F'nen of Grey Thengrith

Name: F’nen
Age: 38
Orientation: Predominantly heterosexual, but takes what he can get
Gender: Male

Occupation: Dragonrider Captain
Squad: Flies with the Elusive Wing
Lodgings: Dragon Platforms

Appearance:
F’nen is your stereotypical mean, rugged hard man, giving off a distinct ‘don’t mess with me’ vibe. It’s a look that is in part deliberately cultivated, for it’s by no accident that his greying stubble is allowed to grow for a few days before being shorn off, it’s certainly by choice that he scowls and glares so menacingly, and really, he could make more of an effort to hide the ugly white scar that travels from his right ear across to the right corner of his mouth, rather than angle his head in such a way that it’s openly exhibited. Still, there are some natural elements of his appearance that had to intimidating mien. Standing at 6’3”, he’s a tall man, and is muscular besides, albeit in a lean, wiry way rather than the bulky, massive one he used to strive for. Even so, he takes great pride in his physical fitness and is always rather keen to display it, leading to a habit of going topless whenever arguably appropriate. This tends to garner him a lot of second looks, not least because he has an unusually high amount of body hair compared to the majority of Pernese men.

His other features are nothing out of the ordinary. His skin is naturally medium tan colour, and naturally doesn’t get much sun, while the features of his face go well with his cultivated rugged appearance. He has a moderately strong jaw ending in quite an angular chin below a small, thin mouth. This mouth is rather twisted, courtesy of the afore-mentioned scar which pulls the right corner up somewhat, a disfigurement which looks even more severe due to the left corner often being lowered in a fierce scowl. His nose is fairly unremarkable, save that the bridge is rather prominent, while his eyes are small and dark, made to look darker by the thick brows that overshadow them. A broad forehead lined from Turns of frowning then remains below his short, dark brown hair, which has recently started thinning somewhat to give him a definite widows peak, and is also rapidly turning grey at his temples.

Personality:
F’nen is one of the few humans of Neath who truly and utterly supports the Masters in everything they do, and is perfectly willing to defend them and their actions to anyone who harbours so much as the slightest disapproval of them. He was a homeless orphan when Igen was sold, but the actions of the Masters gave him a home, a dragon, and a role; he owes them everything he has in life, and as such feels a sort of dependency towards them. The thought of someone doing them harm horrifies him on some deep, instinctive level. He subconsciously fears that if something were to happen to them all that he has would be taken, so he willingly and actively helps in policing the Bazaar, protecting the Masters. Although he doesn’t realise it, he practically worships the Masters, cherishing what few moments he gets to spend in their company.

To everyone else, F’nen appears as a gruff, short-tempered man who’s difficult to get along with. He has some leadership skills, these being necessary for his position, but they stem more from an ability to inspire fear than admiration or respect. He has always been hard with those who serve under them, setting arduous training schedules that push them to the limit and punishing even the smallest misdemeanour in a manner many would consider overly harsh. To his credit though he is always fair, refusing to act on favouritism, and has never been truly cruel. He gets no joy from watching the men and women of the Weyr suffer through another tedious, painful training routine, but he does genuinely feel it’s necessary, and indeed puts himself through it as well.

Of course, being such a high-ranking member of the Weyr, he is known by the majority of the Neath citizens, at least by name, and for the most part he is seen in one of two ways. Law-abiding adults tend to find him a rather amusing figure, a mostly harmless zealot who’s easy to make fun of, and a useless bogey-man for keeping their children well-behaved. Those who have reason to fear the law, however, positively despise him, and with good reason; F’nen may not have much of a grasp on the complex feelings and emotions of others, but he has his own kind of hard intelligence and logic, and is gifted at working out a criminal’s most likely next move. Worse, he is utterly relentless; he has made it his life’s goal to stamp out those who seek to ‘disturb the peace’, and although, again, he’s not cruel for his own enjoyment, there is very little he will not do if he thinks it will prevent a person reoffending. Who counts as a criminal? What counts as a crime? Why, whatever the Masters say, of course. It doesn’t help that his grey dragon is associated with death, and is hated and feared as much as his rider.

