Cassie strides over from the Weyrhall.

J'mis watches Vagranth land nearby.

Elnebeth enters from the lush lakeside meadow.

Kytiara strides over from the Weyrhall.

Telinda reajusts her flamethrower on her shoulder, giving a smile to those assembled in the field. Not that she'll be fighting actively as such, but she'll be around.

Elnebeth struggles to carry a spare canister across the landing field towards the Queens' Wing.

Shaun stares wide eye'd at the riders, realizing what he just steped into. He nods in reverence to all and begins to walk to the away.

Kytiara jogs out, shaking bean pods off her clothes, out of her hair, etc. She stops suddenly, watching the confused organization and wondering what to do...

J'mis swaggers, the way he usually does, and leers after a few of the female candidates. He salutes the Weyrleader (who really is here) and takes up a prepartory position near his lifemate, feeding him some 'stone.

Shaun strides over to the Weyrhall.

Telinda flickers a half smile to her fellow members of her wing, grinning at Eliora as the Weyrwoman checks everyone over.

G'lor doubles-checks Riaharth's straps, then starts feeding him some firestone.

Elnebeth carefully sets the canister on the ground next to the others and looks around for what she's supposed to help with next. Opting for maximum dirt, as usual, she joins the firestone crew.

Vagranth burps. He's so good at that.

Elnebeth grins impudently at Vagranth as she brings J'mis another sack of firestone.

Kytiara wrinkles her nose as aperson shoves her over to a group re-piling firestone to a easily reached location. Heaving, she manages to keep up, though being six inches shorter doesn't help much.

Ginevrath rumbles and pokes her nose into a nearby sack of firestone as her rider checks her straps. The crunching of breaking firestone can be heard.

J'mis grins and smiles at Elnebeth, eyes rolling over her form, distracted even at a time like this.

The field is hectic with the hustle and bustle of the Weyr being mobilized to help with Threadfall preparations. People are running back and forth, orders are being shouted, and above it all is the constant crunching of the dragons chewing firestone.

Elnebeth is only 13, and has no real form.:-) She heads back to the pile of firestone sacks and grabs another one, shlepping it acrodd the landing field towards a brown and his rider.

J'mis isn't worried about form, its female, it walks. And no, he's not sober, nothing unusual there

Kytiara looks up, realizing that the bags are about as stacked as they're gonna get, and optsfor passing them to the nearest hand groping for firestone. Heaving and grunting, she almost wishes that they were mere fourty-lb feed bags...

G'lor releases Waristin, who flies off to land nearby.

Cassie goes and grabs two sacks from a nearby Candidate, and then returns to Gin's side, attaching them to her straps as refills. Two more sacks on the other side, and she relaxes a bit, helping Gin to finish chewing. "G'lor!" she calls. "Who am I with?"

Elnebeth drags a sack of firestone to Riaharth's side.

G'lor looks over the crowd of assembled riders, then shouts back "You can join Threadbane, Cassie. Line Ginevrath up behind Charloth.

G'lor smiles distractedly at the young woman who brings him more 'stone, then ties it to Riaharth's straps. He scans the crowd again, checking that his wing is prepared.

Cassie nods, poking Gin's side so that she'll shift over to join the others. "Enough stone, love. Anymore and you'll not be getting off the ground."

Elnebeth trots back to the pile of firestone sacks, looking for anyone in need of more 'stone...

Dragon> Ginevrath bespoke Southern Weyr with << She exaggerates. I could still get off the ground. I am strong. >>

J'mis tugs firmly on Vagranth's straps and strings up yet another bag of Stone, looking around and waiting for the mount up signal.

Kytiara holds out sacks for any last-minute grabbing, kicking a few into line..the stack is getting smaller, and smaller...

Nerian strides over from the Weyrhall.

Elnebeth scrambles to stuff the hunks of firestone that spilled out of a split sack into a whole sack.

Kytiara sighs, and goes around the pile to pick up a burst bag, looks like someone piled carelessly...after spotting a usable sack, the stone is re-sacked, and re-piled - correctly this time!

G'lor says "All right, wings. Mount up!"

Nerian helps wherever she's needed.

J'mis grabs a one-handed hold of Vagranth's riding straps and vaults to his lifemate's shoulders.

Kytiara smiles slightly at Elnebeth, then rolls her eyes at some of the younger candidates, who seem to think this great fun and are hopping over sacks, piling them upside-down, and other such things.

Niall enters from the lush lakeside meadow.

Telinda tries not to look too hopeless, instead she bustles around trying to do what she can helping the other queenriders.

Nerian is taking this dead seriously, like most of those brought up in a Weyr.

