Character type: Dragonrider
Age: 47
Gender: Male
Sexual Preference: Bisexual


Even when he’s sitting quietly in a corner, there’s something about N’charias that seems to demand attention. The gaze of his bright grey eyes, always a bit squinted beneath salt-and-pepper brows, is often either hyper-focused or oddly vacant but rarely in-between. His face is square, with a broad jaw, sharp nose, and wide, thin-lipped mouth. His hair, short but feathery and often artfully unkempt, has gone mostly silver-grey, but his chest hair and his beard — which ranges from scraggly stubble to a full beard depending on his recent mood and tolerance level for personal hygiene — is still only greying in patches, and still retains more of the dark hair of his youth. Though he’s a bit on the tall side, and fit, he tends to slouch, to slide down sloppily in his seat with his knees spread and taking up space, or sit sideways and throw an arm or two back across the back of his chair, or cock himself in such a way that’s somehow casual without necessarily being completely at ease. His feet are bare more often than not, booted only for drills and ‘Fall and travel, and if it weren’t for rules and the cold of between he’d rarely bother with his flying leathers, either. He prefers loose clothing worn (and occasionally slept in) casually — unbelted, at least half unbuttoned, shirt-tail untucked and pants-legs barely scraping the floor at his heels.


N’charias is a creative soul, a restless intellectual who somehow simultaneously never seems to settle, and yet also never seems to climb out of the rut he lives in, either. He might have been better-suited, and happier, as a crafter of some sort, and he’ll readily admit this even in the presence of his dragon (who, luckily, doesn’t seem at all bothered by a “should have” in her world of “what actually is”). The life of a rider — “dragon-slave” he calls it sometimes, sardonically — doesn’t really offer him a lot of avenues for the artistic or intellectual stimulation that he craves. What it does offer him, however, is the freedom and ability to seek that stimulation elsewhere, and he spent a lot of time during the Interval doing just that: traveling wherever he needed to go and buying or trading for whatever supplies he wanted in order to explore… everything. He paints, he plays gitar, he carves, he designs things. He has studied records and bothered crafters with his questions and sketched and researched and just generally learned a thousand mostly-useless-to-him things, all in the name of keeping himself stimulated, interested, alive.

The problem is, it’s never really enough. In between projects, spurts of passionate fury, he rests… in his own way. He wallows in his boredom as surely as he wallows in his bursts of creativity, turning lounging into its own art form, apathy into a musical style, ennui into its own school of philosophical thought. Nothing is ever simple for N’charias. He pours a lot of effort into everything he does, even when he’s doing nothing, and that’s probably why he needs as much balance as he does. He’s an artsy type, yes, but he’s not at all shy or reserved — he can be very social, enjoys spending time in groups and loves sharing his opinion, and to be honest he needs that interaction to keep him grounded… but he also requires his space, and frequent alone-time in order to indulge himself and disperse some of the frustrations that he often encounters when dealing with others. He can’t stand being idle for too long, but he requires periods of inactivity just to cool down from his bouts of frenzied creativity. He loves personal attention — prolonged intimacy, grooming, pampering, psychological sexplay that requires individual focus — but he also loves taking care of others in a similar manner, showering them with affection and attention for hours at a time.

But not everyone shares his need for such precision, or such fervent unceasing focus, and he can get downright bossy and demanding and controlling about it. There’s a part of him that’s selfish about it even when he’s giving — the giving, after all, is also really a part of his own needs — and he tends to assume that anyone who doesn’t share these needs, or his views about anything really, just “doesn’t understand”. There’s an underlying belief that he’s smarter than everyone else, and it colors his interactions with them more heavily as his mood wanes. He can be helpful, gentle, and caring, can make someone feel like the most loved and treasured person on the planet … but his arrogance can also make him impatient and rude, and his passion can make him frightfully jealous. Like most good things that can overwhelm easily — hot, sweet, sour — oversaturated N’charias is tolerable in small doses, but most palatable at a moderate level.

Common Knowledge

- N’charias is an artist — everyone probably knows this, because he frequently paints in public and will talk about art with anyone who will stand still long enough to listen.

- He plays gitar decently, and can read music. (He writes it, too, but he’s merely an ambitious amateur.)

- It’s also fairly well-known that he dabbles in a lot of other things with widely-varying degrees of success and dedication: architectural design, woodworking, basic engineering, even landscaping (such as it is on Pern).

- Some Istans may know that he designed and built the fold-out, cascading racks within the big spice cabinet in the kitchens (he was supposed to add them to some of the other cabinets too, but never got around to it) and did some work on the footpath leading down to the beach, introducing lichen to the rocks and some sea oats to the sands to make it less treacherous. (He still has the plans somewhere, and they also call for some stonecarving to make the trickier areas a bit more step-like, but he also never got around to that. To be fair, it would have required a lot of work by hand with a chisel.) He is exceptionally proud of the color variety within his thriving lichen, and occasionally rants about people tramping all over it (even though it was specifically placed there to be trampled upon).


