Ur'con

Description

Tall and weedy, he really resembles nothing more or less than a slender autumnal reed, tanned golden bronze by the last hot days of summer and now going pale and greyed in preparation for winter. His hair, close cropped, is as sandy tan as the rest of him, and his eyes sparkle, the bright blue-green of a secluded tidepool.
His hands, broad and calloused, are those of a working man, and are no longer smooth with youth; maturity has begun to shape them into characters that befit the stories anyone can begin to tell as they head into their full prime.
He wears simple clothes; a pale grey tunic, a pair of rugged olive trous that look a bit worn around the knees and cuffs, and boots that are spattered and stained with smears and drips of mud and dirt.
He wears the elaborate knot of a bronzeriding wingleader from Eastern Weyr, with small badge-toggles marking him out as a member of the Glasscraft and Phantasm Wing.


History

One of the middle children of a pair of Glasscrafters, Uriconon followed his father's preference for 'playing in the mud' as his mother always said. While his mother, Ona, was a journeywoman known for her skillful use of stained glass, her husband and father of her several children was a potter, specializing in thrown pottery. From a young age, Uri was both thrilled for PERMISSION to play in the dirt and fascinated with Uricolt's almost magical manipulation of clay, turning clods of earth into beautiful and functional works of art.
It was no one's surprise when Uriconon, like his siblings before and after him, followed his parents into the Glasscraft; he apprenticed at the tender age of 10, when he was already showing a real affinity for working with clay himself. And while he quickly specialized in thrown pottery, he had a strange and whimsical affinity for making little clay sculptures; they were good for making a quick few marks at a gather, charming young women with their adorable nature, but they weren't very USEFUL, and so he stayed with throwing pots; big pots, little pots, delicate pots, sturdy pots. Pots. Pots. Pots.
When the big, clay-brown dragon appeared in the courtyard of Landing University, he assumed it was the delivery of more materials to the Crafthall. Nothing could have shocked him more than, at the ripe old age of 19, very close to walking the tables to journeyman, he was politely and succinctly asked to Stand for the latest clutch on the sands of Telgar.
He was shocked to be searched at the ripe old age of 19, when he was mere sevendays away from walking the tables. He was FLOORED to impress; especially when he discovered to his mortification that the creature he first assumed to be a brown was NOT. Darlth, for that was the young bronze's name, made him absolutely aware he was NOT brown; that might well have been the last really assertive act the bronze has committed. Since then, he's settled into a role of support to his quiet, thoughtful, even artistic artisan-rider. And the truth is, Darlth likes to dig. A lot. If Ur'con can find a fresh, untouched source of clay, along a riverbank or some undiscovered cliff face, Darlth is MORE than happy to help him excavate: who knew dragons loved to move earth so much? But if he's not digging, crooning at some female, or eating, mostly Darlth's sleeping. The only thing he loves more than digging is a good, well earned nap.
He stayed at Telgar for a few turns, but never truly settled in. Part of his discontent was the lack of support for his pottery, but more it was the Senior's constant teasing. Darlth, true to his somewhat slacker nature, simply never really gave chase that often. Once in a while, he'd take to the skies after a green, but it always seemed that he found something better to do when a gold rose. Finally piqued with the immature behavior, Ur'con transferred to the Reaches. He didn't last long; between the incessant cold weather and the even more persistent jostling and politics of the bronze and gold riders at High Reaches, he went out in search of less stressful environs. He wound up at Ierne Weyrhold, and for turns, made a decent enough living as an independant craft-rider. He even fell in with an old friend and clutch-mate, L'im, and with Ur'yu, the only son of the same goldrider that used to make his life a misery. He even took up with the 'rogue' goldrider Casiella and her erstwhile fosterling Wroxeter, turned Xe'ter with his impression of a young bronze dragon. Things didn't really turn around for him, though, until a tragedy occurred. Not for him, but for Ista Weyr.
A young weyrling gold, full of herself and impatience, lost herself between. And in the grieving and general alcohol fueled mayhem in the Weyr, Ur'con found himself in an interesting position to help supply the Weyr with new and updated crockery. It put more than a few marks in his pocket, and drove him out of his comfortably boring life at Ierne. One thing led to another, and after a while, he found himself doing business with Fort Weyr as well. It was a need to have a larger, better equipped pottery that got him out of Ierne. Need for better environs, and maybe, the need for a more ordered, Weyrlife, as he's recently found himself at Eastern, building a new, better, and much larger workspace and new friendships to boot.


Family

Name Relation Position Age
Uricolt Father Master Glasscrafter: Pottery + 27T
Ona Mother Master Glasscrafter : Stained Glass + 26T

Firelizard(s)

Brown Pot
Blue Kettle

Dragon

This mature bronze is a massive, weighty fellow, glimmering with the golden-green highlights that set him apart from smaller, lesser male dragons. Overall, he is an unusually light shade of bronze, with his soft underside mostly a large field of pale putty, like clay that has a natural grey-green tinge to it. He darkens up towards his spine, to a pronounced verdigris along his neckridges and down his back, but even that is not so dark a hue as an average bronze. Likewise, his wingspars, his claws, his face and headknobs are darker than the rest of him, though his wingsails themselves are paler, and lighter on the underside than on the tops.
About Darlth's thick shoulders rest a set of standard issue riding straps. Though they were probably once dyed a proper dark color, they've long ago been stained, abraded, and generally rendered a dull brown, though they're kept well oiled otherwise.
Darlth has been described by more than one person as a 'slacker of a bronze'. He prefers to dig huge, dragon-sized holes, wallow in mud, and sleep compared to a lot of bronzes, and his personality is universally mild and good humored.

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