Jr. Weyrlings - Blue

[Shikai]

Jr. Weyrlings - Blue

T'rin of Jasth
K'rin of Duamuth
A'mor of Achilleth
N'oren of Ajath
T'rasel of Iolath
Mariya of Telmacith
Phelicia of Kheprith
Katalyn of Osiryth

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[Shikai]

CHARACTER NAME: Tarin (T'rin)
AGE: 19
GENDER: male
PREFERENCE: Hasn't really got one at this point
PREVIOUS POSITION: drudge
CURRENT POSITION: Candidate

APPEARANCE: As a tall, gangly kid, Tarin can't get much more noticeable, right? Well, how about tall, gangly, extremely pale, freckly, and with the most obnoxiously bright orangy-red hair? Most drudges tend to go unnoticed. Tarin couldn't be more noticeable if he tried. That obnoxious hair is cut short and seems determined to spike out in every direction at once. His eyes, however, are an unremarkable grayish color, and are more often than not unfocused and dreamy. His face is generally a mishmash of old and new bruises from running into things or being hit with things when he's daydreaming. His thin nose has obviously been broken several times, most likely for the same reason. He has a lot of pretty nasty scars visible on his body, and probably a lot that aren't as visible - not from abuse, but from general absent-mindedness.

PERSONALITY: Tarin is a dreamer. That's the best way of describing him. Most of his life is spent in his imagination rather than the real world. This is why he's a drudge, like his mother, rather than a crafter or something. He rarely notices the people around him enough to speak to them, and even when spoken to directly has a tendency to be dreamy and vague. He generally responds to any attempt to wake him from his imagination with a vague smile and an equally vague response that probably had nothing to do with what was said to him. Generally thought to be dim-witted. Likes music and dancing, although he can't play or sing and he's not a very good dancer.
*FAULTS: Tarin doesn't pay attention to anything happening around him, including whatever he's supposed to be doing, which means he's no longer trusted with food, knives, breakables, or pretty much anything that would be ruined if he forgot what he was doing. His memory, especially his short-term memory, is pretty awful. He tends to seriously annoy people without even trying. He's unambitious, and would probably be surprised to learn that some people are. His daydreaming is, while not necessarily more important than the real world, is vastly more interesting to him and keeps him too occupied to deal with real life.
*STRENGTHS: Tarin is very kind, in a vague sort of way. He never deliberately hurts anything, and is likely to treat anything from a small child to a wild feline with the same absent-minded affection. While too absent-minded for his care to extend to the long-term, Tarin has been known to bring injured birds and small beasts to the beastcrafters when he happens to notice them. He's very sweet, and rarely, if ever, has a harsh word to say about anyone. He reacts to punishment goodnaturedly, and even when he used to be picked on and tormented by the other Weyrbrats he'd only smile at them. This has led to people thinking he's dim-witted, but he's not. He's fairly intelligent, but all of his intelligence is focused on dreaming to the extent that nothing else really matters.
FEARS: rather little - he doesn't really notice things enough to pay attention to them.
DREAMS: What doesn't he dream about? Being a dragonrider, talking to animals, being a famous weaver, being a famous harper, being a famous anything. He's always dreaming, he just never follows through.

HISTORY: Tarin was born at Artemis Moon to a prettyish drudge who happened to be around a brownrider who'd just lost a mating flight. Dawen wasn't a particularly good mother, and not particularly intelligent - he definitely got that from his father - so she didn't know how to deal with a child with his intellectual needs. Rather than bringing him to the creche with the other children, she kept him with her all the time. When he was little this was fine, but as he grew into toddlerhood the unvaried routine of a drudge's work was just so boring. Dawen, not understanding how necessary activity and mental stimulation is for children and thinking that she was doing what was best for Tarin, would sternly punish him if he wandered or got in the way. And that was boring too! So when he should have been learning lessons from the harper with all the other children, he began making up stories in his head. The older he got and the more he came to see that his imagination was much more interesting than the life Dawen allowed him, the more complicated his imagining became until after a while it was the only thing that mattered any more. He went from being the much-praised, active darling of the kitchen staff to being an absent-minded, featherbrained nuisance.

When he was twelve Tarin's father T'non finally took an interest in him. No son of his would be a drudge, oh no. He'd be a dragonrider, or failing that he'd go into a skilled craft of some kind. Maybe beastcrafting, like T'non's own father and brothers. So T'non took his son aside and - with the assumption that he'd had the same harper lessons as all the other weyrbrats - began quizzing him about what he knew. Tarin dutifully struggled to answer as best as he could, but he could neither read nor write, or solve even the simplest of arithmetic problems. He couldn't even count past his number of fingers. T'non contemptuously pronounced him feeble-minded, and Dawen - being somewhat feeble-minded herself - simply agreed with everything he said. Since his parents believed it, and Tarin in his dreamy vagueness did in fact seem to be, no one thought to question it, and Tarin was put to drudgework. Actually doing drudgework was just as bad as watching it, so Tarin slipped farther and farther into his imagination.

So how did he manage to get to Araelen, you may ask? Well, even drudges are necessary to the running of a Weyr, even a new one. Even so, he probably would never have ended up there if T'non hadn't still felt some familial responsibility for him. Dawen had died of a fever just that year past, leaving Tarin to wander alone in his strangeness, so T'non felt compelled to bring him along when he went with the others to Araelen. He rode over on T'non's Daneveryth when T'non followed the others. His lack of reaction to flying or going between, not even fear, only confirmed to T'non what he'd thought.

And then sometime here he's going to be searched if anyone's interested in doing so.

Position in Family: Middle-ish child of an unknown number of T'non's children, only child of Dawen

Pets: None

Alignment: Doesn't pay attention enough to notice such things.

Dragon's Name: Jasth

Dragon’s Personality: Jasth is, admittedly, rather arrogant. He’s a handsome blue and knows it, never hesitating to show off or remind others of this fact (including his rider, who will likely have to endure Jasth’s admiration of himself daily). He enjoys taking center stage and revels in the attention it gets him, be it good or bad, often going out of his way to make a scene.

That isn’t to say, however, that Jasth doesn’t have good qualities. Indeed, the blue will likely be known for his charm as well as his physical attractiveness, and already possesses a certain air of robust appeal to his personality. He wears his heart on his sleeve and has never had a nasty thought for anyone. This infamy will likely be most apparent in dealing with females. Jasth enjoys their attentions in particular, and while slightly promiscuous in nature, once he finds his perfect match, it’s unlikely he’ll ever stop chasing her tail. When Jasth makes a vow, it lasts a life time, and when Jasth sets out to do something, he does it. Rest assured that tasks set to this blue will be properly dealt with, though always with a flourish that rarely fails to turn heads.

