B'ayn's Evergreen's Mighty Reach Brown Hroskuth

Oh, Braigdyn! Baby! Or should we say B’ayn now? We’re all so glad that you came here and brought your entertaining writing, your sense of humor and your marvelous mustache with you! Here’s your Man’s Man dragon, Hroskuth, a Viking and workhorse with a pinch of Old Spice Man - we hope you have as much fun riding him as we did MAKING him and that he makes you want to put down deep, deep roots here. We love you man and welcome to the mad world of HRW - RIDER’S edition!

Sleep is for the Weak! Egg
Uniformly blue-black in color, faint outlines of shapes and things can be seen in it's dark coloring, though it is hard for the eye to make out. The egg shell is smooth to the touch, though, and holds to a shape that's near perfect in egg uniformity. On the eastern horizon, the glimmer of light appears, washing the shell in the faintest of lighter blues, as if dawn were just around the corner. With the dawn, come the regrets.

Hatching Message:
Sleep is for the Weak! Egg rocks ever so slightly in the sand. It starts as a crack, that branches into striations and stress lines through the shell itself, bisecting through the coming dawn. A sliver of eggshell falls away, revealing for a single instant a glittering and glowing eye peering from the darkness to the world without. The inner eyelid blinks once as a hush comes upon the egg before it shatters in a single, forceful move that sprays Candidates and dragonets alike in gooey debris. Still standing in the evidence of his manly prowess over sleep’s deprivation is Evergreen’s Mighty Reach Brown Dragnet.

Evergreen’s Mighty Reach Brown Dragonet
Gutted from the earth, gnarled talons sprout from the thick base of russet limbs tapering to narrow joints in arachnid splay. Belying the tangled growth of legs, the hearty woodlands of stalwart frame hunkers low to the ground, burnt umber lurking beneath the rugged expanse of mottled redwood, inking in crevices etched in shadow. A felled mass, broad chest swells into the stocky breadth of shoulders, swallowing the density of squat neck, his robust build abruptly ended at the rounded stump of tail. Massive head continues in brawn, not beauty: lower jaw boxes in his face, jutting with its savage under bite of crooked fangs, while upturned snout fronts blunt muzzle, his beady eyes lost under mountainous peaks of heavy brow. His unseemly forbearers, mahogany wings aspire to heights unknown in the slender length of branches, short width of fragile membrane, and spars snowcapped in icy winter’s chill.

Public Impression Pose:
Evergreens Mighty Reach Brown Dragonet hauls the bulk of himself along with robust ease, weight and might carried light across the black sands, great head swivels in rocky majesty. He looks at one Candidate, then back to himself, then /back/ to the Candidate, then BACK to himself. Sadly, this Candidate is not meant for him, but perhaps if he just looks a little further he could /find/ the right one for himself. Look down, look /up/! THERE. Like a beacon in the night, the majesty of what surely must be residual PHANTOM mustache calls to manly sensibility. Because he is all over that. And powers towards it with relentless certainty.

Private Impression Message:
Up, up, up! Sands’ heat disappears along with the shifting terrain beneath your soles. Rocketed into the air, the world spins, cold seeping into your bones. A creak; a tree limb snaps, dumping snow over your head. « B’ayn! » Rumbling bass permeates in a sharp whiff of cedar, and the scent of the wilderness holds steady. A scrub of pine needles tickles your cheek, and rugged bark presses in as a branch against your back in firmer assessment of this manly specimen before him. « Look down! Look up! Look back at me! Anything is possible when you’re men like us! » The roots of camaraderie reach deep, mighty evergreen standing tall in your head, constant and strong as snowy boughs stretch across a vale of pure blue sky punctuated by icy chill. « I am Hroskuth .» That, that is all, the odors of spiced pine lingering in his wake, branches moaning in a protest of growing hunger.

Theme Inspiration:
In the spirit of the season and the cold weather creeping up on all of us, we decided to make winter the overall theme for this clutch. Now, winter may conjure images of pristine landscapes captured in snowbound beauty, the delicacy of every individual snowflake, or the crystalline fragility of icicles, but for you, we needed to find something masculine! Foregoing the homey comforts of warm hearth fires, roasting chestnuts, spiced cider, and holiday gaiety as well, we turned to the harsh, unforgiving wilderness where only a man can survive!

