Ki'var Of Bronze Rhomarth

[Deleted]

NAME: Ki'var 
PRONUNCIATION: Key-vahrr
NICKNAMES: Kiva
RANK: Bronzerider, Wingsecond (Breeze Wing)
AGE: 38
GENDER: Male
ORIENTATION: Heterosexual (Homosexual relations in flights happen, though. Que Sera sera when greens are involved, he says. Or...the Pernese equivalent.)
PLAYED BY: Javier Bardem

DRAGON: Bronze Rhomarth
PETS: Brown Hat

HEIGHT: 6'5"
BUILD: Broad-shouldered, Muscular, and Big.
HAIR: Dark brown, graying at the sides. 
EYES: Dark Brown, warm
APPEARANCE SUMMARY: Ki'var is a huuuuuge guy. Like, ridiculously so. Like, six-foot-five and looks twice that. He towers over most people without even trying, and a broad-shouldered, muscular, heavyset build don't do anything to discourage this image of physical intimidation. While he generally tends to hold himself in a rather neutral, unimposing manner, there's a certain way he just throws back his shoulders, frowns, and steps towards people that make him deeply intimidating when he tries. (He's had to try. His 'Displeased' face has stopped revolutions in the weyrs. Revolutions of the pie-throwing sort, perhaps, but still. It comes in handy.) He generally seems quite at peace with the world, if a little too fond of staring pensively into the distance, but he's not all serious dragonriderman all the time.

However, he's not at all bad-looking. Most would say he's somewhat handsome, in a rugged sort of way. A heavy jaw, strong features, and a build that most people describe as simply 'dragonrider-built.' Slightly tanned skin, scarred from a myriad number of incidents here and there, and weathered from a life of dragon-riding and a world that really, really does it's best to grind a person into dust, with a large nose that's been broken twice and never quite healed straight. Dark brown hair is only very slightly tinged with gray at the sides (he blames this on stress, Rhomarth, and women, and he'll probably be remarkably white-haired in old age) and is kept relatively short. He rarely remembers to cut it, so while not long, it's usually long enough to need to be swept back off his forehead every now and then, and to stick up in fabulous ways when he's just woken up. (It's somewhat endearing or remarkably annoying depending on your current opinion of him.) He also generally tends to forget to shave, and is rather stubbly on a near permanent basis. He's got dark brown eyes, usually rather pensive looking as if there's something on his mind, though with the habit of lighting up brightly when he's in good company. (His smile isn't just a smile, it's a bloody sunbeam.)

He's got a very low, deep voice (a pleased rumble not unlike a large feline when he's happy, and a dull roar when he's not) and tends to speak somewhat softly as a result- when he does raise his voice however, it's a huge, booming shout, and that combined with his stature and an enormous dragon at his back is usually enough to stop most people in their tracks. He doesn't like to be seen as 'scary' but he's also not going to let someone push him around. Intimidation is something he can put on like clothing, though he tries not to project that persona unless he's pissed off or needs to get something done. 
He's fond of good-looking clothes, generally blacks or dark browns with a bit of red here and there. He's not really the most clothing-oriented person ever, so he wears what is practical and comfortable, usually his riding gear with some looser shirt underneath. (He's been dressed up nicely before, and he tends to find it rather uncomfortable. He'd prefer dusty riding leathers.)


