N'den of Grey Nibeluth Jan 24, 2016 15:18:18 GMT -8
Post by Wycked on Jan 24, 2016 15:18:18 GMT -8
Name: Nayden Ruathaborn
Pronunciation: N-dehn, Nay(like hay)-dehn
Age: 43 Turns
Turnday: Unknown(roughly in northern hemisphere's Spring)
Theme Song: Carry On My Wayward Son and Short Change Hero
Voice: Sean Bean
Weyr: Rainbow Mists Weyr
Rank: Dragonhealer/surgeon, Rider
Faeden(F'den) Igenborn(Son/Igen Rider)
Ghost(White Firelizard)- Firstly mistaken as a plain, solid white, Ghost is in fact a queer color; almost opalescent in hue, there's a shifting shade when the light strikes him just right, as if he could potentially be of many colors. This is merely an illusion, albeit an interesting one that has led to many a person nearly poking him with their nose to decipher if he is indeed just plain white. Although considered rather short due to standards of measurement, Ghost is incredibly long in neck and tail, and is affectionately referred to as a 'tunnelsnake' by his bondmate. : Incredibly intelligent, Ghost is a sly, clever flitter. He's well-deserving of his name, often so still and quiet that most pass him by. On the shorter end of the size spectrum, he's wicked fast when motivated, but otherwise doesn't particularly bother with much. It's not uncommon, however, for the quiet 'lizard and his bonded to be caught in conversation, albeit lacking the intelligence and sustenance of conversation with a dragon or human, it's still a conversation that can be followed clearly with sharp images and sensations. He's the little 'king' of N'den's fair, and is ferociously protective of Dusk, especially when it comes time for her to Fly.
Dusk(Black Firelizard)- Black as pitch, there's little to mark Dusk apart from another Black save the lightening at her throat and undersails, and a subtle blue-ish hue to her. Her hide is glossy and sleek, unmarked by any scarring or imperfection; indeed, it's as shiny as looking into a pool of oil, and just as clingy. Unlike Ghost, she is rather compact with a thick neck and short tail(for her size), although she too is on the small side of the size spectrum for her color. : Haughty as can be, there's very little Dusk won't lift her nose to, and Faranth forbid if a speck of dirt stains her dark hide. Rather spoilt, Dusk isn't afraid to throw the Weyr's largest hissyfit if things don't go her way... unless Ghost or another male she favors is near. Then, she is as ladylike as can be, dainty and serene, with a regal carriage as if her hide shone Gold. Not intelligent in the slightest, she would swiftly flicker from one distraction to another if not kept in line, and her mental speech is fuzzy and distorted at best.
Appearance: An older man, N'dren almost always seems rather.. mournful. With downward-slanted eyes and weary bags beneath, it's not uncommon for the man to seem sorrowful about something, at least until he's asked about it. He comes in rather short at about 5.7ft, although some remark that he always seems taller than what he actually is. N'den always seems to be in a state of disarray; his grey-streaked brown hair is often tousled and unkempt, and if there's not a 5-o'clock shadow on his jaw, it's full-blown greyed scruff. A faint scar crosses his lip, and the backs of his hands and arms are riddled with silvery scars from pained firelizards, irritable whers and clumsy dragons. In terms of age, he's done it well with wrinkles only really at the corner of his eyes, and his tanned skin is still a healthy color. His eyes are sharp, however, and in the dark are a sort of ruddy-brown, but when time is spent out in the sunlight they brighten to an almost gold color, and his bond is firm enough with Nibeluth that whenever his dragon is feeling an emotion sharply, flecks of his dragon's eye color appear in his irises. In terms of clothing he dresses like any other Rider(example), though the leather of his coat is worn and stained, faded in some places and torn(and shoddily patched) in others. Even though he's a Healer by choice, there's always a simple knife hidden on his person. Hard to break some habits.
Personality: See this man? Yeah? See that chestnut? Yeah? Well, the two are one of the same. Prickly, a pain in the arse to deal with, and overall irritating on the outside, yet tender, rich and enjoyable on the inside, N'dren is a bit of a stern grouch... okay, very much a grouch. When it comes to certain things such as his Craft, it's his way or you can walk your pretty little self on out, and the world is black and white in terms of right and wrong when it comes to Healing; either you help the patient and the patient survives, or you made an error and the patient is injured further or worse. He enjoys order, despises chaos, and although isn't one to really enjoy the company of overly-happy people, he does enjoy the company of others. That being said, due to his age he finds little similarity to him and the weyrlings he spent two Turns with or anyone below thirty Turns to be honest. However, when one pushes past his prickly exterior... N'den is a solid companion, a stoic rock always ready and able to stand and block you away from the world and it's woes with his flesh and blood. He's quick to defend the helpless with words or fist(though the latter takes some serious situation to emerge), he speaks honestly although never cruelly, and when the world is black and miserable, he's there to return you to the light. Although he can't stand the antics of children and youths(he likes to complain he's too old, though has no problem running laps to keep in shape), he's always the first to defend them in a fight. Had there been anyone from Earth, they would have likened him to a battle-weary knight in dented and rusted armor who still stands and fights for what he believes in, and they would not be far from the truth. The man may be a Healer, but there was once a time where he was a fighter first, and that urge is never quite far from the surface(although war can suck it, too much pointless death and broken youths for it to ever be worth it).
