M'rik of Heliodor Seditionth -WIP

[Onyxaeon]

You can take everything I have.
You can break everything I am,
Like I'm made of glass, like I'm made of paper.
Go on and try and tear me down,
I will be rising from the ground
Like a skyscraper.

Seditionth[/center][/size][/font][/color]

Weyr: Lubit Muntii
Name: M’rik of Hliodor Seditionth
Gender: Male
Sexuality: Hetero
Rank: Expedition Leader...and, technically, the Weyrleader although another man runs the position and has taken up the reins, his dragon attempting to choose females to continue clutches within the Weyr due to Seditionth's lack of desire.
Age: 47 turns
Face Claim: Michael Mcgillicutty

At his pudgiest:
huskyharris.webs.com/63_Windham.jpg

Leaning closer toward now after/if he get muscles mass back up:
www.allwrestlingsuperstars.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/03/michael-mcgillicutty-pictures-03.jpg

Appearance: M’rik is a relatively shorter-than-most man coming in at only 5’8 ½”, with equally short cropped light brown hair. It is still as thick as ever but beginning to gray at the temples, showing the slight increase of turns on the man. At one point in time the man sported a rather bushy black beard but, after he kept losing some of his well loved food inside of the nourishment snatching thing he hacked it off and now he keeps his rounded face mostly hair free unless his days keep him too busy to shave. His features are notoriously soft, riddled with laugh lines and a touch of crow’s feet from his many late night shifts. The boyish charm never quite left his cheeks and chin, something that is reflected in his playful light brown eyes and the lines on his face. It has often helped get him out of trouble--only when he was younger as responsibility and duty have mostly consumed the man nowadays--and worked wonders on the ladies in his youth though he is by no means a charmer or necessarily a "ladies man". M’rik keeps himself thoroughly well groomed despite spending hours, sometimes days at a time, within the Mine Fields and his attire is rarely out of place or mismatched. He sports mostly dark browns and reds but the occasional blue or gray is thrown in there from time to time and on the more proper of occasions he adorns himself in very bright crimsons and occasionally greens. These hues disguise a slightly rounding stomach (he would swear it was muscle like that in his rather stocky, club like arms or broad chest) but his dragon knows the truth; the man has been sneaking one too many late night goodies. It is not that he minds in the least, as his jolly personality seems to effectively hide any self-consciousness that could have existed.

Lately though his slight stomach is the least of his concerns. M’rik is currently bandaged from head to toe in an infirmary bed from a freak tunnel collapse that killed at least twenty souls and injured several more. His rough, calloused skin has softened due to lack of work and his stomach has slowly flitted away due to lack of his usual food indulgencies. His once genuinely happy light brown eyes have slightly sunken into his skull and they remain closed off to the world and what is currently occurring around him. Anymore he appears paler than his normal light tea color and his muscles have begun to atrophy, making him appear more and more fragile as he slips further into his coma. The Healers do not expect him to fully recover from the gnarled wounds raked across his chest, the back of his neck, and skull created from the stones pulvarizing his flesh and ripping large slabs of it off without much effort. They are predicting that he will never be able to lift a pick axe effectively or without pain again due to his dominant arm having been crushed beneath the weight of the rocks and pinned against the main tunnel wall. The stitches across his body leave a sewn together eyesore to his visitors and require constant care to remain clear of infection due to his particularly weakened immune system from continuous infections. If he ever wakes it will be as a much thinner, weaker version of himself; he will become someone even his dragon will not recognize.

Personality: M’rik was definitely not the first choice of individual for Seditionth to Impress upon. For starters, this man is quite comfortable in a crowd and loves to tell stories and interact with people of all sorts and manners. He is just as equally comfortable alone and will sometimes fall into periods where there just isn’t anything to say in his mind and he will remain silent for days. Perhaps this taste of both worlds personality is why he bonded to whom he did but, whatever the case, the man could not be happier. He does not hold himself above logic and reason though he never does care much for taking the direct advice of others and would instead rather resolve the issue himself first. He will not openly seek help for any reason but rarely turns it down when it comes using the opportunity as a learning experience to better study his fellow riders. He loves to people watch in this regard and often finds himself hearing the oddest bits and pieces of conversations, though it never occurred to him to be a gossip or to deal in exciting odd rumors around the Weyr. He is a lover by nature and merely wants to make life a roaring good time for just about everyone he can, although not in an obnoxious manner for most would genuinely agree the man never said a rough word to anyone and did not merit the accident which has nearly destroyed him. M’rik is a rare soul; someone destined to strive for everyone else’s happiness but not particularly care much for his own. At least not at the moment. Perhaps when--if--he wakes from his coma he will seek to live a life more suited to himself because his beloved days in the mines are done.

