An old, obsolete airship in the Temple's sky navy is being used to ferry Training Lances out for their continuing practice in beast-riding. This time, it is to be on the backs of rakhtors. For those without wings, it means that they'll be securely tethered to their mounts, to minimize the need for heroic mid-air rescues if someone falls out of the saddle. Alpha and Beta Lances have already disembarked, heading off in different directions for their specific maneuvers. Delta Lance won't be venturing as far from the "mother-ship", instead staying around a cluster of sky gardens drifting over the sea. The Lance's rakhtors have been equipped with lance harnesses for their saddles, suggesting that more will be required than merely riding the giant birds.

Tor clutches the horn of his saddle, his ears flat back, his body rigid with tension. The young Jupani squire certainly does not look like he's born to the air.

Meanwhile, the tiger-Sphynx Cryptic and the Himarian Vartan Arita Corban nod their heads every once in a while as they get a repeat of the instructions on the use of the lances, from a rodent monk. "… and don't forget to release the lance once you score a hit, by pulling here. Then, fly back to either side of the ship to catch a new lance when you're ready for another run. … "

"You be fine, Squire Sapphire," Zoltan scrawks, steadying his mount. "I bets you fly better than all three of us put together with no wings to mess up airflow on you back." He glances over to the monk and nods his own head.

Past the wooden rails lining the deck, the blue and green forms of floating sky gardens can be seen, interspersed with a few flashes of other colors here and there, due to odd flowers that happened to get tangled into the "garden" before the melons fully inflated and took off from the surface, away from their parent vine somewhere on the surface.

The melons have tough hides … said to somewhat approximate the hides of waashu, though, of course, sky gardens don't fight back, which makes them far better for training purposes.

Zoltan grins to himself, ( First potatoes and now melons… you'd think we were being trained for fighting food. ) He gives his rakhtor mount a gentle scratch on the neck as he tries to familiarize himself with the big bird.

Sergeant Yarrick is saddled up on his own mount. He secures his lance into its swivel harness attached to the saddle frame, letting it hang forward of his avian mount. A red banner flutters in the breeze, bearing the sigil of the Delta Training Lance. His uniform is more colorful than any of the Training Lance, having odd colors above and below his sleeves. This is not decoration, though – It's color coding for the sake of long-distance signaling. Broad and exaggerated hand-signs aid in getting messages to other fliers when they're not within shouting distance, but an added color association makes deciphering that much easier … for those who aren't color-blind, that is.

Zoltan's rakhtor, black as its rider, preens one wing, its neck-feathers fluffing out and then smoothing out as another gust hits the ship. Despite the occasional bump, so far it's a nice, clear day.

The black squire grasps the horn of his saddle as the bird fidgets. He's gotten used to riding somewhat over the past few weeks, but there are several things he's still new at. "Hrrr… I wonder if melons make big explosion when they pop."

Sergeant Yarrick barks, "Depends on how hard you hit it, and how ripe it is! Now … our first mission is to get off of this ship and keep in the air without running into anything! Once you handle that … we declare war on yonder sky gardens, and show them who rules the skies of Sinai! Delta Lance, are you ready?"

Training Sergeant Arita looks at the other members of her Lance.

Tor just has this look of shock on his face, like he doesn't believe he's really doing this, but he slowly nods.

Cryptic fires off an exaggerated salute to Arita, as he smiles broadly. This earns a mild frown from Sergeant Yarrick.

Zoltan pats his lance and nods, "Ready, Training Sergeant."

The edges of Arita's beak turn up into a grin, and she gives a proper salute to Sergeant Yarrick. "We're ready to face new challenges!"

Sergeant Yarrick goads his mount, and barks an order to fly off, though it's drowned out by the loud eagle-cry of his rakhtor as it spreads its wings and launches off of the deck.

"Let's go!" cries Arita, as she goads her mount and takes off a little less majestically, making an alarmed shriek as the great bird bounces over the railing.

Zoltan grips his rakhtor's reins and grits his beak. Now or never – his hoofed feet kick the bird's sides gently as he snaps the reigns, signaling it to take off.

The remaining Rakhtors launch off of the deck, and there's no telling just how well it looked to the crew. Tor makes a shriek to compete with the sound of his mount, but he quickly bites his lip, his eyes wide at the spectacle of Sinai slipping by beneath him … all the more so because his bird immediately banks into a tight turn, circling underneath the airship. "Nonononononoooo!… " he can be heard howling before he's out of range of hearing.

