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Approved by Con
HANDLER
Name:Naanash, preference is Nash
Age: 31
Gender: Male
Craft: Senior Journeyman healer with a wher body guard
Appearance: Nash is a rawboned, tallish, individual built out of sharp angles and thin olive skin. He has long fine fingers, and steady hands that are faintly stained with redwort from fingertip to elbow, markers of his craft.
Nash makes a rather grim looking healer, with his sharp hooked nose and narrow heavy lidded green eyes. The only softness to him is the long fringe of eyelashes and the slight softness of his upper lip. His hair is flat black in color and kept in to a soft fuzz at the sides. The middle has been allowed to grow long and he keeps it braided. A single piece of jewelry, a finely designed silver wing enameled in black, dangles from a ring that is looped in his braid, right at the occipital bump.
His clothing is naturally colored, prone to browns, yellows, and blacks but well made, a leather over coat lined in fleece (in winter, he removes the fleece for the summer months) with a lot of pockets that falls past his knees and dark brown woolen hose and lighter shade of brown for his shirts. A pair of near knee high boots (fur lined in winter). He is also rather modest, tunics, shirts, and doublets all tend to be on the longer side, and reaching near the knees.
No one will ever consider Nash to be an icon of fashion let alone culture. He certainly doesn’t hit the idea of Pernesse beauty, being skinny as a rail and sharp at the joints.
Personality: Nash is an unwavering, steady, and dependable individual. Which can also translate to stubborn, mule headed, and other less than pleasant adjectives if someone doesn’t share his view point. He can be trusted to do a job unsupervised and for the results to be well done, and done timely.
Nash can and does keep his head, he isn’t one to swing a punch. He rather use his words, and his tone of voice can get downright arctic and yet perfectly clear. His tension is held in his shoulders, the straight way he holds his back, a narrowness in his eyes. If he has a problem, he’ll attempt to talk it out with that person. If that doesn’t work, well it might be petty but he does handle rehabilitation as well. Boy, you are in a tough workout and the cleaning of some disgusting things. Nash is going to be cleaning whatever it is as well, but after turns of cleaning up after the body, he is certainly more immune to the smell.
Nash is well grounded, prone to practicality and organization. He has goals, Nash wants to be a master healer. He is very willing to put in the amount of work to gain it, even if things waylay his plans. His plans have been waylaid with the bonding of Nanask, though he finds her to be well worth the additional years. Master healer with wher bond mate, he’ll manage it.
Flippantly, outside of good tea, ginger cookies, and fine tools of trade, Nash does not care for unnecessary bourgeois items. His sole piece of adornment was a gift from Saain, and he wears it for the memories, even if they run from dull lost to sweetness. His clothing is good, tending to plain shades, and his boots are solid. Nanask’s packs and harness are extremely fine craftsman ship, the pale green baring them well, containing all sorts of secure compartments for Nash’s craft tools, medicines packet, and bandages.
He is brilliant, the near photographic memory helps, but he has a sharp intelligence with a sharp razor edge to it. While he is never pointlessly cruel, his words can be cutting to peers and superiors alike. It is just not in Nash’s personality to placate others, it grates. Nash does have a sense of respect for those above his station. It doesn’t stop them from being dim glowing crackskulls at time. Nash will call them on it, in private if he can, in public if he feels that their decision will have repercussions that he will have to deal with.
Jaded, after turns of trauma surgery, Nash is disillusioned to the idea that a healer is worth the lives they save. No one can physically or mentally save every single person that ends up in their care. He doesn’t beat himself up after losing someone, not does he let it haunt him, he did what he could, they died, move on and care for the rest of the living. Nash has been force to make split decisions on who to treat and has learned to live with his choices.
He is rather cynical and with his dry sense of humor the combination can be humorous or borderline inappropriate for the topic.
History:
Shedian born in 140 in Igen
Is drafted into Igen civil war in 157 on the side of Jerak
160 – Jerak is beheaded and Shedian tired and ragged disappears, hitching a ride with a free company anywhere but Igen
164- Trusted subcommander in the free company, ends up clashing with a cocky new recruit, Loche
168- Discreetly seeing the recruit in a romantic way.
170- End up in Lemos and meet Navah in a bar. Three week later, they marry her and leave the company to possibly have a family.
