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Emoraan-The MasterWeaver of Rias Hold/Weyr |
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Name: Emoraan
Age: 47 years old
Sex: male
Height: 5'11"
Craft: Weaver
Rank: Master (hopefully)
Family: Yllaria (wife-deceased)
Choparl, age:29 (son-ran away to northern holds)
Keedra age:24 (daughter-living at Tillek with husband)
Moranis age:15 (son-still at Rias NPC)
Pets: Meekar (if allowed, brown firelizard)
Description: Emoraan is a stout man who has spent most of his life in and around Rias. His hands are rough and worn from working all sorts of leathers, clothes, and indulging in his hobby of wood work. His normal clothing is nothing more than a well-worn pair of leather pants, a simple shirt, and black boots. Of course, being the master weaver, at the most important of events he sports his finest...his favorite colors to wear being shades of brown and gold. His hair is short and curled close to his head; his maghogany locks are now peppered with gray. The weaver's eyes are a crisp spring green and notice everything, though wrinkles now line the corners. Marks of time and experience he calls them. Though a stout man, Emoraan's upper body is well toned, enjoying boxing and wrestling when he was a younger man. He still has a bag of sands that he beats up to keep himself in shape. Aside from the normal scars that come with being a weaver, Emoraan has a twisted scar from his left shoulder all the way across his shoulder blade; this came from a runner beast accident roughly twenty turns ago. He skin is a dark olive complexion that gets tanned during the summer.
Personality: Emoraan is a gruff man with a surprisingly soft voice. He is slow to react to wrongs and even slower to anger. But when he speaks, those around him listen with respect.
Emoraan is a very reserved and close-mouthed person. He does not open up easy to those around him, prefering that his journeymen and apprentices see him as an authority figure. He tells his crew what needs to be done and expects them to do it on time and done right. When the MasterWeaver gives his word, then by Fall or Frost, he will do everything in his power to see it through. He has little use for excuses. When he speaks, Emoraan says only what needs to be said and can be very blunt about it...often leaving others to soothe feelings he has hurt.
Emoraan's only soft spot is his youngest son, Moranis, who looks like his late wife. Not on the greatest of terms with his two older children, Emoraan allows Moranis to do what he pleases...within reason. Often the boy can be seen helping out in hall and hold.
History: Emoraan does not speak of his parents or his siblings, perfering only to speak of his time at Rias. He is not sure how old he is, as his birthing recrords have been lost. From the time he decided to enter the weavercraft to his appointment as master, this man has applied himself to trying to create clothes that are sturdy and resistant to many different elements.
Emoraans first and only love was his wife, Yllaria. She was a delicate creature, whom seemed like she would break at the slightest tough. Yet, she bore him three children and often worked long hours with him at the hall. It wasn't until the disease struck Rias that she began to lose strength. She didn't die from the first or second waves of the disease...instead Emoraan lost her to one of its many complications. Angered and distraught, that he could do nothing to save her, he got into a vicious battle of words and fists with his eldest son, Choparl and banned the boy from ever entering his home again.
He wishes greatly that he could take back those words.
Shortly afterward, his daughter Keedra met a young man from Tillek hold and moved back to the hold with him. They keep in touch through flits and runners. Emoraan has now dedicated himself to his youngest, Moranis and to his craft. It is goal to create fabrics that are lightweight for dragonriders, but can still protect them from Thread.
Special Traits/Skills: Other than his passion for weaving, Emoraan is talented in carving little animals and people so that they are very realistic. He also has a decent singing voice and does not mind joining in on songs from time to time.
Journal Link: none as of yet
Picture: none, but willing to pay for a good pic of him
RP ENTRY:Emoraan walked slowly towards his crafthall. As of late, his age was slowly beginning to catfch up with him. No matter how hard he pounded his sand bag and no matter how often he walked...he could not escape the passage of turns. He sighed. Today would be a long one, with the whispering of the eggs soon to be clutched and the prospect of new weyrlings in weyr and hold, many of Rias' most important citizen's had come to him requesting his finest. But he enjoyed the pressure. He enjoyed seeing how the women gasped as his fabrics clung tightly to their form, but left them room to breathe and move about. And how the men could flex and show off in their finest without worry of stitches breaking. Yes, he did his craft honor.
And the apprentices and journeymen he had under his hand would do the craft fine as well. There were many in the hall whose hands moved deftly with the leathers, but today...today he must find one whose fingers were so nimble that the they would rival his own. It would come down to either Tolara or Rell. Both girls showed promise, but it was a matter of who was willing to work and learn the trade secrets.
Reaching the craft entrance, he entered in. Already, several apprentices and journeymen were working on the recent order of boots for the dragonriders. Soon Thread would be in the air and the riders would have to be protected so that they could protect Hold and Hall. Nodding his approval, the solemn man moved forward. Tolara and Rell were towards the back of room, where the lightening was best for doing difficult patterns. Noticing him, both jumped to attention, dresses still in hand. Waving at them to sit down, he moved forward. "Good morning girls, how fare the dresses for the Hatching?"
((I hope this is enough!))
 Naree · Tue Jul 05, 2005 @ 07:04am · 0 Comments |
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