M’rik prides himself on being a connoisseur of fine cuisine and, as seen from his stomach, one could easily tell he takes his job fairly seriously. This love affair does not hinder his job, the second most important thing aside from his dragon of course in his life. He wakes every morning with head held high looking forward to pushing the mines further and expanding the Weyr and this natural enthusiasm draws people in though most do not claim him as a “friend” but more of an acquaintance. He does not like to keep too many people that close--it distresses and irritates his dragon--so he tries to keep his good nature and jokes to himself instead only occasionally offering his voice to things. All in all, he’s a fairly decent guy with nothing outstanding character wise to make him stand out amongst the Weyr but just enough friendly pep to get enough people to smile a day.


History:
M’rik was a weyrbrat. Nothing out of the ordinary in the Weyr as most children were left to be attended to by drudges. It was difficult enough working the quarries and having a child running around your heels only made it all the more dangerous. He grew up normally, getting into trouble as much as he could and trying to sneak into the Alpha Analcime’s den like all the other adventurous boys of his age. Of course none of them succeeded but it was always a constant bet to see who could get the closest. He spent his childhood learning the tunnels of the Weyr and how to best judge where minerals and gems are going to turn up. Before he became a weyrling, he knew the ends and outs of te Weyr better han most seasoned riders but still he had to be Searched. A highly sensitive Boltwoodite gave him the go ahead and, with a much enthusiam as he could muster, he proudly took to candidate chore and duties.

He had always wanted to be a rider and could not imagine a life not astride his lifemate. When it all boiled down to it, he would have honestly given his left arm to have bonded to one of the great beasts by the time he got to the age he could stand on Sphere Landing. At the age of twelve turns, he attended his first Hatching. The excitement claimed him and he could barely contain his delight as dragon after dragon burst from the shells to find their bondeds. It was such a wonderful experience, even though his dagon was not among those hatched. This hardly swayed him and he vowed to push through another turn of candidate chores while he waited for his lifemate to be clutched. His next Hatching was much like the first: plenty of dragons, plenty of competition candidate wise, and boundless elation. As the shells parted to reveal new dragonets, Marrik held his breath. This time. This time for sure.

It was not meant to be though several Demantoids and Heliodors did show interest in him before they found "theirs". He trudged back to his cot that night sorrowful but by the time the next day rolled around, he was back to his usual cheerful self and things persisted as they had the turn before. This pattern continued until his 17th turn when the man honestly began to doubt he would ever Impress.

It was a smaller clutch which translated into less dragons being available and more competition coupled with more room for repeated disappointment. The Alpha Heliodor at the time had become bored with chasing and taken less females than he normally would have resulting in a total of 15 eggs. 15 chances for Impression or final rejection-he had decided after this if he remaned dragonless he would resign himself to working in the tunnels ferrying food and supplies to the actual quarry workers. He was spared from that fate when the first crack of a sturdy shell was heard. All eyes turned to the large egg and Marrik held his breath as a handsomly built Heliodor stumbled from his egg shards. His deft hands meticuliously cleaned the fragments from his sticky hide as he watched a sister Demantoid and brother Obsidian break shell. He seemed to watch them momentarily, choosing to remain back as his brothers and sisters crowded him out. The recluse growled in irritation, swatting angrily at those that came too close to him. Most--after a quick swat or two--took the hint and left him well alone. Several; however, unfortunately did not and he was forced to defend himself and his territory. A natural alpha; a brute straight from the beginning. He took his narrow, bacteria riddled mouth and clamped onto the base of their necks allowing his powerful jaws to demonstrate their might before releasing them to lick their wounds.

All around him dragons were choosing Theirs but he turned his back on the lot. Choosing to study his siblings, the Heliodor lingered back and observed the lot of them Impress and leave the sands. He was alone again as he had been in his shell. All was well--he was meant to be alone and His would understand this surely. Three male candites, including Marrik, remained on the sands while the two female candidates whom had been left dragonless were escorted off the sands. Everyone else was with their bonded farther down the tunnel making a right mess of cut-up buck meat.
He was alone. The Heliodor carefully edged his way toward the first male, tilting his head to one side to study the individual closely. This did not last long because the dragon lunged for the candidate, his jaws snapping shut in a soft snick as he narrowly missed the individuals chest. A snort escaped his maw and the dragonet quite literally shoved the lad off of the sands. Useless male, straying away from a fight and proving himself to be unworthy of a larger male; perhaps and Obsidian would favor him next time. This left two candidates before the Heliodor and Marrik grew tense with excitement. He was not concerned for the lad who had been shoved away from him at his left knowing that if you feared being harmed on Sphere's Landing you were in all honesty probably not meant to bond to any of these creatures, all of which displayed particularly nasty personalities apart from the Boltwoodites.

