OOC Time: Monday October 12th, 2009. 10:23:45 PM.
Season (North Continent): Late spring.
Weather: It is a spring evening. The sky's a clear, gloriously vibrant blue.
Current Location: Lower Caverns (#1556) - Zone: Fort Weyr
Room Occupants:
Lisyana, Burant, Q'luin, and Ewe

Lower Caverns (#1556J)
This central room of Fort Weyr's lower caverns is, while huge, nonetheless dwarfed by the main cavern to the northeast.
Stairs to one side lead up to a balcony that encircles the vaulted cavern; off the balcony lie the offices and private quarters of some staff, as well as into the spare rooms for Weyr guests. On the floor level, a number of folk operate looms underneath the balcony, while some of the children of the weyr play games nearby. Other archways lead further into the mountain and some steep stairs lead back out into the bowl.
You see Snake and Styx here.
Lisyana, Burant, Q'luin, and Ewe are here.

The night has come and greatly passed, just after the late night shifts and before the early morning workers have awoke, the time is perfect for those wanting to skulk around. The lights, oddly, have been replaced with much dimmer glows and an eerie light casts shadows across the various tunnels of the lower caverns. A place, near the entrance to the storage caverns, has exceptionally dim glows and the lack of light practically hides the presence of a single dark-clothed fellow. Arms folded across his chest and leaning casually against a nearby wall, Urei appears almost invisible, even his piercing blue eyes hidden by the forward-pulled hood yet still able to gaze at those passerbys.

The smell will likely hit first before the girl ever even arrives, but she will. Unfortunately. And with her trotters that lovely eau de sheeeep stench. Or something very closely akin to that. Like the others Ewe is attired darkly, but it just wouldn't be that particular lass without her trademark grime and grundge accents. The others will get her regards, but it's Urei - oh the dashingly clad Urei that hallmarks all her focus.
There's a shadowy niche there down a ways and within it resides another hooded specter that appears more illusion than man until a darkly tanned hand slides up the front of the long coat to brush at an itch that is tormenting a like-hued nose. A thumbnail is used to scrape at the stem that roots Q'luin's snout to make sure it's a thorough job that doesn't need to be repeated. A second later he's back to melding with the gloom.

A rather small form appears next, all in dark clothing - trous and oversized shirt, hair poked up out of sight in a knit-thing pulled down over her ears. Her face is bare, but somehow, Lysa found enough grime to cover most of her features, despite the lack of a veil. Of course, being the girl she is, she's found a bit of dead branch to stick out of the edge of the knitthing. It's all about the decoration, after all.

Burant arives late, from a different direction. His own garb is mixand match. The guard uniform jacket has been exchanged for something more dingy in a charcoal hue. His work boots, most often polished black are scuffed and dirty to nearly same shadowy non-descript grey. His uniform pants are equally dusty, and an old hooded coat that might have had some color when it was new, but now supported nothing recognizeable, concealed any tell tail shine of button or brasswork that he hasn't managed to shed. No piece is solid enough to standout from the shadows until he steps physically out of them. His deep blue eyes seek Urei's and he nods an affirmative.

Urei watches each person arrive and a slow nod of acknowledgement is offered, a slow push off of the wall and he is already pacing toward Burant the moment his presence is spotted. "Is it correct to assume that you fulfilled your duties properly? Would they be suspicious of your actions? The Healer stated it would take a few moments to impact the guards." The rest of the individuals are given long scans, a slight wrinkle of his nose to the aroma de Ewe, but he is careful to reduce his reactions. A large bag, items that were acquired for the little adventure is lifted up. A clear of his throat, "It is important to emphasize there could be consequences to our actions, although care has been taken to reduce opportunity for our identities to be known."

Wherever Urei roams, Ewe is sure to follow. Just picture it: A short, round waddling version of a shadow that will live and breath almost anything the harper says. Yes, Burant, Lysa and that funny looking rider will get their turn at a Ewe-glance but then those oddly designed orbs are right back to being rapt on He who speaks. Really, it's too bad they didn't utilize her… perfume in this setting, probably would've been enough to knock out a guard or two all on its own.

