X'vik's Terror of Midwinter Night Brown Argolath

+X'vik's Terror of Midwinter Night Brown Argolath+

Xanvik! X’vik! Whoever you are now! We love you and <3 you and and and… well, we adore you so much that we can’t even put it in words, other than to say OMG TOOTHLESS and YOU BETTER LOVE OMG (or we’re taking him back, tucking him under the bed and keeping him as our very own!) Without further ado, we present…

… what once was an, erm, odd little egg …

Plastic Ain't Fantastic Times Ten Egg
Bulbous in illusion, the shell on this egg appears irritated and raw some places while stretched too thin in others. The bottom portion is covered in what look like bruises of varying sizes and shapes, deep purple and sickly green melting and swirling together in differing intensities. Though the shell is smooth and perfectly shaped, the middle section gives the appearance of being rotund and globular, and almost as if the shell is too thin, blue lines looking like veins dance their way around in a random, whimsical pattern. Finally, the very top of the egg is sheer perfection…almost. It looks to be smooth, but upon closer inspection, it appears as if it could crack from contact with a feather, just as though the shell got pulled too tight right there. But just give this egg time. It'll be a beauty! Maybe.

… hatched your own personal terror of the darkest night …

Plastic Ain't Fantastic Times Ten Egg sort of… bubbles. Oh dear, that's just -not- right. The bubbles darken and warp, sliding lopsided as the hard shell below radiates minuscule stress fractures like some b-rated stop action film.. Finally, as if the structure just cannot take one more complication, it bursts into a pile of tiny dark rubble, oozing like pure silicon, a sheath of egg goo coating its former inhabitant.

Terror of Midwinter Night Brown Dragonet
Sacrificial solstice scarlet pours blood unabated down fiery sweep of chaotic being. Raiding resonance reverberates with the promise of bloodshed and terror-struck insanity, fitting night-dark and close over supple hide. Compact form manifests deep mahogany hue, drenching the brilliance of fiery self-image of blunt-faced brown to carmine-tinted, red-visioned mayhem. Night falls over the sweeps of deadly wings, lethal darkness terrifying in excess of wide ‘sails and shadowing snaggletooth neckridges of asymmetrical portent: unrelenting, the fiery chaos remains persistent, a rampant contrast to twilight ruin of underbelly reign, struggling for domination of this landscape of battle’s pitched warfare. Strident bloodlust clashes against cooler head of night’s domain; this battle wages on, heedless of gentle eyes of this living battleground.

… who then became yours, for better or for worse …

Terror of Midwinter Night Brown Dragonet appears from the shadows, just as quickly as he vanished. Behind one particular robbed figure that had drawn him closer. A scent? Something about him in particular that has made this brown oh so curious. Something that made him WANT. With what could be described as a scream, wings flare widely and uncaring of those who around this Xanvik. No, not a care in the world for them before those wings descend to curl around him while his neck curls in to SMELL him with a hint of determination. He pulls away just as suddenly, head tilting as he waits with an impatient twitch of his tail.

Darkness clouds your mind, deepening slowly like the veil of night, once twilight falls. Icy cold suddenly grips you, numbing all senses but this one. This connection. This link. Senses completely fail, and suddenly, nothing else exists. At last, there are pinpricks of light, warming this frigid firmament, faint scatterings of diamonds in the night sky until… BAM! Like white hot magnesium, a flash of the most brilliant white blinds you, and in the end is only Argolath. The silence continues for a couple expectant seconds before a voice breaks through the stark beauty to ask in tones both gruff and amused, « Argolath, got it? We gonna just stand around all day, X'vik, or what? I didn't sit in that shardin' egg sweatin' my tail off to stare at some dumb ass kid. »

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Theme inspiration

With an overall clutch theme of Winter, there are an unimaginably wide array of thematic elements available to inspire a dragonet to perfection. As we wanted to include your love of Toothless into our theme … what better than the longest night of the year, the Winter Solstice? As a “Night Fury”, we feel these things are just meant to be! The mysticism and beliefs surrounding this particular night of the year pervades such a theme as well, offering countless shades to flavor your very own Argolath to a variety of subtleties.




Name inspiration

Arrrrrrgholaaath. Rhaeyn hasn’t been saying it every day for two weeks, oh no. We wanted something strong, short, and easy to pronounce; we wanted something meaningful. While your Argolath isn’t necessarily the biggest of all browns — he’ll never be a Vosteyath! — he is *fast*. That said, ‘argolath’ comes from ‘largo’ — and we’re not taking it as the normal meaning (which means slow and stately- which Argolath also has the ability to do!) but more of the meaning from the paso fino gait. A Paso, running at a largo, can go as fast as many other standard-gaited horses do at a run, but at a much smoother ability. Everything with ‘largo’ as the start just made us think of Chubby McChubsters, though, so you have ARGOLATH instead.

Sorta reminds Gids of the Argo, the ship of Jason of the Arrrrrgonauts, or better yet, of Mutant Enemy's "Grrr. Argh."(olath) [[This, by the way? Made Rhaeyn scare her fiance by laughing so hard when it was first said. Do it. Say it aloud. You know you wanna. GRR. ARRGH. OLATH.]]

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v= lypqzV2YFfs

We say the name, obviously, with an extended ‘rrr’, like a big cat purring in the middle of a name. (Or Mutant Enemy as Gids so properly suggested!) It just… seems to fit.

Egg Inspiration

Who didn't read the story about Heidi Montag and her day of 10 plastic surgeries and roll their eyes? Having 10 surgeries at one time definitely sounds like a good idea… if you are CRAZY. Plastic ain't fantastic, kids.

Desc Inspiration

Death on the wing, night fury, winter Solstice, Deathwing, cataclysm, brilliant constrast, soaking darkness. These are all keywords of your very own Argolath, your very own Toothless, your very own cataclysm of your-world-shaking portent.


Glowing red against a field of black, eternal struggle without end, a phoenix forever resurrecting among the coals of his fiery hide. That, in a nutshell, is the inspiration behind… well… this guy:


Mind Voice

Think shiny. Or… not. Pretty cunning, though. See, Argolath has this habit of painting his voice with the most spectacular vistas, the most amazing aromas, and the most sharding incredible patterns that you forget, deep down, he's way beyond rough around the edges. Think… van Gogh, Rembrandt, Da Vinci, Julia Childs. Masters in their art of expression.

He'll fool you, looking all big and strong, struttin' that strut and painting his voice with beautiful veneers. Just like a veneer, though, it's a cover, and as pretty as it can be, it's covering some rather coarse material.

Luckily, Argolath is not a dragon of many words, at least to others. Some might go their entire lives thinking he's this dashing, adorable and OMG SO SHINY being, when really he's a bit of a rube. There's gravel underneath that facade, weakening his exterior with soft shoulders that will give way beneath your tires at the worst possible moment.

To others, and especially while he's still young, Argolath will give the crowd a dazzling show of lights. He'll express himself far more readily through his body language and through the images and scents shared across the mindlink. Pay no attention to the man behind the curtain.

When sharing actual events or locations, Argolath will be spot on, to the blades of grass or the exact fermentation of the foliage beneath the late winter snow. He's a sharding artist, if only he knew what that was. To him, he's just sharing it how it is.

But that voice. That *voice*. Half the time, you'll be lucky to get more than a grunt, in all its various levels of expression. The other half, you might prefer the grunts.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v= ByDhS6uPO8g&NR

Argolath's vocalizations aren't nearly the artistic expression the rest of his mindvoice conveys. He's a little crude, a little rude, but he's still just saying it how it is, right?

Who better for this voice than Adam Baldwin, the guy who made Jayne Cobb come to life? Who needs all that shiny anyway? There's just that knack for being a little primitive and yet intelligent all at the same time.

