Post by Elessar on Mar 11, 2013 15:09:00 GMT -5
D'THOR
Name:
D'thor
(formerly Danthor)
Pronunciation:
DUH-THOR
Age:
Fifty-Four
Season Born In:
Spring
Gender:
Male
Sexuality:
"No thank you."
Appearance:
D'thor is, well, a bit of an older man. He looks like he was a powerful man in his youth, but in his older years has gone slightly to seed. The Weyrlingmaster still looks just as fearsome and terrifying to the Weyrlings, of course. After all, his hair and beard are still (mostly) coal black, with a small amount of gray beginning to edge in at the sides. Despite looking slightly less powerful, he is no less intimidating. His arms are still muscled from the physical exertion of being a dragon-rider, and he can still yell just as loudly at fifty-four as he could at twenty.
The Weyrlingmaster also seems to possess a gaze that can kill... or so Weyrlings believe. D'thor's misty blue eyes tend to have a startling effect on most people anyway, especially when he's glaring angrily at them... which is most of the time. Truly, the man rarely, if ever, smiles. His mouth is usually curved down in an angry frown, or wide open letting out a blood-curdling yell at some misbehaving Weyrling... or anyone else he wants to yell at. He doesn't really discriminate.
Over all, D'thor looks like a mean, old, grumpy man who doesn't want to be bothered by anyone or anything... and he picked the worst possible job for that, too.
The Weyrlingmaster's dress is fitting to his position, and he has clothes for work and clothes for nice affairs like Graduations, where he prefers to hide away in a corner and pretend he had nothing to do with any of the Graduating class. He generally picks dark colors (to match his dark personality), but can occasionally be seen in a fancy blue tunic with brown embroidery that brings out the color in his eyes even more than usual. Weyrlings (and others) like to gossip about this tunic. Rumors rave from the tunic being a gift from a lover to the fact that D'thor embroidered it himself... neither of which are true. He bought it at a Gather.
Personality:
To say the least, D'thor might just be crazy. After all, the man is anything but ordinary. In fact... D'thor is rather... abnormal.
The Weyrlingmaster has the uncanny habit of always speaking in an edited version of third person, or so it would seem. He tends to refer to himself as "a man," or "the man," and his dragon as "the brown," or "an Officer." He rarely, if ever, uses someone's direct name. A green or gold rider might be called "a girl" or "a woman," depending on age, and other men are referred to as "a man," which can, at times, get rather confusing. D'thor, however, has never seemed to mind, even when others get angry at him for his turn of speech.
When it comes to speaking, D'thor also has the horrible habit of yelling. Never a quiet-spoken man, the Weyrlingmaster shouts just about everything. This can be attributed to his many years of working as Weyrlingmaster, because, as D'thor puts it, "Nothing gets into a Weyrling's head like a man yelling! If a man doesn't yell, a Weyrling won't obey!"
Needless to say, D'thor does not make friends easily. He has a natural distrust of people, and it shows. He is gruff, rough, tough, and rigid. He is not friendly or kind, but distant. He rarely lets himself make friends or get close to people.
D'thor is, due to this distance from people, independent, almost to a fault. He knows what he wants and he's going to take it. This creates an interesting problem with authority, considering the fact that he doesn't take kindly to being ordered around-- he likes to be the one giving the orders, and he wants things done right the first time... and he wants things done his way, too, shard it!
Family:
Father: Thorin, Journeyman Baker (Deceased)
Mother: Dani, Journeywoman Baker (Deceased)
Sister: Orinda, Journeywoman Baker (Fifty-Eight) {Twin to Darin}
Brother: Darin, Journeyman Baker (Fifty-Eight) {Twin to Orinda}
Location:
Trelis
Rank:
Weyrlingassistant
Wing/Pack:
Low Wing
History:
Danthor was born the youngest of three. His parents were both Journeyman Bakers, and expected their three children to follow in their paths. Danthor's twin siblings, Darin and Orinda, were both set on the track by the time they were five. They both loved anything and everything to do with baking, and couldn't wait to be Apprenticed. Danthor, however, was completely against baking practically from birth.
It all started when he saw a dragon fly above their home.
From then on, everything was about dragons. He didn't want to be a baker like his parents and siblings. No... he wanted to ride a flaming dragon through the skies, charring Thread from the air. The only problem was that he was going to be an Apprentice Baker. His parents were adamant about this. He wouldn't be going off to any Weyr and riding a brutish beast for a living! Their child was too good for that!
When Danthor was twelve, the age to be apprenticed, the day came when he would begin his Baker's Apprenticeship. But he didn't turn up for lessons. In fact, he didn't turn up at all. He had run away. After all, Thread didn't exist, and if he couldn't be a dragon-rider, then he would live Holdless, living off the land... even more so, since he hadn't packed anything at all. No food, no change of clothes... he just slipped away in the night, and started walking.
He wandered for nearly a year before coming to the place he wanted to be most: a Weyr. Specifically, Fort Weyr. The Weyr was more than happy to take him in, but was rather shocked when the now-thirteen-year-old Danthor demanded to be made a Candidate. After all, it didn't work that way, and he was too young. And so Danthor waited a year, and much to the Weyr's surprise, was picked out by the Weyrleader's dragon himself to stand on the sands for his clutch.
