Fort Weyr - Northeast Bowl
The northern end of the bowl can be an intimidating area, being that Fort is the largest weyr. The far north wall contains the gigantic opening to the hatching caverns, and to the west of that can be seen the sprawling ledges and carved stair cases that mark the way to the administration complex and the training grounds were candidates and weyrlings can often be found. The west cliff wall towers up, dotted here and there by darker openings that mark individual weyrs before it tapers to a point at Tooth Crag.

It's a chilly autumn afternoon, the morning dawning with fits of snow from the looming clouds overhead. It didn't stick around for too long, most of it melting once the clouds dispersed and the sun began to weakly filter through. What it did create was a treacherous, muddy mire in the bowls, most stone surfaces becoming dangerously slick and icy until workers come by to clear them. And what makes an already muddy northern bowl even "safer"? Oil! Barrels of it and of various types but all laid to waste now as it seeps and spreads over the ground from the smashed crates. The cause? Rider error, it seems, if the heated argument between two dragonriders has anything to do with it. Ta'lok, brown Vrekath's rider is going head-to-head with green Zratavath's rider Kara, neither seeming to want to take blame for the mishap, their heated argument drawing as much of a curious crowd as the slick and spreading disaster of a mess.

From his ledge, Velokraeth watched it all and of course the pale bronze sent word to his rider. So it's from his weyr that the Weyrleader storms out, already half way down the stairs and still slipping on his riding jacket against the autumn chill. STOMP, stomp, stomp, splorch… the heck? Th'ero pauses to scowl down at his boot as it ends up sticking into the delightful mixture of thick mud and oil, only to look up again and narrow his eyes in growing anger at the arguing pair. Meanwhile, no one seems to be thinking on warning anyone else coming out to the bowl, the mishap still too fresh and with the spill unchecked… who knows how far it has already spread!
Kimmila is walking towards Th'ero's weyr from the direction of the living caverns, a platter of food in her hands. Someone's bringing the Weyrleader a late lunch, it seems. Or…she would have, had she not been so distracted by the fight that she stepped right into the oil and mud mixture, wobbled, stepped again, got stuck, slipped, and…down she goes with a startled yell.

In the middle of her own errand across the bowl, Angelique has a jacket on but it's not yet buttoned up. Slinging a satchel over her neck so it crisscrosses across her chest and lays against one side, she's several strides closer to her destination when the sound of arguing comes to her ears. "Wha…." head up she heads that way though there's little stomping when suddenly..kersploosh! Both feet land and slip in….oil? "What the…?" arms pinwheeling she manages to keep her balance but just barely. It's precarious though!

Zhirayr is just plain lucky, obviously enough, because he's walking right through the middle of the bowl, heading for the muck and mire, and is completely oblivious to all of it: he's walking on instinct and reading a giant pile of notes, all at once. There's no way this could possibly lead to disaster, is there? Of course not! Don't be silly! He stops short, just before Too Late, as he senses Part Of A Dragon in front of him — and stands there, patiently waiting for that limb to move, as he keeps reading, and keeps missing the fact that there's a giant Slick of Death just beyond it.

Kouzevelth happened to be in the bowl; she's getting ever-larger, and is enjoying the snow when she can. What she has not been enjoying is the interruption of her comfortable space with slick and icky oil. She ahs been obscuring the path, though, so if Zhirayr would like to claim it's her he's stuck behind … well, she does lift that space-hog of a front paw. If he's sure he wants to keep walking. It's entertainment for her, even if she doesn't like that Kimmila slipped.

Abigail caught word of what was going on in the bowl thanks to Niumdreoth, her gaze flicks around as she takes in the sights from her spot, which for the moment has not been covered in oil.. though it is creeping ever closer. A slight breath escapes her and she moves forward, her boots keeping her from sliding down at least, and she was expecting it to be somewhat slick. Her path is taking her towards the pair of arguing riders, though her pale gaze flicks one way and then another. "What a sharding mess.." Is grumbled out softly as she goes.

