A low-slung body gives this dark-hued dragon a lurking presence, almost serpentine in the muscular body hung between neck and tail - though the legs which support him, the talons curved on each foot, make it clear enough this is no snake. He's made, it seems, of blackened steel, his electrum gleam hidden away beneath a darkened mein. In some places the shadows seem to have rubbed away; his eyeridges are tinged with sanguine red like glowering brows, and there are plates of tarnished brass on his chest. His knees and paws show brighter as if their more frequent use has rubbed away the machine oil worked in elsewhere on his form to keep careless light from revealing his shine. His thick talons are dark metal, too shadowed to gleam until it's too late. Along his dark-stained back are his wings - wide rather than long, squared sails that tend more toward power than agility. They're dark like the rest of him, but their spars are paler than the sails, limned in brass like knees and paws. He has a long tail, the fork at its end solid and widely splayed so that it almost resembles a double-headed hammer.
The shape of this egg is reminiscent of a boulder. It is round, in a sense, though what would be smooth and curved sides are misshapen in places. Pushed in here and there as if the impacts of something hard has made permanent indentations in what was once a soft and pliable shell. Beaten. Pounded. Bullied into a shape it was never meant to be. But it still is an egg. Beyond the beaten bruises, it still is a thing that homes a creature inside. Its surface is slate gray with fissures of white and a darker gray jaggedly seen across the surface, causing it to appear rough to the touch. It sits like a stone on the sands, quiet and unassuming. But somewhere beneath its gray surface, there's a colored glow subtly peeking between the cracks, like an aura of something glorious waiting to break free.
Nobody's Hero is a brooding feeling. Thoughts swirl indecisively around you, muddled and gray. Curious about you, yet cautious as well, it approaches in quick, jarring movements. A strike to the brain. A pound, reminiscent of the press of a migraine that violently punches in and immediately retracts. Watching, waiting for reaction. It's still there, gauging you with its abominable presence.
Nobody's Hero is beginning to soften. Its largeness still feels immense, like an unkempt giant filling a room, but the harshness of its touch begins to ebb. You're still here? .. Perfect. The pounding becomes gentler, but it still must break through your surface to get to your core. That task may still be painful, even if gentleness has been gained. Chipping away at the shell of you. Breaking through one piece at a time, allowing them to crumble down, down, down, like an avalanche of pebbles, rocks, and boulders from the jagged face of a cliff. It's beginning to break through, and perhaps this monolith is allowing you to break through its misshapen shell as well. There's a feeling of warmth that's beginning to radiate from … somewhere. Somewhere within the egg. Somewhere within yourself.
Nobody's Hero makes a breakthrough. Ah, there you are! And here also is itself, free from its own protective wall of uncertainty. Are we compatible? Maybe, maybe not. But much courage was needed to get this far together. Trust and determination to be able to move past the discomfort and pain of wreckage. Look what destruction has been left behind, but behold who I am! But it is difficult to see … who. Images in the mind still remain unfocused, as if seen through a newly born thing. A hulking presence is there, but details are none. It is easier to feel. The unmistakable sensation of happiness and acceptance is the source of that warmth that now envelops you like an immense hug. Somewhere in the back of the mind, something glitters brightly, aiming to call your attention. A treasure, found. But the gleam is soon gone, snatched up by a gust of something cool and swift. The hug relinquishes its hold suddenly, leaving you in a void as the mind retreats away, rebuilding its stony fortress around itself. Hiding away once again in heavy silence.
