Character type: Dragonrider
Rank: Wingrider
Age: 14
Gender: Male
Sexual Preference: Up in the air.


L'rori is an adorable little shit, the bane of authority figures, disciplinarians, and kitchen staff the world over with his irrepressible grin and bright eyes and youthful exuberance. He threatens to be a real heart-breaker when he's grown into his body and matured into his good looks, but at thirteen he's still very much a boy. Although accustomed to polishing himself up into the respectable Steward's son of Ista's major Hold, some of his inner scamp has always shown through.

He's tall for his age, and built on lean, trim lines; dragonriding and an energetic lifestyle has afforded him more muscle than most boys his age would be expected to have, but it's still very wiry, his long limbs still coltish. He's unlikely to ever be particularly broad, and certainly at present he looks as if he gets by more on pure gumption and that peculiar youthful zeal that children have. L'rori has always had a habit of wearing the least amount of clothing as he can get away with — shoes abandoned as soon as possible and shirt swiftly following — and even now squirms unhappily if forced into any kind of full formal uniform for any long stretch of time. He has a healthy brown tan all over, as he's almost impossible to keep off the beach and out of the water; one usually needn't wonder how he spends most of his spare time.

His black hair is permanently dishevelled, and his blue eyes are bold and usually a dead giveaway of whatever he's feeling at the moment, striking in color and near impossible to resist when they turn imploring. His grin is bright and unselfconscious, an open invitation to join in.


It was definitely fortunate for the entire family that L'rori was the youngest child of the youngest child in the Lord's family, because he was never going to work as a lordling. He was just as clever as his brothers and sisters, and just as capable in his own right, but he's always been a restless spirit. If he'd been born into any other family he would have likely made a good runner or trader or journeying harper even (if he'd been able to sit still through all the classes first). Good-natured and eager to please and do well, he always <i>tries</i>, but he could never help the tendency to start squirming when trapped in one place with nothing much to occupy his ever-wandering mind.

As a boy he wanted nothing more to be a brave ship's captain, travelling the high seas with a crew of the best sailors ever, all of them having each other's backs and finding adventure together, bound to each other to the last man. As a young man, he still wants that - but now he sails on a dragon, and he yearns to find that same crew, the desire even stronger given his lifemate has the same powerful urge. L'rori <i>likes</i> people, wants to surround himself with them and share with them, and is truly miserable when forced into any circumstances where he's isolated or held back from truly engaging. When he ran down to the beaches as a boy, he never thought twice of making friends with the lower-born children playing around the wharfs - things like social status were not barriers he ever thought to respect.

The only problem is that L'rori isn't always the most adept at interpersonal relations. Obviously he has ever intention in the world of making ALL the friends, but his mouth gets ahead of him, or he doesn't think before he acts, and he has the distressing tendency to misstep and offend others without ever meaning to. He understands politics in a nebulous sort of way, having been surrounded by them his entire childhood, but he's never been in a position or had reason to engage in them himself. He was sheltered and nurtured, never really had to fight for anything, and he's not even fully aware of that, ignoring all those barriers the way he does, and so he's unpracticed in watching his words, or modifying his behavior. He's caught flat-footed when he sees someone's face go stormy and dark in reaction to something he's said, and he flounders, wanting to make it better, but often only making it worse.

The responsibility of impressing a dragon and having it beaten into his head that Rowlieth's well-being rests in his hands, and the Ista Protectorate depends on the two of them, has at least produced some focus for his ever-running drive, but the heavy mantle he's accepted has done nothing to dim the spark of his adventurer spirit. He will develop grand new ideas and schemes to make things better, and will certainly on occasion go overboard in his exuberance to do well and triumph. His one saving grace is even the grumpiest of superiors cannot miss the fact that he truly means well.


Birthplace : Ista Hold, 8.437.13.11

The baby of his family, less pressure fell on young L'rori than on the others to make a show for himself early on. He got away with sneaking off to play with the other (lower-born) local children, learning from them how to spear fish and dive for shellfish and swear like a sailor. He'd disappear from sun up to sun down sometimes, returning to the Hold proper breathless, tan, and grinning after hours of building dodgy rafts out of driftwood and nearly drowning himself on the waves. He talked excitedly of his plans to one day captain a ship of his own, and the adventures he and his crew would have.