Dragon’s Appearance: There can be no doubt in one’s mind that Jasth is a handsome creature. His coloration is a pure shade of untainted azure, evenly smoothed across his sleek hide. A ‘heart’ of sky blue is painted across his chest, as though he were wearing a shirt half unbuttoned. This same light blue forms identical pairs of ‘socks’ on his forearms, lower hind legs, and lower sail of his wing membrane. Jasth is agile and quick, with lean muscles rippling beneath his pretty hide. He struts when he walks, head tilted high and tail swishing in his wake. His wings and tail are longer than the average blue, and while elegant they also pose potential problems when flying in formation, threatening to foul him up with their unusual length. As a hatchling, however, Jasth’s greatest problem is ensuring he doesn’t trip over his own wings, as he half unfurls them for show.

Dragon’s Abilities:

Strength: 7
Concentration: 6
Agility: 11
Team Coordination: 14
Creativity: 9
Allure: 15
Search/Rescue Skill: 8

[Shikai]

Character Name: Kelarin (K'rin)

Age: 19

Gender: male

Preference: none. Completely asexual.

Previous Position: archive worker/journeyman printer

Current Position: dragon candidate

Appearance: Kelarin isn't fat. He's just slightly chunky. With hair the colour of strained peaches and eyes a shade of brown which is so unmemorable as to be indescribable, Kel is perhaps the most boring person to look at you will ever find. Average height makes him even less memorable.

Personality: As boring a person as Kelarin is to look at, he's equally tedious to know. He spends a large portion of his time discussing ancient lore that not even the harpers have heard and copying over archives that have decayed over the years. Hobbies include writing (the physical action of it, rather than the creativity of it) and drinking klah that's been out of the pot so long it's cold. He's most interesting when he's rather intoxicated (and as he has very little alcohol tolerance, it doesn't take much more than a bit of celebratory wine to get him going), as he has a drunken dream to become a harper. He wouldn't make a particularly good one. He's pretty reliable, though. He'll get things done quickly, and done well, and done without anyone ever remembering asking him to do them. He has few strong opinions and few opportunities or motives to voice them, in part because the only thing he strongly cares for is aging documents.

History: Kelarin's parents worked at a small hold near the weyr, and they raised him to do the same thing. He was an only child, and thus never developed the need to bicker with someone just for their existing (as is found in most siblingly relationships). He grew up not quite pampered, in the closest thing to the middle class a hold can possibly have, and he lived comfortably enough until he was old enough to be apprenticed. They shipped him off to Harper Hall, where he lived for a time, learning to print, and then came back to the hold for his journeymanship. He initially moved to the weyr because the hold no longer needed someone skilled at restoring archived documents, but he was recruited, like so many others, to the rank of candidacy simply by being around when candidates were being recruited.

Position in Family: only child

Pets: none

Alignment: status quo-ist

Dragon's Name: Duamuth

Dragon’s Appearance: This little fellow is on the small side of blue, and more delicately boned. Duamuth is long and lean, with a serpent-like length of neck and shape of head, his tail extending far out behind him, and tending to get in the way of those walking too close. He himself is graceful, however, his long legs most coordinated even as a youngster. Long, graceful wings are well proportioned to his body, narrow but not too narrow, and will provide him with the speed and agility to be a prize flyer.

Duamuth’s shape alone would be enough to draw attention to him, making him stand out in a Wing of dragons even from afar, but his coloring adds to the picture in a startling way. For this blue dragon might be called “almost purple”, with reddish highlights when the light hits him just right that give him an iridescent sheen. His body is deep, deep violet-blue along the backbone, between his wings, the ridge of his neck, and partly down both sides, and shades evenly to a lighter purplish-blue on his undersides. Duamuth’s muzzle and all four legs are lighter still, though the colors shade into each other in a way that it's difficult to tell where one shade ends and the next begins.

His wings are dark above, and beneath they match the lightest shade of muzzle and legs, which is almost a medium orchid in color if the light hits it just right, but in shadow appears to be simply a paler purple-blue.

People will stare at this boy for hours, just trying to decide exactly what color he is!

Dragon’s Personality: This dragonet knows he's amazing. Although this can be delightful, as he exudes a sense of confidence that will carry him and his rider through many a tight spot, it can also grow tedious at times. Duamuth is forever preening, catching his reflection in pools and ponds, and is almost obsessive about being clean and well oiled. He will strut in front of the greens, even as a youngster, certain that any green who flies the skies will choose him over other blues, and even browns. His self-importance will often get him into trouble with other dragons, for he has trouble understanding why he may not always be first in everyone's eyes.

Duamuth’s confidence is his great asset, however, for he tends to impart that sense of strength to his rider. He is encouraging and faithful, absolutely certain that all one has to do is wish it, and success will follow. That is not to say he is careless, however – for a part of his confident nature is in his ability to retain the knowledge that goes with using his physical attributes correctly, and he truly will turn out to be an outstanding fighting dragon. If he chooses a rider who lacks in self-assurance, this little blue will fill the gaps and help to create a truly successful pair.

Dragon’s Abilities:

Strength: 6
Concentration: 5
Agility: 8
Team Coordination: 13
Creativity: 11
Allure: 16
Search/Rescue Skill: 11

[Tealah]

Name: A'mor

Gender: Male

Age: 16

Preference: Both

Previous Position: Runner, Dragonhealer

Current Position: Jr. Weyrling

Appearance: Slim, rather a slip of a person, it has taken years of boating to work the muscle that he has. Aren is proud of the fact that he does ripple when he walks, a lean corded muscle built from a life of moving. His shoulders aren't really wide, and most of him is just slim ropey muscle. He doesn't really mind what he looks like - he has a habit of being careful with his appearance, but unlike some girls and guys he doesn't particularly care. He is tall, but not extremely - just enough that he has the height over most girls, and is a little shorter than most guys. He prefers it that way - he likes his girls short, and his guys tall. He isn't strong enough to knock someone out, but has speed and endurance from years as a runner and as a boater on the rivers. His face is blade thin, from a prow-like nose to cheekbones so sharp you can imagine yourself cutting your hand if you run over the high delicate bone.

His hair is a wavy windswept wheat gold color, the rippling between stained dark and sunshine that falls to about mid-ear, covering ears that have just a little more point to the tip than the norm. His eyes are a blue, dark sapphire, rather dark navy with silver sparks and a shadows of gray and black rimming the iris. He has narrow, long-fingered hands, and can pass as older when he wants to try. His face is tan-ish, but his cheeks always redden more than tan. It's his body that tans, a lovely bronze color that he manages to keep most of the year round.

