Post by Jay Kitten on Aug 14, 2013 20:27:50 GMT -8
Ranos, the Fearless
Full Name: Ranos Tigris
Pronunciation: Rah-noh-s Tie-gris
Age: 34 Turns
Birth Turn and Season: Turn 1727, spring
Gender: Male
Sexuality: Asexual
Location: Lemos Hold, to Tigris Weyr
Rank: Weyrleader of Tigris
Appearance:
Ranos is a rugged man, with a light goatee and a windblown and sand-struck face. He is hardened, with a squared jaw and broad shoulders, but he is only of average height for his age, at 5' 10". His hair is brown, as is his facial hair, a lighter brown due to the Western Rukbat, but otherwise chocolate-colored. It was once in a braid, long and straight, but is now kept short and usually messy due to necessity of staying cool. His eyes are a vivid emerald, and are patterned with flecks in the odd shape of what looks similar to a rough seven-pointed star. They are piercing and serious, as are the rest of his facial features. Ranos wears typical desert clothing, a thick vest with cloth wraps for his arms, face, neck, and head, and long baggy pants that stay away from his flesh so his legs can breathe, made of thick cloth. He used to wear blue, but his adaptation leaves him wearing a lighter tan, which is much better at fighting off the sun's harsh rays. He carries a pair of desert goggles for the sand, as well, and a long, curved scimitar for a weapon. Calling him a warrior would be futile, he looks more like a man with a death wish.
Personality:
To say that he is pleasant, would be wrong. To say that he cares what you did today, would be wrong. What he does care about, is his Weyr, and the lives of those inhabiting it. Never once did he flinch at responsibility, and never once did he not step up to the plate when something needed doing. That is what drives him to be a leader, and lead he will do. If somebody argues, if somebody endangers his charges, he will not hesitate to put them down in any way. If the enemy threatens his safety, his tactical mind will obliterate them in any way. If at all he can do something that needs doing, he will do it, in any way. He rarely trusts, and he rarely speaks unless he has something important to say, or if he needs to raise his voice.
His mind is sharp, as is his wit and his tongue, his intentions are clear, and he will not have any form of insubordination. It is his way, or death, and that much is clear.
Long live the Weyr.
Family:
Son, Ranos, war victim, deceased
Weyrmate, unknown name, Run-related-relationship, deceased
Great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great grandson, R'nos, Dragonrider, unborn until Turn 2987.
History:
Ranos did not always exhibit his callous demeanor that he does today, at one time he was very much a happy man and a father of a son whom had been given to him by a woman that he had a fleeting relationship with. She didn't mind, she liked him, and after giving him his son and seeing how happy that made him, she went about her way with her own life. It wasn't long before his bond with his son grew into the reason he lived, the reason that he would always be around to see him become the man he knew he could be. It wasn't long before he fell in love with being a father.
He had been taken to Benden Weyr, where he Impressed a wher by the name of Rahsk, a tiny little thing but strong and fast as his son was growing up to be. He was sent right back to Lemos Hold when he was fully trained, and put on as the Watchwher Handler to guard his son and his home.
But that was all taken away.
Just when life couldn't get any better, it got worse. Thread appeared in the skies again, the legends that had persisted now their only defense against it, the dragons their swords and the ballads their shields. Pern was at risk once more, and as the body count rose, everybody grew on edge. It wasn't long before the need arose for a safer place, and that was when he heard word of Fort's joint mission to the South to establish a beachhead. They were going to make a safer place, and gather more supplies, since their research had told them the plants still lived and there had to be a reason.
The Thread fell, and destroyed his home, his beautiful Lemosian trees, all gone. Devoured by the inhuman spores, or burned by the Riders to clear the land for their search for the damned things in the ground.
He heard word of the troubles in the west, of the annexation of territory by High Reaches to expand their own supplies for the troubled times ahead, and he heard of the council of Riders that had talked and argued about what was next. And he had heard when the war started.
His job on the watch was almost painful. They came in the night, and one man couldn't stop them.
Flooding the streets, an army of men searched every house for any bit of usefulness, cutting down those that resisted and taking the women to do with what they would. He resisted, of course, and now bears the scar of a blade slicing open his side. His wound was fatal, he would not have survived if it weren't for his wher, whom had done what he could to keep his blood inside of him, having hidden until the men had gone. But he had been forced to watch powerlessly as his son tried to stop the men from taking their precious mementos, and at the tender age of 8, he was slain in cold blood. His home looted, his son dead, they left him to rot and burned much of Lemos down. His life in shambles, he persevered for the sake of revenge.
He still isn't sure how he got out of that hell-hole, but he awoke in a nearby Cothold's Healers quarters, with the few survivors from Lemos that had made it out wounded. There were others, he had heard, whom had fared better, and many whom had fared far worse. It had taken him much time to mourn.
But once his moment of weakness was over, it was back to himself, back to making sure something like this would never happen to those who were innocent again. His plan was underway, and after pulling strings at both Benden and with the traders of Lemos, he was able to fund first an expedition, and then a full-blown settling of the Western Continent. He keeps it a secret how this all came together exactly, but it was his doing, and his leadership on both the expedition and set-up of his Weyr that made the whole thing work. Those who worked beside him didn't deny that he was the rightful owner to this blasted patch of land, and the expeditionary force named the Weyr after his son, and in his family's honor.
His contacts arranged everything on the Northern Continent to bring those whom were secretly against the War together, and all at once they fled to Tigris, and he accepted them with open arms, putting them to work and giving them a home and a purpose. He was raising an army for defense, and raising a better life for their families. He was building a new Pern.
Rahsk, the White
Name: Rahsk
Pronunciation: ...Rahsk
Age: 12 Turns
Color & Hex Codes: White (ffffff) (b9b9b9)
Size: 3 feet tall
Appearance:
Rahsk is tiny for a wher, due to his hue, but he's fairly large for a White Wher, and his hide is the perfect color for the blazing desert, reflecting most of the sun's radiation away from him easily. His problem lies more in the fact that he sees through heat, and as such his time in the Weyr has caused him to go through a period of adjusting where his eyes burned fearfully for days on end. His hide is solid white, with an undertone of lighter grey along his tail and paws. He's not as mangled as other whers seem to be, in fact he's rather smooth and lithe. His frame allows him to be incredibly fast, and he acts much like a watchdog, capable of easily taking down a human if need be. His eyes favor the yellow of caution.
Personality:
Rahsk is a loyal lapdog of the famed Ranos, but he is also his life partner in many more ways than one. During his birth, Ranos had saved his life, as he had been too weak to get out of his egg, and the man could not stand to see him die in there, cutting it open himself to get the baby wher out. It was meant to be, then, that he would later save Ranos. Now they're even, and he couldn't be happier about that. He knows his Handler is a hurt man, but he comforts him when he can, and always stays by his side now that he had lost the only other human he'd ever cared for. And while he's no replacement, he certainly is part of Ranos's family, and he knows it would all be over if the man lost him.
Rahsk is a bit bright for a wher, able to comprehend reasons behind commands and not just the commands themselves, though he is terribly bad at math and even worse with direction. He gets lost easily, but always has his Handler for help. In battle he is fiercely protective, almost preferring to let the enemy come to him first.
Mind-Voice:
Rrrraaaahsk like.
Rahsk's voice is rumbly, but solid, though sometimes hard to understand. He never says more than a few words in any one sentence, and refers to himself in the third person. He tends to drag out his Rs and sometimes his vowels.