Name: D’amir Age: 40 Sex: Male Sexual Orientation: Heterosexual Weyr: Western Weyr Rider Rank: Wingrider Previous Rank/Craft: Journeyman Trader/Transporter, former Wingsecond – Fire Storm Wing in 2017-18 Physical Description: D’amir is the “wholesome bronzerider” type. He has wavy blond hair, tanned skin, and eyes of pale blue, a pleasant smile and a fair height of 5’11”. Then there’s the broad shoulders, a strong jawline, and some stubble for that masculine touch to prevent him from looking like a juvenile.
Personality: D’amir is often seen smiling, at peace with the world. He possesses a deep voice and loves to belt out seaman’s ditties. He’s good at selling things, be it goods or ideas, due to his past life as a trader. Because of that bit of history, he will sometimes unconsciously stretch the truth a bit, or paint it with rosier colors than it really is. He’s good with numbers, and can tell time and direction by a quick glance at the sky.
After being thrust into the world of dragonmen through a surprise Impression, he has lost most of his ambition, instead merely taking things as they come until he lands in a comfortable place where he can work well with decent pay. Though Delfrith has the instincts and interest for higher rank someday, D’amir has no desire to climb any higher than Wingsecond and isn’t even certain he’d be qualified. He’s still a bit stuck on the whole color aspect of rank presented at High Reaches, and feels that a bronze’s station is a little above him.
Positive Trait List Cheerful, intelligent, good salesman Negative Trait List Deceptive, unmotivated, not confident in his abilities
History:
Donamir was born at Tillek Hold and grew up on the sea. As an adult, he’d become a Journeyman Trader and Transporter, serving the western shore and rivers of the northern continent from High Reaches Hold to Southern Boll Hold. One of the ship’s stopovers after delivering goods to High Reaches Weyr happened to coincide with a Hatching, which Donimar and the other crewmates attended. It was quite the surprise when Donamir Impressed bronze Delfrith from the stands. He was twenty-nine, and should have been too old to Impress, they said. But dragons knew best, they said. Welcome to High Reaches, they said.
After the freedom he’d known at sea, he hated the constrictive environment at High Reaches, which he’d neither asked for nor expected. Suddenly a whole weyr full of strangers had taken over his life and demanded that he should fit into this obligatory role of ambition and arrogance that was foreign to him. The only thing that made this period bearable was Delfrith, who was a natural comforter. But what he saw there between the riders of “higher” and “lower” dragons rankled him. Being a bronzerider himself, he had enough sway to occasionally stop some bullying, but he was still fairly low on the ladder, with only a newborn dragon to his merit.
A couple of months into this new life, D’amir made the mistake of trying to help a greenrider named L’fer. Not only did he get laughed at by the bronzer gang doing the bullying – he also received quite the shiner from the greenrider as a thank-you for making things that much worse. The incident led to punishment for the both of them, as Delfrith put up such a racket that half the Weyr knew something had happened. D’amir suspected that in the heat of the moment, L’fer hadn’t realized he was punching a weyrling, and didn’t hold it against him. But those in charge did. L’fer was marked as a real problem in their eyes – he should have known better than to fight with a new weyrling! What if he’d caused the hatchling to go between? What would he have done then?!
D’amir’s dogged efforts at smoothing the situation were fruitless. It left him feeling indebted to the greenrider, and he made a few earnest attempts to befriend the man, but hadn’t quite succeeded by the time L’fer and green Morpeth left the Weyr. Though he knew these scenarios happened often at High Reaches, he still felt that this particular departure was his fault.
Rather than continue to support that elitist society, D’amir and Delfrith also departed after graduation, returning to the sea. But its hold on him had weakened since D’amir had sailed his last before joining with his bonded. The sound and smell of the waves were as beautiful as he remembered, his crewmates still the best people he knew, yet the man felt incomplete. It wasn’t long before he realized that his sense of incompleteness was actually young Delfrith’s natural desire to return to the Weyr to be part of a fighting wing with other dragons. They were one, now, and would have to find a place in the world that completed them both. As High Reaches was not a place the rider ever cared to set foot in again, they agreed to try Western Weyr instead.
Though it had a few political oddities of its own, Western was a vast improvement over their first weyr. Ambition wasn’t forced on a bronzerider and wasn’t discouraged in riders of other colors. Everyone was free to fall into the roles where they fit best. After a short period of testing the waters, the pair decided to stay and trained as wingriders for the better part of nine turns.
During that period, L’fer and his green also came to Western. D’amir recognized him instantly, but kept his distance and didn’t try to force some sort of reunion, not knowing how well he would be received. If the greenrider held a grudge, he didn’t want to stir up trouble. But it was the dragons who quickly brought them together, so to speak. Though D’amir was the sort to choose a nice lady partner after a flight and then go on with business as usual the next day, Delfrith wanted to dote on Morpeth after he caught her, as the green seemed to be out of condition and was feeling unwell. Delfrith’s concern for Morpeth was serious enough to pull D’amir right into the thick of it, leading to that reunion with L’fer that he’d been avoiding.
L’fer was a bit unsure of him at first, but the fact that D’amir and Delfrith were at Western, and thus had also abandoned High Reaches, carried a lot of weight. While taking care of their dragons’ needs, the two men finally had an actual conversation, during which they both admitted they each thought the other held a grudge over that ill-fated punch so many turns ago. Suddenly, the colors of their dragons meant absolutely nothing, and they realized that they had missed out on what could have been a good friendship.
They were still a little awkward for some time after that, but they ended up being assigned to the same wing, where they had almost-daily contact. Over time they came to trust each other, and as he became more adjusted to the relaxed atmosphere at Western, L’fer’s leadership qualities began to re-emerge. D’amir wasn’t exactly surprised when L’fer was promoted to Wingleader, but he did find it terribly amusing, after his short immersion in the traditional ways of High Reaches, to see a relatively tiny green outranking his massive bronze. His amusement about it is always warm, even borderline affectionate, and he chuckles every time he sees Delfrith and Morpeth beside each other, the bronze bowing his enormous head in deference whenever she gives him an order.
Physical Description: Big, cuddly dragon! (To be better described when art is obtained!)
Personality: Delfrith is a vast, warm, living sponge there to gather you into his arms and physically soak up all the dirt and rotten leftovers piling up in the kitchen sink of your soul. If you’ve been hurt and need a hug, or someone to vent to, or you’re feeling lonely, or even just a little bored, he’s here for you.
He really does care, but his natural way of preserving his own health is to let others’ problems disappear from his thoughts almost instantly after hearing of them. A few days later, he may not even recall what they told him in the first place, unless it was something very, very serious. If there’s anything that might need to be remembered, it will be reported to D’amir before the forgetfulness sinks in.
Things related to his wing and wingmembers will always be reported. He’s a smart dragon, but not always sure what’s relevant and what isn’t, so he’d rather bother D’amir with too many details than end up watching a frustrated wingmember get upset or make a silly mistake that could have been avoided. As a bronze, his wingmembers are very important to him, and he feels responsible for their well-being and performance, even if he isn’t Wingleader. Delfrith could see himself as a Wingleader someday, but for now he’s content to let his rider set the limits he’s comfortable with.
This bronze will always chase a rising gold, but his hearts lie with the greens. He finds them enchanting in their speed and grace, something a bronze of his bulk can only watch and dream of matching. When he does manage to catch one of these dancing pixies, it is a cause for celebration, though none have yet wanted to keep him around for very long afterward.
Name: Farinalgo Age: 25 Sex: Male Sexual Orientation: Heterosexual Craft: Harper (Teacher, plus some flute and vocal to pass general requirements) Rank: Journeyman Location: High Reaches
Physical Description: You’d be looking at a slim, neatly-dressed man just a sniff over six feet tall. His dark hazel eyes, appearing nearly black, stand out in a light-skinned face framed by white-blond hair. His emotions are usually clearly expressed on his oval-shaped face unless he is consciously controlling it, and his smiles and frowns are formed by full, pouty lips.
Personality: Farinalgo’s biggest weakness and biggest strength is that he lives for the approval of others and loves to be the center of attention. He’s a genuine mood-maker, always trying to be funny and uplifting. He’ll be the one who always dances as if he is drunk, even though he can hold enough to drink most of his friends under the table. His specialties are jokes and physical humor. He does it expecting to see a positive reaction and gets very stressed if he doesn’t get it, sometimes resulting in bitter, sarcastic remarks and bouts of sulking afterwards. His tendency to enjoy being in the spotlight gives him a particular aptitude for teaching. He has no stage fright, speaks well, and just adores being an authority on any subject and being able to enlighten a rapt audience.
Another charm of Farinalgo’s is that his emotions are powerful and worn on his sleeve. His happiness is everyone’s happiness. The unfortunate part of it is that he cries easily, happy or sad – though he’ll fight it for the sake of pride and keeping others comfortable, and that he is a decent loser, but a poor winner and can get abrasively cocky about it.
Something Farinalgo tries to keep on the down low is the fact that he can’t swim. He hates water and, by virtue of involving wetness, bathing. He does bathe regularly, but it is always a trial with rampant moping afterward. He loves sweet tubers and toasted bread, and his favorite drink is half milk, half klah. As far as romantic preferences, he’s most drawn to heavier girls with pretty curves and fair skin.
Positive Trait List Energetic, entertaining, outgoing, eloquent Negative Trait List Sarcastic, prideful, delicate, needy
History: Farinalgo grew up in Fort Hold, born to parents Iamagyol and Farnilene. He was not raised by both of them, however. Farnilene passed away within hours of his arrival, due to a difficult birth. His father remarried a woman named Terrila. His older brother Ayolfaril was never close, always seeming to have better things to do than spend time with him. He got along well with his three younger half-siblings, however. The first of them, Arrimyl, was only about a turn later in coming.
Early on, Farin showed a propensity for attention-seeking, possibly in part because of Ayolfaril’s rejection and because of the desire to have the approval of his step-mother Terrila. It’s not that she ever rejected him. It was just that he knew he wasn’t her son, not really, and he wanted to be certain of her love at all times. As soon as was proper, his proclivities were channeled in the form of a harper apprenticeship. He went into teaching, where all eyes would be on him, and he’d be able to show-and-tell to his heart’s content. The musical aspects of the specialization were just sort of tacked on, as the Teaching Songs were considered necessary for children to learn numbers and other basics.
In his sixteenth turn, his elder brother Ayolfaril was searched and went to High Reaches Weyr. Four turns later in 3564AL, younger Arrimyl followed. Both of them Impressed, but Farinalgo had no contact with them except through Arrimyl (now A’myl)’s letters, which often expressed a hope that Farin would be Searched and come to the Weyr, too. Then, unexpectedly, A’myl came home in ‘66 – riding his white dragon. Coming face to face with a dragon small enough to live in the house triggered something in Farin’s psyche. Ohhhhh, how he would have loved to have a dragon of his own! It would be the ultimate in show and tell – a thousand lessons could be taught on history, medicine, biology, flying, flight formations, between... nearly any subject, with an incredible live example to drive the point home.
And he’d have to get one of his own to live out that dream. A’myl had become quite defensive during those two turns he’d been at the Weyr, and was utterly unwilling to allow Viyanakerth to be, in his words, “exploited.” The two half-brothers had always gotten along well, but those two turns apart were apparently enough for puberty and negative life experiences to force them to start over when they came face to face again. And, frankly, A’myl now found Farinalgo and his enthusiasm annoying.
Farin really hadn’t known or understood just how badly his brother had been treated at the Weyr, and A’myl certainly wasn’t talking about it, so this perceived rejection cut deep. Farinalgo tried to mend their relationship, but instead of getting closer to the whiterider, his attempts were usually spurned or misinterpreted, leading to a lot of frustration. And Farinalgo, when frustrated, would say some things he didn’t really mean.
When A’myl completed his Harper apprenticeship and walked the tables five turns later, he and Viyanakerth went back to High Reaches. The brothers’ relationship was tenuous at best by then. They still communicated, but their letters then were pretty spiritless, and not so regular.
However, Farinalgo’s passion never flagged, and he was over the moon when he was Searched in ‘73 and came to High Reaches as a Candidate. He has done quite well learning to submit to structure and not being the teacher thus far, but it is still fairly common for the Candidatemaster to slap him with punishment after punishment for being disruptive in class (usually by trying to take it over) or a little too enthusiastic during a dragon-related chore.
Other: He had a drowning experience as a child, which is why he hates water.
Blue Yudokhath Written by Teiha Colored by stella cinere
Origin of Name: 유력한, which can be romanized as the name Yu Ryeok Han, is a Korean word meaning “potent, strong, effective, ruling.” Yudokhath’s personality, while laid back, is strong and self-contained when compared to his rider’s. He exists to lend his strength to Farinalgo, applying it in such a way so as to be more effective than any other influence in the man’s life. In short, he’s the yang to Farin’s yin.
Inspiration: “Lesson Number One” is a song from Disney’s Mulan II, sung by Mulan and a group of little girls from her village during a training montage. It’s a song about being balanced and well-rounded—for example, able to be both strong and gentle when necessary, and being brave even if you’re scared. And maybe NOT CRYING even though your emotions are wildly stirred. The inspiration was chosen more to be about the completion that occurs when a dragon and rider bond than either being particularly balanced on their own.
