Post by Tabula Rasa on Jun 11, 2008 10:07:35 GMT -8
Name: Th'ane
Gender: Male
Age: 23
Rank: Wingleader
Tall at 6'4", Th'ane cuts an impressive figure. A frame that would have been naturally lean has been broadened and bulked with turns of dragonriding.
Summer or winter, this rider's skin always looks as if it's seen a fair amount of sun. Naturally tanned, his swarthy tones are offset by light blond hair that falls, shaggy but well-kept, around his square-jawed face. Beneath a high forehead and under pale slashes for brows, wide-set pale blue eyes are fringed in thick, sandy lashes. His nose is long and a bit sharp. His mouth is full and most often surrounded by a short and scruffy beard.
Clothing is egalitarian, though the man is capable of dressing nicely for special occasions. Most commonly, however, he's found in dark brown riding leathers, well-worn but well-maintained. When it's too hot for such heavy wear, leathers are replaced with linens, though the cut and plainness of his garments remain the same.
Th'ane's an introspective fellow who tends to think before he speaks. He keeps insults and grudges close to his chest, waiting for the right time to get even for them, rather than lashing out impulsively. For all that he's risen quickly to a place of leadership, when he's not actually training with his wing or otherwise performing official duties, he prefers to keep to the background. Present at celebrations and parties, he takes more delight in watching others enjoy than in participating himself. Intelligent and attentive, he's very good at hoarding away small observations for later use. Ever courteous to his higher ups, he seems to take his station and his place quite seriously.
The child of a young Caminar woman and a cotholder's son, Therane never knew his father and his birth made his mother an outcast. It's unclear whether Tesera intended to carry the child to term or whether she hadn't come across a sabedoria in time to do anything else, but her family was unforgiving. She left their caravan with her infant son, staying at Telgar Hold until she could join up with her older brother at the turnly gather several months later. Soren had been traveling on his own for several turns since he'd been caught, well, doing the same thing his sister had: having a tryst with a plantado man.
The motley little trio traveled the roads together, and Therane grew up as an outsider to both worlds. Though his mother and uncle taught him Noestacan and he was raised in the culture of the traveling people, his pale hair and blue eyes, against the backdrop of his mother's dark tresses and brown skin, easily marked him for what he was. Passing caravans rarely stopped to exchange news and those that did wouldn't look at him or looked at him too long. At the turnly gathers that his mother still insisted on attending, he was relegated to the outskirts of the festivities. Children his age had no interest in inviting a rafeiro into their games and attempts to join most often resulted in black eyes and bloody noses all around.
The plantado were little better, though Therane found a sort of comfort in the fact that if they treated him with disdain, it was no better or worse than what they offered the rest of his people. They didn't seem to realize or to care that he was any different. Holders wanted nothing to do with him, but the boy still found himself feeling more at peace in their apathetic company than around the formidable condemnation of his own people.
When Therane was sixteen, the midsummer gathers that the surly and taciturn adolescent had come to dread became, suddenly, more appealing. A lovely young apprentice to a sabedoria took an interest in him, and each summer for the next three turns, they discreetly enjoyed one another's company while the rest of the Caminar made merry around the bonfire.
But, at eighteen, those meeting were ended abruptly by no fault of Therane's or the girl's. Resting for a few days at Greenfields Hold shortly after the gather, Therane, his mother and his uncle were all present when a greenrider arrived on Search. Therane watched the cluster of hopeful youth from a distance, but not quite far enough. The curious young man caught the dragon's eye, and he was invited to come to the Weyr to stand.
It seemed an easy solution to a life of problems. Without him, perhaps his mother could rejoin her family's caravan at last. Perhaps his uncle might even be welcome. If Tesera and Soren both offered up much scolding and chastising for Therane's decision, it wasn't quite sincere enough to hide the spark of relief that the rafeiro might have found his place and their own responsibility for him might be lifted.
