Post by lyricalblue on Sept 15, 2009 13:51:37 GMT -5
Email: sterlingdragonfly@gmail.com
Character
Name: I’slen (previously Ieaselen; pro: Ee-slen)
Rank: Wingsecond
Gender: male
Age: 34
Origin: Fort Weyr
Appearance:
Just shy of six feet, I’slen stands just over the average height for dragonrider males. As thin and tough as a whipcord; years of hard labor and bright sun have deeply tanned and sculpted his body. But instead of wearing him down, the steel beneath has been revealed creating in him an austere, elegant appearance. Burn scars curl up his right thigh and stomach from an accident as a Weyrling, when Wes came out of between too close to another flaming dragon. The damage was mostly superficial but the scars do ache in the rain once and awhile.
His hair and complexion are his mother’s, in fact there is little of his father in his looks. His hair is a dark, burnished brown, just several shades darker than his dragon’s hide. He keeps it short but it is perpetually unruly and no matter what he does he can never quite seem to tame all the waves. I’slen stays clean shaven and neat as much as possible though he is far from obsessive about such things. His eyes too are his mother’s a true grey as can be found, they are the color of a storm cloud and have been know to crackle with as much energy.
Most often, the rider is found wearing very casual and unmarked clothes as much for reasons of escaping his father’s pride than any real want. His coloration lends to looking best in greens and browns and he has enough taste to know this. Though I’slen is the type of man who “cleans up” very well, the courtier who shows up at gathers and formal events being a far cry from his everyday appearance.
Family:
~Grandfather: I’jern, 82 (rider of Brown Xersonth)
One of the most solid and steadfast men you would ever meet. He was a fantastic father and adored children of all ages, teaching and spoiling them as best he could. Nothing was more important than family and honor. Not the smartest of men but one could never find a truer friend. Intensly proud of his family’s status as dragonriders, he always has a story of one ancestor or another that did something or mention.
~Father: J’mier, 65 (Previously Wingleader of Fort; rider of Bronze Deluth)
A cold and demanding man, J’mier always expected the best and them some of the riders under him. He never asked more than he gave himself however but he is eternally proud of his position in society and is never seen out of uniform. Clean and trim, J’mier is a clear militaristic leader. Lare’s death hit him hard and made the man even more withdrawn than he had previously been. Now leader at Southern, he still rules with a quiet if firm hand.
~Mother: Lare, deceased (Headwoman of Fort)
A quiet but firm woman, Lare remained as Fort’s Headwoman for years until a wasting disease finally got the better of her after a two year long battle. She was a proud, almost arrogant woman though she’d never speak of it and being Headwoman she’d never had much time for her many children.
~Brother: I’san, 35 (rider of Blue Berbornath)
Much like his father, I’san adores the traditions of Dragonriders and believes highly in their superiority over Holdfolk. A year older than I’slen, they never got along well, I’slen being far more relaxed and loose in his views and his attitudes. I’san is truly his father’s son.
~Sister: Prell, 30 (Cook)
Quiet and fair minded, Prell has long since learned to tame the spreading of rumors and wild stories throughout the Weyr. Firm in her beliefs, Prell is very much of the frame of mind that one should speak softly and carry a big stick.
~Brother: J’versen, 22 (rider of Green Selianeth)
An upstart and a prankster, it was no surprise to anyone when J’versen impressed a Green. His dalliances and partners were the talk of his sisters for most his life. In his loyalties is almost the dead opposite of his father and seems to change his mind as fast as the wind can turn.
~Half Sister: Ariselen, 18
The daughter of Lare, by another bronzerider; she like all of Lare’s offspring bear her stamp in resemblance, though Ariselen is much higher tempered than her mother and is currently standing Candidate at Fort, determined to Impress a dragon herself.
Sexual Orientation: heterosexual
Personality:
Through and through he is a bronzerider, as much from his rearing as from his own personality. The son of Fort’s Weyrleaders he was always expected to be a leader and generally was, at least when he had to be. Otherwise I’slen likes nothing more than to shirk duty and to simply fly with Weseaneth. Proud and capable, I’slen knows exactly what he is and doesn’t generally feel the need to flaunt it. In fact, since his arrival at Igen he as told none, save the Weyrleaders, of his family and past. Throughout his rearing in the Weyr, he tried his hand at several crafts and as such is fairly proficient in understanding Smithcraft, weaving, mining and the beastcraft.
