Post by descent on Oct 29, 2007 22:04:27 GMT -5
Killed by mystery assassin after being proven to have drugged Fath's last clutch and having attempted to murder Shmee.[/color]
Name: Trenlor
Age: 56
Gender: Male
Sexual Orientation: Hetero
Rank: Healer, ex-dragonrider
Physical Appearance: Standing at 5’8” Trenlor is a solidly built man who is in excellent shape for his age. However do to his facial features and personality he often seems much less than he really is. Unlike many at Selenitas he usually stays out of the sun and thus lacks much of a tan. His skin, especially around his face, is covered in scars (both of burns and of cuts) and wrinkles. This pattern of scaring continues down his neck and unto his chest and upper arms. Small in size though they may be Trenlor’s eyes are a bright sky blue. Though he has completely lost the use of his left eye. The mans hair is a grizzly gray, and is very unkempt. He is missing the tip of his pinky, ring finger, and index finger on the left hand, and walks with a noticeable limp.
His taste in clothing is very bland and he sticks to dull mud browns or uninteresting greens. His tunics and trousers are generic as are his sturdy boots. He doesn’t attempt to draw attention and is uninterested in attempting to make himself look better. At his age, with his injuries, he is rather aware of himself and will leave his hair messy if he wants thank you! On the rare occasion there is some event he DOES bother dressing up Trenlor still prefers the somber shades of black, gray, and dark brown.
Personality: Trenlor has had a hard life filled with bitter disappointment. He sees sugar coating matters as lying and dislikes when people attempt to pretty up the truth. He is gruff, but it is because he believes it’s in others best interest to be prepared and ready to face the truth however dim. His honesty is brutal and unflinching. He is unapologetic and stubbornly set in his ways. Yet this does not mean he cannot be kind…it is simply the rough round about sort of kindness. He grew up with nothing better and has been taught anything less is detrimental to a riders growth. After all, in these times a person has to be tough! They have to be strong!
His way is blunt and somber, the occasional humor that escapes him of the sarcastic and black variety. He dislikes childish antics and loud noises. The immature and slow of wit are particularly vexing to him. It takes a bit to make Trenlor lose his composure but when mad he is furious and rages with a temper that could impress a Queen. Despite his dragonless state he speaks with authority and rarely offers much in the way of politeness. As he sees it he is an old man, one who probably knows more than you and has live long enough to not bother calling you some title you probably didn’t earn.
However Trenlor is by no means a rock. No one ever gets over the loss of his or her dragon and the agony of his beloved dragons death is always boiling below the surface. Hard though he may be on the surface Trenlor cries when reminded of his deceased Tenmath. Having been raised Benden and lost his dragon due to fighting he despises Fort. Though he doesn’t seem very pleased or impressed with how Benden is being managed either. A very passionate man Trenlor is highly dedicated to his work and spends many hours toiling in the Infirmary to care for the injured.
History: Born on a chilly winter day Trenlor was the child of a green rider and an unknown father that never stepped forward to claim the child. Like all Weyr children he was fostered, Trenlor went to a woman in the lower caverns at Benden. He only recalled his birth mother distantly and with little enthusiasm, after all she was only a green rider. The woman caring for him also had several other young charges. Strict but caring she was loyal to Benden and fostered the Weyrs values of strength, violence, and passion. When he reached 10 turns Trenlor joined the Young Army of Benden, a notorious youth organization of the Weyr. Joining him cost him the tips of three fingers, his foster mother wept with joy and a few of the younger foster children glowed with envy. The Young Army of Benden hardened Trenlor even more, he was no longer a child but a young man.
At age 12 Trelor had long since left children’s games and laughter. He stood on the sands, eagerly awaiting the chance to Impress and join Benders army. Since birth he’d been raised to hate Fort, to desire to fight, and to see no greater goal. It was that day; his first time on the sands that he Impressed bronze Tenmath and became T’lor. The young mans life would never be the same. His weyrlinghood passed without much incident. T’lor’s foster mother and his time in the Youth Army had hardened and prepared him for the task ahead.
