make sure they don't run."
Listening, L'sos nods. "Just don't want them to bolt if they realize we're onto them. Don't know if the dragons could cut them off. Though I guess we could always put a firebreak in? No one is actually /growing/ anything here, are they?" He looks a little uncomfortable. "Anyway. Gahraith's letting the Weyr know so they're ready for backup. Hopefully it's just some traders but ..." he trails off, shrugs. "Okay, you guys," he points at two other riders, "you go that way and the rest, follow Kai." Because clearly Kai knows better here. Or so L'sos thinks. "When we're close enough, can pop Mohraith back up to keep watch. That's brilliant. The loudest dragon in the bunch.
"If I may just point out--" But M'try gets a solid nudge in the small of his back, effectively arresting his words before they can be of any use to anyone. Mohraith likes this gig, it makes him feel like he's doing his part, and he radiates confidence in the way he puffs up his chest. Righting himself, smiling lamely, the brownrider nods like he's all on board with this plan, brilliant, indeed.
"Only way they ain't gonna bolt is if they think we ain't seen nothing," the greenrider shrugs, apparently assuming that these aren't simple traders. He looks to M'try with a sniff, glances to see if L'sos will call the other brownrider on it, then gives a shrug that's probably meant to be inviting. "What?"
"Yeah, here's hoping," L'sos says with a grim face and a sigh. The patrol's leader makes some more gestures about where everyone is supposed to go. "Stand by to send Mohraith up high, M'try." And then he's giving the signal to move through the underbrush towards the spot where the firelizards dived for cover.
M'try smiles a wordless, confident answer to B'kaiv's question, his hand lifted to wave it away like it's only so much dander on the breeze. Getting out of his heavier coat, quick-tying it to Mohraith's straps, he prepares to 'move through the underbrush,' one more thing to add to the long list of stuff M'try was never meant to be doing. "At least it's not pouring rain this time," he mutters, bringing up the rear. << JUST SAY WHEN, >> with wings twitching eagerly.
B'kaiv scowls at M'try - no surprise there - but drops L'sos a nod. Collecting M'try and Ronari with a beckon, he plunges straight into the woods without a care for his clothing. << His name is Ripper, >> Chielyth shares in a hushed, delighted whisper for her new blue friend. << He is still worried, but I told him we are flying, and he wants to come flying with me but he can't. >> Poooor Ripper!
Suraveth, however, doesn't mind the directive. Little dragons are delightful creatures and fun to make friends with. Rather like fish. Sliding the short drop from her green's withers, then, Ronari offers Sura a gentle pat and ties her own riding coat to the straps. << Why can't the little blue fly? >> The concern in Suraveth's tone is obvious. Ready for her own foray into the brush now, Ari pushes her braid back over her shoulder and follows B'kaiv down into the woods.
The 'his name is Ripper' information filters back to M'try through the expected means, echoes around in his brains for a second or two, and is met by the mutter, "Of course it is. Ripper." Not so much worried about his clothes as the foxtails that have taken a liking to itching the crap out of his ankles and calves, the brownrider carries on a diatribe-in-undertone along the lines of 'why did I ever find nature so fascinating,' 'cowardice has always served me so well in the past,' et cetera.
<< Great. Keep him engaged, Chielyth, L'sos says. >> Gahraith, trying to be patient. << Anyone else made any friends? They think I'm too-big-scary. >> More mental snorting from the brown. << And yeah. Stay on the same page everyone. Make like we're all still flying. And probably because they're not letting him, >> Gahraith pipes down, something 'listening' like in the ping of thoughts. Kind of like a whale's sonar.
L'sos at least is pretty decent at the 'brush moving' part. So're the two guys who split off. Melting away like shadows in the underbrush . Oooooo. Commando! That means two going one way and four another and it's not easy going, but it shouldn't take more than a few minutes to get to the spot Kai indicated and start working downslope toards the camp. So far so good?
<< 'Cause they tell him NO, >> Chielyth answers simply, poor Ripper, can't go flying! << He is afraid of dragons, >> she adds with a mental nose-wrinkle. << All the little ones are. They are to watch, and hide! >> B'kaiv stops dead with a hand held up, glares at M'try in a way that ought to set the other man's hair on fire. "You don't shut up," he promises in a venomous undertone, "I'm gonna sharding well break your jaw now, you hear me?" Apparently assuming that his threat is enough to ensure silence, the greenrider waves the others on again, making it to their designated drop spot in good time.
Laughter like the cool bubbling of a hidden forest stream touches along the minds of the gathered dragons. << Oh yes. Aside from the blue, there are... >> Suraveth pauses as her rider must assist in the actual numbering of the count. << Two lovely greens, an old brown and a very young one and - >> Another peal of watery delight trickles across the nearby minds. << A young queen, too! Oh, she feels like my weyrling does. >> "Her" weyrling being Ari's child Amiryn. Shaking her head ruefully, Ronari can't supress a grin at her green's antics, but that's quickly erased with B'kaiv's threat. "Break it later, greenrider," she hisses. "Now is /not/ the time."
