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Posted: Thu Dec 16, 2010 1:07 pm
Honor those the dragons heed In thought and favor, word and deed Worlds are lost or worlds are saved From those dangers dragon-braved
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Posted: Thu Dec 16, 2010 1:09 pm
Name: Sella Age: 15 turns Sex: Female Sexual Orientation: Hetrosexual Craft: N/A Rank: Weyrbrat Physical Description: Sella is thin with a small build, her skin tan and freckled from spending so much time out doors. Her hair is a golden brown and is midlength, matching her warm chocolate eyes. She has very few physical features that mark her as an adult; she isn't at all curvous, to her extreme displeasure.
Personality: Like most potential weyrlings, Sella is active and full of life. Life is an adventure, and she isn't above sneaking bubbly pies and attempting to sneak a peek at the eggs, either. She is immature for her age, having a childlike air about her; causing her to get along well with the younger set. She tends to have a stubborn streak, almost to the point of stupidity. If she believes she is right in a manner, no one can tell her she's wrong--unless, of course, they have the authority to do so. She can be tactless and careless at times; usually she will catch herself and apologize; at other times, she will appear quite rude.
She actively seeks adventure, taking thrill in all things. Having been raised in a weyr, her most desprete dream is to become a dragonrider. Whether the dragon be green or gold. This has caused her to come into the possession of five firelizard eggs.
She is loyal almost to a fault, and trusts her friends in almost every matter. She is nosy to the extreme, not quite a gossip, seeing as she never does tell (she needs to know what's going on at all times) and loves gathers for this reason. History: There really isn't much to tell about Sella's past; at least she believes so. She was raised in the weyr under the care of her milk mother. She is under the impression she was left an orphan; and has never been corrected in this belief, if indeed it is incorrect. Despite her nineteen turns, she feels there is relatively little to tell about her life. Her parents were not dragonriders, and instead worked within the weyr.
(Will be working on this more as I get more of a feel for the character, bare bones).
Other/Talents: She currently has possession of five firelizard eggs. Is talented in the kitchen, but prefers not to be there. Does well outdoors, especially when working with plants.
Will this character be a candidate?: No
Picture: N/A
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Posted: Thu Dec 16, 2010 1:10 pm
Name: Tarel Age: 15 turns Sex: Male Sexual Orientation: Hetrosexual Craft: Harper Rank: Apprentice/Candidate Physical Description: Tarel has thick golden curls that seem to contrast with his narrow facial features. He has large brown eyes like vats of chocolate. His skin has a certain pallor to it, but it isn't one that makes him unseemly nor enough that he appears sickly. In fact the boy, despite his thin build, has a certain air to him. He has a flare for charm, though he could hardly be considered handsome. He has an upturned nose and boyish features altogether. His fingers were once thin and nimble, but now thick and caloused from playing stringed instruments. His legs appear too long for his body, causing the boy lanky and taller than some of his peers. Personality: Being a harper, Tarel has a certain love for news. Unwittingly, he has become a source of gossip for those he considers friends. He is an avid talker; and will assume friendship with almost anyone he meets. He tends to be gullible and though he is constantly warned not to trust everything he hears, he tends to do just that. He wants to see the good in people more than anything else, sometimes failing to see reality. Trusting and open to a fault, it is quite likely that once he is started talking, one would not be able to stop him until he gave his entire life's story--with great dramatic effect. He is fond of telling stories, and with the addition of a dragon or two, a beautiful daughter of a Lord Holder, and a quick mind, Tarel believes he can make any story interesting.
One thing that must be known about Tarel is that he is a flirt. A terrible, dramatic flirt at that. He finds great pleasure acting as if he takes everything to heart; bringing much more emotion into a situation than is needed. He never seems to care much who he's flirting with; as long as they are human, and female. Due to this, Tarel has a very--well--inflated view of himself. He believes he is Pern's gift to women, and so, spends most of his free time with them when not practicing his guitar. His great flaw is definitely in that he's vain.
He genuinely cares about what other people think about him. If he feels that someone does not like him, he will confront them, perhaps to inquire as to why. With his mindset as it is, he will not willingly admit to having any flaws; and thus possibly does not see when he upsets others. He is sensative and has a need to be accepted by all; though he generally expects them to due to his vanity. It upsets him greatly when he discovers that someone does not enjoy his company; he is most certainly an attention seeker, and will at all times, strive to be the center of attention.
He tends to be clumsy, animatedly talking with his hands--which often leads to something falling or--well. It usually ends up with the boy apologizing profusely in both cases, hoping he didn't cause a bruise.
