Astrid of Brown Skogulth

[The_Teas]

Astrid



BASICS
RETIRE INFO: Retire Character, Retire Dragon
NAME: Astrid
GENDER: Female
PRONOUNS: she/her/hers
ORIENTATION: Lesbian


BIRTHDATE: Summer 2749
AGE: 21 as of Late Fall 2770
LOCATION: High Reaches Weyr
OCCUPATION: Dragon Rider
WING: Moonshot Wing

APPEARANCE
EYES: Hazel
HAIR: Blonde
HEIGHT AND BUILD: 6’2”, Athletically Muscular.
FULL APPEARANCE: Tall, fair of skin, and built like a warrior, Astrid is a woman of conflicting appearances. On the one hand, she could certainly pass as beautiful with strikingly pale skin and a soft featured face. On the other, her musculature, height, and the bits of scarring that mars that skin shows her to be someone quite at home with fist, blade, and firestone.

Pale blonde hair hangs short and harshly cropped just below her jaw, more or less following the angle up and around. Thin brows, and a slightly upturned nose finish off her features.

Astrid dresses to be ready to move to action at virtually all times. An undershirt of grey, a jacket of red, and breeches of dark browns, tucked around mid-calf boots. At her hip hangs a long bladed, unadorned knife, tapered to an aggressive point.



PERSONALITY
PERSONALITY: Soldier, first and foremost. Astrid, in the public eye, is a calm, collected, well-disciplined woman who takes herself and her job with the utmost respect and seriousness. More than ready to put her life in the way of danger at the slightest word, she sees her sense of duty raised above all else, far too likely to push herself too far in the name of duty.

With those close to her, however, she’s a softy, if a bit...off. Having spent so much of her life already dedicated to protecting others and the Weyr she was raised in, and spending what free time she has focused on training, she finds it hard to relate with either side of Weyrfolk life. The riders that she serves beside, she tends to keep apart from, a measure of trying to remove herself from any sort of attachment that might hinder her or others in the field. The craftsfolk she finds borderline alien, the normal day-to-day lives of non-riders so….foreign, having spent all of her time since entering candidacy pushing herself to train and improve, never settling herself to being ‘good enough’ at what she does.

But for those that can manage to crack past her professional exterior, Astrid is a stalwart friend and protector, eager to support them however she can.

HISTORY
FAMILY: Blue Rider Father, Weaver Mother, Bronze Rider elder Brother (Deceased)
BIRTHPLACE: Ista Weyr
HISTORY: The youngest child and only daughter in a family line frequently producing Riders, Astrid’s early life was not really any different from any other child’s. Where her brother, and her father, and his father before had all carried on the duties of a rider, Astrid was pushed and expected to follow her mother’s line and carry the tradition of clothwork.

Her brother impressed while Astrid was still not yet old enough to enter the apprenticeships in full. Her father could not have been prouder of him, impressing a magnificent bronze.Tales of what it would be like for him, training and learning and taking to the skies caught the young girl’s imagination and sparked the ember of her own want for something besides cloth day in and day out.

But, of course, young as she was, there was no chance of running off to join the candidates and stand upon the hatching sands. Years of an apprenticeship she simply didn’t want filled her days, a trade that held no interest, no heart behind it. But for all the expectations of her mother, she carried on. Sure, she could go through the motions and produce works to be proud of, but she was *far* from enthusiastic about the trade by the time the news arrived.

Having transferred to Fort Weyr to help replenish their ranks after Golre's attack, Astrid’s brother fell in the very next sortie. The young girl’s decision to abandon the trade and try to join the ranks of the riders was only cemented as grief took her. A decision which many, her mother included, were none too fond of with the years of apprenticeship ahead of her. and those already behind her.



Every few weeks was another pestering of her mother. Another push against what was expected of her. She didn't *want* to be a weaver, but her mother didn't want to lose her only remaining child. Time and time again, she pushed, and shoved until it was clear that Astrid wouldn't be happy until she'd tried. Relenting, the young woman was given what she wanted. Her chance.


Dutiful would be a word to describe her time learning and preparing for what it would mean to be a rider, Sun up, to sun down, when chores did not fill her time outside the classroom, Astrid was doing everything she could to try to ensure she would be the best rider she could. It didn’t matter to her that the odds of her impressing were slim, that more candidates never bonded.

Failure simply wasn’t an option for her. While she didn’t take to the classes as flawlessly and naturally as some others did, she nevertheless pushed herself, demanding nothing less than perfection of herself if she were to take to the skies.



When at last her first hatching came, she was nothing short of terrified. Terrified not that she’d be hurt, or of what to come, but terrified that she would be found wanting. As the shells split and dragons clawed and flailed their way to their bondmates, Astrid waited.

Disciplined and steady, even in the face of the terror of rejection, she held her place, her eyes lingering upon the dwindling shapes upon the sands until at last, the final egg began to split and crack.

Smallest of the browns and bronzes within the clutch, the egg was plain as could be, and the brown that stumbled his way out of the shell stared wide-eyed across the sands and began a slow, gentle walk across. Towards someone else.

Astrid’s heart sank, but she would not allow herself to falter then. If she couldn’t hold together for just a hatching....

It didn’t matter, however, as the brown stumbled his way across and away from the candidate he first faced to thunk his head against her hip, a rumble rising and a voice pressing against her mind, announcing his name and his choice. Skogulth.


Now years later, Astrid has grown into a well disciplined rider; Skogulth at her side to guide her and remind her of who she is. Word of the gold hatching in High Reaches finding her ears, she froze, that discipline faltering in a wash of grief and anger. And determination.

She remembered all too well the stories of her youth. The loss of life at the hands of High Reaches all in the name of one psychotic queen. And so she requested, and was granted, a transfer from Ista to High Reaches, where she’d do everything she could to keep an eye on that gold, to see the changes brought to the Weyr herself and try to ensure another Golre didn’t come from this pairbond. .

And if need be, perform a solemn duty for all of Pern and Dragonkind.

[The_Teas]

Skogulth



BASICS
NAME: Skogulth
BIRTHDATE Early Spring 2765
AGE: 5 as of Late Fall 2770

APPEARANCE
LENGTH: 38 ft
HEIGHT: 9.5 ft
WINGSPAN: 57 ft
COLOR: Brown
HEX CODE:
FULL APPEARANCE: A very small brown, Skogulth is almost wholly unremarkable except for that lone feature. A deep, warm brown in almost solid color save for a lighter, cooler brown down his throat and across his chest and belly, he carries no distinguishing marks. No patterns emerge, no speckles of color.

Powerful, but not stocky in musculature, with the majority of his strength centered around his wings, he’s a nimble looking beast, one that would have no issues keeping up with all but the best of fliers.

His face is on the softer side for a dragon; rounded features and eyes that sparkle with a decided warmth. Overall, he’s certainly far from what one might typically call imposing as far as dragonkind goes.



PERSONALITY
PERSONALITY: Sarcastic, confident, and welcoming, Skogulth is a bit of a contrast to his rider. Where she provides the stoic, professional face, he provides the counterbalance, trying to remind his rider that she is more than just the weight that he totes around in the air. Despite, or possibly because of, his size, he carries himself with a regal bearing, confident in himself, his rider, and her ability to guide the two of them through whatever life might throw at them.