Aren loves extravagant things, and part of that shows on him. He walks into the room, he makes damned sure that everyone knows it. Whether it's singing as he walks in, or purposely dropping something, he is there. F'del can't figure out why - after he get's their attention he generally ignores it. But that's the way that he is, so there. When he walks he has a prowling, hungry gait much like a predator that is going to attack. Its a rangy, attention drawing and warning glide that is noiseless and is reminiscent from his days as a hunter in the jungles on the southern continent.

Personality: A sweetness that is unable to be taken away, a flirtatiousness that is mostly an act, a happy bounce that is nothing but himself, and a wicked tongue that leaves you trying to figure out what just went on is the main things you remember about this man.

He doesn't like standing still, or sitting, loving dancing or just doing something. Aren isn't big on having huge in-depth conversations, but he likes talking to people mostly because of one huge thing. Aren loves to laugh, and loves to see people confused. With a wicked sense of humor that is his own complete brand, he enjoys talking people in circles and making them crazy with trying to figure out what he said. Not necessarily rhyming and clues, he doesn't just come out and say what he means - it's up to the person to try and figure it out. Often he'll leave behind someone still trying to figure out whether it was a compliment or not - his tongue is sharp and he wields it with a delicate but deadly accurate aim.

In conversation he dominates - he enjoys talking to people and spinning them in circles. He reminds someone of one of those kids who would keep on picking up a small bug and not letting it get to its destination because it's amusing - the spinning befuddlement gives him something of a rush. Conversations are only wordplay. He knows what he's going to say and how to say it - surprisingly, he's much sharper with people than everyone gives him credit for. His main thing is he just doesn't care what people think about him.

Aren doesn't have any patience at all, with most things. He doesn't like to deal with small things, especially children, but he tries to stay open with his mind and tolerate the small ones - he only tolerates them for short amounts of time, however. He is apt to have small tantrums, not because he doesn't get his way, but because it's something to do. It's physically impossible for him not to be thinking not to be doing something - which is why he went into medicine as a field. Curious, he has the flaw that although he wants to know, he won't stick around to find out what the answer is. Part of the mystery is the fact that it is a mystery - he likes to learn, but it goes back to the patience problem.

Aren sadly doesn't really like a lot of people. However, he stays neutral - two-faced - not really giving or taking any signs that he will deal with anybody. He has trust issues - you can't trust them, you can't get hurt. He knows far to much than that happy bouncy sweet boy should know, all of the ugly staining reality's of the world. Gossip is one of his favorite things in the world - everyone is human, and he loves seeing what is truth and what is merely rumor. He likes doing things for people without them knowing it - he doesn't do kind things for recognition, but for them. Despite being a two-faced arrogant cocky male, he likes people, and likes to watch them smile. He knows his flare for extravagance helps this too, which is partly why is like that.

Once the man does trust you, however, it's huge. Like many people, he has been hurt and lied to - Aren just takes it harder than most. Once someone has been close enough to him, he has a reason to trust them, and he does with all his heart. Those few people are what he centers his life around - he doesn't have anything else. If someone is crying in the corner, it's a fifty-fifty whether he walks over and asks if they are alright. He's not big on helping others blatantly, but it depends on his mood.

His sexuality is either or - girls and boys are both one big lump that he mashes together. He doesn't really believe in sexuality, and has more of the idea that you like who you like. To Aren, it's all about personality. He loves flirting and flings, but forbid if one word is spoken about a real relationship. That's just bad. When in a relationship, he's the real person under the cocky, bouncy, over-sure male. Sweet, not really dominate at all, generally takes the role of the female because he isn't a dominant person after all of his talk.

He hates several things, and makes them very clear. He despises sitting around and doing nothing, and often gets angry at the smallest thing and then three seconds later it's over - unless it's a big thing that he can stay mad for a long time over. He hates people who has to squish his own ideas, and doesn't agree with a lot of people. He hates those people with weak enough personality's that they get addicted to things - Fidel being the main exception - and really hates eating his vegetables.

He claims not to have soft spots - those would be his little brother, Fidel, his `lizards, dragons in general, people with messed up families.

His brother is someone who he would die for, and he loves him more than life itself. Fidel is his best friend - more than a relationship, he's his brother. The firelizards are his children. Those are his kids, and they all make up all the family he needs.

Healing is a huge part of what he does - smart and confident, he loves dragons and has no qualms about helping them. They are his life - without them, he isn't sure what he would do. Healing is what he does to calm down, what he does when he needs to do something - and when the little girl with the firelizard that comes up crying, he likes being able to help.

History:
Family: Father - A'nim
Mother - Alinatamora
Brothers - Atomornim
Foster Mother - Lialty
Foster Father - Pilat

'A'nim, you have a son.' In Ramik Hold, Alinatamora spoke to the male quietly, holding the hand of a three year old boy. The Bronzerider looked down at the boy briefly, and nodded. 'Fine.' That was the first interaction a happy bouncy boy had with his father, and his mother only shook her head and sent him out the door to play down by the river. She had far to much to do in the kitchens than deal with him. Arenamor, or Aren, didn't see his mother often - she was just a random figure that he saw when summoned, and that wasn't often.

No, the lad grew wild, taught by whoever snatched him that day in the ever busy Ramik hold. His favorite place in the world was down by the river - there, when he could escape, he swam in the currents and amused himself with tumbling about, handstands and flips. The river was his home, and it wasn't long before he found the docks - on the narrow river that bled into the much thicker one that Ramik Hold was located on, they had to have a way to transport things to other Holds. That was the river.

He found the docks, and quickly made several friends - boys his own age of seven or so, who walked around wearing mainly a pair of easily dried breeches and a shirt easily stripped off. It was with them that he found his best friend, Lip. Lip had a huge family, but they were a family - a squabbling pack of kids who loved and taunted each other, looked over by a patient mother who had no problem adopting him into her harem. Their father was one of the Boatmasters, a jolly man who delighted in teaching his children the way of the river. It was here that he found a family, something that he otherwise might never had gotten.

At ten years old, he and Lip had gotten into their fair scraps of trouble. They had learned to boat the entire river, and they knew every eddy and line. Each had their own small boat, slim light boats that were hardy and well polished, and they spent their days in these, out on the river and the small islands that populated it. They hunted for their own food, and learned to be pretty good foragers - thank goodness for Lip's mother who packed them meals until they learned how to cook it. They found a firelizard nest once, and he Impressed the three lizards, while Lip got four. It was a good life, and one that kept the excited boy good.

