Character type: Dragonrider
Rank: Wingsecond
Age: 42
Gender: Male
Sexual Preference: Heterosexual


At 5'10" and of medium build R'vart is not necessarily the tallest or biggest man on Pern. You wouldn't know it from the way he carries himself, though. Shoulders squared, back ram-rod straight, he presents an impression of size far beyond his actual dimensions. R'vart is a man it's often very difficult to ignore, however much one might sometimes want to.

His dark, short-cut hair is starting to show a sprinkling of grey in wings back from his temple, as is the rather walrus-like moustache which he takes great pride in. His jaw is firm and square, though his face is already starting to show deep lines in the brow and at the corners of his mouth. His blue-grey eyes show nothing of his age, though, still crackling with disapproval whenever he sees someone acting out of line.


R'vart is a military man through and through. If something needs to be done, it needs to be done by the book. Rank is to be respected, and above all never, ever, questioned. Structure, order, obedience… these are the attributes on which a Weyr runs. Everyone knowing his place, everyone doing his duty. How else can they expect to go out and face the danger of Thread? Innovation is anathema to him, things are obviously done the way they are because they've been tried and tested over the years. For a man like R'vart 'because it's always been done this way' is a perfectly good reason for anything. Change is an inherently frightening concept, and one he'd rather keep as far away from himself as possible.

His rigid adherence to rules and procedure tend to make him somewhat oblivious of politics. It's not that he's unintelligent, just unbending, and making friends in the right places is something he's never been adept at. He just keeps his nose to the grindstone and *works*, firmly believing that that is the way to get on in life. You can't bribe a man like R'vart, because if something is against the rules he simply won't do it. Or tolerate others doing it. Not if he ranks them, anyway. It's not his place to correct or make assumptions about those who rank *him* - in his mind they wouldn't have been given their rank if they didn't earn it. The Weyrwoman is sacrosanct in his eyes, the figurehead and ultimate stability in a Weyr. This view is probably helped by his complete failure to understand women. Women might as well be another species to him, and he doesn't understand their minds at all. Women that ride… he'll treat exactly the same as he'd treat a male rider. His head doesn't have the room to think of them any other way.

He rarely, if ever, unbends from his rigid outlook on life. And anyone suggesting that he needs to change, or 'let his hair down' will be faced with a lot of indignant huffing through his moustache, and an exclamation of "Preposterous!". Much the same reaction, in fact, that anyone suggesting going against dragonriding tradition would get. Outside of his work he's a quiet, reserved man. Prone to be overly proper even when dealing with people casually.


Birthplace : High Reaches Weyr, 8.408.8.15

Ralvart was a rider's brat. The result of a bluerider's brief fling with a lower-caverns worker, he went into the creche almost as soon as he was weaned so his mother could get back to work. He grew up surrounded by the sons of other riders (he avoided the girls - they seemed to burst into tears for no apparent reason he was ever able to work out. Far too unpredictable), steeped in the military atmosphere of a Weyr. He was always quite a serious boy, and he wasn't that old before he latched onto the idea that what weyr-brats *did* was Stand for Impression and go on to be riders. Only those that were unworthy somehow failed to become riders. He wasn't about to be unworthy, so from a young age his whole focus was on riding.

No wonder, then, that he went into Candidacy immediately he turned 12. No wonder either that once there he threw himself into his lessons - determined to learn everything he could so he wouldn't be found wanting. He *was* going to become a rider. He was going to be the *best* rider, and to his mind the way to do that was to learn everything there was to know about being one.

He was 17 before he was to become a rider, Impressing bronze Armath on a chilly winters day, and by that point he could recite most of his Candidate lessons by heart. Armath only bolstered his outlook on life; for not only had he Impressed at last, he'd Impressed a *bronze*. Clearly his dedication had earned him somewhat of a rank. Now known as R'vart he threw himself into Weyrling lessons with renewed vigour, determined to be a model bronzerider. If there was a procedure, R'vart followed it. If there were rules, R'vart obeyed them. If an order was given, R'vart didn't consider questioning it. By the time they Graduated it was safe to say that R'vart knew every single detail of the rules and procedures of the Weyr off by heart. Not only that, but he was fully capable of quoting chapter and verse at anyone he thought was stepping out of line.