In the years that followed, Trenlor became one of the most famous soldiers in the army, praised for his power, charisma, and authority. He followed directions, fearlessly engaged the enemy, and rallied his subordinates and peers almost effortlessly. Quickly he became a wingsecond and a short time later a wingleader. Riders fought for who would get to ride in his wing. He was a war hero and a model of everything a Benden ride should be. It was thought that he would one day become Weyrleader and take Benden to victory.
But it was not to be.
One day while engaging Fort fighters he and Tenmath went between during the fight and came out high above and safe…or so they thought. A moment later the pair were blasted by dragon fire from a Fort rider. Scorched the pair were in agony, the riding straps were burnt as was so much flesh and dragon hide. Though another rider managed to catch him when he slipped from his dragon T’lor was horribly burnt, one eye forever useless. Tenmath did not survive. That day T’lor lost his dragon, his pride, his dream, and a part of himself. Falling so far, losing so much, suffering so many injuries physical and mentally he very nearly went mad. Certainly it took many years before he was again approachable…though Trenlor was a shadow of his former self. No longer the charismatic, bold young rider he was…a dragonless man. A broken man.
In the end it was a combination of pride, hate, and stubbornness that kept the man alive. He hated Fort more than ever and Trenlor clung to the hope he could somehow play a hand in destroying the enemy who had ruined him. His pride, his love for Tenmath cried out for vengeance. So Trenlor immersed himself in the art of healing. Certainly an odd choice for the gruff broken man…but the long months spent in the Infirmary had sparked something in the man that had been buried since before he’d Impressed. Besides the Infirmary had, in a strange way, become a comfort for Trenlor. He was naturally deft at the art and it helped exercise the former riders mind and challenge him.
Yet, being surrounded by those riders… Every inch of Bender held a memory of Tenmath and every young dragonrider with promise reminded him ever so painfully of his lost destiny. As the turns passed it grew to be too much and Trenlor made a choice. His skills, as well as his past, made him respected….but what did he have left at Benden? Memories. Painful unending memories of a life and a dragon he had lost. Life at Benden was too bloody. Too painful. So Trenlor retired to Selenitas Weyr. It was not Benden. Certainly he scoffed at the pathetic little hole in the wall Weyr…yet what better place for an old pathetic man?
Name: Trenlor
Age: 56
Gender: Male
Sexual Orientation: Hetero
Rank: Healer, ex-dragonrider
Physical Appearance: Standing at 5’8” Trenlor is a solidly built man who is in excellent shape for his age. However do to his facial features and personality he often seems much less than he really is. Unlike many at Selenitas he usually stays out of the sun and thus lacks much of a tan. His skin, especially around his face, is covered in scars (both of burns and of cuts) and wrinkles. This pattern of scaring continues down his neck and unto his chest and upper arms. Small in size though they may be Trenlor’s eyes are a bright sky blue. Though he has completely lost the use of his left eye. The mans hair is a grizzly gray, and is very unkempt. He is missing the tip of his pinky, ring finger, and index finger on the left hand, and walks with a noticeable limp.
His taste in clothing is very bland and he sticks to dull mud browns or uninteresting greens. His tunics and trousers are generic as are his sturdy boots. He doesn’t attempt to draw attention and is uninterested in attempting to make himself look better. At his age, with his injuries, he is rather aware of himself and will leave his hair messy if he wants thank you! On the rare occasion there is some event he DOES bother dressing up Trenlor still prefers the somber shades of black, gray, and dark brown.
Personality: Trenlor has had a hard life filled with bitter disappointment. He sees sugar coating matters as lying and dislikes when people attempt to pretty up the truth. He is gruff, but it is because he believes it’s in others best interest to be prepared and ready to face the truth however dim. His honesty is brutal and unflinching. He is unapologetic and stubbornly set in his ways. Yet this does not mean he cannot be kind…it is simply the rough round about sort of kindness. He grew up with nothing better and has been taught anything less is detrimental to a riders growth. After all, in these times a person has to be tough! They have to be strong!
