Post by wonder123 on Oct 16, 2009 19:00:25 GMT -5
Recruitment: Got recruited at Dawning. But I guess kudos go to Blue.
Email: drummin_4jc@yahoo.com
Character
Name: T'van (Trevan)
Rank: Weyrling. Former Apprentice Smith
Gender: Male
Age: 16
Origin: Southern Hold
Appearance: Trevan is a rather average young man. His hair is a medium brown hair, completely indistinguishable from any other young men in his home Hold. His eyes, however, fair mostly on the hazel side - with green flecks breaking up the monotony.
On a good day, Trevan reaches a solid 5'10 and a half, although you would be hard pressed to noticed due to his tendency to slouch. You could blame it on his work in the Hold's small smithy, but really it's because Tre would much rather you leave him alone.
Large feet made his earlier years a pain, but it seems he's finally gotten used to them, since he's given all hope of growing into them. Large hands, rough from the hard life of an apprentice smith, balance him out. Overall, he's not the worst looking one of the bunch...
[Face claim: Shia LaBeouf]
Family:
Father: Tressan, Smith. Died from illness 13 turns ago.
Mother: Vanna. Died in childbirth.
Sister: Anessa, 14
Uncle, father's side: Toress, 41. Smith.
Sexual Orientation: Heterosexual (Bisexual in flights)
Personality: Trevan is one to keep his hand close to his chest. He keeps his own counsel, and will more likely spit off something sarcastic back at your friendly attempt at conversation. He finds humor in the darkest things, seeing his life as one of the biggest jokes ever told.
One thing in his favor, if you want to call it that, is his honesty. Love him or hate him, Trevan won't lie to you. Of course, that mostly likely means that yes, that shift makes you look fat and informing you your breath stinks. He's quite the charmer, isn't he? If you don't like it, go bother someone else.
Possibly the only other person who has seen anything besides that is his little sister. Anessa, whom he helped raise from birth even being a couple of turns older, can bring about that smile instead of his customary smirk. Their playful banter helped to pass the lonliest nights in their shared room in their uncle's house. But can someone else break through to see the gentler side of Trevan?
Good luck.
Hobbies/Skills: All Trevan is good for, so he's been told, is smithing.
Pets: Brown firelizard, Solo.
History:
Life is hard.
Trevan doesn't need someone to tell him that. He was born on a starry night in the beginning of autumn, nine months to the day after his parents' wedding to be exact, to a respectable smith and his young wife. Back then, his face brought was the picture of joy, a sign that only good things were to come for the new family. This is called irony.
He'd just passed two turns when his Momma shared the news he'd be getting a playmate. He hoped for a brother to wrestle with, who could team up with him against Papa, so it should have been a sign of his life to come when out popped a screaming little girl. Her screams weren't the only ones piercing the air that night, as Vanna was bleeding to heavily. She wouldn't make it to see the morning.
Suddenly, Tressan found himself with two mouths to feed, and no one to help him. After all, he needed to work to put food on the table, but he couldn't well enough leave his children at home by themselves why he slaved over a hot furnace all day. And so, his younger brother, Toress moved in. Toress, the young man who could never hold a job and was probably the cause of a recent baby boom in the Hold, was going to help raise little Trevan and Anessa. Well, it would end up being a little more than that.
Through no fault of his own, Tressan found himself falling ill come the next Harvest. As much as he tried to hide it at first, it moved too quick for any Healer to stop it. In hardly a turn, Trevan found himself an orphan with no one but a baby sister and a dead beat uncle who barely knew the first thing about kids. Who was going to look out for who? And so, from a young age, Trevan found himself doing odd jobs around the Hold, more or less a young partner to his uncle in the job of looking after and providing for his little sister. Baking rolls here, helping to spread manure on the crops there. Of course, the rolls ended up black on the bottoms, and the crops found their nutrition was average at best.
As much as he despised it though, it appeared that what he was best at was smithing. HIs uncle joked, punching his arm and sure enough hitting a fresh burn as they walked home one night from the smithy. It was in his blood. Or so he thought, using his vocation as a way to get his aggression out.
Then he became a Rider.
Dragon
Name: Hirith
Age: Newly Hatched
Color: Brown
Clutch: 1188: Gold Aliath by Bronze Xialanth
Appearance: Hirith's size at hatching was only a handspan smaller than that of his bronze brother, Rovanoth. Even when he was minutes old, the little creature looked solid and well muscled. His hide is a deep rich klah color all around.
Hirith has none of the sleekness of his smaller siblings but instead looked built for stamina and strength.