That'll cow M'try, yep. And getting closer over the ridge will show some elements of a campsite. The fire's not lit, but there's barrels here and there and some boxes, all hidden under tarps with camo-patterns and branches over top. And yep, there's a cave though it's hard to say if that wagon is in there or not. L'sos makes a face as Gahraith passes on about the queen. "Shit ... a gold," he mutters under his breath. << Keep that queen distracted if you can Suraveth. Chat her up, find out where home is ... that kind of thing. But you know. Pleasant-like. >> There's men too, crouched down behind trees and barrels, holding still. Seems like all could go well until a shout goes up: those other riders must've gotten spotted and there's the sound of metal clashing out in the woods.
B'kaiv turns the exact same scowl on Ronari, unimpressed, but as M'try's clammed up, he doesn't add more. << Kai says there ain't hardly never golds! >> Chielyth shares, while Kai gets his scant troops in position. At the yell from their quarry he mouths a matching expletive and yanks his metal-wrapped baton free, yells a wordless reply and goes bounding, sliding down the slope, arms spread wide to control his fall and keep the weapon handy.
Suraveth's response is a wordless mental assent, tinged with the edge of hurt at the insinuation that she is ever anything but pleasant. 'Stepping back' a little ways from the other draconic minds, she immerses herself in an incredibly pleasant conversation with the small fair of firelizards. Only when the commotion breaks out can her response be heard by the others. << No, no, don't worry little ones. I won't let you come to harm. >> Perhaps it's a lapse in her mental control or perhaps it's a subtle heads-up to the others. There's a slow build of the cool blue waters; soothing and calming and offering safety in their deep embrace. The others may notice it, but it seems for now that the firelizards certainly do. It most certainly gives Ronari an added element of calm as she pointedly ignores that glare, draws a pair of wicked-looking knives from her boots and slides deftly behind B'kaiv.
As violence breaks out, in spite of Suraveth's and any other dragons' efforts, a couple of the lizards, the youngest one among them go flittering up out of the trees in alarm. The little one pops Between almost immediately. One of the greens hesitates, drawn by Suraveth's sending. The queen is a plucky sort and actually tries to corral the non-scaredies to help go after the riders out in the woods. L'sos' blade is free and he charges in too as some of the men detach themselves from their hiding spots to try to figure out how to defend. The riders are slightly outnumbered: 8 to 6.
Chielyth does her best to call Ripper to her, promising safety to the blue and whichever of his friends would like to come. It may not be flying, but it's away from the yells and hurting and violence, yes? Having made it to level ground, B'kaiv shows absolutely no hesitation in laying about with his baton, his face a mask of concentration. One man goes down with - at best - a dislocated knee; the greenrider doesn't stop to make sure he's unconscious, but heads straight for a rangy, unkempt man trying to put a knife into L'sos' back.
Well. 8 to 5, really. Someone gave M'try a knife, and he arguably has some idea how to use it after all that weyrling training, but unless they want to have a battle of wits (not likely), he's not exactly going to show himself as suddenly awesome or anything. He's not above kicking a man while he's down, though, and clocks Dislocated Knee right in the now Dislocated Jaw with his boot, so there. Apparently, this is his plan: follow Kai and just finish whatever the greenrider starts. Also to get punched in the head, which comes pretty quickly, dazes him, and has him lashing out blindly with that beltknife; if luck's on his side, he'll catch his attacker in the arm; if not, well. Let's just say that luck /is/ on his side after all.
And Suraveth /does/ make her best effort, she really does. But when that fails, she switches tact. Now she focuses her calming, soothing nature on the queen and her small band. << Those riders aren't here to hurt you. Don't harm them, please... >> Backed by the mental oomph that even Suraveth has, who knows if the plea will fall upon deaf firelizards or have some effect. Ronari, for her part, clashes with a big, hairy bloke. Knife for knife, the two clash for a little while before the greenrider simply loses patience and plants a solid boot right between his legs. When he curls in an instinctive reaction, she swings round again to kick him in the arse and overbalance him. About to tie his hands behind his back, she's interrupted by Suraveth's mental aside. << They're going here. >> Those images she got - mixed between the Fort Sea and other, warmer beaches with no black sand - are broadcast to the others. << They're carrying...something, but they do not know what. >> Wrenching her opponent's arm back hard enough to hear a soft 'snap', Ronari grunts her acknowledgement. << They're going home... >>
THe queen is nooot so easily dissuaded. Her /person/ is getting hurt! One of the remaining firelizards breaks off though and goes squawking off to find Sura herself to hide under her wing. L'sos is busy with the guy attacking him from the front, so it's a good thing Kai's got his back. He gets a nasty slash across his arm though and a kick to the gut that leaves him breathless for a second and barely able to get his blade up in time to deflect the next coming from his attacker. It's enough for an opening though as he suddenly charges forward football style to plant his head in the guy's mid-section. They go down sprawling. More shouts sound out in the woods, but a moment later, a little bloodied up, the other two riders show up. Apparently they've dealt with their dudes? One of them has a slowly spreading red stain along his thigh, soaking riding leather. The blue Chichi's gotten friendly with is so out of there and joins the little exodus towards dragons, cowering and trembling near her.
