Player Information

Name: Allie

Assistant Weyrlingmaster J'rak

Name: J'rak
Pronunciation: Jih-Rack
Age: 40
Gender: Male
Preference: Heterosexual
Birthing Date: 01.12.2721
Craft: None
Rank: Assistant Weyrlingmaster
Physical Description:

While Jírak is certainly not the handsome young boy he once was, heís managed to avoid putting any extra weight on his tall, long-limbed framed and is still nearly as fit as he ever was. His face, beginning to show a few fine wrinkles at the corners of his eyes and mouth, is dark from the many turns he spent baking in the summer sun. His black hair, never made any lighter by these excursions, is starting to turn a steely grey, but the progress is barely noticeable, as he keeps it cropped extremely short. Jírakís eyes remain as black and unreadable as ever, darting quickly around his field of vision as he examines his latest crop of weyrlings.

Jírak nearly always dresses practically, in a loose white tunic and simple, riding pants of either dark black or brown. He never wears any jewelry or embroidery besides for his shoulderknots. Even for formal events, like hatchings, he does no more than exchange his white tunic for a slightly finer dark red one and occasionally purchases a new pair of boots, which quickly become as grimy as the old. This always-casual appearance has caused a few complaints, but no one has yet been brave enough to personally approach the bronzerider.


The first thing you have to know about Jírak is that heís a good threadfighter and knows it. A bit too daring during threadfall, when adrenaline is racing through his veins, he has the skill to support his dangerous maneuvers and has never yet been scored. Now, as he adjusts to his new position in the Weyrling wing, Jírak struggles to contain these displays, knowing they send the wrong message, but sometimes he still canít help wandering just a little out of position and flaming down a clumpy that maybe isnít strictly his.

Jírak has always been ambitious and focused, working hard to achieve his goals. However, one of his major obstacles has always been his refusal to play dirty. While he surprised everyone by transferring to a liberal weyr, Jírak has a rather conservative set of personal morals, believing that, as a rider, he must play by the rules. These personal rules often prevent him from doing what is right for either himself or his weyr, as he stubbornly refuses to break or even bend them a little.

These personal morals extend to more personal relationships. While Jírak had a parade of lovers immediately after Keyiís death, he was never involved with more than one at a time. This trait arose primarily from watching his father struggle to balance his many love interests and his children, not really finding time for any.

Jírak has also always had a shrewd, keen intelligence, although itís hard to tell while watching his reckless flying. He knows exactly how far to push each weyrling pair, although he tends to be over-cautious with his young charges, especially those with smaller dragons, remembering Kíyonís death. This often leaves green weyrlings discontent, as he forces them to hold back beyond what even many of the most cautious consider strictly necessary.

This intelligence is also one of Jírakís few traits that actually qualify him for this position. In addition to allowing him to discern the limits of each pair, this surprising intellect helps Jírak simplify complicated matters into something simple enough for the youngest weyrling to understand, while losing none of the important details. Itís a skill Jírak hasnít used in years, but is preparing to relearn, knowing that, if he could learn to fly within a fighting wing, regaining this old skill will be all too easy.


Jirak was born in the side-effects of a mating flight, to a brown rider and the weyr harper. His parents never really had all that much to do with him, but that worked for them both. Jirak had plenty of friends amongst the other weyr children, including a girl a couple of weeks younger than him named Keyi. He was never the most popular or the leader, but he was certainly never an outsider either.

From the time he was ten, when he was first able to consider such things rationally, Jirak has always known what he wanted in life. Candidate-Weyrling-Wingrider-Wingleader-Weyrleader. When he turned eleven, he knew he wanted his old friend Keyi to be his weyrwoman as they entered a relationship, harmless enough at first, but eventually becoming a keystone in both weyrbratsí lives. With his characteristic determination, Jirak ignored the unlikelihood of such a fate and confidently entered the candidate program, while Keyi became an apprentice weaver, planning on returning to High Reaches once a queen egg was laid. Jirak was overlooked at several hatchings, but remained convinced he would impress a bronze. His convictions finally bore fruit on his seventeenth birthingday, when he impressed Osirith, one of only two bronzes in the clutch.

Jírak adapted quickly to a weyrlingís busy schedule, quickly rising to, if not the top of his class, near it, and never entirely losing sight of his final goal. Along with Osirith, he quickly mastered complex flying maneuvers, to the degree that other weyrlings actually came and asked them for help, which Jírak was more than happy to provide, for a price of course.

The first real hitch in Jírakís plan came a turn after his graduation when Keyi, then 20, who had returned to the weyr and became Jírakís weyrmate, stood for yet another golden egg. She didnít impress the gold, but this time, a small green found her on the hot, hatching ground sands. Jírak was predictably disappointed and torn, but decided that it would be turns before he could realistically expect become weyrleader anyway and he would worry about it then.

Jírak quickly distinguished himself in his fighting wing with his daring maneuvers, which he somehow always managed to escape from, unscathed, more through the skill of his dragon than any particular precautions. He soon rose to wingthird, then wingsecond. His wingleader was still young and healthy, so Jírak knew he would have to patiently await that position, but patience had never been one of his faults.

