|Current Home||Ista Weyr|
|Place of Birth||Kahrain Outskirts|
Dirty blond hair cropped short adorns this young man's head save for long stands around his eyes, roughly ruffled in various directions and left to the winds design rather than being combed in a neat and orderly fashion. Piercing eyes of ice blue hues seem to be the most dominant feature of this mans face, rivaling paleness as if it's almost the softest powder white, his skin is rich in warm hues and well tanned from working under the days light over the turns. Every part of his form is otherwise average at most, his height tall and tone slightly muscular.
Well tailored cloth dyed in the darkest Harper blue make up the long sleeved shirt resting loosely about his arms and shoulders and ending tucked within a pair of simple black pants. Sleeves are wrinkled from being constantly rolled up out of the way to elbows. Tied around his neck is a band of raven leather in the form of a collar, nothing more than a decorative piece at best with tassels running past this young man's shoulders. Finishing off this attire is a pair of leather boots, faded and well worn from turns of use.
As with the lives of many a trader, the beginning usually starts out the same with many families traveling across the wilderness in their massive ornate wagons pulled ahead by burdened beasts. Early into the morning or late into the night they sometimes stop to conduct their business or to lay the children down to rest until their little hands and fingers are needed to work. In some cases, they are laid down for the first time, never having seen the flickering light of candles or the dim glows in baskets, feeling the sensation of material beneath their skin and that is the case with Sororn. Born on a cool summer night just outside of Kahrain, he was the last of thirteen children born to Soryn before she died in childbirth. It was suprising the petite woman lasted as long as she did with as many as she popped out but it's one of the many secrets only the trading folk know and would never admit to.
Lorn now had his hands full with his first and last son with the woman, her other twelve fathered by other men she came across over the turns. With a wagon full of children raised by the Caravan, he was able to put in a little more time into his Sororn. Making wares to sell to various folk was how life went and as Sororn grew older, he was given task of assisting with the making of trinkets. Simple pieces of jewelry made and shaped with wire and well braided cords, glittering with pieces of smooth sea glass and homemade beads from the other families. Living together was a group effort and so was the work that came with it and over the turns that's how things went. As he grew older and was considered mature enough, young Sororn was allowed to wander closer and sometimes into the weyrs to spread a little business and make his familie's wagon known. Word of mouth is always the best form of advertisement and with a youth who's mouth runs more than a waterfall at some moments, it's a curse and blessing all the same. Blessing when it's shut, curse when it's open that is.
It wasn't long before he was finally picked up on search and brought to the warmth of Western Weyr. It was difficult leaving his loved ones behind but the break from the hustle of the caravan was a welcome one. With the blessing of his family and the leader, he spent his time keeping busy and his best out of trouble throughout candidacy. When Nieleth's hardening eggs finally came to hatch and the young dragons found their offspring, he was left standing but it didn't bring him down. To be able to stand on the hatching sands and see the union of dragon and rider before his eyes was a memory he'd never forget and a story cheerfully told to the trader's many children. Before stepping off of those hatching grounds, he was greeted by the sight of his family and Veredis, his cousin holding up a bottle and pointing to himself. "Yeah, yeah. You win, Ver. I'm coming." Nothing wrong with a friendly bet between family. While the caravan tends to linger on other lands, Sororn chose to stay in Western as a scout for precious materials, sending them back to his families wagons or personally returning himself on dragonback to deliver the goods himself. He also does minor commissions based on what he can do himself remotely from his families workshop, often sending marks home for more supplies and to support his father.
