I'saac - Green Nicoth - Dragonless

Name: I’saac (Ildresaac)
Age: 42
Gender: Male
Prisoner: No
Craft/Rank: Journeyman smith / former dragonrider

Appearance: I’saac doesn’t quite look his age. For a man in his early forties, he rather looks like a man in his mid-thirties. His features are quite handsome—smooth contours with blue-green eyes that betray a surprising intensity in someone who so often seems to not quite be all there. He wears his hair cropped short, shortest on the sides, where he’s going silver, longer at the crown. If it were a bit longer, it’s quite possible that it would be curly, or at least wavy. And while he doesn’t sport a beard, he can’t be bothered to shave all that often, so a five o’clock shadow or other stubble is commonplace. He is not a particularly tall man, perhaps a bit above average at six feet, and he’s not particularly heavy, either. He tends more toward leanly-built, and he’s not the most inclined to physical activity. But he’s in good enough shape for his age, and it gets him by. He can still grapple taller and heavier men effectively.

Personality: I’saac is not a forward man. Quiet and fairly mild-mannered, he has always been more of a follower than a leader. A military sort by implication if not by direct practice, he knows how to follow orders and takes pleasure in doing the job he is meant to do—and doing it well. He works well with people, in fact preferring to be a part of a group to going it alone. The company is good, but more importantly, there’s always someone keeping an eye on things. While I’saac is perfectly capable of improvising and getting the job done, he’s just much more comfortable if he knows there’s someone else running the show if things go sour. The problem with this is that he has a tendency to be altogether too trusting. It’s surprisingly easy to take advantage of I’saac’s desire to please, and he likely won’t even notice until it’s too late.

There is something curiously delicate in the way I’saac relates to others—something that you wouldn’t expect from a hardened combatant of forty-two. Maybe it’s because in spite of everything he’s seen, I’saac has never needed to kill anyone. He’ll face down criminals. He’ll punch out escapees. And he’ll knife someone in self-defense if he needs to. But he won’t attack anyone unless given a reason and he doesn’t cause permanent harm to another if he has even the slightest of doubts as to their guilt. It just isn’t in I’saac to injure without good reason—his instinct is to protect rather than hurt, and if he can keep someone safe, then he will. He has seen enough harm caused by others to last him for eternity, and frankly, doesn’t want to see anymore.

It should, of course, be noted that “fairly mild-mannered” does not denote “unable to take care of himself in a crisis.” If you assumed that about I’saac, then by all rights he should have died three turns ago. No, I’saac is a fighter when he has to be; it’s not his favourite, but since when does it matter whether or not you enjoy doing something if the only other option is death? I’saac knows full well how to take care of himself, and he’s not afraid to do it. He rolls with punches and is surprisingly ingenious, quick-thinking enough to get himself out of nearly any trouble that comes his way.

His bond with his dragon is a little unusual. Perhaps it’s just because I’saac’s a bit more sensitive than other people and Nicoth isn’t quite the epitome of normal, well-adjusted dragons. But the bond between the pair is strong enough that Nicoth’s stronger emotions occasionally bleed through to I’saac. And it’s not just Flight lust. There are times when I’saac finds himself snarling at others before he catches himself and pushes Nicoth’s anger out of his head and into hers. Luckily, unlike many people with problem dragons, I’saac is absolutely aware that Nicoth is a danger to herself and others. He’s also very much aware that their bizarrely-strong bond means he can occasionally lose control of Nicoth. That’s one of of the reasons he came to Warden’s—much easier to deal with being a freak and an outcast when you’re surrounded by them.

The other reason, of course, is C’ross. If I’saac is eager-to-please with even those he doesn’t know, his devotion to C’ross could be described as slavish, if someone were comfortable with that. Of course, the relationship between the two is one of equals, but I’saac makes it plain that he is hopelessly devoted to the bronzerider. C’ross is an anchor for him, and I’saac can’t bear the thought of being parted from his weyrmate. The fact that he was a willing transfer to Warden’s and accepted his post eagerly is perhaps an indication of his devotion to the other man. But love is a strange thing, and I’saac doesn’t seem to notice that this is peculiar.