His love in life, aside from Weseaneth of course is women. Of shapes and sorts, he loves them all and was quite well known as being very… amicable in his youth. Though since he was transferred to Igen, this too has toned down, more do to his position more than anything else. He seems only truly content when he is out flying or has his head virtually buried in his work. Very intelligent and quite witty when he cares to be, I’slen can be an easy man to get along with; though ware those who cross him. His wrath is quick to rise and burns hotly, though thankfully it blows away just as quickly.
His deep seeded habit of rebellion has a habit of touching everything he does in small or large ways and because of this many of his drills and lessons are quite unconventional. He takes the injury or loss of the riders under him very personally and does his very best to prepare them. This has the side effect of making his trainings very demanding; however none who have flown with him will say that they coasted by. His habit of rebellion also touches his wardrobe and I’slen is very rarely ever in any sort of uniform and its only during threadfall that he wears his heavy wherhide jacket while flying.
Hobbies/Skills: Raised to be a leader, I’slen can read, write and do some arithmetic. He has a talent with designing drills, but it was his love of children and dragonets that lead him to the position he retains. A mean hand at dragon poker, I’slen has a sharp and unpredictable mind.
History:
The second son of one of Fort’s Wingleaders, from the start his life was demanding and much was expected of him. And from the very start he rebelled against this in any way he could. He skipped lessons because they were too easy and bored him. Instead he would explore the unknown areas of the Weyr or find interesting people to talk to. Folk he generally deemed as “interesting” were traders from places far from the Weyr. While his older brother was the apple of his parents’ eye, I’slen was a constant strain. His father would constantly try to establish a sense of duty and honor in him, which while some of it set it, for the most part I’slen saw it as tedious and old fashioned. Instead of leading the pack of Weyr youngsters, I’slen struck out on his own and let his brother retain control.
When he came of age his parents insisted that he stand at every hatching he could and for awhile he had indeed dreamed of a dragon, but after his older brother I’san impressed his blue Berbornath, I’slen decided he had quite enough of that and tried his best to miss every hatching he could manage. Instead. I’slen wanted to escape and hoped if he could make it through all the hatchings his parents forced him to attend that he wouldn’t impress and he could instead escape with a train of traders that came through. It didn’t matter who, just so long as he could get out and get away.
Shortly after his thirteenth turn he found himself at yet another hatching and was once again daydreaming of escape. It was the first and largest bronze in the clutch who decided that this strong willed, wild eyed boy was to be his. Weseaneth changed the direction of his life forever and much to the pleasure of his parents, I’slen became in part at least what they dreamed that their son would grow up to be. I’slen however began to rebel once again, he found that the lessons were no where near what they should have been to train the Weyrlings properly. Much to the Master’s dismay at every turn I’slen pushed things as far as they could go.
Early on, both rider and dragon discovered the joy the could find in companionship of the females of their respect species. In fact, they became very well known among the Weyr’s females. Though neither of them ever found one they wanted to settle down with. This was again as much rebellion as it was any real wish of their own. He found his new residence at IgenWeyr, far from Fort.
Dragon
Name: Weseaneth (Pro: wes-say-neth)
Age: 21
Color: Bronze
Sire/ Dam: Bronze ( ) / Gold ( )
Weyr Impressed at: Fort
Appearance:
Weseaneth is an absolute beauty of a dragon. His hide is a bright, almost coppery bronze, which darkens only slightly around his joints and belly. Wes is not quite as large as a bronze can get, standing from nose to tail tip 37 feet long. Perfectly proportioned, he is the dragon that is idolized in paintings and tapestries. His wings are wide and chest deep, this dragon is all stamina and power. His arching neck and tapered face have many, many Greens fawning over him.
Thread scaring has not yet touched his hide and I’slen always keeps him oiled and in perfect condition, taking as much pride in Wes’s appearance as the dragon does. Slightly leggy and long in neck and tail give him a sleek, almost feminine appearance. But being a bronze as he is, there is no doubting Weseaneth’s masculinity.
Personality:
In all things, Wes is a prankster; the bronze seems to have a perpetual good humor despite his rider’s tendency to moodiness. Really like the famed knights of old earth; he likes nothing better than to drip honeyed compliments over a gold and can't understand why it bothers his rider so much. Always a willing listener, Wes has a habit of acquiring if not spreading gossip that runs through the Weyr’s dragons. He also, unusual as it is for a bronze, can search candidate; another reason he and I’slen occupy the rank that they do.