Q'luin's innate darkness coalesces with the others in a couple mute strides, which end directly behind Ewe, but after a couple seconds his nose starts twitching for a completely different reason. An easing aside is made until it is Urei he is looming behind. A decisive, "I'm in," is dropped into the harper-candidate's direction.

Lysa wrinkles her nose at the mention of consequences, bright teeth briefly gleaming as she grins at the harper, never mind the aroma of some of her fellow conspirators. "Just tell us what to do, oh leader…" Hey, she occasionally listened to the harper's when they droned on about things other than duty to hold and weyr..

Burant smirks a little and shakes his head. "Yes I did and No, their only complaint was that the wine wasn't Bendan." Burant's tone was soft but he rolled his eye derisively at any guard that would drink on duty. He steps back a little closer to the wall, nodding to Q'luin once his report was concluded. He manages not to wrinkle his nose in Ewe's direction, and silently thanks Faranth that the potion the healer made was /strong/ and unlikely to wear off due to over stimulation of the olfactory nerves.

Urei's eyes glance about, stopping on each individual, Lysa given a longer gaze and maybe almost protective of the younger girl, but his face moves on to the others. The large bag is hefted over his shoulder and he nods to Burant, "Your efforts are greatly appreciated and I do believe we will continue to need your strength for the next step." A large bronzerider needs to be carried. Urei's typically monotonal voice seems to be more emphasized in the seriousness of the situation, a glance to Q'luin, "There is a slight alteration of the plan, but we will discuss the situation when we arrive to it." Then the rest of the group is gazed, "Time is essential, we should proceed. Remember, stealth is ideal and minimal conversation until we reach the cells will be wise." And with that the former Harper turns, a nod to Ewe in appreciative recognition, and he lightly steps to the doorway.

Ewe really doesn't have much to add to any of this on a verbal level. If stench could be visible there'd likely be a nice fluffy cloud following behind her much like a loyal dog to its master. Consider her gift to the olfactory nerves to be on a knock-out level rather than a stimulating one. Regardless, she's all for one and wait, wrong story! She's the shadow the waddles diligently along, probably end up brining up the rear, but for the others thats probably the best thing.

Q'luin silently bemoans the lack of air circulation as he's left to trail after Ewe, and even after he slows down to let the other two pass, the stench still clings to the hairs in his nostrils. There's the faintest hint of a hiss that 'could' have been a "Shards," but it's so quiet it's hard to tell. The bronzerider now brings up the rear, tagging close behind Lisyana, which he will most likely remain glued to for the rest of the night.

Lisyana really doesn't seem to understand the severity of the situation, given the lightness to her step, but this is where her usual occupation comes in handy. Not growing at the moment, her step is sure and there is no tripping or such to cause sound to chatter down the tunnels in front of the group. Still, there is that grin. Ah well.

Burant follows Urei when he sees Q'luin taking the back of the line, trusting the bronze rider to perform properly as rear guard. He doesn't quiet stop himself from wrinkling his nose at Ewe as he steps past her. His own step is light as well, heavy footsteps carry much farther than light ones. Much as he trusts the drug, he remains silent, better /not/ to find out the hard way that someone else was about tonight.

Dry Storage Room (#5217LJ)
Racks of long wooden shelves, twice the height of a tall man, form high thin, cramped corridoors that recede off into the blackness. Each shelf is laden with containers - bags, pots, jars, bottles - carefully made to keep out any damp, and hopefully deter tunnelsnakes. Beneath the lowest shelves are row upon row of stout wooden barrels and boxes. Corn, flour, herbs, spices, medicines, hides, rivergrains, dried fruits, dried vegetables, dried everything else… the smells of these and a hundred other things waft through the cavern, a sample of the things needed to run a Weyr all in one room. Everything is carefully stacked, in its own particular place, but by what system, you can't tell.
Each shelf has hooks, at the uprights and in between, to hang hand-held glowbaskets, kept on a rack near the door; they, and the light that makes it through the thin hessian curtain over the exit, are all that penetrate the stygian dark. Folding ladders are also stacked neatly near the entrance, to allow access to the higher shelves.
Th'deus, T'jano, Q'luin, and Ewe are here.

