Loki's Tome of Tales Told

[LokiofStories]

DRAMATIS PERSONAE

Carwyn - Apprentice Harper/Candidate
There are nine and sixty ways of constructing tribal lays/And - every - single - one - of - them - is - right!

Antoly - Master Harper
If we were interested in making money, we wouldn't have become teachers.

Tadran - Apprentice Harper
I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.

Brynmor - Journeyman Glasscrafter

Kenvoi - Apprentice Woodcrafter/Candidate

 

[LokiofStories]

CARWYN – APPRENTICE HARPER
Standing?: Yes
Pronunciation: CAR-win
Gender: Male
Preference: Pan
Birthplace: High Reaches Weyr
Age: 16

Physical Description:
Carwyn is an oddity among his brothers as he doesn’t share the height they all got from their father. Indeed, he’s about an inch or two shorter than average height and with his wiry build he doesn’t stand out all that much in a crowd, but he hasn’t let that bother him. His hair, a shade of golden-brown similar to wheat, tends to shift colors depending on the atmosphere. In summertime, when he spends as much time as possible outdoors, it lightens to a light, sandy blond while in winter, when he’s more inside than out, it darkens to a darker, vaguely brownish shade. He keeps it cropped short and brushed back out of his face. Even his eyes deviate from the apparent trend, being an interesting hazel shade rather than brown. These alter based more on his mood than the color of his clothing, the inner golden-brown ring widening when he gets angry while the outer greenish-grey becomes dominant when he’s in a good mood. The one thing his looks do share with his father is the intensity of those eyes; Carwyn’s stare can look right through a person if he wants it to, holding a cooly calculating expression more often than not.

The rest of his face is nothing special and he definitely does not fit the description of what most people call handsome; rather, his looks are interesting, his nose a little too big to blend into the background. Were it not for his eyes, it would probably be the dominant feature. His jawline, possibly the only obvious sign of his father’s blood, is firm and gives his face the length it needs to draw attention away from the center and out to the rest of the picture. With his mouth often drawn up into a faint smirk of a smile, the intense or calculating light in his eyes gives him the impression of lazy insolence or arrogance, and it looks good on him. When he gives a true smile or grin, however, it adds a sparkle to his eyes and a boyish quality to his face that makes the expression almost infectious.

Not one normally given to frippery or decoration, Carwyn doesn’t much care what he wears so long as it’s clean and relatively free of holes. He doesn’t favor any color above any other, though greens and greys can bring out the cooler colors in his hazel eyes and darker shades compliment his lightly tanned skintone. The one touch of ornamentation he will allow himself is a single hoop of metal in one ear, made by his brother Nikodin for his last Turnday. Now that he’s old enough to start shaving, he’s taken to keeping a bit of scruff on his face, both out of laziness and because he likes the look.

Personality:
Carwyn is nothing if not a punk. He’s intelligent and knows it, which often leaves him making sarcastic remarks at the expense of others; hopefully he’ll grow out of it a little eventually. Being shorter than most of his peers most of his life, he learned quickly that the best weapon he had against them and the older boys were words, and he’s learned to use them to great effect. He’s also turned his lack of height into a weapon, preferring to attack from the low ground, as it were, to unbalance his opponent. The position of dominance, after all, is above, not below, and Carwyn’s learned that reversing that can have a great effect on his chances.

Don’t let that fool you into thinking he’s not a fighter, though. Carwyn is a scrappy little devil when occasion calls for it. Being among the youngest of his siblings, Carwyn grew up wrestling and roughhousing with three older brothers, not to mention the other boys in the crèche growing up. He’s got an eye for situations and can use words and tactics to great effect, but if he has to he won’t hesitate to get physical; it’s a trait that has gotten him into more than one spot of trouble in the past.

Still and all, he’s a good lad. Those friends he’s kept he’s highly protective of, to the point of occasionally poking about in their business if he thinks there’s trouble afoot; he means well, but his meddling might not be appreciated. The same goes for family, especially his few younger siblings. Once they start dating he’ll insist on meeting whoever their current object of affection is, even before C’din does, and that goes double for his little sister. He pays attention during lessons and work, though occasionally only because he gets better snarking opportunities; Carwyn’s always been quick on the uptake and has little patience for those who can’t keep up. If he knows there’s a good reason why they can’t, however, he’s more forgiving; brain illness or a head injury wasn’t necessarily their fault, after all, so they can’t help it if they can’t keep up.

