Feeding time! ( First hunting lesson)

Monaco Bay Weyr - Training Yard

Sheltered from the direct heat of the day and the storms of the season by the rocky walls of the weyr, this exercise yard holds a thick layer of lush grass. The yard offers room enough for the entire class of weyrlings to stretch, romp, and practice behind a tall wooden palisade meant to keep the pre-flight dragons from wandering off too far. To the west, just against the palisade, a small coral of ovines and caprines has been erected for convenience. A freshwater pump is installed to the north, against the wall of the caverns, to provide just enough water flow to clean a weyrling dragon after a meal. When the palisade gate is open, there is a clear, stone-lined path leading towards the paradise river and the designated weyrling beach.


For several months now the weyrlings have been butchering and cutting and hand feeding the growing beasts. As they grow their appetites grow as well but don't despair for it will not always be like this. Today with the sun setting in brilliant colors over the western horizon it's time for a lesson and one of the AWLM's have made their rounds through the barracks to draw out several weyrlings into the training yard. "First time hunting!" is the only explanation given though surely that'll draw 'em out like flies to light.

You can't force a dragon to hunt its dinner before it's time…and so - given that only Kelmaimenth, Marzoth, and a few other weyrling dragons are anything resembling hungry - the WLM has chosen them to participate in this first hunt. T'ayne is excited as can be, given this is his 'specialty,' and Kelmaimenth catches the 'bug' from her lifemate, her placid-looking greens eyes spinning up from a slow whirl to a moderate, blue focus dotted with red. With his fingertips ghosting a carress over the silvery-green's shoulder, the young man strides alongside Kel to follow the AWLM, looking around to see who else was prompted.

G'tor is standing there at the fence when the first gaggle of 'lings arrives, looking as old and disapproving as ever, "Line up and spread out your wings boys and girls, today's going to be a stretch." Har har. "If you fail at this, you'll be held back until your exercises come along properly, understand?”

'Or like Marzoth to the darkness! The dark is the bronze dragon's domain. In the night he can see clearly once more, no need for those silly goggles he has to wear during the daylight hours. In the darkness the dragon is home, and absence of the light brings him peace. He is whole once more. A dragon just like his siblings. He walks out of the barracks and the those rays of the setting sun hit him. He flinches just like he had taken a blow. His eyes glow yellow mirroring the light, «Mine. Come to me. I will need your eyes.» The darkness reaches outward to enfold his rider, the trees gently blowing in the warm breeze of his eternal night. Though the words are phrased as a command he says them gently. He and his rider have grown much and understand each other more. The rider falls in at his dragons side knowing that Marzoth will use his eyes to see while the sun hangs low in the sky, "Relax I'm here." Marzoth, through Syd's eyes, can see Kel there as well, «Sister.» he greets cordially. The pair move toward the indicated place and the dragon begins to flex his wing muscles. Syd salutes and nods. «I will catch. And I will kill.» Like the dragon really needs all the much encouragement.

With Ceresth sound asleep in the clearing, Vanessa's dressed in shorts and a tank top and running shoes ( whatever the Pern equivalent to tennis shoes are), and is making her rounds through the weyr. Her second pass takes her through the weyrling training yard because…well she likes to peek in on the 'lings sometimes. She's just in time to see them gathering in the yard so she strolls over to stand next to cranky man G'tor. "Lessons this evening?" she asks brightly.
After his own salute, and aside to S'dny as they all fall in, T'ayne whispers a baritone, "D'you think they chose him for his effervescent personality?" of G'tor. « Brother. » Kelmaimenth rumbles in her silvery alto to Marzoth, the green giving herself room to stretch before proceeding to do such, her ivy-limned wings flexed with concise care, as are her limbs and neck, tail. There's no more words from the 'Lady,' but she offers the young bronze an image of what she thinks a swift, proper kill would look like: them gliding over the penned beasts, and snatching them with tooth and claw for a quick meal. "Yes, ma'am… Hunting," T'ayne notes pleasantly to the arriving Vanessa.

