Anitique Seductress Gold Tzavayth
Tza1.jpg

Dragon Description

Flowing lines and dangerous curves define an outline that screams of native self-confidence coupled with a regal arrogance. Gold, yes, but tarnished: a dark patina mottles what might once have been a perfect, mid-toned lustre. It is heaviest over her wings, broad sails elegantly cut, translucent enough to show the fine tracery of veins covered by darkly smoked amber. The shadowed-gold mottling, like fine lacework or sea-foam atop a wave, flows heaviest down her shoulders in impossibly intricate knots of tarnish, twining down the well-fleshed curve of her back to bracket wide, powerful hips. Bands of brightest, purest gold occasionally shine through, as though someone had taken a cursory effort to polish her up: streaks emphasize the sleek curves of her flanks, the baby-roundness of her belly, and the long, elegant line of her neck ridges. Though her forepaws remain dark, tipped with onyx talons, the graceful swoop of her tail and tips of her toes are palest yet, shading near to white-gold at the fork. That same white-gold is echoed on swooped-back headknobs, from which it seems to pour down the center of her face to culminate on a muzzle forever bleached pale.


Egg Name and Description

Solar Eclipse Egg

Matte black, huge and ominous, looms over the rest of the clutch. Though largest by far, at first this egg appears to be the least interesting. When in the shadows that usually cover much of the hatching sands, it remains a dull, reflectionless black. It is only during that all-too-brief time of day when the sun peeks through the hole in the cavern roof that its hidden glory is revealed: a corona of brightest gold, unmistakable in its aureate sheen. Once spotted, occasionally even in shadow it might be possible to glimpse the brilliant aura from the corner of one's eye, a promise of light as yet


Hatching Message

Solar Eclipse Egg gathers the last of its strength and gives one more heroic effort. The exposed paw scrabbles, then retreats into the shell. All at once it begins to flex outward around that opening, cracks radiating from the hole, until with an audible pop the shell bursts and leaves a stunned gold hatchling, skin damp with moisture, sitting in the wreckage.


Hatchling Name and Description

Antique Seductress Gold Hatchling

Flowing lines and dangerous curves define an outline that screams of native self-confidence coupled with a regal arrogance. Gold, yes, but tarnished: a dark patina mottles what might once have been a perfect, mid-toned luster. It is heaviest over her wings, broad sails elegantly cut, translucent enough to show the fine tracery of veins covered by darkly smoked amber. The shadowed-gold mottling, like fine lacework or sea-foam atop a wave, flows heaviest down her shoulders in impossibly intricate knots of tarnish, twining down the well-fleshed curve of her back to bracket wide, powerful hips. Bands of brightest, purest gold occasionally shine through, as though someone had taken a cursory effort to polish her up: streaks emphasize the sleek curves of her flanks, the baby-roundness of her belly, and the long, elegant line of her neck ridges. Though her forepaws remain dark, tipped with onyx talons, the graceful swoop of her tail and tips of her toes are palest yet, shading near to white-gold at the fork. That same white-gold is echoed on swooped-back headknobs, from which it seems to pour down the center of her face to culminate on a muzzle forever bleached pale.


Impression Message

When did it get so hot in here? Why is the sand shimmering like that? How did— BAM. All at once, the subtle heat-shimmers that had been rising in your vision explode into an overwhelming iridescent white light. There’s a voice there, at first like your own, and then /not/. It matures, deepens, becomes throaty and complex with hidden laughs and gentle purrs… and as it deepens, so do those coruscating veils of light. No longer pure, they tarnish down into a rich green-silver-black iridescence that enwraps you in easy warmth. « Oh, Fiona. » It all seems to emanate from the wide-set eyes looking up at your adoringly from above that muzzle of tarnished gold. « I’m Tzavayth, and I’ve been waiting for you for a very long time. Shall we go on together? »


Mindvoice Name and Description

Richly Iridescent Silks

Rich in tone and timbre, her voice encompasses all the sounds of the night. Iridescent silks shift from forest to maroon to violet to navy, bright saturation shimmering under an overlay of silver and black. There are nocturnal sounds here: crickets chirping, the whispering of sheets sliding together, then gentle chiming of starlight rendered audible. When she is pleased, it feels like being wrapped in warm silks; when she is angry, it grows chill with the bite of an icy breeze straight from the spires of the High Reaches. Her voice itself is deep and throaty, the sound of a woman secure in her own power, newly-risen from bed. There’s a low burr to it, audible especially in the bright peals of laughter to which she is so prone; and, when particularly delighted, it dips down to a nearly felinic purr of satisfaction.

