The Rider
Name: M'zhir
Age: 28
Nameday: 3549.01.09
Sex: Male
Sexual Orientation: Wouldn't you like to know? But yes.
Weyr: High Reaches Weyr
Rider Rank: Wingrider
Previous Rank/Craft: Journeyman Harper
Specialties: Composition, Songwriting, and Dance & Defense
Physical Description: Well built and tall at 6'5", M'zhir boasts golden eyes and raven black hair. His childhood at Black Sands and training as a harper in defense have helped to define his broad shoulders and narrow waist. Rakish and hawk-nosed, with a notch or two in that very feature, M'zhir is more than aware of his handsome looks... and knows well how to use them to his best advantage.
Personality: Although M'zhir wears the façade of the effulgent harper well, beneath that sunny seeming and swagger there lies a man with a faintly macabre bend. Perhaps it is unavoidable to feel keenly the death that surrounds everyone on Pern, especially at the Weyr. Death has laid its cold fingers on the harper's life for Turns, heightened only by the arrival of Thread. Rather than turning into a grieving recluse, however, he has twisted prior pains into a droll and slightly dark sense of humor. This steeled approach to life would serve him well in a world newly baptized by the horrors of Threadfall, particularly as an up and coming rider.
Few but his closest friends know the real M'zhir, for the man wears a mask crafted through Turns of refinement. On the outside, M'zhir seems very much the customary confident yet amiable harper, ready to entertain and cajole at a moment's notice. It is only after peeling back layer after layer of his defenses that one might find the introspective, deep thinking man within. Observant and analytical, the former harper is an excellent judge of character. Particularly with Kirath's help he is able to determine, most of the time, when he is being deceived. No one is infallible, however, and though he certainly tries not to be, M'zhir has been fooled before... sometimes greatly to his detriment.
To say he holds most people at arm's length is an understatement. Although slow to trust, he is nonetheless quite good at making friends and is unafraid of doing so on a surface level. Placing his trust in others takes time and effort on his part. Still, he knows the value of working together, and is quite capable of being a team player. For all his reticence, M'zhir does not struggle with following orders or ostensibly fitting into a group. It's just that he knows the danger of forming attachments, especially in the dangerous world in which he now lives.
On a personal level, he can be deeply possessive. Not of possessions, really, so much as people. He is not exactly a jealous man, however, merely determined that those he considers 'his' will fall under his protection and care. And, most importantly, that they also know of that belonging. Admittedly, he has been slow to form such bonds, knowing how temporary they may prove to be. Those who have his trust will have it eternally, and his regard, once given, is very rarely altered. His affection can border on obsession. One pitfall he can fall into is being blind to his own fallibility, trusting his instincts a little too much. It can be difficult for M'zhir to let go once he's held onto something, rather like a canine with a bone.
Positive Trait List Deducing, brilliant, magnetic
Negative Trait List Wary, possessive, cavalier
History: As a child M'zhir grew up in the creche at Black Sands Hold. Although he didn't have any blood relatives that he knew of, he did not lack for parental figures. It was just that there were so many of them. Indeed, even a child alone could never truly be alone, with a creche full of fellows to look up to and indeed to compete with. It's fair to say that he doesn't know who his parents were, if they died, or if they simply moved on from Black Sands sometime in the nebulous past. It doesn't matter as he doesn't miss them; he had foster parents throughout his younger Turns, and a certain harper who would visit and teach the children.
The young Meyzhiral greatly admired his teacher, who opened up his eyes to music and the wonders it could bring. He would go on to attend the Western Harper Hall, forming close bonds with several of his fellows. The worst part about leaving his home, however, was leaving his best friend Tavier behind. They had been as close as blood brothers, and though he had urged Tavier to follow him, he had known that their paths would likely diverge. He had been interested in music, and Tavier had been content with entertaining at the resorts popular among the tourists of Black Sands.
Everything seemed to be progressing well, with letters sent to and from Black Sands (his own becoming more accomplished with time spent at the Hall.) However, in his twelfth Turn there came a day when there was no reply. Although he'd heard from Tavier as regularly as even mere sevendays before, it seemed that suddenly his friend had cut him off. Then, to his utter horror, he received word that Tavier had been brutally murdered. Since he had been the next of 'kin', he'd been sent the few belongings the boy had. It was a lot for the young harper apprentice to take in, and though he wrote back to the creche frequently, trying to find out what had happened, it seemed that no one quite knew.
There were few enough leads indeed, and Meyzhiral quickly developed an obsession. Haunted by the images his mind conjured of the scene, the boy could only lie awake and wonder. With his apprentice's wages, he could scarcely brush the surface of what had occurred. Slowly a plan formed, even as the boy worked diligently at his studies. His goal in mind, Meyzhiral found the pieces fell into place almost as though they had been laid out for him according to his wishes. When he reached the age of 18, he walked the tables and was drawn into the world of spying.
