Unchained Rage

Writers: Anika, Devin, Heather, Len, Miriah, Suzee
Date Posted: 10th February 2015

Characters: J'ackt, Saidrene, Sh'del, Pierka, N'vanik, Cyradis, D'hol
Description: A violent fight occurs at DCW, leading to unknown ramifications.
Location: Dolphin Cove Weyr
Date: month 11, day 1 of Turn 7
Notes: NPC: Cronfur
Mentioned: Zandan
Notes: Weyr-wide event

J'ackt

J'ackt felt Zith's eyes on him as he slowly moved through his forms,
the practice sword in his hand moving with grace. As usual, there were
others watching, but he paid them little attention. His focus centered
on keeping the right posture, taking evened measured breaths, and
moving from form to form.

Eyes so dark as to appear black narrowed as fury and hatred rippled
just under the surface for one dark haired spectator. This was the
criminal piece of dung who had wreaked havoc in his Hold, stolen from
good people, assaulted a helpless girl, and then nearly killed his
father. Of course the holdless scum had then escaped to the Weyr and
all hope of making him pay for his atrocities had slipped away. "He
dances like a woman," the man scoffed.

A younger girl wearing Candidate knots sighed as she watched J'ackt
and answered the scorn with a wistful voice. "I've never danced like
that..."

J'ackt heard the comment and it was almost as though his ears visibly
twitched, but his forms never shifted or paused. Instead, he seemed to
focus harder on his breathing as his lips thinned. Even the girl's
comment didn't ease the furrow in his brow.

Frustrated by the bronzerider's lack of response, the burly guard
stepped closer. He'd come from Emerald Falls to the Weyr to visit a
cousin, but his real reason actually stood before him. Cronfur had
never stopped looking. Many might have forgotten, but he had not.
His father had been badly injured during that tunnel snake's escape,
and given the age of the older guard and a previous leg injury, the man
had been forced to retire. It rankled that the escaped criminal had
never been brought to justice.

"What? Have to stay in practice in case you come across a defenseless
girl to attack?" the Hold guard demanded.

That made J'ackt come to a slow stop and he stiffened. Slowly turning
to face the heckler, his eyes flicked over the knots and recognizing
them, immediately narrowed. Hatred immediate curdled in his stomach at
the sight; his hand momentarily tightened around the hilt of the
practice sword, knuckles whitening. "No, just in case some idiot
holder shows up." N'vanik had said something about walking away from
fights, but faced with those knots, the memory of the cell and the
pains that the Emerald Falls folk had caused only stirred his
aggression. The burliness of the man didn't sway him for one instant.
"Go back to your dung hill, guard. Shove your nose up Zandan's arse."

Zith let out a low growl behind him; the bronze was young, but the
warning was clear.

Saidrene had only been passing through when she heard the raised, but
unmistakably voice. J'ackt's voices She would recognize it anywhere.
The fact that it was raised in anger was not completely rare, but the
people gathering to watch the scene was. **Oh great.** She thought as
she elbowed past a few people to see what was going on. The last time
something like this had happened it had been over a pregnant woman,
but that had been back before J'ackt had Impressed Zith. Saidrene
hoped that his dragon would keep J'ackt calm enough to walk away this
time.

The growl of the young bronze dragon certainly got the guard's
attention, but despite the fact that he felt his stomache drop clean
away, Cronfur only took two steps back before holding his ground. His
own hatred ran deep and the immensity of the perceived injustice of
the criminal running away only to Impress after having wronged so many
lent him courage. "You're a coward that attacks little girls and old
men and now's run away to hide behind a dragon. Nothing but a gutless
thieving scum not willing to face a man on even ground. Call off the
beast and fight me like a man."

Beast? Coward? J'ackt's fury shot up into his every muscle. The shot
about little girls and old men, he could take, even if it was only
partially false. And he had been a thief and never denied it; but the
implication that he was lesser than this burly man, afraid of him and
his lot, it was too much to ignore. **Zith, back up. It's time to
finally prove a point.** The bronze slowly backed away, but his eyes
never wavered from the aggressor and the tension in his muscles never
eased. J'ackt then sneered and spread his arms and flicked his fingers
in open invitation. "I'm more than willing. Find me a man to fight
against."

With a glint of satisfaction in his dark eyes and a malevolent curl to
his lips, Cronfur ignored that piece of him that warned he was mad to
challenge a dragon rider in a Weyr full of dragon riders. Giving a
quick look around his eyes fell on another practice sword and he
hefted it with ease, missing the weight of steal. However, it would
suffice. Weapon in hand, he advanced on the younger man, more than
ready to avenge his family and his Hold. Much of his pent up rage was
put in the first lunge.

