Jr. Weyrlings - Brown

[Shikai]

Jr. Weyrlings - Brown

L'kev of Parith
F'del of Khufuth
T'relm of Odysseth
Niera of Matiath
Celeste of Ptolth
X'an of Akhenatath
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[Shikai]

Character Name: Larikev

Age: 17 (just)

Gender: Male

Preference: No sure ;]

Previous Position: Apprentice dolphineer

Current Position: Candidate (though I'd like to rp him being searched first ;] )

Appearance: First impressions are that he's quite striking, often slightly cocky looking when first seen, though he isn't really. He stands at a good average height just short of six feet tall, though he usually appears an inch of so shorter, as he only stands straight when waling. His facial features are fairly soft and well made up, making him a very hansome lad to most. His eyes stand out most as an interesting shade of green, a similar shade, he's told, as a green dragon, though he's never actually seen one to be sure of it. A piece of his slightly unruly fringe sometimes flops in front of his right eye. The rest of his dark goldish blonde hair is, in contrast with the rogue fringe, well managed, he takes pride in styling it himself and, if asked, will readily style someone else's too. His favourite and current hair is layered, with a longer part at the back reaching down to just between his shoulder blades, which he sometimes has in a braid. His hair, however, does little to conceal the scar that runs from his right chin down to his right forearm, a frequent reminder of the event that changed him forever.

Personality: Despite his rather roguish appearance, he has a laid-back and caring character, some would say quite noble, though like all boys can get fired up over things he is passionate about. Mostly he's a quiet soul, not often saying a lot, but he still likes being in conversation with another. Even so, he's not very good at starting the conversation, and usually requires either a reason to talk to someone or for them to carry the conversation until he get sufficiently into it. Being generally a nice lad, he finds it fairly easy to make friends, among either gender, but has never made a real "best" friend after loosing his first true friend.

History: He was born in a small hold. His mother, Laryssa, worked there as a weaver, his father as a Journeyman dolphineer, called Malkar. He had an older brother, but he was many years Larikev's senior, and left home when Larikev was only six. As a young boy he was emotionally closer to his mother, as his father was often out working with the dolphins, but shared his fathers passion for the creatures around him.

As he grew, so did his passion for animals, especially dolphins, and by the age of 9 he was already out swimming with them in water deeper than he should be in, trusting the dolphins to help if he got into trouble. Which he did, and got dressed down for by Malkar, but he was always ready to go do it again.

Being handsome, he always had plenty of friends to get into mischief with, but his real, special friend was always Maric, a boy over a year younger than Larikev. And he liked mischief, as he was quite a different boy then to what he is now, confident, some said headstrong, never backing down, even a tease or bully on occasion, when sufficiently backed. That, perhaps, became his downfall.

One day when he was 10 turns old he was out causing trouble with Maric, in fact they were taunting one of the slightly older boys who generally didn't get on with anyone, and feeling overconfident. Suffice to say the boy eventualy broke, and pulled out a dagger he had concealed under his tunic, and from there everything went wrong. Things turned nasty. Larikev came out of it with a gash from his neck down to his forearm, lucky to be alive.

Such could not be said for Maric. The other boy he never saw again.

Larikev took the death of his friend in the worst way possible, short of suicide. He blamed himself for Maric's death, could not be swayed otherwise. He drew back into himself, hardly a peep was heard out of him for months, he even went off his food.

When he eventually did come back to the outside world, he was not the same. Gone was the over confidence, he was now a lot quieter and more reserved. His friends saw this, and tried their best to involve him in the old games, but he would not have it, and gradually he lost them, friends no more, he was pretty much alone.

A Turn on and he had regained some of his former self, notably his cheekyness, but still had not forgiven himself for Marics death, frankly he doubted he ever would. The whole thing had been his idea, and he would never forget it. Still, he made new friends by then, a lot of them girls, and some of the less troublesome guys. He had by then become more distanced from his father, who he also believes blamed him for Marics death, and even a little from his mother.

His parents split up that year, but that made little difference to Larikev. He now lives with his mother, his father all but a stranger to him, but he was still keen to stay involved with dolphineering. He even got an apprenticeship with one of the other Journeymen dolphineers at their hold.

At 15 he got his first girlfriend, or rather she was the first girl to actually ask him out, as he didn't know her very well, she was not one of his real friends. Still, he believed that he loved her, and cared for her, treating her like he had no other, but to the girl he was more of a prize, a handsome boy she had got before her friends did. Eventually he realised this, though he disliked how possessive she was of him, and told her it was over. She took it badly, slapped him, and walked off. Thereafter every time he saw her she did nothing but glare at him. He didn't care by then.

Now, 16, nearly 17, he is feeling pretty sick of girls.

Though he always knew he was destined to be a dolphineer, the though of the legendarey dragon riders had entered his mind. He was equally shocked as everyone in their Hold when word reached them of the dragonriders return. But he wasn't stupid, and knew forewell that the closest he would get to being a dragonrider would be his dreams. No, it was dolphins or nothing for him.

But searches did come...


Position in Family: Younger of two, thoug he has no idea where his brother went and, frankly, doesn't care.

Pets: None

Alignment: Undecided

Dragon's Name: Parith

Parith – Larikev – Tidal Pool Egg

Dragon’s Appearance: This dashing young brown immediately catches the eye, for he has a rich, sepia-coloured hide. All along his back and face, he is sprinkled with copper flecks that catch the light and toss it back, creating a rugged sheen. His wing membranes are a similar bold copper in colour, creating a sharp contrast to his far darker hide. If it weren’t for the copper sparks along his form, Parith could practically disappear in the shadows.

Except for his size, of course. Parith is a massive brown. He definitely rivals a few bronzes in size, and he is also well-muscled and powerful. With broad wings to sweep him upward, he will be a behemoth in the skies, and there’s no doubt he needs those large wings just to get him off the ground. His neck is unusually long, giving him an almost feminine appearance, but no one would suggest such a thing in the face of his broad barrel chest and long, powerful limbs.

Dragon’s Personality: Despite his large size and occasional show of bravado, Parith is a rather shy brown. He is sweet and quiet, waiting for others to approach rather than introducing himself first. Because of his size, it may come as somewhat of a surprise that he prefers to let others take the lead, while most would think that such an imposing brown would be eager to leap to the forefront. Those who do approach Parith will find a sincere and innocent individual, who throws himself wholeheartedly into every pursuit.

That, however, can create some difficulty for Parith’s rider, for once the reserved brown decides to do something, he is utterly committed. This is where those feats of bravado can appear, for Parith wishes he was as brave and confident as his fellows and may attempt to demonstrate this in rather foolhardy manners, on occasion. This may become an especially challenging issue if a love interest is involved, for Parith is quite liable to fall head over heels for a demure green. He may even try to sweep a damsel off her feet in a bold show of love, but the means may not be the wisest, and he may end up getting himself into trouble. Thus, Parith may rely on his rider to get him out of trouble from time to time. Loyalty is a two-way street, though, and this brown will always be there for his rider when he is needed.

Dragon’s Abilities:

Strength: 13
Concentration: 11
Agility: 16
Team Coordination: 9
Creativity: 10
Allure: 6
Search/Rescue Skill: 5

[Shikai]

Character Name: Fiacchiusdel - Fidel (F'del)

Age: 17

Gender: Male

Preference: Females, generally, though he isn't very picky.

Previous Position: Nothing.

Current Position: Dragon candidate

Appearance: Regular in almost every way, Fidel isn't one to draw attention the first glance around the room. Broad-shouldered, he isn't stocky as much as just there. He has a definite male aura about him. Nothing about him really catches the eye, from his average height to his average build. He doesn’t lack strength, and isn’t slow when running, but just looking at him wouldn’t give any inclination of these factors. A narrow face with high cheekbones, and a slightly crooked nose, his mouth is wide and smiles more easily than it frowns.

A mop of unmanageable black-brown hair runs in his family, soft but unmanageable. It hides his ears and often the prettiest thing about his appearance. Green eyes, the colors of warm spring and newly grown plants, are large, the irises ringed with a soft brown that quickly melts away. His hands are broad and long fingered, callused, while his feet are just as big, and he looks more like a stocky fifteen turns old than seventeen. He has a dark tan and a constantly wind-chapped face that shows his love for being outside, and a straight toothed smile.

Normal looking, he has a way of walking as though blending into the woodwork, often a shadow. However, he has an air about him, adopted for everything, that oozes gentleness and patience, a languid relaxation. He is graceful, no doubt about that, and quick and agile despite the looks. His clothing style is simple, and basic – a pair of loose pants or breeches, heavy-duty boots, and a simple tunic. He likes the colors that are muted, silvers and blacks and whites and browns, and the only jewelry he carries on him is a simple necklace his mother wore, a chain with a small pendent of twisted, elegant metal. All in all, it is to the beholder whether he looks handsome or not, although none can come right out and call him ugly.

Personality: First impressions are vital to everything, and this man is no different. In one conversation, you get the idea of intelligence, humor, and above all, a very very relaxed attitude. It’s not laziness – he enjoys running and being active – it’s just that he doesn’t really have a problem with anything. Like an indulgent parent it takes forever to get him riled up, and even then he really won’t do anything about being angry.

In conversations, he is amiable and kind, a generous listener and agreeable to just about anything. He, until his dragon, doesn’t mind sitting still in the sun, but can be convinced to go for walks and explore. Fidel, despite being able to deal with people, really doesn’t. He’s more of a loner, and although he may have several billion acquaintances , he doesn’t make friends easily. That’s built on the fact that he has a huge trust issue, but more on that later. He is polite to all, and an amusing conversationalist, but is always more content to curl up by himself and draw.

His main way of expressing himself is with art. Drawing, painting, doodling, he has scraps and scraps of hide flung around his other-wise neat room, and whenever he gets the inspiration he is off. He might not even sleep or eat unless someone reminds him to, so caught up in a picture. Details are his favorite, tiny details down the last window of Bendon Hold’s main building to the sparks in Aren’s eyes. He loves drawing people the most, and if his home were to raid his chest of finished pieces most of them would find a picture of themselves there. He likes drawing the people he observes in their natural environment, whether a dragon in the sky or the young cook kneading bread. They are how he escapes, how he thinks and feels, and without drawing… He isn’t quite sure what he would do.

Fidel is very big on the truth, and will tell it. He, thankfully, does have more tact that Aren does, so he knows when to say it, but can’t stand people who lie to his face and dislikes those that find they have to lie to make themselves look better. He’s a little hard on himself, not always seeing the good qualities such as his infinite amount of patience, his worry for everything around him, his kind touch, gentle words, relaxed air around him that makes it easy to talk to…

He is curious, always asking questions but he isn't being impertinent. He just really wants to learn. He never minds following Aren’s lead, doting on the young man and knowing that he generally has a good idea for everything he does. He enjoys having a good time, and loved telling stories to the younger `Brats, who looked forward to his visit’s. He to hates being boredom, and his motto is that only boring people get bored. He just has to find something to do.

Some of the things he hates, although it’d be hard pressed for people to realize it, is cold klah, obnoxious people, spinners, and when people see only the best in people. Fidel tends to be more wary of others, although it won’t seem like it in regular conversation. It bothers him when people are unhappy, and he loves to see them smile – he fully agree’s with going slightly overboard to make people smile.

Fidel is very smart, and catches onto things quickly – he believes that you are never to old for change. He has a huge faith on common sense, and is slightly wary on instincts because he knows he jumps to much on his hearts whims. Fidel is a whatever man - whatever comes along is what he'll like... He really isn't that into anybody, girls, guys, whatever. He knows he isn’t the most amazing looker out there, but doesn’t mind having lunch with a new person or one of the Lower Cavern worker’s every once in a while. He isn't a virgin, and knows how to treat a partner – he knows that they deserve compliments, flowers, treats, kind words. Things like that, when he is the more dominant person in the relationship, and he generally is.

