S’len’s Don’t Need No Damned Directions Blue Cimarroth

I'm a shooting star leaping through the skies
Like a tiger defying the laws of gravity
I'm a racing car passing by like Lady Godiva
I'm gonna go go go
There's no stopping me

I'm burning through the skies, yeah!
Two hundred degrees
That's why they call me Mister Fahrenheit
I'm trav'ling at the speed of light
I wanna make a supersonic man of you
— Queen, Don’t Stop Me Now

Clutching Pose

Aevryscienth glares at the galleries. And lays three more. What is this— the rule of three? All Nylanth's fault. ALL. NYLS. FAULT. You understand this, yes? She buries them almost as quickly as they are laid.

Please Put On More Clothes Egg

Overly-confident in its size, this large oblong egg screams for attention in every bright stripe of color that bands its gaudy shell: brilliant berry blues and lime greens slice apart the red-fruit crimson of one end, whilst shiny golden citrus and orangey mango bronze splatters up against the jagged cut of ripe banana-brown that cuts the egg in two. This fruit salad of color almost appears to bulge and ripple beneath the ties of black elastic that struggle to contain all these garish, tawdry hues.

Hatching Message

Please Put On More Clothes Egg rocks out with its… shell out! While the garishly colored egg may, in fact, need to put more clothes on, the occupant inside would disagree with the world. Or is that, would agree only with his own view of events, and that’s that? A rumble of approval from Aevryscienth doesn’t phase the belligerent-looking blue left standing in the wreckage: oh, come on, mom. For the last time, I don’t need your help! That’s right, world: Don’t Need No Damned Directions Blue Dragonet is here to find his own way. Better watch out.

Don’t Need No Damned Directions Blue Dragonet

Faded slate overcasts the blue of his hide, masking fault and definition alike – at a glance there is little to draw the eye amid the gray-washed angles of a smallish frame. Sparks of steeled silver gleam against the broad plane of his shoulders and the near-translucent 'sails of narrow backswept wings, though, offering some hint to the tensile strength beneath. The sleek athleticism of his frame is best revealed at those points where the stormcloud sheen runs to darkness: smoky blue-black crests the inelegant profile of his long face, tracks the trail of blunted neckridges to lay a narrow stripe clear down his spine, spills down the restless, rangy lines of legs and his low-set tail.

Public Impression Pose

Don't Need No Damned Directions Blue Dragonet is starting to get frustrated here. At this rate, he'll never find a candidate that meets his standards. Damp claws dig and stomp with sudden frustration at this turn of events, and the blue swings his wings aloft into the air as he gives a small squawk of displeasure. But wait! What was that flash of bright red? Shiny! This dragonet is bridging the distance to the candidate sporting that ridiculous mop of hair. You! You will do.

Private Impression Message

An arid stretch of grayish sky towers over the Sands, and all else fades away but a peculiar-looking cloud, far above. It moves. Do you? « Can’t you use your head for something other than holding up that ree-diculous amount of hair, Shirley? » drawls a snide voice. And it is… In. Your. Head. With the dry heat of prairie—not Sands—about you, you suddenly realize that you’re not alone, either. There is.. « Cimarroth, » is filled in, ringing with condescending independence. « And just in case you missed it, » because he knows you’re slow like that, « You’re S’len. Now, are you done gaping, kid? I need some food. And don’t tell me where it’s at. I can find it my own damned self. »

Salen. We’ve dealt with you through thick and thin. Through long hair and… long hair. Hope you’re not too attached to that, by the way, because it’s the first thing to go SNICKA SNACK once the shock and awe is over! THAT horrifying thought aside, we loved having you as a resident, a guard-wannabe, and an assortment of assistants: and now we sit in gleeful anticipation of all the troub—er, fun that you’ll manage to weasel into as a weyrling, and rider! So here we bring you Cimarroth, your partner-in-crime… and can we say, ‘good luck’?

Egg Inspiration

I’m a fan of ‘Scrubs’, and though ‘The Todd’ is probably my least favorite character on the TV show, I am impressed with his ability to wear a ‘banana hammock’ as his underwear of choice. They are always hideous. They are always bright. And they always just make me want to Look Away! Look away now!

