Location Ista Weyr
Position Wingrider
Birthdate 8.414.5.20 (40)
Birthplace Ista Hold
Sexuality Heterosexual
Played-By n/a
Aliases Ral
Player Siarna

R’nayl inherited his build from a long, long line of sailors. He’s sturdy, with broad shoulders, and a strong build. Not to say he’s bulky, nor particularly muscular, but he gets the job done. He’s a man that would have been attractive in his youth, when he smiled and laughed more often. His strong jaw and brows paint a serious look on an otherwise plain face. His eyes are set into a focused stare and his mouth a thin frown. He got wrinkles young, around his mouth and forehead. Dark circles have begun to form under his eyes. He hasn’t lost a strand of his light brown hair, though, of which he’s grateful. He’s got a nasty habit of pushing his bangs back when he’s thinking or stressed.

His skin is naturally tanned and weathered from turns of living out of doors and a-dragonback. He’s got scars aplenty of his own, from a life of adventures in an interval. A few are from being careless with rigging, a few more from taking tumbles with (or off of) Paixth. He’s got threadscore scars now, mostly from the first few weeks of Falls, in the times where they were mitigating losses instead of saving Holders. Each scar is a painful reminder of close calls and friends lost.


R’nayl is nearly impossible to nail down because he keeps changing his mind about what kind of person he is. He grew up believing he was a big damn hero, Enjoying Life and believing that his time would come like one of those harper tales. He and his friends, the Children of the Interval, were invincible. Thread would come and go and they would remain to boast and brag about the defeated enemy. So when his friends- his family- started dropping out of the sky, with he and Paixth nearly dead themselves, it nearly destroyed him as much as Threadfall did.

On the outside, he’s still the same old R’nayl that tells bad jokes and can’t handle his wine. He’s still got that mischievous grin and quaint cotholder drawl that he’s never quite lost. He loves to be in crowds and even more so the center of attention. He’s charming and he knows it, and he’ll keep attention on him as long as it’s profitable and fun. He’s a man of honor and diplomatic, though he’s not above a brawl between two honest men.

You can see it in his eyes that Threadfall has made him bitter. He’s not a hero, just one unlucky schmuck that can’t protect his friends and family. He tries to be selfish, content to look out for himself and Paixth and no one else. It’s getting harder now, as Threadfall and Wingdrills take up more and more of his time instead of looking for work. His duty as a rider forces him back into a fight that he doesn’t want to fight, that he doesn’t want to believe in. He isn’t the good guy anymore, if he ever was.


R’nayl practically grew up on the sea. His Ma and Da owned a sleek ship that sailed to almost every port of harbor on Pern. Although technically Istan, his family started by transporting people and cargo between the islands and the mainland, which eventually branched out so, by R’nayl’s time, they had contracts to sail along the northern coastline as well as along the Istan Islands. In his first fifteen turns, R’nayl saw more of Pern than he saw of Ista Hold proper. His Hold was the ship, and the work was hard but rewarding. They prided themselves in sailing to High Reaches and Benden and back, weathering any storm that might befall them. R’nayl grew up on the sea and thought nothing of a life outside of it.

That was until they made a routine stop with supplies and personnel to Ista Hold around the same time a formal search party landed. There were eggs on the sands, they said. They needed riders to fight Thread one day, they said. So R’nayl accepted his search token with another boy about his age. He was suddenly surrounded by a different culture with strange traditions and customs that were weird but at the same time comforting, as if he was finally arriving home after a long journey. Nobody batted an eye when he tried his luck at flirting with the other candidates, both male and female, although some thought it was mighty funny and tried to give him pointers. Despite his new love for the Weyr, he grew anxious living under stone and staying in one place. He was torn between Impressing and remaining at Ista or being able to go back to his family. It was both a blessing and a curse that he impressed brown Paixth at that hatching.

It took almost two turns of waiting, but Paixth brought him a new kind of freedom. Freedom from the strict rules of Holds and Crafts. He had a whole Weyr and Island to explore with his weyrling class, and the weybrats were only too happy to show him the ins and outs. He learned how to drink and brawl with the best of them. They drilled hard, but Thread was a distant thought for a distant time. For a time this was great- drills, games, and fun- but R’nayl started to grow restless again. It wasn’t enough that he could fly a drill and ride sweeps. He didn’t feel useful, like the holds were wasting a stipend and tithe for him to fly about.

One of his senior wingmates, a bluerider, noticed his fidgeting and took him on a little adventure during one particular Gather. It was then that R’nayl learned a new way to barter. Holders and crafters revered him, and his rank as a rider gave him a newfound trust and honor. He could barter for better prices. The bluerider even dropped a few hints that he could make his own contacts among the common folk. A dragonrider friend gave a hold new opportunities and respectabilities that they might not otherwise have. Quick shipments were invaluable to those that may have to travel sevendays before their product changed hands. A farmer may pay a portion of his shipment for such a cut on travel time. A Smith may gift him with pretty knives or jewelry provided he got ore on time.

So he started to make his own ‘friends’ as he called them. Progress was slow, so as not to draw too much attention. A crafter at a Gather here, a cothold farmer there, ones he might have noted during official flyovers. Ones that were certainly profitable enough to pay a rider for their services. At first, it was pretty easy stuff. A quick trip from one side of the Istan coast to another, hopping between seaholds and farmholds. Eventually it became little hops of people and goods from Ista to Nerat. He quickly learned every inch of the protectorate. He started into exports, moving food or jewels or shells from the Protectorate to the Northern Holds. A batch of citrus fruit from Ista cost a fortune to the folk in High Reaches. His slow collection of contacts brought him into importing as well; a far more slippery slope than exporting ever was. Dragonriders could get pretty territorial. He flew under the radar the best he could, focusing only on small holds that didn’t much care from which Weyr he was from, as long as he got their goods from point A to point B without a fuss.

