Birthing Date: 07.22.2742
Craft: Minecraft (Sr. Apprentice)
Big. That's the first word that comes to mind upon viewing Rymeron. Standing at nearly 6'5, he has the build to match, arms thick with muscle, a six pack that will likely turn to fat as he ages, legs that look like they could withstand an attack from a particularly small dragon. He dresses to accentuate it, too. Never cold, even in Eastern's chilliest weather, which is admittedly still pretty mild,Rymeron has torn the sleeves off all of his tunics to better display the product of many hours of hard work.
Rymeron's face...isn't exactly handsome. With rough, uneven features, a nose crooked from an old break, his are the sort of features that will earn him a sidewise look from many a respectable housewife. Rymeron's perpetual squint helps to further remove him from the traditional pretty boy image, a squint resulting from a slight nearsightedness that has gone undiagnosed throughout his life. This frequently causes him to bump into things, a tendency which, at his size, can cause quite a bit of damage, damage Rymeron will typically respond to with a flash of crooked teeth and a deep voiced promise that, yes, he can fix that. Surprisingly, Rymeron is almost less clumsy in the dark, where it seems more natural for him to rely on his hands, thick, clumsy instruments though they might be.Rymeron's seemingly stereotypical, hulking appearance is ruined, however, by sunshine yellow hair, worn past his shoulders and always polished to a shine.
Rymeron is a guy's guy. Athletic, charismatic, a bit cocky, he's up to do anything with anyone. He'll chase the girls, drink a bit too much wineon the weekends and then polish the night off by showing up his friends at whatever sport they care to challenge him to. Blessed with unusual strength from an early age, likely as a result of his massive size, Rymeron knows how to use his physique to intimidate or charm. He's special and not likely to let anyone forget it.
Everyone in the weyr, the crafthall and on Pern is either Rymeron's friend or his enemy. If Rymeron's on your side, he'll stick by you no matter what, regardless of any evidence the opposition might present. Rymeron makes a good ally, loyal, generous and invariably willing to put his own life on hold to do what needs to be done. To those who don't strike his fancy, however...Rymeron has a mean side. Mockingly sarcastic, a bit of a bully, and equally quick to go out of his way for a petty act of vengeance, Rymeron manages to entirely overlook any redeeming features they may have and often verges into cruelty. In this second category tend to fall a disproportionately number of Harpers, particularly weak, clever Harpers, who Rymeron regards as liars and cheats by default.
You see, beneath the bluster, Rymeron isn't terribly bright. Having always struggled with reading and never progressed beyond the most basic of Harper lessons, academics are not Rymeron's forte. His lack of understanding frequently leads him to distrust the more erudite crafts and his envy of those with the mental agility to pursue them leads him to fear them. This combination results in behavior that will often get him into trouble, as he attempts to prove, whether to himself or to them, that his physical strength is in fact a fair match for whatever tricks they've thought of to test on poor, dim-witted him.
Rymeron does, however, have ambition, of a sort. While he'll tell anyone who asks he accepted the Search to lay pretty girls, live in a big fancy weyr and Impress the biggest bronze ever to break shell, he's actually seeking to make a difference, to make something of himself and to change...something. See, for all his seeming confidence, Rymeron wants more, wants people to look up to him, wants to prove that he is, in fact, worthy. Worthy of what, remains in question.
Brothers: Era (15), Rymron (10)
Sisters: Maron (12), Eryma (6)
The oldest of five children, Rymeron spent most of his life in a small mining community where they dug for firestone. Strong from an early age, Rymeron always knew he was going to be a miner. It didn't particularly please or displease him, it just was a fact, as simple as the sky being blue, Maron being too pretty for her own good and books being really, really hard. His mother was a loose sort of women, in most things, and didn't take Rymeron's failure to thrive in the largely academic Harper lessons as a particularly ill sign. Rather than forcing the fidgeting child to sit still and learn, when the resident Harper complained he was a disruption to others, she simply pulled him, assigning him extra chores instead. This setup suited Rymeron just fine. He never learned to read any words larger than one syllable, can barely write his letters and knows nothing of numbers, but instead he got to be the envy of his friends throughout childhood, free to climb trees and explore the mines while they were stuck in lessons.
Always popular, Rymeron had a lot of friends. He dominated his small group, invariably dictating the activities, determining their alliances and leading his companions in terrorizing their smaller classmates. He was a horror to many of the other boys, and some of the adults besides. Barely restrained by his parents, Rymeron knew no discipline and spent many of his formative turns doing whatever the feck he pleased. And it didn't harm him at all, thank you very much. He turned twelve like every other boy, went down to the mines, got to work and shaped up, and that's all there is to it, as Rymeron is fond of stating.
In fact, the discipline of Crafting proved good for Rymeron. As he began to spend more of his time in the mines, Rymeron excelled thanks to his physical strength and a certain kind of cleverness, one born of a calm under pressure and simple good sense. Given a challenge he enjoyed for the first time in his life, Rymeron was distracted from tormenting his classmates he didn't care for and his parents soon stopped receiving any complaints of his behavior, as he began studying the craft with surprising diligence. Sure, he occasionally overlooked a prime piece, for some reason no one could quite name, but he worked hard at it and he was really quite good at digging out tunnels. Provided the more delicate work was kept away from Rymeron, he could most certainly be an asset to the mines.
Oh, sure, Rymeron still partied. But he quickly discovered the joys of booze and women, joys that overshadowed the faint thrills he'd once gotten from frightening others. He grew into a surprisingly upstanding young man. Sure, he occasionally caused a scene, but it was all harmless good fun, just a bit too much wine was all. And he seemed such a nice lad, sure to go far. No one expected him to be Searched, however, and even his parents asked twice if the riders were really sure. But sure they were and, faced with a choice for the first time in his life, Rymeron chose dragons over firestone. Because, come on, awesome fire breathing beast or smelly old tunnels? The boy may be dumb, but he ain't stupid.
Name after impression: Ry'on
Family for Hatching: Ryma, Eron, Maron
Cannot figure numbers
Can Read/Write: Yes
Color Preferences: Bronze,Brown,Blue,Green