Richly Iridescent Silks descend around you, gentle as a butterfly. It's as if the heat shimmers from the sands have become something more, something substantial and yet gossamer-thin. There's a sense of a presence, hiding there, just out of your sight… but somehow, you know it's watching you.

Richly Iridescent Silks ripple, carefully, coruscating colors faintly overlaying your perceptions. It's a confusing bundle of almost-sensations: amusement, perhaps, or impatience, or curiosity. There's a sound, maybe, though it's barely even a whisper of wind curling through your hair. Is it whispering to you? Or about you?

Richly Iridescent Silks flicker /through/ you, seeming to brush against the very fiber of your being. It's not an unpleasant sensation, but rather like one of temporarily being asleep. The impression left behind is one of a young mind, unformed, and full of dreams.

Richly Iridescent Silks ever so slowly fall away as the little mind contained within the shell turns to other thoughts, other dreams.


Personality

Power. Glory. Sensuality.. Deep, all-consuming passion. All of this and more describes your Tzavayth. She has known, from her very first primitive dream-thoughts in the shell, both who and what she is— and she will never let you forget it. Is it truly arrogance to believe yourself perfect when one is the queen of her own domain? Is it truly duty when you commit to your task with the wholeness of your being? Is it truly cruelty when one can dominate your peers with the merest thought, but only because you love them so?

Above all things, Tzavayth is a creature of passions. Her mind glows with it, her body thrums with it, her very being vibrates to the strings of her desires. Straight from the shell, she will find sensations fascinating: hot, gritty sand on her still-damp hide, warm meat, slick oil, salty blood. It is especially those last two she enjoys: a long, thorough oiling followed by slurry of meat and blood that’s nearly liquid. Wherry meat, while it will do in a pinch, will never quite satisfy Tzavayth. She craves liquid nourishment — a fine wine with her dinner — and a bloodless wherry will always come in second to a succulent, overfed herdbeast.

Hers is a spirit that is meant to be free, that dreams of long flights and enthusiastic hunts and wild games with her chosen companions. And yet, she will never quite escape those long sevendays her dam spent indoctrinating in her while she was still dreaming in her shell. As much as she might chivvy and cajole you, « Oh, Fiona, /must/ we finish those records today? A flight over the ocean would be simply /divine/. » in the end the need to do her duty will always win out. It’s a compulsion, deeply buried in her psyche: all the Weyr is her domain, her family, her pride, and it is her duty in life to see them thrive. Duty, yes, but not a burdensome one: she is a social creature, and she craves contact with others of her kind just as much as she craves food or air.

Loyalty comes as naturally to her as loving, though the one might follow the other more than you might like. Once something (or someone) belongs to her, it belongs to her /forever/; eventually, for a creature of lesser abilities, it might become quite a lot to keep track of. Much to your consternation, you might find her, in the indomitable way of her golden kind, carrying on three or four different mental conversations all at once as she keeps her finger on the pulse of the health of her Weyr. She’ll expect the same of you, and seem genuinely confused — and maybe a little brusque — should you not be as eager as she to catch up on all the gossip. « But, Fiona. If you don’t ask Ylvath’s about what she saw the others doing on the beach, however will you be able to tell your sister later? »

But all friends are not always created equal: Tzavayth will always have her favorites… and being her favorite can be an exhausting endeavor. She’ll tease, she’ll cajole, she’ll entice, she’ll play… then she’ll go to sleep and do it all again the next day. Woe be to the male upon whom she might fixate; the poor creature will barely have a moment’s peace while she’s in the throes of her infatuation. Luckily for him (and you) her fancy tends to pass relatively quickly, and more often than not her suitor will be left bewildered when she turns her wiles onto the next passing male. It’s not to say she won’t ever settle down with a permanent mate, but it will be very difficult for her to give up that drive to taste as many of the male dragons around her as she can manage. Proddyness will be a trial for you, in that her attentions may flit so quickly from one male to the next that it would be impossible to keep up. Rarely the most physically inclined in her clutch, she will nevertheless lead her suitors in feats of dazzling acrobatics; afterwards, you may well wonder where she managed to dig up that bag of tricks more appropriate to a green than a gold of her build— they never seem to make an appearance, save when fueled by blood and hormones.