Despite his flaws, Tarel respects authority; especially those on dragonback. Though he wouldn't admit it, his greatest wish is to join their ranks and become a rider. The stories he heard growing up as an apprentice harper appealed to him as a child; and the freedom they seemingly have is one he only dreams of. History: Tarel was born into the Harperhall; and there isn't much more to tell. He was raised knowing the ancient songs, and with the exception of his father, who favored the spoken word, most approved of his choice of focus; stringed instruments. Having had four years with studying with almost as many masters and teachers, Tarel feels he has a good enough standing in the craft; though he wishes to chase his dream of becoming a dragon rider. Other/Talents: Guitar Quick thinking Storytelling Getting into trouble
Will this character be a candidate: Yes Note: History is barebones and really needs worked on. But I think I did better with the personality this time. <3
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Posted: Thu Dec 16, 2010 1:22 pm
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Posted: Thu Dec 16, 2010 10:46 pm
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Posted: Fri Dec 17, 2010 7:07 pm
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Posted: Wed Dec 22, 2010 5:28 pm
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Posted: Sun Dec 26, 2010 10:39 pm
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Posted: Fri Dec 31, 2010 11:02 pm
Rider's Name: D'lyn Rider's Age: Twenty seven turns Rider's Sex: Male Rider's Sexual Orientation: Borders on bisexual; D'lyn will take favors from anyone, though he prefers females. Rider's Secondary Craft: N/A Personality:
Flaws
Hey, that's mine! - Having never had much to be possessive of while living in the weyr, what belongs to D'lyn is his; and his alone. This extends to his personal life; he does not speak on it, even when pressed to do so.
Call me Mr. Mood Swings - He can become cynical and sarcastic at will; D'lyn isn't exactly the kindest dragonrider. The usual crabbiness and his distant demeanor turns into affectionate gruffness when he focuses on his dragon.
Mirror, Mirror on the wall... - D'lyn can often be found admiring himself in his spare time, if someone else isn't. He's handsome, and he knows it; and he loves being reminded. He uses his air of mystery to his advantage when it comes to that; and doesn't mind who he spends time with, as long as they do not ask too many questions. Be they male or female, as long as they look (almost) as good as he believes he does himself, D'lyn's all for it.
Virtues
Never fail to find an honest rider - D'lyn is an honest man; but this could also be considered a flaw; he naturally expects others to be honest as well. You wouldn't want to be caught in a lie by this man. He's good at detecting lies by reading body language; he's naturally observant.
Cleanliness is close to-- - Messes disgust D'lyn to no end. He's nitpicky and a perfectionist when it comes to his quarters. They have to be clean at all times, or he becomes upset and stops what he is doing to clean it. He cleans as he works.
Life without music? That's madness! - D'lyn credits most of his intelligence to the Weyr's harpers. Despite being tone deaf himself, the rider can recognize and appreciates good music.
Determination and the thirst to prove himself... - As a weyr lad, Delyn was nothing if not determined. Before he stood on the sands, he was determined to prove to himself he was worthy of riding dragonback. This led to many adventures in the weyr--including an attempt to find hidden passages. A failed attempt. As a rider, D'lyn knows when his determination is needed. Whether it be backing an authority figure or flying, this man never backs down unless he's told to directly.
A friend is a friend for life - It's difficult to become D'lyn's friend; but once someone does, they're a friend for life. D'lyn will trust them with his secrets--if they ask. He will always be there to defend them if needed, though he will expect the same, in turn. D'lyn has a high standard of friendship and expects those he considers friends to abide by it.
History: Delyn was a weyrbrat born and raised; growing up to know his milk mother far better than he knew his green rider of a mother. As a child, he was a trouble seeking boy; seeking adventure, friends, and of course, bubbly pies. He was always quieter than most, preferring to observe rather than to participate.
His attentiveness comes from this; his preference to learn, rather than to speak. Due to this, he was good in lessons and was difficult to distract. He is an auditory learner; prefering to learn first had from a harper than reading or writing. This too, helped him realize his love for music. After he finally impressed at the age of twenty, his awe of harpers progressed; every day he spends with his dragon is a reminder of what he learned as a child.
Appearance: D'lyn is tall and thin; his muscles rarely showing themselves. His thin face contrasts from the thick curls that sit upon his head. His hair's a light brown, like his eyes, and always neat. Never a hair out of place. D'lyn dresses neatly, and despises wrinkles. He has pointed facial features and is more often than not, wearing a crooked smirk. Dragon Color Preference: Doesn't matter.
