Character type: Dragonrider
Rank: Wingrider
Age: 68
Gender: Male
Sexual Preference: Homosexual


W’ven has been fortunate to age gracefully. His light brown hair never receded or thinned, choosing instead to turn a fetching shade of silver. He has an abundance of laugh lines around his mouth and eyes, but his tanned skin is still mostly free of spots and still shines with the zeal of a man who has enjoyed his life. W’ven wears his age proudly, as a sign of having lived a long, good life, and is honestly more distinguished and somehow attractive for it than he was in his younger days.

He has kind, warm brown eyes, of a bright, rich hue, the better to reflect his laughter. His face is incredibly expressive, which he has taken full advantage of to become the favorite storyteller of the creche brats. W’ven has that voice certain men get in their older years that seems like it was made for telling stories to ease you to sleep or to tell you the things you need to hear on those terrible days when you need someone supportive and caring.

Average height, W’ven is still trim out of habit, though he has of course softened somewhat since his retirement.


Age and maturity seems to have fashioned W'ven into a man of impossible patience and gentleness, to say nothing of his well known warmth and friendliness. He was tailor made to be a family man, a person blessed with as many people as possible to care for and look after, to hold close and give advice to, and gently guide through life when needed. Lacking a blood-related family of his own, W’ven has become surrogate father (and grandfather) figure to many in the Weyr, rider and non-rider alike. He can make a friend out of almost anyone; somehow even the briefest of conversations over the serving line in the dining hall leads to getting to know someone new and welcoming them into his life, a new friendship forged and almost guaranteed to be followed up on later as if they’ve known each other for years. W’ven adopts people who seem to need that sort of figure in their lives.

He is a man with a wealth of life experience. W’ven has the bright light in his eyes only seen in the gazes of men who have lived their lives to the fullest, who have found satisfaction and contentment in knowing they haven’t squandered their time. He loves telling stories about the things he’s done, the people he’s known, the times and changes he’s seen. W’ven truly appreciates the life he’s led, and clearly enjoys sharing his experiences with others. More than that, he wants to pass on the things he’s learned. A guide and teacher at heart, W’ven always considered it ‘meant to be’ that he wouldn’t fly Fall with Cloventh; he’d serve his Weyr by mentoring its youths, and he’s hugely proud of that contribution.

W’ven has always been very duty-oriented. Not in the too-serious stuffy way seen in some, but the sort a man feels when he finds satisfaction and pride in hard work and a job well done. He’ll never be at peace with an idle life; when he was forced into early retirement, he was a stubborn ass about it for some time before he found his place again in the Weyr and could feel right with the world again knowing he was doing good work.

He’s good with people, and best with children. He engages their interest, gains their trust and respect, and grown men and babies alike hang on almost every word. Even when in his free time he tends to have one or two weyrbrats trailing after him, curious and wanting to watch everything he does, maybe hoping for another story, or to be taken on a ride with Cloventh, or given snacks W’ven can always finagle out of the kitchens with a winning smile and friendly laughter.

A well-loved fixture of the Weyr, W’ven loves the Weyr and its people just as much, if not more. It’s not a stretch to say he’d do anything for them. The Weyr is his family, and he is their patriarch. Even as sprawling and well-populated as any Weyr is, there really are few people at Ista (barring newly arrived Outsiders) who W’ven doesn’t have some kind of connection to. He’s as familiar to the people as the Star Stones, and like them, he is steadfast in his purpose to serve Ista.


Birthdate: 3.20

Born Wenriven to a seacrafting family, W’ven was no stranger to hard work even as a child. He was used to hauling nets and cleaning catches, performing the menial tasks on ships often farmed out to the brats of the sailors. He loved his life on Ista’s beaches and on the sea, but when the offer of Search came at the age of twelve, he couldn’t pass it up. Even at that age, he greedily grabbed at the good things in life, always excited for each new adventure and experience. When W’ven impressed to blue Cloventh at the very Hatching he’d been Searched for, he knew he may never actually fly Fall and fight Thread, but it didn’t dim the accomplishment of becoming a dragonrider at all.

W’ven and Cloventh always took their work seriously. It was as if W’ven had been born and raised in the Weyr, for all that he took to the job naturally, though he never forgot his origins and was always happy to share stories of his childhood at sea. He particularly loved being part of sweeprides and offering services to the people of Ista’s protectorate, seeing new places and meeting new people, taking deep satisfaction out of lending what aid he could. And even though a career fighting Thread was unlikely, he drilled as hard and diligently as if Thread was about to fall any day.

