Mounted Race Log

Log Courtesy of Tilla!


Southern Weyr Beach
This wide strip of sparkling white sand is a popular hangout for the Weyr's dragons; at almost any time you can find them lounging in the sun. The clear blue waters of the ocean roll up onto the soft sands with a gentle hiss. Fairs of firelizards wheel and dive in the air, some popping in and out of nooks and crags on the cliff, others diving and playing in the waves. Occasionally you spot a firelizard dive into the water and emerge with a wriggling fish in his claws.
It is a winter evening.
Curled up in the sand are seven firelizards.
Gold Aevryscienth, blue Tosiekoth, green Amuirnith, Green Veriameth, blue Esryth, and bronze Nverath are here.
You see Ista Weyr Preparation Tent (iwpt), High Reaches Weyr Preparation Tent (hwpt), and Order of Events! here.
You notice Kangarru, Rhaeyn, Palia, Aislinn, and Dill asleep here.
Andru, Bajiren, and D'baji are here.
Obvious exits:
Cove Stairs

As the hubbub on the beach starts to pick up, a certain swimmer's ears are met with the noise of preparation for the upcoming events. This is after she surfaces from some kind of dive and peers around to see what's going on. Realizing there are people about, she hurriedly swims over to one of the many craggy, sealife encrusted rocks in the vicinity, hoping not to be seen yet. Why she does not want to be seen is anybody's guess, but it may have to do with the fact that her clothes are on said rock and she's been swimming au natural.

And who would be on those bio-encrusted rocks, but Bajiren. The teen, decked out once again in Ista colours, is amusing himself (while his dad is over talking to the other Very Official judges) by hopping from one rock to the next with his sister. Alas, his sister skids, swears like no 8-turn-old should know how, and, muttering, heads to the healer tent. Leaving just Baji, conveniently, when Tilla starts making her way over. And of /course/ he recognises her, and makes for the water, sandals and all. "Tilla!"

Oh, this is awkward. Fortunately for S'lo, his swimming trunks are donned upon his body since he seems to fancy land more than water. But upon the ruckus caused by large crowds starting to gather and appear from tents and between alike, S'lo quickly shuffles towards the rock to help the redhead (the female type) out, except he's intercepted by none other than Bajiren! Amusement crosses his face as he stands tight, rubbing at his face. "Might want to uh—you know."

Overhead, Lenculoth soars in from over the Weyr cliff.
Overhead, Lenculoth glides down for a landing on the Weyr Beach.
Lenculoth glides in for a landing.
S'eron slides from Lenculoth's neck and lands gently on the ground.

Tilla starts gesturing to S'lo in the manner of 'my swim bottoms are over there' but then there's a Baji! "Bajiren!" The greenrider calls out, "Heeey!" A small shifty eyed gaze when she realizes, she's going to end up flashing the poor boy if she's not careful. "One minute here and I'll come out to greet you..ah…" She has her top on and is waggling her hand out for S'lo to hopefully ninja her bottoms into her outstetched palm without too much notification to all else present.

Bajiren, alas, is thirteen, and not entirely stupid. The boy looks from Tilla, to S'lo, and back again. And then declares, "You're butt naked, aren'tcha?" And the kid rolls his eyes, and shifts on the rocks until his back is turned to Tilla. He even starts whistling something, like as if that might help prevent vision. Sensory overload or something?

Overhead, Izlasth soars in from over the Weyr cliff.
Overhead, Izlasth glides down for a landing on the Weyr Beach.
Izlasth glides in for a landing.
Lzi slides from Izlasth's neck and lands gently on the ground.

S'lo quickly sidles Tilla's way, snatching the swim bottoms along the way. Once he's close enough, they're shoved discretely in her direction. "Yeah um, I think the mounted races are starting soon. Better hurry," S'lo advises, offering a finger waggle in greeting towards Baji. "Wait." Yes, wait. "Ooooh, you can't talk to him, Tilla," he then tells the young woman. "Orange and black! That's like, against the rules or something." Conversing with the enemy!

Tilla slips on her swim bottoms and is finally clothed so she stands up out of the water, ta-da! She leans over and gives Bajiren a hug, doing the raspberry at S'lo, "If talking to an Istan is a crime, then convict me for hugging Baji, I just can't help it!" She laughs, and then leans over to give S'lo a hug too so he isn't neglected. "Mounted races, eh? I think Amuirnith was mulling it over. She's pretty light on her feet!"

Lzi easily slides down from Izlasth, immediately digging around in a pouch to get that familiar orange and black polka dotted bandana, using it to tie her hair back out of her face in a runner tail. Searching for her Weyr colors and fellow riders, she heads in that direction, her green following closely after to go gather with the other dragons.
D'baji is sitting with judges from two other Weyrs (Igen and Fort) at a judging table. The rider-judges' respective dragons are all waiting fairly nearby. Rules are being reviewed, chatting is going on, non-partisan (hopefully) crafters and holders who will be on the ground are being consulted… Gettin' ready.

