RP:Wyvern Sled Race
Part of the Festival of Aramoth.
Western Frostmaw Gates
Aela settles in to await the race, fur-lined cloak drawn close about her to ward off the deep chill within her bones.
Hildegarde has strategically dressed for the race, wearing only her leather garb and chainmail laced throughout it. She didn't wish to weigh down her sleigh.
Aela waves happily at Hildegarde as she makes her way into the area. "Grettings, Lady Hildegarde. I trust that whatever wounds that I inflicted yesterday have healed?" There is genuine concern in the paladin's voice.
Hildegarde smiled at Aela, waving to her in return. "Hail, m'lady! Aye, the cut has healed, but I am afraid my cracked ribs shall take longer. Giants are a force to be reckoned with," she warned, although her voice remained pleasant enough. "Are you participating in the race?"
Aela rises from her seat to check on her sled as she continues to speak to the knight. "I would not miss the excitement. This dratted cold is going to be the death of me, but I have been looking forward to the race for some time." Reaching into a burlap sack next to her sled, the girl pulls out a dead rabbit and tosses it to the wyvern that will be pulling her along. It never hurts to have the wyvern on your side, after all.
Hildegarde pulled her hair back and tied it with a dark blue ribbon, quickly checking her sleigh and ensuring the harness was properly attached. "Try not to think of the cold, m'lady, dwelling on it will not help," she said, offering her a warm smile as if it might help. That said, the knight wanders to the front of her two wyverns and drops to her knees, nudging her head against theirs with a few saurian growls and squeaks.
Aela busies herself with checking the rigging attachments around her wyvern's torso. Satisfied that all is in order, she flips the reins across the front of the sled and turns to look at Hilde. "Tis more difficult than it sounds, but the good thing is that I'm almost numb enough to where it won't be bothering me as much."
Chakor pulls on his warm winter coat. The temperature up here could freeze the blood of a lesser man's viens. He inspects his sleigh, mkaing sure none of the other contestants have tampered with it. The large creature at the front of the tobaggan seems ready to go. This race should be an intresting one.
Hildegarde laughed before a sloppy tongue lapped across her cheek, followed by a delighted yip from the wyvern. "Just like a big dog, you two," she said quietly, offering affectionate pats to each wyvern. "Aye, m'lady, it is always difficult! Just be sure to be safe out there. If you run into trouble, you need only call upon me," she said, quickly adding, "I imagine you'll do fine! But the cold and lands of Frostmaw are treacherous."
Aela waves a dismissive hand at Hilde's warning. "I am sure that I will be fine. I thank you for your concern though." Her eyes turn to look upon Chakor, silently sizing him up before stepping up into her sled to await the start of the race.
Hildegarde gave a final nudge of her head to the wyverns, along with a little saurian kind of grunt to which they chirruped and seemingly purred in response to. The knight rose to her feet and smiled to Chakor, taking her place on the sleigh and taking hold of the reins. She was ready!
Chakor climbs into his sled and readies himself mentally. He's raced many times in the Areana back home but those were chariot races with simple horses. These, wyvern, were somewhat unknown to him. Other than seeing the ocassional one outside the local pub, he didn't know much about them. He takes a moment to look over his competition. The female human looked ready, a ferocity in her eyes. The dragon looked almost relaxed, like it didn't even bother with worrying about the coming race. He turns his gaze back to the course, ready for the start.
