A'den (Formerly Arden)

Arden_Main.png
A'den
Sex Male
Position Weyrling
Dragon Green Saelcuhth
Craft Star Craft
Rank Sr. Apprentice
Speciality General
Birthplace Paradise River Hold
Home Monaco Bay Weyr

Description

Tall in height and fit, yet average in build best describes the appearance of this young man. Waves of red hair rest atop his head, long on top but trimmed neatly at the nape of his neck, framing his lightly tanned face. Dark brown eyes are lined in the gray haze of fatigue, otherwise he is lightly freckled and free of pallor. Full lips are often resting in a half-smile, offering a carefree countenance to the observer. Dressed for comfort and mobility, a loose fitting midnight blue tunic is worn. The collar is left open and sleeves rolled up to elbows, allowing coastal breezes to offer comfort from the areas warmth. The garment is tucked into high waisted sand colored trousers, tied snugly at the waist with drawstrings. Adorning his feet is nothing more than a simple pair of well weathered leather sandals.


History

Arden's story is blissfully uneventful. Born and raised by one of the many families under the territories of Paradise River Hold, he grew up running around with the other minor hold children, and getting into the usual amounts of trouble expected from young boys. As he got older, urging from his family to go into a craft was met with little resistance. Their hopes were for Arden to join the Sea Craft or something that would benefit their way of life, only some things were just not meant to be. For Arden's eyes were cast higher than the horizon and the seas, to the stars above. After some urging and a stubborn streak a dragon-length wide, Arden began his Apprenticeship with Star Craft where he continues his studies and honing his skills to this day.


Family

Name Relation Location Position
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Firelizards

Favored Goddess Gold Artemis


Dragon

The Cruelest Irony Green Saelcuhth

There are things that haunt the dark corners of the world, things whose names are forbidden to speak, for their mere utterance lends them power. There are monsters that prey upon dreams amidst black nights, whose warped aberration can twist even the most innocent of imaginings into untold horrors - and then there is this wicked green. She is something of terror to behold, pestilence given mortal form, a creature of undiscovered deeps and the fathomless space between stars. Sickly iridescence coats her hide in an oily sheen, rippling from bruised absinthe to bloodied emerald in a manner that's faintly nauseating, if only because it never seems to shift the same way twice. Dark waves of her natural hide shine through over lean ribs and preternaturally long legs, scaly bubbles and savage pockmarks giving the impression she's covered with a thousand undulating tentacles that have seen enough chaos to know where this is going. Unholy fires lick the trailing edges of stygian wings, the curves and blades of chartreuse flames giving her sails an impression of raggedness. A slim nose, swept knobs and a narrow chest lend reassurance where ripped depths might not: this is a beast built for flight, one whose height and size set her up to be a veritable titan of stormlit skies, the maelstrom mistress of air and darkness.


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