Name: Niobet Age:38 41 Nameday: 3536.06.14 Sex: Female Sexual Orientation: Heterosexual Weyr: formerly Western, now High Reaches Weyr Rider Rank: Goldrider Previous Rank/Craft: Courtesan Physical Description: Turns of training and the usual passage of time have slimmed down some of her more generous curves, but the pleasing figure of a courtesan still lurks beneath her leathers. Klah-brown hair has been streaked lighter here and there by time in the sun, but she has never been convinced to cut her thick curls short, choosing instead to keep it braided in a somewhat-contained length that rides her spine or wound about her head like a crown of sorts. Her eyes are deceptively dark, a simple brown at first glance, but upon closer inspection or in the right light, reveal themselves to be a richer color, a hint of reddish-mahogany around the pupil. She considers them her best feature, despite the faint lines time and weather have carved around them. Her gaze is direct and a genuine smile very rare, though she smiles quite prettily when it will make a point.. She does not drift or waft when she moves, but walks with purpose from place to place. She is small enough to stand in most men's shadows, but tall enough to be impossible to overlook.
Personality: Niobet has an absolute, undeniable sense of place. If she is present and in someone's company, it's because she chooses to be there and never by chance. While she does enjoy having time to rest and will take advantage of downtime, that, too, is by her choosing, at her discretion. While she may seem at peace, she is very rarely idle.
She is outgoing and friendly enough to spare a moment for listening to anyone who wants to talk, but she's not a gossip. She has strong opinions and is neither shy nor delicate in pronouncing them, but she doesn't tell tales on others. She listens and records and takes note of who might be plotting against whom or who is pining over another, but only for her own ends. If there are rumors or whispers about her, she's happy to answer questions, but be prepared to answer questions in turn.
When it comes to her dragon and her duties, she is competent and controlled. Aedeth requires -- has always required -- a steadying hand to ground her. Time has tempered her somewhat and made them a reliable pair, even f their approach to problem solving isn't always by the book.
That's not to say that she can't or doesn't know how to have fun. She laughs, often. She has been known to sing and with a drink or two in her, she will not turn down a dance. She keeps a small circle of friends and loved ones closer than the rest, who know the woman behind the defenses and who have hear her true secrets and wishes, but only a very carefully chosen few. Those few people might recognize the fact that she keeps people at a distance not because she's that independent, but because being too close to anyone is a terrifying risk. They are the ones who know that some of her loudest laughs or most off-putting moment are the times when she feels most vulnerable. They are the only people she will ever talk to about her family. They are the few people she would, quite literally, defend to the death.
For all the rest, she can be looked to to lend a shoulder if someone is in truly in need.
She is not, however, a bauble to be collected or a notch to be cut into the wall of someone's weyr. She is not shy about sex, and her bed has seen many a body, but no one has yet managed to stay for long.
History: As is to be expected, Niobet had parents, but the most she says when asked about them is that it seems clear that there were one of each.
In truth, her father was a somewhat decent man with a knack for keeping himself out of trouble and in the business of supplying unapproved medicinals to people who knew that the dried herbs and tinctures he sold up front and center on his cart at the marketplace were not the things they truly wanted. Those he kept under lock and key. Her mother, never married to her father, worked in a brothel. Between them, they did fairly well by Niobet and her brother, Betin, and kept their children safe.
As safe as they could in Nabol Hold, at least. . As a girl, Niobet helped her father, leading both the curious seeker and the familiar customer to his cart so he could ply them with his wares. Her brother got the bigger jobs, running packages to clients who chose not to buy so openly lest they be blackmailed. When he got older, and after he'd learned to hold his own in dirty street fights, he was recruited to run with a gang of information traders, for want of a better term, playing the part of enforcer as well, when it was or is needed.
Betin and Niobet only rarely spoke to one another directly once she followed her mother into the brothel trade. It was a logical progression for a girl who'd grown up too much to go unnoticed at her father's cart anymore. Safer, her mother reasoned, since there were enforcers there to get rid of unruly men and the conditions were far more sanitary than the back end of an alley somewhere.
She would have been content, or so she thought, to stay in that life forever, perhaps one day becoming a madam herself and looking out for the girls who'd come into the trade after her. Instead, her brother got himself into trouble too deep to sort out, the kind that put him at direct odds with Lord Gansey and made the family's almost-immediate departure from Nabol a necessity. Their mother and father fled for the relative anonymity of Lemos where his knowledge of herbs and plants might, at least, lead to some sort of gainful employ if not an entirely new start. The children? Betin collected his few personal things, his little sister and the things she couldn't leave behind, and got them one way transport to Rivercrest Hold on the western continent and a whole new class of crooks and thieves.