Cryptic's and Zoltan's mounts seem more inclined to head straight on ahead. Perhaps Tor's bird is acting up because it doesn't think it has a rider that is big enough to matter?

Pulling on the reigns to slow the bird down, the black Vartan peers down after Tor, concerned that the bird might very well shake him off.

Arita is waving her free arm, though she's having trouble keeping it out, repeatedly grabbing to the bird for support. Even if she has her own wings, that really doesn't make it any easier to keep steady in her saddle. Her arm-sign might mean "descend". Either that, or it means "Full speed ahead."

Cryptic, perhaps not having seen Tor's descent yet, seems to interpret it as "Full speed ahead," and he goads his mount to flap forward, speeding toward the sky gardens.

As for Tor's bird, it is circling and going down, but the wolf is still clinging to its back, and it doesn't appear that his harness has come apart.

Zoltan gives his bird a kick, goading it to squawk and get Arita's attention. He waves his arm in the signal for descent and drops his bird a few yards, then makes an exaggerated shrugging motion to show his confusion at the sign. ( She wouldn't leave Tor behind… )

Arita's mount is descending as well. It looks like Zoltan made the correct interpretation. Sergeant Yarrick appears to be circling to head off Cryptic – and probably to correct his mistake.

Meanwhile, Zoltan's mount squawks loudly as it descends. It's hard to tell just what Tor's bird is doing, but it looks like it has leveled out its descent somewhat, making circles over an updraft.

Nodding, Zoltan swoops down after Arita. He waves his arm and points to himself, points to Tor, makes a motion as though he were picking up and grabbing something, and then makes a questioning shrug. ( Should I go and get him? )

Arita flies closer, then holds up her left talon, and brings her right one to swoop under, then up and in front of the left talon. She points to herself, then makes a "come along" gesture … and then she goads her mount into dropping like a rock. She lets out another shriek as it folds in its wings and bombs downward. Hopefully that's what she had in mind.

Swallowing hard, the black squire follows after Arita in the same dive-bombing motion.

Arita's mount levels out, and she's slammed into her saddle as it arcs back upward. She strains at the reins, and pulls the bird around to head off Tor's mount. She is apparently trying to herd it, but it's hard to do that alone.

Meanwhile, Cryptic's mount can be seen descending, though he's far behind. Sergeant Yarrick is coming last of all.

Zoltan eggs his own bird to follow along the other side of Arita's, trying to close off another escape route for the renegade rakhtor.

Tor's rakhtor weaves back and forth, but the herding works, and it settles into a forward glide for the time being. Tor, meanwhile, untangles a few of his harness straps, and gets upright in his saddle again. That done, he waves vigorously to Zoltan … and then looks sick.

Cryptic finally catches up, flying his mount below Tor's. Well, below and slightly to one side. It doesn't bode well to stay under a rakhtor.

"Hang in there!" Zoltan scrawks, bringing his mount in closer. "Tor, you can do this, just show it who top wolf is!"

Tor holds up his free hand and nods, then he tries guiding his rakhtor upward. It complies, apparently having had its tantrum of the minute. Arita struggles to give directions to get the Lance into formation as it climbs back up to the level of the airship and the sky gardens again.

Carefully, Zoltan tries to guide his bird where indicated. ( Not a good start, but it could have been worse. We recovered very well, I think. )

The loose formation makes its way back up to altitude, and flies along a bit. Tor's rakhtor doesn't act up this time. At last, Arita seems to be satisfied, and she makes the "Start your runs" signal with her free hand. She starts by picking a sky garden (There are five patches afloat.) and charging at it, lance-first, her red Delta banner flipping wildly in the wind.

Zoltan pulls his own lance free and aims it towards the same sky garden, going at it from the other side, his eyes scan the ground for an appropriate target.

Each of the five sky gardens is held aloft by a single, great "melon", of a color ranging from deep azure to sky blue. Around this melon is clustered a dangle of green vines, and assorted flowers and even a few smaller versions of the "melons".

Arita charges at one of the melons, trying to plant her lance in the heart of the central bulb.

Could it be beginner's luck? Arita not only spears the melon like a pro … but she releases the lance perfectly once she gets a secure plant, and her mount wings on past as the melon swells around its wound, and then blasts in half! The sky garden starts fluttering down toward the Sea of Himaat.

The second sky garden appears to be a prime target for Zoltan, who is second in the flight. It looks pretty much like the first, though maybe it has a few more of those purple blossoms than the first one did.

Swallowing hard, the black Vartan takes aim and dives towards the sky garden. His hand grips the lance in a firm but easy hold as he tries to keep it steady but easy to let go if he scores a hit.