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Posted: Fri Jan 07, 2011 12:56 am
Name: Melira Age: 16 turns Sex: Female Sexual Orientation: Hetrosexual Craft: N/A Rank: Candidate Physical Description:Melira is tall and thin, with a shorter torso and long legs. Her short sunlightened brown hair falls around her face, framing it. Her hair is thick and appears like it would be difficult to manage, if it were ever allowed to grow out. When she isn't careful about her appearance, her bangs fall into her hazel colored eyes. She is tanned and freckled from spending so much time outdoors. She dresses in loose clothing, not the most flattering, she goes for comfortable. Usually outdoors, she prefers soft, light cloth with the exception of during winter. Personality: Lazy and ditzy, Melira hates work in every sense of the word. She likes to do nothing more than spend time outside, with her companions or by herself. Not the brightest glow in the basket, she often has trouble when it comes to comprehending someone's meaning, but this doesn't keep her from spreading what she believes said person meant. She loves to talk; and by loves to talk, she loves to hear herself talk. About herself; or about someone else's troubles. She's self-centered and likes the spotlight to be on her at all times.
She loves being around people, but doesn't mind spending time on her own. During these times she daydreams, or puts her vivid imagination to work. She is quite talented at weaving stories together, but rarely does so for others. She often sits under a tree near the Weyr and will dream of how she thinks life in the Weyr should be. She isn't very attentive, and tends to be easily distracted. Any noise during lessons and her focus is immediately on whatever it was that made the noise.
She dawdles, she procrastinates. She's a nosy attention hog.
Melira, despite her flaws, tends to be loyal to those she considers friends. If any one of them is ever in need, she will jump up to assist. Helping friends is one of the few things Melira does not consider work. She sets her lazy behavior aside to pitch in, and will actively defend a friend (at least verbally) if ever needed. She feels if she helps out, she will get the praise she desires. If she doesn't recieve it, she will actively go about telling people what she did, and expect the praise she felt she should have recieved earlier. She is an extrovert, seeking out social situations at all times; and playful to a fault.
Being a story teller causes Melira to be a bit of a romantic. Rather, a hopeless romantic. She loves it, she thrives on it. She enjoys hearing about it; she pays attention to which dragon flew which, and their riders, if their names are present in conversation. When she puts her mind to it, she can be empathic; though not sympathic. She is more interested in watching stories play out; being a firm believer that all people have a part to play.
History: Melira was born into Monoco Bay Weyr; to green riders. She was raised by her milk mother, Calla, who doted on her continuely. She was convinced at a very early age that she was born to be something special; thus creating her need for the spotlight. As a child, she was in it; at least her milk mother's. She was admired and coddled and constantly reminded that she was going to be something special when she got older.
Firmly believing this was so, Melira became confident. Her studies took a dive; and it went from there. Her study tactics have improved, though they still fall; there's no constant for Melira. Either she's interested in the subject and excells, or she isn't, and does poorly. Other/Talents: Telling stories
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Posted: Fri Jan 07, 2011 7:30 pm
Quote: Ah- it's this game again, is it? D'lyn, try not to give me up so quickly this time!Name: Torath Color: Green Personality: Tricky tricky. Chances are you didn't notice Torath. That's kind of hard, being a great big dragon... but Torath is remarkably good at meshing into the background. Maybe you were chatting in a group and suddenly she was there. Or maybe you were out on a job and suddenly found yourself with a new shadow. That's Torath. She relaxes in plain sight and waits until she's forgotten. She wants to have her hands in everything. She's no gossiper, but she must know all the gossip. She wants your secrets. Torath collects information like someone might collect precious objects, and she does so with careful precision. But, what does Torath do with all this knowledge she's acquired over the years? Well, it's hard to say. Even her rider might not always be sure of what Torath's angle is. Torath delights in being underestimated, and will happily put on different masks to get at what she wants. Someone is suspicious of her? Suddenly she's the fool, the laughing flirting green without a care in the world. Two minutes later she'll surprise everyone with a sharp tongued comment. And then just when you think you're onto her, she'll wander off. Torath loves in keeping people guessing. The only person that may ever benefit from her vast wealth of information is her rider, who she's always happy to supply to the teeth with scandalous info. And if there's nothing to be gained? Well, then she's happy to play tricks on unsuspecting dragons and riders! Nothing is funnier when she can catch someone off guard with sudden drop of carefully guarded information. Make no mistake- Torath always knows what she's doing. She's a sly dragon, and may often appear to know way more then she actually does. Such a tricky and unpredictable dragon makes for a somewhat lax wingrider, however. Although she's always willing to follow Hers, if there's nothing in it for Torath... she just doesn't really care. Flight formations? Eh. Drills? Whatever. She'll do it but don't expect her to do anything above the bare minimum. She may be more interested in doing exciting things like fly overs or monitoring the lands surrounding the Weyr, but daily routine is just.... ugh, she doesn't want it. She's got her own game to play, thank you. Torath will try her best not to get Hers in trouble, but almost anyone can tell her heart isn't in it. When it comes time to rise, Torath continues to be a mystery. She seems to pick dates at random. If she cares to inform her rider, she expects he'll keep her secret! She's happiest when her flight is a surprise. She likes the winner to be a shock as well. She may shift her wills in a certain direction if her rider has a strong feeling towards a pair, but on the whole, she finds monogamy boring. Why me?D'lyn is intelligent and apt to catch liars, so he's never going to be taken for a ride by Torath's shenanigans. She may find his honesty a bit of a hindrance at times, but she has endless patience. If he busts her act, she's quick to forgive. She finds his gruffness and sarcasm to be adorable, and is always armed with compliments for him. She may play games with half the weyr, but never Hers. If she ever senses her rider is in danger, or is being manipulated... well, you know what they say! Hell hath no fury...