Personality: This blue is a well-spoken dragon who loves a good conversation, especially when had from a comfortable, scenic view. He’d very much rather be doing that than wing drills or actually fighting thread—when he’s old enough, that is. The occasional flight of fancy, leisurely paced for the sole pleasure of flying with his rider, would be ideal. Perhaps as a tangent to his preference for putting in the smallest amount of effort required, Yudokhath despises handholding and refuses to do it. He’ll be nice the first time, but after that, it’s a cold fish to the face to anyone who expects the sympathy to keep flowing. “Sink or swim” is his peculiarly appropriate motto.
That attitude might tweak the feelings of more sensitive types, but it would be a rare occasion that he would treat someone that way out of actual anger. He’s generally very laid back and positive, if a little self-focused. He likes to present himself as being charming and having it together, making use of polite words and flattery.
Adult Size: 25’ Physical Attributes: Yudokhath’s disposition toward indolence inclines him to be a tad overweight, but he is otherwise rakishly lanky. If he were human, he’d be considered vulpine-like, tall and slim, lacking in both bulky muscles and feminine softness. His tail is extra long, wingspan narrow from front to back but wide from tip to tip, and his eyes are often narrowed in a peaceful expression that can occasionally be mistaken for sleepiness.
Additional Notes: He tends to not chase very often, unless he is especially attracted to a rising green or another male riles him enough to join. He’s just too lazy to care all that much.
Theme Song: Mulan II — Lesson Number One (There are really no covers or remixes of this, unless you want to be made very uncomfortable trying to sit through one.) Egg: Yellow and Freckled Egg
Why Me? Let’s face it: Farin needs to learn some balance. I mean, the bloke cries at anything even remotely moving or painful. And he can get bloody annoying when he’s happy, too. Just calm down a little, all right?
What was that about balance, Yudokhath? Who’s the lazy one around here? Farin’s energy and social aptitudes will help to lovingly force Yudokhath out of his slothful ways. And nothing counteracts vanity like a bit of tasteful filth, am I right? Bath time will be quite an adventure for this pair, no doubt about it.
Despite his focus on decorum, Yudokhath is willing to get up from his comfy spot and join in on the fun as long as Farin can remember to curb himself. He enjoys the spotlight as much as his rider, and would be a perfect assistant for any lesson or demonstration Farinalgo can come up with. Farin has shown time and time again that sympathy only weakens his ability to control his emotions—Yudokhath is more than happy to show this wilting flower some tough love. Both boys have some aspects that are a bit out of proportion, but the other has something to help make up for it, while also strengthening each other’s good traits. As the song says, one is not enough, you need both together.
Teiha
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Teiha
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Posted: Sat Oct 21, 2017 4:50 am
Recent history, by turn:
3573.06 [SRP] RP Title – Short description
Relationships:
Posted: Sat Oct 21, 2017 4:51 am
Name: Lyqa Age: 18 Sex: Female Sexual Orientation: Heterosexual Craft: Feline Handler (Local Patrol/Tracking) Rank: Apprentice Location: High Reaches Weyr
Physical Description: Lyqa is a fairly average-looking girl, about five feet high with grey-blue eyes and light skin. Her hair is shoulder-length, bleached with dark brown roots. She tends toward a mix-and-match dress style, an artifact of growing up with mountains of hand-downs from numerous siblings and cousins. An observant person might notice she is missing two-thirds of her left pinkie finger. She has an elaborate piercing on her left ear in memory of said finger, but won’t say anything else about it. The only other notable thing about her is that she's got a bit of an accent and strongly rolls her R’s when speaking.
Personality: With the big cat Caan at her side, and in most situations without, Lyqa is not afraid of anything. Coming from a very large family, she’s pretty confident with other people, treating all with respect and whatever degree of familiarity they’re comfortable with. If a complete stranger is amenable to it, Lyqa will speak like they’re old friends, asking all manner of personal questions as if catching up after a long separation. It was quite common in her family’s caravan to not speak with a particular relative for months, sometimes even forgetting their name by the time she’d run into them again, so this kind of behavior is second nature to her.
Self-identity and independence were not greatly appreciated in her family, so those strengths were put to the test many times growing up. If she did something wrong and got ratted out by another kid in the caravan, she’d return the favor at the very next opportunity… and the second and third. She wasn’t much for tattling, preferring to manipulate circumstances or people to get the offender into trouble, or more trouble.
She HATES any sort of physical altercation but is actually prone to physically lashing out if she is startled or suddenly angered. Thankfully, she doesn’t have many instant-rage triggers. Seeing someone be unjustly punished or otherwise grossly mistreated can do that particular trick. She is glad she doesn’t have to deal with rank at the Weyr as a feline handler, and is perfectly happy to do her duties without being worth the notice of anyone in charge.
Positive Trait List Fearless, shrewd, protective, outgoing Negative Trait List Manipulative, impatient, vindictive
History: Lyqa grew up in a large, clannish family of nomads. Life was hard, and out of a sense of necessity most of the parents were harsh and beat their children when they erred. It was effective in keeping the caravan safe and supplied, so the tradition carried on. Lyqa was one of those who learned how to avoid punishment, by behaving properly of course, but also by being sneaky and managing not to get caught.
At age fourteen, a juvenile male northern maned cat menaced Lyqa while she was scouting out in the wild. He chased her but seemed too tired to actually catch her. It turned out that he had actually been herding her toward a specific place—he needed her to fetch the carcass of an animal that had fallen into a hunter’s pit trap where he could not reach it without getting trapped himself. Lyqa roped the carcass and hauled it out for him. After that, she was able to interact with the cat regularly as her family happened to be camped near his lair. She often “visited” him by sitting quietly and watching at a distance or leaving gifts of food where she knew he would find it. Often, he would watch back. Lyqa loved this communion with a proud, strong creature who didn’t nag her, hit her or force her to do chores. She dubbed the feline “Caan.”
A few months after their first encounter, Caan had come to trust Lyqa enough to actually speak to her. He told her that a band of rogue males had recently taken over his birth pride, killing or driving away all the other males. He had survived the takeover, but was still too young and inexperienced to thrive on his own. He had been close to starving to death when he found Lyqa and prompted her to help him get meat. Her gifts of meat that followed, honorably given out of friendship rather than pity, had helped him survive since then. Now he was stronger, and felt ready to move on to new hunting grounds, but he was tired of being alone.
When he joined Lyqa and her “pride,” it didn’t cause much of a stir among the humans, as there had always been several feline handlers in Lyqa’s family. Lyqa was the first to bond with a northern maned cat, however, the majority of felines in the caravan being colorful, eye-catching species to help the entertainers. She was lucky in that she was able to get some proper handler training from a relative who had already earned their mastery.
Having Caan at her side made Lyqa even more independent, and she was soon just as eager as her feline friend to find new “hunting grounds.” When the caravan passed through High Reaches territory, Lyqa learned that the Weyr was offering very good pay to join the patrol to help protect its livestock and dragon eggs from raiders. The timing and the marks were just right, so she and Caan left the caravan to become full-time residents of the Weyr.
After Threadfall, as the dragon population at High Reaches skyrocketed, the feline patrol became less critical to the Weyr’s survival. They still patrol the surrounding forests and other places dragons can’t fly through, but have expanded their repertoire to include duties such as hunting and gathering for the stores and escorting unprotected visitors on foot for a distance in and out of the Weyr.
FELINE Name: Caan Type: Northern Maned Cat Age: 5 Physical Description: Approximately 6’7 tall, 14’ long (assuming these are larger than terran cats?). Caan is deep-chested with heavily-muscled rear quarters and red-brown fur with lighter undersides. He has a white snip on his nose, chin, tips of his toes, and a brush of white fur at the tip of his tail. His eyes are dark orange with brown tear-streak markings. Personality: Caan is an independent and rather arrogant cat. He is very aware of his large size and uses it to his advantage, particularly when dealing with other felines. He has a personal code of honor, based around the belief that a healthy adult should always be able to take care of himself and those around him who are weaker. For example, when he was unbonded, Lyqa gave him meat. If she’d known he was starving and that was why she offered it, he would have rejected it because he didn’t want to be pitied. But she hadn’t known, and gave the meat as a gesture of friendship, so he accepted. He LOVES blankets or clothes made of wool, and will purr and roll on them like a contented house feline when he thinks no one is watching.
Physical Description: Oval-shaped face, dark skin. Very pale blue hair, blue eyes and eye shadow. 4’9, all curves, and dresses to maximize them. She has often been mistaken for a child due to her height, which is one of her reasons for dying her hair an unusual color and dressing the way she does. She has extensive burn scarring down the left side of her neck, shoulder and arm, and most of the surface of both hands.
Personality: Venin desires complete independence. She doesn’t like anyone forcing their will upon her, be it an order from authority or coercion from other sources. Anything that takes away her self-sovereignty is an enemy. The only exception to this aversion are the orders of her Wingleader, particularly in drills or a fall. Thread took everything away from her, as far as she is concerned, and she hates it with a deep passion.
She also hates thinking ahead, largely because every time she does, she pictures failure. She’d rather do things by the seat of her pants, and not consider the consequences. That said, she does have and makes use of common sense, so she doesn’t often get into actual trouble. She just regrets certain choices—particularly those having to do with her relationships. She wants security, to be loved and adored, and it leaves her prone to indulging the wrong impulses with the wrong sorts of men. She’ll never show her discouragement if her chosen partner walks away (and they often do), but it leaves her smoldering and humiliated inside for a long time.
Conversely, she doesn’t have a problem at all with walking away from men she’s targeted for the purposes of obtaining something material (either gifted or stolen) or gathering information, and doesn’t seem to be aware of this habit’s hypocritical nature. At any rate, her pragmatism has served her well, both in the past and in the present.
Venin’s saving grace is likely her loyalty. Growing up, she cared about no one but herself, until a certain tragedy forced her to realize that she needed other people in her life. Those who share pain with her, or have otherwise earned her trust and friendship, will have her love and loyalty for life—unless they betray her.
Woe be unto those who break faith with the woman whose very name is poison.
Positive Trait List Spontaneous, self-motivated, pragmatic, loyal Negative Trait List Overindulgent, hates structure, doesn’t think ahead, anxious, tends toward selfishness and self-preservation
Mother: Missing (Possibly murdered) Father: Missing (She believes he is alive and possibly the murderer) Son, Valeran: Missing (Possibly dead, would be 5-6 turns old if living)
History:
The child Verinina was born at Telgar Hold, her mother a native jeweler and her father a laborer from Bitra. She lived a happy life with her parents.
...Until age six, when her mother turned up missing. Her father vanished not long after. Most suspected that the father had fled because he’d done something awful, and Verinina spent the next few months awash in the gossip. By the time she was deemed an orphan and landed in the hold’s creche, she hated it all – the gossip, the creche, her father. She didn’t care to make nice with the other kids, or to help take care of the youngest of the lot when the old Auntie in charge was slacking off, she mostly cared about taking care of herself.
At fourteen, she was preparing to run away like so many before her had done. Before she could follow through with her plan, a fire burned down the creche. Verinina was caught in the flames and suffered terrible burns over her left arm and side, and both of her hands. It was Sahindel who rescued her and brought her to a healer. She made it through all right, except for the ugly scars that covered half of her body.
From there, the surviving orphans were homeless and scrabbling to subsist, and Sahindel stepped up to lead them. He had always been a sweet fellow, but his drive to help everyone survive and make a new life together inspired hope in everyone. Verinina finally felt bound to the group after this shared tragedy, and began to open up to the other kids, accepting them as her new family.
Those who were able to find employment or other means of income shared with the rest of the gang, making sure that everyone was cared for, though pickings were often slim. Verinina herself managed to land a job working for an apothecary named Naromme. She was mainly there to tidy up and occasionally make deliveries for a pittance, but when she began to show an interest in Naromme’s work with herbal remedies, the older woman saw some potential and invited her to apprentice. The education Verinina received was far more valuable than the meager coinage that Naromme could afford to pay.
Before long, Verinina was able to use her knowledge to make some marks for the group by peddling medicinal teas on the street. Occasionally, an offer of money prompted her to learn recipes for and make teas with less honorable uses. These transactions often required her to steal the more difficult to obtain ingredients for these teas, sometimes even from Naromme. She did so with only slight hesitation, determining that such thefts were justified, as she was providing for those less fortunate than her. However, she never dealt in any illegal substances. She’d witnessed the results of powerful addiction many times – including one fatal incident within their own little family – and wanted no part in it.
As she grew into her new street persona and business, she chose herself a new name – Venin, reminiscent of her old name, certain aspects of her craft, and the venom her young heart had been poisoned with.
Being one of the older orphans, Venin was among the first of the girls to reach womanhood. For a short time she entertained something a bit more than friendship with Sahindel, whose pure-heartedness she greatly admired but failed to emulate, and later with a few other fellows she knew well enough. One of her ventures resulted in a son of her own to care for, whom she named Valeran. That marked the end of her attempts at romance, for with the arrival of Valeran and as more and more lost children joined up with their group, she found she had neither the time nor the energy to cultivate such fanciful relationships.
She was twenty-one when Sahindel was Searched and went off to High Reaches Weyr to get himself a dragon, promising to come back and use the beast to earn enough marks for everyone to live comfortably off of. In his absence, being older than Sahindel and likely the oldest of the lot, Venin suddenly felt profoundly responsible for all of the others, and vowed to take care of them until he returned with his prize. She worked very hard to support her son and the rest of her family, even to the point of earning her Journeyman’s knot in herbalism so that she could demand higher prices for her wares.
