Marauding Gargoyle Blue Tacuseth
| Marauding Gargoyle Blue Tacuseth | |
|---|---|
| Impressee | Jo |
| Hatching Date: | 23 October, 2010 Day 11, Month 1, Turn 24 |
| Current Age: | 44 turns |
| Egg Name: | Patterns Upon Patterns Egg |
| Size: | 27.2 feet |
| Dam: | Bloodletter's Bonfire Gold Iskiveth |
| Sire: | Frost and Fisticuffs Brown Szadath |
| Lineage: | Here |
| Clutch: | Clutch:38 |
| Egg Credit: | Ebeny |
| Dragon Credit: | K'del and Leova |
| Puppeteer: | K'del |
He's a gargoyle of a dragon, blue, brash and bony, with a gritty dark hide that might have been carved from solid granite. Glowering brows are so prominent as to shadow the telltale bright colors of his eyes, and the rest of him is all outcroppings and shadows too, all the way to knobby wings and wiggly, wiry tail. But if sometimes he looks like a big rock, he's also one that legions might have passed by: chipping at his now-irregular neckridges, letting patchy lichens grow along his talons and the underside of his tail, scratching graffiti along his ribs and staining his flanks with yellow. It's a lot of wear and tear for one dragon, and he may yet acquire more, but even now he flaunts those shadow-tattered wingsails with pride.
Contents
Patterns Upon Patterns Egg
Round and among neither the biggest nor smallest of the clutch, this egg does little to draw attention to itself, its dull sheen only visible when the light hits it at the right angle. It's only when its pale, aged-bronze-coloured shell is examined more closely that the tiny, intricate and seemingly perfectly-spaced geometric patterns marching around it from tip to base become noticeable, swirls shimmering and angles glinting with a faint, sunshine-hued shine. Rough to the touch, it's impossible to tell whether there might be smooth shell to be found between one elegant line and the next.
One final push is all it takes, and then the Patterns Upon Patterns Egg splinters and collapses in upon itself, a shower of shards raining down upon the wiry blue hatchling once held within. He shakes himself off, apparently surprised by this development, but otherwise undaunted: he launches forth with determination, seeking the adulation he no doubt richly deserves.
Marauding Gargoyle Blue
He's a gargoyle of a dragon, blue, brash and bony, with a gritty dark hide that might have been carved from solid granite. Glowering brows are so prominent as to shadow the telltale bright colors of his eyes, and the rest of him is all outcroppings and shadows too, all the way to knobby wings and wiggly, wiry tail. But if sometimes he looks like a big rock, he's also one that legions might have passed by: chipping at his now-irregular neckridges, letting patchy lichens grow along his talons and the underside of his tail, scratching graffiti along his ribs and staining his flanks with yellow. It's a lot of wear and tear for one dragon, and he may yet acquire more, but even now he flaunts those shadow-tattered wingsails with pride.
Temperament
Life is glorious, Jolie - had you noticed that? If you hadn't, your Tacuseth will make sure you do, now. He's inclined to throw himself into everything he does: he trains hard, he works hard, and when all that is done, he'll play hard, too, enjoying the rewards and adulations his efforts are sure to earn for him. He's not a plotter or a planner, like some of his clutchmates: Tacuseth's ambitions tend to be focused on the short-term. If he works hard, there will be oilings. If he does good, there might be scritches. If he flies well- well, that curvy green over there might want to cuddle.
He's rather a man's man, Jolie, with you as the primary exception. Greens are wonderful, of course, but not... not as /friends/. He'll have a lot of friends, though they tend to be made up of blues and browns primarily; he doesn't, in the end, really trust leadership very much. Golds can force you to do things, and bronzes seem to think they own you, and Wingleaders? Bah! Hierarchy plays heavily in Tacuseth's view of life, with himself fairly firmly on the lower rungs, though it's exactly where he wants to be. He's rough and unpolished; what would he want with their world?
When he's small, it will bother Tacuseth that he lacks the bulk and size of many of his larger clutchmates. He's already naturally inclined towards gluttony to some extent, but should he ever get it in his head that eating more will bulk him up, be prepared for some unpleasant purges to come. His strengths will become more obvious as the clutch begins to take to the air, however: he's a natural in flight, his speed and agility giving him distinct advantages over his larger brethren. Practical, physical pursuits interest him far more than the academic, most of which he finds irrelevant: « Could be /flying/, Jo, » he'll tell you, impatiently pacing back and forth across the barracks floor. Do you have a strong stomach? You may need to develop one, for Tacuseth takes great pleasure in his kills, hunting them down with savage ferocity and gleeful enjoyment. Death! Victory! (And the crowd roars!)
Weyrling drills are an opportunity to build strength and endurance, to hone those skills he takes such pride in. That doesn't mean he won't get distracted at times, of course, particularly with so many friends to roughhouse with, but when the Weyrlingmaster is watching? He puts on a show. He /does/ enjoy playing to the audience. He may well boast of his more impressive feats for days to come, retelling (with embellishments) his account of what went down over and over again to anyone who will listen - and some who won't.
It's a pity that there's no Thread for Tacuseth to fight, because he would likely take to it as a natural - such a glorious, savage pursuit! Instead, he has... sweeps. And drills, which are better than sweeps, but do rather lack that sense of victory - and the rewards that follow. He's a risk taker, an extreme flier - and in the right wing, these might be useful attributes; even if not, his tendency to live life on the edge may be an impetus for Jolie in other ways. He will see his Wingleader as a necessary evil: someone to be played to, so as to earn approval, but not someone to actually /like/. On the other hand, it may well occur to him at some point that if /you/ work really hard, perhaps you could be Wingsecond... and that would a larger stipend, and /better/ things.