Craft Speciality: None yet, really, he’s just an Apprentice, though he’s leaning towards politics. He’s also shown himself a fair singer and decent on the hammered dulcimer.
Craft Weaknesses: He has yet to learn when not to use that smart mouth of his, and he dislikes the idea of teaching small children. He doesn’t quite have the patience for it.

Relatives:
Father
C’din of bronze Audroth
Mother
Rhonwyn, kitchen worker
Brothers
Randen, Journeyman Winecrafter
Nikodin, Journeyman Smith
Arseni, Apprentice Healer
Denral, Apprentice Beastcrafter
Tadran, Apprentice Harper
Todrin, Weyrbrat, Craft unchosen
Sister
Myrhya, Apprentice Weaver

History:
Carwyn was the result of a lost flight; when bored bronze Audroth lost yet another greenflight, his rider C’din happened across Rhonwyn on his way back to his weyr and well, the rest is rather obvious. Nine months later, Rhonwyn gave birth to a healthy baby boy she decided to call Carwyn. Being Weyrbred herself and having ended up in the beds of a couple other losing riders, Rhonwyn was fairly certain there would be no particular attachment to her from C’din and didn’t expect to hear from the man again. Had Carwyn been a girl, it’s likely that Rhonwyn never would have mentioned C’din to the child at all, but boys need a father figure. Rhonwyn waffled back and forth about whether or not to tell C’din for a good three Turns before finally biting the firestone and introducing the pair.

Carwyn took an immediate liking to his bronzerider father and to his older brothers, insisting on running around with Randen and Nikodin even though he was both younger and smaller than they. When his family grew, with the additions of twins Tadran and Todrin, he had no problem at all including them in his games. Indeed, he spent so much time with the pair that Carwyn is among the two or three people in the Weyr who can easily tell the two apart. He remained close to his mother Rhonwyn as well, though, and is very protective of her. Any man trying to court her has had to go through her son since he was seven.

That protectiveness got him in his first major bout of trouble when he was eight. Rhonwyn’s then-beau hadn’t taken too well to having a mere child tell him off for speaking to his mother in a less-than-polite fashion. Carwyn, refusing to back down, had ended up backhanded, which sent him tumbling down the flight of stairs he’d confronted the man on. The fall damaged both legs, and the injuries never quite healed right which left Carwyn with an unusually stiff-legged gait. It hasn’t slowed him down much, though he occasionally blames the injury for why he hasn’t grown as much as other boys his age; truthfully in that regard he takes more after Rhonwyn than C’din, he just doesn’t quite want to admit it.

As he got closer to Apprenticeable age, Carwyn began paying more attention to the Crafts around him. He had every intention of Standing once he became old enough, but everyone needed a fall-back plan, after all. Always one to gather as much information as possible, Carwyn poked around the Craft caverns for a full Turn before settling on Harpercraft at the age of thirteen. He took to it like a fish to water, and tries to keep his studies up in between Clutches; if he ages out of Candidacy he has his sights set on becoming a Master Harper one day. It never hurts to have a fallback plan.

 

[LokiofStories]

ANTOLY – MASTER HARPER

Standing?: No
Pronunciation: AN-toh-lee
Gender: Male
Preference: Straight
Birthplace: Fort Hold
Age: 52
Location: High Reaches Hold

Physical Description:
Antoly is tall and lanky, broad of shoulder but lacking much in the way of muscle. His wavy brown hair, kept shorter than his son’s after his wife got tired of having to remind him to brush it, is beginning to be shot through with grey, adding a much-needed touch of dignity to his somehow permanently youthful face. Toly is one of those men who just does not seem to age, however many wrinkles he may get. His eyes, a warm klah-colored brown, are always sparkling with some sort of mirth, and the faint lines now visible on his face are more from laughter than worry.

Toly wears simple clothing, a tunic and trousers sufficing for pretty much anything that he needs to do. Thanks to Ciaran’s influence, his clothing is not as dusty or shabby as it might otherwise be, but it is still very easy to tell that he doesn’t pay much attention to the condition of what he’s wearing. Many an elbow is patched or worn through, and there are ink-stains on more than a few sleeves. His formal clothes are much better cared for, though many speculate that the reason for that is because Ciaran locks them away until the day he needs them.

