Post by Katy on Mar 19, 2008 17:13:17 GMT -5
General Information
Name: L'ral (Lovaral)
Age: 35 Turns
Gender: Male
Sexuality: Heterosexual
Rank: Weyrlingmaster
Appearance
Hair: Dark brown
Eyes: Blue/green
Height: 6' 2"
Over-All: L'ral is, in many ways, a commanding man. He insists on proper posture (he considers slouching a mark of laziness, and thus poor character), which only adds emphasis to his already imposing six foot, two inch frame. He's solidly built, and impressively fit for a man his age. He leads a very active lifestyle, which keeps his muscles toned, and the paunch that hovers at his waistline from drastically enlarging. His youthful metabolism has faded with the years, which makes it necessary for him to put extra effort into remaining slim. His movements are utterly devoid of grace, but he does move with precision; he makes large gestures, and moves with an energetic officiousness that suggests he's always trying to get something done.
L'ral has always possessed looks with a rough appeal. Though his features were slightly awkward on him in his younger years, he's matured into them quite well. Everything in his broad face is large, but well-proportioned, with no particular part detracting from the union of the whole. His jaw his square, and, like the rest of him, meticulously well-groomed; he would never allow himself in public with so much as a trace of visible facial hair. His nose is wide and crooked across the bridge, the result of the bone being poorly reset after a particularly bad break. His face-- once perpetually reddened from constant exposure to Rukbat's unrelenting rays-- is deeply tanned, colored a dusky bronze; his skin bears no freckles, but a pale white scar bisects his right eyebrow exactly in half. His eyes are wide, and deep-set. The irises are a shade somewhere between blue and green, a color reminiscent of rocks covered with lush moss right directly below the surface of tropical water. His left iris has a small patch of murky brown kept almost completely concealed by his eye-lid. His eyebrows are thick and dark, with a natural, subtle arch not found on many men.
L'ral's hair is dark brown; he caters to his vanities by eliminating gray hairs in the easiest way he knows how-- keeping his locks shorn very short, close to the skull, in a uniform, Pernese buzz-cut of sorts.
L'ral prefers clothes he can work in, comfortable attire. He can most always be found in riding gear; the outfit of a dragonrider has become his everyday uniform, one that he has great respect and affection for.
Personality
L'ral is a constant flurry of activity. He's all action and efficiency, barely bothering to pause as he transitions from one task to the next. He exudes authority; he's used to receiving the proper level of attention. He's pure business-- he believes in getting things done, and getting them done right. He's always been ambitious. In his earlier years, he had his sights set on a Weyrleadership, but he quickly became aware of what he was best at: teaching. Duty is the driving force behind everything the man does; he's found his purpose in serving Sanctum.
Sometimes viewed as unfriendly, L'ral simply has no time for humor. He has little patience for foolishness, and cannot tolerate laziness of disinterest. He demands respect, and his demeanor alone insures that he gets it. He's a bit too serious for his own good, but only because he understands the demands and significance of his position all too well. He's devoted beyond measure to both his dragon and his job. In front of a group of Weyrlings, the man is pure confidence; he possesses the assurance and knowledge gleaned from years of hard-won experience. When not teaching, the man is thrown hopelessly out of his element; if encountered in the dining hall, or the common walkways of the Weyr, the rider is reserved and distant. When left on his own, without a point to convey, or a lesson to teach, he's painfully shy. He finds women particularly intimidating. He prefers to keep company with his dragons, and the few close friends he's known since his own days as a Weyrling.
L'ral doesn't settle. He holds himself to rigorous standards, and imposes the same expectations on all those who cross his path. He will do whatever it takes to exact perfection from those he encounters; he's not afraid to push people's limits to draw forth their best efforts. He's constantly on his "best behavior," which gives him a reputation of being a bit boring. He's perfectly happy with the life he leads; he's genuinely content with where he's at in life.