That’s right, what best encapsulates that air of testosterone than the forest, where man ventures off to camp, hunt, test his fortitude, hunt, sleep on frozen ground, forget to bathe, camp, and, uh, other manly things!? You know what we mean! So, from the woods, we took the mighty evergreen as a basis for your Hroskuth, with its hardy pine needles that refuse to yield to winter’s icy will and maintain their color, despite a difficult environment. We felt the evergreen very aptly portrayed all that is manly as a pillar of strength and majesty in a snow-covered forest, ever-reaching for the sky, but never bending nor submitting to the trying elements. While the snow may gather on his boughs, and his limbs creak and trunk sway when buffeted by arctic winds, never will your Hroskuth give up in the face of all odds. Like the evergreen, like the mighty warrior, like a man’s man, he will overcome any obstacle in his path, and always with his sturdy resolve intact.

Yes, your Hroskuth is very much like the stubborn evergreen, towering above other trees and holding fast to its color, and together, he and B’ayn will make a powerful duo; a force to be reckoned with that never bothers to stop and ask for directions. Pretty manly, right?

Name / Name Inspiration:
Hroskuth! It started out much longer, but given your criteria of “short,” “strong,” and most importantly, “Manly” (capital M!), we finally honed it down to just “Hroskuth.” Taken apart, Hroskuth’s name separates into two words that define your mighty brown perfectly: Hroth, and skoruligr. A compilation of Old Norse, with a dash of Beowulf thrown in for that epic, masculine warrior-feel, we took bits and pieces of all of these to end up with our final product.

In the tale of Beowulf, king Hrothgar is described as a powerful military leader whose kinsmen eagerly follow him. Of virtues, he exhibits both honesty and generosity, and is hailed by Beowulf as a “famed king [and] warrior.” When Beowulf later defeats the monster Grendel, it is Hrothgar who rewards him and his men with great treasures. Digging around some more, we also found out that “Hroth” is a proto-Germanic term for “fame” and “glory.” The second part of your dragon’s name, “skoruligr,” is an Old Norse word that translates to “manly.” Thus your Hroskuth’s name more or less stands for “manly glory.”

Composed of guttural sounds and strong syllables without any confusing letter combinations mashed in between, SearchCo nonetheless could not agree on one pronunciation for your manly dragon’s name. So instead, we’ll offer you a variety of ways to say it, and let you choose which one you prefer, or come up with the way it should sound all on your own!

Eth’n: “hhh-ros-kooth”
R’yst: “HROGH-skeuth” (‘gh’ as in Van Gogh)
Y’an: “hrr-ah-skooth”

Egg Inspiration:
Truly, for me, as I sit here and type up this egg description, it's 2:25 AM on a night before a workday. It always seems like a good idea at the time, but invariably I always regret it come the morning. Everyone's had these days of staying up way past when you should, because you were having fun. Sleep is for the weak! — Eth’n

Desc Inspiration:
Think forest! Think trees! Think a tree! Now, imagine a mighty spruce, felled to the ground with thick roots for limbs and snow-powdered branches for wings. This, in essence, is your Hroskuth. With his rugged exterior, gnarly limbs, thick powerful body, massive jaw, and those wings of unlikely size, Hroskuth is one part gronkle, one part giant spruce, one part snow-capped mountains and all parts MAN.

You wanted a manly man and you got one, but each man is given to quirks and physical things that, when looked at individually, might inspire such things as cuteness and grace. See, we took the gronkle and the Old Spice man and thought it would be great to have this hulking, manly dragon with a metrosexual, smooth-talking attitude. And THUS, Hroskuth was born! Woven through this stubby, cute man-thing dragon, is the theme we chose: winter trees. Mighty evergreens laden with snow that watch over a winter forest in quiet contemplation, only to have the exploding sound of sap break through the silence.

Hroskuth… is no simple inspiration. He is so many things, but most of all, he is manly. (Minus the feet. But more on that later!)


Mind Voice:

Vertigo, the edge of biting cold, a near-eternal weight bending snow-piled limbs; the reeling sensation, the burden, and the crisp air are felt, not seen. Dizzying heights fade quickly; they are only the initial shock of adjustment, accompanied and overcome by the rustic scents of the wilderness. This is your Hroskuth. No visual communicator, he expresses himself through the smells, the textures, and the sounds of the forest.