Trust is something that Fidel has a huge issue on. No real reason behind it, he just has never had a good reason to trust anyone. Most people lie, even if by accident, and finds that he has huge problems believing anybody after a while. Trusting someone is a two way street, he also thinks, and he thinks he needs a close relationship with someone to start trusting them. You’ll understand that that is quite ridiculous because you can’t start a relationship without trust, meaning that generally he is screwed.

The biggest part of his personality is the fact that he is addicted to fellis weed. He likes the fact that the juice takes away all feeling and thoughts, leaving him drifting – however, he fears that it could hurt his friends and often only takes enough that his words come out slower, his movements seem drawn out, and his thoughts turn into a jumble. An insomniac, he drinks enough to knock him out and have a full night of sleep – something that he gets when he sleeps next to another person as well. The fellis, while bad for him, is taken in moderation, and Aren is often there to keep him from over-dosing to.

Pet: Green Lizard Ribbon
Somewhat of a giddy creature, this nonetheless sweet Green tends to be a whirlwind of frantic activity. Discontent with staying in any one place too long, she is wont to perch for a moment only to spring into the air a second later and be off somewhere else.

With a sense of adventure driving her, she will be endlessly getting into trouble, poking her slender snout into places it most definitely does not belong. Endless chastisements and scoldings will never dampen her spirit of exploration, much to the frustration of others around her.

When she does find something particularly interesting, she will sometimes see if she can work out a way to take it with her, especially if it is a small bright object like a pretty stone or bit of thread. Unfortunately, she will lose interest and forget about it before too long, dropping it somewhere so that its former owner will have to hunt for it.

Willowy and sleek, she is very Green-like in her build--with a long body, a long tail, and a long neck, she is a ribbon of firelizard, very flexible and apt to coil about on herself when flying, often for no good reason at all.

Given her energetic nature, and her frequent dancing about and adding extra flare to her movements, she is a very skinny firelizard--she eats a lot, but she just spends so much energy on every task that it is all burned off with surprising quickness.

Her hide is almost completely a single shade, a bright, springy green, a cheerful and lively sort of color, suiting to her nature. Her long and graceful wings, however, are painted in a dazzling rainbow of greens, starting with a deep green and radiating outwards to a pale whitish green.

History: Father: Acchius ;;Deceased
Mother: Fenaper ;;Deceased
Sisters: Tacchiusemper ;; Lady Holder of Cothold Deiti,
Tacchiusalana ;; Masterhealer,
Sacchiusanctim ;;Weaver,
Piacchiuseta ;;Journeywoman Dolphineer, ]
Hacchiusumil ;; Baker,
Brothers-In-Law:
Malisren ;; Lord Cotholder,
----
Vacrew ;; Mastertrader,
----
Emment ;; Baker,
Brother:
Eacchiussper ;; =
Nephews:
Jarew ;; Journeyman Miner,
I'lan ;; Rider of Blue Garth,
Kentar ;; High Reaches Guard, Bonded to Bronze Kentisk,
Barew ;; Journeyman Healer,
Feriacchius ;; Apprentice Harper,
Danaro ;; Apprentice Dolphineer,
Nieces:
Lasicta ;; Journeywoman Harper,
Anara ;; Cothold Heir,
Nemacchiusly ;; Apprentice Dolphineer,
Kanay ;; Apprentice Weaver,
Varacchius ;; Apprentice Healer,
Gevonia ;; Holdbrat,
Best Friend: Aren ;; Apprentice Dragonhealer and Candidate

History;; In a tiny cothold, something momentous was happening. Fenaper, the young bride of the new Holder was giving birth. Acchius, the impatient father paced outside the chamber, chewing on a thumbnail as he worried. His wife was a match that was made out of love rather than set up by his recently passed father - despite her youth they had married, and now ten months later he was about to be a father. At twenty-four turns some said that his wait was odd, but his Fenaper had only breached her eighteenth turn not five sevenday's ago! He worried she was not old enough, but the gentle quiet woman only had laughed at him. She was not quiet now, as breathy moans and mounting screams came through the wooden door.

'Darling? Are you all right?' Her husband, bless his soul, was getting on her nerves. All she wanted was quiet, and for the pain to stop! But as she expelled another breath of air and spat out the piece of clothe in her mouth she had been biting on, she managed to call back, 'As well as can be expected. Now please - shut up.' She knew that the handsome man was probably gnawing away at his thumb, and a small smile played at the corner of her mouth before another wave of pain hit her stomach. Clenching at the swollen belly, she let out a scream and pushed.

Thus was the birth of the first daughter at Deiti Cothold under the new Holder. Tacchiusemper was born - a brightly squalling little girl. A little under a turn later, Tacchiusalana followed her, and not much more than that Sacchiusanctim came out, a sickly child, but alive none-the-less. She worked on raising those three children, and being the Lady Holder for three turns - loosing a baby in childbirth and miscarrying two more - before she told her husband she wanted to try one last time. This union ended in a pair of squalling girls - Piacchiuseta and Hacchiusumil. It was not for another five, almost six turns that the happy parents thought to try for more - a Cothold was a busy place, and they had their hands full.

That is, until Fenaper turned to her husband and told him that she was again carrying a child. The scene that played this time was a little different.

Next to his wife, a salt and peppered man held onto the delicately callused hand, murmuring to her softly. They had long since aged and matured since the first child, the woman no longer caring that her husband saw her birthing, and, although he still treated her like a flower, he no longer having any idea of immodesty. Now he was there as she screamed, nearly breaking the bones in his hand as she gripped against the pain ripping itself from inside out. The old midwife only clucked, and snapped for more towels. It was a breach birth, a risky thing for both the mother and child.

Thankfully, the old woman managed to turn the child around and guide him safety from his mother. 'A boy.' A squalling noise came out from him, but in a few seconds died down. 'Quiet, to. That's interesting.' The parents didn't hear her mumbling, busy murmuring over their first boy. Fiacchiusdel was born, six turns younger than his older sisters were, and twelve turns younger than his oldest. It made for an interesting predicament.