That argument between Ta'lok and Kara has been reduced to 'he did it' and 'she did it' arguing, followed with many slung insults and finger pointing that only serves to rile both riders up further. A few who try to step in only get their heads chewed off or efforts dismissed (or outright ignored). Vrekath and Zratavath only look on, both still outfitted in their straps and by the looks of what remains of the ropes and other transport gear, they were both hauling the crates of oil. Word is spreading now just as fast as that Slick of Doom and more folk are wandering out from the caverns and tunnels, some to peer in curiosity and others perhaps to help. Though those weyrbrats are probably just out for mischief. Th'ero is midway to going to knock some heads together (Ta'lok and Kara are locked in his sights) when a startled yell jars him from his course. "Kimmila!" he calls out, both in concern and surprise and goes to turn to her aid… only to find his feet slipping and sticking. The Weyrleader is moving at a crawl at this rate, grimacing and swearing as he tries to avoid either falling into the mire as well or executing a rather (painful) split with his legs. Ow? Spotting Abigail and Angelique, Th'ero tries to ward them off but… it's too late. "Careful!" he warns, shooting another glare over his shoulder at the two at-fault riders. Where IS Roc's Wingleader? "Sharding mess is right!" The Weyrleader goes on to mutter, cursing again as he tries to carefully pick his way over to Kimmila. A nod is given to Kouzevelth, eyes briefly spotting Zhirayr there and relief as well. Two assistants! Excellent! "Mind organizing a clean up or… at least start getting this contained?" he barks to both the assistant headman and poor Angelique. "Rest of you back off!" There's a sharp shoo'ing like gesture to the gathering crowd of gawkers. Go on! SCRAM. Weyrleader's in a pissy mood. Up on his ledge, Velokraeth is chuffing in his usual amused way, tail flicking against the stone edge as he observes the scene below. A honeyed warble is sent to Kouzevelth too. How's that mud and oil bath?

Kimmila struggles to sit up, eying the mess with an expression that looks as if it's trying to decide if it should laugh or be angry. In the end she just chuckles. "Bet this is /really/ good for your skin. We should set up a spa and charge folks," she says, looking up to Th'ero with a crooked grin, reaching a muddied hand up to ask for his help. Though she might just end up pulling him down with her. Up on the ledge, a sleepy Varmiroth lumbers out to stand beside Velokraeth with a soft creel down to the folks below. Looking around, Kimmila tosses a wave to the others, before shouting to Ta'lok and Kara, "Shut up!"

Angelique stopped….well into the mess. How did she get so far this quickly? Or perhaps it's the fact it is still oozing around her at an uncontrolled rate. At the barked order she snaps her attention over to Th'ero and gives a quick nod. Then she looks around at those who are already gathered. Yeah…clearing the scene isn't going to be as easy as one may hope for. Scuffling her feet a bit she shuffles in what hopefully will be a safe manor, arms out. "Alright then…go on shoo." she approaches one end where several guys simply scoff at her.
C'mon now baby." says one. "Ya remember me right? Watched ya play darts. Lemme hang here and watch /this/." says one man by the name of Joheekel who looks to be roughly 25 or so. His friends nudge him and scoff, in complete agreement about /not/ moving.

Gold leg down, gold leg up, path obstruction no longer blocked — And now Zhirayr keeps walking, because everyone knows the main purpose of Assistant Headmen is to amuse pregnant gold dragons, right? Of course right! Step, splorch, squish — it's the commentary lobbed at Angelique that gets his attention, and not the Weyrleader's call, or the change in terrain. "Hey," he calls out belatedly, looking up and scowling at Joheekel and his homies. "You leave her alone. Quit being disrespectfu- augh - WHOA!" (Which is to say: There goes all that carefully-ordered paperwork, and Yet Another of Zhirayr's nice black outfits is now ruined, this time with mud instead of dust or berry pulp.)

Kouzevelth IS enjoying the mud and oil bath, thanks Velokraeth — okay, maybe not. It's a little bit gross. Though it's absolutely fantastic for her skin — er, hide. She's intelligently not trying to move, though, other than lifting her paw out of Zhirayr's way. Doesn't stop her from trilling back at the Weyrleading dragon, though. Aren't humans funny? Her tail, which might be just a bit excessively oily, lifts and lashes playfully — it may have the result of tossing oil into someone's face. She stops to look curiously down at Zhirayr. Hmm, looks like he won't be organizing a cleanup just yet. Is the dragon laughing? Quite possibly; there might be what could almost be mistaken for a smile on her muzzle.

Abigail isn't worried about falling, the has rather good balance even in the slick mud across the ground. "Aye I know." Is offered back to Th'ero as she pauses once near Ta'lok and Kara whom both get a pointed look over the fact that they are having a shouting match. She is about to say something before Kimmila is tossing her two cents in. A bit of amusement touches the brownriders eyes. "I suggest ye stop the yelling while ye still have some sense left in yer fool heads." A slight shake of her head is seen before casting a glance over to where Angelique is and eyes the few that she is trying to move. "I'll go give Angelique a hand." Best run now boys, or something along those lines. With sure steps she is making her way on over to stand next to Angelique, and the few merely are given a look. "Oh.. I see, we have some willing people to help with the cleaning? How nice.." With this said she just grins.

