Topping off at around 6'4, Sh'koi is possessed of a lean, muscular physique that speaks to a life of hard labour. His hair has grown since weyrlinghood, and he now wears it confined in tight corn rows striping his head. His facial features are strong, and can sometimes give him the appearance of deep brooding, though when he smiles there is a boyish, almost impish sort of charm to the expression. Expressive brown eyes sit beneath thick, subtly curved brows; his nose is wide and slightly flat. High cheek bones serve to emphasize the triangular shape of his jaw, and full lips are framed by a thin, neatly trimmed mustache and beard.


Please note: the following information is to be considered OOC knowledge only, unless revealed expressly in-scene. It is quite likely, given this history, that he will lie about his origins. While I am not adverse to his being recognised or caught in such a lie, I would appreciate OOC discussion before such an event were to unfold. Thank you.

Shakoi is the equivalent of a small-town boy. Born at High Shoal Hold, located on the eastern coast of the Neratian peninsula, he was raised to a life of working the sea. While some of his brothers went on to be sailors, for himself he was content to follow in his father's footsteps, taking up the simple life of a spiderclaw trapper. It was a good life, if not the most glamourous, honest work to earn an honest pay. He even had a sweetheart, the daughter of a fisherman, a fine young woman whom he wouldn't have objected to taking to wife.

That is, ultimately, what got him into trouble. A husband has to be able to provide for his family, after all, and he took to the risky course of supplementing — or losing — his meagre income by gambling at the docks. And he found out the hard way that having a lucky streak in the wrong game can be just as dangerous as getting oneself into debt. After winning a tidy little pile of marks — enough surely to prove he was good enough for the fisherman's daughter — he found himself with a sudden need to make himself disappear.

Instead of boldly proposing marriage as he'd planned, he ended up running, booking passage on the first safe ship out. Its destination was Ista, but when the men accusing you of cheating are sailors, no seaside Hold or Weyr could be entirely safe. So those chance-won marks dwindled further as he hopped another boat, this one bound for Fort Sea Hold. From there, he joined up with a caravan going further inland, and found himself eventually at Fort Weyr.

Largely unskilled, at least by landlocked standards, he was at least possessed of enough of a culinary gift to secure himself a job working in the Weyr's kitchens. It was, he hoped, the last place anyone would think to look for him, and as they say, 'out of sight, out of mind.' Right?


Name Relation Location Position
Sarkany Father High Shoal Hold Spiderclaw Trapper
Trilara Mother High Shoal Hold Resident
Borsam Older Brother Seacraft Journeyman
Yranae Older Sister Greystones Hold Resident
Jaks Older Brother The Maiden's Sorrow Sailor
Colabrie Younger Sister High Shoal Hold Seamstress
Tuala Younger Sister High Shoal Hold Resident


Ocean's Dawn Gold Tuala
Colour spills over this chubby-looking firelizard's hide like the first blush of dawn over the ocean. Pure, pale gold covers her body from nose to tail, with faint orangey shadows pooling along her round little belly and splashing over her feet. Delicate accents brush over her headknobs and down her spinal ridges, a dusty shade of rose marking only the tips. The tracery of veins through her wingsails could be seen as a pattern, reminiscent of a mellow surf as it rolls in to shore. Shadows dominate here, the brightness of gold touching only the leading edges of her wings before fading into an orange that blends into pink and finally to a pale periwinkle.


Passion's Prosaic Pretense Bronze Oszarioth
If one were rude, one would call him dull. If one were shrewd, one would call him understated, and say there's more to him than meets the eye. Mistakable in poor light for a large brown, the dominant coloring on this small-framed dragon is green-mottled, muted bronze. The green isn't a pure green, so he's certain never to be mistaken for the wrong gender. It's a deep mossy or lichen green, as though he was left too long in the shell and bronze hide has been weathered by time untold. Perhaps his hide once shone brightly, like many of his kins' do, but no longer. Instead, he is wrapped simply, in this indistinct insipid shading. His structure is of greater note than his coloring: he is perfectly proportionate of bone, but wrapped in reams of thick, powerful muscle, so much so that his stance is slightly odd due to the muscle mass. Besides his remarkable musculature, the most interesting feature the bronze has is his wedged head. Eye-ridges are high and angular, lending him an intelligent look that his rugged looks might otherwise obscure. Around his eyes is a singular shine of pure, fresh-from-the-forge bronze giving him a masked look, or from another perspective, perhaps the entire exterior is the disguise and the only betrayal of his true colors is the brilliant flash about his bejeweled eyes.