Bajiren keeps one arm slung around Tilla's shoulders for long enough to look over at S'lo with a smirk. "Yup, both gonna be locked up, us." Then to Tilla: "S'all right, I know how the brig works, I'll keep us safe." A broad grin, and then she's released. Can't keep her all to himself, after all, especially if she's meaning to go hug the bluerider. "I kept tellin' m'dad he should've turned down judging, let Nverath go. Nev's still one of the best I ever saw in the air. Iqi ain't even bein' allowed to compete, 'case she goes all Dex on some dragon or other."

"Duly noted. Your punishment will be distributed at the conclusion of tonight's event," S'lo says with a Very Straight Face. Upon seeing Lzi tying her bandana, he then asks "Have you seen my bandana?" of Tilla. Because she would know somehow. To Baji, he wrinkles his nose, asking "Is this a ground or an air race?" And then? "I can't believe Dex tackled your dad yesterday."

Lenculoth is stretching and getting ready, beating her wings a little to dispell excess energy. The sand kicked up causes S'eron to start coughing, a displeased look on his face. "Oy, stop!" He grumbles, starting to shake sand out of his hair now. Giving into the fad, he's grabbed a half black, half orange bandana and tied it around his upper arm. He moves closer to the starting mark, but mulls with the others.

Tilla laughs at Baji, "Is that so, well I know I'd feel safer in the brig with a fellow redhead!" She winks merrily over to him and then regards S'lo with a 'straight face'. "Oh, dear. What is my punishment, S'lo, do tell?" She smirks over at him and then pauses, trying to remember about the bandanna. "I saw it in the preparation tent..you know, earlier." Cough. Amuirnith is shaking herself dry by now and giving meaningful glances over to those hanging about on the rocks.

"I know! Shit, now I wish I'd watched it." Bajiren shakes his head, a tragic look on his face - oh, to have missed that. "Dad was sayin' he almost hit her, 'cept Nverath held him back. Good thing mom wasn't racin', or else there /woulda/ been a fist fight." Pause. "Between Weyrs." It's said with just a touch of cocky mockery, and Bajiren offers a smirk to the 'Reachians. Hey, if they get to talk innuendo, he gets to talk public embarrassment.

Yeah, might as well go and line up and start preparing for the race. Lzi and Izlasth head in that direction, but not before she can be a snot and blow at kiss to S'lo. Because she can. And it's funny. Tilla and Bajiren receive a finger-waggle-wave before she turns a grin on S'eron. "Ready to win another one for Ista?"

"Right," S'lo nods, turning to bound back towards the 'reachian tent. Flaps flop open and closed and again as S'lo returns, bandana in hand. He opens his mouth to say something to Tilla and Bajiren, but it's then that Lzi blows a kiss his way. And what does he do? He blows it off to the side! Take that, Istan! "Um. So. Uh—I forgot what I was going to say."

Overhead, Nazkriuulth soars in from over the Weyr cliff.
Overhead, Nazkriuulth glides down for a landing on the Weyr Beach.
Nazkriuulth glides in for a landing.
Dex unbuckles from Nazkriuulth's riding straps, sliding down his dark form to once again have feet on Pern.

Tilla snickers, "It was a sight to see. Il'ad also laid a kiss on Dex, Oh, my Faranth, I thought she was going to /explode/" She shakes her head. "You don't cross Dexie. Unfortunately she's been too tighly wound lately, I hope she can relax soo-" Tilla looks around to make sure Dex isn't in fact present so that she is not in danger of a Dexsplosion. Hee. To S'lo she remarks, "You were going to say that you and I should get mounted on our lifemates, right, S'lo? So we can compete? Are you competing? I'm going to try," she says as she gets to her feet and makes her way to the beach.

Overhead, Nymerith soars in from over the Weyr cliff.
Overhead, Nymerith glides down for a landing on the Weyr Beach.
Nymerith glides in for a landing.

"Of course, Tilla, but I don't know how our luck is going to hold out. It's hard to push oneself two days in a row…" Ron gives a shrug and a good natured smile to the other greenrider, turning to watch the others interact. He's quieter - mental preparedness and all.

Igen brownrider (and Weyrsecond) O'pec heads to the starting area, clearing his throat, and issuing a shout no doubt learned from fighting Thread (the man's old enough for it), "Anyone still needing to confirm their registration, please proceed to the judges' table! All others, to the start line, please." Brown Fosifuelth no doubt relays the same to the dragons.

Nymerith lowers her head, rumbling a friendly farewell as T'zyn slips off her neck and back to the ground.

