Post by Requiem on Nov 30, 2007 12:41:12 GMT -5
Killed by Kaegan of gold Millieth in the Siege of Selenitas
Benden Weyrleader
C’leon (Camaleon)
38 turns
Bronzerider, Weyrleader
Appearance: 5’11” and standing at a solid 250lbs, the man is not a lightweight. There is nothing really attractive about this man in the traditional sense. He has a long, hawkish nose set between deep, beetled brows. Thin lips. A square jaw. His hair, a common mud brown, is prematurely grayed, the lighter color gathering at his temples and streaking the rest randomly. He wears his hair short, no longer than a half-inch at any given point. Only the eyes are interesting, as they’re a hazel hue and often come off as subtly golden. This only increases the impression of his being a bird of prey, however.
Despite his greater than average height, C’leon appears short from a distance. Broad shoulders and a barrel chest help to create this illusion. Perhaps the best way to describe his form is that C’leon most certainly is a muscle-bound brute. He ripples with muscle. Of the 250lbs, not a bit of it is fat. This sort of man is uncommon enough as it is, but even more so among dragonriders, such that, within the weyr, the sheer weight of his presence is magnified.
No, C’leon is not attractive in the traditional sense, but the whole of his physical features combine to create a certain animal magnetism, a sense of sheer power that tends to compel submission from men and women alike. Worse, C’leon is very much aware of this fact.
Personality: His personality is much as his appearance implies. There is nothing subtle about C’leon. He believes that the Weyr should be run with an iron fist, and that if anyone opposes that leadership, they should be taken care of. His word is law. C’leon has an arrogance that is at once attractive and repellant. The man genuinely believes that dragonriders are the best of mankind on Pern, that women are there for the use of men, that bronzeriders are the best of the dragonriders and that the Weyrleader is – by extension – the natural ruler of the Weyr and Pern itself. It might be easier to handle C’leon if he wasn’t convinced of these things.
The man is not intelligent either, or at least, not in the brilliant sense that some are known for. He does, however, have a certain instinctual knowledge of how to deal with things, a natural intuition, if you will, that makes up for any lack he might have in general reasoning power. C’leon genuinely can’t relate to what he considers to be weak-minded people. His sense of humor is cruel at best, and generally nonexistent. Emotions have no place in a man, unless it is anger, which he admires and respects. Mercy, too, is a foreign thing to him, just as remorse is. C’leon believes he is right. Always. There is nothing to be remorseful about. And any who oppose him deserve death or to be ground into submission, such that mercy simply isn’t a consideration. There’s no point in allowing an enemy the chance to attack again, is there?
If you’re looking for a soft side to this bronzerider, you won’t find one. It’s not that he can’t get attached to anything. It’s simply that he has no desire to. Since he was young, his only true love has been himself and – later – Morsrath, as the bronze represents his power and superiority over everyone else. His validation. Most importantly of all, C’leon is power hungry, the desire to be the most powerful and most highly respected driving him in everything he does. This naturally makes him extremely competitive. And he absolutely hates to lose.
History: Camaleon was born of some unknown dragonrider and a drudge in Benden Weyr, not long before Thread resumed falling. Even when he was just a boy, he exhibited selfish and cruel tendencies, dominating the other weyrbrats for the thrill of power it gave him. The dragonriders were the strongest, the smartest, and the most acclaimed of the Weyr; he was determined to become one. Nevertheless, though he stood at every hatching from the age of twelve onward, again and again Camaleon was left with nothing. Three turns of disappointments might have made someone else give up, but not him. He was absolutely certain that his dragon just hadn’t come along yet. None of the bronzes in these clutches were good enough for him! (It would have never occurred to him that he might Impress anything other than a bronze.) To the candidate, the next hatching proved him right, as Morsrath was the first to hatch and came to him with no hesitation.
From the beginning, the two were two sides of the same dark coin. They wasted no time in showing everyone at Benden just who were the kings of this newest weyrling class. In those days, C’leon and Morsrath ruled by physical presence and strength of will rather than force. In those days, Benden was not at war, though the tacit battle over territory in the north had left relations between Benden and Fort strained. The bronzepair was not kind, certainly, but they were no monsters, and, as one turn passed into the next, the Wingleaders recognized C’leon and Morsrath’s potential. They were strong…and others followed them. The swell of pride that claimed the bronzepair at finding themselves promoted to wingseconds after just two turns as wingriders could well be imagined. Their peers looked up to them, and they were drunk with the sense of power. C’leon eagerly thought of what the future held. Before long – he would be Weyrleader.
