Post by Breeze on Mar 3, 2014 18:41:01 GMT -8
(Note, the wher is being adopted, it is the jungle from the wild clutch being guarded by Crimson Dalosk)
Name: Branwen Kopecka
Pronunciation: Bran-win Co-pess-ka
Gender: Female
Age: 20
Turnday: 56.01.01
Weyr: RMW
Rank: Wher Handler
Family: Brantriel (Father, 60, runner), Anterwen (Mother, 42, runner), Brante (Brother, 22)
Friends: None yet
Pets: None
Appearance: Branwen has a rich chocolate skin tone, accompanied by long, extremely curly black hair that is most often worn in a multitude of braids that are then tied into a ponytail. She has sharp, light brown eyes that usually contain an icy glint for anyone that approaches her. She has full lips, although that fact is rarely noticeable due to the fact that her mouth is usually pressed into a thin line. Branwen barely tops 5’7” and has a well toned upper body, but her real strength lies in her legs-which are heavily muscles and built from her years participating as a runner in her family’s runner station. Branwen prefers to wear clothing that doesn’t interfere with her movement when she is out and about on business, wearing form fitting clothing that unintentionally show off her curves, however when she has a day to simply relax she prefers to wear loose and flowing clothing. She is never found without her braided leather bracelet that has a strand of green thread interwoven between the strips of leather, as she believes that it brings her good luck.
Personality: Branwen is what one might call a hard woman. She takes any job she is given very seriously, and doesn’t appreciate distractions when she is trying to accomplish a task. She doesn’t tolerate mistakes from those that should know better, and she despises laziness. Branwen believes everything should be done in a timely manner (meaning before the presented deadline) and without any corners being cut. No one automatically has Branwen’s respect, respect is something to be earned, and if it hasn’t been demonstrated that someone should be respected then Branwen won’t automatically control her sharp remarks. Actions speak louder than words in Branwen’s opinion, and she prefers to look at people’s actions rather than their words.
Branwen will never follow any orders that go against her morals, or what she believes to be right, unless the action is absolutely necessary for the greater good. Branwen generally enjoys being in the company of genuine and honest people, although she usually won’t speak up in a situation unless she thinks that what she has to say is needed. She dislikes meaningless chatter, finding it to be the needless greenery on the path of life, and if asked for her opinion on a matter she will give her completely honest and blunt view-even if it offends the person who asked for it.
All this being said Branwen does have things she likes, although she is not likely to put these things on public display. Branwen has a fierce love for spicy food, able to handle and enjoy the spiciest dishes available to her. She also adores whers, finding their specific type of ugly absolutely endearing, she would much rather be in the presence of the ugliest wher than the most beautiful person any day. She’s a family woman through and through, and she loves her family (or those friends that are like an extended family to her) very much, and would do anything to protect them.
Branwen has a fear of heights, due to her need to be in control of herself and not trust her lives in the hands of a creature that is not hers, and going between, due to the sensory deprivation.
History: Branwen was born in the evening of 56.01.01 at the Runner Station near Golden Flight Hold. She was the second child in a runner family, and was constantly doted on by her mother until she five, proclaiming that she wanted to be treated the exact same way that everyone else in the station was. She never thought of what she would do when she got older, automatically just assuming that she would be a runner, and began to run short distances with her father as soon as her mother let her out of sight of the station, although she wasn’t allowed to run the full length distance anywhere until she was nine. She thought that running was all there was to life, and she only felt truly happy when she ran, and her life was thoroughly uneventful.
Then she made the long run to Rainbow Mists Weyr when she was 16. She fell of the track in the final stretch and severely twisted her ankle. She managed to make it the rest of the way to the Weyr, however she was in no condition to make the trek back. Due to her fear of heights and going between she refused to make the short trip back to her station by dragon, and instead had to stay at the Weyr for the two weeks it took for her to recover.
During this time she had become enraptured by watchwhers, constantly pestering any Wher Handler that passed near where was staying for information in order to learn anything she could about them. She then made the decision to form a new goal in life and become a Wher Handler. Her mother didn’t fuller understand her decision when Branwen returned and told her family of her intent, unable to understand why anyone would ever want to be bonded to the hideous creatures, but her father and Brante fully supported her decision, and when she turned seventeen they made the trip with her up to Rainbow Mists again, leaving her behind to start pursuing her dream.
After spending over a year at the Weyr, Branwen attended a rather unusual wher hatching, where the clutch was guarded by Crimson Dalosk, and no one knew about the clutch until the eggs were actually ready to hatch. When the jungle wher announced its arrival with a sneeze that sent straw and dust flying, Branwen was completely taken with the little creature. The little wherling tripped and stumbled her way, and she quickly offered up the meat she was carrying to him. He accepted, and she secured their bond.
