Post by vergess on Jun 9, 2011 6:27:03 GMT -8
NAME T'lnar [Tolonar]
AGE 14
GENDER Male
SEXUALITY Indeterminate, he's too young to have taken action in that regard, and too busy with Weyrlife to think about it too hard.
RANK Diamond Rider of Danomth
CRAFT Once studied Beastcraft, but does not any longer.
HAIR A vivid, almost searing shade of orange, though every year since he hit puberty it has been taking on a slightly darker, brownish tint. Considering his mother's hair is closer to a rich, firey auburn, it's in keeping with his genetics. Wildly curly, it clouds around his head in the beginnings of cherubic ringlets, though it's usually shorn to a few inches from his scalp, so they have no chance to form. Instead, they are light enough to bounce wildly with each movement he makes.
EYES Rich, golden brown, his eyes are still childishly wide, betraying his age far more effectively than his frame. His lashes are longer than many women's, but because of his fair hair they fade in with his complexion.
HEIGHT 5'9”, the boy suffered an almost painfully fast series of growth spurts over the last Turn, and they seem slated to continue until he is at least as taller or taller than his father.
WEIGHT Unfortunately, his weight hasn't quite caught up with his height, and he's a paltry 140lbs. Of course, every ounce is muscle hardened by the efforts of being a small, young rider. Nonetheless, his shoulder's and wrists are wide and thickset, betraying the fact that one of these days, when he stops growing so much, he'll be quite a powerful, heavy young man.
OVERALL APPEARANCE The first word that comes to mind is scrawny. He seems bone thin, much smaller than someone would expect of the rider of such an imposing beast as Danomth. The second tends to be effeminate, given the upturned nose and high cheek bones. The third, and the one he hates most, is lanky. He has sprung up like a weed over the last Turn, and if horribly clumsy as a result, covered in even more bruises and scrapes than he had been as a rambunctious boy. His skin is snowy pale by nature, with a light dusting of brown freckles on ever sun exposed surface, but with and altitude have instead changed his default state of being to more windburned and farmer-tanned than anything else. Still, on his arms and legs, where riding gear usually covers, that milky pallor is plainly visible. As are his absolutely striking tan lines. Fortunately, he isn't yet vain enough to care about that, if he ever will be.
PERSONALITY An energetic boy, T'lnar has only just begun to grow out of his 'let's climb trees and jump off cliffs and do obscenely dangerous things without thinking of the consequences' phase, though he can still be found occasionally doing inane things, like scaling the walls of the Weyrbowl to get to his weyr rather than bothering a sleeping Danomth to carry him. Not the brightest idea, for someone of such high standing. But, he's not quite used to being of high standing either. Indeed he's quite regularly astonished by his lot in life.
T'lnar is also rash, loud, and every stereotype one can imagine for a fourteen year old boy to be, including unusually shy about his changing body and outlook on life. Since where did people become worth looking at and... thinking about and... stuff. Instead of, like, talking to and playing with? He's not ill informed, of course. Danomth has been fully mature for nearing two Turns now, and even before that, T'lnar knew what was waiting for him in the apparent quagmire of puberty, but that doesn't make him more comfortable with it. It just makes him more comfortable knowing it'll end. He puts a good amount of effort into not talking about it. Avoiding his emotions is an excellent skill, in his esteemed opinion.
Mind you, that doesn't mean he doesn't love to talk. T'lnar simply isn't himself unless he's chatting about anything and everything. With anyone. At all times. It can be a touch exhausting if you aren't prepared for it. Likewise, he doesn't seem to know how to sit still. Which is, of course, utter nonsense, because he's sat through meetings before with his best formal thinking face on and nary so much as a twitching foot. But that takes effort and he'd rather not expend that effort unless he has to. It's astonishing that someone so vibrant can have such random lazy tendencies, but there you are. Perhaps its more a lack of discipline than anything, but rearing in a headstrong fourteen year old with power isn't the easiest of tasks.