PERSONALITY FAULTS: 
He's a little bit too proud for his own good, and admitting he was wrong about something is about as painful as a broken leg to him, and he's got a short fuse when it comes to people talking instead of taking action. He's also a bit of a stupid hero, prone to rushing in without thinking and usually where he's not actually needed or wanted. He just can't stand the sight of suffering. He's a good guy, sure, but he cares too much. There's some people you can't save, though he has yet to accept this fact. (Rhomarth knows this all too well, however, and has been known on occasion to not mention something when they're on patrol if he sees it as a foregone conclusion- Ki'var would break himself in an effort to help even if the situation were futile.) He really does care too much. Every time he can't help someone, every time he fails in saving someone, every time something happens and he thinks he could have done something to prevent it (even if that's perfectly ludicrous), it breaks his bleeding heart a little. He absolutely can't stand bullies, and if he ever sees someone picking on someone else, he'll step in, whether his assistance is wanted or not (making him kind of more of a busybody than he means.)
He doesn't aim to scare people, but he's got a short temper and can be quite violent when angered- he's been in enough fistfights to make this clear. Losing his cool is... not common, but also common enough to have given him a bit of a reputation. (Not a necessarily positive one. One that suggests he should probably not be allowed to drink heavily in volatile company.) He doesn't shout often but he's much more likely to hit someone when angered then yell at them- he saves intimidation for threats rather than action. (By the time he's angry enough to punch someone, he's already decided that the punching is necessary- no need to bother with superfluous posturing.) On that note, he's also known for fighting dirty. Not because he's a cheater or anything, but because usually, unless he's started a brawl or something, he sees fights as a means to an end, and that end usually happens to be to subdue someone. So he'll play dirty. (And if it IS a bar brawl, well, everything goes in a bar brawl, don't you know?) Weirdly, he doesn't take these particularly seriously. Getting drunk and fighting is just what he does- he'll be happy to be best pals with whoever he was fighting in the morning. (Again, he has an... interesting reputation in the Weyr. Generally, he is well-regarded, but every so often someone finds the man with a bloody nose hauling someone out of a dogpile by their shirt collar.)
- Proud
- Shy
- Bleeding Heart/ Overly Protective (even if not asked/wanted)
- Short-tempered
- Punching People solves problems
- Rowdy Drunk (Likes to drink) 
- Fights Dirty

PERSONALITY STRENGTHS: 
He is surprisingly thoughtful, liking art, music, and a variety of other things you generally wouldn't see in a guy like him; a gentle giant if you wanted to say, but he's hardly gentle. He has a secret love of exotic flowers and fish, though he rather dislikes swimming, and is, in fact, rather clumsy at it.
He's a chivalrous creature, even if it comes off a little misguided or old-fashioned (he says there's never a time manners will do you wrong), and he's very much into the idea of forgiving the trespasses of your enemy, if they truly extend a hand of peace. Almost anything can be forgiven with him, if he thinks you mean it. (Annnnnd he'll cop to being a little too forgiving. Probably lets people get away with more than they should, on the belief that people change and deserve second- and third, and fourth- chances.) He wants to help people first and foremost. He'd give someone the shirt off his back if they asked, and over anything, he wants to do good in the world. Really. He means so, so well. Almost annoyingly so. 
He doesn't tend to seek out relationships, though he treasures the few he has. (Also he's not great with women, and his attempts at relationships outside of flights are notoriously ... well he speaks of them in the grave tones of a permanent bachelor.) He's a quiet person, usually staying back and letting others shine- he really is happy for other people. He likes being around people, though, and is relatively sociable, even if he is also just a little bit shyer than he'd let on or would be obvious with the amount of times in the past few turns he's had to speak in public or 'command the respect a bronzerider should'. He's a bit awkward at times, and can say the wrong things when he doesn't mean to, but he likes company, and will often seek out people sitting on their own just to give them company- everyone should have friends, he thinks. (He's quite fond of kids, actually, and it's not surprising to find him taking to the younger Weyrlings or candidates in order to make them more comfortable at the Weyr.) And when he's comfortable with a situation, he's really very active. He speaks loudly, tells ridiculously inappropriate jokes, is perfectly friendly with friends and complete strangers, and tries to engage everyone. Admittedly, some people think he can be a little too boisterous, but ah, to between with them. (He also is a very social drinker, and a big fan of getting his buddies together and going drinking, going out drinking, staying in drinking, and drinking in general. Beer makes everything better.)
He adores his dragon, and spends a lot of his time NOT with others with the bronze, sitting on the big foreleg and just talking. Rhomarth and he are friends as well as bonded. They like to talk, even if Rhomarth has a dragon's memory. He considers the dragon an excellent sounding board for his decisions. (And if he happens to spend a lot of time running over his thoughts with the bronze, so be it.)
+ Thoughtful
+ Brave
+ Sweet and Well-meaning
+ Forgiving
+ Friendly (Always includes people and likes company)
+ Selfless and giving
+ Protective of his friends and Weyr