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Posted: Tue Jan 18, 2011 11:22 am
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Posted: Thu Jan 20, 2011 12:24 am
Shiallah Name: Mironth Color: Bronze Final Size: 37 1/4 dragonfeet Impressee Name: T'rel Hex Color: #c9925cEgg Name/Image Shield Egg Dark grey nearly all over, this egg's surface is marred by a series of conflicting marks. White dots fade into the rest of the color, giving the egg's surface a shiny, metalic appearance. Along on side of the egg a dark cresent shape seems to want to pull the rest of the egg into its center: where it is absolutely black. - Curiously, considering the size of this egg, it sits more on the outskirts of the clutch. It is among the farthest from the mother and the queen egg, though admittedly placed on a large mound of sand and covered carefully. The shell seems to be distorted slightly, as if something within was pushing hard against the shell to give itself more space. Candidates will feel both drawn to this egg and intimidated by it. Its attraction is that of an exceptional reward on the far side of a painful task. There is a sense of watchfulness from within the shell, and as you approach you feel as if a hostile presence lurking in wait wanted nothing more than for you to leave and never come back. The closer you come the more intense it feels, until just before touching the shell your entire body seems to scream at you to turn and leave. Yet, upon making contact with it this feeling will instantly disappear; replaced by a fountain of warmth and effusive approval. The intimidating presence is there, but now it is gentled down into a feeling like awe instead of horror. The egg almost seems to be praising those who have dared to touch it, admiring their bravery and rewarding them with its acceptance. Those who have courage enough to pass the test will walk away feeling quite proud of themselves, with the sense that they have done something truly worthwhile. Unlike the effects of the other eggs, this will not fade away with time. Dragon Image Hatching MessageSince the time of their laying the Shield Egg and the Burnt Egg seemed to be competing with each other. The moment of their hatching is no different. The two collide with each other as they rock, shake and roll. Pieces of shell are sent flying as the two clash. Every now and then a limb will briefly appear, scrabble against the shell of its opponent, and then withdraw, but the match seems to be a stalemate. That is, until the Shield Egg spins violently; colliding with the Burnt Egg and Sending it rolling away. A triumphant little squeak issues from within the Shield Egg as it, quite literally, explodes to reveal a bronze hatchling at the exact moment that the Burnt Egg shatters to show a brown. Hatchling NameThe Warrior Hatchling DescriptionThe Warrior Bronze is large:almost the size of a queen hatchling. His shoulders and hindquarters ripple with muscle, which gives him both a frightening and slightly lopsided appearance: frightening because of the strength it implies, and lopsided because the rest of him is lithe, smooth, almost feminine. His colors are muted, dark in places but highly reflective. He literally shines with health. No sharp changes in color mar the perfect smoothness of his hide; it melds to dark and light and back again seamlessly. His legs and chest are darkest, his wings, head tail and forelegs the brightest. His colors are less yellow than other bronzes, close to brown, but there is no mistaking what he is. There is a fierce challenge in his eyes, and he walks with an unmistakable, confident strut. Public Impression MessageIt was the Prized Green who saved the brown's life. She slammed into the Warrior Bronze half way through his leap at the Valiant Brown. Jerked abruptly out of his deadly trajectory, he was sent rolling over in mid-air for several feet before coming down on his side. The Prized Green then turned her attention to the Valiant Brown, rising up onto her hind legs and shoving him with her front ones - defending Tarel now. The whole thing happened so quickly that both the bronze and brown were blinking in the sand before they knew what was going on. The Prized green scolded both of them soundly, chittering and chirruping in her sweet little voice. She snorted once at Tarel, though not unkindly, then rounded on the Valiant Brown: herding him along with little shoves and nips away from Tarel and the bronze and toward the other candidates. Surprisingly, though she was smaller than the pair, neither argued with her or fought back. In fact, the brown submitted meekly to her herding him and allowed himself to be driven away, and the bronze stared almost wistfully after her. The Warrior Bronze got to his feet, sighing a little and shaking the sand off of his hide. He seemed almost impressed, in a nonplussed way, with his green sister. Then his eyes flashed a brilliant rainbow of colors, and he turned his head slowly to