On a personal level, in an interaction that is neither professional nor cop-criminal based, he’s remarkably awkward. He prefers to stay quiet in such situations, watching with an air of faintly uncomfortable disapproval rather than actively participating in conversation. He’s something of a loner, keeping his personal life to himself and his rider, and tends to look down on other people. Even so, he can’t help but concern himself with what people think of him. He wants to be well-known; he wants to have a reputation, hence his habit of going about his business topless and looking as terrifying as possible. Oh, he doesn’t particularly want people to like him, he just wants people to feel something when they think of him. As you might imagine, he doesn’t have many friends, and many peers find him rather dull; after all, a man who refuses to drink in the decadent world of the Neath must be rather odd.

History:
Fiornen was born in 2912 to Fiora, a drudge at Igen Weyr, the identity of his father being unclear and of little interest to anyone in any case. Life was difficult from the start, as his mother had something of a drinking problem and was poor besides, so from an early age he learned to scavenge for his own food and clothing. He was two when Igen’s younger queen and her daughter died, and was either oblivious to the whole event or subsequently forgot it, though he was aware in the following few months and Turns that the Weyr seemed rather tense, and this often puzzled him somewhat. By the time he was four he was beginning to understand what dragons were, their importance, and how Impressing them worked, and like most small children quickly decided that he wanted them, so of course he was rather dismayed when he began to understand that they were basically becoming extinct.

He was still in his fourth Turn of life however, when something happened that quite took his mind off it; his mother died. Fiora may not have been the most attentive mother, but she had loved her son, and had been the only stable thing he could count on. Sure, she had been a drunk, but she had still been capable of showing affection, and the young boy took her death, which came when she fell from the edge of a rider’s weyr, very hard. Of course there was now no one to look after him, and he raised partly by the communal efforts of several other drudge women, who gave him food and clothes their own children had grown out of, and partly by himself. Many of the other weyrbrats teased him for his skinny, tatty appearance, and others who were similarly skinny and tatty teased him simply because he was an easy target without the spirit to fight back. As a result he became withdrawn and rather shy. Fortunately he was not wholly without friends; he formed a band with four other orphans; three boys and a single girl, and spent as much of his time with them as he could.

When he was nine, he was old enough to be excited about the clutch on the Weyr’s Sands, and the extra importance that came from it having the last gold egg in Pern made it all the more exciting. The atmosphere at the Weyr was enough to rekindle his dream of becoming a rider, and so when it came to the hatching, he willed the little queenling to Impress and survive as hard as anyone else, understanding that without her, there would be no more dragons. She did Impress, of course, and for the following two Turns he ran around with his little gang of scavengers and waited impatiently to be old enough to Stand, frustrated by how slowly the Turns seemed to Pass. During that time one of his friends sadly passed away from what seemed like pneumonia, while another’s adoptive family moved away to a distant fishing Hold in search of a better life, wittling the group down to just three; Fiornen, another boy, Jodennel and the girl, Lilia. Fiornen took both events quite hard, and began to feel a sense of powerlessness, a sense that, no matter what he did, those he loved would be taken away from him in some way or another, and he resented it with all of his being.

Even so, he was still capable of getting excited when the young queen laid her first clutch, and was still capable of wishing he was older than eleven Turns. Of course, that particular Turn was more notable for another event, the sale of Igen to the mysterious Masters and the Weyr’s fall into the Neath. Fironen naturally had no say in the event and initially, like many others, was terrified, however almost immediately after the Fall his life began to improve. He and his friends were moved out of the Weyr as the Masters took over it, being moved to one of the Holds, and there they were given actual cots to sleep in, and the food was decidedly better and more plentiful. Being moved out of one’s lifetime home might have been an unsettling experience, but Fiornen, who had long subconsciously yearned for a parental figure he could rely on to provide for him, was instead grateful. His friends had other ideas; both found the Masters scary and threatening, and missed their old home, so that any mention of them was likely to end in argument. The topic quickly became taboo.