Half a turn passed, and, for the first time at the age of nineteen, C’leon found that he was not alone in his swift climb to power. A young bronzepair had transferred from Selenitas, and was placed as the second of the wingseconds in his wing. While Salenth was the same age as Morsrath – and quite a bit smaller, as all bronzes were – S’las was only sixteen turns of age. This angered C’leon. In his eyes, he had lost out to the younger boy, who didn’t even seem to take this newfound status of his seriously. Salenth and S’las were laidback at best.
It was during this time that the rift between Benden and Fort widened . Fort was experiencing an epidemic, killing off most of the younger dragons and leaving the weyr with a lot of dragonless to contend with. Benden, however, would do nothing to aid them. It was the perfect opportunity to convince more of the holds that Benden was the weyr best able to protect them from Threadfall. Besides, Benden had problems of their own, as the senior Queen had failed to produce an heir in over thirty-two turns, and the lordholders beholden to Benden Weyr were fighting tithes so hard that conditions at the weyr were becoming entirely substandard. In an act of desperation, the Fort Weyrleader arranged to steal some of the eggs from Gilanath’s newest clutch, hoping that some new blood might withstand the dragon disease better. When Benden found out who had taken the eggs, war broke out between the weyrs, the wing containing the two youngest bronze wingseconds soon revealed as the strongest of the Benden wings. C’leon strove to outshine his uncaring rival in every way.
The one-sided rivalry did not last long, however. Just months later, at a Benden Gather, news returned to the weyr that the young bronzerider had been stabbed to death by his own brother. C’leon and Morsrath continued to distinguish themselves in the war, however a subtle shift was overtaking them, a shift that went unnoticed in the weyr leadership as the bronzepair was promoted to Wingleader. Always cruel and demanding, the bronzepair was becoming more and more violent, and a taste of further power only made the problem worse. It happened that Benden’s Weyrleader died in battle not a tenday before the young senior Queen, Baith, rose – and only a few short months after the aged Gilanath breathed her last.
Morsrath caught Baith. Once. Twice. Three times, and, after nearly three turns as Weyrleader, the shift in Benden was complete; riders who embraced C’leon’s philosophy about weyr life flourished, as the rest were ground underfoot. There was no longer any authority in the position of Weyrwoman. C’leon ran the weyr. Arga had been broken, and did as he told her, the weakness of her rider forcing Baith into a submissive role as well.
It was then that one of Fort’s bronzerider’s defected, C’leon accepting the man wholeheartedly – until he realized this was S’las, now going by S’rei. But he determined to use the man’s amnesia to his advantage. S’rei and Salenth, though they refused to join the fighting, became advisors to the Benden leading bronzepair, their suggestions giving C’leon the edge he needed to counter the wiles of D’loro and Kamerai. Benden thrived. The stalemate that had existed heretofore began to slowly shift in Benden’s favor, and, in a rare moment of gratitude, C’leon gave S’rei and Salenth a wing.
He immediately realized his mistake. The pacifist bronzepair still had no intention of fighting, and the wing itself became useless, as they would follow none but their Wingleader. Requests for transfers to S’rei’s wing grew as the months passed into turns. A shift had come over Benden. A dangerous one, at least for Morsrath and C’leon, for, despite the fact that S’rei and Salenth never showed any sign of betrayal, their tacit resistance to even some of the Weyrleader’s desires gave others courage to defy him. The Wingleader had to go.
C’leon actually came close to being almost regretful at this decision. Thus, he was overjoyed to learn that S’rei and Salenth wished to transfer to the southern continent after the death of the man’s weyrmate. Problem solved. Now, he would have eyes and ears in the south, which he might need if he wanted to crush Fort once and for all – and S’rei could no longer make trouble for him at Benden.
A junior goldrider escaped from Benden, bringing news of C’leon’s drug experiments to Selenitas. He very nearly went to retrieve her himself. However, that would have been folly, so he lured Weyrwoman Shmee to Benden, politely requesting that she submit her weyr to him – there was no Weyrleader in Selenitas, after all, and of course a man should be leading the dragonriders! – but Shmee turned him down. Angry, he determined that Shmee should die for her insolence. No woman talked to a man that way, and certainly not the Benden Weyrleader! Nothing could have enraged him more than her escape…except, perhaps, learning that she’d fallen under the protective wing of S’rei.
