Name: Corloss
Age: 19
Gender: Male
Sexual Orientation: Closeted bisexual YOU SAW NOTHING
Craft/Rank: Guard/Candidate
History: Corloss was born at Telgar Hold, to a family that traced back nothing but pure Telgar blood for generations. They were of the remarkably old-fashioned Holder sort, proud of their smithcrafting heritage. There were no riders in the family - none of this silly dragon nonsense to distract the lads from good hard work - and that too they were proud of. Apparently grouchiness and blind stubbornness run in the family lines. On the other hand, so did iron in the spine.
He was the third child of four: two older brothers before him, and a younger sister after him. Daloros, the eldest, was brilliant at smithing but always a little wild – a balance of cockiness and natural charisma served him well, and he was the apple of their father’s eye for his talent, even if they clashed frequently over his rebellious ways. The sister was their mother’s darling, the only girl and thus expected to be a lady and marry well. The middle brother was quiet and solid and reliable, rarely stirring up trouble and content to be second place. And Corloss...
Well, Corloss was a disappointment in every possible sense of the word. He was expected, like his brothers before him, to go into the smithcraft and make something useful of himself. But he had no innate talent for it. The finer points eluded him. He struggled to make up for the lack of natural ability with an excess of hard work, but what took him hours of working and reworking was ultimately still an inferior product to what others could make in half the time. When puberty hit, he was suddenly an awkward bundle of elbows and growth spurts he hadn’t grown into yet. And on top of that, he was starting to realize he might fancy boys as well as girls. (The conversation that ensued the only time he attempted to broach that revelation to his father... well, it should not be repeated, and consequently stamped out his interest in men.) Shifting to another craft was not an option. It would only be seen as giving up, a sign of weakness and lack of perseverance. A confirmation of his failure. So he soldiered on.
Two things made life worth it. The first was Daloros’ presence. With six turns age difference between them, their interests and their peer groups were too different to spend much time together – and Corloss, even at ten turns, was sharp enough to know when a sixteen-turn-old didn’t want his little brother dogging at his heels. But the rest of the time, they were close as brothers could be. It was an unspoken agreement, which neither of them ever directly acknowledged: when the pressure from the rest of the family grew too great for Corloss to handle, Daloros’ antics would get proportionally more rebellious and draw off most of the attention. The second was Ildresaak. Only two turns his senior but light-years ahead of him in the craft, Ildresaak was the kind of friend that you couldn’t ask for better. Corloss spent nearly all his time in Ildresaak’s workshop. The older boy’s soft-spoken nature was a welcome change, and they grew to be close confidants. The two smithing families were not always on the best of terms (primarily regarding their opinions of dragonriders) but there was nonetheless grudging respect and approval... mixed with hope that perhaps some of Ildresaak’s talent would rub off on Corloss.
When Corloss was twelve, finally Daloros couldn’t stand it at home anymore. After one last explosive argument, the eldest brother left for Benden Weyr, promising that he would Impress... and he did, as the letters home attested. (Why Benden? Why not Telgar? Well, Benden was farther away. Telgar could theoretically be reached on horseback with a few days' travel. To get to Benden Weyr, one would more or less have to fly on dragonback... which Daloros knew his father would never do. Not even to go to the Weyr to retrieve him.)
D'ros did not return with his dragon, not for a long time. But he stayed in regular contact. He spoke of how much better life was at the weyr, the freedom of having a dragon. These letters, and the time spent in Ildresaak's workshop or with Ildresaak's family, kept Corloss sane and relatively together. Two turns later, the letters abruptly stopped. When Corloss expressed concern, and a desire to go to Benden Weyr in person to investigate further, an epic row ensued. They were not losing any more sons to the damned dragonmen, shardit – and it was clear enough that if Corloss decided to follow in D’ros’ footsteps, he would be more or less disowned. Not long after, an unpleasantly worded remark about dragonriders abandoning their families damaged Corloss’ bond with Ildresaak. He was, for once, entirely alone.
And then a big awful ugly-looking brown landed in the middle of the night and kidnapped Corloss to Benden. He was understandably distressed about this until he recognized the brown's rider.
It was not a formal Search. It was, in fact, more or less the opposite of a Search. Benden wasn't really supposed to be stealing people from Telgar - but on the other hand, Corloss didn't ping on the brown's radar as having potential either. Therefore, not a Search. Not a Candidate. Just stealing a family member. D'ros got away with it the same way he got away with everything: bluffing a lot and hoping nobody noticed he kidnapped a fourteen-year-old kid, and fast-talking anyone who did ask unfortunate questions. Corloss wasn't a weyrbrat and wasn't a formal Candidate... and at the time he wasn't much interested in dragons. Instead he hung out with the wherhandlers. By chance, one of them suggested that perhaps the gawky fourteen-year-old should try a stint in guarding: a regular regimen of exercise and weapons training would improve his coordination and help him fill out into the broad shoulders and long limbs he hadn’t quite adapted to yet, and would give him an edge if he should ever want to try for an egg.
