Rade's Knight of the Hale-Bopp Brown Azrieth

Lost Spaceship Egg

Infinite charcoal engulfs, lost with specks of burning heat — pulsating — dripping of life from other worlds. Aimlessly steering along vacancy, upon a pit of nothing, burns a single luminous shape of silver, propelled in the medium sturdiness of eggshell, ever stirring through the endless space of dispirit.

Hatching Message

Lost Spaceship Egg pulsates hotter and quicker — silver gleams, moves — erupts! Light lashes off damp dragonet hide, only to fall into the darkness of his hue. Brown? Just barely. He shrugs off the shell — its encumbrance a bygone memory — and pauses dramatically, head turning to sweep all with a burning gaze more knowing than any just-born creature should have.

Knight of the Hale-Bopp Brown Dragonet

Dark, brooding, handsome — the shadowy hues of night-draped trees flicker about this charismatic dragonet like a cape. A narrow, pitch-touched muzzle leads to prominent eyes and up his aquiline profile to the quirk of his polished headknobs. From here, darkest sepia and sharper, comet-burnt brown lurk along his long, lean neck to sweep into the scruff of a railbone chest and low, rambling hindquarters, trailing finally to the tip of his wickedly tapered tail. Whiplash-lean, imposing, and indolent, he carries himself like a little Lordling 'neath that rainment of velvety hide and high-flung shock of richly fired sails: wings flare, dangerous and wild from those long and spindly spars.

Private Impression Message

Like a wicked thought, Azrieth insinuates himself into your mind so easily you don't notice him at first. Then soft silver and deep black begin to twine with rich gold throughout your mind, and he speaks. Mild, amused, dripping with a multitude of other things you can't quite grasp. « Step out of the shadows and into the sun, loosen up and have little fun… I /am/ Azrieth. /We/ are.» And you find he is right.

Zirade, Rade! You were part of our hearts already, but welcome home! You've practiced with the kids of High Reaches, but with any luck, Azrieth will challenge you to new heights.

Name Inspiration

Azrieth in and of itself has no inherent meaning, but we sure liked it and tried to get vowels in there for you. :) We started off with Esrieth and then decided to play some more, and added in a bit of Smurf-famous Azreal (Gargamel's cat), and, well, here he is!


Like mellow rain in the night, it is a comforting sound, a gentle flow easy on the ears, compelling to listen to even when you thought you didn't want any noise. Not adult, not childlike, it hovers on the border between them. The colors he brings to it are deep, multi-layered, and ever-so-slightly muted, cascading into one another in such a way as to be nearly imperceptible.


He's strong, wiry though he is. Don't be fooled by appearances; his long, lean form is fast — and not too bad at maneuvering, either. Sure, he has a bit of trouble at first, and he grows like a pole bean during adolescence, but that lanky brown is /never/ clutzy. Contorted, caught in odd positions, yes. Graceful, always, his image and reputation are things he pays constant careful attention to. Come time for his first kill, and he'll be quick and sure. Come time for his first flight as a chaser, and he'll blood vampire-style, then follow, stronger than ever, as a firm contender.


To you, he says things like 'Forget not that the earth delights to feel your bare feet and the winds long to play in your hair' (Kahlil Gibran, 1883-1931, Syrian-American painter and poet.) Or 'The one day recalls us to hills and meadows, to moss, roses, dirt, apples, and the breathing of timothy — away from the yellow chair, from blue smoke and daydream. (Donald Hall, 1928-?, American poet.) But he, like Nature, is 'not only what is visible to the eye — ' he 'shows the inner images of the soul — the images on the back side of the eyes.' (Edvard Munch, 1863-1944, Norwegian painter and printmaker.)

He would like to follow Robert Frost's 'Into My Own' if it wouldn't take so much energy, but first will set you on the path to becoming sure of who you are. Not, he is certain, a nanny any longer. You are his now, and his you shall remain, forever changed from what you were, if he has his way. Oh, he's charming enough that none will realize his manipulating, shrewd personality until it's too late, when they would rather stay within his grasp… He denies any mental growth of his own, claiming to have sprung, whole, from the egg. Grow up? He doesn't need to. Get bigger? Nah. He doesn't get bigger. Nor his clutchmates. (They're all growing at the same rate to him, which in his eyes means they aren't growing.)

He's not arrogant, just very sure of himself. He knows his limits, though — and yours, too. All of them, down to the tiniest detail. Cunning, charismatic, he knows enough to do only what he must, and not an iota more. A leader, he directs his faithful followers from the sidelines, but he knows what times to pick to participate and impress the greens and golds. He likes doing that. He won't let you treat him as a child, and may even force you to admit to reacting to people that way. Somewhere down the road he might even persuade you that people like you better if you just accept that the world is not full of overgrown, recalcitrant children.

He has a side that's faintly feral, dark but star-streaked; another that's reflective of both your moods. There are more, multi-faceted as his talents, but you'll have to find those for yourself. He's stubborn. He gives the appearance of being aloof, uncaring, when he cares — cares deeply, entirely. Not that he'd let anyone but his closest confidants know that, of course. He lives life to the fullest, each day. He fights Thread with skill and daring, seeming to know where it is even when logically he couldn't have. To him it is The Prey. Made to sear, die, be destroyed — but not at the cost of injury to any except him.

Azrieth will like an eyrie. High, high up, as high as he can go and stay in the weyr. Where he can lurk. Watch. Know. Brood. Breathe the cooler, higher air. Not that there's a lack of it in the Reaches, but he likes heights. He might take you way way up there until it's hard for you to breathe, exulting all the way. Where shadow meets night, where the blood boils hotter for the chilling surroundings. But it's for you that he'll come back down, that he'll temper the wilder instincts that rise to the fore… even though he won't admit to any such thing.

Reference stuff:

The poem 'Into My Own' by Robert Frost.
Anything by Edvard Munch, Khalil Gibran and Donald Hall.
'Dragon Bait' and 'Companions of the Night' by Vivian Vande Velde
'The Silver Kiss' by Annette Curtis Klause
'The Darkangel' and 'A Gathering of Gargoyles' and 'The Pearl of the Soul of the World' by Meredith Ann Pierce
'Lost Girls' in Jane Yolen's 'Twelve Impossible Things Before Breakfast'.
Also see the character Angel in the TV series 'Buffy the Vampire Slayer'.


Name: Catia and Nuff
Egg Desc: You!
Dragonet Desc: L'shil and Nuff
Messages: ?
Puppeteer: ?
Inspiration: L'shil, Jh'ral

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