The rage was easy to see and it made the man's lunge all too easy to
predict. J'ackt darted to the side at the last moment and with a swift
swing, used the flat of the wooden blade to smack the man across the
face and ear. He swung away and smirked. "Really? They let you use an
actual blade? You'd be dead right now."

Gritting his teeth, Cronfur took himself in hand. For all he hated to
admit it the young dragon rider was right. He wasn't the best
swordsman in the guardhouse, but he was far from the worst and he knew
better then to let his emotions take control. He raised his sword and
circled, considering his opponnent. With a cautious move to test the
skill of the escaped criminal, he feinted right then swung left.

J'ackt proved his skill by meeting the swung wooden blade with his own
and pushing back, remaining steady on his feet. The Weyr residents had
seen him in action before, sparring against N'vanik and others who
wanted to learn (though there weren't many), so doubtless they had
already realized the skill. This man, however, was an unknown; J'ackt
recognized it and tested him. He wasn't, however, trained to fight
fair or clean. When the man stepped too close on the next pass,
J'ackt found an opening in his stance and did a feint of his own to
force the man wider; coming back, he slammed his elbow into the man's
back aiming for the tender area above the kidneys.

The guard offered a pained grunt, wincing and stumbling at the blow.
He recovered enough to regain a defensive pose, eyes narrowing at the
underhanded move, "Should've known a murderous cur like you would
fight dirty."

He was answered by a smirk, but no words, flicking the man as if
daring him. One of the many things J'ackt had been taught was to fight
to win; honor and fairness had no place in a real fight. Not letting
him remain stable in his stance, J'ackt attacked, the heavy wooden
blade flicking at the guards to drive him steadily back. As he slammed
his blade against the man's again, he finally gave voice to his
thoughts, "I was hoping for a challenge. I bet the only sword you
really get to handle is Zandan's..." His grin widened. "And I don't
think there's any real steel involved there."

Spurred by the younger man's inflammatory words, Cronfur met the
attack head on, smashing his practice sword against J'ackt's time and
time again. He finally had the satisfaction of feeling the wood
connect with flesh, but immediately thereafter his own weapon went
flying from his hands. Unable to contain his fury at having lost to
the lawless reprobate, the guard pulled his belt knife wanting nothing
more than to wipe the superior sneer off the dragonman's face.

"You think you're high and mighty now dragonman, but you're no better
than the vile outlaw or whore of a mother who spawned you."

"No," Pierka yelled. "Stop!" she didn't try to interfere but this was
going far beyond what was acceptable. "J'ackt, think of Zith." She
frantically turned }:Liddith call Loseth's:{

Saidrene did interfere, rushing out to stand between the two men,
although at a wary distance from the guard with the knife. She didn't
think J'ackt would hurt her, but she didn't know about this other man.
"Stop it!" The thought of the guard's knife ending up in J'ackt was
enough to send her heart hammering. "J'ackt! Don't risk Zith over this
piece of trash!"

J'ackt could take many things, but his mother was sacrosanct. He only
vaguely heard a woman yelling at him to stop as rage filled him at the
insult. This Holder piece of whershit had no right, not when his kind
had contributed to her death. Before he could take a step forward,
Saidrene filled his vision; it was another woman that he cared for and
in danger from the Holder's drawn blade. The combination of the
memories of his mother's death and the fear of Saidrene possibly
getting hurt threw him into an unbridled fury. The roar that emerged
from his throat was echoed by a bellow from his Zith. He grabbed
Saidrene, threw her behind him and leaped for the Holder, his wooden
sword dropping from his fingers in favor of using his hands.

This was no longer a high tension sparring match; J'ackt only saw red
and was out for the man's blood. The guard represented every pain he
had felt, his loss of stability, the terror of his early years under a
brutal fist and the subsequent fearful loneliness. He felt the knife
swipe at him, miss and then try again. He felt a burning slash of pain
along his side before he grabbed the man's arm and brought it down
with a sickening snap on his knee. A quick knee and a slam with his
elbow brought the man down, but J'ackt followed him in the tackle, the
impact with the ground barely shaking his focus from the guard now
pinned beneath him. J'ackt didn't stop when he was down, instead, he
snarled viciously and began plowing his fist repeatedly into the man's
face while his other hand gripped the man's head by the hair and
slammed it down on the ground.

Behind him, Zith bellowed again, talons scrabbling at the fence as he
ripped at the wooden railing, sending shards of splinters flying as he
fought to get near the pair. He felt the pain from his rider's side
and with eyes rapidly whirling red, burst through the fence and began
barreling towards his rider with a shriek of fury.

