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Bronze Vorsk Matched: 8, 9, 15

There were few men more cunning in the handler circles then Vors. A sharp wit, devilish plans, and a smile that made most women's toes curl. He was rather well known throughout most of the wher circles or at least thought he was. Lesser handlers might have called him a womanizer, he preferred the term professional romancer.

So it seemed rather odd to find the more romantically inclined lover Vors, terror of all females from Southern to Malvern out and about at war and siding with the rebels no less.

But you see Vors had a plan, a rather clever plan. Lend the Rebellion aid, get glory and make a pretty profit looting the weyrs while he was at it. He was a lover after all. Didn't mean he couldn't be a fighter.

Him and Vorsk hadn't been on the scene for more then a second just breaking through the tree line when what met the bronze bright brassy bugle of a challenge? But the scream of a gold.

A very proddy gold.

Eyes whirling purple the bronze glanced from handler to where he saw the gold's form. Bye Mine! Be back soon! Stabby things good yes! Help bite soon! The bronze briefly told his handler before taking off kicking up dirt in his wake as he pursued the gold his powerful muscles pushing him forward after his prey.

"Vorsk! You sharding horndog!" Vors screamed after the bronze, but it was too late as he had to spin to clash his sword against a tattered rider wielding a rather battered meat cleaver.

8, 15, 19, 6, 10, 9

So, that whole 'traitor green' thing... right. Siask's had chosen to not participate in the revolution. She didn't enjoy violence for the sake of it, or trying to kill everyone that didnt agree. Revolutions were all well and good but that didnt mean all the nonBelievers had to die.

They tried to stay to some back rooms, thanks. Siask took it upon himself to viciously attack anyone that came remotely close to his handler, all stocky feline muscle and bloodlust. Siata, smithcrafter she was, had tried to find the tools of the trade - hammer, grips, freaking thick gloves - but they'd been cleared out. She had no hammer. She had no hot coals. All the had in way of a weapon was her Siask.

... A Siask whose head went up at a Golds scream, his entire body tensed. He stuck to proddy females like glue, slinking nearby, bringing still bloodied and mangled hunks of meat. And here he was, in a crafting area, Goldless.

"You have to be kidding me," the muscular woman muttered. She wiped her hands on her pants, reached out to grab his wing. "No, Siask. No way in fu-"

He hit her mind with a wave of 'lust and hunger, the taste of blood in his mouth fused with wanting and this female in her shrieking fierce glory. The bronze did not speak but had no problem sending the message of yes and hide.

Siask ran, plunged into the battle and after the gold once he'd seperated from the battle. He screamed with it.

(Gaia decided not to eat it! I hope. Third time is a charm.)

Oh Faranth shards no. This was ridiculous!

Chase. I go.

No way! Finulria growled, crossing her arms to stare at the large brown wher who was scowling right back at her. "Not right now!" She said aloud, the irritation evident in her voice. Shardit! What was the gold wher thinking?! This was, by far, the WORST time for a Run!

You idiot. I strong. Must chase. Finulsk informed her. Must Chase. His eyes whirled a deep purple, head turning in the direction of the screaming.

"Finulsk! What if we're attacked again?" Finulria sighed, knowing there was no fighting with the brown wher in this.

I catch. Come right back. And that seemed to answer that. He snorted and without giving his handler a chance to speak, he was off, trailing along until he caught a glimpse of another wher. No. No no no! He would catch the gold!

[Numbers to match: 8, 15, 19, 6, 10, 9]

Larisk had been hurt bad, yes. Hurt bad by big mean dragon and his bonded was hurt by bad man. But his bonded had made them stop and made him stop and told him to leave so they left. And she found some humans who made him feel good again. And the humans stopped some of her hurts too, but they couldn't stop the hurt in her head. He nuzzled her, tried to make her feel better, but the hurt wouldn't go away.

