Character type: Neratian Seaholder
Rank: Candidate
Age: 21
Gender: Male
Sexual Preference: Heterosexual


A strapping figure of a man with a mane of sun-streaked hair. Tamalahi is hale and hearty from a life at sea, bronzed from the weather. His build is the solid sort you get from a lot of fresh air and a lot of hard work on a ship: soundly muscled down the arms and back, hands callused and strong. Unusually for a candidate, and a holdborn one at that, he's already marked by threadscore. The pale shine of the scars gleam against his tan, a ghostly trace of the tangle that once wrapped about his right forearm— a warning, etched into his skin.

He may be at a weyr now, waiting for a dragon and his chance to fly and fight, but Tam never really left the sea he was raised on. His eyes, a vivid hazel, have been trained into a permanent half-squint against the glare and salt of the waves and he moves with the rolling gait of a longtime seaman, limbs strung in an easy, ready posture. He can't know it yet, but he'll never reach more than an average height, his erratic shipboard diet having long since decided the fact.

Tam is no sculptor's showpiece, but he has some features that work for him— like his smile. He has a great smile. The crooked set of his teeth gives it a jagged sort of line, but it’s brilliant and white against the bronze of his skin and the sharpness seems to suit him.


Bold. Brash. Blunt. For all intents and purposes, Tamalahi was raised onboard a trading vessel with some thirty other men. He has a simple, colorful style of expressing himself and has never really encountered the concept of “Personal Space” or "Volume Control," having the luxury of neither in ship or port.

He likes to think of himself a cultured, open minded, man of the world. Which is true, in a manner of speaking. He has traveled, far more than the average village-bound holder, but it was a rough life he lead and rough company that he kept. He's been all over Pern, but only the parts on Pern with a coast. He's seen the Great Holds at Nerat and Keroon, but never ventured far beyond the docks. In morals and cleanliness the port of a Great Hold varies little from those of the smallest sea holds. In fact, they were usually worse for their size. What he gleaned from his travels was more an education in the various cultures of vice and sin rather than art and learning, and while he may have grown familiar with many of the little follies of man, he knows little and understands less of the world and concerns beyond the sea.


Birthdate : 8.432.11.23
Birthplace: A moderate Neratian seahold

Tam likes to brag that he’s spent more time at sea than on dry land and there’s a deal of true to that. Born to one of the major sea hold along the Neratian coast, he was put to work on his father’s ship almost as soon as he could walk. They were not fisherman to come home each night with the evening tide, they were traders and their voyages were long ones. Bringing a tithe, or simply moving goods for sale, Tam grew up on ship with the men of his family and hold around him. They taught him to tie their knots and sing their shanties; they taught him how to piss overboard (downwind) and how to hold his liquor (puke downwind). He was rarely home long enough to learn anything from the hold’s harper.

As far as he was concerned, it was a grand life. No other holder got to see as much of the world as a seatrader did, his father assured him and, visiting the Keroon’s Grand Hold and Nerat itself and everywhere inbetween down the coast and across the bay— Tam felt worldy indeed.

Then Thread came.

Nothing he had learned onboard or in the ports had prepared him for Thread. Forced out of their ships and into the hold with the womenfolk, Tamalahi was forced to hunker down and wait and hope while the dragons took to the skies. Never, not even in the worst storm at sea, had Tam felt so helpless, never before had he left his life and ship in the hands of strangers.

As the Fall progressed it became clear things were not going as promised. The noise from the ground crew grew till finally Tam, and some of the other men, ventured to take a look.

They saw silver and fire over the harbor. Silver and fire over their ships.

Their ships, their livelihood. Ignoring the cries of the hold harper Tam raced out with the rest the men to join the ground crews. Most of them had been at sea too often to be trained in any sort of procedure, but no one cared for that as they fought to save their ships.

The chaos of the day is seared into his memory, and onto his skin. Only the quick thinking and a dunk in the harbor from one of the ground crew saved Tamalahi when the Thread he had been attempting to sweep from a hull caught and wrapped around his arm. Others were not so lucky.

Only a quarter of the fleet survived.

When the riders returned on Search they earned a tense reception from the shattered hold. A few even questioned putting their sons and daughters up for review, especially when there was so much work to be done to get the fleet back on its feet. But Tam joined those who stood before the dragons and managed to feel a little pleasure when the rider said he might Stand. Or maybe it was relief. The ship his family served on was gone now, devoured before their eyes. If he went with them they would surely have to feed and shelter him. If he could Impress a dragon, then perhaps he would have pay to send back home.

If he could Impress a dragon, he could make sure nothing like this ever, ever happened again.



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