You should see him when he's harpering, right now he's just wearing his Weyrlingmaster face. Grrr.

G'tor's weathered face splits into a grin, "Okay, everyone, I want the dragons to show me their best glides. No less than three steps and one at a time, you need to get at least to…" He pauses, looking at the pitch, "There." He indicates a rock several dragonlengths away. "Show me.”

S'dny offers a quick salute to Vanessa. Can't well forget to greet a weyrwoman after all. It wouldn't be polite. Not to mention that Vanessa is a pretty all around nice lady to begin with, "No idea." he whispers in response to T'ayne's question, "They all seem to be like that. If I were teaching I'd try to be more..positive." Not that he has really given any of that sort of thing much thought. Marzoth holds the projection of his sister in his mind for a moment. Examining it, taking in every detail. «It is beautiful.» The bronze can feel the animal deep inside of himself. The Thing he keeps hidden at the center of that dark forest growling and clawing its way to the surface. For a moment he resists, but only for a moment. The poor boy is still working on keeping things inside. From the darkness rises a dragon, a dragon made of smoke and flame and this is what he shows his sister. Marzoth's eyes glow read as the sun dips below the horizon. He fixes the weyrlingmaster with a piercing gaze before he looks down the pitch where he indicates. Marzoth takes a step then another and another and pushes himself off the ground opening his wings to glide gently above the earth. As he does so the sound that comes out of him could almost be classified as a cross between a hum and a raspy barking laughter. He lands much easier than he had during his lesson and turns swiftly to face his teacher. Syd can only sigh, "Marzoth." he says quietly.

Vanessa watches silently as not to disturb anyone with her presence. She'll watch from here! Any and all salutes are returned though with a quick grin from the ever-happy Jr. Weyrwoman.
"Good luck with that. I figure Turns of instructing a bunch of half-cocked kids makes even the most positive of staff grumpy…" T'ayne soberly informs Syd, though there's a hint of a ghost-smile lingering about one side of his mouth. "Yes, sir…" the hunter informs G'tor, placing a light hand upon Kelmaimenth's chin as she awaits the outcome of Marzoth's leap, the silvery-green breathless for a few moments as she watches intently - both within and without - her brother's smoke and flame self, his masterful glide. A quick rumble of congratulations is offered to his rasp-bark, and soon enough -she's- stepping up proudly, taking a rather graceful, quick five dragon-sized paces, then bounding up into the air for a glide that's like watching a smooth-running stream: effortless and lovely. Unfortunately, her landing is a little less graceful, Kel's feet hitting the ground more harshly than she wanted, her legs having to compensate for the heavier -thud- of her body and its forward momentum by flexing deeply. For a few moments, all any nearby dragon can 'hear' is Kel's vicious diatribe of her own incompetency - all emotional, sans words - before she jerks herself up proudly again, and makes as if nothing ever happened. Her rider, on the other hand, winces slightly at the invective -he's- literally hearing inside his head, T'ayne now concentrating on easing his lifemate.

"Stow the gab!" G'tor's still grinning, but there's a hard edge to his voice, too. "Okay, now. Take off and landing will come with practice." He turns, gesturing over the fence, "It's best for the dragon to pick out their target first, especially now when they can't truly fly yet, that's why we've only brought out a few, but it's essential that they start hunting on their own. So, one at a time, your dragons will cross the fence, pick a beast, and bring it down. You've all seen grown dragons feed, use this to coach them now.”

Marzoth is teetering on the edge of being able to be controlled. He watched his sisters glide and landing with distict disinterest, his mind already moving forward to what he plans to do next. Her response to her failure at landing does garner some of his attention. Kel has been a veritable source of knowledge for those /lovely/ impolite words that Marzoth is growing to love so much. And perhaps he even learned a few new ones. Syd has a growing look of nervousness on his face, "So that's where he's getting them…It certainly didn't come from me." he says in an almost fatherly voice as he looks over to T'ayne as if to say, 'Control your dragon's mouth.' Though he too can't judge too harshly as he can't properly control Marzoth at this point. When the weyrlingmaster gives the instructions Marzoth is off like a shot. A growl rumbles low in his chest and his eyes glow a deeper shade of red. Yes. Marzoth is bye bye. He hops the fence and jumps into the air gliding toward his chosen victim. A hiss escapes his mouth as he connects, tearing into the beast with his claws…very much looking like he just wants to destroy it rather than hunt. And destroy he does. Ripping, tearing, biting. Only the sound of his hearbeat and breath in his ears. All else is shut out. This is what he was made for. To fly and catch..and kill.

