Tempest Weyr

The day had been a rough one. Thread fell, and the riders of Tempest rose to meet it. And all the while, Rhamneth lay on the Sands, wishing she could be out there with the other dragons. But duty is duty, and while Rhamneth might not outwardly take it as seriously as Ragnhildr, she is still a Queen. She is still at least reliable in that regard. She has impressed upon her children the importance of honor, tradition, and duty. She must, at least, keep to her word.

As night falls, Ragnhildr returns to his weyr after a long day of feeding the wounded. He's not Healer-trained, but cleaning bedpans and running food from the kitchens is something so easy even an Apprentice can do it. And while he'd also rather be in the air, he knows damn well everyone serves their part. For all his energy and pride, Ragnhildr isn't arrogant. If there's a task beneath the Junior Weyrwoman, the leaders of the Weyr have yet to find it.

He held hands with a panicked green rider as they slathered numbweed on a deep wound. He dripped water into the mouth of a fevered bronze rider. He showed no preference based on dragon hide; while his tradition holds metallics to leadership positions, he doesn't look down upon the blues and greens. He had grown up expecting a blue, after all, and his closest kin rides green. His muscles burn from the work of the day. He's ready to take a bath and sink into his bed and snore the night away.

But Rhamneth is restless. They're going to start soon, I think, Rhamneth says. I can hear them.

Ragnhildr blanches. Today?

They've held off long enough.

The humming starts from Rhamneth. The rest of the Weyr soon joins in. Everyone's going to be exhausted, the Sands are going to be dark, and the celebration of the new lives is going to be dampened. Or maybe it'll cause a second surge of adrenaline and everyone's going to be super tired extra. At least there are only ten eggs, Ragnhildr thinks, for the first time happy for the number. Sighing, he heads down the hall connecting his weyr to the Sands.

As people gather, the eggs rock and rumble. A few begin to crack before the Candidates even arrive, but it takes until the lines take their positions for the first egg to shatter. Storm breaks through, the first to grace the Sands. As glowbaskets are put into place, it's almost impossible to see the wobbling, massive dragonet properly. But as eyes adjust to the darkness, it becomes clear what Storm is, with his nearly black hide, void of any readable markings.

Storm steps forward on wobbling legs, hardly the imposing figure he wants to cut. He reaches his mind out, swallowing the fear of judgment he would find. And through the emotions, mixed and positive, he catches a single sentiment from a single person whose presence he has known for as long as he has been in the shell: Not a bronze. That's unlucky.

The brown dragonet fans out his wings, veering on legs that don't know how to work yet, kicking up sand and covering himself in the filth. Not a bronze. Ragnhildr would rather his hide have glowed. It repeats in his mind as he stares out at the candidates. He will not be paralyzed by this, but his eyes swirl red and yellow regardless.

Hatching Conditions & Rules

It's early evening. The sun has just gone down, and the Weyr is recovering from Threadfall. Things have been stressful today, but the hatching is forcing the adrenaline out.

IC Expectations

• Candidates must refrain from drinking or consuming fellis during the week the eggs are expected to hatch. Candidates must attend the hatching sober, or else be removed from the Sands.
  
• Candidates must wear their white candidate robes at the hatching. They can wear other clothing underneath their robes.
  
• Candidates must not interfere with unhatched eggs, unless given explicit permission and with the guidance of a Journeyman or Master Dragonhealer.
  
• Candidates will not attempt to strike, grab, or otherwise interfere with hatchling dragons. If in danger, candidates have been taught to move out of the way.
  
• Candidates will respect their fellows, and will not physically or verbally harass each other.
  
• Candidates will follow direct orders and instructions given by the clutch parent(s), Candidatemaster(s), Weyrlingmaster(s), Weyrwoman, or the Weyrleader.
  

OOC Rules

• Please do not tag the hatchrunners! We will be watching this thread.
  
• Please bold the names of any dragons, characters, or hatchlings you are interacting with in your post. As a courtesy to others, it can also be helpful if you include a quick 1-2 sentence TL;DR of where your character is and what they're doing at the bottom of your post.
  
• IC actions have IC consequences. If your candidate misbehaves, there may be consequences for them and any other candidates or dragonets involved.
  • Ignoring the above IC expectations may result in your character being removed from Sands, or barred from Standing altogether, depending on the severity of the infraction.
    