« Screw Karsedreth. Shardin' bronze'll get us both killed one of these days. Better off with pretty much ANY. OTHER. DRAGON. OUT THERE. Like me. »

And then there are the strange bursts of insight that make you remember just how inconvenient it can be to have a dragon who notices things. Like…

« Hey, X'vik. Think yer gettin' played with that rider, think again. Shardin' pants are undone, dumb ass. »

Or the classic:

« Saw that one comin'. »

And when he's in a really good mood, like… if he's just had a particularly good herdbeast, or he just caught the nicest little piece of green [censored by player], there will be singing. Oh yes. Singing. In the spirit of inspiration, I give you…. THIS:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v= vEIDvgapTw8


Gypsy gold does not chink and glitter. It gleams in the sun and neighs in the dark.

A Gypsy Proverb


Argolath will forever be brilliant shine versus matte darkness, a contrast of not only color but finish. From shell’s first crack, he will gleam, a bright fire dancing upwards to challenge the stark blackness that drenches down his hide.

We hope you don’t mind hours and hours of oiling and buffing and oiling again— because while your Argolath will take on much of his own grooming in his own peculiar manner, thanks to his ABSOLUTE HATRED of water, this is one very confident-of-his-masculinity dragon who will forever enjoy basking in the pleasure of rubbings and scratchings and groomings and attention.

Hours and hours of oiling. Don’t forget that. Oh, and scratching, too. All those bright fire-highlight spots — on his belly and underside of neck, mostly, as he’s bright underneath and dark on top! — are especially sensitive to itching and irritation. Good luck getting him into the water to scrub those itchy spots, by the way; the only bath he’ll like is a sand bath! Eventually he’ll stink enough that he’ll stop trying to rub off his body scent on everything he can, and slink into the water as if it was his idea the whole time, but until then, be prepared for A War Of Considerable Effort(tm).

I had been told that the training procedure with cats was difficult. It's not.

Mine had me trained in two days.

~Bill Dana

As a weyrling, aside from those exhausting hours of personal attention that you will of course bestow upon the worthy and allmighty Argolath, you will soon find yourself entirely unsure of where Argolath starts and you begin. He’ll have this tricky little nuisance of a habit wherein he projects his physical state to you, from hatching to the time he first takes to the skies. The only way to stop is to do whatever it is that he wants you to do. Did you just eat? You’re full? Well, guess what. Argolath wants you to take a bite of that bleeding, still-warm carcass that you’re busy butchering for him. You don’t want to? Better get ready for agonizing ghost-stomach-cramps, ‘cause they are coming till you give in!

Never try to out-stubborn a cat.

~ Lazarus Long

Aside from the careful training process that you’re going to have to submit to make your peace with, Argolath may be a constant source of fascination. Good fascination— especially when it comes to movement. He’ll forever be lopsided, or so you’ll think: uncanny grace marred by that listing to the right, as if his left side lacks an important attribute to keep him on the not-so-proverbial straight and narrow. Perhaps it’s just how he grows, a slight imbalance that’s just nature keeping the playing field even.

It doesn’t matter how crooked he is, or if he sidles up next to you forever in that cautionary ‘ready to bolt’ mannerism; it doesn’t matter if he’s sending you flares of sudden itchiness in persistent desire to get you to spend YET ANOTHER four candlemarks grooming him to a fine shine. Truth of the matter is that he very rarely needs to say anything about his physical state, or even emotional state; it will be written in every line of every expressive twitch of his body language.


Is he mad? Expect him to be bowed up like a pissed-off cat, all arched-back and hissing furor. Does he think that you’re ridiculously stupid for nattering off like that to the weyrwoman? He’ll roll his eyes. It’s a draconic feat of achievement, given the fact that dragons have faceted eyes! Are you being ridiculous for spending four hours trying to get dressed for that date with some no-brains big-boobs greenrider? He’ll collapse in a heap of disgust, grumbles of rumbling discord resonating outward from him as an oversized motorboat.

Oh yeah, and expect a lot of noise. Deep noise. Where he lacks in mindvoice’s frequent usage, he makes up— more than makes up— in utilization of physical noisiness. Growls of anger, rumbly purrs of satisfaction, hissing pissiness— Argolath has them all!

“If you hold a cat by the tail you learn things you cannot learn any other way.”