Sororn is child number thirteen in the Faust Clan, traveling with the Resk Caravan. The Faust clan are known for their jewelry and bobbles made from homemade pieces. They don't deal with precious stones since there is only so much you can do with shiny rocks. Charming is the key, using homemade and reused items allows more room for creativity and that personal touch. The Clan is run by his father Lorn, seconded by the eldest child Sofi. The children are taken into settlements to find materials where the adults deal with the business and creations of their wares. Elders mind the wagon and those too young to work or too old to do anything.
|Wilson||Favorite Stuffie||Western Weyr||Stuffie|
|Qiana||Former Weyrmate||Western Weyr||BEC Journeyman|
|Sundari||Former Weyrmate||Half Moon Bay Weyr||Weyrlingmaster|
|Sarina||Daughter||Half Moon Bay Weyr||Mother: Sundari|
And too many siblings to mention…
This stuffie dragon is kind of blocky, but only by nature of the large blocks of fabric used to construct him. The eye is on color rather than design here. The dragon itself seems almost lumpy, but each color taken in itself… there's sapphire and ruby and emerald… Certainly the stash was raided for the most gem-like fabrics. The largest section of fabric is a pale green-blue, reminiscent of the sea. Peeking from under the tail is a tag that reads: - To Sororn, from Keelyra and Idris.
Wilson has some sort of soul sucking capability.
This hatchling is perfect in proportion from the tip of it's little nose to the slender wisp of her tail. Her form seems to erupt in heavenly shades of jade, smooth and creamy yet vibrant to the observer. True Jade is not without it's flaws; on delecate wing sails, in cool tentrils of light are hints of gentle cream, daring to emerge upon the surface. The same milky hues claims tiny talons on little claws, giving this ornate flit a charming appearance.
While the illusion of his coloration might either be brown or blue depending on the light, the deception is plays out in the visible electric blue that lines the edges of his wingsails, and further inspection reveals the depth and shade of his true coloration. When viewed just so, indigo highlights play over his hide overlain with an oily patina that might confuse the eye into perceiving umber tones, particularly in light of his impressive size for one of his color. His wingsails, of a rather more yellow-blue coloration than his body are nearly transparent, their color still able to be distinguished however and a spot of that some hue stains his lips right at the end of his muzzle. Orange-bronze with blue streaks appears briefly along his hunches before giving way to a short blue tail with highlights of gold.
Noble and aristocratic is this brown firelizard, every bit of his lean and well-sculpted frame designed to be appealing to the eye. This is purposeful, of course, and meant to distract from the covetous glint in his eyes and the fact that his digits are long and talons too clever for their own good. His hide is sumptuous, rich medium brown silk made into hide and fitted perfectly to his form with nary a blemish or wrinkle. Such a well-tailored hide is matched by the impression of a gold- and bronze-embroidered brocade upon his wings, creating a fitting cloak — as either an accessory or a means of hiding what ill-gotten gains he has received. Ebon-dark talons nearly always appear freshly polished and sharpened, something that might be a fitting finale if one did not take a glance at his tail. That appendage is a twist of brown silk, parted and pulled in haste as if to reveal what truly lies beneath in fleeting glimpses of unpleasant, oiled darkness.
Caught Drinking in the Bramble Brown Nyzieroth
Matted tendrils of thick russet bramble claw their way over this dragon's excessively large feet, twisting with each of digit before moving up along his trim legs. Their twisted trek continues, winding up his sides before lashing across his back, between his wings, appearing to tie him down. Each dark rope is adorned with sharp thorns, thrusting in every direction, but the dragon's hide is unscathed, a flawless sticky caramel slips beneath these 'ropes' and coats his entire body. His distinctly rounded head, smooth around his jaws, seems flawed, as only one, not two headknobs can really be made out. His right side is home to a deformed knob. This elongated knob is tweaked in such a way that that it stands nearly straight up before it bubbles out into a more spherical shape at the end. It's only if one looks closely at the other side that a regular looking knob can be found, pushed against his skull and nearly invisible due to its perfect coloration. While there is no question that this brown is large, his lithe body sprawls out in length and not in bulk. Muscles stay mostly concealed beneath his ecru coated skin, hiding strength that is sure to exist. Two almost stubby wings are kept close to his body, but when extended, they expand to the perfect length, clad across the top in molten caramel. Streaks of silver can only be seen from beneath, glinting in the rays of the sun if the angle hits just right. His tail is average in length, darkening to a chocolate as the length continues until an unexpected splash of myrtle cuts across the spade at the end.