For the first four turns he stayed under his mother's careful eye, a little toddler with a spray of shock black hair and a happy smile for everyone he met. Then, around his fifth birth day, an illness struck. Most of the Hold grew sick, and many died - Fidel was shunted to the side under his sister's watch. Tacchiusemper, or Temper as they teasingly called her, was 18 at that point, and spent most of her time studying the running of the Hold. Tacchiusalana, Lana, was a newly walked Journeyman Healer, and Sanctim was a small girl, slight, but even at sixteen had a strong sense of weaving. Piseta and Humil were only twelve, but Piseta had left to Apprentice at the Dolphin Hall nearby for a turn already. She had come back at her parent's request, doing small things to help out in the Hold's time of need and keeping up with her study's under a Journeyman they had living with them. Humil had found her passion in the kitchen, training under the stern Head Cook there. So, as his parents tried to deal with the crumbling Hold, Fidel was passed back and forth between sisters.

This was where everyone says he learned his calmness, and his ability to pick up odd information. As sister passed him to the next, they would use him as a sounding board, saying their teachings out loud and teaching him for something to do. He swam with dolphins, collected herbs and understood basic medicine, learned the finer points in cooking, how to run a hold, and the exacting art of holding a needle - but it wasn't all fun and games. He was expected to work at these points, as much as a five year old could, and his sister's left a no nonsense air about getting the stuff done. He understood why - even at five turns he had been a bright one.

The illness abated, and his sister's went off. Piseta left, back to the Hall, while Temper immersed herself in the Cothold. He was a free boy, running wild in the jungle around Southern and swimming in the ocean with his sister's dolphin, Sarlik. It was for four turns that he did this, growing up tan and sprightly, well fed by his sister's rich cooking.

Of course, when Fenaper found out she was a little less than happy. Her other girls had been useful - her son would be no different. So Fidel was caught, and dragged to where his mother was working at the moment: in the weaver's building. There, she took the calm boy and plunked him among six or seven young `Brats, telling him to watch the children so that they could get work done. They say that this was where he learned his patience. The seven kids ranged from 4 to 8, the oldest only a few turns younger than him. He learned very quickly how to deal with them, and they loved the older boy with the quick smile and easy attitude. He showed them things, letting them swim with the dolphins and feeding them Humil's cooking as she laughed on. His day-care center grew as the planting season came about, ranging to almost sixteen kids, and he turned twelve as he taught them how to harvest the berries in the jungle.

He didn't look twelve years old - tall and gangly, with black hair that gave him a shaggy look, he could pass as fourteen or fifteen. His easygoing attitude made it easy to get along with him, and he gladly kept them under control. The biggest problem was that he didn't seem to want to do anything. He showed promise in the Dolphinhall, and had been asked to Apprentice, but he had declined. He could have gone and been a Baker, or worked in the Weaver's Hall with his steady hands and patience, but he declined them all. The boy was just more comfortable in the cothold, doing the odd jobs and babysitting, so he lived off of the land and grew strong and supple.

Until a dragonrider came through. It was huge - they had heard dragons were back, but it was so... Different, hearing and seeing the large beast standing infront of you. Brownrider L'rit and Zanth were quite happy to spend the night on the warm fall afternoon as sparks danced up from bonfires as the Holder's celebrated a young boy's fifteenth birth day. The wine flowed thick, and the hospitality was generous - L'rit confided to Zanth that he wanted to Search this Hold more often, and Zanth (enjoying the attention the younger children gave him) agreed. It wasn't until a young man - the boy who had just turned - came over to shoo the children away from the Brown that Zanth jerked and focused closer on him. Mine! I like this one. He is Rider material. The Brownrider blinked, and gave the young man another once over. Slim, confident, he looked more seventeen turns than a just turned fifteen. Rising an eyebrow, he caught the young man's elbow and dragged him off to tell him the news in private.

It didn't stay that way for long. Fidel, after a slow moment of thought, agreed. As much as he loved the kids, he didn't want to stay here the rest of his life. A slow drawling voice told the Rider, "Sure. Why not?" And went back to tell the rest of the Hold his news. The celebration ran far into the night as they danced and made merry, the children asking a million questions and having to be soothed that he would come and visit them lots. With the mention of presents and flit eggs they were quite happy to allow him to leave, though he swore many a solemn oath that he would come back.

So the next morning, after L'rit got over his hang-over, the pair mounted the sandy colored Brown and took off to the Weyr. The world there was much different then the small Cothold that he had spent his first turns in, but the mellow boy stayed himself, and waited for a clutch on the sands. He made a few friends, and did stupid boy things, as they are want to do. His biggest mistake was less than three sevendays at the new Weyr. The older Candidates, who had stood at Hatchings before, had been hazing the newly arrived younger ones. Fidel stuck up for them, and ended up taking the challenge of riding the new runner that had been brought in - a nasty piebald stallion that didn't really like anybody and hated being ridden.

Fidel managed to stay the required thirty seconds on the runner. And then was bucked off faster than you can say the first word that pops in your head, and landed hard, blacking out.

Everything was fuzzy. Very, very fuzzy. But the fuzziness blocked the pain, and the white place he had been in was someplace he wanted to go back to. A wave a nausea and pain slammed into his stomach at that point, making the young man heave up to empty his already empty stomach in a pail next to his bed. Wiping his lips with the back of his left arm - he couldn't move his right one for some reason - he fell back against the pillow and tiredly checked his surroundings. He was in the infirmary, and a kind old Healer had bustled in at the noise. 'Tut tut, dear. You poor thing! You were out for two days - you must be hungry.' He blinked at her, and croaked from a hoarse voice, "Two days? What happened?"

She smiled at him, checking his forehead with a cool hand. 'You were knocked out! That runner bucked you, and you cracked your collarbone, dislocated your shoulder, and snapped the bone in your arm. We had to re-set it - I'm not surprised you don't remember. Lots of pain, you were screaming with a high fever for almost a day before we managed to break it.' Another wave of nausea hit, and he rolled over to heave again. 'Awww... Poor baby. How do you feel?' He blinked at her, and managed to mutter, "Pain." She chuckled, and bustled over to the small table. 'I bet. You broke a finger in your left hand to - the runner stepped on you.' He didn't throw up this time, but it was a hard fight. 'Here dear. Drink some of this.' A cup was at his lips; he took a sip and would have dumped the whole thing down his dry throat if she hadn't been murmuring, 'Slowly! Slowly.' Immediately after the last dregs were down his throat he was exhausted, but he asked her before he fell asleep, "What was in that?" She chuckled. 'Almost pure fellis extract.'

