H'jorek

Character Type: Weyrling
Rank: Weyrling
Age: 23
Gender: Male
Sexual Preference: Heterosexual

Appearance

H'jorek isn't the tallest of men, standing at just 5'7" but is nonetheless quite imposing. Broad in the shoulder and coarsely muscular, solid rather than svelte, he's often jokingly referred to as "the wher"—and not always as an insult. The similarity even extends to his face, with his slight underbite and gappy smile, broad nose and heavy jaw.

Seemingly oblivious to his flaws, H'jorek carries himself with overabundant confidence and indifferent swagger, the imperfect teeth almost adding to the appeal of his teasing smirk. H'jorek's mouth is puzzling in its mobility, shifting from irrepressible boyish grin to cruelly mocking smile to intimidating frown in a heartbeat. His eyes, light gray with a defined darker ring around the iris, are a bit of a surprise against his darkly bronzed skin and thick black eyelashes. They are often surrounded by little crinkles when he smiles.

Confident as H'jorek may be about his appearance, he certainly puts in enough effort to maintain it. His hips are naturally broader than he'd like and so he spends a large amount of time exercising to stay so muscular that nobody can notice his freakin' girly hips. He also keeps his hair, coarse, black and springy, prone to getting wildly out of control if he left it to its own devices, trimmed close to his scalp at all times.

He has a really annoying, stupid-sounding laugh, the kind that often makes people want to punch him in his big, grinning face.

Personality

Loud, brash, and rather obnoxiously self-entitled. H'jorek does what he wants for the most part, justifying as needed (apologizing is for sissies) after the fact. He's accustomed to being the leader among his peers and is willing to go to great lengths retain that position. And why shouldn't he? While all the little pansies are fluttering around trying to make up their minds, H'jorek will dive in and make the hard call, take the risk, take the fall if he has to as long as something gets *done*.

And this is perhaps his greatest weakness—H'jorek is all action and drive and generally lacks the patience for serious long term planning and strategy. Most of his successes have resulted from him simply *dominating* whatever situation he was presented with, rolling right over any opposition without a second thought. It's not that he doesn't care at all about people, he just ranks his version of logic and "doing the right thing" over anyone's feelings. His lack of patience extends to classes, where he gets restless and bored unless he sees a direct practical application to what he's supposed to be learning. If anyone has the nerve to point out this weakness, H'jorek will respond with a stream of invective about how useless harpers are anyway, and how anyone but a dickless pansy just learns what he needs to know from life.

H'jorek tends to stray to the wild side. For all that he can be decisive when he needs to be, he's not some serious sourpuss—and he doesn't see "getting things done" as incompatible with having fun. The problem is that what's "fun" for H'jorek isn't always fun for everyone else. He loves nothing more than a well-planned prank to embarrass someone, a crude joke, a drunken night of carousing and loud sex. And the more people he can drag along for the joyride, the better. His stupid humor can be quite endearing at times, but too often he just takes it a few steps too far.

He does have a surprising soft spot for younger kids who remind him of himself when he was that age, as if these are the only people in whom he can recognize a need for space and independent growth. Perhaps it's because he sees no challenge from someone much younger, or better understands their motivations, but H'jorek enjoys cultivating the confidence of such youngsters.

History

Birthplace: Fort Territory, 8.430.9.25

H'jorek was born in Fort's territory, though he's been at Ista for as long as he can remember and considers himself to be an Istan to the bone. His father Dalkorek was Istan-born and bred, son and brother to dragonriders, but despite trying for years never managed to Impress himself. Left slightly bitter, even embarrassed by his failure, Dalkorek joined the crew of a trading ship and went to see what else the rest of Pern had to offer him. Without Craft training there wasn't much he could do in the way of skilled work, but he found he had an unexpected talent when it came to organizing and keeping stock of provisions.

That life lasted for a few turns until Dalkorek fell afoul of a fellow crew member and decided to take some shore leave before finding a new ship and crew. It was originally planned to be a short detour as a laborer at the holding, but soon the steward of the hold discovered his skills and offered him a position under him if he could prove himself trustworthy. Dalkorek took the offer and didn't look back, cementing his position at the holding by marrying a local girl and starting a family.

Despite having left Ista himself, Dalkorek still had a desire to see his own children Impress a dragon if possible and fulfil what he felt was his own lost birthright. To that end, he enlisted the help of contacts from his former life at the Weyr, dragonriding siblings and friends, and had his firstborn son Haljorek fostered in the Ista Weyr creche when he was six years old. To the holders, this seemed a bizarre decision, and Hanaji never did forgive her husband for sending her firstborn away to some exotic land to risk his life as a dragonrider.

For the most part Haljorek was too young to understand what was happening, but his adjustment to Weyr life was less than smooth. An unusually large and awkward child, Haljorek was the object of fierce teasing when he first arrived; this was when he first received the nickname "wher". Rather than tucking tail and submitting, Haljorek turned the insult into a matter of pride. If they thought he looked mean and fierce, then damnit he would be! Less than a year after arriving, Haljorek had adapted so thoroughly to his new home that he had gone from being the object of bullying to being the major bully of the creche.

