Name: Sernye
Age: 33
Sex: Male
Sexual Orientation: Heterosexual
Weyr: Unaffiliated
Craft: Journeyman Seacraft/Trader
Previous Rank: Wingrider, Southern Weyr
Physical Description: Not your typical salty seahound, Sernye shows a lot of signs of staying below deck, or at least of making efforts to maintain his pretty, blue-blooded looks. His peach-colored skin isn’t sun-, wind- or salt-burned, and his willowy 6’3” frame has little bulk, even though he has never shirked away from the hard labor required of ship hands. The only visible clue to his seafaring lifestyle is his honey-blond hair bleached by the sun, his natural color shown in its darkest brown roots and in his equally dark brows.
This former heir indeed looks the part, fine-featured with big brown eyes and full lips. His jawline plays at being square, his chin at being strong, but in truth he is merely a much softer, daintier version of his twin brother. He dresses in a finer manner while on landleave, but onboard the Valeriya he tends to favor practical clothing, simple and elegant. As for distinguishing marks, he has a small scar about an inch below his left eye—a clean, nearly horizontal line that might have been carved by a blade.
Personality:
Sernye has always been the one with smarts among his siblings. It is a trait received from his father, to his everlasting chagrin. Life has taught him to use the ability to its fullest, taking great care to do things to the finish, and do them efficiently. One can fall behind in the blink of an eye, if one relaxes and lets down his guard, thinking he is alone in the race.
He is detail-oriented and skilled in dealing both above and below the table. Certain trades require a fair amount of suspicion toward the other party—they could be coast guard plants, after all—but unfortunately that suspicion extends to nearly everyone else on Pern as well, in Sernye’s mind. The truth, he believes, is that everyone is only out for themselves. To trust someone and let them come close is to fall for the old “sleeping feline” ruse, and when you least expect it, the beast jumps to life and rips your throat out.
He often feels that he has been dealt a bad hand in life, largely due to the comparative success of his twin throughout their younger years. He’s mostly pleased with his current situation as a quartermaster under a captain of his own choosing, but there’s always this nagging thought in the back of his mind that there could have been be something more. When enough things have gone wrong to drive him over the edge, he goes looking for that “something more” in a desperate torrent of excess, consuming every luxuriant thing he can.
Positive Trait List Observant, intelligent, meticulous, covert
Negative Trait List Apathetic, covetous, suspicious, becomes reckless and extravagant when over-stressed
History:
Born a twin son to a minor lord in the jurisdiction of Nabol, Sernye’s early life was all about competition. His father was eccentric, and was constantly pitting his two eldest sons against one another. “You want to be the one to inherit someday, don’t you?” he’d ask. And both Sernye and Shernor would nod enthusiastically, as he’d trained them to do. But, as is common with multiple offspring, one was decidedly the weaker of the two. And, unfortunately, many of the trials their father put them to were physical in nature.
The wispy boy Sernye was, more often than not, the loser, and there was no end to the humiliation from both his father and brother for it. He became cold, ensconced within a stone wall built brick by brick with every insult and mocking laugh. He took to ignoring people when they spoke to him if he didn’t feel like responding, and didn’t talk much in general unless he wanted something. Instead of boastfully running his mouth off like his brother, he watched, and learned. He was a lot smarter than Shernor, and after much trial and error, he began to find ways to equal and occasionally even beat his brother in spite of his weaker build. For example, he would offer milk and pie to Shernor before a footrace, as a peace offering. Shernor never noticed, but milk would make him cough just after drinking it, and later produced a shortness of breath during the run, making him a bit slower than usual. A win would still be rare for Sernye even then, but the margin by which his brother won would be quite small.
When the twins were seventeen, their father fell ill and was on his deathbed. He had an entire series of competitions planned out, both physical and mental tests for his sons to take on—and the winner would be the one to inherit all of his holdings. The mental tests were easy enough for Sernye, and that, because of his tricks and shortcuts during the other tests, put him in the lead. The last test was a race on the same familiar route that they’d always run their long-distance footraces. Sernye was so far ahead of his brother at that point that he couldn’t imagine that Shernor would be able to catch up.
As the finish line came in sight, Sernye ran with renewed energy, a wide smile on a face long unused to such expressions… until Shernor suddenly passed him, riding on a galloping runnerbeast. Sernye reached the gates of the family manor just in time to hear the announcement being shouted in the courtyard that his brother had won the right to inherit everything. Upon bringing the complaint to his father that Shernor had cheated, the man simply shrugged and said, “I never said it was a footrace.”
