Post by slush on Sept 30, 2014 22:01:35 GMT -5
Name: T’val of Ruby Neropth
Age: 27
Gender: Male
Rank: Ruby Rider
Appearance: T’val is a beanpole of a man, all height and bones and knobby angles. Even his face is long and narrow. His resting expression looks melancholy—there’s a slight downturn to his facial features that suggests broodiness even when he’s perfectly happy. His eyes are dark brown, almost black, with thick lashes that females everywhere could envy. His hair is definitely black, but he keeps it shaved close because the messy curls that result when he lets it grow irk him him.
T’val lopes more than he walks. His long legs combined with his usual restless energy grant him a swiftness that few in the Weyr could hope to match. He has long, elegant fingers, and since he is quite particular about hygiene, his nails are always perfectly manicured. It’s a good thing, too, because his every word is accompanied by some gesture with his hands. Neropth’s rider is kinetic—he’s always in motion. Stillness doesn’t come naturally to him, and in fact, being forced to remain immobile for any length of time causes him great agitation. He flutters, as much as it’s possible for a stern, masculine man to do so.
Personality: T’val is pensive. He’s a man of few words; he prefers silent, definitive action. He has a tendency to brood, and he relies on Neropth to pull him from his bouts of melancholy. His mind, like his hands, circles ceaselessly. He’s prone to obsessive thoughts, particularly in times of excitement or stress. This does allow him to focus intently in times of crisis—he has that critical ability to remain calm and goal-oriented in the midst of chaos. The ruby rider is doggedly stubborn, and he resists change with all the ferocity that is in him unless it’s something he actively sought. He nurses doubts about everything but Neropth, though he rarely voices them. He’s a bit cynical, and when he does speak, his wry humor makes itself known obliquely.
At first, the man does not seem at all assertive. He doesn’t have the bluster and swagger that is commonly associated with king riders. However, close scrutiny will reveal that despite his perceived reticence, he is persistent, capable, and meticulous. He is a stern taskmaster when in charge, but he strives to be fair. He expects perfection of himself and those he leads. He does occasionally get ensnared in details, but all it takes is a little nudge from Neropth to orient him when he’s lost.
Though T’val is not outgoing, he gets on well with almost everyone. Perhaps because he’s quiet and self-contained, folks around him have decided he is an excellent listening ear. Riders he barely recognizes will pour out their confidences to him, and he takes this very seriously. Gossip is abhorrent to T’val, and he wouldn’t betray a secret even with his last breath. He is pragmatic in his advice-giving, favoring honesty over sugar-coating, but he usually manages to deliver his opinions in fairly gentle ways.
T’val’s biggest flaw is his own internal struggle. He suffers bouts of depression. At his worst, he becomes extremely self-critical and drives himself to the absolute breaking point to make up for any and all deficiencies, many of them imagined. Neropth has learned to deal with his rider’s downswings, and the steady presence of the ruby gives T’val the strength to cope. He’s extremely fastidious, almost to the point of ridiculousness when he’s having a bad spell. He hates feeling dirty or disheveled, and he takes more care with his appearance than one would expect. His need to appear perfectly put together extends to his dragon as well—Neropth probably has the healthiest hide in the Weyr (not that the ruby’s complaining). He takes comfort in the ritual associated with grooming his dragon. If he’s upset and he’s not using the bathing pools himself, chances are he can be found washing and oiling his bonded.
History: Tuval was born and raised in Black Sands Hold. As a miner’s son, he was expected to join the trade. He detested the grit and the gloom of the mines, however. He was the black sheep of his family. His three brothers never protested and took to the work with ease, but he rebelled against his father’s wishes. He was a thorn in his mother’s side, too—she drilled into him that excelling in his lessons could provide a way out of the miner’s life, but he couldn’t be still long enough to attend to them. Despite his obvious intelligence, he performed poorly. Not a day passed when he wasn’t being scolded and forced to write lines or sit on his too-mobile hands or pull extra chores because of his failures.
He endured these child’s miseries by playing out elaborate, intricate fantasies in his mind. With the tales he could spin, he would have made a fine Harper. But of course, no one—other than his youngest brother, who idolized him—wanted to hear the stories. So he would sneak away whenever he could to the watch-wher’s den, spinning his yarns for the patient Ruby. He was rather attached to the Wher, and she (and her handler) seemed relatively unbothered by the imaginative boy that hung around, acting out his thousand different dreams.
At the age of 16, Tuval was Searched. He was elated. His chance to escape had arrived! His parents were just as relieved as he, because they had no idea what to do with him. He’d never apprenticed, and though the Wher-handler allowed him to help out with duties, that wasn’t a proper position. He needed some alternative.
