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Fort Weyr - Galleries
The galleries are carved right out of the rock face, the rows and rows of benches rising high up into the air on a slight slant. Stone and wood benches that used to be known for offering little in the way of comfort, are now padded with cushions in Fort Weyr's colors. Placed along the railing at regular intervals are antique looking baskets filled with cheery fabric flowers. The curving walls sport tapestries in warm vibrant colors that seem to add a dash of color to the otherwise dreary stone. Where the galleries curve slightly at the ends, affording those attending hatchings or clutchings a decent view of the sands, shaded lanterns offer warm lighting along the rows of benches.

In the dead of night, the galleries are lit by only what moonlight manages to make it through the various entryways - and on a night like tonight, that isn't very much. Sleeping dragons on the Sands are peaceful, their riders tucked away in their own sleeping arrangements, and all is calm. That serenity, however, is rapidly fractured; a sudden WHOOSH breaks the peace as flames leap their way up into the galleries, catching fire far too quickly to be spreading naturally as they whip and race up the steps and fan out along the galleries' tiers. It's not long before Rhenesath raises her head where she sleeps close to the lower tiers, quickly alert and bugling her distress, raising on her hind legs to fan her wings at the flames as she shares panic with the Weyr, causing them to spread further rather than acting as an extinguisher. « Fire! » One simple word, enforced with more than the heat of her typical forgeflames, filled with panic, fear, maternal instinct.

Thys stumbles forth from the alcove where she was sleeping, dressed in her nightshirt, and stands frozen on the edge of the Sands as the sight of the burning galleries greets her. "Fuck. FIRE!" Her scream joins her dragon's mental hollering as she runs towards the Sands' entrance, using the tunnel's amplification hopefully to her benefit. "FIRE!" Then she runs to her panicked lifemate's side by her little clutch, staring at the growing inferno as it catches more and more tiers, fabric flowers, tapestries and all going up in flames. "Oh Faranth… Inri!"

V'ric also was not on the sands. In the dead of night he's where people /should/ be. Sleeping. But Loxiath is certainly awakened as well at the blaze, a loud bugle of his own reverberating around the cavern. There's little the brown can do other than shift and try to keep his own body between that growing wave of heat and the fragile eggs on the sands. V'ric isn't long for rushing out though, in nightclothes as well as he scrambles for the sands. Low curses resound before looking across towards the dragons and Thys, waving his arm. "Stay there and try to keep them calm!" /He/ turns and runs../right/ back out again though. Water needs getting, and the more hands getting it, the better.

To say that Kouzevelth isn't reacting well to this situation would be … an extreme and utter understatement. Any dragon who was asleep is definitely awake now, if Rhenesath's call didn't already stir them. She doesn't bother with words, as the word part has already been taken care of, but each and every dragon is disturbed by her intense panic, the flames of fires across her mental jungle, knocking trees down and tumbling them into others' mindscapes. Her clutch is close to hatching, and so it takes all of her absurd wingspan to cover all fourteen eggs — she is forced to quiet her panic as much as possible to keep her focus on her unhatched babies, who are mature enough to understand what is going on to some very limited extent, and all the draconic panic is too much for Kouzevelth. As for Inri? She was sleeping too, but out on the sands in a tiny cot near her lifemate. It's probably tragic that her first reaction after making sure all dragons and eggs are unharmed is to moan, "My igloo."

… did anyone notice that shadowy figure slip out of the tunnel? Or are the flames an adequate enough distraction?

As the skies of Fort fill with dragoncries, Zeruth adds his bellow full of a murderous outrage for whatever dares threaten the eggs and those who tend them. The bronze bursts from his ledge into the open air where the beasts of the Weyr circle and scream, his eyes red as the fire itself. «The food troughs for the herdbeasts!» He projects to the other dragons. «They can hold water!» Since the amount of fire gear Thunderbird may have is limited, anything that can carry water will help. In the meantime, his rider is heading into the tunnel followed by the young Bakercrafter, Katrina, who's recently arrived.

Was anybody watching that tunnel? It's not the one that the Assistant Steward is barreling down, at any rate, wearing an abbreviated pair of black sleeping pants and, well, nothing else. His hair is sticking up every which-way, too. He might come to regret the lack of boots, as he darts out onto the sands, but since it's obvious that the Galleries are a loss, his concern is for the living creatures — the weyrwomen, the dragons, the eggs. "Is everyone all right?" he calls out, bold over the sound of draconic panic. Hey, at least he isn't getting feedback from that. (Much.) "Was anyone up there?"

D'ani gets the mental scream from Dremkoth, jarring him from a deep sleep. If that weren't bad enough the image shared dragon to dragon is instantaneously inserted into his groggy brain and for one disoriented moment, he looks wildly around, expecting his weyr to be ablaze. But seconds later, clarity hits and even as the distress of his bronze informs him that not only are the eggs in peril, two queens are as well. He yanks on his jeans, stuffs his feet into his boots and grabs a rope before running full tilt to the ledge where Dremkoth hovers, tumbles onto him, yes, shirtless because the bronze isn't waiting any longer, not even for a harness. The pair land outside the hatching cavern and D'ani, like an idiot, runs into the blazing arena. The damned igloo is the last thing on his mind - until he looks up at the galleries. "Inri!" Hopefully she's not in there, because he'l go charging up the stairs if she doesn't answer him.

Kayeth's mind reaches out to all Fortian dragons, a splash of cold water. « There are two buckets from the forest fire, newly mended, in the bowl. Use those and the lake! » It's not /enough/, but it's something.

Huffing and puffing, Katrina clutches her chest as she finds herself a bit winded from the run. Geez, S'ai. Not everyone is an athlete here. At the sight of the fire, her eyes bug out and she belts out. "Bucket brigade! We have plenty in the kitchen. I'll grab help from the staff!" And with that, she finds a second wind and barrels out of the galleries at a frantic pace, hollering and shouting through the hallways to rally the kitchen staff.