Niall comes skidding in, "Okay, what can I do?"

Telinda chuckles at Niall, "Well, why don't you help the groundcrews sort out 'throwers. Make sure there's one for every candidate too!"

Niall nods and tears off in that direction, and expertly starts inspecting them and issuing them with well practiced precision.

Kytiara straightens the pile of sacks, filling in the gaps, righting bags, and bagging loose firestone. As soon as this is completed, she peers around, then spots the old-sack pile, and piles the useless sacks atop it.

Niall just hands out flamethrowers as people grab for them, double checking they ride on the shoulders right and checking the fittings.

Kaleum walks over from the Northern Weyrs.

Kytiara busys herself with the little things, making sure sacks aren't about to topple over, that they are easily reachable, and that no lose stones are present for anyone to trip over. Just the little things that make big things easier.

Kaleum walks toward the Weyrhall.

Dragon> Riaharth bespoke Southern Weyr with << Everybody ready? >>

Nerian proves sufficient at getting things done while staying out of the way, and helps where necessary.

Dragon> Vagranth bespoke Southern Weyr with << I'm ready. Of course >>

Dragon> Nevorth bespoke All with << ready for what??? >>

Dragon> Southern Weyr sense that Tiarnath rumbles angrily << Thread. It comes. >>

Cassie grabs a one-handed hold of Ginevrath's riding straps and vaults to her lifemate's shoulders.

Ginevrath warblecroons softly as Cassie settles herself between her to upper neckridges and straps herself in. She waits patiently for Cassie's command.

Kaleum walks over from the Weyrhall.

Atop Riaharth, G'lor looks around one more time, then gives the signal to fly.

Riaharth soars to the sky over Southern Weyr.

In the northern sky, Riaharth moves towards the the sky over Southern Weyr.

Elnebeth struggles to get into a flamethrower's harness, to help with the groundcrew.

Ginevrath soars to the sky over Southern Weyr.

In the northern sky, Ginevrath moves towards the the sky over Southern Weyr.

Nevorth enters from the lush lakeside meadow.

Kaleum uses Nevorth's front leg to climb up to the neckridges and the riding straps.

Nevorth flies toward the sky over Southern Weyr.

In the northern sky, Nevorth moves towards the the sky over Southern Weyr.

Vagranth soars to the sky over Southern Weyr.

In the northern sky, Vagranth moves towards the the sky over Southern Weyr.

Elnebeth staggers a little under the weight of the 'thrower as she gets it settled, but glares at another Candidate who suggests that maybe she's not strong enough for the task.

Feeling very small, Kyti glances at the 'throwers...almost as tall as she is. Not quite, but almost...

Kytiara sighs slightly as a person waves her away from the huge throwers - for now, at least.She gets placed on numbweed duty, carrying pots back and forth, back and forth...

In the northern sky, A dark patch of grey looms on the horizon. The colorful wings of Southern Weyr fly to meet their enemy, to protect their home.

Elnebeth gets placed in a line of Candidates with flamethrowers waiting near Telinda.

Telinda flickers a smile to Elnebeth, her eyes watching the skies for dragons, far over the lake.

Nerian wanders over to folks with flamethrowers.

Elnebeth strains her eyes to watch the dragons. She whispers something to the Candidate next to her, something about "exciting" and "doing something".

In the northern sky, Vagranth flies slightly to the left of Threadbane wing as it pans out into the sky. He bugles as he watches the ancient menance start to dominate the horizon, eyes whirling red in anger.

In the northern sky, As the dragons meet the leading edge, a patch of grey tangles drifts towards Vagranth.

Kytiara is jogging past with a rather large pot, untill she almost falls flat on her face, tripping over a mislayed sack. Two youngsters are startled from skygazing, and sheepishly move the sack as Kyti plods away, looking carefully in front of her.

Elnebeth swings around to glance at the eggs on the beach, almost hitting her neighbor, who steps aside with a muttered oath.

In the northern sky, Nevorth breaks a little out of formation to flame at some thread that has fallen.

In the northern sky, Vagranth tilt a wingtip slightly to put him almost directly in the tangled mess that drops towards him. With a bellow, fire gushes forth from his maw, blasting in coruscating flame at the writhing strands, turning it into hot fragments, which cools to grey dust.

Tesan enters from the lush lakeside meadow.

Tesan looks apprehensively up at the sky. "I heard all the commotion. How much longer?"

In the northern sky, Dark grey fills the air, as do the orange flickers of flame that char it to harmless ash. Dragons dart and dive and soar to avoid the dangerous strands, and burn them before they can fall to the ground below.

Corbyn walks over from the Weyrhall.