Once everyone had settled into life in the Neath, it continued as normal, or as normal as life could be when such strange things were happening. Fiornen was inclined to scoff at the tales of talking firelizards and people coming back from the dead until he saw both for himself, and he could hardly deny the hatching of strange coloured dragonets when he witnessed them first-hand from the Sands’ viewing area. All of these things he saw as gifts from the Masters, further proof that they were saviours, come to help the people of Pern, and he began to passionately defend them to anyone who dared criticize him. His two friends were happy to just roll their eyes and let him get on with it, though both had their own opinions; Jodennel thought the new dragons were hideous mutants, evidence that the race of dragons had grown weak and become tainted, while Lilia was horrified at the idea of coming back from the dead, and insisted that she should not be so revived if anything happened to her.

Even so, Fiornen and his friends, who were both of an age with him, at last turned sixteen, and were able to apply for candidacy as they had dreamed of doing for so long. Much to Fiornen’s shock and disappointment though, Jodennel now refused to Stand, saying he didn’t want to serve the Masters, and more importantly, didn’t want to risk Impressing one of the mutants. Instead, he said he would become a tradesman. This lead to a blazing row between Fiornen and his childhood friend, after which the latter moved away and the two never spoke again, much to the heartbreak of Lilia. For her part, she mostly agreed with Fiornen that they should all still Stand and both were accepted as candidates after being checked out by a blue dragon, witling their little group down to two.

Candidacy was a difficult to time for Fiornen. Structures lessons were a completely new experience for him, and furthermore he was suddenly forced to interact with people outside his friendship group. Worse, some of the candidates insisted they were there against their will, which Fiornen was sure was utter nonsense. On top of that was the emotional weight of his fight with Jodennel, who he missed dearly, as well as the mingled excitement and nervousness over the coming clutch. It was this last that Fiornen tried to focus on, mentally preparing himself for the disappointment of not Impressing, should this come to pass, but in the end he need not have feared; towards the end of the clutch, a grey hatchling shambled up to him, declaring himself to be Thengrith.

And so weyrlinghood began. Even in the Weyr it seemed that there was some prejudice against grey dragons, who were feared as an omen of ill-luck, and F’nen quickly became rather defensive. He liked his dragon, who to him instead symbolised good fortune and the generosity of the Masters, and the lad became rather argumentative about it, further alienating any fellow weyrlings who may have wanted to befriend him. Lilia was still his only human companion, she having Impressed a rather darling green called Kinnath, though unlike F’nen she had started making other friends. The lad would watch with bitterness in his eyes as she laughed and joked with the other weyrlings, jealous partly of her ability to fit in with their peers and partly jealous that she was spending her time with them and not with him. To take his mind off things, F’nen through himself heart and soul into his training, striving to become the best rider the Masters had. He delighted in the feeling of relevance and importance his role gave him, and began to feel that he was beginning to repay the Masters for what he perceived as their kindness to him.

During their mandatory Turn as an enforcer, F’nen and Lilia engaged in a short romance, though this didn’t last long. Lilia hated every moment of being an enforcer, and begged F’nen to leave the Corps with her when it ended, to start their own business. F’nen scoffed at her, pointing out that even if he wanted to leave, the public would not accept him and his dragon, would not do business with a dragon they thought an omen of death, and so Lilia and Kinnath left them. Now entirely friendless apart from his dragon, F’nen had nothing left to distract him from his work. His dedication and devotion, which was practically worship, did not go unnoticed by the Masters, nor did his skill at catching criminals, and he steadily began to climb the ranks, becoming a wingsecond aged just twenty-five, a wingleader at thirty-two, and finally, when his predecessor retired due to permanent injury, the dragonrider captain at age thirty-seven. During that time he had several short romances and several more one-night stands, some of which were with men, but he never made any lasting relationships. He has gone past loneliness now, relying only on his dragon and his work for company.

Family:
None known; may have some illegitimate children but if so they have not been introduced to him, nor does he know the identity of his father, who may or may not still be around. Others of importance to him are Lilia of green Kinnath, who is not with the Weyr, and Jodennal, a trader at the Bazaar.



