Dusky blond hair has been trimmed short, though it manages to look like all that's been done is that it's been finger combed into place. Blue eyes stare out from under thick brows like small, hard chips of pale crystal. His square jaw is covered in a scruffy beard, his lightly sun kissed skin easily visible through the short patchy hair. In a few more turns, he might be able to grow a full beard, but for now, his young age works against him. His nose is crooked, probably the result of having been broken at some point, and his lips are thin to the point of almost non-existence. His shoulders are broad, the muscles of his arms well defined from turns of hard work, and he gives the impression of being stocky, even though he's a full two meters tall.
At the moment, he's wearing clothing fit for hard labor; a worn gray shirt that's loose enough to allow freedom of movement, dark, soft leather pants that have been patched more than once, and boots that have most definitely seen better days. His nails always appear dirty from dirt that's caked into the skin, no matter how often or how well he washes.
Iforian is the eldest child of two, though he has another two younger half-siblings. His mother is a weyrhandler at Crom Hold, and his father a brownrider living at Iern Weyrhold. He had a normal enough childhood with no major injuries or real difficulties, though he spent most of his time in the care of nannies and under the watchful eye of the Hold's harper. With his father not really in the picture very much once his younger sister was born, Iforian started acting out to get attention. It got to the point that he was… gently encouraged… to find a path for his life by the time he was ten, purely in the hopes that he would settle down and become a productive member of the Hold.
By the age of eleven, Iforian was firmly entrenched as an apprentice in the Miner Craft. He was often in trouble for intimidating his fellow apprentices, though he never did anything truly harmful to anyone else. There were a few minor scuffles, but nothing truly serious; nothing that caused anything more than black eye. He was judged more harshly than the other youngsters he scuffled with for the simple reason that he was a big guy, bigger than most of the other boys his age. He only got bigger as he was punished by being assigned to hauling mined ore, rock, and Cromcoal for his misbehavior.
Though he became an apprentice when he was still eleven, Iforian was over a turn later being promoted to journeyman than many of the other apprentices his age that had started when they were older for the simple reason that he spent so much of his time doing menial labor rather than actively learning. He did, finally, earn his journeyman knot at the age of twenty, however, and was quickly posted to Rubicon River Hold. He's spent the last two turns there, managing to, mostly, keep out of trouble, though there have been a few minor disciplinary actions that have had to be taken.
|Yanismara||Mother||Miner Crafthall||Wherhandler, green Yask|
|F'rion||Father||Ierne Weyrhold||Journeyman Tanner, brown Kardath|
Newton's Great Epiphany Green Bounty
As though it has been freshly plucked from a nearby tree, an effervescent apple-green covers this firelizard's small, streamlined body. Cheerful gold and amber tones dapple their way across her belly, speckling themselves across the bridge of her nose beneath intelligent eyes. Across her back and down her forepaws flows a cascade of pale reds, nearby colors spiraling and fading together until one looks almost the same as the next. Her dainty little wings are brilliant, green as a melon struck by sunbeams, overall a hatchling built of great ideas and infinite impetus just waiting to drop from the sky and invent something new.
Shining Vanity Bronze Leo
This firelizard is clearly a bronze, his hide bears an unmistakable metallic sheen, with an undertone of rich molten bronze faintly visible beneath his markings, occasionally shining through fully in the gaps. He's built for action, lean and long limbed, a hunter of a firelizard if ever there was one. But, in personality, he differs - there he shows his true colours, quite literally. His hide is such chaos, it looks as though he's gotten into some child's art kit, splashed himself with bright primary coloured paints, and then rolled around in glitter. It's a gaudy look, all told, but he carries himself with pride.
Guardian of Past Sins Brown Izzuth
This brown, massive for a hatchling of his color, is rock solid in build, his craggy bone-work covered in lean muscle. He's built for speed and stamina - broad chest deeply set, abdomen taut and tucked. An elegant, soft fallow brown coats his hide in a unique play of shadows and light, patterns mottled with cream and chocolate that ripple over his form. Arrow-spotted bars of cocoa markings over each of his eyeridges give him a distinctive look while jagged neck ridges of strong russet contrast with the buff beige on his small, rugged headknobs, short narrowed muzzle, the underside of his jaw, long neck and back. The lighter hue sweeps all the way down his wide, blunt-ending tail where three chunky bands of chocolate wrap around the end of the snow-touched tip. Quite capable of lifting his bulk to the skies, over-large, cape-like wing sails stretch between darkened spars where hooks stand out a glimmer of pearl, the trailing edges likewise pale. The dry savanna of open-ringed spots inlaid with copper dapple over torso, fading to ecru on underbelly and limbs, darker tans curling over each sturdy leg only to fade yet again to white-cream on the edges of his sizable paws, which are tipped by iridescent ivory talons.