Roused in the middle of the night, and likely in the middle of slumber himself, R'yal is only half dressed in typical riding garb when he comes running. The pants made it, as well as boots to be stamped into, but the tunic on top is definitely something he might have been sleeping in. Livanyth's shrill cry echoes outside, wings keeping her aloft as R'yal runs beneath her. She's quick to turn on a wingtip though when the suggestion of troughs is made, darting back across the bowl to swoop down on them. Herdbeasts be damned, they can have food and water /later/. "Anything you can carry water in!"

It just so happens that Br'enn is awake, and down at ground level, even. A long-sleeved shirt and flannel pajama pants along with hastily thrown on boots are a testament to the fact that he's been not long out of bed, his path from the living caverns and the fruit in his hand indicating the recent purloining of a midnight snack. However, Tovihasuth's urgent blast of wind through his mind, the declaration of fire with it, has him bolting, the fruit forgotten at some point as he pounds onto the Sands. "Inri!" is his first shout into the chaos, then, "Thys!" Make sure they're alright first! Then comes a short stream of cursing as he watches flames lick up through the Galleries. » Tov, call the Thunderbird dragons! « Once his bronze is done trying to calm Kouzevelth, that is. He, too, has his wings spread out over the eggs…and he's also trying to calm Rhenesath. « Don't flap at it, Rhenesath! You'll only make it worse! » he implores, and then it's back to just being there with his current mate.

Nothing like the screams of golds and the word 'Fire' to turn a peaceful night in the Weyr completely upside down on its head! The skies outside become filled with the alarmed shrieks and calls of dragons, mingled in with the shouts and calls from riders and weyrfolk alike as the Weyr is jolted into action. Velokraeth fans his wings wide on his ledge, bellowing as he sends his rider's orders through to other dragons as Th'ero will be slow in coming to aid (or told to stay back — which he'll ignore). Stupid broken leg!

It may be night but that doesn't stop some sneaky weyrbrats from… well, sneaking about! Most have long since snuck back out of the galleries, but Kyzen had dozed off while keeping hidden for the chance of some egg staring (or maybe they were daring each other to see how close they could get). Well… now he's startled awake not only by the screams but the smell of smoke and the heat of fire. Panicked, he coughs and tries to call out but that only brings in more smoke and makes his voiced 'Help!' a feeble choked call. At least his presence will be alerted to others by those "friends" of his who approach the nearest knot of riders and weyrfolk tearfully. "Our friend isn't with us!" as a wail is… pretty ominous, right?

Zuvaleyuth is stirred from her slumbers with the cries of distress, more notably, from the distress of Kouzevelth. The fire that spreads from her daughter's mindscape to her own glacier is odd, but the fire burns despite the cold. Dtirae's scrambling down from her weyr, down to the tunnels. It's the passing figure away from the flames that has the goldrider stopping in her tracks and watching. Follow? Or not to follow is the question. Of course she follows. Zuvaleyuth, on the other hand, joins the efforts in attempting to put out the flames while her rider heads in the opposite direction.

Rhenesath rears up once more, beating her wings to try and keep the flames from her little clutch. Little does she know that that's actually helping the fire to spread! She hears Tovihasuth, of course, and her wings drop to her sides as his thoughts enforce those coming through from her lifemate. She creels anxiously at Loxiath, while Thys tries - tries! - to calm her dragon down. "Zhi - the eggs!" It's obvious, but it's about all she can manage to say as she concentrates on calming Rhenesath, who has positioned herself as a shield for her clutch.

Kimmila won't stay back, even if Th'ero tells her to. While Varmiroth swoops down to the lake for one of those buckets, Kimmila runs right for the Sands, eying the situation with a deep frown. "Shard it all I'm so sick of FIRE," she swears.

Abigail does like to sleep, and she actually does at times.. Though this is not one of those times as the calls ring out, Niumdreoth is letting out a deep echoing bugle for all to wake, all to move, and all to help! The brown is in the air, his thoughts along the same as Zeurth's, and yes those buckets! Buckets are grabbed, along with other things that dragons can carry, and he is one of those dragons pitching in to carry water to the galleries to work on getting that fire out at quickly at possible. Abigail is making her way towards the cavern when she spots something moving away Was that a shadow? She frowns and is turning to follow that shadow as well, everyone else is there to help, along with her dragon after all. Soon enough she'll catch up to Dtirae, a faint lift of her head is offered to the goldrider.

He might be smaller, but Loxiath is doing what he can to be a buffer between heat and eggs..as well as Rhenesath. Anger bellows forth, at the flames more than anything, but rage isn't going to make them back down and fizzle out.

All the things catching fire mean a build-up of smoke; the tapestries especially give off a thick, dark cloud of it, which is rising to fill the uppermost parts of the cavern. As more catches fire the smoke grows more dense, until it's thick enough, and low enough, to cause irritation to throats and eyes. And then, of course, there's the heat to worry about!

The Assistant Steward is in luck that Tovihasuth has Kouzevelth distracted, because normally she's the type to lunge if someone enters her eggs' space without warning, especially when stressed. And she is incredibly stressed. Inri isn't even able to keep her focus on calming her lifemate (who at least is mostly focusing on her own eggs, and therefore is trying to come off as calm as possible) because she's trying not to pull out her own hair. "Tell me about it," she commiserates with Kimmila, actually digging fingernails into her fists as she yells out, "Here, D'ani, we're fine —" Fine ish.

Buckets nothing! All D'ani can think of is, "We have to get the eggs out of here!" They can figure out how to keep the eggs warm while the fire is dealt with by others. He does hear young voices, but not what they've said. The weyrbrats are glared at (because it's dangerous in here), "Get back!" He does hear Inri and stumbles in her direction through the smoke. "Let me help move the eggs. The queens will follow!"