Little had he known that his masters had been monitoring him quite closely and were well aware of his natural inclinations. He was instructed to partner with the Courtesan Hall on a number of assignments. For a number of Turns Mezhiral worked closely with the Courtesan Hall in his (secret) capacity as spy, performing in venues where unsuspecting patrons might spill their secrets as he plunked away at his gitar. Where and when possible, the journeyman followed what leads he could, taking advantage of his relative freedom to pursue a trail that was growing more and more cold.
All of that would change when Thread returned. At twenty three Turns he narrowly escaped death himself, while witnessing the utter carnage that was unabated Threadfall. Crouched in the minimal shelter of a crumbling cothold, Mezhiral could only wonder whether he would survive, or whether he would join his patrons in being devoured by the terrifying silver rain. He had never before thought himself a coward, and never again would... yet he was helpless to act as his fellow men and women died around him. Certainly he was changed after the experience, as were many people around him.
Still, this did not stave off his obsession with discovering the truth of Tavier's death... but it did muddy the waters all the more. By this point, the trail was eleven Turns cold, and next to no one knew anything at all about the poor lad who had died so many Turns ago. Frustrated beyond measure, Mezhiral found himself sent on assignment after assignment, all too conscious both of the cooling trail and of the menace of Threadfall. When a chance encounter with a Searchrider brought him to Western Weyr, he took the opportunity to Stand at once. He had not been able to save his friend, but perhaps he could help to save others.
This burning desire did not pan out into anything more until, on his 27th nameday, he Impressed to Kirath at High Reaches Weyr. This twist of fate would change his life forever, for Kirath would not allow him to continue on his relentless course. The pain of loss and the yearning obsession to know what had befallen his old friend faded away in the wake of whirling rainbow hued eyes. With a new resolve to face their ancient foe together, the newly minted M'zhir left the Sands with his Kirath, never again to be alone.
Where Candidate lessons had been rather dull for the man, he found his stride in Weyrling lessons. With Kirath's natural likeability, it was fairly smooth sailing, but a new challenge for M'zhir. Not only was he forced to bond with his fellow weyrlings, but for the first time since his near brush with death M'zhir was faced with the reality that his and Kirath's lives would soon be on the line. Tragically, the pair would go on to lose L'ser and Spavineth, a blow which broke open anew the old wound that M'zhir had thought long since healed. Haunted by the death of their peers and clutchmates, the pair became all the more determined that to flame Thread from the sky.
Other: Has a green flit named Coda. Plays the gitar, among other instruments.
The Dragon
Origin of Name: Kirath, from Kirat, the legendary horse of Azerbaijani and Turkish origin. The father of the hero, a humble stableman, presents the skinny horse to his master Bey of Bolu, who sought to send a high quality mares to the Sultan in order to win his favor. Angered by the sight of the malnourished horse, Bey blinds the stableman. This would earn him the lasting enmity of the man's son, Rusen Ali, who would go on to become the great Köroğlu, wrath which would only be calmed when Köroğlu realizes that even were he to kill Bey of Bolu he would never be able to bring back the world into which he was born. Köroğlu was a warrior-poet to whom many stories and songs were attributed, a number of which have survived in modern folk traditions.
In some variations of the legend, Köroğlu's father Yusuf was presented with a vision of the Aras river, whose waters would briefly contain the ability to heal a man and render him immortal. In this telling of the tale, it was Kirat who drank of the foam and became immortal. Already a splendid beast, the mare was transformed into a horse of immense strength and stature. Having missed the opportunity to drink of the Aras river's healing foam, Yusuf would die after calling on his son to avenge him of the wound that ultimately ended his life. This effort would end in the tragic realization by Rusen Ali that even victory could not stop the world from modernizing.
Inspiration: Karabakh or Azerbaijan horse
The Karabakh (Azerbaijani: Qarabağ atı), also known as the Karabai or Karabakhskaya in Russian, is a mountain-steppe racing and riding horse. It is named after the geographic region where the horse was originally developed in Karabakh, Azerbaijan. The breed is noted for its good temperament and speed; in 2004, a Karabakh horse named Kishmish from the Agdam stud in Azerbaijan covered 1000 metres in 1.09 minutes and 1600 metres in 1.52 minutes.
The Karabakh is thought to be influenced by Persian horses and the Akhal-Teke, Kabarda, Turkoman and Arabian breeds, and it influenced the development of the Russian Don during the 19th century. It is bred primarily in Azerbaijan's Shaki region. The breed numbers below 1,000, and it is threatened with extinction.
The Karabakh has close links to the Akhal-Teke (which is bred in Turkmenistan) and the Turkoman horse, which is bred in Iran. Some historians believe that they were originally a single breed and significantly influenced the development of the Arabian horse. These facts were found out after numerous researches in XIXth century.