His voice will be a layer of all these things: the creaking of branches, the prickle of pine needles, and the spiced scent of coniferous trees. He will wield the musk of the frozen earth in which he roots himself, the cragged and fractured surface of bark that will lend his voice a rich, husky quality. His actual tone is a rumbling bass, punctured by the discordance of the higher pitches that filters in from the moaning of tree limbs, and always possesses the cold sting of snow that collects in his upper-branches. No mere susurration of leaves to be found here, while his voice may be inconsistent, it is busy and loud and rough, enhanced by the various olfactory appeals he drags in to better convey his mood.

Of course, you being the man to his wilderness, he will at times borrow from your ‘civilized’ background, especially when he is being particularly persistent and is after your attention. You might find the wind-battered protest of tree limbs and shaken pine needles acquire a rustling murmur not dissimilar to the hushed voices of Klah patrons. Or perhaps the slow trickle of pinesap will roll down your back like sweat in memory of a hard day’s worth of labor plucked from your mind.

At his worst, an agitated Hroskuth will speak in a voice stripped of all its usual commotion save for the bursting swell of sap within him that explodes in a shower of splintered wood and with the ear-ringing force of a firearm.
“Cold causes trees to explode by freezing the sap, because it contains water, which expands as it freezes, creating a sound like a gunshot” – Wikipedia.
Yes, a gunshot.



“Gronckles have gigantic heads, short bodies, and round tails.”

~ How To Train Your Dragon, Official Site

Have you ever had a bone wedged between your teeth? No? Maybe a piece of popcorn clinging to your gums, so that it offsets your teeth just enough that you feel it? With that oversized under bite and that mouthful of teeth, no matter how prissy an eater Hroskuth is, sometimes a bone will get wedged in there and you’ll find yourself braving the sharp array of teeth to wiggle it out. But see, this is all in a days work for B’ayn. For no matter how manly and muscular Hroskuth is, he has this special aura of prissy metrosexual in him.

As such, his hide will always have this clean, pine-needle spicy aroma to its natural scent. The slabs of muscle will need to be oiled to perfection by your hand, and no amount of shirking will do! He is not a large dragon, landing on the smaller end in terms of length for a brown, but his mass is all bulk and muscle; there is nothing flabby about your Hroskuth! He is all man. In short, compact form. Think gronkle! Short, squatty, and packs a powerful punch!

« Look at Argolath. Now look at me. Now back to Argolath. Now back to me. Do you see what’s missing here, B’ayn? »

Yes, he will compare the glistening, oiled hides of the other dragons to his own! While he might be the Viking blood brother ready to face the world and its trials, he must go neatly and with his best foot forward. So be prepared to lather, slather, rub, brush, and massage all that slippery goodness into his body. At times, you’ll have to caution him against wing rot lest you oil him too much.

Never a dragon to let his physical form go to waste, were you and he ever to get grounded, never fear! He will drive you to distraction with keeping fit physically. From doing weyrling exercises, to running around the lake; bottom line is this: never are his looks, his physical prowess, to ever be less than manly. And if they ever are…

« B’ayn! » The gunshot echo of a tree’s exploding sap rings in your ears, setting your head to aching and your teeth on edge. « Does Karsedreth smell like me? Does he smell more like adventure than I do? You have been remiss in your duties! »

And from then on, you’re lost. Your manly Hroskuth can fly with the best of them, flame with the best of them, run with the best of them, fight non-existent thread with the best of them, and yes, whine with the best of them. The manliest men are often the greatest whiners when you get them started.

In coloration, he is dark, like tree bark, and is oddly shaped with a big head (and lots of teeth), short body, and a thick tail. Men, however, come in many shapes and sizes and while those wings might look to be a little too tiny to lift him off the ground; you’ll be surprised when they do. You’ll be surprised when that tail doesn’t knock everything over in his wake.

It’s a strange phenomenon, but at times, really bulky men can be light on their feet and at odds with their physical form. This is your Hroskuth. He is medium-sized for a brown, but large in body. Well, round, but that’s not fat! That’s pure, unadulterated, manly muscle. See those greens swooning? Have you ever seen the way the Old Spice man moves from scenery to scenery with nary a stumble? That grace embodied is in the movements of your brown. Somehow, those stomping little feet and thick tail trot nimbly through life, from one experience to another.