Satoshi is not present for this event, having to oversee another one elsewhere, but she has sent a representative of The Eyrie in her place. The young Sage elf is known as Zackt, the clan's swiftest courier and the partner of the Wind Wyvern, Minini. Together, the two hold the fastest route times from Frostmaw to Rynvale and back, something they are quite proud of as the pair stand at attention before the starting line. Gathered are numerous sturdy sleds of Frostmaw, each hitched up to a pair of ice wyverns--small, flock-minded saurians with white, spiked hides and a penchant for playfulness. "Attention, please," Zackt calls with raised hands. Minini chirrups to still the collected wyverns. "Thank you. As some of you know, The Eyrie is an organization devoted to partnership with the winged races, from dragons to gryphons, simurgh to wyverns. We rely on each other to survive, we are family, and we are so much the stronger for our bonds. As such, we felt it was fitting to offer an event that might introduce you to some of those bonds we've forged. A race! And a race not managed through the skills of your own two feet, but also through your ability to work with your wyvern companions! These young saurian have each volunteered to pull a sled in pairs, which you will ride, and together race through the Hunting Grounds. This land is riddled with wolf packs, mammoths, feral saurians, frost worms, and worse, so keep sharp, and trust your wyverns' instincts! We've marked the trail you are to follow, it runs straight north toward one of the lairs of Cryothain, Frostmaw's matron Frost Dragon. She has agreed with withdraw for the day to allow you all entrance. You must reach that location, collect one of the orbs waiting for you, and return back here first to win! The only rule is that you may not cause harm to your wyverns or anyone else's, as they have already agreed not to harm any racers. When you, your sled, and the wyverns all return together, you will be declared winner! Are you ready?!"
Aela give a single handed wave to indicate her readiness.
Hildegarde's fingers flexed around the reins, offering a cheery 'aye!' to signal her readiness.
Zackt lifts his arms a little higher, "On your mark." Nimbly he leaps upon the saddled strapped over Minini's back, and the wyvern hunkers down with wings half unfurled. "Get set!" With a powerful downsweep of her wings, the Wind Wyvern launches herself into the air and voices a chirping roar as Zackt shouts, "GO!!" And they're off! Zackt and Minini might not be racing, but they will still be in the airs above, overseeing the racers in case of emergency.
Chakor keeps his focused gaze, turning only to nod in acknowledgment. He was ready to race.
Aela thinks that she is prepared for the beginning of the race, but really has no clue just how fast the wyverns really are. Thus, as the wyvern lift off, the paladin is thrown backward over the back of her seat and into the back of the sled. Out of instinct, she grips the reins tighter in her fists, pulling back on them as she tumbles backward. This has the effect of pulling the reins hard backward and forcing the wyverns to shoot almost stright up in the air with Aela hanging on for dear life.
Hildegarde, being of a draconic nature herself, had a good understanding of her wyvern cousins. Besides, she was part of the Eyrie! She felt she had a decent understanding of the partnership between mount and rider. Her hands remained loose on the reins, giving them a small tug at the sound 'go' with a loud, "Hyah!" to set her wyverns off. With a delighted squeal, they very nearly tripped over their own feet in the effort to get going! The Silver grinned, though, loving the feel of the wind in her air and the snow. "Woo!" she cried, followed with a repeated click of her tongue and second tug of the reins; urging her young wyverns on.
Chakor took a firm hold on the reins. Wondering if all his time in chariot races would help here. He tugged on the reins carefully upon hearing the start. His wvyern clearly didn't take to the cautious approch, wriggling only slightly at Chakors first attempt to move. Deciding that he would throw caution to the wind and gave a solid tug. The sled shot forward with such speed, it felt like he had been punched in the chest. Regaining his composure, he loosened his grip. The race was on.
Aela struggles to regain her composure as the wyverns take her sled higher and higher. Maintaining her grip on the reins, she is finally able to find purchase with her feet and push herself back into her seat. Easing her grip finally, the wyverns angle off and shoot forward, trying to catch up with the other contestants. Gritting her teeth, the paladin hunkers down against the cold and shakes the reins in an attempt to hurry the wyverns along. Perhaps it is the wind rushing past her ears, but she is almost sure that the wyverns are laughing at her.
Hildegarde knew this area was prone to lurking exiled giants, normally only one or two and never a full raiding party. She hunkered down some and urged her wyverns on, trying to urge them with fearful growls and guttural groans; hoping it might appeal to their kindred nature and relay a message that they should get out of there quick. But the noise of the riders is enough to catch the attention of not one, not two, but three exiled giants, who appear from behind a large snow bank. “’ey up!” one calls, tossing a boulder sized rock in the direction of the riders in an effort to force them off their sleighs and left in a vulnerable position. The knight cried out, “Evade, evade!” while allowing the wyverns instincts to take over and choose how best to avoid the boulder; the shout used to also warn her fellow racers.