Fidel stayed in bed for almost two sevenday's before he felt strong enough to clamber out, and it took another two before they discharged him. However, that wasn't the biggest problem. The already calm boy had found he enjoyed the numbing, floating sensation of fellis extract, and thanks to the time he had spent helping his sister harvest her herbs, he knew what the small tree looked like and how to milk it correctly. The boy became a fellis addict - just enough dripped from a tiny bottle he carried into any liquid, and he floated on a high for several hours. He kept it a secret though - he had a funny feeling that he wasn't supposed to do it. He lived in the Weyr for another two turns, and is still here. He made friends with a young man who arrived a Turn ago, and Aren and he ran around as Weyrbrat's before deciding together to stand for the twin Queen's Clutches. It would be fun, yes?

Alignment: None - He doesn't really care.

Dragon's Name: Khufuth

Dragon’s Appearance: If there’s nothing to be said about this dragon’s size, there’s certainly something to be said about his hide. Khufuth’s is coated with a warm chestnut brown, his undersides a light creamy peanut butter color. Sprinkled across his muzzle and the top of his wings are little flecks of what can only be bronze, and a smattering of milk chocolate splotches appear to have dripped right on to his distinctly klah-like back. Beneath his freckles, his wings are all glossy dark chocolate.

Khufuth holds himself with a subtle pride, never haughty but neither is he submissive. As far as build goes, he’s perhaps as average as they come, a perfect balance of well-proportioned limbs. Maybe because of this, Khufuth has the capability to be nearly as swift as a large blue with the endurance and power of a small bronze. Be wary of the twitching in his deceptively long tail however, as it tends to mimic his mood, flicking when he’s agitated like a compulsive tic.

Dragon’s Personality: Everyone who meets Khufuth will likely have nothing bad to say about this gentle brown. Charismatic and compassionate, Khufuth is driven to assure the better good for all but, above all else, the best for his rider. He’s a cuddly, affectionate little fellow, and his rider will likely have him nosing their hand persistently for a little rub of affection.

Khufuth’s a champion of the weak and defender of any who ask for help. He tends to have trouble saying ‘no’ to any cause, unless it impedes his ethics. Khufuth’s friendship is also not one to be taken lightly, as he’ll prove to be an eternal ally or, if one proves themselves a danger to others, a life-long enemy.

His patience is astounding, with the ability to mask distress well. This often makes his temper explosive when it finally does surface however, likely without very much indication of his discontent until he’s roaring his defiance. Rest assured that it takes him a lot to get him to this point though, and only those who truly deserve it will evoke Khufuth’s wrath, something that generally stems from his overwhelming drive to protect.

Dragon’s Abilities:

Strength: 16
Concentration: 7
Agility: 10
Team Coordination: 7
Creativity: 13
Allure: 11
Search/Rescue Skill: 6

[Tealah]

Name: T'relm

Gender: male

Age: 17

Preference: Undecided? He probably knows, but he hasn't told me yet.

Previous Position: Apprentice Healer

Current Position: Jr. Weyrling

Appearance: Tierelm stands at about 5'7, with a slender build. He has sharp, defined features, with elegant cheekbones. One of his defining features are his slim, elegant hands with long fingers. Most say they are musician's hands, but Tierelm thinks they do quite well with surgical instruments instead. Incidentally, he is left handed. His skin is rather pale, showing that he doesn't spend extended time outside, although that is likely to change in the Weyr. He has a scattering of freckles across his face. He rarely gives a true smile, but when he does, it lights up his whole face. Tierelm's eyes are a pretty, pale green color and framed by long, almost feminine lashes. His hair is light brown and he prefers to keep it no longer than chin length, for convenience. He wears clean, neat clothes and always appears very well groomed.

Personality: Studious and observant, Tierelm enjoys fixing people, but he does not really like people. To be frank, he has difficulty understanding social situations. He dislikes strong emotions and tries his best not to show them, and other people who are overly exuberant weird him out. He is pragmatic to a fault and views everything with cool logic. Hence, many human actions make no sense to him. Friendship is nice, but it must be earned and kept with hard work. Romance is messy and often illogical. Sex is not a bad thing to indulge in, but he does not like mushy romance to follow it. To sum it up, no cuddling.

Tierelm is an orderly person. He values cleanliness and organization, and he can be quite the neat freak. Perhaps the sterile nature his craft gives him his love of cleanliness. He can also be a touch obsessive-compulsive at times, especially when it comes to his own possessions. He is a "good boy" and doesn't like breaking rules, unless he finds the rules idiotic. He is deferential to his superiors as well, unless he finds the superiors idiotic. In that case, he has no problem opposing them.

History:
Tierelm is holdbred, born in one of the small cotholds to a wher handler and his wife. Tierelm never knew his mother, because she died giving birth to Tierelm and his twin brother, Lirent. Despite not knowing their birth mother, the twins were doted on by various aunties, and never really felt their loss. Their father did, however. He was solemn and depressed after his wife's death, although he was proud of his sons and loved them well.

Tierelm's young childhood was good, but his strongest memory is of his twin's constant illness. Lirent was weak and always sick. When the twins were seven turns old, Lirent passed away. In truth, the Healer had predicted the weaker child wouldn't even live past his first turn, so this was remarkable. Naturally, Tierelm was devestated. His father was also thrown into another bout of depression. The death of his wife, then his son, was too much to bear, and Tierelm's father disappeared into the mines one day with his wher and never came out.

