Post by esper on Aug 18, 2009 19:23:47 GMT -5
Weyr: Fyr Amenti
Name: S'fal
Gender: Male
Sexuality: Bisexual
Rank: Wingrider
Age: 24
Appearence: S'fal's skin has a sallow cast to it, a dirty kind of tinge that settles over skin nature decreed would be dark but has never really been exposed to much sunlight. His hair is dark, drab brown, with a few cowlicks at the front and back too distinctive to be mistaken for curls or waves int he hair.
S'fal has a fine, delicate figure by nature that has been roughened by the course of his life. His long fingered hands are coarsened and calloused, and pounds of muscle his frame was never built to carry thickens his abdomen and broadens his shoulders but doesn't look quite natural. He was born to be a figure that would blow away in a good breeze, and the labor intensive life of a Rider has only reluctantly changed that. He is tall but not excessively so; S'fal is 6'1'' in his stocking feet.
His face remains delicately carved, since it's hard to carry muscle around one's nose. His eyebrows are dark and faintly up swept, giving him a vaguely quizzical look at all times. His jaw and chin form a smoothly rounded line, his lips are unremarkable. His eyes are a lighter shade of brown, unremarkable in the whole of the population but a pleasant addition to his face; they lend him warmth and humanity as his too-pale skin and cold dark hair fails to.
Personality: S'fal is intelligent and fully capable of following a chain of cause and effect to its inevitable conclusion. It's best to mention those facts at the start, because many people doubt them at one time or another. Despite this ability, Faranth save him, S'fal still can't seem to keep his tongue between his teeth. It doesn't matter if the person is larger, meaner, higher-ranked; S'fal will say what comes to mind. And then, if he has to, he'll run like a wild Cephalo was after him and Essleth was no where to be found. Valor may be popular, but cowardice has staying power.
S'fal loves a risk, a thrill, and the higher the stakes the better. If it gets his heart racing and those so-addicting surges of adrenaline in his blood, he'll do it. He'll try anything once, because anything goes; twice, if he likes it. He's normally in a good mood, despite attitude, and can be pleasant to people; just because he's sometimes rude doesn't mean that he attacks everyone and everything; you have to leave yourself open to it, like a shark smelling blood.
As wild as he likes to be, S'fal can and does fall in line when pressed to it. Once he's said his bit and had his fun, he's really got nothing against authority; they make his life possible, after all. When he applies himself he can be a solid member of a team.
Though he puts up a good show, S'fal isn't really as strong as he appears; he's brittle. Break him, crack through the saucy, confident shell of indulgence, and he'll stay broken. He might hate himself, he might give himself an ulcer in impotent rage, but he'll sulk in silence and jump when told to.
History: S'fal was born Serofal in Fyr Amenti, one of the many Weyrbrats that turn up wherever men, women, and proddy beasts are kept in close company. His mother rode a female Cephalo, but his father was a cook, not a fellow Rider. So great heroes are born.
Serellia was not well suited to motherhood, though she checked in on her offspring every so often. There was never anything but slight awkwardness between them, and when she finally fell away when he was nine or so it was relief. Her death a few Turns later was a shock, but he recovered well. Well enough to make good his new promotion to Candidacy and attend a Hatching where he met his match in a male Cephalo named Essleth.
In some ways, Essleth was the worst thing that could happen to Serofal. He had been on the edge, just starting to act out, to say some of the things he thought and realize that people liked it when he did. Essleth pushed him over the edge with his attitude and his unshakable faith in him regardless of what he did. They managed to keep it together until they graduated, and so far have avoided actual severe disciplinary action. Which isn't exactly the same thing as not deserving it.
Father: Prarmore (Cook)
Mother: Serellia (Rider of Cephalo Baleth)
Siblings: None
Pets: None
Dragon Name: Essleth
Dragon Color: Cephalo (Male)
Age: 9 Turns
Personality: Essleth supports the wild reputation of Cephalos; he's haughty and unpredictable, and enjoys the attention an outburst of temper would fetch him. Actually, he enjoys any attention that comes his way, be it "good attention" or "bad attention". He's often the impulse His feeds off of when he's being irresponsible, and though Essleth is a slave to the will of the higher-ranked creatures around him, she likes to pretend that he's not, that he's as free as those who chose to for-go Riders and retain their independence.
Appearance: There are those who would be reluctant to see Essleth's beauty; he's average in size for his rank, and from a stature point of view he's typical for Cephalos. Of course, that means that his anatomy includes a long, whip like tail with a drill at the end, spikes, and hard claws.
The only thing that sets Essleth apart from the pack is his color; though he is predominantly the red that all Cephalos are, in places the red becomes more orange or more purple, as the two colors his hide is supposed to be made of (The Kipepo's orange and the Duvalia's rich purple), as one hue or another wins the battle for dominance. There is no pattern visible in either the size or placement of the patches, which range from a thumb to hands breadth.
