J'tar

Character type: Weyrling
Rank: Weyrling
Age: 18
Gender: Male
Sexual Preference: Bisexual

Appearance

Turns of working on ships had turned J'tar into a relatively solid man even before he arrived at the Weyr. At around 6 foot he could be said to be average in height for a Pernese man. His hips are narrower than his shoulder, which have been broadened by turns of hauling on ropes and nets. There's no spare fat on him, just the corded muscle of a hard-working seaman. Likewise his skin has been tanned a deep brown by all the time he spends out in the harsh ocean sun, which stands in stark contrast to the much paler skin in places that *don't* see the sun. There's an odd sort of roll to his walk when he's on land, legacy of half his life spent walking swaying decks. As are the calluses on his tough hands.

His short brown hair waves slightly, and the sun has bleached almost-blond highlights into it. The outdoor life has caused his round face to weather in much the same way it has his body, and there are traces of laughter lines already showing at the corners of his deep brown eyes. There's almost always a smile on his face, and a seaman's pipe clenched between his teeth.

Personality

J'tar is a cheerful, down to earth sort of soul. He knows how to work hard, damned hard, but like any man that spends a long time out working he also knows how to play hard when he gets home. It's the simple things he takes pleasure in - rousing songs, good drink, a pipe to smoke and a willing woman… or man, come to that matter. You spend enough time on a ship and you learn to take your pleasures where you can get them. He'll have a ready smile for everyone, and loves a good joke. None of that stops him putting in the hard graft, though, although some at the Weyr may be a little unsettled by his tendency to sing some rather bawdy songs while he's doing it.

The sea-salt of Ista runs strong through his veins. J'tar has been raised in an environment that was fiercely independent, yet fiercely inter-dependent at the same time. All an Istan man needs is a good Istan crew around him, and his time on the fishing ships has done nothing to dispel that feeling. The men he sails with have always been like a family to him, and J'tar is not the kind of person that likes to be left alone too much. He's rarely been alone in his life, and the feeling is just far too uncomfortable. While he'll be outwardly friendly to Outsiders it'll take a long while for a non-Istan to earn his trust. They'll have to prove themselves first.

History

Birthplace: Ista Sea-Hold, 8.432.9.27

Born and raised in Ista Sea-Hold Jactar was the son of a fisherman, who was the son of a fisherman, who was the son of a fisherman… back about as far as the family can trace their menfolk have always gone to sea. Some of the girls have too, at least until they settled down, married, and had fisher-sons of their own. No surprise, then, that his first toys were boats, and his first chores helping to clean fish and mend nets. It was a tight, family atmosphere at the Hold. Even if people weren't actually related they might as well have been. And though life wasn't cushy, it was certainly loving.

He was already out on the boats with his father occasionally by the time he was old enough to officially Apprentice to the fishercraft, and since he turned 12 he's probably spent more of his life on ships than on dry land. It's a hard life, working as a fisherman. Long hours, in all weather, with very physical work. But Jactar loved it - the feeling of family on the boat was if anything stronger that it had been back at the Hold, and the massive party that coming home with a full catch always entailed. Jactar learnt the ways of the sea, and the ways of the seamen, well, and by 15 he was already a hard drinking, hard loving man when he came ashore.

It's possible he'd have been Searched much earlier had he ever been on shore when the dragonriders came. Certainly the blue had a very strong reaction to him. No one was really very happy about him losing a promising career at sea, but the dragon was insistent and, well, the Weyr *had* just lost a large number of riders. So to the Weyr he went.

He was suprised and pleased to meet up with old friend Kellain at the Weyr - the other seacrafter havng also been searched. He's also been having an interesting time with another lad from the docks, Zetair, who seems to have gone a little odd on him since they had a tumble in the furs during Tameketh's flight.

Jactar was bowled over, almost literally, when the solid green Igribith chose him at the first Hatching he stood for. Now named J'tar he stands ready to start the most amazing voyage of his life.

Relationships

Family

Father: Jacurran
Mother: Tarria
Siblings: (potentially several)
Children: (none he knows of)

Friends

K'lain, Weyrling to blue Fancharth; old companion from his time at sea. The two often engage in friendly rivalry
Z'tair, Weyrling to green Ivaripeth; familiar face from the Ista docks. The two have an… odd relationship.

J'tar's Dragon: Green Igribith

Dragon Name: Igribith
Colour: Green
Age: Just Hatched
Weyr of Origin: Ista
Class:

Appearance

If the classic perception of a green is of a dragon that's like a racing runner, sleek and speedy, then Igribith is more of a plowhorse, big and strong and about equally as aerodynamic. She's tall enough to look down at most of her sisters, with broad shoulders and a barrel chest, a neck corded thickly with muscle, and wide, powerful flanks. On the ground she doesn't walk, she thunders, her overly-large feet taking heavy clomping steps that make her whole body sway, and in the air she powers her way around like the flying tank she is, bullying her way through the sky as if she has to fight the air itself for every inch. Her hide is the dark dull green color you'd find on the needles of fir trees, with slightly paler dappling across her shoulders and flanks that's really only apparent when you look closely or when the light hits it just right. Each foot has an even deeper, darker green sock, and a helmet of the same color covers her headknobs and the top of her head, curling down behind her eyes and over her cheeks, stopping right at the base of her skull.

Personality

Built like a brick house as she is, it's probably no surprise that she's a very physical dragon, and while half her touches and casual brushes are probably accidental just because she sometimes seems to forget how much space she takes up, she's also the first dragon to reach her neck out to nudge with her muzzle, or spread a wing over another, or, if she's annoyed, just throw her body around to shove past someone else. As a hatchling she'll love to wrestle, and she'll keep right on doing it into adulthood if she can find willing dragons.

Dealing with Igribith is about the same as wrestling with her physically would be — that is, about like wrestling a big mama bear. Her presence is as over-inflated on a mental and emotional level as it is on a physical one. She's loud and boisterous: her mindvoice booms in your head, not so much like she's yelling at you but more as if she's just speaking very loudly right up in your face, and it tends to make one feel as if she's invading personal space even if she's speaking from across the Weyr. When she's enthusiastic about something she barrels headlong into it like a freight train; when she's not, she can dig her proverbial heels in and quite suddenly turn into an immoveable object. That stubborn streak is strong in her, and she's often loathe to ask for help when she needs it, even though she's quick to offer her assistance to others whether they need it or not. With her green sisters (and anyone else who will allow her to be), she can be rather overbearing, and doesn't realize that her help and advice sometimes comes across as bullying, or that her considerable presence is not always welcome in every place that she swaggers it into.

Her mating flights will be loud, raucous affairs that she seems to treat more like half-party, half-sport rather than the passionate competition that it's supposed to be. She's always delighted to fly, and will shout her encouragement to her chasers, willing them to join her and have as much fun pushing their limits in their pursuit of her as she has in her flight.

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