Zeruth is soon coming through the dragon entrance (or at least trying, boy is there a clog!) so that a brown and he can bring in a trough slopping full of water. «MOVE!» He snarls at a green all but loopy with panic, «Silly creature. Use your wings, send as much smoke out of the caverns as you can so we can breathe and do our jobs!» Down below, as his dragon tries to kept keep some order above, is heading out to the edge of the sands. "D'ani's right, it's going to be mud down here fast. The kitchens can handle heating, we just need somewhere to put 'em. Infirmary got a dragon wallow big enough?"

Yes, put the eggs with Kainaesyth! Great idea!

Actually it is, Kouzevelth completely approves of Kainaesyth babysitting. She just doesn't want her eggs to hatch in the infirmary.

Heading back with a bout five other kitchen staffers all carrying large buckets of water and towels soaked inside them, Katrina has a small wet towel wrapped about her face. She has a determined look upon her face as she shouts orders to her staff as they start to douse the flames as best they can and running back to grab more water. They look to put out the more flammable items at first, so to try and control the spread while the others herd dragons and eggs out.

Kimmila looks from D'ani to S'ai and back again. "We've got those wheeled trollies…if we put blankets down…be more stable than carrying them on slings…you," Point to a Person, "go fetch the wheeled trollies from the store caverns. Quick! We can roll the eggs towards the tunnel perhaps?" she asks, her eyes looking to the clutchparents since it's their decision.

Livanyth's return with water is a bit slow, trying not to slosh it all out of the trough. She comes in from above, breath held against the billowing smoke as the green descends as close as she dares above the galleries. With a quick turn she upends the trough, dumping as much of the water as she can on actual flame before vanishing between back to the lake. R'yal does what he can below, eyes watering from the smoke as he works to help get the flames manageable.

And here comes the guard! Half in uniform, half obviously having just tumbled out of bed, they're there and organised and ready to step in as needed. A sergeant steps up front, reviews the scene, and pinpoints Abigail - Thunderbird's Wingleader should know what to do now! "What's the plan? Bucketline? FORM A LINE! BRING THE BUCKETS!" Maybe he can't command the dragonfolk, but he can try to get some order amongst those not amongst Thunderbird's lot. "PASS THE WATER ALONG, FROM HERE TO THE LAKE!" Can anyone miss his hollering?

Zhirayr cuts in, there, between Kimmila and the clutchparents, still not having noticed that he isn't wearing shoes. (Are his feet that tough? Is he just going to have burns later? Who knows.) "Candidates," he suggests. "And sheets, or robes, or blankets — it'll be a lot easier to carry them out to the trollies in slings, rather than trying to roll them all." And then he stops to cough, some, because it's not like he's even wearing a shirt, to use it to keep the smoke out of his lungs.

The weyrbrats shrink back from D'ani when the Weyrsecond glares at them but they're not here to help. They're here to try and get someone's attention! So the 'bravest' of them tries again, raising his little voice as high as it will go over the din and chaos. "Our friend's in there!" he points vaguely to the tiers, his eyes wide and frightened. "Kyzen! He didn't come out with us!" Never mind what they were DOING there in the first place but… kids will be kids and they chose the wrong night to sneak out.

And in all that smoke, it'll make it impossible for the boy to find the stairwell, if he even CAN get down that way. Right now, Kyzen's just trying to escape the smoke and the heat from the flames and it's not until he's back is pressed up against the wall of the tier level that he finds a small enough pocket of clear air to breath in and… scream. Who needs words?

The goldriders are there, other people are there, things are being handled through the chaos. But the smoke is getting far too thick along the ground now, and Br'enn finds his eyes starting to sting and his lungs beginning to burn. There's talk of moving the eggs…which is smart, of course, and while Kouzevelth's eggs are hard enough to deal with it, Rhenesath's may not be. « We can carry some, » Tovihasuth notes to Kouzevelth, placing his paws around one. He also rears up a bit, flapping what he can move of the smoke out the entrance. Maybe it'll help, maybe not, but at least it isn't just settling heavily upon the people on the ground. Br'enn, in the meantime, strips off his shirt and dips it quickly in a passing bucket, tying the damp fabric around his face to mitigate the amount of smoke he's breathing in as he moves to assist in getting the bucket line organized.

What mother can't identify her child's screams? Kimmila freezes, the name 'Kyzen', that scream, echoing in her mind. Eggs are /forgotten/. D'ani can figure it out. SHE is bolting for the galleries, yanking a wet towel off a kitchen worker as she goes, not caring if she knocks the poor kid to the ground.

"If you want to wake up the candidates, they're welcome to help with ours," Inri says without asking, because she's running with the assumption that Kouzevelth won't mind. The large gold isn't protesting, just letting out soft creeling noises to try to keep the tiny souls in her eggs calm. « We will, » she agrees with Tovihasuth, « help bring them to safety. Rhensath, can yours be moved? » is lined with concern reached out in gentle rain, the same rain that still touches Zuvaleyuth. "Though I don't know if Rhenesath's eggs are hard enough, if they're not we can get cold wet towels and cover —" And that's when she stops talking, because she heard the name 'Kyzen.' "Oh, Faranth," she swallows hard, covering her eyes, "Kimm —" But she can't find the right words, she'd be no real help, and the bluerider can't hear her. When it's Kyzen in danger more than her dragon's eggs, Inri is shaken enough to finally be welling up with tears.

