Candidates

[catilena1890]

Name: Relina

Age: Sixteen Turns

Gender: Female

Rank: Candidate

Appearance: Relina is a tall girl for her age, already above the average height for a regular adult pernese female, though she is only 16. Her hair hangs long, usually worn loose, quite straight and sharp in it's cut. In colour, it's odd, a dark shade of brown, verging on black, but however it occured, it shines with an almost violet colour.
Her features are strong, her ferocity shown in no place more than her dark blue eyes. She is not quite a pretty female, handsome is more the word for her. She is strong featured - as mentioned - making her striking in appearance. Her pale white skin is shocking in comparison to the depths of her hair, adding only to her odd beauty.
She prefers dresses, and it is one of a few places she is rather feminine, she generally wears things that aren't what pern would call appropriate, her taste for dresses tending to be quite revealing. She's quite brave in that respect. She tends to wear bright, striking colours, that only accentuate her own skin's lac of colour more. Magenta and fuschia, again a girly trait of hers.


Personality: A girl who keeps to herself, Relina does not discuss her past, and it remains a mystery to even those closest to her. She would rather forget it herself. She's wary of strangers, extremely so, she finds her comfort zone disappears, and this extends - unfortunately - for the first few meetings. Her opinions of the new person reserved until she believes she can see roughly what they're like and what their intentions are to herself and Zorn. However, if she does deem them friendly enough, she is a very loyal and compassionate person. Relina makes few very close friends, but she would go to the end of Pern and back again for them.
This said, she is a quiet girl, quite reserved even when she is familiar with someone, she is more of a listener than a talker.
But it is beyond compare, the bond she shares with Zorn. He is as much a part of her as any of her limbs, and she is rarely seen without him.

History:
Born in a lesser hall of High Reaches Hold, Relina's family was placed in charge of transporting the Tithes to the Weyr. From her birth, she was told she would be nothing, she would never amount to anything. Her mother died giving birth to her and her father had blamed her for it. As she grew up, she was constantly harrassed by all around her and the Lord of the hold had never known about it. When she turned 16, she went on a trip to Southern for more herdbeasts, she explored the beaches and found a clutch of fire-lizard eggs.
She found a little blue fire-lizard who was the first to hatch, noticing it's distressed calls, gave it all the food she had with her, not realizing she would impress it that way. She left the little lizard on the sands, just as it piped a distress call.
Relina looked behind her and ducked just in time as a spear flew over where her head just was.

She attempted to find a place to hide. The lizard she had fed found her and began running. Desperate to escape, she followed it into a cave nearby and the lizard wrapped itself around her face to keep her quiet until the danger passed. After it was over, she rushed back to the shore only to find the boat had left without her, probably thinking she was dead. The fire-lizard appeared on her shoulder and she looked at it smiling.

"Hm, so they left without me. Very well, I do not need them. We shall carry on ourselves and figure a way back to the mainland and find out who tried to kill me." Said Relina, petting the strange creature on her shoulder. "If we are to travel together, then we should do well to know each other. My name is Relina." The firelizard only looked at her, confusion overtaking Relina's mind. "You do not have a name? I heard Dragons knew their names, but I guess you are a different creature. Very well, I shall call you, Zorn." The miniature dragons only chirped, making Relina smile and look across the sea.

Because of her treatment by others in the Hold, and her attempted assassination, Relina has never trusted anyone but herself, and now, of course, her fire-lizard, Zorn, who saved her life and stayed by her side.

Pets: Fire-lizard Blue Zorn

[korenth]

Name: Kavar

Age: 16 turns

Sex: Male

Sexuality: Heterosexual

Job:Apprentice Beastcrafter

Position: Weyr Candidate

Appearance: He wears white button up shirts with black body length trench coat, brown pants and brown boots. He wears his pants over his boots never tucked into them. He has very short brown hair. His right eye is green and his left eye is midnight blue; almond shaped, normal size, and average width apart. He has a small sharp nose. He has medium full lips. He has an oval shaped face with mid cheekbones and an accentuated jawline. He has a dimple in each cheek and a clevace in his chin.

He has an athletic body and stands 5'10" and weighs 195 pounds. He has a very noticable scar across his left eye. He is quite clumsy in the morning. He sometimes confuses his words to where his sentences mean something different than what he wants them to.

Personality: He is a very supportive person. He is always open to suggestions. He is well humoured but tends to be very serious around people he does not know, along with being shy until he gets to know them. He is intelligent and well witted due to his traveling. He is brave, which is contributed to by him being adventurous.

