Dalonia Jindarex of Crimson Wher Dalosk - RMW Aug 7, 2012 18:23:44 GMT -8
Post by Cait on Aug 7, 2012 18:23:44 GMT -8
Name: Dalonia Jindarex
Pronunciation: duh-LOW-nee-uh gin-DAR-ex
Age: 28 Turns
Weyr: Rainbow Mists Weyr
- Darrentil Jindarex; father, 58 - Miner
- Elonia Jindarex; mother, 51 - Deceased
- Derron Jindarex; brother, 31 - Outlaw
- Elarren Jindarex; brother, 28 – Outlaw
- Vakaral Vitarias; son, 3 - Weyrbrat
- Avonia Vitarias; daughter, 3 - Weyrbrat
Friends: People you wouldn’t want to meet in a dark alley;
Brown Thief & DarkBlue (f) Klutz
(Born: 73.13.15 - Klutz deceased 3075.08.04)
Moonlight (m) Pest
Appearance: Depending on the amount of time put into her appearance, Dalonia can be either a striking individual or just as easily glanced over. Neither tall nor short, she stands at a rather average height of five inches over five feet with a lithe and decidedly athletic build, gained from turns spent tagging along behind her older brothers and engaging in other activities best not talked about. Like many born in the harsh Northern climate, her complexion is rather pale though unmarked by freckle or birthmark. Scars, however, are another story. As one would expect of a young woman who spent much of her childhood trying to keep up with her older brothers, she sports several small, faded scars from various escapades and adventures; one on her chin, another on her hairline.
Long, oftentimes wavy, black hair frames a face that is ovular in shape with high cheek bones and a strong, angular jaw and rounded chin. Dark brows arch over a pair of eyes more green than blue, possessing a few flecks of darker blue and even amber so that in certain light and depending on Dalonia’s attire or even mood they seem to shift color. When particularly enraged they seem darker and more blue than green. Set between that pair of dynamic yet shuttered eyes is a slightly large, yet surprisingly straight—surprising given the number of scuffles and kerfuffles she’s been in—nose that is gently sloped and pointed. Lips are full and perhaps the Dalonia’s most feminine trait; on her face at least.
Preferring to wear trousers, tunics and vests, it is rather uncommon to spot Dalonia in gown; the only reason she even possesses one is for Gathers and festivities and other more devious reasons. After all, she does fill out the gown rather nicely in all the right places with a moderate bosom, a narrow waist and gently flared hips. Of course none of this disguises the less than ladylike gait she possesses as well as her alert and guarded demeanor. Nor does it do anything to hide how calloused her hands are, or the various scars from numerous nicks and cuts gained from turns of wielding knives and getting into scuffles with her brothers and others.
Personality: Perhaps the trait that most people notice right off the bat, though Dalonia will deny it, is how tense and even paranoid the woman is. Her eyes are forever scanning her surroundings and putting her back to walls has become an unconscious thing for her. There is always a weapon at hand; typically a belt knife or short sword and she has often been witnessed to have a hand hovering over the hilt of the blade when she gets particularly uncomfortable. The truth of the matter is that Dalonia—not Dal or Loni or any other ridiculous nickname—is in fact paranoid and does not trust anyone that she hasn’t known for a handful of turns or more. Even her own wher has been subjugated to her mistrust for the last few years and only now that she’s been uprooted and dumped in the south does she trust the beast as she has no one else to rely on at the moment.
Growing up with two wild brothers and a far too busy father, the only way to get what she wanted was to take it and not let go. Because of this, when Dalonia sets her mind on something—be it a task or a goal—she goes after it with a single-mindedness that borderlines on bullheadedness. Along with that, she is stubborn and a bit passive aggressive though that’s not to say that she cannot be straight up aggressive when the mood strikes her. All of this combined tends to make for a rather severe and goal oriented demeanor with a propensity for spite and vengeance.
Perhaps a core aspect of her personality and the root of her snideness towards dragonkind and their riders is her deeply ingrained dislike of draconic creatures—including Dalosk and other whers though she has gradually come to accept that she’s stuck with the ugly lump for the unforeseeable future—and their partners. While other children viewed the dragonriders and their beasts with awe and wonder, she saw arrogant bullies that felt they could do whatever they wished, including wage war in the skies above Pern, neglecting their duty to the people. Of course there is also a slight fear—greatly denied of course—of dragons that adds fuel to the fire of her blind hatred.