Nerian says "I think leading edge is being met."

Corbyn comes out, several bundles under his arms and a somewhat grim expression on his face.

Niall stretches his arms after handing out the flamethrowers. He ensures that the ones set aside for the Candidates are in working order

In the northern sky, Nevorth returns to formation and awaits a command from the wingleader.

Telinda looks like she'd rather be elsewhere. Either up with her lifemate or at least on the beach. If the front gets too close you can guess where she'll be. She nods, "They're flaming" she says, hefting the ever present flamethrower.

In the northern sky, Ginevrath dives down to cover another pair who just returned from a trip *between*, charring the thread that threatened them. With a warning bugle to the young-ones, she flips her wings back up, heading back to her position on the right-side of Threadbane.

Corbyn goes in and out of the infirmary, assisted in carrying gear by number of apprentices and junior journeymen.

Elnebeth ooos as she points out almost each and every flame to her equally entranced neighbor.

Kytiara sighs, and is put to work arranging the numbweed, ever present in times like these "Well, We've pleanty of this stuff, if it's any consolation" it probably isn't, but still...

Tesan picks up the dull metal tank and adjusts its strap. "It's better than doing without."

Nerian nods, glancing over at the other Weyrbrat. When thread is falling she can ignore the fact that boys are icky.

In the northern sky, Way below the formations of dragons, the Queen's wing dispatches any of the harmful matter that escapes the wing formation above. Flamethrowers flickering on and off here and there as Thread is charred to dust.

Niall shouldes his own harness and tank.

Corbyn doesn't look at all entranced. If he wasn't so busy and and aware of the job he's got ahead, he'd probably be terrified. But as it is, he's here and there, directing the apprentices with short gestures.

Kytiara would hope that noone would ever have to do without, but settles for bringing more pots over, opening some and stacking other, ever ready for the occasional score...

Corbyn nods, "Thank you, Kytiara."

Kytiara smiles slightly, guesturing "You're welcome. I thought it would be easier for you."

In the northern sky, Nevorth darts to the left seering stands to dust and then goes *between* to avoid another tangle.

Corbyn points out, "Don't take the lids all the way off, just loosen them. I don't want those pots getting contaminated by dust."

In the northern sky, A green dives to obliterate a patch of the deadly gray, and gets her wing in the way. She blinks Between, reappearing a moment later to rejoin her wingmates, apparently not injured.

Tesan watches the clump of dragons uneasily, fingering the handle of the flamethrower.

Kytiara reajusts the lids, carefully placing them where they cannot be turned over "The others I left closed...didn't want them to be turned over..."

Corbyn winces as he watches the dragons taking chances.

Elnebeth checks the wand of her flamethrower again, carefully *not* pointing it at anyone.

Telinda takes a step forward, hand held to shield her eyes to see the action far out on the horizon. Occasionally she blinks, seeing it rthrough a different perspective perhaps.

In the northern sky, A gust of wind blows a clump of Thread closer to Ginevrath.

In the northern sky, Nevorth bugles a warning to the green and then blows flame at a tangle that is near his right wing. It falls to the ground as grey powder. Nevorth alters his speed a bit and goes after another tangle.

Corbyn nods, and points to one of the large troughs. "Kytiara, could you and someone else start filling that with water, please..."

In the northern sky, Vagranth bugles as a brown darts *between* in front of him, leaving him a clump of thread he's way to close to flame without burning himself to smithereens. With a rumble of warning to the green behind him, he blinks *between* reappearing with praticised precision in formation a heartbeart later, just after the clump was effectively dismissed from the skies.

Kytiara nods quickly, and steps to a bucket, peering around for 'someone else'

In the northern sky, Ginevrath twists to the side, the thread too close for her to flame...

In the northern sky, Ginevrath disappears into Between.

In the northern sky, Ginevrath emerges from Between with a blast of cold air!

Tesan puts down his flamethrower next to one of the troughs. "I'll help. Got a second bucket?"

Corbyn nods, "There's plenty of buckets."

Tesan picks one of them up and starts a one-person brigade to the end of the trough.

Niall scampers off with a squad of ground crew, running off with a set look on his face, and as he passes by you hear two distinct words, "Good labor."

Niall walks toward the lakeside meadow.

Corbyn pauses for breath, watching to see that the water gets to it's proper level. Then another journeyman calls him, and he takes Tesan's arm for a moment, pointing to the level it should be filled to before hurrying off again.

Elnebeth shifts from one foot to another, watching the dragons fighting and the ground crews hurrying off.

Kytiara guestures to another large bucket, and rushes off to fill hers, heaving under the weight of the water before pouring it into the trough.

