Post by dejavu on Oct 7, 2008 21:47:20 GMT -6
Contact Info: agent00negative@gmail.com
Character Info:
Name: J'tain
Age: 37 (b. 1036)
Gender: Male
Rank: Assistant Weyrlingmaster
Location Weyr
Family:
T'vres, Father, 59 (b. 1014), Telgar brownrider to Hrimth
Yvaln, Mother, 57 (b. 1016), cook at Telgar Weyr
R'sal, Brother, 35, (b. 1034), Telgar brownrider to Brinuth
Gavryl, Brother, 30, (b. 1029), Journeyman Smith at Crom Hold
Appearance: At 6'2”, built sturdily, brown-haired and brown-eyed, J'tain has the makings of “tall, dark, and handsome,” but he's suffered some misfortune. Down the left side of his face, from his hairline to his cheekbone, the reddish seam of a healed threadscore dives down beneath his collar, the promise of more scars over his shoulders and his back. Although it's missed his eye, the edge of the scar touches his brow before it skates down the side of his face and neck. Despite this, he's still easy on the eyes.
Brown hair is cut short, dragonrider-ish in style – and no other way to describe that particular cut – with just the hint of curl to the short shear of it. His eyes are dark, rich brown, nearly black for the depth of color. His nose is a touch broad, his lips a little hard and often chapped-looking, he's nonetheless a good-looking fellow who takes pride in his appearance. Always, his clothes are clean, new, and well-tailored.
Personality:
Seemingly bold and reckless, J'tain carries with him the dark memory of what it's like to have lost something. He and Fraeth will never fly a green again or fight thread again or even take a long, scenic flight together, and knowing that his own carelessness nearly cost him his life and his dragon has left a mark on him. He's still flirtatious, still debauched – perhaps moreso now than ever before – but there's a somber side to him that replaces the former revelry.
Clever without really being well-educated, unrefined but with enough natural charm to make him suitable for company, J'tain will be a decent weyrlingmaster – never exactly a disciplinarian, but at the very least a reminder of what happens to those that don't follow orders.
History:
“He'll fly again. But not for long distances.” Those were the words of the dragonhealer while they surveyed the tattered mass of scars that colored Fraeth's wingsails, the once purple-tinged skin now faded to a pale, bluish web of damaged color. They discussed the blue's mobility, what he could and couldn't expect, and then parted ways. J'tain stood back, his arms folded, his eyes narrowed, and contemplated what was left of his dragon. It could have been worse, remarked the dragon, ever the wry humor in his tones. It could have been better, returned the rider, smirking.
They had been paired almost two decades ago, when Jestain-the-candidate locked eyes with Fraeth-the-dragonet. Born and raised in Telgar's lower caverns, he was a future dragonrider through and through. His father, a brownrider and a renowned one in his day, had always thought his son would have made a fine bronzerider, and there were a lot of high hopes pinned on the fourteen turn old boy that stepped onto the Sands. Including his own. More than a few people lost wagers when he paired with a blue – a fine blue, to be sure, but not the bronze that people laid marks on.
Even then, even in adolescence, Jestain was thingyy. He wore the weyrbrat mantle with pride, and had graduated from pranks and teases to arrogance and boldness. His two brothers, both younger, were shaping up to be similar in temperament, and the Weyr was bound to feel the pressure of these three handsome boys cavorting through the caverns. Putting Jestain on the Sands, into the hands of the candidate and then weyrlingmasters, at least kept him somewhat out of harm's way.
Though a fair few people were surprised when the lad left the Sands with that blue, J'tain couldn't have been more relieved. Sure, he would have liked the instant renown of a bronze dragon, but he – like all new riders – loved his dragon through and through. And they were a good coupling. Fraeth was clever and good-tempered and honest, off-setting the raucousness of his rider. Through weyrlinghood, Fraeth was the conscience and J'tain was the troublemaker; the blue was the one that learned, and the rider was the one that cleaned latrines and jogged extra laps.
Their early career was remarkable only in boldness. They took as many rotations as watchriders as they could, and J'tain worked his way through holders' daughters as quickly as he could line them up. Fraeth won flights; J'tain became known for debauchery. They searched, they wooed, they won Flights. And then thread.
For twelve turns, they flew. J'tain's recklessness coupled with Fraeth's finesse made them a formidable pair, and they were a boon to their Wing when the bluerider could be convinced to follow orders. He was grounded on more than one occasion simply because he broke formation, because he chased a clump that wasn't his to pursue, because he got lost in the thrill of the moment. And it backfired one day.
A patch took them hard on the left. Fraeth screamed and ducked into Between. J'tain felt himself reeling in pain, seared along the side of his face and down his shoulder, over his back and ribs. They made it back to the Weyr, crippled, in shock, dazed. Long weeks – months of recovery faced them, and J'tain grew bored and weary and discontent. Fraeth was positive, committed, certain by comparison. They would be okay; they were still alive; they were still together.