Theme Inspiration

Women have rules, but men do, too. One of the most paramount: never stop and ask for directions. No maps! No GPS! They know where they’re going, dammit! ..or, like Cimarroth, they’d like to think so. Your blue is based off one of the Men’s Rules (“Christopher Columbus didn’t need directions, and neither do we.”) – what could be more fitting for a brash blue who’s determined to think that he’s Always Right? He’s also influenced heavily by Spirit, the eponymous mustang from the film Spirit: Stallion of the Cimarron, and Dr. Perry Cox from Scrubs.

Description Inspiration

Most of his physical appearance is taken from the idea of a feral horse – a grullo or blue roan, to be exact, with that grayish sheen to him and darker shading at the points, including the grullo’s characteristic dorsal stripe.

Blue roan: HYPERLINK "http://i4.photobucket.com/albums/y132/TeamNokota/BlueMoon06-02.jpg?t=1247085743" http://i4.photobucket.com/albums/y132/TeamNokota/BlueMoon06-02.jpg?t=1247085743
Grulla: http://www.hopespringsrmh.com/images/Spanish%20Sundown%20New2%20WEB.jpg

Build-wise, he’s modeled off the American mustang, too: smallish, but hardy and athletic, with little of the refinement that marks other breeds. Function dictates form, though, and despite his lack of prettiness, you’ll be hard-pressed to find anything physical that he can’t do.

Name Inspiration

The Cimarron is a river in the Western United States, which runs through Oklahoma and New Mexico - and also refers to a name of a town in Kansas. Ironically, the word 'cimarron' actually means (among other things), 'wild, untamed, and unbroken' in Spanish, depending on how exactly you translate it. We feel that this is superbly fitting, considering how far your Cimarroth is far from a genteel, well-mannered dragon! You wanted a shorter, easier name, and though we tossed aside only a few hundred possibilities, when the name "Cimarroth" came up, we went, "Um, and why didn't we just pick this to begin with?" We hope you like it: Cimarroth, your freedom-driven wild dragon!


Crisp, clear, and well-paced: Cimarroth’s baritone isn’t loud, per se, but if he’s talking, every listener had better be getting his point – and if one doesn’t get the point, he has no qualms about repeating it, over and over, in increasingly creative (read: insulting) ways. /He/ knows what he’s talking about – if someone else doesn’t understand, well, clearly there’s something wrong with /them./ Nicknames come more readily to him than actual names, and you’ll be one of his favorite targets. Impression might be one of the last times you’ll hear the word ‘S’len’ from Cimarroth – he’ll enjoy trying out new names on you as often as he thinks of them, and he’s all for throwing in a girl’s name for those times when he thinks you’re acting especially unmanly.

The backdrop to all this is surprisingly serene. Think prairie. Think wild, wild west. Cimarroth’s mindvoice is all dusty tans and sunbleached green-grays, grit and dry winds. A tumbleweed or two wouldn’t go amiss. And over it all lies the scent of sawmills and old metal, combined with that indistinct warm smell particular to living things – part horse farm, part hardware store. That metallic tang will seep in more strongly as he gets worked up, edged by the ozone-y smell of an approaching storm, thunderheads rolling in.


Cimarroth’s on the small side for a blue, compact but not bulky with muscle – think of a steel spring as opposed to an anvil – built deep through the chest, with those narrow swept-back wings you asked for. Long steady flight will never be his forte, but he’ll be able to spin and dive at a second’s notice; his more abrupt midair maneuvers will elicit the same stomach-dropping lurches as roller coasters and bucking broncos, much to the chagrin of any passengers he might have at the time. He knows as well as anyone the risks of these sorts of stunts, though, and he’ll want to practice long and hard to perfect them – with or without you aboard.

Turk: How do you do it, man? How do you stay in shape?
Dr. Cox: It's called discipline. Some of us work on our appearance.
— Scrubs

He always prefers being in motion to staying still, a habit which translates easily into a serious dedication to physical work; it’s like a twitch or a tic, but on a much larger scale. As a result, he’ll be among the first weyrlings in your class to master drills, on the ground and in the air. He’s just one of those kinetic beings to whom motion makes more sense than anything else. If he was a human, he’d be one of those people who jogs or works out to clear their minds. Accordingly, Cimarroth will never be an easy keeper – his particular brand of intensity burns a lot of calories! – and especially through the first few turns, it may be difficult cramming enough food into him to keep him from getting ribby.