Starting over in a new house wasn't easy on Niobet but she was adaptable and mostly willing to bide her time, so once she'd found herself suited to a new madam's tastes, she was back at work. For a time. Betin lost himself in his new-but-usual trade and Niobet entertained and smiled and flirted.
And caught the eye of a rider with a curiously insistent dragon who convinced her, on a dare, to leave the House temporarily and go back to the Weyr -- Western -- with him. He was, he bragged, so confident in his dragon's ability to sniff out a dragonrider in the making that he would pay her for her lost time if he, and consequently his dragon, were wrong.
He never paid Niobet a quarter-mark.
Aedeth, in her overbearing and not-to-be-contradicted way, introduced herself to the world with a flourish and made it very clear that she and Niobet would never again be apart. The stubborn young queen made concentrating and controlling two sets of roiling emotion a challenge, but eventually they found their balance and their grace and learned to comport themselves as they should. Most of the time.
As the result of the urge to shake off the rules, express herself and enjoy the lifting of restrictions after graduating from her Weyrlingc class, Niobet has a son. There are many things she might claim to regret as a result of impulse and urge, Petrion is not one of them. Though she was not made to deal with diapers and tantrums on her own, neither was she willing to have her son be raised entirely without her or a sense of who he was, and from whom he came. She was a regular visitor to the creche, or a nuisance, as the creche workers might have argued.
While Western's willingness to recognize initiative and offer opportunities based on merit rather than old hidebound notions of structure and order appealed to Niobet and the life she'd led before Aedeth, convincing the domineering gold that "lesser" dragons deserved her respect and attention became a mounting obstacle as the dragon grew. There had been more than a few tense standoffs between Weyrling and Weyrlingmaster, followed by more between senior riders and the junior gold. As she grew, the conflicts seemed destined to continue and something had to be done.
The decision to request a transfer to High Reaches Weyr after the pair's first seven Turns of service were concluded was a mutual one. The hope was that there, with an adherence to more traditional training, Aedeth might settle into her place and Niobet might better learn to navigate her duties without wrangling a dragon insistent on her due.
It's been eleven Turns since the move and the pair have found High Reaches' pace much easier to follow. Conflicts and temper flares are much fewer and farther between, and though Niobet might occasionally struggle with a stricter chair of command, she is optimistic; Aedeth is patiently waiting.
Niobet's son, Petrion, is 15 and therefore of Candidate age. He has been returned to me by his former player and can be adopted.
Posted: Sat Apr 18, 2020 11:55 pm
Name: Aedeth Age:16 18 Color: Gold Size: 90' Physical Description: A rich, shining gold, almost bronzed along her spine and at her points as well as the trailing edges of her wings. Her leading edges and the highlights of her hide are bright, brassy gold, like firelight in the cold of a ring. Though medium sized for a queen, she is quite long in her proportions, and as a result is not as quick to turn on a wingtip as some smaller dragons. Long wings, long limbs, when flying, walking, or just relaxing, she is the very picture of elegance... a deadly sort of beauty.
Personality: Aedeth is hardly a gold to be trusted, insidious and sly, she is a master of deceit and feeling-out weak points. She delights in finding hopes and dreams that she can toy with at her whim, and your lives are her games. It isn’t that she doesn’t take things seriously, you better believe she takes her power quite seriously indeed, but everyone else is largely unimportant or there for her amusement. And everyone is hers to toy with, this gold is rather possessive of her playthings after all, she likes to watch them and dislikes anyone trying to get between her and her amusement. Her rider, perhaps, is the single exception, though it is far from a master-slave arrangement. No, her rider is a valuable person, and the holder of the only key to this Queens complicated heart.
Relentless and unpredictable, this gold is one who will keep her Weyr, and it will be hers, on their toes at all times. That lure of temptation, that desiring sensation that comes from watching her, will lead some to fall at her feet more than once. It is so easy to covet a gold so fine, and so easy to want to follow her… but all her promises are in vain and she laughs at those who trust her or hope for a kind word. Sometimes she’ll help, and sometimes she’ll appear generous, but it’s always another ruse, another manipulation, another game. Honesty is a problem that she has never had to cope with, preferring to flourish in lies and deceit. She can twist anything you say to suit her, and may even have you believing that you agree.
Building others up to take them down is a delightful pastime for her, and she is endlessly creative and insightful as to how to do this. That’s not to say her cunning and ingenuity cannot be put towards more productive tasks and problem-solving, but her preference will always be taking people apart just to look at the pieces. Pride, self-confidence, even simple joy, you name it and Aedeth will find a way to strip it from you if it pleases her. A foolish rider would attempt to contain her, a wise one will learn how to redirect her.
