Post by Spiffy on Jul 9, 2010 9:33:03 GMT
Your name: Spiffy
Character Number: 3
Character Name: K'mir (Kemir, Kemi to friends)
Age: 19
Birth Season: Summer
Gender: Male
Rank: Weyrling, ex-appretice Harper
Sexuality: Heterosexual
Ian Somerhalder
Appearance: Though not as tall as his brother at 5'11", Kemir is more broadly built. He may, in time, reach the same height, but it is unlikely that he will grown any more now at 19 turns. He's well built, with good muscle considering he's not in an especially hard craft, but he does like to keep in shape. It's a pride thing mostly. His skin and hair, like that of most Pernese, are tanned and dark. His hair verges on black, especially in winter when there's less sunlight. Depending on his mood it will be either short of longish, sometimes styled and others loose. His eyes are even darker than Jareth's, a darker grey-blue in colour.
Personality: Kemir isn't one to immediately strike you as outgoing. For the most part he's pretty happy to sit back and wait for the world to happen, watching it with half lidded eyes. But these eyes watch, and his ears listen, and when something happens he will be one of the first to notice it. It may earn itself a reaction, if he thinks it important, or it may not. For the most part, anyone that happens will be received in the former manner, with a smile, a nod, or a beckoning to join him. Though not the best conversationalist, and not everyone's cup of tea, Kemir is not one to pass up a conversation for the most part, but those who have earned his disfavour should not expect him to be fully cordial with them. He's happy to listen to others unloading their worldly worries, and will offer advice (good or not) when it is asked for, but will rarely offer much input, of his own opinions or experiences.
He is not one to turn down a friend, but giving another his trust is a bit of a biggie for him. He does not trust lightly, and isn't overly keen on others trusting him willy-nilly either. But once you've done something he doesn't like, you're unlikely to be forgotten. When angered - and this happens unexpectedly easily - he get's pretty ticked off. He's not afraid to tell you exactly what he thinks in no uncertain terms, and if given good reason will strike out. He's had his fair share of bloody noses because of this, and at one point was almost thrown out of the Harper Hall.
He's not just socially fearless, however. Despite all his playing it down, pretending to be the quiet one in the corner, he can't help but take up a dare when one's offered. You may not know it, but he's got a reputation to keep. He actually takes quite the thrill from it, an adrenalin-junky so to say. He can be a bit full of himself at times (doesn't help that he's considered drop dead gorgeous by many), and when not watching likes to goof out a bit. He's quite the fan of drama, and likes acting and playing, actually more than singing.
History: I never really knew my real parents - unless you count the few years when I was really young that my father was still alive. I was never told the reason that my real mother wasn't around, and not for want of asking. But my foster parents didn't know, and Jarethir, my elder brother, sure wasn't telling me. From the way that he avoided the issue, I soon became to tell that it was either a sore issue for him, which I doubted, or that it was something to do with me, which seemed the more likely.
But what I do know is that I was born at Fort Hold, but only lived there for a turn or two. Then apparently we joined the Traders. That is the life I remember, though much of the early years have faded from my memory. My family - that is, the trader woman and her husband that cared for me, and Jareth - were always on the move, but the caravans were my home. I grew up trading, so it's in my blood as much as it is theirs. I was told that their first son had died in the same accident that had killed my real father; this they never hid from me, and even if they had I'm sure Jareth would have told me.
Many would say that I grew up wild, some would say I grew up free, but whatever the title I made the most of those early years. I had no trouble making friends with the others of my age in the caravan, of which there were several, and we would spend many an hour tearing around the camps, even ducking in and out of the carts and burdenbeasts while we were on the move. It saddened me then that Jareth wasn't joining in our fun, but that was just him, I suppose. He's always been more reserved than I.
We became a good deal more sobered with a little age and responsibility. The mouthier of us young'uns were employed with selling the petty jewellery when we stopped at gathers and the like, as apparently people were more likely to buy from a cute face, especially the women. Personally, I wouldn't have called us a cute bunch, but we still sold stuff. That was good enough for us at the time.