Dr. Cox: You know what they say about your first instincts.
Elliot: Yeah: You should always stick with them. Shouldn't you?
Dr. Cox: Should you?
Elliot: Should I?
Dr. Cox: "Should I?" You'll have plenty of time to think about it on the bench, because that's where you're headed.
— Scrubs

Cimarroth is all about snap judgments. Anything he’s presented with is assessed, right then and there, and once he’s decided he’s right about it – because, as he’ll find frequent occasions to inform you, Cimarroth is always right about *everything*— High Reaches will be hard pressed to find a dragon with the testicular fortitude to stand up to him. Luckily for you, S’len, his instincts are actually largely correct, and they’ll only get better as he grows older and more willing to draw from your experience as well as his own. But as a young dragon – ha! Philosophy, indecision, systematic and rational discussion with others: these are ideas that never make it to your blue’s brain, and others who indulge in them are just waiting to be criticized, in his eyes. He certainly doesn’t need their wishy-washy thoughts dragging him down!

In fact, it might seem that he doesn’t need anyone else at all, wishy-washy thoughts or otherwise. He’s not one to rebel for rebellion’s sake, but he is fiercely independent, and just as cocky. It’s not that the rules are meant to be broken – it’s just that they’re more guidelines than rules to begin with. And since, as he’ll so frequently tell you, he’s so much better than his peers anyway, it just doesn’t occur to him that they’d apply to him – or you. (Consider it one of the perks of association.)

One of the more annoying ways this independence will manifest is in his dislike of riding straps: he won’t accept anything but the best leather, the plushest padding and the most precise adjustments, and even so, he’ll demand that they be taken off as soon as your feet hit the ground. Beware the temptation to leave them on for ‘just another minute’ – Cimarroth has no qualms about trying to remove those straps himself, with methods that are alike only in how destructive they are. In fact, he’s not above trying to convince you that straps aren’t necessary at all.

« What’re you afraid of, falling to your death? Man up, Sally. »

Unlike some dragons (or people) who might be brash and in-your-face as a means of covering up some fundamental insecurity, Cimarroth isn’t compensating: his personality really is based around a bone-deep confidence that He Is Awesome, a self-belief that toes the line between assured and outright narcissistic. Don’t be surprised if you end up getting caught up and swept along in the slipstream of that self-assurance – he’s got enough to spare. “Can’t” and “boundary” are, accordingly, two words that just don’t exist in his vocabulary. He’ll forever be coming up with bad (or worse) ideas that it’ll be your job to keep him from actually carrying out.

« Hey, S’len. Think I could fly to Timor? »
»Don’t be dumb, Cimarroth. That idea is ridiculous…«
« Stand back, then. I’m going to make history here in a sec. »

Oh, I heard the sad sigh, I see your shoulders are slumped, and I'm aware that you have some whiny-ass problem that you want to talk to me about because you probably think it'd be cathartic to get it the hell off your chest but believe me it won't be. What you've got to do, for me, is the healthy thing. Keep all of your feelings bottled up inside where they so belong!
–- Dr. Cox, “Scrubs”

Feelings will be a particular point of contention between the two of you: when he’s not enjoying baiting you (he can’t help himself! It’s so easy!), he’ll be exasperated at the fact that you dwell on your emotions at all. He’s a dragon of action, not of sentiment – he doesn’t want to sit around thinking, he wants to get out and go go go! - and he judges, rather harshly, others who don’t operate in the same way.

Naturally, then, esteem isn’t something he hands out lightly. (With the notable exception of his mom. Aevryscienth, he will both despise and love from the start: if he’ll be one of the first to stand up to her, he’s also one of the first to back off. She brought him into this world, and he knows that she’ll take him out!) Rys aside, though, if someone wants his regard, they have to earn it – and that includes you, S’len. « Show me what you got, Shirley, » will become a familiar refrain, so you’d better get used to hearing it. The respect you earn from Cimarroth will reflect the amount of work you put into every part of your life. From the dedication you put into wing duties to the most mundane of tasks, like throwing firestone bags, the effort exuded must be 110% or none at all. You’ll find yourself having to do twice the work other weyrlings are doing to quell Cimarroth’s insatiable need for doing everything to his standards. And don’t think you can bluff your way out of it; this dragon can smell bullshit a mile away.  

