Dark raven hair is cut off shortly at the neck, giving the impression that O'ran is pretty much clean-shaven. His eyes are deep orbs of a pale blue, light and airy, yet somehow they can penetrate deeply into you with their crystalline points. His face is mostly round, with a birthmark on the cheek shaped like a muddled feather. His brow seems to have been permanently furrowed into a frustrated look, although he may or may not really be irritated at the moment. At 15 Turns, 9 months, and 23 days, the rest of O'ran is simply just tall and very lanky, and while he hopes to grow out of it, for now he has to be reconciled to being all arms and legs, as well as clumsy. A pair of plain working clothes carefully endows this weyrling's body, consisting of simple shirt and pants. The shirt, appearing to be constructed of a light, airily-woven cotton, fits O'ran well, though it could be a little bigger, perhaps. The pants, at first glance, immediately appear to be built for work. They are heavily built to withstand most things, a thick, supple wher-hide. Carefully trimmed boots, though slightly scuffed, adorn his feet.

On his shoulder, the shoulderknot of Fort Weyr is visible, ebony black and rustic brown entwined, while a strand of a softer sienna rests between, representing his lifemate's colors, and the simpleness of the knot revealing his status as a weyrling.


Born at Fort Weyr, Orimoran has always been used to seeing dragons. As a youngster, he was constantly running up and down the corridors with the other little weyrbrats, playing mischievious pranks, chasing firelizards, that sort of thing. As he grew older, however, he began to turn his attention to other matters, such as what he wanted to pursue in his life. Being sent around on chores really helped him in finding his marvelous aptitude at—-mucking out stables? Strangely enough, the lad liked the job, and enjoyed being around the runners while he worked. Therefore, at the age of thirteen, Orimoran began his job as a stablehand at Fort Weyr. Oh, he still helped around the Weyr, but who would have guessed that the mischievious, prank-loving Orimoran could have grown into a half-way-decently-responsible stablehand? Not many. Now in his second year of being a stablehand, Orimoran looks forward to the future, whatever it may bring, and dreams of someday owning a few runners, but for now, his marks are meager, and don't come easily. A few runners are possessed to him, though he has nowhere as many as some of the others that have runners in the stables. Now, who would have ever guessed that this slightly serious Stablehand would be found acceptable by the dragons after a few Turns of not Standing for Fort? Who would have guessed that Beydesseth would sniff him out and actually speak with him? Who, indeed. For now, Orimoran is a Candidate at Fort Weyr, not that it improves his temperament or ego much, but maybe it will stabilize him for a little while. You hope. And alas, even Candidacy was not to last, for the big day came, and Orimoran, thrust out onto the Sands with the other Candidates, devoutly was, for once, uncertain of what was to come. But not for long. The large, mostly golden-hued egg which everyone suspected contained a gold, turned out to hold a brown. A beautiful brown with flaming aura and presence! And what was even more astonishing was when this magnificent creature chose to bond with none other than….you guessed it, Orimoran. Suddenly, he's not just Orimoran anymore. He's O'ran, weyrling at Fort to the Immortal Wings of Flame Brown Virochanth, and half of that lifemated pair.


Name Relation Location Position
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Blue Hanjinsan
So light are his shades, this blue seems molded out of snow. Frost covers his headknobs and melts slowly down his neckridges into a cerulean that is light and airy, the color of a winter sky at dusk. He seems a trifle unsure of everything, not to put too fine a point on it; made clear by hunched shoulders and attention that whips about to loud noises. Stooped that way his wings seem almost too big for his body with gentle shades of lapis crowning the spars, shading back into a light turquoise across the sails. Obsidian talons are the only dark spots of color on him, detracting some from his awkward, clumsy frame. His pale tail too, is long for his frame and he seems uncertain of it. A timid, outsized fellow, but he's sure to grow into his length. Hanjinsan is banded in the colors of his owner's home.
Hanjinsan is 0 Turns, 1 month, and 10 days old and is 19 centimeters in length with a wingspan of 31 cm.

Green Kimmeily
Her coloration, at least its main component, comes from her dam, Sunflake. Brilliant poison green colors this green's hide in solid matte, save for ridges of pale green and talons of shimmering onyx black. Wingsails are diaphanous, gauze-like, shimmering with jewel like brilliance, though more lacy than faceted in appearance; delicate veins and capillaries create this mottled, knitted though smooth look. If one looks closer, one will find that though this green's hide is poison green, it is also flecked with gold dust, throughout. Her skeletal and muscular structures are somewhat stocky, but with that, she bears a grace entirely her own. Kimmeily is banded in the colors of her owner's home.
Kimmeily is 0 Turns, 1 month, and 10 days old and is 18 centimeters in length with a wingspan of 30 cm.


Immortal Wings of Flame Brown Virochanth
Warm tones of sienna brown seem to flow over the angles and curves of this young brown's body. His hide seems dappled with reddish browns and as he moves it seems to glimmer subtlety. Lighter shades of russet highlight a slender, tapering snout with wide, flaring nostrils and unusually large eyes. Eyeridges and headknobs are less prominent, darkening to a browned copper. The long, almost serpentine neck is a sun-baked terra cotta, ridges smooth and not particularly pronounced on the mobile neck and down the back creating a line of dark chocolate down his spine. The body of this dragon is fluid with smooth lines, lightening to a warm orange-brown in the belly area but darkening outwards gradually from there across the wingsails to the nearly black tip of the wings. His legs and hindquarters are trim yet well-muscled, ending in ebony talons. The remarkably long tail is extremely slender, tapering gradually to it's dark chocolate tip. Virochanth's large, mildly opalescent eyes, whirl at a normal enough pace, eyes absorbing all that he can see. His curiosity and a bit of impatience is reflected deep within the facets, though it takes a truly perceptive one to notice.