look Tarel in the eye. Private Impression MessagePerhaps it is the heat, but you feel a headache coming on. Astonishingly quickly, in fact. Within a short period of time it is as if someone has placed your head into a vice, and the pain becomes almost unendurable for a moment. A metallic taste fills your mouth, flooding all of your other senses. At first bitter, sharp, repulsive in its undiluted strength it seems to be invading: sweeping across every sense you possess and overwhelming them with ease. Then, with a mental sensation that feels like a complete collapse, the presence that had been battering your defenses breaks through to you with a harsh sound almost like a gong. The clang reverberates through you, chattering your teeth and bringing a quiver to all of your limbs. Then you realize: the pain is gone. Whatever the sound was it seems to have eased your discomfort. This barely registers before you become aware of the sound's source, however, and there is little relief. Something enormous, something hugely powerful and looming is with you; inside of you, where there is no hope of escape. The taste of metal in your mouth, the pressure that had been beating against your skull, you somehow know that all of it was this presence. Any fear that might have come, however, is brushed aside with surprising gentleness. T'rel, a voice as deep as thunder calls, as a flash of silver passes through your mind as bright as the moon, T'rel. There is gentleness, tenderness in the voice. You sense that this is special and meant only for you, and that this being would present no other with its kindness. Somehow, despite the gentleness, the voice also seems reproachful. I am sorry, T'rel, but you made it difficult. Did you not know that it was I? It pauses, seeming to consider this possibility. You realize, suddenly, that the taste of metal in your mouth is not quite as bitter as you thought: it has a wild edge, sharp and invigorating. But, no... how could you not know me? I who love you? You must have known... Why would you not allow me in? With the faint sound of metal clanging against metal, the presence draws itself up. Did you think yourself able to withstand me? I?! Mironth? In a surprising move, Mironth suddenly shoves his head squarely into your midsection and sends you toppling to the sands. Striding forward with slow deliberateness until his front legs are directly underneath your arms: one on either side of your chest, and he looms over you with his nose nearly touching yours and a challenge written all over his face. Would you contest my choice? Belligerent, menacing, his powerful voice lowered to a whisper, Mironth nevertheless is curious: do you, in fact, have the strength to withstand him? There is a prideful challenge there, now, and you understand fully who this is: it is your dragon, your bronze, beautiful and strong. Your Mironth. PersonalityMironth is quite a character. A handsome, powerful exterior hides this bronze's terrible temper and capacity for holding grudges. He carries himself with great dignity, moving with slow, almost ponderous, steps. His eyelids seem droopy because he almost always has them half-closed in a lazy yet imperious gaze, with which he surveys everything around him. When he is angry or while fighting thread his eyes will widen and flash brightly. The change can occur suddenly and happens rapidly enough to be frightening. He has a tendency to speech-ify when he talks, moving very little, holding his head high and delivering his words in a low rumble. He obviously thinks quite a lot of himself, though to be fair there is quite a lot to be thought of. He is brave, clever and handsome, and his chivalrous streak makes him popular with the ladies. With the other males, however, Mironth is really quite a bully. He's not above using intimidation to get what he wants, or wrestling to force the issue if he must. He will prove a challenge to control. The only way to teach him anything is to gain his respect by proving that you are stronger than him. Even then, however, while he learns from you he will regularly do his best to usurp your authority. Age will teach Mironth some descretion. He does not throw his weight around quite so much. Most likely because he's gotten into fights that he can't win, and has realized that he can't battle the whole world: not if he wants to live. He must find other ways to prove his greatness. He has developed a pathological need to be recognised and admired. Mironth wants to lead, to be in the forefront of the battle with Thread, to rise at the head of a flight of fighting dragons. He will never be happy until he is in that position. It may seem like he'd be an ideal wingleader, but in truth he would not: not even a wingsecond. He's too rebelious. Mironth would be just as likely to come up with his own formation plans and rebel against the weyrleader than he would to fall into line. He might do all right for a few months, but he would snap