Post by Onyxaeon on Nov 17, 2008 1:00:03 GMT -5
"Because he's the hero that Pern deserves,
But not the one it needs right now.
So we'll hunt him.
Because he can take it.
Because he's not a hero; he's a silent guardian,
A watchful protector.
The Dark Knight."
~The Dark Knight (Altered slightly)
But not the one it needs right now.
So we'll hunt him.
Because he can take it.
Because he's not a hero; he's a silent guardian,
A watchful protector.
The Dark Knight."
~The Dark Knight (Altered slightly)
.:
|D'ron||Varanth||::.[/center][/color][/size][/i][/b]Weyr: Talune Weyr
Name: D'ron
Gender: Male
Sexuality: Heterosexual
Rank: Weyrleader, Wingleader to Fatal Darkness, Wingleader to Blinded Vision.
Age: 27 turns
Face Claim: David Boreanaz
Appearance: D'ron is a tall man, about 6'4'', and has the body of a runner, namely lean and agile but thoroughly muscled. As such, he has often times been considered unintentionally imposing when seen by young candidates or the occasional shy individual, though that could not be farther from the truth as the man is a bleeding heart to a tee. The sinews he possess were born into his flesh though his turns as a rider, long hours of hauling firestone and personal upkeep and care greatly helping to keep them so in tune. In his line of work it simply isn't wise to fall idle, and he prides himself on his ability to consistently be involved in a task even if it just maintain a touch of muscle tone. His dark, rich brown hair and deep-set hazel eyes are etched into a generally serene front, though make no mistake he is perfectly capable of laying down any law that so need be and oftentimes this ire filters into his expressions, darkening the tiniest beginnings of laugh lines around his face. The pupils of his eyes, so dark a brown that they are black when passion so stirs him, hold one's gaze in an authoritive lock as if he is always silently judging you.
Personality: Bold emotions for a bold man...
D'ron carries with him a strict sense of order. If things don't go as planned, he finds where they went wrong and 'eliminates' the problem. He won't tolerate insubordination and, if you refuse to abide by his rules, he won't hesitate to send you packing for a transfer.
In other words, it would be in your best interest for you to never challenge D'ron. Nor should you insult him. He won't easily offend, in fact, he shrugs off most comments as nothing, but when angered, he is a force to reckon with. Too often fellow riders have made the mistake of calling him foolish for his compassion or his judgments and, too often, those who spoke out of turn have suffered under the heat of the golden sun with wounds too numerous to count. But, that past is behind him now. Isn't it?
A rare understanding...A blinding truthfulness...And even a certain wisdom.
These are all traits D'ron carries. He understands what few others do. Failure does not necessarily deserve a punishment in his eyes. Instead, it is a sign that the Weyr must work harder to survive in these harsh times. Truth, it's a word that means more to D'ron than certain riders' lives. He speaks only the truth, and expects it to be given to him in return. Wisdom is heavily expressed in this rider. All the thread fighting strategies and tactics are thought out by him and most of his plans always bring about a fierce sense of that onyxrider pride. He can turn your own words against you by merely twisting them around in an effortless debate that will send you to you knees in befuddlement. His wisdom is but one of the many things that form together to make this rider an anomaly among others.
A chink in the armor...
D'ron has the weakness of being a softy for the women of the Weyr. Though he doesn't mistreat the men no give the woman any special treatment. As far as he's concerned, females should be cherished and males should do their part to ensure that policy. D'ron may respect the women of the Weyr and love each differently, but he has found none to understand him as of yet.
Dare me to?
The Weyrleader is one to take a challenge and, usually, win or prove his point right, though, rarely does he participate in brawls or arguments unless they are for an issue he believes firmly in. Conflicting with his past, eh? But, he is hoping to leave that behind. He displays the common sense to not strangle any yappy Hold Lords he comes across hounding him about tithes and thread protection though, sometimes, the thought does linger in the back of his mind as an amusing idea. Violence is a rare thing in his life, now at least, but he does have a philosophy he lives by in regards to it: Violence is never the answer, but it is always an option.
