Bald Mountain Holt is part of the Kshau Protectorate

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Image Credits: Azaleas's Dolls Warrior (?)

Name Oakroot

Bonded to: Mudslide From: Ryslen Flurry 2021

Age: 800ish Born in: unknown season
Soul Name: hidden Known By: only himself Found: uknown
Sex: male Mate Status/Sex Preference: any
Children: none known
Parents/Relatives: all deceased long before now
Original Tribe: wolf-blooded High Cove Holt. Arrived to Bald Mountain: ~170
Height: 4'3" Build: He is not tall nor short, but compared to some of the elegant Sea folk he might be considered a bit ‘squat'. He is solidly muscular from head to foot
Hair Color, Length, Style: short wavy hair is kept cut to the nape of his neck, and his beard and body hair match the dark brown color
Eye Color, Size, Shape: eerie blue eyes that seem to almost glow; He has a handsome look, proud, and always steady gaze
Skin Tone: fair skinned, with a generous amount of body hair on his chest (generous for elves, which is to say ‘any'), but also with a series of long-healed claw-mark scars across his shoulders, abdomen, legs, wrists, as well as two obvious puncture wounds near his neck.
Voice Quality: smooth, highish for a male
Clothing -- Summer: He has dark almost-black brown leggings of leather, and a tan-beige colored soft leather shirt, which he often keeps wrapped with a wide cloth belt around his waist when it's warm. Also he has soft wrapped leather shoes, and arm bands on his forearms. He generally wears leathers, though freely admits to enjoying the soft feel of silks and other woven items that the Sea elves share
Clothing -- Winter: he'll enjoy adding more furs
Jewlery Worn, Made: none
Tatoos/Markings/Scars: see above
Pets/Animals Kept: no pets
Notable Posessions: weapons and some small trophies from good kills
Holt Function: hunter
Strength: High
Very High
Very High
Above Average
Above Average
Above Average
Magic Power:
Though Oakroot has an average sending ability, it's possible that with his improbable survival of the massive attack which would have left anyone else dead, he may have some form of internal, hidden healing power. He has never been able to use this consciously, nor has anyone with any sensing ability been able to determine whether it's actually true – he also has not Recognized so there's no telling what his offspring might carry
Magic? How Powerful?
sending 5/10, self-heal 2/10
Climate/Locations Preferred:
General Likes: dreamberries (oh please oh please can I have some more of that ‘wine'? please?), cool days and warm furs, physical activity and having something to do.
General Dislikes: Longtooth cats, being alone, seeing anyone in pain, bad dreams, not having a wolf-friend
Fears/Worries: still doesn't much care for big cats, but there are former-cat riders here? huh.
Special Strange Info: Perhaps the best word to use to describe him is ‘undeterred'. He may have changed course, but that's never stopped him from enjoying his life. He won't foolishly throw it away, having come so close to losing it, but neither will he pull back so far that he doesn't get to enjoy any of it. He's seen the pair of female Sea elves (only one of whom made it to Bald Mountain, Yellowfin) who lost their mates, heard the terrible story of losing them – but in so many ways even though they're similar in having survived… he's almost entirely opposite the withdrawn and fearful ways they show
Basic Personality: Oakroot should be more stoic than he seems to be, given the absolutely grim determination he showed in the past. But if there's something that he carries with him more than the scars on his body, it's a staunch love of life, rather than the fear of it. He has become less impulsive and more careful about his hunting habits, and his not-so-subtle choice to change weapons for hunting bear this out. He's the kind of elf who loves to kick back and tell stories about those scars, though he would not start up a conversation about them specifically, because he knows some people are put off by them
How they feel about
: they can be ... challenging to live around
Elves -- herders: ugh, that's just sad that the animals can't escape or even want to?
Elves -- magic users: with all these other elves around, perhaps one of them will coax his own magic to be useful?
Elves -- bond-riders: *sigh*
Trolls, etc: maybe some day he'll spar with the locals, but he's got old memories of running from them too
Bond Animal Info if any: It has been many years since Oakroot has had a wolf friend. He hadn't had one at the time of the longtooth attack, and spent many eights between having them in the past, though he has had at least three wolf-friends in his life. He feels, and rightly so, that if he'd had a wolf-bond he wouldn't have been attacked by the longtooth cats

Skills: He has become good but not spectacularly so with a bow and arrow, but he used to hunt more or less exclusively with a sturdy spear. He is still more than adept enough at spear work (hand held, rather than thrown) that he can instruct anyone who wishes to learn more about it. But he generally hunts only with a bow and only at distance – and also, usually, not alone; quite good with a hand-held spear, sparring with it, and hunting with them; usually close range and larger prey; wilderness survival, animal tracking, animal observation


For a great many years, Oakroot was considered a good hunter and scout. But around 100 years ago or so, he had been doing a walkabout in the Holt's surrounding hills (as he often would) and came across a newcomer to the area: a young male longtooth cat. They had hardly been seen in that specific area and he felt this would be a challenging hunt. He was very right: but he also hadn't counted on the longtooth's mate hunting him while he stalked the male. In this fight, he managed to fatally wound the female before she did any damage, but the male took the opportunity and sprang. The long sets of scars that still cover Oakroot's body show that the cat had him literally in his mouth before Oakroot dealt a final, fatal strike with his spear. The wounds somehow didn't kill Oakroot, and he lay half-dead for a good number of days before he roused himself and crept to the Holt proper. Though he was offered proper magical healing, it seemed he didn't actually need it. His muscles function just fine under his shoulder scars, he suffers no ill effects from the obviously deep puncture wound that likely hit his trachea. For this reason, some call him ‘High-Ones Blessed' but he hardly even thinks that's appropriate.

Since the attack, however, Oakroot changed his tactics radically, picking up a bow and learning to use it slowly. While he may be brave and extraordinarily lucky, he's not stupid – he paces himself and makes sure that when he hunts now, he does so with adequate protection as well as with friends around him.


Flurry? Well that was a word that got circulated in hushed tones now and then. Something quite odd about all of that secrecy, given Ainea had brought her own Flurry dragons around many times. Oakroot knew that there was something going on, when Ainea snuck into his den and mentally pssst him.


He put down his satchel and unslung his bow, placing it and the arrows he'd collected back into their nook near his den's entry. "I know you're there, Ainea, is there something you--"

psssst!! Her mind was absolutely insistant that he look. When he did, he noticed the big, warm furry cloak that she was holding. Now, Ainea was not the biggest elf in the holt, nor Oakroot the biggest, but she was positively dwarfed by this pale tan and snow-white fur lined cloak she had at arms length.

"Oh... oh! For me?" He finally said, and saw, barely, her nod from behind it. As he grasped it and felt how wonderfully soft it was - and heavy, it would be quite warm - he wondered aloud. "Why though? The weather is nice, it's-"

It's for the Flurry, come, put it on! We need to go!

"G...go? what, now?"

Right now, apparently, was when she simply needed him to be in that cloak and ready for whatever it was going on. The hint in the back of her strong and friendly mind was that this Flurry was an event, not merely a color scheme.

He understood this implicitly when she brought him to her dragons, bid him climb the furry-limbed Nivoan while she herself scooted up to the shiny crystal-white Adisath. Hold on tightly, take a deep breath, and keep calm. Close your eyes if you have to, it will be very cold on the way.

"Wait, on the way to--" he hardly had time to even ask what was going on, when the dragons sprang into the sky over Bald Mountain. He could see the activity going on in the lake, Coral and others were busy making changes and creating the big coral reef that would - eventually - become home to seaborn dragons. That time had not yet come, however. It'd only been about two turns of the seasons since they had arrived, and now... now what?

He did close his eyes. Shutting them was actually a bit difficult, because he hadn't anticipated the teleportation. He didn't even know what that word meant until he rode a dragon that did it. And boy, did it ever. Because he came out, chilled to the absolute core save for the fact that the lush cloak he'd been given moments before did its job admirably, over an entirely different landscape indeed.

No lake, no summertime trees or cloudless sky, this. No, there was an endless haze of icy flakes in the greater distance, and a snow field, and... dragons. Many of them. Tons of them.

"This... this is the Flurry?" He asked, and Ainea nodded. But she then took his elbow and locked eyes with him.

You must not specifically mention any one you meet here execpt your possible dragon friend, she sent. The insistence of it, the secrecy implied, was strange to him. He didn't care for keeping secrets. You will understand, in time. She added, and he caught a very purposeful, brief glimpse of people that had yet to even be born at the Holt...

One of them looked strangely familar, but he couldn't even begin to understand why. She would be Starbright, daughter of Apogee the holt's leader, in more than one hundred turns of the seasons. So... this place, he realized, was out of time. It wasn't in a place he understood either, while Oakroot wasn't stupid, he concentrated his intellect on the here-and-now, placing to memory locations and patterns that he'd need in daily life, rather than wild imagination. But it was wild, and not his imagination, when he was brought into a dim chamber filled with now-lounging small and somewhat feral looking dragonets. Ainea met up with one of the humans in attendance, apparently Tiyanni by name (he wondered 'whose gift is she and what is an anni' with it filtering through his elf-mind) who looked on approvingly as he stepped carefully into this 'wher-den'.