Two on one isn't fair, so Kai shows no compunction about surprising Rangy and dissuading him from further L'sos-harassment. He doesn't take the man down as swiftly as he did Dislocated Knee but it's only a few seconds of violent work before the man is on the ground, curled up and groaning, and Kai looking for the next. ...No next. "That all?" he calls, breathing hard, ignoring the own red dripping off his fingers to fall silently to the earth. Even though L'sos is undoubtedly doing the same already Kai takes a quick head-count, frowning, and rather absently draws back a leg to kick his target and keep him still.
Back where they left him, Mohraith is still halfway waiting for someone to tell him WHEN. He enjoys the sun-dappled shade, watches all the flitting firelizards, grumbles disapproval when Mait gets punched in the face-- << Duck next time. >>-- and waves his mental pompoms when the tables turn and the brownrider conks his attacker with the butt of his beltknife, nods satisfactorily when the man's knees buckle and he collapses in an unconscious puddle on the ground. "'All' is not precisely the adjective I would use," he informs breathlessly.
Secured, Ronari moves to roll her adversary to his back. Suffocating in the dirt would be an ignoble fate, to be sure. Unfortunately, in the process of her kindness, the man jerks forward and sinks his teeth into the side of her wrist. The air turns momentarily blue with Ari's swearing and she lifts her foot up this time; slamming it downwards in a vicious stomp on the goods she's already damaged. This has the desired result and free from his filthy teeth, the greenrider ignores the man's own cries of pain and ambles towards the rest of her patrol. Suraveth, delighted to have real company, does her best to carry on a pleasant conversation with the 'lizards hiding beneath her wings. Still, her rumble at Ronari's injury is anything /but/ pleasant. "Shardin' savages," Ronari spits, cradling her injured hand to her chest.
L'sos clearly forgot to tell Gahraith to tell Mohraith to go. It's a belated command then. << Go make sure no one got missed! >> Which is a little different than what was discussed. But. There you go. It's appparently not /quite/ all. Outnumbered now, two dudes make a break for it, but one of the other riders who was out in the woods goes running after to intercept. L'sos has a bit of a time getting his baddie strung up, but it happens. And then it's quiet again, but for heaving breath and little moans and groans of pain. "Others are tied up to some trees," the thigh-wound rider says and gestures that way, then suddenly passes out from blood loss. Thunk. "Shardit. Who's good with first aid?" L'sos, from the ground, tying his guy up. "As soon as they're all secure, start looking through this crap. See what you can find. Ronari? How many of them high-tailed it to Fort Sea?"
Distracted still, Kai mutters something foul and starts after the runners, only to thud to a stop three steps later when someone else - someone unwounded, it turns out - gets there first, and there's a sudden addition to the unconscious-body count. "Shit. I can look at him." He may not be any sort of healer, but weyrling first aid lessons are bound to come in handy. Tear off a piece of shirt, apply both pad and pressure to the wound... "Don't look good," he adds over his shoulder, to anyone who'll listen.
All blowing up dust, Mohraith springs aloft and goes to make sure no one got missed, happy to be contributing, convinced his contribution is the most useful. M'try, meanwhile, gawks a few seconds at the collapsed rider and reaches lamely into his pocket for a handkerchief, which-- smeared with paint as it is-- might do more harm than good. << I CAN BRING A HEALER IF YOU WANT. >>
"Most of the young ones. Three or four. The rest scattered. Warmer places." Ronari's answer is easily forthcoming but quickly delivered as the man goes down. B'kaiv might not have a healer's training, but she does. "I can't treat him with this hand until I clean it." Kneeling in the dirt next to the other greenrider, she looks around for a spare rider. "Run back to Sura and bring me the black satchel fixed to her straps?" She's got redwort and other supplies in there. "Cut away his leathers, please. Carefully."
<< Yes, Mohraith. Get a healer and reinforcements. We're going to need to bring them all back, L'sos says. And the stuff. >> Hazy box shapes. For now though, they're on their own to make sure the little group are secured and to start looking through the ill-gotten goods. It seems all of the humans at least have been accounted for though there's still the troubling thought of those lizards that got away. L'sos grunts at Ronari's claim. "Okay, that's good until a full on healer gets here." And then he's assigning uninjured rider to watch over the prisoners while the rest search through stuff and Ronari stabilizes the wounded rider. There'll be some transport going on later, likely, but for now things have quieted down until the reinforcements arrive.
B'kaiv gladly backs away to let Ronari take over, only noticing his own wound when an absent touch - how'd his jacket get cut? - elicits a wince and yet more swearing. The greenrider claps a hand over his upper arm and wanders to the group of tied prisoners, starts going through their belt pouches without so much as buying them dinner first. "--Shit. M'try. C'mere." He's staring down at a handful of... marks? he pulled from Rangy's belt, scowling at them like now they're the ones breaking radio silence in the middle of a raid.
Mohraith veers off, away, and into *between*, one can assume to make a trip back to the Weyr and collect someone who can determine if Bleeding to Death can be moved. His rider, watching Ronari work for a few seconds, is stunned out of his daze by the sound of his name, by the source of it, and he blinks toward B'kaiv with 'why' written all over his face. But, since Kai is bigger and M'try is a coward, he c'meres, rubbing his swelling cheek with the heel of his hand.
