Nickname: Rel
Character Type: Rider

Gender: Female

Sexual Preference: Heterosexual


Rel looks like a hundred other women around Ista. Short, squat and dark, with skin roughened by turns of living by the sea and fingers calloused from a lifetime of hard work, she is no one’s notion of a great beauty or even a passingly pretty girl. Her hair is a nice enough color, somewhere between a light brown and a golden blond, but is stringy and rough. Her brown eyes are soft and kind, but sit above a beaked nose and thin lips that mark her as the commonest sort of Istan woman.

But, as Rel will point out, she doesn’t have much right to complain. She still has all her (slightly crooked) teeth and the use of all four limbs. She is strong and capable and hasn’t taken ill since childhood. She has the body of a woman, not a girl. And she thanks Faranth for that daily. The weyr is no place for any girl, let alone a pretty one.


When one pictures “female Candidate,” Avorella isn’t precisely what comes to mind. Earthy and practical, with an understated sort of confidence and an oddly grounded brand of optimism, she accepts things as they are and makes the best of them. She attends to her duties with little fuss and prefers a quiet life. Quite frankly, she’s not much fun, having outgrown childish pranks and games turns ago. Life is for living and working, not fooling around. Beneath her unflinching, almost ruthless, work ethic, however, Avorella has a surprisingly adventurous and curious spirit. She may make little time for whimsy, but some things are worth experiencing and maybe even enjoying.

Avorella knows her Harper’s songs, a couple of her favorite stories and can read and write a few lines if pressed, but that’s about the extent of her formal education. Most of what she knows comes from experience or superstition. While Avorella certainly doesn’t make a point of making waves or flouting convention, her piecemeal education doesn’t always match what lies in the Harpers’ scrolls. Some of her “knowledge” is actually fairly reliable (like any good Istan, Rel can always tell when a storm is coming). Others…not so much. (Tunnelsnake heart? For a cold? Really?) As for the notion that woman are soft helpless creatures, Rel knows fully well that’s nonsense. She’s not looking to overthrow the patriarchy or anything, but leaving an able pair of hands idle? Well that's just wasteful now.

For Rel, adjusting to Weyr life has been strange, to put it mildly. She’s still recovering from a series of heavy blows and makes it through the day by mostly ignoring all she’s lost, which is harder now that she is not scrambling simply to survive. Crying doesn’t make the hurt go away, moving on and working hard does. She still hasn’t really come to terms with the death of son and is unlikely to as long as she continues to push the tragedy to the back of her mind. It’s a coping mechanism that mostly works, but for how long is an open question.

More immediately, Rel isn’t quite sure how to handle Candidacy. She’s not a young girl just starting out on her life, she’s lived a moderately full and productive life already. She doesn’t need to be sheltered or coddled or watched over like a child. She handles the odd new rules with good humor, mostly, and is more amused than annoyed but weyr life is not what she is accustomed to and she’s not sure she cares for it. She’s also uncertain about her fellow Candidates. Oh, she’s sure they’re nice enough lads and lasses, but it’s all “dragons, dragons, dragons” with a bit of crafting and some holder’s whelp thrown in for good measure. She guesses if it comes down to it she might even say she's bit lonely, but what do you expect? Rel’s a fishwife through and through, not a dragon rider.


Birthplace: Ista Seahold, 8.432.1.11

Avorella is not the sort of woman who Impresses a dragon. Born to a fisherman and his wife in Ista Seahold, her path was laid out before she took her first breath. She would marry and act as wife and helper to her husband. She would bone fish, mend nets and occasionally sail a boat herself if her husband was indisposed. It would be a tough life, but a productive and moderately happy one. Rel had no objection to any of this. She liked the sea and didn’t mind helping out where she could. She wanted to be productive and moderately happy and grow up to be just like her mother.

