Character type: Dragonrider


Age: 42

Gender: Male

Sexual Preference: He’ll pass


At one point, he was a fairly cheerful man with a dry sense of humor and a good deal of ambition. Those days are long past. Every once in awhile there will be a glimmer, a laugh, a wry joke, but it’s usually gone before one can be sure it was ever there.

Duty is the only thing that matters anymore. To the Weyr, to the people, to what little remains of his friends and family. He takes care of his dragon, does his duties, and goes home at night. He’s serious, but not morose, and he does his best not to bring down those around him. He’s sacrificed almost everything in life to his duty, and at this point he feels there’s no turning back.

He’s always had a reputation for being calm under pressure and able to keep others around him calm as well. The loss of his family, after that initial numbing grief, has left him even more cool under pressure. He really has very little left to lose.

When he was younger, he had a keen sense of Istan superiority, believing them better than the people of any of the other Weyrs. Losing half the wings in that first ‘Fall shook that conviction to the core. He’ll never admit it, but sometimes, on a bad day, he does wonder if maybe they aren’t superior. He always wonders how they can fix it.


Birthdate: 11.1

** Birthplace:** Ista Weyr

Jaskalder was born the son and grandson of bronzeriders. His family were dragonriders as far back as they cared to trace, and he was raised with the conviction that his place was on the back of a dragon, fighting thread. It was no surprise when he Impressed at 15 to a fine, strapping bronze.

It was in his first wing assignment that he met the greenrider who would become his weyrmate and would give him two of his three children. By the time he was 20 he had a weyrmate, a son, and the firm conviction that he was exactly where he needed to be. By 25, he had two more children (one the result of a flight). One of his sons Impressed at 12, and he was elated. When he died in training, his conviction that this was his family’s duty was not shaken. Sacrifices happened, it did not mean that this was not exactly where his family belonged. When his other son graduated to the fighting wings, he was as proud as any man.

By 35, he had a son in the wings, a position as a wingsecond, and a weyrmate who adored him. Everything his family had drilled into him about his place in the world had proven true.

By 40, he had nothing.

His weyrmate fell in those first few minutes of the first ‘Fall. He never found anyone who had seen what happened, or at least no one who would tell him. He only felt the sudden shocking sorrow that rocked his bronze, made him falter in the air and into the path of the Thread that scored him. Later, with more experience, the pair would realize that it hadn’t been that bad, that they’d gone between in enough time that they could have kept fighting. The pain was new and sudden, though, and they’d gone back to the Weyr, to the healers to verify that they were still sound enough to fight. Before he’d been cleared to return to the sky, a second wave of loss shook the bronze. Someone had seen that, had seen the clump that took his son square in the chest, sending the pair skipping away never to return.

He returned to fight that ‘Fall, though he doesn’t remember the rest of it, and then the pair had gone back to their now-empty weyr and hadn’t emerged for a sevenday. By then, he’d been replaced, his position filled, though there’d been no malice when they’d told him to take some time, that he could come back when he was ready. He’d lost friends, as well, and extended family, and he was content enough to simply do what he must, for a time.

This past Turn, his daughter has returned to the Weyr, a journeywoman now with a husband and enthusiastic dreams of starting a family that might one day include someone to carry on their family’s duty.

If his grandchildren are to have any chance, then Ista must be stronger, more capable. They can’t just simply sit back and let others carry them through while they drift. He doesn’t expect that he’ll live to see any of them riding dragons, but he does expect that he will do everything he can to see that the Weyr they fly for is one that will not be constantly hit by disaster.



1 daughter: Alive, Journeywoman crafter - early 20s





Dragon Name: Vandrakoth

Colour: Bronze

Age: 27

Weyr of Origin: Ista

Weyrling Class:


He’s a big, coppery colored bronze, built heavy and with a massive wingspan. His coloring is almost uniform, the only variations being what looks like stripes on his rear flank, more concentrated on the right then the left. If one gets closer, it becomes clear that these ‘stripes’ are actually scars from being hit by a partially burned clump of thread in that first ‘Fall.


This is a friendly bronze with a sense of humor. To any one that meets the pair these days, they seem an odd match.. Oh, the bronze has the same keen sense of duty as his rider, and he does not approve of any fooling around during drills and duties, but there is something a little softer, a little warmer about him.

That said, he has a bit of a superiority complex- he has a tendency to give more weight to the opinions of other bronzes over the other colors and does not like to be challenged.

He used to consider himself quite a charmer, flirting and chasing golds and greens (though his size gave him little luck with the latter), but that aspect of his personality has disappeared since first ‘Fall, the strongest indication that his rider’s losses have touched him.

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