LIKES
DISLIKES
QUIRKS
SECRET
HISTORY Holdbred, Tolonar was the second born child in a line of nine (punctuated by nearly as many miscarriages), to a mother who was only seventeen turns old at the time, handfasted off far too young. In fact, his mother, a woman by the name of Milona was, he realizes now, more than a bit touched in the head. But really, what could be expected, given that she'd begun collecting firelizards like candies at twelve, never alone in her own though, with a fair of nearly thirty? And that was without factoring in Tolonar's father. A cruel man who treated his much younger wife as he might treat herdbeasts, for breeding and looking nice on his arm at gathers. His elder brother, Tolgar, had a massive, almost overwhelming fight with their father, one night, when Tolonar was only nine Turns, and a few days later, Milona had bundled all her children away in the dead of night, fleeing to the one place that had always been kind to all comers: the Weyrs. That had been the night he'd met his mother's new spouse, as well. A kind man who worked with beasts and canines.
By then, though, the disappearances were in full swing, and the decision to move to a Weyr was beyond permanent. If it were, in fact, a disease causing so much death, then quarantine meant anyone who entered couldn't leave. But given the lack of dragons, and fleeing of various Weyrfolk against orders, there was plenty of space, even for such a large family.
Tolonar integrated happily into Weyrlife, running wild with the few other Weyrbrats his age, all vaguely aware but not understanding the horror of the events filling the world all around them. He liked working with animals, the only trait the young boy shared with his father, and had intended to study beastcare under the his mother's new husband starting on his twelfth Turning day.
The “last clutch on Pern” hatched a few days before then, and like every other person in the Weyr, maybe in Pern itself through firelizard eyes, Tolonar was watching anxiously. He knew, in as much as he could, what those eggs meant. Either Pern would live or die as a whole because of them.
For a short time, everything seemed so normal, but then the tampering done by the experimenters became obvious with the hatching of a bronze looking hatchling that chose a female rider from the assorted spattering of candidates, among them Tolgar himself.
And then, another egg cracked, and from it burst a rough looking dragonet, large, square, and pale as fine silver, glittering in the light. Not shimmering like Gold or Bronze, but glittering, as though faceted like a gem. A beautiful beast, even Tolonar could see that. He hoped, for a moment, that maybe it would be Tolgar's, and he could pet it from time to time.
Oh? I think I would like to be petted. Is it pleasant, my T'lnar?
Tolonar- T'lnar- had been shocked enough that he'd actually fallen off his seat, knocking his head against an old man's shoulder as he went, and garnering a stern glare from his mother, until she saw the look on his face. Confused, overwhelmed, ecstatic. He was shivering, as though freezing, even in the sweltering heat of the hatching ground.
It had been an odd night, that, getting used to the idea that he was meant for such greatness. He was the youngest rider on Pern, now, and given the way Danomth shone, probably one of great rank and prestige as well. Not to mention they were the first, the only, of their kind. They survived Weyrlinghood mostly on Danomth's formidible mind and willingness to pay attention and tutor his young rider whenever needed. T'lnar finds it funny, now, that he's the only one who remembers their lessons, since Danomth had been the only one to listen to more than half of them. The murder of the blood rider, another of the Firsts from danomth's clutch, another person just like himself, terrified him. For the first time he understood death. But, when lady Aesta was killed as well, T'lnar's fury could not be abated. If he'd been allowed, oh, he would have had vengeance. Neither of them had deserved it. Just like his mother hadn't deserved her fate, nor his sisters the life they'd almost grown into.
That was the start of his belief, now deeply ingrained, that all women needed defending. One that will probably get him into trouble, when he's older and taken more seriously. But, even so, it is an idea that Danomth agrees with, passionately.
Now, the pair feel vaguely useless, unable to offer much assistance to the inquiry of Aesta's death, but they ache to help.
DRAGON/WHER
NAME Danomth
AGE Three Turns
COLOR Diamond (Male); E0FFFE.