Now fourteen, Danthor stood with bated breath on the Sands, his dream finally come true. Dragon after dragon hatched and Impressed, until only two eggs remained on the Sands. Danthor was nearly in tears. His dragon had to be here! He had to be a dragon-rider! Didn't they understand?! It was his destiny to fight Thread! To his intense shame, Danthor felt his vision blur as tears stung his eyes. After all, he was only fourteen.
Do not cry, little one.[/color]
Danthor looked up into the rainbow eyes of a glowing brown dragon, and gasped. "Are you... mine?" He asked, tentatively reaching out a hand. I am yours, and you are mine. I am you, and you are me. Together, we are one. I am your Ascynsceliorth, and you are my D'thor.[/color] The boy could hardly believe it. He stood, spell-bound, for what seemed an eternity, until the Weyrlingmaster managed to pull him off the Sands to feed his newly hatched dragon. The last egg, D'thor later discovered, never hatched.
As Weyrlings, the two were nearly seamless. They practiced into the deep hours of the night to be as perfect as possible, and it was no surprise that the two of them graduated at the top of their class.
And so finally, D'thor was a true dragon-rider. He was, however, stubborn, and refused to go home and visit his family, or even let them know he was alive. Instead, he spent the next fifteen years living the typical life of a rider, and the fifteen after that training Weyrlings. His dragon was much more patient with his charges than he was, but no one could deny that he was a good teacher. His Weyrlings rarely had fatal accidents, and generally turned out to be good, if not great, riders.
Now forty-four, D'thor found himself restless, as did Acynsceliorth. The two of them put in as a transfer to Trelis Weyr. Apparently Trelis was in need of a Weyrlingmaster's assistant, and while D'thor was getting rather tired of dealing with Weyrlings, Acynsceliorth still loved teaching, and the rider would do anything for his dragon, his other half, even if it meant teaching until his dying day.
But the years had made him hard. He wasn't as easy going as he was when he was younger. He was grumpier, and his bones hurt on cold days. Thankfully, the cold was rarer at Trelis, and he felt moderately less creaky at there, where he continued teaching. Acynsceliorth continued Chasing as well, though D'thor was no longer interested in any long-term commitment to a Weyr-mate. He was older now, and he had tried "love" once or twice in his younger days... but nothing could compare to the love he felt for his dragon.
And besides, humans annoyed him.
When Thread began to rain down again, he upped his regiment for the Weyrling's training, much to their distress, but as he told them, "A man trains Weyrlings so Weyrlings don't die! If a Weyrling wishes to die, a Weyrling is free to leave!" After that, most of them stopped complaining. By then, they had seen what someone scored by Thread looked like.
At fifty-four, D'thor was still teaching (and yelling, and being grumpy), like nothing had changed. With Acynsceliorth by his side, he supposes he probably will teach until he dies.
But no love compares to the love he has for his dragon, and so he goes on without complaint.
ACYNSCELIORTH
Name:
Acynsceliorth
Pronunciation:
AH-SIN-CELL-E-ORTH
Age:
Forty
Rank:
Brown
Size:
Thirty-Eight Feet
Color Codes:
5E2612 / FFFFFF
Appearance:
Bulky even for a Brown, Acynsceliorth is muscular rather than slim. He's a bit shorter, but makes up for it with his stockiness. In the air, he seems incredibly graceful, but fierce, even in flight. After all, no dragon looks gentle, even if they are. A deep, red-brown color, Acynsceliorth has a white tree marking on his chest, and star-looking markings down his sides. His wings are also mottled with white.
Acynsceliorth is of mid-ranged size for a brown, averaging out at thirty-eight feet long from nose to tail, with a wingspan of sixty-four feet. His eyes are usually a friendly swirling blue, and he generally looks relaxed, like nothing in the world could bother him.
Personality:
Acynsceliorth is, in a word, patient. Nothing makes this dragon angry. He and D'thor are, to say the least, polar opposites in this respect. The brown is frequently calming his rider down with soothing words. It is not uncommon, when D'thor goes into a rage, for Acynsceliorth to sigh calmly and tell his rider to "shut up and eat his dinner," or something similar.
The brown seems wise beyond his years, which is saying something, given his age of forty turns. He is kind, and always has a nice word to say to the Weyrlings or other riders-- he doesn't discriminate in his friendliness. Acynsceliorth loves children and babies and all things smaller than he is (which is everything, basically), and often-times feels pity for the wherries and runner-beasts he consumes. This has led to the brown tasting non-meat foods from soups and breads to fruits and vegetables. He had taken a very odd liking to apples, strangely enough.
When it comes to teaching the Weyrlings, Acynsceliorth takes a very different approach than his rider. He is, above all, encouraging, and is never hesitant to politely correct a student without yelling. He is also always willing to lend an ear to anyone who wishes to talk about their problems, or simply talk. In fact, he's almost like a therapist in that respect. Overall, Acynsceliorth is a kind, friendly dragon that spends most of his time calming down his angry, grumpy rider.
Mind-Voice (If applicable):
Shut up and eat your dinner.
Firm, but friendly. A mid-ranged tenor.
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