As he grew and the spectre of responsibility to the bloodline began to rear its frightening head, his parents made noises of him considering the seacraft, forestalling his immediate complaints by pointing out that if he wanted to captain a simple fishing scow fine, but the really amazing ships that sailed all the seas were part of the seacraft. L'rori wasn't a stupid boy, and could recognize the logic of their idea, so he shut his trap and attended his lessons dutifully… if still somewhat prone to daydreaming in the middle of the more tedious lectures.

Youngest child or no, there <i>was</i> still pressure on him to measure up and do his bloodline and the Hold proud, increasing with every Turn. A Searchdragon thankfully simplified manners soon after he turned twelve, declaring him a prime candidate and offering him a place at the Weyr. It was a chance at high adventure for L'rori, and a chance at seeing their son off in a respectable position for his parents, and so off L'rori went to stand as a candidate.

He proved himself a good pick when Tameketh's last clutch of the interval produced three proud bronze hatchlings and one of them, lanky, bold Rowlieth, chose him as lifemate, partner in crime, and captain. L'rori was somewhat overshadowed by his two new bronze peers - K'pen, natural leader and son of a former Weyrleader, and S'verian, serious and studied - but he hardly seemed aware of it, approaching each new day with his rapidly growing dragon at his side as a fresh new adventure to embark on, with an endless list of places and people and things to conquer and make a name for himself with.

All fun and games and the occasional pissed off, aggravated classmate until that first disastrous Fall proved to be more adventure than L'rori ever would have wished for.



Father: Saronas, Steward
Mother: Turili
Three older brothers (Unnamed; Unnamed; Quilionas, Candidate)
Two sisters

L'rori's Dragon: Bronze Rowlieth

Dragon Name: Rowlieth
Colour: Bronze
Age: 3
Weyr of Origin: Ista
Weyrling Class: 8.449.8.11
Wing: Seafury


Ridiculously long and leggy, Rowlieth makes for a peculiar sight. He's as big as any bronze when measured from nose to tail tip, or wing to wing, but he's whipcord lean in a way most bronzes aren't, lacking their characteristic broad bulk, and as if to make up for that lack he somehow stands quite a bit taller than most of the rest of them. He's remarkably bendy for a bronze, and fast, though the latter is at least as much to do with his tendency to go all in, all or nothing, balls to the wall in everything he does. Rowlieth runs and flies pell-mell, mouth agape, every last inch of him committed to the movement. At rest he would best like to have a bigger dragon to sprawl all over, but can just as happily curl himself into a ridiculous ball of dragon with hands curled over his snout and wings wrapped around.

His hide isn't quite as committed in one direction as the rest of him; his even bronze coloring pales as it travels down his sides to his belly, as well as his wingsails and inner legs. But the real stand out are the darker bronze tiger stripes running everywhere but his wingsails.


It’s a common held belief that bronzes are strong-willed and passionate, bold and strident, and Rowlieth is all those things… just not in the ways most would expect. He certainly throws his weight around, but in the most literal way possible. Rowlieth shows his affection (which is always deep and abiding, because he is dialed up to eleven ALL THE TIME) physically, and he is a playful, effervescent soul, so ‘physically’ translates to ‘WRESTLING’. He will pounce his peers, or bat at them while his butt wriggles happily, waiting for them to pounce HIM, all in the name of some good natured rolling around like puppies in play. He doesn’t spend nearly as much time sunning himself or napping as other dragons; he’s always looking for something to get into, as prone to looking for adventures as his rider, and <i>when</i> he naps he wants to drape himself atop another larger dragon (of which there aren’t many) or curl around those smaller than him.

Rowlieth likes to use his voice, roaring and growling and imitating the sounds he’s heard from the native firelizards. He does have his moments of dominance, but it shows itself in how he hoards friends and becomes territorial of his ‘pack’. Like L’rori always dreamed of having a ship’s crew to have his back and to lead into adventures, Rowlieth sees his wingmates and assorted other favorites as a crew that is HIS. He’ll go out of his way to look in on others, to draw them out if he thinks they’re keeping to themselves too much, and make overtures to stay in their good graces and assure himself that they are still his.

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