He tends to have a bad temper when things do not go as planned. he is very commanding of others and is always expecting them to do their best.

History: He comes from a farm in the remote mountainous region. His father was a Master tanner, and his mother was a Master weaver. He has a twin sister and had a younger brother. He learned how to make his clothes from his parents. He started his training when he turned six. His brother died at the age of four, which was the same turn he left home. He always got along with his parents until the day he decided to leave home. On the day he left his father became enraged because he did not want his son to leave home so early or take up beastcraft at Lokan Hold. He charged at him with a knife; took a slash at his face and left the scar across his left eye.

He was 13 turns when he left home. Upon leaving home he took up the skill of beastcraft at Lokan Hold. During his stay at Lokan Hold he became quite the beastcrafter but could not get promoted up to Journeyman beastcrafter because of his rambuncsious behavior. Also he had become very curious of the world and asked his master if he could leave to explore the world.

At the age of 14 he was very skilled at living off the land, hunting and making his own clothes. He was also skilled at combat and gaining new animal friends one of which he saved as a pup from a hungry feral feline. One day he decided that he had had enough exploring to last a life time, so he began his journey home. He returned home when he was 15, and found that his family had been killed by a band of renagades. He started searching for them immediately. When he finally caught up with them they beat him and tortured him until he was almost dead. The next day he woke up in an inn of a small town where he was told about Dark Moon Weyr. So, he travelled there where he was hoping to become a candidate for a hatching. Although he was beaten by the renagades he does not seek revenge, because he knows that he could not have prevented it. He would have just been killed himself and thinks he is lucky for not being there.

Pet: He has a 1/4 turn old canine pup named Kas. He is very protective over Kavar. He is black in color with a small chocolate brown patch on his chest.

Dragon/Wher: N/A

[catilena1890]

Name: Catilena

Age: Twenty Turns

Gender: Female

Rank: Candidate/cook

Appearance: About as tall as her sister, Catilena is a pretty normal sized 5'5" young lady. She tries to keep her appearence in check. Though she is not anywhere near as skinny as her sister, she is not overweight or too large. She is more filled out with a small amount of belly projecting outward. Her hair is straight, holding a beautiful light, almost blonde, brown colour and is slightly shorter than Relina's, barely reaching her shoulders. Her face is truly feminine. She has a few freckles near her thin nose. Catilena's large eyes hold the same sapphire-blue color as her sister's. Her thin, yet supple lips have a beautiful rosy-red colour. Her skin is as pale as Relina's, with the exception of a dark, claw-shaped scar on the back of her left shoulder where she was branded by an angry drunken drudge. Despite all of these similarities and mild differences, what truly separates the two sisters is their taste in clothing. While Relina favors dresses, Catilena prefers a slightly baggy tan blouse with a dark pink, almost red vest. A black belt holds up loose fitting tan trousers. A pair of black boots completes the strange, yet curiously feminine outfit.

Personality: Unlike her sister, Catilena is a very friendly, outgoing, slighty tomboyish young woman with a nasty temper. While it is hard to make her angry, the power of her anger can rival that of a Queen defending her clutch. Fortunately , she is relatively easy to calm, though she will hold a grudge if the person or event that made her angry has committed an offense in need of one. You would never know just how sad she is because of her tendancy to be a chatterbox when she is in a sort of a good mood, talking up a storm whenever she gets the chance to do so. She has a very good sense of humor, giggling at the most random things and moments, you would think her insane. In truth, she uses her sense of humor and her talkativeness to hide her true feelings, for she is a very guilt-ridden person, which is unusual for a girl who was essentially spoiled. Despite having the love of her father, she feels deep guilt for allowing Relina to suffer as she did under their father's cruelty. She is protective of her sister and any who are close to her because of her guilt for this. As a result of her upbringing, with all the private lessons and trips to the weyrs, Catilena does not truly have any friends but she is caring toward others and would like to make friends with other people any chance she gets nonetheless. She is also quite the chatterbox, talking up a storm whenever she is in a good mood. She has a wonderful

History: Catilena was born in the same lesser hall of High Reaches as her sister, Relina. Unlike Relina, however, Catilena was much loved by her parents and everyone around her. When her mother died, Catilena never knew about her sister, for her father loathed the girl and felt Catilena would not benefit from knowing her. Catilena's father was very fond of the dragons and so he sent her to a weyr everytime there was a clutch containing a queen so he could give his daughter a life he never had, for he only wanted what was best for her. Alas, she had returned everytime, constantly rejected by the queens. So to give her something to do until the next queen egg came, he had her learn to cook and help in the kitchens. As a result, she unintentionally met Relina, for she only saw her when her lessons took her to the fields to gather ingrediants for her cooking, and even then, she only assumed Relina was but a drudge. One day, she was in the fields gathering ingredients, and she got a chance, by accident, to somewhat formally meet the girl.