Personality:
The first words that come to mind when someone is asked to describe Toly are “Absent-minded Professor.” He is scatterbrained, disorganized, and has a tendency to drop a project he’s currently working on in favor of an idea that he had just now, oh you should hear about it, it’ll be wonderful! Fortunately for him, said ideas usually are. Unfortunately, this results in his passing incomplete works – a tune without lyrics, or lyrics without a tune – off to other Harpers for them to make of what they will.

Antoly is a kind man, without a deceitful or spiteful bone in his body. It takes rather a lot to get him to even dislike someone, and more than a few people have called him naïve or even stupid. But Antoly did not become a Master Harper by composition skill alone. He has quite a head on his shoulders and can occasionally offer some interesting insight into situations, drawing from history and his own previous knowledge. Scatterbrained or not, he’s not a man to take for granted.

Craft Speciality: Composition and lyrics
Craft Weaknesses: Politics. His view of politics is “Can’t we all just get along?” He is also, and likely will remain, rather scatterbrained and absentminded.

Relatives:
Father
Darret, Master Harper, deceased
Mother
Lidiya, housewife, deceased
Wife
Ciaran, Journeyman Harper
Son
Sh’sui of blue Trivath, Wingrider
Granddaughters
Adelais, deceased
Cirana, Weyrbrat (adopted)

History:
It was about fifty Turns ago that Master Harper Darret and his wife Lidiya were blessed with a bouncing baby boy. They named him Antoly and promptly set about spoiling the poor boy rotten. Fortunately, little Toly was growing up at the Harper Hall in Fort, so his parents’ coddling was off-set by many of the other Harpers having very little patience for his antics and tendency to get underfoot. The other side-effect of the coddling was his tendency to drop a project right in the middle when something else caught his eye, something he never quite outgrew.

Antoly never had a thought toward Apprenticing to anything other than Harpercraft, and jumped into the Craft as soon as he was old enough. He was a very eager student, much to the delight – and, occasionally, chagrin – of his instructors. His eagerness occasionally translated to going a bit too deep into whatever he was doing, forgetting anything else. Often he would put his full focus into a project for one class and forget entirely another project for another class entirely. His primary saving grace, to compensate for his scatterbrained nature, was his intelligence. Absent-minded he may have been, but stupid he wasn’t. Often in class discussions, when he had spent the majority of the class absorbed in his own thoughts, he would suddenly speak up with an observation that surprised the majority of his classmates and, on one or two occasions, their instructor.

By the time he walked the tables at twenty-one – a little late due to his absentminded nature - to become a Journeyman, his instructors had taken to asking him to sit in on some of the Apprentice lessons, as something of a junior instructor. The general hope was that his absent-mindedness might be lessened if he was given a situation where he needed to keep his focus on what was going on. It worked, but not as well as they hoped. Antoly paid attention to what was going on, but still tended to drift off into his own thoughts at random. His observations, however, got sharper, and more than one smartaleck Apprentice found himself shot down by one of Antoly’s simple statements.

Now that he was a Journeyman, however, they sent him off into the world. Perhaps some experience would bring the slightly spacy Harper back down to Pern where he belonged. His first assignment was Ruatha Hold, where he was under the guidance of a Master Harper stationed there. His scatterbrained nature didn’t seem to lessen much now that he was out of the Hall, something that the Master wrote back to report on, but perhaps all that was needed was time. After all, Toly was just barely out of boyhood. Give him a few Turns to mature and maybe he’d level out.

He was soon sent on from Ruatha, and arrived at Benden Hold in early spring of his thirtieth Turn. It was there he met Ciaran. A fellow Journeyman, there for the same reason he was, she initially regarded his scattered nature and absent-minded behavior as an odd quirk. After one of his random yet eerily observant comments, however, she became intrigued with the mind behind the absentness. The two began talking when they had time, in the dining hall or the courtyard when they had some downtime, and soon became friends. Toly offered to give her a few pointers on composition, his own specialty, and she in turn gave him some assistance in the art of instrument making – though he never really got any good past simple wooden flutes.