Than an Bronzerider came to visit. His mother summoned him - this in itself was unusual. The visits between mother and son had gradually increased - he hadn't seen her in at least a little more than a turn. The visit was an odd one to - she grabbed him, stripped him, dunked him in water and proceeded to wash him until he was pink and tingly. His hair was cut - Lialty, Lip's mother, had thankfully trimmed the boys hair once every few months for it was easy to keep it out of their eyes when on the river. This woman - he refused to think of her as a mother - dressed him in nicer clothes, and then made him stand there, shuffling in bare feet - he had lost his shoes again - when A'nim walked into the small weyr. 'Alina. Is that the boy?' His mother, a hardfaced woman, nodded curtly. 'Aye, that's him. Arenamor.' The man looked him over once, and then snorted. 'Fine. Leave.'

Aren stood looking at his father, not quite sure what to expect. The man looked nothing like the person he had placed in the father figure - this was broad shouldered and large, while Pilat was slimmer, and not as harsh. 'Arenamor. You have a half a turn - then you will apprentice in the healing hall. You'll stay there until we come to collect you. You'll Stand at the next clutch Blath sires.' And then the man walked out - and Aren rebelled instantly.

Gifted with a beautiful voice and a quick memory for stories, he was approached about joining the Harperhall, and his adopted-family gave him all the encouragement he could need - but the offer receded suddenly. It turned out, his father had stopped them from taking him, but he didn't learn this until later. He had jumped at this, anything to get away from the Healing Hall, but it wasn't to be.

Left back to his own real family, he swore that he would never be a rider or a healer. He would follow Pilat into the trade, and boat the river. It didn't seem as though he would have any problem - the Weyr's were dying. Shoving A'nim out of his mind, the boy lived the next half a turn planning on running away with Lip - until a few sevendays early something awful happened. It turned out lots of things were happening he didn't understand.

A'nim caught him. He and Lip had been polishing their boats for a last time and planning their escape, when a huge shape fell from the sky and firmly pinned him - crushing his boat. With a yelp, he looked into the gently whirling eye of Blath - his father's dragon. He was dragged to the Healer's Hall, and shoved in there - rebelling almost instantly. He was watched closely, and they found him to be smart, with a knack for it. However, he didn't work well with people, and didn't learn unless tricked - so the master's finally shunted him aside with Masterhealer Taric. He was a dragonhealer, with a smaller group of second-turn apprentices. The man was kind, and understanding - and a friend. He stayed there for a few turns, learning and writing daily letters to Lip - but determined never to Impress a dragon.

Of course, A'nim showed up and snatched him - the Hatching was about to start. It didn't matter - he didn't Impress. His father raged, but the boy escaped with no mother than a bloody nose - he was fast for his age of thirteen. He ran away, out and joined the runners - although he wanted to be a Dragonhealer his father wasn't happy that he hadn't Impressed, and if he saw him right then he might have killed him. So he ran for a turn, until he passed along a message... And found out about the Jump ahead. He caught a ride with the Rider he had met, mourning the fact he never had a chance to say goodbye to his foster family.

Position in Family: Oldest, but not really - Foster family had older kids.

Alignment: Loyalist

Pets:
Green Lady
Sweet to Aren, loves Fidel, but really is haughty and annoyed with the rest of the people and firelizards, hates dragons, vain and proud and not really that bright. She is slim and almost obnoxiously green, loves looking at herself in water.

Green Bubbly
She's devoted to Aren, who she constantly clings to, she's the stupidest thing you have ever met in your life but happy. She's not annoying, is really quiet for a flitt.
Dark green, she loves human food and is a little chubby for a dragon. She doesn't like to fly very often, but she rises often, and she likes flirting. Loves, loves bubbly pie.

Blue Fellis
Thinks he's a dragon, and just as big as the rest of them, he's bright and inquisitive, very smart for a lizard and sensible. Does the chores like taking messages to people, loves being petted and admired, doesn't really mind anything or anybody.
Solid and slightly stocky, he has a beautiful sapphire hide.

Dragon: Achilleth

Dragon's Appearance: A dark, dark dragon, Achilleth is the colour of twilight, when the rich, saturated blues of the sky meld with the landscape as the last hues of colour illuminated by the disappearing light. This alluring colour is somewhere between a bold royal blue and a deep midnight blue, faded in its intensity but rich nonetheless. The darkest part of his hide is along his spine, where it comes closest to midnight blue, and the lightest is on his underside, where it nears royal blue. Thus, in layout, Achilleth even resembles the twilight sky, and one can almost imagine the last tendrils of Rukbat sinking below the soil beneath his form. His head is the darkest part of his body, a navy blue that is almost black, while his toes are bright powder blue.
With such a bold colouration, it is rather surprising to note that Achilleth is actually a very petite blue. He is smaller than the larger greens, with delicate features and thin bones. This dragon is also permanently skinny, no matter how much his rider attempts to feed him, and he has a long, slender tail. Although his rider might doubt this blue's ability to carry him into the sky, Achilleth has strong, broad wings for lift, and well-muscled shoulders and legs. In sum, Achilleth is rangy and dainty, but tough!

Dragon's Personality: Achilleth is a noble and confident blue, and he knows very well that he is a strong, agile dragon. He prides himself in his hunting skill and abilities in the air, and he is sure to be an excellent Threadfighter as well. With a fighting spirit, Achilleth will easily stand up to the challenges of other males and may even find himself instigating a few scuffles, though it would be totally provoked, of course! After all, Achilleth doesn't want to be mistaken for a docile blue.
As slick as he is in the air, however, Achilleth is rather clumsy on the ground, something that may be his greatest flaw. He doesn't seem to have the best awareness of his surroundings nor his own limbs, for this blue literally bounces off the walls on occasion, or straight out walks right into one, when he was aiming for a corridor. Much to Achilleth's dismay, this clumsiness may cause his rider a fair bit of grief, for a dragon easily dwarfs a human, and a bump from may cause a bit more damage to the rider than the dragon. His tail is especially a danger, for it tends to swing about of its own accord and take out anyone in its path. This is a matter that causes quite a bit of distress for Achilleth, who often gets very upset if he harms his rider at all.
The only other area of difficulty his rider may have with Achilleth is the blue’s tendency to run off on mad adventures. He may suddenly get it into his head that they are heroes and go barreling off into the jungle to rescue the damsel, leaving his rider behind or racing to catch up. He’ll certainly be a handful, but it means plenty of excitement for the pair!