Catilena happliy gathered the vegetables and placed them in her basket when she heard a cry. She sat up and saw her father strike the odd girl she had occasionally seen while she was out here in the fields. She inclined her head in their direction when her father began yelling.

"You worthless girl, how dare you steal food!" He snarled at her.

"How do you know it was me?" The girl shot back.

"Because we saw you sneaking about in the kitchens! We give you enough to eat!"

"Yeah, if I weren't worked to the bone father!" When she said this Catilena gasped and dropped her basket. She had a sister, and her father never told her. She started walking toward them.

"How dare you call me that! When you speak to me, you address me as "Sir"!" He shouted and he raised his hand again. Catilena started running and she just barely made it in time, running in front of her sister just as he brought his hand down. The force of the blow knocked Catilena down and she turned around and glared at her father, who looked at her, horrified at what he had done.

"I have a sister and you never told me? How could you!

---

Admin's Note:[/hr]" She spat at him, getting up and shielding the girl in case he wanted to strike again. The man looked at the two girls and his face went stoic.

"I only did it because she would be of no use to you. Do as you see fit." He said, and he walked away. Catilena turned to the girl that was her sister and held her hand out to her.

"My name is Catilena, What is yours, sister?" She asked, smiling. The frightened girl regained her composure and stood up on her own, rejecting the hand of her sister.

"Relina." Was all she said as she walked away. Catilena stared longingly after her, wanting to help her.

After that, Catilena would make extra portions of food and bring it to Relina's room when no one was looking, though Relina did not know this. During the course of that week, Catilena had minimal contact with her father. One week later, Relina and their father and a select group of the staff took the trip to the south that would ultimately shape Relina's destiny, and when Catilena's father returned without her sister, she grew angry with him yet again.

"What do you mean, "she's gone"

---

Admin's Note:[/hr] Where is she?" Catilena growled. Her father looked at her as if he thought her words were not important.

"We couldn't find her, so we figured she got lost and died somewhere, we had a schedule to keep." He responded. That was the last straw, Catilena had enough. She ran to her room and grabbed the sack she had been packing. She saw her father and said nothing as she walked past him. He was speechless as she continued walking and when she got to the door that would lead her out of High Reaches, she turned and looked at him, glaring.

"I can't take this anymore. If you want to bully everyone around then you can do it without me around." She informed him.

"But where are you going?" He asked her meekly.

"I am going to become a Rider. I have heard of a weyr that hatches strange dragons, and that the dragons choose anyone they wish, regardless of gender. I do not care if I get a queen, or a strange dragon, or a green or blue, I am going to become a rider, and then I will find my sister. Until I am joined with a dragon, I will use the skills you have taught me to aid that weyr. Goodbye father." She said, and she walked out before her father could say anything else. As she made it to the edge of the hold, she saw dragons flying, and a smiled adorned her face. 'Dark Moon Weyr, I am coming.' She thought as she continued her journey.

And so began Catilena's adventure. She made her journey to Dark Moon in the same quest as her sister, though neither of them knew it, to become a rider.

[Marnark’tranarprol]

Name: Honam

Age: 18

Gender:Male

Sexuality: Het

Rank: Candidate

Appearance:



Sandy blonde-tan locks fall messily to Honam's shoulders, no two strands the same length. The strands are vaguely darker toward the roots, but sunbleach out quickly to the uneven sandy blonde look as it goes toward the tips. His eyebrows resolutely stay darker than his hair does, somehow, shadowing over his sparkling, mischievous eyes. A light brown in color, his eyes are lightly striated with pale green directly around the pupil. But this discrepancy of color can only be seen in very up close and personal spaces, otherwise they just look vaguely light brown. A strong nose is prominent on his face, above an often quirked in mirth mouth. Often times he goes days without shaving, so it is not unusual to see a shadow of a beard on the youth, though it does not quite connect in all places yet. It will fill in, in time.

