Post by crispypeanut on May 16, 2011 22:06:05 GMT -5
Humans: YES! (But there's only one of him...)
Name: Rigelyeh
Age: 18
Gender: Male
Sexual Orientation: Heterosexual North by Southwest
Rank: *ZOMMMM* He's a Weyrling now, baby! Let the good times roll!
Physical Appearance: He made his first when he was born...naturally...since that was the first time anyone had seen him. After several turns of maturation, he's (naturally) grown up a bit. The dirty blond hair he had as a child has slowly shifted to an ashen brown. His eyes are Hazelnut Brown. His natural skin-tone is pale, almost white, though in the time since he left Crom Hold, his complexion has turned to a sandy tan. His stature leans toward the shorter edge of average height, but the time he spent as a youth in the wilds and mines of Crom, and (more recently) upon the ship as a sailor (see "History" for further details) has provided him with an ample muscularity.
He might have been quite dashing had it not been for the beatings he received as a youth, which have permanently altered his facial structure. He appears weathered and rugged beyond his turns and prefers to grow out his facial hair (thin as it may be) to soften the harshness of his old wounds. While not downright ugly, he is certainly not as handsome as he might have been.
Personality: Aloof, distrustful, and self-reliant, Rigelyeh is one who prefers to keep to himself. Having been raised in the North, he is accustomed to treachery and brutality at every turn and expects nothing more nor less, regardless of his environment. Such is the reason he can be completely baffled by a simple act of kindness; the very concept of charity without ulterior motive is alien to him.
While he is not a particularly social individual, his time aboard ship taught him to appreciate the value of teamwork. He fully understands that, while being self sufficient is a wonderful thing, there are some things that simply cannot be done without the aid of others. He will be more than willing to render aid where it is needed, should the outcome ultimately be beneficial to him. (As time passes and his relationships among his fellows grow, I expect him to be willing to make sacrifices for those he cares about. For now, however, he will see such acts to be impractical at best.)
Not having the luxury of a properly finished education, Rigelyeh has a low opinion of Craft Halls in general. He does not see the purpose in knowledge of culture, history, philosophy, or anything outside of practical, real-world application (including the observation of cultural niceties: like proper manners). He comprehends the usefulness of politics, but has no aspiration to become entangled in so intricate a web and is mildly annoyed when politics (laws, mandates, restrictions, et cetera.) interfere with his life or activities.
Despite the lack of training in a refined, traditional Craft, Rigelyeh demonstrates remarkable cleverness, insightful resourcefulness, and keen perception. While he scorns skills which he deems to be frivolous, he can quickly absorb hands-on training in anything he deems useful (and is therefor interested in acquiring). It is his underlying philosophy that if he can do a task himself, he has no need to rely on someone else to do it for him.
Having lived his entire life (save for his time aboard ship) in the North, he has a rather low opinion of women. It is not that he dislikes or looks down upon them, per-say, but rather that he doesn't know any better. (I expect that, in time, this aspect of his personality will also change, should any women impress him in some way. He does, after-all, respect ability and talent. Unfortunately, the only talents he's witnessed women be capable of are Drudgery, having children, and getting slapped around...none of which he deems all that impressive.)
Of special note, Rigelyeh suffers from mild Claustrophobia, which he acquired while working in the mines of Crom. While not particularly debilitating, he becomes noticeably uncomfortable or agitated while underground, especially so if he feels in anyway trapped.
History: Once upon a time, there was a little boy named Rigelyeh. He was a baby when he was born. Then he grew up. And now he's not so much a baby anymore. The End.
...oh, wait...You need more than that? *sigh*...Fine.
Rigelyeh was born in the outskirts of Crom Hold (Fort Territory) in 2998, on a night with bitter winds and heavy snowfall; almost two years after the hostilities between Fort and Benden territories had erupted in outright war.
Fortunately, the strategic position of Crom (in that it is of little tactical value) and that it is inaccessible by land, ship, or air for large portions of a turn (due to its climate's tendency towards the "cold" and "harsh" spectrum) effectively removed the Hold from the brutalities of the War. News would generally filter in and there were occasional requests and mandates related to the war effort, but the Hold itself was largely unaffected by the conflict.