Name: S'fal
Gender: Male
Sexuality: Bisexual
Rank: Wingrider
Age: 24
Appearence: S'fal's skin has a sallow cast to it, a dirty kind of tinge that settles over skin nature decreed would be dark but has never really been exposed to much sunlight. His hair is dark, drab brown, with a few cowlicks at the front and back too distinctive to be mistaken for curls or waves int he hair.
S'fal has a fine, delicate figure by nature that has been roughened by the course of his life. His long fingered hands are coarsened and calloused, and pounds of muscle his frame was never built to carry thickens his abdomen and broadens his shoulders but doesn't look quite natural. He was born to be a figure that would blow away in a good breeze, and the labor intensive life of a Rider has only reluctantly changed that. He is tall but not excessively so; S'fal is 6'1'' in his stocking feet.
His face remains delicately carved, since it's hard to carry muscle around one's nose. His eyebrows are dark and faintly up swept, giving him a vaguely quizzical look at all times. His jaw and chin form a smoothly rounded line, his lips are unremarkable. His eyes are a lighter shade of brown, unremarkable in the whole of the population but a pleasant addition to his face; they lend him warmth and humanity as his too-pale skin and cold dark hair fails to.
Personality: S'fal is intelligent and fully capable of following a chain of cause and effect to its inevitable conclusion. It's best to mention those facts at the start, because many people doubt them at one time or another. Despite this ability, Faranth save him, S'fal still can't seem to keep his tongue between his teeth. It doesn't matter if the person is larger, meaner, higher-ranked; S'fal will say what comes to mind. And then, if he has to, he'll run like a wild Cephalo was after him and Essleth was no where to be found. Valor may be popular, but cowardice has staying power.
S'fal loves a risk, a thrill, and the higher the stakes the better. If it gets his heart racing and those so-addicting surges of adrenaline in his blood, he'll do it. He'll try anything once, because anything goes; twice, if he likes it. He's normally in a good mood, despite attitude, and can be pleasant to people; just because he's sometimes rude doesn't mean that he attacks everyone and everything; you have to leave yourself open to it, like a shark smelling blood.
As wild as he likes to be, S'fal can and does fall in line when pressed to it. Once he's said his bit and had his fun, he's really got nothing against authority; they make his life possible, after all. When he applies himself he can be a solid member of a team.
Though he puts up a good show, S'fal isn't really as strong as he appears; he's brittle. Break him, crack through the saucy, confident shell of indulgence, and he'll stay broken. He might hate himself, he might give himself an ulcer in impotent rage, but he'll sulk in silence and jump when told to.
History: S'fal was born Serofal in Fyr Amenti, one of the many Weyrbrats that turn up wherever men, women, and proddy beasts are kept in close company. His mother rode a female Cephalo, but his father was a cook, not a fellow Rider. So great heroes are born.
Serellia was not well suited to motherhood, though she checked in on her offspring every so often. There was never anything but slight awkwardness between them, and when she finally fell away when he was nine or so it was relief. Her death a few Turns later was a shock, but he recovered well. Well enough to make good his new promotion to Candidacy and attend a Hatching where he met his match in a male Cephalo named Essleth.
In some ways, Essleth was the worst thing that could happen to Serofal. He had been on the edge, just starting to act out, to say some of the things he thought and realize that people liked it when he did. Essleth pushed him over the edge with his attitude and his unshakable faith in him regardless of what he did. They managed to keep it together until they graduated, and so far have avoided actual severe disciplinary action. Which isn't exactly the same thing as not deserving it.
Father: Prarmore (Cook)
Mother: Serellia (Rider of Cephalo Baleth)
Siblings: None
Pets: None
Dragon Name: Essleth
Dragon Color: Cephalo (Male)
Age: 9 Turns
Personality: Essleth supports the wild reputation of Cephalos; he's haughty and unpredictable, and enjoys the attention an outburst of temper would fetch him. Actually, he enjoys any attention that comes his way, be it "good attention" or "bad attention". He's often the impulse His feeds off of when he's being irresponsible, and though Essleth is a slave to the will of the higher-ranked creatures around him, she likes to pretend that he's not, that he's as free as those who chose to for-go Riders and retain their independence.
Appearance: There are those who would be reluctant to see Essleth's beauty; he's average in size for his rank, and from a stature point of view he's typical for Cephalos. Of course, that means that his anatomy includes a long, whip like tail with a drill at the end, spikes, and hard claws.
The only thing that sets Essleth apart from the pack is his color; though he is predominantly the red that all Cephalos are, in places the red becomes more orange or more purple, as the two colors his hide is supposed to be made of (The Kipepo's orange and the Duvalia's rich purple), as one hue or another wins the battle for dominance. There is no pattern visible in either the size or placement of the patches, which range from a thumb to hands breadth.