  • While all matches have been decided ahead of time, if your character openly rejects a hatchling that attempts to Impress to them, the hatchling will simply go between as this is the fate of any hatchling that cannot find a rider.
    
  • You may also attempt a force-Impression, but if the dragonet is not intended for your character, it will fail.
    
• Keep hatch spoilers in the hatch thread on Discord pls <3
  

Results

Eggs always hatched in their own time... This time it was right after a battle with Thread. Not exactly ideal, but Nansee wasn't going to complain. There was work to be done, and she would rise to the occasion to do it.

The healer gathered her bag of supplies and made her way to the hatching sands, setting up a first aid station close enough to be useful but far enough out of the way that the healers wouldn't be an attractive target for any meddlesome dragonets. She dipped her head respectfully to Ragnhildr and Rhamneth, her face calm and collected. She always hoped there would be no need of her services... But, if there was a need, she would be there.

---

Nansee is leading the first aid station. Feel free to tag if you need a healer!

Leandro had spent most of Fall distracting the kids and helping hold down the creche while the other adults scrambled about bagging firestone, helping the healers, and looking for ground burrows. So, when the call came out that eggs were hatching, his tiredness was of a slightly different sort than maybe some of his peers.

Still, he came clean in his robes. He didn't have time to shave the five 'o' clock shadow, but he hoped the dragonets wouldn't mind if he was a little prickly. When he filed on to the sands, he looked for to stand next to his friend. They had been standing for a long time... Others came and went, but they remained.

His attention turned to the Sands as a brown came into the world... And then immediately seemed unhappy about that. Oh, man... Was that Storm? The one Vision was talking about. He tried to think kind thoughts for the brown to pick up, although his muse for songs had run a but dry after an entire threadfall of childcare.

Hey friend, I got a feelin
That today will be the day the sun will up and shine.
Hey, friend, don't lose the feelin
That all the world is better with a heart that rhymes.

---

Leandro is on the sands, clean and ready! Will stand near , if he can.

The day had finally come... And Minali was considering skipping it. Not only was there no gold egg, but during the various touchings it seemed all of the eggs hated her. Hmph! It was their loss, of course, but she still couldn't help feel a bit irritated that hardly any of them liked her. Well... two of the larger eggs seemed to like her okay, actually... She remembered fondly her interactions with Devil and Tradition. But those were likely to be bronzes and browns--which were, of course, boy dragons. (Of course, she had heard tell of some women Impressing browns... But until she saw it with her own eyes, she was not about to believe it.)

In the end, perhaps 's gentle encouragement had gotten to her, because she did arrive clean and in her ceremonial robe. As she made her way onto the sands (curtsying prim and proper to Rhamneth and Ragnhildr on her way), she looked for a familiar face--perhaps or ? Yet she was also cautious not to stand too close to the front... One of the eggs had, after all, threatened her life. In fact... Was that them? Eyes squinting against the darkness, she watched him writhe and took a step slightly behind the candidate immediately next to her.

---

Minali is there! Looking for someone friendly to stand near (or behind).

Ransha had just been preparing for her shift guarding the entrance to the hatching cavern when the humming started... At which point, it took her a minute to switch gears between "no visitors" and "please come this way in an orderly fashion", but she got there. Her booming voice and towering figure came in handy when it came to directing crowds.

By the time Storm had hatched, Ransha had taken her place near the outskirts of the sands, a large wooden staff in hand as she stood at attention. Her heart went out to the brown as he seemed to ve having a tough time of it and she frowned sympathetically. It must be hard... To come out of the darkness and into the light. She was sure, though, that he would find his way. That was what the light was for, after all! Helping people see where they were going!

---

Ransha is posted guard with a big stick. Feel free to tag if you need a knight for anything.

Nelmayl couldn't say he'd attended many hatchings here that were directly after a 'fall- a particularly rough one, at that. He'd spent so much time bagging firestone he might've forgotten what arms felt like- but better this, emotionally, than experiencing infirmary duty during threadfall. Maybe a hatching after was what the Weyr needed. Although, he thought- not that eggs had a precise control of when they hatched - the day after might've been more...appropriate. Now was now- so he'd cleaned off the grime of firestone and dirt, donned his robes, and fell in line with the throng of candidates heading to the stands. Fashionably on time. He'd sent his cacophany of firelizards away to find Nelora, so she'd have something to entertain herself with in the lull moments of the hatching.

