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 Posted: Mon Sep 14, 2009 8:34 pm
Dragons of Telgar, heed my words. As Hannele spoke with the Weyrlings, Elenneth uncurled from her weyrledge, launching into the sky, soaring above the Weyr, her Weyr, a feeling of protectiveness rising within her so deep that she would have died for it. An incident has occurred where a disease has been brought to our Weyr, that threatens Ours. The disease has no name, but the signs are vast, and they can cause death in Ours. If Yours starts to run a fever, sneezes or coughs frequently, experiences drastic changes in temperature with no prodding, faints, vomits excessively, has seizures, odd rashes, or extreme fatigue, then send them to a Healer immediately. The queen continued her lazy spiral in the air, excluding Svrieth from her words in order to not cause the older queen distress, yet including all – from the newly Hatched to the old and weary. We can help Ours to prevent the spread, but we must not lose sight of our fight against Thread. It is our duty, to Telgar, to Ours, to serve against both these evils.
Elenneth sharply turned up, flashing in the winter sun, ignoring the cold that bit through her hide and the cracks formed as she challenged the sky simply for the purpose of showing them. Showing them that they could fight, that all was not lost, that they, dragons could be help protect their Weyrs as they had always done, as they were bred to do. Have Yours tell the non-bondeds they meet, as collecting all the Weyrfolk in one place would be too taxing. Spread the word as best you can, to the whers, to the firelizards, that our Weyr is under attack.
If we fight, my brothers and sisters, my children, then we can succeed. As suddenly as she had begun to rise, her wings tucked in, and the gold plummeted towards the ground, to her Weyr, a trumpet of victory sounding. Telling them not to worry, reminding them or their proud heritage, of their place in the world. To protect Pern, to protect Theirs.
The queen landed in the Weyrbowl on all fours, raising her wings, her head, uttering another triumphant roar, calling to her soldiers, her friends, her family. Have you or Yours anything to say?
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Posted: Tue Sep 15, 2009 3:24 pm
B'ron and Hath
B'ron and Hath hear, and will fight! Hath cried to Elenneth, bugling a loud challenge to both tangible and intangible enemies of the Weyr. The brown rose up in the sky, riderless, to fly a in a wide sweep over the weyrbowl, landing on his ledge after making a complete circle.
In the harsh glare of the sun, B'ron was visible as he stood on the ledge watching Hath. As soon as the news had been relayed and Hath had bounded into the air the brownrider had run to the ledge, a sense of urgency carrying him out to look over Telgar. When the brown landed the rider reached out his hand, touching the warm, soft hide to provide strength as well as draw it. His first thought was for Hath, the second for Ixiara and her Ghinath. He gazed out at the Weyr, watching the last traces of normalcy vanish with his keen hazel eyes.
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Posted: Tue Sep 15, 2009 4:56 pm
I will watch mine and her flit without fail! We will fight till the end of it all!
The little dragon sat up on her stone couch. They'd live though this. And she'll make sure of it!
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Posted: Tue Sep 15, 2009 6:34 pm
I understand and will spread the word. Lumenth bugled his reply.
N'gal regarded his dragon in surprise. "What is it, Lumenth?" After Lumenth's explanation N'gal looked out over the Weyr from their ledge, worried. Plagues were rare but when they did happen they could be devastating.
~ ~ ~
Marenth hears and is ready. Marenth growled low in his throat. He would not let His get sick.
Daria shook her head slowly as she heard the news from Marenth. She hoped they didn't lose too many.
~ ~ ~
Velimir started as Ink appeared next to him chattering in agitation. He got brief images that didn't make much sense until he got the little bronze to calm down enough to be coherent. "A plague!" Velimir breathed, his heart skipping a beat.
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Posted: Tue Sep 15, 2009 7:06 pm
{{First RP post in the guild, ever!!! If I do something wrong, correct me.}}
'Do you hear that my F'ris?' the often awkward bronze lifted his head slightly, listening to what he believed to be the overzealous trumpeting of one of the gold dragons. To him, the disease did not worry him. Their healers were capable and could heal the riders and others who fell pray to this illness. He was hardly frightened by the risk, but let out a complient. 'I swear,' to whatever dragon decided to listen. Ikadith lowered his head slightly as F'ris hand lifted to rub the darker skin around his eyes. 'That's the spot.'
"Isn't that always the spot?" F'ris chuckled slightly, though he hardly sounded amused. Ikadith probbed his riders mind for a mere instant, as images as Vianna flashed abruptly through F'ris mind. Then it went dark, as if the rider realized that his thoughts were broadcasting a bit loudly. F'ris was more worried than his dragon, which was rare. All for good reason, it seemed. F'ris had lost someone dear to him to disease.
'You are more worried about Favian than you are worried about yourself,' Ikadith observed. 'You are more terrified of his falling down than you are of thread. You are very odd sometimes F'ris. I worry about Favian too because he is so important to you, but shouldn't you worry a little more about yourself?'
"We've learned," he said, grouping together dragonriders, "That one day we're going to die, by thread, old age, or some other serious going on. However, there's nothing that tells me that my son is going to die one day while I still breath. I would hate to see him hurt." Of course, he was being rather foolish, so Ikadith though.
'If you hurt,' he remarked. 'So does the little you.'
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