It took a few turns before R’nayl slipped into a darker side of trading. He might have shown up once or twice with a niece or nephew to be fostered at the Weyr that just so happened to end up in the candidate barracks. He traded goods for information- where wild klah bark grew, or caves with glows that only a dragon could access, that either he could use himself or as another bargaining tool.

During the Interval, R’nayl was quite comfortable. He was as close to self-sufficient as he could be while providing for a dragon. A big damn hero of Pern needed to look the part, with his fancy duds and bejeweled trinkets. A hero of Pern that always had sweet treats or fresh fruit, or the latest cask of Benden Wine ready to share. He too was swept away by the romance of it all, and he liked to pull strings for his friends. Want to have a campfire along the coast? He knew a guy who knew a guy that could hook them up with good wine, or a harvest ripe for the take.

Then that deadly First Fall happened. He had been excited to fight the ancient enemy, to prove that his boasting was fact. Life, of course, did not work that way. The winds battered Paixth’s wings but the pair refused to leave the fight. They lasted the whole Fall onto to tumble into exhaustion when they finally betweened back to the Weyr. The pair got off easy, compared to their wingmates, with minor to moderate burns and strained wings. Paixth was only grounded for two days before they were sent back into the fray. The wings were decimated. They needed every rider able to glide to fight Threadfall. R’nayl poured all his time and energy into making them fit for the next Fall. The reports of the dead didn’t stop coming, and the dragons never seemed to stop their keening. He lost friends that were like family to him, his gadabout riders.

He lost contacts too, after that First Fall. Without enough riders, Thread got through and ravaged the Island he swore to protect. People he called friends no longer trusted him. He had sworn to protect them and he had failed. His trading partners grew to a small group, ones that knew him for decades and didn’t lose enough to stop their business. R’nayl grew bitter. He wasn’t a hero like the songs promised. He was just a failed man, unable to do his basic duties. The Outsiders are the representation of that shame, but because each new face reminds him of a drinking buddy, a wingmate, a lover- gone in the blink of between. He failed everyone.

Common Knowledge



Color Brown
Birthplace Ista Weyr
Birthdate 8.429.2.19 (25) (Starfish)
Wing Windraiders

If you ever ask R’nayl, he’ll tell you straight that Paixth won’t win any beauty contests, but he’s solid. You need to look past first impressions to see how great Paixth really is. A dragon like Paixth will keep you flying until the day you both drop. Sensible people would say it’s because Paixth is a death trap. He’s the type of dragon that keep the healers on edge. Even during the Interval, Paixth had his fair share of scrapes and tumbles. A twisted muscle here or scrapes there, the pair were constantly in and out of the infirmary. This is still true now that thread has started falling and Paixth has started to add threadscores and burns to his list of injuries. His wings have a lingering ache from being badly wrenched in the days after First Fall that the healers try to watch.

Paixth’s solid colour is a rich oaken brown, but he’s got these orangey brown patches along his joints and wings, giving off a look of rust. He’s got a smattering of muddy brown where there isn’t rust, giving him a disheveled, rough and tumble look. Paixth has his own set of scars; old ones from cuts and scrapes along his joints. He’s got burns now, too, from minor threadscores along his wings that need special care to keep him in good working order.

He’s one of the smaller of his colour, which makes him the unlikely victor of any goldflights (though Faranth forbid he’ll give it a shot) but that small size grants him a bit more agility than other browns but sturdier than the blues. Despite his small scrapes, he’s a skilled flier that loves the challenge of the Istan wind. As far as Paixth is concerned, R’nayl just needs to hold on and let Paixth do the work. They’ve even given unofficial names to aerial maneuvers. The D’veld (straight and narrow). The Crazy ‘Nala.


Paixth has been a calming force in his rider’s life long before R’nayl himself realized it. In turn, R’nayl pushes Paixth to be his best. They look through each other’s aches and pains and keep each other motivated. They just exude love for each other and it’s sickening to watch. Paixth is calm and controlled, often to the point of indecisiveness. He looks to R’nayl to make a lot of decisions, and he’s just fine with going along for the ride. He doesn’t do anything on his own without a good, solid reason for it. When R’nayl grows angry and impatient (which Paixth believes is just about every day), Paixth tries to soothe frustrations.

He shares R’nayl’s socialbility, although R’nayl uses it most for bartering or manipulation, Paixth is innocent and naïve. He loves to be in the middle of a crowd (though not the center of it. He’s not pretty nor interesting enough) because he loves new people. Everyone has stories to tell if someone would just listen. He was one of the first of the Istans to cozy up to these new Outsider dragons, despite R’nayl’s wariness and disapproval. There isn’t a power on Pern that could stop Paixth from being cheerful, and it drives R’nayl straight up the wall. After all, he’s got front row seats to his rider’s mood swings and all he can see is the hero he chose twenty turns ago.

Paixth has his own sense of humor. He’s deadpan and sarcastic, a trait the dragon and the rider both share. He speaks simply, just like his rider, with a drawl that sounds strangely like the trader-folk R’nayl grew up around. He says it’s because he’s spent too long in His’ head; he’s lost his pretty talk.

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