The perceived betrayal provoked C’leon. Besides, he certainly couldn’t leave Selenitas alone now, or they would be fighting the war on two fronts. Morsrath joined Aslath’s mating flight, losing out at the last possible moment to Salenth, cementing the hatred toward his old advisors firmly in C’leon’s heart…and his desire to see Selenitas brought to its knees. Oh, he has plans in the making. Ingenious plans. And, before he is done, many will cry out for mercy.
Which he will never give.
Dragon
Name: Morsrath
Age: 27 turns
Color: Bronze
Appearance: He is simply huge. A dark, almost copper color, the male is easily as long as the largest of his brethren, and far broader and more muscular. He truly is a magnificent specimen. Awe-inspiring. A latticework of scars from the war is displayed proudly on his burnished hide. He is a survivor - something that anyone can see by the merest glance.
Personality: If anything, Morsrath is actually more bloodthirsty and crueler than his human counterpart, though his arrogance and thirst for power is on the same level as C'leon's. Having been subjected to the horrors of war so early in life, Morsrath truly has no remorse for his actions, and sees fighting and death as the means to solving any problem. Blood is spilled. The strongest survives and leads. This is simply the way things are. Such sentiments are echoed within most of the younger dragons at the weyr, which means most of the weyr, given that not many older dragons remain due to the vicious wars between Benden and Fort.
Morsrath firmly believes he is the best bronze on the face of Pern. The strongest. The fiercest. The natural leader of all dragons. His rider's views and Baith's submission have led Morsrath to even use violence against golds, the juniors amongst Benden following Baith's lead. There is no evidence that might shake his views, not within the northern continent. His contempt knows no bounds. And now that he leads Benden, he fully intends to lead all dragons - no matter how many he has to kill to gain that ultimate of positions.
Only one thing has every shaken his confidence. Before Aslath, he Flew every gold he ever chased. Of course it was just a fluke. A chance collision in the air. But Morsrath cannot have anyone believing that another bronze is capable of defeating him; his goal to be acknowledged as King of Pern now is joined by two smaller ones. He will dominate Aslath, as he did Baith. No gold can escape him! And Salenth will die at his claws.
Benden Weyrleader
C’leon (Camaleon)
38 turns
Bronzerider, Weyrleader
Appearance: 5’11” and standing at a solid 250lbs, the man is not a lightweight. There is nothing really attractive about this man in the traditional sense. He has a long, hawkish nose set between deep, beetled brows. Thin lips. A square jaw. His hair, a common mud brown, is prematurely grayed, the lighter color gathering at his temples and streaking the rest randomly. He wears his hair short, no longer than a half-inch at any given point. Only the eyes are interesting, as they’re a hazel hue and often come off as subtly golden. This only increases the impression of his being a bird of prey, however.
Despite his greater than average height, C’leon appears short from a distance. Broad shoulders and a barrel chest help to create this illusion. Perhaps the best way to describe his form is that C’leon most certainly is a muscle-bound brute. He ripples with muscle. Of the 250lbs, not a bit of it is fat. This sort of man is uncommon enough as it is, but even more so among dragonriders, such that, within the weyr, the sheer weight of his presence is magnified.
No, C’leon is not attractive in the traditional sense, but the whole of his physical features combine to create a certain animal magnetism, a sense of sheer power that tends to compel submission from men and women alike. Worse, C’leon is very much aware of this fact.
Personality: His personality is much as his appearance implies. There is nothing subtle about C’leon. He believes that the Weyr should be run with an iron fist, and that if anyone opposes that leadership, they should be taken care of. His word is law. C’leon has an arrogance that is at once attractive and repellant. The man genuinely believes that dragonriders are the best of mankind on Pern, that women are there for the use of men, that bronzeriders are the best of the dragonriders and that the Weyrleader is – by extension – the natural ruler of the Weyr and Pern itself. It might be easier to handle C’leon if he wasn’t convinced of these things.
The man is not intelligent either, or at least, not in the brilliant sense that some are known for. He does, however, have a certain instinctual knowledge of how to deal with things, a natural intuition, if you will, that makes up for any lack he might have in general reasoning power. C’leon genuinely can’t relate to what he considers to be weak-minded people. His sense of humor is cruel at best, and generally nonexistent. Emotions have no place in a man, unless it is anger, which he admires and respects. Mercy, too, is a foreign thing to him, just as remorse is. C’leon believes he is right. Always. There is nothing to be remorseful about. And any who oppose him deserve death or to be ground into submission, such that mercy simply isn’t a consideration. There’s no point in allowing an enemy the chance to attack again, is there?
