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 Posted: Sun Jun 09, 2019 11:11 am
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Posted: Sun Jun 09, 2019 11:13 am
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~History~
► 156 - Born to a family of feline hunters, trappers, and pelt traders - a dangerous but lucrative occupation. The family also traded in other goods along the way, largely carved wooden things from the rare woods of southern jungle and dried spices and fruits from the same. Ilharen started shooting a toy bow at more or less the same time he started walking, and throughout his youth he became an extremely adept archer and not bad with a spear either. Growing up he was always closest with his nephew Ilintor, the eldest child of his eldest sister (20 turns his senior), who was only a couple of months younger than he.
► 172 - Acquired a very large firelizard egg from a family member, which hatched into gold Harmony.
► 173 - He and Ilintor began to join in properly with hunts. In this turn he had his first brush with death, picking up the scars on his thighs when he was pounced - his mother promptly killed the beast but he spent some time recovering. He's now very fond of the pretty marks.
► 175 - Ilintor was killed by a feline, and Ilharen withdrew into himself. He still did his bit for the family, of course, but he stopped socialising beyond the obligatory and no longer sought out fun and new friends when they visited Holds. Late in the turn the caravan was attacked by Holdless bandits, an attack they repelled but not before several of them had been injured including Ilharen - the arrow wound to his shoulder fortunately healed well and the incident seemed to go some way to bringing him back to life.
► 176 - The caravan was visiting Monaco bay Weyr for a Hatching to catch all of the visitors who might wish to buy trinkets, and the guests of honour who might be interested in something rather more costly. The clutching gold sough assistance with one of three unhatched eggs within her clutch, she felt a life in there and refused to give up on it. With her rider's intervention - Weyman L'vin - White Cimarath was hatched, and he chose Ilharen out of the stands as his rider. This was hardly what Ilharen had planned for life but how could he be anything other than delighted? As he entered weyrlinghood the change in scene seemed to do him good as well - he still grieved for his all-but-twin but with a dragon in his heart and few reminders of him life got a lot easier. Although he considered it for a while Ilharen chose not to elide his name, Cimarath had added to him not taken away and so why should he lose letters? Logical, no?
► 178 - After graduation the pair spent a lot of time mapping and surveying the wilder parts of the south, getting into narrow gulleys that larger dragons couldn't access. Thanks to his background as a trader Ilharen was a confident explorer with a hunger for the horizon, and he fell in love with a classmate who loved much the same things. The two pairs might have gone on happily like that if not for the plague. Yes, the plague. When the illness began Ilharen was visiting Ista along with his wing to train in its famous stormy season and exchange best practice, and there they were trapped whilst Ilharen's family and lover remained in the south. Ilha and Cimarath watched some of their friends desperately try to return home but weren't willing to take the risk of transmitting the illness themselves, and so they remained and were absorbed into the diminishing Weyr. Cimarath was unscathed by the plague, naturally immune like many surviving dragons were.
► 181 - Led by Weyrleader D'lana the pair made for Fort, where the surviving dragons of the north were congregating as their leaders hatched a desperate plan.
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Posted: Sun Jun 09, 2019 11:17 am
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~Ilharen~
 Age: 25 (11.11.156)
Gender: Male
Orientation: Bisexual / biromantic
Origin: Monaco Bay & the south
Rank: Wingrider
Appearance: 5'9", very dark brown almond-shaped eyes eyes, long straight black hair, light beige skin, lithe build, feline clawmarks down his outer thighs, and a scar from an arrow above his left collarbone. ((Image, David Chiang))
Personality:
►Essentially gentle. He dislikes causing pain of any kind to other living things. He very seldom has an unfairly cruel word for anyone and when he does slip up - as he sees it - he will suck it up and apologise nine times out of ten. He will also avoid physical and verbal fights if he possibly can, he sees no point in fighting over petty things like egos or spilled drinks. The practicalities of his life have kept him from pacifism or vegetarianism however; he’s killed a lot of animals for food or fur, even a couple of humans because it was them or him or his kin, but he has always striven to make the job as clean as possible.
► Hard working. There was no room for slackers on the road, if everyone didn’t pull their weight to the best of their ability they wouldn’t survive.
► Practical. He takes a fairly direct approach to problems and has little time for blue sky thinking on real world issues. He also doesn’t have much truck with wringing of hands or despair over a hard situation; panicking, complaining, lashing out, none of that is going to help, what you need to do is focus on trying to survive. He will do his best to calm anyone having a hard time but not at the expense of doing what needs to be done to not die.
