Dragonhealer S'lain, rider of Blue Jaxith Mar 29, 2010 19:07:18 GMT -5
Post by Rouxy on Mar 29, 2010 19:07:18 GMT -5
Sexual Orientation: Bisexual
Occupation: Wingrinder, Journeyman Dragonhealer, Bluerider
Description: Fairly tall, S’lain stands some 6’2”, a well muscled figure of a man with wide shoulders and narrow hips that easily support long legs and a single arm with a broad nimble hand; the body of a swimmer and sprinter. Being neither by profession, his skin in deeply tanned from time on the wing, broad splashes of barely darker freckles still casting a childish look to him. His missing right arm was lost to a feline attack some years ago, a ragged cut above the elbow that had to be further amputated back to his shoulder, leaving that side of his body a mess of scar tissue. His hair, originally an even-toned dark brown, has been bleached to a much lighter sandy hue in variegated streaks along the top. The bangs are short enough to never block his view, while the majority has been cut to end just at the base of his neck, protecting it from the sun and the harsh cold of Between.
His eyes are a light grey color, sometimes switching with the light to a more blue hue, however one eye is a bit milky, with scars covering the flesh around it in evidence as to why. The scars run in two lines, from just at his temple on the right hand side down to the curve of his jaw. The smaller of the two scars crosses his eye, leaving him partially blind on that side, able to see only vague colors and movement. His movement and habits have altered due to his injuries, and S’lain tends to keep walls and other obstructions to his blind side as subconscious protection against being surprised by someone or something slipping into his blurred spot.
Personality: S’lain is fairly sensible, with a usually easy smile, but a sometimes haunted look to his face. Because of his upbringing, he is well educated, and loves it. He won’t go so far as to rub it in the faces of everyone, but it is relatively easy to start him animatedly talking on a subject, only to never hear the end of what he knows about it. He is especially vociferous in his main subject of study – dragon anatomy and healing. He will generally partake in jokes and laughter, though it does not come as easily as it once did.
The incident in which he gained his initial set of scars across his eye significantly changed his attitude towards life and flying. Before, he was known as a bit of a trouble maker, and an unnecessary risk taker. To some, the change to a more somber, serious Rider was a good one, and just in time for the impending threat of thread. Any daring do was now done with careful thought and consideration, though no hesitation was given when another rider’s life lay on the line. He has taken scars meant for others without regret, and likely will do so again if it is in his power to assist.
S’lain hates being surprised, especially on his blind side, and will react violently if he doesn’t recognize the ‘threat’ before his fist connects with it. His reactions are bred from his multiple brushes with felines, and a period of time spent honing fighting skills in other Weyrs. Even after the loss of his right arm, he is still a proficient dragonhealer, and refuses to allow the loss impede his work. Jaxith’s telekinetic skills are especially honed for small objects, and the blue has had years of practice helping S’lain where another hand would be needed.
History: Born in Fort Weyr, S’lain’s mother, Kairina, was the leading influence in his life for the first twelve years. His father, Jeoffry was mostly absent, a trader specializing in the roads traversing the dangerous jungles of the Southern Continent. Kairina’s specialty was healing, of the human variety. A Master healer, she often brought S’lain, then known as Syrolain, with her when she practiced her craft.
Fascinated by the healing craft, Syrolain was apprenticed to his mother at ten, and found an aptitude for it. His hands, already too large for his growing body, were adept at the grinding of herbs and the delicate packing of a wound, or setting of a bone. Each of these lessons his mother taught him, demonstrating with each other the proper way to wrap an injury. Still an apprentice, he was not allowed to do such on an actual patient, but he watched his mother’s every move, cataloguing it for later reference.
Around the age of 13, a rider friend of his mother posed a thought to the both of him. Syrolain was still young enough to start on the dragon healing path, and despite the fact that it was not a much needed craft at the time, without the injuries sustained from Thread, injuries still occurred nevertheless during a queen’s Rise, or the various recon missions going deeper south. Their friend went on to say that as a candidate, he would be able to even further the craft, continuously emerging himself in the ‘how to’s’ and ‘what for’s’ of the dragon body. He didn’t need to mention that they were always looking for more candidates to save the hatchlings from going Between. It was intriguing, and rising to the perceived challenge, Syrolain had to say yes under those circumstances. Though unusual for a candidate to continue training in a craft alongside his potential rider training, Syrolain’s mother was able to impress his aptitude for the healing arts upon the leading Master at the Weyr, who grudgingly accepted him. Though quite different from the ways to heal humans, his natural abilities sprang forth and soon the master was privately looking forward to the day when he would join the fold, rather than become a rider.