The oldest of an ever growing line of daughters, Rel was betrothed when she was six years old to a boy three years her elder. His name was Femton and he was the son of a relatively prosperous fisherman who lived nearby. It was a suitable enough match and both families considered the matter well and settled and good riddance to that. Femton and Rel went about their separate lives, Femton learning to sail and fish, Rel to cook and clean and keep a good house. They saw little of each other until Rel turned fifteen and was deemed old enough to wed.

Rel had not grown into a beauty of any caliber. Her features were ordinary, perhaps even a bit plain, and the difficulties of Istan life had taken their toll. Her younger sister, Delvor, however, was quite lovely. A sickly child, she had spent much of her youth indoors protected from the elements and developed a love of arts deemed gentle enough for her constitution. She couldn’t patch a sail or navigate a ship in a storm, but she could sing quite prettily and was rather fond of embroidery. Femton was instantly taken with her and begged Rel’s parents to call off his initial betrothal. As Rel didn’t in all honesty know Femton particularly well, and Delvor was rather taken with him (as he was quite exceptionally handsome), the two families negotiated a new arrangement. Femton would marry Delvor and Rel would be given to his 59-year-old uncle, Femroc, a curmudgeonly old sailor who didn’t care what she looked like so long as she was young and fertile.

Rel figured things could be worse. While her new husband was bad-tempered, arrogant and set in his ways, he never struck her, didn’t drink to excess and allowed her to do more or less as she pleased, so long as her share of the work was finished well and on time. As Rel wasn’t a particularly demanding wife, they suited and, if no passionate love erupted between the two, they became fond enough companions and, within a turn of their marriage, their first son was born, a healthy boy named Felavor. Femroc was delighted, as his first wife (now deceased) had proved infertile.

All went well enough for another turn, until Femroc took ill from an infected cut on his leg. The folk remedy used to treat it proved ineffective and by the time a Healer was summoned, it was too late for anything to be done. He died soon after.

But Rel still had her son, her home and her husband’s boat. It was a good well-made boat, small enough for a single person to steer but large enough to carry a profitable catch back to shore. Fortunately, Rel had been taught how to sail and fish by her own parents and was able to assume her husband’s duties. While her income was smaller, as she had to split her day between the traditional tasks of husband and wife, and there were times food and money were in short supply, it remained a happy enough life. She had Felavor, she had the sea, she had her health. Only the greediest of women could ask for more.

But then Felavor contracted a fever, during one of the typical bouts of childhood illness. Rel treated him as she herself had been treated when she was a child, dosing him with the appropriate herbs and piling on blankets to help him sweat it out. He grew weaker overnight, however, and Rel immediately called for a Healer the next morning. The Healer did not arrive until the following evening, however, and, while he worked through the night trying to save the boy, Felavor died the day before his third birthday.

Rel did her best to go on as before, but her heart was no longer in it. Life was a bit easier now that she had only one mouth to feed, but it was hard to forget in the quiet. She briefly considered remarrying, but she had had two betrothals already and managed to lose both, to ask for a third would be bordering on the ridiculous. There were plenty of widows younger than her and at least she still had her husband’s boat. Good boats like that didn’t come cheap.

Of course, a widow with no husband or children didn’t really need such an expensive boat, her husband’s sister, Rera, soon pointed out. Her own husband’s ship had run afoul of an early summer storm and, while he had survived more or less intact, they lacked the funds to get a replacement of good quality. But why should they purchase a new one when Rel had a perfectly good boat right there? What use did she have for it? She was just a woman, after all. Rel ceded easily enough to their arguments, having no wish to create bad blood within the family. Perhaps a bit of travel would restore some of her customary zest for life. The sea didn’t thrill her as it once had.

So Rel set forth for Ista Hold proper in the company of a band of traders. She was fortunate enough to arrive safely a mere month before the pass began and to find a position in the Lord Holder’s household. It wasn’t a very good position, just cleaning pans, changing glows and doing laundry, but she had enough to eat, clothes on her back and shelter from Thread. She couldn't expect much more, as a twenty-year-old childless widow with no connections of any note.