Watching like a hawk as one of the younger riders cuts away the leathers, Ronari accepts the satchel from the other one and digs one-handed through it for a bowl and a bottle of redwort. Most of it is pourd into the bowl, which is nestled in the dirt. The rest is drizzled over her bite wound until the residue runs clear. Now sterile, she directs her 'assistant' to pull gauze from the pack and wraps the injured hand. Now capable, she pulls clea rags from the satchel and soaks them in the redwort before laying them over the open wound and applying a steady, firm pressure. Only then does she notice B'kaiv and M'try's odd behavior. "What'd you find?" she calls over her shoulder, clipping her words to ignore the pain of pressing with an injured hand.
B'kaiv watches Ronari absently though most of his attention is on whatever's in his hand; he offers them up to M'try and and the same time announces bleakly, "Think it's counterfeit." The announcement turns a few heads from both sides of the tussle. Kai pushes to his feet to get away from Rangy's attempt at a kick, keeping himself between the downed raider and the brownrider. "Gotta check th' rest of 'em, see if there's more of this."
M'try takes a couple on his upturned palm, done rubbing his face, now rubbing the edges of those marks, slowly nodding. "Not that I'm a counterfeit expert, but I think the odds are slightly better than even that you're right." He drops the rest back where they came from, holding just one in between his thumb and forefinger to look over the top of it at Kicky McRangy down there. "This is a very bad business you're in," he says chidingly, already moving toward the other barrels, adding back to Ronari, "Mohraith will be bringing a Healer shortly. I think we better take inventory in the meantime."
Nodding once, Ronari lets the other riders deal with the matter of counterfeit or not, as well as the other stolen articles in their draw. She'll maintain pressure on the leg wound and try her damndest to get some water into the downed rider until the healer comes and can take over.
B'kaiv only snorts at M'try's attempt at setting the raiders back on the straight and narrow - amused for a change, and in far better humor now that he's gotten to beat the crap out of somebody. He heads after the brownrider to work on inventory, opening crates and barrels to investigate the truly mind-numbing contents (clothes, nuts, clothes, fabric, more nuts, more clothes). Some pictures are found and glanced at but no hue-and-cry raised, and by that time Mohraith is back with help. Eventually everyone is bandaged and back on their feet (except for the knifed man, who gets a stretcher), while the prisoners get taken off the raiding-party's hands. L'sos heads back to make his report to the Weyrleader, while everyone else is released with a 'job well done'.
When: Afternoon, day 7, month 7, turn 22 of the 10th interval
Where: Hills, Peyton Area
What: A patrol finds some lingering raiders and a bunch of evidence.
Hills, Peyton Area(#1080RJ)
Rolling foothills, thickly wooded stretch out for miles from the western side of the Western Range that marches like a tall spine down the middle of the Fort-Boll peninsula. The wind can blow strongly up on top where there are no trees and the view is both stark to one side and lush to the other, with the tangle of dense undergrowth difficult to penetrate.
Oh yay! Blended patrol duty! Darn Weyrleader. And go figure, it's /Peyton/ with all that thick foliage and the sloping hills and the deep gullies. Fun, fun, fun. It could be tempting to succumb to boredom and not pay attention, given the summer sun overhead and the difficult terrain to squint at. But that temptation would lead to missing slight movement in the underbrush, a flash of color and the dip and dive of a group of firelizards suddenly going 'radio silent'.
All the way from the Weyr, it's been a chorus of "Can you please shut him up?" and << Do you have to be so loud? >>, with Mohraith happily telling everyone HOW INTERESTING EVERYTHING IS. Finally, M'try seems to have gotten a handle on his loud-minded situation, and the brown has settled into only an occasional comment that he tries to keep at a reasonable volume. The flash of color? The dive of firelizards? Trigger a resurgence along the lines of, << THAT'S WEIRD. >>
Blended patrol duty, yay! Any excuse for flying is good enough for Chielyth, now that she's had a chance to settle down and stop flying circles around the bigger dragons and cheering every one of Mohraith's observations. Now she only dips and dives like an overgrown firelizard herself, keeping (mostly) within her designated airspace, until Mohraith's hail causes her to almost double back on her own tail. << I see them! >> she agrees, touching each of the other dragons in turn. << Gaharith, let's land! >> In the heavy underbrush and tree cover? Not likely.
The patrol's leader eyes that activity and there's a quick response from his dragon. << Yes. That is definitely weird. Are you getting anything from them? >> And he's veering off slightly, not towards the cover-break but away. It's hard to see, but it looks like there's some hurried covering up of something going on down below. Branches moving and someone especially observant might catch a glimpse of the edge of a wagon as it's shoved ... away somewhere. Is there a hillside cave down there? Probably. The thread of a road lies not too far ahead and a small clearing. << L'sos says to land over there, pretend like we didn't see it and fly 'casual'. Riders will go check it out on foot. We are to try to keep any firelizards from leaving, if we can. Or find out where they go if they leave. >> There's a snort in his sending. How do you stop a firelizard from popping Between as close to the ground as they can?