Having been transferred to a Weyr from Icy Caverns Hold, she is now forced to interact daily with a great many dragonriders and their dragons, convinced that when she wasn’t looking they sneered at her and Dalosk. She might not think the wher was made of gold like some other wherhandlers, but neither did she appreciate disrespect; especially since she was supposed to be protecting the Sharded people from stealthy night attacks.
History: Dalonia’s birth was hardly of any consequence as she was essentially just another mouth to feed for Darrentil Jindarex; a miner from Icy Caverns Hold. Just another fussy child for his wife to take care of while he spent his days below ground and his nights indulging in a bit too much drink and gambling. She was preceded by Derron and Elarren, older brothers who did their best to help their mother, Elonia, with the child even as the lure of the streets called to them.
Elonia had never been particularly strong or healthy, especially after the birth of her second son, so it was really no surprise when she faded away during the winter of Dalonia’s fifth turn leaving the three children to a mostly absent father. Some speculate that Darrentil wasn’t even aware at first that his children ran away, but they did and he went on with life without batting a lash.
Meanwhile, little Dalonia followed her brothers into the streets, becoming a decoy for their pick pocketing escapades and later a look out for far more serious endeavors. At the age of eleven, the Jindarex siblings befriended another "smith apprentice from the weyr" by the name of Barrek Malvois who was of an age with her eldest brother and Dalonia developed her first prepubescent, girly crush on the boy. It wouldn’t last however and was never really reciprocated.
By Dalonia's fourteenth turnday, the siblings had been fully taken into the folds of a group of holdfolk that were rather discontent with the weyr, led by a man by the name of Tibarex. Having grown up hearing her brothers muttering about meddling dragonriders—for they often upheld the laws—Dalonia was already biased against them and so was a perfect candidate for the group to mold into exactly what they needed.
She became the eyes and ears of the group, and Tibarex in particular, in the Lord Holder’s household where she took a position as a drudge. It was thankless work, but she was also quite invisible and so Tibarex and the others were able to glean gossip off of the Lord’s family and determine the impact their gossip had on the mind of the man in regards to the Weyr. Consequently, in the five turns that followed, Dalonia became a trusted member of the staff in the household of the Lord Holder until a time that the local Wherhandler’s wher clutched. At the age of nineteen she was offered a chance to become a wherhandler.
Her first reaction was to decline with a sneer, but at the prompting and urging of both her brother Derron and Tiberax as well, she accepted the offer and was given an egg from the clutch. She diligently took care of the egg, if only because her eldest brother had threatened to beat her senseless if an “accident” should happen regarding the egg. She was moved to the wherhandler’s barracks and forced to learn how to care for the hideous little creature that would hatch from the lumpy egg. Her trainer was rather surprised to find an above stairs drudge—essentially a maid—so skilled with a weapon; another part of her training and mistook her skill for natural talent.
Time passed and finally the egg hatched and it took all of Dalonia’s considerable will power not to kick the little beast in the ugly face when it hissed and squawked and creeled, it’s tail lashing about as it knocked into her, swamping her with feelings of a painful, gnawing hunger. Though, before she could grab the bowl of vomit inducing blood porridge and shove it down the obnoxious thing’s throat, it lunged and grabbed for the outstretched hand, smelling meat but not being able to see well enough to determine the source.
With a snarl, Dalonia slammed the heel of her other hand into the wherling’s nose and when it released her she elbowed it roughly in the side of the head and growled at it to stay back. Shoving to her feet she kicked the bowl of porridge over then stepped back, but the gooey, lumpy, eggshard covered thing was staring up at her with its huge eyes, it’s little stunted wings twitching grotesquely. Thankfully, the senior wherhandler hadn’t been witness to this rather…odd bonding, for it had been a bonding. A harsh, rough and tumble bonding followed up by a rather grudgingly given sample of the woman’s blood—again only her brother’s words keeping her from abstaining.
Dalonia was now handler to what was most certainly a Crimson wherling in possession of the a hide the color of partially congealed blood. His temperament was also cantankerous and borderline violent which didn’t help matters, though Dalonia found it far preferable to some clingy, mewling little lump of hide and teeth. Under the watchful eye of the senior wherhandler and with her brother’s threat still looming over her head, Dalonia trained Dalosk, harnessing his foul temper while simultaneously reining it in until she could direct it should she wish. She might not like being tied to such a creature, but he had his uses and with her new rank in the Hold she was privy to far more information and thus far more useful to the little band of outlaws that had become her rather dysfunctional family.
