Player Information

Name: Allie

Wingrider L'den

Name: L'den
Pronunciation: Lah-dehn
Age: 19
Gender: Male
Preference: Heterosexual
Birthing Date: 05.16
Craft: Tailor (Sr. Apprentice)
Rank: Wingrider
Physical Description:

Líden, having lost the last of his baby fat over the course of his weyrling training, now finally has the leanly muscled build he has always yearned for. He works constantly to maintain it, running and riding for several candlemarks each day. While not exactly tall, at 5'10, he is by no means the shortest man in the Weyr. His pale blond, nearly white, hair is cut short enough to fit beneath his helmet, but is still worn a bit longer than the norm for a male dragonrider. In the morning, it forms a sort of messy halo around his thin, pale face, making him look slightly ridiculous.

A few hours later, Líden appears a perfectly respectable young wingrider, with regular, handsome features and large, innocent blue eyes, set in a face that is too thin for true beauty. He is always well dressed, with the same instinct for appearances as his dragon. He favors shirts of a dark blue, a shade as close to his eyes as he can find. His boots are always shiny, his hair is always combed and his clothes are always clean, but he seems a bit too polished, his appearance revealing nothing about him.


Although he shares his dragonís flair for the dramatic in clothes, in all else, Líden is remarkably practical. He does exactly as much work as he needs to to succeed, never slacking off, but never really driving himself to excel either. He is often embarrassed by Kinjhothís antics and tries to encourage him to maintain his spot in formation during drills and Fall, rather than showing off his latest maneuver. As L'den says, the pair doesn't need any trouble from their wingleader. This practicality extends to many other things in Lídenís life, from his small weyr, which contains few decorations, to his meals, where he eats only enough to sooth his hunger, and even his friends. While he has a few casual acquaintances, Líden isnít really close to anybody, besides Kinjhoth, that is. In this way, he is very like his dragon, fearing that his supposedly logical outlook is nothing more than a shield for some well-hidden flaw. Fearing it's discovery, L'den pushes away, sometimes gently, sometimes harshly, anyone who attempts to be in any way intimate with him.

Lídenís one vanity is his appearance. Throughout his childhood, he was never particularly attractive, his pasty skin covered in pimples, his short frame covered in rolls of fat. When he stood for the first time at fifteen, he was just beginning to outgrow this adolescent awkwardness, but it wasnít until he moved into his own weyr, nine months later, that he first looked into a mirror and saw a reasonably handsome stranger looking back. Always overly careful with his clothes and hair, Líden became even more so, waking before sunrise each day to bathe and ensure he looked his best. The brownrider continues this habit, having added a daily run to his regimen, in his constant striving to maintain his new body, now that weyrling training is over.

While heíll never admit it, this preening is a predictable result of a deeper yearning. Líden wants a relationship, with a girl, with some physical stuff involved and possibly something more. He knows heís not likely to start anything like that anytime soon, heís too busy caring for Kinjhoth, but whenever he sees a pretty girl, or even an unattractive one with a hint of something else on her face, passing by, he canít help but wonder, what if?


Linden was born in Flax Hold, the son of an untrained farm laborer and a journeyman farmer. He was the fourth of five children, with three older brothers and one younger sister, Po, with whom he was always close. He was always shorter than his brothers and struggled to keep up with them as they worked on his fatherís farms. He was often seen with his baby fat jiggling around him as he ran after them, long after his brothers had moved on to another row of cotton. He was always clumsy, constantly coming home with his hands covered in scratches gouged into his hands by wicked cotton thorns. By the time he was ten, his parents agreed that he would never be a great, or even a decent, farmer. For two turns, he stayed home with Po, who was only four at the time, keeping her out of trouble while his family brought in the harvest. Over this period, Linden bonded with Po, as they learned each others' little idiosyncrasies. This closeness remains the only significant relationship, besides the one with Kinjhoth of course, in Lídenís life.

On his twelfth birthingday, Linden sat down for a long talk with his father, who told him what he was going to do next. He was, Linden was told, going to be apprenticed in the Tailor crafthall, right near home. His father had a childhood friend there, who would look out for him and keep him out of trouble. He would be happy there, Linden was assured, and the next day, with the help of one of his brothers, Líden can no longer be troubled to remember which, Linden dragged his suitcases to the crafthall where he met his fatherís ďfriend.Ē

The ďfriendĒ never really had much to do with Linden but much to everybodyís surprise, the boy, who had never been more than mediocre at anything, from farmwork to chores to harper lessons, excelled. He displayed a surprising creativity, often masked beneath the practicality he had learned from his father, and came to love designing. He even managed to avoid poking himself with needles, loving his work enough to put in the extra candlemarks and practice until he was great, rather than merely good. He was nearly ready to become a Senior Apprentice when a Search dragon arrived and offered him candidacy.