Mohraith paws the air experimentally, snatches at nothing, and then-- lifting his mitt-- repeats confusedly, << Keep firelizards from...? >> Thankfully, when he opens his paw, there are no squishy firelizards guts in there, and he just leans into the wide turn that will have him chasing L'sos. He tries to fly casual, << Whatever that means! >> But he can't quit peering back at the oh-so-intriguing underbrush while he goes.
<< Nope! >> Chielyth reports cheerfully of the silent firelizards, distracted - she's probably still trying to coax them out with happy crayon-y pictures. She completes her loop and follows after Gahraith, la la la, casual green. << Kai says he hates sharding Peyton! >> in case anyone wanted to know. << There's a blue, I think he likes me, he says, >> green and movement and worry and leaves and rocks, all scribbled together by Chielyth and shared with the rest of the patrol.
<< Don't ask, >> is Gahraith's dry humor in return about the 'lizards. << Good, keep makin pals, but not so he'll get upset. We wanna find out where they're from, L'sos says, without spooking them. >> The leggy brown keeps on flying, pace 'casual' and picks a spot on the road where it's slightly lower and their landing will be masked from anyone trying to play lookout from the ground at least. << Seems like a big group? You getting that? >> L'sos swings to the ground upon landing and checks to make sure the sheath holdin his weapon is secure at his waist. "Suggestions on approach, B'kaiv? You know Peyton better than anyone here."
So, you know how MOHRAITH drives everyone crazy? Yeah, Chielyth's, er, unique take on the world? Would account for M'try scrubbing his forehead with his hands while he finds the ground with his feet, his eyes turning back toward the green with a brief flash of pained accusation. "I suppose 'hello, nice weather, isn't it' is out of the question," he mumbles in an unasked for response to L'sos's question. << We're bigger than they are, >> his dragon contributes, equally unasked for, equally useless. Why do people invite them to things like this, again?
<< Okay! >> Gahraith's directive keeps Chielyth quiet until the entire patrol has landed, the little green's attention fixed back the way they came. Her rider snorts dryly at M'try as he lands, feet kicking up little puffs of dust from the road. "Shoulda brung Dashaya," he says absently as he shrugs deeper into his jacket, eyes following Chielyth's before he considers the rest of the group in turn. "Chielyth says as there's a cave or something. Could try circling around, coming at 'em from up there. Don't think as it's a real high cliff. Put a dragon up high t' keep watch, make sure they don't run."
Listening, L'sos nods. "Just don't want them to bolt if they realize we're onto them. Don't know if the dragons could cut them off. Though I guess we could always put a firebreak in? No one is actually /growing/ anything here, are they?" He looks a little uncomfortable. "Anyway. Gahraith's letting the Weyr know so they're ready for backup. Hopefully it's just some traders but ..." he trails off, shrugs. "Okay, you guys," he points at two other riders, "you go that way and the rest, follow Kai." Because clearly Kai knows better here. Or so L'sos thinks. "When we're close enough, can pop Mohraith back up to keep watch. That's brilliant. The loudest dragon in the bunch.
"If I may just point out--" But M'try gets a solid nudge in the small of his back, effectively arresting his words before they can be of any use to anyone. Mohraith likes this gig, it makes him feel like he's doing his part, and he radiates confidence in the way he puffs up his chest. Righting himself, smiling lamely, the brownrider nods like he's all on board with this plan, brilliant, indeed.
"Only way they ain't gonna bolt is if they think we ain't seen nothing," the greenrider shrugs, apparently assuming that these aren't simple traders. He looks to M'try with a sniff, glances to see if L'sos will call the other brownrider on it, then gives a shrug that's probably meant to be inviting. "What?"
"Yeah, here's hoping," L'sos says with a grim face and a sigh. The patrol's leader makes some more gestures about where everyone is supposed to go. "Stand by to send Mohraith up high, M'try." And then he's giving the signal to move through the underbrush towards the spot where the firelizards dived for cover.
M'try smiles a wordless, confident answer to B'kaiv's question, his hand lifted to wave it away like it's only so much dander on the breeze. Getting out of his heavier coat, quick-tying it to Mohraith's straps, he prepares to 'move through the underbrush,' one more thing to add to the long list of stuff M'try was never meant to be doing. "At least it's not pouring rain this time," he mutters, bringing up the rear. << JUST SAY WHEN, >> with wings twitching eagerly.
B'kaiv scowls at M'try - no surprise there - but drops L'sos a nod. Collecting M'try and Ronari with a beckon, he plunges straight into the woods without a care for his clothing. << His name is Ripper, >> Chielyth shares in a hushed, delighted whisper for her new blue friend. << He is still worried, but I told him we are flying, and he wants to come flying with me but he can't. >> Poooor Ripper!
Suraveth, however, doesn't mind the directive. Little dragons are delightful creatures and fun to make friends with. Rather like fish. Sliding the short drop from her green's withers, then, Ronari offers Sura a gentle pat and ties her own riding coat to the straps. << Why can't the little blue fly? >> The concern in Suraveth's tone is obvious. Ready for her own foray into the brush now, Ari pushes her braid back over her shoulder and follows B'kaiv down into the woods.