Name: Thengrith
Orientation: Mostly asexual, very occasionally takes an interest in females and chases them
Age: 22 Turns

Length: 27’
Color: Grey
Hex Code: #4D4D4D

Appearance:
Thengrith is a comparatively small dragon, considering the size of some of the great bronzes, but he is a stocky, heavily-built creature with a sturdy look to him. A thickset, broad-shouldered body with a barrel chest rests on comparatively short leg, the hind pair of which are particularly massive and muscular, as they need to be to get his body into the ground. There’s not much in the way of leanness to this dragon; even his tail and neck are thick and round, the latter being almost as muscular as his thighs and proudly arched, carrying his blocky, broad-muzzled and indelicate head high. There are some who mock him, calling him an overgrown wher, but in truth his proportions are not nearly so extreme. His wings are moderately large for his size, giving him a somewhat ungainly appearance on land, though they do give him surprisingly good endurance. Overall he’s not a handsome dragon, but he’s not exactly ugly either and gives off an air of solidity and strength, if, that is, one can get over the feeling that he personifies death.

In terms of colour, Thengrith is particularly dull, even for a grey. He’s predominantly a dark iron grey but lacking any kind of sheen. This colour darkens further on his ‘points’, as it were; his lower legs, head, twing tips and the last third or so of his tail, becoming a stormy near-black, while it pales to a pallid dusty grey on his belly. He is otherwise devoid of markings, save a few pale freckles around his eyes and nostrils.

Personality:
Thengrith is a strange creature, one who deliberately tries to remain something of an enigma. He’s secretive when it comes to his personal comings and goings, trying to maintain an air of mystery. His reasoning for this is that he believes the lower ranks of the enforcers should not be too close to their superiors, lest they learn of some weakness, but in truth it’s more because he wants to seem more important than he really is. That might give the impression that Thengrith is vain, and in a sense that’s true, but this vanity mostly takes the form of harmless and pomp. In any case, it means that he’s not particularly talkative, preferring to communicate by implied expressions sent through mentally, and when he does talk, he’ll speak in something like semi-riddles whenever he can get away with it, rather than talking straight, and always sounds rather condescending.

That strange manner of talking is, of course, an act, and it’s one he uses primarily for those dragons who are below him in the rank of the enforcer, which is, of course, all of them, and he uses it to make sure they keep their distance emotionally. He has another act that he reserves for situations when he and his rider are questioning suspects. It’s not exactly a good cop, bad cop routine, as both of them play the bad cop, but Thengrith is much quieter, with a habit of making subtle, implied threats that are often much more frightening than his rider’s shouting, especially when the grey’s association with ill-luck is taken into consideration.

When it comes to Thengrith’s opinion of the Masters, well, he doesn’t dislike them, but he also doesn’t have the blind love and loyalty to them that F’nen has. Instead he loves his rider, and has long been his obedient and unquestioning servant, so he pursues criminals and otherwise does his duty with as much passion and ferocity as his rider. He also shares his rider’s belief in pushing the riders of the Corps has hard as they can stand to ensure that they are the best they can be, though he doesn’t make the same efforts to be feared or even hated. Even so, although he is usually preferred to F’nen, he’s still little liked, especially by younger or newer enforcers, and is seen as strict, harsh and uncompromised.

In truth though, Thengrith is not nearly as harsh as F’nen, with a much softer heart and better understanding of the emotions and feelings of others. He has some compassion in him, despite a lifetime of being treated as something to be feared for no reason other than the colour of his skin, and is willing to be kind and even generous when the opportunity presents himself. F’nen is so focused on catching criminals that he spares little thought for the victims of those criminals; it’s Thengrith that ensures they are looked-after. It’s also Thengrith that makes sure F’nen doesn’t work himself to death, nor falls into depression from loneliness. To the outside world their relationship doesn’t look particularly loving, and indeed there’s very little in the way of physical affection or even fond words exchanged between them, but F’nen relies on the constant feel of his dragon’s sturdy, dependable presence.