Antoly and Ciaran grew close in the time he spent at Benden, and towards the end of that Turn they were married. They returned to the Fort Harper Hall to finalize the arrangement, and Toly and Ciaran began travelling together. Four Turns later, they returned to the Hall to check in and Ciaran was forced to take a vacation from her travels, being far enough advanced in pregnancy that it was dangerous for the baby, and it was at the Hall that their family grew bigger by one, in the form of a bouncing baby boy they named Tolaran. Ciaran left the Craft to properly raise their son, but Antoly was still a Journeyman. He was soon given another assignment and left for High Reaches, though he sent messages back as often as he could, and visited whenever a chance presented itself.

Five Turns later, when Tolaran was old enough to travel with little ill effect, Ciaran rejoined her husband, stationed then in Keroon, and Antoly’s scatterbrained nature took a slight turn for the worse now he had his son there to distract him. Thanks in large part to Ciaran’s influence, however, little Tolaran’s distractions were kept to a minimum and Antoly’s work remained for the most part uninterrupted by a five-Turn-old. He did, however, have to lend some concentration to make sure his son behaved and did as he was told; Tolaran had a knack for avoiding work. By the time Antoly was stationed in Tillek, however, in Tolaran’s tenth Turn and Toly’s 30th, the lad had had some sense forced into him.

Two Turns later, Shunsui had come of age and Antoly saw him sent back to Fort to begin his own Apprenticeship as a Harper. Antoly and Ciaran went with him, to see him settled into his new routine, and then the by-then-Senior Journeyman was given a new assignment: Nerat Hold. Thanks to his wife’s influence, Antoly’s absent-mindedness had been tempered somewhat, but he still had a distressing tendency to start projects and get sidetracked, a habit that mildly annoyed the Master in charge of Nerat’s Harper contingent. His skill and ability to make observations that others might not have noticed lessened that annoyance, however.

In the winter of his fifty-first Turn, Antoly was called back to the Harper Hall, where his wife and son looked on with pride as he was promoted to Master Rank. There had been some thought that Toly might be upwards of sixty before he made it that far, given his absentmindedness, but he had proved them all wrong. He was not, however, immediately given an assignment but rather kept at the Hall for a time as deliberations were made. These ultimately had him sent back to the area from whence he'd just come, taking his place at High Reaches Hold.

 

[LokiofStories]

TADRAN – APPRENTICE HARPER

Standing?: No
Pronunciation: TAD-ren
Gender: Male
Preference: Unknown
Birthplace: High Reaches Weyr
Age: 12
Location: High Reaches Weyr

Physical Description:
A young lad right at the transition age where boys go from ‘cute’ to ‘handsome’, Tadran still has a bit of growing to do. His slightly unruly mop of dark brown hair seems to resist everyone’s efforts to keep it tidy – partially because Tad himself doesn’t care enough to bother – and keeps falling into his blue-hazel eyes. Those eyes, often alight with some form of mischief, look just as blue as his twin brother’s half the time, but if the light is right or he’s wearing the right clothing the greeny-brown hazel tones hidden within them come out to play.

He’s slender, bordering on skinny, with the promise of gaining quite a bit of height once he hits his growth spurt. As it is, he’s around average height for boys his age which doesn’t help much in telling him apart from Todrin. Their parents – and the crèchemothers, by mutual agreement – have seen fit to try and dress them in different clothes, with Tad getting more green and tan shades to bring out the hazel coloring in his eyes more, but that doesn’t do much for anything but furthering the twins’ own innate mischievousness by swapping clothing to further any given plot.

Personality:
Tadran is one of those boys that can’t be summed up in just one word. Mischievous and intelligent are the two usually used, and it depends on the person just what inflection the two words get. His intelligence is often seen in lessons and chores – he hates doing chores so finds the quickest way possible to get the job done so he can go do something fun – but more usually seen in his favorite pastime: making mischief of various kinds with his brother Todrin.

Most people assume Tadran’s mind behind the majority of the plots simply due to the fact that he can actually sit still and focus on dull repetition or a boring task longer than his brother, but in truth it’s a tossup which of the two boys is the mastermind behind their various plots. They take it in turns; whoever has the best idea gets to be in charge. The main reason Tad can sit still for the time it takes to write out one of the Teaching Ballads for the fiftieth time is that his mind focuses inward, the creative spark that lends itself so well to pranks letting him visualize the Ballad as a picture in motion. Of course, then his mind tends to get distracted by a rogue thought and the task ends up all but forgotten, but you can’t have everything.

