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At Vimiath's bugle, Kraketh let out his own. It carried as loud as he could make it, as far as the wind would take it. The rain on his face and wings and body and tail were paid no mind as he twisted and climbed after her, focus only wavering enough to avoid potentially colliding with another dragon. Dear Vimiath, Kraketh of Southern Weyr chases you! Across the trees, the seas, the mountains and deserts I have flown! He beat his wings, fighting to catch up to her. He was at a slight disadvantage, having had to come to the Weyr from between. Be mine, won't you? So I may have a Weyr to call home again!

Jacomus' breath quickened as he watched the beasts fly. He fidgeted for a moment, scrubbing the back of his neck. His hair was now soaked, as were his for-once-clean clothes, and while he was under a ledge now, it did little to alleviate things. He shuddered, hurrying into the Weyr. Here, at least, he didn't worry that somebody would recognize him. He was unaware of any other former Southerners being at Western, but then... This was his first time. The flight was already starting to take its effect, possibly even on his flits, who were both nowhere to be found. Where had they gone to, he wondered.

--

Kraketh's Stats:
Strength: 12
Speed: 5
Dexterity: 8
Stamina: 23
Wits: 15
Total points:
Round 1: 1

Jageth launched from their ledge into the tempestuous night, leaving his bewildered rider to fend for himself. The rain hit his back harder than he'd been expecting, causing him to dip for a moment before redoubling his wing beats and slowly rising with the glowing gold. Fortunately, he didn't seem to be the only one who'd misjudged the take off, and remained within the thick of the pack. His rise was spurred on by the gold's word. He wasn't very talkative during flights, preferring to let his actions speak. But he did occasionally make exceptions...

Vimiath! You are inspiring. I couldn't picture a better backdrop for a flight than this! Let's chase the lightning back into it's clouds. I'd follow you into the darkest tempest.

---

Jageth's Stats
Bronze Dragon: +45
13 Turns: +10
Motivated: +10
Native to Western: +5
(70)

Strength: 14
Speed: 17
Dexterity: 12
Stamina: 15
Wits: 12

Jageth's score = 5

You speak words as handsome as you are, Tamlienth, but it is not words I am after! It is the embrace of my king – perhaps it will be you, if you show yourself worthy! You are valiant, Aratasth, but now is not the time for pity. Stretch your wings across the sky, and give yourself to the chase! Ivanhoth, such a cordial dragon. Why do you covet friendship among your adversaries? Only ONE may have me!

As she called out to those last few males, Vimiath’s voice gradually deepened its lusty timbre until it crescendoed into a deafening roar. Something about this night filled her with unnatural wrath. Not the pelting, cold rain on her face. Not the deadly flashes of lightning that seemed to crash all around them. Perhaps it was Belior, the round, full moon fighting its way through the black clouds. He would not outshine her!


Far below, Talela had given up trying to keep her lifemate in sight. The heavy rain made it impossible to look into the sky without being blinded by the cold, wet darts. She could hear wind begin to whistle above the caldera, and was thankful that the bowl was sheltered from its blasts. She was soaked through and shivering by the time she reached her weyr. She uncovered a glow, but still staggered around as if drunk, staying with Vimiath in her head while she gathered blankets and towels. If any of the chasing dragons’ riders showed up from the bowl-entrance, they might be just as grateful as she was for something dry to wrap up in.

She yanked the blanket off of her bed and practically leaped off the ground as the horrible little firelizard made itself known again, screeching with annoyance as she took its cover away. The nasty miniature gold hissed and spat as if the storm she was hiding from was all Talela’s fault. Then she sprang from the mattress, right at the woman’s face, blinking between just before her claws made contact.


Eyes whirling more red than violet now, Vimiath abruptly rolled sideways and tore through the air toward the rim of the caldera. Some of those browns and bronzes, as much as she wanted them, were too close for this stage of their night dance. With a strange, high-pitched laughter, she spread her wings wide and aimed right for the sheer rock wall. She could hear Talela trying to control her, telling her to pull up, and growled, No! Not yet! Gusts of wind clattered through her wingsails, the racket as the rattling of bones. Nearer, nearer to the wall she dove, until Talela screamed in her head.

TOO CLOSE! TURN, VIMIATH!

The queen of the night waited a beat longer before giving in. It would be her decision when to turn aside. And turn she did, twisting to the right… far too close to a collision with the caldera wall, she’d admit later, but now… she only knew rage.

The lovely gold seemed to like danger, this made Atalith's twin hearts bit more wildly in his chest as he let a deep roar out. He watched her as they flew, doing his best to keep up. He was near the head of the pack, with only one dragon between he and the lovely gold. This would go on longer, he knew that, but knowing he was near the front spurned him on quicker and made him even more eager to go all out.

The sight of the caldera wall looming ahead of them as Vimiath lead them towards it didn't phase Atalith, even as R'tansky took a small moment for a sharp intake of breath as he had chosen that moment to look in on his dragon and through his mind. Atalith almost lost where Vimiath had turned when she did finally turn away from hitting the wall and it caused his own turn to be slower then he would have wanted.

Too close to the wall, Atalith turned, trying to drift into it quicker. His talons scratched and screeched against the rock wall, causing rubble to fall down, hopefully there wouldn't be anyone below who would get in the way. His legs began to run against the wall, trying to gain more speed as he beat his wings harder to make up for the fact that he had messed up his turn.

Beautiful Vimiath! Your thirst for danger excites and elates me! Let us take wing into the very thunderclouds and dodge the lightning as it begins to form! Let us feel the crackle of electricity race over our hides!

Calm your thrill seeking ways. R'tansky's voice reached Atalith through the thrill of everything and a rumble was what he received back for his troubles of trying to make sure his dragon didn't end up smashed against the rock face or electrocuted.



Atalith's Stats
Strength: 12
Speed: 17
Dexterity: 11
Stamina: 12
Wits: 13

Dex + Wits
11 + 13 = 24

First Round: 12
Second Round: 9

Total: 21

Recovered from his close encounter with a lightning bolt, Eorawth bellowed in frustration and rejoined the chase. Oh beautiful Vimiath, my heart sings for you! My desire burns for you! He flapped his wings harder to catch up as Vimiath took off like a shot -- ignoring the caldera wall ahead.

On the ground, Z'haq stumbled through the halls, shirt forgotten but pants remembered, making his way toward Resa's weyr. He had nearly screamed as Eorawth was grazed by a lightning bolt and could nearly feel the searing pain on his own flank. "Resa.." he muttered; then it occured to him through the thickness of dragon lust: she would have been evacuated from the Weyr along with the other golds and their riders. What now?

Locating the nearest exit, he made his way outside into the pouring rain to join the others driven by the gold flight. He'd find someone this night...

High above, Eorawth followed the flight speeding toward the caldera wall, blinded by the gleaming golden dragon who led them all. Suddenly the wall loomed large -- close, too close -- and Vimiath veered to the right. He tried to follow, but the confusion of suitors in front of him was too much, and he veered left just before flying headlong into the rock wall, the tip of his right wing scraping the stone. Letting out a mighty roar, the bronze soared for a distance, then wheeled around again, looking to rejoin the fray.

*******
Eorawth's Stats:

Strength: 14
Speed: 15
Dexterity: 13
Stamina: 14
Wits: 12

First Round: 14 + 15 = 29, actual roll = 1
Second Round: 13 + 12 = 25, actual roll = 3


TOTAL SCORE: 4 *facepalm*

Sometimes there were benefits to hanging back at the rear of the pack during a chase. It was wholly unsatisfying, of course, but it meant that Nasath saw Vimiath peel away from her suitors to streak directly at....a wall! He was of course pounding after her himself, still slowly building up to a faster pace thanks to his bulk, but he had much more time to react, and to veer off...!

Alas, agility was something the bronze had even less of than speed, so even with the awareness that he needed to turn, it felt like there was not enough air to catch to pull his heavy form away. Below in the weyr he felt a thrill of fear from A'iel as the stone rushed up too fast, but then, ah! What luck! The bronze had instinctively reached out with his claws, a futile attempt to stop himself from plastering to the caldera's side, but at the last moment as his wings strained and he was about ready to close his eyes against the shock--something soft! Soft compared to solid stone at least! Another dragon had slipped between him and the wall, and the bronze bounced off of some part of him. It all happened too fast to know for sure, and it was too dark to tell, but the colission was just enough to let him redirect, now winging away after the gold with a triumphant scream Vimiath! You see? I may not be the swiftest, but I have luck! Luck in seeing your shining form flying ahead of me, luck to pass down to our eggs, if you only let me catch you!

A'iel was a mess, meanwhile. Wet socks, lost and still in a daze, and it had been a lucky grab for a handrail alone that'd kept him from toppling down a flight of stairs when a wall of stone had suddenly come screaming up in his vision at dizzying speed. The near miss had left him gasping and rigid, clinging to that same banister until he felt certain that Nasath was indeed alright. He ought to be finding his way to the gold's rider's weyr, but between the risks his bronze was taking and still not knowing where he was going it was making it very difficult. Maybe it'd be better to just stop for a moment and see if any other chasing males' riders come by to follow...



Nasath's Stats:
Strength: 22
Speed: 11
Dexterity: 7
Stamina: 17
Wits: 11

Round 1: Strength (22) + Speed (11). Range of 1 – 33, actual roll: 2 (Nasath pls)
Round 2: Dexterity (7) + Wits (11). Range of 1 – 18, actual roll: 8 (better!)
Round 3:
Round 4:
Round 5:

Total score: 10

They are not my adversaries.  You are beautiful, and I would be your companion if you wished it, and they feel the same.  I believe our shared desire is a bond, not a cause for ugliness!  There is no room for ill will in either of my hearts! Ivanhoth declared, not defiant but bursting with affection - for the gold, for the bronzes, for his fellow browns, for the blues and greens not in the sky with them.  Pretty as it might be though, and with deep and genuine feeling, such division of his focus between Vimiath and all the others was perhaps not in his best interest if he wanted to be serious competition.  While he didn't splatter himself against the caldera wall, he was not as quick to turn as he could have been.  Should have been.

He banked off it clumsily, though he wasn't nearly as bad off as one of the others.  He bleated concern and alarm at Blundarth, but the bronze was in the air again soon enough, allaying his worries that serious harm had been done.  Flying at night, in a storm, was dangerous enough!

Ivanhoth's Stats

Strength: 15
Speed: 15
Dexterity: 15
Stamina: 10
Wits: 5
Dexterity+Wits=20

First Roll: 3
Second Roll: 9
Current Total: 12

Will add as soon as can, currently in class waiting for presentations to start.