Times were that in the evenings we would all gather around the campfire and sing songs. Though no-one was prepared to teach me how to play their precious instruments - I'd hit a clumsy stage - I enjoyed singing bawdily along with the songs they played. I hadn't even realised that I was singing along with the ballad being sung by a Harper woman and her accompaniment at some Hold's gather when one of the traders turned to me and gave me a funny look. "By Faranth, son, you sing like a girl," I remembering him saying, others who had turned with him nodding in agreement and teasing me about it.
The night afterward, again around the campfire, the person who was doing the singing called for a duet to be sung. The son of a bitch who'd told me I sung like a girl (which I was later told meant I was a soprano) raised his voice, pointed oddly at me, finger swaying with the drink he'd taken in, loudly proclaiming "Kemi will do the girlies part!" My fate was sealed.
A turn later, Jareth came into my caravan at night, shushing me to stay quiet and not wake the others I shared it with. He'd packed everything he owned onto Samora, he said, and was leaving that night. He told me not to worry about him, that he'd probably not be coming back, at least not any time soon. Not worry? I knew that Jareth was perfectly capable of looking after himself, but that didn't stop me thinking of what I'd do without him. He'd always been there for me when times got hard, when I wanted to talk to no-one else, just as I'd always been there for him, and now he was leaving me. I didn't sleep much that night.
But my sorrows were to be short-lived. Within a turn we again passed through Fort Hold, and this time I didn't leave. It just so happened that the Harper Hall were recruiting their apprentices ready for the new Turn, and the leader of the caravan, the very man who Jareth said he left because of, volunteered me. Not that I was unwilling to go, I was just annoyed that it was him. I didn't like him any more than my brother had.
The harper hall was a new start for me. Suddenly I was thrust into a world of people I didn't know and was expected to keep up with the rest of them in the lessons. I won't lie, I struggled, and I didn't keep up for much of the first Turn. This world of restrictions, teachers and lessons was alien to me and, believe it or not, it took a certain girl to turn me around.
Her name was Ruthie. She was in my class, but I paid her little attention for a long time. She was one of the brighter people in the class, was consistently getting good marks, and was the daughter of the Lord Holder of Nerat, all of which I initially resented her for. But the wherry-brained girl got it into her head that, as the straggler of the class, I needed her help. As if! But I couldn't shake her off, and soon came to respect her determination. Actually, I came to respect a lot about Ruthie over than next turn, but was hit with an insane bout of jealousy when she started flirting with one of the boys in the class above ours. Yes she was pretty, and he was as good a harper as she, and I was a reject, but as far as I was concerned she was mine!
I made a bigger effort in class, hoping that if I got good enough I'd be able to impress Ruthie, and I was doing ok, until my voice broke. This pretty much grounded my progress in singing class for several sevendays afterward, and I was only mediocre at playing instruments at best, and couldn't make them to save my life, so I was stuck with the theory and law classes during that time. It took me another sevenday to realise that, while I wasn't too good at baritones like the other sopranos whose voices broke, I could still hit the high notes, rather well actually.
This made me somewhat unusual, and interesting to the Harpers. My hopes of finally being able to sing properly once my voice broke were pretty much dashed, but I could still sing - just not in the way I had envisioned - and for that I was thankful. But during that period when I could hardly talk I had developed an interest in the performing arts, and had unofficially tagged myself onto a group of players at the Hall. Once I got back into singing, I realised that I actually preferred the playing, but once the Hall had found a job for me as one of their eldest male sopranos, at the tender age of 14, I was pretty much stuck in that role.
Over the next two turns little changed. I was still a soprano, I was still stuck being a soprano, despite the fact that I still preferred performing, and I was still trying to impress Ruthie. But then something changed. Something big. And dragon shaped. I have since often wondered why the Searchriders never picked me out earlier; there'd been several hatchings at nearby Fort Weyr since I'd been at the Hall, but not once had any of the dragons or riders shown any interest in me.
But there I was, 16 turns of age and a candidate on Fort Weyr's sands. Weyr life was, surprisingly, not as difficult to adjust to as Hall life, but was certainly no easier. Maybe it was because I had sobered somewhat during my time at the Hall, grown up somewhat, learned to deal with authority. Ok, so that last one is a bit of a lie, but I'm better at it than I was as a trader.