Rigelyeh was born into the family of Rigelrot (his father) by Gamelyeh (his mother, 4th wife of Rigelrot), the ninth son (13th child) in the family line, to be followed by (at the count when he left home) 15 additional children. [For reference: 3 children died in child-birth, 7 (5 daughters, 2 sons) have been beaten to death, and 9 (sons) died in hunting / mining accidents; leaving at present 8 living siblings: 6 sisters and 2 brothers]
His rampant curiosity was quickly and mercilessly curbed by his father's iron fist; as it was through countless beatings that respect and obedience was maintained in his household. It was in learning what was allowed and what was not allowed that Rigelyeh earned the disfigurements visible on his face (including, but not limited to: evidence of a broken nose, shattered right cheekbone, broken jaw, and a portion of bone missing from his skull's left eye socket [above and to the left of his eye]).
Times were tough for but one middle child among many. His shorter than average stature is possibly the direct result of malnutrition from his meager share of provision as a child. The division of such foodstuffs was made all the more scarce from the constant infighting between the children, each competing for a larger share.
The largest portion of his "childhood" was spent trying to keep out of the way of his elders and betters and fighting with his siblings. This adversarial beginning to his life was a painful, but necessary lesson in the harshness of his environment. He learned to watch and wait; that to observe the folly of his fellows saved him the pain of enduring it himself. He learned not to question authority directly, but rather to circumvent it if (and only if) the opportunity presented itself. As a result of these various trials, he was rewarded with survival to early adolescence, where as some of his less fortunate siblings were not blessed with such longevity.
His only real experience in seeing dragons occurred when he was 8 turns old and the dreaded 10th fall of thread caused chaos and panic in the world. He managed at one point to venture outside during the event, where he marveled at the little specks and flashes of flame so far above him. He pondered why it was so horrible when it looked so very pretty...but then, such is the mind of an 8 turn old. Fortuitously, his mother (the only one to actually pay vague attention to him) caught him and dragged him back inside before the aperture through which he had escaped was sealed. He then learned that thread was so dangerous because it caused father's fist to punch you in the face when you went outside to see it. Sufficed to say, he did not feel the overwhelming urge to venture out during thread-fall again.
When he turned 12 and began his shaky trek towards maturity, his father apprenticed him in the Minecraft Hall of Crom, as was done for each of his (surviving) brothers; a rite of passage observed by some in Crom and a simple necessity to keep its workforce strong and vital. Long hours of tedious labor in the deep, dark caverns of Pern's northernmost mountains did not sit well with the boy. Air too stuffy to breathe, the constant threat of being buried alive under thousands of tons of rock, and perpetually tight quarters in near pitch blackness had rotted the very souls of men down there, and Rigelyeh was no exception. It is no small wonder why, even to this day, he shudders noticeably when entering a passage of stone.
As a youthful adult, the only thing Rigelyeh actually enjoyed was hunting in the wilds. When he was not slaving away in the mines, sleeping, or eating, he was out in the wilderness. It was here that his innate, suppressed aptitudes and skills were made manifest. When he became of age, he learned all manner of trap and snare craft from his father (who was a trapper by trade), as well as the use of knife and spear to bring down prey (arrows being scarce from the family's lack of access to feathers due to the inhospitable location for suitable fowls). It was the latter of these weapons that he favored, for they were simple to craft (more of a javelin than a spear, his version of the weapon was much akin to a staff sharpened at both ends by knife-blade and then fired to preserve the points and strengthen the wood) and had much better range and defensive ability, should he need to engage an enraged beast in close-quarters.
His time spent as a hunter also sharpened his wits and keened his senses, while providing a much needed escape from the drudgery of the mines.
When he was 15, he suffered the shock of enduring a rather large cave-in in one of the tunnels. The accident claimed the lives of 24 miners, 3 of which were his brothers and one of which was his best friend. He was entombed on the far side of the mine, in total darkness without food or water for two days before managing to find an alternative route (a byway across an abandoned section of old mine, which linked up to a nexus several levels above, closed off with a wooden barrier). The trauma of the experience made his continued apprenticeship impossible as he was mentally incapable of returning to the mines due to acute claustrophobia (which has calmed somewhat).
The guild masters were not particularly sympathetic and he was tagged a coward and thrown from the Craft hall in disgrace. Likewise was he shunned by his own family, if only to preserve their good name, and Rigelyeh was effectively disowned and discarded.
He managed to survive on his own for a time, hunting for his own food and scavenging (stealing) what he could from the Hold when possible. When the ship for goods arrived in port, he leaped at the opportunity to sign on as a sailor; a terrible storm at sea had washed three inexperienced men off the deck and they were a bit short-handed. Even though he was a bit young, his time in the mines had made Rigelyeh a strong, obedient lad; an invaluable commodity.
