Tall, toned, and bearing a constant confident grin, Aqueepoli can pull off the whole 'I sex you up because I am the sexy' look with minimal effort. His sleek six foot one frame is highlighted across the chest and shoulders with muscles evident of an all-year sportsman, and a balanced stance is the mark of someone that won't take 'no' for an answer. Aqueepoli changes his look almost daily, feeling comfortable with himself in any style of being. Even a notched ear and numerous faded scars across his arms are borne with pride - anyone would think he'd nearly sacrificed himself for a defenseless weyrbrat in the face of a wild feline or something! It's worked for him before. Charcoal hair, medium short and choppy, is also versatile, able to pull off that just-wind-blown look with ease. Beauty comes easy to Aqueepoli, more so than loyalty and honor, but no one is really perfect in and out. Pol just happens to have the 'out' down pat. Accessories are numerous and quite varied, but always match the colors of loose clothing and black boots.


Aqueepoli hails from good Holder stock. His parents, the lord and lady of SouthShore Hold — a minor hold laying on the Ressac Beach Sea Hold land — is but a few days travel from Xanadu Weyr, are the proud parents of three children. The eldest, a son but alas not Aqueepoli, is set to inherit the hold and holdings once they retire, while their youngest, a delicate daughter of much beauty, already has a husband-to-be picked up. While poor Aqueepoli is but in the middle. Because he is not set to inherit and also not set out to be wed to another, his life is seen as tragic. Though he might disagree. Everything that holder's son has wanted is given over, with nary a 'no' to be seen. Aqueepoli is quite spoiled and much used to always getting his way. Many feel sorry for him, thinking the shame to not be the eldest, when in reality responsiblity is nothing the boy wants nor desires. Even talks of him some day getting a small cothold to run is brushed off. Aqueepoli, from the moment of recognition of all around him, only wishes to have fun.

Alas, as time has passed, poor Aqueepoli has done nothing other than squander his parent's marks and try to get girls to make out with him. Throw in trying to pilfer some of the best wine in the hold and there is truly some issues with this boy and his priorities. Six months into his fifteenth turn, he was caught within the hold's stables, having released all the goats and bovines. He was on his way to freeings the runners as well, but luckily was stopped before it was too late. After much drunken explaining and parental raging, it was decided that Aqueepoli needed to man the heck up and take responsibility for his actions. He was then sent to the nearest Weyr, the poor residents of Xanadu Weyr being thought to be a much better example of proper Pernese culture and with them, the hope of changing the boy's willy ways.

Staring straight into the gaping maw of his sixteeth turnday, this is where the middle son of a minor holder is now. Xanadu Weyr is his current home. Hopefully girls there will make out with him as well!



Name Relation Location Position
Quinelyon Father South Shore Hold Lord Holder
Amiepola Mother South Shore Hold Lady Holder
Quaepelli Older Brother South Shore Hold Hold Heir
Aqueellia Younger Sister South Shore Hold Blooded


Amaretto Stone Sour Green Amaretto
This very petite and pretty lady is pale pear green at the top of her headknobs, along her back and wingsails, from snout to tail. This color deepens however slightly to celadon just under her muzzle and continues across her shoulders and on to the sides of her tailfork. Blending seamlessly, the hue of her continues in it's gradient decent to lime, then sea green until at last becoming a rich olive at her underbelly and limbs. Talons are tinted darker still, with glossy hints of bronze and cherry pink. All of her is text-book formed, as if she had been designed to be the embodiment of the firelizard ideal.


The Greatest Are Misthought Bronze Nisuanekhdjieth
Mercilessly dark, almost completely devoid of all color, this bronze is a beast of prey personified. A tone so dank that it barely classifies as sepia reaches down from skeletal 'ridges, sliding along wiry muscle and sinew like wraithly fingers until, finally, he is uncompromisingly black at the talons. Dusky bronze specters wisp across his hide, fading in and out across his thin neck and pinched chest before twining in a wild, almost macabre brocade beneath his battens and on towards his tail. Wings appear enormous compared to his whipflick of a body, dark brass staining them with nebulous tendrils of smoke and cloudmatter. This same hazy ochre whorls across a face full of cunning chicanery, flecks of copper and gold shattering the bridge of his nose and the hollow beneath his eyes, hopefully drawing gazes away from a maw full of sharp, overlong teeth.


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