Venin had been close to most of the members of her orphan family for turns at this point, but she had became especially close to another of the older girls, Peresa, who had also taken on the mantle of responsibility. They spent their days working hard, taking cheer from Sahindel’s letters home. When the news came back that he’d Impressed, the family was overjoyed, expecting him to return soon. Only… he didn’t. And then his letters stopped coming. Clearly, he’d abandoned them for his new life of ease and plenty.
The ultimate irony came some months thereafter: A rogue queen dragon had laid her eggs right there at Telgar Weyr, where Candidates were in short supply. Venin and Peresa were among those young folks tapped to Stand. Venin, for her part, agreed to it out of pure spite. S’del the Great Dragonrider thought he was too good for them? Then she would take what he’d promised for herself.
When the Telgar hatchlings began to crack through their shells, her thoughts were full of greed and rage, and yet… a deep, wondrous hope. That future of comfort and security was again within their grasp! A few of the eggs had already hatched and their former inhabitants Impressed when a blue dragonet burst from his shell, eyes blazing red and thunderous roars erupting from his throat. GET OUT OF MY WAY! he screamed at those Candidates who were near. I WILL HAVE WHAT IS MINE! With that, the hatchling tore through anyone in his path as he searched for his partner. His fear and anger were palpable and felt horrid to the senses, but Venin knew she wanted this one. He spoke to her deepest hurts, his broadcasted feelings and physical violence mirroring the torment of her six turn old heart, still beating morosely within her chest.
Suddenly, the girl’s thoughts weren’t of vengeance and stacking marks, but of love and understanding. I know, she silently called. I know. I’m here, little one, if you’ll have me.
She felt the hatchling’s mind lock onto hers, a wordless cry of relief and a rush of powerful emotions pouring over her. Then he was coming, and Venin ran to meet him halfway. He was hers, the perfect little storm that was Raumoloth.
Later on, Venin found that Peresa had also Impressed. Peresa’s was a green called Shoggoth, who was even angrier than Raumoloth. But all that rage afforded them no help or protection when Thread fell upon Telgar a mere sevenday later, on Peresa’s eighteenth nameday. This horror that was Thread was something which many of the orphans had never even heard of. Animals, people and buildings consumed and burned to ash in minutes. The older riders hurried to evacuate the weyrlings, and the one who took Venin, Peresa, Raumoloth and Shoggoth brought them to a faroff, backwoods little cothold where he had once lived. He went back to Telgar for others… but never returned.
The two young women and their newborn dragons were left alone at this isolated hold, with no line of communication to the outside, and no one else but that rider, who was most likely dead now, knowing where they were. Venin was already in a panic for her little Valeran, and became hysterical when she realized there was no chance of getting to him, or even finding out his fate. Everything she’d worked for—everything she’d lived for—was most certainly gone, devoured by Thread. This absolute futility was like nothing she’d ever experienced before, and if she didn’t have Raumoloth to love and look after, she will freely admit that she would have given up.
They survived until the dragonets had grown enough to fly—and a harrowing but liberating experience it was to learn how! There was no one to teach them how to go between, however. So, when they felt ready, Venin and Peresa flew all the way back to Telgar. Finding nothing left of their family, their next stop was High Reaches Weyr, where many evacuees had been taken. Unfortunately, there were two problems with High Reaches:
Number one, Valeran was not among the refugees.
And number two, Sahindel.
Other: Currently in the employ of Lady Ink as her personal herbalist, with the condition that she can still peddle to other customers on the side… making sure to keep her eyes and ears open when she visits said other customers, which are often strategically chosen. She clings to her role with the spymaster as a source of self-power in a world that has spun out of her control, and it has done her much good.
DRAGON Name: Raumoloth Age: 1 turn (3572.04.13) Color: Blue Size: 25’ Physical Description: Not a massive blue by any stretch of the imagination, Raumoloth is a humble twenty-five feet long. He has a fair amount of muscle, but it’s lanky and wiry muscle. This dragon’s movements on land and in the air are based on balancing bursts of agility and conserving stamina. Along the dorsal areas his hide is covered with cloudy patches of grayish blue. He has streaks all over his body, including marks just below his eyes, that resemble bolts of lightning or rivulets of water.
Personality: It doesn’t take much wind to stir up a squall of thunderous rage in this dragon. He is easily offended and defaults to a “guilty before proven innocent” outlook. If he had his way, he would be the judge, jury and executioner. He will submit to no one except his rider or a golden queen… or else a clear display of superior power. Since returning to civilization, it has been a struggle for Raumoloth to keep his mouth and claws in check. Growing up with no other dragon but green Shoggoth, the two violent siblings often won or lost arguments based on who could thrash whom. Win or lose, both usually ended up bloody. These terms of engagement did not go over well when Raumoloth and Venin came to High Reaches, resulting in a need for a bit of social rehabilitation as part of their training.
At present, Raumoloth loves only one dragon—that being his sister Shoggoth. It isn’t a gentle sort of love, being something more like respect and appreciation for a comrade who has proven themselves in battle, mixed with a heavy heaping of passionate rivalry. It might seem sometimes that he hates her, and sometimes that they agree on everything, but one thing remains certain: If anyone should dare harm Shoggoth, they will instantly know Raumoloth’s wrath, and pay for their crime with their own ichor.
Name: Sernye Age: 33 Sex: Male Sexual Orientation: Heterosexual Weyr: Unaffiliated Craft: Journeyman Seacraft/Trader Previous Rank: Wingrider, Southern Weyr
Physical Description: Not your typical salty seahound, Sernye shows a lot of signs of staying below deck, or at least of making efforts to maintain his pretty, blue-blooded looks. His peach-colored skin isn’t sun-, wind- or salt-burned, and his willowy 6’3” frame has little bulk, even though he has never shirked away from the hard labor required of ship hands. The only visible clue to his seafaring lifestyle is his honey-blond hair bleached by the sun, his natural color shown in its darkest brown roots and in his equally dark brows.
This former heir indeed looks the part, fine-featured with big brown eyes and full lips. His jawline plays at being square, his chin at being strong, but in truth he is merely a much softer, daintier version of his twin brother. He dresses in a finer manner while on landleave, but onboard the Valeriya he tends to favor practical clothing, simple and elegant. As for distinguishing marks, he has a small scar about an inch below his left eye—a clean, nearly horizontal line that might have been carved by a blade.
Personality:
Sernye has always been the one with smarts among his siblings. It is a trait received from his father, to his everlasting chagrin. Life has taught him to use the ability to its fullest, taking great care to do things to the finish, and do them efficiently. One can fall behind in the blink of an eye, if one relaxes and lets down his guard, thinking he is alone in the race.
He is detail-oriented and skilled in dealing both above and below the table. Certain trades require a fair amount of suspicion toward the other party—they could be coast guard plants, after all—but unfortunately that suspicion extends to nearly everyone else on Pern as well, in Sernye’s mind. The truth, he believes, is that everyone is only out for themselves. To trust someone and let them come close is to fall for the old “sleeping feline” ruse, and when you least expect it, the beast jumps to life and rips your throat out.
He often feels that he has been dealt a bad hand in life, largely due to the comparative success of his twin throughout their younger years. He’s mostly pleased with his current situation as a quartermaster under a captain of his own choosing, but there’s always this nagging thought in the back of his mind that there could have been be something more. When enough things have gone wrong to drive him over the edge, he goes looking for that “something more” in a desperate torrent of excess, consuming every luxuriant thing he can.
Positive Trait List Observant, intelligent, meticulous, covert Negative Trait List Apathetic, covetous, suspicious, becomes reckless and extravagant when over-stressed
History:
Born a twin son to a minor lord in the jurisdiction of Nabol, Sernye’s early life was all about competition. His father was eccentric, and was constantly pitting his two eldest sons against one another. “You want to be the one to inherit someday, don’t you?” he’d ask. And both Sernye and Shernor would nod enthusiastically, as he’d trained them to do. But, as is common with multiple offspring, one was decidedly the weaker of the two. And, unfortunately, many of the trials their father put them to were physical in nature.
The wispy boy Sernye was, more often than not, the loser, and there was no end to the humiliation from both his father and brother for it. He became cold, ensconced within a stone wall built brick by brick with every insult and mocking laugh. He took to ignoring people when they spoke to him if he didn’t feel like responding, and didn’t talk much in general unless he wanted something. Instead of boastfully running his mouth off like his brother, he watched, and learned. He was a lot smarter than Shernor, and after much trial and error, he began to find ways to equal and occasionally even beat his brother in spite of his weaker build. For example, he would offer milk and pie to Shernor before a footrace, as a peace offering. Shernor never noticed, but milk would make him cough just after drinking it, and later produced a shortness of breath during the run, making him a bit slower than usual. A win would still be rare for Sernye even then, but the margin by which his brother won would be quite small.
When the twins were seventeen, their father fell ill and was on his deathbed. He had an entire series of competitions planned out, both physical and mental tests for his sons to take on—and the winner would be the one to inherit all of his holdings. The mental tests were easy enough for Sernye, and that, because of his tricks and shortcuts during the other tests, put him in the lead. The last test was a race on the same familiar route that they’d always run their long-distance footraces. Sernye was so far ahead of his brother at that point that he couldn’t imagine that Shernor would be able to catch up.
As the finish line came in sight, Sernye ran with renewed energy, a wide smile on a face long unused to such expressions… until Shernor suddenly passed him, riding on a galloping runnerbeast. Sernye reached the gates of the family manor just in time to hear the announcement being shouted in the courtyard that his brother had won the right to inherit everything. Upon bringing the complaint to his father that Shernor had cheated, the man simply shrugged and said, “I never said it was a footrace.”
After losing to his twin for what he swore would be the last time, Sernye fled from home and traveled to Rivercrest, which had the distractions he was seeking but was about as far away from Nabol as he could get. The trip involved a boatride during which he found that he had decent sea legs, never once getting sick and rather enjoying the experience of the open sea. He lived like one possessed for a few weeks, spending all of his marks in indulging every little whim. When he had completely exhausted himself and his funds in Rivercrest, he moved to Western Hold to look for work. He ended up becoming involved in the trade culture, first by helping with ship repair at the docks and eventually getting hired into the crew of a transport ship he’d worked on. He soon discovered both a knack for sailing and new, profitable uses for his attention to detail.
Perhaps it was sloppiness on the Quartermaster’s part when he last took inventory, but during one voyage in particular, Sernye thought he noticed an extra crate in the hold when he went down to fetch some tubers for the cook. When he brought it up with the Quartermaster, he was permitted to read the ledger, which proved that everything was properly accounted for. Still, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. One night, he opened that crate, and found an odd vial mixed in with the other items. He took it, and stowed it behind a wall panel in the crew quarters—a secret stash like the one he’d had back home to keep Shernor from stealing his things.
When the ship was unexpectedly boarded by officials at the next port, the Quartermaster was no longer so certain of his own records. The man was sweating bullets as the officials opened all the crates, checking them against the ledger. They found nothing out of order, and left the ship. Later, the Quartermaster was digging through the extra crate in a panic when Sernye showed up and handed him the vial he’d lifted. The following conversation was tense, involving brandished weapons on both sides, but ended with establishment of a confidential partnership.
While the partnership was uneasy and sometimes seemed more like blackmailing each other than working together, both men still ended up a bit richer than they’d been before by the time the Quartermaster absconded rather suddenly, leaving a lot of confusion and an empty position on the ship. Sernye was temporarily promoted in his place until they reached the next port—Southern Weyr.
Due to renegotiation over their cargo, some of which was missing and likely stolen by the ex-Quartermaster, they stayed on at the Weyr for a couple of days. Their unexpected shore leave happened to overlap with a dragon hatching. The Weyrleader and Headman invited Sernye and his captain to observe the event, and they did so, taking places among the crowd in the stands. There was much less fanfare and pomp than Seryne expected, just some kids standing around in white robes while spindly little hatchlings tottered about the sands. It was a fairly small clutch as well, from a very old queen. He counted nine eggs, and there were three times as many candidates for them. One bronze, one blue, and three greens hatched. The remaining eggs were deemed unviable.
All of the live hatchlings Impressed quickly except for one green, who seemed much more distressed than the others had been right from the start. Out of the nearly two-dozen candidates she was presented with, she found none suitable. Her eyes whirled a fearful white as she scanned the stands, her little body wobbling with the effort of keeping balanced as she raised her head higher and higher. Then, she saw him. Sernye looked down with lukewarm curiosity, his face a mask of indifference. The little dragon continued to stare.
Then, like the impact of a wave against the broadside of a ship during a storm, she crashed into Sernye’s mind. The mental blow sent him reeling out of his seat. She seemed to retreat, but then rushed forward and hurled herself at him again. Let me IN! Just as he realized what she was doing, she struck a third time, shattering the wall that he had built between himself and the world and flooding in. He was never sure exactly how he got down there, but the next thing he remembered was being on his hands and knees in the sand, fighting sobs as she weaved her threads through his mind, wrapping him up in a gentle net of love, respect, and approval. I shall draw you down from your high tower, my Sernye! she beckoned. Forget those who've rejected you. They were wrong... and so were you. You weren't meant to live your life alone.
And green Gwith herself was living proof of that.
It was strange, sharing his mind with another. Strange, and yet such a relief. This creature no bigger than a canine became his vanguard for the next several months, forcing him to deal with other weyrlings on a personal level. In a way, he hated it. The small talk. Tiptoeing around other people’s opinions on trivial subjects. Wasting precious time between lessons and chores with socializing when he could’ve been working on a craft or sleeping. But, if he were to be honest, after all the turns of guarding himself from the rest of the world, he hadn’t realized how terribly lonely he’d been.