After losing to his twin for what he swore would be the last time, Sernye fled from home and traveled to Rivercrest, which had the distractions he was seeking but was about as far away from Nabol as he could get. The trip involved a boatride during which he found that he had decent sea legs, never once getting sick and rather enjoying the experience of the open sea. He lived like one possessed for a few weeks, spending all of his marks in indulging every little whim. When he had completely exhausted himself and his funds in Rivercrest, he moved to Western Hold to look for work. He ended up becoming involved in the trade culture, first by helping with ship repair at the docks and eventually getting hired into the crew of a transport ship he’d worked on. He soon discovered both a knack for sailing and new, profitable uses for his attention to detail.
Perhaps it was sloppiness on the Quartermaster’s part when he last took inventory, but during one voyage in particular, Sernye thought he noticed an extra crate in the hold when he went down to fetch some tubers for the cook. When he brought it up with the Quartermaster, he was permitted to read the ledger, which proved that everything was properly accounted for. Still, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. One night, he opened that crate, and found an odd vial mixed in with the other items. He took it, and stowed it behind a wall panel in the crew quarters—a secret stash like the one he’d had back home to keep Shernor from stealing his things.
When the ship was unexpectedly boarded by officials at the next port, the Quartermaster was no longer so certain of his own records. The man was sweating bullets as the officials opened all the crates, checking them against the ledger. They found nothing out of order, and left the ship. Later, the Quartermaster was digging through the extra crate in a panic when Sernye showed up and handed him the vial he’d lifted. The following conversation was tense, involving brandished weapons on both sides, but ended with establishment of a confidential partnership.
While the partnership was uneasy and sometimes seemed more like blackmailing each other than working together, both men still ended up a bit richer than they’d been before by the time the Quartermaster absconded rather suddenly, leaving a lot of confusion and an empty position on the ship. Sernye was temporarily promoted in his place until they reached the next port—Southern Weyr.
Due to renegotiation over their cargo, some of which was missing and likely stolen by the ex-Quartermaster, they stayed on at the Weyr for a couple of days. Their unexpected shore leave happened to overlap with a dragon hatching. The Weyrleader and Headman invited Sernye and his captain to observe the event, and they did so, taking places among the crowd in the stands. There was much less fanfare and pomp than Seryne expected, just some kids standing around in white robes while spindly little hatchlings tottered about the sands. It was a fairly small clutch as well, from a very old queen. He counted nine eggs, and there were three times as many candidates for them. One bronze, one blue, and three greens hatched. The remaining eggs were deemed unviable.
All of the live hatchlings Impressed quickly except for one green, who seemed much more distressed than the others had been right from the start. Out of the nearly two-dozen candidates she was presented with, she found none suitable. Her eyes whirled a fearful white as she scanned the stands, her little body wobbling with the effort of keeping balanced as she raised her head higher and higher. Then, she saw him. Sernye looked down with lukewarm curiosity, his face a mask of indifference. The little dragon continued to stare.
Then, like the impact of a wave against the broadside of a ship during a storm, she crashed into Sernye’s mind. The mental blow sent him reeling out of his seat. She seemed to retreat, but then rushed forward and hurled herself at him again. Let me IN! Just as he realized what she was doing, she struck a third time, shattering the wall that he had built between himself and the world and flooding in. He was never sure exactly how he got down there, but the next thing he remembered was being on his hands and knees in the sand, fighting sobs as she weaved her threads through his mind, wrapping him up in a gentle net of love, respect, and approval. I shall draw you down from your high tower, my Sernye! she beckoned. Forget those who've rejected you. They were wrong... and so were you. You weren't meant to live your life alone.
And green Gwith herself was living proof of that.
It was strange, sharing his mind with another. Strange, and yet such a relief. This creature no bigger than a canine became his vanguard for the next several months, forcing him to deal with other weyrlings on a personal level. In a way, he hated it. The small talk. Tiptoeing around other people’s opinions on trivial subjects. Wasting precious time between lessons and chores with socializing when he could’ve been working on a craft or sleeping. But, if he were to be honest, after all the turns of guarding himself from the rest of the world, he hadn’t realized how terribly lonely he’d been.
When Gwith had grown, they left Southern Weyr to pick up where Sernye had left off—on the sea. It was not difficult to find work, as Gwith’s small size and ability to fly ahead as a scout made her an asset to nearly any trade ship.