History: D'ron was born to a family that did not want him. Furthermore, it was sheer dumb luck in the first place that his father, a transfer rider from up North, had stumbled upon the flying Green Casth that fateful day and that he even existed in the first place. Only that blessed Healer had talked Ani into keeping D'ron to full term and, as soon as he could be dumped off to a foster family, he was. His mother did not care to visit him at all and it was only through the visits he received from his father that he knew about her and his two older half brothers at all. Of course, they were already riders by the time he was beginning to be a candidate, so he would not have known them otherwise. He still rarely spoke to them, and did nothing more than give a curt hello every once and a while.
As a weybrat, he was the most devilish of creatures. Prank after prank after prank. He caused such a stir that he was banned from participating in his first hatching at the age of twelve tuns and then again when he started a brawl with his former friend V'tun who had Impressed a Bronze then. Finally, by the age of fifteen turns, he could stand on the sands. There was little hope for him, though. The clutch was small, the candidate crowd large, and the eggs were...stange. No one knew exactly why they were such odd hues on their shells: crimson, silver, and ebony. They were four new colors of dragons, that was for certain, though what gender they were and what they would Impress was beyond comprehension.
The first to hatch were the standard dragons: bronzes, browns, blues, and greens. Only once that last Green had stumbled off the sands did the silver egg hatch, and Impressed to a female. The crimson male that burst forth soon after went to a male, but none of these decisions could be set in stone. After all, one hatching did not make for a certain persona to abide by. The second largest egg, a multifaced one that glimmered like the surface of an opal and was thought to be a queen, had come and chosen her rider already, leaving the rest of the dragonest to fend for themselves. Finally, the last egg-by far the largest of the group with it's flawless shade of ebony-began to rock. Aptly named the Between Egg for the blinding abyss of its shell, one could easily get lost in the swarthy depths. As the shell split with a thundering crack, a large onyx beast spilled onto the sands. His head inclined regally as he observed only the remaining three male candidates: it was clear he was a King. His wings flared, stretching to their fullest to see how would flinch at his sudden temper. The one candidate who did stumbled back, and the dragonet hissed angrily at him. With two remaining, D'ron stood silently observing the creature that would decide someone's future. He /knew/ this dragon was his, though. He could feel it in the very marrow of his bones.
When the great jaws lunged forward and clamped down on his thigh, he could only grit his teeth, his jaw clamping firmly shut to seal in the tormented scream. It was the only wound the dragon ever inflicted, and it was well worth the silence.
Mine, come. We shall not wait for the night to swallow the sky before you are tended to for your stupidity of not moving out of the way. I knew you were mine. You did not have to prove it.
Father: R'nair [Rider to Brown Hanth] (Deceased-Thread scoring)
Mother: Ani [Rider to Green Casth] (Presumed Deceased-transferred)
Siblings: Aorn [older half brother] & Roanir [older half brother]
Pets: None
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Dragon Name: Varanth
Dragon Color: Onyx
Age: 12 Turns
Personality: Varanth has a swelling pride, as has come to be characterized by Onyxes, and he won't accept help from anyone but his Mine unless the situation calls for it, and even then such an occurrence is a rarity. He is a calm, logical thinker, taking time to consider every possibility of a given situation before ever daring to undertake a course of action. This, as a result, often leads to his taking forever to make a decision but, given his status and the fact his plans have yet to end in a failure, those waiting on his orders are more than willing to wait for something that is near foolproof. The ever-present silent observer, his mind stretches out to constantly monitor his Weyr, himself consistently seeking to know the issues of the dragons and their riders which he considers under his wing. If spoken to, he will think through his answers before replying, always choosing his words carefully. He is rational, and will sometimes, if not always, over analyze things. Expect well thought-out and personally taken responses from him. He rarely, if ever, gets upset as he tends to have a patient, relaxed attitude, driving others insane with the desire to test his tolerate mind. So far, none has succeeded in breaking his calm barrier. Pray to Faranth none rouse the temper he possessed on the sands.
Appearance: Varanth is easily greater than the size of a large Gold, standing at a full body length of fifty feet. Because of this, it isn't hard to see why the Weyrfolk address him as "The Weyr King". His hide is a deep, flawless ebony, and his well muscled, lithe body is perfect for carrying him through an entire Threadfall and lasting long in flights. His advantages are never commented upon, however, because the humble beast prefers to look at things as though he were not truly gifted by nature as he is. Those haunting eyes bare down on you from a marvelously superior height, and he gives you the impression that your actions and words will forever be remembered by him. His gaze alone startles the candidates into obedience, and even the wildest of flits shy away from the great brute.