Living at the Weyr was nothing like Therane had experienced before. For once, nobody knew what he was, save that he was one more candidate. His coloring no longer marked him as unique, and after several weeks of painstaking attention to the way the plantado spoke, he learned well enough how to mask his Caminar accent. He was a nobody. One of a group. It was wonderful.
That changed on the day of the hatching, when a creeling baby bronze found his way to the rafeiro, Therane became Th'ane, and once again, it was a color that identified him. This time it was the shade that belonged to his lifemate, and Th'ane was watched with expectation, rather than suspicion.
Driven to make good and prove himself worthy, Th'ane flung himself into weyrlinghood and worked hard to excel. By the time he'd graduated a turn and a half later, he'd already captured the attention of several wingleaders and S'lyn himself. He had multiple wings vying for him even before the Weyrlingmaster declared the group's training complete, was promoted to wingsecond a turn later, and when an older wingleader stepped down six months after that, it was Th'ane who earned his wing and his knot.
J'fel's unexpected rise to power was not one of which Th'ane much approved. Seen as a bit of a prodigy golden boy himself, it was no small lump to swallow when a boy several turns his junior so suddenly and easily excelled his own impressive accomplishments. There had also been something in S'lyn's steady-handed rule that the raferio had admired. To lose the leadership of such a dependable man for a boy who has let himself be led about the nose by a woman... Th'ane found himself embarrassed for his Weyr. He has determined, if only to himself, that the next leadership flight will not see such a debacle repeated.
The arrival of the Caminar is another cosmic hiccup that Th'ane could have done without. He knows the wandering people well enough, and their rampant disdain for outsiders, that the idea of them wanting plantado children anywhere near their own seems preposterous. On the other hand, seeing them in such droves in his own 'front yard' brings back memories he'd prefer to keep buried. There's also a small bit of him that enjoys watching them squirm. After living so long with the Caminar's unfair judgments of him, it's a little satisfying to see such prejudices turned right back onto his childhood persecutors.
Dragon's Name: Sideraveth
Color: Bronze
Age: 5
Physical Description: Divided down the spine, dark on the right and bright on the left, he's a different dragon on each side. Half of him is the light and vibrant orange of fresh-cut copper; half of him is an aged and darkened bronze. His wedged head is a crisp cut triangle, his face split into bright and dark. This has the strange effect of causing one jeweled eye, set against a blacker hue, to seem more brilliant than the other. Long neck, deep chest, narrow torso, muscled limbs and whipcord tail shine on one side like a new kettle, while the other is the deep bronzed green of neglected brass. Generous wings are opposites: on his darker side, the spars are dingy, though the sails hung from them are bright and luminous. On his lighter side, shining spars support wings as deep and misty as autumn leaves at sunset.
Personality: Much like his hide, Sideraveth's temperament has two sides. He can be the generous superior, the paternal guide and the benevolent leader. He can also be petty and small minded, selfish and power hungry. It's unclear what determines when the bronze will be in which mood, though he does seem to take some cues from his rider. He'll play a lazy devil's advocate when Th'ane would push himself and his wing too hard or extend his generosity when the rafeiro would prefer to sink into bitterness. They form a strange counterbalance for one another.
General Form
Standard wing
Character and Duties
Th'ane's wing is a mix of older and younger riders, though most have quite a few turns on the young wingleader. Many have been in the same wing since they were tapped and spend time together both during drills and during free time. While Th'ane was initially viewed with some trepidation, he's proven himself well enough that the older wingriders have become a bit protective of their 'little 'leader'. If they jostle him and the newer riders of the wing for their age and lack of experience, it's all in good fun. In the air, the men form a reliable and working unit.
Games
Better as a unit than on their own, Th'ane's wing excels at rope drills and precision flaming. Under their former wingleader, they were also quite adept at flying formations blindfolded, but since the old fellow stepped down, Th'ane's focused on making them strong at improvised wing formations, instead.
Have you read Game Philosophy and The Rules of Tempus Fugit?