The Karabakh region was known for the quality of its horses; the classical historian Strabo describes the Armenian province of “Orchistene" as supplying the kingdom with the "most cavalry." According to some sources, tens of thousands of horses with golden-chestnut coloring (characteristic of Karabakhs) were seized by the Arabs during their eighth- and ninth-century conquest of Arran.
The breed acquired its present characteristics during the 18th and 19th centuries. In Transcaucasia, Karabakh Khanate was known as a place for breeding of horses. Factory of the khanate was the main farm of purebred horses, which were not held for sale, but were only presented as gifts. According to Diterikhs, in 1797, right after the death of Agha Mohammad , Ibragim khan got his stable. There is some evidence that Ibrahim-Khalil (1763–1806), ruler of the Karabakh Khanate, had a herd numbering 3,000–4,000 (primarily Karabakhs). During the 19th century, Karabakhs became popular in Europe. An English company purchased 60 Karabakh mares from Mehdi-Kulu Khan, the last ruler of the Karabakh Khanate, at a large 1823 sale. Although its numbers were impacted in 1826 during the Russo-Iranian war, the breed remained intact.
The Karabakh played a significant role in the formation of the Russian Don breed. The heir of Russian general Valerian Madatov sold all his horses, including 200 Karabakh mares, to a breeder in the Don region in 1836. The mares were used to improve the Russian Don into the 20th century.
Karabakh numbers sharply decreased again during the early 20th century, primarily because of civil and ethnic wars in the Caucasus in general and the Karabakh region in particular. The breeding enterprise established by the Karabakh khans and developed by their heirs was destroyed in 1905. Karabakhs were bred to other breeds, resulting in changes including a reduction in size.
In 1949, the breed was revived at the Agdam stud in Azerbaijan. Seven years later, the Karabakh stallion Zaman and an Akhal-Teke named Mele-Kush were presented to Queen Elizabeth II by the Soviet government.
The breed experienced another setback during the First Nagorno-Karabakh War. Before the 1993 capture of Agdam by Armenian forces, most of the Karabakh horses were moved from the Agdam stud. They are currently bred in winter pastures on the lowland Karabakh plains between Barda and Agjabadi.
Personality: As amiable as he is charming, Kirath is quite content to be surrounded by his beloved family. From the very first moment he arrived on the Sands, he was a ray of sunshine. Cheerful and ebullient, there is truly no one that Kirath can genuinely say he doesn't like. When others are cruel to him, he returns that cruelty with genuine kindness. When others overlook him, he floats serenely above such pithy concerns; why should he worry over what they may think of him when he knows that he is wonderful?
A fearless fellow, Kirath has not yet learned temperance when it comes to Threadfall. He's certainly no fool, but he is willing to test the limits of the possible when he thinks he can succeed. Of course, he generally thinks he can succeed all the time, so it will be up to his rider to keep him in check. It is not that he disrespects authority, rather he suffers from a common belief among the youth of his own invincibility. Though that view has been tarnished slightly by the death of Spavineth, he nevertheless holds on to faith in himself and his rider.
They are, surely, a cut above the rest. Not superior, exactly, though that is a difficult distinction to make. But... perhaps just a bit more honed, a bit more prepared. Whether this self impression will be able to be maintained long-term has yet to be determined, but for the time being Kirath is holding strong. Still, he is more than able to share a bit of his strength and vision with others. He is a patient fellow, more than willing to forgive any slights - whether real or perceived. That said, he can be an irrepressible tease, something which he'll probably never get over.
Positive Traits: Courageous, patient, kind
Negative Traits: Arrogant, teasing, reckless
NPC Egg: Small egg.
Adult Size: 72'
Physical Attributes: Though of a delicate build, Kirath's presence can readily be felt. A lithe and svelte dragon with a lovely wedge shaped head, Kirath is not afraid to show off such beauty.
Additional Notes: Boys only, please and thank you. If Kirath has a particular eye for masculine beauty... well, it can't be helped. He does admire a nice strapping fellow, and will likely devote himself completely when he finds Mr. Right. Granted, it might be a bumpy road to get there.
In Threadfall his small size grants him a measure of maneuverability, but he is also steadfast.
Impression Effect: Upon Impression, M'zhir's obsession with Tavier's passing was put to bed for once and for all, to be replaced with a similar attachment to his dragon. M'zhir's naturally magnetic personality has been enhanced significantly. When he walks into a room, his presence is palpable, a trait shared with his dragon.
Why Me? Frankly, it was because M'zhir needed him. Kirath knew that deep down there was a brave man who wanted to face his fears head on, and he had the ability to make it so. Not only that, but the dragon's kind nature empathized with the keenness of M'zhir's loss, which loss he smoothed over when their eyes met for the first time. For his own part, M'zhir has much to offer the foolhardy creature; possessing a much more focused and calculating nature, the man can look ahead to see the dangers that may arise. Rather than shying away from them, they will meet them... and gladly so.