He was a friend to all riders, and amiably bent his back to helping weyrfolk with random tasks around the Weyr, establishing himself as a highly valued, well-loved figure early on. Though he never fathered any children (that he knew of, anyway, never being told about any), W’ven was a favorite around the creche as he grew into a teenager and then an adult, first as a buddy and then a big brother, and eventually, even a father figure.

W’ven was promoted to the position of assistant weyrlingmaster in his late twenties, and while he enjoyed the work and proved especially skilled at it, with a fine touch for really reaching his pupils, it was the younger children W’ven had always been happiest teaching. He’d already begun to work with the harpers in the Weyr, even officially entering the craft at eighteen. His progression through it was much slower than most, since he was a dragonrider first and foremost, though progress he did, however gradually. When he reached official journeyman status he took an assignment as a teacher of the weyrbrats. He loved the job, and it became second only to his love for his role as Cloventh’s rider.

A routine sweep ride when W’ven was fifty-eight saw him and his wingmates coming to the aid of a ship in distress during a storm. In the process of transporting its sailors back to shore, high gusting winds and strong seas almost overcame Cloventh, sending him into the water where W’ven became tangled in his straps. Cloventh got himself airborne and back to the Weyr, but with W’ven clinging to him fighting the pain of a badly broken leg.

Months later the break had healed but left W’ven with a substantial enough limp that he was mostly retired as a Wingrider. More of his daily focus turned to his position teaching the weyrbrats, which he had already been spending more time on during his recovery, though it was hard at first for him to come to terms with being told he couldn’t be a fully functioning rider anymore. It was a blow to a stubbornly proud man used to throwing himself into hard physical work every day.

His and Cloventh’s retirement as wingriders became fully official three turns later as both man and dragon showed signs of stiffening and pain in their joints that the healers warned would only grow worse if they continued putting themselves through such vigorous activity as they grew older. Already more or less settled as a teacher, W’ven handled this better than the first announcement.

Though it didn’t last. The Pass came and Ista’s riders fell to Thread, and as W’ven watched more and more of the people he’d helped raise dying or faltering with injuries even worse than his own, he couldn’t stand by idly any more. He petitioned the Weyrleader to be allowed back into the fighting Wings in the time of the Weyr’s desperation. How could he let the Weyr’s children die when he and Cloventh who had already lived full, happy lives just watched on the sidelines?



None alive (that he knows of - some distant relatives among Ista’s seacrafters may exist).


Dragon Name: Cloventh
Colour: Blue
Age: 56
Weyr of Origin: Ista
Weyrling Class: 8.394.13.13
Wing: Stormriders


Cloventh’s hide is a very stately dark steel blue, with traces of faded grey blending attractively over his muzzle, eye ridges, head knobs, and wing spurs. Like his rider, Cloventh may actually be /lovelier/ for the subtle signs of age he wears, especially given the natural slate blue accents he already had over his wing sails and neck ridges, as if his coloring had always been begging for that last touch of grey to complete the pleasant depth of blue-to-grey shading.

He is a smaller blue, both in measurement and build, sleek and sharp in a way that once seemed like a tragic waste, since he’d never see Threadfall, and he was clearly meant to be a fierce fighter. One of his first neck ridges is notched, like an old battle scar, but in truth he was actually born with it that way.


Where W’ven is father or grandfather to many of the weyrfolk, Cloventh is that same patriarchal figure among the Weyr’s dragons, even if he is just a blue. He’s rarely seen without several younger dragons around him, tucked around him in the best sunning spots or splashing about in the sea.

Cloventh, though also grandfatherly in personality, is slightly rougher around the edges, a bit salty, and a little more likely to get cranky or impatient, though he tends to calm quickly at the touch of his rider’s mind to his. He’s more likely to offer pointed advice or criticism without being asked than his rider, less patient about seeing dragons fumble or show signs that they could falter doing Thread where it could cost them their lives. He’ll smack another dragon with his tail or wing if he doesn’t think they’re paying close enough attention, and will be utterly unapologetic about it. Cloventh has been around long enough and is confident enough, that while he’ll obey a superior’s orders readily enough, he does not cow before bronzes or golds until or unless they bear their will down on him and force the issue. He’s just as likely to get in Tameketh’s or the Weyrleader’s dragon’s faces as any of the others in the Weyr if he thinks they’re about to make a bad mistake.

He’s never short or harsh with W’ven, however. The two are best friends, not just partners. They’re the two old men sharing a picnic table in the park, or sitting together on the porch, trading stories, laughing at the antics of those younger than them, or amiably bickering. They’re closer than brothers, utterly devoted, and never far from each other’s thoughts.

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