Birthdate: 406.13.16
Birthplace: Ista Weyr

As an Istan weyrbrat, Nacharias was… high-maintenance. Smart and creative, but also restless and emotional, he did well in his classes but had a tendency to rebel against his teachers if they didn’t keep him busy or interested enough. His foster-mother, to whom he was close, urged him to pursue a craft. The harpers were perfect for him, certainly, or maybe the smiths or woodcrafters — wouldn’t he love to create with his clever little hands? But twelve-turn-old boys aren’t really seeking the approval of their foster-mums anymore. His generation was the one that would meet the coming Pass, and sentiment within the Weyr was just starting to reflect that. So many of the other boys — the ones who teased him about being a mama’s boy — were entering candidacy, talking about dragons, and he didn’t really know what he wanted to do with himself yet, so why not join up with the would-be dragonmen, do his duty to the Weyr?

By the time he was fourteen, his interests had refined and developed along with his mind and body during puberty, and he had almost figured out what he really wanted. The reality of dragons, now that he had been through the candidate lesson cycle, had lost its shine a bit, and he knew that soon he would be too old to apprentice no matter his talents. He had finally resolved to drop his candidacy after one last Hatching and apply for an apprenticeship… when Wyrwinth staked her claim on him and took that choice away from him forever.

A part of him will always resent her for that. He will always be her other half, will always treasure certain things about their dragonbond, but it seems tragically unfair that the price of her love was basically every moment of the rest of his life. He struggled with this realization as they bumbled their way through weyrlinghood — Wyrwinth, the strong-willed predator, and N’charias, the hard-headed artist. It was both like and unlike everything he had been told about Impression. The love was there, and it was real, and the need for each other was almost all-consuming even when it was merely a quiet thrum in the back of their skulls, but there was no instant kinship, no sudden understanding, no perfect best friend who always knew just what he needed most. He was sensitive and she was blunt. His thoughts meandered constantly and hers remained so sharp, clear, and focused that they nearly bored him to tears. She did not share his interests or place value on any of the same things that he did. Wyrwinth lived in a very solid, simple reality, and she was very sure of her place within it. She saw no reason to explore the things that he did, or even discuss or debate them, and he resented her unwillingness to fill the void that she had created in his life — a void that only grew as training ended and they were tapped into the Wings, and it became obvious that his duties as a greenrider would never be interesting or complicated or stimulating enough to do more than barely tickle at his brain.

By the time he was twenty, N’charias was lost. He sought refuge in all the wrong places, or in normally healthy activities taken out of proportion: in his varying hobbies, in sex, in whatever mood-altering substance he could get his hands on. His life could have ended early, and poorly, or perhaps he would have just coasted along safe but semi-useless forever, if Wingleader D’lere of Windraiders hadn’t taken an interest in him. D’lere could see the potential there: a strong, focused dragon who refused to coddle her rider the way he wished to be coddled, and an adaptable, intelligent rider who refused to let his fierce but relatively simple-minded green have her way. He arranged a wing transfer, and promptly made N’charias his tough-love project. He held him to strict standards for punctuality, dress, and behavior.. He went through his weyr and confiscated everything that he thought might contribute to an unhealthy addiction, and even forbid him from drinking wine with his meals. When N’charias threw a tantrum about it, D’lere refused to give him a forum for debate — he just socked him in the jaw, and warned him that next time he behaved like a child instead of a dragonrider, he’d get a proper punishment in front of the rest of the wing.

And then… D’lere sent his brother D’merlas to befriend him.

D’merlas soothed the greenrider’s massively bruised ego, listened to his complaints, gave him the personal attention that he craved. He encouraged N’charias to see the wisdom in D’lere’s decisions, challenged him to live up to those high standards (which he implied D’lere would not have set if he didn’t believe that N’charias was “special”), and professed faith in his ability to prove his worth. As they got to know each other better, D’merlas (unknown to N’charias) also advised D’lere on the young man, making sure that D’lere didn’t miss little things that indicated improvement. And with each sign of improvement, D’lere made sure to praise him, even if it was just a short, approving nod for something very small. The rest of the Wing pitched in to support and, slowly, N’charias earned back most of the privileges that he had lost. There were setbacks along the way, and there would never be a cure for N’charias simply being himself (and D’merlas was dismayed to realize that he’d never be able to improve the man’s dress and shaving habits, nevermind the high-handed behavior), but within a few turns, he was a contributing member of the Wing, and proud to say so. He likes to conveniently forget that he was ever a “problem child”, himself, but he embraced the Windraiders reputation for rehabilitating troubled riders, and participated in welcoming and mentoring incoming riders himself for turns afterwards.

