Post by Darvin on Jun 23, 2010 3:13:53 GMT -5
Hold/Wyerfolk Application Non-Dragonriders
Name: Darvin
Age: 46
Gender: Male.
Sexual Preference: Heterosexual.
Position Candidatemaster/Groundsmaster.
Groundsmaster: In charge of maintaining the grounds of the Weyr itself, and the care-taking of the Dragons present, including feeding, cleaning, and the associated tools and supplies.
Current Home: Formerly of Ista Weyr.
Physical Description Of a middling height, and solidly built, with bright, clear green eyes, and a broad chest, Darvin seems nearly cut out of stone. Every one of his fourty-three years is visible on him, more like wearing on stone than true aging, seeming immutably aged, as if he'd been born old. This impression of age, however, often worked in his favor, lending visible aspect to his wisdom and intelligence.
Avatar Image
Character Personality: Stubborn, headstrong, intelligent, condescending, and demanding, he often seems an impossible obstacle for most Weyrlings; A mountain of personality and physicality, one which actively resists any efforts to conquer. His training regimens are the envy of many a Weyr, resulting in one of the best-trained Wings in Pern. His strength of personality, however, mixed with his condescending superiority, often set him at odds with many of his peers, even as his expertise sets him well aside from the other Wingleaders. His Bronze has flown many a Queen, and fathered many healthy clutches which populate Weyrs across Pern. Above all else, though, he's been driven by duty - To himself, to his Dragon, and to Weyr and Hold.
Character Background: Darvin began his life in Ista Hold, fathered by a Farmcraftsman, he was raised to simple life within the agrarian society prevalent over most of Pern. From a young age, however, his superiority and belligerence earned him many enemies, often landing him in scuffles with the other young men. His sense of duty and responsibility often raised him above his peers, making him an easy target for the sharp jabs of the other Holdless sons, who often considered the very ambitious Darvin to be simply silly - What aspirations could a Farmer's son possibly possess?
Darvin, however, was vindicated in his teens, when he was Searched. His escalation to Bronzerider was simply assumed, even before he set foot on the sands. He did not fail to achieve.
Rapidly making Wingleader, he fearlessly led in the Weyrling classes, often pushing the boundaries of his learning, and speaking up constantly in classes; Interjecting with his own ideas and concepts. While this quickly earned his teacher's ire, it also garnered their respect - His ideas, though poorly timed and placed, were often well thought-out, lacking only the polish of experience.
His intensity quickly grew, which transferred, through harsh discipline and coarse, good humor, to his Wing, sharpening their often eager inexperience into blade-like focus. When the Pass finally came, he and his men met it head-on, with the rest, marking up fewer injuries than any other Wing, and more flying-time.
With this new disaster, however, he and his Wing were caught completely off-guard. The falling meteorites took a great toll on his Wing, his Weyr, and the nearby Ista Hold - A very personal price.
Roleplay Sample
The sky seemed to shudder, as the distant lights tumbled through the low clouds, scattering them like wherries before a hunting Dragon. No one seemed too concerned, though; The lights were very distant. They seemed harmless, shrunk into impotence by distance and distraction. D'vin shook his head, focusing once more on the open sky before him, and the clumps of Thread falling earthward. And falling in clumps, he noted, thoughtfully. That could be a problem. There'd be a lot of Numbweed going around tonight.
He called out Formation orders, the dragons echoing the orders to their Riders. Their patterns shifted, flying in pairs, in a double helix formation, efficiently burning through the clumps of flying Thread.
The winds, however, changed in aspect. Something was wrong. He scanned the reddening sky for Thread, and paused. Sunset was many hours away. He frowned, thoughtfully, moving away from the leading edge of the Threadfall, briefly surveying his Wing, ensuring that they all held to their patterns. His ears were filled with roaring, his face, with heat.
One of the lights! Much closer. The rock - And it seemed to be a rock falling from the sky - hurtled down past him, missing by a near fifty yards, scorching its' way through the air with an acrid stench.
As one, the Dragon and Rider stooped, winking into Between, appearing some ways ahead of the rock. He shot flame up at it, thinking it was some new form of Thread - And found it utterly ineffectual. The blazing stone shot past him, forcing he and his dragon to dodge forcefully away from the stone. When it struck the heavy stones of the scorched-bare hills outside of Ista Hold, it sent up a spray of dirt and debris like a bomb exploding.
Caught off-guard by this new, indestructible enemy, his dragons milled and scattered, their discipline faltering in the face of the combined threats. It swiftly became clear that, even more than the Thread, these new objects were an appalling destructive force.