The 'his name is Ripper' information filters back to M'try through the expected means, echoes around in his brains for a second or two, and is met by the mutter, "Of course it is. Ripper." Not so much worried about his clothes as the foxtails that have taken a liking to itching the crap out of his ankles and calves, the brownrider carries on a diatribe-in-undertone along the lines of 'why did I ever find nature so fascinating,' 'cowardice has always served me so well in the past,' et cetera.
<< Great. Keep him engaged, Chielyth, L'sos says. >> Gahraith, trying to be patient. << Anyone else made any friends? They think I'm too-big-scary. >> More mental snorting from the brown. << And yeah. Stay on the same page everyone. Make like we're all still flying. And probably because they're not letting him, >> Gahraith pipes down, something 'listening' like in the ping of thoughts. Kind of like a whale's sonar.
L'sos at least is pretty decent at the 'brush moving' part. So're the two guys who split off. Melting away like shadows in the underbrush . Oooooo. Commando! That means two going one way and four another and it's not easy going, but it shouldn't take more than a few minutes to get to the spot Kai indicated and start working downslope toards the camp. So far so good?
<< 'Cause they tell him NO, >> Chielyth answers simply, poor Ripper, can't go flying! << He is afraid of dragons, >> she adds with a mental nose-wrinkle. << All the little ones are. They are to watch, and hide! >> B'kaiv stops dead with a hand held up, glares at M'try in a way that ought to set the other man's hair on fire. "You don't shut up," he promises in a venomous undertone, "I'm gonna sharding well break your jaw now, you hear me?" Apparently assuming that his threat is enough to ensure silence, the greenrider waves the others on again, making it to their designated drop spot in good time.
Laughter like the cool bubbling of a hidden forest stream touches along the minds of the gathered dragons. << Oh yes. Aside from the blue, there are... >> Suraveth pauses as her rider must assist in the actual numbering of the count. << Two lovely greens, an old brown and a very young one and - >> Another peal of watery delight trickles across the nearby minds. << A young queen, too! Oh, she feels like my weyrling does. >> "Her" weyrling being Ari's child Amiryn. Shaking her head ruefully, Ronari can't supress a grin at her green's antics, but that's quickly erased with B'kaiv's threat. "Break it later, greenrider," she hisses. "Now is /not/ the time."
That'll cow M'try, yep. And getting closer over the ridge will show some elements of a campsite. The fire's not lit, but there's barrels here and there and some boxes, all hidden under tarps with camo-patterns and branches over top. And yep, there's a cave though it's hard to say if that wagon is in there or not. L'sos makes a face as Gahraith passes on about the queen. "Shit ... a gold," he mutters under his breath. << Keep that queen distracted if you can Suraveth. Chat her up, find out where home is ... that kind of thing. But you know. Pleasant-like. >> There's men too, crouched down behind trees and barrels, holding still. Seems like all could go well until a shout goes up: those other riders must've gotten spotted and there's the sound of metal clashing out in the woods.
B'kaiv turns the exact same scowl on Ronari, unimpressed, but as M'try's clammed up, he doesn't add more. << Kai says there ain't hardly never golds! >> Chielyth shares, while Kai gets his scant troops in position. At the yell from their quarry he mouths a matching expletive and yanks his metal-wrapped baton free, yells a wordless reply and goes bounding, sliding down the slope, arms spread wide to control his fall and keep the weapon handy.
Suraveth's response is a wordless mental assent, tinged with the edge of hurt at the insinuation that she is ever anything but pleasant. 'Stepping back' a little ways from the other draconic minds, she immerses herself in an incredibly pleasant conversation with the small fair of firelizards. Only when the commotion breaks out can her response be heard by the others. << No, no, don't worry little ones. I won't let you come to harm. >> Perhaps it's a lapse in her mental control or perhaps it's a subtle heads-up to the others. There's a slow build of the cool blue waters; soothing and calming and offering safety in their deep embrace. The others may notice it, but it seems for now that the firelizards certainly do. It most certainly gives Ronari an added element of calm as she pointedly ignores that glare, draws a pair of wicked-looking knives from her boots and slides deftly behind B'kaiv.
As violence breaks out, in spite of Suraveth's and any other dragons' efforts, a couple of the lizards, the youngest one among them go flittering up out of the trees in alarm. The little one pops Between almost immediately. One of the greens hesitates, drawn by Suraveth's sending. The queen is a plucky sort and actually tries to corral the non-scaredies to help go after the riders out in the woods. L'sos' blade is free and he charges in too as some of the men detach themselves from their hiding spots to try to figure out how to defend. The riders are slightly outnumbered: 8 to 6.
Chielyth does her best to call Ripper to her, promising safety to the blue and whichever of his friends would like to come. It may not be flying, but it's away from the yells and hurting and violence, yes? Having made it to level ground, B'kaiv shows absolutely no hesitation in laying about with his baton, his face a mask of concentration. One man goes down with - at best - a dislocated knee; the greenrider doesn't stop to make sure he's unconscious, but heads straight for a rangy, unkempt man trying to put a knife into L'sos' back.
