Afternoon skirmish [tags: X'ilor]

On their day's break from the normal routine of rotating assignments and drills, many riders had taken the opportunity to lazy around the Weyr, or in some cases, strike up their own skirmishes for keeping their combat skills sharp. And since today just happened to be such a day, Mahyeul finding himself without much else to do since all of his cousins were otherwise preoccupied with their own busy schedules, the young man decided to sit and watch the spars that were taking place. It was always fun to observe. And of course, Mahyeul loved to involve himself in playtime.

For now however, Mahyeul perched himself on a low, rocky shelf that would serve as his seat, drawing on leg up against his chest so that his foot too, rested upon it. There, with eyes all a twinkle at the fun, and a smile to match, he watched the small group of riders compete. 


Ever since Mahyeul had come to the Weyr, he'd been given the opportunity to assist in a small handful of the seasoned rider's practice sessions, but he preferred not to get too involved with the Weyr's training in that regard. So, the Telgar Guardsman on prolonged furlough, had gone back to doing more menial tasks to earn his keep while he stayed here. It was an exciting and definitely a learning experience for him, though he didn't know if there might soon come a time he'd overstayed his welcome -even if he did have family here to share rooms with.  Regardless, he would make the most of his time at Fort Weyr, and do his best to not become a burden to them. 

No matter how many months he'd remained here at Fort Weyr however, Mahyeul had never quite adapted to the weyr's code of dress, seeing as he still preferred to wear a long, more dress-like robe, with or without pants to be seen underneath. More like a terran men's cheongsam, his dress was in a dusky, light blue, with pants stained in a deeper hue; the sash that belted his middle, and the detail on a standing, mandarin collar and the hems of the garment, were matching in colour. His shoes were made of soft, black hide, with a thinner sole than boots, and slip-on, so they, too, were not what was normally expected of Fort Weyr's inhabitants. Especially of Fort Weyr's men, who were, for the most part, dragonriders. 

His short stature of just 5 foot 9 inches, generally soft, youthful expression, and extremely long, black hair, only lent to the face that, especially from the back side, he could easily become confused for a girl. He never blamed anyone, when it happened. Admittedly, he didn't have the most rugged appearance, by any means. He'd always been rather frail as a child, and for much of his growing up -mostly due to recurring illness.

X'ilor ducked a punch by his sparring partner, sweeping his leg to unbalance him when he wasn't looking. When he fell hard to the ground, the air knocked from his lungs and the bronzerider touched his neck - a 'win' for the current match - he relaxed his stance and offered a hand to help the other man up. His hand was refused, knocked aside angrily by the loser. "Get your sharding hand away from me, cheater." he growled, glaring maliciously at him.

The young man shook his head, but withdrew his hand. The other scrambled to his feet and turned away. Congratulations on your win! the bronze dragon said, pleased at the triumph his rider had won the match. X'ilor turned toward where his dragon was perched, lazing in the sun and watching the matches. It was a good fight, but not much of a chall-  A sharp blow to the back of his head cut the bronzerider off; causing a bellow of challenge from Saolth to echo through the Weyr Bowl. When Saolth could no longer sense his rider, the black unconsciousness acting as a thick shield, the bronze dragon launched from his perch and stood protectively over the still form of his rider, wings outstretched around them.

T'vor snorted derisively and turned back to his cronies with an air of victory.

It had been enjoyable to watch the spar for as long as it had lasted, and it had been a good match, but to Mahyeul's surprise, the defeated rider had gotten back to his feet only to lash out at the victor. More than a poor show of character, his actions had been outright irresponsible, and dangerous.

Eyes wide in fear for X'ilor, who'd fallen, Mahyeul hopped down from the ledge he'd been seated upon. Before he'd been able to reach the young man, who must have been barely older than a weyrling, his Bronze had arrived to protect him. Since he didn't know exactly how he should approach a dragon in a tense situation, he momentarily redirected himself in the direction of T'vor and his group of apparent friends.

Speaking in a firm voice, he was perfectly aware that he held no real authority here, but he'd been a witness to what had happened, so he did bear some responsibility in the situation. "Excuse me. I would like to know your name."

