T'sin's Father of Virtue Bronze Dhavalth

Doomed Age of Chivalry Egg

Thick shadows boil over the eggshell, but the darkness is ensnared by an iridescent web of chivalrous gold: a steadfast skein of sunlight to push back the riotous night, and bring lurking forest-shaded tendrils into the full, bright blossoms of legend. Royal blue pulses at the egg's crown, dominating the more delicate, velvet whispers of apricot and lavender. But the pastelled shades suggest no pale insipidity; rather, they liven the more sombre hues with the light and laughter of a glorious and golden age.

Hatching Message

Doomed Age of Chivalry Egg has held out to the bitter end, but all of the kings' horses and all of the kings' men can't protect or prevent the lightning-strike crack that calls responsibility for the breaking down in the last of all defenses. Spearpoint shards are pitched into the sands surrounding, and when chaos dims, the revelation fading into shadow and dust, only Father of Virtue Bronze Dragonet stands amid the fallen.

Father of Virtue Bronze Dragonet

The timeless strain of burnished copper, perpetually dull, casts a shadow over warmer pools of white light. Eternal opposites, darkness and light, together they spiral across the suede-soft 'hide to compliment the heavy, tangibly powerful musculature beneath that shroud. From hindquarters to haunches, he appears barrel-like in form, lithe and sturdy. Those hindquarters lead upward, predictably, into the firmness of his stomach and withers' beginning curve. Flame mellows into softer shades of tan and gold, stretching out across the blackened 'spars that serve as both mount and showcase for broad, caramelized wingsails. Throat and neckridges are settled in richer hues, darkness becoming prominent once more in hints of oak and ochre, these lending color to muzzle and draconic features - especially the wide, ridged eyes, lit with sparks of black, very much alive with a true fire for life.

Private Impression Message

Like the swirling essence that first shaped the world, it begins, merging with the farthest reaches of your consciousness. The faint brush of an angel's kiss brings light - blinding, dazzling, 'till the bustle around you fades into nothingness. Pressed into a void where nothing but the subtle scents of pine and smoke exist, everything is wonderously calm and alarmingly unsettling at once, for a moment. And then, richer, sweeter, thicker than the most decadent fudge comes the baritone roll of reassurance - « T'sin. » - followed by a tangibly patient pause. « I am Dhavalth, T'sin, and we have much to do. »

We have given you our impressions of your dragon, but he is yours to develop and love however you see fit. We hope that you have as much fun playing him as we have had getting to know you, and writing this for you.


As elegant as his scent are the cultured tones of his mindvoice: like the uisce beatha of the old Gaelic tradition (meaning, literally, 'water of life'), so, too, his voice combines a mellow, honeyed smoothness with a fiery clarity that can sear or soothe in equal measure. Uisce beatha is the ancient term for whiskey, and his voice — like the drink — will mellow further with age until, in his sunset turns, he'll sound like pure gold. There's the faintest lilt to his words too — more a cadence than any accent — which flavours his voice still more. And when there's a gold or green to be chased, or when he's feeling particularly close to you, the timbre of his voice will soften… sweeten… into the more dulcet flavours of honeyed mead. But he's never syrupy or cloying; gallant, yes, but when he offers a compliment, it is no false flattery. That whiskey-sharp edge holds too much honesty for any empty words to ring true.


Dhavalth's scent, both body and mind, is the subtle, yet spicy tang of mulled wine that sinks straight to your toes and warms you from the bottom up. It's a meld of fresh-broken cinnamon sticks, crushed nutmeg and clove-studded citrus, with a teasing note of vanilla all threaded through the intensity of rich red wine. Yet his scent cannot be so easily dissected into its component parts: like mulled wine, the ingredients combine in some way to become more than simply the sum of the parts — it's an elegant, courtly signature that speaks of age-old gallantry and a true gentleman's soul.


Dhavalth is big for a bronze, larger even than his golden clutchmate Chayath! Though you might be proud of this fact, Dhavalth will never be vain about it; instead he will take it in stride. Despite his immense strength, he is gentle and caring towards others, always conscious of his bulk and the risk of causing inadvertent harm. He can fly for hours without tiring, great sweeps of his broad wings carrying you both into the unknown, making it the familiar. Strength, power, endurance: these are his great assets and ones you will both learn to utilize.

