Maerian's Raffish Bagpipes-Blue Rhavath

Lugubrious Whing Whang Egg
Frets of anxious, blue-grey gloom toss and turn themselves into a
turban of garish, gaudy color: strips of it zig-zag, criss-cross,
flip-flop, and otherwise slip-slide up the yin-yang. It's a jolly,
tumultous mess, a manic cover for despair, a madman who shouts gleefully
from some terrible, twisted precipice. Disturbance, disruption; a
firecracker lit at both blunted ends: there, reddest-red, screaming
yellow, and wild, wild, weedy green dance on what seems the edge of an
eggshell world, only to round about and suffer it all again — loudly.

Lugubrious Whing Whang Egg shivers and shakes, crackes hazing, then —
Ka-blooey! — a shower of horrendously garish multi-hued shards shower from
it, a ticker-tape parade for the hatchling scrambling for freedom.

Raffish Bagpipes Blue Dragonet
Mist, moss and stone: these would lend camouflage to a dashing blue dragonet
who knows none, needs none, who'd reject it if he could. His heathery blue
smooths the ripple of muscle over long, stone-stalwart bones, investigating
even the base of stark spinal ridges that shade greyer, plainer to their
raked-back tips; mist might occlude the airy expansion of his wingsails, but
for the summer's sky lapis that tatters their trailing edges nearly to the
bone. As for moss, it dwells not on talons' polish, but merely softens the
curve between intently glittering eyes — if not enough to hamper that
out-and-out gusto, those first inklings of a grand and raffish style.

Delirious, brilliant green whirls you away from those pesky crowd-clotted
sands, contrast and yet complement to the mist, moss and stone of the dragonet
who looks at you, stares at you, /recognizes/ you — green, his green, more
intoxicating and addictive than the finest brandy, all pitched to rippling
tenor. His. /He/ drinks you in, drinks you up, all of your sands-sweaty self
down to the last toe, the last fear, the last dream; and cuts to the chase:

/Maer/. «

» My name is Rhavath! «

* * *

As for his name, 'Rhavath' goes with 'raffish' and Maer — Maerhavath? It
shouts well, to be sure! Although its origins are uncertain, it dates back at
least to January of '96, and probably further; /you'll/ have to make his Name
and, named by him, your own…

* * *

Physical Characteristics:

Heathery-blue, Rhavath's shaded in soft and subtle patterns,
predominantly that blue-gray-warm blue that's reminiscent of the highlands and
sweet-smelling candles. But it can't hide the dynamic personality that
shines through the flex and play of muscles—and, oh, those rakish neckridges!
He's not large, but he's not small either; Rhavath is medium-sized and has
no trouble being so. Put together with long, straight, and slender but
stalwart limbs, his angles sometimes clash with the rounder, swelling curves
of wings and ribs. Ballooning, in fact. Indeed, his wings are positively
humongous, and they'll no doubt trail a lot before he gets accustomed to
picking them up and settling them properly; even then, it might take some
thinking about, but when he's using them they're spread as far as they can
As for details: greyer, plainer are those neckridges, pared as if to
the bone, rakishness evident in line rather than hue: mountains they are,
seen from afar, with that heathery blue softening their bases. Blue,
brilliant blue, tatters his misty wings in irregular zigzags: wider at the
trailing edges, narrow as they approach the bone. —Not just any blue, mind
you, for while his is a rock-blue, it's the spangled blue of lapis lazuli, no
prissy faceted sapphire. His talons fairly shine, once the goop of egg's gone
(and muck, and whatever else he manages to walk in), a blue like his
neckridges but shiny where they're matte. Blue, blue, blue — the only hint
of other color is down his profile, a blaze down his muzzle's curve, like a
fallen leaf that has not wholly changed.

