Jim Go BOOM. (alternatively: EWW)

Half Moon Bay Weyr - Lagoon

It's early afternoon and the search and rescue wing has already set up a picket As one of the riders continues stuffing explosive into the incision made for said explosive. Another pours oil over the carcass trying not to vomit from the smell. Word finally gets around that the plan is to explode the thing into manageable chunks to between and be fed on by scavengers.

Tanit stands to one side of the picket watching the progress with an odd slant of her mouth, the dolphineer in dive suit and what looks suspiciously like a parka. She stands near one of the riders chatting, "Either this is briliance, stupidity, or utter madness."

Triven steps down on to the beach simply here for the chaos, his thin frame is covered in a parka. He will move to stand on the outskirts of what could the be the splash zone and look around at others gathered there. He will wave to a few of the people he has met on his short stay here at the weyr.

A shadow crosses the beast and spectators; a young dragon spiraling down after gliding from the bowl. Aedeluth lands far enough away to not disturb or kick-up sand at anyone; perfectly respectful if awkward as he settles his bulk. S'van slides down and hurries over, dressed in cotton pants and an old tee-shirt, barefoot in the sand. As soon as he is far enough, the bronze takes wing and goes high, circling around the monster on the beach. Tanit is spotted, and the weyrling heads her direction, slowing to a walk as he approaches. "Hey," he offers, turning his eyes toward the mess. "'Bout time this thing is gone." A jar is offered, just in case she needs it. "For the smell. Rub under your nose." Though honestly, if she hasn't come prepared? Well…
A young blue is out there watching as well, about the only reason Catwin has come anywher near the stinking carcass. Course, she's not to easy to be seen, tucked in under Fascath's wing. The pair is well back away from it all, because Catwin refuses to get any closer. So Fascath lays there, watching them stuff the carcass. Watching each explosive being tucked in. There's a ruffle of his wings, making sure Catwin is tucked in nice and close, who leaning on his foreleg a little. There's an upward glance as he watches Aedeluth and then turns his attention back towards the semi-distant carcass.

One of the workers runs a fuse line back. Everything now in place. Tanit sighs, and waves off the jar. "Damn thing has killed my sense of smell." The fuse is lit, and people encouraged to move back. "Too large to drag between… my ass."

Triven watches the lit fuse with something of a mix between awe and glee, he pulls up a face wrap securing it around his nose and mouth. He will hunker down behind a taller man a little just incase Kelani was wrong and the explosion will reach where he stands.

Aedeluth sends a flicker of connection to Fascath, a polite greeting and acknowledgement of his kin. His brother. But the bronze remains high, too in love with the feel of the wind beneath his wings, and the freedom of movement, to come down and settle on the beach. He can see from on high. A panoramic view of the coming destruction. « This will be… » but he lets the word fade away, instead there is just the impression of it. 'amazing' 'epic' 'catastrophic'. All flashing along his screens, betraying the excitement in the young bronze. S'van just shrugs and unscrews the lid, dipping his finger into the contents to dab under his nose. "I wonder why they said that? Seems easier than this…" blowing it up. And why is he here? Maybe moral support for Tanit. "Maybe we should get back further…" because maybe his dragon is smarter than he is, and is sending some decidedly gleeful feelings his direction that can only speak of DOOM.

Likely not, 'too big for between' after all dragons of the past moved engines. But more likley not enough wanting to get close enough to the stinking monstrosity to want to do anything about it. Fascath absorbs the greeting, and matches it with the epic thoughts of a massive army spilling across the moors and then disentigrating into nothingness. Massive down to nothing. From her tucked in spot, Catwin's eyes track S'van over towards Tanit and then back to Mr Dead and Bloated. A glance towards Fascath and then her eyes go back again. More like a million flying chunks of gore as opposed to nothing. If only.

Likely not, 'too big for between' after all dragons of the past moved engines. But more likley not enough wanting to get close enough to the stinking monstrosity to want to do anything about it. Fascath absorbs the greeting, and matches it with the epic thoughts of a massive army spilling across the moors and then disentigrating into nothingness. Massive down to nothing. From her tucked in spot, Catwin's eyes track S'van over towards Tanit and then back to Mr Dead and Bloated. A glance towards Fascath and then her eyes go back again. More like a million flying chunks of gore as opposed to nothing. If only.

Doom? Yes, Doom. The fuse is set. And someone produces the match to light the spark. It's almost anticlimactic, that hiss as the spark starts to travel the ridiculous length of wire. Tanit just sighs, "They can't have used that much explosive, I'm sure that Ila'den wouldn't have signed off on it." She's not entirely sure who signed off on the venture if we are being perfectly honest. Not that it's going to matter. Tani does however step back further just to be safe."