Just as he is cloaked in darkness of color, a certain mystery shrouds him in its misty depths, creating an aura of intensity and character that other bronze dragons may lack. Even to you, Taliesin, there will be a bit of a mystery to Dhavalth, some element of the way he looks or that special glance he gives that will always keep you on your toes.

He's able to follow Threadfall very well, and he will do so not because he wants to show off, but because he feels he needs to rescue the world. When he leads his wing or even just moves up in the ranks, it's because he sees the problems that Thread causes and feels the need to 'rescue' non-riders from its 'evils'. <> He takes it for granted that he is large and powerful, and uses his stamina to his advantage against Thread.

He does not worry about Thread marring his hide and will never complain if he ever gets scored, because he has not an ounce of vanity in his looks, even though you, Taliesin, may find much to be proud of in that burnished hide. Dhavalth is not one to demand endless bathings and oilings, though he enjoys the sense of companionship that they give you both; time spent with you and solely you is deeply precious to him.


Dhavalth is a very serious dragon, though not without the occasional lapse into mischief. He is not sombre, merely steadily curious about the world around him. <> Constantly learning, his questions will plague you many a night, though they will often make you laugh as well. He is thoughtful sometimes to the point of appearing distracted; though whenever quick action is needed he's alert and swift to perform.

He is courtly, chivalrous, playful and independent. A born leader, he will no doubt rise to wingleader some day, and be more than worthy of that post (though of course his rider's disposition is equally important in attaining such a rank). <> He commands without being domineering - with his sheer size, that's rather unavoidable - and is very charismatic even in his criticisms. He attracts attention, he does not force it.

His personality is fluid rather than static; like the steady force of the wind, perhaps, fierce and constant, but changing directions with little warning. But he is not flighty, he merely sees the need for a change and executes that change. And hopefully the change will never be something that is completely adverse to you, Taliesin. His sudden desire for only a certain breed of herdbeast might be a bit annoying and surprising, but will not take much to get used to. He's accommodating in his desires, not demanding and obsessive.


Dhavalth is no free and easy Lothario; notches on his couch (or your bedpost) mean nothing to him. Dragons may not be so monogamous as their human riders are able to be, but Dhavalth, at least, makes a good effort. He's selective in the greens and golds he chases — not that his preferences will ever be entirely in correspondence with your own, but at least he's not one to chase everything that rises. He's gallant enough to appreciate any glowing female, mind you, but if he's going to give chase, then there has to be something more to it than pure, blind lust. There's a certain amount of romance lurking there in his soul, and he'll watch the way humans behave, and then compare that to the way the animals in the feed pen rut with total impartiality, and refuse to accept that he must be like them. After all, he eats animals; he loves a human (that's you, by the way). You are his lifemate, and the dearest creature to him in the whole of the universe, and if he can offer devotion to a single lifemate, then why not, he will reason, a single mate? Not that it will always work that way; instinct is instinct, after all. But he will definitely tend to focus his attentions on one female — gold or green — at a time, and even if those affections only last for a sevenday or two, there won't be another female on the planet, so far as he's concerned, during that time. Which might get awkward for you, if you don't happen to be as partial toward the rider of Dhavalth's latest amour.

Should he catch a gold, and thereby sire a clutch, those affections will linger far longer than otherwise. So you're definitely in a pickle if that particular gold's rider isn't your cup of tea. In fact, he'll always hold a certain fondness for her ever after: those deep feelings forever cemented by the birth of their mutual children. And he'll remember his eggs, too — and in fact might even refer to them as such, even when their own children's children have laid children. « See that fine bronze out there? That's my egg. » To the overwhelming embarrassment, no doubt, of said bronze. « Fa/ther/!»

Dhavalth in a single quote:

"I hope I never do anything without due thought - even if the thought sometimes has to shift its feet pretty briskly to keep up with the deed."
— Cadfael to Hugh Beringar from the novel "One Corpse Too Many"


Name: Areiah
Egg Desc: Silvera (Ista Weyr), Saoirse tweak
Dragonet Desc: Areiah, D'renn tweak
Messages: Areiah
Puppeteer: Areiah
Inspiration: Areiah

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