From narrow, pointed muzzle to long, whip-like tail, storm clouds gather, boiling grey and brooding across an angular frame. Platinum's dull sheen highlights gaunt spine, tipped by wickedly spiked nickel-chased ridges, spilling down into the darker matte of pewter from throat to withers, edging towards iron along belly's curve. Gawky gunmetal limbs, all sharp angles and awkward juts, end tipped in obsidian talons, abnormally long and razor sharp. Breaking through the monochromatic fury, lightning sizzles, electric white edged in pale, blinding blue, spars rise from sharp-edged shoulders in jagged resplendence. Wispy sails of molten silver are caught between luminous bolts, bleeding into incandescence where skin and bone mingle to form oversized wings. Nervous energy races through gauche frame, creating a constant shiver through thunderheads' roiling oppression, endlessly twitching pointed shoulders, narrow toes, and slim tail.
Egg Name and Description
Master of Deception Egg
A rather boxy egg, some trick of design has given this ovoid an almost cubic build. The apex and base are shaded in pale, silvery gray, thin lines of black picking out edges and creases, though the shell itself remains smooth. Rich, royal midnight picks up where metallic hue ends, encasing the entire belly of the egg in a dark, almost menacing shade. A single rectangle of soft, glossy blue, centered on one side of the egg, seems to contain a pair of spindles and an odd sigil formed of pale violet lines - a stylized, inhuman face - beneath the glossed surface. Though at a glance it seems but one unassuming egg amongst many, there's a hint of malevolence and a sinister charisma that suggests that one might call this egg unpretentious, but one could never call it unchrosomatic.
Master of Deception Egg shifts and bulges, parts of the boxy ovoid seeming to twist and turn, though once the tremor has settled, it remains where was before, within thin cracks winding across its oddly malevolent shell.
Master of Deception Egg moves once more, colors shifting and rearranging as greater cracks begin to jag across its cubic form, odd bulges and dimples appearing as it apparently attempts to reform itself into some new shape, not quite managing the transformation.
Master of Deception Egg strains against the confines of its shape, chunks of shell flaking free as it shifts and swells. Finally, the tension becomes too much, and it explodes into a glittering pile of flakes and dust, briefly coating the newest hatchling before a serious of nervous shakes reveals the gawky monochromatic form shivering within the remains of his former prison.
Lightning sears, thunder crashes, and amongst the cacophony of sight and sound comes the strain of music, quickly swelling from insubstantiality to wrap about you with the sonorous beat of drums and the wail of a distant guitar. Amidst the riot, a quiet voice whispers. « Quila. » Mellow and smooth, the murmured words cut through the din, shoving it to the background. « Quila, I am Uirath. » Pleasure sings in a single dissonant chord, a steady beat on a solid drum. « I want to run, will you run with me? Please, please, please? Er once we get some food, that is. Then we'll run, and we'll fly! Right? Right? Please? »
Nervous energy. That's the very first thing that becomes apparent about Uirath. He can't sit still - whether he's twitching his tail, shifting his shoulders, or tapping his toes, he's got to be constantly moving. Don't ever expect him to stand still - in fact, through no intended disobedience - the more he's expected to remain still, the more likely he is to jump up and start pacing. This doesn't mean he's not paying attention. On the contrary, he actually thinks and listens better when he's in motion, so give him his head. It may mean a few months of extra chores for not keeping better control over your lifemate when the Weyrlingmasters are lecturing, but eventually they're likely to learn that some things just can't be contained, and that boundless liveliness is one of them.
Uirath is not a pretty dragon. He's not ugly, but between his rather monochrome coloration and his awkward, gawky frame, he's not going to win any prizes. He'll never grow beyond gaunt, no matter how much food you stuff down his gullet - that nervous energy of his serves to keep him all angles and bones. You'll find you want extra padding between you and that sharp-edged spine of his, and something between you and the fore and aft neckridges wouldn't go amiss, either. Just be grateful you're female - a male might have some very awkward moments before he realizes the necessity for excess stuffing.
In flight, as on the ground, Uirath can't sit still. During drills and when flying formations, his impatience will be clear, and for a long time, you may find yourself having difficulty keeping him to the slow, precise pace required for the training drills. Eventually, he'll come to understand the importance of sticking with the rest of the wing, but be prepared to help him bleed off some of that excess energy of his once he's free of the constraints of tame flying. Here's hoping you have an iron-cast stomach - loops, whirls, barrel-rolls, inverses, dives - those are just some of the moves he'll excel at. Anything that requires sharp switches in direction will be an especial favorite of his.