And what is the once-renegade, once Weyrsecond, once Weyrleader, now just a really horrible man with an eye patch doing on the beach? Looking murderous, that's what; Ila'den is stalking his way across the sand with an awkwardness to his gait that hints at persistent pain in one of his knees, followed close-but-not-close-enough by his bronze lifemate whose eyes are orange in agitation that mimics what's already on his rider's face. "Who," that already gritty voice is thick with accent, harsher as he breathes between strides and makes his way to Tanit, "the (expletive redacted) gave you permission for this to happen?"

Triven hears about the weight of explosives he will pop his head around the person he is hiding behind and look out to see what they are talking about. He is rather curious, he doesn't notice that has moved closer and closer in the crowd till he is peaking around the now very angry one eyed man. Oops how did he get here? He would hide but it is like watch a wagon wreck you just can't look a way.

Aedeluth is just DELIGHTED up there in the sky. High enough that bits of dead thing will surely not hit him. He is smart. He's a friggin genious y'all. And he's staying the heck outta that mess. Even if his weyrling is decidedly LESS of a genius and doesn't stay out of it. At least he's moving a little further back, with Tanit, eyeing the soon-to-be exploded thing with suspicion. It definitely doesn't lessen as a murderous looking Ila'den descends upon his sister-friend-person, and there's a sudden and visible shift in his demeanor; legs widen, shoulders thrown back. Someone's been teaching him out to fight proper-like and he's more than ready to put it to use should YOU TRY TO HURT HIS FRIEND-SISTER-PERSON ILA! FIGHT ME (or not. Cause weyrling…). And maybe, just maybe, there's a hand that reaches out for Tani's shoulder. Cause PROTECTIVE here.
"And why the (explicative of choice) do you think I started this mess? They were already packing the incision when I got here this morning. I Figured you signed off on it. Or someone with a bigger knot than mine did." Tanit rakes long fingers through short shorn hair. "If you didn't give them the ok, then who the -" Tanit never gets to finish her sentence.


With catastrophic force the carcass suddenly is no more, the air filled with smoke and the scent of powder. After a few seconds, soft squelching pludding noises as chunks of rancid monster meat begin to fall from the sky. Heavier chunks make an impact and it's then that the idiots start running. Tanit herself covered in… well we won't describe what she's covered in because it is just too awful for words. The beach is littered with millions of chunks in the silence that follows. The explosive did it's work at least. the remaining chunks perfectly sized for carrion eaters or dragons to tug off between.

There's a bit of a rumble from Fascath as well as Ila'den comes stalking in. After all, he's laid claim to Tanit as well. Even if it is just because he likes to sniff her. Maybe she's wearing DragonCrack(TM) or something. There's a step towards Ila'den and Tanit but then he settles down again. Tail atwitch and knocking up sand and crap to be flung about by whatever sea breeze catches it. And then there is much booming. There's a draconic mutter for having missed the good part. Fascath may never forgive that indignaty. After all, that's what he was here for. And well, if Tanit isn't covered in DragonCrack(TM). She's certainly covered in something. ANd in that silence Fascath lets out a trumpting bugle. The flying carnage is exquisite indeed and his wings furl out, causing Catwin to squeak as things go thunk on the wings.

The lone grey eye is assessing S'van and his posture without diminishing his anger; if anything, Ila'den's jaw ticks even as Fascath moves forward and Teimyrth does too with a warning growl that precedes the unfurling of massive wings. Ila'den ignores the posturing - both from dragons and S'van alike except for the gruff advice of, "Can't protect your face with your arm on her shoulder," which might be a threat, but seems to be a statement made with the intent of being dismissive. Ila'den doesn't stand down; Tanit opens that mouth of hers to fire back, and just as Ila'den is opening his there's the kind of boom that makes it feel like the entire world is shaking; it's the kind that reverberates in the bones, and makes teeth grit, and leaves ears ringing for having been unfortunate enough to hear it - and Ila'den? He's already in motion. He's stepping into S'van and Tanit's space simultaneously, shoving heads down and pulling bodies in tight against his own to shield them from what he can of the blast on instinct. And then he lets them go as they jerk away or the raining down of decay subsides - whatever comes first. Either way, he's jerking out of his riding jacket with a growl of sound that might have been a curse, but is undistinguishable as he moves. There's a long sleeved tunic under that (a wonder he doesn't pass out with heat stroke, isn't it?), and he's putting his jacket over Tanit's head. Protection…? Or maybe even a gesture meant to spare her dignity. Teimyrth's wings were already unfurled, and it means the bronze tried to shield the others from what he could even as those eyes shift to red and the rumbling on the beach is emanating from the bronze now. One, two, three, and regardless of where they are, Ila'den's leveling his grey eye on Tanit and S'van with an eerie calm that's almost dangerous. "Are you alright?" he inquires, but it's not for just them, because he's stepping back and raising his voice to call out, "Everybody alright? Did anybody get hurt?" And then he's in motion, moving to check everybody in range - Catwin, Triven…