Somewhat tall already, Honam has a light, springy build and light muscling that makes him quite athletic and fast. He has his bulges and are proud of them, after a fashion (not like some males can be), but they are not the rock solid or whipcord ones that people in hard crafts can develop. Somewhere between the two, he is nicely filled out. He tends to wear loose clothing that allows for easy movement in any random direction. While his trousers always fit well at the waist, his shirts sometimes manage to get unfastened and stay that way … he really doesn't care how he looks. Thus the rumpled charm. He is almost always fairly clean, however, as he is a firm believer in regular baths… or at least swimming! Yeah … swimming …

He's got a strange looking hollow on his left forearm, where his browned skin seems stretched over a spot where there is no muscle. What it is, is just that - a semi-hollow spot where once upon a time there used to be meat. But an unfortunate accident ripped a piece of that muscle out. The skin healed with almost no mark, but the muscle has never filled back in. That arm and hand still works just fine, but it isn't quite up to strength on par with the other hand.

Personality: Honam is a free spirit that no one has managed to tame yet. Life is good, and he's living it! Originally from some obscure location north of the sea, his wandering bone has carried him far in life … sometimes physically, sometimes in other ways. He loves to get into things and all around make a general fool of himself. He doesn't care … so long as it's fun.

While he does not really like to do things like drink, he does love frivolity. Dancing especially is something he loves to do, and he will … with any lass that is interested. He can and sometimes does dance the night away any time there is music to be danced to. Honam is a very physical person … he has no problems with touching people, or getting into things. Climbing a mountain rock face, exploring a cave, skinny dipping in a river, catching and riding a wild runner until it simply can't go anymore … if it's exciting or interesting or fun, he'll do it! Full of energy, very little will slow Honam down. He dislikes standing still and gabbing all day, or moping around. Or simply sitting … sitting is boring! But when he does wind down, he sleeps like a dead thing, as if the rest of the world suddenly stops and there is nothing to miss.

With Honam, it's live every day like it was your last. Take it by the horns and go for it … after all, what have you got to lose?

He loves to interact with other people every time he encounters them, though sometimes he can be put off and will walk away if a certain person is too much of an opposite to him. Griping, groaning, moaning and complaining is something that he just can't comprehend, much less tolerate. After all … tomorrow always comes, the sky is always still blue, the flowers still bloom every spring. What is there to complain about?

Honam has no issues with who and what he is, or his status in life. However most people see him and have a vastly different opinion. He is, after all, a holdless, illegitimate, unreliable, craftless, wandering rogue of a lad. He is most definitely the sort that most Holders do their level best to keep away from their daughters.

History: Honam does not know it, but his father was a Lord. The unwanted and unknown (not even the Lord knows) son of a Lord, Honam was raised solely by his mother and his widowed grandmother in a simple household that merely did what they had to, to get by. There was nothing special about any of it. Being little more than, or really nothing more than, a drudge in the Hold, his mother toiled away days, and sometimes nights as well, to provide for her son and mother. Honam's grandmother watched the lad as she worked, unable to really do much of anything else as a crippling disease had ravaged her body before Honam had been born.

Coming from such a low family, Honam never bothered to apprentice to a craft. Not that it occurred to him, either. Life was as life was. In severe danger of becoming a drudge himself, Honam did not even realize. His mother did, however, aware that such a life would break his spirit. So full of life, as a young boy, Honam was always poking into things, exploring, getting just as muddy as any other lad could possibly manage. And more or less running free upon the thread-free countryside, getting into everything. Finally, his mother decided that it was time to do something about him … though she was not sure what, exactly, to do. She did not want to see him trapped into becoming just another menial worker in the Hold. He seemed to have potential for so very much more than that.

That, and she really did not want him getting found out … the more the boy matured into a young man, the more he began to resemble his father. And while she knew who his father was, she did not want anyone else to know, for her own reasons. Either the man who had sired Honam, or Honam himself. It was too much of a difference, between the lives of them. She did not want to create bitterness in Honam, nor did she wish to irk the Lord's ire. Which might result in some rather dreadful things to her small family.

So in the end, when her mother's health was finally failing to the last, she sent Honam off to go find her Uncle. She didn't have an Uncle, but that was beside the point … she just wanted Honam to go, and get away while he still could. Before awkward questions could be raised concerning the boy within the Hold. So, it was with no name, no idea who he was looking for, as a lad of only sixteen turns, Honam headed off into the wild blue yonder with nothing more than a knapsack and a country sense very few other people possessed. All on the theory of finding an Uncle and telling him of his grandmother's failing health.

Turns passed, many miles covered. Sometimes aboard a wagon or sneakily hopped upon wild runner, but mostly on his own two feet, Honam wore out many a pair of shoes. He saw everything there was to see that a lad could find to see. Quite a few Holds that he really had no idea which was which, and all the country side in between. Wide open plains, deep dark forests with tangled brush, cave pocked cliffs, crashing seas beneath sheer drops of stone, rushing rivers and gloriously tall mountains. He trod on it all, never getting down and quite a bit excited to travel the world as he was.