He took to it like a dolphin who’d just been introduced to water after turns of trying to walk on land. Guarding, it turned out, was what Corloss was built for. The old handler was right: his coordination improved with leaps and bounds, he turned from a gangling teenager into a solid brick wall of a young man, and he discovered confidence for the first time. It was a shock, true, the first time he actually had to fight someone: a petty thief whom Corloss successfully apprehended, but not without injury. But he adapted to that too. Life was, for the first time, looking up.
Some of the attitudes, both of Benden and of the wherhandlers, rubbed off on him. Others mingled with his Holder morality; one doesn't simply abandon fourteen formative turns of one's life, even if they were unhappy ones. He developed a certain disdain for both "shiny" dragons and for atypicals. The former were essentially entitled, life handed to them on a silver platter by virtue of their hides and their fertility. The latter were weak and strange; to the wherhandlers, for whom culling was a simple fact of life, atypicals were wasted resources in need of an excess of coddling. Corloss and D'ros talked frequently about weyr politics, but only in the sense that people always tend to complain about whoever is currently in power: namely, they're not you. It was never supposed to amount to anything. It was never supposed to end the way it did.
The Revolution hit. D'ros was on the side of the wherhandlers, and fully expecting his brother to join him readily. But D'ros underestimated Corloss' devotion to law and authority. He was a guard, and even if many of these rebellious wherhandlers were his friends, they were killing people. He fought fiercely, tried in vain, but... well, what could one eighteen-turn-old kid do against fully grown aggressive whers? Wounded and shell-shocked and horrified by the brutality of the world, Corloss was forced to retreat to Trine with the rest of the Benden refugees. Even now, the fact that he ran with his tail between his legs rankles at him, even knowing he had no other choice.
For the past turn he has lived at Trine, adjusting only with difficulty. He was reunited with Ildresaak after many turns of absence, and the two rekindled their close friendship. Apart from that, he integrated readily into Trine's guards, but has few close friends. Corloss holds himself at a distance from everyone. He is worried about what will happen if anyone finds out how close he was to members of the Revolution: the idea of violent overthrow of the weyr grates against every fiber of his being, runs against the very core of his morality. To be thought of as a potential spy? No. Certainly not.
Description: Corloss is a fairly handsome young man, if you're into the big tough-looking type. He'd probably react better to 'striking' or 'imposing' as adjectives, but in the right light... The broad jaw, the strong profile, the aquiline nose probably broken once or twice some time ago, the intensely green eyes - although if you're up in his personal space far enough to see the color of his eyes, he's probably about to forcibly eject you. Point is, he could appeal to a certain kind of person. He rarely smiles, although the smile is unexpectedly charming when he chooses to use it.
And he's definitely in shape. There's no doubt about that. Six foot two and 220 pounds, nearly all muscle. The combination of height, broad shoulders, and an overall impression of solidity make him a brick wall that not too many people want to tangle with in a fight. And you notice every inch of that six foot two, because Corloss has the impeccable posture of a soldier. Even out of uniform, nobody is going to mistake him for being anything but a guard. In plain clothes, something about him screams 'I should be in uniform right now'.
His complexion overall is naturally fair, a lingering relic of Northern blood, although the sunny climate of Trine long since darkened him to a light, weathered tan. His hair is dark, somewhere between brown and black, and unexpectedly long: most of the time he keeps it slicked back, but when it's ruffled it sticks up around his head in unruly spikes. He tries not to let that happen.
Personality:
Strengths:
- Honorable: Corloss lives by his own code of honor. It's not exactly chivalrous (yes, he WILL hit a girl, especially if he knows the girl can take him in a fight) but it's a code nonetheless. He's honest to a fault, he keeps his word, and he tends to see the world in terms of moral absolutes.
Conscientious: You couldn't ask for anyone more reliable. Give Corloss a task to do, and you can guarantee that it will be done. Not only will it be done, but it will be done promptly, to the standards that you set for him (or his own standards, whichever are higher) and without complaint...
Unflinching: ...even if the task is unpleasant or grim. Corloss is the kind of person who can rationalize necessity in the service of the greater good, and he's willing to do what's needed so that other people don't have to. That's why he's a guard. Somebody's got to risk life and limb defending the Hold, and it might as well be him.
Loyal: Once you have Corloss on your side, you have him forever. It would take solid evidence of a profound breach of trust to get him to turn on a friend. To his friends he's a steady rock, a shoulder to cry on, or someone to watch your back in a fight.
Disciplined: Corloss is the kind of person who does equally well giving orders or taking them. He respects tradition, authority, and Weyr and Hold hierarchies, and was never particularly rebellious. And while he's not openly ambitious, when the situation calls for it, he's also perfectly capable of stepping up and taking charge.