The other boy, a youth a turn older than Marrik himself, was also tense in the presence of this brute who, even as a hatchling, rose up to rest eye level with the candidates. The Heliodor peered at them for a moment, a large forked tongue poking out from his maw as he scented the air and caught the bitter taste of uncertainty to the atmosphere. There, to the right...The Heliodor lunged again, this time quick claws snatching up the young man and roughly hurling him across the sands. He collided with the stone wall, a gruff sound escaping him. Marrik dared not move, the redder hued than usual Heliodor staring him down. He moved swiftly forward, serpentine body curling around Marrik's frame and squeezing tightly for only a moment before the Heliodor released him, Marrik dropping to the sands without having uttered so much as a squeak of protest for the abuse he had seen. The Heliodor seemed pleased with this, bony hands reaching down to pull the lad up to his feet before settling back at the dragon's sides. The mind voice that permeated Marrick's thoughts was deep, reverberating across his mental bond until it seemed that the echoes would never be lost in his thoughts and he would forever have the words branded into his skull. You are Mine, M'rik. Mine. Just as the females I will claim and those that shall follow me. I am your Seditionth, your rebellion and your insurrection. We defy many things by being bonded, you and I. Come now, it is time we eat, time to take rest and learn of one another before others come to question you, to question us. The beast led M'rik off of the sands with one long, bony hand draped over the man's shoulder. M'rik could not help but feel a great deal of pride in the touch, knowing full well the beast that he had bonded to was not of a kind that was known for its affections. To be honest, he was surprised the creature had not gone off to be by himself immediately after Impressing as was usually the case with Heliodors, and as had even been demonstrated earlier in the clutch when the only other Heliodor had hatched, Impressed, and hustled off the sands in a matter of minutes, hiding away in his weyr-cave and insisting of the lad that had bonded to him that food be brought to him. No, Seditionth had ignored this first great urge to be by himself and alone, marking him as unique among his color for they were reclusive beasts, hermits by the very definition of the word, and this dragon, this Seditionth, had gone against this order. Time would prove him to be just as irritable about his own personal space as any other Heliodor--perhaps even more so because the dragon harbored a deep resentment for anything that took the time to come close to his own personal bubble, or even His in general. No, he was not a jealous beast, more one driven by the need to be perpetually alone and on his own. He was an independent creature, one who loathed working among the tight corners of the mines, and grew a tendency to growl at whatever came within five feet of him.

From the initial success on the Hatching Grounds, Weyrling training came as an interesting ordeal. The Heliodor quarreled with his brother, the only other Heliodor to have hatched alongside Seditionth in the same clutch, to the point the two spent nearly a month having to be physically restrained in order to prevent all out brawling. This treatment did little to abate the dragons' naturally competitive natures, and once they reached sexual maturity...Well, chaos tells these tales best.

The event in question was over 27 turns ago now. Seditionth had responded to the cries of a Rising Demantoid female one fine night, and his nemesis, the Heliodor Wornith, caught sight of the Demantoid as well and took to chasing after her bellowing. Her cajoles only served to drive Seditionth onward, his ire raised and eyes worn red from lust and rage. What's this, Seditionth, Wornith slandered from his position alongside of his brother, large legs stretching out to grip the unstable grounds so that he might thrust himself forward away from the brute which he viewed as a disgusting excuse for a male. Despite the fact Seditionth had size over Wornith, the smaller male had a more barbed tongue and it showed in his challenges to Seditionth. Come now, you overgrown tunnel snake. Is this really the best you can offer? Pity, fair Ilairyth will fair so much better with my eggs nestled inside of her. Faranth knows anything you would sire would come out just as Despite the fact the brute knew well that

Outline -
Tunnel Collapse
Confusion of Alpha Heliodor's Mine for Sed's own
Death of Alpha and rider
Sed assuming new Alpha role
Lack of taking females

Father: Unknown, believed to be the Obsidian Rider T’nik (Deceased)
Mother: Unknown, presumed a drudge
Siblings: None

Pets: Bronze Firelizard Flint

Flint’s a stocky built Bronze firelizard with splotches of copper thrown against a dark, dark red-gold hide. He’s got a bit of an attitude problem and thinks Rukbat revolves around himself. The ladies-of course-worship him. (At least in his little mind he thinks so.) Despite being obviously conceited and hot headed, Flint is rather obedient and takes his job of digging air tunnels and fetching M’rik lunch very seriously. He’s exceptionally intelligent with only occasional bouts of stubbornness and spends his days chasing any female he can find when he isn’t on duty. Lately the deplorable state of His has driven him to stay within the infirmary and he contends himself to fetching new bandages and splits for the apprentice that watches after His.

Dragon Name: Seditionth
Dragon Color: Heliodor
Age: 30 turns
Rank: Technically...the Alpha Heliodor, although he hasn't taken any mates and does not perform the duties of the Alpha.

Personality:
Appearance:


Abilities: Seditionth, as a result of his brooding over the "death" of His, took to hiding himself in and among the Alpha's Den where not a soul could disturb him and he was left to allow his thoughts to fester and his mind to grow dangerously unstable. As a result, he wandered into the