Bajiren hops alongside Tilla for a moment longer, offering, "No offense if I cheer for an Istan, right? It'll be good to see you an' Amu fly, though." And then the dragonless boy is off to find his sister (emerging from the tent), and heading toward the spectator area.

"We're competing. I'm sending a message to our entire wing to get their butt down here, too. We should ALL compete and Tsunami this place up—TSUUUUUUUU!" Tsu pride, yo. With that, S'lo gives Tilla a quick grin before bounding off towards his lifemate to get ready for the event. He's already registered! Really, he is.
S'lo clambers up Tosiekoth's neck and settles in between two neckridges.

T'zyn and Nymerith are running late to arrive — perhaps that is not the best sign for a competition requiring speed. The green lands on the beach, head bowing to let her rider down. The teenager runs over to the registration table, looking apologetic. "Me! I gotta. Um. T'zyn of green Nymerith, from Ista Weyr," he announces. "Am I too late?"

Well then. Since no one seems to be in the mood for any Lzi, she hops up on Izlasth and gets herself all set and ready for the race to begin.
Lzi clambers up Izlasth's neck and settles in between two neckridges.

Tilla grins and squeezes Bajiren's shoulder fondly, "Course, you cheer for your weyr and I shall cheer for mine and afterwards we'll all celebrate, no matter who wins?" she winks. In her racing mind, it occurs to her that Lzi waved to her so she calls out, "Heeey Lzi! Sorry, my mind is going a million directions! Good luck!!" She runs over to get registered and hops up on her lifemate.

Dex is running late. She's never late. In fact, Dex is usually one of the first in line, ready for everything ahead of schedule, pre-planned a million times over. But today, she's late. Nazkriuulth begins to touch down, but before he's even on the ground, Dex has to mentally push him to keep heading, and drop down near to the starting line. "Told you I'd make it, Tilla!" she calls, though she doesn't particularly sound or look very pleased. Luckily, the 'Dexsplosion' that Tilla fears is not a great possibility, at the moment, but she does look less enthusiastic than she did yesterday before busting her butt.

Lenculoth extends a foreleg and helps lift S'eron onto her neck- letting he settle in between two neckridges.

At the registration table is Nafta, rider of green Notarifth. The Fortian rider offers T'zyn a tight smile as he comes - one of those 'look at me being patient for the sake of cooperation with other Weyrs' smiles - and taps a hide. "Sign your name here, please. We will be starting soon. You're familiar with the course and rules I hope?"

From Lenculoth's neck, S'eron settles in and buckles in, smoothing his hair down as he puts on his riding helmet. It really does help streamline his head. This is important for competing.

"Phew." T'zyn bends over the table and scrawls his name, flashing the rider a thankful smile. "Yeah, I'm good. With the rules and all. Thanks!" He straightens and scampers back to Nymerith, climbing back up to buckle himself in as they head for the starting line.
From Tosiekoth's neck, "Yeah, TSUUUU!" S'lo calls out again as Dex arrives, pumping a fist in the air from atop his lifemate. He bounces a little, perhaps to readjust himself on his straps, and makes to tying his bandana across his forehead again. "Tilla! Over here!" Reachians need to stick together.

Lenculoth extends a foreleg and helps lift T'zyn onto her neck- letting he settle in between two neckridges.

Tilla straps herself in and Amuirnith and herself make their way over to Dex and S'lo. "TSUUUUU!!!" she cries out, the war cry of her wing. Her wet hair is flapping in the wind, which, thankfully is drying it out quite nicely. She adjusts her other straps, yes that would be her bikini top straps. Don't need anything else flapping in the wind during the race.

D'baji takes over for O'pec and Nafta, who, with everyone registered, go off to their dragons and get themselves airborne. The Weyrleader's shouts are relayed by his dragon, of course: "Everyone is to start mounted. Make sure you're strapped on, or you'll be disqualified. The race will begin on Nverath's bugle."

D'baji vaults to a seat amidst foamy neckridges with the help of an extended liquid-golden forearm.

Atop Nazkriuulth's skeletal form, Dex is primed and ready to go! Unlike Tilla in her swimsuit gear, the bluerider is in nothing other than her riding gear, which is likely rather impractical in Southern's weather, but she didn't necessarily have a lot of time to remove it before setting herself up for the race. This, though, is mostly Nazkriuulth's game; Dex has the advantage of strong throwing arms, if not the most agile blue on Pern at her beckonning. But he'll fly, and do as she asks. He aligns himself up next to Amuirnith, eyes a deep, spinning orange of anticipation. "Tsuuuunami!" She hollars, pumping her first, before preparing herself mentally for it to begin.