► Imaginative. On the other hand he has a vivid imagination and loves stories, especially stories of far off places and strange and wondrous things. He loves to tell stories too and happily weave one for any attentive audience.
► Paternal. Ilharen is very fond of and generally good with children, he enjoys delighting them with stories and is quite happy to be pulled into whatever game they might want to play.
► Protective. If there is one thing that really terrifies Ilharen it is seeing people he cares about hurt, even fairly minor injury can inspire legitimate panic. On the plus side this does leave him perpetually prepared for an actual emergency but in the meantime it can cause him a great deal of stress and angst.
► Active. He’s used to being moving and doing and is happiest with his hands or his muscles usefully occupied, if he can be chatting with a friend at the same time so much the better.
► Conflict averse. Ilharen doesn't care what people he doesn't know think of him but he seriously struggles to disagree with people he is close to and gets panicky at the thought of conflict with them.
► Diplomatic. While arguments between people he's not close to don't freak him out he still doesn't like them, he seeks to foster understanding where he can and would always prefer a peaceful cooperative solution to a problem where possible.
► Generous. He loves to give gifts, usually simple and often little carved trinkets or food related - he's a good cook - but whenever Harmony clutches he gives away her eggs freely rather than trying to sell them or trade for favours.
Skills & Talents:
► Archery
► Spear fighting
► Story-telling
► Flute playing
► Carving
► Navigation
► Cooking
► General survival skills
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Posted: Sun Jun 09, 2019 12:18 pm
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~Weyr & Inventory~
 Weyr
When Ilharen and Cimarath arrived at Fort in 181 there was a depressingly large choice of weyrs to settle in. The new home the pair opted for is high up on the bowl and boasts a desirable south-facing ledge, the one disadvantage of its position is that - high up as it is - there is no access via the lower caverns, all visitors must access via dragonback. The dragon cavern is quite small, and would feel cramped even to a large blue, but for little Cimarath it's perfect. Ilharen's quarters - separated from his dragon's by a thick door to keep out the elements - is quite spacious and made moreso by his preference for sleeping in a hammock, which can be rolled up and put away during the day.
A large round wooden table - shipped north from his former weyr by his family at some expense when it became clear that he was trapped in Ista - dominates the centre of the weyr, Ilha likes to entertain and so there are plenty of chairs to go with it and usually a bowl of fruit or other nibbles in the centre. Up from the table is Ilha's sideboard, which is always stocked with bottles and comestibles of various kinds; importantly it is also the home of his precious spice rack, which Harmony flies home to restock on a regular basis. More general storage for other possessions, including riding gear, is to the right.
Off to the left of the cavern is a comfortable seating area featuring a couch - formerly the weyr's standard stone bed-shelf - and several well-stuffed armchairs. There are hooks hammered into the ceiling above here from which a hammock can be strung. Below the seating is Ilha's work area where he repairs gear and work on his carvings.
Inventory
► Bow. A small bow with an exaggerated re-curve at full draw, it is made of three layers of laminated wood and perfect for use in tight conditions whilst retaining enough punch to take down a feline. When unstrung, it bends entirely back on itself.
► Spear. Seldom used now it hangs on Ilharen's wall above his sideboard as a reminder of home.
► Knife. All riders need a sturdy belt knife, Ilharen's has a feline femur as its handle, wrapped with leather for grip.
► Flute. Made of a reddish southern wood, this flute produces soft notes with melodious tones much like a singing voice - it has a good capacity for volume.
► Feline skin. A beautiful spotted pelt taken from the first feline Ilharen personally shot down, laid out on the couch during the day and snuggled up with at night.
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Posted: Sun Jun 09, 2019 12:54 pm
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Posted: Sun Jun 09, 2019 12:57 pm
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Posted: Mon Jun 10, 2019 5:29 pm
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17.6.176 - Monaco Bay Weyr
The hatching cavern was packed and it might have been hard to sit all together if not for Red; his big brother wasn't familiar with the concept of crowds, they were something that happened to other people. The humming of the dragons was otherworldly; it seemed to reach right down into his blood and bones, to fill them with fire and delight. Dragons were hatching! Thirty beautiful eggs lay on the hot sands, several of them already rocking and twitching as the little lives within tried to make their way out.
"Right, let's see," Ilharen's father, dark eyes sparkling with delight, made a show of honing his stick of writing lead and smoothing the cheap bark paper slip he had his bets for the clutch recorded on. "I think the blazed egg will be the first to hatch and it shall be bronze, a bronze to start the clutch is good luck they say!"