Weaknesses:
- Self-loathing: Nothing Corloss does will ever be enough. This has been hammered into him hard. He is fundamentally wrong, screwed up right down at the core, living in the shadow of expectations he failed to live up to. He tries so desperately to put together the image of the competent, self-assured, fearless soldier because it's the first and only thing in his life that he's been good at.
Proud: This might seem to be in conflict with the above. Corloss doesn't have high self-esteem. He's not arrogant. But he is proud, in the sense that what little ego he does have, he hangs onto with vicious fervor. He will never, ever admit he's wrong. He will not back down. He doesn't want your help. The potent combination of adolescent male ego, stoicism, and stubbornness means he will never show weakness.
Standoffish: Three hours on a couch with a competent mindhealer - or even just a sufficiently sympathetic ear - would do absolute wonders for this boy. Unfortunately, it'll never happen. Corloss holds people at arm's length. He'll listen when his friends need to talk, but don't expect him to open up in return.
Jerk: Yep. Corloss is a jerk. He is a delicious dish of snark and vitriol marinated in no-nonsense and garnished with a grim, dry sense of humor. If he doesn't like someone, and he thinks he can get under their skin, he will. Corloss tries not to alienate his friends... usually... he doesn't offend them on purpose anyway. If someone takes his ribbing the wrong way, he'll remember and tone it down later. But he doesn't always think before he speaks.
Suspicious: Corloss does not assume the best of people. He is slow to give anyone his complete trust. Holdless with a tragic tale of how you lost your family and were falsely accused of a crime? Nope. Go tell it to someone who cares, because you're probably a bandit with an elaborate lie. A sort of constant low-grade paranoia has served him well in terms of keeping him alive, as Corloss is constantly aware of possible threats, but it doesn't help him sleep well at night.
To all appearances, Corloss is everything that you could hope for in an up-and-coming guard. He's brave. Selfless. Honorable. Trustworthy. He takes orders without question, and gives them without hesitation. Sure, maybe the kid is a little rough around the edges, but that's just how you get, growing up roughing it. He's tough, and that's what matters. And Corloss works pretty damn hard to make sure that this appearance does not slip.
The interior of Corloss' mind is a meticulously organized space. If one were to visualize it, think of it as a small room full of boxes. Unwanted thoughts and emotions - fear, grief, self-doubt, all those lingering psychological issues - they get sealed up in a box and put away, buried under other boxes. Then they can be quite comfortably ignored... at least until the room fills up with boxes entirely, at which point it becomes virtually impossible to move without bumping into a stack of unresolved issues. Likewise, Corloss mostly deals with his problems by not dealing with them. External problems, that's another issue altogether. If you need a criminal captured, a mystery solved, a crisis dealt with, those are easy. They're practical problems with practical solutions. It's the internal, philosophical stuff that he tends to lock away securely in hopes that they will simply cease to exist. Sometimes it even works. "Fake it until you make it" is a fine enough method for overcoming self-doubt, after all. But it doesn't change the fact that underneath his rock-hard veneer of complete assurance, he's a tangled mess.
Corloss more or less divides the world into three categories: there's those in his chain of command. There's the people he genuinely cares about. And then there's the rest of the dimglows. There's only room in Corloss' day to care about so many people, and he appoints that time and energy to only the people he considers to be worth the effort. Consider him living proof that good does not mean nice. Oh, he'll come to your rescue if you need the assistance of the guard. Just don't expect him to hang around after and be your new friend. It's part of the job. He gets in, he does the job, he goes away. If he spent all his time making friends, that would be less time spent protecting the Hold. Now stop complaining that he's not making smalltalk.
It's no surprise that when he does form a close bond with someone, he tends to seek out relationships where he is not the focus. He gravitates towards those who seem vulnerable: the shy, the soft-spoken, the broken birds of the world. Because if there is one place where Corloss shines, it is in being someone else's rock of support. He derives genuine satisfaction from being needed, and in return his loyalty and constant nature make him an excellent protector... at the same time it deflects anyone from ever noticing his own vulnerabilities. He's a surprisingly hopeless romantic, beneath the miles of bad road it takes to get there, and he can be gentle and affectionate when the moment calls for it. But these close bonds tend to be few and far between, reserved only for particular people that Corloss is willing to commit the time and effort to.
If you're lucky enough to be in his "chain of command" you get automatic respect. If you're lucky enough to be a close friend you get automatic support. As for the rest of the world? Well... Corloss is pretty much a jerk. He holds everyone else at arm's length to keep them away, and tends to be automatically suspicious of people rather than assuming the best. His upbringing taught him that it's okay to be blunt with your words, to be quicker with a criticism than a compliment, and not to think before you speak because if anyone's offended, that's their problem. He doesn't actively try to hurt anyone, but it's just inevitable that some people will deal with his abrasiveness better than others.
Other: Not a formal Candidate. Looking for Search, if possible.