Nash is Born – Somewhere in turn 173
Nash was born in Lemos hold to a polyamorous parents. He has two fathers, a mother, and a younger sister. His fathers had been part of a free company until they met his mother during their rare downtime and preceded to marry her three weeks after their first meeting.
They settled on a small piece of land, where Navah tended small garden plots as Shedian and Loche worked on felling trees for Lemos lumber industry. Shedian and Loche occasionally taught classes in self-defense.
Nash grew up among old stories of past battles and skirmishes, Sheridan dredging up memories of Igen civil war, relaying positions and walls with pebbles and sticks. Of his journey with the free company and the beasts he had seen. Loche stories tended to more individuals conquests and took place in taverns and other less then savory places and revolved around how many free drinks he could obtain.
He was bright child, curious about everything, and mostly obedient, in as much as a peasant child ever was. Nash enjoyed the wilderness of Lemos woods and collecting plants. Which he carefully dug up, dried and hung for decoration or to bring the spicy scent to a room. A herb women started teaching him the uses of the plants he picked. Nash soaked it up and decided that he wanted to be a healer.
It was a trial to get him a teacher. His parents did not make much extra, they were illiterate, and didn’t have the contacts, at least not one easily tracked down. Shedian ran into an old contact from his days of being a warrior for hire and asked him to take on his son as an apprentice.
Mazik was elderly, cranky, but certainly knowledgeable and willing to take on Nash when he saw how eager and bright the lad was. Having a pair of young hands and a young back to help him out certainly sweeten the deal. Mazik was firm teacher, keeping to strict scheduling and a rapid literacy program. The boy was going to learn to read and write and do so under the pass.
Nash showed surprisingly promise and an amazing ability to recall information. He kept focus, didn’t complain, and Mazik softened slightly to his young apprentice, becoming a sort of surrogate if grouchy uncle. Nash learned and grew quickly, entering puberty in an all limbs and pointy joints stage and never truly outgrowing it. No matter how much extra Mazik’s special friend gave him, telling him he needed to fill out some. Gals, like boys with meat on their bones.
Around his sixteen pass, Mazik decided to return to Fort and the Healer’s Hall and took his apprentice with him. Nash enjoyed being up close to dragons, but the ride between left him cold and with no desire to travel that way ever again. Mazik introduced him and Nash lost himself in the halls, the library, the practices, the lectures. Everything was at his finger tips and Mazik often found his apprentice tucked in some niche, nursing a cup of tea and going through some large study case.
Deciding his apprentice was mature enough to be let out into the world, and seeking out a post that required less off him physically. Mazik pushed Nash to walk the tables and sought out a post of teaching in the hall. Nash passed, obtaining his journeyman knots and enjoyed another month in the hall, studying up before the dragon plague hit down.
The three turns following was a dizzying blurr of knowledge, stiches, inchor and blood, and bone and rock solid Saain, an older journeywomen who had studied in the Weyrs and knew how to treat dragons and whers, something that his studies in Fort had left him woefully unprepared for. She was gorgeous with brilliant red hair and a bright gentle smile and he might have fallen head over heels in love with her. They ended up stationed in Nabol, Nash working as Saain’s helper as they attempted to first prevent the plague from reaching the Hold and then helped treat them. He learned more than he expected and six months later found himself working with human patients as tenses boiled over into a civil war.
At the end of the war Nash and Saain found themselves with actual time on their hands and their relationship cooled slowly over the next turn as they worked on treating the last dredges of the wounded. They found out that they didn’t truly have much in common outside of a love for their crafts. Saain was smart, funny, and had an eye for fashion and wanted to have her own practice. A quieter practice where she didn’t have to put up with rude free company men.
Nash in turn found that the free companies reminded him of his fathers and he was comfortable among them. Saain went back to the Healers hall, giving Nash a kiss and his sole piece of jewelry. They separated on good terms and Nash sought out a post that would allow him to focus on the training he had obtained during the war. He ended up sighing up for a five year tour with one of his favorite free companies, a larger group containing a few different hunts and lead by a commander he trusted to keep everyone in order.