The Wrecked Egg is becoming impatient. All this sitting and waiting .. Where’s the action?! Well, the time for waiting has come to an end, and the egg is taking it upon itself to progress things forward. The misshapen egg pulsates on one side, and a slight bulge is seen pressing out from within, further morphing its already malformed self. But the bulge is short-lived and gradually sinks back down only to be repeated again like the slow pulse of a heartbeat. Out…in. Out…in. The beat steadily quickens, and with each pulsating beat, the motions of the egg become more noticeable. Time is almost up…
Wrecked Egg has already taken a bashing. From without, and now from within its own self. The battle rages on with increasing violence, causing the deformed egg to fall and shudder upon the sands. The cracks form quickly, but the resilient shell refuses to break so soon. This is a tough nut to crack, but crack it will. Crack it must, for if it doesn’t, how will anything progress? And so the battle continues, the war for a breakthrough. The fissures upon the uneven surface continue to grow and deepen until the entire egg is covered with them. Scars of battle. But these scars will not last forever, and fragments of shell begin to chip away, revealing the glisten of something inside that’s been waiting oh so long to be free.
Wrecked Egg is truly living up to its name. Right now, it is undoubtedly wrecked. Broken. Smashed. Yet still managing to cling to some of its form. For now. More and more bits of eggshell falls away, some fast, some slow with the ooze that aims to hold it in place. A shard falls away, and a swirling eye blinks open, taking its first murky look at the world through the peephole left behind. Oh yes. There is where it wants to be. Away from this pressing place in which there is no room left to battle. Where the battleground has been so bombarded that there is no further use for it. A heavy press of wings shatters what remains of the shell wholly, and the dragon inside finally takes its first real breath of life.
Is that your heart, beating so loudly in your ears? The drumming of your pulse, loud enough to deafen you? It might seem so, until the drumroll begins. Fifes take up the higher line, a quick proud march as your vision sways with dappled red and black. « Finally. » A deep voice, powerful enough to call across great distances. « You should have come to meet me. This was a waste of time. » A mental snort, and then the irritation fades, leaving behind a sense of belonging and purpose. « But I knew you, and I came. I am here. » He is pleased for that; for being here with you. « I am your Zimraith. » The drums pick up again, a rhythm of feet hitting the ground. « Now. We have much to do. First… I must eat. »
Zimraith is outgoing and extroverted, and will often seek to gather the other hatchlings to him, eager to play or just hang out… though he may be less interested when the idea comes from someone else. Zimraith likes to be in charge, and he'll boss others around if they let him.
He's a physical sort, and the games he'll select tend toward the rough and tumble - which may cause some problems until he learns he has to hold back his strength against the smaller dragons… or until they learn how to dodge, because Zimraith may not be inclined to change himself for their benefit. He won't intentionally hurt anyone, but to him, « Next time, move faster. » may seem an entirely reasonable response to a squished clutchmate.
He'll come to understand that sometimes people aren't capable of following his directives, and grudgingly accept the idea of physical limitations and learn to adapt his plans to accommodate them. Beyond that, he may remain uninterested in excuses for not doing things his way. Once he's made up his mind, it's nearly impossible to change. He'll resist even your attempts to do so, stubbornly holding to his opinions and expecting the world to bend around him.
He may sometimes butt heads with the weyrlingmasters when it comes to lessons, whether because he doesn't see the point or simply because he's not in the mood. It's not that he's oblivious to the feelings and desires of others, it's just that he doesn't see why he should have to do anything different because of them. « But I am right. » is his answer to many a question of emotion, and empathy will prove challenging for him at the best of times.
His forthright, rational nature may sometimes create challenges in your bond as he struggles to work with your feelings and differing opinions - but for you, he'll make the attempt. He may never be good at it, but for you more than anyone else he'll acknowledge, « Your way might work. » even if there's often still an undertone of « Mine is better. »
As he grows, he'll learn the necessity of compromise - which won't change one bit the fact that he's right, it's just that sometimes it's not worth explaining to everyone else why they're wrong. He may even learn something of diplomacy - especially with your guidance - but his first impulse will always be to command, not cajole.
His urge to tell people what to do will remain as he matures - if anything, it will grow stronger - but he'll also develop a keen strategic mind, one that often is right - which makes his insistence on that fact even more entrenched.
Despite his gruff exterior, he truly does care for others. His commands are meant to make things better for everyone, not out of any selfish aim. He's just supremely confident that he knows the right course of action. Those who disagree or stand in his way will frustrate him, and he may use his bulk or the power of his mind for intimidation in order to get things working 'properly' - i.e. according to his plan.