Laira was sitting in the corner of what seemed to be a storeroom on the edge of the Weyr, trying to hide from the fighting. She'd only been told there was be work for her and Larisk here, so she joined some other handlers and came. If there was any work, it wasn't the kind she wanted to be doing. Fighting the dragons, riders and weyrfolk seemed like a bad idea all around. She'd been caught in a battle anyway, with a dragon and rider who apparently just assumed she was against them. She'd managed to convince the pair they weren't here to hurt the weyr and get away, but not without getting badly hurt. It almost made her cry to see how badly torn up Larisk had been. But they'd managed to find some other handlers with numbweed and thread who stitched up Larisk's wounds, and numbed her own bruises. It hadn't been that hard to get away after that, as they assumed she was eager to get back to fighting.

The only thing she'd be fighting any time soon was herself. How could this happen? Who would be mad enough to fight dragons? Sure, she'd always been told they couldn't hurt humans, but they certainly could and would hurt whers. And Pern needed dragons to clear thread. Nothing else had ever done so well at the job. What was she even doing here? Could they get away? Would they just be attacked again if they tried? And if people saw them leaving, would they just be targeted by both sides? It did not seem like she'd be allowed to stay neutral. She groaned and drew her knees up so she could rest her head on them.

Larisk rumbled worriedly and nuzzled her again. He wanted to protect her, but there was nothing to fight. He didn't like not being able to help her.

Then all worries were driven from the brown's mind by the sound of a scream, and his head whipped around to look in the direction it came from. A wher's scream. A Gold's scream. He knew what that meant, and felt the urge to answer. But a part of him still didn't want to leave his bonded. He looked back at her, rumbling unhappily even as his eyes started acquiring a purple tinge.

A hint of a smile quirked the corner of Laria's mouth. It was sweet of her wher to want to stay with her, but she knew this wasn't a call he could ignore. And the distraction might be good for them both. At the very least, it would force her to stop worrying about the fight for a while. "Go," she said simply, and swatted her wher's rump.

He needed no more urging. He tore out of the small building and raced towards the source of the scream, roaring at the top of his lungs. Larisk was coming! He would chase!

[To match: 8, 15, 19, 6, 10, 9 ]

Larisk rounded a building and saw a pack of whers ahead, with a gold in the lead. The chase! Eagerly he bounded forward drawing near to the group of browns and bronzes. But the gold abruptly raced through them all, passing tantalizingly close but far too fast. He tried to turn quickly and follow her, but he was caught off guard and ended up stumbling over his own feet. In a moment he'd regained his footing and turned properly to continue the chase. He'd missed her this time, but that was no reason to give up!

[To match: 8, 15, 19, 6, 10, 9 ]

Katosk squawked in surprise and scrabbled to scoot out of the way as the gold charged through the pack. He didn't know why she wanted to turn around, but he knew he didn't want to be in her path! Being slightly smaller than the bronzes helped his turn be a hair swifter...but his inexperience ensured that it wasn't by much. He let out a coaxing trill as he regained speed. He didn't know if she'd like it, but he had to try! The instinct imbedded into his very genes would let him do no less.

[Numbers to match: 8, 15, 19, 6, 10, 9]

8, 15, 19, 6, 10, 9

Stupid males. They thought they could dare compete with the glory of Siask. He snarled and spit, jaws snapping at any that rounded too close, humans and their idiot weapons.

His muzzle peeled back to reveal crooked, too long teeth, suprisingly clean under the blood. His handler dislikes a smelly wher, too much. There - a flash of gold and fierce warrior beauty. Siask banked hard towards her, his growl low, a greeting, though probably much too quiet and far off to be heard.

Siask ran after her, mindless of the other males. If they came too close to him, he'd go for a kill. If -- and she saw another male, a silly thing. Siask paid him little head, mind focused in on the gold killer before him.

Getting too close to a Running gold meant limbs lost. He did not stray too close, did not try to n** or bite or intimidate. He roared as best he could when running instead.