Soon, the stones fell on the Hold and Weyr itself, as dragon and rider both were steadily pushed back. Swiftly, the evacuation began, Holdfolk and Weyrfolk gathering up anything they could carry, and fleeing. The Island, however, granted little solace. Waves, higher than normal by several feet, had crushed many of the smaller ships onto and into the docks to which they were tethered.
D'vin made a quick decision, landing his Regolth in the Hold's courtyard, and running swiftly inside, to confer with the Lord Holder. Their council, however brief, brought about results. The tired dragons were swiftly fitted with nets and rigging, to carry as much of the supplies and belongings as possible, some with carrying harnesses for people, ferrying as many of them as possible to the first, farthest place that came to mind - Benden Weyr.
He emerged from the icy shock of Between to find devestation little less than he'd left behind, though mitigated by the strength of the terrain. The noisy voices of the many Dragons, calling to one another, upset D'vin's Regolth, causing him to shake his head in agitation.
Here, however, the rain of fire was not far behind. He returned, quickly, to Ista Weyr, where he met with the Holder Lord - And the news that the Weyrleader could not be found, nor his dragon contacted, in all the confusion. The Weyrwoman, driven to distraction by his absence, could not manage her ability to hear all the Dragons of Pern - And was overwhelmed by the sheer volume of thoughts and images. She lay, catatonic, in a fetal ball in her room.
"Come on," he called out, storming his way into the Weyrwoman's chambers. "We need to go! Now!"
"I can't," she whispered. "He's coming back - Here. I know it. He'll come back."
The Dragons fell quiet, for a moment, before releasing a spine-chilling death knell, for another fallen Dragon - The fifth or sixth since the beginning of the rain of fire. The sheer volume of tragedy echoed in their remorseful cries.
Regolth sent him a simple thought, "Taranth is passed." Taranth, the Weyrleader's dragon, had been an exceptionally large and vital Bronze - The pride of the Weyr. His loss struck harder than any other. "K'vyt comes!" K'vyt, the Weyrleader, now Dragonless; Likely not the last to suffer so, this day.
The ground began to shudder and shake with a strange violence, and dust fell in thin rivulets to the floor. "Regolth!" He called out. The Bronze swooped, and perched on the lip of the cavern, angling himself carefully, to allow his rider to come aboard. The Weyrwoman's Gold hovered outside, keening at her unresponsive rider.
D'vin swept her up in his arms, and ran for his Bronze, mounting up swiftly. Her Gold was not far behind, hovering aggressively, warily behind Regolth. "I have her," he called back, to the Gold, "I have her! She is safe!"
Even as he cried out, the sheer cliff walls in front of him seemed to shift. He seemed to be ascending impossibly fast - Until he realized a section of cliff was descending forcefully past him. The Dragons gave a sharp keening as he crested the broken cliffside - A pair of smaller Dragons hadn't been quick enough to escape the broken walls. Another keening, a few moments later, harkened a Brown that had attempted to Between clear, but hadn't had a clear place to return to, instead forever lost to the icy bite of that mystical place.
D'vin dismounted swiftly, still carrying the near-comatose Weyrwoman. He stumbled, mid-step, as if struck by a massive weight; Absolutely crushed beneath a sort of icy despair that he'd never come close to feeling, before.
Ahead of him, the massive Gold keened. The sound seemed to last forever.
He waited for Regolth's voice, to announce who had fallen... Until, after a long moment, he turned, down on one knee, and saw the bronze and crimson ruins of his life-mate, surrounded in black smoke. The stench of burnt flesh hit him like a hammer.
He knelt, perfectly still, his arms going limp, barely strong enough to support the ailing Weyrwoman.
It was like his whole world came crashing down all at once, drowned in the image of his companion. He heard Regolth's roar echo in his ears. He heard his quiet, steady voice in his thoughts. He saw his bright, swirling eyes - And realized abruptly that the Gold had snaked her head around him, her long neck a half-circle around him and the Weyrwoman. He saw the swirling colors of confusion, and fear, as she stared at her Rider, visibly terrified of her unconscious state.
He realized, abruptly, that far more would be lost, if he did not control himself.
He shut the pain away in a tiny little box, and begged Regolth's memory for forgiveness.
He knew he'd understand.
He hoped he'd understand.
He roared out a command, dragging the comatose Weyrwoman onto her Gold's back, strapping them both in quickly. The Dragon kicked up, into the air, almost immediately. D'vin closed his eyes, and prayed to the first Egg that they could find somewhere safe.
His next thoughts were completely wiped out by the icy cold of Between. Nowhere near as cold as the feeling deep inside of him, locked away in that tiny little box.