One day, while his captain was negotiating a deal, Sernye had snuck away and was surreptitiously scouting the other ship when he came across a locked room. He spoke through the door with the occupant: a girl who had been enslaved as entertainment for the crew. Coming from Nabol, where fools threw their living income into the pit of gambling and debt, and suffered the consequences for it, he was normally rather callous toward people in unpleasant situations. But what was being done to this woman was outright heinous and not a result of her own actions, as far as he could tell. He stepped out of character for this girl, breaking the lock, sneaking her to his dragon up on the deck, and hopping between to Southern Weyr. He left her there, then laid low for a while before seeking out work aboard a new ship. No doubt he had spoiled the deal his former captain had been making, and no doubt he had made himself at least two enemies in the process, for he had also stolen something valuable from the other captain.
In 3567 AL, he stopped off at Tillek Hold's port with the express purpose of getting a formal education in trade to make himself attractive to the more lucrative outfits. He would complete his apprenticeship, of course, but was also studying the port's authorities, noting their methods and habits in policing order and legitimacy in the cargoes that passed through. While there were never any guarantees of invulnerability, he did come away with several ideas for moving contraband beneath notice, which would later save his and his captains' skins time and time again.
Some of his classes were shared with another dragonrider named Alora, who was training to become a captain. He still struggled with opening up to others, but Alora’s being a rider gave them many reasons and opportunities to interact, especially when Gwith had her way about it. The green had taken a fancy to Alora’s brown Rusilath, and often demanded hunts, swims and other group activities from her rider, as well as frequently choosing the brown in her flights. Sernye kept his distance on an emotional level, but really had no choice but to come to know Alora pretty well during their time at Tillek.
The two humans graduated around the same time and signed on to the same ship. Sernye, having several turns of practical experience, mentored Alora in any aspects of sailing and trade that he could. Sometimes, in the evenings, he’d feel like talking and would tell her of his own experiences at sea. After a time, he came to trust her enough to hint at his less-than-legal doings, for even lawful ship captains could benefit from hiding important items now and then. But he never outright admitted to anything, for concern that she might report him.
They swapped to different ships after a few routes and kept touch through their dragons now and then. Sernye joined a smuggling ship as quartermaster and stayed on for a few turns. One day, Alora contacted him for a little more than just to catch up on things. She had finally scored a ship of her own and was looking for a quartermaster—a very particular sort of quartermaster. It turned out that Alora was not as clean-cut as she appeared to be while in sight of the Tillek Port authorities, much like Sernye himself.
Though Alora had not yet proven herself as a captain over her own vessel, Sernye knew enough of her to believe she would be successful, and trusted her enough… on a business-only level, at least. He and Gwith agreed to join the crew of the ship Valeriya, and are still serving aboard her in the present day.
Other:
DRAGON
Name: Gwith
Age: 14
Color: Green
Size: 26’
Physical Description: A fairly large green, Gwith is average in build save for the very feminine touches of her petite head and paws. Gwith’s hide is a pleasant, medium seaweed green, her underbelly and neckridges being a darker shade of the same. She has markings on her wingsails that give the impression of a net or webbing, and the resemblance intensifies when she wraps them around herself or another.
Personality: Gwith is, in a word, direct. She’s polite about it, but she’ll speak her mind even if what she has to say isn’t very kind, and isn’t offended if her words aren’t well taken. And if she wants something, by Faranth, she’s going to ask for it! That includes love—she is not shy about expressing her attraction for the male dragons. Though she and her rider have a transient lifestyle that really doesn’t allow for her to take a mate, she loves to lure a brown or blue into her net and keep him exclusively for extended periods of time if possible, until the day when the opportunity to settle down finally presents. In all of her ways, she’s either unflappable or just plain shameless, and not even Sernye can decide for sure which it is.
And oh—! Her beloved, brooding Sernye! While his inner strongholds are no obstacle to her, she strives to help others get through the sturdy walls. Within, she sees someone worth knowing, someone she believes should be able to love and be loved. The problem is that he doesn’t agree at all! Silly man! So she continues to poke and prod and push him outside of his comfort zone, expecting that one day everything will fall perfectly into place for the both of them.
Dragon Art or Proof of Obtainment:
*** Will need a new Southern Weyr clutch in 3559 to a very old queen. Nine eggs—one lucky bronze, one blue and three greens, four duds/unhatched.