After a moment, Mahyeul sidestepped toward the rider who'd fallen unconscious, peering up at the dragon. Not sure if the Dragon would allow it or not, Mahyeul figured he'd at least have to put in a request with the beast, if he were to get any closer to X'ilor. So, with a reassuring smile, he spoke aloud to the dragon, "Would you let me look at your Rider? I'd like to make sure that he's alright. No one else will hurt him."

At that point, he was also glancing back in the direction of T'vor, wondering if the young man was completely ignoring him.



[Figured you'd want to continue NPCing T'vor :p]

T'vor and his friends laughed as they pantomimed the falling of the bronzrider. The young bronzerider turned at the voice that spoke to him, saw that a man in a dress was addressing him and turned away again. "Oh look, the women have come to watch me win." he sneered. T'vor looked back, "Come here sweety, let me show you how a real winner can make you feel." he said, looking the man over suggestively as if he were a woman to lust after.

The pack of friends gathered around him hooted and cheered, jeering at the man who had demanded their friends name, "That's right! T'vor can make you feel like a woman." they commented.

"Go along, pussy, unless you'd like to fight me too?" T'vor said, folding his arms in front of him and drawing his back up to his full height to look more intimidating.

As Mahyeul made his way slowly toward the bronze dragon, Saolth's eyes whirled orangy-yellow with deep distress. He stood over X'ilor, his wing cupped forward to tent over the fallen man. He could sense no malice in him and with the utmost reluctance, he parted his wings in front - just enough to admit the man hoping to help his rider and intending to close the gap as soon as the man was within the circle of his wings. Harm him, and you will meet an unpleasant fate. The dragon promised, deciding to trust the new man just a bit. The sore loser, T'vor, saw the opening and tried to rush in, slipping a small knife from the opening of his boot. Distracted, the bronze dragon protecting the fallen rider, failed to see the incoming threat and the group of taunting men sucked in their breath as they saw what their leader was doing. This was much more than they had intended, going much too far. What if T'vor killed X'ilor? What would the Weyrleader's say then!? The group scattered, abandoning their former friend to his fate.

Even with the periodic honour of being graced by the voice of either of his cousin's dragons, Mahyeul still couldn't say he was used to the unexpected chime of another voice in his head; though, it shouldn't have been that much different than a human speaking. Nevertheless, as he took another couple steps toward X'ilor, he wondered if the dragon would ever hear his thoughts -so he spoke aloud instead."Call for Nicath. He will come and settle all of this. Your rider will be safe."

From behind him, he could hear the loud and derogatory words being spoken to him, but Mahyeul possessed a high enough esteem of himself that nothing the young rider could say would make him feel insecure enough to need to defend that aspect of his ego. Not that he particularly appreciated the bad-mouthing, but it spoke more poorly of T'vor's character than anything else. It was depressing, in Mahyeul's eyes, to consider that some people simply did not possess the kind of courage it took to be a better person. But obviously, there was some weakness that this man possessed, that he felt the need to protect, and so, to build himself up, he belittled others.

Whispering where perhaps only the dragon would have heard, Mahyeul only turned around to face T'vor once he'd spoken the words, "It is because of our own weakness that sometimes we become cruel."

The guardsman had barely rested his eyes on X'ilor for long enough to see that he was at least still breathing, before he heard the rush of footsteps behind him. Upon turning to face the other rider then, Mahyeul chuckled, and narrowing half-moon eyes rested upon the cherubic cheeks of a smiling expression, as though something amused him. There was only calm about him, as no rush was needed to detect what threat T'vor might pose to himself or X'ilor. As T'vor ran forward, closing distance between them, it was easy for Mahyeul to see that his center of gravity was slightly off. Likely, he wasn't highly adept at the use of a knife for fighting; at least, not much beyond the skill it took to participate in an intermediate practice drill. It was also very obvious that he had attacked without any real plan. And unfortunately for him, strategy was quite necessary when faced with a highly skilled opponent.

Making his own rush forward to intercede on X'ilor's behalf, T'vor would only get within 10 or 15 feet of the fallen rider before Mahyeul caught T'vor's knife-hand. Catching him by the wrist, and gripping firmly, Mahyeul gave that arm a tug to make sure that T'vor's stance was unstable. In using the Rider's strength and momentum in combination with his own, Mahyeul turned into T'vor's stance, jerking the young man over his right hip so that it became a pivot point to haul T'vor off his feet, allowing him to throw T'vor so that he landed solidly on his side. The force with which he would have landed would have likely damaged the arm on that side or possibly caused minor nerve damage -though Mahyeul didn't land him hard enough to cause paralysis or any other truly severe injury.

With a lock on T'vor's wrist so that the young man could not manipulate the sharp edge of his knife, the guardsman used that arm to control him, forcing T'vor onto his back before disarming him of the weapon and tucking the thing under his own belt, where it was out of reach. Crouching near T'vor's head then, he released the young man's arm, but moved that hand instead, to apply what seemed a gentle pressure upon the Rider's forehead. There, he chuckled wistfully under his breath, half-moon orbs resting upon nearly cherubic cheeks of smiling expression.

"I'm sure you must have mistaken one of us for someone who is your enemy. Surely you did not intend to use a knife with any kind of harmful intent?" The seemingly unfailing kindness of Mahyeul's heart did not allow that smile to wane -though it obviously belied a superior intensity in combat, which T'vor himself could not match.

As he crouched there, hovering near T'vor's head to hold him in place, the Rider would be able to reach for him if he wanted, but there was little he could do to remove Mahyeul. The applied pressure of just one finger to T'vor's forehead was enough to keep him grounded on his back. The neck was not so strong as to be able to resist even that small force from the arm, and so T'vor would not be able to lift his head. Without being able to move his head, he was quite limited when it came to upper body movements. The same went for the legs. There was simply nowhere he could go at this point.

It must have felt a bit humiliating to be held on the ground helpless by a girl at the point of a bony finger. If T'vor reached to grab at him or try to fight him off, Mahyeul could easily swat away the offending hands. He fully anticipated having to do so though, seeing as how indignant T'vor had been earlier. Knowing that he was in no position to harm or otherwise reprimand the Rider however, he waited for S'dric to arrive. S'dric being Empyrean Wing's Wingsecond, would be able to handle the situation better than he. Mahyeul's specialty did not include the enforcing of Weyr edict. And from what he knew of the Weyr's policy on such things, attacking another rider with such an implement, was a serious misconduct.


Glancing back toward X'ilor's form on the ground, he had to assume that the man was still breathing and was not in any too-severe condition.

Still with a sweet smile, dual occuli of somewhat somber velvet brown hue, settled on T'vor again; only this time, the light within them seemed as sharp as a blade, imparting a dreadfully unsettling gaze, as though, as T'vor lay there, Mahyeul were taking the time to envision just how he would murder him if he had the chance. There was some definite duality to Mahyeul's personality, which had been well concealed.

If T'vor had any natural instinctive sense for survival, he might decide that it was in his best interest to be wary of ever truly upsetting Mahyeul, but it could very well be said that those who looked upon a power greater than themselves could not see.. not because they lost all sense of sight, but because those who were very small, were incapable of perceiving that which was so much greater. What greatness Mahyeul might possess,was not worn on his sleeve -yet he was a dangerous man when circumstance called for it. He had been in the employ of Telgar as a Captain, after all. He was a veritable Master at his craft.

Depending on T'vor's state of mind at present though, the young man may or may not realize that much, just by making small observations. It was still possible that T'vor would completely overlook the signs.

The alarmed bronze heard the man speak to him and the convulsive gasp his rider gave at the same time made him slightly less anxious - at least he breathed even if he couldn't feel the man's mind with his own. He stretched his senses and felt for the dragon the man had mentioned. Nicath, this man, and he paused to flash the image of the man before him, requests that you and yours come to the sparring ground. I can't feel my rider's mind... The alarm he was still feeling was evident in his tone, and it had only tapered a tiny bit when X'ilor had gasped. Having done what was asked of him, in order to get his rider help, the bronze dragon turned his attention back to the scene before him.