As a child, Tierelm dreamed of becoming a Healer to save his brother. As he got older, this became a more serious ambition. He had a scientific mind and wanted to learn how the human body worked. He became a driven but shy and reclusive child, almost always playing by himself. At the age of 12, he left the Hold to become a Healer apprentice. At the Hall, he studied hard and was a loner, making few close friends. He was looking forward to walking the tables when a Search interrupted his studies. Everyone was surprised when he left the Hall to become a candidate, but Tierelm made the decision when he remembered how he and Lirent had once dreamed of being candidates together.

Position in Family: Only child, twin

Pets: None.

Alignment: He hasn't been in the Weyr long enough to decide, but probably loyalist.
Actually, is this plot even going on now that there are new Weyrleaders?

Dragon: Odysseth

Dragon's Appearance: If a dragon can be a red-head, this fellow has achieved the goal! Odysseth’s coloring is almost auburn in tone, with highlights that make him appear as if his undersides and the insides of his leg were spattered with blood. He has reddish “sparkles” along the fore of his face, as well, and his neck ridges and undersides of his wing match. As he moves and turns, the light reflecting off his hide make the red over and undertones stand out even more, giving this “red-brown dragon” a quite startling effect.

His form is broader than most browns, with a shorter tail and neck than average. This gives Odysseth an appearance (and not a false one) of massive strength, even though his size is fairly average for a brown dragon. He has powerful jaws that will make him an incredible hunter, and give him the ability to chew massive amounts of stone and flame longer and more fiercely than his Wing-mates, outlasting them in flight. Strength and stamina are this brown's strong suits.

Dragon's Personality: Odysseth is tireless and bull-doggish, stubborn to a fault. If he sets his mind on something it will take nothing less than the will of a Queen dragon, and an angry one at that, to deter him. He can work for hours without tiring, and one may find his rider occasionally begging him to “just take a REST for a minute”.

Although not quick-witted, Odysseth is nevertheless not unintelligent. He just likes to mull over complex thoughts till he's sure he understands them well. He also has an unusually long memory for a dragon due to this trait, and may even be found to remind his rider of things the rider has forgotten. That is not to say that the brown's memories are always accurate ... however, he will staunchly hold to even the less than perfect versions of those memories! Don't bother arguing the point – right or wrong, you'll lose!

This hard-headed approach to life, however, also makes this dragon fiercely loyal. Just as Odysseth is always right when he sets his mind to something, so is (in his eyes) his rider! Though not unfriendly to others, if ever his rider finds himself in a disagreement, this brown will be right by his side, and remember the offense ... often even long after his rider has forgiven it.

As no one can deter this boy from his goals, so can no one deter him from his loves. Here is one dragon who, though he may not pursue every female that flies, once he is chosen as a mate, he will be inclined to mate for life.

Dragon’s Abilities:

Strength: 13
Concentration: 5
Agility: 15
Team Coordination: 10
Creativity: 14
Allure: 8
Search/Rescue Skill: 5

[Tealah]

Name: Niera

Gender: Female

Age: 12

Preference: hasn’t developed one yet

Previous Position: Traderbrat

Current Position: Jr. Weyrling

Appearance: To look at her, you wouldn’t think Niera was only twelve Turns old. She is short even for her age, but certainly not willowy – “curvy” would be a good word to describe her. She’d physically matured much faster than the other girls her age, so that she looked very nearly like a young adult in miniature. However, her wide, innocent blue eyes framed by long dark lashes directly contrast that appearance. Her glistening mahogany hair is generally kept pulled back, although more often than not much of it escapes to hang in her eyes anyways. Her skin isn’t as dark as one would except what with all the time she spends outdoors, although her colouring is still heathy.

Personality: Niera is a very vibrant child. Her confidence and perpetual energy are obvious within moments of meeting her. She isn’t shy at all, and is very likely to simply bound up to someone and ask them copious amounts of questions about whatever it is they are doing. Ah, questions… Niera really likes to ask questions. She has a love of learning that encompasses every subject and as such never runs out of questions. Despite her constant chattering, the girl is very good at not actually talking about anything secret. She has a loving heart to go along with her friendly attitude, so will go out of her way to help anyone she befriends – which is practically everyone. She’s somewhat naïve about the world, though, which sometimes gets her into trouble when people take advantage of her. Niera’s boldness also gets her into a lot of trouble, since she has a tendency to learn things she isn’t supposed to know about.

History:
Father: Nelvien – trader
Mother: Anyira – trader

The girl was born the youngest daughter of a pair of traders not long before the 11th Interval. What with so many older sibs and being almost constantly on the road, Niera grew up somewhat haphazardly. As long as her chores were done, her parents didn’t really care where she was or what she was doing. No one thought anything of it when she tagged along with her older brothers when they went out hunting, as long as she didn’t get in the way. She learned to ride at a very young age and could often be seen racing her pony against the holder boys – again, no one really cared as long as she didn’t get hurt.

When she was ten Turns old, the family stopped briefly at Artemis Moonlight Weyr. When the family left, it was without Niera. The girl had fallen in love with the dragons there, and had begged her parents to let her stay for a while. Her parents, seeing that trading held little interest for the girl and knowing that she needed to be around other children her age, finally agreed. She would stay at the Weyr in the care of temporary foster parents until she was twelve, at which time she would be apprenticed – probably as a weaver, for she showed a great deal of skill with weaving. They left her with a very young puppy to keep her company in their absence.

Niera quickly befriended a few of the younger riders who were amused by her constant barrage of questions. It was from one, a bronze rider, that she accidentally discovered the plot to jump forward in time. She had seen him speaking with another bronzerider near the Record room and had, naturally, started to run up to ask him a question. But the serious way in which they were conversing piqued her curiosity so instead she hid nearby to listen, thus overhearing the plan. She knew one thing: she absolutely had to go with them. Of course, there was no way they’d actually take her – she was only a child, even if she was getting close to twelve. So she’d have to be sneaky.

When the time came for her friend the bronzerider to leave, he packed several large bags full of his things. When he went to eat before making the jump, Niera took the liberty of unpacking one of the bags and hiding herself and Tipri in it. The rider returned, loaded the bags on, and made the jump. Bundled in amongst his clothes, the stowaways quickly fell asleep. They woke up later to find themselves already in his weyr. Making their escape, girl and canine integrated themselves into the growing Weyr with none the wiser. Although the bronzerider was probably lamenting the loss of a lot of his clothes.