At one point, while catching a ride in the back of a tithe wagon that was bearing huge kegs, a bit more excitement than he was prepared for happened. The rear axle broke after one too many potholes in the dirt track of a road, dropping the back end a few inches. That heavy blow of the heavy kegs falling was all it took for one of the back two wheels to also break down and collapse. This shifted the load even further at the same time that the three draftrunners hitched to the wagon freaked out at the crashing noise. The animals took off, helping the kegs to shift even farther back on the slanted surface. Having been sitting on the back edge of the wagon, Honam's feet bounced off the ground at first, straining both knees. He grabbed at the side of the wagon, only to have it shatter just as he did. Before he could get away from the edge, the nearest keg toppled over on top of him, smashing his arm down onto the ragged wood of the cart. A shaft of splintered wood punched through the meat of his forearm, before the keg continued to roll onto him, squashing him and forcing him out of the wagon. Naturally, this ripped out the chunk of his arm, before he and three of the kegs were flung from the runaway busted wagon.

The driver managed to get the wagon stopped, and the other members of the wagon train helped to patch up Honam, the horses (for two of them had sprained their legs), and the wagon. The muscle that had been ripped out never did heal properly, though the skin healed up marvelously well. To this day, his arm is still a tad hollow in that spot, though the Healer that looked at it thought it would fill in, in time. Granted ... it would take some twenty Turns to do it.

And then he encountered the ocean! What a marvelous thing to behold! After several months of skirting the ocean on the beaches and eating well of eggs buried in the sand (but not flitter eggs), he began to realize that he had not found a huge lake … but something by far more vast and powerful than that. After three days holed up in a cave in a cliff during a seagoing storm crashing around, he decided to find out more about it. When the water receded, the youth made his way to the nearest seahold. There, he was told of just what the ocean was … and that there was a wild and untamed whole continent on the other side. So, working his way across the ocean on a ship, Honam started anew … wandering the lush jungles and winding rivers of the South.

Finding his mysterious Uncle did not weigh heavy on his mind … either he found him or he didn't. It didn't really matter. Life happened one day at a time. Besides … how in the world was he ever supposed to know how to find his way home, anyway? He didn't even know where he'd come from. Home was where the heart is, and his heart was always there with him.

Living and traveling as he has, he is a very good person at simply surviving. He can hunt, shape things of rawhide if need be (up to and including new moccasin-style shoes), he knows what plants can be eaten, when, and how … and he is not afraid of anything!

[Marnark’tranarprol]

Name: Orena (Or, ehn, ah)

Age: 17

Gender:Female

Sexuality: Confused

Rank: Candidate/ Sr. Apprentice Weaver (specialty tailoring)

Appearance:


Long, black hair falls past her shoulders, starting out straight, going into wavy curls, and then ending in loose ringlets at the bottom. Dark as a starless night, her hair seems to soak up any light, even sometimes seeming to shine blue it is so dark. But it is not, after all, blue. Just glossy black. Her eyes are a contrasting bright green, however, strangely not really fitting with the intense hair. Set into an ovular face, Orena has a straight nose and an average mouth to finish off her face. She does not smile often, but when she does, it is a genuine expression. When mentally engaged or occupied, thinking or working, her face is either set in neutral, or frowning ever so slightly.

Her body type is nothing to get excited about. It is so average and normal that it garners little attention at all. A hair on the taller than usual side, but not enough to really be noticed, she has a sturdy yet somewhat slender build. Her lighter work never put the stresses on her body in her youth to make it grow the heavy bone structure that some girls can get. Her bosom is there, by no means flat, yet it is still nothing to get attention or to oogle at. Set above a trim waist and well-formed hips, Orena is just plain … plain. Nothing extravagant to make her stand above, and nothing out of order to make her stand apart. If it weren't for the spectacular deepness of the color of her hair clashing with the light green of her eyes, she could easily vanish and never really be noticed in a population. And even these traits, one must be closer than across the room to notice.