When Gwith had grown, they left Southern Weyr to pick up where Sernye had left off—on the sea. It was not difficult to find work, as Gwith’s small size and ability to fly ahead as a scout made her an asset to nearly any trade ship.
One day, while his captain was negotiating a deal, Sernye had snuck away and was surreptitiously scouting the other ship when he came across a locked room. He spoke through the door with the occupant: a girl who had been enslaved as entertainment for the crew. Coming from Nabol, where fools threw their living income into the pit of gambling and debt, and suffered the consequences for it, he was normally rather callous toward people in unpleasant situations. But what was being done to this woman was outright heinous and not a result of her own actions, as far as he could tell. He stepped out of character for this girl, breaking the lock, sneaking her to his dragon up on the deck, and hopping between to Southern Weyr. He left her there, then laid low for a while before seeking out work aboard a new ship. No doubt he had spoiled the deal his former captain had been making, and no doubt he had made himself at least two enemies in the process, for he had also stolen something valuable from the other captain.
In 3567 AL, he stopped off at Tillek Hold's port with the express purpose of getting a formal education in trade to make himself attractive to the more lucrative outfits. He would complete his apprenticeship, of course, but was also studying the port's authorities, noting their methods and habits in policing order and legitimacy in the cargoes that passed through. While there were never any guarantees of invulnerability, he did come away with several ideas for moving contraband beneath notice, which would later save his and his captains' skins time and time again.
Some of his classes were shared with another dragonrider named Alora, who was training to become a captain. He still struggled with opening up to others, but Alora’s being a rider gave them many reasons and opportunities to interact, especially when Gwith had her way about it. The green had taken a fancy to Alora’s brown Rusilath, and often demanded hunts, swims and other group activities from her rider, as well as frequently choosing the brown in her flights. Sernye kept his distance on an emotional level, but really had no choice but to come to know Alora pretty well during their time at Tillek.
The two humans graduated around the same time and signed on to the same ship. Sernye, having several turns of practical experience, mentored Alora in any aspects of sailing and trade that he could. Sometimes, in the evenings, he’d feel like talking and would tell her of his own experiences at sea. After a time, he came to trust her enough to hint at his less-than-legal doings, for even lawful ship captains could benefit from hiding important items now and then. But he never outright admitted to anything, for concern that she might report him.
They swapped to different ships after a few routes and kept touch through their dragons now and then. Sernye joined a smuggling ship as quartermaster and stayed on for a few turns. One day, Alora contacted him for a little more than just to catch up on things. She had finally scored a ship of her own and was looking for a quartermaster—a very particular sort of quartermaster. It turned out that Alora was not as clean-cut as she appeared to be while in sight of the Tillek Port authorities, much like Sernye himself.
Though Alora had not yet proven herself as a captain over her own vessel, Sernye knew enough of her to believe she would be successful, and trusted her enough… on a business-only level, at least. He and Gwith agreed to join the crew of the ship Valeriya, and are still serving aboard her in the present day.
DRAGON Name: Gwith Age: 14 Color: Green Size: 26’ Physical Description: A fairly large green, Gwith is average in build save for the very feminine touches of her petite head and paws. Gwith’s hide is a pleasant, medium seaweed green, her underbelly and neckridges being a darker shade of the same. She has markings on her wingsails that give the impression of a net or webbing, and the resemblance intensifies when she wraps them around herself or another.
Personality: Gwith is, in a word, direct. She’s polite about it, but she’ll speak her mind even if what she has to say isn’t very kind, and isn’t offended if her words aren’t well taken. And if she wants something, by Faranth, she’s going to ask for it! That includes love—she is not shy about expressing her attraction for the male dragons. Though she and her rider have a transient lifestyle that really doesn’t allow for her to take a mate, she loves to lure a brown or blue into her net and keep him exclusively for extended periods of time if possible, until the day when the opportunity to settle down finally presents. In all of her ways, she’s either unflappable or just plain shameless, and not even Sernye can decide for sure which it is.
And oh—! Her beloved, brooding Sernye! While his inner strongholds are no obstacle to her, she strives to help others get through the sturdy walls. Within, she sees someone worth knowing, someone she believes should be able to love and be loved. The problem is that he doesn’t agree at all! Silly man! So she continues to poke and prod and push him outside of his comfort zone, expecting that one day everything will fall perfectly into place for the both of them.
*** Will need a new Southern Weyr clutch in 3559 to a very old queen. Nine eggs—one lucky bronze, one blue and three greens, four duds/unhatched.
Teiha
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Teiha
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Posted: Sun Jul 08, 2018 5:55 pm
Name: Felixa – Lady, Dame or Madame are commonly used titles Age: 39 Sex: Female Sexual Orientation: Out of your league Weyr: Unaffiliated Craft: Courtesan/Entertainer Rank: Journeyman Location: Nabol – The Silver Gate Inn Physical Description: The Dame Felixa is a svelte brown-eyed woman with fair skin, petite in build and in height. At most she will present at 5’6” depending on the soles of her footwear. Her hair is often worn loose, a maroon curtain draping to midback length—not her natural color, of course. She commonly clothes herself in shimmering dresses that flow elegantly, accentuating her own graceful movements. She appears delicate and as if she could be easily broken, but it’s all a facade, cultivated to appeal to a certain clientele at one time in her life. Proving the darkest parts of her past, she bears an ownership brand on one thigh and another on the heel of one foot. It is hard to discern, except by an expert eye, but the brand on her thigh has actually been altered into a third brand to hide the fact that she was once stolen.
Personality: Most of her acquaintances would say that Madame Felixa is a calm, quiet presence in the background when she isn’t onstage for one of her nowadays-rare songs or dances. She speaks softly and politely, but isn’t afraid to remind any rowdy patrons exactly who is in charge.
As proprietor of the Silver Gate Inn, Felixa no longer deals with personal clients, and instead attends to management of the business. As did her predecessor, she offers great generosity toward her employees, giving them liberties that most brothel workers are unaccustomed to, including the ability to slowly but steadily raise enough marks to buy their own freedom. If it were feasible with the troublesome laws, checks and balances in Nabol Hold, she would rescue and release those who wanted an out without a second thought, though she would quickly find herself either financially destitute or crossing the wrong people. She hates the “rules” as much as she hates all of the injustice in Nabol, but in a strange, convoluted way, they make it possible for the Gate to support itself even while making life better for many fortuneless folks.
By necessity, she has learned to be duplicitous, and even though her intentions are good, sometimes her methods are not. More than a few fatal accidents have happened, particularly when trust has been betrayed, or harm has come to an innocent. Though no lines coming away from those incidents would lead back to the Gate, the power of a suggestion, a little twisting of the truth, and the fanning of a small spark into a fire at just the right moment can often create a perfect reason for someone else to decide on their own to mete out justice. Goodness knows, there is always a steady supply of people in Nabol who draw their sword first and ask questions later.
The people Felixa employs at the Gate often form a strong mother-child or master-apprentice relationship with her, or a mixture of both, as she did with Lady Glisa. Trust can be hard to earn at first, on both sides, but Felixa, though cautious with new hires, is persistent in showing them love. Outside of these fresh arrivals and contacts referred by those she already knows well enough to lay her life on, she doesn’t go looking for new friends. The risks are just too high.
Felixa desires romantic love from a good man, but because of her past she has preconceived notions that anyone looking her way is only looking for particular services, nothing more. Getting close to her is not easy and she will completely bow out of a developing relationship if advances of a physical nature are made, for in her mind this proves her suspicions that the other party is only looking at her as a plaything. If anything happens due to Caiprith’s involvement in a flight, however, she harbors no ill feelings and the encounter is dismissed as meaning nothing.
Positive Trait List Benevolent, shrewd, generous Negative Trait List Resentful, deceitful, distant
History:
Felixa doesn’t know exactly where she came from, but she was brought to the mines of Nabol at a tender age along with another child named Fari, who was obviously her identical twin. Their overseers didn’t pay much attention to the scruffy little slaves, and didn’t bother trying to differentiate between two such like faces. That fact saved Felixa’s life, for it allowed her twin to impersonate her when she fell sick, or to take a beating that would have broken her. Underneath their ragged clothing, no one would have noticed that one of them was a bit broader of shoulder and endowed with musculature that was absent in the other. The full name of her twin was Farimis—a male child.
As they grew, it became harder to hide the differences, and their little tricks stopped working. To make matters worse, Felixa was spotted by someone who was used to looking past the grime and exhaustion, and deemed the girl worthy of “moving up.” She was separated from her brother and taken along with several other young workers, including a dark-skinned girl named Zheria, into the vice-ridden slums of the overworld to blink in the sunlight before being carted off to learn a new trade.
The things that happened in the mines were bad, but the things that happened above were bad in an entirely different way. There were many tears shed in the wee hours of the night, and a desperate clinging to the familiar pieces of the old life. Felixa found herself looking to Zheria, the girl who was strong and brave enough to attempt multiple escapes from the mines. Even in her weakest moments, both above and below, Felixa never once saw her cry.
Those first months in the brothel were terrible, and yet wonderful. She had lost her twin, and anything else worth having dignity or pride over. But there was food, warmth, education, lovely and well-fitting clothes, a bed all her own. And there was music. What an amazing thing, that her ears could experience sounds that were actually beautiful! Once she had become hardened to the less-palatable parts of her new life, she reveled in the glamour—or appeared to, at any rate. The truth was, she merely clung to it for the small comfort it could offer, being bereft of everything else.
She remained in that place for some time after Zheria had been sent away to a new owner, but then Felixa, too, was sold off. She passed through a handful of other similar establishments before she landed in unusually comfortable circumstances. Her new mistress, Lady Glisa of the Silver Gate Inn, was a curt and eternally cross older woman, but there was a kindness in her that Felixa had never seen before. The workers of the Silver Gate had many privileges she was not used to, including being allowed to set their own hours and choose their own clients, as long as they met certain income quotas. If they exceeded their quota, they were often rewarded with an allowance. Rumor had it that some workers there had earned enough to buy their own freedom—and yet they willingly remained at the Gate. Felixa couldn’t comprehend such loyalty at first, but she soon came to understand by experiencing it herself.
Her time with Glisa was life-changing. Empowering. Even if she was still technically someone else’s property, Felixa suddenly had control, could make her own decisions. Glisa encouraged her, though her customary method of doing so by telling her off with sharp words. If she was tired, she should just take the rest of the day off, stupid girl! She was requesting a certain perfume to please a favored client? She had an allowance, she could just go out by herself and buy it, if she wanted it that badly! She didn’t like the cruel glint in that other client’s eyes? Well, show him the door, then! Shards, child! Why did she always have to hold every newbie’s hand and walk them through everything?
Thus, Felixa’s dignity was returned to her almost overnight. She could hold her head high and have it not be an act. Glisa was a master of entertaining and refined the girl’s education still further in the arts of the Courtesans, giving her even more power to grow and take care of herself. And Felixa loved Glisa as she would have her own mother. It was a good life, but there was one thing that had yet to be returned.
What a joyful surprise for the both of them when, shortly after her twenty-first nameday, she answered a late-night knock on the Gate’s door and saw Farimis standing there on the stoop. He’d been searching for her a long time, he’d said. How did you escape the mines, she’d asked. Search, he’d said, and his smile was just like her own when she looked in the mirror. He’d become a grown man and she a grown woman in those turns apart, and yet they still looked so alike.
Farimis hadn’t Impressed at any of the hatches he’d stood for, so, taking full advantage of the freedom given him by the dragon who’d Searched him, he’d chosen to give up and return to Nabol to look for his sister. He gave Felixa the news that their old comrade Zheria had also escaped Nabol through Search and was now a dragonrider—in fact, she was the rider of the very gold dragon whose clutch was due at High Reaches Weyr.
Now that she had her brother back, Felixa was eager to reconnect with her friend as well, and managed to get permission to visit High Reaches Weyr for the hatching. There, during the short break Zheria had to chat before getting back to her duties, Felixa met Eveleth face to face. She was in awe of the sheer massive size and beauty of the golden dragon who intently watched her and Zheria interact for a time. The two women were now both strong in their own right, but had attained their current stations through vastly different life experiences. One through harsh circumstances and ruthless self-empowerment, and the other through freely-given opportunity and maybe even actual love. You might be suitable for one of my children, Eveleth had said privately. Perhaps… yes, you might do well with the strength of one of my golden daughters to lift you up, as I uplifted my precious Zheria.
Though she had no want for anything, and no desire to leave Glisa and the Silver Gate, there was a spark of premonition within her. A feeling that came with Eveleth’s words, a sort of knowing, that she would be doing something good with her life, but was going to need help to do it. Of course, she didn’t really pay attention to it, considering the fact that she was standing in the midst of what most impoverished children from Nabol believed was a fantasy world, where only a lucky few got to experience the miracle of instant freedom and power that came from bonding with a dragon. Any fanciful feelings she might have were just that, or possibly even some sort of suggestion planted by Eveleth’s thoughts. She had a life already, and a very good life it was.
By the time she and Farimis sat down in the stands to watch the hatch, she had forgotten the idea and was merely a spectator. The eggs began to hatch, dragonets spilling into the sands and making their way to their chosen partners. A gold dragonet hatched, and instantly went to a dark-haired woman. Not long after, another egg cracked, and the baby within heaved, its wings breaking through and flaring out with a snap. The wings were gold. A second gold hatchling! Felixa leapt to her feet, as did many others in the stands.