Like most bronzes, he has a stubborn pride and is quite convinced females should and do fall over themselves on a regular basis in order to gaze and drool over him. Even if they don’t he is fairly sure they do in private, after all drooling in public can be quite embarrassing. In the air he prides himself on his skill and agility and has the speed and dexterity of a dragon half his size. And if he is bested in skill it seems often Wes can win any contest through sheer force of will.
History:
Ieaselen rocked back and forth from one foot to the other on the burning hot sands. Once again his parents had forced him to stand. The young man winced as he looked up into the crowd, where J’mier and Lare stood resolutely. One would think they would be happy since the dragons had yet again clutched successfully, but no, they were never happy. He really didn’t want to be here, if he failed again maybe they would finally send him away. Iea could go join a trading company or something, anything, as long as he could get away from them.
The eggs began to rock but the young man hardly paid them any mind, instead he stared out the cavern entrance and out at the blue sky. A hush descended over the crowd as the first eggs began to hatch and the humming of the adult dragons grew to an overwhelming crescendo. Ieaselen rubbed his eyes warily and kept his gaze fixed on the bit of blue sky he could see out the cave’s entrance. His mind lost in daydreams of freedom, he never noticed the hatchling clumsily making its way over to him. Something bumped his leg and Ieaselen glanced down, startled. There sat a dripping wet dragonet, wings all crinkled like dirty laundry. The little dragon stared up at him with eyes whirling brightly blue and changed Iea’s world forever. The first, and largest bronze in the clutch, Weseaneth had decided he wanted this young boy and no other.
With his newly acquired title and squirming dragonet, I’slen proceeded somewhat haphazardly into Weyrlinghood. His rebellion against his parents touched all things and if it wasn’t for his burning desire to fly and escape, I’slen would have never attended any of the lessons. From the very start Weseaneth and I’slen pushed the envelope. Weyrling deaths were always common and he became the bane of his teachers for wantonly disregarding rules of safety. They both grew fast and grew into striking examples of males of both their species.
Wing Flown With: ?
Character
Name: I’slen (previously Ieaselen; pro: Ee-slen)
Rank: Wingsecond
Gender: male
Age: 34
Origin: Fort Weyr
Appearance:
Just shy of six feet, I’slen stands just over the average height for dragonrider males. As thin and tough as a whipcord; years of hard labor and bright sun have deeply tanned and sculpted his body. But instead of wearing him down, the steel beneath has been revealed creating in him an austere, elegant appearance. Burn scars curl up his right thigh and stomach from an accident as a Weyrling, when Wes came out of between too close to another flaming dragon. The damage was mostly superficial but the scars do ache in the rain once and awhile.
His hair and complexion are his mother’s, in fact there is little of his father in his looks. His hair is a dark, burnished brown, just several shades darker than his dragon’s hide. He keeps it short but it is perpetually unruly and no matter what he does he can never quite seem to tame all the waves. I’slen stays clean shaven and neat as much as possible though he is far from obsessive about such things. His eyes too are his mother’s a true grey as can be found, they are the color of a storm cloud and have been know to crackle with as much energy.
Most often, the rider is found wearing very casual and unmarked clothes as much for reasons of escaping his father’s pride than any real want. His coloration lends to looking best in greens and browns and he has enough taste to know this. Though I’slen is the type of man who “cleans up” very well, the courtier who shows up at gathers and formal events being a far cry from his everyday appearance.
Family:
~Grandfather: I’jern, 82 (rider of Brown Xersonth)
One of the most solid and steadfast men you would ever meet. He was a fantastic father and adored children of all ages, teaching and spoiling them as best he could. Nothing was more important than family and honor. Not the smartest of men but one could never find a truer friend. Intensly proud of his family’s status as dragonriders, he always has a story of one ancestor or another that did something or mention.
~Father: J’mier, 65 (Previously Wingleader of Fort; rider of Bronze Deluth)
A cold and demanding man, J’mier always expected the best and them some of the riders under him. He never asked more than he gave himself however but he is eternally proud of his position in society and is never seen out of uniform. Clean and trim, J’mier is a clear militaristic leader. Lare’s death hit him hard and made the man even more withdrawn than he had previously been. Now leader at Southern, he still rules with a quiet if firm hand.