Ta'lok and Kara stop their arguing just long enough to shoot heated looks towards Kimmila and Abigail, seemingly unaware that the Weyrleader is standing right there. Kara makes some sort of 'shove it' gesture to Kimmila, while Ta'lok just sneers at Abigail, before the two turn on each other again. That is, until their Wingleader all but drops down on them, adding his outraged and horrified voice to the thick of things. Cue quite the stripping, which at least has the two young riders backing down — somewhat. Both are protesting their own innocence in the matter and all the while more oil is trickling out… Th'ero finally makes it to Kimmila's side and half crouches down to offer his hand for her. He ignores the mud, gripping firmly as he seeks to help her but it is easier said than done. Anytime he tries to brace his weight, his boots just slide and with a grunt he has to let her go before he winds up flat on his back (or front). "You alright?" he asks her, before muttering. "Can't shardin' get my feet steadied!" The Weyrleader observes then as Angelique goes on to crowd control, with Abigail joining her and he nods in approval. At least THAT is getting done now! Then Zhirayr is going down and Th'ero sighs heavily. Great! "Alright over there?" he calls out, grimacing. That's twice now that the assistant headman has fallen in the Weyrleader's presence! He's going to begin questioning a few things… or wondering if he just isn't plain cursed!

Up on his ledge, Velokraeth is simply AMUSED beyond amused to be witnessing all this and the various reactions. How pleasantly entertaining! If the bronze could smirk, he'd be doing that right then but for Kouzevelth he'll chuff (his version of laughing), tail twitching in a lazy manner over the stone of the ledge. Humans are very funny and never dull to watch! So are dragons and Velokraeth has been keeping an eye on brown Vrekath and green Zratavath, since both are beginning to fidget as their rider's agitation begins to filter back to them. Oh, what a mess this has become!

Kimmila digs her hand into the mud and /flings/ it towards the riders who were being disrespectful to Angelique. Can't you just see her halo slip a bit? Looking up at Th'ero, she nods. "Yeah, I'm fine," she says, unable to hold back a laugh at their slipping and sliding. "Fine, but…I might have to crawl and slither my way out of this muck." Struggling, she fails utterly at getting up and just starts to scoot backwards on her butt, edging through the mud and pushing with her heels as best she can.

Gawkers are gathering, and no one likes a good gawk more than Nathaniel. He /was/ hobbling across the bowl hauling a rather heavy-looking pack, stooped body leaned heavily upon a walking cane for assistance in that terribly difficult task, but he changes his path slightly when he sees all the mud and oil mess. He doesn't bother getting too close, but comes to a stop at a safe enough distance, supported by his cane as he watches the excitement with a vague grin.

Zhirayr is, of course, utterly miserable. And covered in oily mud. Plastered in it, even. Today is not his week, to say the least! And those records were… probably priceless, although hopefully either he'll manage to rescue them, or reproduce them, or they aren't that priceless after all. "Fat lot of good you did me," he tells Kouzevelth's paw wryly, glancing up at the queen dragon-as-a-whole briefly — and then starts to emulate a spiderclaw, with how he's wriggling around in the muck trying to get more-or-less upright once again. (At least his butt isn't hanging out in midair again!)

Angelique winces a bit as she hears rather than sees Zhirayr go down. There goes another outfit! Howevrer her attention remains on the heckler and his buddies, a grin and a grateful look going to Abigail as the brown rider joins her in wrangling off the crowd. With the oil and mud beneath their feet it's certainly not easy to move quickly.

Joheekl, certainly /not/ a rider, scoffs as the mud that's flung by Kimmila doesn't splash him but does manage to get the back of Angelique. "Good job there rider lady!" he taunts. "Hopefully you're better aim with…other things!" back to Abigail and Angelique now he protests. "Help clean? Oh now way, I'm just here inhopes someone losses a shirt or something before going down in the oil and mud!"

Kouzevelth yawns. Fat lot of good she is indeed. Also, she's starting to be actually fat, so it's reasonably accurate. The mocking of Kimmila, though, doesn't sit well with the queen, and she actually hisses a bit at Joheekl. Shut up, human, or you'll be her next plaything.

Abigail sends a glance back towards the sneering Ta'lok. "Tsktsk.. Don't start something ye can't finish." In other words, don't tempt Abbey to finish something at the moment. She's been in a mud fight before. Her gaze settles back on the group that is before Angelique and herself, the mud is flung and at least misses her. A faint smirk is seen as she steps forward, her boots are good but even she is sliding just a bit. Though her balance is still key here, and so far she is up. "Deary.. Yer going to be cleaning now for sure after those little comments." There is a slight rumble from Niumdreoth while the large brown curiously watches still, though his swirling gaze is resting on Joheekl. Someone's got his eye on you!