So began his three turn jaunt as a sailor aboard the trading vessel "Yehani Thalay". It was here that he truly learned to work as a team with others as most tasks involved in running the ship required several men to complete (ie. raising sails, tying off lines, etc.) He also learned knot tying, cooking and food preservation, the complexities of navigation by star and chart, as well as how to drink, brawl, and knife-fight like a sailor (including close-quarters as well as throwing).
After pulling into port in Southern Hold with a cargo of undisclosed goods from the north, the ship was damaged beyond repair: while the crew were off in the (pub...tavern...bar...local place of fermented-vegetable/fruit juice consumption), celebrating their port-leave, there was a fire aboard the vessel and both cargo and ship were lost beyond salvage. The cause of the disastrous immolation remains unknown, though speculation would assume it was not exactly an accident. Without a ship to sail or cargo to peddle, the crew disbanded and went their separate ways only a few days after.
Now, stranded in a foreign land with naught but the clothes on his back, a small pouch of currency in his pocket, a knife in his belt, and his wits in his head, Rigelyeh must find out where the next chapter of his life will lead him.
While sitting in Mother Hydera's Tavern, debating his various (non-existent) employment options, Rigelyeh was approached by Nephele of Green Nuoth, Searchrider of the new and secret Berimyu Weyr. After some brief negotiations, Rigelyeh (apparently) decided to join the Weyr and stand for Candidacy at the hatching of Gold Jingth's final clutch.
After two seven-days of crash-course training (off-screen...without even so much as a training montage...), Rigelyeh attended the hatching ceremony (apathetically) and bonded with his very own Green, Keqesith, formally known as the "Forests of the Night Green". It was also here that he randomly wondered if, out in the desert, there were Sand Dwellers that might feed on the flesh of human interlopers...may he never find out...
*He looks eagerly to the next page only to find, in abject horror, that the page is completely EMPTY! "Curses," he curses under his breath, mentally blaming Crispy Peanut for having such a horrible life thus far, "I'd better win a pony or something after all I've been through...*grumble mumble grumble*" And maybe he will...maybe he will... ... ...but probably not)*
Candidates Only
Name Contraction (Males Only): R'lyeh
Queen Only? (Females Only): No. They're a great band...but he simply couldn't do with ONLY listening to them all the time. Too much of a good thing and all that jive, you see.
Desired Dragon Color: The kind that flies and breathes fire. Um...I guess that's any of them, isn't it? Well, fiddlesticks! Any it is, then!
Dragon, Wher, or both?: Dagon...oh, wait. Dragon...though he would probably take Dagon, too...
Dragons/Whers/Fire Lizards/Salamandyrs: Ummm...yes?
Name: Keqesith (Forests of the Night Green)
Color: Green
Age: 5-10 minutes or so...as of right now...
Physical Appearance: Large for a green, is Keqesith, and with a very defined form, too. Her chest is deep, her forelegs well-muscled despite the rare use that a dragon will have for them, and her hind legs strong as well. However, she’s long enough that she won’t look bulky – she just looks strong. As it is, Keqesith has a particular posture that will look quite out of place on a dragon, more often seen on a canine of some species, or some types of runners: She pushes her hind legs out behind her when standing still, tail, thick and long, held parallel to the ground, a blocky head held high at all times.
With brilliant, sweeping wings, Keqesith will be beautiful in the air. Fast and with an impressive stamina, the green’s Flights will certainly be incredibly involved for the Chasers – no half-competent dragon will be able to keep up with her. And Keqesith is always perfectly willing to flaunt just how naturally she can take to the air. On the ground, the green has some semblance to order, but really, her place is definitely in the sky – she’ll have the same awkward hopping gait, even if Keqesith is too impatient to allow it to hinder her and instead tends to bounce along as fast as possible, making it look, if possible, even stranger.
In color, Keqesith is definitely two-toned. It’ll be hard to decide which color holds dominance, really. A dark shade of green, deep to the point of gleaming black, covers the top half of her head, neck, and covers most of her body, trailing down the outsides of her legs and the upper half of her tail. A slightly milder, more forest-colored, shade of green trails from her bottom jaw, covering the bottom half of her neck, her underbelly, the insides of her legs, and the bottom half of her tail. Her wing membranes are a stunning mixture of both, even though the darker color outlines the joints.
At this point, Keqesith’s ability to see in the dark shouldn’t come as any surprise. Her first eyelid, typically transparent in dragons, is, as usual, transparent – but it’s also reflective. Not mirror-reflective, but still reflective enough to catch whatever small light there may be, and give Keqesith the ability to see at night, see and even fly without undue risks, if she should so wish to.