Personality: Hirith a more stoic, patient, no-nonsense dragon. Unlike bronzes and some of the larger browns, has no notions of the honor of color. With him everyone's merit is based on their skills and talents, and no one is worthless in his faceted eyes. Likewise, he's not one to give respect or obedience when it hasn't been earned. He provides a voice of reason when T'van's temper gets the best of him.
History:
The greens never looked his way. The smaller one had wandered to one of the larger eggs, seeming to set it off as it rocked hard enough to senf the top half of the egg flying. The remaining shell flopped over on its side like an upturned dish, spilling out its contents: one large brown. He was only a handspan smaller than his bronze brother. Trevan charted its every move, amazed at the strength in such a (relatively) small thing. It wasn't even a minute old! The newborn brown paused to study his surroundings...did he know he was being watched? No, it seemed like he was too focused on his own search to notice.
Trevan continued his inspection. As newly and poorly informed of dragons that he was, he could tell the brown was quite solid and would probably be one of the strongest of the clutch. Hadn't that bronze Evalos got himself only been a hand or two bigger? That would change surely, as Master Phaedon had told them, but the fellow had a nice start. He towered over the greens that had passed him, and if Tre had to guess, he would be taller than his small friend as well.
The subject of his attention moved then, suddenly. It'd caught another boy off guard too - the brown had been standing so still he'd almost been forgotten in the chaos of other Impressions. That boy didn't move quick enough, and soon all he could feel was pain. The unweildy claws had raked him badly. He wouldn't be getting up again.
You can't be slow like that and expect to live, came the thought. I doubt that hatchling even noticed. He'd looked away from the dying boy with no sympathy - the tough hold that was Southern was not a breeding ground for pity - straight into the whirling eyes of that same dragonet.
T'van. You are right. I am Hirith.
T'van. He didn't even realize how natural the name sounded because he was lost to that moment of ectasy. It was like he hadn't even known a part of him was missing until Hirith had found him. He was cold from shock and warm from pleasure all at the same time. This was the Impression that had all talked about in those awed tones. This was -
Don't just stand there. I'm starved.
The no-nonsense voice sounded again. It wasn't harsh, just stated in a matter-of-fact tone that T'van could relate with very well. It was much like his own voice on his usual days. "Don't worry, Hirith." He could barely speak out so others could know his new lifepartner's name, he was so overcome. "We'll get you seen too straight away." His arm drapped protectively over the brown hatchling, although Hir had already proved what he was capable of.
Forget smithing. This is what T'van had been born for.
Together they would face their future. They made quite the solid team.
Weyrling Class: Auspice
((color is 660000))
Email: drummin_4jc@yahoo.com
Character
Name: T'van (Trevan)
Rank: Weyrling. Former Apprentice Smith
Gender: Male
Age: 16
Origin: Southern Hold
Appearance: Trevan is a rather average young man. His hair is a medium brown hair, completely indistinguishable from any other young men in his home Hold. His eyes, however, fair mostly on the hazel side - with green flecks breaking up the monotony.
On a good day, Trevan reaches a solid 5'10 and a half, although you would be hard pressed to noticed due to his tendency to slouch. You could blame it on his work in the Hold's small smithy, but really it's because Tre would much rather you leave him alone.
Large feet made his earlier years a pain, but it seems he's finally gotten used to them, since he's given all hope of growing into them. Large hands, rough from the hard life of an apprentice smith, balance him out. Overall, he's not the worst looking one of the bunch...
[Face claim: Shia LaBeouf]
Family:
Father: Tressan, Smith. Died from illness 13 turns ago.
Mother: Vanna. Died in childbirth.
Sister: Anessa, 14
Uncle, father's side: Toress, 41. Smith.
Sexual Orientation: Heterosexual (Bisexual in flights)
Personality: Trevan is one to keep his hand close to his chest. He keeps his own counsel, and will more likely spit off something sarcastic back at your friendly attempt at conversation. He finds humor in the darkest things, seeing his life as one of the biggest jokes ever told.
One thing in his favor, if you want to call it that, is his honesty. Love him or hate him, Trevan won't lie to you. Of course, that mostly likely means that yes, that shift makes you look fat and informing you your breath stinks. He's quite the charmer, isn't he? If you don't like it, go bother someone else.
Possibly the only other person who has seen anything besides that is his little sister. Anessa, whom he helped raise from birth even being a couple of turns older, can bring about that smile instead of his customary smirk. Their playful banter helped to pass the lonliest nights in their shared room in their uncle's house. But can someone else break through to see the gentler side of Trevan?
Good luck.
Hobbies/Skills: All Trevan is good for, so he's been told, is smithing.
Pets: Brown firelizard, Solo.
History:
Life is hard.
Trevan doesn't need someone to tell him that. He was born on a starry night in the beginning of autumn, nine months to the day after his parents' wedding to be exact, to a respectable smith and his young wife. Back then, his face brought was the picture of joy, a sign that only good things were to come for the new family. This is called irony.