The first Hatching came and passed, and no dragon hatched for Tuval. He was absolutely crushed. His failure threw him into a deep depression, and he foundered for a while, even in the looser environment of the Weyr. He couldn’t return to the Hold, but it took more effort than he could muster to keep at his chores and lessons. He was actually on the verge of having his Candidacy revoked and being sent back to the Hold when his saving grace arrived.
It just so happened that, as punishment for failing to complete his chores in the Kitchen, Tuval was sent along with a work crew to another Weyr for some supply trading. The Weyrqueen had a clutch on the sands, and as it happened, the Hatching occurred while the bunch from Black Sands was at the Weyr. Of course, they were invited to watch, and it came as a mighty shock to everyone when the second ruby of the clutch bypassed all the eager white-robed youths and headed straight for Tuval.
It was decided that T’val would remain there long enough to complete Weyrling Training with Neropth’s clutchmates before transferring to Black Sands Weyr. Training was rough for him, as the rest of the group was already close-knit from their time together as Candidates. However, the balm of his dragon’s presence helped him to excel, and he found he was able to immerse himself in these studies like no others before. He returned proudly to Black Sands Weyr.
The recent slayings have taken a toll on him. Those he has formed few very close personal connections, he deeply feels the loss of his fellow riders. Neropth has, in particular, suffered with the loss of the Weyrqueens. Now, they are leaning more than ever on each other for support, and T’val has bent his obsessive mind toward finding and punishing those responsible for these atrocities.
Dragon Name: Neropth
Dragon Hue: Ruby (male)
Dragon Age: 9
Dragon Appearance: Neropth is average-sized, for a dragon of his rank. He is built for power and stamina rather than speed or agility; he is solid. His flight tends to be precisely controlled. This ruby isn’t one to show off. He prefers efficiency and energy conservation rather than acrobatics. He knows how to pace himself well. Even as a Weyrling, he was one of the few larger dragons who didn’t suffer from wing strain or injuries resulting in overstretching himself. He’s always had a knack for pacing his flight well. The only time he is not a cautious flyer is when he’s chasing a female, and then all bets are off.
His coloring is dark, almost rust-red, more like a garnet than a ruby. The dorsal face of his body is darkest, bleeding down into a more vibrant, brighter red on his underbelly. Dark splotches decorate his wingsails, and there’s a faint stripe of lighter color running along his spine. He notably lacks the gem-like sheen most other rubies have, except along his neckridges. It gives him a somewhat mottled appearance, but considering how well-oiled his hide is, he always looks sharp.
Dragon Personality: Neropth is a perfect foil for T’val. He is always constant, steady, free from the self-doubt that plagues his rider. His gentle warmth reassures the man in times of distress. When T’val becomes caught up in trivialities, it is Neropth who holds fast to the bigger picture. He has a stronger sense of causation than most dragons, understanding that his actions cause “ripples” (even if he cannot accurately predict what those ripples might be). He, too, holds fast in times of high stress, unless of course his rider is somehow incapacitated.
Neropth, like his bonded, cares little for idle chatter. The ruby tends not to speak unless he has something meaningful to say, and he weighs each word carefully. He takes offense at being called “too serious,” however; he will turn a glacial eye on anyone who suggests such a thing, man or dragon. Arctic silence is his preferred way of communicating his displeasure, and it is decidedly less friendly than his usual quietude.
There are some simple pleasures the dragon takes great delight in, oiling being perhaps the foremost of these. The ritual of daily oiling is sacred to both Neropth and T’val, who will let no one help despite the ruby’s size. Oiling is the pair’s time for quiet reflection and togetherness, uplifting for the both of them. (Truth be told, whether due to T’val’s frequent ministrations or independent of them, the dragon has grown a bit vain. He’s put out if he doesn’t feel he looks his best, and he doesn’t hesitate to summon the man for inspection whenever he feels the need.)
Neropth also loves observing young dragons and their riders. He follows weyrling’s progress as closely as his duties allow, and it’s not uncommon to find him lounging in the sun, watching lessons. T’val does not discourage this behavior, as it gives him insights into potential wingmates that he would otherwise never know.
The ruby is more rank-conscious than his rider. It carries no significance for him; it’s just a fact of his life, and he slips easily into his role in the hierarchy. He brings assertiveness that T’val seems to lack, his presence filled with more natural authority than the man’s.
Neropth also harbors a strange fear of tunnelsnakes, of all things. Though the possibility of one actually hurting him is nearly absurd, he absolutely loathes the creatures and has an absolute fit if one comes near him.