Personality: Keqesith is a very hard dragon to like, upon initial meeting. Strict, demanding, a perfectionist – the green will not be at all deterred by the rank denoted by her color. She’s a bossy creature, tending to insist upon control and organization to a level as to be considered a complete brat. Arrogant, Keqesith isn’t above rattling off a list of her attributes (intelligence, beauty, leadership skills, strength, agility, and intuition tend to make the top six quite a lot) if it means that she’ll be in control. Overbearing, Keqesith likes to have a backing of at least two with her at all times – her strength lies in numbers, more often than not.
It’s not to say that she’s not quite a force to be reckoned with on her own, of course. Keqesith is certainly snappy enough to demand attention – even if she has a particularly roundabout way with her words, more formal and more carefully controlled than most dragons – and she is perfectly capable of pulling of threats and insults with just the right level of venom. Even her lackeys will be treated like that – slaves, servants, below her. They serve her because they know she can lead, do they not?
However, pit the world against her and Keqesith is but one creature, and she knows it. She has a very strong pack mentality, even if her ideal spot would be the alpha of that pack. Those that dominate her, truly and undeniably, will be treated with a level of respect that one would not usually attribute to a creature as devious and sharp as Keqesith is. Hers will always fall into this category – but precious few others. Indeed, few things short of public humiliation to an unbearable degree will earn that from Keqesith. After all – if they don’t deserve it, why on Pern would she give it?
Unstoppable Force Male
Name-Biyakhi
Species- Razorclaw
Gender- Male
Bonded to- R'lyeh
Physical Appearance- This male is medium in size at best, but his wingspan is large enough to measure up to those of most males and even of some females. Despite his size, though, he is definitely an impressive specimen; certainly there are few who will look quite as wild as he. His beak curves to a violent point, his talons large and curving into razor-sharp claws; on his head his feathers crest in a vibrant display that looks rather similar to a Terran Mohawk, the feathers along his neck surprisingly stiff and resistant to being stroked flat into any semblance of order whatsoever. (Indeed, pressing too forcefully will cause no small amount of discomfort, and any who attempt it can expect to be missing a few drops of blood in short order.) The feathers along his back are also slightly lifted down his spine, ending in sleek, long tail feathers—it certainly makes him noticeable, not to mention unique.
In color, the male is nothing short of attractive—a rich, glossy dark brown runs over his body, and one should expect no little amount of preening from him, in order to keep his feathers just so shiny. A pure, sharp white forms a ‘T’ shape over his eyes and down his chest and underbelly, while light cream flecks appear upon his breast. His eyes are each accented with black spots just above each, giving him a distinctly four-eyed appearance, and the feathers of his tail, wings, and down his spine where the feathers stand at attention are ticked with black. The male’s beak and talons are saffron yellow, the end of his beak as dark as ink, while his legs and talons are mottled intermittently with black as well.
Personality- The wild blood in this male runs closer to the surface than it does in his sister—his Bond with his human will always be light, to the point of being almost intangible. Fittingly, the male is extremely independent of human companionship. It’s rare that he will feel comfortable perching upon any human, even His, and even when he’s in the company of His, he will always prefer to perch in a more neutral location. However, while he will never fawn over His, he will grudgingly tolerate affections to be lavished upon him by the humans that he is closest to. He is, though, a very vain creature, and prone to impatience if attentions become too stifling—it won’t be unusual to accidentally overstep the line with this male and have him vanish for half a day or so before he returns.
He’s a very acrobatic creature, and something of a show-off, with a fondness for performing intricate loops and tricks in the air without looking like he’s trying—let everyone watch and be jealous, but let none of them come close to touching him. The male is a fearless creature—he’ll never perch on a dragon but it’s not out of fear so much as simple distaste; likewise with whers. When it comes to His having other pets, though—well. It’s not that he’ll actively protest, for that would be an overt show of affection, possessiveness (though he is undeniably protective of His in that any harm will result in an outright rage), but he certainly won’t approve. Firelizards and Salamandyrs will always be appraised as food, not friends, and no amount of training will break him of making a snatch at a passing flit or ‘mandyr if they come too close.
Fortunately, his preference in food veers away from firelizards and Salamandyrs; he despises depending on His for food and will only intermittently accept morsels when they are offered. Instead, he prefers to hunt his own game—and the bigger and more dangerous, the better. It won’t be unusual for him to turn up his beak at smaller fowl and wherries in order to hunt down a feline or canine instead, though on the upside, he’s intelligent enough to know when to pick his battles and does so wisely—the chances of his turning into the prey when he’s out hunting are negligible.