History: The life of a Renegade or Holdless is a hard one, and that harsh world is what Nayden was born into. His family group remained in Ruatha Hold only until he no longer suckled before they moved on, and the boy was riding runnerbeasts before he could walk, feeding whers and runners before he could talk, and fighting alongside wherhandlers from various dangers before he ever reached manhood. It aged him quicker than he should have, although when he reflects upon his youth there's an almost longing to return to the nomadic lifestyle. For most of his teenage years he and his family wandered Pern, at least until they reached Igen Hold. There Nayden was Searched as a potential Candidate, and almost before he could blink he found himself in a Weyr. Culture shock hit the boy hard, and it's quite possible he could have gone mad or become a troublemaker had it not been for the Rider that Searched him; Faenna of Blue Rinnuth. She wasn't much older than he, although was far haughtier and often commented that Nayden, as a former Renegade, was beneath her. So of course they fell in love, it was that storybook kind of love that young girls dreamed of, that young boys went 'eww' too, but Nayden and Faenna didn't really care for that. When Nayden aged out of Candidacy, it was Faenna who persuaded him to remain at the Weyr and pursue a Craft, rather than to return to his nomadic family. For a span he flickered from Craft to Craft, until oddly enough(and of great surprise to himself) he found a place in the infirmary, and though he lacked the patience for human patients, he showed a knack for dragonkin. He may not have Impressed, but he had a firm bond with two firelizards Faenna had given him(as a consolation she claims, as a birthday gift he says), and had a mental fortitude and assertion to keep most draconic patients in line. They brought two children into the world, a set of twins that were the pride and joy of his life, moreso when the pair pursued Candidacy.
Then the day came that Rinnuth chased a Queen, and came close to catching her... close enough that a Bronze, in the madness of Flight lust, set to him and split him from chest to tail. Rinnuth was not dead yet five minutes before Faenna flung herself from the weyrbowl, even despite all Nayden did to stop her short of falling after her himself. It was his children alone that kept Nayden from becoming inconsolable, although he threw himself into his Craft with a worrisome fervor, reaching Masterhealer status by thirty. Then the final blow came when the very Queen who's Flight lead to the death of Faenna took another piece of Nayden's soul, albeit indirectly. A dragonet mauled his daughter Naenna beyond aid, even as another Impressed to Faeden, now F'den. Nayden could handle it no longer, and without a word of farewell to his son he put in a transfer and was shifted to Rainbow Mists Weyr, even despite the growing tensions. He ignored it all, sunk within walls of grief, his Craft and his 'lizards the only thing he clung to for sanity. Slowly he began fixing himself, starting with letting Faenna go at last, then Naenna.
It was odd for him to attend a Hatching, they were places ripe with memories; from Faenna cheering him on from the Stands to the blood-soaked sands when Naenna fell beneath a dragonet's claws. Yet one clutch he decided to attend, to stand by off the Sands to tend to any injured dragonets, and there were injuries... and wonder. A small Grey had been mauled by a mutated dragonet, and as it stumbled across the sands keening, Nayden found himself crossing the sands towards it without ever really knowing why save that it was in agony and no one was helping it.
It was then he ceased to be Nayden, and became N'den of Grey Nibeluth.
Adoption?: No please. If I vanish, feel free to have him NPC for a while, or even transferred to an off-scene Weyr. Sometimes life takes me away unexpectedly, although now that's a rare occurrence.
Dragon's Name: Nibeluth
Dragon’s Gender: Male
Dragon's Age: 3 Turns
Dragon's Color: Grey #7c7c7c
Dragon's Voice: Deep and slow, like a wide river, his voice slides through one's mind with the consistency and richness of honey. When excited his voice deepens further, and he rarely 'speaks' above a quiet tone, and otherwise his speech almost mirrors that of N'dren in accent and rhythm.
Dragon's Theme: Momma Sed
Dragon's Appearance: A cloudy sort of grey similar to a Terran shark, there's little to no shine to Nibeluth's hide, and aside from a lightening at his chest, and a darkening upon his spine, he's utterly... well, grey. Nibeluth has long scars across his face and neck from the day of his Hatching, and they tend to be a sore subject when brought up. As an adult he stands 19 feet, not the largest of his color yet not the smallest, and his build is rather odd; his legs are long but thick, his neck short but powerful, with a graceful arch, and his tail is lean and whip-like. His tucked stomach gives him an almost racer-like appearance, but his wings are short and broad. Perhaps he could have been considered handsome, his face certainly used to be so, but the scarring across his face ruined any chances of him being considered such. It's a little difficult for him to see out of his right eye; his vision is blurry and indistinct, although as he grew it bothered him less and less it still startles him when something comes too quick too close to his right.
Dragon's Personality: He fears judgement from those who don't know him and needs to be told that those people or dragons over there aren't looking at him funny - they probably aren't even looking at him at all. Nibeluth is uneasy about trying new things but does alright around others if they don't bring up his scars. Very quiet and reserved, Nibeluth like all Greys can easily pick up negativity from his Rider, although unlike some it's seen as a good thing between the two, especially given N'den's tendency to turtle up when something negative comes to light. Honest and honorable, Nibeluth shies away from falsehoods and half-truths, viewing them with a rather strong dislike, and greatly disapproves of lies from His, and although he may fear what others think of him, there's not a single dragon Nibeluth wouldn't stand beside and lay his life down for... though those who remark at his scarring might find him a bit more hesitant. However, hazed dragons will find no such loyalty from him; due to the events of his Hatching, Nibeluth has a terror of the hazed colors, and will go into a panic barely even N'den can calm him down from. It's perhaps one of the few times the normally timid dragon will flip hostile. He has a quiet spot for his sister Indauth, though regards most of his other siblings with a wary eye.
Dragon's History: - born to Gold Archith and Flame Ancalanath, mauled at hatching by a hazed dragonet.
Sample: Nayden wasn't quite sure why he was here... he disliked Hatching Sands, they weren't exactly his favorite place to be on a normal day, let alone a Hatching where he was forced to stand by as children faced danger for what? To become a Rider? To belong with a dragon? Nayden wasn't quite sure it was worth it, perhaps once he was hopeful for such a bond, but after so many years such a hope was broken in light of a more... realistic approach. Would it deter an Impression to give the Candidates protection beneath those white robes? Leather or thick cloth or something... perhaps that was just him reacting off the helplessness as children, their faces bright and eager in the face of danger from four-legged children. Nayden watched, helpless as they marched one by one onto the sands.
It was dark and cramped now... and he did not like it. It was time to go, to see what was beyond... what if it was bad? But, would he ever know? He could hear Archith humming, calling, and he began fighting to break free, light cracking into the darkness. Harder he rocked, kicking and clawing and shoving. Harder, harder...
In an explosion of goop and shell the grey tumbled forth unceremoniously onto the sands, although luckily he wasn't alone. A sister, white and pretty, was born with him, and once the little grey got his feet under him he strode along with her to the waiting Candidates... though he wasn't sure why. Hunger clawed at him, hunger and an... urge. For what? The grey paused to consider it, and as he did a boy ran past, making noises and hitting one of the eggs. Curious the grey turned and watched, head sneaking closer to peer at the odd scene. The egg hatched, and in the midst of everyone's horror he simply greeted the new sibling. He didn't see how wrong she was, not at first. Not until she lunged, and her claws tore into his flesh.
Screaming, the grey fell back, ichor dripping into his eyes as he stumbled, keening, reeling with pain. Screaming for help, he staggered about half-blind, sister and white-robed humans forgotten in lieu of the agony seared across his face and neck.
He didn't want to die.
Nayden wasn't the only one to stare in horror at the malformed dragonet, a thick lump in his throat. "Sweet Faranth..." He choked quietly beneath hushed breath. Such a thing... to Impress to a hatchling that could not live past it's birth... for surely there was no way to survive such a thing? It was a tragedy he longed to turn away from. That horror only grew as the doomed dragonet attacked, it's claws tearing into a small Grey that had gotten too close. It's screams were terrible as it scrambled away, green-blue ichor dripping down it's face and throat. He didn't think it strange as he broke away from the crowd, not at first, not until he found himself vaulting off the Stands and sprinting past the Candidates, past them all towards that little Grey still crying for help.
Sand flew as he crashed to his knees, any pain brought by the movement unfelt as he reached out, strong hands pulling the small child close, his arched body shielding him from the world around them. The Grey quieted, and Nayden pulled back, fearing he had left the world behind.
Eyes locked with swirling facets of yellow, white and red.
N'den... It hurts. His Nibeluth whimpered, and it was not the Grey alone who had trouble seeing as N'den gently wiped away the ichor from the wounds. I know, but I'm here now. No one will ever hurt you again. Damn what anyone thought. Damn them all, they stood by as his Nibeluth called for aid, stood by and refused to help. If he could be distracted from Nibeluth, N'den would have turned and yelled his fury to them all. But no, his dragonet needed him.
N'den bundled up Nibeluth in his arms and carried him away from the soaked Sands, singing softly to him all the while.
I will be watching over you
I am gonna help you see it through
I will protect you in the night
I am smiling next to you