~Mother: Lare, deceased (Headwoman of Fort)
A quiet but firm woman, Lare remained as Fort’s Headwoman for years until a wasting disease finally got the better of her after a two year long battle. She was a proud, almost arrogant woman though she’d never speak of it and being Headwoman she’d never had much time for her many children.
~Brother: I’san, 35 (rider of Blue Berbornath)
Much like his father, I’san adores the traditions of Dragonriders and believes highly in their superiority over Holdfolk. A year older than I’slen, they never got along well, I’slen being far more relaxed and loose in his views and his attitudes. I’san is truly his father’s son.
~Sister: Prell, 30 (Cook)
Quiet and fair minded, Prell has long since learned to tame the spreading of rumors and wild stories throughout the Weyr. Firm in her beliefs, Prell is very much of the frame of mind that one should speak softly and carry a big stick.
~Brother: J’versen, 22 (rider of Green Selianeth)
An upstart and a prankster, it was no surprise to anyone when J’versen impressed a Green. His dalliances and partners were the talk of his sisters for most his life. In his loyalties is almost the dead opposite of his father and seems to change his mind as fast as the wind can turn.
~Half Sister: Ariselen, 18
The daughter of Lare, by another bronzerider; she like all of Lare’s offspring bear her stamp in resemblance, though Ariselen is much higher tempered than her mother and is currently standing Candidate at Fort, determined to Impress a dragon herself.
Sexual Orientation: heterosexual
Personality:
Through and through he is a bronzerider, as much from his rearing as from his own personality. The son of Fort’s Weyrleaders he was always expected to be a leader and generally was, at least when he had to be. Otherwise I’slen likes nothing more than to shirk duty and to simply fly with Weseaneth. Proud and capable, I’slen knows exactly what he is and doesn’t generally feel the need to flaunt it. In fact, since his arrival at Igen he as told none, save the Weyrleaders, of his family and past. Throughout his rearing in the Weyr, he tried his hand at several crafts and as such is fairly proficient in understanding Smithcraft, weaving, mining and the beastcraft.
His love in life, aside from Weseaneth of course is women. Of shapes and sorts, he loves them all and was quite well known as being very… amicable in his youth. Though since he was transferred to Igen, this too has toned down, more do to his position more than anything else. He seems only truly content when he is out flying or has his head virtually buried in his work. Very intelligent and quite witty when he cares to be, I’slen can be an easy man to get along with; though ware those who cross him. His wrath is quick to rise and burns hotly, though thankfully it blows away just as quickly.
His deep seeded habit of rebellion has a habit of touching everything he does in small or large ways and because of this many of his drills and lessons are quite unconventional. He takes the injury or loss of the riders under him very personally and does his very best to prepare them. This has the side effect of making his trainings very demanding; however none who have flown with him will say that they coasted by. His habit of rebellion also touches his wardrobe and I’slen is very rarely ever in any sort of uniform and its only during threadfall that he wears his heavy wherhide jacket while flying.
Hobbies/Skills: Raised to be a leader, I’slen can read, write and do some arithmetic. He has a talent with designing drills, but it was his love of children and dragonets that lead him to the position he retains. A mean hand at dragon poker, I’slen has a sharp and unpredictable mind.
History:
The second son of one of Fort’s Wingleaders, from the start his life was demanding and much was expected of him. And from the very start he rebelled against this in any way he could. He skipped lessons because they were too easy and bored him. Instead he would explore the unknown areas of the Weyr or find interesting people to talk to. Folk he generally deemed as “interesting” were traders from places far from the Weyr. While his older brother was the apple of his parents’ eye, I’slen was a constant strain. His father would constantly try to establish a sense of duty and honor in him, which while some of it set it, for the most part I’slen saw it as tedious and old fashioned. Instead of leading the pack of Weyr youngsters, I’slen struck out on his own and let his brother retain control.
When he came of age his parents insisted that he stand at every hatching he could and for awhile he had indeed dreamed of a dragon, but after his older brother I’san impressed his blue Berbornath, I’slen decided he had quite enough of that and tried his best to miss every hatching he could manage. Instead. I’slen wanted to escape and hoped if he could make it through all the hatchings his parents forced him to attend that he wouldn’t impress and he could instead escape with a train of traders that came through. It didn’t matter who, just so long as he could get out and get away.