Chakor looks to the sky and sees that the human has regained control of her sleigh and is quickly gaining on the dragon and himself. From infront of him he hears the unmistakable sound of a gaint. Whipping his head around he sees the giant hurl a large bit of rock at the riders. To his side he can hear the Draco yelling for them to evade. Heeding the advice he tugs the reigns to the right, doing him best to get out of the projectile's path. As the boulder whizzes past his sleigh, the elf rights his sleigh to fly over the heads of the giants. Aela is surprised at just how fast these wyverns can be. She is going all out now, heedless of the dangers of this amount of speed. With her ears full of the sound of the wind, and eyes filled with tears due to the cold, she does not hear Hilde's warning nor see the rocks that the giants are throwing. One of these rocks grazes the back of the sled, causing it to wobble dangerously back and forth. It is only by an act of the gods that the paladin is able to keep herself from flying over the edge and into the snow below.
Hildegarde chances a glance around her, glad to see her fellow racers were still intact and not felled by any of the giants. Perhaps this was retaliation for the slaying of their false Jarl, but those were thoughts for another time. The knight urged her young wyverns on, but they yipped and flapped their wings eagerly, as if saying they would rather take to the air than the ground. That said, the Silver gave a mighty growl and was met with excited chirrups and yips. Obviously, she had said something good! That said, the dragon crouched and drew in a deep breath until she heard the ‘click’ in the back of her throat; leading to her expelling a thick cone of concentrated frost across a length of her sled. With a stomp of her boot, the frosted part broke and left her sled with only a quarter of its original size! The knight clung to the reins and yelled, “Fly!”
At the Starting Point
Lanlan arrived late to yet another event, it was becoming his M.O. The others were already far gone, he couldn't even recognize any of the riders from their mounts. There was still some wyverns waiting at the starting line, patient; but alert. He goes up to one in particular, not apparently faster than any of the others. You could say, in fact, that Lan wasn't surprised no one picked this one. He stepped onto the sled. He wasn't a full wood elf and would never have the same connection with beasts as they would, but at least he grew up with them and had ingrained the same compassion. "Well girl?" The wyvern snorted in retaliation. "Boy...I meant...boy." Perhaps...some compassion. "Let's just go, nice and--Woah!" His 'companion' lurched forward recklessly, careless of the rider, who flew back and out of the led completely. "No!" He ran after for a few steps and hurled his grappling hook towards the sled, catching onto one of the railings just barely. For a while the wyvern thought he was going fast, until the extra weight suddenly groped to one side and he lifted Lanlan off the ground. "Wait!" Called Lanlan but to no avail! The beast couldn't or wouldn't hear him. So Lanlan did his best to climb back onto the sled.
Meanwhile, Back with the Rest...
Lanlan couldn't do much but keep putting hand over hand. 'Twas made difficult in the harsh cold, and the blistering winds, and the great speed. Perhaps it had something to do with the fright of death that helped him clutch to the rope and press onwards...upwards. His poor wyvern was having as much trouble as him though (not really) having to lug around this lopsided sled with no driver. Dead weight it should be called. Hopefully only a metaphor. At last Lanlan gripped the sled's railing with his own hand and climbed up. "That wasn't cool!" Lanlan shouted to him, who made no effort to respond or acknowledge. "You want to win!?" This time the wyvern grunted. 'I'll help us win', he thought to himself vengefully. "Look out behind you!" Just before finishing his sentence, Lanlan cast a spell to show his spicy dragon something, just a motivator. A giant red dragon complete with a roar and fire gaining on them. The burst of desperate speed shook the illusion from his control and it dissipated almost instantly. "Keep going! Don't look back!" Still no sign of the other racers.