Mark Twain

During the weeks leading up to his first flight, he’ll be restless, wings aflutter, tail twitching like a rope on a hot-walker. Good luck oiling his tail, even when he sends enough beehive tinging to your own rear to make you want to rub up against Ysvarth’s crags to relieve yourself! That tail will be everywhere ‘scept where you want it to be, see, and the moment that you have your hands on it… he’ll do something to make it NOT where you can retrieve it easily.

First flight? You’ll unfortunately likely experience it. One minute you’re riding along, basking in the simple pleasure of being so close to your lifemate, looking so cool for all the hot chicks. The next minute? He’s diving off a cliff. Sorry dude. All we can say is… hold on tight!

The imbalance that stilts early ground movement will carry on in his first few months of flight, much to the consternation of the weyrlingmasters. Dismay will be doubtlessly expressed for Argolath’s inability of keeping in formation, and if they try to correct him, well… have you ever seen a cat on a leash? It’s just not going to work.

Not that there’s anything wrong with a dragonesque figure…

~ Snotlout

When he finally reaches adulthood, that slinky, sideways grace that forever characterized him as a youngling will melt away in favor of a bold, compact figure capable of turning tricky curves and keeping with the flightiest of greens. Though he’s muscled through the body, his massive wings - a hallmark back to his great grandsire Bandeleth, whose legendary wings still grace the skies of High Reaches - are narrow enough and powerful enough to enable him a great and ridiculous talent to be a terror of the skies.

Life is hard, and then you nap.

~ A Cat Law

After drills, as a full-grown dragon, will often be the only time that Argolath’s intense love of soft surfaces come to full fruitation. After that grudging bath to wipe all that spicy dragonsweat off of him, he’ll collapse on whatever soft hides he’s managed to convince you to deck his ledge out in, and snooze like an overgrown feline in the faint ‘Reachian sunlight. Good luck resisting the pull to curl up or sprawl out next to him, in contact with his snoozing or drowsy self, because he’ll be absolutely irresistible! Other than these rare idylls, he’ll forever be reaching for the skies, a true dragon— for that is where he was built to be.


Thanks for nothing, you useless reptile.


Oh, we may as well attribute that line to Future!X’vik, for Argolath is completely unlike most dragons that break shell— though perhaps not unlike some dragons here at High Reaches. Must be something about the limited genetic pool. Inbreeding! Ahem. From first breath, he was, is, and forever will be a Terror of the Night. That initial moment in which you locked eyes and Impression was made? That was glorious, a moment of pure elation, but… there is a certain wariness about Argolath, coupled with a spark of curiosity, that will characterize his disposition throughout the first few weeks of your tenuous bond.

And tenuous bond it will be! Despite all the backbreaking effort that you heap and shovel into this relationship, Argolath will simply not be willing to make it easy for you. He’s curious as a cat, and a damned sight bigger than one, and woe be it if he ever decides to take after his many-times grandsire, Sidramuntalath, in causing barracks uproar! Fascinated by the aspects of young life, he will resist sleep… never no mind given to the fact that you may be tired; Faranth, he’ll even push through his own exhaustion in persistent effort to remain awake to not miss a singular detail. Just like any baby, he’ll eventually succumb; but getting him past his twitchiness to that point will be an exhausting effort all within itself.

Night Fury. Speed: unknown. Size: unknown. The unholy offspring of lightning and Death itself. Never engage this dragon. Your only hope: hide and pray it does not find you.

The Dragon Manual

But he did find you, X’vik; he found you, and chose you for his very own. It’s a toss up if we should congratulate or console you for such! By the time strapsmaking part comes around, you’ll doubtless be exhausted from his eternal curiosity. How does that feel? Does that taste interesting? The look on one of his lifemate’s face the first time he decides that he just MUST lick the side of their face to see if they taste like they look… well, depends on which one he picks, now, doesn’t it?

Sustenance. Oh, food. Suppertime (and lunchtime, and dinnertime, and breakfasttime, and second-breakfasttime…) will forever be a struggle between you, X’vik, and your stubborn mule of a fool lifemate! First of all, he wants to eat EVERYTHING. Second of all, he doesn’t think you’re absolutely capable of the task of properly feeding you. After all, you’re just his MINION, after all. Sound like someone familiar? Get ready to share a sudden common interest with your own father, X’vik, since you both have lifemates that are simply entitled to their own entourage!