Tesan nods. "Got it." Trudge, trudge, sploosh, drench. Oops. Trudge, trudge, sploosh...

Corbyn confers with one of the dragonhealers, listening attentively, and runs off on an errand for her.

In the northern sky, The grey menace edges closer to the Weyr, slowly moving across the lake. The multi-colored wings continue their attacks, flaming here and there, reducing the threatening strands to dust.

Kytiara dumps another bucketful "One more should do it..."

In the northern sky, Vagranth furls his wings, ever so slightly, causing him to drop but a fraction in the air, and put him into formation once more, having moved out to attack a line of thread in another rider's pathway. He roars, flame spilling forth in a red-hot sheet to sear the writhing grey mass in front of him into hot dust. J'mis, sitting back in his straps on the bronze's neck, lifts a hand, wiping grey soot from goggles.

In the northern sky, Nevorth speeds up and flames a huge mass, belching flames that charr the thread to dust and it harmlessly falls to the ground.

Tesan hefts his bucket. "Let's hope so." It does; any more and the trough will overflow as soon as anything's put into it.

Kytiara nods at the trough, as if it could see her, and neatly stacks her bucket, looking around for a new loose end that needs tying...

Tesan pauses for a moment to catch his breath before shouldering his flamethrower again. "So far so good. Is anyone hurt?"

Corbyn comes back from his errand, and looks around. "Just a few minor scores," he replies, "They've been and gone back again, already."

In the northern sky, Below, from within the Queen's wing, weyrwoman Remarra's gold flies out from the formation, wings beating as the gold goes after a clump that had escaped the riders above. Thumb toggles the flamethrower and sends a spurt of acid-induced flame at the menace. Nodding to herself, she and her lifemate return to their previous formation.

Kytiara sighs, and stands by, waiting for something to need her assistance

Elnebeth shifts the weight of the flamethrower on her back and waits, watching the dragons intently, to be told where to go.

In the northern sky, Nevorth winks in and out of *between* blowing flame at grey masses of thread. Narrowly avoiding a huge tangle that nearly touches his wing.

Tesan edges over away from a clump of Candidates to an open patch of ground.

In the northern sky, Thread starts to taper off, though the deadly strands still fall.

Kytiara jumps up at the sound of a high-pitched voice calling for her from within the weyrhall. Quickly excusing herself, she heads within

Kytiara strides over to the Weyrhall.

In the northern sky, Nevorth bugles at G'lor and Riaharth to warn them of the huge grey mass falling above them.

In the northern sky, Ginevrath echoes Nevorth's warning call.

In the northern sky, Riaharth chases the errant patch, and flames it to oblivion. The heat affects the air currents and a second patch is blown off course, sripping silver fire down G'lor's and Riaharth's left side. The brown wing gives out, no longer able to support flight, and the pair falls with an anguished draconic bugle.

In the northern sky, Nevorth quickly dives out of formation to help the falling brown, calling to Ginevrath to help.

In the northern sky, Vagranth doesn't, he's too busy flaming what passes to the other side of Riaharth, taking out the harm from that side, but not being able to do anything about the other.

In the northern sky, Tiarnath moves towards the the sky over the Landing Field.

Nerian starts as she hears the bugle, even here. "Who got hit?"

Dragon> Nevorth bespoke Southern Weyr with << Riaharth is falling!!! >>

Elnebeth points towards a falling brown shape. "That one!"

Corbyn jumps, "Aw, shells," he swears, and redoubles his efforts to hurry.

In the northern sky, Atop Riaharth, G'lor sags in the riding straps, which stay in place even with some of the ends flapping loose.

Tesan winces. "Ow. Where's the hole?" At once he looks upward, watching for the clump in question.

In the northern sky, Tiarnath bugles, loud and harsh, as she leaves the clutch to catch Riaharth. Eliora and Maristh dealing with the patch that falls towards the ground, far away enough from the clutch, the rest of the leading edge now gone. Slipping underneath the falling dragon, she starts matching her wingbeats to his downward velocity.

Avatar flies over from the Weyrhall.

Avatar screams and screechs with alarm at the dragon falling from the skies.

In the northern sky, Tiarnath, matching the speed with a quick beat of her wings, comes up under the smaller dragon, holding him along her spine.

Dragon> Tiarnath bespoke Southern Weyr with << I have him! >>

Telinda frowns, deep in concentration as her lifemate goes through rescue measures. Not with her in physical contact, she nonetheless talks Tia through the reflexive maneourvres all the queens have practised.

Nerian strains to watch, holding her breath.