History: I’saac doesn’t remember his father. The man, Brownrider Samrac née Sa’ac, was a dragonrider from Ista, and while he managed to wrangle a station close to his Fort Hold mate and son for the first three years of the boy’s life, he was called back to his home Weyr shortly thereafter and never came home. So while I’saac might, if pressed, be able to dig up some vague, fuzzy memory of a male voice, he tends to simply say that he has never met his father. His mother, though she did what she could to raise him right, was always a bit starry-eyed and distant. Young Ildresaac learned quickly not to rely on her for much other than the basics. He was always a quiet boy, ever-obedient and ever-willing to learn.

He turned out to be, in fact, a genius with a penchant for working with his hands. It was too bad most of AIVAS crafts were obsolete by the time the young man was preparing to go into an apprenticeship—he would have made a wonderful engineer. Instead, he was apprenticed as a smith at the tender age of twelve. And while he was determined to do what he did well, he had other aspirations.

While Sa'ac broke contact with Ildresaac's mother, he kept in touch with the youth for a time. His last letter came shortly after Ildresaac's seventeenth nameday. The brownrider had joined the newly-established dragon-watch and wrote to his son that he hoped to make some difference in the world. But Ildresaac never learned if he did. The letters stopped coming. And so the starry-eyed young man’s real dream was to Impress a dragon, join the dragon-watch, and find his father.

He was, and remains to this day, convinced that somewhere, Sa’ac was alive. But in order to join the watch, he’d need to be Searched. And then he’d need to Impress.

Search was more difficult than he had expected—many dragons passed over the young man without a second sniff. He continued his work as a Smith. It wasn’t until he was in his mid-twenties that Ildresaac, now a journeyman, was finally called to a Weyr. He stood for a clutch. He was passed over. He found smithwork at Fort, using it as an excuse to hang around and present himself for Hatchings. He was beyond hope by the time he was thirty. He would never become a dragonrider. But Fort still needed Smiths, and Ildresaac still felt useful working there, so he stayed a few more turns. Three, to be precise. Thirty-three turns old and not a single dragon ever glancing at him beyond the blue who had Searched him. Someone must have made a mistake.

And then at a Hatching he attended from the Stands, a green exploded from her egg, barreled through every single waiting Candidate, and skidded to a halt below him. She shrieked a single I’saac, Ildresaac, come to your Nicoth, and it was as simple as that. Ildresaac the smith was now I’saac the dragonrider. Two years’ Weyrling training, and the thirty-five-year-old man, far too old for the sort of nonsense the groups were put through, was ready to go. He joined the dragon-watch immediately and found himself tossed into a wing led by a man who was…far from gentle.

His fist meeting with Wingleader C’ross was chastisement—Nicoth snapped at a wingmate and C’ross pulled I’saac aside to berate him. Five years C’ross’s senior, I’saac was nonetheless immediately cowed and awed by the imposing Wingleader, who eventually took pity on him and pulled him aside for private sessions in which he and his enormous bronze attempted to break Nicoth of her terrible habits. Unfortunately (or perhaps fortunately), Nicoth proved difficult to break, and I’saac and C’ross ended up spending a great deal of time together. They became fast friends, and I’saac was quick to fall head-over-heels for the man. It wasn’t a relationship the Watch would have approved of, though, and he had no idea of knowing if C’ross even returned his affections. So he kept himself to himself.

Until one day when Nicoth took to the air and Merceth followed close behind her. I’saac didn’t know at the time that the great bronze didn’t chase greens unless prompted by his rider, but it didn’t matter because after the Flight he woke up with his wingleader in his bed and a lot of unanswered questions. The hopeless infatuation was mutual, though there was not much the pair could do about it. They spent a great deal of time trying to work out exactly what to do with themselves, and all the while Nicoth proceeded to affectionately maul Merceth and become less and less controllable in the bronze’s wing.

And then Warden’s Weyr was founded. Of all the dragonriders, it wasn’t surprising that Wingleader C’ross and his…wingrider (and there was a bit of chortling in the ranks over that one) I’saac were among the first to volunteer for the new project. Among other things, their dragons couldn’t be kept in the same wing, but separation was not an option for the two men. Opposing wings might never meet each other. But at Warden’s, squads were separated without being far apart from each other. Nicoth and Merceth could be kept apart, and C’ross and I’saac could be kept together. In separate squads, they could be proper weyrmates without having to worry about the power dynamics or rank issues. It seemed like a sort of twisted heaven for the two of them.