This social dynamic persisted well into Haljorek's teen years; he'd learned the hard way how to use his physical size to his advantage, why would he give up that advantage once gained? If the little shitheads were too stupid to wise up and learn how to fight back the way he had, then in his view they needed a little bullying to help them deal with the challenges of later life. Yes, it was an arrogant and entitled point of view, but for H'jorek it seems to have worked thus far; in fact some of his best friends to this day are kids he once bullied who had the gumption to come up and punch him in the face and tell him off.

As he grew into a burly and horny teenager, life seemed pretty good for Haljorek—he had friends, he had girls, he had plenty of fun. If he thought of his blood family in the distant north, it was only to wonder why the heck they didn't just come join him down here? Despite some rough patches when he spent a few years spouting off about how he was better than all his northern relatives sitting their in their stupid stone cave, his relationship with his blood father remained a constant thread throughout his life.

Though he didn't necessarily have the closest emotional bond with his father, Haljorek saw him enough on visits north or when his father traveled south with a dragonriding uncle to have developed a keen respect for the man (once he was past his more rebellious teen years, that is). Dalkorek wasn't a bronzerider or even a leader of any sort, but Haljorek saw him as a true self-made man. The subtle pressure that his father instilled in him to restore his blood to dragonriding didn't go unnoticed either.

Thus it was with not completely unexpected grief and fury that Haljorek met the news of his father's death. He hadn't known him extremely well as a child — perhaps as much as most Weyr children might know their dragonriding fathers — but he raged over the lost opportunities, the lost time which he *might* have spent in his father's company. It was definitely murder, his northern family informed him. Someone had killed Dalkorek in cold blood while he was seemingly defending the hold's wealth. Over the proceeding months, he found himself writing his family more than he ever had, seeking any information he could find about brigands, bandits, holdless, crooked heirs, the steward himself, anyone who would have had a motivation to kill his father. Every lead ended in absolutely nothing, an endlessly frustrating turn of events for one used to making things happen.

Haljorek was abruptly pulled out of his fruitless pursuit by his Impression of bronze Bacayath. After so many years of waiting, he'd nearly given up on the prospect of Impression—yet another facet to his feeling of helplessness, to have let his father down to the very end of his life. The pain of the recent loss has receded of late as H'jorek proudly embraces his new future.

Even in his happiness, though, H'jorek has not forgotten. He knows the killer is out there somewhere and he will find him, no matter how long it takes. And then he will have his vengeance.

Relationships

Family

Father: Dalkorek, deceased, formerly Istan
Mother: Hanaji, tanner's daughter, of Fort territory
Siblings: 4 blood siblings in north, many creche "siblings" at Ista

H'jorek's Dragon: Bronze Bacayath

Dragon Name: Bacayath
Colour: Bronze
Age: Hatchling
Weyr of Origin: Ista
Weyrling Class: SunRunners
Wing: None yet

Appearance

There are many shades of bronze, and many shades of bronze dragon. Bacayath is the obnoxious shade, so metallic in appearance he almost is reflective, bright and so very, very loud. The only variation in his hide are darker rivers, well blended in, that curve around the lines of his body, the curves of his muscles and contours of his face and body. They make these contours extra defined and therefore make him look much more than he really is.

But this is the sort of bronze every young boy imagines. He’s big, and imposing, and he’s a very handsome bronze too with a chiseled face, graceful and yet strong. But there is an approachability to Bacayath, a sort of air about him that encourages you to like him, and an exuberance that may well have come from the dragon that sired him.

Personality

And Bacayath is absolutely exuberant. He lives for life, wants to grab every bit of excitement, pleasure and joy he can get out of it. He is a master of loving things until everyone around him is thoroughly sick of it, before bounding on to the next thing, bringing everyone along with him. And somehow there is always someone there with him, because Bacayath is just, simply fun. He is ridiculous, self deprecating without currying for compliments, enthusiastic without fear of judgement and never looks back at the carnage that may have come in his wake.

‘There are no mistakes’ is Bacayath’s outlook on life, ‘only the choices that make us who we are’. And he lives by that creed. Some might well envy this bronze his freedom, that lack of fear he feels when confronted with uncertainty. If he survives the early brash years, Bacayath could well be a great leader in Threadfighting, instilling this fight to the last man mentality in his wingmates, as the years shape the boldness into a more mature bravery.

But time will never change Bacayath from being a dragon of excess. He will eat more meat than he needs, and the stomach ache will just be the price he plays for enjoyment, he will encourage his rider to drink wine skin upon wine skin, so as to loosen him up and to enjoy life, he will not be able to restrict himself on the dragons he chases, be they green or gold, and he certainly won’t hold back from encouraging his rider to sleep with as many other humans as possible, be they male or female.

He will however one day have one true love, a female dragon that he will devote himself to loving. He’d never be faithful, or whatever that crazy human notion is, and he certainly won’t give up his fun, his chasing, or his charming of the ladies..or male dragons, but this female, whoever she is, will be the one dragon he will curl up with at the end of the day, consistently, time and again, and whose attentions, will always be accepted above any others.

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