Overhead a slender brown bellowed, louder than either the shouting
from the humans or the noise from the young bronze. Loranth landed
beside the two humans fighting and lowered his head so Zith would
impact on him first.

"Bloody shards!" Sh'del reached J'ackt's side and grabbed the boy's
fist and arm. "Stop that now!" He had run all the way from the offices
when Loranth had first told him what was happening.

"J'ackt!" N'vanik's shout was echoed by a bellow from Loseth. He'd
been alerted through Loseth about the fight and came running from his
office. "What are you doing?"

The moment he was grabbed, J'ackt responded purely on instinct. He
whirled, the pain in his side flaring and swung with a snarl. "Get off
of me!" He didn't notice at first that it was Sh'del or even that he
was trying to stop him.

Zith barreled straight into Loranth, still crying out his anger and
confusion. The bronze stumbled back, shook his head and howled, trying
to move around the brown to get to his rider.

But Loranth wasn't having it. Extending his wings, he pushed the
bronze weyrling down under the membrane. }:You will calm down_now_Mine
is with yours, the trouble is over.:{

Sh'del wasn't having it from J'ackt. With all the muscles years of
Smithcraft afforded him, he twisted the boy's arm behind his back and
forced him to face N'vanik, standing there as out of breath as Sh'del
didn't dare showed that he was as well. "Answer your Weyrleader!"

"Stop! He's hurt!" Saidrene shouted at Sh'del pointing to J'ackt's
side where his shirt was slit and beginning to stain with blood.

J'ackt was too deep in his rage to not struggle, and even as the blood
began to feel sticky and warm down his side, it was unnoticed. He
tried to slam his head backwards at the other 'attacker' and then
tried to give a hard runner-kick with his heel. Zith whimpered and
shoved against the thick membrane, breathing through his teeth.

Summoned by the sudden crowd and the draconic cries for help, D'hol
jogged towards the group and took in the situation. His eyes flicked
to the still form on the ground, and the gathered riders trying to
hold back the weyrling. Without waiting for N'vanik to issue
instructions, he strode forward, looked at J'ackt and without much
pause, promptly drew back and clipped him on the jaw with a hard fist.
**Yumath, get down here and help Loranth and Loseth with the little
bronze. And call Panitath for her rider.** He gave N'vanik a look that
clearly stated that this was now his problem before he walked to the
prone man and crouched, touching his neck to check for a pulse.
Looking up, he saw Saidrene. "You, weyrling. Go get a Healer. He's
alive." He glanced around and saw another green rider, Pierka. "Help
me over here, if you well. Sh'del and N'vanik seem to have things in
hand with the boy."

The blow seemed to stun J'ackt back to his senses and dazed, he
relaxed in Sh'del's grip. The slashing pain in his side and the
throbbing of his fingers let him know clearly that he was hurt, but he
was still trying to orient himself. The red in his vision faded and he
realized that Sh'del was still holding him tightly and he was staring
at N'vanik.

Pierka grimaced by obeyed instantly and ran toward where D'hol had
directed. The man's face was a bloody mess and he seemed quite out if
it for the moment. She felt for a pulse and tried to stop the
bleeding with her own tunic. All the while she hoped J'ackt would be
alright too, she glanced over her shoulder just in time to see a huge
gold land and scatter the other smaller dragons.

The call to the queen had brought more than just her rider. }:Off him
Loranth!,:{ She commanded without a single doubt of instant obedience.
Panitath's neck stretched toward the small bronze }:Steady little
one:{ she soothed. }:Healers are helping yours, he will be taken care
of.:{ Yet she still placed her long golden neck between the weyrling
and his rider.

Cyradis came running across the bowl in no more than her shift. "What
the shells is going on!"

N'vanik strode forward and yanked up J'ackt's shirt to check the
damage. A healer had been summoned through the dragons and would be
there in a moment. "You'll live." He glared at J'ackt. "Though you
might wish you hadn't when I'm done with you." The Weyrleader was
angry, but the words were more for the onlookers. **What a sharding
mess.** This was going to need a lot of damage control.

D'hol looked up at Cyradis, both brows raised and then waved at a
healer that had emerged and was hurrying towards the crowd. The
Wingleader reached to finger the knots and frowned. "An Emerald Falls
guard, N'vanik." That alone could potentially cause a rather pretty
diplomatic issue once the Lord Holder was advised. He shook his head
and crouched beside Pierka, lips thinned. The healer checked the man
and called for a board to be brought. "Pierka, help roll him on to
this thing." D'hol gestured.

"His neck will have to be steadied," The healer announced. "It looks
like his facial bones are shattered along that side and I don't know
if his neck is injured as well." The healer pointed at where Pierka
was needed. "Grab his hips and you turn his shoulders, Wingleader,
I'll hold his head. When I say, push the board under him."