The mud meant for the two riders ends up hitting Angelique instead and Kara, one of the guilty parties in this whole mess, actually laughs before being silenced again by her irate Wingleader, who is trying (and failing) to get either rider to confess or spit out a story that makes sense, let alone remain in line. The greenrider's laughter follows right on the heels of Joheekel's taunting remark and that does not lessen Th'ero's temper any. It flares it and the Weyrleader's face is suddenly flushed with color. Oh, he's going to be cleaning alright. "YOU—" he barks, pointing right at the poor young man. "You and your friends are to aid assistant Headwoman Angelique and Wingsecond Abigail in whatever they require and you'll do it respectfully and mind your tongues, less I find something else for the Headwoman or Weyrwomen to saddle you with!" Is that a threat? It could be and it's as far as Th'ero can push it. He's a Weyrleader, his power lies more in reprimanding the riders — which he will get to eventually. For now he is following Kimmila, though he looks almost distressed that she has to scuttle herself backwards on her butt. "Let me try again," he offers, extending his hand while he leans in to murmur privately. "Did you really have to start throwing mud?" Cause look what it started!

Well, the weyrbrats who snuck out to watch all this caught on from the bluerider's example and snickering amongst themselves, they grab a few handfuls, intent really only to play amongst their group. But terrible aim is terrible aim and one slung handful hits Ta'lok, who instantly thinks it was Kara who done it while his back was turned to speak with the Wingleader. So he retaliates before he's stopped, but the greenrider dodges and the mud goes flying wide… splattering Abigail and Th'ero both and no doubt some of it bounces off into the crowd as well, where Nathaniel has chosen to gawk. That's the final straw it seems for the Weyrleader at least and swearing quite the string of oaths, he turns. "Oh, this stops NOW!" he all but growls as he leaves poor Kimmila to fend for herself as his temper flares beyond breaking point and he storms off (or more like stomp-sliding) to confront Ta'lok, Kara and the Roc Wingleader, passing poor mud and oil covered Zhirayr on his way as well with no help offered. Sorry, Weyrleader on a mission. And those weyrbrats? Totally booking it.

Kimmila grins up at Th'ero, both impish and unapologetic. "It seemed appropriate at the time," she admits with a shrug, muttering something else. Watching Th'ero get angry at some mud has the bluerider sighing, and continuing to scoot. "Try scooting to the dry bits and getting up from there," she calls to Zhirayr.
Kimmila mutters to Th'ero, "… me later… you… Weyrleader."
Kimmila whispers "Punish me later if you want, Weyrleader."

Nathaniel smirks slightly and glances toward Joheekl, one bushy eyebrow lifting in the craggy face. He watches the exchange for a few moments, until something strikes him as funny and he gives a quiet, wheezy sort of laugh. "Wouldn't go taunting dragons or their riders, lad," he remarks, shifting his grip on the cane as though his wrist were tiring. "Has a way of coming back to…bite you." Still, if his somewhat merry expression is any clue, he might be hoping for a continuation of the show.

Angelique gives Joheekl a look that has a trace of smugness to it. "Now then..boys." she informs them. The heckling is fairly ignored though perhaps it's easier for her to ignore with Th'ero's ire being directed to them to the fullest extent of his power. "Start cleaning up, eh?" she directs. Turning a bit she starts to say something to Abagail when suddenly mud is flying. "Oh no…." this can't be good. FOr now all she can do is watch helplessly as she watches Th'ero stalk towards them.

Joheekl opens his mouth to no doubt say something witty but his friends shove him to get him to stop. He goes sprawling forward, unbalanced, and falls right into Angelique and the pair goes down to the ground.

Zhirayr is, in fact, following Kimmila's advice, before she even says it — which doesn't mean he does anything but laugh wryly, nodding, once she does. And he manages to get upright again, muddy and oily as he is, just in time to watch Angelique go down — leaving him with a hardcore lineface, and the careful wide shuffle of someone who really doesn't want to go down again but is trying to hurry, and maybe accidentally nudges Joheekl in the kidneys with his boot when he arrives to offer Ang a hand up. Oops?

Oh, graceful. Kouzevelth might be laughing again. Can dragons laugh? There's a ring of gleeful chirping birds in her mindvoice, reaching out to dragons in the vicinity. It is turning into a combination of frustrating stupidity and quality entertainment all at once. The swaying tail keeps swaying. Ooooooooh, fight. (Somewhere, Inri, who is trying to work, is also groaning.)