Firstly, Nelmayl was pleasantly surprised that had decided to show, after all. She'd seemed...grumpier than usual about the eggs in general, about the hatching. It wasn't a well-kept secret she was hoping for a queen, but the experience wouldn't hurt and the eggs might need all the energy and spirit they could get. Even if it was a bit snarkily-colored. He waved to her in greeting but found his own place standing next to , as was the custom. Usually. 

Storm had waited for no one. A big, healthy-seeming (if irate) brown- but he hadn't headed into the crowd just yet. He'd only touched its shell briefly, but it seemed that the anxiety and anger it felt had rather persisted. It was hard to see the young thing, cloaked as the sands were in shadow, with a hide nigh as dark as the sky itself. Nelmayl was just glad he seemed physically okay. The brown would find his rider on his own time. 

Nine eggs left to hatch. Let them all be healthy. There were some murmurings about the first egg to crack not being a bronze- but in his professional opinion, it didn't seem to matter much. 

"Y'know, not too surprised he shelled first." Nelmayl remarked quietly. "He was...quite the spirited fellow." Agitated, more like. Flesh had felt a similar way, but more focused in its ire. "Can't blame him for needing a moment."

(Standing next to , lil wave to on the way in)
(I am sorry Lan you are about to have so many mentions. All of my characters are friends with all of your characters.)

Atalanta had taken well to aiding the ground crew. It was a good way to make herself useful in service to the Weyr and the dragonriders that fought to defend them all. Bleak as the threadfall had been, light had come to them in the form of the eggs' imminent hatching. The knight had cleaned off as much of her gambeson and plate as she could, and made her way to her post. Certainly could handle herself, but- it wouldn't do not to support her, too.

By the time she'd arrived, the first egg had already broken shell. A brown, from what she could tell, and a large one. Not as traditionally good as a bronze coming first- but Faranth's blood coursed through this one just as much as any other. Yet he hesitated. 'Don't let the darkness tarnish your hope.' She'd tried to tell it. The dragons were still humming, the candidates gathered. There was a path forward for the brown, once he'd summoned the courage to tread it.

"Ransha." She greeted with a cordial bow of her head. "Faranth smiles upon us to bring to the Weyr a healthy hatching after such a 'fall."

F'ar had never known such exhaustion, and Theanoth had always kept him busy. She'd tried to make ferrying firestone into an urgent competition- but ultimately he decided how much she ought to carry. No sense getting her injured in such a way when there were more grievous injuries being endured. And they make it. He wonders how much is true for the other dragonriders.

There was not much time to sit and marinate in post-threadfall gloom. Rhamneth's eggs await us. Move!

What timing. He'd changed into a nicer, dark tunic and hurried his way to the stands- Theanoth had beat him to the ledges of course, already humming- and settled among some of the other weyrlings. He still hadn't broken out of his own shell enough to socialize. He'd...excuse it as exhaustion. That's all it was.

Focus. They will need our support. Rhamneth- your first hatches hale into the darkness. He will find his strength soon enough. Or he wouldn't, but she would spare the clutchmother such thoughts. If the weakest of her own siblings could find their riders, so too would he.

F'ar nodded, trying to manage a tired smile. They had to, bronze first or not. He'd hope such whispers of a poor omen wouldn't be true.

(F'ar's in with some of his classmates, so feel free to tag him if you'd like! Mention of and Rhamneth)

That was...quite the threadfall. One of the thickest Si'dre'd had the misfortune of serving through- but their wingmates had survived, and...that was enough for him. Coelacanth was alright, F'ton had made it out just fine. Vanguard had met thread with all the vigor that they could muster.

And he'd muster what was left of his energy to be present for the hatching. He could use the good boon to the Weyr- aaaand maybe line his pockets with a few marks in the meantime.

Coelacanth had settled onto a ledge near Kereth, adding his deep hum to the symphony of other voices. He greeted his friend, too, with an image of dragonets, their blank eyes set to the horizon, emerging from a sea of swirling darkness and ichor, sunshafts peaking through the murk and mire. His eyes whirled a determined green.