Blue Aeneath and his Istan rider, Cuba, are mostly ready. Aeneath has been doing his stretches, if sloppily in all the excitement, and Cuba has been stretching her flirting skills more than anything. But by now, the blue's straps are checked, the rider is buckled in, and both are looking fairly focused. Cuba buttons up her light riding jacket, slips her riding goggles into place, then gives her Weyrleader the thumb's-up signal.

From Izlasth's neck, Lzi makes one last minute check to make sure she's strapped in all safe and sound before her eyes are narrowing in on the course, getting in The Zone. She waits, tensed up and ready to go, whenever they are given the signal to go.

Nverath jumps into the air, and once he, Notarifth and Fossifuelth are all hovering in their decided spots, and the ground crew is ready, the bronze gives a warning, « Ready! » A moment later, a brassy bugle is emitted. The race is on!

From Tosiekoth's neck, S'lo prepares himself like a racer on a runner, leaning forward and gripping his straps while hugging the marker against his side. "Let's win one for Reaches, Tsu!" At the bugle, the bluerider sends his lifemate airborne and forward with a "GO GO GO!" in encouragement. For once, Tosiekoth seems entirely focused. Amazing, isn't it?

Lenculoth crouches low when the 'ready' command is spread throughout the dragon ranks. Her riders grips his straps and curls in tightly around her. The muscles in her legs bound up on each other before flinching when the bugle sings out. She leaps and sweeps her wings down, hefting her slim form into the air. She claws at the sky once more before tucking her legs in tight and letting her wings take over completely.

Bajiren sits with his sister Saji in the spectator area, clumped in with a bunch of other Istans clad in orange and black, most of whom are wearing, waving or otherwise brandishing the Weyr-coloured bandannas, and cheering mightily as their dragons and riders become airborne. Baji, for his part, gives a shout of, "Iiiiiiiiiiista!" in the middle of which the teen's voice cracks. But he's too excited to be embarrassed right now.

Keladry stands in the crowd, awed by the sight of so many dragons. When the race starts, she cheers along with everyone else, her face the epitome of happy. Her hair swirls around her face as they all take off, the gust sucking the air from her lungs. Her hazel eyes follow the competetors, dream like in their excitement.

From Izlasth's neck, Lzi's lips curl back in a cocky smile as Izlasth springs into the air after Nverath's bugle, the green easily beating her wings and gaining altitude, ducking out of the way of some of the more ungraceful dragons. Probably from High Reaches. Ahem. It doesn't take long before the greenriding pair is quickly heading to where the markers need to land.

From Nymerith's neck, :is poised and ready, as is his green. At the signal, they are off — lost for a while in the throng of dragons in flight. Nym's wings beat strongly to propel her lithe form forward. T'zyn hunches low, holding tight to her straps as she streaks forward, the bright orange of his shirt a stark contrast to Nym's green and silver.

From Nymerith's neck, T'zyn is poised and ready, as is his green. At the signal, they are off — lost for a while in the throng of dragons in flight. Nym's wings beat strongly to propel her lithe form forward. T'zyn hunches low, holding tight to her straps as she streaks forward, the bright orange of his shirt a stark contrast to Nym's green and silver.

And… ZOOM! Blue-black wings pull in, and Nazkriuulth bullets forward into the air. For a skeletal beast, he has power in his wiry muscles, and without those blanket-expanding wings draping over the air, his body is aerodynamic enough to put him forward, ahead of most of the larger, or more bulky beasts. But it's those wings, that on the ground offer a shield, that become cumbersome in the air. The moment they extend, his speed slackens just enough for a dragon beside him, that he'd been in front of, to pull ahead a hairslength. Oooh, he'll change that. He'll change that. Upon his back, Dex is hugging to his hide, providing what slip-stream she can around the thin frame of his body. She is silent, only offering encouragement in the darkness of their minds. But it's enough, to keep him going.

Tilla leans forward and grips the straps tightly,waiting for the all important cues to take off. And when that call is issued, they are raring to go. She has the marker in her grasps and Amuirnith gives a huge shudder and thrust of her hindquarters, and then, they're aloft! "High Reaches Gooooooo!" She cries as her lifemate's verdant wingsails embrace the air.
Cuba gives a flash of a smile, but it soon disappears as Aeneath crouches, then leaps! Blue wings unfurl and snap down in a fluid motion as the daredevils take to the skies, their training with Ista's Games unit coming in awfully handy. From there, however, the only deft manuevers are those around those other blues and greens dominating today's race. Yay for the smaller chromatics! It's a banner day. Aeneath's shorter wings mean there's a lot more air-beating, however, and the thermals aren't the greatest help at the lower altitudes, but the blue does what he can. Cuba, meanwhile, leans very close to her mate's neck while her throwing arm begins swingling that heavy marker over her head like some sort of cumbersome lasso as they begin to near that crucial line at the end of the course.