If you’re looking for a soft side to this bronzerider, you won’t find one. It’s not that he can’t get attached to anything. It’s simply that he has no desire to. Since he was young, his only true love has been himself and – later – Morsrath, as the bronze represents his power and superiority over everyone else. His validation. Most importantly of all, C’leon is power hungry, the desire to be the most powerful and most highly respected driving him in everything he does. This naturally makes him extremely competitive. And he absolutely hates to lose.
History: Camaleon was born of some unknown dragonrider and a drudge in Benden Weyr, not long before Thread resumed falling. Even when he was just a boy, he exhibited selfish and cruel tendencies, dominating the other weyrbrats for the thrill of power it gave him. The dragonriders were the strongest, the smartest, and the most acclaimed of the Weyr; he was determined to become one. Nevertheless, though he stood at every hatching from the age of twelve onward, again and again Camaleon was left with nothing. Three turns of disappointments might have made someone else give up, but not him. He was absolutely certain that his dragon just hadn’t come along yet. None of the bronzes in these clutches were good enough for him! (It would have never occurred to him that he might Impress anything other than a bronze.) To the candidate, the next hatching proved him right, as Morsrath was the first to hatch and came to him with no hesitation.
From the beginning, the two were two sides of the same dark coin. They wasted no time in showing everyone at Benden just who were the kings of this newest weyrling class. In those days, C’leon and Morsrath ruled by physical presence and strength of will rather than force. In those days, Benden was not at war, though the tacit battle over territory in the north had left relations between Benden and Fort strained. The bronzepair was not kind, certainly, but they were no monsters, and, as one turn passed into the next, the Wingleaders recognized C’leon and Morsrath’s potential. They were strong…and others followed them. The swell of pride that claimed the bronzepair at finding themselves promoted to wingseconds after just two turns as wingriders could well be imagined. Their peers looked up to them, and they were drunk with the sense of power. C’leon eagerly thought of what the future held. Before long – he would be Weyrleader.
Half a turn passed, and, for the first time at the age of nineteen, C’leon found that he was not alone in his swift climb to power. A young bronzepair had transferred from Selenitas, and was placed as the second of the wingseconds in his wing. While Salenth was the same age as Morsrath – and quite a bit smaller, as all bronzes were – S’las was only sixteen turns of age. This angered C’leon. In his eyes, he had lost out to the younger boy, who didn’t even seem to take this newfound status of his seriously. Salenth and S’las were laidback at best.
It was during this time that the rift between Benden and Fort widened . Fort was experiencing an epidemic, killing off most of the younger dragons and leaving the weyr with a lot of dragonless to contend with. Benden, however, would do nothing to aid them. It was the perfect opportunity to convince more of the holds that Benden was the weyr best able to protect them from Threadfall. Besides, Benden had problems of their own, as the senior Queen had failed to produce an heir in over thirty-two turns, and the lordholders beholden to Benden Weyr were fighting tithes so hard that conditions at the weyr were becoming entirely substandard. In an act of desperation, the Fort Weyrleader arranged to steal some of the eggs from Gilanath’s newest clutch, hoping that some new blood might withstand the dragon disease better. When Benden found out who had taken the eggs, war broke out between the weyrs, the wing containing the two youngest bronze wingseconds soon revealed as the strongest of the Benden wings. C’leon strove to outshine his uncaring rival in every way.
The one-sided rivalry did not last long, however. Just months later, at a Benden Gather, news returned to the weyr that the young bronzerider had been stabbed to death by his own brother. C’leon and Morsrath continued to distinguish themselves in the war, however a subtle shift was overtaking them, a shift that went unnoticed in the weyr leadership as the bronzepair was promoted to Wingleader. Always cruel and demanding, the bronzepair was becoming more and more violent, and a taste of further power only made the problem worse. It happened that Benden’s Weyrleader died in battle not a tenday before the young senior Queen, Baith, rose – and only a few short months after the aged Gilanath breathed her last.