For a moment, you think you hear a dry, rustling, scuttling noise.
Burant comes in, the thin curtain across the entranceway falling back behind him.
Lisyana comes in, the thin curtain across the entranceway falling back behind her.

The late night guards are folded over themselves, appearing in quite the deep sleep, both trays of food and wine are only half eaten and some of it even dribbled onto the ground as if the sleep was sudden. If either inmate was awake, they would have noticed a man delivering food and moments from ingesting the food and drink. The hooded Harper is the first to arrive in the storage cavern bearing the cells, a pause in his step to gaze at the guards before moving slowly to the cells. Sure of the sound sleep state of the guards his voice raises a little, "T'jano and Th'deus, it would be of fairly helpful if you were conscious." The large duffle bag that was strewn over his shoulder is released and dropped firmly to the ground, "Greenrider, are you competent enough to pick those locks?"

The stench in the dead-end cavern rooms is not something that anyone can get easily used to. In concession, the guards' chairs have moved farther and farther away from the occupied cells, and now even the door is permanently propped open. This, likely, has caused some strife between the kitchen staff and the guards, but with M'tr's backing, even unspoken, the guards have won and the doors, remained open. Lately, in another move designed, no doubt, to annoy the guards, T'jano has taken to feeding the tunnelsnakes. Since Thadd hasn't been eating, the greenrider figured that the food shouldn't go to waste, and after shooing lizards away, he's amused himself, and driven the guards nearly batty, by cajoling the nasty creatures closer. And closer. So it is that when Urei speaks, it is T'jano's voice that returns, immediately, and this time his figure is not lighted by either glow, nor light of lizard-eyes. There is, decidedly, the scuffle of snakes, slithering everywhere, as T'jano sets food to ground. "Been there, done that. They're pretty clean." Unfolding himself, then, in the darkness that shrouds both cells, T'jano pads over to the door. "Don't know if he's talking tonight, the Thadd-lad." Whispered, this, as the slick click of metal betrays T'jano's finding the keys, and his hands muffle their entrance into the lock. Within a few seconds of hearing so many other footsteps shuffling, "You brought friends?"

So apparently Ewe is middle of the pack once again and she's just trolling about for the perfect opportunity to do /something/. Of course one of those guards gets a solid *thunk* in passing, just because she could resist. Must be a herder thing or something… Anyways! Did someone say stench? If there is one among the crowd that /could/ get used to it, it's Ewe. In fact, she's probably feeling close to home right about now.

Q'luin is donned in a black hooded coat that cascades almost the entire length of his lofty form, falling short at the tops of those swanky boots. In this getup he strides quietly in at the rear of the pack and takes position near the sleeping guards. Ever so carefully their weapons are removed and relocated somewhere out of sight, though one dingy and dinged sword is retained for possible use if need be.

"No-one here except us slitherers…" Lysa whispers cheerfully, even as she has a hand over her nose. Ugh. Moving with Qil, she heads towards the guards, and upon finding a basket, starts to load up the interrupted meal, taking care to make sure all of the leftovers get picked up. "After all, we're not supposed to be leavin' stuff around…" she murmurs, mostly to herself.

Burant falls back a little ways and situates himself where he can watch as many of the open doors at once as possible. "Take the wine, too…" Burant reminds softly as Lisy starts cleaning up. Then leaning a little more towards T'jano though it takes his attention off one of the doors. "If he needs to be carried I can manage that." He lets a trace of urgency into his tone, for all that means it'll carry farther.

Urei cautiously watches the tunnelsnakes slither and scatter, but his body is no longer hesitant, "It appeared necessary to request additional assistance, as the bronzerider most likely needs aid in walking." A nod bobs to Lisyana and Ewe, "Could you both take care of the tainted items, and check to make sure our tracks will not be followed." A nice job for the girls. Sexist? Maybe. Then a point forward to the imprisoned ones, "Q'luin and Burant, assist the greenrider in retrieval of Th'deus." And with that he kneels over and shuffles through the bag, pulling out a large length of rope and some bandanas and silently approaching the unconscious guards.