Triven is there, right there as his human shield that was Ila'dan moves and he is hit with a massive shockwave from the explosion, he has Faranth knows what on him. He lays there flat out on his back, it was loud and then quiet he just kinda looks around eyes in and out of focus for a good while. He tries to stand up and will grasp on to the nearest thing which happens to be the senior bronzeriders leg, finding his own balance is gone he clings to the larger mans leg.

Aedeluth is high, high in the sky. A speck of bronze against the blue. But even here, he is aware of the tension on the beach, and there's a ZING of a connection reaching out to those involved. Tanit, Ila'den, Teimyrth. Aedeluth is HERE and if he has to come DOWN THERE he will not be pleased. But there is no anger. No attempt to intercede on his Weyrling's behalf. Just the connection that says he is watching. S'van does not want to fight Ila (Who the <explitive> would, really?) but it's just instinct, really. Stupid instinct, sometimes. Only there's suddenly an exploding squid that kinda… changes everyone's focus. Down, ducked by noneother than the bronzerider himself, only to be released as he wiggles out from under him. Aedeluth bugles in the sky and suddenly drops like a stone, wings tucked as he hurls towards the beach, just to snap his sails out to slow his descent at the last minute. Is S'van OK? "I think so?" even if he can't quite hear, and he's suddenly covered in unmentionable grossness. Eyes to Tanit, and then Fascath, looking for Catwin. But really, what's he to do with this new situation? This requires processing time, and so S'van just kinda stands… disgusting and immobile as gross bits of squid pitter-patter down around them. Aedeluth, for his part, is all up in Tanit's business, huffing and peering at her with a great whirling eye. "He wants to know if you are OK."

Catwin is fine, shocked perhaps by the deluge of organi matter falling all around. Or maybe it's just the squishy-squilchy sounds it makes as it rains on everyone's parade. Either way she's okay and is so not moving from her spot. At least not yet. Fascath is sniffing the few pieces that have landed near him and then there's a shudder at the smell. Yeah, exploded squid is sooo not on /his/ menu. Too acrid smelly for his liking. There's a whuffle snort to under his wing and with the deluge stopped Catwin is peeking out and then she's eying the beach. What a slimey mess. "I thnk they screwed up on their trajectory." she mutters and then she's eyeing Fascath and wrinkling her nose. "You need a bath, and me. I need…" A sigh.

Ears ringing, Tanit finds herself sandwiched against two bronzeriders yet again. Though the circumstances are quite different this time if no less confusing. She just blinks owlishly a moment, "Um. Hi." Because those are the only two syllables she can manage right now trying to process the situation, before with a sliding giggle she sort of wobbles. "Squid go BOOM. Everything's all sticky." Tanit is giggling folks. Not quite ready to fully process the situation with so many people and dragons rushing to the rescue or not rescue. Give her a few minutes even Tanit cannot react quickly to this turn of events. "Booze. This requires soap and Booze." Tanit finishes for Cat, or tries to going off what the bluerider is actually saying.

AEDELUTH. So much FIERCE in once little tiny dragon. The expansion of his mind is caught - ripped from Teimyrth's rider and redirected towards himself (or filtered, as it were), met with no words but the flurry of a blizzard at work - a lack of acknowledgement, a refusal to let in the minds of those who are young, a disinterest that still somehow manages to convey anger while conveying nothing at all. But then it doesn't matter, because there is bloated death raining down indiscriminately, clinging to clothes as permeating skin while burning throat and nostrils with offensive smells - offensive smells that Ila'den is surely not immune to, but that he ignores with practiced indifference or the stronger instinct to - oh hi, Triven. The bronzerider goes to take one step and finds himself impaired by another man clinging to his legs, a sight that earns a moment's hesitation and a taut tension that ripples through muscles before Ila'den reaches out to pull Triven to his feet (and put him a considerable distance from himself). "If your legs are weak, sit," comes the gruff growl to the man he's never met, and then his eyes are on Catwin just long enough to assure himself that he's okay before Tanit's (perceived) hysteria is rising a brow and leaves Ila'den dragging that eye slowly from the dolphineer to her best friend. One, two, three, and Ila'den is moving back into Tanit's space along with Aedeluth as S'van asks that question. The bronzerider's reaching out calloused hands with an expression that speaks to tension and anger and adrenaline and a touch that's… alarmingly gentle in contrast as he tilts her chin up and looks closely. "I'm not a sharding healer, but I don't think anything hit you, little bird." And that accent has lost some of its thickness, curbed some of its anger, hidden behind some of the concentration he's applying before he lets her go and looks back to S'van. "Soap and booze can wait. S'van, you should probably take her to the infirmary." But he doesn't wait for confirmation, he's stalking away to go boss somebody further down along the beach around.