But, alas, I didn't Impress at that hatching, nor at the next which followed not six months hence. It was then that I began to consider the Western continent, talk of which had been flying about the Weyr for a good while leading up to that point. It took me a good while to decide, but with both of Fort's queens recently clutched, I had little to do with myself for a good long time. Better to make myself useful, if only to stop myself getting bored with candidate chores in the meantime. It was that or back to the Harper Hall, but I'd already decided that I would wait until I Impressed, if I were to at all, and graduate before I went back to completing my apprenticeship, so that maybe I could be the Weyrsinger or something.
I wasn't among the first to go West. Many of us candidates due to be shipped over arrived after Izith's first flight, in time to become accustomed to yet another change of scene before the hatching. Oh, and adjust to the fact that not only was my brother, Jareth, there in the West too, but riding a dragon. A bronze no less! I recognised him instantly, though it took him a little longer to realise that yes, the Kemir on the candidate list was the one and only me. After the shock, and later wine, had worn off we filled each other in on our lives since parting. His, it appeared, was no less eventful than mine, but I countered that if I Impressed in the next clutch then I would have accomplished more than he. That silenced him for a bit. He hadn't changed much, but I wasn't so sure what to make of his dragon. A bronze, yes, but unique in his own slightly childish way. At least he would talk to me, even if it was often to annoy me.
I failed to Impress again, so it was back to playing the waiting game, ready for Ariseth to rise and produce another clutch for me to try at. Surely my dragon would be in this clutch. Jays he'd better be there or I'd forever be even with Jareth! Oh sorry, it was J'thir now. I'm never going to get used to that, at least not until I can claim the right to abbreviate my own name.
The basilisk attack hit the Weyr hard, I could see. I was worried for Jareth, if he would make it back, if he would be injured and if so how seriously. But he lived, thankfully. I knew that others hadn't been so lucky. But after that things changed, and they changed big time. Not only was my chance of Impressing again on tenterhooks, the survival of the whole Weyr was in question. Dragons were dying left right and centre, those who hadn't been killed or betweened on the day falling ill to something the healers couldn't quite fathom. We were all different now, changed somehow. Maybe we didn't know it, but it was clear to see to those who did.
But when that rider returned with one of the creatures, Impressed of all things, circumstances changed again. Many people feared the creatures, and rightly so, and to have one within their own walls was more than some could take. But he could see that there were others who seemed sympathetic to the rider and what he'd lost, what they'd all lost, and a few even seemed to see some sort of brighter side to having a basilisk in their midst. Me? I don't know. I know Jareth has told me what he thinks, being one of the ones who can see an advantage to the turn of events, but I'm not so sure. I think this may be something that even he can't control, and part of me doesn't want to see him try...
Relation to Existing/Pending Character?: Younger brother to J'thir
Future:With a dragon! Who knows xD
Pets: None
Dragons Name: Astaath
Colour: Brown? (9C661F/7B3F00)
Age: 0 (hatchling)
Hatching Season: Spring
Appearance:Astaath has the sturdy dependable strength of a brown, easily recognised by his deep chest and powerful muscles. Yet, despite his tan coloured hide it is difficult to say if he is really a brown, considering the fact that he is the size of a large green or a small blue. His wings are shorter than usual too, making it even more difficult to classify him as a brown for it is obvious he will be agile in the air, maybe even rivalling some of the greens, and what brown can fly as agilely as a green? Astaath's hide is unique too, with very distinguishable patterns in a darker shade covering his body, and much resembling that of a striped feline. All in all, a smart looking fellow, though just as unusual in his own way as his brother Ioth and sister Skadith.
Personality: Despite the impression given upon touching this egg, many will be surprised to find that this dragonet is in no way hyperactive. Impatient, yes. An adrenaline-junky, yes. Astaath loves being in the air, and will rarely remain on the ground for longer than it takes to eat, sleep and sunbathe. The little problem of hatchling flightlessness will be, thankfully, short-lived, as this little dragonet will be one of the first among his siblings to take to the air. He feels that a cloud is a much better bath than a lake, until he gets dirt in the irritating places that a cloud simply can't reach, of course. He's a show-off and a perfectionist, taking a great pride in his flying ability. If Astaath can't do something, he will be out practising it until he surpasses every other dragon in the Weyr in that respect. He will rarely boast about it though, lacking the arrogance that the bronzes and the larger browns possess, and will never belittle another for their lesser abilities on purpose. He would rather just show off to the greens, being more than just a passing flirt.