Red grunted sceptically, his dark gaze fixed on the eggs as though they'd done something to personally offend him - they hadn't, Red just had a resting grump-face. "What's so lucky about bronzes anyway?" he wondered aloud.
"Breeding," came their mother's swift, harsh reply. "Bronzes give the biggest clutches, Weyrs must want them t'choose first so as not to risk losing them - greens and blues are common, expendable."
"That seems a bit harsh Ma," Ilharen put in with a soft lopsided smile. "I'm sure nobody thinks so, there must be a different reason for it yeah? Bronzes being the most likely Weyrleaders, perhaps they want them t'have first pick of the minds like t'be suited t'that?" Not that it guaranteed every bronze was himself - as far as he understood - but it was a belief that made sense at least, his Ma was given to thinking the worst of people she didn't know. "Nobody thinks those who choose last won't still find a bond t'suit them, betweening is rare yeah?"
Areni, scarred and cynical, clicked her tongue but she gave her youngest son a little nod all the same. "Perhaps."
As it happened it was the Dappled egg that hatched first into a sprightly green but Blazed was close behind and he was indeed a huge bronze with a strikingly dark hide, unmarked save for a pale blaze down his face and pale feet. As shells cracked and bonds were made Ilharen leaned forward, hands clasped tightly together and heart hammering in his chest as he watched the new pairs greet one another. On one or two occasions he wasn't ashamed to say that his eyes brimmed with tears such was the joy of the candidate who rushed to embrace the part of themselves they'd never known they were missing.
"I'm ahead so far," Ilinar announced in a lull, quirking a smirky smile and clapping his hand on Ilharen's shoulder as he leaned close to show his son the tally. "We should come to these more often, for the betting and the trade - I'll have t'make some friends in all the southern Weyrs, find out when their queens might clutch so we can divert our course."
"Ha!" Ilharen wiped his eyes on his sleeve and nudged his father fondly. "Y're a sly old git, anyone ever tell you that?"
"Maybe!"
"But I like the idea," Ilharen glanced around at the rest of his family group for approval, "this is wonderful, even more than the profit. Have you ever seen anything so beautiful?"
"A few times!" Ilinar grinned and held up a hand to tick off occasions. "My wife doing press-ups, my wife throwing large men over her shoulder, my wife.... Just my wife."
Areni snorted derisively, smirked, and pushed her fingers back through her short silver-streaked black hair. "Flatterer. Good plan though, schmooze with some riders here, get them t'introduce you t'others."
"That's the plan!" Ilinar beamed. "Short of having our own tame rider, some quick friendships with- Ah, here we go again!"
In the end there were three eggs left on the sands; tiny, still, silent. With a great effort of will Ilharen tore his eyes away from the sands - the empty shells, the pairs moving away to feed, gold Chevath still humming a welcome that seemed hopeless for the last of her children - and looked instead to the ranks of watching riders. What did they make of this? Was it common? He saw sadness on some faces, indifference on others, and others still leaned in to one another to whisper and gesture at the scene below them. The gold still sang, did that mean that some the silent eggs still lived?
Ilharen's gaze returned to the sands just in time to see Weyrman L'vin striding forth with a small, beautifully carved mallet clasped in one hand. As he made his way towards the eggs a susurrus rose within the cavern, Chevath must believe that at least one egg held a viable dragonet or she would not have asked her bondmate to intervene. When the goldrider reached the Dusty egg the whole cavern seemed to hold its breath save for the humming dragons. L'vin stopped, stooped, smoothed a hand tenderly down the shell, and gave it a sharp tap with his mallet.
Nothing.
Ilharen didn't dare breathe.
Another tap, and nothing but the steady humming of the dragons.
A third strike and then, then the shell distended ever so slightly. The cavern breathed again and whispers ran through it anew, Ilharen heard his father say something about bets but the words went straight through him as he leaned forward to watch L'vin carefully pry away a large shard of shell with a little wooden lever. The very moment the shard fell to the sand a tiny white snout thrust its way through the egg membrane, and Ilharen wasn't alone in gasping with delight.
"It's okay!" he beamed, grabbing onto his brother's huge arm without taking his eyes off the sands. Come on little thing, you can do it! Two silent eggs was tragic but somehow far less so if this one little dragon could break free and find their rider.
Slowly, laboriously, and with more help from the Weyrman the white dragon did just that and when it could finally squirm free of its shell it stood up on wobbly legs and crooned a greeting to the world.
"Something wrong with its leg," Areni observed with an audible frown and it seemed she was right for when the little hatchling tried to take a step forward its right foreleg folded under it, dumping it in the sand.