[CHECK!] By checking this box, I am saying that I have read the Rules and History, and will follow them.
Name: Rigelyeh
Age: 18
Gender: Male
Sexual Orientation: Heterosexual North by Southwest
Rank: *ZOMMMM* He's a Weyrling now, baby! Let the good times roll!
Physical Appearance: He made his first when he was born...naturally...since that was the first time anyone had seen him. After several turns of maturation, he's (naturally) grown up a bit. The dirty blond hair he had as a child has slowly shifted to an ashen brown. His eyes are Hazelnut Brown. His natural skin-tone is pale, almost white, though in the time since he left Crom Hold, his complexion has turned to a sandy tan. His stature leans toward the shorter edge of average height, but the time he spent as a youth in the wilds and mines of Crom, and (more recently) upon the ship as a sailor (see "History" for further details) has provided him with an ample muscularity.
He might have been quite dashing had it not been for the beatings he received as a youth, which have permanently altered his facial structure. He appears weathered and rugged beyond his turns and prefers to grow out his facial hair (thin as it may be) to soften the harshness of his old wounds. While not downright ugly, he is certainly not as handsome as he might have been.
Personality: Aloof, distrustful, and self-reliant, Rigelyeh is one who prefers to keep to himself. Having been raised in the North, he is accustomed to treachery and brutality at every turn and expects nothing more nor less, regardless of his environment. Such is the reason he can be completely baffled by a simple act of kindness; the very concept of charity without ulterior motive is alien to him.
While he is not a particularly social individual, his time aboard ship taught him to appreciate the value of teamwork. He fully understands that, while being self sufficient is a wonderful thing, there are some things that simply cannot be done without the aid of others. He will be more than willing to render aid where it is needed, should the outcome ultimately be beneficial to him. (As time passes and his relationships among his fellows grow, I expect him to be willing to make sacrifices for those he cares about. For now, however, he will see such acts to be impractical at best.)
Not having the luxury of a properly finished education, Rigelyeh has a low opinion of Craft Halls in general. He does not see the purpose in knowledge of culture, history, philosophy, or anything outside of practical, real-world application (including the observation of cultural niceties: like proper manners). He comprehends the usefulness of politics, but has no aspiration to become entangled in so intricate a web and is mildly annoyed when politics (laws, mandates, restrictions, et cetera.) interfere with his life or activities.
Despite the lack of training in a refined, traditional Craft, Rigelyeh demonstrates remarkable cleverness, insightful resourcefulness, and keen perception. While he scorns skills which he deems to be frivolous, he can quickly absorb hands-on training in anything he deems useful (and is therefor interested in acquiring). It is his underlying philosophy that if he can do a task himself, he has no need to rely on someone else to do it for him.
Having lived his entire life (save for his time aboard ship) in the North, he has a rather low opinion of women. It is not that he dislikes or looks down upon them, per-say, but rather that he doesn't know any better. (I expect that, in time, this aspect of his personality will also change, should any women impress him in some way. He does, after-all, respect ability and talent. Unfortunately, the only talents he's witnessed women be capable of are Drudgery, having children, and getting slapped around...none of which he deems all that impressive.)
Of special note, Rigelyeh suffers from mild Claustrophobia, which he acquired while working in the mines of Crom. While not particularly debilitating, he becomes noticeably uncomfortable or agitated while underground, especially so if he feels in anyway trapped.
History: Once upon a time, there was a little boy named Rigelyeh. He was a baby when he was born. Then he grew up. And now he's not so much a baby anymore. The End.
...oh, wait...You need more than that? *sigh*...Fine.
Rigelyeh was born in the outskirts of Crom Hold (Fort Territory) in 2998, on a night with bitter winds and heavy snowfall; almost two years after the hostilities between Fort and Benden territories had erupted in outright war.
Fortunately, the strategic position of Crom (in that it is of little tactical value) and that it is inaccessible by land, ship, or air for large portions of a turn (due to its climate's tendency towards the "cold" and "harsh" spectrum) effectively removed the Hold from the brutalities of the War. News would generally filter in and there were occasional requests and mandates related to the war effort, but the Hold itself was largely unaffected by the conflict.