"He's in a hurry that one." remarks Vanessa quietly to G'tor. "How exciting to be able to see their first hunts!”

T'ayne looks over at Syd when the Harper comments about Kel's cussing, the hunter crossing his arms over his chest and half-smirking, half curling his upper lip before he answers, "Control your -own- dragon." Fisnished with her spate of foul temper, Kelmaimenth watches Marzoth's launch, his hissing take-down, his rending of the screaming herdbeast with a certain fascination, her eyes growing progressively more red, like the bronze's own. She'll wait for her own time, given Marzoth's messiness and excess. Catching Vanessa's remark, the weyrling murmurs a low, "Wasting a lot…"

G’tor watches the pair of displays, then just shakes his head, "Okay, so, now that we've established that you both need to continue working on controlling your dragons… Those were passable first times. From now on, you'll be hunting instead of butchering, but for the next sevenday you'll need to find an assistant weyrlingmaster to be prepared to help in the case of mishap. Are there any questions?”

Marzoth continues to rend what is left of the creature for a few moments before he pauses, panting from the effort he put in. He turns to face the assembled group and opens up his mouth showing his teeth as he stands as tall as he can, wings unfurled, eyes glowing. Presently he is a state of mind that is decidedly non-verbal but the gesture really says it all. 'I am fierce!' Syd can only helplessly watch as as the events unfold, "I'm working on it…" he says softly trying every trick he knows to recall the dragon, but nothing seems to be working. He can only shake his head half heartedly at the weyrlingmaster, "No…no questions.”

Now -that- comment makes T'ayne sit up and pay attention more, his hazel eyes jerked over to G'tor, the young man's expression a trifle guilty, angry, embarrassed, and haughty all at the same time. "Yes, sir," is his clipped, brusque comment to the AWLM, Kelmaimenth affixing some kind of inscrutable look on G'tor, then leveling her red eyes on a particular beast that looks delicious to her. Once again, the bounding green is in the air, gliding with supple ease, the already panicking herd skittering this way and that. Along her way to picking her favored meal out from the group, she loses enough altitude to force her to land again, but -this- time, there's only steely, laser-fine concentration from the green. Up once again she vaults - while watching her 'chosen one' - and in a sudden whirl upon a wingtip, the warrior 'Lady' is extending talons, and impaling the hindquarters of a young male herdbeast, thus rendering it unable to move much at all. Retracting her front talons and jerking back her forepaws, Kel glides past the downed beast - the thing bawling loudly - and then cuts back around on a wingtip once more to land a little more neatly some tens of feet from it. Her serpentine-like form almost undulates along in the typical dragon lope as she closes the distance, Kel then very quickly, efficiently, and brutally closing her large teeth around the beast's neck, and ending its life near-immediately. While Marzoth gapes and postures, Kelmaimenth rumbles darkly, primally, her head darting looks around to make certain no one else is near before she settles into eating her kill with a thrill of pleased chill. And T'ayne? He's just swallowing over and over, his eyes now wide, breath panting as he leans into the fence, sharing near-fully in his dragon's primal pleasure in her first hunt. Poor G'tor isn't really even there, right now, for T’ayne.

G'tor lets out a soft sigh, "And just as before, be careful not to let them over-eat." He pauses, then shouts out in the way only a harper can, "T'AYNE! are you paying attention?”

Gulp, GAH! Jerking back enough from Kelmaimenth's primal pleasure at sating herself, T'ayne stands tall, eyes focusing on G'tor, a salute automatically snapped to the man. "Yes sir!"


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