Authority figures have little effect on Tadran, simply due to the fact that punishment slides off him as easily as water off a fish’s scales. Yes, he knows it was wrong, and yes he knows he’ll get in trouble if he does it again, but the simple fact is that his overly-active mind can even turn latrine duty into something fun, especially if the punisher doesn’t think to separate him and Todrin somehow. He loves his mother dearly, but he has never seen her as an authority figure. She’s always been more of a confidant and close friend. The one thing that will get him to toe the line is the notion of failing his father. Tadran, like his brother, holds C’din in very high regard and would never do anything to disappoint or shame the man – at least overtly. It’s only against the rules if you get caught, after all. Because of this, C’din is really the only person Tad listens to in matters of discipline – much to the dismay of his father.

When it comes right down to it, though, family is very important to Tad. He loves his parents, his brothers, and his sister all dearly, though he is closest to his twin brother Todrin. The two have been all but inseparable since birth and, as they look exactly the same and seem to constantly be on the exact same wavelength at all times, are often mentioned as a single entity. Outwardly it doesn’t bother him much, but Tad is getting to that age where he wants to stand out just a little bit. His brother is the most important person in his life, true, but that relationship’s not all there is to him. That, coupled with the natural competitive streak he shares with his brother, turns just about everything into a challenge. Their caretakers can only dread what will happen when those two take up a Craft or – Faranth forbid – Impress to a pair of dragons.

Relatives:
Father
C’din, rider of bronze Audroth
Mother
Meraia, rider of green Seraketh
Brothers
Randen, Journeyman Winecrafter
Nikodin, Journeyman Smith
Arseni, Apprentice Healer
Carwyn, Apprentice Harper
Denral, Apprentice Beastcrafter;
Todrin, Weyrbrat, Craft unchosen
Sister
Myrhya, Apprentice Weaver

History:
Tadran was born on an otherwise unremarkable early summer’s day at High Reaches Weyr, followed not five minutes later by his twin brother Todrin. Their mother, Meraia, was the rider of green Seraketh and they themselves were the product of Seraketh’s latest flight, which had been won by bronze Audroth and his rider C’din. Tad and his brother, after being given delightfully confusing names for identical twins, spent most of their childhood in the crèche, though they were able to get to know their mother due to her insistence that they spend nights and rest-days with her. That, however, was not always a bed of roses.

In the twins’ second Turn, they were both fussy when Meraia came to pick them up after a long day of drilling. Tad had been busy getting into one of the stores of chalk and Tod, always eager to join his brother in any sort of mischief, had been happily helping him make a grand old mess of the floor, walls, cabinet and, of course, each other. Neither twin had especially been thrilled by the prospect of going home and both had promptly thrown a fit. C’din, completely unsuspecting, had been on his way to pick up one of his other sons, Carwyn, when Meraia saw him and saw what seemed like the perfect opportunity to inform him that the two squalling boys were, in fact, his and were also his responsibility for the rest of the night. Tad, surprised by being foisted off on a complete stranger by his mother, promptly quieted down and stared up at the tall bronzerider who was apparently his father.

That began the relationship with C’din and his elder brothers that would firmly entrench his father as a man to respect and honor above anyone else in Tad’s mind. He and Tod still spent much of what time their mother could spare with her, but Meraia’s seeming unwillingness to chastise and discipline her already rambunctious boys just made it even clearer that she was no authority figure. Not only that, but both boys soon found that if they even remotely looked like crying it could cut off even an attempted lecture from Meraia, a tactic they used with great success. C’din, however, with his quiet but firm hand, soon made it very clear that he was not as easy a mark as their mother; Tad and Tod quickly learned that their father was no pushover, raising him in their estimation even more.

As they grew the twins were made aware of the rest of the family. Tadran only too happy to get to know his older brothers and sister. Their mischief seemed to know no bounds, the two constantly up to something together, which was why C'din put his foot down when the pair turned ten. They would not be of age to Stand for a clutch for another four Turns; until then they could at least be productive members of the Weyr, and that meant either finding chores to do or taking up a Craft. With those options, Tadran immediately turned to the Craft Caverns, following his brother Carwyn's lead and apprenticing as a Harper.

