Zan Ri

Description

Here is a man who carries himself with easy confidence, sharp of gaze and quick of smile. He's not the tallest man, not the shortest, but hard work puts a certain physique to a guy. He's leanly muscled, though, not much bulk about him. Sun exposure makes for freckled skin and laugh-lines forming already on his face, while all over he's a bit pockmarked and scratched; the results of a life lived in adventure! His eyes are sharply blue and his hair kept at a manageable fluff of nondescript - and messy - brown, and there's more than a day or two of scruff on his jaw. In spite of his generally scrawny and underfed appearance, Zan'ri carries himself with his shoulders back, stride confident. Just…ignore the faint scent of gunpowder and nothing'll come to harm.
A worn, dark brown leather jacket hangs a little too large over Zan's shoulders, no matter the weather. His clothes aren't exactly the picture of finery, and more often than not have a hole or two in them. He wears a knot, sure — Iernite bronzerider — but it's in no sort of good shape. This guy is giving off some serious 'beach bum' vibes.


History

Zan'ri has a storied background, wide-ranging and entirely too complicated for him to tell at one sitting. Not that you'd really get anything out of him beyond 'Look at this nice beach', or maybe 'Did you know, I always wanted to be a bluerider, look at that big lug over there, does he look blue to you?' if you catch him on a whimsical day. Fate's been kind to the guy, for all that he did all that he could to challenge it. He was an awful boy, getting into trouble wherever he went, and causing more than his fair share of it. Fortian Weyrwomen of turns back might remember him, just a scrawny thing, a billiards shark before he was ten turns old. Kids in the Xanadian caverns likely still tell tales of the boy and who came back from the desert alive. Iernites roll their eyes, because they know their wayward Zan'ri, and have known him.
The short of it is: Zan'ri was born to a blue-green pair of Telgar, and his mother died when he was young. He and his father spent the next ten turns or so bouncing around Pern, gaining friends, Zan found a foster-family that didn't always want to throw him out on his behind. Ista was good for him, and Fort too. Igen, not really, he caused some trouble and got sent back to his father. Ierne, Xanadu, even High Reaches for a /brief/ stint, they all had the pleasure of the boy's company. He wasn't the worst, but he /was/ prone to accidentally starting riots, or expoding kitchens, or the occasional stampede of canines through caverns.
And then he and his best pal got themselves lost in the great barren deserts of the southern continent. It was an awful idea, and they paid dearly, lost to the world for several months. Zan came back quieter, more withdrawn — and while Esi eventually went back into the world, Impressed Sonyxaeth and found her place, well. He had always been difficult. Zan was reckless, and only his adoptive mother's kicking him out of the nest would move him; to a Candidacy at Telgar, his birthplace. Rymrth was entirely the wrong color, a bronze of all things, when Zan'ri had always intended to ride blue. Maybe green, if you backed him into a corner, but the wilful dragon wouldn't take 'no' for an answer.
He was a late Impression, was Zan'ri — nearly the age limit, and set in his ways enough that his Weyrlinghood was not easy. Rymrth was as stubborn and proud as he was, but louder, brash and wild and /loud/. Zan, a recluse for turns, was no easy sell on returning to his youthful brash nature. So it surprised exactly nobody when the pair split almost directly after graduation, fleeing out of the wary eyes of their classmates and the disappointed stares of those who'd expected more of them. Rymrth was not the biggest fan of the idea, but Zan'ri insisted, and they settled in at Ierne out of the public eye.
So 'beach bum'…really isn't exactly wrong. They do enough work to get by, but never more than is entirely necessary. It's a life, isn't it? It's Zan'ri's, anyways, and nobody's going to tell him how to live it.


Family

Name Relation Location Position Dragon
R'iahn Father Xanadu Weyr Bluerider Jaesriuth
O'rly Mother (adopted) Xanadu Weyr Greenrider Sanldoth
Zalana Mother Deceased Greenrider Zaivanth
Briahla Sister Fort Weyr JMan Healer N/A
Eilistra Sister Who knows? Trouble ???
Siaryn Brother Who knows? Trouble ???

Pets

Blue Firelizard Pest
Intense, bright blue is the trademark of this firelizard's hide. He's a living whip of a thing, all neck and tail and wings; when it comes to moving, he's as quick as they come - and maybe quicker. His hide is electric blue, streaked with shocking lines of near-white purple. His neckridges and headknobs practically spark with white-hot brilliance, matching his talons. His wings are a little darker than the rest of him, but only to serve as a backdrop for the static bursts of electric white and violet that explode upon them.

Old Demon Feline Princess
Princess is at least ten turns old. She has large patches of thinning hair, but the rest of it is long and frazzled. Her coat is black and sunburned, a brown shadow over her shoulders and back. Princess has one large, ominous golden eye — the other is lost with one of her forelegs and half of her tail. She looks very well-loved in spite of her protruding canine teeth and her permanent glare, perfectly healthy in weight and…terrifying mannerisms.

Fat Tomcat Egg
This cat looks like he follows dragons around, eating everything they leave behind. Everything. He's got short fur, little paws, and looks like he swallowed a ball of some sort. Or a dragon egg, as it were. Egg has very gentle blue eyes, fur that varies from klah-brown to cream, and a skinny little tail that follows after him held high. He's also a big feline, even more rangy then most, which makes his remarkable bulk more impressive.

Feral Feline Hoard
They all have names; Carob, Smoky, Dummy, Bow, Arrow, Bolt, Dimglow, Furball, Snowy, and Darling, to be exact. It's never clear which is which, because Zan'ri is the only person they can stand, and they're more likely to hide under Rymrth than be near anybody. They're long furred, short furred, and one has six toes on his forelegs. Snowy maybe? Who knows. Two have bits missing; an ear, part of a tail. None look like they've had a particularly easy life, but they've got it good now. Safe with the beach-hobo-cat-hoarder.


Dragon

Call Down the Thunder Bronze Rymrth
Rymrth is a beast of the ages, earth-shatteringly large, a creature comprised entirely of muscle and sinew. Molten bronze courses over his every inch, the bold and brassy color seeming to glow with its own ethereal light. It is only upon closer inspection that it becomes apparent that his coloration is not solid bronze as one might initially suspect - instead, the color is broken by darker mottlings of copper and feldspar. They sprinkle along his long, aquiline nose and jaw, creep and twine along the edges of his paws and battens in twisted Nordic patterns, and spatter along the inner lining of his wings, giving him a boyish yet serious edge all at once. In sunshine, his whole dynamic changes. Veritably blinding, his golden aura takes on a brilliant reddish sheen that moves and shifts like armor across his broad chest, craggy 'ridges, and wings, which billow around his shoulders like a cape when folded behind him. Expanded, said wings are positively monstrous, wide enough to rival a small gold's to make up for his hammer-like build.


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