Chakor righted his reins as he passed the giants. His wvyern were yipping loudly, in what would seem to be a exhuberant manner. Clearly the high-adrenealine moment had had a postive effect on the winged beasts. He too felt a surge of excitement. He had wanted this race to be a ride of a lifetime and it was not disappointing. As the contestants all surged forward he hear a loud crack from infront of him. Hurtling toward him were what looked like sleigh pieces. As he bobbed and weaved past the first few pieces he looked to see from where they came. The draconian knight was now soaring ahead, as her sleigh looked considerablly smaller. His lapse in concentration was quickly rewarded by a frozen peice of sleigh finding its way across his forehead. Letting go of the reins with one hand, he checks for blood. No sign of it, but now he had a rival in this race. One he did not intend to let get the best of him so easily.
Lanlan felt as if this wyvern had gotten his just desserts. "Look now, it's gone it gave up...!" They slowed down to a cruise, comfortable, restful compared to the other means of flight, the rapid, haphazard wing beats of a prey with no hope of escape. Now he could tell him the truth. "You may not understand me, I'm not sure. But I have to tell you, that dragon? It wasn't real. I made it up with my magic." At that there was a cock of the wyvern's head, perhaps a semblance of understanding. "...I'm sorry I did that to you, but..." telling him he just wanted pay back wouldn't help matters any. "Now we need to trust each other." Ahead they could see the wreckage of another sled. He knew not what it meant, whether one of the racers had crashed or merely lost their sled. "I have an idea! Fly steady!" Well he flew about as steady as one could fly after having a supposed near death experience. Lanlan stepped out from the sled with one foot tentatively, holding one hand to both the reigns and the railing; in the other the grappling hook. "Don't move!" He slaps the grappling hook around the beasts belly, behind the wings, in front of the legs, catching it on the other side for some new reigns. "I think we're carrying too much weight!" He singed the other reigns from the wyverns body, and all other (if any) attachments to it. Just like the other, it went crashing back to the ground, while Lan stood on his back. The lost weight did seem to have an instant improvement, the him-wyvern flying up a little, inadvertently causing Lanlan to almost lose his hold on his back; and the wyvern to arch his neck, searching for the rider. "I'm here!" Lan shouted back to ease. "Giants!" No doubt the cause of the other racer's crash. "They're upset... Watch out I'll distract them!" Lanlan bent over, tight grip of the 'reigns' in one hand, and wand in the other. A flick and a twist, and a flock of birds flew out from over a hill, hopefully it would blind the giants. It did just that in truth, but it also blinded them! They didn't see the giant boulder til the last minute, and then it was almost too late. "Look out!" they both tumbled in the sky, twisting and plummeting toward the ground, Lanlan twisting around in the air clinging to his rope of life. A few feet short of the ground and he recovered, stomping the snow and splashing it before leaping one again in the air. "Great!" He thought he could see the racers far in the distance, but he knew it was just his mind playing his old tricks.
Aela is feels as if she's finally getting the hang of this sledding thing, though she wishes that she had thought to bring along some goggles. Reaching a hand up, she swipes at the icicles that are forming on her lashes from the frozen tears. Momentarily blinded by the motion, she fails to see the piece of frozen sled hurtling toward her. Moving the hand away, she has just enough time to let out a short screech before the wood hits her square in the chin. One would think that such a thing would be painful, what with the sickening crunch of bone and all, but the girl's face is completely numb at this point and she is now unconscious anyway. She topples over backward and out of the back of the sled, plummeting the twenty feet and into a snowbank on the ground. The wyverns, however, happily continue the race and feel that they have a much better chance without the inexperienced driver behind them.