That said, she is more than a little vain, and flattery might get you out of her cruel claws… or it might simply bring you to her attention. She loves power, and is loathe to share it with any who might fall beneath her… so some ‘flatterers’ might find themselves judged to be trying to mooch off of her power. Rather than simply being dismissed, these unfortunates will be twisted and toyed with until she grows bored of luring them on and decides to break them instead.
Clutches: 3561.10.18 Maiden Flight (NPC Clutch) with Bronze Garganth @ Western
3564.13.24 (NPC Clutch) with Bronze Eorawth @ Western
3568.04.14 (NPC Clutch) Bronze Rekoriath @ HR
3572.11.02 (NPC Clutch) with Bronze Zijianth @ HR
Faranth's Furies (Queen's Wing) Niobet of gold Aedeth HP: 45/45 Status Effect: N/A XP: Target Accuracy: 26 Flame Length: 8 General Stamina: 9 General Agility: 8 Between Accuracy: 9 Pain Resilience: 8 Instinct: 11 Luck: 8
Name: Z'rai (formerly Zeraiah) Age:19 22 Nameday: 3455.01.27 Sex: Female / Gender: Male Sexual Orientation: He's not sure. Women. He's pretty sure he likes women. Craft: Unofficial beastcraft. Rank: Apprentice level Location: High Reaches Weyr Physical Description: He isn't slender exactly, but narrow. Long-limbed and somehow almost graceful for all that he lacks any -true- grace; his arms and legs are a little too long for that. In another world they might call him willowy or pliable or flexible. He's not a stumbling brute, in other words, or in any danger of frightening someone in a dark alley, given that he's a couple inches shy of six feet. He has sharp cheekbones and a very straight nose, a slightly squared jaw, freckled skin and hazel-grey eyes that sometimes reflect strong colors in the sky. Dark auburn hair is cut short, but it is thick, top locks perpetually sliding forward into his eyes, the back tied into the smallest flip of a tail at the nape of his neck. Callused hands have long fingers, blunt and marked with scars here and there. His clothes are well-kept, but nothing fancy. His boots are worn and well-broken in.
Personality: First and foremost, Z'rai wants to help. It's one of the main reasons he will give when asked why he's come to the Weyr. Hands are needed, knowledge should be shared and he has both that he'd rather use than waste on idle tasks. He is hard-working and dedicated to hard work, wherever that work might take him. He shrinks at very few challenges, save perhaps cooking. Don't ask him to cook. Mend a shirt? No problem. Stir a pot? You should really find someone else.
He is friendly, if not boisterous or exceptionally outgoing. He won't give a stranger the stink eye or turn a shoulder on someone wanting a chat, but he's more likely to welcome the straggler to share his table at mealtime than he is to invite himself to the table at the heart of living cavern activity. He may not volunteer a lot in conversation, but he listens well, and he can be counted on to keep a secret if the secret's made clear. In small groups, he's a pretty decent storyteller but he will rarely seek the spotlight or a large audience.
Displays of physical affection make him uncomfortable. Not yours, necessarily, unless they're particularly intimate, but he's not so good with the physical, himself. He will shake hands and he might clap someone on the shoulder in a very happy moment, but hugs are right out. He's very aware and very protective of his little bubble of personal space. He will retreat if someone stands too close, and continue to retreat until he's backed into a literal corner. Tight spaces and restraints are also bad news in his world. He isn't afraid of the dark, but he doesn't tolerate games involving blindfolds well. Fair warning.
He has somewhat regular nightmares, and as a result sometimes suffers from insomnia. He also sometimes simply chooses not to sleep to avoid them. He is fond of the small hours of morning before people start bustling and things start happening. He also favors perches where you can see long distances across Pern, so if you're looking for him in the middle of the night, that's likely where he'll be.
Positive Trait List Helpful, friendly, patient listener. Negative Trait List Claustrophobic, guarded/reserved, workaholic.
History: Z'rai was born in a small cothold just outside Keroon proper. Born the middle child (and middle daughter) of seven, he went to work in the family trade nearly as soon as he could be trusted to walk and carry small tools without injuring himself. Though familiar with runners, of course, the family specialized in breeding and training of herdbeasts for use as work and draft teams. Z'rai learned to avoid being trampled, how to climb out of a confused mass of beasts to escape over their backs and how to sneak out to sleep with new calves before he learned to read his first word.
He did, however, learn to read. To write. To do figures, all as part of learning the trade. As he grew, however, he also learned that he could not forever track through the beast pens in borrowed trousers and oversized boots. He as a daughter of the family, was expected to learn to mend and clean and knead dough for biscuits, too. He was fitted for dresses and taught to braid. Not leather for a set of reins but hair, and not simply to keep it efficiently out of his eyes but for looks. For effect. His mother made him Turnday dresses and he wore them -- not comfortably -- but because it was expected, they were worn.