Position in Family: youngest of ten sisters, two brothers

Pets: a longhaired black-and-tan canine named Tipri, who is incredibly intelligent, very active, and fiercely protective

Alignment: Neither

Dragon: Matiath

Dragon's Appearance: This small brown’s hide is decidedly burgundy tinted. A calico-type mix of traditional brown, rusty red and a dusty orange coat nearly his entire form. In contrast, his chest, a splash across his right eye, and the tip of his tail are a light cream. Matiath is built for speed. He’s on the smaller side for a brown, allotting him swiftness which his brothers might not be capable of. As he grows, however, it will become apparent that any baby fat he might have had as a hatchling has no inclination to leave him. This gives Matiath a sort of cuddly softness in his appearance, no matter how old he gets.

Dragon's Personality: Matiath is the biggest lump of cuddly dragon one will ever have the pleasure of meeting. Affectionate and loveable, this brown would like nothing more than to snuggle with his rider from morning ‘till night. A reassuring touch will do more for him than any words of comfort, and if one scratches him in just the right spot he’ll love them forever. Physical strain or anything strenuous in general, he seems to have decided, just isn’t his thing, and he’s not ashamed to admit that he is a bit slothful. Mornings are definitely not going to be Matiath’s time of day.

When something does catch his interest, however, he appears to do a startling one-eighty, diving into the new exciting task with surprising fervor! It’s not so much that Matty’s disenchanted, he simply needs the right motivation to get moving. Continuing something seems to be easier than starting it for this brown. Once set on track, Matiath makes an encouraging and confident partner. When there are lows, Matiath counters them with humor, and when there are highs, he never fails to make the best of the moment.

Dragon’s Abilities:

Strength: 9
Concentration: 16
Agility: 8
Team Coordination: 7
Creativity: 13
Allure: 12
Search/Rescue Skill: 5

[Tealah]

Name: Celeste

Gender: Female

Age: Twenty two

Preference: Female

Previous Position: Hold resident; Soldier

Current Position: Jr. Weyrling

Appearance: Every bit a tomboy, she has closely watched salt and pepper hair that she doesn't allow to get more than an inch or two in length, and eyes that are almost black. If you were to see her from afar, or in shadow, it would be quite easy to mistake her for a male, as her only traces of femininity are in the lines of her face, the faint curve of her hips, and the almost delicateness of her hands, though it is obvious from the scars and callouses that they are not in the least bit delicate. She stands just over the average height, is well muscled without being obnoxious, and relies more on power than grace in her movements. She has absolutely no bust about her, not even the faint hint of one.

Personality: Rough, brash, and to the point. If she has something to say, she says it without any thought as of the consequences, reactions, or feelings of others. Be it harsh, nice, or just plain rude, if you ask this girl something, or if she comments, you'd better be braced for the cold hard truth. If given an order from someone she deems her 'superior', she will follow it without question even if she doesn't agree with the action. Likewise, if she tells someone of lower 'rank' to do something, she expects it to be done, now, no questions or complaints uttered within her hearing. And may you live to regret it if she finds out that you haven't done what she ordered.

History:
Celeste was born to one of the few female warriors of a small hold constantly at war with it's neighbors over the surrounding lands. Her father was also a soldier, one of a reputable rank, though not high enough to be of any consequence. Because of the intensity of the war, her infancy was spent on the sidelines of the training grounds, with one of the lower ranks watching over her, usually as a punishment for being disruptive. The day came, though, that there was a fierce battle with the enemy, and both of her parents were mortally wounded. As a favor and honor to her mother, who had held a special place in the hearts of the soldiers for her abilities, Celeste was taken in by one of the high ranks, and continued to be exposed to the life of a warrior. As she got older, she expressed an interest in learning to fight. The Lord obliged, and she was trained alongside her fellows, most of which were quite a few years older than she was. It was almost immediately apparent that this girl shared her mother’s talents, as well as a few of her fathers, and she was given her mother’s nickname, Star, though she does not feel the name suits her.

It was during one of her many training sessions secluded in the forest surrounding her hold that the search rider found her and swept her away to the weyr, with barely any time say good bye to her life and friends.

Position in Family: Only surviving member.

Pets: none

Alignment: Neutral

Dragon: Ptolth

Dragon's Appearance: A light, almost tan brown color coats Ptolth’s hide, with little speckles of darker and lighter shades scattered about his body, not unlike a light sandy beach. Some creamy foam from the sea seems to have permanently ticked the tips of his toes, snout, and undersides of his wings, while a dusty brown shadows the tops of his wings and runs the length of his spine.

Ptolth carries himself well, never slouching and always steps with surety. One might be surprised at how well this dragon handles himself, even as a youngster. His wings are large, contrasting his shorter than average legs, and his head is large and strong. One will sense the subtle power which ripples beneath this big brown’s hide. He does enjoy a good meal however, so not all of his bulk is muscle.

Dragon's Personality: Ptolth is a jolly sort of fellow. Friendly and well-mannered, this dragon is decidedly easy to get along with. Ptolth takes it easy, choosing to move with where the current takes him instead of fighting against it. It’s not that he isn’t ambitious so much as he’s content. This brown is generally happy with where he is in life and often feels that change isn’t necessary.

There’s a certain reserved confidence about Ptolth, warranting respect without commanding it. Many might feel themselves drawn to this quiet leader, comforted just by being in his calm presence. Ptolth is patient, self-assured, but never boastful. He’s the sort of individual that will always get his work done efficiently but at the end of the day, all his hard effort might be taken for granted.