"Feel sorry for whoever bet for a bronze first," Si'dre remarked as he found his place in the stands next to . Actually- was there even any time to place such a bet before the first had hatched? He clapped his friend on the shoulder good-naturedly. "The eggs sure know how to pick a time. Think we could all use a little cheer after that mess." Particularly F'ton. Threadfall had been....hard. To put it mildly.

The bluerider noted the arrival of one of Vanguard's newer members- - arriving into the fray. Perfect! He waved him over. "Hey, Locke! C'mere. Don't know many of the candidates to bet on them specifically, buuut- five marks that normal-lookin' one's a bronze. Decent size, yeah?"

(Si'dre sits among his vanguard wingmates, trying to incite bets with F'ton and Locke; Coelacanth is chilling next to Kereth.)

Hoofaa, what a day. Even for non-riders it’d been an exercise in… exercise. Those without a set role were put to scrambling like wherry eggs in a frying pan, and the candidates had their standing orders in rotation. Craftless as she was, Henny was thankful for the direction that being assigned a task lent. She might not know how to set bones, but she could pack firestone, run supplies, and dab wounds with antiseptic redwort with the best of them. 

Things had just finished and begun to settle back into a calmer mood when, of course, the eggs had opted to kickoff their own scramble—and she couldn’t help but chuckle a bit at that, even as she fumbled on her robe and joined the crush of bodies heading for the sands.

It was dark when they arrived, damn hard to see much of anything, but she groped along the same as the rest, bowing to the gold mother before squinting around for a familiar face— or perhaps. “Shaff, turn on a torch or something… oh. Nice.” Glowbaskets were popping up, slowly flooding the area with little rings of brightness. That made it easier, and she’d just reached Minali’s side, reaching out to touch her arm when the first egg cracked. 

“Hey! I know that guy!” She crowed, recalling the egg quite well. “First place, huh? Good for you, bud,” He’d felt like he had some worries, poor fella. Well, now he was out! All the sooner to impress and feel better, right?

Quote:Henny appeared, looked for Minali and Ivelain, found Minali, and is cooing over bb!Storm

He was exhausted both physically and emotionally after threadfall. Kelrasiel was use to spreading threadfall tucked away with something to read and a few glasses of wine, or maybe games with whatever friends he happened to be with. Spending his time amusing himself or others until the all clear came. This fall had been much different.

Kel didn't have much in the way of useful skills, at least not skills the Weyr seemed to consider useful. He'd been passed around a bit at the start of fall, no one was in the mood or had the time to teach a clueless holdbred. He'd finally ended up in the laundry, helping sort, wash, and deliver things like clean bandages to the healers.

He'd never seen fresh threadscore on a person before, nor heard someone calling out in pain. What he saw while delivering a load of clean bandages and picking up a load of dirty was an unpleasant shock. There was so much blood and pain, and he did not feel good at all. He'd quickly handed off the bandages and grabbed a sack of dirty laundry before bolting out. He was quietly sick in a latrine, and desperately wishing he'd never come to Tempest. Knowing that riders and dragons were injured during fall was different from seeing it with his own eyes. It was all a bit too real.

The timing of the hatching felt like a bit of a mixed blessing. He wanted nothing more than to go to sleep, but once the hatching was done he could return home and the life he was actually meant for. With a groan he pushed himself up from his bed, for once not putting any thought into the clothes he put on before pulling the candidate robe over his head. He did cringe slightly at the coarsness of the fabric. Maybe after he got home he'd see that something better was sent along. 

He joined the crowd of white robed candidates making their way out onto the sands. He raised a hand to cover a yawn as he found an open spot. He blinked, one egg had already hatched it seemed, the dragon's dark hide covered in sand. His eyes whirled red and yellow, which if Kel remembered correctly was not ideal. He had no idea why the brown was unhappy, sorting that out would be a task for whomever he chose. 

Quote:Kel is tired and ready for this all to be over so he can head back home. 

Ivelain had been working in the infirmary all day. There was an efficiency to the chaos in the Healer's work that appealed to him, and he had been volunteering more there since he first got assigned. It was exhausting, though, and he was looking forward to a long bath when the humming began. Now? He groaned and rubbed his eyes. He wouldn't even have time to clean up properly! He grumbled as he pulled on the white candidate robe. He still disliked the shapeless robe and how it made all of the candidates look the same. How were they supposed to stand out for the dragons?