Triven is hosted and then placed on his legs he will take a few steps, yeah he is ok, when he pulls the face covering off. HE wobbles again and then he will drop to his knees again and wretch because well it seems that explosions don't sit well with stomachs and inner ears. He is still not very responsive other than the world seems to be very off center. "uhhg" is about all he can say at this point in time, he just kind of crouches there till he can figure out what is going on.

Aedeluth is ignored. This is NOT OK with the bronze, and so after another, gruffer sounding huff, he will ignore Tanit and move towards S'van. Only it's not exactly a comforting or endearing sort of wuffle in his face, but more so the bronze can rub his face LITERALLY in the stuff clinging to him. HAHAHAHA messy. S'van's hands shove at the massive head, annoyed more than disgusted. Catwin is fine. Fascath is fine. Triven is… a stranger but decidedly not fine, though it's Tanit that has the weyrling's attention. There's a very concerned expression for all the giggling and silly talk happening there. "Tanit…" only now Ila'den is seconding the opinion, and issuing orders that Sev is more than happy to comply with. "Yes, sir." He spares a glance for the retching Triven, and offers only a sympathetic, "Maybe you should come, too?" before he's turning back to Tanit and sweeping her into his arms regardless of protests and all that wonderful GROSS that's clinging to both of them. "Infirmary it is," and off he goes, the bronze dragon lingering behind him. « Well. That was certainly something, » he decides, reaching out to Fascath with a whisper of a connection. « Shall we do it again, sometime? »

« Think we can find another big one to blow up? Perhaps a fat herdbeast might suffice? » "FASCATH! NO!!" Catwin suddenly yells as she stares at the blue in consternation "No playing with explosives for you! Just. No!" Gah! She throws up her hands even as she sneaks a glance Tanit and S'van's way. Well. No help for it, she'll just have to see about popping in on Tanit later." She shoo's the blue off down the beach, must be somewhere that isn't covered in gore. Course, this little 'experiment' should provide some interesting effects, sounds and visual, for sleep later on.

"Fish." The giggly shell shocked dolphineer corrects the gruff bronzerider still giggling. "I'm a fish, not a bird." This seems important, but why is anyone's guess. But then she's being scooped up by Sev and told that she should see a healer, but worse there would be no booze or soap. She'd been about to protest when Sev's arms swoop her up and she winds up just staring at the weyrling as though she might start yelling at him to put her down. Catwin's yelling, however, draws her attention and she turns her head too quick, the smells and other things just making her nauseous suddenly. Nope. Tanit is just going to huddle against Sev and let him do the walking for a bit. Obscenely compliant. Aedeluth gets a look but she will just have to apologize later. And the new guy. who was Ila clinging.
Sir. "Ila'den," comes gruffly in correction, the grey eye sparing another glance for Tanit whose similar correction goes uncommented on. Probably because Ila'den's HALF WAY DOWN THE BEACH bossing somebody else around, and then moving back to Triven, whose sick the bronzerider steps around with a somewhat gentle, "Get it out," before he leans down to haul the teenager up into his arms - much like S'van gathered Tanit up in his. At least Catwin is okay! GOOD JOB HUSBAND DRAGON. He's got his girl's BACK. Which means Ila'den can breathe out, "If you feel sick, try to aim the other way." But even if Triven does have the bad form to throw up on Ila, well… the man will persevere and keep going. He's been subject to worse; he can handle it. AWAY, TO THE INFIRMARY! HI-HO!

Triven is on the sand, sand is nice, and then he is airborne and hoisted. He looks about trying to focus but will hold back another round of dry heaves this time, not good form to puke on people. He does however try and say thanks but it just comes out incoherent, as the bronzerider hoists him aloft to the infirmary he will just cloths his eyes and hope it is all a bad dream.

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