PERSONALITY It would be a bit tautological to call Danomth the standard Diamond, given the fact that, until a Turn and a half ago, he was the only diamond, and the reputation of the color as fiercely protective of eggs, as brash and rash and a bit impulsive, as noble to the point of silliness and perhaps insult, seems to stem mostly from his own personality. Hopefully, though, he really will turn out to be the standard issue Diamond. Certainly his younger not-quite-brother is shaping up in similar form.
Like his young rider, Danomth is fiercely defensive of females, of any size or color, but especially of his current mate, whomever that might be. Unlike some more romantic bronzes, he does not fancy himself inclined to pick one pretty Gold or Blood and keep her for as long as he can, but rather goes from weyr to weyr as his body takes him, whenever he can win a flight. However, for the short span of time he may be with a mate, he is constantly doting on them. Bringing them gifts of food, saving the best sunning ledges for them, and so on. He would like to believe himself charming, but really, he's more of a flatterer than anything else. There's a difference between charming someone and showering them with an endless parade of compliments, after all.
He has a relatively fine memory for a dragon, able to hold in his head easily enough the names of all the dragons and riders in the Weyr (not that there are many) and most of the other humanfolk that T'lnar is partial too. But, unfortuantely, he can only recall events up to about a month previous, and his native curiousity has lead to him asking the same questions every few months, like clockwork, much to the annoyance of his rider.
Danomth has never spoken to a human besides his own rider, trusting T'lnar's over-fast tongue to pass messages along to non-rider folk efficiently enough. He does think that, one day, if T'lnar were to find a weyrmate of his own, he might try it. Some dragons think quite highly of the experience. But as for now, he is happy to hold his thoughts in his own head.
APPEARANCE Perfectly average in every way, at least in theory, Danomth is 57 feet long, with a wingspread slightly longer than seems proportional. His wings are a touch on the narrow side as well, which only adds to the impression that they are vaguely the wrong size. His hide is a shade of blue so pale that it seems whiter than snow on most parts of his body, though his head and various extremities are slightly darker and greyer. At least, in terms of their base shades. But, it's hard to tell what colors he has, when looking at him in the light, due to the facets that seem cut and polished from his rough hide.
His build is leaner that many males, but all the hard angles remove any implication of femininity. Indeed, his flesh as well as his hide both seem harder than the soft muscle of other dragons.
His eyes whirl through the colors of the spectrum, just as any dragons would, but the colors seem lighter and more washed out, almost pastel. This trait seems to be unique to him, as the only other Diamond in existence has normal, fully saturated eyes.
Unbeknownst to any involved, this is not just a trait, but a fault. Danomth's vision is simply not as strong as most other dragons. However, it is still considerably stronger than any human's, including his riders.
AGE 14
GENDER Male
SEXUALITY Indeterminate, he's too young to have taken action in that regard, and too busy with Weyrlife to think about it too hard.
RANK Diamond Rider of Danomth
CRAFT Once studied Beastcraft, but does not any longer.
HAIR A vivid, almost searing shade of orange, though every year since he hit puberty it has been taking on a slightly darker, brownish tint. Considering his mother's hair is closer to a rich, firey auburn, it's in keeping with his genetics. Wildly curly, it clouds around his head in the beginnings of cherubic ringlets, though it's usually shorn to a few inches from his scalp, so they have no chance to form. Instead, they are light enough to bounce wildly with each movement he makes.
EYES Rich, golden brown, his eyes are still childishly wide, betraying his age far more effectively than his frame. His lashes are longer than many women's, but because of his fair hair they fade in with his complexion.
HEIGHT 5'9”, the boy suffered an almost painfully fast series of growth spurts over the last Turn, and they seem slated to continue until he is at least as taller or taller than his father.
WEIGHT Unfortunately, his weight hasn't quite caught up with his height, and he's a paltry 140lbs. Of course, every ounce is muscle hardened by the efforts of being a small, young rider. Nonetheless, his shoulder's and wrists are wide and thickset, betraying the fact that one of these days, when he stops growing so much, he'll be quite a powerful, heavy young man.