We have woven together a tapestry of the Old Spice man, the gronkle and Beowulf to make up your Hroskuth, with a dash of Viking machismo. He stands with his toes slightly turned inward, low to the ground, with that great head of his meeting the world head on. Despite his slightly pigeon-toed stance, he moves smoothly and is, in fact, the very essence of everything that is male.

One thing you’ll have to keep an eye on is that given his predilection to shuffle along the ground, he’ll likely be dragging mud and snow and grasses on his feet. That means… watch out when visiting others! Those dirty feet will leave behind nasty surprises. In the spring? Muddy bootserfoot prints will be splattered about Avirath’s ledge when you get a hankering to visit Kaishori. In the winter, puddles of water are trailed behind when you visit Argolath’s ledge for a quick chat with X’vik. See, Hroskuth won’t think twice about wiping his feet off; he’s a manly man, after all, and the females never look at your feet!

Some days, you’ll return home to find mud and grasses caked between his toes, to which you’ll have to pick and clean them out one by one. You’ll marvel at how utterly cute his feet are too. They’re a little on the small size, which will be a picking point for Hroskuth, with short, rounded talons. The fingers and toes are all widespread so that when he walks, he looks like he has them splayed.

« Hroskuth, your feet are small. You know what they say about small feet… »

In many ways, his stance is based on the gronkle:


.It’s the nearest thing that can be related to his pigeon-toed, small winged, low-carriage walk. So it is always surprising when he moves with the grace of the Old Spice man.

“You… how… did you do that?” You may ask in wonder when Hroskuth easily side steps the vat of oil in the weyrling barracks.

Amusement settles in the timbre of his deep voice, the rustling fall of snow from the evergreen scented branches. The vast vale of powder blue sky is seen through woven branches of near-naked tree limbs. « I just did. »

Not one for eloquence, however, your brown will have amazing control of his body; even weyrlinghood’s clumsiness will mostly pass him by.


Those wings of his? They’re slow growing and in fact, it will take all of your stubborn will to get him to take to the skies at first. The first flight will be an exceedingly interesting venture, because he does have smaller wings compared to his body mass. What this means is, it will give him some amazing skills once he’s in the air, but he will have to learn how to get from the ground to the air and back down again, in his own way. They aren’t too small; flight is not impossible, nor is he deformed, they’re just on the smaller side compared to his mass. Wings, after all, do not gain muscle mass like legs and arms do.

« I am not flying today. » Stubbornness echoes through the silent forest, the scent of conifer and pinecones strong as well as the stinging scent of cold. Pure cold stubborn nature.

“We must,” you might insist, going so far as to try to push against that muscular bulk.

« I cannot. My wings are not yet ready. Who needs to fly anyway? Psh! I can flame from right here. »

His stubborn nature is rooted in fear of showing weakness. Like all men, they cover it up with overbearing attitude and a sudden decision that what they feel they cannot do, they no longer want to do. This, in a nutshell, is your Hroskuth when given to finding something physically challenging.

And then, at the end of the day, after the weyr’s children have marveled at the cuteness of Hroskuth’s feet-prints, you’ll find that going to sleep against that clean, sweet-smelling spiced hide is something of a drug. It will remind you of cold days, warm taverns, and above all else: shelter among the trees.

Hroskuth is a child of High Reaches, inheriting from his dam, the desire for the good oil, not the cheap stuff, as well as her flare for the opposite sex. Perhaps, his drive to keep his physical shape is also a gift from Kaelidyth, for she will absolutely appreciate the work he goes into making himself presentable. And manly. Above all, he is the very heart of the male. Hroskuth is a ladies’ man and he will use his physical looks to his advantage. Shared with his wind-driven sibling, Avirath, is the churn of frozen earth and the shared affinity for coldness. Where Avirath is faint like the wind, Hroskuth lumbers along, but with his bulk, he will always be at home in the snow.

Hroskuth’s unusual balance is a direct gift of his sire, Aikuonath as well as that small hint of brassy, sandy bronze that colors the bottom of Hroskuth’s feet, and between the toes. Something only you will ever see, but like a secret shared between men, it is still a precious discovery.