Somehow the man who had attacked his rider was now on the ground beneath the man's hand, and effectively held there. Saolth had seen enough of X'ilor fighting to know that the man holding him there was skilled indeed. Ask him to tell you how he knew, however, and the bronze dragon would give you a confused look. Please, X'ilor, wake up... we haven't been together long enough to let it end now... he pleaded mentally with his unconscious rider.

T'vor glowered up at the man whose name he didn't know. With a smirk, and still trying to unsettle the man in the dress, he lifted his hand and let his fingers trace lightly on the man's arm. "Mmm, I like a girl with some fight in her." he said, caressing his hand like he was trying to entice a woman to his bed. "Why don't you take that dress off and let me see what's underneath?"

Inside, the bronzerider was seething with anger as he was disarmed, quite easily it had seemed, and noted where the knife was tucked. X'ilor, and this nosy man would die as soon as he could catch them unaware. He swore his word on it. Murderous anger flashed over his face and he quickly schooled it away, hoping none had seen the change in him. It was only at that moment when he noticed his entourage had disappeared. There had been no appreciative laugh for his remarks this time. "Sharding cowards..." he muttered, cutting his eyes again. He growled up at the man, struggling to get him to release him from the ground, "Alright, by Faranth's egg," he swore, "T'vor. And X'ilor is my enemy." T'vor said petulantly. "He's a sharding cheat, no man wins as much as he does if he doesn't cheat!"

As he spoke, trying to earn his way off his back, the bested rider imagined the many ways he would like to get his revenge on the man. The smile that lit his face was one of malice as he thought of tying the man up and making him the woman he kept taunting the man with being. Perhaps he would even take him as if he were, T'vor mused.

Though not at all amused by the Rider's behaviour, he was amused by the continued stream of attempted insults that T'vor spewed. But, Mahyeul was far from insulted. Instead, he was smiling with laughter as though nothing at all had happened worth his worry. Of course, it was hardly any effort to control someone as foolish and rash as the young man he had under his control now.

"Honestly, I hate to disappoint, but I'm really not into men, and cheat or not, T'vor, I'm sure it's not really worth all this upset. And if you don't calm down, I certainly won't be letting you go anytime soon."

Deflecting T'vor's grabs at him, though any attempt to get Mahyeul to release him would have been ineffective, the guardsman took one of the Rider's grabby paws and torqued it into a joint lock, making that arm immobile. Since the man insisted on continuing to put more energy into fighting him, Mahyeul moved from the crouch he was in, while holding T'vor's wrist in a lock, placing his knee against the side of the man's head. With T'vor's cheek now pressed into the ground, the other supported part of Mahyeul's weight, where he used T'vor's scull as a knee-rest -again, keeping him where he couldn't hope to get up. This position was probably more painful to him as well. Though, it was there that Mahyeul awaited his cousin's arrival.





Nicath's head rose from the warm stone where he'd been happily absorbing sun rays, and as he looked out from his ledge, toward the training grounds, his eyes began reflecting shades of worry and slight alarm.

My rider and I will come. The words were imparted to the young bronze just before relaying the shared images into his own rider's mind.

There is some trouble. We should hurry to help them.Speaking to S'dric, the Brown rose from his ledge, hearing the strum of gitar strings come to an abrupt halt as the man lay down the instrument and bolt from his chair.

Tell them we're on our way. Call a healer to join us as well.

With that, S'dric left from his room, throwing the door open to race down the hall, headed toward the training grounds. It would take him just a couple of minutes to make it there, but Nicath could arrive first, and keep him up to date on what was going on.


Doing as his Rider had suggested, Nicath thrust off from the edge of the cliff face into a dive toward the Weyr Bowl. His wings extended to catch the air beneath them just in time to glide down to where the training grounds were located. Once he'd landed, Nicath met the Bronze to oversee the situation until S'dric arrived.

Which, it didn't take long for the Brownrider to get to them, and he was only slightly winded -probably more out of worry- when he came. It was about that same time that one of the weyr's healers trotted up to them as well. Both sets of eyes made quick study of the immediate area to see what had transpired, and then, seeing that Mahyeul had his side of things under control, both the healer and Empyrean's Wingsecond, moved to where X'ilor lay.


S'dric issued orders then, through his dragon, Tell Saolth to stand down. Let the healer see to him. Find out from him exactly what happened.

A low rumble uttered from Nicath, as he often did, reaching out to touch the Bronze's mind with his own thoughts. You'll need to let the Healer see to your Rider. Can you tell me everything that happened? It is important that my rider know. Of course, the dragon's words were not spoken in mere request. Nicath could be a rather commandeering sort, and while his rider was Wingsecond of the Wing that he and Saolth shared, he expected immediate response, just like S'dric did. Nicath however, spoke only with firm reassurance, perhaps able to bring a little calm to a tense situation as he and his Rider were here to help.

T'vor hocked and spit into the man's face holding him down. He would never admit that he was affectively holding him, and that none of his efforts to free himself would be futile - but his rage was clouding his judgement. X'ilor was more than a cheat, he was a woman-stealer. It didn't matter to him that the woman had left him of her own accord, preferring a sweet, gentle bed partner instead of the rough, raging love that he had to offer. It was true, he knew inside, that he was nothing compared to the other man, but Verana's leaving of him, and her being his first love, were what really fuelled the fire in the angry bronzerider's heart. Within the protective circle of Saolth's wings, the other bronzerider stirred but did not wake. T'vor was sad to see that his blow had not been more debilitating.

It was quickly understood that he would not move for such an attack again, as his head and arm were immobilized. Distantly he heard the arrival of the Wingsecond S'dric and his brown Nicath. Pity. The bronze dragon had enough sense left in him to call for help.

X'ilor hadn't moved again, the dragon knew, and when the older brown came to the scene, he snaked his head around in worry, his eyes whirling with alarm. When Nicath touched his mind, he acquiesced and moved his wings to allow the weyr healer to tend his rider. His tail wrapped around the group as he tried to keep the bronzerider within the circle of his body somehow. Instead of responding with words, Saolth touched Nicath's mind and played the scene of what happened for him. It was still very fresh in his mind that his rider was injured, and the memory was therefore a vivid and detailed account of the situation before them. He let it continue until the brown dragon had touched down and help had come. When he let the memory fade, his panic rose again and his eyes whirled even faster. He was getting more sure that his rider would not wake, and being alone in his mind, unable to touch his rider was beginning to show. From the ground, T'vor could see one great eye of the bronze and smirked. Maybe X'ilor would lose the thing he loved most after all - and the man hoped the dragon would suicide if the fallen man didn't rise. Please... help him. I cannot stand to be alone like this...

Sharing the images given him through Saolth's mind's eye, Nicath gave his rider a full account of what had happened.

Sensing the shared fears of losing X'ilor to some serious injury seeing as his consciousness had faded, S'dric urged his bonded, Nicath, would you do what you can to calm Saolth down please. I'm sure everything will be okay. Just tell him to continue doing a good job keeping watch over X'ilor, like he's doing now.

After catching Nicath's rumble in acknowledgement, the Brown went back to reassuring the still-young Bronze that as long as he helped keep watch over X'ilor, everything would be alright.

Of course, that was S'dric's way of keeping the Bronze focused on a task of importance so that he would not be as likely to panic and do something irrational. As long as he'd been charged with protecting the one he cared for the most, that should be enough.


Watching the healer step into the circle of Saolth's wings, the Wingsecond closed some of the gap between he and his cousin, who still held T'vor under his control. Honestly, S'dric was a bit surprised, knowing Mahyeul's background, that T'vor hadn't sustained any serious injury himself, but.. then again, Mahyeul had left the hold for his own particular reasons that spoke of a gentle heart that could not want for wanton violence. Nevertheless...

The Wingsecond scowled as T'vor struggled futilely under Mahyeul, though he wondered why the other rider would become so upset over one or two or even a few sparring match losses. S'dric didn't know T'vor well, seeing as he was from another wing (unnamed npc wing), but he couldn't imagine any of Fort's Riders being so easily brought to the extent of rage that made him go so far as to draw a knife on another rider. Determined to get to the bottom of what had caused the lapse in good judgement from T'vor, S'dric inquired after his cousin next. Of all people, Mahyeul would know how to give him an accurate report of a human perspective on what had happened. Just in case there was anything that some shared mental imaging couldn't have caught.

"Mahyeul, I'd like to ask you to recant the tale of what happend here, in your own words. But we'll do it elsewhere. I've seen parts of it through Bronze Saolth's mind but would like to have your human perception of what wend on."

Glancing down at T'vor then, S'dric addressed the young man only briefly, "And You! I'll only discuss what happened here with you, after you have calmed down. For now, we're going straight to your wingleader's office. If I have to ask you twice what Wing you're in, or if you give me any other kind of trouble, I'll make sure you get maximum punishment for drawing a knife on another rider."

The Brownrider's expression was rarely severe, but one thing he did not like to hear about, was a quarrel between riders that put the importance of trivial matters over the lives of others. S'dric was indeed a generous and understanding person, but there was never an excuse for such needless violence.

Returning attention to Mahyeul, where the man still bent with a knee and partial weight upon T'vor's head so that the rider's opposite cheek was pressed into the ground, he didn't miss seeing where T'vor's spittle drooled into the dirt.


Growing bored with T'vor, Mahyeul was glad that S'dric had come as quickly as he had, and gave T'vor little time to make any retort in front of his cousin, "I'll be glad to tell you what I saw in full, when we get to the Wingleader's office. As for the injured, I think he'll be alright. Likely, it's just a minor concussion. His nervous system was probably just given a bit of a shock. He should come-to, before too long."

Without any cords to tie T'vor's arms with, Mahyeul simply used the man's captive right arm as a lever to control him by, keeping the joints locked in a hold as he manipulated where he wanted the man to go. Turning him all the way onto his stomach, Mahyeul got up so that T'vor could follow suit, using anything but his right arm to pick himself back up, onto his feet -because Mahyeul kept a Vicelike hold on the rider's wrist and hand where now they were torqued behind T'vor's back. With a heave to help him up, Mahyeul grabbed T'vor by the back of his tunic with his left hand, assisting him up from the ground. And of course, the rider would have to move in compliance or be uncomfortably strangled by his own shirt.



[mmmms is that good? anyyyway. >D that's all for now]

The erratic sensations around the fallen bronzerider were making Saolth anxious, but when Nicath told him to keep watching over his rider, the young dragon felt purpose again, and protectively extended his wings, gave them a gentle flap, and folded them gracefully against his coppery hide. The would-be attacker was well in hand, the bronze thought, and the ranking Weyr people were taking care of X’ilor. His relief brought him comfort, and he watched with huge eyes all that went on around him.

Relief coursed through him as he watched his rider stir on the ground, groaning. His eyes whirled with joy as he saw his rider waking, and sensed a trickle of X’ilor’s mind again. When the man sat up, rubbing the back of his head and wincing with the sting of the pain, the full force of their connection rushed back between them and Saolth trumpeted his exultant happiness. X'ilor! Don't leave me alone again! His happiness at the reawakening of his rider was catching and the aching bronzerider smiled up at the huge beast. “What happened?” he asked, scratching gently at his head.

From where T’vor lay, pinned to the ground, the man heard a growl as the other’s displeasure of X’ilor’s waking was made known to the gathered people. The wingsecond had just given his orders to return to his own wingleader’s office, and the man who looked like a woman let him up, holding his arm tightly behind him and carefully keeping him restrained. Saolth’s excited pleasure had his unfurling his wings and whipping his tail around. The tip of the long, bronze tail caught the young man in the chest and knocked him backward, sprawling on the ground near a tree narrowly missed by T’vor’s head. He clutched his chest and gasped for breath, having the wind knocked out of him and perhaps a few broken ribs to boot. “Stop!” X’ilor shouted, and Saolth froze mid-movement. “Stop, or you’ll hurt him worse!” his rider said, frantic. The bronze one’s eyes whirled a bit with concern, having upset his rider who was struggling to his feet.

“I’m alright, I’m alright.” he muttered, waving off help from some of the bystanders who had watched the fight practice who had tried to assist him in standing. “Shh,” he said to his dragon, pulling the huge head down toward him and caressing it gently, “I’m awake, we are together, and I will never leave without you.” he continued, calming his bonded. I'm sorry! I didn't mean to hurt him... he said with concern, letting out a sound like a whimper as he let his rider comfort him.

“Bloody... Stupid.... Sharding... Lazy.... Dragon.” T’vor wheezed, trying to stand and holding his sides, further indication that his ribs were either cracked, or broken, by the strength of the blow. His neck hurt as well, where the shirt he was wearing tightened around it as he was flung from the man’s restraint. T’vor, too injured to try anything, stood leaning against a tree, wheezing deeply and gasping when his lungs were filled too much, hitting his injured ribs. “Well Healer? Are you... just going to just... stand there or am... I going to get... some attention?” he growled, extremely rudely.

The healer offered helping hands as X'ilor tried to sit up, making sure that the boy wasn't feeling too light headed. "If you feel like you can stand, we should get you to the infirmary just for a quick check up." The woman's words though went ignored as the elation of the Bronze was enough to distract all of their attention. Especially when the dragon's tail flung unexpectedly.



Unable to avoid the swing of Saolth's tail as the end of it struck out, Mahyeul and T'vor likely didn't even see it coming. Luckily, S'dric had barely been able to evade its tip, shouting for them to move, but it it was too late. Like swinging the large branch of a tree through the air at great speed, it landed solidly enough to fracture multiple ribs of the rider that took the brunt of the hit -but that didn't mean that Mahyeul escaped.

The guardsman from Telgar was thrown back, landing near T'vor with the wind knocked out of him. Of course, he hadn't been able to maintain a hold on the rider, but it was unlikely that T'vor would be able to run off at this rate. And it wasn't as though he had anywhere to hide.

Though there may not have been any breaks in his bones like there may have been for T'vor, Mahyeul's lungs were weak, and the sudden force applied to his chest only compounded the difficulty he already had in breathing at times.

Managing to sit up, Mahyeul's eyes turned on T'vor to see what state he was in, but even as T'vor god back to his feet, the guardsman was still on his hands and knees, coughing. After gasping for that first breath, Mahyeul felt soreness wrap around his torso, knowing that at least his own ribs would be bruised.

S'dric ran to them, first attending his cousin, but the man waved him away, knowing that he'd be fine; so, the Wingsecond went to T'vor's side where he leaned up against the tree. "We'll get you to the infirmary. After the healer's have seen to you, we'll have our talk, along with your WingLead."



Looking back to X'ilor, to make certain he was still okay, the healer arose from the ground in a rush to get to T'vor's side, not having needed him to call on her to see to him. She didn't seem to hear his words though -that or his snide tone went ignored- as she suggested that they make their way to the infirmary with all three men who'd been injured. Her voice was commanding though gentle, leaving no room for discussion, "All three of you, to the infirmary."

Motioning to Mahyeul who had yet to rise to his feet, she suggested, "S'dric, would you help this man to his feet and see that the Bronzerider can make his way there, too?"

Following her order, the Wingsecond offered a hand to Mahyeul until the man was steady enough on his feet to move of his own accord, and then he turned to see after X'ilor.

"How are you feeling?" S'dric didn't know much about head injuries, but he wanted to make sure that they didn't need to call for a stretcher, instead.


The healer on the other hand, wrapped T'vor's arm over her shoulders and her own arm around his back in a supportive manner, allowing him to use her for stability as they went.

The bronzerider nodded carefully, testing his vision and his head in the process. It ached a bit to nod, but his eyes were free of spots. Likely, though, he would have a concussion to deal with for a day or two. Better than being dead. Saolth commented logically. X’ilor had to grin at that, and agreed with the bronze. A concussion is much better than being dead. The dragon, still concerned about the people who looked injured, turned with whirling eyes to view what had happened. Noting that the man who had attacked his rider was now leaning against a tree, and the nice man who had saved his rider was having trouble, he crooned with distress. I didn't mean to hurt them! The nice one is having trouble! He told X’ilor. I will tell them you didn’t mean it, you overgrown bronze. he teased, turning back toward the men.