Abigail smirks as she nods to the few that are before her and Angelique. "See what happens when ye don't listen?" Everything could have been /fine/ if they just moved off and now they are to get to cleaning. Works well with her! She grins a bit to Angelique and then a slight err escapes her once Joheekl takes out Angelique. There is a pause and she just peers down at the pair. "Shells.." This is grumbled out and she is about to lean down and give them a helping hand up but is smacked across her back (and yes her hair) with the icky mud and oil that was thrown at her. With a glower the brownrider turns back eyeing the ones behind her. "..Who threw it..?" Oh how she wants to know.

Muttered agreements and some laughter, genuine and nervous and peppered with snickering chuckles surround Nathaniel, a few of the gawkers joining the older man, agreeing with his remarks and soon more are following. "Yeah, everyone knows not to pick a fight with riders!" one voice says, while another mutters lower. "Especially not the Weyrleader's 'mate. Fools!" Other comments are tossed out, some egging Joheekel on and even the arguing dragonriders, along with a few teasing remarks sent flying to even Zhirayr and the others. No one is safe! Ahh, crowds! Th'ero stormed off too quickly to reply to Kimmila's muttered words, though he does shoot the bluerider a narrowed look as though he's not exactly sure how to take what she said to him. Not that he is focused long on it — his focus is now turning to Ta'lok and Kara, who have gone (wisely) quiet as the Weyrleader approaches or it could be the furious look in his eyes that has them silent at last. And that poor Wingleader is hurriedly trying to explain things, looking as though he'd rather be anywhere but there right now, pinned under Th'ero's angry gaze. He'll miss Angelique going down in a tangle with Joheekel and as for Abigail's annoyed query to the guilty party well… Those her eyes fall upon only shrug. It wasn't them! But they do point to the retreating backsides of several weyrbrats as they disappear around the bend into the center bowl.

Kimmila finally gets to a spot dry enough to get to her feet, standing there dripping and disgusting. "Bath time for me later," she says, though she doesn't sound at all upset by that prospect. The bluerider loves her baths! "Oh, for…" she mutters when Abigail goes down, and Zhirayr goes to help. So for the moment, Kimm will just stand there before walking slowly towards the crowd where Nathaniel stands. "Any ideas on how to clean this up?"

The friends of Joheekl decide now is a time to bug out and so they're gone in the wind. There's no time at all from the shove until Joheekl is right there. "Heyophfcnkwargh!" and she goes toppling backwards with a pretty good whack to the back of her head and the man's atop of her. "Gettoff…" she shoves him forward.

Joheekl is dazed and is dead weight on Angelique. Finally he rolls off to his back and Angelique spies Zhirayr there and reaches to take his hand up. Bad move though cause the moment weight goes into her right ankle she cries out in pain, grasping blindly at Zhirayr.

Nathaniel gives a wheezy laugh as the rest of the peanut gallery joins in, and it only gets worse as Angelique and Joheekel go down in the mud. "Dear me…" He shifts his weight, then settles again against the cane in a comfortable stoop. "I expect it requires an /awful/ lot of soap to clean one of those," he remarks, with a sidelong glance toward the dragons. "You'd practically need a lake of water… And imagine the bubbles!" He shifts again, but this time shrugs out of the pack on his back, conspicuously balancing on one leg to avoid putting weight on the braced leg. After a bit of fumbling, he comes up with a bar of something vaguely cream-coloured but clean smelling, and hands it toward Kimmila. "Try that with some clean water," he advises.

Zhirayr is only slightly off-balance still, from kicking Joheekl — not so much that he doesn't manage to catch Angelique this time, and keep her more-or-less steady, too. "What's wrong?" he asks quietly, fully concerned, Joheekl fully forgotten at their feet. "You're hurt?"

Abigail shakes her head as she catches sight of one last fleeing weyrbrat. "Brats.." Is murmured out before she is looking to Angelique and Zhirayr, and a glare is sent to Joheekl's prone form. She moves over offering a hand to help get the possibly hurt Angelique back up onto her feet along with keeping her steady. "Sok Angelique, we're get ye outa this mess." A glance is sent to Zhirayr and she nods towards a dry spot out of the oily mess. "Can get her over there perhaps?" As for the other riders getting there rumps chewed into she only sends them a glance. She so /told/ them to cool it down!