Alas, Zoltan doesn't get that same twist of beginner's luck that Arita did. His aim is decent … but he was perhaps just a bit too ready to release the lance. His lance strikes the surface of the melon … but he releases the latch an fraction of a second before he gets a decent plant. The tip of the lance breaks off, imbedding itself in the melon, but it's a slow leak at best, and the rest of the lance plummets downward toward the Sea of Himaat.

Arita nods to Zoltan, and makes a twirling motion with her free hand, as she circles back toward the airship.

Cryptic doesn't do any better than Zoltan. It looks like he didn't release too soon, but his attack just wasn't fully square on, just raking the melon. This sent Cryptic too far out of balance, and he probably released the lance to avoid going into a tumble.

"Again then," Zoltan scrawks to himself, he spurs his Rakhtor around to pick up a new lance from the airship.

There's a loud *POP*, and a lupine squeal can barely be heard, as Tor's rakhtor sails through the shredded remnants of the sky garden he attacked. Two down, three to go … though Tor's rakhtor is now trailing a few flowery vines that have snared themselves about the Jupani cub. He wrestles to dislodge them.

Following after Arita, the black squire guides his bird towards his new lance. ( This looks almost as hard as spearing… except it's in reverse. )

Arita proves to be not quite so graceful at picking up her next lance. Whoops. She pulled it from the ship … but promptly dropped it. She visibly slumps in her saddle, but wings around to make another pass. Zoltan, however, manages to grab the lance with a minimum of fuss and attach it to his harness without incident. His already well-honed talents just need a little practice with this particular type of weapon to pick it up, but he's catching on quickly.

Cryptic and Tor get their next lances, and Tor finally frees himself of most of the tangling vines. Sergeant Yarrick carries up the rear, still carrying his original lance.

Setting his beak, Zoltan readies for his second pass, pausing in flight to allow the Training sergeant to take her proper position up in front.

Arita's beginner's luck appears to have worn itself out. She manages to spear the sky garden and to release the lance properly … but nothing happens. The lance is apparently stuck through the garden … but it seems to have buried itself in the surrounding foliage, not the central buoyant melon itself.

Taking up his lance, the black Vartan tries to bring down another sky garden. His eyes seek out what he hopes is the center and he tries to hold his lance steady as he dives in.

The lance plunges into the bulbous sky melon, ripping through the thick hide. The impact jerks the Vartan and his mount. The timing of the release of the lance is just a bit off … and the lance breaks and splinters. However, it's not enough to cause anything other than an unpleasant jolt. The sky garden obligingly explodes, raining leafy shrapnel toward the Sea of Himaat.

Zoltan circles his bird around and gives it a scratch on the neck as a reassurance. "Well… try, try again!" He circles his bird back for a new lance.

Cryptic's next lance … joins the others in the ocean below. Tor, however … what a lucky wolf! Another sky garden explodes dramatically, and this time he manages to keep clear of the falling debris.

"Good aim, Squire Sapphire!" Zoltan scrawks, giving the Jupani cub a thumbs-up.

Tor's voice can't be heard, but he looks as if he's laughing and enjoying himself now.

Laughing as well, the black squire tries to grab another lance from the airship as he flies past.

Zoltan is definitely getting the hang of this, and he picks up his next lance without trouble. The rest do similarly well, proving themselves quick learners.

Four are down. One … no, wait, there's another that just drifted in. It doesn't have as much foliage as the rest, but it still presents an inviting target.

The black Vartan readies his ebony mount and his lance and flies into position, waiting for Arita's command again.

Arita's beak forms a grin … and she enthusiastically gives the "attack" signal again.

Arita charges the last remaining sky garden of the original five. Her lance plunges into it, and she releases it on time. However, it doesn't seem obliged to explode dramatically just yet. Zoltan could either try finishing it off, or going for the new target.

Kicking his black bird into action, Zoltan makes a dive for the newer island, just in case the other one decides to explode while he's next to it.

As Zoltan approaches … the newer sky garden moves. It … it has tentacles!

Someone on the airship must have noticed as well. A horn blares – the "Retreat" signal.

"Yark!" Zoltan scrawks and tries to veer his mount out of the way, he does not want to spear a waashu, if they really are as explosive as people say.

The rakhtor lets out a shrill cry, probably as surprised as Zoltan is. Cryptic makes a tight turn as well … but Tor just lets out a happy howl as he charges toward what he must think is a "sky garden" still.

( Oh Star! It'll kill him… there's only one thing to do… ) Zoltan grips his lance tighter and makes a dive at the beast, intent on plunging his lance into it before the Jupani gets too close.