Character Number: 3
Character Name: K'mir (Kemir, Kemi to friends)
Age: 19
Birth Season: Summer
Gender: Male
Rank: Weyrling, ex-appretice Harper
Sexuality: Heterosexual
Ian Somerhalder
Appearance: Though not as tall as his brother at 5'11", Kemir is more broadly built. He may, in time, reach the same height, but it is unlikely that he will grown any more now at 19 turns. He's well built, with good muscle considering he's not in an especially hard craft, but he does like to keep in shape. It's a pride thing mostly. His skin and hair, like that of most Pernese, are tanned and dark. His hair verges on black, especially in winter when there's less sunlight. Depending on his mood it will be either short of longish, sometimes styled and others loose. His eyes are even darker than Jareth's, a darker grey-blue in colour.
Personality: Kemir isn't one to immediately strike you as outgoing. For the most part he's pretty happy to sit back and wait for the world to happen, watching it with half lidded eyes. But these eyes watch, and his ears listen, and when something happens he will be one of the first to notice it. It may earn itself a reaction, if he thinks it important, or it may not. For the most part, anyone that happens will be received in the former manner, with a smile, a nod, or a beckoning to join him. Though not the best conversationalist, and not everyone's cup of tea, Kemir is not one to pass up a conversation for the most part, but those who have earned his disfavour should not expect him to be fully cordial with them. He's happy to listen to others unloading their worldly worries, and will offer advice (good or not) when it is asked for, but will rarely offer much input, of his own opinions or experiences.
He is not one to turn down a friend, but giving another his trust is a bit of a biggie for him. He does not trust lightly, and isn't overly keen on others trusting him willy-nilly either. But once you've done something he doesn't like, you're unlikely to be forgotten. When angered - and this happens unexpectedly easily - he get's pretty ticked off. He's not afraid to tell you exactly what he thinks in no uncertain terms, and if given good reason will strike out. He's had his fair share of bloody noses because of this, and at one point was almost thrown out of the Harper Hall.
He's not just socially fearless, however. Despite all his playing it down, pretending to be the quiet one in the corner, he can't help but take up a dare when one's offered. You may not know it, but he's got a reputation to keep. He actually takes quite the thrill from it, an adrenalin-junky so to say. He can be a bit full of himself at times (doesn't help that he's considered drop dead gorgeous by many), and when not watching likes to goof out a bit. He's quite the fan of drama, and likes acting and playing, actually more than singing.
History: I never really knew my real parents - unless you count the few years when I was really young that my father was still alive. I was never told the reason that my real mother wasn't around, and not for want of asking. But my foster parents didn't know, and Jarethir, my elder brother, sure wasn't telling me. From the way that he avoided the issue, I soon became to tell that it was either a sore issue for him, which I doubted, or that it was something to do with me, which seemed the more likely.
But what I do know is that I was born at Fort Hold, but only lived there for a turn or two. Then apparently we joined the Traders. That is the life I remember, though much of the early years have faded from my memory. My family - that is, the trader woman and her husband that cared for me, and Jareth - were always on the move, but the caravans were my home. I grew up trading, so it's in my blood as much as it is theirs. I was told that their first son had died in the same accident that had killed my real father; this they never hid from me, and even if they had I'm sure Jareth would have told me.
Many would say that I grew up wild, some would say I grew up free, but whatever the title I made the most of those early years. I had no trouble making friends with the others of my age in the caravan, of which there were several, and we would spend many an hour tearing around the camps, even ducking in and out of the carts and burdenbeasts while we were on the move. It saddened me then that Jareth wasn't joining in our fun, but that was just him, I suppose. He's always been more reserved than I.
We became a good deal more sobered with a little age and responsibility. The mouthier of us young'uns were employed with selling the petty jewellery when we stopped at gathers and the like, as apparently people were more likely to buy from a cute face, especially the women. Personally, I wouldn't have called us a cute bunch, but we still sold stuff. That was good enough for us at the time.