Shortly after his thirteenth turn he found himself at yet another hatching and was once again daydreaming of escape. It was the first and largest bronze in the clutch who decided that this strong willed, wild eyed boy was to be his. Weseaneth changed the direction of his life forever and much to the pleasure of his parents, I’slen became in part at least what they dreamed that their son would grow up to be. I’slen however began to rebel once again, he found that the lessons were no where near what they should have been to train the Weyrlings properly. Much to the Master’s dismay at every turn I’slen pushed things as far as they could go.
Early on, both rider and dragon discovered the joy the could find in companionship of the females of their respect species. In fact, they became very well known among the Weyr’s females. Though neither of them ever found one they wanted to settle down with. This was again as much rebellion as it was any real wish of their own. He found his new residence at IgenWeyr, far from Fort.
Dragon
Name: Weseaneth (Pro: wes-say-neth)
Age: 21
Color: Bronze
Sire/ Dam: Bronze ( ) / Gold ( )
Weyr Impressed at: Fort
Appearance:
Weseaneth is an absolute beauty of a dragon. His hide is a bright, almost coppery bronze, which darkens only slightly around his joints and belly. Wes is not quite as large as a bronze can get, standing from nose to tail tip 37 feet long. Perfectly proportioned, he is the dragon that is idolized in paintings and tapestries. His wings are wide and chest deep, this dragon is all stamina and power. His arching neck and tapered face have many, many Greens fawning over him.
Thread scaring has not yet touched his hide and I’slen always keeps him oiled and in perfect condition, taking as much pride in Wes’s appearance as the dragon does. Slightly leggy and long in neck and tail give him a sleek, almost feminine appearance. But being a bronze as he is, there is no doubting Weseaneth’s masculinity.
Personality:
In all things, Wes is a prankster; the bronze seems to have a perpetual good humor despite his rider’s tendency to moodiness. Really like the famed knights of old earth; he likes nothing better than to drip honeyed compliments over a gold and can't understand why it bothers his rider so much. Always a willing listener, Wes has a habit of acquiring if not spreading gossip that runs through the Weyr’s dragons. He also, unusual as it is for a bronze, can search candidate; another reason he and I’slen occupy the rank that they do.
Like most bronzes, he has a stubborn pride and is quite convinced females should and do fall over themselves on a regular basis in order to gaze and drool over him. Even if they don’t he is fairly sure they do in private, after all drooling in public can be quite embarrassing. In the air he prides himself on his skill and agility and has the speed and dexterity of a dragon half his size. And if he is bested in skill it seems often Wes can win any contest through sheer force of will.
History:
Ieaselen rocked back and forth from one foot to the other on the burning hot sands. Once again his parents had forced him to stand. The young man winced as he looked up into the crowd, where J’mier and Lare stood resolutely. One would think they would be happy since the dragons had yet again clutched successfully, but no, they were never happy. He really didn’t want to be here, if he failed again maybe they would finally send him away. Iea could go join a trading company or something, anything, as long as he could get away from them.
The eggs began to rock but the young man hardly paid them any mind, instead he stared out the cavern entrance and out at the blue sky. A hush descended over the crowd as the first eggs began to hatch and the humming of the adult dragons grew to an overwhelming crescendo. Ieaselen rubbed his eyes warily and kept his gaze fixed on the bit of blue sky he could see out the cave’s entrance. His mind lost in daydreams of freedom, he never noticed the hatchling clumsily making its way over to him. Something bumped his leg and Ieaselen glanced down, startled. There sat a dripping wet dragonet, wings all crinkled like dirty laundry. The little dragon stared up at him with eyes whirling brightly blue and changed Iea’s world forever. The first, and largest bronze in the clutch, Weseaneth had decided he wanted this young boy and no other.
With his newly acquired title and squirming dragonet, I’slen proceeded somewhat haphazardly into Weyrlinghood. His rebellion against his parents touched all things and if it wasn’t for his burning desire to fly and escape, I’slen would have never attended any of the lessons. From the very start Weseaneth and I’slen pushed the envelope. Weyrling deaths were always common and he became the bane of his teachers for wantonly disregarding rules of safety. They both grew fast and grew into striking examples of males of both their species.
Wing Flown With: ?