Zeruth continues to try and guide a few smaller dragons in trying to fan the worst of the smoke out of the upper levels, his eyes watching everything going below and taking stock of who is doing what and where. His analytical nature is in full force as he relays in crisp, precise detail to the other dragons of the weyr what's going on and where more assistance is needed. Below, while S'ai is nodding in agreement of the plan to move the eggs is quickly distracted by the bolting Kimmila. "Shards…" He breathes out, looking to the kids. "Where were you all when you last saw him?"

Move the eggs? Did someone say move the eggs? Thys snaps out of her concentration to blink at whoever suggested it, even more shock on her already-pale face. "How the… they're still soft! How on Pern do you think to do that?!" There's more than just water irritation from the smoke wetting her eyes now, with streaks brimming over to clear tracks on her cheeks. And yet it's obvious, isn't it? The water that needs to be used up top is going to cascade down, and… "FUCK." That's twice in one day for the typically mild-mouthed goldrider. « No! » Rhenesath's reply to Kouzevelth is strong, yet still panicked. Yet she turns to gently touch one egg with her muzzle, testing… can it be done? « No! » "Towels - yes, towels, towels, we need towels - we need towels!" Hopefully someone's going to hear. "Bring wet towels! Wet blankets!"

Okay. So. This sucks. One of those towels is stolen from one of those workers, dunked in water, squeezed out down Zhirayr's throat so he can actually roar down that passage that's totally an open secret to the candidate's lair for them to get the fuck out of bed and come save the lives of their future lifemates, and then another, much larger, wet towel — sopping, this time — heads up the stairs with him, because either he's got the life expectancy of a suicidal lemming or he just realizes how unbearable everyone's lives are going to be if Kyzen or Kimmila dies, either one. But hey: it's a really big really wet towel! And he's not afraid to parkour through flame and around falling burning obstacles! (He's totally going to have burns from this.)

As Kimm' snags a towel off one of the staffers, Katrina blinks her strained eyes a few times and tracks the woman racing towards what appeared to be a scream. Lobbing her apron off, she takes after her, snagging another wet towel out of a sopping bucket. "Hey!" She calls out as she barrels through the smoke, waving her towel back and forth in the air. "I'm coming to help you!" The rest of the kitchen staff moves about like busy bees with soaked towels and large buckets of water, looking to assist everyone as much as possible.

Abigail doesn't get far it seems that shadow will be dealt with later.. A golden firlizard is instead following it. Someone called to her and she was near enough to get stopped and is back at the front here to do what the say. "Buckets, lines ye name it get it.." There is a pause as she catches sight of Kimmila running by and she blinks.. "Kimm" Though she isn't able to get the word out before there is someone whispering Kyzen's name and the galleries at the same time. "Get to work!" Is snapped out while she buttons up her jacket and is following after the bluerider. With all the smoke up there someone has to go with her and help look.

D'ani barely comprehends what those weyrbrats have told him. He nods, got it, and makes a stern shooing motion: OUT! The candidate barracks are close enough that he get out in a clipped voice, "I'll rally them." And off he goes, at a dead run, returning with all of them - bearing sheets. These are directed, each to an egg and slings tied. "Out. And be careful with those." Inri, who gets a (relatively gentle shake, he barks, "I want the clutch parents out of here! You too! The smoke…" Well the smoke will kill them, even if the fire doesn't! He's heard the scream, but to be honest, it's a scream-worthy event!

Fire. So much fire. Ha'ze is dazed when he finally stumbles in, and goes about doing exactly what he is ordered. No second guessing this time, just… go. do. Next order please?

"I don't think Rhenesath's going to want to budge if her eggs are still here," Inri says, voice wavering once D'ani has her snapped out of it a little. "And we can't actually — we can wrap them up in towels that will keep them safe, but we can't wrap her in — Thys, can you convince her?" Kouzevelth is nosing her own eggs into a line, all the better to prepare them to be rolled and reshuffled to the dragon infirmary, where she and Tovihasuth and their fourteen children will be rooming with hibernating Kainaesyth. She thankfully doesn't have the fortitude Inri does to worry about what happens if they start to hatch. "Because the dragons can't stay here." What she's saying to the juniorer weyrwoman is getting more and more urgent. "They'll suffocate. The eggs won't, if they're covered, but the dragons will."

Russall is here! He's in amongst the guards on the bucketline, at the end of it, so he runs with each bucket to toss its contents onto the flames. It seems like pitifully little against the inferno, and his eyes are streaming from the smoke, but he's there and he's taking part, and the organised bucketline should, at least, be getting them somewhere… right?

Varmiroth circles overhead with his water bucket and then he pulls a Dremkoth and lets it go about where he /thinks/ Kyzen might be…

Dtirae nods once, when she notices Abigail joining her in chasing the figure. Nothing is said, however as she focuses on her task. But, she doesn't stay long. While the brownrider ducks back, Dtirae keeps going. Until she can't find any track, but until then? She runs. Zuvaleyuth is assisting as she can, directing as needed. The rain that touches her mind from Kouzevelth joins the glacier of her own mind as she offers quiet support for her daughter. Nothing will happen to the children of her children.

The kids will turn on S'ai, talking over each other in a panicked way that likely makes it frustrating to decipher what they're babbling about. "We went to sneak a look at the eggs!" "We're sorry! We left but he didn't and we only noticed when the fire went WHOOSH…" "and we ran and we saw this shadow and thought it was him" "but it wasn't and he's up there! He has to be…" Only D'ani's got them fleeing this time and they'll scatter before more can be said. Shadowy figures? Oh, can this get any better?

"She moves them about all the time!" This is the usually mild-mannered D'ani, snapping irritably. "She can gently roll them into slings. We'll be careful! Regardless, Kouzevelth's can go. See to it! And only that!" He'll go argue with Rhenesath next, but the Weyrsecond expects obedience. Then a second thought. "Inri - get the queens to order her! All of them!"