Hildegarde had a sworn duty to protect the people and would easily forsake a race – and her proud nature – to ensure she could carry out her duties. The knight glanced around, hearing the repeated ‘thwack’ of wood and assuming pieces of her sled had contacted the other riders. That had not been her intent, she had thought the entire piece of it had broken off before she took to the air, but apparently not. Seeing Aela fall from her sled, she hissed “Aela!” and offered a sharp and short roar to her wyverns before diving off the remnants of her sled. Of course, the woman was not as human as she may have appeared and took her true form: that of a silver dragon. The Silvers were perhaps the most aerodynamic of dragons, suited to fast paced aerial combat and manoeuvres; allowing her to dip away from the riders and to the falling Aela. Taloned ‘hand’ reaches to grip her, before heading back to the remnants of her sled. Indeed, without her weight, the wyverns had raced ahead, she almost struggled to catch up to them! Hovering above the remnants of her sled, she assumed her humanoid form and kept an arm around the unconscious Aela; propped up against the front of the sled whilst Hilde took up the reins again. “Hyah, hyah!” she cried, urging them to dip a bit lower, for fear the altitude may alter the unconscious paladin’s breathing.
Chakor tugs his reins harder to get his wyvern to speed up. They seem to take this as a challange and surge forward with a huge burst of speed. As he nears his draco rival, he sees her jump from her tobaggan and fly to save the human. Part of him feels bad about not stopping to help as well but his gladitorial spirit of competition spurns him forward. As he flys past the Silver Dragon's, currently empty sled, he takes a moment to revel being in the lead. Moments later he can hear the winged knight return to his carriage and urge its wyvern on. Looking back to see the distance between them he notices another contestant he hadn't before. Another elf, an illusionist. Now things have gotten really intresting.
Lanlan couldn't make out the slim figure fall out of the back of the sled, he was still too far; but he could make out the dragon that dipped back inexplicably. It was big enough. "Hahaa! We're catching up!" He knelt down to rub the beasts belly and ribs, while staying clear of the beating wings. "What should I call you!?" He called out, trying to shout over the sound of the wind. The wyvern grunted. "Glarg!? Then you may call me Glarg as well!?" The wyvern grunted in frustration, but Lanlan needed a better way to communicate with it, and at least now 'Glarg' would know when he was being addressed. He also couldn't help but notice that Glarg's breathing was getting heavy. But he'd already witnessed Glarg's pride, he couldn't suggest a break on behalf of Glarg. "I'm getting really tired Glarg, do you think we could stop and rest? I see a safe looking spot over there." The wyvern grunted defiantly, as if to suggest that it was foolish to stop and for a moment it truly seemed like he would press onward. It's true they did see a glimmer of hope just now...But after all they did stop, and landed at the base of a snowy dune. Safe from the wind, and from vision of predators. "I have this saved from the festival a few days ago." He pulled out one of them fancy aramoth appetizers and offered it to Glarg, who munched on it thankfully. "You went to that right? I could've sworn I saw you." Sound of heavy breath and rapid chewing. "Maybe just someone that looked like you..." Lanlan himself took to munching on some pure looking snow, water anyways right? Behold his palms! Rope burn, rope burn, rope burn... He cast a little illusion to make it look like they healed. "Doesn't work like that." Glarg noticed him looking at his hands and checked them out himself. "Don't worry I can still do it! I can hold on forever, trust me." Apparently Glarg took a page right out of Lan's book, and didn't allow pride to be a factor. Quite the opposite in fact! Wait'll they see him coming up like a little wyvernlet. Glarg jumps up and scoops up Lanlan by the waist, safely in his talons, and sets off once more, revitalized. The most wonderful aspect is that the dragon's own head protects him from the windburn, and it's all hands free! "We'll get 'em now for sure!" He says as he ties his pants strings a little tighter, lest the winds take them.
Hildegarde didn’t seem too bothered that she was lagging behind Chakor now, looking to Aela and saying softly, “You had better be okay, Aela,” hoping that her friend would be just fine. She had feeling she would be, but just to be certain the knight would definitely escort her to a healer after the race had finished. Clasping a hand over Aela’s nearest ear, the knight bellowed out a roar which made the wyverns yip and chatter excitedly, surging forward as if they had been at a relaxed pace before! The Silver tugged the reins again, “Hyah, hyah! Come on!” she knew they could do it, they were young and swift; dragon and wyvern had bonded through head-bumps and affectionate growls and grumbles before the start of the race. They felt as if they had to try harder for the sake of the Silver who manned the broken sled. Her wyverns seemed to catch up to Chakor, the knight levelling him with a look and yelling over to him, “Sorry!” in reference to the incident of her sled hitting him earlier, but whether or not he heard it was a different matter; the howling winds of Frostmaw often distorted or stole the words away entirely.
Chakor squinted his eyes, trying to see through the now blizzard like snow. The course was barely discernable through the thick snow fall. He simply trust his wyvern to lead the way. He had taken a liking to the winged creatures. They were quick, smart, and let out an unusally satifisfying roar when he tugged on the reins. Weaving through the snow flurry, he notices the small sled of the knight pull up even with him. Turning to look over he sees the dragon open its maw, seeming to say something but the wind is whipping by so fast and loud that he can't make out what he's saying. Normally its for the elf to read lips but dragons were a different matter. Trying to make himself heard over the roar of wind he bellows out "Nice of you to save the girl, too bad it wont help you win the race." He tugs his reins again as he hears the grey elf approaching from behind at a very concerning click.
Lanlan and his new friend Glarg were cruising right along; they eluded the giants, defeated eachother's pride, and even made a much needed pitstop. But now Lanlan faced an entirely new threat. It seemed that in Glarg's enthusiasm, he was letting his tongue hang out of his mouth, like a dog out of a car window. Every so often, an icy drool blob smacked him in the face. "Glarg! Glar-pfft fblthft!" He braced his face with his woeful hands and shouted once more! "Glarg close your-!" Another brace for impact. "Close your mouth or swallow your spit! Please!" Glag curled his neck down to see to the safety of his friend, and noticed the many stains of his slobber. "Glarg," said glarg. Wyvern-speak for sorry... And anything else he meant to say, but based on the intermittent gulps, sorry can be inferred this glarg. "Look there!" he shouted when he saw those two flies up ahead. But they were going into a blizzard and much as he knew the wyvern could handle the snow, he had another trick up his sleeve. "Press on! The blizzard's no problem!" He was doing nothing else he might as well be productive. He gripped the orb shield he kept just for duels, and utilized it's invisible wall, making a literal windshield in front of their heads, watching the snow being deflected just before them. Every once and a while there was an absence of snow that revealed to the two Glargs their competitors, the only way to tell they were flying in the right direction. Unless of course they were -all- flying in the wrong direction. "Don't give up now!"
Hildegarde narrowed her gaze at his remark, “Saving a life is worth more than winning a race!” she retorted with a proud smile, tugging on the reins and giving a sharp, shrill whistle. The wyverns responded with a screech, diving down rapidly and out of sight; flying a small distance above the ground and out of the worst of the blizzard. The knight urged them on, “We’re safe, keep going,” she told them, her eyesight much better than that of a human and her hearing far more keen. She had an advantage with her heightened senses, but she was more dependent on the wyverns. She urged them on with words of gentle reassurance, “Remember your training!” she reminded them, knowing full well that Eyrie trained wyverns could perform exceedingly well.
Chakor pulls his cloak up further around his neck, the winds having picked up considerably. He looks over at the knight, who is once again saying something. Peering carefully at her lips he makes out what she says as she passes him by. Part of him feels terrible that he would place a race over a persons life, the other part, his gladiator spirit, couldn't care less. A competition is meant to be played ruthlessly, win at all costs. Averting his eyes back to the course, he gives the reins a strong tug. His winged beast pull harder, inching him closer to his rival. From the corner of his eye he notices the other elf has caught of with knight and him. Focused, he readies himself for the final stretch.