Age: 27
Gender: Male
Rank: Ruby Rider
Appearance: T’val is a beanpole of a man, all height and bones and knobby angles. Even his face is long and narrow. His resting expression looks melancholy—there’s a slight downturn to his facial features that suggests broodiness even when he’s perfectly happy. His eyes are dark brown, almost black, with thick lashes that females everywhere could envy. His hair is definitely black, but he keeps it shaved close because the messy curls that result when he lets it grow irk him him.
T’val lopes more than he walks. His long legs combined with his usual restless energy grant him a swiftness that few in the Weyr could hope to match. He has long, elegant fingers, and since he is quite particular about hygiene, his nails are always perfectly manicured. It’s a good thing, too, because his every word is accompanied by some gesture with his hands. Neropth’s rider is kinetic—he’s always in motion. Stillness doesn’t come naturally to him, and in fact, being forced to remain immobile for any length of time causes him great agitation. He flutters, as much as it’s possible for a stern, masculine man to do so.
Personality: T’val is pensive. He’s a man of few words; he prefers silent, definitive action. He has a tendency to brood, and he relies on Neropth to pull him from his bouts of melancholy. His mind, like his hands, circles ceaselessly. He’s prone to obsessive thoughts, particularly in times of excitement or stress. This does allow him to focus intently in times of crisis—he has that critical ability to remain calm and goal-oriented in the midst of chaos. The ruby rider is doggedly stubborn, and he resists change with all the ferocity that is in him unless it’s something he actively sought. He nurses doubts about everything but Neropth, though he rarely voices them. He’s a bit cynical, and when he does speak, his wry humor makes itself known obliquely.
At first, the man does not seem at all assertive. He doesn’t have the bluster and swagger that is commonly associated with king riders. However, close scrutiny will reveal that despite his perceived reticence, he is persistent, capable, and meticulous. He is a stern taskmaster when in charge, but he strives to be fair. He expects perfection of himself and those he leads. He does occasionally get ensnared in details, but all it takes is a little nudge from Neropth to orient him when he’s lost.
Though T’val is not outgoing, he gets on well with almost everyone. Perhaps because he’s quiet and self-contained, folks around him have decided he is an excellent listening ear. Riders he barely recognizes will pour out their confidences to him, and he takes this very seriously. Gossip is abhorrent to T’val, and he wouldn’t betray a secret even with his last breath. He is pragmatic in his advice-giving, favoring honesty over sugar-coating, but he usually manages to deliver his opinions in fairly gentle ways.
T’val’s biggest flaw is his own internal struggle. He suffers bouts of depression. At his worst, he becomes extremely self-critical and drives himself to the absolute breaking point to make up for any and all deficiencies, many of them imagined. Neropth has learned to deal with his rider’s downswings, and the steady presence of the ruby gives T’val the strength to cope. He’s extremely fastidious, almost to the point of ridiculousness when he’s having a bad spell. He hates feeling dirty or disheveled, and he takes more care with his appearance than one would expect. His need to appear perfectly put together extends to his dragon as well—Neropth probably has the healthiest hide in the Weyr (not that the ruby’s complaining). He takes comfort in the ritual associated with grooming his dragon. If he’s upset and he’s not using the bathing pools himself, chances are he can be found washing and oiling his bonded.
History: Tuval was born and raised in Black Sands Hold. As a miner’s son, he was expected to join the trade. He detested the grit and the gloom of the mines, however. He was the black sheep of his family. His three brothers never protested and took to the work with ease, but he rebelled against his father’s wishes. He was a thorn in his mother’s side, too—she drilled into him that excelling in his lessons could provide a way out of the miner’s life, but he couldn’t be still long enough to attend to them. Despite his obvious intelligence, he performed poorly. Not a day passed when he wasn’t being scolded and forced to write lines or sit on his too-mobile hands or pull extra chores because of his failures.
He endured these child’s miseries by playing out elaborate, intricate fantasies in his mind. With the tales he could spin, he would have made a fine Harper. But of course, no one—other than his youngest brother, who idolized him—wanted to hear the stories. So he would sneak away whenever he could to the watch-wher’s den, spinning his yarns for the patient Ruby. He was rather attached to the Wher, and she (and her handler) seemed relatively unbothered by the imaginative boy that hung around, acting out his thousand different dreams.
At the age of 16, Tuval was Searched. He was elated. His chance to escape had arrived! His parents were just as relieved as he, because they had no idea what to do with him. He’d never apprenticed, and though the Wher-handler allowed him to help out with duties, that wasn’t a proper position. He needed some alternative.
