Huge and bulking, shadows seem to dominate the dark sepia form that lurks with slow, intense motions. Rusty splatters of red cling to the dragon's snort nose, extending up to frame his eyes and give the whirling orbs an ominous presence. Spiked in odd places, his neck ridges are tipped with russet, seeming shaggy and malformed. Darker still, his belly seems as if dipped into inky taupe that has dribbled down onto his broad talons. Bent, craggy wings are marked as well with that deep color, only showing the faintest hint of brown when the light catches them. A short, stubby tail shows behind him, jutting oddly at one point. The only light that finds its way through the broad, fearsome countenance of this dragon is a small splotch of beige that marks his chest.
Egg Name and Description
Fog-covered Pathways Egg
A dense and omnipresent fog hangs over the colors on this large egg, casting them into shaded mockeries of what they should be. A gray base shows tall streaks of color that fan out along a misty backdrop that disappears into eerie white in the distance. Splotches of midnight black, deep browns, and dark shadows reach out, trying in vain to keep from being swallowed up. And there, somewhere beyond the last faded remnants, is two small crimson orbs framed by a dark form.
The Fog-covered Pathways Egg begins to rumble, a deep thumping inside the egg heralding that it is almost time. Each time that thump comes, the shell strains a little, the white and black exterior trembling as if threatening to give away to the force within.
The Fog-covered Pathways Egg gives one more loud thump, then goes quiet. Perhaps the egg is a dud afterall even with all the sound it had made. No, after what seems like an eternity, there is another thump from within, sending a huge crack spidering down the side of the little foggy black and white egg.
The Fog-covered Pathways Egg strains against the hatchling trying to be born into the world. At first, the cracks are pushed apart and then snap back together. Then, with another of those loud thumping motions, a foot appears. The egg rolls off of its mound of sand and when it finally comes to a stop, a small nose has found its way out of the hole the foot had made. Struggling for a moment, the hatchling pushes its way through, sending egg shards this way and that. Slow and hulking, the large hatchling snorts at the discarded shell pieces before turning his eyes towards the figures in white.
Silent Hunter of the Moors Brown Hatchling is slow to move from the shards of his prison, turning a whirling red gaze down at one shell fragment. Muzzle curling into a snarl, he crushes it with deliberate force underneath one darkened foot. Finally, his foe vanquished, the hatchling moves forward, with a languid pace. It isn't caution that slows him, but a deliberate placing of each foot. Eyes softening slightly as he eyes the candidates, tail swaying behind him in an almost canine fashion, the brown edges forward, eyeing a tall dark-haired boy standing nearest to a small grouping. Could he be the one? Twitching his nose, the hatchling reaches his head out, sniffing before looking up into the eyes of his chosen one.
Silarus seems calm, at least outwardly. There is no hippity-hoppity movements of feet, or complaints of heat, just a silence that lingers as he eyes the other candidates, eventually looking out over the hatching eggs. Sighing somewhat, he shifts slightly, too much knee showing out underneath his short robe. His mouth moves as if picking something out of his teeth, not disinterested, but certainly not worried as no hatchling has yet to come his way. That is, until his dark eyes sweep down to the approaching brown. Eyeing the hatchling warily, he reaches forward, extending a hand towards the sniffing muzzle. "Well, of course I'll be yours Cusith." The young man responds, "And S'lar is a fine name. Come now, let's get some food." His hand finally touches the dragonet's face, ruffling affectionately over the brown's headknobs.
Cusith will always be a bit slow, both in mind and body. He isn't unintelligent, but it just takes him a bit longer to get him to traverse the betweens in his own mind. Physically, he's sturdily built, but not in the more agile ways of some smaller dragons. He'll be a bit behind during weyrlinghood and may end up being the last to be tapped to a wing. Often times, Cusith will keep to himself, not because he's anti-social, but just for the fact that he usually isn't quick-witted enough to respond as fast as the other dragons around him. Even with all of this working against him, Cusith is terribly proud. He may speak rarely, but when he does, it is with a tone that commands respect. He'll be tough to work with, especially in his weyrling days as the relationship between rider and dragon is still developing. There will be plenty of times when he will act as if he were the one in charge, attempting to boss his rider around. However, his loyalty to his bonded one will eventually win out and he'll calm after his first year or so.
In flights, Cusith will never be in the lead pack. However, that doesn't mean that he won't find a way to catch a female he truly has eyes on. Rather than rushing ahead, he will always lag back, watching for the mistakes of others. He doesn't chase quickly, or work to intimidate, but instead uses his raw stamina to win out when other dragons might fade. When he does manage to catch, Cusith will often be very attentive to his new found mate, but any negativity from her will quickly find him abandoning her in favor of the next green to rise
Brooding Beast in the Darkness
Darkness will always herald his presence, marked liberally with fog that only clears to reveal the inner workings of his mind when he wants to let them be seen. Often times, the density of the fog that clings to his mind will tell much more than any immediate message, but it takes time to learn to read such a cryptic dragon. Slow, both in thought and in motion, often times his responses will be lagged, and any attempt at forcing a quicker reply will result in a wall of white as he shuts out the world beyond. Smells of the woodlands and forests will always accompany his mind, with moisture sometimes like a spring rain, and other times dense enough to give a drowning feeling. When he does speak, which is rarely, it will always bee with a booming, bass voice that seems to shake the fog as if he were in command of all things within his world.
The Cu Sith and it's many later incarnations (such as the Hound of the Baskervilles) is often seen on foggy roads and pathways in Scottland.
DRAGON INSPIRATION: The myth of the 'death hound' comes from many sources, but in this case we have taken it from Scottish Mythology. The Cu Sith (pronounced 'coo shee') is an otherworldly hound said to haunt the Scottish Highlands. It was said to be huge, with shaggy fur and glowing eyes. The Cu Sith was feared as a harbinger of death and would appear to bear away the soul of a person to the afterlife (similar to the manner of the Grim Reaper). The Hound of the Baskervilles by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle was a hound based somewhat off of this legend as was the Grim in the Harry Potter series.
DRAGON NAME: 'Cu Sith' is quite literally the Scottish name for the 'fairy dog'/'death hound' which is used as this dragon's inspiration.
|Name||Silent Hunter of the Moors Brown Cusith|
|Hatched||April 15, 2009|