"It doesn't seem bothered though," Ilharen murmured, smiling softly as the white picked itself up again and shook itself. "Dragons're made t'fly after all, yeah? Doesn't matter if it's got a bad leg, and it might just be sore from getting out of that shell anyway." The dwt did look weak though, he hoped it found its rider quickly and got fed and looked after.
Wobbly as the white obviously was the candidatemaster stepped in and urged her charges in closer to form circles a couple of ranks deep around it, surely it would choose soon? But after the white had hopped in circles a couple of times it raised its head and gave a dissatisfied creel.
//They are lovely but they are not what I need! Where are you? I have done it, call to me again!//
Ilharen's heart was in his mouth and his jaw clenched so tight he thought his teeth might crack, where was the dragon's rider? It couldn't go between now, not after it had fought so hard to live! Come on! Find them! Please!
As Ilharen willed the white to look to its bonded the tiny head snapped around and time froze as - even across the distance between them - he felt their gazes lock.
//There you are!// The white dragon trilled and pranced on the spot. //I have found you Ilharen! I am Cimarath, and I fought for you!//
"Cimarath!" Ilharen cried the name aloud without meaning to, was on his feet without realising it, and after a stunned silent moment he plunged forward through the crowd as he felt his dragon's - his dragon's - mind flow into his in a cacophony of love and colour and life. He tripped and fell as he vaulted the barrier betweens Sands and Stands but he was up again a moment later, sprinting, beaming and weeping until he skidded on his knees to lift the tiny, tough, exhausted hatchling into his arms. "Cimarath," he breathed, trembling and dazed with shock and elation and love like he'd never felt before. "You did good. You did so good!"
Cimarath crooned softly and rubbed his sticky face against his rider's wet cheek. //You did good too, that was fast! But, can you take me after the others now? I'm starving, and I'm tired.//
"Of course," Ilharen murmured as he scooped Cimarath up more securely in his arms and stumbled to his feet, oblivious to everything besides his beautiful little dragon and the hunger that hit him in the gut like a brick. Cimarath. Cimarath! His Cimarath! What was he going to do? He was a rider, he couldn't leave with his family, he- he-
He didn't care one little bit right now.
"Let's get you fed, love."
(1546 - 8 marks)
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Posted: Sun Jun 16, 2019 11:57 am
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22.1.182 - Fort Weyr
"Up up!" Ilharen coaxed with a click of his tongue, and obediently Harmony hopped onto the scale and sat down with her tail coiled neatly around herself.
Routine, routine was helpful in uncertain times.
Click, click.
He set two of the larger weights on the scale, they accounted for a good nine tenths of Harmony's ideal weight and were always his starting point; Harmony rose considerably on her side of the scale but the weights remained higher than she.
So, the first of Masalth's last daughters had risen. Hope? Did it exist, even now?
Click.
A medium-sized weight, easing Harmony a bit higher.
If greens could clutch.... If greens could clutch, could the north be saved? Until now he has seen little but darkness on the horizon, he had assumed that in ten or fifteen turns he would be helping Holders and Crafters to move to port Holds so that they might escape South. For him, and for the two hundred odd riders remaining in the north, he had expected nothing but death and despair.
Click.
A small weight, one that ought to bring Harmony on a level with the other side of the scale, but the gold remained stubbornly lower.
"Well then!" Ilharen put his hands on his hips and tutted at his remorseless pet, but his mind remained warm and gentle to her as ever. "I suppose I don't need t'feed you extra today, eh?" It wasn't her fault she'd put on a few ounces - she was sensibly bent on getting fat just the same as any animal because she didn't know there'd always be food tomorrow, and because he did it was his job to keep her on an even keel.
Click. Click.
Two more weights small, the second smaller than the last, and then the scales were level. Ilharen noted down a number in his waiting log-book and then commanded; "Down!" Harmony chirped as she jumped back onto the table, sending the weights shooting downward, and then shoved her face into the friendly hand Ilharen extended towards her. "You," he cooed as he scratched her between the wings with his free hand, "can fend f'y'self this week! Yes, you can!" Discounting small treats for doing especially clever tasks that was but the lean dried fish strips didn't give too much energy, they were just chewy and stinky enough to be very high value to his little friend.
As Ilharen signalled Harmony to jump onto his shoulders and turned to head out to his ledge his heart seemed to lift like the scales devoid of very-slightly-chubby firelizard. Perhaps Lithustoth wouldn't clutch, perhaps the dark future he'd envisaged really would come to pass, but for now he preferred to hope.
"Let's see if we can get some people t'gether for a celebratory drink, eh?"
"Chrrip!"
(467 - 2 marks)
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