The peanut gallery won't last, as the cavalry finally arrives and lead by none other than the Headwoman and Steward. They've rounded up as many able bodied volunteers and already they are setting to the task of organizing which group goes where and when. Many are laden with tools and supplies, though from the expression on many faces, it's clear no one was expecting a mess quite THIS big to clean up! A few groans can be heard, along with impressed whistles and muttered cursing. This is going to take all afternoon to fix! Not to mention folk keep FALLING in it! A few folk shuffle forwards to try and help Joheekel up, while peering curiously at Angelique, Zhirayr and Abigail. Let the gossiping begin!

Meanwhile, some distance away, the Weyrleader is now in heated discussion with the Wingleader, as well as redfaced Ta'lok and sullen but rebellious Kara. Each are taking their turn in pleading their case and from the fractured bits of conversation it's promptly going into a frustrating roundabout. "…I was taking off… but then she got in our way .. but he wouldn't listen…" And so forth. It's a wonder Th'ero's already frayed patience and temper just doesn't snap entirely then. Velokraeth shifts on his ledge, stretching out in an almost lazy sprawl as he cants his ugly, oversized head towards Kouzevelth and now it seems as though he is smiling to the pregnant gold. Be a dear and get the story from Zratavath and Vrekath? He's tried, but… oh, he's just a pale 'ol bronze after all! The entertainment is beginning to wear off, time for the truth so that this mess can be cleared and perhaps something new and equally as amusing can begin. Only logical, right?

Kimmila laughs, pointing in the direction of the lake. "We do use the lake, but so far I haven't seen the whole lake full of bubbles." Taking the soap with some surprise, she lifts it to her nose to sniff. "Soap? You…make soap?" And she begins to giggle, and then laugh. "Set up a stand right here, sir, and make your fortune!" she laughs, gesturing to the quagmire of mud and oil, and many people needing baths. "Thank you," she does add when her mirth has run its course, tucking it into her pocket. Glancing over with a concerned frown at Angelique's cry, she sees Zhirayr has it under control. So she'll stay here. As the brats flee, Kimmila does have the presence of mind to look and make sure one of them is /not/ a tiny Th'ero. No dark curls? Good. Whew.

Nathaniel gives a wide, slightly simple-minded looking grin, and nods. "I do, clever lady," he confirms, and glances toward the rather large mess. "But I'd be happy enough for a dry bed and a hot meal for my wares, to be honest. These legs are rather weary of the road." He glances toward the confusion, picking out the one rider who seems to be taking charge, and continues to grin with a shake of his head. "They look a bit busy to discuss it at the moment, though…"

Angelique's right foot goes to the ground tentatively but instantly goes back once more with another stifled cry of pain. Something's not right there. An arm flings around….Abigail as she's no doubt closer than Zhirayr. "This'll be fun…" she mutters. "Ankle's hurt." not to mention the headache flaring up. "Oh good…." she spies the clean up crew arriving and that gets a nod from her. "Good…Shells my head hurts." now to find a way to get out of the mud and oil.

"Balance me, would you?" Zhirayr suggests… to Abigail, and quite straightforwardly ducks and bends and lifts to pick Angelique right up off the ground. No need to worry about your ankle this way, right? And now Abigail's job will be to make sure Zhirayr doesn't topple over and take both — no, all three of them down, on his way to the infirmary. (Where, no doubt, they'll all also be able to get cleaned up.)

Kouzevelth can certainly do that, Velokraeth. Emphatically, too: Vrekath and Zratavath are each given quick zap-blows of lightning to their minds, individually, not collectively. So, her pretty ones, what do you have to say for yourselves? If she gets two different stories, that does ruin everything, but would they dare lie to her? Oh, she'd be crushed forever.

The rumors will start indeed, especially now that Angelique's arms are flung around Abigail. A slight er escapes the brownrider, well she wasn't planning on such a thing as this. For a moment she is pondering how to comment at this, or even move forward.. In the end Zhiraye helps out ever so nicely. A soft breath escapes her and she smirks a bit. "Just don't bloody well fall. If ye do that I'm going ta drag ye to the infirmary." As for lending a hand to help Zhirayr stay balanced she does just that, using her hands move to settle against the other's arms and he works on trying to keep everyone staying up. Try being the key word. Though slipping and sliding all the way to the infirmary does not seem like a grand idea.

Both brown and green give startled warbles when Kouzevelth gives them each a quick mental zap-blow of lightning. Zratavath, the green, holds her ground and yet yields all to the young gold, while the brown Vrekath attempts to slink off sullenly. But even he too gives in and there are no lies. They'd not dare lie but neither do they simply roll over. Story goes as thus: their riders tried to make a competition of their transport duties, done mostly out of lingering grudges and differences between them. A taunting bet, if one wishes to call it but they misjudged and inexperience led to the mess their in now. A bad bit of timing and they ARE awfully sorry about it. Embarrassed too. But pride, pride is a fickle thing and both riders have it in FULL.