Though now, with the fiasco on the Southern continent, Dalonia has been relocated to Rainbow Mists Weyr where she is now subjected to the near constant presence of dragons and their riders. Of course that’s not the only thing that troubles her. Not only does she feel as though she’s melting at all times of the day, but she is too far from her family unit for them to be of any use to her and there seems to be a different breed of outlaws gathered; outlaws against which she is supposed to defend the Weyr. But who are these people and what exactly are their motives?
Wher's Name: Dalosk
Wher’s Gender: Male
Wher's Age: 9 Turns (3069)
Wher's Color: Crimson
Wher's Appearance: As Dalonia is often wont to say; Dalsok is a huge, hideous, lumpy piece of hide and his hide is the only thing about him that comes even remotely close to being attractive. His figure, like that of all whers, is muscular and adorned with two virtually useless, stunted wings. His head, which is large and shaped like a smashed up piece of pie, has a wrinkled nose and two very large, photosensitive eyes under heavy, knobby browridges. The Crimson’s tail is long and ends in a thin, whiplike point. His grotesque figure, however is covered in a rough hide that some might say—not Dalonia of course—might say would make up for his less than aesthetic appearance.
As one would expect of a Crimson, Dalosk’s hide is red; though his particular shade of red is not the bright and vibrant crimson one might expect given his color name, but the color of partially congealed blood having just lost that bright, freshly spilled hue. The metallic sheen he possesses adds to the illusion of wet and tacky blood and makes it rather difficult for him to be particularly stealthy at night as he tends to reflect even the faintest of lights. Unlike the darker hue of his hide, the thin membrane of his too-small wings is the rich, vibrant color of freshly spilled blood—much like one would see if they pricked their finger—and semi-transparent though it is rare that light touched it to reveal such a trait. All in all, while not typical of the bright, almost gaudy appearance of most Crimsons, there is no way this wher would be mistaken for a blood, especially not with the almost ruby-like sheen he possesses.
Wher's Personality: Time has not mellowed this wher; he was born impulsive and more than a little volatile. Of course, being attached to Dalonia has brought a bit of control to his mercurial moods, but seeing as the woman encouraged his more violent inclinations he is not a wher you’d want to approach on your own. In fact, should anyone but Dalonia attempt to approach, feed or touch the Crimson, he is likely to draw blood or relieve said dimglow of their limbs. Dalonia is the only human that can cow Dalosk and that is as it should be.
Perhaps a bit more hostile towards firelizards and dragons than most whers, Dalosk, while not exactly possessive of Dalonia in the usual sense, will not tolerate little furry or flying creatures around her. In fact, the one time she attempted to get a kitten, the wher ate it. Some might find his attachment surprising given the fact that Dalonia all but loathes him and is at times abusive but dominance had been asserted from hatching and she is the one he follows.
As far as duty goes, Dalosk if very good at protecting what he is assigned to protect. Just as vigilant as his handler and able to see far better in the dark, he sends up his “fffuuuuuuu” alarm should anyone come within the acceptable distance of his post. Not really smart enough to understand duty, it is more of a territory thing and while his territory has recently changed; Dalonia will always be part of his territory as will the place she resides; whether she likes it or not.
Wher's History: From a Gold & Tiger clutch, Dalosk’s egg was given to Dalonia when it was near to hatching and after two months of grudging care, he burst forth into the world. After an ill-advised attempt to eat Dalonia’s arm—he was sure that was where the smell of raw meat was coming from—and being elbowed in the face a bond formed. His handler wasn’t soft and gushy like some of the others that he encountered later, nor was she gentle. More times than he could count—not that whers could count—the Crimson was whacked, slapped, punched or kicked when he did something not to the woman’s liking, but it never really hurt for long.
As he grew older, and larger, he developed just enough smarts to realize that it wasn’t his violence that Dalonia protested—no, she seemed to encourage that in a strange and twisted way—it was his general presence and any stray attempt he made to get close to her. After a turn, he accepted this and the two settled into a comfortable though unconventional partnership. He continued to grow and she continued to train him.
On occasion he got to meet Dalonia’s siblings and their friends, but he never really liked them; or anyone for that matter, which seemed to please his handler at least a little. He might not be the best wher on Pern, and she not the best handler, but they made do. Though now that they had been uprooted to an uncommonly warm location, things were changing between them. Dalonia stayed closer and he was beginning to feel a strange connection forming in his mind where before there were only glimpses of disgust and anger. Having no experience with this, Dalosk is more on edge than usual.