FAMILY:
Father - K'ral (Kivral) (Deceased)
Mother - Savarra (Deceased)
Siblings - Sister Kisa (34, Alive) Brother S'var (32, Savaral, Alive),

HISTORY: Born and raised at Tidewalk Weyr, to a brownrider and his weyrmate, a greenrider woman. Like most, he was raised in the creche (dragonriders live busy lives), with knowledge of his parents, but not an overlarge amount of contact with them. He actually began his life with aspirations of being a wherhandler, though he never really thought ahead to the future much. When he was four, he was introduced to his little sister, and at six, his younger brother. The three of them stuck together like glue almost instantly. Kisavar was always the one to look out for his siblings, and it was soon made clear that messing with Savaral or Kisa was going to bring their big brother down on you like a bronze wher. He earned a reputation for starting fights at first, but it soon became clear that he just hated seeing anyone pick on anyone. He got in a fight when he was thirteen simply because one of the other weyrbrats had dumped a meal on a boy who'd been smaller than him- the others began to tease him, eventually making him run off crying, so Kisavar hit them. Not the best action, but he hadn't yet learned a better way to warn people off. Still, he had plenty of friends, even if they did think he was stupid for playing protector of the small, and even his childhood scuffles cleared up soon enough; he made friends easily, and was happy.

He stood for his first hatching when he was fourteen, as was the usual, and was summarily passed up. He was, of course, disappointed to see his friends go off and become dragonriders, but it didn't dampen his excitement. Nor did being passed up at his second hatching, or his third... or his fourth... Not that he was too hard over about it. There was plenty of work for a fit lad like him, so he was never wanting for something to do, even if the Weyr did begin to grate on his nerves.
Kisavar mostly stuck around (instead of striking off to learn a craft or a trade or something) to keep an eye out on his siblings, especially when someone came in to tell him his mother had lost to an unfortunate flight-drill accident. He sort of lost touch with his father then- the man was not a close parent, but he'd loved his Weyrmate deeply, and her loss had put him too far over the edge to be reasonable for a good number of turns. So Kisavar made sure his sister and brother were taken care of, and that they didn't want for anything. 

Eventually the brownrider who sired them all but ran off and went mad or something ridiculous. (Kisavar really had no idea what or how or anything, just that he up and vanished one day. He only much later learned the man had transferred to a different Weyr on the Northern continent to escape and get his head together). Kisavar decided then and there that he needed to get his own life in order, and that the idea of running off half-cocked, even for a reason such as the loss of a weyrmate, was kind of dumb. (Even if, for just a second, he had envied his father for being able to do just that.) He started taking odd jobs places, eventually ending up at a nearby hold when Kisavar was nineteen.

Then it was life as normal... as normal as it could get for a disillusioned teenager with a chip on his shoulder. The places he liked best were loud and rough, and that suited him just fine. It was easy for him to find jobs there, doing the same things as always- heavy lifting, construction, the occasional bar brawl. And at twenty, after Kisavar has been passed over at yet another hatching, when little brother Savaral was allowed to stand, well. Kisavar began to give up on actually impressing a dragon. A hatchling had walked right up to him, told him he needed someone younger, better, more flexible... and had chosen his little brother, now S'var. Kisavar was happy for him, of course... but he began to plan a different future for himself. Kisa thought he was silly, of course, and he admitted he was a little jealous, but they were both happy for their brother.

Then, at the next hatching, Kisa Impressed. Kisavar was still happy, but this was ridiculous. He was nearly twenty-two turns old, and he had to get his life in order. He was a good fighter, and strong, so it wasn't hard to find work as a patrolman, guarding the Holds or trader caravans or whatever. Anything to get out of the Weyr for a while He had given up on standing again, finding himself quite happy with his life as it was, when lo and behold, his father showed up out of nowhere to the Hold where Kisavar had been making a living. A brief reunion, and the rider managed to convince his son to stand once more; because his father's brown insisted, he agreed. He didn't think much of it, and in fact was just waiting for it to be over so he could be done with this once and for all. He'd gotten word of a decently paying job with a couple merchants travelling with their families between Weyrs for some gathers, and he was actually thinking more of that than of the dragons.
After all, getting paid was good, and a long journey was what his restless self wanted.