History
L'ral (originally Lovaral) was born in Sanctum Weyr, the product of a single night's encounter. His mother's blue caught his father's green; their flightlust happened to result in a child. Neither were terribly enthusiastic about the boy's birth-- his mother lamented the loss of her shape, his father mourned his rapidly abating freedom. The pair, having agreed after the flight that they were in no way interested in drawing out the chance relationship, also agreed that the boy would be far better off in the hands of a foster than in those of indifferent biological parents. He grew up learning about Sanctum, growing to love its inhabitants. His devotion to the Weyr was ingrained practically from birth; it might as well have been an innate quality, flaring into existence the moment he did. Sanctum's Headwoman adored him; she quickly took him under her wing, providing him with the only true maternal figure he'd have throughout his childhood. He, in turn, idolized the woman; much of his efficient, hard-working nature stems from having spent years watching the woman go about her own duties. He steered clear of most of the other Weyrbrats, in a wasted effort to stay out of trouble. All his aloofness earned him was the added annoyance of providing a target for their pranks.
He entered into candidacy as soon as he was allowed, at the age of 14 turns. In his adolescence, he was quite a dreamer; he entertained fantasies of Weyrleadership, of leading Sanctum to greatness. The older he became, the more his practicality set in-- he slowly became willing to admit that, perhaps, he wasn't meant for the grandeur he had had in mind. Still, he stood unsuccessfully through two clutches, silently hoping that one of the bronzes stumbling through broken shards of egg would find him suitable. It never happened. Instead, as he was nearing 17 turns of age, he stood for a third time. It was at this Hatching that a charming brown emerged from his shell and scrambled, without hesitation, to head-butt the boy in his shin, eyes whirling the with a stunning combination of colors that L'ral would quickly learn to recognize as signifying amusement.
Why so serious, L'ral? Inadiroth is here now.
With that, all thoughts of bronzes, all lofty aspirations, flew unbidden from L'ral's mind. Browns were perfect.
Of course we are! Now, feed me before I decide you look like a suitable snack.
L'ral devoted every waking moment to Inadiroth. He was perfectly content filling his life with nothing but the brown, until his knowledge and manner was noted by another rider-- the Weyrlingmaster. He was appointed the man's assistant, and spent the next few turns helping manage rowdy groups of Weyrlings. Before long, L'ral's skills far exceeded those of the man he was working under. The Weyrlingmaster (after decades of exhausting service to the Weyr's least experienced riders) had been long looking forward to retirement. He promoted L'ral, and left him with his new position, and a few words of hastily bequeathed advice. The brownrider wasted little time; he began making the changes to the lessons he had always wanted to, intent on training the Weyrlings as well as possible. Most recently, he has settled into waiting for the Hatching of Freseath and Ruinith's clutch, anticipating his newest batch of charges with equal excitement and dread.
FOR DRAGONRIDERS:
Name: Inadiroth
Age: 17 Turns
Color: Brown
Description: Inadiroth is a very handsome brown. One of the largest in Sanctum Weyr, he appears to be composed solely of pure muscle-mass, the result of constant training with his rider. His hide is always oiled to perfection; dry spots simply don't exist on the dragon's toned body-- a testament to L'ral's attentiveness. He's rich in hue, with a coloring the shade of pure, unadulterated chocolate. Underneath his chin, and on the underside of his tail, he's a lighter, almond brown. Swirls and streaks of mahogany and rusty bronze, along with lighter sepia tones flow seamlessly into the darkness of his torso and wings.
Personality: Inadiroth provides the perfect balance to his rider's nature. Witty and sardonic, the dragon has humor to spare. He's made it his goal to lighten L'ral up, provide his life with the playfulness it's so lacking. The brown is delightfully sociable; he loves people. Though some dragons prefer to speak only with their Bondeds, Inadiroth often makes remarks to the Weyrlings his rider teaches, attempting to soften the man in their eyes. The brown knows when the proper time is to be serious; he's completely reliable, as browns generally are. He's accustomed to hard work and tireless practice, and has grown to enjoy his constant training. He wishes only to please L'ral.