When Keyiís Grilth first rose, Osirith easily caught her, much to Jírakís relief. Their coupling after this event resulted in pregnancy and Keyi, deciding to keep the baby, requested permission to transfer to the Queenís wing as soon as she realized. Jírak was overjoyed and determined that he would be a better father to his child than his father ever was to him.

Keyiís son was born nine months later, but Keyi died in childbirth. Jírak was devastated by this loss, but comforted by his new baby son, whom he named Keyon in her memory. Jírak always made time for Keyon as he grew, even occasionally skipping practice when Keyon needed advice on something. Jírakís wingleader remained frustratingly capable and Jírak was unwilling to switch wings to achieve his ambition, so for the first fifteen turns of Keyonís life, Jírak remained unchanged, a good wingsecond, responsible and effective, if perhaps a bit too foolhardy in Fall.

At fifteen, Keyon, now Kíyon, followed in his fatherís footsteps and impressed a newly hatched, young dragonet. However, while his father had hoped his son would, like him, become a bronzerider, the boyís new dragon was a somewhat shrimpy, in both length and build, green. Jírak was disappointed, but accepted the result, seeing Kíyonís love for his dragonet.

Meanwhile, Jírak had, without noticing it, approached an age where it would be appropriate for him to be weyrleader. Much to his disappointment, this change brought no new success to Osirithís efforts to twine necks with a gold. Jírak was forced to wonder if he never could aspire any higher than wingleader, a position he knew he would get as soon as his wingleader hurried up and retired.

Like his father, Kíyon excelled in his weyrling class. Also like his father, as soon as he entered fall for the first time, he threw caution out the window, pushing his dragon far beyond her limits in an attempt to be the hero and prove his value to his dad. Unfortunately, Kíyon was not Jírak and, a few months after he completed weyrling training, the young rider was badly scored while attempting to catch a large clump, near the end of fall when his dragon was exhausted, in an attempt to impress a young bluerider who had caught his eye.

Kíyon was rushed back to the weyr, by the very same bluerider, but, while the healers did all they could, Kíyonís green passed between a few hours later, never to return. Suddenly, the weyr was full of painful memories for Jírak. Kíyon had been his only real connection there. Heíd never really made any close friends and had, soon after his impression, alienated those of his childhood. While heíd had a few brief flings after Keyiís death, none had lasted for more than a few sevendays. Even the retirement of his wingleader, and Jírakís subsequent promotion, could not console him. A turn later, Jírak decided to request a transfer and a change in position. He had always been a good fighter and it was time for him to share that skill with others, preventing future tragedies like his sonís. He picked Eastern Weyr, one so different, he would surely have no trouble adapting. His new ambition? To be promoted to Weyrlingmaster.

Bronze Osirith

Name: Osirith
Color: Bronze
Size: 38.5
Wing: Weyrling
Weyr of Impression: High Reaches
Age: 23

While Osirith is a pretty decent length for a bronze, his lean build isn't exactly ideal for stamina. It lends him a bit more agility than most bronzes have and he is perfectly capable of lasting the entire fall, but itís unlikely he'll ever be able to fly a gold. That said, Osirith's maneuverability has served both rider and dragon well. The rest of Osirith is decently proportioned, with his wings a bit longer than ideal for his body size, but somehow managing to look right against his slimmer build. His eyes are a little smaller than normal for his size, but he has become very good at combining images from his rider's vision with his own.

Osirith's coloring is suitably dramatic for both himself and his rider. While, when not covered with excessive oil, he certainly isn't the shiniest bronze around, his dark, reddish hide glimmers enough to suit him. He has three jagged stripes, which he typically has his rider polish until they outshine the rest of his hide, that run across his flanks and meet at the front of his chest and just before the base of his tail. The outer two are simply a lighter version of his coppery hide, while the middle is pale enough to be nearly gold with a slight greenish tint.


Osirith lives to be the hero, which is why his role in threadfall suits him so well. He loves the feeling of awed eyes watching him as he somehow manages to pop between just in time to avoid a potentially devastating clump of thread, after flaming it into oblivion, of course. He's confident in his abilities and perfectly capable of judging the timing to ensure that both he and his rider escape untouched.

This craving leads Osirith to be frustrated over his rider's new position as assistant weyrling master. There's no glory in this job, just teaching group after group of ignorant young riders the ins and outs of threadfall. He's willing to be patient and wait for his rider to content himself, but wishes he'd hurry up and transfer back to a fighting wing. He cannot understand why K'yon's death so devastated his rider. Sure, he liked the kid too, but good riders die all the time. Osirith's attitude about these casualties is very matter-of-fact and he accepts them as a fact of life, which will serve the pair well in their new role, while sometimes isolating them from their charges.

At the same time, Osirith is an excellent teacher. His judgment is good and he is intelligent and unlike his rider, he is willing to push young dragonets to the limit of their abilities. Their instant obedience, at some of theirs, appeals to him as well and in the Weyrling wing he is always the best, stroking his pride and occasionally making him wonder if maybe life as the Assistant Weyrling Master's dragon isn't so bad after all.

Like his rider, Osirith has always been ambitious and now struggles to contain this drive. His ambition, unlike his rider's, was always to twine necks with a golden queen. Of course, his build isnít well-suited to winning such flights, and this dream has little chance of becoming a reality. Osirith must settle for greens, whom he is occasionally reluctant to chase, as, with classic bronze pride, he considers them below him.