 

[LokiofStories]

BRYNMOR – JOURNEYMAN GLASSCRAFTER

Standing? No
Pronunciation: BRIN-more
Gender: Male
Preference: Unknown
Birthplace: High Reaches Hold
Age: 24
Location: Tillek Hold

Physical Description:
Brynmor’s looks do not exactly fit the classical definition of ‘handsome’. One of those men who started looking about 35 when he hit 18, his appearance already seems to carry a balance of experience that doesn’t quite mesh with the youth evident in his eyes. His is a face that it would be hard not to like or trust, with its strong features and clear hazel-blue eyes. The jawline is firm and square and his nose could almost be considered aquiline if it hadn’t been obviously broken at some point in the past. His eyes are set deeply beneath his broad forehead, giving him an almost perpetually thoughtful look, as though he is considering everything around him.

Slender in build, he stands noticeably taller than the average man (6’4”) and has the broad shoulders and vaguely-defined muscles of a man who has never really had to work very hard to keep in shape. There are a few scars here and there, mostly from burns that came as an unfortunate side-effect of his chosen profession. Also due to his Craft, he keeps his dark brown hair fairly short and out of the way. Not really one to worry about clothing, Brynmor prefers muted or neutral tones and can often be seen in dark greys or blues, with the occasional bit of white, vague red, or tan.

Personality:
A sensible lad. Chances are, anyone asked about Brynmor would probably use those words to describe him. He has a thoughtful, steady demeanor that just seems to radiate someone who thinks before he acts, never does anything rashly, counts to ten before he gets angry, and indeed considers everything from all possible angles before making a final decision about anything. And some of that is even true.

Brynmor is a man of many facets. He is, in fact, a rather laid-back man, and it takes a lot to get him upset about anything, but it has been known to happen; his nose didn’t break itself, after all. His anger, however, is very like a dragon’s flame: when it appears, it is hot, intense, and can be destructive, but it’s gone just as quickly as it came. He has learned over the Turns to control it and has become far more levelheaded now that he’s out of his teens, but it’s still there waiting if he should ever need it again.

He likes a good joke, or an evening out – or in – with friends, some good wine, and perhaps a tall-tale contest or some other entertainment. Everyone needs some way to unwind, after all, and while he has his hobby sometimes that needs to be stepped away from too. Brynmor has had a tendency in the past to get so caught up in one facet of his work that he’ll forget about anything else and had to train himself out of it – eating and still having friends are kind of important things, after all.

An extremely creative man, Brynmor quite enjoys his work and has even turned part of his Craft into his hobby; while his specialty might be glasswork, he can often be found in his off-hours working on decorative tiles for various uses. On days with especially good weather – or when he has a surplus of time – he has even been known to make sandpaintings in the courtyard for the entertainment and amusement of the Holdfold – and the displeasure of the Headwoman, though that never seems to discourage him.

Craft Speciality:
Coloring and glazes, colored glass, stained glass. Also ceramic tiles, though this is more a hobby than anything else.
Craft Weaknesses:
porcelain, extremely delicate/intricate work, still has a tendency to get completely absorbed in a project and forget everything else if he’s not careful.

Relatives:
Mother
Morraine, housewife, deceased
Father
Brynjarr, Journeyman Mason, deceased
Grandfather
Jarrkein, Master Glasscrafter
Grandmother
Maebryn, cook, deceased

History:
Brynmor was a Turnover baby, and half-unplanned. Indeed, the wedding of his parents was a slightly rushed affair as they realized their relationship was about to have unexpected – though certainly not unwelcomed – consequences. Morraine and Brynjarr had been engaged for a good half-Turn before it became apparent that they were going to have to speed the wedding up. The introduction of their son into the world was an event celebrated by all the small family, and little Brynmor was quite in danger of being spoilt as a baby – especially with the day of his birth being Turnover itself.

As the only grandchild, the doting continued well into Brynmor’s childhood with his grandmother sneaking him little sweets and bits from the kitchens and his grandfather making him little clay figurines to play with. Brynjarr and Morraine wanted more children, but it seemed fated never to be; after Morraine’s third miscarriage during Brynmor’s sixth Turn they finally gave up and Brynjarr turned his attention to making sure his son wouldn’t grow up too spoilt from all the attention.

Young Brynmor was indeed a little brat up until his tenth or eleventh Turn, with a temper to match. He disliked it intensely if he didn’t get something he wanted, though after getting grounded on his Turnday due to throwing a fit in the middle of the Turnover market when he was seven he began to keep his tantrums at least confined to the house. When he was eleven, his grandfather began taking more of a hand in keeping the youngster in line, taking him to the Craft Caverns and setting him to helping with the simpler, more mundane tasks. While there, Brynmor found that he was rather interested in his grandfather’s Craft, especially when it came to making the colors for the different materials, and promptly Apprenticed as a Glasscrafter as soon as he turned twelve.