Zoltan's mount spins about again, perhaps confused by the sudden change of plans … but it obeys. Zoltan's steed plunges forward. Tor's expression flashes annoyance. Perhaps he thinks Zoltan is trying to steal the target from him after abandoning it once?

A barely visible tendril lifts up at Zoltan's approach. Supposedly, those tips have poisonous barbs… If this is a waashu, it might not be a fully-grown one. If it were, it wouldn't have passed so easily for a single-melon sky garden.

The Vartan sends his bird into a power-dive, his lance trained on the heart of the beast. He kicks the bird again, trying to encourage it to scream an alarm signal. He gives the reigns a yank to try and miss that raised arm, and he prays fervently to the Star as his lance seeks its mark.

The black squire's lance finds its mark, right in the middle of the mass of the waashu while his black Rakhtor shrieks at the top of its lungs. He spurs the bird away just as quickly, madly waving to Tor to get out of the way and trying to aim his own mount to buzz him unless he flies out of the way.

Tor seems to have been racing on his own, but his already-jumpy rakhtor flutters out of the way, at the obstacle presented by Zoltan's flight. The lance sticks in the waashu, and is away from its mounting. Now, considering what is supposed to happen next, it is time to get clear.

Not needing to be told twice, Zoltan sends his bird power-diving down to gain speed and then angling back up to use the speed for distance.

The waashu's wound swells outward, forming a bubble that almost becomes as large as the waashu's body itself … and then it bursts open. The waashu's tentacles flail as its thick hide tears apart … and it flutters down toward the Sea of Himaat.

Tor's mount is flapping full-speed back to the airship, whether Tor likes it or not.

After the explosion, Zoltan urges his own bird back to the ship, giving it a firm pat on the neck as he does so. "I'm going to make sure you gets fed well tonights." He grins.

Back on the deck of the ship, Alpha, Beta, Delta and Gamma Lances are gathered, the only four to go out on this particular mission today.

A monk stands before them. "You have done well today in your respective missions." The Rath'ani adjusts his spectacles. "Of course, though, I would like to make special mention of the events that transpired during Delta Lance's mission… " He turns to regard the four Squires.

Zoltan hangs his head a bit, coughing softly.

The monk continues, "This presents a difficult situation. Squire Sapphire, I am sad to say, clearly went against commands by charging, even though the retreat had been called out."

Tor's ears droop, and he whines softly.

"Now, more difficult, is how to explain Squire Cambio's situation. Yes, he went against the order to retreat. In battle, it would be unacceptable, even if one of your fellow warriors is behaving foolishly."

Zoltan simply nods his head, willing to accept any punishment given to him. He can almost count the potatoes now…

"Let it be known," says the monk, "that his actions – in this situation – were for the better of his comrade. This was a training exercise. The waashu was not a planned addition to it. It is to our shame that it evaded our scouts."

"However," says the monk, "our rules still stand. Squire Cambio, your heroic efforts are much admired. But you still disobeyed an order to retreat. By our rules, you must be punished."

The black Vartan nods his head. "I understand, sir."

The monk says, "Squire Cambio, please report to the Head Cook when you return to Golgotha." The monk turns to the whole assembly, then says, "Good flying. Dismissed."

Cryptic walks up to Zoltan and pats him on the shoulder, then pantomimes peeling potatoes. "I'll volunteer for kitchen duty tonight, okay? I'll keep you company."

Tor whimpers. "I think I'm already there. Probably for a whole week!"

"Thank you." Zoltan smiles, patting Cryptic's shoulder and then fuzzling the cub's head to indicate no hard feelings. "It's good exercise for the hands, at least."

Arita shakes her head. "I will volunteer as well. It wouldn't do for me to be without my Lance." She winks.

Tor whispers, "I'll do better next time. Honest."

The black squire pats Tor's head again. "We learn from our mistakes. I still think you goings to make a great Black Lancer someday."

Tor's face quickly turns into a smile. "You think so?" His tail wags vigorously.

Cryptic laughs. "You already seem to have the lancing part down pat!"

"Sure! You speared that island like a charm!" Zoltan grins and then turns to smile at Arita, "So did you, Training Sergeant. Maybe you can give me lessons someday."

Arita smiles, then punches Cryptic in the arm. "We still have to get you in shape, though, Stripes!"

Cryptic feigns injury. "Oh! My ego!"

Zoltan laughs warmly. "I'll see you in the kitchen then. As for me, I promised my rakhtor a treat."