Dragon> Tiarnath bespoke Southern Weyr with << We go between to kill Thread! >>

In the northern sky, Riaharth drops onto Tiarnath's back, a position he might envy in a better situation. G'lor still manages to stay in place.

In the northern sky, Nevorth bugles loudly with alarm.

A pair of dragonhealers rush out into their fields, their lifemates leaping upwards to assist the queen.

In the northern sky, Tiarnath disappears *between*, the brown still with her all the way, reappearing some moments later, to start a careful descent to the landing field, now closer from her journey *between*. Slowly, slowly, almost skimming the ground with the extra weight.

In the northern sky, Tiarnath flies toward the broad Landing Field below.

Tiarnath moves towards the the broad Landing Field below.

In the northern sky, Riaharth soars to the broad Landing Field below.

Riaharth moves towards the the broad Landing Field below.

Nerian stays well out of the way.

In the northern sky, Nevorth circles to make sure the young queen has the brown and then joins his formation to continue flaming the front away from the clutch.

Elnebeth turns to stare at the lacerations in Riaharth's wing.

In the northern sky, Vagranth bugles at the Wingleaders injury, but quickly reforms to fill in the gaps, Threadbane's wingsecond moving forward. The dragons follow the line of thread as it moves away from the clutch, cautious with the precious eggs so close, not close enough to be threatened, but close enough to be cautious.

Avatar croons to Riaharth.

Tesan winces sympathetically. "Oh, *ouch*."

Tiarnath dips her wing, as she prepares to transfer the brown to the ground, Hannenth popping out of *between* to catch Riaharth by his undamaged joints. As Tiarnath eases out, Hannenth gently supports his body, lowering it to the ground.

Corbyn joins the cluster of people who approach the dragon's side, attempting to unfasten the riding straps and bring the rider down to the ground.

Nerian watches, staying far back. "Oooooooh." Her tone says it all though -- she's seen this before, and it's bad.

Tiarnath now free of the brown, rumbles reassuringly to him and then with a quick nudge to her lifemate she lifts off into the sky, back to her clutch.

Tiarnath flies toward the sky over Southern Weyr.

In the northern sky, Tiarnath moves towards the the sky over Southern Weyr.

Riaharth doesn't protest the handling, either shock or good mind control from the queens is inhibiting him. Myra rushes over, her face pale, but she starts treating her patient in a professional manner. Just one brief lapse, as she begs Corbyn to take good care of G'lor.

In the northern sky, Nevorth dips low and flames some lingering masses of grey which instantly burst into flames and then dissolve into dust. The massess appear to be thining.

Elnebeth chews on her lower lip as she watches the Healers swarm over Riaharth and G'lor.

In the northern sky, Ginevrath is only a green, so falls out due to weariness.

In the northern sky, Ginevrath soars to the broad Landing Field below.

Ginevrath moves towards the the broad Landing Field below.

Cassie slides off of Ginevrath with practiced grace.

Ginevrath croons softly, and settles herself down as Cassie unstraps herself and slips to the ground.

Nerian says softly and repeatedly "oh shards oh shards oh shards oh shards."

Telinda shakes her head, clearing it of other things it seems and rushes forward to assist Myra where she can.

Elnebeth is pulled out of the line of flamethrower wielding Candidates and told to shed her 'thrower and fetch wine. She does so with alacrity, sprinting into the weyrhall and reappearing a few moments later, laden with wineskins.

In the northern sky, With almost the same suddeness as a dragon blinking from *between* Thread stops raining its menance. Gone. In its place the sound of dragon wings, the air thrumming over the aileron as they all seem to take a pause, making sure it really has gone this time.

In the northern sky, Nevorthbugles an all clear sign to those in formation behind him and prepares to land in formation.

Elnebeth nearly drops a wineskin in her haste to bring them to the Healers.

Tesan also stays out of the way of those helping Riaharth, though he tries to see what's going on.

Corbyn sighs, helping several other people to lower G'lor to one of the waiting pallets.

Someone produces a very sharp knife and the rider's clothes are quickly slashed away to provide access to the nasty, black-edged burns.

Myra seems to have everything well in hand, gesturing candidates left right and centre to slather Riaharth with numbweed, and smiling her thanks as they do so.

Elnebeth hands off the last of her wineskins and joins the small horde of Candidates helping to drench Riaharth in numbweed.

Telinda looks around to several of the candidates and calls out over the confusion, "Bring the dragonhealer a table so she can see where she's working. Something out of the hall will be fine!"

In the northern sky, Nevorth soars to the broad Landing Field below.

Nevorth moves towards the the broad Landing Field below.

Nerian and a few others dart off at Telinda's command.