The door swings open, easily upon well-oiled hinges, and T'jano steps free, only to feel his way over toward the lock on Th'deus' door. Same performance, and this time a bit quicker, as T'jano's racing heartbeat casts adrenaline through his frame and seems to, in every way, attend his attention and motion. That door swings open as well, with T'jano stepping through it, toward his prone brother. "Th'deus." A hard shove into the other's shoulder, together with green-to-bronze contact, salt-fogged and with roiling tsunami energy seems to animate the bigger man's gaunt frame. Th'deus shoves himself up to a sitting position (only to release a whole new set of festering odors) with groggy confusion. "Whoever you are, who offered to carry… We could try an arm or two, here, and see if the stubborn old fellow can walk." T'jano, again, who begins to hum a little ditty, utterly incongruous to the situation.

Burant nods automatically, a usless gesture, and abandons watch with a quiet "Someone watch the doors." And slips in hand on the wall for a guide, "I could rescue-carry him if need be. Take your side…" He reaches for an arm, hoping it's the opposite one T'jano has. It's dark enough even without light-dazzled eyes it's hard to find anything.

Whatever the harper decrees, Ewe will take on with waddling abandon. With her own unique characteristics subdued in this room, Lysa is given an oddly jealous glance. "/I/ can do this," well sorta. There really is more than what the pudgey one can handle, and to save some grace and haste it might be a good idea to ignore her. Still, there is some valiant attempt to take care of that food, though the problem remains just where to put it.

The sword is peered at and with a shrug stowed away with the others when Q'luin is called to action. Stepping in through the door, there's the briefest of hesitations as those odors hit him. What is it with the pollutants tonight? A gusty sigh later and he's lending his shoulder and back to the bedraggled Th'deus, or was until Burant slipped into place. Instead he'll lend support unless T'jano will give up an arm. "One foot and then the other. You can do it, and the sooner we're out, the sooner - you can get a bath." Q'luin too, cause the various stenches are sticking to his clothes and recently soaped skin.

Lisyana immediately offers Ewe the basket with a quick grin, "Want me to be gettin' the wine, then?" she offers cheerfully - well, as cheerfully as a whisper can get, before she looks over her shoulder at the door, hesitating, "Or should I watch the door?" she offers to the slightly younger girl. Decisions, decisions.

"Yes." Ewe commands ever so helpfully in response to one of Lisyana's questions. When the youngest of the bunch sees that things aren't getting done there is a long dramatic sigh. It's almost too loud, but then there is a reminder about being silent and the next thing is for Ewe to be handing said wine off to Lisy. "There. Now, you watch the door just in case." See? /Ewe/ is the smart one here. *cough* Urei saw that right? Next the food. Now… what to do with it? "Hey, Burant."

Urei makes himself busy, performing multiple knotting moves to tie the guards' hand and feet together, then bandanas used to wrap their eyes. That being done he wipes off his hands and looks toward the other folks, "Do you require further assistance Greenrider? I will need a few hands to escort these kind men upstairs, for… other purposes." If there is an evil twitch on his face, it was not apparent, because he's busy and stuff, watching the rest of the folks organize.

T'jano will happily give Q'luin his space. T'jano is not exactly at his top form this night. Th'deus' head swings forward, bushy beard of several month's growth furthering the leonine aspect already formed by his overlong, shaggy hair and massive size. There's bones through, angles that never were there before, and pain, unconciously felt, from bedsores gone foul. The tall bronzer nearly wilts between his supports, but a grit comes to the fore, and he'll attempt to be more of an ally in his movement, than a hinderance. T'jano capers ahead, free of the weight of his brother, and toward the exit, layout memorized by all too often staring. He will dip back inside his cell, though, to collect the dragonhealering volume, also in the dark, before he's jittering up to shoulder against Urei. "Not so quick with that wine. Never, ever pour out good wine. I can take that off your hands, for you, of course." To Lisyana, T'jano will lean down, "Watch the door. I'll get the wine. You, woman," T'jano directs of Ewe, "Wine - wine, I can handle, thanks, thank you very much, absolutely."
Th'deus' baritone, rusty from multiple sevendays' disuse, growls: "T'jano. Shuddup." Then, "Harper. You've missed one, you should be gagging." Bo Blue now hovers above the trio of men struggling to manuever the severely weakened Th'deus out of the cell.

