On the tall and wiry side, this middle aged man carries himself with a subtly snotty air. Grey-blue eyes almost seem to be constantly looking down his long, slightly crooked nose, and the set to his lips always seems haughty; even if he happens to be offering a friendly smile at the time. His dark brown hair is kept in a short crew cut, the slight curl to it only seen just before another trim is needed. His clothing is dark with the fabric in uneven somber grey hues. Murky black shadows seem woven into the cloth of his shirt, from the narrow band collar to the tightly fitted sleeves and band cuffs. Small patches of lighter grey are the worked shell buttons, polished to a bright finish. His trousers are even deeper in hue, the captured grey of nighttime and seem sullen, black even as they drape in perfect fit and flare over highly polished dark boots.


Rerby grew up a High Reaches' Weyrbrat, emphases on the 'brat'. The son of a bronzerider and high-ranking crafter, he adopted a snobbish, holier than thou attitude from the start, constantly out to prove himself, or at least belittle those around him. This earned him few true friends and many enemies, and as his loneliness grew his attitude only got worse. To keep him out of trouble, he was apprenticed with the local masters of the computer craft, where he did rather well, and as his teenage turns went by and not a search dragon gave him a second glance, he began to be tailored to specialize in the info craft. In his 18th turn though, he finally decided enough was enough, and used the pull of his parent's rank to be allowed to at least stand for the latest clutch in the Reachian sands.

To everyone's surprise and… well, less than delight, he actually did impress - to his complete opposite - a bouncy, bubbly, ditzy little bronze. This made him even /worse/ at first, but through weyrlinghood and then turns of having Finbarith flitting around in his head, he finally calmed down a little - though his attitude does still show through all too often.

As turns passed, the pair made it through graduation and into wings, never actually making much of a showing of themselves, although never making a complete disgrace, either. Finally, what came as a shock was the request from the pair to transfer someplace warm, as R'by entered his thirties and the pair finally accepted a spot down at Xanadu in one of the transfer wings.


Name Relation Location Position
R'nys Son Igen Weyr Rider of green Nysldrath


Gold Fantine
Slender in build, this gold firelizard is the very appearance of sleek length and lithe sensibilities from the tip of her narrow pointed muzzle back to the angular point of bright polished tail spade. Her wings have been kissed by spring sunlight, softened mellow gold and fragility personified in delicate sails and barely there 'spars. Dusted in darker highlights, her hide flows from one peak to the next along her narrow shoulders and swan like neck to the lean muscling that carries across her flanks and down finely boned legs. Paler gold trails across dainty feet with their wickedly curved darker talons and lost against the thin tendons and wiry muscle that slides sleekly under skin tight hide.

Brown Meditation
Warm browns flow in serene layers upon this firelizard's rather portly body. Like layers of sediment slowly collected over time, pushed by water here and wind there until one layer covers the next the browns don't quiet mingle but upon such sedimentary layers. Not that the layers are even, no, some are thick and others thin, and few are of even width across his body. They are not exactly horizontal to the ground either, slightly angled so that it looks as if the earthen hues are always trying to slide just off. Large eyes are set beneath heavy eyeridges, whirling slowly and rarely will he found to be much perturbed. Head is somewhat blunted, jaw thick and heavily muscled as compared to most others. It rests atop a short arching neck which blends thickly into chest and rounded belly. It isn't all fat to say, he's quite a well muscled fellow, he just… bulges a bit in places. Talons are a muted gray, though sharp as the finest forged blade. The talons peek out the end of each finger and toe, patiently clinging to his latest perch. Heavy muscled arms and haunches provide him an equal effort on the ground as to the agileness he demonstrates through the air. He really appears to be comfortable in both elements. Shoulder joints are similarly muscled, but thin out as one drifts into the splendid fine span of his wings. Here the membranes hint to a more vibrant and indulgent part of him, for the browns are more like the shimmer of foam of beer splashed haphazardly around. Tail drifts behind him in proportion to his body, neither to long nor to short and somewhat on the thick side.

Blue Freefall
Pale icy blue frosts the tips of this firelizards wings. As if they have stretched to high into the heavens where the chill pale blue bites back, once perhaps welcomed, now shunned to the cold depths below. The hue defrosts as one slips lower down the fine wingsails, thin membranes appearing far to fragile as they stretch delicately between limbs. Pale sky blues cling tot he majority of the sails, not so frosty cold as the edges in appearance, but neither quite warming as well. It is the hue of sky meeting sea which splashes along his neck, body and tail. Head bears mostly the sky hues, as if held upward, not willing to submerge and submit tot he sea. Arched neck bears a violent struggle with clashing blues splattered by foamy white against the sinuous length. A pattern that is similarly born across tail and muscled back. Of his body it has mostly submerged, the sea blues claiming their victim with merciless efficiency. Cerulean slips to cobalt, to navy that finally darkens near midnight blue as one reaches the tips of his talons drowning in the deep. Now matter how much his finely muscled body might twist and contort it will never free itself of the seas grasp to sail yet again within the skys hue.


High School Honey Bronze Finbarith
Sunbeams swirl over a slim form, pale bronze hide lit to a clean flaxen braided with the softest touch of pastel greeny-gold. His narrow muzzle is long, large eyes outlined with a brassy tinge, the highlight echoed in tiny sparks along the tips of twiggy neckridges and slight shoulders. Yet spars arch out, his magnificent wings an awesome span of copper-flecked straw stained with a trace of willow. From lightweight chest, his body swells only a little for lean, sinewy hindquarters before the graceful lines flow into a tapering tail, tailridges also spangled with luminous brass. Slender limbs and paws complete him, thin talons gleaming dully unto wicked points.

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