Birthing Date: 02.04.2729
Craft: Smithcraft (Apprentice)
Perpetually dressed in brightly-colored, gaudy clothes, made of fabrics as fine as he can afford, Bítrin presents himself like a natural actor, holding himself with confidence and projecting his voice as loudly as he can. Standing at a slightly above average 5í11, Bítrinís build is slender rather than muscular, nearly effeminate, to a particularly critical eye. His voice, however, is undeniably masculine, a deep and pleasant baritone.
As features go, Bítrinís are attractive enough, in an ordinary sort of way. There is nothing particularly memorable in his slender face or dark brown hair. His eyes are a slightly more unusual pale blue, although they rarely draw attention, overshadowed by thick black eyes and frequently crinkled in mirth.
Bítrin keeps his hair and beard neatly trimmed and meticulously clean. A fine layer of grime, however, often overlays his skin, as he accumulates dirt throughout a long day of riding. A firm proponent of scented soapstone, Bítrin arrives at drills smelling of lavender, although he reeks as badly as anyone else by the end of the day.
There is no denying that Bítrin likes to be noticed. Perpetually seeking to be the center of conversation, for every story Bítrin hears, he has one better. Sure, maybe you did flame a patch of thread that would have taken out the weyrleader himself, but Qarth and I got seven, all on our own. And big ones too! A fan of the tall tale, Bítrin lies with ease and swagger, telling his stories with flair and commitment. While most will recognize his wild exaggerations for what they are, Bítrin seems to believe them so fully, at times, that some will have to wonder. Did he really?
A hedonist to the core, Bítrin is an eminently practical man when it comes to things like morals and philosophy. He doesnít care much for abstract goals, preferring to surround himself in obscene comfort. As Bítrin will laughingly recount, he didnít become a rider out of any grand schemes of glory. Nope, he just wanted a nice weyr, with a good view of the lake, and a bit of admiration would be all right too, he supposed. Well aware of his dragon riding pedigree, Bítrin has no doubt he deserves the best life has to offer and will fight tooth and nail to get it.
Beneath his seeming superficiality, however, there is an insecurity to Bítrin. Easily prone to jealousy, Bítrin is keenly aware of the strengths and weaknesses of all around him, observing his wingmates and neighbors with a diligence that would surprise most upon first meeting him. While he is, at heart, as self-obsessed as they come, Bítrin is firmly of the belief that the best way to get what he wants is to know what everyone else wants. This has led to himÖactually being a surprisingly good leader, when it comes down to it. Deeply flawed as his motives may be, Bítrin knows how to use people, a skill he has put to what he considers very good use. Donít believe him? Have you seen his new weyr? Bigger than a bronzeriderís, he promises.
Mother: Brealyn, rider of blue Hioth - (born 3.10.2712, Impressed 5.18.2729)
Father: T'yar (Formerly Treyar), rider of green Piceath
Cousin: Bríom of Bronze Baronth
Aunt: Brett of Green Visigoth
A scion of a long line of Eastern riders, Betayrin knew he was going to be a rider from the moment he knew what a rider was. While he was raised by a foster mother, Betayrin worshipped his parents, especially his mother. A blue rider with an irrepressible sense of humor, she seemed to have it all. Never had to do chores, lived in a huge weyr, got to just fly around on dragonback all day, that was the life. And Betayrin had no doubt it was a life he could obtain. All his relatives were riders, after all. Impression was practically his right!
As a weyrbrat, Betayrin was always a mediocre student, clever, but easily bored. A perpetual show-off, he was more often than not doing extra chores after being caught in some scheme or another, ranging from stealing a few extra bubbly pies to walking right on up to a clutching queen on a dare. When he turned twelve and it came time for Betayrin to settle down and choose a craft, he nearly threw a tantrum in protest. He was going to be a rider. Craft? What did he need a craft for? After being told that that was simply the way things were, Betayrin relented, conceding to give Smithing a shot. Metal was cool, he guessed, if he had to do SOMETHING besides just be a rider. Competitive in spite of himself, Betayrin worked surprisingly hard at Smithing, having no wish to be shown up. While he never put in quite enough effort to be truly great, he wasnít going to spend the rest of his life in some smelly forge, after all, Betayrin managed to become a decent apprentice, learning the basics of the trade surprisingly quickly.
And then the day finally arrived, the day when he was eligible to become a Candidate. Slipping in at just over fifteen for his first clutch, Betayrinís confidence was rewarded as he Impressed to a large brown, Qarth. The two made it through weyrlinghood uneventfully enough. Qarthís natural gift for flight allowed them to perform exceptionally well in drills, but lack of interest prevented Bítrin from ever distinguishing himself in lessons or hidework. When they joined the wings, however...
As soon as Bítrin and Qarth graduated, Bítrinís ambition came to the fore. He wanted to be wingleader. Oh, not to save Pern or change the weyr or anything like that, things were just fine the way they were. No, heíd seen a wingleaderís weyr and it looked a fair sight nicer than his. And why shouldnít he be wingleader? Have you seen how big Qarth is? He can fly as well as any bronze!
With an eye towards moving up in rank, Bítrinís been shuffling around the wings ever since. Seizing a wingthird position soon after he turned 21, Bítrin performed surprisingly well, demonstrating a keen eye for tactics. At 25, he made it to wingsecond, after executing a quick last minute wing-swap, before someone else could fill the opening. He wasnít entirely sure how to be a wingsecond, but, well, how much harder could it be? Heíd pulled off wingthird just fine, hadnít he?
And work it out he did. After a bit of a rocky start, Bítrin learned to hold back on his own antics in Threadfall. Sure, fancy stunts were fun, but he had a wing to help lead now and he did not want to be demoted! He could still CLAIM heíd gotten that clump of ThreadÖEven if he had been too busy monitoring that blue with the weak right wing.
Now, seven turns later, Bítrinís finally gotten the offer. Wingleader. The dream job, the big weyr, the fancy knots. Plus, getting to boss his AUNT around. For the moment, at least. Say no? How could he possibly say no? Heís ready for this! Right?