"I think the wine is drugged, T'jano…" Lisy whispers, before grinning to Ewe, "Watchin' the door - gotcha. There's still room in the bakset, if you're wantin' to put the rest of the food in.." she adds, before moving over towards the door to peek out, leaving the wine in the good greenrider's hands.

"I wouldn't drink that if I were you, unless you want a nice long nap…" Burant calls as loudly as he dares to T'jano. He braces firmly under Th'deus's weight hooking his shoulder under the bigger man's armpit and wraping his free arm around Thad's forearm, gripping just above the elbow. "Just keep yourself moving, sir… let us do most of the work." This more softly to Th'deus.

Q'luin's shoulder fits nicely under Th'deus's pit, while his long strong arm curls around to the other side, readjusting when it runs afoul of Burant's. He mutely wonders if the stink will ever wash out of the wool on that particular shoulder. "Mostly, just shuffle dance your feet - your weight we can take." The guard is a goodly sized fellow, and the bronzed dragonhealer keeps himself purposefully strong to handle rather sizeable dragons - as well as women, of course. "Where we goin with our prize?"

She knew that! "Right." But then that chatty greenrider is making motions at her and -her- wine. Yes, that drugged treasure is now property of Ewe. Future crushes you have been warned. She'll hold the bottle tightly to her bosom as if it were the last bottle of wine on Pern and simply -glare- right back at T'jano. Get yer own bub. "The wa…oh! Right." The food. It's put back in the basket. Eventually. Probably handed off to Lisyana too, since she's now inherited guard duty over that wine.

Urei watches everything go swimmingly so far and he just nods to T'jano, "It would be most excellent to maintain your full awareness at the moment greenrider. We are directing the Riders to the Weyrling Barracks, there is a nook that they can stay hidden in until they fully recover. Their lifemates may find an empty weyr to hide as well." A pause as he looks to the bodies and up, "And if one of you could spare a hand, we have two guards that need to be… relocated for other purposes." Sneaky sneaky candidate.

T'jano whispers back to Lisyana, "That's what I was hoping…" Wonder why the greenrider is ALWAYS AWAKE? The man chases sleep like other men chase women. He reaches to grip the winebottle in Ewe's hands with a fervent attention that betrays definite ulterior motion. Burant's voice only confirms T'jano's suspicion, and his grin grows wider, winking yellowish-white in the dim glowlight. "Please?" Wheedling tone. His mama always said 'please' was the word. Then, "I'll keep humming, if you don't give me the winebottle. In fact," he pauses, to give the next words serious weight, "I'll sing. If you do not turn it over. Woman." To Urei, T'jano cheerfully intones, "They don't need to be relocated, Harper-boy! I can kill them right here as well as anywhere else."

"Aye, lad." Th'deus' gravelly voice mutters in return to Burant, and he does put will into his lurching, into trying to leave the confinement that threatens to steal his sanity. Boots that haven't been off in far too many days to count, scuff, bump and threaten to trip him with his own lack of coordination. Q'luin's question is answered with one word, only: "Xanth." The dusty-hued bronze has, finally, abandoned his sentinel station atop the star-stones and now crouches, red-eyed and mantling, outside the living caverns. No doubt this has attracted no small attention. He, evidently, didn't hear about Urei's neat plans.

For one so round and waddle-ey, Ewe protects that bottle of wine with an eerie fervor. Rescue operation or not, T'jano's hand is gonna get one hell of a swat if he doesn't start behaving himself. "Go ahead." Yes, the /girl/ did say that. Challenge that. "/I/ don't care what you do. Urei told me to take care of this." And take care of it is exactly what she is gonna do. So yeah, go ahead and sing. Ewe's just gonna dare ya.