Opportunity is missed by most because it is dressed in overalls and looks like work.

- Thomas A. Edison

You will quickly find that, like the great trees from which he is based, Hroskuth is a dragon deeply entrenched in his own ways. This isn’t to say that he is incapable of adapting or learning. It’s more to say that once he has decided on what he wants to do, he will do it come hell or high water, rules be damned. He’s not a rebel by nature because his nature never bothered to consider the rules in the first place. There is and there is not. The manly strength of his body is only a pale reflection of the raw, zestful determination of his will; rarely will he shy from adversity or hard work. If anything he may seem to purposely choose the more difficult path in the name of finding a challenge worthy of himself.

» Hroskuth. We only needed to run five laps. We’ve already run seven. «
Pine needles prickle across your cheeks with the sense of a dizzying drop urging you on. « And we can do three more yet. /Come/! You shall see. »

And come snow, sleet, rain or shine, unless you’re really down for a full-on round of head butting, he will show you. While he’s not enthusiastic in a bubbly way, you will find he has a boundless vigor and shameless zest in all things he applies himself to. He’s a workhorse, a glutton for grueling labor to the point you might worry he’s out to kill himself - oh, and you. Because he would have you out working with him every step of the way, with gusto. Think Viking blood brother more than drill-sergeant; this isn’t what he does for work, this is what he does for fun. If he ain’t straining himself to the burning limit, son, it ain’t a party yet.

The glacial bite of refreshing pine locks arms with a spike of acidic cedar, exhilarating down the spine in a sturdy, thriving weight. « Awake, B’ayn! » Boughs creak, straining to pack in as a great arm thumping against your back. « The day /awaits/. »

It’s neither arrogance nor ambition that drives him to do this; he is not driven for More as Ysvarth is nor is he trying to show off. It’s simply a dissatisfaction at doing less than he knows both he and you are capable of. And he is well aware that the both of you are capable of a lot. Hroskuth does not accept his limitations easily; with the grim determination of a warrior, he will throw his whole being behind any and everything he is trying to do; if he can’t manage a particularly tricky flight pattern, he will doggedly try again and again, long into the night, unashamed (and seemingly unaware) of anyone observing him until he gets it. And once he does? It’s no huge celebration. Merely a simple rumble of personal satisfaction, the sense of those great weighted boughs extending in a mighty stretch, clear out to the ends of his pine needles, a few lumps of snowy powder trickling loose, and then « Ahh. /There/. Now, we go home. »

This nearly blinded inability to face his limitations means he will sometimes exhibit an almost alarming immunity to personal embarrassment. This might lead to some odd breaches in conventional conversation. His blunt, terse manner doesn’t make him any less interested in conversation… it just means he doesn’t often bother to explain himself when he feels inclined to state whatever is on his mind. He sometimes just enjoys sharing, whether it’s about you, the weather, something he’d observed or his own manly virility, it all holds the same interest and warrants the same zesty delivery.

He might announce to Erolinyath by way of greeting, in full ladies’ man vigor, « I have new straps.» Followed promptly by wandering off. Or he could be eating silently for ten minutes and then randomly decide to lift his head and comment to Avirath. « Socks. They are clever. » Because he had been thinking about how much longer you are able to last in runs with him during the winter months because you are able to keep your little (compared to him!) human feet warm. And should Avirath choose to respond coldly, it’s no skin off Hroskuth’s nose; he’s already back to business as usual, finding the content of the ‘conversation’ entirely sufficient. He’s said his piece and thus he will return to eating silently as if nothing had happened.

Speaking of eating! As with all other aspects of his life, Hroskuth is very particular in how and what he eats. You might be surprised to find such a large dragon with such a huge mouth is actually a very delicate eater. He will dine in tidy, neat precision, nipping up his meat in small prissy bites, chewing in thorough rotations of his powerful jaw and swallowing in a way that just might be described as… dainty. His hunting style will reflect this, felling his prey with a single quick stroke like a Viking war hammer, no muss, no fuss. And if he is not able to have things go exactly his way, if his kill does not manage to be swift, if he is rushed to finish eating, if he is crowded or harassed in the pens or if there are dragons around him that are making a mess of their meal, he might just lose his appetite altogether and refuse to eat at all. That’s right, you dragon is a picky, picky eater.