As a tailor, Orena tends to wear clothes that fit properly. Nothing is loose, baggy, or ill fitted. And the style varies from one day to the next. She could be wearing something comfortable and modest one day, only to show up in something quite revealing and snugly form fitted the next day. However, they clothes do follow one theme in common in her own attire… she does not wear dark colors. Feeling this would make her look completely dark and forbidding due to her volumes of hair, she instead tends toward lighter cloth materials to offset that deepness of color. White, off white, pale yellows, pastels, and some of the lighter earth tones she can be seen wearing. Nothing with expensive dye colors, however, as she cannot afford that. Though the one thing she wants to create for herself is a rich blue shirt one day. When she's rich…

Personality: Orena is generally a quiet girl when focused on a task. The more intricate the task, the quieter she can get. Until she can be seen bent over an item, stitching away industriously, to turn out a lovely piece of clothing with quite nice embroidery adorning it in intricate patterns. However, this quiet intensity does not carry over to the rest of her life.

Indeed not! Orena can be as mischievous a girl as any, and can laugh and giggle and squeal with the rest of them, running amok. Much to the chagrin of her mother, who had tried her best to raise her as much like a distinguished lady as she could. To garner her respect as an adult, after all. But Orena is not … technically … and adult yet. Her young side still shows glaringly on occasion, and she will find something to get into, and have fun doing.

This does not, however, imply that she goes out of her way to make trouble. She just occasionally finds herself in the middle of it, usually quite unawares. Orena generally will not pull pranks on people that would cause them harm. But she will try to find something fun to do. And if this fun ends up with all the runner stock getting away because of a dropped plank that was knocked aside in an accidental tumble …

---

Admin's Note:[/hr] Oops.


History: Orena was born at Caspian hold, to a very nondescript family. Her mother was a weaver, and her father was the tailor, taking her mother's goods and turning them into some fairly fine garments to be worn about the place by the residents of the Hold. As a young girl, Orena was a very excitable thing, loving to run and play and … get into things. And the mud, and play with the boys and other girls who were fun-loving. But by the time she was eight, her mother pulled her away from that as much as she could, pressuring Orena to act far more ladylike. Dress nicely, keep her clothes clean, take care of her gorgeous hair, carry herself properly. Though the family was anything but well to do, Orena's mother believed strongly in appearances … and she hoped that if Orena acted the part, she might well attract the eye of some Lordling. Whether the local one, or any fosterling, she didn't really care. She just wanted well for Orena. A placing in life where she would not have to work every day of her life for every scrap of food she got.

Naturally, Orena resisted this as much as she could, having loved the life of freedom and playfulness and occasional mischief. For a few turns, this internal warring went on in the house, of Orena trying to be a tomboy, and of her mother trying to force her into the mold of a respectable young lady. This went on until Orena turned ten, and in breaking her mother's wishes managed to ruin a very nice outfit that had taken both of her parents a full month to make from scratch. She also managed to set her hair on fire and was rendered temporarily half bald from. That being the last straw, her mother raged at her like there was no tomorrow, and Orena was forced to have all the rest of her ebony hair cut off to make it more even. At this point was also when both of her parents it was time to put the unruly child to work … ladylike or no, the family had to eat. So the lessons were redoubled in how to sit, how to eat, how to act, how to speak … and how to do her craft. As she invariably and easily annoyed her mother, she was left to her father to teach. And while a kind and loving man, her father certainly had standards.

He taught her how to cut and stitch and sew and embellish, how to make the very finest clothing from the materials that her mother and elder brother made on the looms. She also learned how to make the plainer clothing, and other such cloth items. But the emphasis was put on the nicer articles. As it took special talent and patience to make such things … things which brought quite a few more marks when sold at market. Orena quickly learned that half and effort would not make her father happy in the slightest, and he would often make her rip something completely out and start over, over and over again until she got it done with quality. So under his strict yet patient and quiet tutelage, Orena learned to be patient and concentrate on her work. To get the job done well, and quickly if at all possible. But quality was not to be sacrificed for speed … if it took an extra day to get the piece done up to standards, than it took an extra day. Within reason, of course. If she took too long to make a certain piece, that got her into a whole other bucket of trouble.

Despite the pressures from her mother and the instruction of her father, Orena never did lose her playful streak … she just hid it well. Often she would hum a little ditty to herself when no one was near enough to hear … every now and again as she started to grow into a womanly form she would try something she had made on, that was fancy. And twirl around the shop for a moment or two. Before hastily taking it off again and putting it away before she got caught. She did not hate her work, not in the least. To the contrary, she loved that she was able to turn out some pretty things of quality. Things that ladies of note could sometimes be seen wearing. Despite her wilder nature, she was still a girl … she loved fine clothes as much as the next lass. She just had a slight advantage … she didn't have to own it to get to try it on. She made them!