S'ai scowls darkly at mention of a shadowy figure and he's jerking his head up to the open, smoky spaces. He sends word of this to his dragon who is passing this to Kayeth and Velokraeth. No, this may not have been an accident. S'ai, meanwhile, glances after the lot running for the gallery. They can't all go bolting, but there'll soon be candidates down on the sand to help. «I will watch them. Help the eggs!» Comes Zeruth's sharp-spoken command and the bronzerider is helping to bring the trollies closer to the sands so the eggs can be moves. So in addition to continuing to keep the other dragons abreast of the situation, Zeruth keeps a sharp eye out on the lot running to rescue the child, ready to swoop in as needed.

A few of the candidates are starting to think they don't want to be candidates at Fort. BAD STUFF HAPPENS Yo. But, they're coming?

"Inri - Inri I can't, how could she…" Thys is trying very, very hard to get herself under control, scrubbing at her wet eyes and lifting her nightshirt to cover her mouth and nose - because it is getting hard to breathe in here. Rhenesath lets out a wail, spreading her wings protectively over her clutch - even over Loxiath. Because he's there, and he's small, and she can do that! Thys's eyes close as she enters a battle of wills with her lifemate as the realisation sinks in that what everyone's saying is right. They need to get out of there! "Please!" Frustration has her shouting at her dragon, and she actually goes to shove the gold's big foreleg. Luckily there's wet towels, blankets, and all sorts coming now that can be placed over the little clutch, and Rhenesath looms, hissing and red-eyed, watching as the work is done over her precious babies. "Rhen - please. Come on! Inri… help. Please?"

Br'enn is in the midst of the bucket line now, relieving a couple of people that have been overwhelmed by the smoke and raspily bellowing to keep the water moving. He hears that Kimmila and Th'ero's child is up there somewhere, grits his teeth, and swings the buckets onward with more impetus than ever. He'd join them if he could…but that would mean the rhythm of the line breaking down at this point. » Tov, you and the queens need to get out of here! « The smoke on the Sands is getting thicker, no matter how much flapping Tovihasuth does, and keeping his lifemate safe from it is now an overriding thought, even as he continues working. « Let's go! » Tovihasuth calls with a bugle to the queens and Loxiath, continuing to move eggs about toward the entrance and into better positions to be moved. « They'll be okay! Rhenesath, come on! The eggs need you safe! » As much as Rhenesath needs them safe, so that may not be the most effective argument.

Kyzen gives into in his panic, half blinded and choking from the smoke and his sobbing, unable to wait for rescue and being only seven he goes for the only option his fear-driven brain tells him to do: get away and down. So he'll fumble and grope and start climbing over the seats and down the rows. Down is good, right? Down means the sands… and possibly panicked gold dragons but for him it's what his terrified self is telling him is SAFE! It's either that or wait to be roasted by the flames blocking his only other exit out, only he can't see where the flames have spread or how far and when he finds enough clean air, he'll call out again.

"Calm. Calm. I've got it." Inri reaches out and touches Thys' arm, even holds it if the other goldrider lets her. She nods at D'ani, though, and catches Kouzevelth's eye in a significant enough look that she actually breaks through the concerned, fussing dam's mental wall of focus. Her rain readjusts, becoming clear words extended to Kayeth, to Zuvaleyuth, to Wiyaneth: « Help me. » And then she folds Rhenesath and Loxiath into the discussion, firmer, though as Rhenesath is also gold she may well need the others, especially the Senior, to bolster her. « We must go. » It is not a suggestion. It is a command. « We will all perish if we do not go now. » She isn't even bothering to be soothing anymore, letting low hissing rumbles out at Rhenesath. They're not unloving, just more focused on seriousness than on affection as of right now. She's single-minded as ever.

Ha'ze is not at alll helpful in the haze of the fire. He's dazed himself, confused by the confusion, until a clear voice calls out (okay, so it's a little garbled) and his head snaps up. He knows that voice. A cough clears his thought, "Kyzen?" Recent memories of walking through smoke flashes him to another time before Ha'ze dives into the smoke, heading towards the sound of that cry.

Kimmila barrels into the galleries, the towel around her face as she takes any and every opening in the flames and smoke and tumbling timbers (thank Faranth the galleries are also built on tiered stone). Kyzen's cry has her pausing, turning, and then she sees him. With a wordless yell she darts forward and scoops him up, wraps the towel around his FACE and turns to stumble for the exit. Down was good, Kyzen. Yay, down.

Ha'ze makes it where Kyzen was. Not there. Blinking around he sees Kimmila has the boy in his hands, so he's just going to go follow her that-a-way.

Kayeth's thoughts are there in an instant, as is the older, deeper touch of Wiyaneth. Both queens curl around Rhenesath's mind and pull. Pull her out, /force/ her to move. « Come, Rhenesath, out, » one of them orders, their voices blending as the former Senior and current work together and draw upon any other thoughts they can use.

Someone's had the idea to start using wet fabric to try and douse the flames, beating them back with water-soaked towels and blankets, and anything else they can get their hands on. There's a handful of guards leading the way, joined by lower caverns workers, and they seem to be getting a hold over the fire - or at least so it would seem, as the air is now thickened by just as much steam as smoke.

D'ani's herding candidates to where Kouzevelth has eggs lined up. Those he helps roll into the sheets, which are tied and each candidate given the stern 'GENTLY' command and pointed to the entrance. Go! Those wheelbarrows had better be there! "Push the carts to the infirmary. The dragon healers will take it from there. Bring your sheets and return." Then he's on to Thys and Inri, waiting for the queens to enforce compliance. Above in the skies, Dremkoth roars. « Obey Kouzevelth! » D'ani's fists are clenched to keep from grabbing both queenriders and dragging them out. A few of the candidates are beginning to straggle back with sheets, milling about and waiting to transport those eggs too.