You better get out there and wine and dine some seacrafters, because fish apparently is on the menu. There will come a time where Argolath is absolutely starving, a hissing irritation in the back of your mind like nails on a chalkboard, but he turns his head up at mere wherry, at paltry herdbeast. He wants something NEW, something… TASTY. In that moment, in desperation, perhaps you will turn to the kitchens in mute appeal; perhaps he will randomly find a fish in the lake. Who knows how it will happen, but the one thing is true: fish will be on the menu from then on out.

Weyrlinghood, in a nutshell, will be a battle of wills. Good luck getting him to talk to you about it! He won’t be especially talkative, in humorous irony to your own, ah, vocal skills. He especially will be sliding to the Avirath typology of muteness within that wary stage of existence as he figures you out. Perhaps it won’t be explicit, the fact that he is — in fact — judging you, testing you, weighing you, taking your very measure. Don’t worry: a turning point will soon enough be found, once it seems as if one more struggle will send your poor mind over the edge to pure insanity. Only then will he suddenly relent — he will suddenly perform a perfect 180, as a matter of fact, as a level of comfort settles in, and those personal struggles will cease and desist as quickly as if a flame was suddenly blown out.

Suddenly, that resistant, reluctant lifemate claims undying loyalty to you, X’vik, and you only; suddenly that silence is broken, and his rough, dry voice will start speaking laughter to you and you alone. A full time protector, now that this Vulcan mind meld of syncage is complete, sometimes he may not know what to do with you, but he will forever know how to protect you. Even from yourself. Hell, even from himself.

//Everything I know I learned from my cat: When you're hungry, eat. //

When you're tired, nap in a sunbeam.

~ Gary Smith

Keeping you awake in his kittenish quest to experience the night? Over. Instead, he’ll request your presence when the moons vanish from the skies to leave the land dark and mysterious. He’ll desire your presence in the warmth of sunny days, drawing you in if your thoughts linger on drowsing in the sun. And— oh boy, X’vik, you’re hungry and he’s being fed first? He’s going to make you eat a bite. Yes. A bite of that raw herdbeast. You’ve already read this. You should have made your peace with it by now.

**« G’ on. Eat. I know you’re hungry. » **

Stubbornness infiltrates as an elegant curlique of wrought iron and tangible smoke, forming a matrix of indominable strength to persevere to the end of the Earth itself… and the end of your hunger.

» No thanks, I’m not really tha— «

« EAT. NOW. »

We know how this story ends, obviously.

You may eventually rue the day that he discovered his ability to speak. He’s not quite as bad as Karsedreth, though if the two of them get on a kick, they just won’t STOP — get ready to commiserate with S’zin, a lot! — but he definitely will aggravate the crap out of Avirath, and befuddle Ero as his green clutchmate simply won’t understand his intuitive approach on life.

If a cat does something, we call it instinct; if we do the same thing,

for the same reason, we call it intelligence

~ Will Cuppy

Things don’t revolve around logic with your Argolath. Nature’s law comes to him as easily as the first winter breeze fells the last scattering of autumn leaves; he will understand the cycle of the moons, the rise and fall of night and day, the shifting fluttering of the winds above High Reaches. He won’t require the learning curve that most dragonets require, once his body straightens out and he figures out his point in drills. While he won’t be the most consistent of dragons, when his erratic attention is focused on his work, none can stand in his way.

And oh, his loyalty! It will become his drive in life. Not only to you, though you will of course be his first concern: speaking of which, he will, forever and ever, NEVER stand to see you maltreated. Do you have a wingleader that doesn’t exactly treat you right? Better watch out, ‘cause Argolath is shimmying his slinky ass over to have a Talk with his blue. Did some proddy greenrider just deck you in the face for calling her skirt a little too short? Yeah, he’s wedging his head into the doors of the living caverns, to hell and high water with the repercussion! If he gets caught— as in, not by authority, but by the physical dimension of the doorway?— well, mutterings may be made alluding to Nylanth’s early turns. All we can say is… please avoid Ista Hold. It could end badly.