Times were that in the evenings we would all gather around the campfire and sing songs. Though no-one was prepared to teach me how to play their precious instruments - I'd hit a clumsy stage - I enjoyed singing bawdily along with the songs they played. I hadn't even realised that I was singing along with the ballad being sung by a Harper woman and her accompaniment at some Hold's gather when one of the traders turned to me and gave me a funny look. "By Faranth, son, you sing like a girl," I remembering him saying, others who had turned with him nodding in agreement and teasing me about it.
The night afterward, again around the campfire, the person who was doing the singing called for a duet to be sung. The son of a bitch who'd told me I sung like a girl (which I was later told meant I was a soprano) raised his voice, pointed oddly at me, finger swaying with the drink he'd taken in, loudly proclaiming "Kemi will do the girlies part!" My fate was sealed.
A turn later, Jareth came into my caravan at night, shushing me to stay quiet and not wake the others I shared it with. He'd packed everything he owned onto Samora, he said, and was leaving that night. He told me not to worry about him, that he'd probably not be coming back, at least not any time soon. Not worry? I knew that Jareth was perfectly capable of looking after himself, but that didn't stop me thinking of what I'd do without him. He'd always been there for me when times got hard, when I wanted to talk to no-one else, just as I'd always been there for him, and now he was leaving me. I didn't sleep much that night.
But my sorrows were to be short-lived. Within a turn we again passed through Fort Hold, and this time I didn't leave. It just so happened that the Harper Hall were recruiting their apprentices ready for the new Turn, and the leader of the caravan, the very man who Jareth said he left because of, volunteered me. Not that I was unwilling to go, I was just annoyed that it was him. I didn't like him any more than my brother had.
The harper hall was a new start for me. Suddenly I was thrust into a world of people I didn't know and was expected to keep up with the rest of them in the lessons. I won't lie, I struggled, and I didn't keep up for much of the first Turn. This world of restrictions, teachers and lessons was alien to me and, believe it or not, it took a certain girl to turn me around.
Her name was Ruthie. She was in my class, but I paid her little attention for a long time. She was one of the brighter people in the class, was consistently getting good marks, and was the daughter of the Lord Holder of Nerat, all of which I initially resented her for. But the wherry-brained girl got it into her head that, as the straggler of the class, I needed her help. As if! But I couldn't shake her off, and soon came to respect her determination. Actually, I came to respect a lot about Ruthie over than next turn, but was hit with an insane bout of jealousy when she started flirting with one of the boys in the class above ours. Yes she was pretty, and he was as good a harper as she, and I was a reject, but as far as I was concerned she was mine!
I made a bigger effort in class, hoping that if I got good enough I'd be able to impress Ruthie, and I was doing ok, until my voice broke. This pretty much grounded my progress in singing class for several sevendays afterward, and I was only mediocre at playing instruments at best, and couldn't make them to save my life, so I was stuck with the theory and law classes during that time. It took me another sevenday to realise that, while I wasn't too good at baritones like the other sopranos whose voices broke, I could still hit the high notes, rather well actually.
This made me somewhat unusual, and interesting to the Harpers. My hopes of finally being able to sing properly once my voice broke were pretty much dashed, but I could still sing - just not in the way I had envisioned - and for that I was thankful. But during that period when I could hardly talk I had developed an interest in the performing arts, and had unofficially tagged myself onto a group of players at the Hall. Once I got back into singing, I realised that I actually preferred the playing, but once the Hall had found a job for me as one of their eldest male sopranos, at the tender age of 14, I was pretty much stuck in that role.
Over the next two turns little changed. I was still a soprano, I was still stuck being a soprano, despite the fact that I still preferred performing, and I was still trying to impress Ruthie. But then something changed. Something big. And dragon shaped. I have since often wondered why the Searchriders never picked me out earlier; there'd been several hatchings at nearby Fort Weyr since I'd been at the Hall, but not once had any of the dragons or riders shown any interest in me.
But there I was, 16 turns of age and a candidate on Fort Weyr's sands. Weyr life was, surprisingly, not as difficult to adjust to as Hall life, but was certainly no easier. Maybe it was because I had sobered somewhat during my time at the Hall, grown up somewhat, learned to deal with authority. Ok, so that last one is a bit of a lie, but I'm better at it than I was as a trader.