He didn't really argue his double-dutied life. It was the way of things,, it was the way it would be and he would simply accept that some things felt strange and wrong. His older sister had confessed that she didn't much like cleaning, so why wouldn't it be natural to resent the chore? His brothers fidgeted in their fancy Turnday clothes, too, so if the dresses made him feel wrong, well, weren't they all feeling the same?
It wasn't until the summer of his thirteenth Turn that it all changed. He was ready to pledge himself to the Beastcraft Hall. He was willing and eager to learn new lessons and techniques so he could come home, as his oldest brother often did, and make improvements to the family's holdings. He wanted to be able to lead teams to market, to barter and trade like his father did.
He was refused. Rebuked. Not just by his father who dismissed the idea out of hand. Not just by his mother, who argued that sometime soon he'd understand how much happier his life would be if he would simply follow his sister's lead. Not just by both his sisters, who were confused and worried and didn't understand. He was rebuked by the brothers he'd looked up to all along. His heroes, his inspirations, who had carried him on their shoulders and asked for his help mending fences and clipping hooves in earlier days. they began insisting that he "act like a girl" as well. They refused his company to market. They chased him out of the pens.
Z'rai rebelled. At first at home, refusing to do the chores "assigned" to him. He would not clean, he would not wash, but he would muck for hours on end. When that was denied him, and his sisters were assigned to keep him busy, never letting them out of their sight, he refused to eat. He found a way to sneak out of the house when all the rest had gone to sleep and he ran.
He was returned three days later by a neighbor to an embarrassed but grateful family. It was the first time he'd tried such an escape. It would be far from the last. The harder Z'rai resisted his role, the greater the threats became. One day, maybe they wouldn't look for him when he ran. One day, maybe they wouldn't take him back when he came home. Nothing ever felt dire enough to stop the rebellion, though, until his 15th Turn.
His father had threatened to marry him off, to make all this drama someone else's problem. He would wash his hands of Z'rai. In response, Z'rai ran away again. When he returned, a sevenday later, it was with a bruised hand, a blacked eye and his waist-length hair cut short, above his ears.
His father's temper erupted.
If he wanted to work, he would work, his father promised. If he didn't want the niceties of the cot, he would sleep in the barn. And he would stay in the barn, a command enforced by his father tying him before he slept every night. Knees were bound together with rope, his arms bound to his sides, and the door to the barn was barred from the outside. He was fed, he was clothed, he was allowed to wash, but his freedom was gone. He would not be allowed to embarrass the family any more and his antics would not be tolerated. If this was his choice, this was the price.
It was his life, for nearly a Turn. He fought for a time. He was stoic, after that, and then resigned. He did his chores, he ate his meals, he slept alone, when he slept, and he woke to do it all again.
Until his older sister visited to plead her case. She was getting married soon, and would be leaving. If, she bargained, Z'rai would relent a little while, Raianna promised things would get better. She had spoken with her husband to be. He had agreed that there could be room for Z'rai in their household after the wedding day. It was six months away and wouldn't a little peace now be worth it for the rest of a life to live as he chose?
He gave in. With Raianna's support and confidence to back him up, they convinced their father to lift his harsh rules. Color touched his mother's cheeks again. His brothers went back to teasing him, they way they had when he was small. His father stopped shouting. Things were as good as they could get.
And then Thread fell.
In the chaos, Z'rai lost his second oldest brother, his little sister, and the family lost half of the herd. His sister's wedding happened very quietly. Z'rai did not move into their home.
Instead, he left his grieving family, and joined a caravan traveling to High Reaches. There, he reasoned, he might do some good. He could use what he knew to help those in need. There, he imagined, he might make a name for himself. There, he hoped, there'd be no more arguments. And from there, one day, he might go home again, when lives were rebuilt and hearts restored.
But not until he could be himself.
Other: Anything else you want to add? Z'rai has started over again, since joining the caravan that headed to the Weyr. He has not told anyone the truth of his story and certainly hasn't exposed himself intentionally and is in fact very careful (and painfully reluctant) to let *anyone* in on the truth, so please don't assume it can be sussed out without some real effort.
Z'rai also has siblings that can be played. The older brother and sister would be/have been married, but tragedies happen. They are holdfolk/beastcrafters near/at Keroon. He has two younger brothers who would be Candidate age.
Posted: Sun Apr 19, 2020 7:29 pm
Kaloth
Dragon name: Kaloth Dragon Age: 2
Personality: Kaloth is the type of brown every Weyr wants and needs. He is, above all else, a dutiful creature. He knows why he was hatched, why he is here, and what his purpose is. He is here to fight Thread, to save Pern, and to ensure that life on Pern goes on. He's the sort of brown who was born prepared to work, and he knows that duty comes above all else. Everyone in the Weyr has their place, their use, and he is going to make sure that he and his rider are doing their part to make sure the great Weyr Machine runs smoothly.