As loyal as a canine, as fierce as a feline, NOTHING will stop him from protecting you. Unless, of course, one of those meddling bitches of queendom decide to meddle with his business, but… that would have to be a rare occasion… right?

Slowly, gradually, his loyalty may be earned by those who persevere for it. After all, he made YOU work for it— and you’re his other half! For those others, it will take effort, persistence, and… maybe a few gifts of fresh fishes. No shipfishes, though. And for Faranth’s sake, no EELS. Even tunnelsnakes will freak out Argolath like nothing else, and the slightest shift of shadows in the far reaches of the feeding grounds will have him upchucking his half-digested food in involuntary upset. Yeah. Hope you’re handy with a shovel!

Curiosity never killed anything, except for maybe a few hours.

~ A Cat Law

Curiosity will always drive your Argolath, along with his loyalty to you. Nothing will ever really change that. With effort— with your effort— he can be shaped into the dragon he was meant to become: he will be the perfect dragon, your perfect dragon, the one made for you and you alone.


There comes that magical moment when a boy starts that transition to manhood, in which the curves and feminine allure of women suddenly EXIST. The same thing happens to dragons, see; and all that clumsy enthusiasm that denotes a boy’s venture into the land of men will mark Argolath’s first few adventures into flying after that shiny green (or gold!) tail.

.. first few .. and second few .. and third few .. Yeah, okay, we’ll admit. Your Argolath? He’s never going to be a suave master of the lovin’ art.

« Oh Erolinyath… You, uh. Sparkle. Like the… uh… stars in the night sky! When they… er.. glow? »

We’re so sorry.

We’re also sorry to those lovely ladies who appreciate that kind of thing, ‘cause he just doesn’t have it. BUT. This task is a dangerous one, but if you care about getting that flight lovin’ yourself, X’vik (or just care about you lifemate not looking like an idiot…) you can CHANGE him.

Or, more to the point, shut him up.

Argolath, Mister Tall Dark And Silent, Mister Mysterious— get him past those horrible, HORRIBLE, absolutely lame pick up lines and compliments, is one helluva sexy dragon when he just shuts up and lets that exquisite grace that classifies him in the skies do the talking. When he’s not worried about using those gruff, dry vocals of his, those spectacular vistas and amazing imagery will take over, scoring him yet more bonus points!

Given that your Argolath is a dragon of intrinsic instinct, he will push himself when chasing after the lovely ladies, throwing himself against the power of wind itself to challenge the ladies with his clumsy moves. When he wins, it will be cause of ridiculous celebration, and long cuddles on his ledge (or the lucky green’s ledge!) for at least three candlemarks before he forgets she ever existed. If he wins a gold flight, well, she’s going to have to constantly remind him to get his butt over to the Sands to watch his kids-to-be!

When he loses? Well, X’vik, that’s what he has you (and the icy water of the High Reaches weyrlake!) for. When the fickle affections of womenkind fail him, it drives in the point that he’s always known, and always will know: you are there for him, and he is there for you, through thick and thin, until the end of time itself.

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X’vik! We hope you have enjoyed reading your Argolath as much as we enjoyed making him! Of course, he is yours now, so play him as you will! We,meanwhile, look forwards to playing with you and Argolath in the future… so, officially, welcome to High Reaches! (Again! xD)

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Name: Rhaeyn, Sutri
Egg Desc: Linny
Dragonet Desc: Rhaeyn
Messages: G'deon, Sutri
Puppeteer: Sutri
Inspiration: G'deon, Rhaeyn, Sutri

Clutchmates: Za’an and green Erolinyath, Kaishori and blue Avirath, S’zin and bronze Karsedreth, B’ayn and brown Hroskuth

Harper's Tale's 58th PC Clutch
High Reaches Weyr's 21st PC Clutch
Linny's gold Kaelidyth and D'ren's bronze Aikuonath
December 5th, 2010

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