Well. 8 to 5, really. Someone gave M'try a knife, and he arguably has some idea how to use it after all that weyrling training, but unless they want to have a battle of wits (not likely), he's not exactly going to show himself as suddenly awesome or anything. He's not above kicking a man while he's down, though, and clocks Dislocated Knee right in the now Dislocated Jaw with his boot, so there. Apparently, this is his plan: follow Kai and just finish whatever the greenrider starts. Also to get punched in the head, which comes pretty quickly, dazes him, and has him lashing out blindly with that beltknife; if luck's on his side, he'll catch his attacker in the arm; if not, well. Let's just say that luck /is/ on his side after all.
And Suraveth /does/ make her best effort, she really does. But when that fails, she switches tact. Now she focuses her calming, soothing nature on the queen and her small band. << Those riders aren't here to hurt you. Don't harm them, please... >> Backed by the mental oomph that even Suraveth has, who knows if the plea will fall upon deaf firelizards or have some effect. Ronari, for her part, clashes with a big, hairy bloke. Knife for knife, the two clash for a little while before the greenrider simply loses patience and plants a solid boot right between his legs. When he curls in an instinctive reaction, she swings round again to kick him in the arse and overbalance him. About to tie his hands behind his back, she's interrupted by Suraveth's mental aside. << They're going here. >> Those images she got - mixed between the Fort Sea and other, warmer beaches with no black sand - are broadcast to the others. << They're carrying...something, but they do not know what. >> Wrenching her opponent's arm back hard enough to hear a soft 'snap', Ronari grunts her acknowledgement. << They're going home... >>
THe queen is nooot so easily dissuaded. Her /person/ is getting hurt! One of the remaining firelizards breaks off though and goes squawking off to find Sura herself to hide under her wing. L'sos is busy with the guy attacking him from the front, so it's a good thing Kai's got his back. He gets a nasty slash across his arm though and a kick to the gut that leaves him breathless for a second and barely able to get his blade up in time to deflect the next coming from his attacker. It's enough for an opening though as he suddenly charges forward football style to plant his head in the guy's mid-section. They go down sprawling. More shouts sound out in the woods, but a moment later, a little bloodied up, the other two riders show up. Apparently they've dealt with their dudes? One of them has a slowly spreading red stain along his thigh, soaking riding leather. The blue Chichi's gotten friendly with is so out of there and joins the little exodus towards dragons, cowering and trembling near her.
Two on one isn't fair, so Kai shows no compunction about surprising Rangy and dissuading him from further L'sos-harassment. He doesn't take the man down as swiftly as he did Dislocated Knee but it's only a few seconds of violent work before the man is on the ground, curled up and groaning, and Kai looking for the next. ...No next. "That all?" he calls, breathing hard, ignoring the own red dripping off his fingers to fall silently to the earth. Even though L'sos is undoubtedly doing the same already Kai takes a quick head-count, frowning, and rather absently draws back a leg to kick his target and keep him still.
Back where they left him, Mohraith is still halfway waiting for someone to tell him WHEN. He enjoys the sun-dappled shade, watches all the flitting firelizards, grumbles disapproval when Mait gets punched in the face-- << Duck next time. >>-- and waves his mental pompoms when the tables turn and the brownrider conks his attacker with the butt of his beltknife, nods satisfactorily when the man's knees buckle and he collapses in an unconscious puddle on the ground. "'All' is not precisely the adjective I would use," he informs breathlessly.
Secured, Ronari moves to roll her adversary to his back. Suffocating in the dirt would be an ignoble fate, to be sure. Unfortunately, in the process of her kindness, the man jerks forward and sinks his teeth into the side of her wrist. The air turns momentarily blue with Ari's swearing and she lifts her foot up this time; slamming it downwards in a vicious stomp on the goods she's already damaged. This has the desired result and free from his filthy teeth, the greenrider ignores the man's own cries of pain and ambles towards the rest of her patrol. Suraveth, delighted to have real company, does her best to carry on a pleasant conversation with the 'lizards hiding beneath her wings. Still, her rumble at Ronari's injury is anything /but/ pleasant. "Shardin' savages," Ronari spits, cradling her injured hand to her chest.
L'sos clearly forgot to tell Gahraith to tell Mohraith to go. It's a belated command then. << Go make sure no one got missed! >> Which is a little different than what was discussed. But. There you go. It's appparently not /quite/ all. Outnumbered now, two dudes make a break for it, but one of the other riders who was out in the woods goes running after to intercept. L'sos has a bit of a time getting his baddie strung up, but it happens. And then it's quiet again, but for heaving breath and little moans and groans of pain. "Others are tied up to some trees," the thigh-wound rider says and gestures that way, then suddenly passes out from blood loss. Thunk. "Shardit. Who's good with first aid?" L'sos, from the ground, tying his guy up. "As soon as they're all secure, start looking through this crap. See what you can find. Ronari? How many of them high-tailed it to Fort Sea?"