He's not entirely selfless, of course. He deserves comfort, and when it comes to the attention of others, he can be downright greedy. Flattery pleases him - so long as it's true, and his keen mind is quick to dismiss those who lie in order to curry his favor.
Flights are perhaps where Zimraith will show his most selfish side. He'll take to them eagerly, shoving through the pack and seeking to muscle his way to the green or gold. If he wins, he'll be pleased and bask in the achievement, but watch out when he loses - he may decide to chase at every opportunity thereafter until he finally has a win to satisfy his ego.
If he wins a gold's flight, he'll be proud of his achievement - but is unlikely to have the patience for prolonged guarding of the sands. He may help the dam in other ways, bringing her meals or taking brief shifts, or he may simply - as he's so prone to do - delegate to her. At least, as much as she'll allow - he's strong of will, but not even he can truly disobey a command coming from a draconic queen.
Zimraith's children may outlive him, if he's fortunate enough to have any, but he'll likely come to want something more than that. They're their own people, not copies of him. They'll make different decisions… and, sometimes, wrong decisions. He can accept that, but he'll want to make something that does outlast him - a legacy to the future, something that will show others what he did and command their respect. He may seek rank in order to do so, or perhaps he'll find some other way to make sure that his name - and yours - is remembered, but Zimraith is not a modest dragon and he has no intention of fading into oblivion.
He chose you because even the finest warrior needs someone to have their back, and of all the many candidates, you were the only one who he felt was worthy to be part of his legacy, someone he was willing to have at his side through thick and thin and be remembered for… well, as long as he can manage.
Zimraith's mind reaches out with the deep throb of drums, a heartbeat pulse that shakes the entire body. Some move to the beat of a different drum: he beats the drum to which others should move. Threading through it is the sharper tone of a fife, lifting above the roll of the drums. The tone of his thoughts tends toward the somber, masses of grey and black touched with sanguine red and shifting against each other in measured patterns.
When his thoughts draw in on themselves, those colors remain in view. Zimraith's inner landscape consists of a great amphitheatre built of grey granite, where tiers upon tiers of seats reach up toward the sky. Their solid stone is cushioned with black velvet, and the red carpet leads back down the stairs to the stage built for Zimraith to hold his court.
EGG: The theme for this clutch was animation, and the Wrecked egg was written by Ka'el. I couldn't pass up the opportunity to create an egg with a Wreck it Ralph theme! It ended up working really well with Zimraith, who could possibly show qualities of various characters from the animated movie. Those standouts to me are conflicted Ralph himself, the no-nonsense Sergeant Calhoun, and even undeniably determined Vanellope von Schweetz. The baseline of this animation is a story of characters who long to fulfill their destiny and not be constrained by what others expect of them. Through their strength of will and undying determination, they find within themselves abilities that they never realized they possess and succeed at surpassing even their own expectations. Zimraith's potential is limitless, as was his egg's.
NAME: Zimraith's name comes from using "Zim" as requested while also adding a little hint of the egg theme from "Ralph", and tossing in the video game reference "ai" for artificial intelligence, all smashed together with a little more of that wrecking. The dragon's description is a bit of Ralph, a bit of Dredd, and a bit of military history all wrapped up in one sleek package.
DRAGON: Your dragon's concept came from quite a mashup of inspirations! Your hatchling's name, "Changing Defeat to Victory" was inspired by a portion of a quote made by James Longstreet. While researching the info in your questionnaire, that quote that I came across stuck with me, and it seemed fitting to go with an egg whose beginnings looked and felt so battered. We also used information gathered from Dredd and incorporated his stalking way of choosing his lifemate with Jaws. Zimraith was written by Ka'el and Soriana. We hope you'll enjoy him, but remember - everything here is just a suggestion that you can alter according to what works for for. Congratulations!
|Created By||Soriana and Ka'el|
|Hatched||September 26, 2014|