Q'luin is starting to feel the tension that's been building in the map of sinew that is now being worked with Th'deus's weight. That is what makes him snap at T'jano rather than ask nicely, because, yea, they gotta get the *bleep* out of here. "Teej! Help the Harper! I'll hit you over the head with a shovel to help you sleep later!" And. "No killing! I won't have - " the free hand held out for balance waves towards Lisyana, "her implicated in that." It's bad enough she's here at all. A glare sharpens on the imp.

"… what is it about 'riders an' their drink? You don't like whiskey, I'm hopin'? An' no drinkin' any drugged wine 'til we're gettin' you both somewhere safe an' sound.. other wise, I'll have Taddy sing… well, never mind that.." Lisy starts to tell Teej, before wrinkling her nose at Qil, before she sticks her tongue out at the bronzerider. Let's hear it for the grown up, more mature Lisyana. Or something. Then she

"I don't think you're in any condition to ride, sir…" Burant glares at T'jano, though it's doubtful the other man can actually see it. "We can always get him more from the healer when we're well out of this." He keeps moving as steadily as is currently possible and bites his lip to keep himself silent even if no one seems to be managing that at the moment.

Urei grabs the smaller of the two unconscious bodies and, although his lithe body looks frail, he is quite capable of bearing the load of another man. "It is not my intention to do these men any harm, but it becomes necessary to affect the mood of the Weyr." The Harper looks toward T'jano and then nods to the rest, "Lysa and Ewe, if you could take the bag, place all the drugged food in it and put the bag under the cot of a M'tr-loyal Candidate. Burant and Q'luin, there is a quicker stairwell to the bowl. And T'jano, we need to deliver theses men to the bowl, we have a task that you may enjoy." What does that mean?

"Urei!" T'jano appeals, immediately, to the authority, "Tell her to give me the wine." Are we there yet? Yet, the greenrider does make good time in heading toward Anywhere out, and away from here. Hissed, though, to Ewe, are the four quick stanzas, "A schooner sat at bay while the crew all ran amok /The men they gathered on the pier to see if they were stuck/They shouted to the ship "Why are you still here in dock?" /'Cuz the Captain got his knackers caught in the mainsheet block." But it's Q'luin's retort that silences T'jano. Almost. "You just want to help me shave, don't you, Q'luin?" But Lisyana gets an unseen leer, "I'll get her in trouble. And whisky'll do, but whatever's laced with fellis, is best." But, the greenrider is easily distracted and pads over to Urei's side, letting his shoulder bump that of the other, "What, then?"

Th'deus has to agree, silently, with Burant's silent assessment that this is probably the loudest rescue operation ever staged, but he'll shake his head slightly at the guard, "All I am needing, is to get back to my weyr. Xanth won't let Any, be getting to me there. Or I'll be getting me to Boll. Marryn 'n' Toncho'll let me" He stumbles, and in that motion, seems to lose his train of thought. Th'deus struggles, only, to keep his feet under him and be as little a liability to his rescuers as possible.

"Teej! That's my sharding little sister!" Oh, so much for anonymity and silence, but T'jano pushed the wrong button. Q'luin shares a glare with his old friend, and then tones it down with a promise. "I'll fellis the shit out of you when we get to Southern Boll - I'll ride with Thad and get Zhoreth to give coordinates." Seems simple enough. He doesn't mention he also intends to use rope to keep the large block of a man on his dragon.

Unfortunately or perhaps it is fortunately that this is one of those very, very, verrrrrry rare times that Ewe would likely disobey Urei should he command her to surrender that wine. Far too many golden opportunities lie in her future with it and she'll be fardlin' damned to share that with the likes of a … of a… "What are you singing?" Yeah, her 'sheepish' gaze narrows even more, but the song T'jano sings sails clear over her stumpy height. He can keep on singing too, much good it will do. So the wine Ewe retains, along with the food. Maybe that too will come in handy one day.