"GOOOO HIGH REACHES! WOOOOOO!" Keladry's voice is a high pitched squeel in her excitement, but who cares right? Go go weyr support. She jumps up and down in her excitement, ready to cheer her fellow Reachians on! She bumps into a couple of people, but is too distracted to appologize.

As the competitors set out, Fossifuelth and Nverath set to sweeping higher overhead, watching the manoeuvres, the ducking and dodging, and certainly scanning for any cheap shots on the part of any of the participants. And maybe, just maybe, D'baji is looking a bit more frequently to Dex than to some of the other competitors. Not without precedent, of course. Nafta and Notarifth, for their parts, are positioned, and staying, nearer the final circle. The turnaround point is bound to be a mess of wings, with every rider throwing at a different time and place. And indeed, as the race progresses, Fossifuelth skips between to come up alongside his Fortian counterpart, ready for the midpoint of the challenge.

Upon reaching the circle (or whatever it is), S'lo mentally signals his lifemate to dip low, nearly skimming if only for accuracy, to drop the marker. Success! A near-collision has him swerving to the immediate left and out of the way, which unfortunately stalls their progress. But there's a benefit of being the smallest (full grown) blue; speed! Tosie can certainly be quick when he wants to be. Fortunately, there are no flutterbys to distract him.

In the crowds, cheering can easily be heard. Tsunami members, decked out in their prospective wing colors, are all shouting the names of S'lo, Tilla, and Dex over and over. Much hooting and hollering follow, perhaps a bra or two thrown at the racers, though none quite making it far enough.

Meanwhile, on the Istan side, a chant of "IsTa IsTa IsTa!" followed by three fast claps, or stomps, or whatever sort of percussive sound people want, is growing louder. And Bajiren is right in there, clapping his hands, beating his chest, generally getting into Testosterone Overload mode.

Lenculoth zips in and out of the other dragons like a true Thunderstreaker does. She arc and weaves as S'eron unties his marker and pulls it into his lap, waiting for the right moment. The goggles help him to be able to see it. Being on a smaller dragon, they have to fly nigh all the way to the target circle (and perhaps a little over) before throwing the large and heavy sack where it is meant to go.

From Nymerith's neck, T'zyn is small, his throwing arm none too strong. Nymerith takes a bit longer on the trip out than some of the other 'riders do, flying just a bit farther and just a bit lower to ensure that her lifemate drops the marker in the circle proper. The green pulls back up once the sack is released, ducking and pulling to the left to avoid a collision with a larger blue who is just arriving at the marker point.

From Izlasth's neck, Lzi is a daring one, because she doesn't bother to slow Izlasth down or lower their altitude in order to throw her marker, which amazingly enough, lands within the confines of the circle when she actually throws it. Certainly not directly in the middle, but it's in the circle and that's all that matters, which causes the greenrider to let out a loud cheer of success for herself. Someone was a little nervous that her strategy was going to backfire on her.

Cuba just might be talking smack up there as that leading group of dragons nears the marker, but luckily the wind probably carries most of it out of hearing range, or garbles it too much to be insulting. Maybe. As she and Aeneath near that mark, her swinging arc turns nearly vertical, skimming the blue's neck as he swoops a little lower, then Cuba launches it! It arcs most beautifully and /just/ lands inside that circle, with its own width's worth of clearance. Whew! As Aeneath executes a tight barrel-rolling turn, they nearly collide with another Istan blue but manage to escape with little more than some frayed nerves. The short-winged dragon beats for all he's worth, skimming low along the ground toward the finish line just a small dragon's length above the heads of spectators.

And with a whoosh and much wing flapping, Amuirnith and Tilla make their way over to the circle, and their first toss of the marker is almost off base, when Amuirnith swerves around mid air so that Tilla can grab it and make another tossing attempt! After the marker is safely within its target zone, the redhead does look over to the cheering crowds and does the raise the roof gesture. "Tsu-tsu-tsunami Woop woop! Reaches, Woop Woop!!" she yells and then hunches over again to be as aerodynamic as possible between Amuirnith's neckridges. The green whips her tail about and compresses her wingsails just a bit to smoothly dive and weave about the other dragons to get the best and fastest path back.

Nazkriuulth does not slow, himself, upon nearing the circle; in fact, quite far from it's position, his rider leans back just enough to tuck it within the crook of her arm. "… Alright. NOW." The turn Nazkriuulth makes is dangerous, pulling one wing in in a fashion that could, in theory, cause his flight to falter completely if he were not mindful to their movements. The spin is enough, combined with Dex's throwing force, to slingshot the marker forward, hurling it the great distance that will, hopefully, make up for Nazkriuulth's lack in flight speed. Above him, Dex only stays upright long enough to see the marker make it's destination, fistpump once again at her success, and drop down, gripping Naz's forestraps tightly again with an intent, growled command: "GO!" … Despite the fact he is, really, already going.