Truth be told he didn't know what to expect. There were much larger dragonets, all hatchlings or recently-born, out in the bigger, brighter area beyond this place. But he soon understood that the locale was kept darker because the little Whers were nocturnal. A lot like some wolves, he considered.

What is wolf? He felt a nudge in a color of thought that he'd never felt before. Rich, thick, smooth, and on turning, he realized it came from an equally rich brown 'Wher'. Mudslide, he felt the name from the little hatchling, will go with you. See your home.

Oakroot's gut twisted a little, then a lot. This was far more than just a wolf-friend, though equitable to his last sharp-eyed wolf in many ways.

They didn't stay at the Flurry very long. There were a lot of things happening, many, many hands of people and dragons milling about. He'd never seen this many people all in one place before, and Bald Mountain wasn't a small holt even in his 'era'. He hadn't even noticed how many of those people were human, maybe he'd need to re-evaluate his position about them... He was given a meal, though, along with the wher getting his own, and it was amazing? Fresh meats and raw fish, bread and cheese, fruits, it was a feast that he didn't dare share in the main chambers, because he also caught sight of some of the other elves from Bald Mountain. Would they recognize him as having been here? Well obviously if their dragons had anything to say about it they might have to conspire. They would all be in on this secret, for quite a while to come.

Mudslide weathered the trip back to the holt well enough, sleeping through it after a big meal. Oakroot would have done the same, but he had to make sure that the wher didn't slip from his lap while they flew. They went somehow home to Bald Mountain but returned at night - comfortable to the wher's eyes when he awoke and wanted to know where everything was, what everything was, what is that smell, what is that person doing?

It would be quite the adventure, and now Oakroot would get to share it with a fascinating new friend.

Dragon (wher!) Name: Mudslide / **-sk (I can't think of a good way to adapt a translated elf name to this format)
Gender: Male
Size: 5'6"s / 18' l / 17' ws
Build: chonky but it's all muscle for sure, does show feline-like movement with that build
Physical Features: Guard Wher, sturdy high body on strong thick legs, massive neck and bold head; stunted wings and some amount of daylight sensitivity so he keeps to the evening and overnight patrol hours
Colors: brown, a rich creamy brown body with darker red-brown on feet, top of face and over dorsal body, solidly red-brown on tail, mixing in rosettes on body and neck; wingsails more dark-brown with brightly white flurry markings
Stats: Strength 6, Speed 2, Endurance 5, Agility 3, Health 3, Intelligence 3
Abilities: Endurance prowling - as a Guard wher Mudslide keeps his body moving and can patrol the perimeter of the entire Holt in a hand of days, pausing only to sleep or eat a little here and there
Gliding - as Whers have stunted wings compared to their draconic kin, Mudslide doesn't really do much gliding, however he can break his fall and use this opportunity to teleport. More often, however, he'll use his wings as a display to threaten or defend very large creatures
Teleportation - he will only do this when leaping from a height so he doesn't wind up smushed into a tree or rock, but with that in mind, he does like a good splash in a pond, and will definitely canonball into the lake literally out of nowhere
Telepathy - he has a good grasp of the magic telepathy available from the local elves as well as the dragons and others here, and enjoys chattering with them at reasonable distances. His friend Oakroot was used to the wolf-mind speak that his prior bonds had, and thus is very easily 'spoken to' in glimpses of imagery and concepts, rather than words
Heat and Radiation Sense - Whers from his line are able to detect heat as well as the more exotic and dangerous radioactivity found on their home Pern, and though heat is plentiful here on Abode, not so much radiation (though there are the occasional falling stars, meteorite impacts, which have led to some definite radioactive symptoms in those who make the mistake of approaching them!). He'll 'sniff out' larger animals using this heat sense if they're freshly laid trails, or if there is a nest nearby of some mid-sized creatures: all worth hunting of course!
Telekinesis - Mudslide has definitely learned how to control aspects of this power, using it to uproot bushes and turn stones without having to touch them. He also uses it to scoot into the air with a few extra flaps to make it look like he's trying to fly, and teleports shortly after
Parents: Zirask and Hvarsk
Origin: Ryslen Flurry 2021; by Ty, shading by Naeodin, colors by Naeodin and Phe
Other Info: Mudslide would normally have taken a new name, but it seems that Oakroot prefers to call him what he himself knew at hatching - an unusual form of respect, perhaps. On looking at some of the other bonds and dragons here in Bald Mountain, Mudslide lets this idea grow on him. But if he sires offspring that bond, they will very likely take a new name in honor of their bond, rather than keep their hatchling title. He is not a 'wild' wher, but the mixture of the elf language and a wolf-blooded bond means he's more of a companion piece than a 'held creature'. Oakroot wouldn't dream of taking another creature's existing name and forcing a new one in its place.