Burant grits his teeth and nods, the responds verbally, not quite letting himself curse the dim light that doesn't allow for that kind of communication. "Yes." He replies to Urei and makes no further comment. He doesn't want to /think/ about someone in Thad's condition going between. For now just getting him to the bowl is task enough. Especially with the current round of town criers they accidentally brought with them.

Lisyana mock salutes Urei, and hefts the basket with both hands. "Hey, Ewe - if you keep the wine an' they go lookin' for stuff, it probably wouldn't go all that well…." Then after murmuring who she was going to go frame, she adds, "Could just ask Teej to sh… Shardin' hells, Qil - shout it from the Rim, whydon'tcha…" Then in a silent huff, the girl is off to do her framing.

"Dragonhealer, if it appeases you, I possess the best Benden red available in this Weyr." Urei nods to T'jano, "Your assistance first. To the bowl." And with that the hefted unconscious guard is fireman's carried through the tunnels, "Ewe, Lysa is correct, the possession of those items will implicate your participation. Place it with the food under the cot." And then up the steps to the bowl Urei goes, assuming that everyone else if following him.

"If she's your little sister," T'jano starts brightly, "Then she must really-" And he, for some reason, manages to edit whatever else he was going to say, before it actually comes out, so that the greenrider is utterly silent for a while. Of course any 'while' is shorter, when it's T'jano that that 'while' might involve, "Heard and witnessed. Fellis. Promise. Southern. Grand. If I get firehead again, just let me go between this time." A nod confirms that, as he jaunts forward at Urei's words, to leave Ewe in sole possession of the wine, and Lisyana in a position where she isn't the focus of his attentions. "Benden red." He heard that, Harper.

Th'deus' weight presses hard on Burant as the man stumbles and catches, clutches at the Candidate, in order to pull himself back up again. His eagerness to be out could be ironically measured in the depth of his inability to convey himself there. Outside, Xanth hisses at those who come to stare at him, and the bronze's hide, for the first time in months, flares in the parti-colored hues of blues and ochre, ebony and metallics that have always marked him as strikingly distinctive.

Eastern Curve of the Bowl (#867J)
This area of the bowl, just outside the lower caverns, is constantly awhirl with activity! People come and go with amazing regularity and relative randomness as to any direction they might be going at any particular time; firelizards, mostly in Fort colors, zip past with seeming disregard for personal safety; and, of course, multicolored arrays of dragons can usually be seen swooping through the skies above.
The lower caverns lie directly to the east; the infirmary and ground weyrs are located in the somewhat quieter area to the southeast and south respectively.
It is a spring late night. The sky's a clear, gloriously vibrant blue.
You see Ikaroth, Alyx, and Atsuth here.
Q'luin and Th'deus are here.

Ewe emerges from the lower caverns.
Xanth glides to a landing, settling carefully.
Burant emerges from the lower caverns.

Urei has made it out of the caverns and settles into the bowl, luckily the two guards are fast asleep and are leaned against a spare boulder in the bowl so that the guard is sitting up. The ropes are slowly being untied, although the Candidate's eyes are locked on the consciousness of the guards, making sure they don't stir until necessary. The others are also glanced to, but his faith is in the fact that all of them will do their duties accordingly.

Q'luin is following Urei, which means so is Th'deus, like it or not. The stairs are sighted with a sigh, but there's no hesitation as they start up, moving along at as quick a pace as the Fortian bronzerider and guard can make. "Boll, — Southern Boll. Isn't Toncho there? You Barlords work better in numbers." If the burnished in black dragonhealer heard whatever else T'jano was going to say, it's buried. There's gotta be forgiveness somewhere for a man who has been stuck in a cell with tunnelsnakes for pets. Especially someone as high strung as the greenrider. Moonlight greets them with a burst of fresh air as they erupt from the stairwell.

Somewhere along their travels Ewe will have managed to accomplish two things: The basket of incriminating food with have forever disappeared in a firery pit to leave only ashes. And that bottle of wine? Who is to say where it wandered off to, or just where it was placed. What /is/ known is that it wasn't put where Urei told her to put it and that from this equation, for the moment at least Ewe has faded from the line of action.