Yes
Gender: Male
Age: 23
Rank: Wingleader
Physical Description
Tall at 6'4", Th'ane cuts an impressive figure. A frame that would have been naturally lean has been broadened and bulked with turns of dragonriding.
Summer or winter, this rider's skin always looks as if it's seen a fair amount of sun. Naturally tanned, his swarthy tones are offset by light blond hair that falls, shaggy but well-kept, around his square-jawed face. Beneath a high forehead and under pale slashes for brows, wide-set pale blue eyes are fringed in thick, sandy lashes. His nose is long and a bit sharp. His mouth is full and most often surrounded by a short and scruffy beard.
Clothing is egalitarian, though the man is capable of dressing nicely for special occasions. Most commonly, however, he's found in dark brown riding leathers, well-worn but well-maintained. When it's too hot for such heavy wear, leathers are replaced with linens, though the cut and plainness of his garments remain the same.
Personality
Th'ane's an introspective fellow who tends to think before he speaks. He keeps insults and grudges close to his chest, waiting for the right time to get even for them, rather than lashing out impulsively. For all that he's risen quickly to a place of leadership, when he's not actually training with his wing or otherwise performing official duties, he prefers to keep to the background. Present at celebrations and parties, he takes more delight in watching others enjoy than in participating himself. Intelligent and attentive, he's very good at hoarding away small observations for later use. Ever courteous to his higher ups, he seems to take his station and his place quite seriously.
Background
The child of a young Caminar woman and a cotholder's son, Therane never knew his father and his birth made his mother an outcast. It's unclear whether Tesera intended to carry the child to term or whether she hadn't come across a sabedoria in time to do anything else, but her family was unforgiving. She left their caravan with her infant son, staying at Telgar Hold until she could join up with her older brother at the turnly gather several months later. Soren had been traveling on his own for several turns since he'd been caught, well, doing the same thing his sister had: having a tryst with a plantado man.
The motley little trio traveled the roads together, and Therane grew up as an outsider to both worlds. Though his mother and uncle taught him Noestacan and he was raised in the culture of the traveling people, his pale hair and blue eyes, against the backdrop of his mother's dark tresses and brown skin, easily marked him for what he was. Passing caravans rarely stopped to exchange news and those that did wouldn't look at him or looked at him too long. At the turnly gathers that his mother still insisted on attending, he was relegated to the outskirts of the festivities. Children his age had no interest in inviting a rafeiro into their games and attempts to join most often resulted in black eyes and bloody noses all around.
The plantado were little better, though Therane found a sort of comfort in the fact that if they treated him with disdain, it was no better or worse than what they offered the rest of his people. They didn't seem to realize or to care that he was any different. Holders wanted nothing to do with him, but the boy still found himself feeling more at peace in their apathetic company than around the formidable condemnation of his own people.
When Therane was sixteen, the midsummer gathers that the surly and taciturn adolescent had come to dread became, suddenly, more appealing. A lovely young apprentice to a sabedoria took an interest in him, and each summer for the next three turns, they discreetly enjoyed one another's company while the rest of the Caminar made merry around the bonfire.
But, at eighteen, those meeting were ended abruptly by no fault of Therane's or the girl's. Resting for a few days at Greenfields Hold shortly after the gather, Therane, his mother and his uncle were all present when a greenrider arrived on Search. Therane watched the cluster of hopeful youth from a distance, but not quite far enough. The curious young man caught the dragon's eye, and he was invited to come to the Weyr to stand.
It seemed an easy solution to a life of problems. Without him, perhaps his mother could rejoin her family's caravan at last. Perhaps his uncle might even be welcome. If Tesera and Soren both offered up much scolding and chastising for Therane's decision, it wasn't quite sincere enough to hide the spark of relief that the rafeiro might have found his place and their own responsibility for him might be lifted.
