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L'ex's Weyr

Gender/Age: male, 23

Rank/Craft: Weyrbred, Apprentice Beastcrafter, RIDER!

Location: Alabaster Weyr

Relatives/Family: none

Dragon if any: IMPRESSED BRONZE ULONYTH at Talor Cliff Weyr

Physical Description: 6'4", 215, hugely built and all muscle, gigantic arms and chest, rich brown skin, bald head (kept shaved), medium brown eyes. Has a strong face because of scarring over one eye and the side of his head, from Thread falling onto him as a child. This threadfall killed his parents and left him a fosterling of Alabaster, where he has thrived. He always wears stylish clothing when in company that deserves it, but he prefers comfortable, functional clothing suitable for work in a blacksmith shop or stables. He has a rough, deep voice which commands anyone by virtue of its size, just like the rest of him.

Emotional/Mental Description: Brave, strong and usually gruff but has a brilliant smile and a good sense of humor. Is a bit of a gambler, but always quits when he's ahead and rarely goes for a poor bet or something he isn't sure of. He is not easily outwitted but he is not as well-educated as some in the Weyr or Hold. He is a willful man, but not cruel, he likes a sense of fair play, and while he knows Engell and his Hold often uses less than above board means, he fully believes that their Weyr Hold will succeed and is virtuous on its own. He flirts with some of the darker girls, prefering their appearance to the lighter skinned ones around.

Skills: this burly man is adept at hunting and skinning animals, as well as weaponsmithy and the use of many different tools for either trade. He is developing a black-powder explosive for Engell and the weyr will benefit from its use by blasting out areas that wouldn't be chiseled. He has a level head on his shoulders, and his old scars remind him every day that there are worse enemies than other holds. He has already been training in ground moves for thread fighting, and is an excellent tactician in regards to fighting thread at this point. He organizes people quickly and easily, even or especially in high stress situations. His commanding and imposing form usually reduces any arguments from the peanut gallery.

History: As above, when he was very young, perhaps three turns old, Thread fall struck unexpectedly on a caravan. This was the first Fall of the Pass, and an unbelieving group of people stood and literally stared as it fell to the ground around them ... and occasionally on them. It was only the quick motion and action of Kalkin (then known as Vanya) that saved the boy's life. He rushed for cover (coming out of nowhere all on his own) and prevented the Thread from burrowing any further into the boy's skin. The scars would never disappear, nor would the connection between the two. On Kalkin's next available opportunity, they arrived to Alabaster Hold, and thus began both their histories here.

Notes and Special Information: residing within Lexan is a deep and old hatred of Thread. He wishes to see it gone forever, but he will settle himself with keeping his family and Hold safe as long as he is able.

Pets/Hobbies/Posessions: tends some of the more ornery runners, and is able to break them without all the huff that some people use. He has tried to extend his education, but usually gets only as far as the history of gunpowder before he leaves off.

Lexan drove another spike into the shoe, keeping the runner's foot steady with his knees, and keeping the runner's head calm with his low, constant voice. "That's a good girl. Can't be racing without these, you know. Keep you going all afternoon with new shoes. Now that wasn't so bad!" He clanged the last nail into place, and set the runner's foot down carefully, rubbing her leg to make sure she was still sound. "Good. Good. Now," he looked around for her owner. "Ah, Tzales, she's ready for your race. Hope she does well!" The small rider and minor Lord Holder bowed to the gigantic dark skinned man and smiled broadly. "You always do the best shoe work. You should come to the race." Lexan looked around, and then decided that his day was done. "You're right. I'll go. No one coming around this time of day, they're all at your race!" They made their way down to the grassy field where lines had been worn into the thick carpet from many races years past. There were a number of competitors from Paveh Hold, and he knew that though Tzales was a good rider, and his mare a quick sprinter, the Paveh folk would probably have the edge. They always did. Even so, he placed a small bet on the white and grey steed and took a last long look at her before she went to the starting area. The race was about ready to be run, when suddenly a blue dragon appeared over head. The runners spooked, and the harpers attempting to announce the race had to calm everyone down when one of the steeds leapt clear into the stands! The dragon captured Lexan's attention. With a sturdy rider, a woman it looked like. She dropped to the ground and made her way through the rather irate crowd. It seemed she had a place to be. And that place was directly in front of Lexan. She looked up at him, calmly glanced at his threadscores, and decided to smile. "I'm Nora, and that is Mitanth. He's decided that you are to come with us, to the Weyr." "Which Weyr?" Lexan asked. "Talor Cliff," she responded. "It's only a between away." "I... I will have to pack some things, and tell my smith master that I'll be gone." "You're going to need to talk to your Lord Holder too aren't you?" Nora said, smiling. "Ah, you've been to Alabaster before, haven't you!" Lexan said. "Well, that too. If it is not urgent, I'd like to take some time and ... talk to someone." "Well, I'm sure that the quicker I get Mitanth off the runner's race track the better!" *** Lexan went to the smithy first, and was congratulated with a big bearhug. One of the few people in the weyrhold that was bigger than he, the smithy master drew a long sigh and handed off something wrapped in a leather skin to Lexan. "You keep this. I know you'll find a use for it." It was a package with fine tools in it, ones which had belonged to the smithy's son, who... unfortunately went between with his dragon and never came back. Lexan took the package with hesitation, but thanked him deeply. Then he visited the Lord Holder. Engell was grinning already, which meant that he'd heard from someone else already that he'd been searched. That went well. Last, he went to his healer, Kalkin. The room was darkened, as usual. "Kalkin, where are you? I can't hardly see in here." A smooth voice came from the corner of the room. "Here, Lexan. Something has happened. I know. Congratulations." "I'll be fighting the Thread like I always wanted, Vanya... It's like I was a child and this dream is finally coming true." The tall healer came out from the corner but without a smile. "You must come back to us, Lexan," he said. The expression in his voice and on his brilliant eyes calmed the dark man down. "I saved you once, and I do not wish to have to do so again. You keep yourself safe too, not just us. And don't call me that." Lexan gazed at the old healer's eyes, and forced a smile back onto his thick lips. "But you'll always be my best friend. And I have to come back anyway, you know Engell wouldn't let a potential rider like me be wasted on another weyr for too long." Finally a smile cracked the old healer's face. "Of course. You will do fine, and you will Impress well, I think. I know you do not need luck for that. You have skill and strength plenty. Clear skies, to you." They clasped hands, and then Lexan went off to join Nora.

L'ex has Impressed! Read about it here, and see the new hatchling on the NEXT page!