When it came down that they were simply of no more use to a fighting Weyr, J'tain initially requested to be posted permanently to Telgar Hold. There, out of sight, they could slip into obscurity, be forgotten, never to see pity or revulsion from fellow riders again. But there was something this crippled pair could offer: they would need people who had seen battle to join those on this secretive mission to the past. Perhaps it was pity or perhaps it was the understanding that, for all his foolhardiness, J'tain was a strong and useful contributor, but the two were selected to join the expedition through time to Nova Weyr, to serve as assistants to the weyrlingmaster.
The flight back alone was hard on the blue, but it was better – they both knew – that disappearing quietly. At least now they were part of something again, for however long it lasted.
-------
Dragon Info:
Name: Fraeth
Age: 24 (h. 1049)
Color: Blue
Appearance:
Once a rich, luxuriant blue, Fraeth has seen his share of battle and now wears the scars. The purpled velvet hue of his hide is tattered along the left side, his wingsail mangled and faded, a network of threadscores healed along his left flank. His mobility is hindered by these scars, leaving him to favor his left side so that, in flight, he teeters a little and clearly can't maintain a long stamina. That aside, he's a fine-looking blue and must once have had a lot to be proud of with that perfectly proportioned build, those large and intelligent eyes, that finely shaped blue-velvet head of his.
Personality:
Positive and forthright, Fraeth is the foil and the balance to his rider. He tends to be unfettered even by his own difficulties, a real “rise above it” mentality. He speaks with a low, rolling voice that embodies the velveteen look of him with hints of suede and softness, warm and soothing. He's brave but not foolish, and he embodies the lack of forethought common in blues without being downright careless – something he leaves, with tolerant admiration, to his rider.
History:
From the time he was shelled until this exact moment, Fraeth has never left anything weigh him down. He has a strange, fickle memory; although he vividly remembers being scored and the events that lead up to it, he has no recollection of the pain and no concept that his life ever actually was any different than it is now.
Since pairing with J'tain, since looking in those black eyes and seeing only the promise of a strong, steady young man, Fraeth has stumbled through life and come out unscathed in his mind. Though his body may have suffered, he's still the same positive-seeming fellow he always was.
Clutch: Not sure. Need something circa turn 1049? Is anything established?
Hatching Order: 5th! Just because.
Wing: Weyrling.
Character Info:
Name: J'tain
Age: 37 (b. 1036)
Gender: Male
Rank: Assistant Weyrlingmaster
Location Weyr
Family:
T'vres, Father, 59 (b. 1014), Telgar brownrider to Hrimth
Yvaln, Mother, 57 (b. 1016), cook at Telgar Weyr
R'sal, Brother, 35, (b. 1034), Telgar brownrider to Brinuth
Gavryl, Brother, 30, (b. 1029), Journeyman Smith at Crom Hold
Appearance: At 6'2”, built sturdily, brown-haired and brown-eyed, J'tain has the makings of “tall, dark, and handsome,” but he's suffered some misfortune. Down the left side of his face, from his hairline to his cheekbone, the reddish seam of a healed threadscore dives down beneath his collar, the promise of more scars over his shoulders and his back. Although it's missed his eye, the edge of the scar touches his brow before it skates down the side of his face and neck. Despite this, he's still easy on the eyes.
Brown hair is cut short, dragonrider-ish in style – and no other way to describe that particular cut – with just the hint of curl to the short shear of it. His eyes are dark, rich brown, nearly black for the depth of color. His nose is a touch broad, his lips a little hard and often chapped-looking, he's nonetheless a good-looking fellow who takes pride in his appearance. Always, his clothes are clean, new, and well-tailored.
Personality:
Seemingly bold and reckless, J'tain carries with him the dark memory of what it's like to have lost something. He and Fraeth will never fly a green again or fight thread again or even take a long, scenic flight together, and knowing that his own carelessness nearly cost him his life and his dragon has left a mark on him. He's still flirtatious, still debauched – perhaps moreso now than ever before – but there's a somber side to him that replaces the former revelry.
Clever without really being well-educated, unrefined but with enough natural charm to make him suitable for company, J'tain will be a decent weyrlingmaster – never exactly a disciplinarian, but at the very least a reminder of what happens to those that don't follow orders.
History:
“He'll fly again. But not for long distances.” Those were the words of the dragonhealer while they surveyed the tattered mass of scars that colored Fraeth's wingsails, the once purple-tinged skin now faded to a pale, bluish web of damaged color. They discussed the blue's mobility, what he could and couldn't expect, and then parted ways. J'tain stood back, his arms folded, his eyes narrowed, and contemplated what was left of his dragon. It could have been worse, remarked the dragon, ever the wry humor in his tones. It could have been better, returned the rider, smirking.