At least some of those half-petrified candidates are able to follow the garbled directions they're getting well enough to spread out some of those wet blankets on top of the sand, flat, right next to those little baby eggs. So, just saying, if someone is going to roll them into place, so they can be ever-so-damn-carefully sling-carried to safety, there's five blankets there, just waiting! With a bunch of really apprehensive weyrlings standing by! And if they're supposed to just cover them up again, well, um. Someone clarify that, please? Thanks?

When they get to the infirmary they'll find Kainaeysth has already made lots of space for the little babies. Secretly, this disaster is OKAY WITH HIM.

That gold firelizard of Abigail's will be poking around things most of the night, anything she can find that could be a clue will be brought back to the Wingleader in some way of fashion. Annika is a crafty lizard she has her ways! Abigail pulls out a rag and ties it around her face so she isn't breathing in the smoke as she makes it up the steps, she shifts low when able and works on trying to see what she can. The smoke is all over of course yet before she can get to far she does indeed catch sight of Kimmila, Kyzen and Ha'ze.. Moving towards the stairs where she is at least. She stays put to make sure they do make it to the steps. So much smoke after all, enough that she'll be coughing in no time at this rate. Niumdreoth will continue to help when needed and able, though with so many dragons around they all need to be careful so not to run into one another, or Kai and the eggies might be getting even more company.

Huffing and puffing behind Kim, Katrina holds out her soaked towel she brought with her. "Take this." She mumbles through another that is wrapped about her face. "You need to breathe also. Is he alright? You should get him to a nurse." Waving her hands through the thick, acrid smoke, she finds her eyes watering as tears break the corners of her eyes.

Th'ero's been here all along! Honest! The Weyrleader's just been delayed, that's all and likely with the Guard Captain as they try to put some order to the chaos outside the Hatching grounds. No doubt by now the whole Weyr is in a panic and there is such a thing as too much help! Never mind that Th'ero's also having to deal with the terrifying thought that his SON is in there (the how and why will wait for later) but there is little he can do. Which… he will cope with later too but he's got his hands full trying to keep everything from falling apart even further.

Zuvaleyuth's voice joins the other queens, gentle in her attempt at coaxing Rhenesath. « It is time to go. They will be safe. They are moved for their safety. Go. No harm will come to your young. » It is a promise. For none would dare harm their eggs, aside from the person who set the fires.

S'ai does what he can and helps some of the weyrling staff wrangle a group of the candidates not close enough to hear the bellowing of D'ani and he relays the plan so that, one by one, lined up eggs can begin finally moving off the sands. «Rhenesath.» Zeruth's voice reaches out to his frantic clutchsibling. «See, Kouzevelth's eggs are safe. Your babies are strong. They will endure but not here. They will need you in their new nest. Go! Be ready to reassure them. We will not let them come to harm. Any of us.»

Ralik has largely been on the back end of trying to get water funneled up to the galleries, if only because he's got the kind of strength required to move buckets rapidly when they're still full. Now, however, with people trying to deal with the actual fire, he picks his way through the chaos as rapidly as he can, wearing his glasswork goggles (it's good he apparently came from work) and a wet handkerchief over his nose and mouth. He has a chance to see people beating back the flames, but there's really just too much going on to gather any kind of organized view of it all. Rather than try, he breaks the general rules of the Sands and hops to get down to them, ultimately doing his best to run in Thys's direction. He won't snatch her up, but he will throw a wet towel over her head and state his own view on all of it, "What the fuck?" He doesn't know about all the draconic dissonance. He's not a rider.

Ha'ze manages to somehow end up next to Abigail. Just in time to hear her coughing. Wait. Abigail is STILL coughing. From MORE smoke. He may know nothing about babies and stuff but their mother being able to breathe is probably pretty necessary. He wraps an arm around Abigail and is going to pull her towards the direction of less smoke.

The Weyrsecond's allowed to calm down a little bit, as Inri joins him and the candidates, pushing the hair that's falling from her messy sleep braid from her eyes. "I'm here, I'm coming," she says, and then her voice breaks into a series of racking coughs. "I've had better nights," she adds lamely. "Come on, Kouzevelth, let's get out of here —" Kouzevelth is helping the candidates with her eggs, nosing them forward and getting them into the sheets as easily as possible. "And," Inri tells D'ani, looking solemn, "I promise I will go to the infirmary too." Because otherwise he's going to worry. And possibly pick her up and make her if she doesn't do it herself.

There's not much Rhenesath can do against the pressure of Fort's other queens; she lets out a desperate cry as she reluctantly obeys, slinking slowly away from her eggs as her maternal instinct continues to fight the losing battle. Thys absolutely lets Inri hold her arm, absolutely relieved when Rhenesath finally starts to move. She slumps, the mental effort required so far with her lifemate taking its toll as the pressure to control is lifted, taken over by the Weyr's golds. "Ralik?" Her red-shot eyes - smoke and tear-irritated now - focus on him, and she gives Inri a squeeze of thanks before letting her weight sink briefly against the glasscrafter. "The eggs, Ralik." Rhenesath's nearly out into the bowl by now, and Thys, with the wet towel over her head and a cough in her throat, starts to follow her.

Kyzen is so wrapped up in his need to escape and his panic that when Kimmila scoops him up, it doesn't register at first that he has been picked up and is being carried away. He'll cling to her all the same and though his eyes sting from the smoke he can make out another form: Ha'ze. Then Katrina and Abigail too but his one soot covered hand reaches for Ha'ze too in some confused sense of trying to keep them all together. It's not safe, there's fire! Not that he can talk, he's coughing too much and has a towel around his mouth.