Though now they're swallowing it, with the Weyrleader tearing into them while he waits for the verdict from Kouzevelth and Velokraeth and the poor Wingleader can only fidget and wait. Never fear, it won't be much longer now. Once Th'ero knows what punishment must be dealt, he'll be storming back to rejoin the others and no doubt right to Kimmila's side to report.

The crowd is dispersing now, many murmuring about the mess and the cause and the gossip has begun in earnest. A few pause to linger again, trying to catch a few last glimpses before being shoo'ed off and away by the Headwoman, while the Steward oversees the start of the cleanup and he's already looking at the few bags of sawdust and other materials brought in with a disapproving frown. Do they even HAVE enough to clean this up? A few folks cast curious looks towards Zhirayr and Abigail as they begin to aid Angelique and that earns a few whispered comments as well and pointed stares. Help? Pfft. They're on their own it seems!

Kimmila nods at Nathaniel, extending a muddy hand with a grin. Take it? Or stay clean? "Kimmila," she says, "Varmiroth's." And since she wears no knot, have fun guessing her dragon's color. "I'm sure a bed and food could be arranged in exchange for soap, if it's good. And it feels like it is," she says, touching the bar in her pocket again. "That's the Headwoman over there. Perhaps it's best though to wait. But you can get food in the caverns." Point. "Hope they're okay," she murmurs to the others, and then she's looking up as Th'ero approaches. "All is well?"

Angelique would simply pfft if she heard any talks of rumors. As if she needs rumors when there's no doubt already one about her disappearing with a bronze rider from Eastern shortly after Kouzevelth's recent flight. There's a startled sound from Ang as suddenly she's lifted up and off the ground. "Aiee…Oh! Thanks Z." she says. "Do be careful…." she doesn't wish to fall a second time!

Meanwhile the one who knocked into Ang is helped up with seemingly no major injuries and he is shuttled off to join the cleanup crew.
Nathaniel eyes that muddy hand with a grin that suddenly turns slightly manic in a forced sort of way. Eventually, however, he does reshuffle his belongings so that he can accept the handshake without losing his cane or toppling over. "Nathaniel. Well met. And I can assure you that you won't find better in these parts, if I do say so myself." He follows her gaze toward said Headwoman with a little nod, but then juggles his pack again to produce more bars of soap. "Well, I don't mind waiting," he agrees. "Looks like a number of these folks might be in need of cleaning, before it's all said and done." He glances over as Th'ero approaches, and if there's a slight flash of uncertainty, he covers it by offering a bar of the soap. Presents!

Zhirayr is very good at careful, though! See: the way he didn't fall again, as soon as he actually realized he was walking through a Muddy Slough of DOOM. And with Abigail's help, and a vast amount of care, he manages to pick his-and-his-burden's way through the muck and the mire until they reach dry land, safety, and — eventually — the Infirmary, where he will doubtless end up getting some numbweed for the resulting spasms in his back.

Abigail will let people go about saying rumors or whom knows what else. Though she will be sure to shoot any down that get too crazy. The brownrider helps both Angelique and Zhirayr to the infirmary an then will be back to lend a hand where it might be needed.

Kouzevelth seems at least remotely satisfied by this; she passes along every image she gets oh-so-duitifully to Velokraeth, with a yawn. Not because of him, but because it looks good if she pretends, outwardly, to be bored by the proceedings. Makes it appear as if punishment will be no big deal. The embarrassed dragons at least get washes of comforting rain in place of the burns from the lightning: good, now, see how easy that was? And she forgives you. Just like that. (What Velokraeth's does with your riders is another story.)