It was tough learning twice the lessons usually required of a candidate, but in this environment, Syrolain flourished and blossomed. Blossomed into a prankster that is. More than one prank pulled on the older candidates was masterminded by Syrolain, for which he got caught most of the time. For the rest, he claimed it was worth it to see the older, and sometimes bossier, candidates brought down a peg.
It was thus that he came into the hatching grounds half a turn later with a better than average understanding of the magnificent creatures he had come to love. Excitement thrilled through him as the thrumming of the many numbered dragons drummed all the way to his over-warm toes in the too thin sandals. Everything was bright and warm, and he was glad for the white robes, which were a bit thin but blessedly airy.
A few eggs began to rock, and the hatching began with a frenzy as three hatchlings broke through almost at the same time. Hatchlings stumbled about everywhere, finding their chosen and ambling off the get stuffed with fresh meat.
With the hatching of the last two eggs, Syrolain was still standing in line with the remaining candidates, fear in his heart that he would not impress. It was with a sinking feeling that he watched the last male, a small brown, stumble into the arms of the boy two spaces down from him. A sense of envy overcame him as he watched the boy’s face change into wonderment at the new feeling of having a mind partner.
The hatching ended, leaving Syrolain unsure of what he wanted to do next. It was not uncommon for candidates to stand for multiple hatchings, but it certainly was heart wrenching.
Three turns passed, and during this time Syrolain’s confidence as a dragon healer grew as his confidence in becoming a rider wavered. Standing through two more hatchings left him feeling empty, and soon it became obvious that his chances were dwindling. At 17, he only had a few more years, and he wasn’t certain he could continue to face the rejections.
His fourth, and perhaps last hatching dawned uneventful as he once again put on the white robes and too thin sandals. Shuffling out, he caught the edge of excitement, but attempted to not let it grab a true hold on him. He’d taken too many disappointments to truly immerse himself in the experience to only yet again find himself sunk in depression afterwards.
Lining up in the now familiar pattern, Syrolain started listing the parts of a dragon’s body to himself while the thrumming of the dragons gained in pitch, matching that ‘hatching’ level he could now recognize with ease.
The hatching was well on its way, with three dragons impressed and one moving towards the line when two more eggs decided at that time to let their occupants out. A large, mottled egg let loose a bronze a bit bigger than the first brown with a crack, and it was followed shortly by the appearance of another blue, larger than the first. With a muted keen, the bronze made its way over to the assembled boys, while the blue moved towards the girls initially, then turned to also lurch towards the line of boys. Syrolain found that without noticing, he’d begun to hope again, and his eyes remained trained on each hatchling. The small bronze stumbled through the line of male candidates as he reached it, startling many of the boys into moving away from him. Searching about with swirling eyes, he then stepped confidently over to a boy just next to Syrolain. His hopes fell again, his attention on the bronze, until something brushed none too gently against his side. Syrolain looked down into the swirling eyes of the large blue hatchling, who chirped upon being noticed, a higher pitched thrumming coming from his small, wet body.
Mine! I have found you. I am your Jaxith. Be happy. The words blossomed in his mind along with a vivid burst of color. Soothing blue, with a touch of red anger at whatever had his chosen so unhappy. That bright head tilted to the side, and S’lain was lost to words, kneeling down to encompass the hatchling in a hug. The small blue pressed up against him in a comforting way, and S’lain almost forgot what to do before the hatchling urgently reminded him.
Becoming a dragon healer soon took second seat to Jaxith and the life of a Rider. His training was continuous, and only in his spare time could he continue to learn more about healing. In this way, Jaxith grew into adulthood, with S’lain right on his heels. It was a couple of years later that S’lain was finally able to become a journeyman healer. At this point in his life, he began to journey to the other Weyrs, leaving Fort behind as he found healing jobs and training elsewhere. His mother was terribly proud of her son, and encouraged him to continue his journeyman training when he could. It’d odd how fate makes these decisions in a person’s life, for his knowledge would be put to the test all too soon. It was early in his fourth year as a rider that news of his family reached him, via runner. Paying an extended visit to Southern Hold, an urgent letter arrived concerning his father. Behind schedule at the Weyr, his wagon train was supposed to have arrived two weeks ago. A thrill of fear for his father ran through him, and S’lain quickly flew to the Weyr. A search was organized, though many believed he’d been claimed by the jungle, a fate that was overdue for someone in his line of business. S’lain would hear nothing of it, and threw himself into the search.