Dragon’s Abilities:

Strength: 6
Concentration: 8
Agility: 14
Team Coordination: 5
Creativity: 11
Allure: 11
Search/Rescue Skill: 15

[Tealah]

Name: N'oren

Gender: Male

Age: 17

Preference: Males

Previous Position:

Current Position: Jr. Weyrling

Appearance: Nymoren is short for a male and will most likely always be short. He hates being mistaken for a younger person, but it seems to happen almost all the time. Although he is seventeen, he has a rounded face that combined with his height makes him look fourteen at best. Despite the fact that he is a healthy weight for his height, Nymoren looks a little on the skinny side, due to his wiry build. He has brown hair that always seems to be scraggly and out of place. His skin is tan, but looks paler because it is always somewhat dry. His eyes are average in shape and a dark brown with a warm undertone. Nymoren's face is oval and somewhat light-boned for a male, giving him a slightly feminine look.

Nymoren can almost always be seen in clothes in shades of yellow or orange. His clothes usually fit in a fashion that does not make it too obvious that he is not as heavily built as some other male Candidates. He has several scars on his knees from running around the Weyr as a child. He is right-handed and hardly ever uses his left hand for any kind of fine motor skills.

Personality: Nymoren is somewhere between outgoing and introverted, but nearer to introverted. He is not a major people person and would rather be with a few close friends than a larger number of people who he does not know as well. He is very slow to anger, but once he does get angry, Nymoren can hold a grudge for a long time. Nymoren has a rather unusual sense of humor in that he may be the only person in the Weyr who actually likes bad puns. When most people make excuses to leave when some punster gets started, he will be right there trading bad puns with him or her.

History:
Nymoren is the son of the brownrider N'ken and a Lower Caverns woman, Myrenna, after a mating flight that the brown lost. As a Weyrbrat, Nymoren was a bit of a curious pain because he was always exploring by himself but not often telling others where he went. He often managed to scrape himself up in his explorations. He was always trying to help adults take care of their dragons, but he usually made it take twice as long because he would knock things over or just generally cause trouble. Once he was old enough to Stand for the Clutches, Nymoren did so. Although rather tired of not Impressing, he is still ready to try but this clutch may be his last..

Position in Family: middle child

Alignment: Loyalist

Pets: None

Dragon: Ajath

Dragon's Appearance: On the small side for a blue, Ajath makes up for his lack of size by standing out in other ways. He is short in body, compact, with a short tail, short legs and short neck ... but everything is in such good proportion that it often takes a close comparison with other blue dragons for people to realize that Ajath is not quite as long and lean as his fellows. His wings, despite his small size, are immensely powerful, and he moves with a speed and agility that is almost startling, and can soar on his strong wings for long periods of time.

His head knobs and muzzle are slightly rounded, giving him a youthful appearance, which is offset by the spark of sheer determination that often glows from his eyes.

Ajath's coloring causes him to stand out even more than his compact size. He is a brilliant royal blue above, and his undersides are pale sky blue that extends around his muzzle, all four feet, covers the undersides of his wing ribs, and wraps around the tip of his tail. This gives him a bright contrast of color that draws the eye, and of which this young fellow is quite proud.

Dragon's Personality: Fearless. This one word can often wrap up Ajath's response to life. He is a stout little warrior who never thinks twice about running into danger if the cause is right ... and most causes, if his rider even momentarily thinks them worthy, are worth fighting for to Ajath. He is eager to flame, eager to fly, and his rider may often have to hold him back long enough to receive full instructions before leaping into battle!

Ajath is also quick to defend his opinions, and those of his rider ... in fact, he'll sometimes make his rider's opinion known to other dragons, and Theirs, without considering whether or not his rider might in fact wants to weigh in on a situation! This can sometimes cause for awkward moments, not only because he will expose some of his rider's thoughts, but because he'll defend them (or his own opinions) vehemently! This is not to say that Ajath is unintelligent for a blue ... it is just that his eagerness to “do right” sometimes outweighs the need to think first.

Despite his sometimes “a bit too outgoing” determination, there is no dragon more loyal, or more loving, than Ajath. He is openly affectionate to his rider, and even to those humans his rider feels close to. For all his energy and outward bravery, when alone in their weyr, it's not uncommon to hear Ajath asking His for a hug, or a cuddle, or to sleep on his couch with him ... just because he loves the closeness.

Dragon’s Abilities:

Strength: 13
Concentration: 5
Agility: 15
Team Coordination: 8
Creativity: 6
Allure: 9
Search/Rescue Skill: 14

[Tealah]

Name: T'rasel

Gender: Male

Age: 18 turns

Preference: could go either way

Previous Position: Gambler/swindler. Was with a less than respectable entertainment caravan, came to the Weyr to try to make some easy marks and wound up being “shanghai'd” into working in the lower caverns (or so he says if cornered).

Current Position: Jr. Weyrling

Appearance: Medium height, medium build. Sandy colored, straight hair that is cropped short and sticks out in every which direction. No real distinguishing features except for his eyes, which are deep-set and a strange, steely grey in color. People call his eyes "disturbing" because you can't read them.

Personality: Terrasel is out for himself and no one else. He makes decisions depending on how much he thinks he can gain. He's extremely cunning, but plays it low-key, preferring to fly under the radar. He likes people to think him dull and lazy ... lazy he is, of course, but is hardly dull. He's always watching, always alert for ways to collect marks without working, food without contributing, and position without earning it.

History:
Terrasel was raised in an “entertainment” caravan. Though there are many such caravans traversing Pern which are honorable and welcome, this particular caravan was more along the lines of the stereotypical “gypsies” of old Terran legend. The skills the boy was taught while growing up including sleight of hand, loaded gambling games, and many other ways to cheat people out of their marks and be long gone before the victims realized they'd been had.

His father was a lower member of the caravan, always in contention with the leaders, but not ambitious enough to really try for advancement. He was a handsome man, the ladies enjoyed keeping him company, and Terrasel was born to one of his flings. His mother later had a daughter with another man, a beautiful girl who danced well and many marks were thrown at her young feet. Terrasel, however, was neither handsome nor ugly, neither tall nor short, and there was nothing impressive about the boy. Thus, the father took no interest, nor did his half-sister's father, and only his mother ever suspected that the child was more intelligent than he appeared to be. She, however, doted on her lovely girl-child, and after Terrasel ran away at sixteen turns, the mother didn't even notice he was gone for over a full day. The 'van had moved on, and as the boy was old enough to fend for himself, she really didn't feel the ambition to look for him.

Nor did Terrasel really miss her all that much.

He wandered toward the Weyr, after word that the dragons were increasing again, having heard that the riders took tithes from many holds.

With that many marks floating about, certainly Terrasel could score some easy gain for himself.

He was delayed for a while, when Thread fell, and he holed up at a farm hold, taking on what appeared to be legitimate work, while once again gambling away some of the meager marks of his co-workers. It was between the first and second Fall that he finally arrived (after high-tailing it once again when he'd overstepped the boundaries of how much he could cheat people out of unawares), and has been laying low in the lower caverns since.

