Bronzerider T'gon
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(Tigon is in the black shirt, Lotrien is in the white one)


Description

Hints of the man Tigon will one day become are evident in his lanky build… a gangliness that promises of a slightly above average height, with boney shoulders that will broaden and thicken with muscle, arms and legs that will bear many a scar from hazards of youth but likewise be grown into once the awkwardness of youth is past. The mess of dark hair atop his head, howerver, may be a permanent fixture. As would the sun-darkened tan that colors his skin… and the dirt and grime from a boy spending far too much time playing and rough housing than cleaning and working. His eyes carry the brashness customary to a boy his age, the pale green iris' seeming all the more bright for it. There is too the faintest impression of a dimple - most often seen when he laughs or smiles

Tigon wears a short sleeved white undershirt. Above this he wears a lightly woven green tunic. His pants are cut off at the knees and a light brown in hue. His footwear is plain sandals.


History

Mom and dad are a weaver and trader, respectively. A master once posted at Ista who, in a night of drunken fun (aka: therapeutic occupational stressor relief), fell into bed with an oft-drunk (at least in his spare time) trader. Nine months later along came Lotrien and about five seconds later along came Tigon.

It was decided the boys were to be abandoned… well no, thats not quite the right term to use… decisively placed — the boys were decisively placed in the care of the weyr. After all, weyrs were always in need of strong hands and young backs, while twin boys were hardly conducive to career-minded folk like mom and dad. Just imagine the fall-out if there were no goods to trade and clothes weren't woven? Why, there'd be bare naked people running all over with nothing to do but make more babies! And that… well that would eventually create a shortage of food and space not - not to mention the infallible truth that its never a good idea to keep that many pregnant woman in any one space burdened by a lot of lazy, good for nothing men . So it truly was for the good of all of Pern that Tigon and Lotrien were aband…er, decisively placed in the care of the weyr nannies.

Childhood was uneventful. You know, for being twins and boys and rambunctious ones at that. All of Tigon's bumps, bruises, scrapes and scratches have stories of grand adventures in the caverns, romping on the beaches of Ista, and the occasional foray into the jungles to back them up. There is even the Incident (a most unfortunate incident at that) which left Tigon with quite a healthy respect for apron wearing, scowl and rolling pin wielding women.

There is a girl. There's always a girl. This one particular girl has always been the light of his life since Tigon realized she was a girl and not some slimy creature from beyond.

Now there are a great many things Tigon will do. Crazy, stupid, reckless things like upsetting apron wearing, scowl and rolling pin wielding women. He is most definitely not crazy or reckless enough to so much as say hi to this one girl because if he does there's a very real chance the world might end. That, or Lotrien would never let him hear the end of how he has a girlfriend and how they're k-i-s-s-i-n-g on the beach. It does not, however, stop him from doing completely stupid and senseless things when said girl is in his presence. Sometimes he even /means/ to do them.


Family

Name Relation Location Position
Argela Mother Weaver Hall Master
Toruuc Father Traveling Trader
O'rien Brother Ista Weyr Weyrbrat

Firelizards

Virtuously Veiled Verdant Green Zogi
Various verdant hues have been draped like so many veils over the maidenly figure of this green firelizard, rendering her a thing always within reach but never meant to be touched. Such shades of green are luxurious in their own right, rich emerald and pale celadon being folded over jade and clear tourmaline. Her eyes are wide and innocent-seeming, while the tangle of green that is her hide continues down the delicate length of her neck and twists between her neckridges. Her entire body is a delicate construct, as if she were naught but a porcelain thing draped in a damsel's dress — that porcelain peeks out at her claws, though the rest of her is still well-hidden in green. Only at her wings do the layered greens sort themselves out, each panel devoted to a single color in patchwork wonder. Traveling over lean haunches and onto her tail, the greens tangle up again into a twist toward the very fork ends.

Zogi is banded in the colors of her owner's home.

Zogi is 0 Turns, 2 months, and 17 days old and is 27 centimeters in length with a wingspan of 48 cm.

Brown Indolent Aristocrat Brown Sibu
Handsome and large, this young brown nearly rivals a bronze, with a massively long wingspan and relatively bulky build. He's not so bulky as to be heavyset, just well-formed and muscular, and could in fact /be/ mistaken for a small bronze, when not in sunlight enough to display the lack of a metallic sheen. His hide is covered in a softly mottled assortment of rich, dark browns and faint hints of tawny, umber, and russet over most of his body, coalescing along his belly into a sort of intricately plain wash of soft wheat. Little vee-marks of amber are barely visible among the tawny coloring along his neck and chest, while his belly is softly dappled with a paler shade that moves down his tail as well. Lighter still are the undersides of his wingsails — the upper sides are the same soft, mottled color of the rest of his hide. The undersides are mottled here and there with an occasional fleck of darker browns, distinctly V- or U-shaped. He moves with a sort of lazy regality, wings spread with pomp and circumstance and expression calm as anything. Just ignore the strong paws and wicked-looking claws that sprout from mobile toes, he's very careful not to poke holes in you with them!

Sibu is banded in the colors of his owner's home.

Sibu is 0 Turns, 0 months, and 4 days old and is 8 centimeters in length with a wingspan of 15 cm.

Arma Virumque Cano Gold Moxie
For all the queens in the world that are good, sooner or later a wicked one must arise… and this /would/ have to be her, wouldn't it? This gold's viciously curled body is predominantly a heavy amber, but in direct sunlight, strange pulses of sallow violet and carmine shimmer across her angular breast and wide-stanced hips. While perhaps innocent enough to the unknowing bystander, it will take closer inspection to reveal that these violent shades encase her body in iridescent armor, promising nothing but trouble for the future. A gorey shade of grapefruit-orange races down her spine, glittering specks of saffron and ice-white arcing in two rows along each 'ridge. Headknobs twist like devil's horns over a skeletal, mirthless face, and even her wings seem more akin to a whisping blood-splattered cloak than flight-capable appendages. Last but not least, dextrous fingers end with bronzed claws that are not only pointy, but sharp, as though they were concocted from finely-crafted blades rather than keratin - all in all, she's a fearsome creature to behold.

Moxie is banded in the colors of her owner's home.

Moxie is 0 Turns, 0 months, and 1 day old and is 9 centimeters in length with a wingspan of 15 cm.

Profit of War and Peace Bronze Pix
Tall and broad, coverend in lean muscle is this orangey-bronze. His head-knobs are topped with tiny points, like spears and almost weeby blackness emanating from them and spreading all over his body. His neck and backridges are almost red, growing unusually large around the fork of his tail and a single band of pale brown wraps askew around his head and across just one eye.

Pix is banded in the colors of his owner's home.

Pix is 0 Turns, 0 months, and 15 days old and is 12 centimeters in length with a wingspan of 25 cm.


Dragon

Apocalyptic Visionary Bronze Cynxirth

Corrugated brass strains along every inch of this bronze, his titanic form appearing time-worn and mottled, if not full of predatory grace. Cobwebs of rust and sinopia spread across his hide like the veins of autumn's last leaf, clinging to headknobs and the craggy curves of his knuckles as though hoping to preserve itself through the bitter winter winds to come. Pale sparks of moonstone clap down the column of his throat and across his narrow, streamlined chest before fragmenting across the battens of his underwings in a rage of seafoam and sunlit fire opal. Indelicate spires of deep umber claw across the ridges of his spine from the height of his neck to the very tips of his powerful tail, sometimes variegated with a nigh-crepuscular shade of verdigris. Viciously hooked claws round out his raptorial appearance, their onyx shine matched in darkness only by a swatch of burnt sienna right between his shoulderblades.


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