But, alas, I didn't Impress at that hatching, nor at the next which followed not six months hence. It was then that I began to consider the Western continent, talk of which had been flying about the Weyr for a good while leading up to that point. It took me a good while to decide, but with both of Fort's queens recently clutched, I had little to do with myself for a good long time. Better to make myself useful, if only to stop myself getting bored with candidate chores in the meantime. It was that or back to the Harper Hall, but I'd already decided that I would wait until I Impressed, if I were to at all, and graduate before I went back to completing my apprenticeship, so that maybe I could be the Weyrsinger or something.
I wasn't among the first to go West. Many of us candidates due to be shipped over arrived after Izith's first flight, in time to become accustomed to yet another change of scene before the hatching. Oh, and adjust to the fact that not only was my brother, Jareth, there in the West too, but riding a dragon. A bronze no less! I recognised him instantly, though it took him a little longer to realise that yes, the Kemir on the candidate list was the one and only me. After the shock, and later wine, had worn off we filled each other in on our lives since parting. His, it appeared, was no less eventful than mine, but I countered that if I Impressed in the next clutch then I would have accomplished more than he. That silenced him for a bit. He hadn't changed much, but I wasn't so sure what to make of his dragon. A bronze, yes, but unique in his own slightly childish way. At least he would talk to me, even if it was often to annoy me.
I failed to Impress again, so it was back to playing the waiting game, ready for Ariseth to rise and produce another clutch for me to try at. Surely my dragon would be in this clutch. Jays he'd better be there or I'd forever be even with Jareth! Oh sorry, it was J'thir now. I'm never going to get used to that, at least not until I can claim the right to abbreviate my own name.
The basilisk attack hit the Weyr hard, I could see. I was worried for Jareth, if he would make it back, if he would be injured and if so how seriously. But he lived, thankfully. I knew that others hadn't been so lucky. But after that things changed, and they changed big time. Not only was my chance of Impressing again on tenterhooks, the survival of the whole Weyr was in question. Dragons were dying left right and centre, those who hadn't been killed or betweened on the day falling ill to something the healers couldn't quite fathom. We were all different now, changed somehow. Maybe we didn't know it, but it was clear to see to those who did.
But when that rider returned with one of the creatures, Impressed of all things, circumstances changed again. Many people feared the creatures, and rightly so, and to have one within their own walls was more than some could take. But he could see that there were others who seemed sympathetic to the rider and what he'd lost, what they'd all lost, and a few even seemed to see some sort of brighter side to having a basilisk in their midst. Me? I don't know. I know Jareth has told me what he thinks, being one of the ones who can see an advantage to the turn of events, but I'm not so sure. I think this may be something that even he can't control, and part of me doesn't want to see him try...
Relation to Existing/Pending Character?: Younger brother to J'thir
Future:
Pets: None
Dragons Name: Astaath
Colour: Brown? (9C661F/7B3F00)
Age: 0 (hatchling)
Hatching Season: Spring
Appearance:Astaath has the sturdy dependable strength of a brown, easily recognised by his deep chest and powerful muscles. Yet, despite his tan coloured hide it is difficult to say if he is really a brown, considering the fact that he is the size of a large green or a small blue. His wings are shorter than usual too, making it even more difficult to classify him as a brown for it is obvious he will be agile in the air, maybe even rivalling some of the greens, and what brown can fly as agilely as a green? Astaath's hide is unique too, with very distinguishable patterns in a darker shade covering his body, and much resembling that of a striped feline. All in all, a smart looking fellow, though just as unusual in his own way as his brother Ioth and sister Skadith.
Personality: Despite the impression given upon touching this egg, many will be surprised to find that this dragonet is in no way hyperactive. Impatient, yes. An adrenaline-junky, yes. Astaath loves being in the air, and will rarely remain on the ground for longer than it takes to eat, sleep and sunbathe. The little problem of hatchling flightlessness will be, thankfully, short-lived, as this little dragonet will be one of the first among his siblings to take to the air. He feels that a cloud is a much better bath than a lake, until he gets dirt in the irritating places that a cloud simply can't reach, of course. He's a show-off and a perfectionist, taking a great pride in his flying ability. If Astaath can't do something, he will be out practising it until he surpasses every other dragon in the Weyr in that respect. He will rarely boast about it though, lacking the arrogance that the bronzes and the larger browns possess, and will never belittle another for their lesser abilities on purpose. He would rather just show off to the greens, being more than just a passing flirt.