OVERALL APPEARANCE The first word that comes to mind is scrawny. He seems bone thin, much smaller than someone would expect of the rider of such an imposing beast as Danomth. The second tends to be effeminate, given the upturned nose and high cheek bones. The third, and the one he hates most, is lanky. He has sprung up like a weed over the last Turn, and if horribly clumsy as a result, covered in even more bruises and scrapes than he had been as a rambunctious boy. His skin is snowy pale by nature, with a light dusting of brown freckles on ever sun exposed surface, but with and altitude have instead changed his default state of being to more windburned and farmer-tanned than anything else. Still, on his arms and legs, where riding gear usually covers, that milky pallor is plainly visible. As are his absolutely striking tan lines. Fortunately, he isn't yet vain enough to care about that, if he ever will be.
PERSONALITY An energetic boy, T'lnar has only just begun to grow out of his 'let's climb trees and jump off cliffs and do obscenely dangerous things without thinking of the consequences' phase, though he can still be found occasionally doing inane things, like scaling the walls of the Weyrbowl to get to his weyr rather than bothering a sleeping Danomth to carry him. Not the brightest idea, for someone of such high standing. But, he's not quite used to being of high standing either. Indeed he's quite regularly astonished by his lot in life.
T'lnar is also rash, loud, and every stereotype one can imagine for a fourteen year old boy to be, including unusually shy about his changing body and outlook on life. Since where did people become worth looking at and... thinking about and... stuff. Instead of, like, talking to and playing with? He's not ill informed, of course. Danomth has been fully mature for nearing two Turns now, and even before that, T'lnar knew what was waiting for him in the apparent quagmire of puberty, but that doesn't make him more comfortable with it. It just makes him more comfortable knowing it'll end. He puts a good amount of effort into not talking about it. Avoiding his emotions is an excellent skill, in his esteemed opinion.
Mind you, that doesn't mean he doesn't love to talk. T'lnar simply isn't himself unless he's chatting about anything and everything. With anyone. At all times. It can be a touch exhausting if you aren't prepared for it. Likewise, he doesn't seem to know how to sit still. Which is, of course, utter nonsense, because he's sat through meetings before with his best formal thinking face on and nary so much as a twitching foot. But that takes effort and he'd rather not expend that effort unless he has to. It's astonishing that someone so vibrant can have such random lazy tendencies, but there you are. Perhaps its more a lack of discipline than anything, but rearing in a headstrong fourteen year old with power isn't the easiest of tasks.
LIKES
- Food. Literally any food. He eats like a starved canine. He's currently up to five meals a day, three of which are at least adult sized. All that height has to come from somehwere.
- Canines
- All other furry creatures, including milchbeasts and woolbeasts. Just, not as much as canines.
- Woodworking. He's miserable at it, but he finds the entire concept fascinating. Taking a piece of dead tree, and making a plate or a cup or a bracelet is just shocking and wonderful to him.
- Running. Just running. When he can't sleep, when he's bored, when he's stressed, and just because he can, the boy can be found running circuits around the edges of the Weyrbowl.
DISLIKES
- Yelling in anger. He has nothing against a bit of play screaming. He hasn't grown up that quickly.
- Physical attacks against women: this is a hot button issue for him, even when the woman is “fully capable of defending herself, thankyouverymuch.”
- Fires. He understand perfectly well that fire is the only reason he has food to eat (and food is an important thing) but he does wish fires would just be kept to the kitchens and glows used everywhere else. This has produced very interesting conversations with Danomth about how ridiculous he's being, but he stands by it. Fire has useful purposes, whether it's meat cooking or thread searing, but it's just entire too dangerous for his liking.
- Firelizards. They aren't awful, per se. Just... Not his thing. They're kind of dumb. Like having a colorful, noisy, flying chicken or something. Perhaps if he got one of his own he'd feel differently, but he's much happier with Danomth and his canines for the time being.