Of course, it wasn’t. Shortly upon arriving, I’saac was cornered and attacked by one of the more violent prisoners. He managed to fight the other man off, but not without use of appropriate force—which ended in a knife to the attacker’s ribs. The man was subdued before he could cause injury to I’saac and was not himself seriously injured, but the incident left the greenrider shaken. Never before had he needed to pull a weapon on another person. He found it distasteful, and for the next three years did everything he could to avoid coming to violence with others. It has given him a reputation among prisoners as a bit of a pushover, but few are willing to actually see if he will back up his pacifist leanings with actions. Most of those who have tried have been sucker-punched.

Other stuff: He can’t be in C’ross’s squad. His dragon will actively try to kill C’ross’s. Seriously.



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Nicoth

Name: Nicoth
Color: Green
Age: Nine
Appearance: Appearances can be deceiving. Nicoth’s certainly is. On the surface, she looks like an average green. Her body size isn’t impressive—average, with a green’s traditional lithe build, but nothing to write home about. Her wingspan isn’t impressive—maybe a bit shorter and broader than some of her sisters. Her colour is a grassy green tinged with olive at the joints, speckled slightly darker on her topside and slightly lighter on her keelbone and throat—no spectacular markings, nothing astonishing. She’s not fast in the air, but she’s fairly maneuverable. What she lacks in finesse, she makes up for in enthusiasm: this green does everything with the air of someone determined to meet an obstacle and utterly destroy it.

The only thing about Nicoth that stands out is the fact that, once you get close to the dragon, you realize that she’s scarred. It’s not just a few scars here and there. There’s almost no part of her hide that doesn’t bear a few crisscrossing marks of claws or a notch from teeth. It’s a myriad of small things amassed over her nine turns, but when you realize that the dragon has not yet been alive for a decade, the collection becomes slightly alarming.

Personality: Nicoth is a danger to herself and others. While the genetic engineering that prevents dragons from harming humans is still fully in effect on this peculiar little green, the general social barriers that prevent dragons from attacking other dragons? Utterly gone. She is highly territorial and even more highly aggressive, thinking nothing of attacking another dragon if they do something she dislikes. Luckily, she’s still a dragon and a traditional colour, and the “higher” colours are quite capable of giving her orders that she can’t resist. But don’t expect her to take them well. She will hiss and snarl and make a fuss, but once compelled, she cannot break from it.

And, of course, she defers to her rider. Usually. For the most part, at least, I’saac can control her. For whatever reason Nicoth decided to choose I’saac (it’s because, she will insist, he needed someone to give him proper direction, because the boy won’t do anything right without her watching), and she’s usually willing to listen to him. Unfortunately, her rages have a tendency to integrate both minds when Nicoth isn’t paying attention. She doesn’t mean him any harm, though, and in general she will be apologetic to him. That said, she has no interest in humans. I’saac’s weyrmate gets passing concern should he be injured, but other than that, humans are literally the least interesting living thing Nicoth can be confronted with. Other dragons can be fought. Smaller things can be eaten. Humans? Can’t eat them, can’t fight them, don’t feel like talking to them. Except I’saac. With whom Nicoth is obsessed, in a way that would be creepy if she were human.

Bloodlust and Flight lust are pretty much indistinguishable to her. If a dragon tries to steal her food, she will attack him. If a dragon tries to mate with her, she will attack him. Back before she came to Warden’s, it was only the newcomers and the more persistent (or insane) riders whose dragons chased Nicoth. Even the winners came back scarred. Then I’saac acquired a weyrmate and only one dragon started winning her Flights.

Possibly the only dragon Nicoth doesn’t hate is Merceth. I’saac’s affection toward the bronze’s rider is strong enough that Nicoth’s impossible hatred of other dragonkind warped into a sort of twisted affection. Unfortunately, it turns out that love and hate are both strong enough emotions that Nicoth is physically incapable of distinguishing between the two of them. And while she might tolerate other dragons if she’s forced to work with them, she is physically incapable of tolerating Merceth flying within wing distance of her. She will demonstrate her burning affection in the only way she knows how: impossible violence. It doesn’t help that Merceth responds in kind.