Interesting Fact: Was the first Onyx born on Talune sands.
Name: D'ron
Gender: Male
Sexuality: Heterosexual
Rank: Weyrleader, Wingleader to Fatal Darkness, Wingleader to Blinded Vision.
Age: 27 turns
Face Claim: David Boreanaz
Appearance: D'ron is a tall man, about 6'4'', and has the body of a runner, namely lean and agile but thoroughly muscled. As such, he has often times been considered unintentionally imposing when seen by young candidates or the occasional shy individual, though that could not be farther from the truth as the man is a bleeding heart to a tee. The sinews he possess were born into his flesh though his turns as a rider, long hours of hauling firestone and personal upkeep and care greatly helping to keep them so in tune. In his line of work it simply isn't wise to fall idle, and he prides himself on his ability to consistently be involved in a task even if it just maintain a touch of muscle tone. His dark, rich brown hair and deep-set hazel eyes are etched into a generally serene front, though make no mistake he is perfectly capable of laying down any law that so need be and oftentimes this ire filters into his expressions, darkening the tiniest beginnings of laugh lines around his face. The pupils of his eyes, so dark a brown that they are black when passion so stirs him, hold one's gaze in an authoritive lock as if he is always silently judging you.
Personality: Bold emotions for a bold man...
D'ron carries with him a strict sense of order. If things don't go as planned, he finds where they went wrong and 'eliminates' the problem. He won't tolerate insubordination and, if you refuse to abide by his rules, he won't hesitate to send you packing for a transfer.
In other words, it would be in your best interest for you to never challenge D'ron. Nor should you insult him. He won't easily offend, in fact, he shrugs off most comments as nothing, but when angered, he is a force to reckon with. Too often fellow riders have made the mistake of calling him foolish for his compassion or his judgments and, too often, those who spoke out of turn have suffered under the heat of the golden sun with wounds too numerous to count. But, that past is behind him now. Isn't it?
A rare understanding...A blinding truthfulness...And even a certain wisdom.
These are all traits D'ron carries. He understands what few others do. Failure does not necessarily deserve a punishment in his eyes. Instead, it is a sign that the Weyr must work harder to survive in these harsh times. Truth, it's a word that means more to D'ron than certain riders' lives. He speaks only the truth, and expects it to be given to him in return. Wisdom is heavily expressed in this rider. All the thread fighting strategies and tactics are thought out by him and most of his plans always bring about a fierce sense of that onyxrider pride. He can turn your own words against you by merely twisting them around in an effortless debate that will send you to you knees in befuddlement. His wisdom is but one of the many things that form together to make this rider an anomaly among others.
A chink in the armor...
D'ron has the weakness of being a softy for the women of the Weyr. Though he doesn't mistreat the men no give the woman any special treatment. As far as he's concerned, females should be cherished and males should do their part to ensure that policy. D'ron may respect the women of the Weyr and love each differently, but he has found none to understand him as of yet.
Dare me to?
The Weyrleader is one to take a challenge and, usually, win or prove his point right, though, rarely does he participate in brawls or arguments unless they are for an issue he believes firmly in. Conflicting with his past, eh? But, he is hoping to leave that behind. He displays the common sense to not strangle any yappy Hold Lords he comes across hounding him about tithes and thread protection though, sometimes, the thought does linger in the back of his mind as an amusing idea. Violence is a rare thing in his life, now at least, but he does have a philosophy he lives by in regards to it: Violence is never the answer, but it is always an option.
History: D'ron was born to a family that did not want him. Furthermore, it was sheer dumb luck in the first place that his father, a transfer rider from up North, had stumbled upon the flying Green Casth that fateful day and that he even existed in the first place. Only that blessed Healer had talked Ani into keeping D'ron to full term and, as soon as he could be dumped off to a foster family, he was. His mother did not care to visit him at all and it was only through the visits he received from his father that he knew about her and his two older half brothers at all. Of course, they were already riders by the time he was beginning to be a candidate, so he would not have known them otherwise. He still rarely spoke to them, and did nothing more than give a curt hello every once and a while.