Two days passed with no signs, when the third day yielded results of the kind S’lain had dreaded to see. The scattered supplies were what caught his attention, and he signaled Jaxith to wing over the spot. Seeing nothing immediately dangerous, they landed in a nearby clearing large enough to hold Jaxith’s fully grown bulk. Walking sedately to the scene, S’lain composed himself before truly taking in what he saw. It was obvious that a large predator, or several large predators, had caught them unawares. The small traveling tents were trampled, but open as if they’d once been erect. There were no bodies, but splashes of old blood were dried upon the ground in spattered brown sheets. It was unlikely that any of the party members even survived long enough to run.
Taking a deep breath, S’lain accepted the fact that his father was dead. Not a moment later, a ferocious roar split the jungle as five tan colored felines leapt out of the surrounding brush towards the two. Splitting up, only a single feline raced to S’lain, while the remaining four tested their luck and claws on Jaxith’s cobalt hide.
With no room to launch skywards, Jaxith was trapped, but hardly helpless. His horse sized fore hands snapped out, swiping a feline up and tossing it like a small rock into a nearby tree. The feline dropped to the ground, dead. The remaining three weren’t going to let up so easily, attempting to herd Jaxith further into the trees like a gazelle.
A scream split the still air as S’lain went down under the last feline.
Jaxith’s roar shook the very sky as the blue batted the felines aside like so many balls of fluff, racing to get to his partner in time.
S’lain, I’m coming![/color]
A massive blue paw ‘thwacked’ into the feline so hard, it was dead before it disappeared into the dense foliage. S’lain rolled onto his side, blood pouring from multiple wounds, including a jagged rend across one side of his face, obscuring his features.
“I’m …ok Jaxi.” He mumbled, spitting blood as he sat up. Reaching back in his memory to when he was learning how to heal humans, he could tell that his injuries weren’t immediately life threatening, though they were very close to it.
Two of the momentarily forgotten felines leapt upon Jaxith’s wide back, tearing into his left wing with a vengeance. With mad, whirling eyes, Jaxith sank his teeth into one, while his tail snapped out to hit the one feline still on the ground. The last feline was soon dispatched as well, and the jungle grew quiet again.
The two of them lay panting side by side for a time before S’lain could muster the strength to push past both his and Jaxith’s pain to see to his partner. He was horrified to find that the felines had ripped most of the way through Jaxith’s flight arteries and some of the large muscles. It was a difficult injury to fix in the best of circumstances. S’lain dragged his pack off of the blue’s back, digging through for his supplies. If there was any chance of saving Jaxith’s wing, he’d have to work on it now, before the muscles lost more blood and died. Should he wait, the walk back to the Weyr would take far too long to leave any chance of Jaxith ever flying again.
Their return to the Weyr was heralded with happy shouts. Days after the attack, and days after they should have checked in, rumor had flown that the two had suffered the same fate as S’lain’s father. His mother was waiting, and watched in horror as her bloodied son rode in nearly unconscious on Jaxith’s back, his skin flaming hot with fever.
Amazingly enough, because of S’lain’s quick actions, Jaxith’s wing was on the mend, and with some ministrations from the Master healer, it was stated that he was likely to make a full recovery. S’lain, on the other hand, lay abed for the next month fighting the infection that tried to claim his eye. He won, but barely, loosing much of his sight to the point that he could still see light, and some color and movement, but not much more. It was with mixed feelings that he rejoined Jaxith a month later, and they took to the skies.
A hatred of felines grew in the both of them, Jaxith feeding from S’lain. They joined hunting parties whenever the creatures threatened, spending more and more time on the Southern Continent in their pursuit of vengeance. S’lain became proficient in hunting techniques, and Honshu became their often used Weyr, as it had extra space for a proficient hunter. It was at Honshu that the pair underwent the telekinetic training the StarHall encouraged pairs to work through. Jaxith proved adept at the skill, as most blues were, and the pair saw it as an added asset to their hunting. Several years into this way of life, S’lain joined another feline hunting party. It was a typical raiding feline case. A large pack of the beasts had taken out a herd of runners near Southern Hold, and a group of riders and holders were being gathered for eradicate the upstarts. S’lain and Jaxith, of course, would lend their assistance when they heard.