Lanlan and Glarg passed through the worst of the blizzard a considerable time after the others, but there was also a discernible close in the distance. Free to replace his orb shield back in the satchel, he did so and relished in the chance to relieve his mind's ache. The constant projection of magic wearing greatly on his wits. "My head aches..." he says, assuredly too softly for his friend to here, lest he be discouraged by Lan's weariness. His rivals were ahead, and there was no way team Glarg could possibly win without some sort of intervention. He rubbed the sides of his temples, "I must have something left up my sleeve..." What simple thing could he do to make them turn, to slow, to divert... Anything to give Glarg and himself the last word. After all, how could he let Glarg down after this!? "What do I know about my competitors?" Not much, other than that they want to win. Lanlan smiled as he got an idea. Lanlan got a wonderful -awful- idea. "They want to win do they? And I wonder if they know what these orbs look like anymore than I do..." He held his wand like a pencil, so as not to afflict his palms anymore, and thrust it forward, eyes intent, to show them four orbs. Not the real orbs, no! Just ahead of them to make them dive, maybe even stop and investigate. It only had to work for a few moments, in fact that's all it would work for. His powers waning so much.
Hildegarde would always put her duties before her pride or her desire to win anything, that was her oath and part of her nature. Her yearning to do good in the world meant more to her than some race or a prize at the end of it. While it was good to win and felt fantastic, it was not a sensation that could replace the one of doing good deeds. As the temperature dropped, the knight allowed the remains of her sled to skid to the ground, wyverns running across the deep snow with relative ease and waning speed. The knight could not leave the paladin alone in the sled: lest the dragon whelps feed on her or the biting cold kill her! For a moment, she is distracted by a glimmering light and the shape of an orb, assuming it is the orb they are to find… until the squall of a young dragon catches her attention and she snorts with irritation, placing Aela over a shoulder carefully as she tried to quickly proceed through the snow to lift two orbs: one for herself and one for Aela. But the dragon whelps would not give them up so easily and the contenders were forbidden from spilling their blood. The knight crouched low and offered a soft cooing noise, followed by a rumble in her throat: allowing the whelps to recognise her as a dragon – just like them – and to lift the two orbs she desired. Picking them up, she offered a little squeaking squeal of thanks, hoping she had managed to lift the orbs before the others!
Chakor speeds past the orbs and misses them. Being so focus on beating Knight, he completely forgot about having to grab an orb. He pulls back hard on the reins making his wyvern come to a screeching halt. The sudden stop sends him tumbling head over heels past the winged creatures. He lands with a loud crunk into a snow bank. After pulling himself out he, shakes off the frost and reorients himself. Looking around he sees the orbs and makes a mad dash for them. He doesn't see the others when the unmistakable croon of dragons rip through the air. He looks to see a gathering of small dragons guarding the orbs. Knowing he can't attack the beasts head on, he decided to use his cunning instead. He takes shield and hurls it like a discus past the whelps. It comes to a very loud clattering halt on the ground a few feet behind the dragons. With their attention else where, he runs like the wind to scoop up his orb. He didn't have time to count how many orbs were there before the group has turned its attention back to him. Zig-zagging his way back to his sled, he wonders if the other contestants have crossed the finish line yet.
Lanlan had not considered ever being close, never close enough to wonder this one tremendously important variable. As they neared the real orbs, Glarg's talons wrapped around his waist, he realized: There was no way for Glarg to land without smashing Lanlan to bits. He quivered in fear; fear of death, fear of losing, fear of heights all of the sudden! But then the answer was so obvious. Land? Why land at all!? Landing's for schmucks. "Glarg! Look at me!" Glarg does so, curling his neck around to see Lanlan, who's inching his way out of Glarg's talons. "Grab my legs! I trust you!" Then he dove out of the talons headfirst arm's outstretched to grab one of the real orbs. He's faithful, and doesn't even falter in the moment that he's freefalling, and after that moment, he's caught! "Lower! Lowerrrr!" Lan shouts to the wyvern, and so lower he goes, slowly descending. It was a good plan, could've been a great plan if Lan had anything left. They both dip right over the whelps heads, for the first time seeing the faces of his competitors. The one was trying to coax her way into getting an orb unscathed, while the other distracts it with a loud noise. A photo finish as he swoops in dangling like a chandelier above the orb, quickly rushing it into his satchel while they're distracted by the others. Then Glarg flutters away and drops Lanlan like a sack of potatoes to ploof through the snow, only to drag him out by his cloak a moment later.