His ability to avoid work made life easy for him at the Weyr. Food was, for the most part, free without risk, and he decided to hang around longer than he had intended.

Position in Family: An unremarkable oldest son of his mother, with a half sister who was favored by her, and a father who really had no interest in him at all.

Alignment: Loyalist, oddly enough, but only because he would want to remain as inconspicuous as possible, and “rocking the boat” might bring him unwanted attention.

Pets: One canine he adopted along the road, a scroungy canine who looks as unremarkable as his master, and is just as cunning under the surface. When Terrasel discovered that he could teach the beast to sneak into camps and steal meat right off the spits without being seen, and bring it back to him uneaten, he decided to keep him as a traveling companion. He is a wire-haired creature, tall and narrow, with yellow eyes, and a color that can best be called “dark brindle” ... a stripey mix of greys and blacks, with a little dark reddish brown tossed in for effect. This gives him the ability to slide about in the shadows nearly unseen at night. Terrasel calls the canine “Dodger”

Dragon: Iolath

Dragon's Appearance: Rarely has the Weyr ever seen a dragon with a hide as bright as Iolath's. It is a vivid, light turquoise blue, reminiscent of the colour of a shallow lagoon on a bright day. Starting at the tip of his snout and tracing all the way down his neck and spine is a strip of cobalt blue, and this colour also appears in thin stripes along his sides and legs, giving him an appearance much like a tabby feline.

Iolath is on the smaller side for a blue, even dwarfed by the occasional large green, with surprisingly dainty features. His limbs are almost stunted, keeping him close to the ground, and his neck and tail are also on the short side. His wings, on the other hand, are disproportionately large, giving him an appearance strikingly similar to a Terran bat when he opens them wide. It may take him some time to learn how to use them effectively, but when he does, he will be a force to reckon with in the air!


Dragon's Personality: Life is a game for Iolath, a trait that will make him both a fun dragon to be around and a difficult dragon to teach anything to. He is always plotting pranks and schemes, for he is quite the trickster, and more than a few of these will likely be directed at his rider. Since he would rather play than focus on lessons, his rider will have a bit of a challenge keeping him well-behaved during Weyrling lessons. Another unfortunate result of this carefree attitude is that it will be difficult for Iolath to take things seriously, so his reaction might not be the best to intense situations.
Iolath is an extremely social dragon, and he enjoys being in the company of others almost constantly. If his rider isn’t available, he’ll find another dragon to chat with, or even a flitter if need be! One of Iolath’s favourite things to do when conversing with someone (other than playing pranks, of course), is storytelling. His rider may be quite pleased and surprised to find that they have this trait in common, however, the blue’s storytelling differs from his rider’s slightly. Rather than relating real-life events, Iolath has a vivid imagination and quite enjoys coming up with stories right on the spot. In fact, he enjoys gathering listeners to his tales so much, that he will actually speak to an occasional group of children (a detail often augmented by this dragon's sweet tooth, a trait he shares with the youngsters), much to his rider's surprise. Whether he tries to pass his stories off as true is a different matter entirely…

When it comes down to it, though, Iolath is a remarkably loyal dragon. Although he seems to be a bit flighty, whizzing around to chat with anyone, he will always be there if his rider needs him. Few things can get him angry, but this blue will be a fierce and proud fighter when the time calls for it. His intentions are always for the best, even if his actions don’t always play that out perfectly.

Dragon’s Abilities:

Strength: 4
Concentration: 9
Agility: 13
Team Coordination: 7
Creativity: 12
Allure: 8
Search/Rescue Skill: 17

[Tealah]

Name: Mariya

Gender: Female

Age: 13

Preference: both

Previous Position: cothold/caravan brat, Healer Hall apprentice

Current Position: Jr. Weyrling

Appearance: Mariya is a tiny girl, barely 5’0” and underweight. All of her cothold ‘mothers’ have tried to get her to eat and gain some weight, but she doesn’t listen to them. She has red hair and that is about waist length.

Personality: Mariya is a quiet girl, almost woman now. She doesn’t assume anything, still being haunted by her parents’ early death, but a hard life is not unknown to her. She loves the feel of dirt, and lately has been content to stay in one place. She rarely mingles with the other apprentices unless she has to for her classes. She did have an older girlfriend (Emmah) who taught her some things before she was sent to the Healer Hall (in the past). Mariya misses Emmah but doesn’t talk about their friendship. She also doesn’t trust too easily.

History:
Mariya was born to Rett (wrangler) and Maire (herbalist) Lilcamp on the road someplace to nowhere somewhere in the 11th Pass, as her mother always said. She was the youngest by 6 turns. She spent her early childhood traveling with the Lilcamp Caravan from hold to hold to weyr. When her parents died in a snow avalanche one winter, she was fostered into the cothold there.
Mariya would spend her days singing to herself to cover up her grief, and gathering herbs like her mother had taught her. The Healer found out her inclinations and sent her to the Healer Hall when she turned 10. She has been there for going on 2 turns and is quite studious, stays to herself and never mingles with the other apprentices and paying students.
Before she left Southern (in the past) and came forward in time with the others by accident really (at the wrong place at the time or vice versa as it may be), Mariya was paired with Emmah, one of the other fosterlings there. Their friendship was fast, quick and tight in many senses of the word. They were inseparatable which was very unusual for Mariya who tends not to trust anyone. However, right before Mariya was to leave for Healer Hall, the boy who was betrothed to Emmah, attacked her (Mariya’s words) after a night of drinking. Mariya was horrified to be handled that way and it would have been worse had Emmah not have come into the room at that moment. Misunderstandings abounded between the two girls – from Emmah thinking that Mariya was trying to get her boyfriend, to Mariya thinking that Emmah set her up. The two girls parted on bad terms, Emmah back to her family and marriage and Mariya to the her future with the Healer Hall and eventually into the future.

Position in Family: Mariya was the last born of six children. Two died in infancy. The twins (Mardell and Rhedell) (25 turns old) are still with another camp of Lilcamps. Her sister (Cancy)(19 turns) is married into a minor Miner hold.

Alignment: unknown yet

Pets: none

Dragon: Telmacith

Dragon's Appearance: Like the blue-green surf, or a summer sky in early evening, just before the sun paints the horizon yellow, this medium sized blue dragon could more accurately be called “aqua”. Telmacith is solid blue-green all over, in a mid-tone shade that stands out strongly among a flight of more average blues. His coloring is solid from nose tip to tail tip, with only some slightly darker, more teal, shading along his spine and along the tracings of the bones of his wings. His build is medium, not too long, not too wide. His wings are average in length and depth. His size is right in the middle of the blue dragon scale. But his unique shade of solid aqua sets him apart from all others.