Life as a Crafter did a lot to settle the young man out; when worth is suddenly defined not by who you are but by how skilled you are, it soon rearranges your priorities. Brynmor’s childish tantrums quickly came to a halt and he soon showed a decided knack for certain areas of the Craft. His temper, however, had not improved so well; he got into quite a few heated arguments and, at the age of fifteen, got in a fight with a fellow Apprentice over whose fault a kiln full of cracked pottery had been. They had both been nearby, but Brynmor had been deeply absorbed in a small piece of stained glass that was meant to grace a minor Lady Holder’s window as a suncatcher and had forgotten even to eat lunch that day, let alone that there was a kiln to mind, while the other Apprentice had been preoccupied with a visit from one of the young ladies of the Hold. The fight’s result was a black eye for the other young man, a broken nose for Brynmor, and remaking the entire order for the pair of them.

Feeling that his grandson might benefit from a location with more discipline, Jarrkein arranged for the fifteen-Turn-old Brynmor to complete his Apprenticeship at the proper Crafthall rather than continuing at High Reaches. Brynmor was less than pleased at the idea of leaving home, but eager to see what might be learned at a real Crafthall rather than being taught by those Glasscrafters stationed at home, so didn’t put up too much of an argument over it. It would be at the Crafthall that he would strengthen his knowledge of coloration, glazes, and colored glasswork, and at the Crafthall that he would further develop into the far more laid back man who would walk the tables at the age of twenty.

Mostly upon his own request, Brynmor’s first station was to be his home Hold of High Reaches. His family, overjoyed to have their young man home again, were surprised and pleased with the change in him. Brynmor was calmer, more level-headed, and had indeed grown into a sensible, quiet youth that was a far cry from the spoilt little brat he once had been. Everything seemed to be perfect and going forward splendidly...that is, until that fateful day when Thread returned to Pern.

It cost him most of his family. Both Morraine and Brynjarr succumbed to Threadscore, while his grandmother Maebryn – who had been having heart trouble – hadn’t been able to handle the strain of ground crew but had gone out anyway once it became clear the dragonriders could barely hold it back. Brynmor and Jarrkein – himself badly scored – made it out alive and Brynmor watched as his home fractured in the wake of the ‘Fall. Cries that more than only the High Reaches riders should have been prepared fell against pleas that no one could possibly have seen this coming, and all became deafening for the first few weeks after the initial 'Fall.

He has tried to stay out of that debate and move on from the shock, helping High Reaches to rebuild what damage was done however he can, and is only now able to bring his focus fully back to his Craft. That is not to say he is not under any pressure at all, however; Jarrkein seems to have been scored by more than just Thread, and has a desire to see the family line continue. As Brynmor is the only child, that duty falls to him...and he has no wife, let alone fiancée or ladyfriend. The young Journeyman is dearly hoping his grandfather won’t start truly pushing the issue, but that might not stop some of the older aunties from ‘encouraging’ a match between him and one of the young ladies of the Hold.

 

[LokiofStories]

KENVOI - APPRENTICE WOODSMITH

Standing? Yes
Pronunciation: KEN-voy
Gender: Male
Preference: Gay
Birthplace: Benden Hold
Age: 15
Location: High Reaches Weyr

Physical Description:
There is really no getting around it...Kenvoi's looks are very effeminate, much to his agitation. His face is rounded and soft, lacking the chiseled definition of most boys his age, his nose small, jawline firm but not squared enough to take away from the overall softness of his looks. To combat this he keeps his dark hair cropped short, constantly brushing back the fringe that insists on falling into his grey eyes.

His height doesn't help matters, either; at an age where most boys are shooting up like trees, Kenvoi is at best a few inches - and at worst head and shoulders - shorter than his peers. Even his body seems determined to steer away from the masculine; just-barely-too-big clothes mask a figure with soft curves and slender muscle. Perhaps because of this he steers away from bright colors in his clothing, going with muted tones or neutral shades. Anything to prevent the irritatingly common misconception of calling him a girl.