As a weybrat, he was the most devilish of creatures. Prank after prank after prank. He caused such a stir that he was banned from participating in his first hatching at the age of twelve tuns and then again when he started a brawl with his former friend V'tun who had Impressed a Bronze then. Finally, by the age of fifteen turns, he could stand on the sands. There was little hope for him, though. The clutch was small, the candidate crowd large, and the eggs were...stange. No one knew exactly why they were such odd hues on their shells: crimson, silver, and ebony. They were four new colors of dragons, that was for certain, though what gender they were and what they would Impress was beyond comprehension.
The first to hatch were the standard dragons: bronzes, browns, blues, and greens. Only once that last Green had stumbled off the sands did the silver egg hatch, and Impressed to a female. The crimson male that burst forth soon after went to a male, but none of these decisions could be set in stone. After all, one hatching did not make for a certain persona to abide by. The second largest egg, a multifaced one that glimmered like the surface of an opal and was thought to be a queen, had come and chosen her rider already, leaving the rest of the dragonest to fend for themselves. Finally, the last egg-by far the largest of the group with it's flawless shade of ebony-began to rock. Aptly named the Between Egg for the blinding abyss of its shell, one could easily get lost in the swarthy depths. As the shell split with a thundering crack, a large onyx beast spilled onto the sands. His head inclined regally as he observed only the remaining three male candidates: it was clear he was a King. His wings flared, stretching to their fullest to see how would flinch at his sudden temper. The one candidate who did stumbled back, and the dragonet hissed angrily at him. With two remaining, D'ron stood silently observing the creature that would decide someone's future. He /knew/ this dragon was his, though. He could feel it in the very marrow of his bones.
When the great jaws lunged forward and clamped down on his thigh, he could only grit his teeth, his jaw clamping firmly shut to seal in the tormented scream. It was the only wound the dragon ever inflicted, and it was well worth the silence.
Mine, come. We shall not wait for the night to swallow the sky before you are tended to for your stupidity of not moving out of the way. I knew you were mine. You did not have to prove it.
Father: R'nair [Rider to Brown Hanth] (Deceased-Thread scoring)
Mother: Ani [Rider to Green Casth] (Presumed Deceased-transferred)
Siblings: Aorn [older half brother] & Roanir [older half brother]
Pets: None
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Dragon Name: Varanth
Dragon Color: Onyx
Age: 12 Turns
Personality: Varanth has a swelling pride, as has come to be characterized by Onyxes, and he won't accept help from anyone but his Mine unless the situation calls for it, and even then such an occurrence is a rarity. He is a calm, logical thinker, taking time to consider every possibility of a given situation before ever daring to undertake a course of action. This, as a result, often leads to his taking forever to make a decision but, given his status and the fact his plans have yet to end in a failure, those waiting on his orders are more than willing to wait for something that is near foolproof. The ever-present silent observer, his mind stretches out to constantly monitor his Weyr, himself consistently seeking to know the issues of the dragons and their riders which he considers under his wing. If spoken to, he will think through his answers before replying, always choosing his words carefully. He is rational, and will sometimes, if not always, over analyze things. Expect well thought-out and personally taken responses from him. He rarely, if ever, gets upset as he tends to have a patient, relaxed attitude, driving others insane with the desire to test his tolerate mind. So far, none has succeeded in breaking his calm barrier. Pray to Faranth none rouse the temper he possessed on the sands.
Appearance: Varanth is easily greater than the size of a large Gold, standing at a full body length of fifty feet. Because of this, it isn't hard to see why the Weyrfolk address him as "The Weyr King". His hide is a deep, flawless ebony, and his well muscled, lithe body is perfect for carrying him through an entire Threadfall and lasting long in flights. His advantages are never commented upon, however, because the humble beast prefers to look at things as though he were not truly gifted by nature as he is. Those haunting eyes bare down on you from a marvelously superior height, and he gives you the impression that your actions and words will forever be remembered by him. His gaze alone startles the candidates into obedience, and even the wildest of flits shy away from the great brute.
Interesting Fact: Was the first Onyx born on Talune sands.