Once he joined a Wing he was never a problem, not exactly. He followed his orders to the letter, he drilled conscientiously, he was always pristine, and Armath well cared for. There was just something about him his Wingleader couldn't put his finger on. Perhaps because a rider not yet turned 20 wasn't really expected to behave *that* perfectly all the time. Whatever it was it only took a couple of turns before his Wingleader had the bright idea of sending him to the WeyrlingMaster's staff. After all, if anyone needed knowledge of the rules drilling into them it was surely the young Weyrlings.

R'vart was happy in his position. He was never a sympathetic AWLM, but he was certainly a knowledgeable one, and suprisingly adept at passing that knowledge on. No one in his Weyrling classes ever failed to Graduate, and they'd all certainly had the rules thoroughly bashed into their heads. He was in his early thirties when he was promoted to WeyrlingMaster, a position he took great pride in. R'vart has always thought he performed his duties admirably, sending fine young riders into the ranks well drilled, well presented and fully aware of how things should be done.

But a Pass was approaching, and there was a growing feeling that perhaps a little more flexibility might be required as Weyrling numbers rose. Training schedules would need to get tighter as Thread started falling, and it was questioned whether or not R'vart would be able to adapt to it. A decision was made, and R'vart found himself demoted back to an AWLM after 10 turns as WeyrlingMaster. He was confused, and if having a younger man put over him rankled R'vart didn't let it show. No, as always he did things by the book, going about teaching the Weyrlings as he had always done - preparing them for the Thread everyone knew was coming.

Then the first Threads *did* Fall, disastrously, over Ista. And in that Weyr's plight the leaders of the High Reaches saw their chance to make the rigid, stuffy bronzerider someone else's problem. And of course on paper it would look like they were sending Ista a gem; an experienced, steady bronzerider with the knowledge to help them rebuild. R'vart wasn't happy about it, not happy at all. But it wasn't his place to question. So to Ista he's gone, although he may not be quite the man the Istans were expecting.



Father: K'vart rider of blue Nayvath, High Reaches
Mother: Ralla, kitchen worker at High Reaches
Siblings: (None as yet, half siblings on either side possible)
Children: (None listed as yet, easily possible)

R'vart's Dragon: Bronze Armath

Name: Armath
Colour: Bronze
Age: 25
Weyr of Origin: High Reaches
Wing: Red Tide


Though perhaps not the biggest bronze in length, Armath certainly makes up for it in muscle mass. If nothing else this dragon is *solid*. You get the impression that he's more likely to go through things, rather than around them. His hide is an odd, mottled sort of bronze colour. Some patches seem shining and clear, while other have an almost green or brown tinge to them.


Subtle is not a word that could be used to describe Armath. It's not a word that's even in the bronze's vocabulary. He's upfront, and in your face. If something needs doing, Armath will make sure you do it. Do something wrong, and Armath will let you know exactly where you've messed up in no uncertain terms. If R'vart could be said to be a classic 'Officer', than Armath could be called a classic Drill Sergeant. They share the same adherance to rules and procedures - but Armath is likely to be much, much louder about making sure people follow them.


Name: Rupe
Type: Bronze flit
Appearence: He might be a little small for a bronze, but he certainly is stunning in colour. He is such a bright, brassy shade of bronze that in direct sunlight he can almost be mistaken for a gold. He fairly gleams even in the shade and if you look closely you’ll see its because he is covered in tiny flecks of lighter and darker bronze that add a lovely amount of depth to his hide. That’s as far as his beauty goes, and its lucky his colouring distracts from his very homely sort of face and awkwardly lanky build.
Personality: Rupe is really quite a shy little creature, usually unwilling to leave R'vart's shoulder (or R'vart's weyr at those times he can't be with his Man). This has rather a large amount to do with having a very wonky equilibrium. Despite R'vart's coaching Rupe has trouble walking straight, and so far his only attempt at flight has ended in a distinctly undignified crash landing.

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