Rhavath will be eager to try just about anything that piques his
curiosity, and the sooner the better, but this means he might strain some
muscles with the effort. He'll love some quiet massaging at night,
concentrating on his shoulders just below the wing muscles; although that's
where he'll always ache, he'll itch between his headknobs and along the bones
tracing his ribs. (And he'll need lots and lots of oiling to keep that
lustrous hide in full good health.) Well, all right, so he'd really rather if
you started scratching at his head and didn't stop until you got to his
tail-tip. It's a time where he can be lulled enough to hold still, something
that's rare in and of itself.
Rhavath likes to eat quickly, with little lingering over his meals
and kills. As a result of this, though, the cramps of hunger won't have
abated by the time he's through and he'll have a tendency to overeat… (»
Please? Just one more? I'm still hungry! «) It's only afterward that he'll
realize well maybe his stomach wasn't quite big enough for that last one. »
Ow. Ow. Ow. Oof. Ugh. Don't touch my stomach, it's gonna explode. «
Likewise, he tends to water retention and thicktail; you'll need to watch out
for purging, even after he's grown.
Yes, Rhavath has a problem with moderation. Weyrling exercises are
something to hurl himself into— until they get boring and rote, that is.
Then he gets distracted, and in the meantime finds something else to exclaim
over. As a dragonet, his voice will range all over, with loud(!) honks,
sqeaks, and squawks jumping in at the most unexpected times. Whoops. Warble,
though, that's extra good, much better than those boring bugles. He'll keep
up a running commentary in your head, and when he's quiet is when it's time to
watch for a plaintive mood-change. Verbally, he'll have to work at keeping
himself somewhere between too-soft and too-loud; it's a challenge, and one
that won't go away as he matures (although he'll certainly gain more control
over those embarassing noises). Unless he concentrates, he has a range of
unfocused sounds. Bagpipes are an odd sort of herald, and it takes some doing
to make it sound good with softer harps, etc., but he can learn to pare his
song down to harmony as well as charge off to dramatic battle. In time, in
time. :) But, oh, he's got such a lovely tenor when he's on key!

* * *


Grand. Dashing. Raffish. /Gusto/. 'Gusto' is an especially good
word for Rhavath. When he finds something he wants, he goes for it
full-force— and in a way that maybe isn't always the best way, but certainly
makes for interesting results! As a rule, he has exceptional successes …
and exceptional flops. He can pull off something absolutely brilliant, so
well that it dazzles, and the very next time it'll be a disaster. (» I
didn't /mean/ to get in Xenith's way! «) When he does flop, it's done in
grand style—he'll never be able to hide it, just like those honks and squawks
during adolescence. Finding a middle ground is difficult, and it'll take
time for him to settle enough to find that. Even so, he might often take off
with more enthusiasm than thought. All in all, Rhavath has definite soul;
he's one who puts new twists and spins on things, challenging you in ways you
may never fully figure out.

Weyrlinghood is an especial delight, when Rhavath's just learning
about all those muscles he never knew he had. However, this fellow isn't
terribly goal-oriented; the /process/ is important. If something drags on too
long, he'll get disinterested, which might be frustrating to you until you
figure out how to distract him with, say, how Riallath's rider's hair is even
spikier today than usual. Exercising muscles will be a joy at first, but
you'll have to prod him to practicealthough once you're flying without
restrictions, it won't be necessary! Another technique might be, when copying
another dragon's movements for exercises, convincing him to mimic that dragon
down to the tilt of head or nostrils' flare — much more fun indeed, although
of course he'll revert to his own, inimitable style. (For that matter, when
sweepriding, he'll prefer a slightly different route than the day before, and
it's up to you to help him notice new details that help him pay /attention/
instead of just (just?) flying.) When mind-bonding with you, Rhavath might
jump too quickly as he peers through your eyes, or get impatient if you're
moving too slow through his; when things click, though
» /Wow/. That was
great. «