Then, of course, he felt like HE was on fire as a spirited little (well... BIG) hatchling marched up to him. And told him off. Loudly, in fact. Ki'var just looked at him. He'd waited his whole life to find a dragon who suited him, given up, and had planned out something else entirely for his life, and here it was telling him off for not paying him enough attention. When he was scolded again, Ki'var just asked what had taken him so long, and Rhomarth bit him.

The beginning of an epic partnership, of course.

Weyrling training was simple enough and relatively pleasant. Rhomarth and he learned how to fight together, and just like before, Ki'var wouldn't allow bullies. A brownrider who had been mocking a greenrider for his small, 'useless' dragon found himself pinned to the ground with an angry bronzerider on top of him. Everyone seemed to forget that in fact, Ki'var was a good number of years older than most of them- they were teenagers and he found himself deeply aware of the difference in intelligence and sheer arrogance there was in between sixteen and twenty-two (with the exception of one Green weyrling woman who would also be Romarth and Ki'var's first flight partner and lover). Yeah... same old, same old. Flights were fun, and while he had the on-again, off-again relationship with one of his classmates, he mostly tended to keep sex to flights. (And yes, he once won the flight of a male-ridden green- yes, in fact, the same boy he'd saved during training. Coincidence, and not terrible, if he was being honest, and Rhomarth had been so smug about it after.) He discovered it kind of didn't matter to him. What happened, happened. (There were a few bronzeriders who thought the idea distasteful, but Ki'var didn't tend to associate with them. Really. What two- or more- people did consensually in their private quarters was nobody's business but their own. Ki'var had never bought into the rumor-mill aspect of rider life. Greenfights happened, and Rho liked greens, so. It stood to reason at some point he might end up in bed with a male greenrider. So be it. Flights were flights, and that about covered that. They did not, in fact, generally affect his dating life outside of said flights. Not that he had much of one.)

He was actually very good at getting people to get along and work well together. Part intimidation and part simply being willing to do what it took to iron out the more painful wrinkles in interpersonal relationships, Ki'var was assigned to a wing not just for Rhomarth's impressive size and willingness to fight, but also because he was a pretty level-headed, decent person to have in said fight. Wingthird and then wingsecond weren't too far away he thought, if he worked hard enough and given his familiarity with Weyr life and his age. He could do it. It gave him something to work form, after all, and he never did like getting bored.

Of course, he always was a little restless, and he never liked bullies (or, in this case, stubborn mules who refused to see reason.) So when Oria and her team left to create her new Weyrhold, Ki'var and his bronze backed her and followed. And of course, when that first threadfall came... it was ugly. People were killed in droves, and the population diminished greatly. Sure, he could go back to Tidewalk, but things were getting dire in Mavros. He wasn't going to leave just because things were getting difficult. People needed help here, and he'd be flamed between if he said he wasn't going to stay and help. And in the past five turns things certainly haven't gotten much easier. Ki'var's found a place he likes, and he's going to back his leadership and help as best he can. His willingness (and probably in some part size, both his and Rhomarth's) served him well, and though threadfall is easy on no one, he's doing his best to make sure the wings he serves with come back as hale as they can. Eventually this caught him notice and he was given a promotion up to Wingsecond of the Gust wing, under X'ar. He respects the man, and is proud to do his duty by the weyr. (And, as always with the rather overprotective self-appointed protector of a man, keep his wingmates and friends safe. Is he going to be a little nosy? Probably. But he means well. And at the very least, there's no shame in taking up the second's offer for a drink, now is there?) 


IN THE EVENT OF YOUR SUDDEN, UNEXPLAINED DISAPPEARANCE FROM THE SITE AT ANY POINT IN TIME, WHAT DO YOU WISH TO BECOME OF THIS CHARACTER AND ANY CREATURES THEY MAY IMPRESS?

b. Turn them into an NPC who may be killed off or used for plot purposes but who will not be played by someone else.