But there are benefits to the easy life of an Interval dragon, too, and Tacuseth's love of good times will ensure a certain appreciation of the easy life ahead of you. If you decide to go South for the day? You can be gone in an instant. If you want to go for a drink (he likes the fuzzy-headedness it brings for you; it carries on into him, as though he, too, has been drinking), then you can! In your own weyr, he is inclined to want to collect trophies - perhaps a trait inherited from his treasure-hoarding dam - that remind him of past wins, the adulation of others. Gifts? Best. Thing. Ever.
If he has reservations about your work for the Greenfields crew, it's less due to any moral objection (in truth, his moral compass seems firmly aligned to 'what's in it for me?'), and more to do with the fear of being caught. Being caught might bring an end to the Good Things. On the other hand, there's a certain thrill to the work, and the /rewards/ are certainly plentiful: the things you can do with them! But it's all rather secretive, isn't it? Tacuseth prefers to work in the open. What use is a win if no one sees?
Tacuseth will notice the greens long before they notice him - and he will want them. Flights are the ultimate battlefield, the ultimate game, the /ultimate/ reward, and he's not above turning upon his friends in order to secure the green for himself. Dirty tricks, fake-outs... it's just the way it goes, isn't it? They should know not to take it personally. As for you- if you can provide a distraction, on the ground? That'll totally help, too. He'll chase a lot, in his early adulthood, but that will likely taper off over time as he gathers together a string of favourites. You're his main girl, the only one that matters, but if he catches one and she wants to hang for a while? As long as it doesn't interrupt his adventures with the boys, she can stay. At least until he has his eyes on someone else.
When he loses a flight, he's more likely to want to celebrate with the victor (or, more likely, in his 'honor'), than to lash out with him. Someone won, after all, and while it would be /better/ if it were him, well, he's philosophical about it: you win some, you lose some.
He loves his friends, he enjoys his greens, but you're his first and his best, Jo, the one person he'll always come back to. You'll fight, but it will never last: one minute you might be arguing, the next, telling tale tales, wrecking havoc, indulging in some downtime. Your battles are his battles, and he will rush to your side to help you out; no doubt, he'll expect you to do the same for him. A team, right? Forever.
Public Impression Message
The Marauding Gargoyle Blue Hatchling careens past a cluster of craftbred candidates, scattering sand in their direction without seeming to pay much attention to their reaction: /they/ are not for him. The one who /is/ for him is just up ahead, though, and it's obvious in the way he struggles to get his ungainly, childlike limbs moving faster, and obvious, too, in the squeaking attempt at a rumble he lets loose as he teeters undeniably towards dark-haired Jolie.
Private Impression Message
The moment those shadowed eyes meet yours, the distant murmur of those in the galleries seems to become an almighty roar, complete with stamping of feet and the ongoing repetition of your name: Jo-lie, Jo-lie, Jo-lie. It seems to match the beat of your heart, at first, but then it's faster and faster, your heart racing to catch up.« Jo! » /His/ voice is more of a hoarse whisper, a gritty rub of stone against stone, separate, but somehow connected to the deafening crowd; in that instant, you're his, irrevocably. They're shouting his name, too, now, yours and his together, now, linked for eternity: Jo, Tacuseth, Jo, Tacuseth. « Tacuseth. » He repeats it, smugly, as he nudges at your middle. « We'll be a team. On the same side, right? You and me. »
Mindvoice
He's all man, your Tacuseth, and that's as true in his voice as it is in his personality. As an adult, he'll have a brassy, deep voice; when he's younger, it will tend towards the squeaky, as though it's in the midst of breaking. Sometimes, his voice is one of the grit of stone rubbed against stone; sometimes, it's not much more than a hoarse whisper tingling down your pain; sometimes, it's the clang of metal against metal, or the roar of the crowd. His internal crowd rises and falls with his moods and his successes: they are as like to jeer and hiss as to roar and stamp, though the latter is always a harbinger of his /excellent/ mood. He's inherited his grandfather's gloriously enthusiastic bugle, but he /can/ be softer. If he feels like it.
Itchyspots
He'll scar, your Tacuseth, and from the day of that first mark, the future will spread out before you: oil, oil, oil. Every mark on his hide will need regular attention, every scar will cause him endless grief unless you see to it - and now. He'll think of these as his battle wounds, and be as proud of them as he could be of anything, but that won't mean anything if they aren't properly tended to. Perhaps he's just making up for the fact that until that first post-hatching scar, he won't be much of an itcher, really - no more than any growing dragon, anyway. But later... well. There will need to be oil. And it should be /scented/ oil (but not in a girly way), because he's worth it.
Dragon Inspirations
Your Tacuseth was based on the stereotype of the Gladiator, Jolie - just as you requested. Gladiators were armed combatants who formed one of the chief forms of entertainment in Ancient Rome, fighting against both each other and wild beasts. Some were slaves, and others volunteers who sought the glory and prestige a person could gain through victory in the arena; Tacuseth takes aspects of his personality from both, though it's the latter that really makes him a 'freak' to suit our theme, since the mortality rate (and threat to social position) was high. His name (pronounced TAH-kuh-seth) comes from Spartacus, perhaps the most famous Gladiator, who led a slave revolt against the Romans that resulted in his death in 71 BC.
Egg Inspiration: Gold earrings from 8th century BC Athens. (image.)
| Clutch 38 | |
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