Character type: Dragonrider
Rank: Wingrider
Age: 54
Gender: Male
Sexual Preference: Bisexual


G’zark was considered a real looker at one point in his life; some of the lustre has worn off a bit over the turns, certainly, but he likes to think he’s still got the magic. Dark brown eyes and solid eyebrows can give intense gazes when he wants to — they do wonders in bed, he says — but most of the time he can’t be bothered to look so serious, and the crinkles developing at the corners of his eyes are indicative of how often he’s laughed over the turns. His chiseled features are now marked by the beginnings of looser skin and lines of age and weathering, and the jaw that he was never all that good at keeping clean-shaven in the first place now sports rough, steely-grey stubble instead of the softer dark brown that it once did. Though his facial hair is completely grey now, the hair on his head is only streaked through with it, and still has a bit to go before it’s completely transformed. Where it was once thicker, and kept to the base of his neck, it has thinned a good deal, and his hairline has receded some — he’s taken to keeping it cut short because that just seems to look better with what he has left. His light brown skin hasn’t changed much, except perhaps thanks to the Thread that left its calling card on his left bicep and shoulder blade. It was a rather nasty, deep scoring that scarred quite badly, but he’s lucky it wasn’t in a more hazardous location and that he survived it and healed as well as he did. He’s still obviously a fit man, with a frame that just seems to develop muscle — and display it — rather easily, but he has added a wee bit of a soft beer belly in the past ten turns or so. He says it’s where he stores his extra liver.

He has got big brawler fists.


Rain or shine, drunk or sober, G’zark is G’zark— and G’zark is cheerful, jolly really, a man of his size. He loves life and loves love and loves booze. He’s the wingmate with a joke and a helping hand, a slap on the back and a flask to pass. As you might expect with such a good natured, sociable fellow, ‘Zark is quite good with new riders. It’s been suggested that he might take a hand with the weyrlings, but he prefers the wings. Watching and helping the youngfolk find their feet and make the transition to the active fighting force is a real pleasure for him. Sometimes in more ways than one. Winkwink. Hoho.

He is a helper. He likes to help. Why? Because he’s a narcissistic egomani— I mean, he just likes it. He’s just that kinda guy. Not after anything but the warm fuzzy feeling he gets in his belly, under his second liver. In another world, another culture, he might have been the father of ten and have had a cabinet full of “World’s #1 Pop-pop” mugs, but on Pern his wing is his family and each fresh faced weyrling is a new kid to mentor in the Art of Living.
All in all, a really swell guy, though for all his good intentions he has the tact and delicacy of a (happy) sledgehammer. He can be fierce papa bear to his kids— his real kids. Not his biological kids, I mean, the kids he’s mentored and taught and fucked. Those ones.

Birthdate: 05.29


G’zark was born during the Interval, raised in the creche, and grew up a happy, social lad with lots of friends who never really lamented his lack of connection with his parents, whom he barely knew. His family was not what he was born into, but what he made it, and he took that more to heart than most kids did even in the Weyr atmosphere.

With that in mind, it was only logical that he follow the path that was expected of him, alongside his crechefamily, who become candidatefamily, who would then become weyrlingfamily, who would then become wingfamily. The older riders seemed to expect something good of him — he was a confident, charismatic lad, after all, but he didn’t have any particular, special ambitions beyond simply the boyish desire to Impress well and be looked upon favorably. It was only a tickling sort of obligation — and when Fruxburth chose him, none of it even mattered anymore. She was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen, and he had the love of his life at the tender age of fourteen.

With the Pass still so far away, there wasn’t really much to tie him down. There were drills, of course, and they took those seriously, but beyond that there was no reason not to enjoy his status, right? He had fun, he traveled, he learned, he loved. He made friends, he fathered children. By the time the Pass actually did come, he was a seasoned wingrider, an institution, one of the older riders that the new wingmates could depend on for patience and laughter and mentoring and teaching the ropes about other things.

So many of those proud young riders are gone now. Many of G’zark’s peers, too, didn’t make it through the first ‘Fall of the Pass, or one of those since. Yet he’s still here, still occupying his same old seat in the Dining Hall for far too many hours of the day, very much unchanged.



Father: Dead
Mother: Deader

Sons: Probably
Daughters: Sarza, others


Jalnala, rider of green Lurinlith, duckling
Sambra, kitchen worker, mother of Sarza
Most Some other people



Dragon Name: Fruxburth
Colour: Green
Age: 40
Weyr of Origin: Ista Weyr


Fruxburth is… not exactly the ideal green. Rather on the short side for her color, she is nonetheless built big, with a broad, solid frame and short but sturdy legs. She’s given to keeping on a bit of extra weight, especially now that she’s a little older and her metabolism isn’t as fast as it once was, and she’s gone a bit potbellied as a result. Her neck and tail are short and thick, and even though her head is quite large and wide, her eyes are still oversized enough to look a little out of proportion. They’re not quite even, either — one is set slightly higher than the other, and her big mouth seems to be in a perpetual smile. She’s primarily dark olive in tone, with a set of slightly darker mossy green-brown patches that pattern her hide from the top of her head down her back. Each pair is evenly-sized between matching partners and set symmetrically all the way from skull to tail-tip.


Fruxburth’s cup runneth over with joy! Even when she’s silent, even when it seems like there’s no reason to be, she just exudes happiness, leaking it from every pore in her ugly green body. She is beautiful — her rider tells her so even without words — and they are both content in life, very happy together, and there’s no reason for her to feel anything different… except for those fleeting moments of grief or fear, which are few and far between and, luckily, quickly forgotten. Fruxburth is, perhaps, exceptionally stupid and forgetful even for a green, but she makes up for it with her friendliness and eager biddability. She’ll follow any order gladly, and tries ever so hard to learn and obey. New formations are very difficult for her for the first few days, but her rider is patient and very good at helping her remember things, using all the little tricks he’s learned over the turns, until it becomes her new norm and muscle memory helps take over. She likes all the people and all the things, especially rainstorms, where she goes out and splishes happily in puddles. She has never spoken to any human other than her rider, however, and likely never will. There’s “liking you” and then there’s… that.

On her own, she might be a green who would panic easily, but because her rider never panics, and she depends on/draws so heavily on him, she has never felt insecure enough to do so. Without G’zark, though — an injury that knocks him out, perhaps — she would be completely lost and terrified.

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