Kaloth is a dragon who is judgmental and a bit fussy. On the one hand, this works out well for High Reaches Weyr. Everyone has their place, and their role to fill. He is the sort of dragon who knows that certain things must get done to achieve a goal or mission. He spends much of his time quietly judging the world. Well, if so-and-so had done a dive instead of a roll she wouldn't have wound up threadscored; if so-and-so had picked to rise yesterday instead of today, her beloved would be here to chase; if that person had only worn warmer clothes, they wouldn't be complaining about how cold it was. The brown doesn't mean to judge, and is polite enough to keep his thoughts to himself or his rider, but it simply comes as second nature. He's not trying to be cruel, he just believes he knows best.
Kaloth edges more on the traditionalist side for a brown. As he likes everything to be in their place, the traditional roles in High Reaches appeal to this brown. Everyone has their place based on the color of dragon they Impressed. Everyone knows what they're supposed to do, where they're supposed to be, at any given moment; the workers, the riders, the crafters. It makes things easy, to sort each one in their perfect place. Not because one is better than the other, but because it means everyone has a place to belong. No one is left confused. This brown is a brown who likes order, especially if means that they can better do their duty.
This brown is a bit particular. He likes routine. He likes tradition. He likes everyone being in their place. He doesn't like chaos or mess, but order. Perhaps his saving grace from turning into a fiend, though, is how much understanding this brown dragon has.
He has big hearts, and knows that though he likes things to be in their boxes, life doesn't always work that way. Some people might not fit where they were first placed; some greenriders have more ambition in their pinky than a bronzerider. Some bronzeriders aren't dutiful or don't have any desire to lead or help bring peace. Some abuse their position of power, while others want nothing more than to be someone, somewhere else. This brown will listen to their woes, and even if he doesn't agree, even if he doesn't entirely understand, it is one moment where he will keep his judgment in check. He might be traditionalist, but he certainly isn't a bully or cruel.
Additionally, he's known to be a very friendly and sociable dragon. He genuinely likes others, no matter their color or position. He likes to be around his family, likes to be around his clutchmates, and genuinely enjoys how easy it is to be sociable at the Weyr. One never lacks for company, and every heart has something of worth and value within. Different they all might be, Kaloth knows they are all one big family, meant to come together to defeat the world's greatest enemy.
Adult Size: 64' Physical Attributes: Kaloth is a brown dragon who almost looks a bit tapered. If there was a pear shape for a dragon, then this one would be it. He's definitely a bit wider in girth on his legs and tail and a little bit trimmer up top. On the one hand, he sits up nicely balanced upon his tail, and has powerful take offs from the ground. On the other, his stamina suffers a bit from the extra weight, and he's not as dexterous on wing as one might think a smaller brown could be!
Additional Notes: Kaloth is a dragon who has a fondness for cloth and clothing. He wants his straps to be of the softest leather, and his rider to have the most quality wherhide available. It's not because he's vain--it just feels much better than buying things on the cheap!
As for flights, Kaloth is a picky dragon. He finds almost as much pleasure in judging the competition as he does participating. That one surely would do better with a solid blue, while that one clearly needs a strong bronze. When he does chase, he'll do so for those he holds dear, and tends to be a loyal mate.
He might well make a great Search dragon someday.
TRESSPASSERS Z'rai of brown Kaloth HP: 32/32 Status Effect: N/A XP: Target Accuracy: 5 Flame Length: 6 General Stamina: 12 General Agility: 4 Between Accuracy: 4 Pain Resilience: 9 Instinct: 7 Luck: 9
Name: N'kin (Nalkin) Age:32 33 Nameday: 3544.06.22 Sex: Male Sexual Orientation: Heterosexual Weyr: Western Weyr Rider Rank: Wingrider Previous Rank/Craft: N/A Physical Description: The man carries himself as though he's taller tan he is. Judging by the set of his shoulders and the length of his stride, he ought to be seven feet tall, not the inch or so over six foot he actually stands. He doesn't hesitate at all, there's no hitch in his stride, and it doesn't seem to phase him whether people glare or go glassy-eyed. He does tend to catch the eye though, by simple virtue of his presence, whether his looks appeal or not.
He is the sort of handsome that might start a ripple of whispering in a quiet room. He is square-jawed and sun-browned. Though he displays no visible scars above the collar, his nose has clearly been reshaped a time or two. Sandy brown hair has been bleached almost golden in places due to his time in the sun, some locks long enough to shadow eyes a startling shade of blue, but the rest cut close, just above the ear and to the nape of his neck. He smiles quite easily and for the most part makes it look friendly and sincere. There are moments, though, when he shows just a little too much tooth and his upper lip curls instead of curving.