Until her seventeenth turn, when a whole other calling made itself available to her. Her mother was horrified, but her father did not expressly advise against it. So Orena decided that this might be great fun, and went to give it a shot. After all … what could be more fun that dragonriding?

[mc16neo]

Name Kegin

Rank: Candidate
Age: 20
Gender: Male

Sexual Preference: Heterosexual

Appearance: He is 5'11 and weighs 170 lbs. He is of muscular build and his muscles are toned and defined. he has long blond hair and a light green eyes. he wears mainly loose cloths to hide scars he has on his arms. He has 2 scars on his arm one on each, they are shallow and got them during a smithing accident. He has a scar on his back running from his left hip to right shoulder. In the middle of the scar a spinal bone is coming through and is exposed from the skin

After his brothers last attack he gained a Large scar on his leg and bite marks on his wrist from Konta's dog

Kegin now has scars on his chest and ribs from knife wounds. But most pronounced is the large scare that is located right over his heart. The scar is puffed out and permanent. He has a few scars on his face, one being on his chin and left cheek.

Personality: Kegin is quiet and reserved, doesn't act before thinking. Even though he hates confrontation, he hates bullies more. Kegin will stick with what is right but won't voice it out, he would rather say no and that be the end of it. He ignores most people that are of same status as him or lower, like drudges or other staff, but if you get him as a friend he will stay loyal to the end. He is a heterosexual and likes to present gifts to a girl he likes. he is more reserved around girls.

He drinks on occasion and never enough to get drunk. He likes most kinds of food, mainly eating what he is given. He likes foods that most people would think is strange to eat. He loves to drink juice from the red fruit.He has the ability to be a leader but nothing has called on him to do so.

History: Kegin is the first born of Kital and Kisha, that he knows of, and loves them dearly. his father was a Smith and his mother a drudge at Telgar Weyr and he was either helping with anything he could or he mostly played with friends. He enjoyed 14 happy years at Telgar. He was born in the weyr and like the dragons flying around when he was a baby. He loved growing up in the Weyr

Then one day his dad was transferred to DarkMoon and his mother and himself went with him. His parents didn't like the idea of flying on a dragon so they took a caravan instead. They left with the soonest Caravan to a port nearest DarkMoon to then travel by ship the rest of the way. A few days into the travel bandits attacked the caravan and killed his parents.

During the raid he saw a cloaked man and fear shook him. He was paralyzed. This man was the reason the bandits were killing the two people he loved the most. There was cold hate in his eyes. Kegin was hidden under a caravan wagon during the attack so he was missed during the slaughter and ran for it the first chance he got. He made his way down the path to the Port they were headed and slept in a cave for shelter for one day. Then the next he made it to the Port and onto a ship to DarkMoon. Once there he spent the next 3 turns at the weyr and was searched just recently. Kegin had been rather reclusive until he was Searched.

Now Kegin lives in the weyr mostly doing odd chores they have for them and working on his Jewelry smithing.

Kegin has made some new acquaintances. He wouldn't call them friends but he does talk to them now and again. He still fears his brother drawing closer to him. Things have been going too well and he is beginning to become more suspicious.

Kegin's older brother Rogin made his first attempt at taking him with his partner Konta. But Kegin managed to get back to the Weyr before anything could happen. He didn't leave unmarked though. He had a LARGE cut down his leg and Konta's canine bit him on the wrist.

When Renegades came to the Weyr it was no wonder that they attack Kegin. Rogin locked him in a deadly knife fight where Kegin very much almost lost his life. He is currently in the infirmary clinging to life. He is afraid but being as stubborn as he is, he is still fighting.

[Bluesilk]

Name: Elanee

Age: 17

Gender: Female

Sexuality: Bisexual

Rank: Candidate

Appearance: To say it in a nicely, Elanee is vertically challenged... in a big way. With boots and on her tip toes, she might manage to break five feet. She is slim even for her age and much to her chagrin lacks any sort of womanly endowments. Of course if asked, she claims that this will change; although, anyone who has met her mother knows otherwise. It is unlikely that she will ever look like much more than a very small lad, of course to mention that will earn you a fist to the jaw.

With dark brown eyes and an almost permanent pout, Elanee could be considered very pretty if she spent any time cultivating it. But instead it is much more likely to find her dirt smudged and somewhere where she probably shouldn't be. A scar runs along her left cheek and jawline from an unfortunate encounter with a wall as a child. As it turns out, in a fight, the wall always wins. Otherwise her rampant childhood ways have not scared her with anything worse.