His way is blunt and somber, the occasional humor that escapes him of the sarcastic and black variety. He dislikes childish antics and loud noises. The immature and slow of wit are particularly vexing to him. It takes a bit to make Trenlor lose his composure but when mad he is furious and rages with a temper that could impress a Queen. Despite his dragonless state he speaks with authority and rarely offers much in the way of politeness. As he sees it he is an old man, one who probably knows more than you and has live long enough to not bother calling you some title you probably didn’t earn.
However Trenlor is by no means a rock. No one ever gets over the loss of his or her dragon and the agony of his beloved dragons death is always boiling below the surface. Hard though he may be on the surface Trenlor cries when reminded of his deceased Tenmath. Having been raised Benden and lost his dragon due to fighting he despises Fort. Though he doesn’t seem very pleased or impressed with how Benden is being managed either. A very passionate man Trenlor is highly dedicated to his work and spends many hours toiling in the Infirmary to care for the injured.
History: Born on a chilly winter day Trenlor was the child of a green rider and an unknown father that never stepped forward to claim the child. Like all Weyr children he was fostered, Trenlor went to a woman in the lower caverns at Benden. He only recalled his birth mother distantly and with little enthusiasm, after all she was only a green rider. The woman caring for him also had several other young charges. Strict but caring she was loyal to Benden and fostered the Weyrs values of strength, violence, and passion. When he reached 10 turns Trenlor joined the Young Army of Benden, a notorious youth organization of the Weyr. Joining him cost him the tips of three fingers, his foster mother wept with joy and a few of the younger foster children glowed with envy. The Young Army of Benden hardened Trenlor even more, he was no longer a child but a young man.
At age 12 Trelor had long since left children’s games and laughter. He stood on the sands, eagerly awaiting the chance to Impress and join Benders army. Since birth he’d been raised to hate Fort, to desire to fight, and to see no greater goal. It was that day; his first time on the sands that he Impressed bronze Tenmath and became T’lor. The young mans life would never be the same. His weyrlinghood passed without much incident. T’lor’s foster mother and his time in the Youth Army had hardened and prepared him for the task ahead.
In the years that followed, Trenlor became one of the most famous soldiers in the army, praised for his power, charisma, and authority. He followed directions, fearlessly engaged the enemy, and rallied his subordinates and peers almost effortlessly. Quickly he became a wingsecond and a short time later a wingleader. Riders fought for who would get to ride in his wing. He was a war hero and a model of everything a Benden ride should be. It was thought that he would one day become Weyrleader and take Benden to victory.
But it was not to be.
One day while engaging Fort fighters he and Tenmath went between during the fight and came out high above and safe…or so they thought. A moment later the pair were blasted by dragon fire from a Fort rider. Scorched the pair were in agony, the riding straps were burnt as was so much flesh and dragon hide. Though another rider managed to catch him when he slipped from his dragon T’lor was horribly burnt, one eye forever useless. Tenmath did not survive. That day T’lor lost his dragon, his pride, his dream, and a part of himself. Falling so far, losing so much, suffering so many injuries physical and mentally he very nearly went mad. Certainly it took many years before he was again approachable…though Trenlor was a shadow of his former self. No longer the charismatic, bold young rider he was…a dragonless man. A broken man.
In the end it was a combination of pride, hate, and stubbornness that kept the man alive. He hated Fort more than ever and Trenlor clung to the hope he could somehow play a hand in destroying the enemy who had ruined him. His pride, his love for Tenmath cried out for vengeance. So Trenlor immersed himself in the art of healing. Certainly an odd choice for the gruff broken man…but the long months spent in the Infirmary had sparked something in the man that had been buried since before he’d Impressed. Besides the Infirmary had, in a strange way, become a comfort for Trenlor. He was naturally deft at the art and it helped exercise the former riders mind and challenge him.
Yet, being surrounded by those riders… Every inch of Bender held a memory of Tenmath and every young dragonrider with promise reminded him ever so painfully of his lost destiny. As the turns passed it grew to be too much and Trenlor made a choice. His skills, as well as his past, made him respected….but what did he have left at Benden? Memories. Painful unending memories of a life and a dragon he had lost. Life at Benden was too bloody. Too painful. So Trenlor retired to Selenitas Weyr. It was not Benden. Certainly he scoffed at the pathetic little hole in the wall Weyr…yet what better place for an old pathetic man?