Unlike the others, however, she began to push through the crowd, climbing over the tiers and down to the sands. The egg wobbled and fell over as she reached it, splitting open and exposing the dragonet’s true color—its legs and back were clearly a rich, almost reddish brown. His amber wings, wet from the egg, had only appeared to glisten like a metallic dragon’s hide. Some who watched were disappointed by the reveal, and some were disturbed that a brown had chosen a woman, but Felixa neither knew nor cared what anyone else thought. She was only aware of her lovely and wholly perfect Caiprith.
Once the initial ecstasy of Impressing wore off a little, Felixa realized that there would be some serious complications with Lady Glisa. With the help of an older rider as a messenger, they managed to reach an agreement. Farimis volunteered himself as a bartender and general laborer for the Gate while Felixa and Caiprith trained, and Felixa would also give up her meager weyrling wages to make up for any deficits her brother could not meet. Though they were told that any ownership that might have lain on Felixa was null and void now that she was a rider, she still planned to return to Nabol once their training was complete, and wanted to be sure she was still welcome at the Silver Gate when the time came. Glisa was her mother, for all intents and purposes, and had given Felixa her life back.
Felixa’s loyalty proved to be well-placed. The brown pair returned to the Gate when they had earned their rider’s knot, and did so with great relief. A military setting was not for them, not at all. Felixa prized her autonomy over all else aside from her dragon, and Caiprith was right on board with that. Shortly after their return, Lady Glisa announced her retirement. And whom did she consider most worthy, and most capable of carrying on her legacy?
The one who chose to return to the fold when the rest of the world had been handed to her on a silver platter.
Since then, Felixa has run the Silver Gate Inn in much the same was as her predecessor, making it a safe haven for those she can afford to keep. As openings for new workers are rare, she uses every possible avenue to rescue others, including the buying and reselling of “duds” into better lives or instigating a Search when feasible, often through riders from High Reaches. She is also a dealer in information and occasional movement of certain items or people, but has a very limited clientele for this service. They are a trusted few who help make her covert operations possible, most of them based outside of Nabol. None of this would be possible without Caiprith’s ability to claim Search, relay conversations and other information in private, and provide instant connection to his mother Eveleth and her rider.
Other: Her Impression story is a nod, not to the popular “The One” tradition but to the theory that you will only Impress as “well” as you believe you will, as with Brekke believing she could Impress a fighting green when girls were thought to be only able to ride gold at the time. In my mind, Felixa would have been “worthy” of a gold from a future clutch, if she’d actually listened to Eveleth and set her mind to it. While she watched that hatch, she wasn’t planning to Impress and certainly wasn’t expecting any particular color. Out of all the people there, she happened to be the most compatible with Caiprith. So now she’s happily bonded to her beloved brown, whose color is an acknowledgment of what could have been in another life/universe/etc.
DRAGON Name: Caiprith Age: 18 Color: Brown Size: 42’ Physical Description: Caiprith is a massive brown by length, though his build is fairly average. Still, he equals or outmatches quite a few of the bronzes he’s met. What’s going really to draw eyes, however, is his coloration. His colors are reminiscent of a dessert—a rich honey scone topped with chocolate glaze. Each of his legs are of the same dulcet brown, their appearance like the elegant evening gloves of a lady. Being so large, he can look suspiciously like a gold dragon at first glance if his wings are unfurled and masking the darker areas, especially on an overcast day. But there is no sheen on his hide, unless it’s been freshly oiled.
Personality: Caiprith may not be a metallic dragon, but he has the hearts—and the size—of one. Like the gold he isn’t, his greatest urges are to nurture, protect and build up those who are smaller and weaker than himself. He is a shepherd and protector, and as does his rider, he tends to form strong relationships with many of the employees at the Gate, having few (if any) of his own kind to look after.
He is usually very placid, but he does have some sore spots that he will not willingly allow to be prodded. After the horrors he’s learned about his own rider’s past and seen with his own eyes in others’ lives, Caiprith detests those who complain about things that he sees as trivial. You want to whine about being picked on for your hide color while you can eat whenever you want and your rider decides who gets to come to their bed? People are starving. Children are being enslaved. Just. Shut. Up. You don’t know what real suffering is. Anyone who gets a speech like that, human or dragon, has generally made it onto his shortlist of idiots and stays there until they prove him wrong.
It was well that when he Impressed Felixa, she’d already dealt with her past and grown into a stable, self-sufficient woman. He can handle working with troubled individuals whose experiences he doesn’t share, but if anything puts his rider over the edge, he feels a bit lost and defaults to defending her in whatever way he can. In those situations, he may forget any contingency plans, and often has to be sternly reminded if he is supposed to be doing anything specific in an emergency.
Posted: Sun Jul 08, 2018 5:57 pm
Name: Grumioll (Prefers “Gru”) Age: 23 Sex: Male Sexual Orientation: Heterosexual Craft: N/A Rank: N/A Location: High Reaches Weyr
Physical Description: This man’s black-eyed gaze is always intense, and can easily unsettle more sensitive folks. He watches like one used to threats appearing from any direction, yet is unafraid. His hair hangs halfway down his kite-shaped face in a curtain of wavy, lustrous black. His nose appears to have been broken at some point, bent slightly inward from the bridge to the tip. His chin is weak, its frail appearance only emphasized by a thick lower lip.
Though of average height, Gru is fairly small of frame and can appear deceptively petite. His wiry muscles are distinctly defined, though a bit less so than when he was actively fighting. He has scars all over his body, the most notable being a grotesque healed-over wound on his right shoulder that required expensive surgery to put back together—the kindest thing his former master ever did for him, though in truth it was no more than a business decision to protect an investment.
His face, miraculously, seems to be unscarred. Whether that's due to luck or as a result of his captor attempting to keep his future employment options open is uncertain. He was eventually sold off to a brothel, after all. Fortunately for him, he was too volatile to do anything more than manual labor while he was there.
Personality: Grumioll lives in a simple world of black and white: You’re either right, or you’re wrong. Strength is one of the clearest indicators of right. Strength also keeps you alive and functional, which is the most preferred state to be in.
With this mindset, he has developed a tendency to conserve his strength, never wasting it on actions such as pacing or conversational gestures. He can sometimes appear lazy or weak as a result of this apparent slothfulness, but when he wants to move in a hurry, he moves fast. This can be hazardous for anyone on the receiving end of a right hook given without fair warning. He’s been better about this in recent turns, but it still happens from time to time if the right “button” is pushed. Striking him, by purpose or accident, is almost guaranteed to cause a fist to fly. He can also be triggered seemingly at random if he comes to the conclusion that he is somehow in immediate danger.
Guilt is a new feeling in his repertoire, coming from a world where survival was the only goal, and he still has difficulty with it. In his old life, the responses that others now consider overreactions were justified by life or death situations. The idea of thinking about other people’s feelings and opinions was also completely alien to him. He has come a long way since returning to “civilized” society, but is still pretty apathetic. While most of his thoughts and actions center around himself, at times, there’s a sort of gurgle in the pit of his stomach, a small flutter of warmth for another living being. He’s never quite sure how to express such sensations, so more often than not, he doesn’t. If he does, he may express himself through notably childlike acts, as the right words for such an occasion are a mystery.
He is not one for a lot of words in general, especially when they concern his past. When he does speak, there is usually a purpose for it. Small talk is not easy, and he tends to get a bit snippish if it goes on too long. He prefers to say what needs to be said, as harshly as necessary to get the point across, and leave it at that.
For all of his chaotic tendencies, Grumioll is surprisingly obedient to recognized figures of authority. The structure of High Reaches Weyr, for example, has made it clear that the strong are in charge—these leaders being the riders of the largest and strongest dragons, and those they appoint for other superior qualities.
Positive Trait List Dogged, self-reliant, straightforward, obedient, childlike Negative Trait List Apathetic, ruthless, legalistic, aggressive
History: Grumioll was born in Nabol to a couple of apothecaries who lived on the darkest side of their craft. A bad deal resulted in the murder of his father and the kidnapping of their boy. Six-turn old Grumioll was taken to an old storage building, where the kidnapper threw the him into a pit in the floor and he was forced to fight for his life barehanded against a deadly venomous tunnelsnake, under the watching eyes of a jeering crowd. Bets were taken, and his kidnapper walked out with a hefty sum of marks when the boy managed to avoid its fangs by pinning the creature against the wall of the pit with enough adrenaline-driven force to kill it. From then on, he was enslaved as a fighter against all sorts of opponents in Nabol’s illegal underground arenas.
Ten turns later, he had grown and his matches were no longer as gripping and therefore lucrative as they were when he was small and weak. Grumioll was replaced and retired—thrown away for a pittance to Dame Felixa of the Silver Gate Inn. At the time of sale she seemed hard and apathetic, but in private Felixa revealed herself to be insurmountably kind. She offered work as a general laborer with plenty of food and rest days. It was not an easy adjustment. Every little startle, every little mistake, every little look on a person’s face that he didn’t like, resulted in violence. Gru was one of the few who were liberated only to then nearly get himself dismissed from the Silver Gate. One of the Gate’s workers, a girl named Iria, was central to his timely recovery. She had a gift for pacification and was often the only one who could bring him down from a rage. There were a lot of concepts that he struggled with, such as trust and friendship, that she tried to help him feel or at least comprehend, but achieved only middling success.
He stayed on at the Gate for five turns until Felixa approached him with a request: There was another slave who could be liberated, but no position at the Gate was available for them to fill. She had a safe place for Gru to go, if he would give up his. After a long discussion with Iria about human decency and imagining himself in another’s shoes, he made his decision and was brought to High Reaches Weyr under the pretense of Search.
Oddly enough, in contrast to the overwhelming (to him) independence offered at the Silver Gate, the militaristic structure of High Reaches has so far been good for Grumioll. It gives him clear boundaries that both help him control himself and also give him a net of safety, while simultaneously allowing him to stretch and grow little by little as he is ready to do so. Felixa was very up front with the Searchrider about Gru’s difficulties, so when he first arrived at High Reaches, for his own safety and that of the dragonets, his candidacy was preemptively suspended to give Gr’del time to watch and educate him. His behavior has improved immensely, with “accidents” being more of an exception to the rule nowadays. As of his nameday in 3574, he has been reinstated as an official Candidate.
Other: Iria is still living/adoptable, his mother is most likely still living.
Teiha
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Posted: Sat Aug 04, 2018 8:42 am
Name: Currently going by "Lezie," true name is Lesta. Age: 24 Sex: Female Sexual Orientation: Heterosexual Craft: N/A Rank: Candidate Location: High Reaches Weyr
Physical Description: A pale-skinned woman, above average in height and just plain average as far as shapeliness. She often has a faintly shamed look about her, a slightly closed posture and a sort of sadness in her green eyes, almost as if she is expecting someone to show up and slap her. Her hair is a dirty golden-blonde, in excellent shape and grown out nearly to knee length. She keeps it tied securely every few handlengths so the strands don't fray. She sports many ear piercings and tends to wear a lot of jewelry--practically half a stone's weight, some days.
Few will ever see or know that she carries a brutal scar that slashes down her right shoulderblade and around over her hip on the same side, the result of nearly getting herself gutted as she turned to fend off an attack from behind.
Personality:I'm bored, entertain me.
That seems to be Lesta's general attitude about life. The normal, every day stuff is just tedious, something to be taken care of only because it is necessary. She might have been satisfied if she'd be allowed to pursue her chosen craft (she had three or four dream crafts throughout her childhood), but unfortunately her younger turns were... misspent. She has all but locked herself into the very fate she dreaded.
Her way has always been to see what she wants, decide the easiest way to get it, and go for it with gusto. Her teenage desire for thrills resulted in her going off on an adventure, which didn't turn out as well as planned. Enough evil has come upon her to make her genuinely sorry for her youthful outbursts and bad decisions, and to want to atone for them. She still takes a lot of missteps, especially where her temper is concerned, but she is becoming quicker to withdraw and even quicker to apologize for it.
Her choice to accept Search and go to High Reaches Weyr was a bit of a last gasp to avoid drudgery, though, ironically, much of her time as a Candidate will be spent doing just that. Also, being constantly told what to do after a few turns living among the lawless is galling. Still, she sees only one way to save herself, and that is to look into the rainbow eyes of her lifemate. So she plans to make the sacrifice, and actually work for something for the first time in her life. Until that objective is achieved, she leans against the status quo, biding her time and hoping an opportunity for change will come.
In the meantime, she lives for her evening cups and the occasional adventure a-dragonback with a handsome fellow.
Positive Trait List Decisive, venturesome, passionate, penitent Negative Trait List Restless, easily bored, headstrong, hot-tempered
History: Life was simpler for Lesta when she was just the bored little child of two drudges in a boring little seaside Weyrhold. She could afford to be upset that she couldn't apprentice as a dancer because her parents couldn't pay for the lessons, or for anything else she wanted to do that wasn't slaving away on something practical. She hated that she was doomed to be nothing more than a drudge, just like them. Her elder sister Lestenna seemed to stoically accept this unfairness, keeping her big nose to the grindstone like some sort of draybeast. She was so boring! So was everything else! That life just wasn't enough for Lesta.
One day, the hunger came. Crops were dying off, causing famine in many local settlements. Lesta found herself forced to tend the plantations more and more often, struggling to understand why they suddenly had to work so hard just to keep the plants alive. And on top of that, it seemed that half of what they harvested ended up being sent off to someone else! It was all so unfair.