The hunt was going to be especially difficult, as the felines were holed up in a densely vegetated part of the jungle. Dragons couldn’t fit into the area, even the smallest. Armed with blades, ropes, nets and such, the group carefully made its way deep into the wood, every member of the 20 or so riders and holders alert. The ambush couldn’t have been better planned by humans. A large pack a dozen felines strong launched themselves into the centre of the group, splitting it in half and working its way outwards. The trumpeting of enraged dragons rose over the forest as riders went down, some dead before they could even react. With their party cut neatly down the middle, the hunters jumped into action, fighting for their lives even as the smallest dragons began tearing their way through the trees. Jaxith managed to follow a smaller green through an opening she found, tearing up trees in his hurry to get to his rider. It can’t happen again -there are so many -dragons are going between S’LAIN WATCH OUT!!! Only the last shout reached S’lain, who had just killed a feline with his two foot blade. He suddenly screamed as another latched onto his outstretched arm from behind, wrenching him around like a doll, blood pouring from the vicious tear as he tried to fend off the huge feline, one lacerating paw finding some purchase in his back. Teeth ground against bone, and the bluerider made a wild backwards swing with his free hand, catching the beast in the chest with his blade as with a sickening crack, his arm broke and was severed by the last angry convulsions of the dying beast. S’lain crumpled to the ground as the green and Jaxith broke through the foliage, and the enraged blue made short work of the remaining felines using telekinesis to practically rip them apart. The horrifyingly blood drenched scene was strewn with bodies and pieces of felines, the keening of mourning lost in the anger filled bugles as dragons hovered over the spot.
Healers were brought as quickly as they could reach the area, but Jaxith refused to move from the protective crouch over his gravely injured rider. It wasn’t until S’lain regained consciousness just long enough to assure him they wanted to help that the blue eased back. It was too late to save the rest of the bluerider’s arm however, and as soon as he was transported back to Southern, his mother was the Masterhealer who amputated the remaining shreds of flesh and bone leaving it flush with the shoulder. Despite only needing a few months to heal, S’lain and Jaxith left Southern as soon as they could, picking up a remote personal weyr to spend much needed time with each other to reaffirm their connection. Jaxith’s blame for the incident assured that the big blue would be stuck by his side at all times.
It was two years more before the threat of Thread gave the pair another foe to fight, but they took to it willingly. S’lain regained his love for dragonhealing, for helping others to survive what he and Jaxith had, and found his new passion right where it had always been. Jaxith began practicing his skills in telekinesis to make up for his bonded’s lost arm, and became proficient in manipulating smaller objects, acting as the help the bluerider would have used an assistant or apprentice for. Their unique talents allowed them to help in many different situations, and the pair moved all over Pern as needed. When the mysterious illness began killing the newly created Silver Cove Weyr, they were sad to hear it, but S’lain’s human healing days were long past. However, when the bereft riders moved to their new location, S’lain and Jaxith volunteered to become their new dragonhealer, donating themselves to help Cerulean get off the ground.
Color: Blue #000088
Telekinetic Rating: 89
Bonuses/Minuses: (Base Roll 74) + (Blue +5) + (Training +10)
Precision: 50 (40+10)
Description: Jaxith is quite big for a blue, both in sheer length and wingspan. The majority of his hide is a deep rich cobalt with a few darker, almost midnight colored patches scattered along his back ridge. Along his belly, the colors are much paler, an azure. The membranes of his wings match this color, while his tail slowly gradates from the lovely cobalt to the darker, midnight color at the very tip. The scar from his attack is plainly visible on the large muscles of his right wing, and he has the slightest lessening of movement in that joint. His limbs are long and lean, carrying his lengthy serpentine body high off the ground, while his over-long tail easily brushes the ground behind.
Best suited for long hours on the wing, Jaxith’s pinions are still well equipped for maneuverability during thread fall. Wide and long in average size compared to his body length, they are well formed and otherwise virtually scar free. He carries his neck in a proud arch, his long narrow face topped with shorter head knobs. His claws are meticulously kept by his rider, as is everything else that a rider can have influence over, and he’s always well oiled and healthy.
Personality: Jaxith is overly protective of S’lain in almost every circumstance. He blames himself for S’lain’s injuries, and despite him saying otherwise, has vowed to never allow his partner to get seriously hurt again. He stays as near as possible, and despite it having eased over the years after the attack, he’s unhappy and edgy when S’lain is too far out of sight. Though overshadowed with his protectiveness, Jaxith is fairly intelligent and tends to like most people and dragons. It isn’t unheard of for him to speak with other humans, but usually it is a person S’lain has some connection to.
Jaxith gets easily bored when S’lain is busy with something, and he enjoys the presence of other dragons, especially in such social places as the beach, or the hatching sands. He has a particular fondness for hatchings in general, and tries to coerce His into staying around to watch if one is due in their vicinity. His thrummings are particularly deep, as is his voice a bass-baritone that vibrates through the air and anyone around him.
Fun Facts: Jaxith will take long flights over the herd beasts to watch them scatter, amused at their reactions. He’s been scolded about it before, as the adrenaline rush ruins the meat for the next day or so.
Level of Proficiency: Senior Journeyman
Specialty: Wing injuries
Weakness: Long surgeries are difficult for him, as he has to do the entirety with only one arm.