Force of Nature Brown Sforzath
| Force of Nature Brown Sforzath | |
|---|---|
| Impressee | Riorde |
| Hatching Date: | 12 August, 2011 Day 22, Month 6, Turn 26 |
| Current Age: | 42 turns |
| Egg Name: | Nothing to See Here Egg |
| Size: | 30.3 feet |
| Dam: | Imperial Faberge Garden Gold Iovniath |
| Sire: | Kinetic Knucklebones Bronze Cadejoth |
| Lineage: | Here |
| Clutch: | Clutch:41 |
| Egg Credit: | Lorna |
| Dragon Credit: | K'del |
| Puppeteer: | Devaki |
Great, beautiful plumes of smoke and ash billow and churn upon the lean lines of this brown dragon's hide, dashing gilt whorls upon narrow haunches and spilling red-hot lava down the stuttering heights of his craggy neckridges. Burnished umber washes his hide, darkening in uneasy shadows beneath the curve of his belly, whilst growing steadily lighter as it creeps towards the tip of his whiplike tail. His wings are cloudy, yellow-tinged, reminiscent somehow of noxious gas, and just barely contained by the ashen, icy lengths of his pinions. There's fire to his demeanour, his shoulders held in an almost perpetual position of readiness, while smoky, charcoal etchings beneath his eyes hint at unrestrained passion.
Contents
Nothing To See Here Egg
This egg seems innocuous enough; it's on the smaller side and easily hidden amongst its clutchmates. Only one colour coats its surface: a metallic black. Its one distinguishing feature is its vaguely reflective sheen, which glistens with the colours of whichever eggs are closest to it. Some spots appear darker than others, giving the illusion of poorly defined shapes. But there's nothing really discernable there. Right?
So still has the Nothing To See Here Egg been that the thudding crack that sends it collapsing in upon itself seems to surprise those nearest - aren't eggs supposed to rock, first? But it doesn't need to: the little dragon within crawls free of the remains, shaking off fragments of shell as he attempts to right himself and take his first curious step towards those white-robed people.
Force of Nature Brown
Great, beautiful plumes of smoke and ash billow and churn upon the lean lines of this brown dragon's hide, dashing gilt whorls upon narrow haunches and spilling red-hot lava down the stuttering heights of his craggy neckridges. Burnished umber washes his hide, darkening in uneasy shadows beneath the curve of his belly, whilst growing steadily lighter as it creeps towards the tip of his whiplike tail. His wings are cloudy, yellow-tinged, reminiscent somehow of noxious gas, and just barely contained by the ashen, icy lengths of his pinions. There's fire to his demeanour, his shoulders held in an almost perpetual position of readiness, while smoky, charcoal etchings beneath his eyes hint at unrestrained passion.
Temperament
They say that your dragon is your best friend, your perfect companion, your- everything. They don't always mention how not-human they can be, how very differently the world can look out of a set of faceted eyes. Sforzath may well be your best friend, Riorde, but he is not a human, and that will make him a very different presence in your life. He's a creature of high passions and low restraint; he's a maelstrom of a creature, perpetually threatening to engulf you in the sensations and experiences that occupy his life. He's far more likely to encourage your wilder side than restrain it - indeed, it could easily be said that he thoroughly enjoys egging you on, sending a thrumming drumbeat through your soul until nothing will serve but to let go of reason entirely. There are no boundaries, with Sforzath: he's always, always in your mind.
In his earliest days, Sforzath will easily get lost in the sensations of his own life: the touch of oil against his side, the droplets of blood that end up drying darkly between his talons, the taste of meat in his mouth. You'll experience all of this- indeed, it may take some time before you're able to separate his thoughts from your own, no matter how foreign and overwhelming they can seem. He's prone to excess, and the repercussions of his tendency to eat long past being full will be messy: you'd better learn quick to curb him, for your own benefit. He feels everything strongly, your Sforzath, with brilliant, soaring highs - and heartbreaking lows. He struggles in early weyrlinghood, confined to such a small part of the world, forced to comply to rules that he doesn't entirely understand.
Unlike Rhazekth and Temrianth, who are constantly asking 'why', Sforzath prefers to simply dismiss that which he does not like, or does not understand, and pretend it doesn't exist. Perhaps, under the firm hand of someone raised from birth to understand this life, he would take more care to follow - but you were not, and without it, Sforzath is prone to wander. His frustrations will bleed out into others, making him a disruptive influence in a group already prone to such things: he and Yanijath will be a terrible combination, one the weyrlingmasters will likely be quick to separate.
Sforzath would rather be learning than practicing, for he finds repetition tedious; flying itself is exhilarating, but those constrained glides from one side of the bowl to the other will soon wear on his patience. He will, however, develop a keen interest in formations and threadfighting tactics, and will show a definite aptitude towards their application; if he can restrain his natural inclination to jump into things without thinking (or get you to), he could easily become known as a great tactical mind. Success in this may well draw Ysavaeth to him, though she's likely to find his usual unrestrained passions more irritating than endearing - as might Amareth.