Perhaps the worst part about it all is that, beneath the clothing, his body matches that unwanted definition. He compensates where and how he can, with wrapped bandages to flatten his chest, but some days it feels like he's fighting a losing battle.

Personality:
Kenvoi has always been a scrappy young man, ready and willing to fight anyone about anything. He knows what he doesn't like and he is not afraid to speak up, either with words or - when those fail - his fists. His temper has only seemed to get worse in recent days, but hopefully it will level out as he ages; puberty is never easy for anyone, after all. Especially when you're constantly being called something you're not and living in quiet fear that you're doomed to a life that is not your own. Kenvoi is not a girl and has absolutely no wish to be treated as one...and if he bothers to be honest with himself he's scared of anyone else finding out he was born in the wrong body.

Beneath the anger and the insecurity, though is a kindhearted youth willing to do anything to help those he is close to. He's quick with a smile and a joke to try and lift the hearts of others, he is always willing to pitch in where needed, and he is a very hard worker dedicated to his Craft. Sitting around and moping all day never got anything done, after all.

Craft Speciality:
He likes carving, especially little figurines
Craft Weaknesses:
Given he's only recently apprenticed, just about everything. General carpentry seems to be his least favorite at present, though.

Relatives:
Father
Kenard, Journeyman Woodsmith
Mother
Voirrey, Journeyman Weaver

History:
It was a lovely spring day in Benden Hold that had Journeyman Woodsmith Kenard and his wife welcoming what they expected would be their adorable baby girl. Voirrey, a Weaver, was ecstatic, looking forward to having a daughter to put in pretty dresses and frills and other such things. Little Kenvoi, however, had other ideas. From the time she was five it became impossible to keep dresses on her. She adamantly refused to wear them, or skirts, claiming they were weird and didn't feel right. Her parents, thinking this to be a phase, simply redoubled their insistence, leading to quite a lot of arguments and tantrums being thrown.

As Kenvoi grew it didn't get any easier. The girly clothes were tolerated out of recognition that if they were put up with for a while they were easier to get out of later, but the traditionally female pursuits interested her not at all. She had little care for fashion, preferred playing with the boys of the Hold rather than the girls, and had her eye on following her father into Woodsmithing. She had a talent for it, too, having toyed with some of the scraps her father brought home on occasion, but with her behavior as it had been neither of her parents wished to humor her in it.

All of this could have been simply a footnote in her past had it not been for the events of her twelfth Turn. Kenvoi had already been highly uncomfortable, hating being called girly or feminine - protests that she wasn't a girl at all had been squashed during her childhood by well-meaning but ignorant parents - but her own body's betrayal was the last straw. She hadn't been all that pleased with it before, but now...oh no. No, no, no, this was wrong. And what made it even worse were her parents' reactions. Voirrey was ecstatic that Kenvoi was turning into 'such a beautiful young lady' while Kenard started joking about having to keep his daughter safe from over-eager young men.

There was no future for Kenvoi at Benden, not one that she - or, more properly, he - wanted. Even cutting his hair short in a boyish style and binding his chest flat did nothing save elicit complaints from his mother that he was ruining his pretty hair. Shells, there was no chance for any life here...and running away to the Weyr wouldn't help, it was too close and his parents would just drag him back before he'd even have a chance to Stand for a clutch. A dragon at his side would mean they could never take him away, after all, not unless he wanted to go, right? And to get that he needed a Weyr, and for that he needed to go far enough away they wouldn't be able to find him.

He could cross the ocean, he knew, and head for Western, but life aboard the close confines of a ship meant too much chance his secret would be discovered. Traveling across the continent, however, could be done with caravans and there would be plenty of ways for him to hide Nature's betrayal of him. And so he did just that, hiring on as a hand for a trading caravan heading west.

His time with the caravan was, fortunately, largely uneventful, and having a fresh start - no one here knew he'd been raised as a girl all his life - meant little concern over being discovered. There were a few fights as Kenvoi's temper frayed far too easily when being associated with anything at all feminine, but even those became few and far between as they traveled.

It was when they reached the territory of High Reaches that he finally decided to leave. This would be far enough, right? He could settle down here, Apprentice to the Craft he chose - Woodsmithing - and perhaps even Stand for a clutch if the Searchdragons picked him out. Until then, he would live among his fellow Crafters, just one of the boys - if an oddly and almost adorably modest one - and hold out hope.