From then on Branwen was rarely out of the presence of Bransk. While he’s not the brightest, and he is unusually timid, Branwen loves the jungle wher. She adores the fact that the wher always listens attentively, and is still attempting to find a way to get the wher to attack on command instead of hesitating like he is apt to do.
Adoption: No
Wher Name: Bransk
Wher Gender: Male
Wher Sound: Rooooo
Wher Color: Jungle (009933)
Wher Appearance: At 3’9” Bransk is among the smaller size for his rank, but his smaller size enables him to blend in far more easily in jungle surroundings than he might be able to if he were bigger. Bransk’s hide is a swirling spring freen with accents of woody browns and hints of darker greens here and there. Bransk’s head is almost constantly cocking to one side or the other to pick up the traces of sounds that his keen hearing picks up. While most people find Bransk’s smooshed muzzle disgusting, he loves to be stroked along it, and will often prod it into the back of people’s knees to gain attention.
Wher’s personality: A bit timid for a wher, Bransk never the less does his job and seems eager to please, making him quite easy to train. Still, no matter how much training he has, he will always hesitate to attack, and always looks for a way to subdue unless his handler’s life is in jeopardy. Bransk prefers to be around his handler most of the time, and finds meeting new human-things quite interesting, although he doesn’t quite understand why new humans aren’t as eager to meet him. He heavily enjoys the spicy treats Branwen gives him whenever he does well, and strives to please her, not only for the treats, but also for the simple sake of the feeling of happiness that flows through their bond when he does what she wants. Though not particularly bright-what wher is?-he does seem to listen intently to what goes on around him, and has developed a keen sense of hearing as he grew older. Bransk loves being assigned to guard duty as he hates the stuffiness of the mines, and the fact that he can’t meet very many new people when he is in the mines. He loves going out and running with Branwen in the jungle during the pre-dawn hours. He tends to let out long, drawn out Roooooooooooooo’s when he is happy, and short, huffy Roo Roo Roo’s when he is not.
Wher’s history: Born just before dawn on 3074.08.11 Bransk’s hatching was rather unconventional as it was guarded by Crimson Dalosk instead of a female wher. Bransk entered the world buried under straw, announcing his arrival with a sneeze. Then, a deafening bellow sounded and he tripped, stumbling his way to Branwen who soothed the slightly scared wherling, before completing the bonding process.
Since then Bransk has learned everything Branwen has sought to teach him-except hot to attack on command. It’s not that he’s unwilling to fight for Branwen-he would actually give his life for her-it’s just that the opportunity hasn't presented itself, and he thoroughly hopes it never does.
RP Sample(for adoption):
"Bransk," Branwen's clipped tone gained the jungle wher's attention from the treat he had just eaten. She already felt herself getting tense, she had just gotten the wher to go through all of the other things that she had taught him. It was time for him to attack now, and he never liked to attack. It was the one command he didn't follow. "Bransk." She repeated again, before straightening her posture, "Aanval." Attack. She pointed to the training tool, holding her breath as she waited for the wher to move. Nothing happened. "Aanval!" She repeated, firmly and in a louder tone.
Bransk swished his tail, lowering his head and backing away from the target. Let out a soft and stressed Rooo oooo. He didn't want to attack. He would do anything else she wanted, but he didn't want to attack, even if it was Branwen commanding it. Even though the object wasn't actually live.
"Bransk." There was a warning note in Branwen's tone, a hint of punishment if he didn't obey. She needed him to attack. What good would a wher be as a guard in the eyes of those in charge if it didn't attack? While she valued Bransk, and even slightly appreciated his unwillingness to attack, she doubted that those in charge would be willing to allow a wher to go on guard duty if he had never demonstrated his ability to attack. Then they would be stuck in the mines, and neither of them wanted that. "Bransk, you need to do this." She firmly stated. "Aanval!"
Bransk let out the soft stressed Rooo again following it up with a few rapid, angry Roo Roo Roo's. He did not want to attack, the weird looking object wasn't a risk, it wasn't threatening either of the pair. He had no reason to attack it. He wasn't going to attack it. He firmly sat on his haunches, looking pointedly away from both Branwen and the object.
"Bransk, please," Branwen attempted a different tactic, a pleading note in her voice. "You must understand that this is something that you, that we have to do." She clenched her right hand in and out of a fist, feeling her own stress rising. "You must!"
Bransk glanced back over, letting out a Rooo, before looking at the object and stalking towards it. He proceeded to bop it gently with his muzzle, before darting away and hiding behind Branwen as the object came back towards him. He poked his head out from behind her, staring confused at the swaying object. Roooo?
Branwen sighed, stroking along his muzzle comfortingly. "It's alright, it's not going to hurt you Bransk. We'll try again tomorrow, alright?"