Rigelyeh was born into the family of Rigelrot (his father) by Gamelyeh (his mother, 4th wife of Rigelrot), the ninth son (13th child) in the family line, to be followed by (at the count when he left home) 15 additional children. [For reference: 3 children died in child-birth, 7 (5 daughters, 2 sons) have been beaten to death, and 9 (sons) died in hunting / mining accidents; leaving at present 8 living siblings: 6 sisters and 2 brothers]
His rampant curiosity was quickly and mercilessly curbed by his father's iron fist; as it was through countless beatings that respect and obedience was maintained in his household. It was in learning what was allowed and what was not allowed that Rigelyeh earned the disfigurements visible on his face (including, but not limited to: evidence of a broken nose, shattered right cheekbone, broken jaw, and a portion of bone missing from his skull's left eye socket [above and to the left of his eye]).
Times were tough for but one middle child among many. His shorter than average stature is possibly the direct result of malnutrition from his meager share of provision as a child. The division of such foodstuffs was made all the more scarce from the constant infighting between the children, each competing for a larger share.
The largest portion of his "childhood" was spent trying to keep out of the way of his elders and betters and fighting with his siblings. This adversarial beginning to his life was a painful, but necessary lesson in the harshness of his environment. He learned to watch and wait; that to observe the folly of his fellows saved him the pain of enduring it himself. He learned not to question authority directly, but rather to circumvent it if (and only if) the opportunity presented itself. As a result of these various trials, he was rewarded with survival to early adolescence, where as some of his less fortunate siblings were not blessed with such longevity.
His only real experience in seeing dragons occurred when he was 8 turns old and the dreaded 10th fall of thread caused chaos and panic in the world. He managed at one point to venture outside during the event, where he marveled at the little specks and flashes of flame so far above him. He pondered why it was so horrible when it looked so very pretty...but then, such is the mind of an 8 turn old. Fortuitously, his mother (the only one to actually pay vague attention to him) caught him and dragged him back inside before the aperture through which he had escaped was sealed. He then learned that thread was so dangerous because it caused father's fist to punch you in the face when you went outside to see it. Sufficed to say, he did not feel the overwhelming urge to venture out during thread-fall again.
When he turned 12 and began his shaky trek towards maturity, his father apprenticed him in the Minecraft Hall of Crom, as was done for each of his (surviving) brothers; a rite of passage observed by some in Crom and a simple necessity to keep its workforce strong and vital. Long hours of tedious labor in the deep, dark caverns of Pern's northernmost mountains did not sit well with the boy. Air too stuffy to breathe, the constant threat of being buried alive under thousands of tons of rock, and perpetually tight quarters in near pitch blackness had rotted the very souls of men down there, and Rigelyeh was no exception. It is no small wonder why, even to this day, he shudders noticeably when entering a passage of stone.
As a youthful adult, the only thing Rigelyeh actually enjoyed was hunting in the wilds. When he was not slaving away in the mines, sleeping, or eating, he was out in the wilderness. It was here that his innate, suppressed aptitudes and skills were made manifest. When he became of age, he learned all manner of trap and snare craft from his father (who was a trapper by trade), as well as the use of knife and spear to bring down prey (arrows being scarce from the family's lack of access to feathers due to the inhospitable location for suitable fowls). It was the latter of these weapons that he favored, for they were simple to craft (more of a javelin than a spear, his version of the weapon was much akin to a staff sharpened at both ends by knife-blade and then fired to preserve the points and strengthen the wood) and had much better range and defensive ability, should he need to engage an enraged beast in close-quarters.
His time spent as a hunter also sharpened his wits and keened his senses, while providing a much needed escape from the drudgery of the mines.
When he was 15, he suffered the shock of enduring a rather large cave-in in one of the tunnels. The accident claimed the lives of 24 miners, 3 of which were his brothers and one of which was his best friend. He was entombed on the far side of the mine, in total darkness without food or water for two days before managing to find an alternative route (a byway across an abandoned section of old mine, which linked up to a nexus several levels above, closed off with a wooden barrier). The trauma of the experience made his continued apprenticeship impossible as he was mentally incapable of returning to the mines due to acute claustrophobia (which has calmed somewhat).
The guild masters were not particularly sympathetic and he was tagged a coward and thrown from the Craft hall in disgrace. Likewise was he shunned by his own family, if only to preserve their good name, and Rigelyeh was effectively disowned and discarded.
He managed to survive on his own for a time, hunting for his own food and scavenging (stealing) what he could from the Hold when possible. When the ship for goods arrived in port, he leaped at the opportunity to sign on as a sailor; a terrible storm at sea had washed three inexperienced men off the deck and they were a bit short-handed. Even though he was a bit young, his time in the mines had made Rigelyeh a strong, obedient lad; an invaluable commodity.
So began his three turn jaunt as a sailor aboard the trading vessel "Yehani Thalay". It was here that he truly learned to work as a team with others as most tasks involved in running the ship required several men to complete (ie. raising sails, tying off lines, etc.) He also learned knot tying, cooking and food preservation, the complexities of navigation by star and chart, as well as how to drink, brawl, and knife-fight like a sailor (including close-quarters as well as throwing).
After pulling into port in Southern Hold with a cargo of undisclosed goods from the north, the ship was damaged beyond repair: while the crew were off in the (pub...tavern...bar...local place of fermented-vegetable/fruit juice consumption), celebrating their port-leave, there was a fire aboard the vessel and both cargo and ship were lost beyond salvage. The cause of the disastrous immolation remains unknown, though speculation would assume it was not exactly an accident. Without a ship to sail or cargo to peddle, the crew disbanded and went their separate ways only a few days after.
*A few days after*
Now, stranded in a foreign land with naught but the clothes on his back, a small pouch of currency in his pocket, a knife in his belt, and his wits in his head, Rigelyeh must find out where the next chapter of his life will lead him.
*Shortly thereafter...*
While sitting in Mother Hydera's Tavern, debating his various (non-existent) employment options, Rigelyeh was approached by Nephele of Green Nuoth, Searchrider of the new and secret Berimyu Weyr. After some brief negotiations, Rigelyeh (apparently) decided to join the Weyr and stand for Candidacy at the hatching of Gold Jingth's final clutch.
After two seven-days of crash-course training (off-screen...without even so much as a training montage...), Rigelyeh attended the hatching ceremony (apathetically) and bonded with his very own Green, Keqesith, formally known as the "Forests of the Night Green". It was also here that he randomly wondered if, out in the desert, there were Sand Dwellers that might feed on the flesh of human interlopers...may he never find out...
*He looks eagerly to the next page only to find, in abject horror, that the page is completely EMPTY! "Curses," he curses under his breath, mentally blaming Crispy Peanut for having such a horrible life thus far, "I'd better win a pony or something after all I've been through...*grumble mumble grumble*" And maybe he will...maybe he will... ... ...but probably not)*
Candidates Only
Name Contraction (Males Only): R'lyeh
Queen Only? (Females Only): No. They're a great band...but he simply couldn't do with ONLY listening to them all the time. Too much of a good thing and all that jive, you see.
Desired Dragon Color: The kind that flies and breathes fire. Um...I guess that's any of them, isn't it? Well, fiddlesticks! Any it is, then!
Dragon, Wher, or both?: Dagon...oh, wait. Dragon...though he would probably take Dagon, too...
Dragons/Whers/Fire Lizards/Salamandyrs: Ummm...yes?
Name: Keqesith (Forests of the Night Green)
Color: Green
Age: 5-10 minutes or so...as of right now...
Physical Appearance: Large for a green, is Keqesith, and with a very defined form, too. Her chest is deep, her forelegs well-muscled despite the rare use that a dragon will have for them, and her hind legs strong as well. However, she’s long enough that she won’t look bulky – she just looks strong. As it is, Keqesith has a particular posture that will look quite out of place on a dragon, more often seen on a canine of some species, or some types of runners: She pushes her hind legs out behind her when standing still, tail, thick and long, held parallel to the ground, a blocky head held high at all times.
With brilliant, sweeping wings, Keqesith will be beautiful in the air. Fast and with an impressive stamina, the green’s Flights will certainly be incredibly involved for the Chasers – no half-competent dragon will be able to keep up with her. And Keqesith is always perfectly willing to flaunt just how naturally she can take to the air. On the ground, the green has some semblance to order, but really, her place is definitely in the sky – she’ll have the same awkward hopping gait, even if Keqesith is too impatient to allow it to hinder her and instead tends to bounce along as fast as possible, making it look, if possible, even stranger.
In color, Keqesith is definitely two-toned. It’ll be hard to decide which color holds dominance, really. A dark shade of green, deep to the point of gleaming black, covers the top half of her head, neck, and covers most of her body, trailing down the outsides of her legs and the upper half of her tail. A slightly milder, more forest-colored, shade of green trails from her bottom jaw, covering the bottom half of her neck, her underbelly, the insides of her legs, and the bottom half of her tail. Her wing membranes are a stunning mixture of both, even though the darker color outlines the joints.
At this point, Keqesith’s ability to see in the dark shouldn’t come as any surprise. Her first eyelid, typically transparent in dragons, is, as usual, transparent – but it’s also reflective. Not mirror-reflective, but still reflective enough to catch whatever small light there may be, and give Keqesith the ability to see at night, see and even fly without undue risks, if she should so wish to.