Nverath and D'baji have stayed near the front, and are the main watchers as dragons come back. Notarifth skips between to join the Istan judging pair. But where Nverath stays up a bit high to cover more of the course, she skims lower and farther out, ready to watch any questionable landing manoeuvres. It's gonna be a race to the finish, and beach landings aren't always easy, with all that shifty sand…

Bajiren gives each on-target Istan toss (well, those he can see, from the rain of markers) an extra 'whoop' up and above the chanting. Tilla's marker finds the boy silent, missing one of the 'sTA' parts of the chant. How can one cheer against a friend? Hmm. No matter. The boy raises his voice to cracking-level again, shouting, "GO Lzi! GO Cuba! Come on T'zyn! C'mon Ron!" Saji, for her part, is screaming the dragons' names as loud as she can. The chant is dying down for a general tonne of noise, now that the race is coming close to its end.

Tosiekoth is on his waaaaay! In the right direction, even. To increase momentum, S'lo hunches forward while Tosiekoth tucks his wings in after catching a good—oh wait, they're falling. Time to flap those wings a little more. Flap flap. "Go go go!" his rider further encourages, eyes completely focused on the end. So close… so very close. Land ahoy!

From Izlasth's neck, Lzi continues to celebrate her success, pumping a quick fist in the air before she hunches down on Izlasth, who nimbly spins around after the marker is dropped and heads back in the direction of the finish, deftly dodging another green who's moving much more slowly than this greenrider pair wants to look. After yelling somethig not so nice at the man, Lzi refocuses while Izlasth uses her small frame to cut through the air, powerfully beating her wings to pick up speed now.

Amuirnith is still doing a little ziggy zagging, maybe some showing off until Tilla snaps her back to focus and she zags near where Tosiekoth is flying. Tsus gotta stick together. The redhead's face is grim with concentration and enforcing the mental link with her lifemate, and Amuirnith's eyes swirl yellow and a little orange with excitement. « We're almost there! » she crows, bugling outwardly to anyone around the two who are speeding through the air like a green and orange bullet.

Aeneath's going the distance. He's going for speed. Because he's racing and pacing and plotting the course, he's fighting and biting and riding with… force? Well, Cuba's no Cake, but she's singing like a champ at the top of her lungs. Something bawdy and likely inspired by a Maverick outing. As they near that finish line, the Istan blue skims low, talons all but brushing the ground. Then there's sand spraying everywhere as he makes a skidding landing, with Cuba unbuckling her riding belt as quickly as she can!

From Nymerith's neck, Nymerith skims low, legs tucked up against her body as she streaks for the finish line. T'zyn is a little fidgety on her back, biting down on his lip as they approach. The green tucks and swerves beneath two blues, picking up speed for the final stretch, her wings straining as they beat the air hard. "C'mon," T'zyn encourages softly. "Just a little farther, sweetie."

Lenculoth can turn on a dime - if the Pernese had one. Unfortunately, they do not. Her usual precision muddied, the green does her best to catch up, narrowly avoiding large bronze butts does not help this. She goes high instead of low, trusting herself to do better with free space. S'eron, on the other hand, is becoming more grateful that he had his helmet on as he grazes the bottom of a rather snaggle clawed brown, his cheek receiving a nasty scratch. Still focused, the pair swoops back toward the start, closing ever in on the finish line.

It's the final stretch, and what lead Nazkriuulth may have had is beginning to wane, as quicker dragons begin to gang up on his sides, and his wings just can't seem to let him go any faster. But the end is near, and his rider's intent is enough of a driving force that he pushes — pushes harder, faster, a rate this poor measly skeleton has ever attempted once before. With one last, almost silent roar, his wings are tucked in, and he dives, head first, for the sand. If he's lucky, his thinness will actually aide him, today… But Naz is not particularly the luckiest of beasts.

"Crap crap crap!" This would be S'lo hurrying to remove his straps. Figures they'd get jammed the one time he NEEDS them off immediately. It's like a life or death situation! Only not. He pretty much rips them off and lands unceremoniously. Yeah, that's his face meeting sand. DISQUALIFIED.

From Izlasth's neck, Just as Izlasth is about to land, she's suddenly cut off by some Telgarian brownrider, who takes her landing spot and almost causes a collision between them. It's like when someone takes that parking spot you were just about to pull into. Big jerks! Redfaced, Lzi bites her tongue to refrain from screaming at the man, gesturing to D'baji to get his attention on the situation, and as she sees most of the other dragons already on the sand and their riders dismounting, the greenrider realizes that their chances are null and void now, so she directs Izlasth to land where ever she can, no longer in such a hurry. The need to win is gone.

