Ailsmar's Weyr As you enter the weyr, the first thing that you notice is the strong, unusual smell of clay and dirt, along with something that is quie probably manure.  Pinching your nose between your thumb and forefinger, you quickly back out the door, thinking that you probably shouldn't of come to this weyr for notes, after all.  As an Archivist (For those of you who don't know what it is, see here), you are responsible for getting notes for the Harpers for their possbile songs.  Who would want to sing about a boy who's weyr smells of manure, though? Just as you are about to exit the room and leave behind the horrible stench, you back into something solid.  "Oh, sorry!" Someone says, and you spin around to see a boy of around fifteen or so Turns of age scrambling for a clay pot that only seems to roll away from his fumbling fingers.  You use your boot to stop the clay pot from rolling away further, and he thankfully picks it up.  "Excuse me, Archivist, I am Ailsmar."  He smiles at you in a charming way, and you can't help but to smile back. "I am an Archivist, as you already know, Senior Apprentice, and for my first 'challenge,' as my teacher puts it, I must go around to differant Weyrs and interview Candidates."  You sigh absentmindedly, and Ailsmar smiles. "It's a lovely task, isn't it?" He asks, smiling softly, and you become confused for a few moments.  "I mean speaking to all of the Candidates, for most of them would rather be out eating a bubbly pie than speak to you.  Me?  I'm allergic to bubbly pies." "I've never heard of anyone that was allergic to that," You say, confused.  "Yeah, but I've bet that you've never heard of a Potter Apprentice that lugs manure into his weyr after being Searched, so that I can keep on making pots after Candidate's duties, did you?" He asks.  "After Candidate duties?" You inquire, stunned.  From what you've heard of Candidates duties, no one had any time to do anything afterwards.  "Yeah, usually it's late, but even though I'm not good at molding anything, I love it," Ailsmar says, sighing softly as he points to a small set of cups and bowls, each painted with a tiny, glittering green firelizard.  As he said, the pieces are not perfect, but the painting is.  "Yeah, I painted that, which is what everyone wants to know." "You should of considered becoming an artist," You say, picking up one cup and stroking it softly.  "Why didn't you?" "Not enough money," Ailsmar muttered, gently pushing the set back into a cabinet, and you gently place the last one back.  "Did you get your notes?" He inquires. "Yes," You stutter, and know that you'd better invent alot of stuff to make this story minimum length for the Harper.  Giving him one last smile, you quickly turn from his weyr, and back to Rose Circle Weyr. Read Ailsmar's Story Name: Ailsmar Gender: Male Age: 15 Turns Physical Appearance: Average Height and weight, with black hair and brown eyes.  He is clumsy, and looks, basically, like a total goofball.  Ailsmar has long, slender fingers, and is often teased about having a "lady's hand."  He has horrible hand-eye cordination; the eye and brain part works, just not the hand.  He has several scars down his left arm from when he was thrown of a stallion at age 8 (Stupid little boy), but is otherwise in fine physical condition.  Well, unless you count the fact that when he eats bubbly pies, he breaks out into rashes. Personality: Smart, quick as a whip, and very friendly when he wants to be.  Ailsmar knows that he is dubbed "differant" for his clumsieness and "lady's hand," and he tries to make it appear as though he doesn't know what others call him.  He can be a leader when necessary, although he would rather be somewhere in the middle in the chain of leadership; not a follower, nor a leader. History: Born at the Healer Hall, Ailsmar was fostered to a kitchen-worker in the Potter Craft Hall.  He had three foster-siblings, two girls and one boy, and was the youngest.  He was Apprenticed at the age of twelve, and failed miserably.  Many considered shipping him off to become an artist, but the idea was quickly discarded, as without large sums of money, he could not.  Searched for Rose Circle Weyr at the age of fifteen.