Personality: Keqesith is a very hard dragon to like, upon initial meeting. Strict, demanding, a perfectionist – the green will not be at all deterred by the rank denoted by her color. She’s a bossy creature, tending to insist upon control and organization to a level as to be considered a complete brat. Arrogant, Keqesith isn’t above rattling off a list of her attributes (intelligence, beauty, leadership skills, strength, agility, and intuition tend to make the top six quite a lot) if it means that she’ll be in control. Overbearing, Keqesith likes to have a backing of at least two with her at all times – her strength lies in numbers, more often than not.
It’s not to say that she’s not quite a force to be reckoned with on her own, of course. Keqesith is certainly snappy enough to demand attention – even if she has a particularly roundabout way with her words, more formal and more carefully controlled than most dragons – and she is perfectly capable of pulling of threats and insults with just the right level of venom. Even her lackeys will be treated like that – slaves, servants, below her. They serve her because they know she can lead, do they not?
However, pit the world against her and Keqesith is but one creature, and she knows it. She has a very strong pack mentality, even if her ideal spot would be the alpha of that pack. Those that dominate her, truly and undeniably, will be treated with a level of respect that one would not usually attribute to a creature as devious and sharp as Keqesith is. Hers will always fall into this category – but precious few others. Indeed, few things short of public humiliation to an unbearable degree will earn that from Keqesith. After all – if they don’t deserve it, why on Pern would she give it?
Unstoppable Force Male
Name-Biyakhi
Species- Razorclaw
Gender- Male
Bonded to- R'lyeh
Physical Appearance- This male is medium in size at best, but his wingspan is large enough to measure up to those of most males and even of some females. Despite his size, though, he is definitely an impressive specimen; certainly there are few who will look quite as wild as he. His beak curves to a violent point, his talons large and curving into razor-sharp claws; on his head his feathers crest in a vibrant display that looks rather similar to a Terran Mohawk, the feathers along his neck surprisingly stiff and resistant to being stroked flat into any semblance of order whatsoever. (Indeed, pressing too forcefully will cause no small amount of discomfort, and any who attempt it can expect to be missing a few drops of blood in short order.) The feathers along his back are also slightly lifted down his spine, ending in sleek, long tail feathers—it certainly makes him noticeable, not to mention unique.
In color, the male is nothing short of attractive—a rich, glossy dark brown runs over his body, and one should expect no little amount of preening from him, in order to keep his feathers just so shiny. A pure, sharp white forms a ‘T’ shape over his eyes and down his chest and underbelly, while light cream flecks appear upon his breast. His eyes are each accented with black spots just above each, giving him a distinctly four-eyed appearance, and the feathers of his tail, wings, and down his spine where the feathers stand at attention are ticked with black. The male’s beak and talons are saffron yellow, the end of his beak as dark as ink, while his legs and talons are mottled intermittently with black as well.
Personality- The wild blood in this male runs closer to the surface than it does in his sister—his Bond with his human will always be light, to the point of being almost intangible. Fittingly, the male is extremely independent of human companionship. It’s rare that he will feel comfortable perching upon any human, even His, and even when he’s in the company of His, he will always prefer to perch in a more neutral location. However, while he will never fawn over His, he will grudgingly tolerate affections to be lavished upon him by the humans that he is closest to. He is, though, a very vain creature, and prone to impatience if attentions become too stifling—it won’t be unusual to accidentally overstep the line with this male and have him vanish for half a day or so before he returns.
He’s a very acrobatic creature, and something of a show-off, with a fondness for performing intricate loops and tricks in the air without looking like he’s trying—let everyone watch and be jealous, but let none of them come close to touching him. The male is a fearless creature—he’ll never perch on a dragon but it’s not out of fear so much as simple distaste; likewise with whers. When it comes to His having other pets, though—well. It’s not that he’ll actively protest, for that would be an overt show of affection, possessiveness (though he is undeniably protective of His in that any harm will result in an outright rage), but he certainly won’t approve. Firelizards and Salamandyrs will always be appraised as food, not friends, and no amount of training will break him of making a snatch at a passing flit or ‘mandyr if they come too close.
Fortunately, his preference in food veers away from firelizards and Salamandyrs; he despises depending on His for food and will only intermittently accept morsels when they are offered. Instead, he prefers to hunt his own game—and the bigger and more dangerous, the better. It won’t be unusual for him to turn up his beak at smaller fowl and wherries in order to hunt down a feline or canine instead, though on the upside, he’s intelligent enough to know when to pick his battles and does so wisely—the chances of his turning into the prey when he’s out hunting are negligible.
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