Aaaaaaaaaand next on the list of People Fleeing The Galleries: Zhirayr, who pretty much barrels into Kimmila and Kyzen, wrapping the giant sopping-wet-ish-and-also-now-warm-and-singed-in-places blanket around bluerider and child alike, helping to hustle them right on out of there. Except that, well, blocking the easy exit is a giant burning bench, so maybe what he has to do is actually jump past them — because it isn't that hard to clear it — and turn around, holding his arms out. "Help Kyzen jump!" Because that's … safe. Well. Mostly it's down, at least as much as it's out…? And Kimmila's strong. She can get the kid past the flames, right?

Kimmila whirls to stare at Katrina, blinking. "How the hell did you get behind me?" is all she can think to say. "Get out, get out! Go on!" She doesn't need /advice/ thank you very much. "That's what I'm DOING." Duh. No, she just thought she'd take him for a leisurely stroll through the fire. Hell yes she's going to the infirmary! Then Zhirayr is there, and Kimmila snaps at him too, "Get out of my way!" Because mother-saving-child is the only thing she's thinking of right now. And then there's a bench. Which makes Kimmila swear so long and heated it's a wonder the flames don't retreat on their own from her fury. Grabbing Kyzen, she only hesitates long enough to judge the distance and tosses him over that bench to Zhirayr. And so help the Steward if he doesn't catch her kid. She'll murder him.

Kimmila has Kyzen. Good. That much Br'enn can see from the corner of his eye as he keeps working. He'll miss the next bit, though; he's starting to wheeze now. Being a tall, brawny gent does not give him lungs of steel, after all. Spying the exodus of riders and dragons from the Sands now and feeling an urgent mental tug from Tovihasuth, he calls over a pair of stocky lads from among the Candidates and has them pick up his place. Then he's moving off toward his bronze, granting support for anyone nearby as needed while he follows in the wake of Inri, Thys, D'ani, and the others. The rattling cough the escapes him doesn't sound good. Perhaps he will have to break down and head for the Healers, too.

Ralik is glad to be recognized, frankly, and rather than simply let Thys stumble her way off the Sands - her eyes look pretty bad - Ralik steps forward and sweeps her neatly up into his arms, "Hold on to me. The eggs are going to be fine. Even if they were left here, they'd probably be fine. Right now, they're better at dealing with heat and smoke than any of us." This is all said as he carries her off after her dragon, of course, not standing around to prove that fact. He keeps one arm around her back and the other under her knees, carrying her fairly easily and moving about as quickly as he dares. There's a flying kid suddenly and that's enough to cause Ralik to pause for just a moment, likely to make sure the arc that the lad follows ends in someone's arms rather than in a dune or a splat.

"MORE WATER!" The yell goes out across the sound of the flames, carried down the bucketline, across the folks fighting the flames. They've managed to beat out the fire on the staircase, allowing access to the top of the galleries - which is totally strategic. "GET IT UP TOP! FROM THE TOP DOWN! LET GRAVITY DO THE WORK!" And by pouring the water from the top down, it should cascade down the galleries, right? To put out the flames below? "CAN ANYONE GET ONE'VE THEM DRAGON BUCKETS UP HERE?"

Zhirayr is, at least, not at terrible risk of getting murdered-by-Kimmila; he catches Kyzen without trouble, for all that he's gasping in oh-okay-so-THAT's-what-got-burned pain when the boy's arms hit him in the shoulders. Well. Okay then. His girlfriend is going to be pissed at him, he thinks, and then is too busy hustling Kyzen the rest of the way away from the flames, and out of the smoke, and there's a lot of coughing, and as soon as he sees someone else reasonable he'll pass Kyzen off and turn back and make sure everybody else cleared that bench okay, because he's a dumbass.

With Kyzen safe, Varmiroth winks out between and then reappears (dangerous, yes, but is anyone going to yell at him?) with another bucket of water to douse the galleries with. Ssssssss. Fort Sauna!

D'ani's been calm…ish. His bellowing was to be heard over the roar of flames and confusion. Now though, with Kouzevelth's eggs moving and Rhenesath giving in, he catches Inri up and does just that - sweeps her up in his arms like a baby. While doing that, he bellows, "Everyone who is not moving eggs, out!" Water can be dumped from above. And he carries Inri out of the smoke, following Kouzevelth towards the infirmary. Sure she can walk; he doesn't care.

Abigail waves a hand slightly to Ha'ze, how did he get here.. Either way she is leaving and making sure he is too. Kyzen is safe, Kimmila is taking him to the healers and all is well. Though she doesn't get the actually hang around as Ha'ze does tug her out to get fresh air, which in all honesty is something she needs at the moment. Niumdreoth seems to have a sixth sense.. He is carrying one of them dragon buckets full of water and is hovering above the galleries. Here comes the water it seems! The bucket is dumped downwards to the fire that is still ranging and rolling within the top of the galleries and once the bucket is empty he is off to fill it once more. Anyone near them stairs might get a bit wet at some point as the water will cascade down at some point.

".. Sorry." Katrina squeaks out at the wrath of Kim as she shrinks a bit within herself. "I was just trying to help you.. " She takes a few quick steps back, then heads back through the smoke quickly to try and help her staffers out that are helping out the bucket brigade.

Kimmila gives poor Katrina another scowl and then leaps over the bench and hurries after Kyzen. Whoever gets him won't have him for long before she's grabbing him again and moving with quick steps towards the Infirmary. Th'ero can catch up, right?

Kyzen can fly? Not really, but it's not like he has a choice. He's tossed and caught and Zhirayr becomes the next person he'll cling to so fiercely it's a wonder they won't need help prying him off. That's a good sign though, that's he's got the strength to do it! Fresh air also means he can clear his lungs after hacking and coughing and that's when the sobbing starts and the choked babbling. Something about how he's sorry and won't be bad ever again and sneak out and that he just wants to go home and to bed. Please and thank you? Then it's his mother to the rescue and he'll go willingly to her and no prying needed. Zhirayr dodged that bullet!