The borders were rough places, Nash fell back into practicing the staff to protect himself and his patients. He became friends with the free company group and a bit enamored with their whers. They were intelligent and he certainly dealt with enough of them on a daily bases to pick up on their body language and he certainly daydreamed about them. They certainly seemed useful but also time consuming.
Nash kept at his job, cleaning, packing, setting and stitching those that came his way, his free company, colt and hold guards, wher handlers he worked with, the victims of bandits, and the occasional bandit. It was work he was familiar with and needed work.
Nana came as a sort of fortunate accident. One of his favorite wher’s a battered hunk of a green name Thosk ran and bore a clutch of eggs to her bronze mate. Five of them and they were healthy and fine and meant to be bonded out to members of the hunt. Or that what should have happened. Despite her egg being on the large size, Nana hatched early and messily and clearly was a runt of a green. Not a wher to be bonded to the rather large man that had picked up the egg. Culling the tiny green was starting to be talked about, loudly, when Nash came over, whisked up the rather tiny newly hatched and confused wher and declared “Mine.”
Perhaps it was a bit impulsive, and certainly the hunt leader attempted to talk him around. She wouldn’t grow large enough for him to ride, she was tiny and it might be kinder and certainly smarter to cull her now then later when he grew bored or learned that taking care of a wher was a lot of work. Nash glared and kept to his declaration that if Throin didn’t want her, he did and he could use a guardian with all the slag he had to deal with. Eventually the free company commander interfered and Nash was allowed to keep her as long as Nana pulled her weight.
Nash proved to be stubborn and determined and while Nanask would remain a runt, she was an intelligent, stocky girl and provided useful in becoming a sort of mobile triage unit. It was when Nanask proved herself a force to be reckoned with taking out a bigger enemy blue that the hunt leader started trying to get Nash to agree to be part of his hunt.
Nash had no interest in being a part of anyone hunt. He was at heart a healer and that meant being neutral and able to travel where he was needed. Where ever the commander put him in the company and he was at the end of his contract. He didn’t have to stay and was toying with finding a permanent place.
Things escalated, and spirits never really helped in keeping tempers. Nash ended up with a shiner, two bruised ribs, and a sour disposition about remaining. He requested a transfer out and through some luck, and some contracts on the patrol, ended up offered a transferred to High Reaches Weyr. Hopefully they are not all dimglows. He knew that Nana being more of a pet then a hunt wher was going to be an issue. High Reaches certainly wouldn’t pay for her meals, but ehh, he’ll handle it.
WHER
Name: Nanask
Nickname: Nana
Age: 2
Colour: Green
Feel of voice: N/A –
If Nana was a dragon - The scent of lavender, the crack of bones between teeth, dry firm earth under foot
Appearance: Nana is a lovely shade of green, sundappled like light through a canopy of leaves. She is a runt at 11 and a half hands in height but stocky in her chest and legs. She has a heavy strong jaw.
Personality:
Nana is an even tempered and protecting soul. She is content to live and let live, leaving wounded humans and animals be. She’ll lead her person to them if they are too large and unwieldy to move or pick them up, carefully in her maw and return to her person, giving a full body wag of glee. Does she get to eat them?
Nana has never killed a person, she had ravaged a few in protecting her healer. She has mercifully ended more than one large domestic beast’s pain, depending on orders. Horses and ponies both have felt her jaws.
She is a true one person wher, Nana does not give a ******** what anyone else tells her if they aren’t Nash. She will sprawl out, lazily roll her eyes, and pffh. Whatever. You don’t own her. Disturbing her will get a person gently swatted with a heavy paw and a warning growl. Go away, she is sleeping.
Nana is a smart wher, she is curious about her persons work and doings. She could care less about anyone else’s coming and goings. Unless she has orders to guard a place or her person is sleeping. Nana has an idea where Nash stores his things, she’ll fetch blankets and bring him food. She’ll pull on his sleeves if she think he needs to eat or take a nap.
Flit:
Name: Harbinger
Nickname: Bebe
Color: Green
Age: 6
Obtained: Nash obtained her egg as a gift from a patience after the civil war trickled to a stop.
Personality: That one bitey little lady. Harbinger is a vicious, suspicious little thing. She was a stubborn little thing and difficult to train.
- He loves her anyways-
Coloration -She is mostly a mid term green with soft minty white green socks and underbelly, and the bottom of her jaw.
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