He is, for the most part, very excitable. Edging more towards cheerful than glum, he has an optimist's boundless enthusiasm combined with the inability to stay centered on a train of thought for longer than it takes to couple the cars together. Lightning quick to make snap judgments, he's just as swift to forgive an insult or apologize when he offers one himself. The only time when his anger is not the quick sizzle and flash of a summer storm, but rather the brooding fury of winter's rains is when insult is done to you. Very protective of you, is Uirath, and he'll dog anyone who dares to get on your bad side until the end of days. For those whom you show affection, he'll love as deeply as you do - and should you find a mate you deem worthy of your heart, Uirath will be right there with you, though Faranth help the person who betrays you.
There is a price to pay for boundless energy - and that is the fact that nothing, in fact, is infinite. Indeed, there is a very definite point at which Uirath's energy simply runs out. When being bled slowly through simple flight or nervous twitches, it seems to last forever. But a quick burst of aerobatics or speed will quickly tire him. His stamina reserves are nil, and he will often tire much more quickly than his fellow blues, and even most greens, when exerting himself. In most situations, this won't matter, but when Uirath is chasing a green, he'll need to dazzle her fast and catch her quick, because he won't be able to last for an extended period of time. The concept of 'conservation of energy' is one that will, always, be completely foreign to him. This issue will also extend to feeding, especially when he's hunting free. Like a cheetah, he's capable of short bursts of incredible speed, but if his prey outlasts him, he'll lose it and have to start again.
You asked for a force of nature, and that's exactly what we've given you. Uirath is a storm, complete with boiling clouds, lightning, and thunder. He can be as sweet and welcome as a mid-summer rain shower, or as deadly as an autumn hurricane. He's a flash in the pan - he's got speed, he's got zip, he's got endless enthusiasm - what he lacks, however, is the stamina for more than short bursts. Never fear, though, a quick snack and nap will put him to rights, and he'll be ready to join you for more adventures, more mischief, and more fancy feats of flying.
I've tried hard to match what you wanted in a dragon, and I hope you'll be happy with him. As always, these are simply guidelines. How you play him, and his ultimate personality, is entirely up to you.
Thick clouds and brilliant lightning characterize any contact with this brilliant, discordant mind. A victim of the restless energy that suffuses the rest of him, Uirath's thoughts are chaos personified, and he rarely manages to hold on to a concept long enough to impart it to whomever he is speaking with. Storm clouds and thunderbolts are not uncommon, and the surest indicator of his mood is the form his mental morass takes - from looming, ponderous thunderheads and fitful flickers of sheet lightning when he's content or pleased to boiling, near black clouds and endless sizzling bolts when his dander is up.
Sound is also a steady constant - the bass voice of drums, the windy wails of electric guitars, the crash of cymbals, and even, on occasion, the sonorous chime of a great gong. There is a constant soundtrack to his mental meanderings, often hovering just on the edges of perception, though when he's excited - for good or bad - the thunderous rock-and-roll score can be almost deafening. One good thing - he's a musician born, so never fear a flat note.
Both his mental voice and his physical voice are deep - base in range, and unusually rich in both tone and variance. Physically, he's a master of mimicry, and his unusual grasp on music and sound ensures that his imitations, from a single bird to the individual claps and cheers of a crowd will be spot on. Mentally, he has excellent control over his rich, deep voice - the kind to make any green or even gold shiver with delight when he bends those mellow tones on her.
Egg: N'shen (Based on Soundwave, from The Transformers)
Dragon: N'shen (Description and Inspiration based on a thunderstorm)
Name Inspiration: You asked for "simple names, fairly short" and stated that you liked "more unusual first letters, Us and Ws, Gs, etc". Lemme tell you, it wasn't easy finding an appropriate name for your dragon with even those few qualifications - but I finally did it, and I hope you'll be as happy with it as I am. Uirath is taken from Te Uira, who is the personification of lightning according to Maori culture, just as your Uirath is very much the personification of lightning according to Pernese culture.
|Name||The Gathering Storm Blue Uirath|
|Hatched||September 26, 2010|