Distracted still, Kai mutters something foul and starts after the runners, only to thud to a stop three steps later when someone else - someone unwounded, it turns out - gets there first, and there's a sudden addition to the unconscious-body count. "Shit. I can look at him." He may not be any sort of healer, but weyrling first aid lessons are bound to come in handy. Tear off a piece of shirt, apply both pad and pressure to the wound... "Don't look good," he adds over his shoulder, to anyone who'll listen.
All blowing up dust, Mohraith springs aloft and goes to make sure no one got missed, happy to be contributing, convinced his contribution is the most useful. M'try, meanwhile, gawks a few seconds at the collapsed rider and reaches lamely into his pocket for a handkerchief, which-- smeared with paint as it is-- might do more harm than good. << I CAN BRING A HEALER IF YOU WANT. >>
"Most of the young ones. Three or four. The rest scattered. Warmer places." Ronari's answer is easily forthcoming but quickly delivered as the man goes down. B'kaiv might not have a healer's training, but she does. "I can't treat him with this hand until I clean it." Kneeling in the dirt next to the other greenrider, she looks around for a spare rider. "Run back to Sura and bring me the black satchel fixed to her straps?" She's got redwort and other supplies in there. "Cut away his leathers, please. Carefully."
<< Yes, Mohraith. Get a healer and reinforcements. We're going to need to bring them all back, L'sos says. And the stuff. >> Hazy box shapes. For now though, they're on their own to make sure the little group are secured and to start looking through the ill-gotten goods. It seems all of the humans at least have been accounted for though there's still the troubling thought of those lizards that got away. L'sos grunts at Ronari's claim. "Okay, that's good until a full on healer gets here." And then he's assigning uninjured rider to watch over the prisoners while the rest search through stuff and Ronari stabilizes the wounded rider. There'll be some transport going on later, likely, but for now things have quieted down until the reinforcements arrive.
B'kaiv gladly backs away to let Ronari take over, only noticing his own wound when an absent touch - how'd his jacket get cut? - elicits a wince and yet more swearing. The greenrider claps a hand over his upper arm and wanders to the group of tied prisoners, starts going through their belt pouches without so much as buying them dinner first. "--Shit. M'try. C'mere." He's staring down at a handful of... marks? he pulled from Rangy's belt, scowling at them like now they're the ones breaking radio silence in the middle of a raid.
Mohraith veers off, away, and into *between*, one can assume to make a trip back to the Weyr and collect someone who can determine if Bleeding to Death can be moved. His rider, watching Ronari work for a few seconds, is stunned out of his daze by the sound of his name, by the source of it, and he blinks toward B'kaiv with 'why' written all over his face. But, since Kai is bigger and M'try is a coward, he c'meres, rubbing his swelling cheek with the heel of his hand.
Watching like a hawk as one of the younger riders cuts away the leathers, Ronari accepts the satchel from the other one and digs one-handed through it for a bowl and a bottle of redwort. Most of it is pourd into the bowl, which is nestled in the dirt. The rest is drizzled over her bite wound until the residue runs clear. Now sterile, she directs her 'assistant' to pull gauze from the pack and wraps the injured hand. Now capable, she pulls clea rags from the satchel and soaks them in the redwort before laying them over the open wound and applying a steady, firm pressure. Only then does she notice B'kaiv and M'try's odd behavior. "What'd you find?" she calls over her shoulder, clipping her words to ignore the pain of pressing with an injured hand.
B'kaiv watches Ronari absently though most of his attention is on whatever's in his hand; he offers them up to M'try and and the same time announces bleakly, "Think it's counterfeit." The announcement turns a few heads from both sides of the tussle. Kai pushes to his feet to get away from Rangy's attempt at a kick, keeping himself between the downed raider and the brownrider. "Gotta check th' rest of 'em, see if there's more of this."
M'try takes a couple on his upturned palm, done rubbing his face, now rubbing the edges of those marks, slowly nodding. "Not that I'm a counterfeit expert, but I think the odds are slightly better than even that you're right." He drops the rest back where they came from, holding just one in between his thumb and forefinger to look over the top of it at Kicky McRangy down there. "This is a very bad business you're in," he says chidingly, already moving toward the other barrels, adding back to Ronari, "Mohraith will be bringing a Healer shortly. I think we better take inventory in the meantime."
Nodding once, Ronari lets the other riders deal with the matter of counterfeit or not, as well as the other stolen articles in their draw. She'll maintain pressure on the leg wound and try her damndest to get some water into the downed rider until the healer comes and can take over.
B'kaiv only snorts at M'try's attempt at setting the raiders back on the straight and narrow - amused for a change, and in far better humor now that he's gotten to beat the crap out of somebody. He heads after the brownrider to work on inventory, opening crates and barrels to investigate the truly mind-numbing contents (clothes, nuts, clothes, fabric, more nuts, more clothes). Some pictures are found and glanced at but no hue-and-cry raised, and by that time Mohraith is back with help. Eventually everyone is bandaged and back on their feet (except for the knifed man, who gets a stretcher), while the prisoners get taken off the raiding-party's hands. L'sos heads back to make his report to the Weyrleader, while everyone else is released with a 'job well done'.