Age: 92
Sex: Male
Sexual Orientation: Heterosexual
Weyr: Other - now defunct Weyrhold
Rider Rank: Wandering Troublemaker (Mercenary)
Previous Rank/Craft: The One Troll
Physical Description:
Old but by no means frail, Vest is the epitome of the active, but elderly, lifestyle. What were once smooth, rippling muscles in his youth are now tough and wiry, but he can still take care of business when the need arises.
He's got fair skin, a fine network of wrinkles, snow white hair kept closely cropped and a set of piercing, ice blue eyes. When he's looking at you directly, you know it ... and if he's looking at you. Well...
Personality:
Positive Trait List Loyal, ambitious, steadfast
Negative Trait List Ruthless, mischievous, cunning
The personality of the man known formally - and informally - as 'Vest' is ... to put it delicately ....
All kidding aside, Vest is a tough son-of-a-female-canine. He doesn't care overly much about the thoughts or feelings of others, despite being fully aware OF those feelings. He doesn't make excuses, and he doesn't make nice when something needs doing. Honestly, it's nothing personal. He is, after all, a professional, reasonable man. Reason, however, doesn't make marks, and without marks, he's either growing or stealing his own food. Since both annoy him in equal parts, he makes his money doing what he can.
He can be quite the charmer when the mood (or job) strikes him, and he's certainly got the temperament of a leader. He wears command like a shroud, it's heavy mantle neither bending his shoulders nor denting his ego. He's good at what he does, and that includes making tactical decisions and putting the right people in the right places to get a job done. He doesn't make a particularly big fuss about anything regarding his decisions, he just expects his orders to be carried out. Immediately.
When he's engaging in down time, he's fairly easy to get along with - so long as you can get past the ugliness of his vest without comment. Oh, and don't ask about the vest. He'll tell you, in great detail, about who made it, why, why it's so ugly, and how exactly he'll gut you if you make fun of it.
History:
Somewhere, someone took time to write down Vest's biography. After realizing that the document could serve as a blueprint for someone else - thus allowing for the possibility of TWO Vest's in the world - said person destroyed the document. Vest himself claims to have forgotten the details, but suffice to say he was born to a nice-enough woman who left him with a less-nice woman foster ... and he grew up more or less trying to forget the day prior.
Along the way he learned about mercenaries, making marks, and how to handle a sword, though none of that happened in order. He actually ended up working as low-grade muscle for hire with traders long before he ever handled a blade - but once he did? It was as if he'd been born to handle a long sword, so quickly did he pick up the teachings of a passing hold guard. The woman saw fit to stick around long enough to send him in the direction of the Mercs, then didn't look back. The rest, Vest figured out the hard way.
Emerging as a more than competent swordsman, he hired himself out for better work and found himself at a small Weyrhold guarding the family of some wannabe dragonrider candidate. The girl in question was completely forgettable, but the experience itself wasn't. Between ignoring the father who had hired him and ignoring the whining of the girl's brother, another voice entirely caught his attention. Following the silent bidding of a voice he couldn't actually hear, Vest met the reddest eyes of the blackest bronze he'd ever seen, and for the first time in his life ... he wasn't alone.
Impressing Ancalagoth from that Weyrhold had it's downfalls, of course. Now he was stuck there, listening to the girl complain about NOT impressing at all, while he waited for his partner to get big enough to fend for himself in the open country. Once that happened, and they'd mastered the basics skills of dragonriding, Vest was gone - back on the road making marks defending those who could afford it, and sometimes those that couldn't.
His life took many turns through his younger years and into his middle age, but he made some friends and has stuck with a reliable set of them. Together, they complete jobs and drink lots, not necessarily in that order either, and he's managed to sire a few children with willing women along the way. Now getting up there, he's started to stick with the people he knows well enough to trust not to poison him -- chiefly a trader/dragonrider/queenrider by the name of Aishe. Not that he's actually 'with' her group. No way.
Other: Anything else you want to add?
DRAGON
Name: Ancalagoth
Age: Elderly
Color: Bronze
Size: 47'
Physical Description: A large, hefty bronze, Ancalagoth's entire physique screams domination. From his intimidating hide to his fierce red eyes, this is not a dragon you want to meet down a long, dark alley. He has yet to give in to the onset of age, looking as muscular and fit as he did when his rider was in his 50's. If anything, the turns have distilled his commanding presence into something almost sinister.
Personality:
When push comes to shove, Ancalagoth brings the battering ram. He is not one to step aside for anyone, over anything. The world of Pern is his, the freedom of it's skies his playground, and his rider? Well, his rider enjoys the ride.
Dragon Art or Proof of Obtainment:
