Dagon, male, age 20 turns
Hold Bred, Guard for Lord Holder Taljorra
also works with the farm crafters keeping crops free of thread.

Notice the flame thrower. He likes the flame thrower. The most he ever wants out of life is to burn things... He truly loves burning thread, and waits for the chance to get outside and in it. A little crazy? Maybe, but he's dedicated.

Dawnlight is his home, he lives with the lords rather than his family in the cotholds. Enjoying travel as well as fire, he keeps a runner in the weyr's stables ready and waiting for a run out to the fields.

He has no sisters, a family of all boys (four of them) has led him to a very eager to please and aggressive style. If he doesn't get what he wants, he won't beg and he won't whine, he merely accepts it but waits for another chance.

If he impresses he might be best on a green, purely because well, he likes those flame throwers... He will shorten his name to D'gon.

"Can I possibly see that flame thrower for a moment?" Asked one of the crafters. Dagon grumbled but handed it back.

"You need to remember not to just burn everything in your path, Dagon," he added, while cleaning it and putting the pieces away.

Dagon sullenly moved away from the storage area, and walked around the perimeter of the hold. 'Not like thread is falling right now,' he thought to himself. 'But whenever it does, the first thing they do is rush to my weyr and tell me, oh, Dagon, come help! Please help!'

He sighed, and then bumped into a ...

Dragon's leg! The blue dragon which was standing in the courtyard turned and grumbled loudly. His rider laughed, and rushed over to see what the matter was.

"Ah, is that him?" The white-haired man asked, and the dragon rumbled again. "Trelerth here tells me that he's sniffed someone out, for search. And that turns out to be you!"

Dagon's eyes widened, and then he smiled. "Really? Great! Er... What weyr? Is it Blackstone? Or..."

"It's Seasparkul's Weyr, actually," A'rd said, "there is a small clutch there, and we've had a good amount of success with that weyr. I think you'll like the dragons there, too. They're sharp."

Dagon nodded, grinning, and sprinted off to collect his things, while A'rd made the other arrangements with Dawnlight's holders to bring him to Seasparkul's.

The sands were warm enough at the awful hour of ... what was it two in the morning? When the eggs chose to hatch?! Dagon dragged himself out of his cot and tossed on the white robe... He knew he looked silly in it, but then again, everyone did.

Looked silly, that was. He looked at the other boys, standing uncomfortably in their own robes. They called them robes, because if they called them dresses, most of the boys wouldn't ever put one on.

Dagon snickered with his own groggy humor.

But he wasn't snickering when the eggs began to hatch.

The whole hatching went by in a kind of excited blur for Dagon. But one by one, each of the eggs hatched and... No dragon came for him. Until... The last batch of three eggs, two blues and a brown. The blues attached themselves to the attractive if a little wild Amania and Reng, and then...

I am Lorth. I can burn things for you, all you have to do is give me the right stones. Firestone! I knew that word! It was the first word I learned!

"Ha ha!! Lorth! My new giant flamethrower!" Called out D'gon!

"I wonder if all dragons grow as slowly as you, Lorth?" D'gon asked his brown, who was still rather tiny. Of course, his clutchmates seemed that way too...It didn't take much effort, however, to start the brown eating his own meals.

He loved to fly, with or without D'gon on his back. And, he loved to catch running wherry in the wild!

Though none of the clutch grew to huge sizes, Lorth topped out at an average height for a brown. Like all Sparkul dragons, though, he was sharp, narrow, whip-tailed. And fast. Very, very fast, enough so that he often had to be told to slow down lest his own flames burn his rider!