Her thirst for change, for anything exciting to happen, was finally slaked when a group of strangers visited, some on dragons, some a-runnerback, looking to buy some food. They were louder, rowdier, and certainly much more interesting than the quiet folks of Ierne. They looked different, smelled different, dressed different, and had stories of a wide world to tell. It was enough to keep her sated for a while, dreaming of the day when she'd get a dragon of her own and leave the Weyrhold to see the world with her own two eyes. She watched Lestenna Impress gold Uridith, but Lesta was passed over by that clutch. Two turns later, she was passed over again by Uridith's maiden clutch. Life started becoming stagnant again.
When the strangers visited that time before, some of Ierne's dragonriders had seemed as taken with them as Lesta was, and for the past couple of turns, while she was out in the fields she'd sometimes see them meet the strangers to exchange packages or fly off somewhere together. They'd leave for a day, and come back with loads of food, and sometimes pretty jewelry and other baubles. Some of the men, locals and strangers alike, would swoop down and present their trinkets to other young ladies in the hold. She'd hear boring old Lestenna grumble about it, but Lesta's green eyes were becoming greener... with envy. When it was finally her turn to receive such a gift, she was smitten with it--and the man who bestowed it.
J'dan was handsome. He was a member of a traveling company of traders, and he was the most exciting thing she had ever seen. He made Lesta feel like she was exciting, too. Lestenna tried to warn her off of him, but she didn't understand the way J'dan made Lesta feel. More than once, she snuck away from the Weyrhold to join him aboard his brown to go on an adventure. How she wished for her own dragon so that she could cut ties with Ierne and have something to bring to the table when she joined J'dan's company! But every time Uridith laid a clutch, the hatchlings passed her by. Lesta was spending more and more time with J'dan and his group, who were slowly introducing her to the greyer aspects of their "business." Uridith was the only gold laying at Ierne in those days, so Lesta became bitter towards her elder sister, believing that Lestenna was punishing her for her grasping at freedom by influencing Uridith and her offspring, somehow. She held onto that belief right up until Thread fell.
J'dan's company, Lestenna and the other riders of Ierne, and other unaffiliated riders were all in the air fighting the enemy, but their efforts were mostly in vain. The thread nearly destroyed Ierne and killed many. Too many. And when his group abruptly evacuated, abandoning the Weyrhold, J'dan took a willing Lesta along with him. In her near-panic down on the ground, survival seemed most likely if she with J'dan. He would be able to provide for her, no matter what might happen to Ierne. It was only turns later, after she had experienced the harsh reality of life among raiders, that Lesta realized how selfish... and how foolish she'd been.
In the turns that followed their exit from Ierne, J'dan revealed his true colors in stark contrast to the dashing gentleman he'd been pretending to be. He still showered "his Lezie" with gifts -- endless clothing and jewelry--but now she knew exactly where they came from, and how many lives had been given for them. When she started to reject his gifts, J'dan did not take it well. Lesta escaped, but still carries the scar from his knife. A mark that serves as a reminder of the worst days of her life.
While she was with the raiders, "Lezie" had made a few inquiries at the different Weyrholds they'd visited, so she knew where Lestenna and Uridith were living. It was a Weyr that catered to her sister's militant traditionalism, of course. In her disillusioned and disheveled state, a lot of the things that Lestenna had believed were starting to make sense. At any rate, "Lezie" was ready for some structure, to have some sort of order in her life again. It was just her luck that she was Searched at High Reaches Hold when she made her way there to barter passage to the Weyr.
She'd stood half a dozen times at Ierne by right of residence, and been passed over. To have a dragon offically Search her and tell her that she seemed worthy of one of his kind was humbling. Her heart was very quiet when she arrived at the Weyr as a Candidate, wondering how she would approach her sister. Or if she even should.
Other: Younger sister to ShinosBee's Lestenna.
Posted: Sat Aug 04, 2018 8:43 am
Name: Vaali (Vaahl-ee) Age: 14 Sex: Female Sexual Orientation: She knows what exactly that means and is pretty sure she will like boys when the time comes for such things. Craft: Weyrbrat Rank: Candidate Location: High Reaches Weyr Physical Description: An unassuming little girl with silken brown hair that reaches a few inches past her shoulders. She has naturally tan skin and darkest brown eyes that watch the world with interest. A smile will produce the sweetest little cheek dimples. She is still fairly small for her age, but her proportions are beginning to tell of sudden growth in the lengthening legs and the barest hint of feminine curves.
Personality: A bright-eyed, curious child, Vaali loves to explore and learn. She has a lot of smarts and is a voracious reader. She's also a voracious collector, interested in having at least one of every type of the items she collects, such as leaves, bugs, or types of fabric. As a result, her personal trunk is always crammed full. The worst days of her life often involve deciding what to throw away to make room for something new.
She displays advanced maturity for her age through her ability to watch and learn and make good decisions. Being smart, however, can lead to thinking a lot, and thinking a lot, especially about a decision, can lead to hesitation and second-guessing everything. Thankfully, it only happens about fifty percent of the time. The other fifty is made up of split-second calculations and decision-making that usually have a decent chance of coming out all right.
Having been raised at High Reaches, Vaali is quite comfortable with tradition and order. Gold dragons usually lead the Weyr because they are made for it. Bronzes usually fly the golds and lead the Wings because they are made for it. That's what she's observed her whole life, and it just seems natural to her. That said, she's a bit young for actual politics to really mean much, and unless some molding takes place, it seems unlikely that she will be particularly dogmatic in the future. For now she's pretty easy to get along with, doesn't think too highly of herself. She'll let minor offenses slide with barely any notice, and is quick to forgive worse offenses as soon as she's cooled down a bit -- especially if the offender displays remorse. Nobody's perfect, why not give them a second chance to do better next time?
Vaali has very little fear of death or injury and can be found on weyrledges, in upper branches of trees, and other decidedly unsafe places in her search for treasures or knowledge. She's really not afraid of anything she's thus far experienced in her young life. Except...
The one thing she is truly scared of, ironically, is the thing she wants most: The presence of her father. She has her mother's approval and fairly regular contact, but it's not quite enough. She knows her father has no idea she exists, but she watches him from a distance anyway, wishing he would notice her. She'd introduce herself, but... he's so scary. She's intimidated by that knot! And his reputation! And his big dragon! And him! What if he brushed her off? If he didn't like her, would he somehow punish her? Suspend her Candidacy? Kick her out of the Weyr?
Part of her knows she's just being silly, but this hope for affection has become so important to her that things have gotten a little blown out of proportion with time (and possibly the onset of puberty). Perhaps it's merely another phase in her obsessions. After all, she's been consumed by many things over the turns -- runners, cooking, various collectables, dresses, and the list goes on and on.
Positive Trait List Intelligent, focused, curious, mature, magnanimous, dauntless, forgiving, still young enough to be molded Negative Trait List Too smart for her own good, obsessive, a hoarder, can overthink herself into paralysis - otherwise hasty, still young enough to be molded
History: Vaali was conceived at High Reaches Weyr, thanks to an unaffiliated queen choosing the place as her venue for a long, violent flight amongst many strong suitors. Nine months later, her mother returned to quietly surrender her to the Weyr's creche without a word to the bronzerider who'd sired her. The woman, due to her "profession," well knew how to be discreet.
Perhaps that was for the best. Raised by far gentler folk in the creche, it was their nurture that saved Vaali from absorbing the harsh, ambitious personalities from which she was made. With her brains, constant obsessions and lack of fear, she could have easily become a little monster. Instead, she grew up understanding responsibility, hard work, and compassion for others. She still makes her caretakers want to pull their hair out at times with her daredevil antics and pesky fixations, but for the most part she's been a good girl.
Vaali always had consistent contact with her distant mother, though not as much as she would like. Her mother was also honest about who the father was, and left it up to Vaali to decide whether or not to get involved with him. When she was younger, playing and learning were the most important things to her. But after growing up a little, she's recognized an odd feeling that something... someone is missing. The abscence seems to be rather father-shaped, in her mind. And he's close, within reach of her hand. All she 'd have to do is walk across the room. But she never has. Her fear of his rejection is probably irrational, but to her it is very real, and it keeps her from making a move.
As with all weyrbrats, she's always known she'd have the option of standing at the Weyr's clutches, and always known she would. It was just the natural way of things. When she finally reached her fourteenth Nameday, she stepped into her first class with Candidatemaster Gr'del. Two gold dragons had just risen, and there would be a double clutch for her first time on the sands -- and the first double clutch she'd ever heard of, to boot! Even though she had plenty to learn as a new candidate, she wasn't afraid of what would happen. She just wanted it to happen, and to witness it with her own eyes!
Other: If my math is right, she literally just turned fourteen. As in, within the last week or so. She's gonna need to cram in as many classes and side lessons as she can get!
Teiha
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Posted: Sat Aug 04, 2018 8:44 am
Name: K'rou (Formerly Karou, pronounced “kah-roh”) Age: 22 Sex: Male Sexual Orientation: Whatever arrangement Father makes (if he’s even still alive) Craft: Harper (songwriter, dance & defense with focus in defense) Rank: Journeyman Location: High Reaches Weyr Physical Description: Karou has a small, delicate face that could be easily cupped in one’s hands—a fantasy longed for by many a maid, and likely a few lads as well. His honey-brown eyes are single-lidded and luminous, his lips generous and faintly heart-shaped when at rest. His ears are small to match the rest of his face, as are his hands, fingers tapered and well-suited to wielding a blade with finesse.
His body is also well-suited to swordplay, tall and svelte with a decent reach and nimble feet that move as if he were weightless. He tends to appear almost wispy, his frame as dainty as the rest of him, but beneath his fine clothes lie decidedly masculine curves of lissome muscle well used to moving quickly with precise accuracy.
The only thing that changes fairly often about his looks are his choice of piercings and his hair color. Usually kept just long enough to brush his ears, his hair is naturally black with added splashes of dye depending on his mood and availability.
Personality: Upon first impression, during a business negotiation, or perhaps during a classy gather packed with blue-blooded holders, Karou appears to be an attractive, friendly man. That’s pretty much the only time he seems particularly friendly, though he’s perpetually nice to look at.
Possibly the most common trait among members of his bloodline is an acute awareness of one’s magnificent appearance. Karou is no exception, but unlike some of his brothers, he has no self-consciousness about any particular aspect of himself. He knows he’s perfect, from head to toe. That sort of certainty, additionally backed by wealth and a lengthy noble ancestry, leads to all sorts of bold attitudes and behaviors. He can do whatever he wants, when he wants, as long as it’s on his own time. He’s been known to figuratively walk right over those whom he considers beneath his notice or who haven’t earned his respect, not wasting time with pleasantries or even basic pleases-and-thank-yous unless it suited him. Oh, but when it does suit him, he can switch that charm on and off like a well-aimed dragon flame. It generally works best on women, though as a rule he doesn’t care to dishonor himself or his family by being promiscuous. He might be a bit of a chuff, but he’s a noble chuff.
He is also a bit of an altruist, though he’ll never admit to such. He makes a habit of doing small things for people he sees as less fortunate. He’ll tip extra for a meal or service, drop a few marks on the ground as he passes a beggar, pull some behind-the-scenes strings to get someone a job, but he always has a logical excuse for it, or else tries to make it look like an accident.
With his tendency to waltz obliviously about (or ride roughshod and jangling) in his own world that sometimes may as well be another planet, Karou misses quite a few things that others would notice, such as subtle social cues or small but potentially important details during conversation. Sometimes he’ll see or hear them, but only on a superficial level, and he’ll still fail to catch them as they sail over his head.
Positive Trait List Spontaneous, charismatic, confident, honorable, generous Negative Trait List Vain, obtuse, impulsive, inconsiderate
History: Karou was the second son of a minor Lord Holder, and as such, he was always considered second best by his father, Lord Dusiph. He was Lord of Rusadh Hold, a settlement located in Telgar’s domain. Dusiph made no secret of the fact that the boy’s sole purpose in life was to be skilled and handsome enough to bring in high bids from other holds as a marriage prospect—something that he actually didn’t mind, as long as his match was at least as attractive as he considered himself to be. He spent a lot of time under the tutelage of the hold’s resident Harper, learning the topics required by his father. Those were mostly business-related, which was fine, but he greatly enjoyed the swordplay his father also mandated, and in the hours left to his own devices, he officially added songwriting to his Harper apprenticeship.
Aside from his duties at home, Karou made frequent trips to Telgar proper on behalf of his father. He was useful as a runner, with just enough status to represent a Lord Holder but not enough to get away with very many of his own whims. Before returning to Rusadh, he often visited clothing or tea shops, his regular choice of the latter being one of the higher-end establishments run by a nice elderly couple. He frequented their shop more than any other due to it was the only one that served his favorite blend, Golden Spice.
It was during one of these stopovers that disaster came in the form of a menace thought long gone: Thread rained down upon Telgar, causing destruction like nothing Karou had ever seen. The building he was in caved as thread ate through the wooden rafters, dropping hundreds of heavy slate shingles on everyone inside. The boy barely saved himself by diving under the stone brick staircase to the second floor, which also partially fell, pinning him and breaking bones.
In the aftermath of Threadfall, he was discovered unconscious beneath the ruins. His rescuers brought him and many others to the healers, but no one recognized him in order to notify his family of his whereabouts. His signet ring was left at a certain tea shop, where he’d fidgeted with it at his table, rolling it between his fingers and passing it back and forth between his palms. As he rose to leave for his meeting, he’d distractedly dabbed at his lip with a napkin and set it down over the ring.