-
QUIRKS
- He eats a metric ton of food daily, but it's of the utmost importance that different things on his plate do not touch, and certainly do not mix. They were cooked and served separately for a reason, shard it all!
- Given the opportunity, he would much rather have a Wherhandler's schedule. He can stay up almost until sunrise. Easily. It's getting up before lunchtime that's hard. Definitely not a morning person. In fact, he's already begun sucking down klah at a man's level. The pervasive rumour that it can stunt growth doesn't hurt, either.
SECRET
- He has a sneaking suspicion that he might, maybe, but don't ever mention it, have a crush. On someone his senior. And, also, male. But it's the age thing that really does him in. I mean, really, people have homosexual tendencies all the time around here. Some dragons seem to impress only to that sort... Not bronzes of course, but, but... And aside from mating flights, people tend to stick in their own age groups, and there's not so many people in his age group and, and, and... This would have been much simpler if he could focus his energies on the equally over-aged but much more ostensibly obtainable Syleka- and her pretty, pretty wher who doesn't mind it when he stays up really late and still wants to be loud and energetic and is generally just a better choice- but that's just not how it seems to be working out and he's heard a lot that people just grow out of these sorts of things but it makes him a touch crazy from time to time, particularly since he can't really talk to anyone and Danomth just doesn't get it, and anyway Danomth might tell Arokath and then he'd probably die, just lay down and die of humiliation and... Shh!
HISTORY Holdbred, Tolonar was the second born child in a line of nine (punctuated by nearly as many miscarriages), to a mother who was only seventeen turns old at the time, handfasted off far too young. In fact, his mother, a woman by the name of Milona was, he realizes now, more than a bit touched in the head. But really, what could be expected, given that she'd begun collecting firelizards like candies at twelve, never alone in her own though, with a fair of nearly thirty? And that was without factoring in Tolonar's father. A cruel man who treated his much younger wife as he might treat herdbeasts, for breeding and looking nice on his arm at gathers. His elder brother, Tolgar, had a massive, almost overwhelming fight with their father, one night, when Tolonar was only nine Turns, and a few days later, Milona had bundled all her children away in the dead of night, fleeing to the one place that had always been kind to all comers: the Weyrs. That had been the night he'd met his mother's new spouse, as well. A kind man who worked with beasts and canines.
By then, though, the disappearances were in full swing, and the decision to move to a Weyr was beyond permanent. If it were, in fact, a disease causing so much death, then quarantine meant anyone who entered couldn't leave. But given the lack of dragons, and fleeing of various Weyrfolk against orders, there was plenty of space, even for such a large family.
Tolonar integrated happily into Weyrlife, running wild with the few other Weyrbrats his age, all vaguely aware but not understanding the horror of the events filling the world all around them. He liked working with animals, the only trait the young boy shared with his father, and had intended to study beastcare under the his mother's new husband starting on his twelfth Turning day.
The “last clutch on Pern” hatched a few days before then, and like every other person in the Weyr, maybe in Pern itself through firelizard eyes, Tolonar was watching anxiously. He knew, in as much as he could, what those eggs meant. Either Pern would live or die as a whole because of them.
For a short time, everything seemed so normal, but then the tampering done by the experimenters became obvious with the hatching of a bronze looking hatchling that chose a female rider from the assorted spattering of candidates, among them Tolgar himself.
And then, another egg cracked, and from it burst a rough looking dragonet, large, square, and pale as fine silver, glittering in the light. Not shimmering like Gold or Bronze, but glittering, as though faceted like a gem. A beautiful beast, even Tolonar could see that. He hoped, for a moment, that maybe it would be Tolgar's, and he could pet it from time to time.
Oh? I think I would like to be petted. Is it pleasant, my T'lnar?
Tolonar- T'lnar- had been shocked enough that he'd actually fallen off his seat, knocking his head against an old man's shoulder as he went, and garnering a stern glare from his mother, until she saw the look on his face. Confused, overwhelmed, ecstatic. He was shivering, as though freezing, even in the sweltering heat of the hatching ground.