He calls things as he sees them - Sforzath has no time for politeness when being direct is far more efficient. He understands the game of politics, but is easily frustrated by it: life is so much easier when you ignore it all and just do what needs to be done - and hang the consequences. You'll live the consequences, though, the pair of you: there are always consequences. Things are different, though, with /family/. His clutchmates are family (most of them, anyway), and so are the people close to you. He looks up to Ysavaeth and even Temrianth, and will heed them far more carefully than many others - but he sees the talents of each of his clutchmates, and will turn to all in accordance to his needs. Equally important is a sense of place: your island will be one such place, but the most important of all is the weyr the two of you share. If Sforzath gets his way, it will be decorated and redecorated time and time again, and /his/ input will be as important as yours.
He may flourish, in the wings - but then again, he may not: it all depends on which wing you end up in, which wingleader. He will struggle with monotony and order; will find sweeps deadly boring and utterly pointless. With enough variation, however, that strategic mind of his may take flight - even so, this is a dragon who would be far happier if Thread still fell, even if that /would/ cramp his explorations - and like Yanjiath, he will be passionate about them. He's rapturous about beauty, awestruck by the world at large; nothing will ever dim his wonder at the sheer perfection of everything.
He will take an interest in greens - and golds - earlier than many of his siblings, though that does not necessarily mean that he will /chase/ before them. At first, it may be just aesthetics: Ysavaeth's fine lines, Amareth's wonderfully peculiar tail. Later, though, he will become eager to spend time with them, to prove himself to them; this may, at times, involve flowery words and dreamy sighs, a romantic side that can be as overwhelming as his temper. When it comes to the chase, however, he's all about the winning: ruthless, driven, determined. He doesn't /intend/ to get violent, but that doesn't mean that he won't take a swipe at another dragon, if that dragon happens to get in his way.
Should he catch the female of his affections, he'll be a dedicated and even sweet mate for as long as he remembers her; indeed, he may have a passing affection for her long afterwards, as though some part of his brain does still remember. Should he catch a gold, he'll be a dedicated and helpful clutchsire, keeping tabs on his offspring long after they've hatched and moved on into the world: family, after all, is /important/.
And so are you. For all his passions, for all his ideas, you're first and best among them - and have been ever since the moment he laid eyes on you on those sands. Will you disagree at times? Oh yes. Will you fight? It's possible. Will you sometimes wish he would just leave you alone for a little while and give you some space? Probably. Will you be the last person he says goodnight to each night, the first person he greets in the morning? Without question. You're /his/.
Public Impression Message
Quivering in anticipation, the Force of Nature Brown Hatchling shoves past an unwary candidate, swinging around another group in such a hurry that it's obvious he's found /something/ he likes. His steps finally slow as he careens at a girl with dark hair, falling back on his haunches in order to get a better look at this one that he's chosen: his Riorde.
Private Impression Message
A faint waft of rich, heady spices drifts past your nose, utterly out of place in the chaotic, sweaty thrum of the sands. There's no time to really concentrate on it, though, not with a pair of charcoal-etched eyes staring right up at you, catching you in their endless blue until there's nothing left - nothing but him. Ash, smoke, incense: it's almost more than you can deal with, building to a drumbeat that bursts through your heart as he says, voice mellifluous and perfect: « Sforzath, Riorde. I found you; you're here! Will there be food soon? »
Mindvoice
Oh, Riorde. What Sforzath feels - emotions, physical sensations, anything? - so too will you; left to his own devices, he'll flood your mind with it, a constant presence hovering at the back of your mind, or indeed, right at the front. He smells like incense and smoke, harnessed with a drumbeat that raises and lowers in tempo according to the intensity of his emotions. Sometimes, he'll get too wrapped up in everything to be able to form words - but he can express himself even then, albeit without subtlety.
Itchyspots
Sforzath loves the sensation of oil on his hide. /Loves/. He might try making up itches just for another opportunity to be oiled, but it's impossible for him to lie to you: his thoughts always give him away. Still, he'll have plenty of opportunities even without that, with particularly prone spots located down his throat and between his toes. And when you oil him? He'll radiate utter bliss, often unable to constrain his thoughts to you alone.
Dragon Inspiration
Officially, Sforzath takes his inspiration from the Showtime TV series 'The Borgias', which aired its first season in 2011. In the end, though, his inspiration comes from wider sources than that: he's Renaissance Italy, he's a volcano, he's the Sforza family, he's my own imagination. And, perhaps most importantly: he's yours. His name, of course, comes from the Sforza family, and was your request; his desc, too, was inspired by imagery you provided: a volcano in full eruption, unrestrained and utterly powerful.
Egg Inspiration: A switched off television screen. They somewhat creepily reflect the room they're in, and every so often, out of the corner of your eye, there seems to be something else lurking around.
| Clutch 41 | |
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