eventually. Mironth simply can't be relied upon to take orders consistently. Authority issues aside, Mironth is a fairly decent dragon. If you don't pick a fight with him and don't struggle when he tries to establish dominance he will get along fine with you. His domineering behavior will likely not make him many friends. Mironth is very susceptible to flattery and admiration, however, so those dragons who admire his bravery and skill will find themselves quickly in his good graces. The friends Mironth does have he guards ferociously and he will support them when they need it. He tends to talk down to females, green and gold, but he does it so politely that most greens may not mind, thinking of him as being simply cheauvanistic and a bit pig headed. Mironth tends to think of them as being fragile and in need of protection, which is the reason for his attitude. He's handsome and courteous, so this flaw may not completely ruin his love life. The golds likely will not appreciate his attitude at all, however. Threadfall is his chance to prove himself. Mironth obsesses over it. Always in the back of his mind he is planning what to do for the next fall. How he will manage his flame, what angle to attack a clump from, exactly how much is needed to char different sized clumps and strands. His large wing muscles and hindquarters mean that he will be a fast launcher and a steadfast flier. It will take an exceptionally long fall to wear him out. He is not all that maneuverable, however. Far from being bothered by this, Mironth learns with experience how to use it to his advantage. In heavy weather he can still fight with little trouble. Mironth will be injured often, however, simply because he pushes himself so hard. Often a half-healed score will be shining on his hide. Sometimes more than one. It is rare for him to be badly scored, however. His skill increases with age, and quickly he will become a well known and admired fighter. Regardless of what females in general think of him Mironth will be a frequent flier in mating flights. He's a randy fellow, enjoying the chase and the catching of greens and golds alike. He will be polite with them, but disengages quickly after each flight. If he were to ever find a female, green or gold, who suited him - who admired him, fawned over him, and was beautiful to boot - Mironth would not hesitate to try and win her as a weyrmate regardless of consequences. He'd become absolutely furious if another male flew her: raging, taking out his anger on inanimate objects, herdbeasts and the like, then sulking for days on end before plotting how to win her 'back.' Any female he considers his, and he wouldn't mind having more than one, is supposed to be his and his alone. He does not share. Mironth's loyalty to T'rel is like that of a king to his subjects, or a general to his captains. There is no doubt about who is in charge of their relationship: hint - it isn't the human. T'rel will have quite a lot of headaches throughout their weyrling years. Mironth will not even obey his rider on a consistent basis, which should be a good example of how he will listen to weyrlingmasters and weyrleaders. Despite this, it is clear that Mironth does love his rider. T'rel is his closest friend, his most treasured follower, a beloved confidante. He is willing to forgive the human his little faults and foibles because of this. There is no question that Mironth would defend his rider, either. If T'rel is ever hurt or frustrated Mironth will be consumed with a violent rage, roaring, stomping about and being destructive if he cannot reach him, physically threatening the problem if he can. It is wise to avoid arguing with T'rel when Mironth is close: you may find yourself knocked aside by a violently swung claw or head butted hard enough to fly a whole dragonlength away. In a rage over his bonded's safety, this bronze will not hesitate to kill. Beware. Mind VoiceMironth's voice seems to be made of metalic sounds. The ringing of a sword unsheathed, the harsh CLONG of a sheild vibrating under blows, the clang of weapons colliding with one another. Flashes of silver dance through the minds of those he talks with, like bright sunlight across steel. The scent of herdbeasts, of sharp sea breezes and of leather assail their senses, as well as a faint hint of something else that can't quite be pinned down. Only when Mironth is angry, when the sound of his voice rises into something like battle cacophany, does this scent become clear: the metalic scent of blood. Inspiration Achilles, the main character of Homer's Illiad, and widely hailed as the most handsome and the greatest of the warriors assembled against Troy. He killed the Trojan Hero, Hector, and was said to be invincible. The only problem is that horrible temper of his... Name and Inspiration Mironth, from Myrmidon. The Myrmidons were exceptionally fierce warriors, known for their prowess with swords. They were led by the warrior Achilles, who was their cheif.