Dragon's Personality: As marvelous as this blue's coloring may be, however, it makes him uncomfortable, for this fellow would actually prefer not to be noticed. Telmacith is shy to a fault, almost giggly-bashful at times, and becomes a puddle of embarrassed awkwardness when addressed by the flirty greens. At times he wishes that he'd been born a firelizard rather than a dragon, so he could hide inside the tunic of His, in his place of sublime comfort, and not have to deal with the social niceties.

His is, in fact, his great comfort. Telmacith is completely a one-rider dragon, needing no company other than His, and he is most possessive and protective of the object of his affections. He becomes slightly jealous when His interacts with others, and impatiently waits for the moments he can be along with his rider again.

All of that changes, quite suddenly, however, when one of two things strike: Thread ... or Hormones! In Flight, this aqua-blue dragon transforms, becoming bold and intense. His duty to protect Pern, and His Own, from all dangers takes over and he surprises all around him with his ability to fly and fight. And when it comes to the hormones, well ... he'll often be heard to say, afterward, eyes whirling with embarrassment, “I just don't know what came over me!”

Dragon’s Abilities:

Strength: 6
Concentration: 8
Agility: 15
Team Coordination: 12
Creativity: 5
Allure: 10
Search/Rescue Skill: 14

[Tealah]

Name: Phelicia

Gender: Female

Age: Nineteen

Preference: Bi

Previous Position: Journeywoman Harper

Current Position: Jr. Weyrling

Appearance: Though average in height this girl falls on the heavier side of the scale. To put it kindly, she is chubby, with a great fondness for sweets. Despite this, she has an appealing countenance, with a slightly oval shaped face and a long neck. Her hair is a bright, fiery red, easily recognizable by it's copper hue and the nearly out of control curls that accompany it. Paired with this are bright blue eyes of a startling shade, that seem to mirror the sky outside on a clear day. Her complexion is slightly tan, with a redness about her face that never seems to go away.

Personality: The red head temper has nothing on this girl. She's set off by anything, and has a tendency to hold grudges over silly things. She's also slightly slow to pick up things, due to a birth defect. But this doesn't stop her much, as she's even more determined because of it, and is smart in her own way. Very attached to her brother Willfred, and is almost always seen with him. When her temper doesn't have a hold of her, she's a very docile, even minded person, and often acts as an anchor for her brother, keeping him out of trouble. She's good at putting clue pieces together, and is an essential problem solver. If you can keep her attention. Her mind seems to flicker about more then that of a flighty Green.

History:
There once was a small hold, with an even smaller population, suffering from a hard summer full of misfortune and illness. It so happened that within this village, there was a woman. This woman was celebrated. Because she was pregnant. But she was also struck by misfortune. For early in her seventh month of pregnancy, she fell ill. It seemed for a few weeks that she was fighting the sickness well. But as her eight month drew nearer, she began to succumb to her fate, for none before her had survived after contracting the disease. As the people began to fear for both the woman and her child, a traveling band of entertainers came upon the village, and much to their surprise, the was also a woman with them that was with child, though this woman was over due for her little one.

It was on the second night of the troop's stay that it happened. With a storm rumbling in the sky, the one who traveled with them fell into labor. Upon hearing the cries of the birthing, the sickly villager also began to fell the pain of contractions. And so it came to pass that two babies were brought into the world that night. One an easy, unremarkable birth, the other...

The other brought Phelicia into existence, though it cost her mother her life. The villagers, upon seeing her so closely resembling the lost woman, feared that she had also contracted the disease, and with her being premature, were sure the little one would die, and so shunned her. But the journeywoman would hear none of this, and upon seeing the child took her in as her own, naming the girl after her lost mother. The troop left the next day, as soon as the storm wore itself off, taking both babies with them.

Since then, Phelicia has been the sister to Willfred, and though she knows about her past, cares nothing for it. Even in the pair's toddler years, it was obvious that she was the calmer one. Willfred would get upset more frequently, and his tantrums would last longer. As he grew, these fits sometimes turned to violence, and it wasn't uncommon for him to get into scuffles with the other boys that belonged to the band. Though it seemed that when Phelicia was with him, she was able to keep him calmer, and he got into less trouble.

Position in Family: Younger sister of two.

Alignment: Neutral

Pets: A small grey tabby named Bahgera. Litter sibling of Sherekhan.

Dragon: Kheprith

Dragon's Appearance: Kheprith’s hide is primarily a bright, azure blue with such a shine, when oiled, that rivals any bronze in the weyr. He appears to be coated fairly evenly in this shade, that is, until he unfurls his wings. The tops are marked by long, interlocking bars of a multitude shades of blue, fashioned in such a way as to almost bring to mind the wings of a feathered bird. These are quite eye-catching, and undoubtedly his best feature. His wings are, however, also rather large in comparison to his body, which is on the small side for a blue. Regardless, he carries them with pride, often just partially outstretched to display the beautiful colors.

Dragon's Personality: Kheprith is quite a ball of energy, which may leave his rider wondering at times where he finds it all. However, far from attempting to jump from one activity to another, he prefers to choose one task at a time and apply all his energy toward it. The problem lies in his tendency to choose a near impossible goal for himself, paired with his stubborn refusal to accept failure. He sometimes seems to have it in his mind that the weight of the world is his to carry, and he will be quite disappointed if he ever fails in one of his pursuits. It will be up to his rider to reassure him in these times, but fortunately, it doesn’t take much for him to bounce back. Kheprith is usually quite an upbeat, cheerful dragon, ever-willing to bend himself toward whatever needs doing, and does his work with pride.

Dragon’s Abilities:

Strength: 6
Concentration: 5
Agility: 14
Team Coordination: 13
Creativity: 12
Allure: 12
Search/Rescue Skill: 8

[Tealah]

Name: Katalyn (Kat, as she likes to be known)

Gender: Female

Age: 18

Preference: Males

Previous Position: Journeywoman Herder

Current Position: Jr. Weyrling

Appearance: She's not tall, but neither is she especially small, a respectable 5'5" for a girl. She is slightly built, limbs in good proportion with her body, not lanky. By the Egg, she would hate to be tall and lanky! She likes herself just the way she is, having worked out now how to use it well to her advantage. Despite this, she maintains a slightly boyish appearance most of the time. Her white blonde hair is cut short, not overly uncommon among her Hold, but she is aware that it is elsewhere, and a little spikey; she tends to look like she has just woken up and cares little if it resembles a wherry nest, most of the time anyway. It can be tames if she puts her mind to it, like many other things in her life. She also isn't weak, taking pride in her strength, being female, and she needed it in her craft. Though shunning much of her girlyness, she likes to wear tight fitting tops, for her chest isn't exactly flat, though she draws the line with a preferance for trousers over skirts and dresses.

