Location Ista Weyr
Position Weyrling
Birthdate 8.431.4.1 (23)
Birthplace Nerat Holding
Sexuality HIS FUTURE WIFE (that's all you'll get if you ask)
Player Siarna

By all accounts, N’lere is a strapping young man, bronzed brown from the hard work in the sun. His body is already showing signs of being weathered, from his rough, calloused hands to the scars of an active life. His build is solid and firm; not particularly bulky but not lean, either, with broad shoulders that preface strong arms and a trim abdomen that matches thick legs. He’s spent most of his young life working with all manner of large animals, particularly the large draft horses that his family used to herd cattle. He has his own battle wounds, a map of scars from being a farmhand most of his life. Some of them are threadscores, light burns gained in those awful days where they weren’t sure if this Threadfall would be their last. N’lere looks turns older than he really is: it’s the weathered skin, the short dark hair, the closely trimmed beard that gives him a severity that is not always felt but is becoming more and more intended.

His dick is giant. Prepare yourselves.


N’lere was raised in the holds, on a ranch, during an Interval, with little above but blue sky. There is a bluntness to him, a practicality that will soon work to his advantage. He’s never been particularly good or useful at written work, at memorization or rote learning. He learns best by doing, by getting his hands dirty, and that practicality will do him and Envariath wonders in the air one day. He might seem rather blunt, a little too harsh, and definitely too pointed, well, it’s only because he’s realized that life can be harsh. So you have your dragon. So what? You might die before you’re up in the air. Are you going to push through it and carry on, or are you going to flounder and die before you get the chance to defend your home?

He is proud, prouder than he thinks and prouder than he expected. He’s more stubborn and more hidebound than he had previously thought about himself, and while it rankles, he’s also too proud to admit that he might be too stuck in his ways to ever grow comfortable in a Weyr. He never meant to be comfortable here, anyway, he meant to come here and show these riders how to properly defend his Home. He doesn’t think much (doesn’t want to think much), not about this weird place or this weirder thing in his head or the weirdest people he’s now surrounded by. Real men don’t have the time to waste on those kinds of thoughts. They don’t have time to waste on feelings or confusion about useless crap like sexuality and relationships. One bad threadfall could cause his home- and other people’s homes- to be completely destroyed like it had four turns ago, and in the end, nothing else matters more than defending his home, his family, and his friends from the menace of Thread.


Neleresam was one of many children by Vindairi and Thonis, two rather reputable individuals who ran a sizable cattle ranch in the Nerat territory. Neleresam grew up around a wide variety of farm animals and learned from the best (his parents, his aunts and uncles, his siblings and cousins) on how to be a proper and upstanding rancher. The fact that the Farmcraft was stationed in Nerat and the Beastcraft not too far away in Keroon, the family didn’t pressure any of the children to move away and work towards them. Why do that when work was plenty here? Why go off for a decade to learn what you would just as easily at home?

He thought he and his family would live on the ranch forever. He thought he would get married to a lovely lady down the road and they would have a horde of children and continue on as they had, raising cattle and sheep and goats and large draft horses. It was simple work, hard work, but it was his home all the same.

Until Threadfall.

While the riders were decimated in the skies, the ground was ravaged. Herds were wiped out, promising bloodlines eaten away by the menace the dragonriders had promised to fight. Their livelihood was stripped from them; their crops eaten and nothing but grey, gelatinous growths of thread where their animals once stood and grazed. Neleresam’s Father died that day, trying to rid his land of the things. A sister and brother died later, in the ‘Falls where the riders were trying to minimize losses. They grieved, but like any sensible folk, their picked up the pieces and moved on. His older brothers took control of managing the Hold with their mother. They purged the land of Thread and started to rebuild. It was hard going; suddenly, they didn’t have enough to feed themselves and tithe to the Weyr. They grew bitter. Why tithe to a Weyr that obviously couldn’t protect them?

Four turns later and there is still so much work to be done. It was in one of the trips to Nerat proper to buy more supplies did Neleresam and Jamir happen upon a Search about to be done, and Jamir convinced him to present himself. Not because of any love for the Weyr or a hope that a dragon might choose him (dragons are beasts, after all, no different from a cow or horse or sheep), but to add some useful people to the Wings: people who understood loss, who understood that this was land and livelihoods and people they were protecting, not just some idealized version of the world.

He was Searched, after all, and the dragon took him away from everything he knew. He had never gone any further than Nerat Hold before and here he was, on an unfamiliar Island in a place he didn’t understand.

Not that he would tell anybody that. He kept on like nothing had changed, as if these weyrfolk weren’t odd and weird and downright disgraceful.

Now that he’s gone and Impressed blue Envariath, he’s quickly coming to realize that the Weyr may never truly be his home. His home is the life he left behind. And he will fight to the death to defend it.



Father: Thonis
Mother: Vindairi
Sisters: Kalenn, Vanna
Brother: Caldannon , Kharleis, Jamir



Color Blue
Birthplace Ista
Birthdate 9.4.Something
Wing Judgemental Assholes Wing

N’lere calls Envariath his painted blue — his tobiano — in part because of his hide, and in part because he looks like the spitting draconic image of his draft horse back on the ranch. Envariath’s hide is either a handsome midnight blue with bright cerulean patches, or bright cerulean with midnight blue patches. Both colours cover enough of his body that the question may never really be answered. The cerulean blue covers all four legs from the knees down and splatters across his hindquarters, his wingsails, and down the front of his tail. He has a solid blaze between his eyes, though not nearly as pronounced nor elaborate as his brother, Jomurnth’s. The midnight blue covers everything else, particularly along his face and down his neck and tail. It follows the lines of bone underneath his wings, giving these appendages a very detailed yet macabre look.

Envariath may start small, but he’ll grow to be very big for his colour. He will lack much of what is typically considered to match the “blue” stereotype: that is, a streamlined appearance, whipcord muscles, and a thin sleekness to match the typical agility. Envariath will be very stocky by the time his growth spurts are done, all sturdiness and thick muscles. He will very much resemble the large, lumbering draft beasts that N’lere used to raise, and this will be a big comfort to him as he settles into his new life as a rider.


Envariath is a dragon that hatch at exactly the wrong time and place. He barely had time to orient himself to his new surroundings when he was promptly hit in the face with more eggshell, and then sand was kicked in his eyes and he knows it wasn’t really on purpose, but it still hurt! He’s a bit too serious and far too naive,and oftentimes seems to be very out of tune with what is happening around him. This is a little bit because of his short attention span, and something that N’lere is going to need to keep in check as he grows older and gets bigger and his wandering off becomes more and more of a problem. Why would he care who’s fighting with who when he would much rather find out where this butterfly was going? As such, he often forgets about group dynamics, about which dragons are mad at whom, and this will place him in many more wrong-place-wrong-time moments.

He’s a bit slow moving, a lot slow thinking: he’s certainly more on the dumb side, but hey, he’s only an animal, and N’lere wasn’t expecting some fancy harper journeyman out of a newly-hatched beast. It’s not that he doesn’t think (because oh my, he does), it’s that it takes him a long time to think of these things and to come to a solid conclusion. It leaves him at a loss for words most of the time, especially in a group of ragtag creatures that move and speak and act faster than he does, but that doesn’t mean he’s a loner! It doesn’t mean he doesn’t want to play! This might make him a bit of a doormat, because he is just so happy to be there and so desperate to be included that he doesn’t stop to think about whether or not joining them is a good idea.

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