Living at the Weyr was nothing like Therane had experienced before. For once, nobody knew what he was, save that he was one more candidate. His coloring no longer marked him as unique, and after several weeks of painstaking attention to the way the plantado spoke, he learned well enough how to mask his Caminar accent. He was a nobody. One of a group. It was wonderful.
That changed on the day of the hatching, when a creeling baby bronze found his way to the rafeiro, Therane became Th'ane, and once again, it was a color that identified him. This time it was the shade that belonged to his lifemate, and Th'ane was watched with expectation, rather than suspicion.
Driven to make good and prove himself worthy, Th'ane flung himself into weyrlinghood and worked hard to excel. By the time he'd graduated a turn and a half later, he'd already captured the attention of several wingleaders and S'lyn himself. He had multiple wings vying for him even before the Weyrlingmaster declared the group's training complete, was promoted to wingsecond a turn later, and when an older wingleader stepped down six months after that, it was Th'ane who earned his wing and his knot.
J'fel's unexpected rise to power was not one of which Th'ane much approved. Seen as a bit of a prodigy golden boy himself, it was no small lump to swallow when a boy several turns his junior so suddenly and easily excelled his own impressive accomplishments. There had also been something in S'lyn's steady-handed rule that the raferio had admired. To lose the leadership of such a dependable man for a boy who has let himself be led about the nose by a woman... Th'ane found himself embarrassed for his Weyr. He has determined, if only to himself, that the next leadership flight will not see such a debacle repeated.
The arrival of the Caminar is another cosmic hiccup that Th'ane could have done without. He knows the wandering people well enough, and their rampant disdain for outsiders, that the idea of them wanting plantado children anywhere near their own seems preposterous. On the other hand, seeing them in such droves in his own 'front yard' brings back memories he'd prefer to keep buried. There's also a small bit of him that enjoys watching them squirm. After living so long with the Caminar's unfair judgments of him, it's a little satisfying to see such prejudices turned right back onto his childhood persecutors.
Dragonriders
Dragon's Name: Sideraveth
Color: Bronze
Age: 5
Physical Description: Divided down the spine, dark on the right and bright on the left, he's a different dragon on each side. Half of him is the light and vibrant orange of fresh-cut copper; half of him is an aged and darkened bronze. His wedged head is a crisp cut triangle, his face split into bright and dark. This has the strange effect of causing one jeweled eye, set against a blacker hue, to seem more brilliant than the other. Long neck, deep chest, narrow torso, muscled limbs and whipcord tail shine on one side like a new kettle, while the other is the deep bronzed green of neglected brass. Generous wings are opposites: on his darker side, the spars are dingy, though the sails hung from them are bright and luminous. On his lighter side, shining spars support wings as deep and misty as autumn leaves at sunset.
Personality: Much like his hide, Sideraveth's temperament has two sides. He can be the generous superior, the paternal guide and the benevolent leader. He can also be petty and small minded, selfish and power hungry. It's unclear what determines when the bronze will be in which mood, though he does seem to take some cues from his rider. He'll play a lazy devil's advocate when Th'ane would push himself and his wing too hard or extend his generosity when the rafeiro would prefer to sink into bitterness. They form a strange counterbalance for one another.
Wing
General Form
Standard wing
Character and Duties
Th'ane's wing is a mix of older and younger riders, though most have quite a few turns on the young wingleader. Many have been in the same wing since they were tapped and spend time together both during drills and during free time. While Th'ane was initially viewed with some trepidation, he's proven himself well enough that the older wingriders have become a bit protective of their 'little 'leader'. If they jostle him and the newer riders of the wing for their age and lack of experience, it's all in good fun. In the air, the men form a reliable and working unit.
Games
Better as a unit than on their own, Th'ane's wing excels at rope drills and precision flaming. Under their former wingleader, they were also quite adept at flying formations blindfolded, but since the old fellow stepped down, Th'ane's focused on making them strong at improvised wing formations, instead.
Have you read Game Philosophy and The Rules of Tempus Fugit?
Yes
