Name: Cliviri (Viri)
Age: 18
Gender: Male
Sexual Orientation: Homosexual
Role/rank: Trader with some basic healing, no real rank.
Origin: None, he’s a trader with a desire to get there.
Appearance: This young man is relatively tall, but still has some weight to him. Perhaps from sneaking too many pies. Cliviri has dark brown hair that has a slight wave to it. It's often in his eyes, but it's not yet long enough to pull back so he trims it himself. This leads to somewhat jagged waves in front. He has blue eyes, and a not really there but enough that he’s proud of it, beard that’s the shame shade of his hair. It's thin, and still peach fuzzy, but he's quite proud of it. He has an easy smile.
Personality: Cliviri likes to pretend things are all smiles and pies. They were once, anyway, before the plague and the stories of dragons dying. Dragons were scarce now, he couldn’t hire one to take him to the Weyr and sell his wears. No one was able to. His family lost much of what they had, their main source of income driven away by tragedy. He's a cheery seeming fellow who smiles quickly and often. Through his struggles, he's always looked to the future in hopes that things will get better. He seems to believe that somehow, something good will come out of this pain.
He likes to help people; but sometimes a bit forcefully. Not everyone wants to be helped. His compassion for others helps him cope with his own troubles, so his motivation for helping others is often selfish. He often focuses on one person at a time. Cliviri tends to bury his troubles in work, or helping others, whether it's wanted or not. Any small problem may become an interest. Is there a firelizard stuck on the roof of the caravan? Maybe someone's had an argument with someone they care about. Cliviri speaks from experience when he warns that you never know what your last words to someone might be. He encourages kindness, at least thoughtfulness.
Cliviri enjoys games with stakes. When he's with a friend, he might suggest a card game. It doesn't have to be anything of value; he just loves the thrill of chance. It could be bubblypies, it could be a plate of meatrolls. It could be that the loser has to take a dip in the cold water during winter.
Cliviri is persistent and stubborn, he knows that sometimes life doesn’t go the way someone would like, or even the way someone expects. Often, he’s realized over his eighteen turns of life, it goes just the opposite. Life can be hard, but there’s ways to make it better. While he can’t cure the plague and he can’t help keep a dragon who’s got it alive, he’s picked up some healer techniques from one of the traders in his caravan. Oh, he doesn’t know much more than how to properly bandage an injury, but if he can help someone with that knowledge, he will. He is not a healer, and he figures he never will be. He’s a trader, and the only thing he feels confident in doing is selling wares.
History: Cliveri was born to two traders who drove a small caravan. He was taught at an early age how to navigate, in cause he ever got separated from them. Once he was older, around nine, he decided to study healing from one of the caravan's healers. He was never sure whether the man had received formal training, and while he considered himself an apprentice, he didn't feel it was anything to boast about. Cliviri learned basic things such as how much felis to give someone, how to bottle numbweed, how not to get ones fingers numb when applying it, and how to bandage injuries. He never learned far enough to know how much pressure to put on a wound, or what to do with a broken bone.
He listened to stories about dragonriders his entire life. And though he enjoyed selling wares and trading for things, the more he heard about dragons, the more he wanted that. But eventually, the stories changed. They turned to something horrible; something worse than any of the stories about dragonriders saving Pern from Thread. There was something dragonriders couldn’t beat. When Cliviri was fourteen turns old, stories of sickness came to their caravan. Dragons, and their riders, were dying. He hadn’t been sure what to think. It didn’t alter his desire to Impress, but it did instill fear. Dragons were dying. Dragons, the invincible slayers of Thread, the incredible dragons that had saved Pern time and time again.
He wanted to help them.
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