I'm giving you on count of three
To show your stuff or let it be …
I'm telling you, just watch your mouth
I know your game, what you're about
Your lyin' eyes gonna take you right
So listen up, don't make a fight
Your talk is cheap, you're not a man
You're throwin' stones to hide your hands
But they say the sky's the limit
And to me that's really true
And my friends, you have seen nothin'
Just wait 'til I get through …
— Michael Jackson, Bad

Think you’re bad? Think you’re really secure about your abilities regarding… well, anything? Think again! Cimarroth is going to have you constantly second-guessing yourself, pushing you to prove your worth rather than taking your word for it; a simple reassurance will never be enough to satisfy his high expectations.  It isn’t that Cimarroth is driven to be a perfectionist for some higher ideal. Unlike other dragons whose drive to be the best is in direct correlation to their dedication to the Weyr, Cimarroth’s motives are purely for the betterment of himself and you. He wants you to do your best because that’s what /he/ would do, naturally. What’s the point of doing anything if you aren’t giving it your all? Go big or go home.  It’s an attitude that serves him well, anyway, given that the world is one big competition for Cimarroth — or at the very least, a glorified talent show.

« Look at Aikuonath over there. Thinks he’s got some pretty sweet flying moves. Compared to me, his moves are e-le-mentary. » 

In fact, not many will ever hear a word of praise out of this blue. Approval is something rarely lavished on anything, including you, S’len, and when you hear it, you can be sure that he means it with all of his being. But don’t expect him to dwell on the moment—as soon as he’s done acknowledging your achievements, he’s hurtling towards the next milestone. After all, the sky is the limit for the two of you.  

« Impressive catch, slick. But next time, let’s do it blindfolded. »


I'm a rocket ship on my way to Mars
On a collision course
I am a satellite I'm out of control
I am a sex machine ready to reload
Like an atom bomb about to
Oh oh oh oh oh explode
I'm burning through the skies, yeah!
Two hundred degrees
That's why they call me Mister Fahrenheit
I'm trav'ling at the speed of light
I wanna make a supersonic woman out of you.
— Queen, Don’t Stop Me Now

If you think Cimarroth oozes self-confidence now, just wait until he starts chasing after those sweet honey greens. No need to seduce those girls with sweet words or soft smiles, oh no — this blue will lay it all out on the table for you. He’s awesome, and every female on this side of Pern is going to want a piece of this. Naturally. There’s no need to pull out the bells and whistles to impress the ladies, because in Cimarroth’s mind, he’s already the bee’s knee. Anyone who doesn’t think so is just a basket case.

His penchant for daring acrobatics, with rollercoaster swoops and dives, makes this blue one who will chase fast and wild, and catch often. He’ll never be one to stick around for long after a flight; perfection’s got to be shared, after all, so don’t be surprised if you wake up to a new face in your bed often. Don’t worry, though; Cimarroth will make sure to defuse the situation for you.

« Thanks for the good time, baby-cakes. Anytime you need a reminder of the best you’ve ever had, come my way again, you hear? »

And while he may not admit it, on those rare occasions when Cimarroth does lose a flight, he will take it to heart. There will be a lot of ranting and raving. You may find yourself consoling him, explaining to him that it wasn’t him, it was her. The thought of being turned down is nearly incomprehensible for a dragon with such boundless self-confidence and ego. But don’t worry; he always seems to bounce back. Eventually.

Through and through, Cimarroth is yours, regardless of what differences that will find themselves between you two. And there will be a lot of difficult situations. Don’t doubt it. We hope you love him as much as we have loved creating him. Welcome to cult of riding at High Reaches Weyr, S’len! And good luck. You’re going to need it.


Name: Rhaeyn
Egg Desc: Johara
Dragonet Desc: V’arik
Messages: Rhaeyn, V’arik, Iasri
Puppeteer: Iasri
Inspiration: V’arik, Iasri, Rhaeyn

Linny and Gold Kaelidyth, M’tej and Brown Temyrth, D’ren and Bronze Aikuonath

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