She has a deft instinct for navigating social situations with her innate, sensual charm; by the time she’s fully matured, she will only rarely strike the wrong note with other dragons. Or, at least, if she does? It will be of her own choice. Tzavayth knows fully well the value of occasionally riling someone up, only to later soothe the hurt egos. There’s not cruelty in it, nor a desire to hurt others. Rather, she’s simply doing what it is she thinks best to ensure the Weyr continues on as a well-oiled machine. « Surely, Fiona, you understand about machines? And doing what is necessary to ensure everything runs as it should? » Morally ambiguous? Perhaps, since it’s so much more effective. But never outright malicious. It’s all for a greater cause, right?


Growth

Learning to rein in her awesome powers over her clutchmates will likely be order number one. Without guidance, you’ll find her quickly lording herself over her siblings, instinctively infusing requests with that irresistible note of queen-order: « Won’t you please go and fetch me that slice of wherry, Varugoth? You’re so strong, and I would /so/ appreciate it… » She’ll want to use it as a crutch to such a degree that you might find her physical growth coming at risk: always curvy, without the appropriate exercise she might well find herself *gasp* fat! It’s not that she isn’t graceful, it’s just that it’s ever so much more fun to see what she can get others to do for her without them ever realizing it.


RP Tips

Of particular interest to Tsavayth’s development might be how she manages to discover and utilize the inborn influence that a gold has over the other colors on her siblings. Will she resort to outright orders? Will she learn to subtly manipulate them into doing her will? Or will she find that simply cajoling them with her own natural charm will be enough? There is an opportunity in this clutch for either great strife amongst the dragons, or for them to forge into a powerfully diverse team; in which direction will you choose to take Tsavayth? In this, as in all things, her fate is in your hands. We have laid out a rough idea of a template for you — make of it what you will!


Inspiration

Egg by Syra. Dragon by Syra. The egg theme for this clutch was ‘trials and adversities’. In this case, a solar eclipse is not only traditionally considered a time of great danger, but more recently is the bane of such solar-powered superheros as Superman. The dragon theme for this clutch was ‘heroes great and small’. Your dragon is based loosely on the femme fatale: the female take on the Thomas Raith. She’s got bits of Selina Kyle (a la Catwoman), a seasoning of nWoD Daeva, and maybe a few other famous female vampires sprinkled in there for flavor!


Clutch Siblings

Swagger in Style Bronze Varugoth Impressed to T'us (Tadarius)
Unexpectedly Complex Bronze Straketh Impressed to He'ro (Theron)
Emerald in the Darkness Green Seracenath Impressed to Mahlia
Opal-Eyed Pale Green Rhieyeth Impressed to Miyan (Mihoyan)
Fog-Kissed Forest Night Green Ylvath Impressed to Tequoia

*NPC*
Aloof Tabbied Brown Favenoth Impressed to Cl'ye
Flaming Timbers Brown Moggoth Impressed to D'ttan
Gas Flame Blue Bustepheth Impressed to Caffrey
Wildly Variegated Blue Motath Impressed to Dr'dir
Somewhere Between Green and Blue Ngmath Impressed to N'shton
Bright Sunny Day Green Siolth Impressed to Kr'alc
Soul of the Jungle Green Tcharleth Impressed to Marloe


Lineage

3 Gold
Tempeth
Bronze
Corinth
2 Gold
Samanth1
Bronze
Zaristh2
Gold
Samanth1
Bronze
Zaristh2
1 Gold
Arolaeth
Bronze
Fenrith
AroFen.jpg

Credits

Name Gold Tzavayth
Dam Gold Arolaeth
Sire Bronze Fenrith
Final Length 41.21
lineart by R'owan
Created By Syra
Impress To Fi (Fiona)
Hatched February 11, 2012
Eastern Weyr
PernWorld MUSH
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