It had been an odd night, that, getting used to the idea that he was meant for such greatness. He was the youngest rider on Pern, now, and given the way Danomth shone, probably one of great rank and prestige as well. Not to mention they were the first, the only, of their kind. They survived Weyrlinghood mostly on Danomth's formidible mind and willingness to pay attention and tutor his young rider whenever needed. T'lnar finds it funny, now, that he's the only one who remembers their lessons, since Danomth had been the only one to listen to more than half of them. The murder of the blood rider, another of the Firsts from danomth's clutch, another person just like himself, terrified him. For the first time he understood death. But, when lady Aesta was killed as well, T'lnar's fury could not be abated. If he'd been allowed, oh, he would have had vengeance. Neither of them had deserved it. Just like his mother hadn't deserved her fate, nor his sisters the life they'd almost grown into.
That was the start of his belief, now deeply ingrained, that all women needed defending. One that will probably get him into trouble, when he's older and taken more seriously. But, even so, it is an idea that Danomth agrees with, passionately.
Now, the pair feel vaguely useless, unable to offer much assistance to the inquiry of Aesta's death, but they ache to help.
DRAGON/WHER
NAME Danomth
AGE Three Turns
COLOR Diamond (Male); E0FFFE.
PERSONALITY It would be a bit tautological to call Danomth the standard Diamond, given the fact that, until a Turn and a half ago, he was the only diamond, and the reputation of the color as fiercely protective of eggs, as brash and rash and a bit impulsive, as noble to the point of silliness and perhaps insult, seems to stem mostly from his own personality. Hopefully, though, he really will turn out to be the standard issue Diamond. Certainly his younger not-quite-brother is shaping up in similar form.
Like his young rider, Danomth is fiercely defensive of females, of any size or color, but especially of his current mate, whomever that might be. Unlike some more romantic bronzes, he does not fancy himself inclined to pick one pretty Gold or Blood and keep her for as long as he can, but rather goes from weyr to weyr as his body takes him, whenever he can win a flight. However, for the short span of time he may be with a mate, he is constantly doting on them. Bringing them gifts of food, saving the best sunning ledges for them, and so on. He would like to believe himself charming, but really, he's more of a flatterer than anything else. There's a difference between charming someone and showering them with an endless parade of compliments, after all.
He has a relatively fine memory for a dragon, able to hold in his head easily enough the names of all the dragons and riders in the Weyr (not that there are many) and most of the other humanfolk that T'lnar is partial too. But, unfortuantely, he can only recall events up to about a month previous, and his native curiousity has lead to him asking the same questions every few months, like clockwork, much to the annoyance of his rider.
Danomth has never spoken to a human besides his own rider, trusting T'lnar's over-fast tongue to pass messages along to non-rider folk efficiently enough. He does think that, one day, if T'lnar were to find a weyrmate of his own, he might try it. Some dragons think quite highly of the experience. But as for now, he is happy to hold his thoughts in his own head.
APPEARANCE Perfectly average in every way, at least in theory, Danomth is 57 feet long, with a wingspread slightly longer than seems proportional. His wings are a touch on the narrow side as well, which only adds to the impression that they are vaguely the wrong size. His hide is a shade of blue so pale that it seems whiter than snow on most parts of his body, though his head and various extremities are slightly darker and greyer. At least, in terms of their base shades. But, it's hard to tell what colors he has, when looking at him in the light, due to the facets that seem cut and polished from his rough hide.
His build is leaner that many males, but all the hard angles remove any implication of femininity. Indeed, his flesh as well as his hide both seem harder than the soft muscle of other dragons.
His eyes whirl through the colors of the spectrum, just as any dragons would, but the colors seem lighter and more washed out, almost pastel. This trait seems to be unique to him, as the only other Diamond in existence has normal, fully saturated eyes.
Unbeknownst to any involved, this is not just a trait, but a fault. Danomth's vision is simply not as strong as most other dragons. However, it is still considerably stronger than any human's, including his riders.