Roooooooo. Bransk leaned into the touch, curling his body around Branwen, easing the tension that was still in his handler's body. Glad that they were done for the day.
Name: Branwen Kopecka
Pronunciation: Bran-win Co-pess-ka
Gender: Female
Age: 20
Turnday: 56.01.01
Weyr: RMW
Rank: Wher Handler
Family: Brantriel (Father, 60, runner), Anterwen (Mother, 42, runner), Brante (Brother, 22)
Friends: None yet
Pets: None
Appearance: Branwen has a rich chocolate skin tone, accompanied by long, extremely curly black hair that is most often worn in a multitude of braids that are then tied into a ponytail. She has sharp, light brown eyes that usually contain an icy glint for anyone that approaches her. She has full lips, although that fact is rarely noticeable due to the fact that her mouth is usually pressed into a thin line. Branwen barely tops 5’7” and has a well toned upper body, but her real strength lies in her legs-which are heavily muscles and built from her years participating as a runner in her family’s runner station. Branwen prefers to wear clothing that doesn’t interfere with her movement when she is out and about on business, wearing form fitting clothing that unintentionally show off her curves, however when she has a day to simply relax she prefers to wear loose and flowing clothing. She is never found without her braided leather bracelet that has a strand of green thread interwoven between the strips of leather, as she believes that it brings her good luck.
Personality: Branwen is what one might call a hard woman. She takes any job she is given very seriously, and doesn’t appreciate distractions when she is trying to accomplish a task. She doesn’t tolerate mistakes from those that should know better, and she despises laziness. Branwen believes everything should be done in a timely manner (meaning before the presented deadline) and without any corners being cut. No one automatically has Branwen’s respect, respect is something to be earned, and if it hasn’t been demonstrated that someone should be respected then Branwen won’t automatically control her sharp remarks. Actions speak louder than words in Branwen’s opinion, and she prefers to look at people’s actions rather than their words.
Branwen will never follow any orders that go against her morals, or what she believes to be right, unless the action is absolutely necessary for the greater good. Branwen generally enjoys being in the company of genuine and honest people, although she usually won’t speak up in a situation unless she thinks that what she has to say is needed. She dislikes meaningless chatter, finding it to be the needless greenery on the path of life, and if asked for her opinion on a matter she will give her completely honest and blunt view-even if it offends the person who asked for it.
All this being said Branwen does have things she likes, although she is not likely to put these things on public display. Branwen has a fierce love for spicy food, able to handle and enjoy the spiciest dishes available to her. She also adores whers, finding their specific type of ugly absolutely endearing, she would much rather be in the presence of the ugliest wher than the most beautiful person any day. She’s a family woman through and through, and she loves her family (or those friends that are like an extended family to her) very much, and would do anything to protect them.
Branwen has a fear of heights, due to her need to be in control of herself and not trust her lives in the hands of a creature that is not hers, and going between, due to the sensory deprivation.
History: Branwen was born in the evening of 56.01.01 at the Runner Station near Golden Flight Hold. She was the second child in a runner family, and was constantly doted on by her mother until she five, proclaiming that she wanted to be treated the exact same way that everyone else in the station was. She never thought of what she would do when she got older, automatically just assuming that she would be a runner, and began to run short distances with her father as soon as her mother let her out of sight of the station, although she wasn’t allowed to run the full length distance anywhere until she was nine. She thought that running was all there was to life, and she only felt truly happy when she ran, and her life was thoroughly uneventful.
Then she made the long run to Rainbow Mists Weyr when she was 16. She fell of the track in the final stretch and severely twisted her ankle. She managed to make it the rest of the way to the Weyr, however she was in no condition to make the trek back. Due to her fear of heights and going between she refused to make the short trip back to her station by dragon, and instead had to stay at the Weyr for the two weeks it took for her to recover.
During this time she had become enraptured by watchwhers, constantly pestering any Wher Handler that passed near where was staying for information in order to learn anything she could about them. She then made the decision to form a new goal in life and become a Wher Handler. Her mother didn’t fuller understand her decision when Branwen returned and told her family of her intent, unable to understand why anyone would ever want to be bonded to the hideous creatures, but her father and Brante fully supported her decision, and when she turned seventeen they made the trip with her up to Rainbow Mists again, leaving her behind to start pursuing her dream.
After spending over a year at the Weyr, Branwen attended a rather unusual wher hatching, where the clutch was guarded by Crimson Dalosk, and no one knew about the clutch until the eggs were actually ready to hatch. When the jungle wher announced its arrival with a sneeze that sent straw and dust flying, Branwen was completely taken with the little creature. The little wherling tripped and stumbled her way, and she quickly offered up the meat she was carrying to him. He accepted, and she secured their bond.