Nevorth folds his wings and croons to Riaharth.

Kaleum You slide down using the riding straps for support until you reach Nevorth's front leg where you can jump down onto the ground.

Myra doesn't bother acknowledging Telinda's request, she just concentrates on the ruined wing of the brown. Eyes so used to dealing with injuries, though nothing this bad for quite awhile, quickly dismiss the shoulder injury as the less serious.

Tesan is one of those who runs off with Nerian. A few moments later they return, lugging a table between the five of them.

Kaleum rushes over. "Is G'lor.... is he okay?"

In the northern sky, Vagranth flies toward the broad Landing Field below.

Vagranth moves towards the the broad Landing Field below.

An apprentice runs up, carrying more numbweed, which Corbyn quickly slathers over

G'lor's open scores, before making a more careful assessment.

Vagranth lumbers toward the lakeside meadow.

Elnebeth shivers as she helps numb Riaharth's wing. "It looks like a hide that got left in the tanning solution too long," she says to no one in particular.

Telinda grins her thanks to Nerian and Tesan, organising the positioning of the table and making sure they all manage to keep out of Myra's way. Once thats sorted, she gets several of them to help her get the other supplies the dragonhealer will need -- more numbweed, though of the thinner sort, fine cloth, needles, thread and reeds for the batten cartilages

Nerian and the candidates watch where Telinda is pointing and set the table down.

Nerian scurries back to where she was.

Corbyn sighs, "Looks like the shoulder and arm are the worst," he says, carefully turning the now-numbweed-slathered left limb very carefully to see the extent and depth of the scoring. "He's got a light score on his left cheek, and another on his thigh that's not too deep."

Cassie lets Gin rest, and goes to stand near G'lor, biting her bottom lip.

Riaharth's left wing is pretty well shredded, and the rest of his shoulder is hit less severely. G'lor's injuries mirror his dragon's -- his left arm and shoulder are hurt the worst, the 'scorings on his leg and cheek are much less severe.

Tesan helps Telinda still, perhaps having learned a thing or two about dragonhealing from one of his parents.

Kaleum gets out of the way and goes to comfort her dragon.

Corbyn carefully cleans the scores...plenty of water to drown whatever Thread might be left. You'd think that the quick Betweening would have killed it all, but there's always that rare chance that a pocket close to the skin might survive.

Myra turns, noticing things already being placed here and there where needed and flickers a quick nod of thanks to people. Hands wash themselves in water, then into redwort, before she finishes with a light coating of oil.

G'lor stuggles, groaning in pain, at the Healer's handling. Riaharth also grows agitated, as the numbweed dulls the worst of the pain.

Elnebeth waves her slightly 'numbed hands in the air and gets out of the way as Myra begins the more delicate job of piecing the wing back together.

Telinda calls up to Myra, who seems to have already got herself standing on the table, "You need the cloth cutting?" The dragonhealer nods, distracted with the wing already, as Telinda turns and points to Tesan since he seems to know what he's doing, "Help me with the cloth please? I need lengths so big" she says holding her arms apart.

Corbyn mumbles an apology, but doesn't relent. "More numbweed in a moment, I promise," he says soothingly, "But this has /got/ to be cleaned out." A strong antiseptic follows the water...and then another heavy layer of numbweed is carefully applied.

Elnebeth mutters to herself as she wave sher hands around and looks for something useful to do.

Myra see's Elnebeth finishing off the numbing and beckons her over, "Clean your hands properly, please -- water, redwort -- and then start threading me lots of needles. They should be in that tray there.." she looks, and nods, time for thank yous later.

Elnebeth wrinkles her nose. "Yes'm." She washes her hands vigorously and then tries to thread the needles. She has less success than she might normally have, as her hands are a bit numbed, but she gets first one threaded, and then another.

Myra runs clean hands carefully over some parts of the wing, grabbing an oil-soaked pad to clear some more of the heavily applied numbweed away, looking for veins that may have been severed. Spotting one, thankfully not a major one, she grabs one of the needles Elnebeth just threaded and using her fingernails, clamps the injury together, deftly sewing distal and proximal ends back.

Tesan begins churning out lengths of cloth to Telinda's specifications, laying them all someplave where they stay well away from the ground.

Telinda is of course dealing with trying to cut lengths of cloth with Tesan, keeping them clear of the dust and dirt on the floor. Hands clean, she can't wipe the sweat that beads her forehead, and instead uses her sleeve to banish it.

Corbyn soaks layers of bandage in an antiseptic, numbweeded salve, laying them lightly across the scores, knowing that G'lor will feel better when the burns are covered from exposure to air. "Someone bring me a cup, a bucket of clean water, some wine, and some of that fellis preparation," he says curtly.