He is in excellent shape, not thick with muscle, but broad of both chest and shoulder and strong enough that he looks more than capable of handling himelf. His wardrobe doesn't vary much from the usual: well-worn brown leather pants and boots of the same material, clean but scuffed and worn. His shirt is very often white, though the color does sometimes vary. The cut, not so much; he prefers them loose on his frame, not binding or restrictive in any way. There is always a dagger sheathed at his right hip.
Personality: Some might call it arrogance and others self-confidence, but whatever the word, N'kin has it in spades. Outspoken and not at all shy about voicing his opinion, he's also outwardly unconcerned and unapologetic for any feelings he might hurt. If you don't like what he has to say, you're welcome to leave his company. He is quick-witted and sharp-tongued and he practices them both on his friends and enemies alike. He is proud, he is boastful, and not hesitant in the least to back up his threats with action.
He has, more-or-less, grown out of an overactive urge to start fights. Maturity, one supposes, has worn it out of him a bit. Perhaps it's security. Maybe it's his dragon's will. Whatever the reason, he's slower to be the first to take a swing than he used to be. When he does fight, particularly if it's a "friendly" brawl, he's also less inclined to fight dirty, which was his trademark once upon a time. No one should be fooled into thinking that the man can not be or is not dangerous, if pushed or taunted too far, but he's learned to control his whip-quick temper and knows better when and where too unleash, if it comes to that. In a simple disagreement, N'kin will let bygones be bygones once the moment's passed. If a grievance passes beyond a simple resolution, be warned that the man has a long memory and that he holds a grudge when he deems it warranted. He'll act on it, too. Maybe not right away but eventually, payback will come. N'kin may not be bright, but he is clever, resourceful and a schemer to boot. It make take weeks or months of planning, but he will find a way to make his rival pay.
He is a shameless flirt. N'kin can, and does, appreciate beauty in many forms. He can play the charmer if he thinks he'll get something out of it (and by something, he means more than a tumble in the furs). He knows how to flatter and he's not afraid to tease. He has gotten even less comfortable with anything resembling the romantic with other men than he was in his youth, however. In the case of a flight, rest assured that he will find a substitute for any man bonded to Koroth's catch. Outside of a flight, it is a forbidden topic. Joking or teasing might cost you a finger.
Those few people who get past his temper and quirks and get beneath the surface become his friends find him fiercely, unfailingly loyal to them. Though he cannot stomach the thought of coddling every person weaker than he is, occasionally he makes a project out of one of the softer-spoken people around. He challenges himself to be civil for an entire day, or to listen without complaint or bitter comment to stories told over supper.
And then there is the matter of his hidden heart. Flirting costs him nothing and a night shared together even less. True feeling, however, and the depths of real romance have always been a stumbling block for him. Despite Koroth's chivalrous leanings, N'kin is much more guarded with his honest heart. Peeling through the layers of solid defenses takes time and effort. Admitting to a tender feeling terrifies him, almost as much as the idea that someone might come to feel for him. It's a vulnerability he will never display accidentally and perhaps not at all.
Positive Trait List Loyal. Dependable. Charismatic. Negative Trait List Hot-tempered. Arrogant. Scheming.
History: Nalkin was born in Zanoma Camp territory, to a bluerider with such an explosive temper he'd found life in Western Weyr hard to stomach, and a woman who lived a constant struggle to live up to the near-impossible task of keeping that man content. Needless to say, it was not an easy life.
Still, Nalkin made the best of it, pulling together a small group of friends. Well. A little band of rough-edged children, more to the point. Those who could be convinced, or bullied, into following rules he set for inclusion in their ragtag band. Those he accepted became a sort of second family to him. They were subected to his temper and the rough sort of kinshio he'd learned from his father, but also protected by his fierce loyalty and determination to see them thrive as much as possible on the plains.
When he was eighteen or thereabouts, a falling out between his father and the Camp council provided an opportunity he might not otherwise have had. N'dal was exiled from the camp temporarily and Nalkin took advantage, encouraging his mother to head for the safer and better for her climate of Western Weyr, There, she would find shelter and easier employment, working in the lower caverns. She made friends, she remembered how to smile and laugh, she stopped flinching at raised voices amd she was happy. The transition was harder for and on Nalkin, and many was the night he snuck away to rejoin his friends when they were close. He might disappear for days at a time, but he always went back to check on his mother, It was an unbreakable pact.
It was during one such return that he was corralled, more or less, by a watchrider of the Weyr who swore his dragon saw promise in the young man and more, vowed that if Nalkin would promise to stay in the Weyr and Stand for one of the clutches still hatching, he would personally see to it that his mother would always be safe.