He'd just passed two turns when his Momma shared the news he'd be getting a playmate. He hoped for a brother to wrestle with, who could team up with him against Papa, so it should have been a sign of his life to come when out popped a screaming little girl. Her screams weren't the only ones piercing the air that night, as Vanna was bleeding to heavily. She wouldn't make it to see the morning.
Suddenly, Tressan found himself with two mouths to feed, and no one to help him. After all, he needed to work to put food on the table, but he couldn't well enough leave his children at home by themselves why he slaved over a hot furnace all day. And so, his younger brother, Toress moved in. Toress, the young man who could never hold a job and was probably the cause of a recent baby boom in the Hold, was going to help raise little Trevan and Anessa. Well, it would end up being a little more than that.
Through no fault of his own, Tressan found himself falling ill come the next Harvest. As much as he tried to hide it at first, it moved too quick for any Healer to stop it. In hardly a turn, Trevan found himself an orphan with no one but a baby sister and a dead beat uncle who barely knew the first thing about kids. Who was going to look out for who? And so, from a young age, Trevan found himself doing odd jobs around the Hold, more or less a young partner to his uncle in the job of looking after and providing for his little sister. Baking rolls here, helping to spread manure on the crops there. Of course, the rolls ended up black on the bottoms, and the crops found their nutrition was average at best.
As much as he despised it though, it appeared that what he was best at was smithing. HIs uncle joked, punching his arm and sure enough hitting a fresh burn as they walked home one night from the smithy. It was in his blood. Or so he thought, using his vocation as a way to get his aggression out.
Then he became a Rider.
Dragon
Name: Hirith
Age: Newly Hatched
Color: Brown
Clutch: 1188: Gold Aliath by Bronze Xialanth
Appearance: Hirith's size at hatching was only a handspan smaller than that of his bronze brother, Rovanoth. Even when he was minutes old, the little creature looked solid and well muscled. His hide is a deep rich klah color all around.
Hirith has none of the sleekness of his smaller siblings but instead looked built for stamina and strength.
Personality: Hirith a more stoic, patient, no-nonsense dragon. Unlike bronzes and some of the larger browns, has no notions of the honor of color. With him everyone's merit is based on their skills and talents, and no one is worthless in his faceted eyes. Likewise, he's not one to give respect or obedience when it hasn't been earned. He provides a voice of reason when T'van's temper gets the best of him.
History:
The greens never looked his way. The smaller one had wandered to one of the larger eggs, seeming to set it off as it rocked hard enough to senf the top half of the egg flying. The remaining shell flopped over on its side like an upturned dish, spilling out its contents: one large brown. He was only a handspan smaller than his bronze brother. Trevan charted its every move, amazed at the strength in such a (relatively) small thing. It wasn't even a minute old! The newborn brown paused to study his surroundings...did he know he was being watched? No, it seemed like he was too focused on his own search to notice.
Trevan continued his inspection. As newly and poorly informed of dragons that he was, he could tell the brown was quite solid and would probably be one of the strongest of the clutch. Hadn't that bronze Evalos got himself only been a hand or two bigger? That would change surely, as Master Phaedon had told them, but the fellow had a nice start. He towered over the greens that had passed him, and if Tre had to guess, he would be taller than his small friend as well.
The subject of his attention moved then, suddenly. It'd caught another boy off guard too - the brown had been standing so still he'd almost been forgotten in the chaos of other Impressions. That boy didn't move quick enough, and soon all he could feel was pain. The unweildy claws had raked him badly. He wouldn't be getting up again.
You can't be slow like that and expect to live, came the thought. I doubt that hatchling even noticed. He'd looked away from the dying boy with no sympathy - the tough hold that was Southern was not a breeding ground for pity - straight into the whirling eyes of that same dragonet.
T'van. You are right. I am Hirith.
T'van. He didn't even realize how natural the name sounded because he was lost to that moment of ectasy. It was like he hadn't even known a part of him was missing until Hirith had found him. He was cold from shock and warm from pleasure all at the same time. This was the Impression that had all talked about in those awed tones. This was -
Don't just stand there. I'm starved.
The no-nonsense voice sounded again. It wasn't harsh, just stated in a matter-of-fact tone that T'van could relate with very well. It was much like his own voice on his usual days. "Don't worry, Hirith." He could barely speak out so others could know his new lifepartner's name, he was so overcome. "We'll get you seen too straight away." His arm drapped protectively over the brown hatchling, although Hir had already proved what he was capable of.
Forget smithing. This is what T'van had been born for.
Together they would face their future. They made quite the solid team.
Weyrling Class: Auspice
((color is 660000))