He /is/ enthusiastic, very much so, and it's a part of that grand and
raffish charm Rhavath has. He likes that he attracts attention, and he just
might strut and puff out his chest to impress a green, too. He doesn't
consider himself the most attractive dragon (or blue dragon, which is more
important), but he's certainly not shy about displaying what he's got.
Especially to greens. Oh, he /likes/ greens. You might have trouble keeping
him groundbound during a flight, but he's just as attentive when they're not
Still, though, Rhavath is not a mainstream impress-the-babes dragon.
He does have a tendency to inflate the truth sometimes, if not deliberately
so much as …how he imagines the world to be. It all goes along the way he
approaches things. He'll start something so eagerly, but if things don't go
perfectly immediately he can sometimes lose interest and drop it. He's the
master of starting something and then forgetting about it. Imagine a workshop
full of half-finished projects. He gets diverted by something else, and just
never gets back around to that. (» Why is this here? What? I was … oh.
«) And he won't want to pick up in the middle of it again, oh no. He wants
to start over from the beginning.
(Speaking of projects, your own tinkering with brandies and whatnot,
he'll be interested in those, particularly once you have a weyr to put them in
where he can /watch/ (before then, he doesn't like things that take you away,
and may very well get into trouble while you're gone…), and indeed, he may
want to Help. Beware. (On the other hand, who knows, he might — through
your tastebuds — acquire quite the taste for it all!))
While all this can be exasperating, there's a good side to his
memory. He'll likely want you to help him remember things, the little things
like how straps are made. Doggerel helps: 'The strap is lined with ovine
fleece: / Make sure to cut a fluffy piece.' He's fond of rhyme, y'see, and
you might find him quoting snippets of rhyme in your head at the oddest times.
What he can't remember in prose he can in poetryindeed, if you ever want a
lullaby … It's all an oral tradition, and he's got the flair for
storytelling, although he sometimes gets carried away … (okay, so the harper
didn't /really/ drink all the Benden wine in the Hold and hold the last 'skin
for ransom
but it's more interesting this way). He does like that
carnivalesque atmosphere where he can mock pomp and circumstance, although
well-acted tragedies will be something he'll /love/ — he and Imbrith might
find something of a kinship there, although he's more grounded than that fey
blue. Still, sometimes, Rhavath can really concentrate, really /focus/, up
close and personal, and sometimes he's drifting along with the wind; the hard
part is riding the path between! (And this will prove true for sweeprides as
well, and any time /you're/ distracted and he might have an opportunity to get
up to no good…)
Rhavath isn't by any means /all/ eagerness and go-get-'em. The
bagpipes can be a plaintive, enthralling, and mysterious instrument, and
Rhavath can likewise fall into bouts of plaintive moodiness. It's then that
he'll worry about the mistakes he's made more than the shining successes, mist
and fog rolling in his mindtouch. Or he'll lull into the songs of doomed
relationships and lovers sundered. He dwells. He's soulful. He mopes. He
hangs his head, wingsails artistically a-droop. You might want to smack him,
or you might just fall into the somber mood, too— and it's in these times
that the deeper emotions between you two reign. (Where'd that wineskin go,
anyway?) He's certainly not miserable, just broody. …Occasionally a touch
maudlin. In fact, at times one might get the impression that he relishes it.
. .
…But gusto returns as the sun rises, or mostly, for dragons forget
— while he'll hear the echoes in the life you both have been living, it's you
who remembers, you who reminds. (If you do; for mightn't it be tempting to
live in the Moment?)

* * *

Delirious, brilliant, /intoxicating/ green, if murky in a Mood — all of
Rhavath's thoughts lighten and darken with his moods, though the baseline
colors of his mind tend to be brilliant as an aloha shirt, contrast to the
landscape hues of his hide — serves as signature along with a pitched tenor,
both aural and mental, and very, /very/ vivid scents of whatever he might be
attending to at the moment: from his own sweaty self to muck to, when he's
older, greens' signature musk or simply the taste of the wind on a sweepride,
and the occasional bug squished on his teeth. Hi, Maer. Share!

* * *

…Come to think of it, that's what it is between you two. (Beware! >:) )
Share, Maer. A pair. He'll be there. —Take care. ;)

* * *

Egg Desc: Gr'ym
Dragonet Desc: Arien
Dragon Name: Arien
Inspiration: Kh'rys, Arien, and Toria.

We realize that you are the one who knows your character best, who
knows what might mesh and what you'd particularly like to play. We've
constructed this dragon with what we thought you'd especially like, and
what we were 'inspired' by through our interactions with you. Please,
though, don't feel limited by what we've given you, or that you have to
follow it — you'll no doubt find your own niche, and as you play Rhavath,
he will surely surprise you … and us! :D

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