When Th'deus emerges from the caverns, in the company of his two carriers, his dragon is /right there/. Xanth, having seemed to spend the past many sevendays in a state of suspended animation, lurking by the Star Stones like some oxidized bronze wraith, some silent spirit of his former self, now slithers with serpentine life, muzzle seeking his lifemate and blocking, no doubt, the progress of his helpers, until he can draw a clean breath of Th'deus' scent. The man, for his part, seeks to free an arm, a hand, to touch the muzzle of his lifemate. Xanth's mantling encloses those who help his lifemate, and Urei's manipulations, as well, while he provides ebon and ochre-laced cowl of shadow over them, red-eyes and bared teeth warning any others away. The silent bronze does not break his usual mute demeanor, but every action screams caution to those who are not, in this immediate scene, his allies.

T'jano, for his part, launches into the fresh air and does a jaunty, if somewhat disjointed, dance. Above, Mrrth carols her glee, sea-green hide a-glitter with pure joy, as she'll dive down to join the near-crazed bronze, and the huddle of people under Xanth's wings. T'jano answers for Th'deus, "Toncho is there. Cranky fellow, really, on the whole. A bit too liberal with that stick of his." A nod, before T'jano capers out where he can embrace the muzzle of his green.

Now the guards have been fully untied, and the coil of rope rearranged to tie the men to the rock. "Q'luin, do you require rope to assist in attaching Th'deus to his lifemate?" There is plenty of rope to go around, everyone needs rope. The Harper fully attaches the mend to the boulder and then pulls out a piece of chalk to start scrawling a message on rock, but his eyes go over toward the group, face starting to develop what could be seen as an expression of exhaustion and stress at the same time. He's gonna crack.

Zhoreth has been there, back lurking in a mountain made shadow as he watched Xanth and kept in touch with his lifemate. He is the hallmark of calm, remaining within range if needed, but visibly aloof. No need to implicate his lifemate by simply being present. That's the loud bronzerider's job. "Okay, Thad, lets go - quickly, before the entire Weyr realizes what happened and comes to watch us all die." The sword that is tucked into his dragon's trappings glints ever so faintly as he moves in closer. An avid nod is sent to Urei - the quietest gesture the Istan dragonhealer's made all night.

The bronze Xanth will forestall all of anyone's attempts to attach his lifemate to him. In a move that is, perhaps, tender, the bronze reaches to cradle Th'deus within his foreclaws and, balancing briefly on three legs, will launch into the air. The ex-Weyrleader may be nearly incapable of directing his own body, but perhaps it's the lack of confining stone walls, or the contact with his irritating, manipulative, but indeed devoted lifemate, that lends Th'deus the strength that he's able to, alone, envision the familiar Southern Boll. No sooner is Xanth aloft, than he's flickered between. No dragons keen, enough evidence that the bronze achieves his destination well enough.

As for T'jano, he'll clamber aboard his crouching green and, clutching to her, withstand her fervent assault against gravity, wings flaring and catching air, before she's flickered *between* as well. Somewhere else, than where Th'deus went. Mrrth takes her rider back to her own birthplace, Southern, deepest jungle and warm oceans, and her slipping between cuts off T'jano's tenor, "But the fellis—-"

Urei finishes scrawling out the message, spelled wrong in a few places (although to Urei's own frustration): 'This iz a warning to all who suport M'tr. Join us and stand aginst him!' That completed and the harper shoves a few things in a bag, yeah the bag followed him, and he stands to look at all of the leaving dragons. "Clear skies Riders. Take care of them, Dragonhealer." A bow offered to Q'luin and he just looks around to guarantee he is not being watched.

Q'luin is left stunned, and noticeably flinches as they disappear ::between::. The normal rise and fall of his muscular chest comes to a halt for four whole flickers of a flame, and then with the lack of wailing, he starts breathing again. "Fools." Since Zhoreth has no idea /where/ they went, his rider gives a shrug and quickly disappears out of sight, never once looking in the bronze's direction to incriminate either of them. He's just another hooded man blending with the night.

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