Personality: She's a firecracker, and prone to mood swings... and adventure. Scathing comments are often passed without regard if she is annoyed, though she will only hold a grudge for long if she is absolutely furious for something she considers unforgivable. Other than that she's a friend again the next day as if nothing happened, usually happy to forgive and forget, and has trouble understanding why others would hold a grudge at herself. She makes friends reletively easy, but much prefers the company of the opposite gender over her own. Other girls she often has trouble understanding their attitudes, and especialy their bitchyness.

If she sets something in her sights, or someone, she will work with all she's got to reach her eventual goal. Though, especially with someone, she realises the virtue of patience, and will wait for oppertunities, as well as creating them herself when she sees fit.

History:
She was born into the Beastcraft, and bred up with it. Runners are in her blood, as she would say. From the day she was old enough she would ride with her father on his runners, though he was always careful not to put her on and of the fiery runners, not wanting any nasty falls to break her confidence. Her mother was not alsways entirely happy with her baby riding runners, but she loved and trusted her mate, and so put up with his enthusiasm.

As she grew, so did her love for all beasts. By the age iof five she was quite happily plodding around on her own astride one of the great draught beasts, and to this day retains a deep respect for their kind, steady nature. Partly because they never threw her off once, and partly because, even from an early age, she knew she could never be quite like them.

But soon her confidence and ability began to overtake her age. She had moved up onto riding the runners, but even so, her father only allowed her to ride the calmer ones. She was doing everything she could with them, jumping them, even racing them with the other boys who could also ride, though never as well as her. Even so, she had her good share of losses, and falls, but her confidence never failed her. Much though she longed to, her father had sternly banned her from even trying to ride his own runner, a sprightly beast he used for delivering messages to long distance holds, and whom he alone rode.

But little did he understand the tanacity and determination of his daughter. That runer she saw as a challenge, and one she was well ready for. A challenge she would win, no matter what.

And one day, when she was 9 Turns old, she did.

Before dawn, she roused, dressed appropriately, and dark, and snuck out of their house to the b. She had already cautioned her little brother, only a toddler and knowing no better than to obay her, to stay quiet, and not tell her parents about her wholly disreputable activities. Reaching the stables, she collected the runners tack, saddled up, and led the animal outside into the yard. The beast was skipping with as much anticipation as the girl, and as she mounted she had to fight to keep him under her control and safely out of the yard. Then, as the sun just broke the horizon, she let him go. The runner needed no further instruction, taking off at a straight gallop into the meadow, Katalyn leaning forward on his neck, hanging on tightly. This was so different from all the runners she had ever ridden before. Why, with this runner underneath her, there was no way those boys could beat her in the races! She could feel every muscle in its back as they pelted across the field, in tune with every movement.

Then it baulked. She hit the ground hard, pain going up her arm. As she sat up slowly, she examined her arm. Good, nothing bad, it just hurt. But what a ride! She had ridder her fathers runner at last! She actually felt rather smug. If a sore arm was all she paid for it, she would be disappointed. Getting unsteadily to her feet, she went after the runner, who thankfully had been trained well, and had stopped a short distance from his fallen rider. She walked him back to the stables, and didi her best to put everything back where it should be, then attended to her normal duties there.

In short, her father soon realised what she had done, for she was soon no longer disappointed in the outcome of her adventure. Still, she would have done it again, and her father knew it. He was more disappointed in her than he was angry at her.

It came that she was of age to begin her apprenticeship, so, of course, she went to the Herderhall for her training, her first time away from home. Yet the 11 turn-old was not scared. Indeed, thin was a new challenge, the greatest in her life! She studied hard, but soon realised that she was not the best in her class, even if she was one of the best runner racers. By the age of 15 she joined the ranks of the jockeys, running (and winning) many races with the now much livelier runners, much more like her fathers.

It was in her 16th turn that the dragons arrived.

At first she knew precious little about these monstrous beasts, but as the year progressed on, she picked up information, a little here, a little there. When she was 17, she saw her first dragon, flying high in the sky over her head as she was relaying messages to one of the holds for her craft. She pulled her runner to a stop, watching as the great beast soared overhead. Then she saw the rider, sitting abreast of the dragon, on its neck. It was then she decided. What a challenge! To ride a dragon! But she was up to it. She had to be.

Upon returning to the crafthall, she was sick to learn that the rider had come to the hall n search. She had missed him! But she was hard at work, training to become a journeywoman, she couldn't give that up. Long ago she had set herself that challenge the dragons would just have to wait another year or so.

And so they did. She tactfully avoided the next search, adamant not to be taken before she completed her studies, but when she finally walked the tables at the age of eighteen, then she knew. I have won my title, now I shall win my dragon.

Position in Family: Oldest of three. One brother and one sister, though she sees little of them, as they are at least 7 turns younger than she.

Pets: None.

Alignment: Probably going to end up a Loyalist, or which ever offers the greatest challenge to her at the time x]

Dragon: Osiryth

Dragon's Appearance: Osiryth’s color is the first thing that stands out about him, as it is certainly not a shade typically seen on a blue. There is an undeniable green tint to his hide, which is uncommonly dark, giving him a dark turquoise coloration. It is still, however, quite clear that he is a blue. His headknobs are darker still, and this same darker shade is seen in a faint stripe that starts on his neck and runs down his spine. He is average-sized for a blue, although long due to his lean, streamlined build. The curves and joints of his body have a more angular, sharper look to them, giving him a stern, powerful appearance. However, he carries himself with power and decorum, although with his long legs and neck, he tends to be more graceful on the ground than in the air.

Dragon's Personality: Osiryth is usually a serious, dedicated dragon. Quite intelligent for a dragon, he rarely rushes headfirst into things, but is content to wait and bide his time for as long as is necessary, and urges his rider to do the same. He usually comes across as standoffish and seems to have a dark side to his personality, seen in his frequent sarcasm, which tends to put others off. Osiryth doesn’t help this, as he tends to keep to himself and confide solely in his rider, who he will deeply confide in and look to often for someone to hear out his latest idea. However, any dragon able to break through his shell will find an ever-loyal friend, always willing to listen to another’s trouble and dispense heartfelt advice. He may be sought after for this advice even by those who don’t know him well, as he will never turn down a request for help. Aloof and serious as he may seem, Osiryth is, at heart, a patient, thoughtful dragon with a particular knack of guiding others through their troubles, and a truly indispensable friend.

Dragon’s Abilities:

Strength: 5
Concentration: 10
Agility: 12
Team Coordination: 13
Creativity: 5
Allure: 11
Search/Rescue Skill: 14