Hello loves! While I haven't been writing, I have been working on updating some issues that have been hanging around on the layout! The Character change box is now at the bottom of the page, beside the up/down arrows! Green and Gold dragon flight dates have been shifted to the bottom of the page, where the (useless!) discord widget was located. Where the dragon flights were in the header, is now replaced by a Monthly Event box! This will be updated at the start of each month, with a fun mini-event you can take part in, if you want to! Thistle!
19.Aug.12, 11:49 PM
N’gelt had many prejudices, but none of them were against able men that had no dragon to taint them. Sanderon was one of those able men. It was obvious, from the fact that he had been stolen through to the peak form his body was in. N’gelt had heard passing comments about the fight he had put up in an attempt to not be captured from his weyrmate. While part of him was disgusted that he would try and attack a dragon, another part approved of the courage that would take.
It was with those thoughts in mind that he lashed the escape-happy man. Despite his eagerness to lash the idiotic man he mentally leaned against Saquith as a calm pillar. Each lash fell evenly, no harder or softer than the last. N’gelt wasn’t in the business of torture; he was in the business of punishment. What felt like an extended wait between lashes for Sanderon was simply N’gelt pulling the whip back so that he wouldn’t tangle it or flick himself. There was no point prolonging what would already be an extended punishment via the healing process. After the first few he had reached a rhythm, one that no roaring dragon would stop.
He heard D’ren’s shout and let out a hiss. His arm was already on the downswing, even if he had the strength to halt his arm dead still, the whip was going to lash Sanderon. It came down, almost in slow motion as N’gelt watched it with a stab of fear.
He didn’t want to be demoted. How long had it taken him to rise to any form of power? There had been no weakness in S’kef’s defence, D’ren had been too enamoured with the man to even consider another less cruel rider to stand by his side. It had taken nature and her fickle ways to kick S’kef down and give D’ren cause to think, to assess and choose another option. S’kef was cruel. He had relished whipping B’jin and N’gelt had heard of his ‘miscounting’ before. He didn’t deserve to stand in power, did he?
There were too many thoughts and emotions in his mind, despite Saquith’s best attempts to soothe him. He felt the Brown lending more strength to him, still supporting him. He grunted with exertion.
The whip fell.
Splinters rose in a tiny cloud where it struck the platform, the tatters of Sanderon’s shirt fluttering from the whip’s close pass.
Hearing D’ren’s anger he whirled, the whip cracking unintentionally in the air as he did. He snarled. “You didn’t show up. So I spoke with the next point of authority.” He said venomously. The anger D’ren displayed only served to stir and fuel N’gelt’s own; he wouldn’t be reprimanded for somebody else’s decision! Throwing the whip at the Weyrleader’s feet he spun on his heel and strode off. Saquith was quick to fly in and land beside the platform, yellow and green eyes whirling as N’gelt sprung onto his neck and he took off again. They winked between barely a jump and a wingbeat from the ground.
D’ren is making a speech. Do you wish to return to hear it? Saquith asked as they soared over the lake where N’gelt had directed them to. ‘No. I was dismissed. The Weyr will be repeating it for days anyway. Just fly.’ He sent. Saquith rumbled beneath him in acknowledgement, continuing south.
It was with those thoughts in mind that he lashed the escape-happy man. Despite his eagerness to lash the idiotic man he mentally leaned against Saquith as a calm pillar. Each lash fell evenly, no harder or softer than the last. N’gelt wasn’t in the business of torture; he was in the business of punishment. What felt like an extended wait between lashes for Sanderon was simply N’gelt pulling the whip back so that he wouldn’t tangle it or flick himself. There was no point prolonging what would already be an extended punishment via the healing process. After the first few he had reached a rhythm, one that no roaring dragon would stop.
He heard D’ren’s shout and let out a hiss. His arm was already on the downswing, even if he had the strength to halt his arm dead still, the whip was going to lash Sanderon. It came down, almost in slow motion as N’gelt watched it with a stab of fear.
He didn’t want to be demoted. How long had it taken him to rise to any form of power? There had been no weakness in S’kef’s defence, D’ren had been too enamoured with the man to even consider another less cruel rider to stand by his side. It had taken nature and her fickle ways to kick S’kef down and give D’ren cause to think, to assess and choose another option. S’kef was cruel. He had relished whipping B’jin and N’gelt had heard of his ‘miscounting’ before. He didn’t deserve to stand in power, did he?
There were too many thoughts and emotions in his mind, despite Saquith’s best attempts to soothe him. He felt the Brown lending more strength to him, still supporting him. He grunted with exertion.
The whip fell.
Splinters rose in a tiny cloud where it struck the platform, the tatters of Sanderon’s shirt fluttering from the whip’s close pass.
Hearing D’ren’s anger he whirled, the whip cracking unintentionally in the air as he did. He snarled. “You didn’t show up. So I spoke with the next point of authority.” He said venomously. The anger D’ren displayed only served to stir and fuel N’gelt’s own; he wouldn’t be reprimanded for somebody else’s decision! Throwing the whip at the Weyrleader’s feet he spun on his heel and strode off. Saquith was quick to fly in and land beside the platform, yellow and green eyes whirling as N’gelt sprung onto his neck and he took off again. They winked between barely a jump and a wingbeat from the ground.
D’ren is making a speech. Do you wish to return to hear it? Saquith asked as they soared over the lake where N’gelt had directed them to. ‘No. I was dismissed. The Weyr will be repeating it for days anyway. Just fly.’ He sent. Saquith rumbled beneath him in acknowledgement, continuing south.