He made his way to the sands, his tiredness muting some of the anxiety he felt. Unlike his first Hatching, Ivelain was looking forward to this one, but he hoped it wasn't too eventful. Surely they would get a bit of a break, after this long day? 

He stumbled and bumped into a couple of other candidates as he entered the dim cavern, muttering apologies. He heard Henny's enthusiastic words for Storm and found her standing with Minali. "I almost didn't notice it had hatched in the darkness," he said, peering at the hatchling and the eggs beyond it, trying to make out if any of them were unnaturally still. There were only ten eggs, it would be a shame to lose any of them. 

"Are you trying to hide? That's not like you," He glanced at Minali, smiling a little at the sight of her in the same ugly robe as his. She probably wasn't interested in any of the hatchlings here today, but maybe this Hatching would change her opinions of dragons, as the previous one had for him. 

(Ivelain is on the sands, standing near and )

Threadfall days were always difficult and exhausting. There were so many things to be done, and if it was a fall with lots of injuries it was even worse. Bryn had grown up doing her part during fall and dreaming of the day she'd also get to ride out to meet thread. For now though she was regulated to tasks on the ground, doing her part to ensure riders and their dragon's could focus on flaming thread from the sky.

She ended the day, sweaty and tired, but glad to have done what she could to help the rider's of her new home. She washed and fell straight into bed, ready to sleep until someone risked waking her up. Of course the night after threadfall would be when the eggs decided was the best time to hatch. Bryn splashed cold water over her face to help wake herself back up before pulling her candidate robe over her head. While the timing wasn't ideal a building excitement was slowly overriding her body's desire for sleep.

Bryn took up a spot before the eggs, the clutch quickly being revealed as more glows were hung to brighten the space. These eggs weren't waiting around as cracks formed across rocking shells. As the candidates finished lining up before them, the first hatching broke free. It's hide matched the shadows as it shakily found its feet. She nodded to herself, a Brown, a fine start for a hatching even if Bronze was preferred. He kicked sand up over his hide, eyes whirling yellow and red as he gazed out at the candidates. An unhappy hatching wasn't ideal, but hopefully he would impress quickly.

Her eyes drifted to the rest of the clutch, trying to determine which eggs would hatch next. Her dragon could be out there right now, waiting in one of those eggs. She wrestled her building excitement back under control. She knew how bitter disappointment tasted by now and wasn't about to let herself get carried away. While she hoped her dragon was out there just waiting to hatch, she was prepared to once again walk off the sands alone. 

Quote:Bryn is here and ready to go. 

His first real threadfall and it had been something. That's for sure. He'd gotten a bit threadscored but nothing life threatening. Just a reminder to not be such a fool in the future. He was halfway to sleep when Agnith began to excited prod him. The eggs dear one, they hatch! They are coming. We must go meet them! But he had gone because despite his exhaustion, he was excited too. Even if he didn't want to show it. He had developed a bit of a soft spot for young dragons. (Young of any kind but there was something special about the awkward confidence of a newly hatched dragon that he was smitten with.) 

Agnith had joined the other dragons in the humming song of hatching. It was the closest thing his people had to music, to song, and he was eager to participate. You are safe and surrounded by ones who love you, who will protect you, come out and join us. His eyes whirled blue and green and yellow. Too excited to pick an emotion and stay there. His first real threadfall and hatching? All on the same day!? 

Locke was making his way through the thickening crowd of spectators when he heard his name called. He looked up to see Si'dre and several other Vanguard members in the stands. At least he didn't need to find a place to sit. The score on his leg protested as he made his way to them. He sat down, tilting his head as he examined the newly hatched dragon on the sands. "Five marks says he's just a big brown." 

[Locke sits with and Agnith is just with the other dragons?]

F'ton reached up and gave Si'dre's hand on his shoulder a pat as he offered a small smile. The bluerider always knew how to cheer him up. "Eggs always keep their own time," he replied and scooted to make sure his friend had enough room to sit (a useless gesture, as there was plenty of room).

While Si'dre flagged their newest wingmate over, F'ton squinted down at the eggs to try to determine which one was the "normal looking" one. At first his gaze settled on Vampire, which seemed small, but then he noticed Tradition as well and his brows furrowed for a moment... But his expression returned to neutral when Locke joined them. He had another smile for the latest graduate and gave him the same courtesy as Si'dre.