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Posted: Tue Jan 25, 2011 10:32 pm
Shiallah Name: Emalth Color: Blue Final Size: 25 1/2 dragonfeet Impressee Name: Kerrit/K'rit Hex Color: #afe2f3Egg Name/Image Spike Egg The colors of this egg make a pleasant, if muted rainbow. Reds, yellows and hints of light blues mottle the white shell. It would be a beautiful egg, if it weren't for the triangular splotch of black. It forms a shape that might be an arrow... or a spike. - The blending of colors on the shell hides the fact that the surface is quite rough, abrasive even. Hundreds of little bumps, some pointy and some rounded, are plastered to this egg's surface. The shell is warm enough that, if you brave the texture for too long your hands will begin to feel uncomfortable. It's one of the smaller eggs, but makes up for that with activity. The egg's thoughts seem to flicker, one moment here, the next there, and they bring a confusing blast of sensations that are difficult to identify. The neverending swirl slows when someone new approaches, seems to pause as if identifying the newcomer. With a faint, flitting touch, however, the egg will zip off again and pay no further attention. Dragon Image Hatching MessageThe Spike Egg is a violent shaker: rolling end over end, shuddering back and forth, knocking into the eggs around it and even cracking one or two. It comes dangerously close to even flattening some of the nearby candidates. Cracks spread like a net across the entire surface before a foot finally appears; emerging exactly from the black spike pattern. The toes wiggle and stretch, catching on the white robe of a nearby candidate that had not retreated from the egg's movements. Seemingly startled, the limb retreated into the egg. The egg seemed to wait, motionless, for several long moments before, with a violent tremor, it burst open and revealed a blue hatchling. Hatchling NameThe Caustic Hatchling DescriptionThis blue is a lighter color that seems more intense, somehow, than blues usually are. His color slowly grows grayer and darker on the undersides of his wingsails; the backs of which are even darker still. His tail, feet and snout, and the area around his eyes are all a smooth blend on the same dark blue. The Caustic Hatchling's face is finely boned, handsome, well shaped, and the rest of his body follows the same theme. He is small, but his striking coloring draws a good deal of attention. There is a strange tilt to the way he holds his head; almost a sardonic amusement, and his eyes are halfway lidded; but gleaming brightly nonetheless. Public Impression MessageThe Caustic Blue slowly got to his feet. His green sister had impressed, and everyone was moving off of the hatching sands. He glanced around, his gaze sweeping over the mess of eggshells, the scuffed sand, Peleth stretching herself out and fanning her wings lazily. His eyes whirled slowly, and he seemed quite pleased to have the grounds all to himself. He stretched and began to trot happily towards the candidates. Then he stopped, one forefoot held up in a manner resembling a canine. He seemed to be staring in disbelief at something. Then his eyes flashed bright red and he gave an indignant cry. Barreling into the candidates he knocked a sturdy lad over and began furiously to claw his face, chest, and the arms the boy raised to protect himself. The lad screamed, terrified, then the scream was cut off as the Caustic Blue snapped his jaws shut over the lad's face. Blood obscured the boy's features as the Caustic Blue snarled and leapt onto another nearby lad. The first lay still, moaning in pain but lucky to be alive. Snarling, the blue latched on to his second victim's arm and wrenched it violently, dragging the boy to the ground and over the sand, clawing him but not as badly as the first lad. Jaws bloody, the Caustic Blue turned to Kerrit and the boy beside him. Roaring, he slammed into Artemi and sent him sprawling across the sands away from Kerrit, clawing his chest in the process. Snarling, the blue then turned to Kerrit. His eyes whirled angrily, his muzzle rippled in a snarl, but he did not attack, merely advanced: vocalizing his displeasure. Private Impression MessageThere is a sudden, stabbing pain directly between your eyes. You might have been jabbed with an ice pick and it wouldn't have hurt any less than this. A grinding, high pitched noise deafens you, and then both sensations cease as abruptly as they first appeared. You don't feel any different afterward, there isn't even a faint after-burn sensation of discomfort. It's as if it never happened. Your eyes are suddenly met by brilliantly whirling rainbow ones, and at first a rush of joy fills you, an eagerness, then it is gone, replaced by silent shock. You recognize danger as the Caustic Blue's eyes whirl to red. A brown? A bronze?! Indeed! Fury washes over you, sweeping away all other considerations and priorities. The blue is angry, very angry, but also... hurt? Yes... he seems to be feeling rejected. And he also seems bent on taking out his rejection on your fellow candidates! Before you can cry out a warning the blue is savagely mauling a boy not five feet away from you. He leaves only a bloody mess when he is done, and instantly selects another victim. When he attacks your friend fear rises within you, but he does not pursue Artemi: rather he turns to you and approaches, snarling softly. Could even your precious bronze have done that? He seems to almost spit the words. Do you doubt my value, K'rit? Do you think that I shall not grow to be strong? Stronger than even now? Do you think that I would allow you to live to be claimed by another? That I would not repel even a bronze who tried to possess you. No, and now he hisses, baring his teeth, You are mine, K'rit. Never forget that you belong to Emalth. I shall not suffer another to have you in my place. PersonalityEmalth is a malcontent. It is difficult to get him to show outward signs of approval, though inwardly he may admit to himself the value of something. From the moment he hatched no one and nothing was safe from his snippiness and cutting wit; for despite his complaints Emalth is an excellent speaker. It's not