They had been paired almost two decades ago, when Jestain-the-candidate locked eyes with Fraeth-the-dragonet. Born and raised in Telgar's lower caverns, he was a future dragonrider through and through. His father, a brownrider and a renowned one in his day, had always thought his son would have made a fine bronzerider, and there were a lot of high hopes pinned on the fourteen turn old boy that stepped onto the Sands. Including his own. More than a few people lost wagers when he paired with a blue – a fine blue, to be sure, but not the bronze that people laid marks on.
Even then, even in adolescence, Jestain was thingyy. He wore the weyrbrat mantle with pride, and had graduated from pranks and teases to arrogance and boldness. His two brothers, both younger, were shaping up to be similar in temperament, and the Weyr was bound to feel the pressure of these three handsome boys cavorting through the caverns. Putting Jestain on the Sands, into the hands of the candidate and then weyrlingmasters, at least kept him somewhat out of harm's way.
Though a fair few people were surprised when the lad left the Sands with that blue, J'tain couldn't have been more relieved. Sure, he would have liked the instant renown of a bronze dragon, but he – like all new riders – loved his dragon through and through. And they were a good coupling. Fraeth was clever and good-tempered and honest, off-setting the raucousness of his rider. Through weyrlinghood, Fraeth was the conscience and J'tain was the troublemaker; the blue was the one that learned, and the rider was the one that cleaned latrines and jogged extra laps.
Their early career was remarkable only in boldness. They took as many rotations as watchriders as they could, and J'tain worked his way through holders' daughters as quickly as he could line them up. Fraeth won flights; J'tain became known for debauchery. They searched, they wooed, they won Flights. And then thread.
For twelve turns, they flew. J'tain's recklessness coupled with Fraeth's finesse made them a formidable pair, and they were a boon to their Wing when the bluerider could be convinced to follow orders. He was grounded on more than one occasion simply because he broke formation, because he chased a clump that wasn't his to pursue, because he got lost in the thrill of the moment. And it backfired one day.
A patch took them hard on the left. Fraeth screamed and ducked into Between. J'tain felt himself reeling in pain, seared along the side of his face and down his shoulder, over his back and ribs. They made it back to the Weyr, crippled, in shock, dazed. Long weeks – months of recovery faced them, and J'tain grew bored and weary and discontent. Fraeth was positive, committed, certain by comparison. They would be okay; they were still alive; they were still together.
When it came down that they were simply of no more use to a fighting Weyr, J'tain initially requested to be posted permanently to Telgar Hold. There, out of sight, they could slip into obscurity, be forgotten, never to see pity or revulsion from fellow riders again. But there was something this crippled pair could offer: they would need people who had seen battle to join those on this secretive mission to the past. Perhaps it was pity or perhaps it was the understanding that, for all his foolhardiness, J'tain was a strong and useful contributor, but the two were selected to join the expedition through time to Nova Weyr, to serve as assistants to the weyrlingmaster.
The flight back alone was hard on the blue, but it was better – they both knew – that disappearing quietly. At least now they were part of something again, for however long it lasted.
-------
Dragon Info:
Name: Fraeth
Age: 24 (h. 1049)
Color: Blue
Appearance:
Once a rich, luxuriant blue, Fraeth has seen his share of battle and now wears the scars. The purpled velvet hue of his hide is tattered along the left side, his wingsail mangled and faded, a network of threadscores healed along his left flank. His mobility is hindered by these scars, leaving him to favor his left side so that, in flight, he teeters a little and clearly can't maintain a long stamina. That aside, he's a fine-looking blue and must once have had a lot to be proud of with that perfectly proportioned build, those large and intelligent eyes, that finely shaped blue-velvet head of his.
Personality:
Positive and forthright, Fraeth is the foil and the balance to his rider. He tends to be unfettered even by his own difficulties, a real “rise above it” mentality. He speaks with a low, rolling voice that embodies the velveteen look of him with hints of suede and softness, warm and soothing. He's brave but not foolish, and he embodies the lack of forethought common in blues without being downright careless – something he leaves, with tolerant admiration, to his rider.
History:
From the time he was shelled until this exact moment, Fraeth has never left anything weigh him down. He has a strange, fickle memory; although he vividly remembers being scored and the events that lead up to it, he has no recollection of the pain and no concept that his life ever actually was any different than it is now.
Since pairing with J'tain, since looking in those black eyes and seeing only the promise of a strong, steady young man, Fraeth has stumbled through life and come out unscathed in his mind. Though his body may have suffered, he's still the same positive-seeming fellow he always was.
Clutch: Not sure. Need something circa turn 1049? Is anything established?
Hatching Order: 5th! Just because.
Wing: Weyrling.