Nalkin stayed. Not because of the promise. In spite of it. He did not trust Ar'len, the bluerider who swore to be his mother's champion. He stayed to keep his eye on the blue braggart, more than for any dream or hope that he might Impress.
Which meant, of course, that he was on the Sands when Koroth called his name and the two began their lifelong journey together.
He was not a perfect Candidate. He is not a flawless rider, but Western Weyr is their home.
Other: Anything else you want to add?
Posted: Thu Apr 30, 2020 5:28 pm
Koroth
Name: Koroth Age: 14 Color: Blue Size: Average: 56' Physical Description: Koroth is of average size, with lean musculature, and no unnecessary bulk. He carries himself with distinction, and is inclined to posing. He’ll stop every now and again to allow someone else to admire him. He likes to show off while flying, and especially during drills. Well proportioned, he is built primarily for speed, not for endurance, although giving up is hard for him to do.
This is one dragon who will never give in to the slight softness of age, should he reach any sort of seniority. He simply won't allow it of himself. He is the color of a twilight sky, his wings spattered with lighter spots of color that make them seem almost star-spangled. His underbelly and throat are lighter still, making him somewhat difficult to track from the ground when he flies against a clear sky.
Personality: Men aren’t to be trusted. Koroth knows this, and knows very well that all of those grasping, lecherous, domineering others are going to take unseemly advantage of his lovely darlings. All of them. All of the Greens and the Golds are his particular concern, and his to protect. Also, not so coincidentally, his to take advantage of. Oh, but he’s doing it for their own good, he has their best interests in mind. He would never use a lady and then abandon her, but surely others would. All of the others. Very few of his fellow Blues, and even fewer Browns and Bronzes are to be trusted, and Koroth almost unilaterally sees all of his own worst flaws in his fellows.
They are, of course, all very well and good up until the question of females enters the picture. Not as good as him, as that is a height to which they cannot hope to aspire, but good enough, surely. If he looks down on them, it’s only because, well... what else can he do? He, Koroth, could not hope to stoop to their level, and has no desire to make the attempt. He might have one or two particular favorites, liegemen as he would consider them, who seem to be above the common mold, but by in large he could and would happily write the rest of his sex off. He’s okay with having a sidekick, and in fact that makes his job easier, but anything else would be beneath him.
So far beneath him. During his impressionable youth, it was easier for individuals to slip under his guard and actually become valued friends, and he does have a strong streak of loyalty. He’ll be stupid when it comes to his friends, and see few of their own negative qualities. He would valiantly defend them, even when they were in the wrong, because he views all of the things that he holds dear in that same rather rosy light. What applies to Koroth will apply to them, but Koroth still comes first. Others may call him an entitled a*****e or a chauvinist, but he doesn’t see it that way. As far as he’s concerned, he is absolutely owed the respect and esteem that befit a crowned head.
That being said, Koroth is gallant. He may not approve of his fellow males where females are concerned, but he will come to the aid of anyone he feels needs it. He may not like you, he may even hate you, but if you need him, he will doubletime it to get to your side. While he does feel a particular duty toward women, men fall under his purview as well, and he is an honorable dragon. They say that dragonmen must fly when thread is in the sky, but that applies doubly where he is concerned. His sense of duty will not allow him to leave vulnerable civilians undefended when Thread is falling, and he will chomp at the bit to be the first in the air.
He cannot abide laziness, particularly the shirking of a duty that is owed, and he will not tolerate it in a rider. He doesn’t see delegation of tasks in quite the same light, however, so long as the job is getting done. There is considerable value in a skillful administrator, and he won’t dismiss such individuals out of hand. Laziness, however, is quite another thing. Koroth may in fact actually be an entitled a*****e, but at least he’s an honorable one who takes his duties very seriously. For that he does feel he is owed recognition. Nothing in life is ever free, and his services come with the price of respect.
Koroth, at his core, is a romantic. He may be somewhat womanizing, but that, in his mind, is only because he is searching for his one, true princess, the lady he will spend the rest of his life with, and in the process of looking for love, one is bound to leave some broken hearts behind. He believes in happily ever after, and is adamant about his own entitlement to it. Surely this is one of those things that is written in the stars. If he ever does find that lady, she will be drawn into a sweeping romance, and find herself the heroine in his particular tale. That’s certainly how he’ll see it, and he will do everything he can to encourage her to see things in the same light.