uncommon for him to leave a conversation with the other person staring open mouthed after him - never argue with Emalth, because he can twist his words and the meaning of words around so cleverly that at the end you won't know up from down. On top of his attitude, Emalth is stubborn. When he makes his mind up about something, he sticks to it. Only the most painful effort can move him - even if it's a queen dragon trying. Physically he's easy to bully, but no one can best him in a challenge of wits and words: he considers his mind to be his private domain and is jealously possessive of his right to have an opinion. He will have a horrible time making friends. For one thing, his first impression is almost always set for life - if he decides he doesn't like you, watch out because it's difficult to win a sniping contest with this blue. He's not malicious, despite the fact that he's unpleasant. Rather he is most always condescendingly amused and cynical: a patronizing critic observing the antics of lesser mortals from his elevated pedestal. If as a hatchling Emalth was stubborn, as an adult he has mellowed down to a quiet slyness that seems to permeate the air around him. Only in the most tender moments with his rider does this aura leave him and she the love that he is capable of feeling. To all outsiders, meaning everyone but his human, Emalth presents an abrasive, somewhat obnoxious, face. He's refined his gift of cutting wit to the point where he can create a truly mesmerizing effect with his voice if he choses. Even a normal conversation can leave you feeling as if your head is on the wrong way. Wherever he goes, Emalth loves to stir up a bit of conflict - for entertainment purposes. He specializes in getting others to fight with each other and give him a show. He'll sit on the side, smiling his Mona-Lisa smile, adding an instigating comment now and then to keep things flowing, and enjoy himself while the others tear one another to pieces; figuratively or literally. He is bitter about very little, but one thing that never fails to send him into a cold rage is bullying behavior. He remembers being pushed around, and it is one of the only situations where he'll actually stick his neck out for someone. If someone tries to bully him you can bet a bit of unpleasant nastiness is going to befall them very quickly. Emalth doesn't have strength on his side, but as an adult he is lightning quick and when he strikes almost no one can see it coming. In a fight he may get dinner but the other guy will get a sandwich. Not surprisingly, Emalth is unlikely to be a very popular dragon. However, younger or weaker dragons he has rescued from bullies may eventually come to admire and respect him: some may even think of him as a role model. Dragons who admire his talent with words and his ability to speak his mind without fear of repercussions may eventually grow to tolerate him, and even get along with him fairly well. However he will never show the same care and devotion that he shows his bonded to anyone or anything else. His wingmates will give him grudging respect for his ferocity against thread but they are unlikely to want to spend any spare time with him. Thread is the second phenomenon that boils Emalth's blood. He becomes increasingly snarky and tense the closer it is to a Fall, but actually ends up talking less: completely ignoring everyone and everything except his rider, becoming broody and black-tempered. It is wise not to annoy Emalth at this point in time. The consequences will be less than pleasant. During the fight with Thread Emalth is in a constant state of fierce anger, but doesn't lose his head. He goes out of his way to sear Thread near, above, below and around him, and uses his small size to flit in and out of danger. His wingmates nearby will have to be careful not to get singed, but ultimately Emalth will ensure that they have less to do. His rider and wingleaders must keep a firm hand to control him, or Emalth will definitely overexert himself. Any flights he joins will be purely for the thrill of a chase and capture. In point of fact, his small size will allow him to outmaneuver many other dragons and stay right on the tail of greens. He keeps up easily with the trickiest of them, and unless he's surprised he can usually manage to pull of a stunning show. There is very little give and take in these relationships, however. He pays little to no attention to his flight mates before and after; if necessary he will even drive them viciously away from himself. Emalth wants space, thank you very much. Be grateful for what you get and hope for next time, but don't count on it. When it comes to K'rit, Emalth ignores all of the rules. He is possessive, and thinks of them almost like an object, but at the same time he is utterly devoted to them and very protective. In the defense of K'rit Emalth pulls out all the stops and takes off the gloves. He complains to him frequently, making snarky little comments about the weyr in general or specific things that annoy him, but for the most part he is heedful and attentive. This doesn't necessarily mean that he listens to K'rit, but Emalth is willing to give him the opportunity to persuade him if they feel strongly about something. Despite a slightly condescending attitude, like an adult with a small child, and a definite streak of possessiveness Emalth is one of the more caring dragons towards his rider. Mind VoiceThe first touch of Emalth's voice is as sharp and invasive as a stab with a pin or, when he's angry, a knife. The first uncomfortable sensation is followed by a rather peculiar impression of slate grinding together. Emalth's sharp syllables and exclamations are punctuated with cracks and snaps, like rock under pressure. He has a rather whiny voice, but this is balanced out by his incredible power over words. However annoying or unsettling his voice is, it grabs and holds attention like almost nothing else. Emalth is impossible to ignore. Inspiration Thersites Name and Inspiration Emalth, from 'lame,' as in 'crippled.' Thersites is described by Homer as being bow-legged and lame with shoulders that turn inward.
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