Post by Briarwind on Oct 26, 2010 11:29:33 GMT -5
Harper, tell me of the road...
Username: Briarwind
Character Number: 3rd
Name: Yeorden
Age: 64
Birth Season: Summer
Gender: male
Location: Delant Hold
Rank: Master
Craft: Glassblower
That leads beyond this hold...
Appearance: Standing a scant five foot two, with a barrel-like chest, broad shoulders, and a rotund stomach, Yeorden is a sturdily built man. His short stature is emphasized by poor posture, his shoulders rolling forward and his head pushed forward and down in an ill-tempered, dejected fashion almost constantly. Wild, scraggly grey and white hair flies wildly about his face, and equally wild, scraggly sideburns lend a decidedly uninspiring quality to his appearance. A thin, scraggly beard does little to assuage this problem. Large, bushy brows draw into a perpetual low scowl over dark brown, unhappy eyes, and his low, gravelly voice carries a constant sharp tone of irritation. Rumpled apparel makes the man seem all-the-more unimpressive. An attentive eye, however, might note the callouses on his palms, the burn scars of his trade, and the hard lines of muscle beneath his skin, proving him to be rather more than first glance might imply.
That wends its way around the hill...
Personality: Grim, grumpy, and foul-tempered, Yeorden is rarely seen as good company. He is prone to general grumbling, scowling, badmouthing people, rudeness, blunt, brutal honesty, and disinterested in others. Yeorden can be credited with unfailing honesty, at least, but that means little to someone who has just been deeply insulted.
Fortunately for Yeorden, he couldn't care less. He also couldn't care less about any number of other important things. Featured highest on that list is politics. Weyr business, Hold business, Collegium business, Craft business, it's all politics, and he couldn't care less about any of it. Point in fact, an extremely rude reply can typically be anticipated within minutes of the subject of politics being brought up.
Yeorden has a similar intolerance for pets as a whole and firelizards in particular. More trouble than they're worth, a hassle, and a hazard in his work-room, Yeorden couldn't care less if he never saw another of the annoying little buggers. He certainly won't tolerate them from his underlings, least of all his rare apprentices.
Truth told, that's of little issue, however, since Yeorden's demeanour makes him ill-suited to the acquisition of apprentices. He has cultivated just this quality, point in fact, following numerous problems with previous apprentices. Still, his not-inconsiderable skill has won him a few brave souls eager to learn the tricks of the trade from an experienced glassblower.
Between a lack of apprentices and a lack of close friends, Yeorden has few, if any, genuine commitments to much of anything, and his disinterest in politics forbids any real loyalty, leaving him unfettered to indulge his rare whims as he sees fit. Typically, this entails much scowling and grumbling. It also entails getting away with things that tend to push the limits of what is and is not permissible behaviour - such as frequent visits to the Weyr.
His visits to the Weyr exist for the sole purpose of indulging his most beloved vice: Yeorden is a gambler. Not only that, but in addition to playing an extraordinary amount of dragon poker, he firmly believes that there are few finer things to gamble on than hatchings of all kinds. Easily his greatest weakness, it is when he is gambling that Yeorden is most open to interaction with others. It is one of only two things the sour old man genuinely cares about.
The other is his craft. For all his gruff demeanour and disagreeable attitude, Yeorden is still occasionally sought as a master, and those who can suffer through his training rarely, if ever, regret it. Unpleasant or not, Yeorden deeply loves his craft, and he understands it on a very base level. His glasswork is the one and only other thing that truly touches his heart.
Does it go farther on until...
History: Born third of seven, there were far too many mouths to feed in Yeorden's home, so the boy was apprenticed out at a young age. Scarcely into his ninth turn, he was sent off to the hall to study glassblowing, whether he liked it or not. He did not.
Within less than a turn, he'd changed his mind. The boy proved surprisingly proficient at the art, and chased that proficiency with passion, devoting himself to his studies with a single-minded obsession that drove him for the next several turns of his life. Nothing else could draw his attention until the day, late in his fifteenth turn, when he walked the tables to become a journeyman. For the next two turns, he continued his studies, sure that his mastery was just around the corner, and taught his own apprentices around his studies, in part to make himself feel more useful, and in part because there were never enough masters to go around.
It was in that seventeenth turn that he met Tathala, a bright, mousy apprentice whose nimble hands and early proficiency rivaled his own. Tathala was apprenticed at thirteen, and was in the second turn of her own apprenticeship when she was sent to study under him. Yeorden was immediately taken with her, and doted on her like a lovesick puppy. Over the next two turns, that infatuation grew into a very real love - a love he never spoke to her, that she never returned.
When Tathala left the crafthall days before she would have walked the tables to wed a childhood friend, Yeorden did not take it well. To his mind, she had betrayed and abandoned him and the craft both by marrying out as she did. For the next few turns, he refused to take on any more apprentices. It was then that he first began gambling, an amusement that he found he cared for even more than his craft.
Finally, some few turns later, Yeorden agreed to take on another apprentice. Joshena was, technically, too old to become an apprentice, at sixteen, but there was something about her quiet eyes that drew to him, so he violated his own rules and the halls to take her on. Once again, he let himself come to love the girl, and after she earned her own journeyman rank, he told her so, not willing to risk losing her the way he'd lost Tathala.
He needn't have worried, for Joshena returned his affections, and the two became engaged, and eventually wed. Within a turn, Joshena became pregnant, and Yeorden could not have been happier. His opinion, however, turned swiftly as complications arose in the pregnancy, and when the birth began, it took the strict orders of three healers to keep him out of the room.
Neither Joshena nor the child survived.
After that, Yeorden swore off the whole affair Love, children, even apprentices: Yeorden wanted no more of them. It was turns before anyone convinced him otherwise, and even then, he maintained he'd not take a female apprentice.
He stuck to that, taking instead a boy named Lukyn, the son of one of his own old masters, as a final task before earning his own mastery. Almost against his will, he found himself liking the boy, which seemed sure to be a bad sign. It wasn't that Lukyn was all that proficient: he wasn't. He was simply a genuinely charming boy who Yeorden swiftly grew fond of.
Like all things in Yeorden's life, it was fated to end badly, as a dragonman took him off to the Weyr and Yeorden's dear apprentice Lukyn became L'kyn of brown Noryth.
For a moment as Yeorden walked the tables for his mastery, it seemed as though L'kyn would be the last straw, but he knew even as he took his seat that he wouldn't refuse to teach. He loved his craft too deeply for that. Within the turn, he took on two new apprentices, a set of twins named Maryl and Lydor. They were, he swore, to be his last ditch in caring about his apprentices before he became the teacher he'd always hated, who cared nothing for his apprentices and only for his own studies. Somehow, however, the doomsayer knew it was doomed to failure, and when they both abandoned the craft two turns later, he couldn't bring himself to be surprised.
That was the day Yeorden stopped caring about his apprentices. After that, they became little more than a blur of faces that either learned or proved too soft and were forced to choose a new master. He couldn't even be bothered to remember their names, any longer. The Master Glassblower became concerned with the ever-diminishing spirit of his old student, a concern Yeorden never even realized was there. Finally, shortly before the man retired, he assigned Yeorden to the Collegium, in the hopes that it would restore some of the spirit he remembered to the man. Surprised but unwilling to deny an old friend so simple a request, Yeorden conceded, packed his things, and moved to the Collegium.
So far, he remains blissfully lost in his own bitter cynicism.
It ends in sunset gold?
Sue Score: -4