Name: Rosannah Age: 24 Nameday: 3552.10.05 Sex: Female Sexual Orientation: Flexible. Primarily heterosexual but love is love. Craft: Weavercraft Rank: Journeyman Location: High Reaches Weyr
Physical Description: There should probably a rule against people who spend long days with their hands in dyepots having blond hair. There clearly isn't, though, because Rosannah;s hair is very often streaked with hints of purple and green. Dyepots are hot and hair must be pushed out of the way, and so. She keeps it short--ish, thick locks cut into a bob that brushes her shoulders and is most often tied into a spiky ponytail. Her eyes are dark brown and narrow, and she can often be caught squinting, though she claims her vision is clear. It's simply what her face does when she's concentrating. All in all, she's pretty in a very sort of holdbred, wholesome sort of way, soft curves and calloused hands pretty stunningly unsurprising. She is as she seems to be.
Her favorite outfit is a skyblue full sleeved sissal blouse that she wears with the sleeves rolled up and tied in place with variously colored bands of cloth, loose linen trousers and sandals. It is essentially her uniform, no matter weather or temperature. She protects it and is often wearing a very stained and multi-colored apron, either folded in half at the waist or tied about the neck. The only jewelry she sports is a simple pair of golden hoops in her ears.
Personality: If nothing else, Rosannah has a task-oriented, goal-focused mind. Even when she is not at work, she is guaranteed to be thinking about it, and taking inspiration from all that goes on around her. That can mean that she comes across as occasionally absent-minded or vacant, but that couldn't be farther from the truth. When her gaze goes glassy or distant, it isn't at all that she's tuning you out. She's just been struck by a thought or idea or a moment of inspiration. Rest assured that you've been heard and that she'll check back in when the moment has passed. Oh, and mind your feet and backside if she's been working nearby. She's been known to set down a needle, realize she's forgotten to stir a pot, and to lose track of where the prickly thing is until some poor unfortunate finds it lodged between his toes. Or worse. This is made worse when she's been assigned some large project, or is simply striving to achieve the -perfect- fading ombre on a length of fine fabric and must spend candlemarks checking temperatures and ties in the cloth, She might forget to eat or sleep until it's finished. It's always best to let her have a nap afterward if she's meant to wield anything particularly pointy.
She loves to laugh, and is incapable of doing so quietly. She can be heard over a crowd if the reason's good enough. If she's not buried in or distracted by work, she is most likely smiling. She respects the distances set by other people, but if not warned away is to hug or reach for an arm or a shoulder at the very least. Walk down a corridor with her and she is likely to link her arm through yours. She is very physically affectionate. (And very ticklish.)
She cares until she's given reason not to. She is a willing ear and shoulder for anyone and everyone who might need someone to listen. She will bring soups and tea to those recovering from an illness. She will surprise those who have experienced some upset little colorful gifts. If, however, you are unnecessarily mean to her or anyone within her earshot, she will remember and she will be so very slow to forgive, even going so far as to refuse to speak with the offender for days (and in one egregious case a full sevenday) until an apology is obtained.
She finds dragons delightful but also frequently startling. It's not that she's exactly afraid of them. They're just so much larger than she is and, from her perspective, sometimes unpredictable. She finds firelizards amusing and most animals make her smile. Anything with more than four legs, however, is right out and can stay Over There.
Positive Trait List Compassionate. Creative. Good-natured. Wholesome. Negative Trait List Easily distracted. Obsessive. Unforgiving of wrongs and slights.
History: Rosannah grew up believing in the music of the spinning wheel and the loom. The granddaughter of weavers, the love of textile arts is truly in her blood. Her father tailors and designs clothing, and her younger sister has followed suit. Her mother's talent lies in blankets and tapestries. Even her older brother practices, taking great pride in the quality of sailcloth he produces for shipments to the fishercraft. When it came to choosing a craft to apprentice to, there was no question.
Fortunately, as her home was already in Southern Boll, there wasn't far to go. It was no hardship to her to wake early, go to study, and return home often to help her family. Though she did learn to sew and mend and stitch as part of er training, she was always drawn to color and how it played out on a whole range of fabrics and qualities. The minute she was permitted to voice a preference of specialty, she dove into the dyepots and she hasn't looked back.
All things considered, her life has been better than many. When Thread returned, she lost a friend, but none of her family. They were lucky and she knows it, and in no small part because of the fact that High Reaches Weyr had kept up their training and preparations no matter how others mocked them or disbelieved.
Having now been asked to serve as a weaver directly within the Weyr, Rosannah readily agreed. Well. Maybe not so readily, as there are a lot of very large dragons to navigate around. Still, at the end of the day, the risk of being stepped on or bowled over by mistake is worth the gratitude she feels she owes for her safety. Besides, it's always fun to meet new people and hear how their lives have differed from hers in big and almost indistinguishable ways.
Other:Rosannah's family could be taken and played if there's interest. Her parents are both still alive. She also has an older brother (27 or so) and a younger sister (20 or so).