J'ackt's shoulder was taut under Sh'del's grip, and the pain in his
side was sharp. It was a deep cut that trailed along his side and
towards his abdomen; he felt the blood seeping against his skin as
N'vanik lifted his shirt. His hand now throbbed as well. A glance
showed that the knuckles were split, bleeding and turning purple from
the repeated impacts against the man's face. He didn't fight Sh'del
more, but held still, half on his toes from the restraining grip. He
worked his jaw from side to side, the Wingleader's blow would likely
bruise, but he had had much worse. Licking his lips he looked back at
N'vanik and Cyradis. "The guard challenged me. We were sparring with
the wooden blades." He gestured with his head towards his practice
sword that lay on the ground. "When I disarmed him, he insulted me and
drew steel." His breath was still fast, and there was hints of his
anger still in his face and absolutely no apology. "He started it and
I finished it."

Under the force of the Queen's will, Zith settled, creeling
pathetically as Loranth was made to move away. The brown was familiar
to him, far more than the queen, so he stayed close to Loranth, even
as Panitath laid her head down to seemingly comfort him. With eyes
still whirling the young bronze lifted his head, trying to see J'ackt.
}: Mine hurts. Mine needs me. :{ The smell of blood drifted to him and
he hissed softly. }: Did he kill the prey? :{

}:The 'prey' was a man. We do_not_kill men.:{ Loranth fixed little
Zith with a stern look of his own.

Sh'del loosened his grip when he felt J'ackt relax a tiny bit. Enough
to let Sh'del know that he was back to being sane. Sh'del refused to
look down at the prone man. He didn't even want to figure out how much
trouble this was going to cause N'vanik and the rest of the Weyr. He
stood still as N'vanik examined the boy, giving him as much emotional
support as physical, should J'ackt need or want either.

Panitath felt the change in the small bronze and relaxed her control.
}:Go slowly to yours and do not touch anyone else. There is no prey
here,:{ she cautioned in a motherly tone.

Cyradis turned from the injured guard as the healers came in to take
him to the infirmary. She took a step toward where the young
bronzerider lay and stood next to N'vanik. "This shouldn't have
happened," she said in a deadly voice.

"No," N'vanik agreed. "And we're going to make sure it never happens again."

Another healer arrived with a kit and bent to examine J'ackt's wound.
"He's going to need stitches. I need to clean this up."

"You can patch him up in my office. Come on." N'vanik tugged at
J'ackt. "You can join us if you'd like, Weyrwoman." He glanced over
and his eyebrow arched at how little she was wearing. She must've run
out without stopping to put actual clothes on.

Freed of J'ackt, Sh'del chivalrously took off his tunic to give to
Cyradis. Being that he was a foot and a half taller than her, it
should have covered her up pretty well.

Now that the guard was being taken care of by the healer, D'hol
offered Pierka a hand to rise and glanced at Cyradis, frowning when
Sh'del covered her. "Pity." He had been enjoying the view. His gaze
swung back to N'vanik and the boy, watching with interest.

As Sh'del released him, J'ackt stiffened, not revealing any of the
pain that stabbed at him. Now that his rage had faded, he fell back
into what had kept him safe with his father when he had been in
trouble; he betrayed absolutely no weakness.

There was a sullenness in Zith as he peered at Loranth. }: He was
hunting Mine. Mine hunted him back. He was prey. But not prey I would
eat. :{ The little bronze sighed at Panitath and eyed the prone guard
with distaste before stepping quickly away from the two older dragons
and heading towards his life mate. }: You hurt. You bleed. :{

It was hard to keep stoic when Zith was coming towards him like that.
The younger bronze wanted comfort and J'ackt didn't know how to
comfort him and keep control of his own emotions. **I'm fine, Zith.**
He tried sounding mentally confident and calm.

}:You _hurt_ :{ Zith approached, half-way nudging N'vanik aside to get
to J'ackt. He was rewarded by a stroke over his head knobs and softly
sighed. For Zith, the touch alone was comfort. J'ackt was able to
block out some of his thoughts from Zith and instead sent what warmth
and calm he had.

Turning towards N'vanik, J'ackt gave a brief nod.

After helping the healers Pierka accepted the assistance from the
Wingleader and murmured her thanks. She watched J'ackt and his little
bronze with concern and a tiny shake of her head. She wondered if he
really realized what he'd done to himself and to the Weyr.

Cyradis thanked Sh'del and shrugged herself into his tunic though it
hung off her shoulder and down to her knees. She turned toward
N'vanik. "I'm coming with you," she stated.

Last updated on the February 10th 2015

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Unchained Rage