Morsrath caught Baith. Once. Twice. Three times, and, after nearly three turns as Weyrleader, the shift in Benden was complete; riders who embraced C’leon’s philosophy about weyr life flourished, as the rest were ground underfoot. There was no longer any authority in the position of Weyrwoman. C’leon ran the weyr. Arga had been broken, and did as he told her, the weakness of her rider forcing Baith into a submissive role as well.
It was then that one of Fort’s bronzerider’s defected, C’leon accepting the man wholeheartedly – until he realized this was S’las, now going by S’rei. But he determined to use the man’s amnesia to his advantage. S’rei and Salenth, though they refused to join the fighting, became advisors to the Benden leading bronzepair, their suggestions giving C’leon the edge he needed to counter the wiles of D’loro and Kamerai. Benden thrived. The stalemate that had existed heretofore began to slowly shift in Benden’s favor, and, in a rare moment of gratitude, C’leon gave S’rei and Salenth a wing.
He immediately realized his mistake. The pacifist bronzepair still had no intention of fighting, and the wing itself became useless, as they would follow none but their Wingleader. Requests for transfers to S’rei’s wing grew as the months passed into turns. A shift had come over Benden. A dangerous one, at least for Morsrath and C’leon, for, despite the fact that S’rei and Salenth never showed any sign of betrayal, their tacit resistance to even some of the Weyrleader’s desires gave others courage to defy him. The Wingleader had to go.
C’leon actually came close to being almost regretful at this decision. Thus, he was overjoyed to learn that S’rei and Salenth wished to transfer to the southern continent after the death of the man’s weyrmate. Problem solved. Now, he would have eyes and ears in the south, which he might need if he wanted to crush Fort once and for all – and S’rei could no longer make trouble for him at Benden.
A junior goldrider escaped from Benden, bringing news of C’leon’s drug experiments to Selenitas. He very nearly went to retrieve her himself. However, that would have been folly, so he lured Weyrwoman Shmee to Benden, politely requesting that she submit her weyr to him – there was no Weyrleader in Selenitas, after all, and of course a man should be leading the dragonriders! – but Shmee turned him down. Angry, he determined that Shmee should die for her insolence. No woman talked to a man that way, and certainly not the Benden Weyrleader! Nothing could have enraged him more than her escape…except, perhaps, learning that she’d fallen under the protective wing of S’rei.
The perceived betrayal provoked C’leon. Besides, he certainly couldn’t leave Selenitas alone now, or they would be fighting the war on two fronts. Morsrath joined Aslath’s mating flight, losing out at the last possible moment to Salenth, cementing the hatred toward his old advisors firmly in C’leon’s heart…and his desire to see Selenitas brought to its knees. Oh, he has plans in the making. Ingenious plans. And, before he is done, many will cry out for mercy.
Which he will never give.
Dragon
Name: Morsrath
Age: 27 turns
Color: Bronze
Appearance: He is simply huge. A dark, almost copper color, the male is easily as long as the largest of his brethren, and far broader and more muscular. He truly is a magnificent specimen. Awe-inspiring. A latticework of scars from the war is displayed proudly on his burnished hide. He is a survivor - something that anyone can see by the merest glance.
Personality: If anything, Morsrath is actually more bloodthirsty and crueler than his human counterpart, though his arrogance and thirst for power is on the same level as C'leon's. Having been subjected to the horrors of war so early in life, Morsrath truly has no remorse for his actions, and sees fighting and death as the means to solving any problem. Blood is spilled. The strongest survives and leads. This is simply the way things are. Such sentiments are echoed within most of the younger dragons at the weyr, which means most of the weyr, given that not many older dragons remain due to the vicious wars between Benden and Fort.
Morsrath firmly believes he is the best bronze on the face of Pern. The strongest. The fiercest. The natural leader of all dragons. His rider's views and Baith's submission have led Morsrath to even use violence against golds, the juniors amongst Benden following Baith's lead. There is no evidence that might shake his views, not within the northern continent. His contempt knows no bounds. And now that he leads Benden, he fully intends to lead all dragons - no matter how many he has to kill to gain that ultimate of positions.
Only one thing has every shaken his confidence. Before Aslath, he Flew every gold he ever chased. Of course it was just a fluke. A chance collision in the air. But Morsrath cannot have anyone believing that another bronze is capable of defeating him; his goal to be acknowledged as King of Pern now is joined by two smaller ones. He will dominate Aslath, as he did Baith. No gold can escape him! And Salenth will die at his claws.