Nyalle has roused the rest of the weyr to action, the Infirmary is awake, alert and ready, and the kitchens are busy making food and drawing plenty of water from the wells. Everything a weyr in crisis needs. Also…there's alcohol being rolled out of Shenanigans. That always helps, right?

Th'ero will catch up… later. Much later. Broken leg or not, he's still the Weyrleader and he's doing what he can to keep the general populace from panicking any further. Especially when the eggs start going on the move though it's truly the Guard Captain who orders those Guards not helping with the fire to keep too eager hands from swarming those transporting the eggs out or those trying to play heroics by going into the galleries. By now, most of Thunderbird is mobilized and those trained with firefighting are moving in to take over or take lead, while other dragons join Varmiroth's example if ordered to do so.

The Weyrhealer won't be drinking, but she certainly will be making other people do so.

"They are being left there," Thys replies to Ralik after briefly struggling against being picked up. "Those are Kouzevelth's being carried out. Rhenesath's are… they're in there. They'll… I mean… they might be… but - but Rhenesath is more important." She chokes it out - literally, since her throat's all smoke-clogged! - and looks back over Ralik's shoulder to squint through smoke-sore eyes at the scene behind them. Then she clutches at the journeyman more tightly as her head starts swimming and… boomf. Passed-out Thys. Rhenesath doesn't seem any more concerned than she already was, though, so it can't be /too/ bad of a thing that her rider's out for the count!

Ralik can't exactly tell which eggs are which; at this point, he's lucky that he can recognize anyone besides Thys and possibly his brother, if the lad's out there. He's not about to argue with her, however, and when she faints like that, he just tugs the damp towel over her face a bit to help scrub the air she's breathing while heading in the direction of the infirmary. With a look up towards Rhenesath, he calls out to her, "She'll be alright, she just needs to drink some water." Even if the gold isn't any more upset than she can get, he can at least try to be helpful. Whatever the case, he's getting Thys to some healers right now and is likely a little glad she can't fight him over being hefted up anymore.

"OUT!" D'ani orders Katrina and her bucket brigade as he passes them with Inri in his arms. They can rebuild the galleries if they need to. There are dragons dumping far more water from above than they are with those tiny (by comparison) buckets. Then he'll stride to the infirmary where he'll deposit Inri on a cot for the healers to check over and rehydrate. Only when she's cleared will he offer an arm to walk with her to the dragon infirmary and those newly-settled eggs.

Abigail is getting the stare down from Ha'ze so she is left outside of the cavern helping when able and sending Thunderbird riders in and out making sure no one is in the smoke to long of a time, also making sure someone keeps a count of people going in so no one is going to be left /inside/ thanks to all that smoke. That would be bad.

Varmiroth's water-dumping works! As does the efforts of the other dragons. The flood of water helps to douse the flames entirely on the higher tiers, leading to cheers from the firefighting crew. And then it becomes increasingly clear that D'ani's got the right of it with his orders; things are getting very wet, and the dragons know what they're doing, so… "FALL BACK! CLEAR THE GALLERIES! ESSENTIAL PEOPLE ONLY!" The guards take their cue from their bossman, and start ushering anyone /not/ involved - ie, without a Thunderbird patch on their arm, because they're the pros, right? - out, down the wet stairs, and away from the dying fire.

It's entirely possible that Inri, once Mirinda or whoever else releases her — since what she needs are fluids and a good few coughs — ends up falling asleep with Kouzevelth, D'ani and Kainaesyth's storytelling.

Ha'ze notes that if Thunderbird's wingleader attempts to go in there again he's going to bodily pick her up and carry her to the healers and f*ck the consequences.

Abigail isn't planning on going back in, not unless someone does something that needs her attention. The ones from the Thunderbird Wing are taking care of it rather well after all. Also she does like breathing, and out here she can do that.

S'ai is busy helping see the last of the eggs out and Zeruth is watching over the last of the firefighting duties with a sour, but satisfied snort. The bronze is well coated in steam and smoke, coppery hide turned a murky brown-black and he's wheezing harshly from the long exposure. S'ai, his own lungs as scorched as the rest of the humans, can only frown in concern to his lifemate. They've work to do yet, though, and a long night to go - though there's the warning the bronze not to overdo it any further. They'll work as long as they're allowed, helping to smother out the last and begin the arduous task of cleanup.

Br'enn is heading for the infirmary, too. In a bit. After pausing out in the Bowl to get some good lungfuls of fresh air with his dragon. And having Tovihasuth check in with Mazzolyth to make certain Rynn is alright. And maaaaybe ducking back in to check, though his lifemate quickly nixes that idea. Fine, he's going toward the infirmary. Slowly.

Rhenesath lies just beyond the entrance to the Hatching ground, watching everyone leaving, watching through the entrance to where her eggs are being moved, watching watching watching. Her eyes spin red and white, her tailtip flicks, her wings twitch, and there's a deep, mourning-like creel near constant from her… but she stays until the last of her little clutch of five is carried out, then she follows.

Velokraeth is up on the Star Stones, his voice occasionally heard as he helps Th'ero in relaying orders and it will take the bronze a long, long time to settle and calm down. Down below, the Weyrleader works away until the fire is under control and well within Thunderbird's capabilities to finish. Then it's just a matter of overseeing that Captain Breshir has things sorted and then on wards to dealing with the multitude of riders and weyrfolk wanting to speak with him or seek him for reassurances. By the end of it all, he's exhausted and when Th'ero's exhausted and pushed to his limits, his temper begins to fray. Before it can completely snap, however, things seem to settle enough that he feels he can slip away to the Infirmary and find Kimmila and Kyzen. If something goes wrong (and it will, it always does), they know where to find him or how to reach him. Just a question of who's brave enough to go pester Th'ero.