“I should thank you, sir,” he started respectfully to Mahyeul, “you saved my life and the life of my dragon. Saolth wants to offer you his services in apology for his antics and excitement injuring you after rescuing me.” he kept up the thanks as he moved slowly toward the man and knelt beside him to help him rise, “Please let him know where you’d like to go and he is at your service.”

It was a moment later when the Healer deemed them all fit for the infirmary and the young man had to grin when he saw Saolth crook his leg for them to climb aboard. He, personally, knew that a long walk would probably make his head swim and the spots to appear. With a laugh, he turned to the injured guardsman, “It seems he would like to do our walking for us and get us to the infirmary. Would you like to mount and let him walk for us?” he asked, giving the other man the first choice in seating on the bronze. To S’dric he said, “Yes, I am fine sir. Thank you.” but he turned his attention back to his rescuer.

T’vor, for his part, didn’t try anything with his broken ribs and X’ilor so close. Instead, he grinned maliciously as the woman came to check him over, “If you wanted... me to take... my shirt off,... you should have... just asked.” he quipped, pausing between every few words when his ribs hurt too much for the full sentence. It lessened the impact of the whole thing, he thought, and licked his lips. Broken ribs hurt. She said nothing to him and instead wrapped her around around his waist to help him walk. Privately he was grateful to the woman, but he wouldn’t allow her to see to his treatment when they made it to the infirmary. Women should work at keeping order, not doing a man’s Craft, he thought, sneering. Noticing his failure to elicit a response with his first comment, he brought his free arm up and groped her. “Well, at least you’re a woman in that sense,” he said, a throwback to his thought a moment before, “but I want a man to look at my ribs.”

Saolth turned his large head toward the pair, the one who had attacked his rider, and the healer who had seen to X’ilor. He lowered it to be at eye level with the man and the whirling red anger was obvious within them. Saolth spoke for all to hear, You are no man. Men are respectful. The Healer is respectful. She is more of a man than you are. The bronze was unaware that his words could have been considered an insult to the Healer, but his head turned away the next instant, having breath a full-lunged breath out through his nostrils and over the injured rider. The knockback of the force of it made his ribs hurt even more and T’vor winced, his breath too short to respond.

Holding up a hand to wave away any worry shared by the Bronzerdier, Mahyeul stopped coughing for long enough to reply, "It was no problem at all. There's no need to worry. It's just" The words broke as he was unable to suppress the next cough, but he was smiling thereafter, "Saolth's tail surprised me, is all." 


Once the Bronzerider had addressed his Wingsecond, S'dric turned his eyes on his cousin briefly. Placing a hand then at X'ilor's shoulder with reassurance, he gave the boy directive, "If you'll see that you both make it to the infirmary and receive some sort of treatment, I'm going to go track down both Wingleads, his and yours, so that when both of you are ready, we can start accounting for what exactly brought all this on and find some resolution."

Glancing back to his cousin once more, S'dric nodded, "You'll be fine too, won't you? Just don't skip out on treatment. Let X'ilor here see you to the infirmary. I'm sure he wants to repay you somehow."

Nodding agreeably, Mahyeul watched as S'dric turned to leave them a few moments later.



The lady healer on the other hand, was quite adequately ignoring whatever rude come ons the patient in her care had the energy to spout out. She didn't even seem to bat an eye at him. Focusing on her job, to her, was obviously paramount, and if there would be flirting, it could happen after T'vor had been seen to at the infirmary. And, though she wanted to slap him, she hadn't been able to swipe his hand away as he groped her, seeing as she was busy trying to support him as he walked. Though.. perhaps a good healer might have just dropped him for good measure. But, maybe she was too nice? She wasn't like that. 

It wasn't until he became derogatory toward her being a woman in the craft that she acknowledged his words; but it wasn't until after the Bronze had bespoken all of them. She wasn't offended by the dragon, seeing as she'd been at the Weyr long enough to know that dragons had their own way of talking. To tell the truth, she was more grateful that Saolth would have the sense to jump in to defend her in that sense. 

In any case, she was soon moving on with T'vor, figuring that with this ongoing conflict between them, she might want to keep the two riders separated. "Come on. You're coming with me. And you'll be seen to by a Healer who is capable of treating your injuries. That is all that should be important."