▴Landing▴T'mor▴Phylideth▴T'mor's RPs▴Important Memories▴Art▴
Voice ActorName: T'mor (previously Taimor)
Age: 29
Sex: Male
Sexual Orientation: He's open to all of his options tbh
Weyr: Western Weyr
Rider Rank: Wingleader of Fire Storm Wing
Previous Rank/Craft: Journeyman/General Cook
Physical Description: It’s obvious at a glance that T’mor was a stick of a man at some point, tall and long-limbed and lacking a significant amount of ‘impressive’ muscle. In any battle of strength, T’mor would lose the physical fight unless he had some advantage on his side (such as a tool or some other variety). Unfortunately, his physique also shows other obvious signs of lifestyle, his hair chopped awkwardly at times and other times long and tied back, it’s style ranging entirely upon him finding the time to care for it, which is hindered by it being thick with a mind of it’s own.
His nose has a very defined look, having looked as though it was broken at some point and then again, and again. It has been ‘fixed’, however, his nose curves horribly to one side, he also has a scar on his forehead that splits through one eye and across his nose – a mark he has no shame of.
Personality: No, you may not have any cookies before you’ve finished your spinach! If there was someone you’d call Mr. Dad, it’s T’mor; excellent with children and firelizards. He’s not easy to walk over, however, and will expect all responsibilities that have been divvied around – his or not – are taken care of. In fact, T’mor is a man that is very reliable, seeming to actually enjoy having an agenda of work to do.
In the name of all bad-habits, though, he’s a late-sleeper and sometimes it takes anxious-to-get-going-at-the-day Phylideth to get him rolled out of bed and out of his ‘not-a-morning-person’ mentality. A good cup of klah and some bleary minutes pass though and then he’s ready to start scooping up children and running around on the beach.
Given his affinity for chilluns, T’mor isn’t the type to take heavy risks when he has a responsibility for someone else, more aware of how his actions weigh on others,. He tends to be a guy who will take a hit for the team and he doesn’t mind coming home a little bruised. Despite his adoration of children, he has expectations for them to stand on their own feet and fight their own battles, never running to the rescue unnecessarily, having the patience to sit such things out without getting anxious, though if this was developed from childhood or from having a fussy brown could be debated.
If you can’t carry your own weight, T’mor isn’t going to volunteer to do it, though when asked he doesn’t exactly have the heart to turn someone down (especially if there’s a sob-story attached). He does have his limits at how long he’ll let his favors be used before he gets upset, though for ‘T'mor’ upset is telling the classroom there are no more glue rights until he peels all of the glue that’s been overused on one project off of it and is never more than a frown and a final ‘No’ for a while.
History: A child of two bakers, it was normal that their noodle-y-appendaged-excuse for a son also took up the craft, the family moving in to a local Weyr when Taimor was about 8-turns-old, given how many people came in and out of the area and allowed for the boy to get a lot of experience in his craft, as well as an eyeful of the candidates and the later-impression of their dragonets, practically gluing himself to tables after impressions and at the previous gathers involved.
It was to no surprise to Taimor’s parents when he finally hit impression-age that he pleaded with them for their approval for candidacy (and by pleaded, it took nearly a full turn to get them to cave in). His parents assumed that after a failed impression or two the glamour would wear off, but to their surprise at his third standing a very striking looking brown hit the sands along with a bronze clutchmate and suddenly threw a fit!
Mine! MINE!! THEY ARE NOT LOOKING AT ME MINE! WHY DO I NOT GET MY MOMENT? HE HAS STOLEN IT! TAIMORMINE!!!!The brown thrashed in such a fit that it was almost surprising how quickly the boy was able to subdue the brat of a dragon before it finally calmed and made its way across the sands, hissing towards any of his bronze brethren and, unfortunately for Taimor… T’mor, fussing over his first meal. EVERYTHING had to be the way HE wanted it or he wouldn’t eat it.
T'mor has since settled calmly into his position as a wingrider, even if the dragon he's attached to can be a little...fussy to get to do what is needed.
Other: Captain Dad. Aspires to be a wingleader and dad up ALL OF THE RIDERS. Eat your vegetables. >
sad Phylideth doesn't help in this aspiration.
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