I bet it's a green. Kereth told F'ton and he smiled, deciding he might as well join in. "My marks' on green... Kereth's idea." He glanced over his shoulder up at where she had settled among the dragons.

Kereth was nestled very snuggly next to Coelacanth, humming along. Her telekinesis swirling dust around them, making their humming all the more ominous (she hoped). I like him. He's dark. She told the blue, her tail flicking behind herself as mischievous as a cat.

---

Chatting with and

After a long day lugging around a flamethrower, the only thing Merel wanted was to lie down. Yet as the sky darkened, the weyr began to swell with a familiar hum. Even as her body protested, she forced herself back to back to her feet. She dressed, wincing, pulling the white robe over her aching shoulder.

When she arrived on the Sands, the hatching song was thrumming in her ears. Merel took her place in the circle, as she’d been instructed. She had more of an idea of what to expect, this being her second time attending a Hatching, but she still didn’t quite know what to make of it all. It always seemed like she’d have plenty of time to sort her thoughts out on the matter, only to suddenly discover she didn’t have any time at all as the first dragonet broke shell.

Her spot was next to a candidate she remembered was called Ellabryn. They were some ways away from the Lady Holder girl and two candidates she knew in passing; she couldn’t help but overhear them. Hearing Henny’s proclamation, Merel glanced over at the group with a smile. Her expression sobered at the reds and yellows of the hatchling’s eyes.

“He seems upset,” Merel observed with some concern. Hopefully he didn’t decide to test his new claws on one of them. (And hopefully, he’d be alright.)

---

Merel is standing with the candidates on the Sands, near (hope that’s alright!)

Nimara and Kytoth were, of course, in attendance... As be fitted a Queen, Kytoth was there early, humming along with Theanoth up in the Stands. Nimara, like F'ar, followed a little later, in clean clothes and with her (now two) firelizards in tow. She hadn't meant to Impress another firelizard, but little blue Stone had found her at breakfast and she couldn't deny him. He was, she knew, like her... And, since he was quiet and attentive, Kytoth had tolerated him.

Pebble lounged luxuriously along Nim's shoulders as she took a seat next to and her other classmates, while Stone sat up in her lap like a curious weasel. Both were humming along with the dragons. The humming was loud... But it was focused. It kept her attention on the hatching, which wasn't a bad thing, and Nim found herself quite enjoying the warm anticipation that washed over her.

The Storm brown hatchling, however, had thoughts louder than even the collective force of the adult dragons... And the bluerider felt tears collecting behind her eyes. "He thinks he's unwanted..." She said aloud, her voice breaking. Then, shaking her head, she tried to ground herself back in the humming. A beat later and she leaned over to F'ar, speaking a little quieter, "Tha's your sister, right?"

---

Hanging out with and other Underworld Weyrlings welcome!

Bryn eyed the eggs, having her own mental game of trying determine which would crack open next. It wasn't always the most active egg. Sometimes one that hadn't even twitched just burst apart. She'd stood witness before enough to know that each hatching managed to hold it's share of surprises. 

Candidates were still moving about the sands a bit, finding a better spot or joining friends. Bryn normally chose a spot a stuck to it. If her Bronze did hatch it would find her. 

Bryn pulled her focus from the eggs, looking toward Merel as the woman noted the Brown hatchling's agitation. "He's not happy, but he'll settle right down once he impresses." She answered, eyes on the sand covered Brown. "Being the first to hatch can be a lot." Not every hatchlings enjoyed being the center of attention, especially without a bond to help guide them. 

Quote:Chatting with and watching the clutch.

“Well, here we go again,” Nemo said to no one in particular.

The harper-turned-candidate was standing in his place in the circle, dressed in the white robes he still hadn’t gotten used to. Most of the Fearful North’s crew had Impressed, including its captain—leaving just Nemoral and Harry. He glanced around, trying to see if he could spot the latter somewhere. He knew he wasn’t the sailor’s first choice of company, but at least it was better than no company. Especially in an ominously dark hatching cavern. Right?

Before he could get a good look, however, the first hatchling arrived. This one seemed to be in a temper, too. He supposed he shouldn’t be surprised. Some of the eggs had definitely been a bit…spicy.

---

Nemo is on the Sands, trying to see if he can spot anyone he knows; open to any interactions!