The first Hatching came and passed, and no dragon hatched for Tuval. He was absolutely crushed. His failure threw him into a deep depression, and he foundered for a while, even in the looser environment of the Weyr. He couldn’t return to the Hold, but it took more effort than he could muster to keep at his chores and lessons. He was actually on the verge of having his Candidacy revoked and being sent back to the Hold when his saving grace arrived.
It just so happened that, as punishment for failing to complete his chores in the Kitchen, Tuval was sent along with a work crew to another Weyr for some supply trading. The Weyrqueen had a clutch on the sands, and as it happened, the Hatching occurred while the bunch from Black Sands was at the Weyr. Of course, they were invited to watch, and it came as a mighty shock to everyone when the second ruby of the clutch bypassed all the eager white-robed youths and headed straight for Tuval.
It was decided that T’val would remain there long enough to complete Weyrling Training with Neropth’s clutchmates before transferring to Black Sands Weyr. Training was rough for him, as the rest of the group was already close-knit from their time together as Candidates. However, the balm of his dragon’s presence helped him to excel, and he found he was able to immerse himself in these studies like no others before. He returned proudly to Black Sands Weyr.
The recent slayings have taken a toll on him. Those he has formed few very close personal connections, he deeply feels the loss of his fellow riders. Neropth has, in particular, suffered with the loss of the Weyrqueens. Now, they are leaning more than ever on each other for support, and T’val has bent his obsessive mind toward finding and punishing those responsible for these atrocities.
Dragon Name: Neropth
Dragon Hue: Ruby (male)
Dragon Age: 9
Dragon Appearance: Neropth is average-sized, for a dragon of his rank. He is built for power and stamina rather than speed or agility; he is solid. His flight tends to be precisely controlled. This ruby isn’t one to show off. He prefers efficiency and energy conservation rather than acrobatics. He knows how to pace himself well. Even as a Weyrling, he was one of the few larger dragons who didn’t suffer from wing strain or injuries resulting in overstretching himself. He’s always had a knack for pacing his flight well. The only time he is not a cautious flyer is when he’s chasing a female, and then all bets are off.
His coloring is dark, almost rust-red, more like a garnet than a ruby. The dorsal face of his body is darkest, bleeding down into a more vibrant, brighter red on his underbelly. Dark splotches decorate his wingsails, and there’s a faint stripe of lighter color running along his spine. He notably lacks the gem-like sheen most other rubies have, except along his neckridges. It gives him a somewhat mottled appearance, but considering how well-oiled his hide is, he always looks sharp.
Dragon Personality: Neropth is a perfect foil for T’val. He is always constant, steady, free from the self-doubt that plagues his rider. His gentle warmth reassures the man in times of distress. When T’val becomes caught up in trivialities, it is Neropth who holds fast to the bigger picture. He has a stronger sense of causation than most dragons, understanding that his actions cause “ripples” (even if he cannot accurately predict what those ripples might be). He, too, holds fast in times of high stress, unless of course his rider is somehow incapacitated.
Neropth, like his bonded, cares little for idle chatter. The ruby tends not to speak unless he has something meaningful to say, and he weighs each word carefully. He takes offense at being called “too serious,” however; he will turn a glacial eye on anyone who suggests such a thing, man or dragon. Arctic silence is his preferred way of communicating his displeasure, and it is decidedly less friendly than his usual quietude.
There are some simple pleasures the dragon takes great delight in, oiling being perhaps the foremost of these. The ritual of daily oiling is sacred to both Neropth and T’val, who will let no one help despite the ruby’s size. Oiling is the pair’s time for quiet reflection and togetherness, uplifting for the both of them. (Truth be told, whether due to T’val’s frequent ministrations or independent of them, the dragon has grown a bit vain. He’s put out if he doesn’t feel he looks his best, and he doesn’t hesitate to summon the man for inspection whenever he feels the need.)
Neropth also loves observing young dragons and their riders. He follows weyrling’s progress as closely as his duties allow, and it’s not uncommon to find him lounging in the sun, watching lessons. T’val does not discourage this behavior, as it gives him insights into potential wingmates that he would otherwise never know.
The ruby is more rank-conscious than his rider. It carries no significance for him; it’s just a fact of his life, and he slips easily into his role in the hierarchy. He brings assertiveness that T’val seems to lack, his presence filled with more natural authority than the man’s.
Neropth also harbors a strange fear of tunnelsnakes, of all things. Though the possibility of one actually hurting him is nearly absurd, he absolutely loathes the creatures and has an absolute fit if one comes near him.
I just found it curious that you chose to go with the female half of the genes rather than the male.