As soon as she got out from underneath her mother's thumb she cut her hair. After all, long locks are not fitting for any rider, or even a prospective one. And, its much easier to take care of when its above your ears, bathing is something that does not need any increasing in length. So now, the black, thick mass stands on end like a small, wild halo around her head. And of course, that is exactly how she likes it.

Finding her in a dress is almost an impossibility, she shirks them at all possible events. The extent of her usual wardrobe is a simple shirt and long pants. A child of hand-me-downs and many times mended clothing, she has little taste for fashion and as long as it covers her from cold it is just fine. Far more often than not, her clothes are as dirty and torn as she is.

Personality:
Elanee is a handful, putting it mildly. Sharp of tongue and of wit, her comments are known to flay opponents to the bone. She has always been the instigator, with or without her backup. More often than not she is the one being held out at arm's length while shes swinging wildly. Of course, if she actually manages to hit a person, she gives them cause to regret getting hit.

A lover of challenges, she is not one to give up a fight of any sort despite any disadvantages in size or weight. One to try and hold a grudge, Elanee has a tendency to forget a slight. A short memory and a tendency towards easy distraction tend to create a short fuse in the Candidate. She gets mad quickly, but tends to forget the reason just as quickly. More or less, she simply has an extremely short attention span.

Being the only daughter and the youngest of six children instilled in her a need to hold her own and she can be competitive to the point of danger. If there is a cliff, she will be the first to dare anyone to see how far they can lean over it. Of course, shes probably the first that would push someone else over the edge. One of her favorite sayings is: ''I'll play the hand I'm dealt and then a cheat.' Not one to roll over or accept anything, she will fight to the bitter end for a cause she believes in and she can be often caught sabotaging the competition.

Elanee has a bone to pick with the world and a point to prove if it kills her in the process. She is a driven girl without any direction and for the most part, runs in circles as fast as she can. The only things that can keep her attention for any length of time are puzzles and dragons. Of course, if she can't figure it out quickly enough, shes just as likely to destroy it. After all, it is rude of the puzzle not to give it's solution to the girl in a rapid fashion.

History:
Evanie was a typical creche mother at Fort Weyr, she had several children and fostered several more. Their family had always lived at the Weyr and even a lucky few actually rode the fantastic dragons that their lives centered around. Evanie was well known for her cooking and her... accommodating habits. So much so, that no one was really sure who each of her children were sired by; of course, neither was Evanie. Five sons and one daughter were a fine compliment to the Weyr, and Evanie was always willing to do her duty.

Growing up the youngest of six children would have been a trial enough in itself, but Elanee grew up with five older brothers. A lively family tended to grow livelier because her grandmother often fostered other weyrbrats. And their series of caves that was the family's home was always a rush of noise and activity. It was a lucky thing Elanee was tough and had a great deal of energy, for trying to keep up with her brothers was a full time occupation. But instead of picking on the only girl in their little tribe, they tended to support her. Of course, El got into more fights than the rest combined.

Although she never knew her father, Elanee always pranced around with the imagined hero bronzerider that should be her father. She was more or less tolerated and smiled at. After all, her stories at least, didn't get anyone sent down to the Infirmary. Despite raising five older boys, after El began to grow, her mother found herself on a first name basis with most of the healers. The only time the young girl really behaved was during the required lessons. And, besides fighting, it was the one other thing she excelled at. With a passable voice and her irrepressible urge to show off, El always learned her teaching songs before most of the other children.

She was often the pint sized ringleader to their little gang and the creche mothers always had their work cut out for them when Elanee was about. When she was eight, she 'fell' down the stairs as a result of loosing yet another fight. El never learned that it was best to wait for her older brothers before starting to swing. It earned her a fast trip to the infirmary and a scar on her chin that she is rather proud of. Things changed rapidly for their little gang when the two eldest brothers, Tanan and Elanon Impressed at Fort Weyr's latest clutch. With both a brown and green respectively, they suddenly had no more time for their little sister and Elanee had to learn how to be a follower for the first time in her young life. Of course, it was all worth it to get the chance to help oil or feed the Weyrlings.

After T'nan graduated, he took a transfer to Dark Moon Weyr. Elanee, predictably, followed said worshiped older brother. Well it was that excuse and that Dark Moon's strange dragons and stories that had Elanee fascinated. Here was a place she could stretch her wings, and she'd never have to brush her hair again. As a child born of the Weyr, she took the chance to stand as a Candidate. After all, the only thing better than not having to brush and wash long hair was the chance to have her own dragon. After all, if T'nan and E'lon could manage it, she certainly could.


Pets: None.