Isn't there some witty saying or another, about accepting gifts? To beware of it… or something along those lines? Th'ero slogs his way over to Kimmila, the Weyrleader's expression still dark with anger. Velokraeth had oh-so helpfully relayed Kouzevelth's knowledge to him and his decision had been swift: Ta'lok and Kara are ordered to help with the clean up, including the crates and their pay will be garnished for the amount of wasted oil for however long it takes to cover the wasted product — or some similar punishment. He leaves the details to their Wingleader to sort out, along with adjusting their duties to some heavily restricted ones. Dull, boring and so under their skill level too. Neither rider protested, though they continue to feud between themselves through silent glares and gestures now but are kept well apart while they work. Vrekath and Zratavath are released of their straps and return to their respective ledges to sulk, though are comforted by Kouzevelth's forgiveness. "I've set a fitting punishment to the two riders responsible," Th'ero tells Kimmila with a smirk as he comes within range of conversation, only to slow to a halt and his expression waver to one of mild surprise as he's being offered… soap? He takes it, turning it over in his hand to examine it closely before looking up at Nathaniel. "Your timing is impeccable," he drawls with just a hint of amusement and the barest of smiles while his eyes give the unfamiliar man the once over. Then he blinks, looking sharply to Kimmila when he notices a few absences. "Were did Zhirayr, Angelique and Abigail go? Did that heckler and his friends get to work?"
Kimmila grins with a laugh. "That's what I said. I said he could make a fortune here. He's looking to stay for a bit at the weyr, in exchange for his soaps. Suggested he speak with the Headwoman…later." Timing is everything. "They went to the infirmary. Someone was hurt, though I'm not sure which one it was…"

Nathaniel grins innocuously at Th'ero. "So I can see… And there's plenty more where that came from. Keep me around long enough, and I'll make you as much as you can use," he promises, with a wink of a bright eye before leaving Kimmila to explain what he's doing here, and then where everyone else went. "Seemed to be the one lady," he volunteers, helpfully. "The one that got knocked over into the mud. Looked to be a problem with her foot."

The soap is pocketed while Th'ero continues to keep his eyes focused on Nathaniel, but the Weyrleader only smiles, reserved and yet welcoming as he pushes back his anger and frustration over the mishap concerning the oil. At least now he looks marginally more approachable and even dips his head in a polite and respectful nod to the older man. "Given how often the weather turns the ground here to mud, Kimmila is right in saying you'll never be lacking in business. Can't say I've ever met someone who solely crafts soaps but if you're seeking to stay here in the Weyr, I see no problem with it." Of course, there are rules but the Weyrleader seems to figure that Nathaniel is either aware of them or will be filled in later. As for the Headwoman, Th'ero looks up to see if he can spy the woman but no such luck. "Mhm, you'll have to wait I'm afraid to be officially welcomed in. You can always find food in the living caverns or a good drink in the lounge. And if by chance this" A jerk of his head now to the mud and oil mess currently being cleared. "goes into the night, the Gemstone Tavern on the outskirts of the Weyr wall has rooms." To rent, of course. Glancing to Kimmila, he frowns. "The infirmary? Who…" But Nathaniel is stepping in then to fill the gaps and he exhales heavily. "Great. Just more to add to this ever growing problem!" Will it ever end?

Kimmila chuckles with a shrug. "Just think of it as a step up from mud wrestling, wingmate," she teases the Weyrleader. "If you'll both excuse me though, I think I'm going to go put this soap to use. And if it helps with /this/," gesture to her covered body, "then I'll be your first satisfied customer."

Nathaniel just continues to smile in that slightly absent way, and waves off the mention of soap crafting. "Used to be a bit more… varied, but with the leg it's been a bit difficult to do any heavier work, you understand," he explains, and glances back to the muddy, oily mess. "But don't you worry about me. I'll find my way about, I'm sure. I do wish I could help more with the clean-up, but I expect I'd be more a hindrance than a help!" He finishes with another wheezy laugh.

"If it were just mud, it wouldn't be so much an issue," Th'ero drawls to Kimmila but the last of his anger seems to ebb away and he snorts, smirking. "More pissed off about the waste of oil and for such a sad excuse too!" he goes on to mutter half under his breath. Glancing back to Nathaniel, he's given a curious look again and briefly does his gaze drop down to glimpse at the leg in question. "I understand," Th'ero murmurs and perhaps even sympathizes, though now is not time for him to being prying the soap maker with questions. At the wheezy laugh, the Weyrleader's smile falters a bit and half because he is fumbling for something to say. Social small talk is NOT his strong point. "They've more then enough working on it now, no doubt. But if you require any assistance, let any of us know." Th'ero glances towards the stairs that lead to Velokraeth's ledge and his weyr beyond it and when Kimmila mentions heading off to clean up, the Weyrleader gives her a sidelong look before adding. "And I should be off as well. I've a few reports to write." Sure, that's the reason why! Another dip of his head, this time in farewell, is given to Nathaniel and he begins to step back. "Perhaps we'll cross paths again but for now, clear skies!" No time for proper introduction it seems and as Th'ero turns away to carefully pick his way back towards those stairs, he may just drop a hasty comment to the Headwoman or someone at least who can at least fetch her or any of her (uninjured) assistants, so that Nathaniel isn't left to wander for half the day.