"S'lo!" That would be Tilla calling out when she sees S'lo's face start to get to know the beach intimately. "What did I say about putting sand in your mouth!" she tsks tsks and lands shortly after him, landing more gracefully on her feet, disengaging the straps and kneeling beside him. "Are you all right?" Amuirnith looks up to the heavens as if to say 'not again'.

Atop Nazkriuulth's skeletal form, Dex touches the ground, having undone her straps and flung herself from Naz's back the second the blue had given her the okay. Her feet touch the sand, and almost, her hands, to balance her; but she is triumphant, in her landing. And… She's… What? She looks to her left. Her right. Quickly, she's followed, but she realizes, she was first. Both fists go into the air, and a loud cheer emits from her lungs, and she does a rather masculine victory dance. Naz, behind her, gives a rather loud roar, for the blue, lifting his muzzle to the sky. Yes, perhaps, luck /was/ on his side, today.

The plan was good. The execution well-intended. The side-effects? Costly. Cuba's belt just /will/ /not/ /unbuckle/! Dismayed, she fights with the leather and metal, which managed to pinch itself into a neat crimp with all that marker twirling. Aeneath cranes his neck around, eyes whirling in speeding shades of red and yellow-fringed orange. In desperation, Cuba unsheathes a boot knife and slices clean through her riding belt to land hard on the sand. She watches with horror as Dex and Naz finish the course, her bowel shaking earthquakes of doubt and remorse. She staggers forward, only remembering at the end to sheathe that knife before someone gets the wrong idea. Aeneath emits a mournful keen as the Istan Cuba falls to her knees, she's all alone, all alone in her time of need.

From Nymerith's neck, Nymerith streaks for the finish, skidding down to a landing, a shower of sand sprayed up by her claws. T'zyn fumbles for a moment with his straps before getting the buckles undone, unclipping himself and sliding off her neck just in time to watch the 'Reachian pair take the win. His nose wrinkles, but he pats Nymerith on the neck reassuringly. "You did good."

"Aww Faranth!" That's Baji, who's up and kicking at a clump of sand. "She shoulda been disqualified for trippin' our Weyrleader!" A.k.a. Dad. Whatever. A roll of his eyes, a tap to Saji's shoulder, and the pair head over toward the landing area, of course wanting to be among the first to greet the Istan riders.

It's Nafta, not D'baji, who sees the Telgar brownrider's manoeuvre - and you better believe the Fortian judge is on him the moment he's unstrapped. Meanwhile, O'pec and Fossifuelth, having made a low circle around the target, land and set to identifying those markers that didn't make it into the circle. This is relayed, and D'baji, as he and Nverath dismount, have the duty of calling out, "The first to dismount, whose marker reached the circle, is Dex from High Reaches." He even manages it without any hard feelings getting into his voice. Good showman.
D'baji follows a path of wispy white from shoulder to forearm to slide to the ground from
Nverath's neck, landing lightly.

S'lo flops over, exposing his belly to the sky (and Tilla coincidentally). Eyes are squinted shut and a very sour expression has taken over his face. Finally, he lifts his hands to his face to rub away the grit to the best of his abilities before making any acknowledgement to Tilla's inquiry. "Did we win?" We being their Weyr, more than likely. But hearing Dex's voice announced has him whooping with glee. "Yeah DEX! TSUUUUUUUU!"

Dex unbuckles from Nazkriuulth's riding straps, sliding down his dark form to once again have feet on Pern.

Tilla pokes S'lo's belly but is more distracted when the winner is announced. "Dex. eeeee!" she squeals, clapping. "We finally won one again. Hurrah!" She half stands, holding her hand out to him so he can be helped to his feet. "C'mon, let's go group hug her. Tsuuu!!" She later remarks, with a proud smile, "That was the most focused I've ever seen Tosie. You guys did great."

Cuba and Aeneath share a moment of collective thought collection before Cuba hauls herself to her feet. The ruined riding belt gets shoved into the sleeve of her riding jacket, which is abandoned on the sand. She removes her blue's riding straps with perhaps a little more force than necessary, but Aeneath seems to be used to this part. The straps join the jacket, then the blue wanders into the lapping waves while Cuba gathers the leather goods so she can dump them out of the way. Then she approaches the victorious Dex, her thumbs hooked into the back pockets of her trousers. "That was a pretty wicked dive," she allows grudgingly, not /quite/ glaring at the 'Reaches blue rider.

Nymerith lowers her head, rumbling a friendly farewell as T'zyn slips off her neck and back to the ground.

Lzi slides from Izlasth's neck and lands gently on the ground.