Name: Darvin
Age: 46
Gender: Male.
Sexual Preference: Heterosexual.
Position Candidatemaster/Groundsmaster.
Groundsmaster: In charge of maintaining the grounds of the Weyr itself, and the care-taking of the Dragons present, including feeding, cleaning, and the associated tools and supplies.
Current Home: Formerly of Ista Weyr.
Physical Description Of a middling height, and solidly built, with bright, clear green eyes, and a broad chest, Darvin seems nearly cut out of stone. Every one of his fourty-three years is visible on him, more like wearing on stone than true aging, seeming immutably aged, as if he'd been born old. This impression of age, however, often worked in his favor, lending visible aspect to his wisdom and intelligence.
Avatar Image
Character Personality: Stubborn, headstrong, intelligent, condescending, and demanding, he often seems an impossible obstacle for most Weyrlings; A mountain of personality and physicality, one which actively resists any efforts to conquer. His training regimens are the envy of many a Weyr, resulting in one of the best-trained Wings in Pern. His strength of personality, however, mixed with his condescending superiority, often set him at odds with many of his peers, even as his expertise sets him well aside from the other Wingleaders. His Bronze has flown many a Queen, and fathered many healthy clutches which populate Weyrs across Pern. Above all else, though, he's been driven by duty - To himself, to his Dragon, and to Weyr and Hold.
Character Background: Darvin began his life in Ista Hold, fathered by a Farmcraftsman, he was raised to simple life within the agrarian society prevalent over most of Pern. From a young age, however, his superiority and belligerence earned him many enemies, often landing him in scuffles with the other young men. His sense of duty and responsibility often raised him above his peers, making him an easy target for the sharp jabs of the other Holdless sons, who often considered the very ambitious Darvin to be simply silly - What aspirations could a Farmer's son possibly possess?
Darvin, however, was vindicated in his teens, when he was Searched. His escalation to Bronzerider was simply assumed, even before he set foot on the sands. He did not fail to achieve.
Rapidly making Wingleader, he fearlessly led in the Weyrling classes, often pushing the boundaries of his learning, and speaking up constantly in classes; Interjecting with his own ideas and concepts. While this quickly earned his teacher's ire, it also garnered their respect - His ideas, though poorly timed and placed, were often well thought-out, lacking only the polish of experience.
His intensity quickly grew, which transferred, through harsh discipline and coarse, good humor, to his Wing, sharpening their often eager inexperience into blade-like focus. When the Pass finally came, he and his men met it head-on, with the rest, marking up fewer injuries than any other Wing, and more flying-time.
With this new disaster, however, he and his Wing were caught completely off-guard. The falling meteorites took a great toll on his Wing, his Weyr, and the nearby Ista Hold - A very personal price.
Roleplay Sample
The sky seemed to shudder, as the distant lights tumbled through the low clouds, scattering them like wherries before a hunting Dragon. No one seemed too concerned, though; The lights were very distant. They seemed harmless, shrunk into impotence by distance and distraction. D'vin shook his head, focusing once more on the open sky before him, and the clumps of Thread falling earthward. And falling in clumps, he noted, thoughtfully. That could be a problem. There'd be a lot of Numbweed going around tonight.
He called out Formation orders, the dragons echoing the orders to their Riders. Their patterns shifted, flying in pairs, in a double helix formation, efficiently burning through the clumps of flying Thread.
The winds, however, changed in aspect. Something was wrong. He scanned the reddening sky for Thread, and paused. Sunset was many hours away. He frowned, thoughtfully, moving away from the leading edge of the Threadfall, briefly surveying his Wing, ensuring that they all held to their patterns. His ears were filled with roaring, his face, with heat.
One of the lights! Much closer. The rock - And it seemed to be a rock falling from the sky - hurtled down past him, missing by a near fifty yards, scorching its' way through the air with an acrid stench.
As one, the Dragon and Rider stooped, winking into Between, appearing some ways ahead of the rock. He shot flame up at it, thinking it was some new form of Thread - And found it utterly ineffectual. The blazing stone shot past him, forcing he and his dragon to dodge forcefully away from the stone. When it struck the heavy stones of the scorched-bare hills outside of Ista Hold, it sent up a spray of dirt and debris like a bomb exploding.
Caught off-guard by this new, indestructible enemy, his dragons milled and scattered, their discipline faltering in the face of the combined threats. It swiftly became clear that, even more than the Thread, these new objects were an appalling destructive force.