When Thread returned to Pern, however, all of that preparation seemed useless. In Ista’s disastrous first ‘Fall and the frantic sevendays after, Windraiders was decimated. Both D’lere and Wingsecond T’lenen were killed, Wingsecond I’zalkos was injured and out of commission, D’merlas’ blue Jespath was hurt so badly he’d never be able to fly ‘Fall again, and most of the rest of the wing ended up dead, dying, or grounded. N’charias found himself one of only a few Windraiders left flight-ready, minorly Threadscored and leaning heavily on his staunch and focused dragon for mental support. He tried to help take care of his remaining injured wingmates, to support them like a Windraider, but the Infirmary was overflowing and there was so little he could do, and it was all just too much. When the Outsiders arrived it provided some relief, physically, but suddenly L’giln was wingleader and trying hardass tactics that N’charias didn’t give him credit for earning the right to, and the wing was full of strangers.

N’charias coped by retreating from those strange faces, taking refuge in his art and kinks and obsessions. He’s no hermit by any means, and he’s certainly managing better than some (he tells himself this all the time)… but those who knew him before would certainly notice that he’s moodier than he once was, and may notice the subtle signs of some self-destructive behavior.



Father: TBD
Mother: TBD



Others TBD


Poor use of color


Dragon Name: Wyrwinth
Color: Green
Age: 33
Weyr of Origin: Ista Weyr
Weyrling Class: 421


Wyrwinth is a tall green with a sleek and powerful physique. She has a long muzzle with sharp features, prominent eye-ridges, and smallish head-knobs angled a bit to the back, lower than most dragons. Her wings are long but somewhat narrow, her legs strong but limber, muscles evident beneath the ripple of her bold jungle green hide as she moves, each step smooth and deliberate. The only variation in her hide color is a section of darker dappling across her shoulders, and partway down her upper arms and back, partially covered by the straps and N’charias himself when he’s astride her (a fact of which he’s glad, because the random patch offends his senses). Threadscoring has removed a small section of her top lip near her nostrils, leaving the gleam of one white fang half-exposed and a couple of streaks of off-color scarring across her snout, and she bears a few patches of minor Threadscore here and there elsewhere.


Wyrwinth is an exceptionally simple dragon, and that’s not to say that she’s stupid. She’s exactly what she looks like: an alpha predator, a strong and sleek carnivore. She’s more animalistic than many dragons, unconcerned with human pursuits or politics or honor or duty or any other silly intangible concept that people have made up in order to find reasons to do or care about certain things. She’s clever — devious, really — and always acutely aware of her own surroundings, but she focuses most of that intelligence on surviving Thread and chasing down her meals, both activities which she takes honest joy and pleasure in. She has great respect for the order of the hierarchy, though color and size don’t necessarily have anything to do with it in her mind. It’s more about action and mannerisms, and she’s a strong-willed green who requires her leadership to demonstrate their worth. She easily and instinctively follows those who take charge and give orders so long as their skills are at least equal to or better than hers, in her eyes… but she’ll buck authority that she does not respect, and buck it hard if N’charias doesn’t rein her in. Dragons who cannot lead her must follow instead, and may find themselves bullied. She tends to prefer lounging around with a small, specific group of dragons (often longtime wingmates) and may regard interlopers with some wariness.

N’charias is her partner, her pack, her mate. It’s likely that she chose him for his mind, for the intelligence and creativity that she displays in her own way towards her own pursuits, but that doesn’t mean they connect particularly well in this regard. They share a certain passionate nature, true — a visceral, emotional response to the things they enjoy most — but N’charias is an intellectual and Wyrwinth is a beast, uninterested in deep conversation or debating methods or putting any thought whatsoever in the whys and hows of any of this. It simply is what it is, and she will never understand why he needs to complicate things as much as he does. When she’s hungry she kills, when she’s proddy she mates, when Thread is in the air she fights; when none of those things are happening, she naps in the sun and soaks the warmth into her bones. Simple. Why must he stay so restless? He, like her, is certainly a highest-level predator, king of all he surveys, yes? Why not join her? Why not take pleasure in the thrill of the hunt, in the searing of Thread and the stalking of prey and the satisfying warmth of blood in his mouth when he feeds? When mating, why not do as she does and twine with only the strongest, most dominant suitor — and feel nothing but strength and power and pride in response? She can feel his enjoyment by proxy sometimes, can tell that he revels in her savagery when he allows himself to… so why spend so much of his energy on silly projects and elaborate human games that never satisfy?

N’charias always has a lot of words in response to these questions… but Wyrwinth does not like words that say nothing to her, and always stops listening halfway through. They are both, after all, selfish creatures in their own way.

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