G'lor says "Ria...."

Haven strides over from the Northeastern weyrs.

Elnebeth manages to get another couple of needles threaded, just barely managing to keep up with Myra.

Myra turns her head, something telling her about G'lor's cry, "I've got it covered" she calls out before turning attention back to work. Thankfully none of the bones seem broken, bruised maybe, but not broken. She looks down to Telinda and Tesan as she finishes up the last vein that seems severed, eyes giving the wing another quick inspection in case she missed something.

Nerian finally sees something she could be useful at and uses a piece of throwaway cloth to dab Telinda and Tesan's foreheads as they work.

Telinda smiles her thanks to Nerian, not having the time to waste on words as she works at getting enough cloth the ready for Myra.

Corbyn is kneeling by G'lor, who's badly scored. "Okay, G'lor," he says, now that he's got the man bandaged and numbweeded, "I've got some fellis for you...but I want you to drink two glasses of water first, alright? It shouldn't hurt you too much for me to lean you up a little; you've got plenty of numbweed on you."

Elnebeth sighs as Myra finishes the initial stitching and waits for Myra to tell her what to do next.

Myra gestures to Telinda and Tesan, nodding down to Elnebeth, "Keep threading" she remarks to the candidate. "Telinda, we need the cloth to support the wing, I need you and Tesan to keep it there please." She looks around, eyes falling on a candidate -- Nerian, "Can you grab the thin numbweed? Almost looks like water over there in that pot? Bring it here, make sure your hands are clean and then help me out up here."

Elnebeth makes a face as she goes back to forcing her numbed fingers to thread needles.

Tesan cuts quickly through the gauze to finish off a piece. To Telinda: "Which piece?"

Telinda grabs ahold of one of the pieces of cloth her and Tesan cut, and waits for him to do likewise with the other end, "This one" she says, a step taking her in the direction she needs to be -- right under the leading edge of the brown's wing, near the shoulder, leaving Tesan the finger sail end.

Haven comes scrambling off Pendrath's shoulders as her wing lands. She orders other riders off in various directions to continue with normal post fall routines, until she's left there, feeling helpless. She pauses a moment to see if her help is needed.

Corbyn helps G'lor to sit up, just barely enough to drink the water. Not nearly as much as Corbyn /said/...but, enough to make the healer happy. That is followed by a mug of wine, thickly laced with fellis.

Tesan walks the cloth sideways until the end is just past the edge of Riaharth's wing. "Got it."

G'lor nods, letting Corbyn ease him to a sitting position, or reasonble approximation. He reaches for the cup with his right hand, and only needs a slight amount of help to hold the cup. The wine goes down much more easily than the water, although he grimaces at the taste of fellis. "Riaharth..."

Nerian scurries over and grabs the numbweed water, bringing it bak. "This one?"

Whilst Nerian is off getting the thinner numbweed, Myra is starting to stitch the cloth to the brown's hide. Tiny stitches, one after the other, hand bending down to Elnebeth for resupplies what seems like every minute. "Tesan" she says, "Relax your end of cloth a moment."

Elnebeth mutters "Shards!" as she pricks her finger while trying to get one of the needles threaded. "Teach me to hurry through oilin'..." She hands the needles up to Myra as fast as she can get them threaded.

Myra nods to Nerian, "Yep. Get up on the table and wait for my instructions. Did you clean your hands?"

Corbyn nods, helping G'lor to drink. "Myra's with your dragon, G'lor," he says, as soothingly as he can.

Nerian puts down the pot, goes and cleans them again, and returns. "Yup."

Tesan lets out a little bit of slack.

As Tesan relaxes his end of the cloth, Myra stitches some more. Neverending all this stitching! "All right, tighten it a fraction" she comments, jumping off the table to get a better angle for suturing under the wing.

G'lor smiles slightly, as the numbweed and fellis take effect. "Myra..."

Kaleum sits down with her head in her hands.

Tesan does -- slowly, an iota at a time. He half-mumbles to himself in his concentration. "That's gotta hurt."

Corbyn nods, making sure G'lor drinks down all the fellis and then speaking to an apprentice, who carefully notes down the time and the dosage. "Myra's with your brown, yes. She'll come see you later," he says, in exaggeratedly clear tones.

Elnebeth almost sticks her finger in her mouth as she jabs herself again, but remembers in time and just keeps on trying to thread the needles as fast as Myra demands them.