From then on Branwen was rarely out of the presence of Bransk. While he’s not the brightest, and he is unusually timid, Branwen loves the jungle wher. She adores the fact that the wher always listens attentively, and is still attempting to find a way to get the wher to attack on command instead of hesitating like he is apt to do.
Adoption: No
Wher Name: Bransk
Wher Gender: Male
Wher Sound: Rooooo
Wher Color: Jungle (009933)
Wher Appearance: At 3’9” Bransk is among the smaller size for his rank, but his smaller size enables him to blend in far more easily in jungle surroundings than he might be able to if he were bigger. Bransk’s hide is a swirling spring freen with accents of woody browns and hints of darker greens here and there. Bransk’s head is almost constantly cocking to one side or the other to pick up the traces of sounds that his keen hearing picks up. While most people find Bransk’s smooshed muzzle disgusting, he loves to be stroked along it, and will often prod it into the back of people’s knees to gain attention.
Wher’s personality: A bit timid for a wher, Bransk never the less does his job and seems eager to please, making him quite easy to train. Still, no matter how much training he has, he will always hesitate to attack, and always looks for a way to subdue unless his handler’s life is in jeopardy. Bransk prefers to be around his handler most of the time, and finds meeting new human-things quite interesting, although he doesn’t quite understand why new humans aren’t as eager to meet him. He heavily enjoys the spicy treats Branwen gives him whenever he does well, and strives to please her, not only for the treats, but also for the simple sake of the feeling of happiness that flows through their bond when he does what she wants. Though not particularly bright-what wher is?-he does seem to listen intently to what goes on around him, and has developed a keen sense of hearing as he grew older. Bransk loves being assigned to guard duty as he hates the stuffiness of the mines, and the fact that he can’t meet very many new people when he is in the mines. He loves going out and running with Branwen in the jungle during the pre-dawn hours. He tends to let out long, drawn out Roooooooooooooo’s when he is happy, and short, huffy Roo Roo Roo’s when he is not.
Wher’s history: Born just before dawn on 3074.08.11 Bransk’s hatching was rather unconventional as it was guarded by Crimson Dalosk instead of a female wher. Bransk entered the world buried under straw, announcing his arrival with a sneeze. Then, a deafening bellow sounded and he tripped, stumbling his way to Branwen who soothed the slightly scared wherling, before completing the bonding process.
Since then Bransk has learned everything Branwen has sought to teach him-except hot to attack on command. It’s not that he’s unwilling to fight for Branwen-he would actually give his life for her-it’s just that the opportunity hasn't presented itself, and he thoroughly hopes it never does.
RP Sample(for adoption):
"Bransk," Branwen's clipped tone gained the jungle wher's attention from the treat he had just eaten. She already felt herself getting tense, she had just gotten the wher to go through all of the other things that she had taught him. It was time for him to attack now, and he never liked to attack. It was the one command he didn't follow. "Bransk." She repeated again, before straightening her posture, "Aanval." Attack. She pointed to the training tool, holding her breath as she waited for the wher to move. Nothing happened. "Aanval!" She repeated, firmly and in a louder tone.
Bransk swished his tail, lowering his head and backing away from the target. Let out a soft and stressed Rooo oooo. He didn't want to attack. He would do anything else she wanted, but he didn't want to attack, even if it was Branwen commanding it. Even though the object wasn't actually live.
"Bransk." There was a warning note in Branwen's tone, a hint of punishment if he didn't obey. She needed him to attack. What good would a wher be as a guard in the eyes of those in charge if it didn't attack? While she valued Bransk, and even slightly appreciated his unwillingness to attack, she doubted that those in charge would be willing to allow a wher to go on guard duty if he had never demonstrated his ability to attack. Then they would be stuck in the mines, and neither of them wanted that. "Bransk, you need to do this." She firmly stated. "Aanval!"
Bransk let out the soft stressed Rooo again following it up with a few rapid, angry Roo Roo Roo's. He did not want to attack, the weird looking object wasn't a risk, it wasn't threatening either of the pair. He had no reason to attack it. He wasn't going to attack it. He firmly sat on his haunches, looking pointedly away from both Branwen and the object.
"Bransk, please," Branwen attempted a different tactic, a pleading note in her voice. "You must understand that this is something that you, that we have to do." She clenched her right hand in and out of a fist, feeling her own stress rising. "You must!"
Bransk glanced back over, letting out a Rooo, before looking at the object and stalking towards it. He proceeded to bop it gently with his muzzle, before darting away and hiding behind Branwen as the object came back towards him. He poked his head out from behind her, staring confused at the swaying object. Roooo?
Branwen sighed, stroking along his muzzle comfortingly. "It's alright, it's not going to hurt you Bransk. We'll try again tomorrow, alright?"
Roooooooo. Bransk leaned into the touch, curling his body around Branwen, easing the tension that was still in his handler's body. Glad that they were done for the day.
