Age: 42
Sex: Female
Sexual Orientation: That's on a need-to-know basis, thanks
Weyr: Other
Rider Rank: Shifty lowlife
Previous Rank/Craft: Wingrider
Physical Description:
- Very tall for a woman (Probably around 6'4"? Giant lady is giant)- Muscular build
- Multiple scars from various sword and knife fights, a couple larger scars from Impression-related accidents, in particular across her chest and abdomen from when Physaliath Impressed to her
- A smile that wavers between disarming and very very dangerous
Personality: The first word that could describe Phaedra is "dangerous." She's the person children are warned about, the one to never trust, to never climb on the back of the dragon of. Indeed, she is the sort who will pick a child up under the guise of Searching, and then sell them to somebody across Pern into drudgery. An epitomy of greed, Phaedra seeks to make as many marks as she can, for some altruistic reason. Her favored place to leave children is at Nabol Hold, where the best marks are made selling them off to work in the mines. If some actually get picked up by riders on Search, though, it's no consequence to her - She'll just go find more for Nabol.
One of the few things she cares about in life is her dragon, Physaliath. He is her absolute world, the one thing she breathes for, and spoils him at every opportunity. If there are people she cares about, mum's the word on who they are.
Positive Trait List Ambitious, cares deeply for her dragon, a good head for business(Take that as you will)
Negative Trait List Distrustful, head-strong, greedy
History: Born at Southern Hold to a drudge and some unknown father, Phaedra had very low prospects in life. This didn't stop her from being ambitious, something that got her beaten repeatedly, and once even threatened with Holdlessness. She learned at an early age how to pick pockets, as nobody suspected a drudge, and continued to do so for most of her life, trying to save her way up to getting out of the Hold. It proved in vain for two reasons - When she turned 23 Turns, her stash was found and she was sumarily punished, forced to sleep outside for several days and permitted in only to eat with the other drudges. At the end of her punishment, dragons appeared from Southern Weyr on Search, with one of the great beasts honing in on her.
The rider swore she was trying to kill his dragon with her glare, but the dragon insisted she had to return to the Weyr with them.
Being at Southern Weyr was very different from being at Southern Hold, where Phaedra actually had a status that could be considered above Drudge. She found, of course, that being a Candidate was actually marginally worse, with the exception of actually being treated like she had her full wits about her. She found there many people that treated her with absolute trust, and treated everybody with trust. Phaedra herself, treated nobody with trust.
For four turns, Phaedra stood on the hatching sands, waiting for the dragon she would surely Impress, the dragon she was surely destined to find greatness with. She quietly delighted in watching other candidates get clawed up, and a few bitten, as they were pushed aside by eager dragonets, and even bore a few clawmarks herself. Then it happened, when she thought she would surely age out - A particularly volatile Hatching happened, a blue and a brown coming from their eggs roughly at the same time. They started to fight, and Phaedra quietly cheered the blue on.
As the blue snapped at his brother, his gaze had caught hers, eyes burning red with fury, and he had abandoned the fight to charge at her. YOU! the hatchling had bellowed, YOU who does not bend or break! MINE! You are MINE! He only turned to hiss and snap at his brown brother, who went on to Impress a gangly boy Phaedra knew to be a Weyrbrat... The lucky b*****d.
"And who are you, dragon?"
I am Physaliath! YOUR Physaliath! Go into battle with me and we will prove together our strength!
Phaedra had smiled at that, cupping the dragonet's face in her hands, and all but purred, "Yes, my Physaliath..."
And then he knocked her down, his one moment of joyful display, and left clawmarks across her stomach.
They had the typical Southern Weyr training, learning all the most important lessons, and experiencing much discipline. As it turned out, Physaliath got along with his clutchmates about as well as Phaedra got along with the other new riders, and Physaliath got into more than one fight with the same brown brother over and over and over.
It game to a head when one of the Weyr's greens rose, and Physaliath gave chase and began biting at his chasing clutch brothers and others who had joined the flight. Ichor rained down upon the Weyr and the Hold and everything in between, until a bronze rider got involved and forcibly grounded the angry blue. Phaedra, having done nothing to temper her dragon's attitude, was given the choice to either shape up and reign Physaliath in, or leave the Weyr. They chose to leave, jointly preferring solitude to having to listen.
Finally, Phaedra felt fully free.
Freedom came at a cost, though. With no Weyr, they had no home. They had learned the basics of flight - the flight itself, the firestone, and going between - but these skills were useless without somewhere to practice them. So they headed northward, to a Weyr as far away as they could get where nobody would know them.
Instead of a proper Weyr, Phaedra and Physaliath found their way to a Hold - Nabol Hold proved just the place for their ambition to grow, where Phaedra could amass as many marks as she cared to. So what if most of those marks came from selling snot-nosed children into slavery? If they didn't want to work in the mines or brothels, they'd have not trusted anybody.
When Thread returned, they found a nice cave to huddle in, away from the fighting and flaming. May the unworthy perish, and the smart remain, after all. She had marks to make.
Other: Pity upon the person who manages to ground her dragon, they'll have to deal with an angry Phaedra for several months
DRAGON
Name: Physaliath
Age: 15
Color: Blue
Size: 29.5'
Physical Description: In a word, Physaliath is big. Close to the size of a small brown, he's of average bone build but with muscle to spare. He may lack the stamina of a brown, but he makes up for that with the sheer power of his wingbeats, covering decent distance in as few strokes as possible before he vanishes between. Multiple scars decorate his hide, some newer marks from Threadscore, but most from getting into fights with other dragons.
Personality: Every bit as dangerous as his weyrmate, Physaliath usually gets along with other dragons like a tunnelsnake gets along with a sword. He has no love for children, only putting up with them for his weyrmate's sake, and the marks she makes for them. He is by no means a vain dragon, having no qualms about his appearance with all the scarring, but he is still prideful. He wears his scars like a badge of honor, proof of his accomplishments of defeating others. The few times he chases greens, he's the dragon to watch out for, as he will use dirty tactics to try and win, including biting wings and trying to force another dragon between. Any other time, he will very loosely tolerate the presence of another dragon. He has a personal hatred for Lennoth, of all dragons, for his own reasons.
Dragon Art or Proof of Obtainment:
