Character Type: Dragonrider
Rank: Wingrider
Age: 35
Gender: Male
Sexual Preference: Heterosexual


T'berli is a solid man, tall and muscular, owing as much to his habit of actively working out as to his lifestyle and his basic genetics. He keeps his medium brown hair cropped into something like a crewcut, or as close as whoever's cutting his hair that day is able to manage. There's nothing particularly noteworthy about his face – anyone who takes the time to look would see a solid jaw, slightly crooked nose, and intense brown eyes, but it's not the sort of face that earns him a lot of notice in either a positive or negative way.


Like the rest of his brothers, T'berli has always been a bit of a wild child. He's brash, bold, not afraid to take what he wants, though what he wants is usually in line with the values he's been raised to believe in – that is, the noble calling of the dragonrider, the hard work and heroism required to ride a flaming beast into the sky against parasitic rain, and the general superiority of dragonriders in general and Istan dragonriders in particular. He's very gung-ho about his way of life, immensely proud of being one of those acceptable to dragons, and as such naturally looks down a little on holders and crafters and (to a slightly lesser extent) nonriding Weyrstaff – he doesn't hate them or anything, he just assumes they're not made of the same strong stuff as dragonriders, and that their ways of life require less relative specialness. He loves the physicality of the job, loves the danger, and even loves the discipline required in the wings even while he values the freedom of his off-duty time and the evenings spent bonding with his wingmates. He's loud about his opinions, his encouragement, and his conquests (sexual and otherwise), and prone to a lot of masculine chest-thumping about his successes and sour, defensive excuse-making for his failures. He's not afraid to fight over his opinions, either, and truthfully enjoys a good brawl occasionally – most of the marks on his discipline record, in fact, are for just that sort of disorderly conduct, though half the people he's brawled with either already were, or eventually became, good friends of his.

When he's on duty, drilling or flying Thread, he's completely on point, and he'd never dream of doing something stupid to let down his brothers in the sky (though that doesn't mean he wouldn't do it accidentally or in a moment of brash weakness). He can be hard on riders who don't “get it” as quickly as others, because that's the way he believes people learn – you push them and push them and force them past their limits, because some people just aren't brave enough to take those steps themselves, and have to be shown that yes, they can do a million things that they didn't think they could do. They're dragonriders, damn it, and even the most delicate pretty-boy or girl among them is meant to ride hard straight into the wind surrounded by flame and ash, screaming death to Thread.

In that way he's an optimist of the dangerous sort, the sort who doesn't understand the concept of limits. The loss of so many riders in the first 'Fall of the Pass cut him to the core, but the plea for help to the other Weyrs hurt him even more. Hard times aren't the times when you call for help from outside; hard times are when you circle up, muscle up, and all pull together to get through with what you've got. They had a surplus of riders going into the Pass, anyway – he's sure that somehow they could have made it work. Why, if even half the remaining riders had as much determination as he did, or as much fire lit under their asses by the loss of so many, then they could have pulled through together with minimal outside assistance. He's certain of it, and he'll never be able to accept these unwanted, unneeded intruders who are only screwing things up more and pouring salt into wounds that could have healed just fine if left alone.


Birthdate: 418.05.14

Tamberli was born at Ista Weyr, his mother's third child and second son, and from his earliest memories, he knew what he wanted to be. It wasn't even really a choice for him – it was a duty, because the weyrborn were the best-suited to dragonkind, and dragonkind was necessary to the survival of the planet, and to shirk that duty in favor of some stupid craft that anyone could do if they tried hard enough would be criminal.

Or so his mother told him.

Tamrel was a bit of a personality around the Weyr even then: a headstrong, opinionated bluerider, a bit of an oddball in that she somehow always managed to be up in the thick of Weyr politics despite her dragon's hide color. She was one of those people who couldn't ever leave well enough alone, who didn't trust anyone else to do for her what she was certain she could do for herself, and that philosophy was something she applied to her children, as well. She might not have been able to raise them in her own weyr, but she couldn't just leave it solely to the crecheworkers – any extra time she had, she spent with her four sons and single daughter, filling their heads with as much of herself as she could manage, and she wrangled with the poor hapless crecheworkers on almost a daily basis, either berating them for punishing her children wrongly, or for not punishing them enough or hard enough, depending on the situation.

And so Tamberli grew up in this odd situation, the already pro-Istan and pro-dragonrider sentiment of the Weyr in general being enhanced by his mother's teachings, her loud displays of doing and effort to make things the way she wanted them held up as an example in his eyes of how to behave. Really, it's probably only due to the crecheworkers' experienced diligence that he didn't turn out worse than he did.

His older brother Tamlenen Impressed a bronze early on, and his sister a green soon after – truthfully Tamberli would have been happy with any dragon at all, because they're all equally necessary in his eyes, just necessary for different specialties. But it was a brown who chose him eventually – a lanky, awkward, big-footed brown who never quite grew into his feet, even if he did grow out of the awkwardness. The following turns were spent diligently preparing for the return of Thread. He was not always the Weyrlingmaster's, or his Wingleader's, favorite person – he was just too loud, too physical, a bit too hard on others from time to time – but he didn't shirk his duty, and Mondagarth wasn't a dragon who would allow him to, anyway.