Soon, the stones fell on the Hold and Weyr itself, as dragon and rider both were steadily pushed back. Swiftly, the evacuation began, Holdfolk and Weyrfolk gathering up anything they could carry, and fleeing. The Island, however, granted little solace. Waves, higher than normal by several feet, had crushed many of the smaller ships onto and into the docks to which they were tethered.
D'vin made a quick decision, landing his Regolth in the Hold's courtyard, and running swiftly inside, to confer with the Lord Holder. Their council, however brief, brought about results. The tired dragons were swiftly fitted with nets and rigging, to carry as much of the supplies and belongings as possible, some with carrying harnesses for people, ferrying as many of them as possible to the first, farthest place that came to mind - Benden Weyr.
He emerged from the icy shock of Between to find devestation little less than he'd left behind, though mitigated by the strength of the terrain. The noisy voices of the many Dragons, calling to one another, upset D'vin's Regolth, causing him to shake his head in agitation.
Here, however, the rain of fire was not far behind. He returned, quickly, to Ista Weyr, where he met with the Holder Lord - And the news that the Weyrleader could not be found, nor his dragon contacted, in all the confusion. The Weyrwoman, driven to distraction by his absence, could not manage her ability to hear all the Dragons of Pern - And was overwhelmed by the sheer volume of thoughts and images. She lay, catatonic, in a fetal ball in her room.
"Come on," he called out, storming his way into the Weyrwoman's chambers. "We need to go! Now!"
"I can't," she whispered. "He's coming back - Here. I know it. He'll come back."
The Dragons fell quiet, for a moment, before releasing a spine-chilling death knell, for another fallen Dragon - The fifth or sixth since the beginning of the rain of fire. The sheer volume of tragedy echoed in their remorseful cries.
Regolth sent him a simple thought, "Taranth is passed." Taranth, the Weyrleader's dragon, had been an exceptionally large and vital Bronze - The pride of the Weyr. His loss struck harder than any other. "K'vyt comes!" K'vyt, the Weyrleader, now Dragonless; Likely not the last to suffer so, this day.
The ground began to shudder and shake with a strange violence, and dust fell in thin rivulets to the floor. "Regolth!" He called out. The Bronze swooped, and perched on the lip of the cavern, angling himself carefully, to allow his rider to come aboard. The Weyrwoman's Gold hovered outside, keening at her unresponsive rider.
D'vin swept her up in his arms, and ran for his Bronze, mounting up swiftly. Her Gold was not far behind, hovering aggressively, warily behind Regolth. "I have her," he called back, to the Gold, "I have her! She is safe!"
Even as he cried out, the sheer cliff walls in front of him seemed to shift. He seemed to be ascending impossibly fast - Until he realized a section of cliff was descending forcefully past him. The Dragons gave a sharp keening as he crested the broken cliffside - A pair of smaller Dragons hadn't been quick enough to escape the broken walls. Another keening, a few moments later, harkened a Brown that had attempted to Between clear, but hadn't had a clear place to return to, instead forever lost to the icy bite of that mystical place.
D'vin dismounted swiftly, still carrying the near-comatose Weyrwoman. He stumbled, mid-step, as if struck by a massive weight; Absolutely crushed beneath a sort of icy despair that he'd never come close to feeling, before.
Ahead of him, the massive Gold keened. The sound seemed to last forever.
He waited for Regolth's voice, to announce who had fallen... Until, after a long moment, he turned, down on one knee, and saw the bronze and crimson ruins of his life-mate, surrounded in black smoke. The stench of burnt flesh hit him like a hammer.
He knelt, perfectly still, his arms going limp, barely strong enough to support the ailing Weyrwoman.
It was like his whole world came crashing down all at once, drowned in the image of his companion. He heard Regolth's roar echo in his ears. He heard his quiet, steady voice in his thoughts. He saw his bright, swirling eyes - And realized abruptly that the Gold had snaked her head around him, her long neck a half-circle around him and the Weyrwoman. He saw the swirling colors of confusion, and fear, as she stared at her Rider, visibly terrified of her unconscious state.
He realized, abruptly, that far more would be lost, if he did not control himself.
He shut the pain away in a tiny little box, and begged Regolth's memory for forgiveness.
He knew he'd understand.
He hoped he'd understand.
He roared out a command, dragging the comatose Weyrwoman onto her Gold's back, strapping them both in quickly. The Dragon kicked up, into the air, almost immediately. D'vin closed his eyes, and prayed to the first Egg that they could find somewhere safe.
His next thoughts were completely wiped out by the icy cold of Between. Nowhere near as cold as the feeling deep inside of him, locked away in that tiny little box.