Dragon’s Abilities:

Strength: 16
Concentration: 7
Agility: 11
Team Coordination: 5
Creativity: 12
Allure: 9
Search/Rescue Skill: 10

[Tealah]

Name: X'an

Gender: Male

Age: 17

Preference: prefers females

Previous Position: farmer's son

Current Position: Jr. Weyrling

Appearance: black hair, black eyes, dark skin, 5'2”, scrawny

Personality: Before people notice anything else, they notice how he behaves around his twin. He's very obviously terrified of the other boy, and it shows in his total obedience. He jumps when Xiarl wants him to jump, and he lays down and wiggles his naked butt in the air when Xiarl wants him to. When he isn't being told specifically what to do, he's easily found wandering behind his brother, almost a shadow, with a ruminating look about him except for the one eye he keeps on his twin all the time.

Deep down, Xian's a rather noble guy, but most people never get to see the side of him that wonders if what his brother's doing is wrong. Xian's not stupid, and he knows that if Xiarl knew about his skepticism on their way of life, poor Xian would wish he were dead. When Xiarl's not around for whatever reason, Xian is likely to try and take care of Xiana rather than abusing her the way their brother does. He only does that when Xiarl isn't around, though. Unfortunately for both Xian and Xiana, that's a rather uncommon occurrence.

Poor Xian's kind of a pansy about certain things. He's a wimp when it comes to getting sick because all his life, he had a woman to take care of him when he needed. Although he's aware that women aren't meant to be treated like total garbage, nobody's yet taught him that women aren't meant to take care of men. If Xiarl weren't breathing down his neck all the time, he would treat his sister quite well, but he would still expect her to cook and clean for him.

If he wasn't completely terrified of Xiarl, he would defend Xiana to the death, that's how protective of her he is. Too bad for him, Xiarl would whoop his butt if he even tried to stop the beatings. It ends up looking like a possessive affection as if only they can hurt her. Despite that, he's very close to her. Closer emotionally than he ever was to his twin.

History:
Mother—
Arla (deceased) wife of farmer

Father—
Ximon (deceased) farmer

Siblings—
Xiarl twin brother
Xiana younger sister, age 15



Arla and Ximon met at a gather when she was twelve and he was twenty. As soon as he was able, Ximon wed Arla, and they commenced the baby making. Because she was so young and so small, she had several miscarriages before two, small dark baby boys were born.

The couple named them Xiarl and Xian, and the two brothers quickly became a part of the family in a way their fallen comrades, who never made it past the fetal stage and never made it into the conversation, would ever be.

Ximon held a heavy hand over their little familial unit. When he wanted something, he got it. AT the beginning, he simply wanted Arla on demand. That would change as time passed.

When the twins were no more than toddlers, another child was born into the family, a little girl. They named her Xiana, and everyone loved her. She and Xian clicked quite well—his gentle nature was comforting to the baby born into a household where women were dirt.

Their mother, too, was thrilled to have a baby girl, but she was also worried that Ximon would demand the same things of their daughter that he did of herself. She trusted him not to, though, because she loved him.

Meanwhile, the twins were establishing a social order between them. It was immediately obvious that Xian took more after their mother and Xiarl after their father. Xiarl quickly took control of Xian, and the child grew up in terror of his sibling.

After a few turns of growing and schooling, if you could call it that, for the children, Ximon began to spend his evenings with a screaming Xiana, who refused to ell Xian what went on. He was too young to put the pieces together yet, that Ximon did that when their mother was busy, and to their mother when she was not.

Arla never knew about these infringements on the girl's virtue because soon after that began, she died. She had been pregnant with yet another child, and this one was expected to live. A few days before she was due to give birth, it became apparent that this was not the case, because she spontaneously aborted and bled out. The family buried their mother in silence, and she was never directly discussed again.

Ximon was never quite the same after that. He never hit the boys, but he was never nice to them. He began to abuse Xiana even more than he had been before, for lack of Arla to abuse, and it disturbed Xian. Still, the boy did nothing to stop the travesty because of his fear of his brother, who wasn't bothered by it.

When they were fourteen turns, Ximon died suddenly, leaving their farm and all its glory to the twins. Luckily for them, they were in no more debt than the usual tithe required annually, which was to be expected. The managed as well as they could, under the circumstances, and kept the farm in good, working condition.

Their parents had been dead for around three turns when a rider wandered up to their little corner of Pern and took a liking to their little sister. He ended up deciding to take her back with him to the weyr, and Xiarl managed to talk him into taking the boys back with him.

Position in Family: second of three, by a few minutes

Pets: none

Alignment: whatever Xiarl is, probably

Dragon: Akhenatath

Dragon's Appearance: While Akhenatath’s hide is a rich, dark shade of what can be described only as brown, what one first notices about him is his sheer size. Easily rivaling the bronzes of his clutch, although always just a bit behind the curve, he is a truly massive brown. He actually looks even larger than he is due to his powerful, muscular build. Really, he is somewhat compacted, with a shorter than average form despite his height and bulk. The solid color of his hide is broken only by flecks of sandy brown swirling around his feet and legs, with a couple trace spots beneath his eyes as well. It gives him the appearance of having been caught in a sandstorm. He is handsome in a rugged, powerful way, and it is obvious to even the casual observer that Akhenatath is quite the force to be reckoned with.

Dragon's Personality: As his appearance would indicate, Akhenatath is a strong, proud dragon, who expects to be noticed when he enters an area. And he usually is. He tends to come off as arrogant and high-strung, as he seems to have a brusque, stubborn quality to him when speaking to both his superiors and ‘lesser’ colors alike. This brown is ambitious, certainly one to aspire to, like his sire, catch a gold and bring himself and his rider among the highest ranks of the weyr.

But despite his obvious arrogance, Akhenatath is not without his good qualities as well. He has an uncommon ability to focus, even for a brown, centering his sights on a single goal at a time and letting nothing distract or deter him. He is ever the optimist concerning his own abilities, and will never be one to dwell on his failure. Rather, he will bounce right back and try again as many times as necessary, taking these failures not as insults but as chances to improve himself. Despite his obvious goals, he will certainly not neglect his rider, either. While he tends to come off as condescending in conversation, his rider will always know that Akhenatath thinks the very highest of him, even though he will push his, as he does with himself, to improve.

Dragon’s Abilities:

Strength: 11
Concentration: 15
Agility: 12
Team Coordination: 7
Creativity: 13
Allure: 6
Search/Rescue Skill: 6