And then the dragons came on search. Rel, being technically of age, if only barely, presented herself, more out of a desire to see a dragon up close than any particular wish to ride one. To her surprise and amusement, she was told she had the potential to stand as a Candidate. Having never lived in a weyr before, and not having any other particularly appealing options, Rel decided to give it a try. She’d always wanted to see a dragon hatch.

Age 6: Betrothed to Femton
Age 15: Femton calls off the wedding, he marries her sister, she marries his uncle
Age 16: Felavor is born
Age 17: Femroc dies at sea
Age 19: Felavor dies, Rel makes it to Ista Hold just before the pass begins, finds work in the hold
Age 20: Rel is Searched and arrives in Ista Weyr, Rel Impresses Green Akrath



Mother: Della (38)
Father: Avor (47)
Sisters: Delvor (18), Ava (16, currently pregnant), Adell (12), Vorla (11), Deva (8), Delra (5), Ave (3)
Brothers-in-Law: Femton (23, married to Delvor, fifth son of Fema and Belton), Tep (17, married to Ava)
Sisters and Brothers-in-Law (through husband): Rera (55) and Geron (63), Fema (59) and Belton (66)
Nephew: Delton (1), son of Delvor and Femton
Husband: Femroc (deceased at 61)
Son: Felavor (deceased a little before turning 3)

Avorella's Dragon: Green Akrath

Dragon Name: Akrath
Colour: Green
Age: 0
Weyr of Origin: Ista
Weyrling Class:


Akrath is quite a pleasant looking green, with good average proportions. She’s not going to be one to stick out physically; she’s not the strongest, the fastest, the biggest or the smallest, but she is very approachable looking. Her face is expressive, both in joy and sadness, quite pleasant to look at, and has an air of dependability and her smooth hide is a fresh leaf colour, strong and uniform except for the band of paler green about her neck, like a choker. Her tail is long, and strong, and she uses it a lot as an expressive medium and her wings, especially while spread, have a pattern over them like running water over the green. It’s subtle, but once noticed is a lovely feature.


If only Akrath was as serene as her outward appearance suggests.

She is a dependable dragon, that much is true, and has a very keen sense of duty. From the moment someone tells her what Thread is, it will awaken in her a deep, ingrained determination to succeed at her purpose, and to make sure everyone around her, willing or no, fulfils their purpose too. She will do anything to ensure that everything is done, that everyone meets the standards required of them, and she’s even harder on herself. The first time someone suggests that perhaps bronzes are better leaders than greens, Akrath will do everything, single-mindedly, in her power to prove to them the grave error they have made in underestimating her. She is as good as any bronze, and anyone who dares say otherwise had best be ready for a fight. She’s a determined thread fighter, and due to her ambitious, and focused personality she will only get better and better, perhaps even becoming a true master at aerial combat.

Her intensity does have its downsides however. she is prone to nasty comments, being a killjoy and also vindictive, particularly when she thinks people are goofing off and not taking the task at hand seriously enough. She’s not a cold dragon, she’s not haughty or withdrawn, but she makes her displeasure known, emotionally, loudly, and messily. Passion is what guides Akrath, passion for her purpose, passion for her class, her friends, her wing, passion for the blues, browns and maybe even the bronzes she will mate and particularly passion for her rider. She will try to galvanise all of them on with proclaimed, impassioned speeches about hope and duty, but most of the time will probably come across as a little bit preachy. She does, however have the grace to realise when she is in the wrong, and also the courage to go and apologise. If ever any of her classmates or wingmates are sad or upset, you can be sure Akrath will go and talk to them privately, just to listen and maybe encourage them back into the fray. There are exceptions. Enemies, those who she deems so anyway, will face a long and hard road to forgiveness, full of many sarcastic brush offs and cold shoulders. But once it has been won, Akrath will put aside the past.

There is no doubt that she is a passionate and emotional green, whose heart is usually in the right place. Although…it is likely that she will drive her fellow dragons…and rider…nuts.

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