He slept for several days and was not fully aware of his circumstances for several weeks after waking, being kept in a constant fellis-driven fog because of the extreme pain of his injuries. When he finally recovered enough, he left of his own will, neither identifying himself nor accepting further help from the healers. He would have to go home soon, and deal with the family’s shock at his returning from the dead. Would it be a good reunion, or would there be a fallout with his father or brothers? He walked the devastated streets of Telgar, his feet moving out of habit while his mind was elsewhere. He found himself standing in front of his favorite tea shop, marveling at how, though some damage was done, it still stood. He thought to go in and ponder his situation over some Golden Spice, if they were still in business.
The rather intimate greeting he received from the shop’s serving girl, someone he barely remembered existing unless she was politely inquiring about his day whilst pouring his order, was… uncomfortable. He did stay for that tea, but left in a lurch when the girl bungled yet again, letting slip the news that thread had killed his entire family.
He never made it home; atop a high hill outside of Telgar proper, he could see the remains of his father’s hold. It had been transformed into a dry, barren patch of earth, no tree, plant or animal to be found, and naught but the skeletons of the stone warehouses left standing. Rusadh was gone.
Other:
Bronze Cadereth Written by Uta Colored by ShinosBee
Origin of Name: Avada Kedavra is called the Killing Curse. It is appropraite, then, to base this dragon's name off that of a dead body, or in this case, a cadaver. The English word cadaver, which means "corpse," and derives from the Latin cadere, "to fall".
Inspiration: Avada Kedavra
The Killing Curse (Avada Kedavra) is a tool of the Dark Arts and one of the three Unforgivable Curses. It is one of the most powerful and sinister spells known to wizardkind. When cast successfully on a living person or creature the curse causes instantaneous and painless death, without any signs of violence on the body.
The only known counter-spell is sacrificial protection, which uses the power of love. However, one may dodge the green bolt, block it with a physical barrier, or by the use of Priori Incantatem. The Killing Curse is an 'unblockable' curse, thus shield charms won't defend against it. An explosion or green fire may result if the spell hits something other than a living target.
Along with the Cruciatus and Imperius curses, the Killing Curse is known as one of the most terrible and sinister curses in the wizarding world. After the Wizards' Council was reformed into the Ministry of Magic tighter restrictions were placed on the use of certain kinds of magic. The Killing Curse was deemed by the Ministry to be Dark magic and along with the Cruciatus and Imperius curses, were declared "unforgivable" in 1717, with the Killing Curse considered to be the most deadly of the three. Use of any Unforgivable curse on a human would carry the punishment of a life sentence in Azkaban.
Personality: Cadereth is the bronze that High Reaches Weyr expected to get, but going forward, will now forever need to handle. Typical of his kin, this dragon was born with a proud personality. He knows exactly who he is, what he was hatched to do, and nobody is going to stand in his way. He is a bronze of High Reaches Weyr, and he knows well that someday, the Weyr will be at his command. He has his eyes on the prize, and if his rider never thought about becoming Weyrleader, he now will think of very little else. Cadereth is not the sort of dragon to be pushed or ordered around by anyone, and those who do will find a very resilient and strong-willed dragon.
He is the sort of dragon who challenges others, including his rider. He will ask the hard questions, and he won't simply roll over and listen. He is thrilled to know that he was born on top simply due to his metallic hide, and truly believes that he is far superior to any other color -- perhaps even including golds. What is a queen, after all, but simply the meal-ticket to commanding a Weyr? Cadereth has no trouble throwing his weight around, or his color, and he is the sort of dragon who has no pity or sympathy for those he steps on to reach to the top. And rest assured, he will not just step on you, but use you. He will use you until he need nothing more to do with you, and then he'll drop you without any sense of regret. Cadereth doesn't have friends outside of his beloved rider, whom he does treasure above all else--he has objects and things, nothing more.
Remorseless in his pursuit of power, it will be up to his rider to try to keep this dragon in line. While there is some good even in Cadereth, it is often only reserved for his rider to see. He is not a squishy bronze, or the sort who has any time or interest in dallying with individuals who are a waste of space or who get in his way. Whites, greens, blues, and even some browns are nothing but tools to him, easily disposed of, and easily replaced. His fellow bronzes might win his respect, but you can best be sure, this bronze finds very few who are on his level of perceived greatness. It will be up to his rider (or some very special dragons) to break this bronze of such a view.
Honestly, Cadereth's entire end goal is power. He is a bronze who knows that he is meant for greatness, and he will stop at nothing until he achieves it. He doesn't just want any gold, but a Weyrwoman. Why waste such time on golds that have no say? He wants to rise up and lead the Weyr, and that means growing up to be a real somebody. His rider WILL become a Wingleader whether they want to or not. There is only one place that will satisfy this bronze, and that is when he is known as the Weyrleader. Somewhere. Somewhen. And sooner than later.
Cadereth knows how to play nice when it suits him, but you can bet, everything he does is done with his end goal in mind. Every web he weaves has his own best-interest at heart, or that of his riders. He has no room for anyone else in his hearts, and he will push and drag his rider along for the wild ride. If his energies can be used for the greater good, he will make a fine dragon in any Wing--but if his self-centered nature, and lack of sincerity for those he walks upon doesn't change as he ages, then he might well find life a lonely world, indeed.
Adult Size: 42' Physical Attributes: Cadereth is a large bronze, and tends to try to make himself look even larger by having his wings half-mantled as often as possible, and always carrying his head held high. He is an imposing creature, muscular, and very strong. If he can look intimidating, he will, and frequently keeps his eyes tinged with red. He's not here to play nice, and he doesn't care who knows it.
Additional Notes: Cadereth is actually terrified of death and dying. Only his rider might discover such a fear, and privately. This bronze loves only one other more than himself, and that's his rider. He will obey his rider if his rider is strong-willed enough, and he might be grudging about it, but his rider is his world. The thought of losing him to Thread will make him a fierce Threadfighter; and the thought of losing him to anyone else (be it a lover, or some other task) might well make him aggressive and over-protective.
He has no interest in flights unless it's for a gold with actual rank attached. If he flies a dragon at all, it is purely to use them for the moment -- don't be fooled in thinking he's putting any feeling behind it. Even eggs don't interest this bronze; he just wants ways to get more and more power and to make a name for himself as a true contender.
Egg: This medium large dark pink and gold egg stands apart from the rest, barely touching two of its siblings. Whomever is inside doesn't appear to enjoy the experience.
Why Me? Cadereth gave the Candidates a long hard look, but it was Karou who reigned supreme. This dragon wanted someone with ambition, drive, and noble blood; anyone else is well beneath him. The boy's own self-centered nature also appealed to this bronze; he wants someone who knows that Pern is meant to be theirs for the taking, someone who already has confidence in droves. He doesn't need someone to rein him in, but someone who wants to rise up as he does. Cadereth believes Karou would be perfect for the role. Weyrling today, Weyrleader tomorrow.
Whether or not that's what Karou wants...well. He will want it now, because Cadereth will have it no other way.
Like rider like dragon, the two can make a pretty and charming pair when they need to; Cadereth can be kind when it's warranted, but there is hope that Karou's honorable side will at least help temper this bronze beast when he's at his worst. After all, even Cadereth knows that a Weyrleader must charm and seduce, and brute force of will isn't always the answer. Karou is useful in that regard. There's hope that this bronze's remorseful nature will be tempered by the Hold boy's propriety.
Additionally, Cadereth is a firm dragon, who did not want someone who he thought would attempt to rein him in or hold him back, or have a willpower that matched his own. He truly believes he can get away with murder around Karou, but in reality, Karou's charm, graces, and sense of nobility will allow him to keep Cadereth in check. The only question is whether or not Karou will want to.
Posted: Wed Nov 14, 2018 4:53 pm
Name: Thovorn Age: 38 Sex: Male Sexual Orientation: Heterosexual Craft: Former Journeyman Wherhandler Rank: Master of Hadston Mine Location: Hadston Hold (a minor hold, beholden to Crom) Physical Description: Tall, broad-shouldered, pale, light blue eyes, black hair, aquiline nose, thin lips
Personality: At first impression, Thovorn strikes most as a pleasant, though formal man. He puts much stock in decorum, choosing his words and actions with great care. This, coupled with his firm opinions and workplace regulations specific enough to split hairs, can lead to his being rather cold and distant, particularly from the standpoint of an employee. His business sense has brought more wealth to Hadston than its own Lord Holder ever did, but unfortunately, that doesn’t stop the mine workers from seeing him as an imperious taskmaster, or from believing that they deserve more for their work. In fact, his behavior often enforces their views.
At times he spends weeks away from Hadston, meeting with customers or attending other social obligations. When he is present, however, there are days when he seems obsessed with his work, motivated by some inner demon. He is always making changes, both small and great, perfecting the machine that is Hadston Mine. His mine. His source of security in a world gone beyond Between since the return of thread to its skies. The only person whose opinion he defers to is his mother, for he does not wholly trust anyone else aside from Esharth, his dragon.
He is a quietly arrogant man, knowing that everything he has was won fairly and without anyone else's help. He masks it with his well-mannered words, but there are times when his pride comes to the surface. Thovorn will never let others take credit for his efforts, nor will he tolerate his sacrifices being dragged through the mud. He looks down on those of means without working for it, despising them for their indolence and waste. In his heart of hearts, however, he envies them the ease in which they live, especially those whose families remain whole.
Positive Trait List Respectful, resourceful, driven Negative Trait List Prideful, jealous, cold History:
(The following is NOT COMMON KNOWLEDGE. Other characters will NOT know it unless explicitly told so by Thovorn himself.)
Thovorn’s father, a wealthy merchant, died when he was a boy. His family doesn’t talk about this often, because they later learned that, due to the impending collapse of his business, he took his own life—not a detail they want to dwell upon or spread around. What little they had left after the man’s death went to creditors. Thovorn and his mother lived in poverty for turns, barely kept afloat by her dogged efforts and sacrifices. Influenced by her determination, when the boy was old enough he worked very hard to help make ends meet.
In his teenage turns, he found work in the mines of Crom and became wherhandler to bronze Thosk, who was lost at age two to a sudden release of of explosive gas in the mines. He then bonded closely to Thovorsk, a very loyal brown. Thorvorsk was lost to a cave-in at age four. Thovorn so shaken by the loss of his best friend that it drove him to leave the mines and fully immerse himself in the quest for profit. He never gambled, borrowed or invested; everything he acquired was earned by the sweat of his own brow. The risk of loss, to him, was just too great, and trusting in an uncertainty was just foolish besides.
In 3566, he visited High Reaches Weyr. A new Weyrwoman and Weyrleader had recently been appointed, and there was a dragon clutch on the sands as a result. It was an auspicious event that would certainly draw many potential trade connections. He left the Weyr an entire turn later, riding blue Esharth, whom he’d Impressed from the stands. The dragon was ever so supportive of his ambitions, and often served as a voice over his shoulder, goading him on to higher and higher goals. Esharth was a balm to his wounded soul... but also a creeping poison.
With this draconian counselor as his heavy-handed guide, he worked like one possessed until he had saved enough marks to literally buy his way into his current position as master of Hadston Mine from the Lord Holder, who had no heir and was tired of dealing with the mine’s financial obligations to Crom. He was given ownership of the mine in all but name, having full control but also full responsibility to pay levies to Crom. With this livelihood secured, he now dotes upon his mother, giving her every comfort he can afford as thanks for everything she’d done to take care of him.
To the folk of Hadston Hold, Master Thovorn appeared out of the ether one day to lord it over them. What had possessed their Lord to hand the mine over to him, no one could fathom. Tales of blackmail, bribery, and gossip of the man being the Lord’s illegitimate son ran rampant from the day of his arrival. The man also brought a dragon with him when he came to Hadston—a genteel, stridently-marked blue born of the Queen of the High Reaches Weyrwoman herself. And oh, the lurid speculation on how that came to be! Said to be swimming in marks and cutting a tall, dark and toothsome figure, he attracted the notice of quite a few of Hadston’s ladies (and their fathers, looking for lucrative marriages for them). He was always polite, and his mother a gracious hostess, but their answers were always “no.” Even his best business connections shook their heads for the shame of it.
Thovorn ignored it all, putting his aquiline nose to the grindstone and making extensive changes to the way the mine was run, turning it into a real business. Work hours were increased. Extra overseers were brought in to make sure workers came and left on time, and that they didn’t dally about while on duty. There were never advances on pay, nor raises to be had. Miners and laborers were “let go” and forcibly removed on sight if caught breaking certain rules—and no one was exempt, no matter how many children they had to feed. It wasn’t long before people began to complain. But they didn’t have a choice. Hadston was a mining hold. There was little else there, and if someone left the mine, there were always others to fill the void. In any case, Thovorn had the complete support and approval of the Lord Holder, who was just relieved to be free of the responsibility.
DRAGON Name: Esharth Age: 8 Color: Blue Size: 33’ Physical Description: Esharth has the looks of a creature who would be at home in the water. He is low and long, his body made of curves like those of a bending river, the markings of his blue hide reminiscent of the water’s ripples and varying shades of depth. He carries himself with a similar flow, slinking about with sinuous movements. He prefers the darkness, being unusually active at night and spending much of his time in the hand-carved tunnels of the mines, lurking and observing with cold slate eyes.
Personality: Esharth looks down on the world with a fierce malevolence, finding little in it to be worth very much. He was born with eyes only for his rider. From the moment his shell cracked, he could sense the magnificent, lonesome creature who struggled with the heart of a mighty feline—and yet doubted himself. He braved the sands alone, thrusting all pretenders and hypocrites aside in his charge to the lowest row of the stands. There, high above him, was his man. Thovorn.