Linden was reluctant at first to leave the Hall that had become his home. He was encouraged to go by his masters, who claimed it would be a great opportunity for him and that he could continue his studies at the weyr, assisted by the tailors who worked there, all of whom were highly qualified, of course, and his parents, who were glad their mediocre son finally had a chance at glory, and his brothers, who wished they could go, but decided having a dragonrider brother would be the next best thing to being dragonriders themselves. None of these opinions really meant all that much to Linden, who only agreed to go after his sister Po echoed them, adding that she wanted to see a Hatching and take rides on Lindenís dragon. Linden agreed to go and stand, for just one clutch.

Life as a candidate didnít suit Linden as well as his apprenticeship had. It was hard, physical work and he had to push his body, which heíd let stagnate for the three turns he had been an apprentice. However, he had learned perseverance in the course of his apprenticeship, and pushed himself until he was in the middle of the class, neither the best nor the worst.

Hatching day came and Linden didnít really expect to Impress. He was shocked when a small brown dragonet, who introduced himself as Kinjhoth, stumbled over to him, as his little sister cheered. Líden was overjoyed, instantly falling in love, a feeling he had previously reserved only for Po, with the small, ordinary enough looking thing. Weyrling training suited Líden no better than Candidacy had, but this time, he was determined to succeed, for his dragonís sake. Over time, everything became easier and, while not really the best at anything, L'den was never really the worst at anything either. Caring for his dragon also grew easier as Kinjhoth aged and now Líden once again has time to design and sew his own clothes, not as much as he used to, but he can find it, as long as he stays up a few candlemarks later than necessary and works quickly. Heís very much relieved by that, as he hates wearing other peopleís work, and hopes that now that he has graduated to a fighting wing, he will once again have the leisure time to pursue his craftwork.

Brown Kinjhoth

Name: Kinjhoth
Color: Brown
Size: 33.75
Wing: White Squall
Weyr of Impression: Eastern
Age: 3

Kinjhoth really shouldnít be all that much to look at. He is below average in sizeóa truth that holds, not only for his nose-to-tail length, but also for his height at the shoulder and overal breadth. "Kind of a shrimp" would be an accurate assessment of Kinjhothís lean, running to skinny body. At least the brown isnít bony or embarrassingly scrawny . . . once he gets through the various awkward stages of adolescence, anyway. If inspired mediocrity werenít enough to at least theoretically guarantee Kinjhoth a miss in public notice, he is a boring mud brown. Not an *ugly* mud brown; ugly would be remarkable. Kinjhoth gets dull, even mud brown, alleviated only by a strange hint of pattern on his hind legs and at the edges of his wingsails. Are those feathers? Or are they flames?

Maybe thereís a little more to this brown than his shape and color suggest. He holds himself with assurance and pride, his neck arched, his wings always at an attractive angle or folded neatly on his back. Kinjhoth has *presence*. The brown is physically compelling, draws eyes when he moves through a space, and will never lack for human or draconic admirers. His hide, dull though it may be, even acquires an artificial sheen that adds depth and complexity to his coloring when he asks his rider to slather him with oil. Doubt ye not: he asks often.


As one might guess from his effusion of *presence*, Kinjhoth has a flamboyant streak as wide as the weyrbowl. The brown upstages, outwits, outdoes anyone and everyone he can with a completely offhanded air. He has a positive gift for flight and will intuit the physical requirements of complex aerial maneuvers when his fellows are still perfecting takeoff and landing. "Oh, what, this old trick?" heíll ask in his husky mindvoice as he neatly executes some feat of daredevilry that will drop jaws. Kinjhoth thrives on spectacles - especially his own.

He may prefer the obviousness of physical spectacle, but Kinjhoth has a fairly complete understanding of drama from a young age, and thus he augments his displays with mystery. His sense of humor is subtle and wry, and most of what Kinjhoth says is an understatement. Hurricane? "I see thereís a bit of mist outside." Broken leg? "Itís not comfortable." Flight lust? "I suppose I am interested." The brown is neither gregarious nor forthcoming, but rather tends to be close-mouthed about himself and his feelings; even his rider will be hard-pressed to get past his deflective humor to learn what is really going on in his head. This is not to say that it wonít be obvious when Kinjhoth is experiencing some kind of strong emotion, particularly a negative one. He is mercurial, prone to mood swings and inclined to tantrums, but he is simultaneously unwilling to share the origin or nature of the mood.

To avoid addressing whatever bothers him, Kinjhoth will occasionally reveal that he is capable of some cruelty. He can become so wrapped up in his own emotions that he cuts those nearest him. His anxiety - although he lacks sufficient self-awareness to diagnose this - is that he is flawed, not quite good enough for anyone . . . and everyone would be better off if he simply pushed others away. This even extends to his rider, for whom his love is unconditional, but full of tension that creates a constant battle for both. Kinjhoth is, ultimately, a kind of coward. He will throw himself into danger thoughtlessly, carelessly, but his own battles - his own internal battles - he is reluctant to fight.