Tengor / T'gor

He was the boldest, eldest son of a Holder, and he acted the role. Tengor deserved praise - he earned it on the jousting field. At seventeen turns, he'd bested even his own father at the sport. He had a strength of will that could hardly be matched in the Hold. Even his own brothers didn't dare suggest that as the eldest... he might not be the smartest of the Holder's sons. They would have been right, though, for though he was quick of hand and eye, strong in body and will... Tengor was possibly one of the shallowest men in the place. He really did enjoy nothing more than riding at another jouster, having a hearty drink and thick roast at the table afterwards, and with any luck a comely girl to share his bed later.

And this would be their leader, when their father retired...?

At least Tenatul had his head grounded in the daily grind and enjoyed his play time with a fevered frenzy. He knew the difference between growing up rich and growing up poor - and had somewhat regretted letting his oldest son have his head in almost everything. He'd been spoiled, he was the child that might never have happened if not for his inadvertent rescue of Lady Golores.

They fell appropriately and madly in love, some time after their marriage. Golores's father passed away within two years, leaving her to run his Hold and Tenatul was good at numbers already. And that's all running a hold was, he thought at first, numbers.

Numbers that escaped Tengor's mind day after day. He could read, write and do simple math - betting, mostly, odds on the runner races and such - and knew just barely enough about the Hold's history to please his Harper instructors. But it was clear when his youngest brother was twelve that even that child would be a better choice to run this Hold later.

So it was with complete surprise and disbelief when a Search rider scanned the group of children of this Hold and found him of all people, to be best for a candidate.

Tengor? On a dragon?

Well, at the very least he knew how to ride. He was very bold on a runner, unafraid. He might just make a good Thread fighter at that. He began the process of gathering his things, and admitted to his mother that he was a bit confused about it. His place was here at the Hold, wasn't it? But she - like the rest of the family - assured him that he'd make a terrific rider, he'd make them proud.

It was probably the only way he'd do that. Wine drinking and jousting were athletic and leisurely pursuits. Not professions.

Dragonhope's weyrling training sessions were almost too much for the arrogant young man. But let it never be said that Dragonhope's Weyrling Trainers were apt to give up on any of their candidates. They treated each student differently, expecting the same results, but never the same way to getting them. They all but had to trick him into learning better about the lay of the land and the patterns of the stars. He would always be hopeless at reading a star chart, but he did at least have a pretty good memory for places - his ability with betweening might be at risk, but ... well, that was his look out.

He had but to look at a flight formation chart and could tell what the results of a scattering of Thread upon it would yeild. Oddly enough as a tactician, he was quite good - he could appraise situations quickly, and had excellent spacial judgement. That, and he did have a great throwing arm, apt to pick out the right recipient of a sack of firestone from a group: if the bag was heavy he tossed it to the rider of the brown or bronze! Lighter, to that girl on the green; loose and wobbly, he chose not to throw at all and instead proclaimed, "I feed it to my dragon! Better than to lose it in the air!"

So he wasn't going to be a total loss, and his parents were in fact proud of him when he stood upon Talis Weyr's odd sands (complete with black, white and two-toned dragon parents!) and Impressed blue Semath!

Semath matched his partner nicely in most ways... he would only listen to his rider and those T'gor trusted. He would forget things like a green, and the one time that T'gor fell off his dragon, Semath was frantic and almost didn't let the healers near him to check him out, so protective was he. But they were stunning in the air, once they got going properly. T'gor would always have to rely upon another rider for any long distance teleportation goals, focusing on the stars just ... never clicked. But short-range? He had a memory for the nearest areas, so in no time he could do one sweep around an area and know its ups and downs. During Threadfall his talents for spotting a weak area saved his fellow wing men more than once.

He'd never be a leader, but he was good in a pinch, and could certainly be trusted to guard anyone's back up in the air. His parents were proud! He was in the Taum Pun, the backup wing filled to the rim with quick, healthy riders and dragons to fill the ranks as the others in the Weyrleader's first-strike wing tired out.