Matronly. Warm. Kindly. These are not words that leap to mind when you gaze upon the bent figure of the master healer known as Fraille. Apprentices of the craft whisper rumors that the crone is more than a hundred years old and that she invented pain to amuse herself one afternoon. That she spits nails, eats children and has pure cast-iron flowing through her veins. The woman before you may very well be guilty of all those things.

Whether by choice or by age, she stoops at an impressive five and a half feet tall, and about two inches of that is the explosion of gray and silver hair atop her head. Razor-sharp eyebrows guard a heavy brow and dirty brown eyes that still look out on the world with precise clarity. Too much time in the sun has done her skin no favors, beaten leather over lazy cheekbones and flattened nose. Too small lips press firmly into an even line across her face. If Walter Matthau were a woman living on Pern, you'd get Fraille.

A dark blue blouse made of durable material covers her upper body. What looks to be a long hide skirt turns out to be a massive apron, spattered with haphazzardly arranged pockets. Beneath the apron, comfortable trousers of a dark material clothe her legs. Sturdy half boots cover her feet, and a rain cape falls down to the backs of her knees over the entire ensemble. She firmly grasps a stout walking staff in her right hand, making use of it wherever she walks, both hands gnarled with age and swollen joints.


The rumors not withstanding, Fraille truly is an ancient woman. A master of the healing craft, Fraille has wiped noses, set bones and even assisted with surgeries. Her talents, however, lay in the field of botany. If it's a plant, Fraille probably knows about it, and knows where to find it. If it's medicinal, she can tell you how to prep it, how long it will last if unused, and probably how to grow it yourself. There are even rumors that her knowledge of Pern's fauna extends to poison. Any healer that hears those rumors will scoff, and confirm them readily. After all, even medicine can kill.

While she will not confirm her age she has been known to talk about her youth from time to time. As 'a baby', she tells people that she roamed much of the forested areas that range from the Black Rock to the mountains, exploring even as far as Honshu, learning every plant, every turn of the great woods. She also claims to have eaten her late husband after they mated too, so…

Ask anyone about her when she's within earshot and they speak of her with respect, if somewhat stiffly. When she's out of earshot, everyone swears that the only reason she's still alive is that Death is afraid she has a higher body count, and doesn't want the competition. Still, good or bad, everyone agrees that she's very capable of her craft and that, if you can ask her politely, she is a staggering font of information.

As a master healer, she frequently spends her time in the Craft Hall, defending her title as the instructor that no one wants for lectures.


Name Relation Location Position
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Green Flop : Flop is as nondescript as firelizards come. So far as her appearance goes, she is average in every way. The mottled green of her hide has no particular patterns or unusual shades. She is well within the normal range for length and wingspan, and is not overweight. And the green's limbs are all in proportion with her size. The only thing remarkable about her is her personality, as anyone who remains in her presence for more than a few moments will quickly learn.

Flop's not so much a fire lizard as she is a garbage disposal on wings. Among her favorite foods are eggs, and as several healers will attest, you don't ever want to be near Flop's backside after she's had eggs. Even dragon riders have commented that Flop's gas would be enough to knock their mounts out of the sky.


Title OOC Date Cast
Friends and Loved Ones January 20, 2010 Fraille, Galina, Phylicia
Mothers and Sons January 22, 2010 Fraille, Jaice(NPC), Phylicia

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