Myra shrugs at Tesan, "He's well numbed, he's not broadcasting his hurt, so we just have to assume he's not really feeling it." Nodding to herself, she finishes fixing the cloth to the wing and jumps up onto the table once more, "Alright" she says to Nerian, "we need to float these wing pieces back into some semblance of normality. And I think we have a damaged batten rib down there, so lets see. Gently trickle it onto the cloth."

Telinda grins at Tesan a little, letting go of her part of the cloth. "You can let go" she comments to Tesan, "I think we've been forgotten a minute."

Kaleum looks on as a group of people work on the brown.

Corbyn crouches and waits for G'lor to pass out so that he can be moved.

Nerian does as she's told, concentrating almost to a comic effect.

Elnebeth glances up at Myra and Nerian as there's a pause in Myra's demand for threaded needles and watches the proceedings.

G'lor's eys slowly close, and he sags limply in Corbyn's arms.

Cassie strides over to the Northern Weyrs.

Corbyn sighs. "Right," he says. "I need some help here..."

Myra smiles her thanks for Nerian, and grabs yet more needles and thread from

Elnebeth, starting to work on stitching the aileron back to where it should be, that and using the cloth to support the shredded fragments. She gestures, "Ah, we need a reed for that batten rib" she says, "Elnebeth? Pass me that one next to you please."
Elnebeth hands over the needle and reed. "D'you need me to hold it?"

Myra nods, "If you could" she says, "Just there" she points.

Elnebeth gets to her feet and holds the reed in the indicated place, trying to keep her fingers out of the numbweed as much as is humanly possible without letting the reed move.

Corbyn nods as several burly journeyman come over to help him, and they manage to pick him up and move him towards the infirmary.

Myra nods her thanks to Elnebeth, stitching the reed into place, with deft, but tired fingers. A little while longer and it looks like she has it all done and numbed quite throughly.

You say "Corbyn, do you need some help?"

Corbyn nods. "I think we've got it, Telinda... though if you care to come and reassure him..." he looks up... other dragons will be landing soon.,

Elnebeth watches the stitching intently, glancing at Riaharth's head occasionally.

Telinda nods, "Least I can do" she remarks to Corbyn, nodding to the other Healers, "G'lor, everything's fine" she says softly, hand reaching to gently touch the brownrider where he's uninjured, "Myra's about done and she'll be with us shortly."

Corbyn strides over to the Weyrhall.

Myra takes a deep breath and looks around, "Thanks" she says, sinking to a seat on the table. "I think we have it all. That shoulder will be alright without any stitches I think, we'll leave it until everything else has settled."

Corbyn helps a number of other journeyman carry the badly scored and now mostly-out-cold rider into the infirmary.

Corbyn quietly opens the infirmary door and enters.

You quietly open up the door to the infirmary and enter.

Waristin quietly slips in through the door to the Weyrhall.

G'lor is carefully set down onto an empty cot, close to the watch desk.

Waristin flies over to perch on the foot of the cot.

On the landing field, Nerian rinses her hands and helps clean up, albeit wearily. When she returns to the Weyrhall it's without her usual bounce.

On the landing field, Nerian walks toward the Weyrhall.

On the landing field, Tesan lets out a deep breath. "I just hope he'll be all right."

On the landing field, Tesan washes his hands in a relatively clean pail of water and heads over toward the Weyrhall, chairs, and something to drink.

On the landing field, Tesan strides over to the Weyrhall.

On the landing field, Myra smiles, "Riaharth, lets get some of these bronzes and browns around here, to help you back to your weyr, so that you can rest!" she remarks, watching as they move to support the brown's wing and help him amble slowly to his weyr

Corbyn sees to the shoulder scores, and nods to himself...the bleeding seems to have slowed. He calls an apprentice over to watch by the man.

On the landing field, Riaharth moves off, surrounded by helpers.

On the landing field, Elnebeth watches the brown go, nibbling on her fingernails as she thinks, and numbing her lips as she does so.

Telinda hooks a stool with her ankle and drags it close, sitting on it near G'lor's cot but keeping well out of the way of the healers.

Corbyn gives the apprentice and the journeyman on watch some quick instructions, and prepares to head back out to help with the other wounded. "You'll be all right here, Telinda?"

Telinda nods, "I'll be fine, you do what you have to Corbyn!"

Corbyn nods. "Thank you...I best be going."

Telinda manages a small smile

Corbyn gives Telinda's shoulder a gentle pat, and, with a last look at G'lor, heads out.

Corbyn quietly steps out into the main hall.

G'lor's right hand moves, as if searching for something.

Telinda looks around, no Myra as of yet, and so proffers her hand instead, curling it into the brownriders and giving it a gentle squeeze.

G'lor's fingers curl around Telinda's hand, and the strain on his face eases.