The first 'Fall of the Pass saw him tested almost beyond what he had previously thought he could handle. He had been full of confidence and pride going in, certain they would all emerge triumphant… he had never imagined he would see so many of his wingmates die, would lose friends, siblings, see them crippled and defeated even if they were still alive… but they had made it through, and those who were left would fight all the more to keep Ista safe, and avenge the fallen.

And then Ista bowed down and begged for help, and somehow that was an even worse blow than losing people he loved to Thread. It's like their sacrifices meant nothing, and right now he's feeling betrayed by his leadership and especially resentful of the bottom-feeders sent by the other Weyrs. They're just here because they couldn't cut it at home, or because they want something from his Weyr, he's sure.

Update 06/21/14:
Under L'rori's Weyrleadership, T'berli was promoted to wingsecond of Stormriders Wing. When Zogeth flew Tameketh, though, and the Outsider M'drasen became Weyrleader, T'berli spoke out against him at the new Weyrleader's first staff meeting and was punished with dawn-shift watchdragon duty on top of his other duties. He's not planning on taking this lying down, and he's not happy with most of his ranking Istan brethren for not stepping up and speaking out, too.

Update 06/29/15:
T'berli invited dozens of his fellow Istans — those he thought would be loyal — and, with the support of his family, attempted to stir up a coup against M'drasen. He didn't want to completely disorganize things, so it was important that he had a clear majority willing to follow him and thus force M'drasen to step down or at least be left politically impotent for the remainder of his term, or at least follow some Istan bronze (none of whom stood up to volunteer), and he gave a rather rousing (for him) speech to that effect… in the end, though, he felt he didn't have enough support and there was too much of a risk of splitting the Weyr against Threadfall, so he was forced to call it off.

Tamrel is still furious he didn't go through with it, and T'berli fell into a bit of a hopeless depression for a while.

The death of the Outsider wingleader, J'thaum, however, left a gaping hole in Stormrider's leadership, which T'berli stepped up to fill in the meantime. Eventually M'drasen went to Weyrleader B'deros of Telgar, requesting more riders, and among the new riders was M'nias, who had been promised the position. T'berli fell back into regular wingsecond duties with M'nias as his new wingleader, but despite M'nias' attempts to work with him, he remains wary and resistant.



Mother: Tamrel, rider of blue Riffith
Father: G'berl, rider of green Willith

Half-brother: T'lenen, rider of bronze Saboroth (+8)
Half-sister: Tyenza, rider of green Brecheth (+4)
Half-brother: J'borrel, rider of green Gerdeth (-3)
Brother: G'rellan, rider of blue Lucoryth (-5)
(Possibly other half-siblings on his father's side, TBD)

Probably, TBD




Jalnala, rider of green Lurinlith, agemate and probably-not-still-just-a-dumb-girl
Wingleader K'goro, rider of bronze Falgruth, fellow dude with the balls to do what's right - missing and maybe presumed dead, who even knows


All Outsiders
Weyrwoman Sirasri and gold Tameketh
Former Weyrleader T'rian and bronze Bayleth


Dragon Name: Mondagarth
Color: Brown
Age: 21
Weyrling Class: 8.432.3.2
Wing: Seafury


As a hatchling, Mondagarth's enormous plodding feet had everyone guessing he'd grow to be a monster of a brown. And he did grow – up, and up, his knobby legs lengthening even more, his neck and tail extending, getting taller, getting longer… but the bulk that everyone said he'd eventually fill out with once he settled into maturity never came. He is a monster of a brown in terms of height, but he just doesn't have the mass to back up any claims of true size. He's a lean dragon with a noticeable tuck-up, a rather narrow chest, and the long legs and large feet of his hatchling days have remained, making him easy to pick out in a crowd of brown dragons.

His hide is a dark silky seal brown, with even darker near-black points in his headknobs, around his eyes, the tip of his muzzle from the nostrils down, blending down his tail, and his lower legs and feet.


Despite (or perhaps because of) his still slightly-goofy looks, Mondagarth is a rather intense dragon. He's very serious, very passionate about the things he loves — about his Weyr and his duty to flame Thread and his rider — and that's likely what drew him to T'berli, despite the fact that the brown is far more of a gentleman (albeit an occasionally disagreeable one) in speech and mannerisms than his rider is. He tends to be rather over-dramtic about things – not in a panicky way, but in the way of someone who takes things too seriously and sees too many possibilities in the smallest things (and, though he'll vehemently deny it, someone who likes having a lot of attention on himself), and is prone to occasional fits of dark brooding (upon high cliffs sometimes just for effect). It's rather a shame that he's a dragon because he would have made quite the orator, with his deep beautiful voice, clear enunciation, and flair for the dramatic.

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