CHATHY - deprecated dragon from isla, replacing with DHW Y6v1

Though she was always enamored of the sea, this high desert-born girl would only get to see it from dragonback shortly before being moved to a weyr to stand. Her father had lost his wife with the birth of their third child, Chathy's brother Chuon. Some years spent with her mother made Chathy realize how powerful a family could be. When she was only ten years old, some seven years after her mother's death, Chathy was sent off to live with distant relatives in a mountainous village just shy of Dragonhope Weyr.

Chathy's big brown eyes always caught all the action around her. But far from jumping from one thing to the next, as most other Hold-born girls did, she completed one task and moved on to the next with a precision that even the Harper who visited her foster family appreciated. Though she missed her family terribly, Chathy grew to enjoy the work that this forest Hold could give her. Well-protected woods, patrolled by the dragons of the nearby Weyr, became her second love. Her first would be her family: an idea that stuck with her since childhood of course.

She was intrigued by the wildlife, but also easily able to maneuver through the great squat woods with a cart and carriage drawn by sturdy runners. The time she would spend alone moving goods from one side of the Hold to the other was precious to her, giving her time to think and reminisce over her mother and siblings. She never resented her father for having fostered her out, indeed he would visit on occasion and during gathers would buy her gifts that he could afford only because her oldest sister was now married off.

By that time though, when Chathy was fourteen, she saw no great need to return to the scrubland Hold of her birth. In part, because she felt that the woods were safer and more beautiful, her own comfort was stronger here. But also because her father deserved to retire in some small amount of wealth, and Chuon was still young enough to be unable to live on his own but certainly old enough to be trouble. That was trouble Chathy would live with only after finding her own husband, she determined.

He would not be among those young men courting her at the Hold, Chathy thought. The men here were strong and handsome, but a bit distractable and, she would never say in public: a bit dull witted. She wanted a man whose charm lay in his wit, who could teach her about the world, perhaps. Or could help her learn ballads left untaught by harpers. Perhaps she was a bit of a romantic, but that was how Chathy thought things ought to be.

Thus she was a bit surprised when a dragon landed in the Hold to give Search. But they didn't choose her that day - no. After seeing the distress that the other two girls' families gave, the search riders called in someone else and sent them around, in private, in the evening when there was a bit of a subdued celebration going on. Three others had been Searched, young men not yet firmly in a craft or job.

Picked out at the age of seventeen, her foster family was almost relieved to see her happy at the search. They had two sets of twins being fostered at the time - and while Chathy was able to help them a bit, she was actually more often required by the transport master to keep things rolling in the Hold! Such responsibility for a woman, they told her, was almost unheard of.

They could see in her eyes that she would love to help them attend the young foursome - but duty was duty - and a weyr was nearby!

Dragonhope hosted one hatching, then another, while she was there, but even though there were few candidates standing with her, Chathy did not impress then. Disappointed, but now able to live on in the Weyr waiting her turn, she started to look around at the young men who mastered the airways.

They were strong, muscled like the tree-felling 'jacks and the men running the quarry. Some of them were quarrymen themselves! But they also had to be sharp of mind, remembering all manner of flight instructions and wing formations. Plus they had to think on the wing! Their dragons were graceful, not like the heavy boned runners that pulled Chathy's carts. Chathy watched Threadfall with the other candidates in training: from the medical wing and with help for every rider who came in. Here Chathy saw the hard, cold truth of a weyr's business. They did not lose anyone that Fall, but they did see a dragon's wing torn so badly that she'd never fly again, go between and her rider distraught so she had to be sedated.

The weyrleaders would not allow every rider to suicide when their dragon went between. This somewhat confounded Chathy. She could see the girl's anguish, but why? Why put her through this? It was clearly the most intimate of bonds between a rider and her dragon. Yet, after a month and firm counceling from the healers, the rider pulled out of her mad depression. She became active in the weyr's infirmary - now determined to see no other poor dragon suffer the way hers had. It had all made her stronger for the experience, even though some days Chathy would hear her sobbing quietly to herself in a dorm.

Would life be like that for Chathy after she Impressed? If she did? She would be content to remain here in a Weyr - doing whatever duties she could, and after all she was strong of body and mind. She wasn't the best reader in the bunch, but when you've a strong back and good eyes, there was always something to do. She helped out in the nursery sometimes, too, enjoying the presence of the very young, but balking a bit when their loud rider-parents came to visit.

Would she be the best parent? Would she even make a good wife? Realizing that she needed to get over her mistrust of groups, Chathy began attending dances and gathers that the Weyr held, and slowly she would get used to more people. Never quite at ease in the largest of groups though, Chathy prefered the company of but one or two.

Perhaps she had earned a reputation for being overly picky, because sometimes the men in the weyr would chide her about not wanting to bed them. It was a weyr after all, and if she impressed, she might become infertile over time. Best to have a kid or two now, they told her.

But that was so counter to her ideal of family, that she mildly turned their offers down. There was always another willing girl, wasn't there.

Now, after nearly a year wait, Chathy would be going to the sands again for the ... third? time? and hoped so much that she impressed. Perhaps her life would change forever. Perhaps she wouldn't impress at all. Would she move back home, or remain in this place? With people she now had come to enjoy? Who could say.

***

Chathy found this third hatching to be absolutely fascinating. The people - different and even exotic. The animals? Were they people too? So many odd people had been coming through the Weyr recently.

It took a while before the eggs that had been freshly laid would be hard enough to hatch, their dragonets mature and strong. Chathy put herself to work wherever she could, but now also came steady instructions on dragon harnesses, tending injuries, food and care, and for the girls, mating flights. Chathy wondered, perhaps, what if it was a dragon's flight that brought her close to a man?

Maybe that might even ease the distrust or pickiness, but it might also put her in the hands of someone she didn't already like.

Well be that as it may, the eggs hadn't begun to hatch - until one afternoon. The scent of a feast combined with all the trappings of celebration on one hand - and the bizarre unreality of being handed the white candidates' robes... Chathy joined many others, she'd been in their classes and learned their names but for the moment all that was blindly forgotten. Was it really time?

Apparently it was, for three eggs burst open! All the colors filled the sands including not one but two golds, Chathy was relieved that there would be no gold for her - though why would she think that? She hadn't impressed. There was a little frightened green who scampered here and there, unsure, with red eyes and a panicked whimper on her voice. Chathy let the others step in and out to try and calm her, but when boxed in by many legs and arms, the timid green wouldn't look Chathy in the eye.

It was as though the world upended - twice, because in one moment Chathy felt the smooth, confident mind of another green in the clutch tell her, Don't worry, Chathy, she'll find her rider. And the next, not even a second later, a bump from the dragonet jarred Chathy's hand away from the scared green's shoulder.

She let go of the green, who bolted away, and turned to look into the orange-yellow eyes of her own bond. "Yes, I hope she does, she seems so scared." Falsedith rubbed up against Chathy's fingers, and recieved a good first-scratching. Chathy laughed and led the hatchling away to the cut-meats.

Eventually the other green did find her rider: in a boy that had run in with his brother. And what those boys' father threatened to do to dragons, Chathy herself would have never allowed him to leave the Weyr alive had he been there.

It is all right, she is unharmed, Falsedith bespoke, full and content, like her sister.

"She'd better be," Chathy said, and noted that several other new riders shared the opinion. They would become the first batch of new riders in quite some time, maybe they would all graduate intact (oh the stories... Chathy was still worried about learning how to send her dragon between...).

"You have to just do it, Falsedith!" Chathy begged the green, to her tremendous embarrassment. They were well into the year, and flight training was upon them. And the green would not fly. At least, not with Chathy on her back. "I am not too heavy," Chathy hissed at the dragon, trying to maintain her composure with everyone watching.

The weyrling master was not pleased with any of this. Antics like this could cost lives. He a-hem'ed and glared at Chathy, merely having to cast his iron gaze down to the green and up at the ledge where they were supposed to fly to. Chathy's heart raced, and she bespoke her dragon in a very stern way indeed.

Falsedith, if you do not spring into the air, wings open and flapping, I swear I will never, ever scratch your eye ridge even one more time. Ever.

You would never do such a thing! I itch!

I know you do - and I'll reward you with every scratch you want, IF you get up there with me! Everyone is waiting!

With a pause, the dragon shook her shoulders (which caused Chathy to almost lose her balance in the harness) and lifted her wings... Within a moment they were in the air, with some difficulty, and in only a few seconds they had landed at the ledge!

"You see, it wasn't that hard! I knew you could do it!" Chathy cheered, and gave Falsedith all the wonderful eye-ridge scritches she wanted.

It would be time to join a wing at Dragonhope soon, they had been signed up for several options, and Falsedith wouldn't budge from her warmed Outlook weyr ledge. To say that she was an obstinate green was putting it lightly. They were required to form up shortly on the far side of the main peak.

I like it in the weyrling ranks! I want to --

"I know what you want, you just want to sit there basking even when the sun's not out, but Falsedith we're supposed to be in a wing! They need us!" She sighed, and then turned to another of those destined to start their training. "Can your boy knock some sense into her?"

It wasn't that his dragon needed to do any such thing. For the card-player came up to the little green, and appraised her. "It is nice and chilly in the ocean there, so I've heard," T'dar said, looking at the dragon. "You like fish don't you? I can tell you like fish. You know where the best fishing is done? That's right, in cold water!"

Is that true? Falsedith asked, and Chathy nodded. She herself wasn't too clear on it, but if this boy was so confident then maybe it was true anyway. Then we must go, because I do love fish! And cold water is where the best fishing is done!

It eventually worked, everyone from that year's graduating class was given a new wing assignment, but only a couple dragons still smelled of fish while doing...

Name: Falsedith
Species: Pernese / Talor Variant 1
Gender: Female
Color: Green, grassy body with very brightly lime wingsails, medium grassy neck ridge
Size: medium (lg for green) 12' s / 40' l / 80' ws
Abilities: Winged Flight, since she enjoys flying (now anyway) and is a very large green, she is often used as a transport dragon for gear and supplies, following traders or dignitaries with their goods and sometimes even people; in a formal setting during Fall, they are required to be present for rescues and moving humans, animals, and dragons as needed
Teleportation (local best, poor nexus)
Telepathy
Telekinesis (weak, keeps Chathy on)
Assisted Firebreath, doesn't chew firestone but is not a fighting dragon either
Personality: rather stubborn
Sociability: enjoys meeting new people
Intelligence: not remarkably smart
Mating: not yet, dear you're still too young for that
Threadfighting: doesn't participate but can adequately navigate while wings are in formation above
Other: people are indeed surprised to see a green that's almost the same size as a brown
Bond: Chathy

Lineage

Mates and Descendants

Created with the Fantasy Generator

Status: Commoner, House Born child
Age: 18
Gender: female
Siblings: 3
Born: in the middle
Legitimacy: born in a single-parent home
Fostered due to: parents could not afford to keep them
Childhood Health: average for a youngster
Adult Height: just normal for their age in height
Adult Build: all muscle, bulky
Skin Tone: fair
Hair Color: platinum blond
Hair Style: frizzy
Hair Length: shoulder length
Eye Color: dark brown
Literacy Level: can only read very simple things
Politeness Level: their politeness extends to everyone around them
Focus: if focus had a name, this character's would be it
They're better than average in appearance
They are neither truly giving or selfish

Values and Goals
Has fun with: their expensive clothing
Dislikes: being with people
Strong goal: marry and have a family
Very weak fear: water or drowning
Enjoys: the Open Sea
Odd Skill (learned outside of craft if any): animal driving (cart/carriage)

Originally From: scrubland community
Location size: seriously overpopulated
Location climate: very dry
Searched: privately, to avoid any trouble, not too long ago