Esharth was only a hatchling, but it was not long before he learned why Thovorn’s heart had compelled him so. He had fought tooth and claw to survive in a world full of men who chewed up and spit each other out, destroying hearts and lives, all for selfish gain. It did not matter if they resided in a Weyr or in a Hold or in the wilds as raiders. Humans were all the same. If that was the game to be played, Esharth was willing to play it, and do so better than any of those others. Together, they would face the world, and crush their foes.
He became Thovorn’s shadow, the soft whisper in his ear, always encouraging, always knowing the most direct route to bring his lifemate out as the victor. If Thovorn was unsure, Esharth would gently press him with the softest of spurs, continually administered until he finally did what needed to be done. These days, he is feared and hated at large in Hadston, often prowling the mines, watching the workers from the shadows and “listening” to their attitudes. If any are slacking, misusing equipment, in an off-limits area, or if any dare speak ill of his lifemate, he is quick to inform the overseers, turning their ears with his sweet words. Many jobs were lost in recent turns because of his reports.
On rare occasions, he can be heard humming a melody that he has carried with him since he was a hatchling. On even rarer occasions, he will recite its lyrics for a deserving audience. It is the law he lives by, words drawn from his own hearts when he was very young.
Be thou wary, little one, Whether rain, or whether sun; The world feigns as something pure But only those who doubt endure. If you would be counted wise, You would not believe its lies. If you desire to live well, First you’ll have to save yourself. Then your eyes shall watch above, Lest harm come to your one true love.
Positive Trait List Sophisticated, well-spoken, intelligent Negative Trait List Ruthless, manipulative, cold, legalistic
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Posted: Thu Dec 27, 2018 3:55 am
Name: Delris Age: 24 Nameday: 3549.11.29 Sex: Male Sexual Orientation: Is it female, of age, and at least mildly attractive? He’ll take it. Weyr: High Reaches Weyr Rider Rank: Wingrider Previous Rank/Craft: Journeyman Harper (Novelist, dabbles in drawing and painting)
Physical Description: A slim man of average height and boyish looks. His overall frame is lanky, a bit knobby in the shoulders and a bit long in the chin. He has pale peach skin and hair whose natural color is a shade of auburn but often changes thanks to dyes, he usually prefers blonds or reds. Within deep-set eyes, his near-black irises are so large that he tends to appear slightly cross-eyed when focused on something directly in front of him. This tends to lend to an overall appearance of innocence, which he takes full advantage of.
While he generally focuses on cultivating this trustworthy image to his own ends, he does have a colorful set of sneers and smolders that he will absolutely switch on if the mood is right.
Personality: This wide-eyed young man is sweet, polite, and perhaps even a bit dashing. He’s certainly chivalrous where the ladies are concerned. He tends to exude a bright, if unconscious innocence, a humble fellow with a faint tinge of sorrow beneath the surface of his words once one gets him talking long enough on the right subject. Once in a while, though, he might give a particularly sharp look, or crack a somewhat off-color joke. Both would feel a little foreign coming from him and might elicit a startled glance or a raise of a brow from acquaintances and those who hold shallower levels of friendship.
In short, that is because he’s something akin to a soft, adorable stuffed animal shell that has been sewn around a sarcastic sack of wherry waste instead of puffs of batting and a squeak-maker. Most likely in that last scenario, somebody got close enough to squeeze him, and instead of a cute little peep, something far less pleasant leaked out. He looks harmless on the outside, but on the inside Delris is a wicked little imp. He enjoys tormenting his half-brother and closest friends with pranks and affectionate but irritating or startling gestures, like unexpected pinches. His choice of words in those private moments is often chock full of biting sarcasm, but can also be quite demonstrative in that or any setting. It is is very sincere toward certain people, and a targeted attack toward others.
He relishes pulling the wool over people’s eyes, especially when he manages to get away with something under the nose of one of his superiors. Back when training at at Harper Hall, while it was only an occasional occurrence and his system rarely worked more than once on any of them, he did things like convince one of his masters to forgive a “lost” assignment, another to excuse him from a boring class for a couple of days to help elsewhere—harmless stuff, but boy, was it satisfying.
Of his works of a less harmless nature, the few ladies who know him well enough would know it’s safer to remain unmoved by his sweeter speeches. For one who assumes he’s serious, she’ll have an unpleasant surprise later on when she learns she’s lost her heart to someone who just had no idea she felt so strongly! Oh dear, he's so sorry! He’s a discreet but shameless opportunist.
Well, not exactly shameless. Guilt is for the weak and dependent, so he just kicks it under the rug and focuses on something else until it quiets down. That won’t ever come back to bite him. Nope, just a big forgotten vault of shame and self-loathing, filling up a little more every day. Totally never going to hit some sort of limit on that, no sir. The truth, however deeply he tries to bury it, is that with each heart he breaks, a small part of his own is also crushed. He may never admit it, but each time he connects with a woman on even a slightly deeper-than-surface level, there is a longing for something more than a moment’s gratification. Part of him dares to hope that maybe, just maybe… maybe it will work out this time. With this one. This is why he can seem so sincere. He is sincere… until he remembers that there is no such thing as love. So he flees before the opportunity comes for him to be rejected.
He’s pretty good at making friends, but does end up with enemies despite his best efforts to dodge such entanglements. Though true enemies are thankfully rare, when he wins himself one, it’s usually a humdinger in his opinion, whether it be an enraged father or brother defending a lady’s honor, or a superior who knows his deceit and never gives him an inch of wiggle room. He tries to avoid it, but illicit behavior of any sort inevitably results in a comeuppance sooner or later. He’s suffered some real shiners, cracked ribs and one knife wound over the last ten turns or so.
Delris is good at bending the spoken word to his will, but also writes and publishes novels, including romances. If we're being honest, he thinks they are completely asinine—he knows what love is really like, and he knows his audience. He writes merely for the marks and, on occasion, other perks. Just because some passionate fans assume he’s a romantic person doesn’t make him so, but he’ll let them have their little fantasies. The ultimate irony of it all is that, somewhere in the deeps of his heart, there is a longing to be loved by one woman, but he struggles to believe in that being a possibility, sneering at it from underneath all of those layers of jading and spite. If he ever meets this mythical “The One,” he’s probably going to hurt her long before realizing, and accepting, who she really is.
While his brother Osris never falls for and is actually capable of mitigating some of his behavior, the only thing that has ever truly succeeded in tying him down and tempering him thus far is his dragon, whose gentle nudging and blatant displays of love and affection for Delris and others have vastly reduced the occasions that result in true heartbreak. While his earliest escapades were all fun and games, the weight of the effects on both himself and the people around him have become much heavier, especially now that Qeryth is always around to hold him accountable.
Positive Trait List Charming, persuasive, affectionate, desires commitment Negative Trait List Selfish, manipulative, two-faced, fears rejection
History: Delris was born in Nabol Hold to a couple of book shop owners. He spent a large part of his childhood escaping into those books, taking comfort in the fantasies, romantic love stories and consistently-happy endings. His parents were good to him and his half-brother Osris, but acted like they hated each other for as long as he can remember. He never knew who started it or how, but they were constantly retaliating against each other’s infidelity by imitating it, then arguing and never talking about it, solving nothing. He couldn’t understand why, but they must have loved each other deep down, for they stayed together through their differences even though they were well-off enough to split the business and part ways. Delris always wished they would split up, because their behavior was so frightening when he was young, then hurtful and annoying, and he found it just unbearably idiotic by the time he was mature enough to up and walk out of the house himself, leaving them and taking Osris with him. If that was married life, he wanted nothing to do with it, and hoped his brother avoided it as well.
They studied at Harper Hall, where Delris took a cue from the books he’d read and learned to harness the power of words in a way that was actually profitable. He became a novelist, making good marks with lies about love and happy endings. When he developed the interest in it, he imitated his parents and applied his skills to making a certain sort of friends as well. He avoided the stigma for a good while with his wily ways, but eventually got himself (rightfully) pegged as a womanizer when one too many of his dates discovered and talked to others.
Quite timely, from his perspective, he and his brother Osris were Searched to High Reaches Weyr for a fresh start. He enjoyed the simplicity of his work as a candidate, and continued his novels as best he could in his spare time. Sometimes he found it even easier to finagle what he wanted there than it’d been at Harper Hall, where a few of the Masters were some of the wiliest people Pern had to offer. He was much more careful with the ladies at the Weyr, dallying with only one at a time and not for very long, developing skill with seemingly sincere apologies when things “weren’t working out” after a few weeks, or days. He rarely went long without having someone to keep him company, thanks in part to the constant greenflights that went on at the Weyr. He also encouraged a sort of “tragic hero” reputation for himself that was quite helpful. He was a poor lonely boy who just wanted to be loved! And there was a fairly regular supply of those who erroneously thought they might be the right one do it.
Life was pretty good until Qeryth hatched. The greatest gift he’d ever received—the love of a dragon—came with a price: total fidelity to High Reaches Weyr, and the looming possibility that he might have to give his own life in serving it.
During their first blooding, Delris' self-preservation sirens were going full bore, and it effected their performance poorly. They made some stupid mistakes and have a bit of scoring to show for it, but managed to stay in one piece. Thankfully, Qeryth had the instincts and the joyful fighters’ spirit. She has always been pleased to fight her natural enemy, and to give her best in doing so. The man, on the other hand, is still deathly afraid of it, now that it has become “real” to him as a rider. It is a horrifying creature from nightmares that devours living beings and can’t be reasoned with. He counts himself very lucky to have not lost anyone to such a terror. Though he often wishes Qeryth had come before Thread returned so they could live freely outside of a Weyr, he’ll fight it for the sake and happiness of his dragon, understanding that he has no real choice in the matter. With time and experience, though, his confidence should grow.
Other: Both Delris and Osris are illegitimate; Delris the son of the father, Osris the son of the mother, born two weeks apart. Os is the elder of the two.
DRAGON Name: Qeryth Age: 3 Color: Green Size: 22’ Physical Attributes: Where her rider’s innocent appearance and demeanor is somewhat affected, Qeryth’s is completely natural. She is on the smaller side of average, a very slender-bodied green with large, expressive eyes and a pretty little nose. Her legs, toes and headknobs are well-formed but seem to be staying relatively shorter as she grows, as are her wings. Her proportions cause her to somewhat resemble a perpetual nestling-waif.
Whether because of her compact proportions causing chafing or just plain old genetics falling that way, Qeryth’s hide is prone to irritation, rashes, and complications with surface wounds. This condition requires regular visits to a dragonhealer to manage to ensure that she can safely jump between in threadfall.
Personality Qeryth is a sweet, warm, welcoming creature. She’s always polite and loves to visit friends and family, or even better, entertain company in her own weyr. Those connections to others, especially blood kin, are very important to her. She feels a bit lost without those tethers, and the more she has, the better. She can suffer from separation anxiety when away from her rider or a beloved dragon for too long, so she spends a lot of time speaking long-distance with her siblings and friends who aren’t in sight or who live elsewhere. She lost a few of her siblings on their hatch day, and even though she knows it’s silly, from time to time she still calls out and strains to spot them in the nothingness when she goes between.
She has a strong sense of class structure within her kind, tending to defer to browns, bronzes and golds without complaint, sometimes even if their requests cross the line of common sense. Though she’s heard that Western approves all colors for leadership, she knows such a goal isn’t right for her. She is no one special, and perfectly happy to live the mundane life allowed those of lesser rankings.
Qeryth loves fighting Thread! She is a bit gung-ho, wanting to be like the strongest and bravest dragons in the Weyr and in stories Delris has written or read to her. Her heroism is a little exaggerated and not particularly realistic. Her stamina isn’t the greatest (piffling, even!) and she’s definitely not invincible—facts her rider has to remind her of quite frequently.
When she rises, if there isn’t any chaser in particular that she especially desires, she will attempt to pick a blue or brown who is bonded to a woman. Maybe that one will be the right one for her rider? All she can do is try. She believes no one is meant to be alone, and believes Delris would be happiest being loved and surrounded by a veritable clan of his own blood, as she is among her own kin. She is glad that she was shelled as a green, not for the fact that her instinct to rise often would be enjoyable for him, but that her consistent, gentle requests for him to stay just one more night afterward might eventually bring about something fulfilling and long-term, if not permanent.
Other: (Why Me?) Qeryth saw right through the front Delris puts up from the moment she felt his mind during the first Touching, and was baffled by her own conclusion that he has completely convinced himself that he must pretend to be something he already is. That fascinating paradox, perhaps, was the deciding factor in her choosing him over someone who valued family as much as she does. Family is very important to Qeryth, and she will gently impress this value upon her rider, who, aside from his half-brother, seems to have rejected the idea of family altogether.
Since common sense isn’t quite so common, at least for Qeryth, Delris will be there to provide that in spades. He’s not so willing to blindly trust everyone, nor bend his knee at the first whim of a someone with a knot above his own. Hopefully, his reluctance and her enthusiasm will eventually balance each other out. This also applies to Threadfighting—girl needs a bit of a woah! now and then to remind her that she isn’t some legendary, invincible hero like the ones she’s heard about in harper tales. He’d like them both to enjoy their life together for a long, long time, thank you!
Origin: Qeryth appeared as a prize during EoP’s 2018 Christmas event, “Have An Eggcellent Holiday: CYO Eggs!”
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Name: Felixa – Lady, Dame or Madame are commonly used titles