Hearing her name called out only increases Dex's elating sensation of triumph. The bluerider doesn't have to gloat, but /damn/, if she didn't feel like she'd just somehow won HRW the entire games, and found a way to win every single previous game they'd lost, too. "TSU!" she cries, again, at S'lo's cheer, and air-hi-5's Tilla when she hears her female wingmate also cheering her name. For the first time in some time, Dex just can't stop smiling — despite the fact that this one win still won't help 'Reaches future luck. Cuba's approach is barely recognized, in her victory dance, but Naz's nose gives her a poke, and she looks up, searching for the source of the voice. "He knows his stuff," she offers with a crooked grin, but nods, trying to remain sportsmanlike. "Thanks." She gives the bluerider a wink, as well, before turning back to her wingmates.

"Mother fu…" Lzi trails off, grumbling as she shakes her head, slowly and carefully dismounting. Though, it's a true credit to the greenrider that she doesn't go over and start the beat-down on the brownrider, though she she glare in his direction and give him the finger. It gets her point across well enough. Not only did she lose, but it's a lose for Ista. Lose-lose is always a bummer.

S'lo isn't going to resist assistance when offered. Quickly, S'lo slides his hands in Tilla's for the extra boost up, pulling himself to stand. Once on his feet, hands move to dust off the clinging sand from his body and shorts before he begins a victory dance for his wingmate. But then he's bounding towards Dex for a congratulatory group hug. "DEX! I LOVE YOU!" In a completely platonic manner. It's Tsu love for the win.

Cuba's mouth tightens, but it's not like she would have done more were she in Dex's place. She just nods to Dex and her celebrating compatriots before turning toward Lzi and sticking out her hand for a first bump. That or she's going to play rock-paper-scissorcs. "We so shoulda had that one," the blue rider mutters. "I vote we get drunk in protest."

Except the people who brought me on, but… that's different. We went to school together.
Lzi fistbumps Cuba, face all contorted in a grimace, still angry about the loss. "I vote /yes/," on the gettung drunk part, that is. As if the greenrider really needs a excuse to drink. Any day when the sun is shining is a good day to drink. "C'mon, babe," she says, slinging an arm around the bluerider's shoulders, leading them toward the alcohol.

Tilla assists S'lo up and runs after him, shouting ."Tsu-tsu-tsu" every step she takes, every move she makes. She'll be watching Tsu. And she does her own wiggle and jiggly dance for her weyr as well, which stops briefly when S'lo proclaims his love for another bluerider. In a platonic way. Although Tilla's eyebrows raise for a brief millesecond anyway.

D'baji, his announcing done, goes back over to the judging table to confer and figure out prize awarding and other such things.

"So. Celebratory party back at the you-know-what?" S'lo asks his fellow Tsu's, taking a single step back to allow for breathing space.

Lzi clambers up Izlasth's neck and settles in between two neckridges.
Izlasth takes off, scattering sand about with her wings.
Overhead, Izlasth takes off from the beach.
Overhead, Izlasth winks into ::between::!

Dex is happy enough that S'lo's proclamation of love is, mostly, disregarded. There might be a funny look in there, somewhere, but it's evaporated once she's in the group hug, and though she really, /really/ doesn't like hugs… It's okay, today. "Man. I vote that this deserves a /drink/." Istans drink to forget, Reachians drink to rejoice, and visa versa when the odds are changed, otherwise. "Man, that felt good. I had a feeling we were gonna get creamed, halfway through there," she mutters, sleeking a hand back through her hair.
Dill has connected.

"Naw, we had it the whole time. I was there — I just, well, the whole dismounting thing. Yeah." They don't need a replay of S'lo's falter at the very end. "So, do we wanna head back then? I'm all for relaxing and having fun tonight." With booze. In a secluded place. With pajamas! "We should probably strateg — ize, for tomorrow. For the acrobatics."

"Yes lets go get toasted. I need something.." Tilla grumbles slightly as she disengages from the hug and stalks off towards the drink stand. "Meet in the High Reaches Prep tent after? OK."

Dex nods, realizing that she's starting to get real sweaty within her leathers, standing on Southern's beach. "Yeah, I think that sounds best." She gives a last, final stretch, before reaching up to Naz's straps and tugs herself up. "I'll meet you guys back at 'Reaches, actually, I've gotta go.. check on something.. before I get myself smashed." Not /too/ smashed, though. "Least we're still in the runnin', though. Good work, Naz… Good work." She gives her blue a nice, hard pat, before the pair shoots skyward, and winks into ::between::.

"Something?" How about some sugar? Except Tilla stalks off towards the drinks. "I—well, I meant High Reaches, but the tent works too. At least we have the you-know-what in there." It's all about secrecy. Tilla is given a strange look before S'lo shrugs it off and starts making his way directly into the tent, bypassing the drink stand for now. But as Dex passes on those plans, he stops in place, turning back around. "Okay. Um. Nice job!"

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