Anyone with gumption and a sharp mind will take measures of two things: what is said and what is done.

- Beowulf, D. H. Crawford translation, 1926

Hroskuth’s indomitable spirit is not one that can be contained to just the two of you, either. He will be just as robust in his encouragement of others. Brimming with an endless pulse of optimism and firm in the idea of strength in unity, he will make himself a pillar of morale in his clutch, leaving no man (or dragon) forgotten. Where energy flags, where uncertainty or anxiety might take the wind from someone’s sails, Hroskuth will be there to loan the firm bump of his shoulder and a vigorous word or two, for dragon or rider alike.

« Erolinyath. Za’an should stand /tall/, he is a man in the prime of youth. »
« So distant and cold, Avirath, you should /join/ us. »

As for whether this advice is appreciated or not will depend on the dragon or person he offers it to. It will hardly seem to matter anyway; Hroskuth might notice and concern himself with the determination and fortitude of his fellows, but he’s not a bleeding heart. He’s a problem solver, and his way of solving a problem involves head butting it to the face. He is ready and raring to tackle any obstacles that get in his way and he will join a comrade in arms in any endeavor that he can to muscle onward to the very end… but if his advice is ignored or even responded to with hostility, then that’s not his business. Also like the mighty tree on which he is based, he will maintain his deep-rooted and stolid vigor to the point he will hardly seem to notice if other dragons have taken offense to him or his views. You can lead a runner to water but you can’t make him drink. And Hroskuth, so dedicated to learn and experience and hone the things he can do has no interest in those things that he cannot.


You see small snatches of it in your Hroskuth daily, that alacrity with females that seems to never falter. That robust and knowing manner in which he addresses them. The way in which negative rebuffs slip off him like water on a duck’s back, the mellow confidence and that shortness of words that, while never aloof, spares him so much of the dangers of coming on too strong.

In flight, this small trickle of smoldering amorous magma erupts into a full-on mega volcano. The coarse texture of tree bark will melt away in his voice, overrun with the thick, rich downward roll of smooth, amber tree sap. Cold, snowy weight will scrub brisk the clean, masculine smell of awakened pine and his voice, while still short and precise in his words, will be running a mile a minute. But there’s a catch.

While other dragons giving chase will be singing praises to the gold or green they pursue, Hroskuth will be very bluntly, clearly and confidently explaining just exactly why HE is the only dragon she could and would ever want, and he seems to have an endless list of increasingly unlikely promises.

« Hello, lady. Do you want a /dragon’s/ dragon? A dragon that can catch you in these rippling, powerful arms and glide you to a ledge of your favorite bedding, with a dish of that meat you love? Or do you want one of these other dragons who fly like /ladies/? These wings? /Powerful/. Look at this tail. Length is /nothing/ to /girth/… »

Yeah. It gets pretty bad. And he just can’t help it, once he gets started. In his enthusiasm, manly oversight backed by good intentions may lead to bold proclamations and offerings. While a suave talker and a true player gifted with stamina and sheer power during flights, his overconfidence and well-entrenched machismo may result in some… less than ideal showering of praises than expected.

« Look! Where are you? In the air, with a man you could be with. Look now, what are these? »

That’s right, in zealous pursuit, he may get ahead of himself in smooth-talking his way into victory with that green or gold, as he dares to offer pinecones in the stead of diamonds. Dusted in snow and glittering in winter delight as they may be, Hroskuth certainly offers no illustrious gems to that hot piece of tail he’s after.

And when he’s done? Well, it’s wrong to say he has no interest in cuddling… if you assume cuddling involves a draconic equivalent of a high-five and a round of applause for both his performance and the lucky lady he’d just caught - like a contestant winning on a game show! Oh, he will enjoy the confirmation of his prowess perhaps more than the spoil and plunder reaped by his efforts herself. That’s not to say, like a REAL man, he doesn’t have that sensitive side.

While brown, you may find your Hroskuth hint at a preference towards golds. That’s the hero in him, borrowing straight from Viking tradition. He has no fear of proving himself with the frequency with which greens rise, but if he were ever to find himself remotely attached to another dragon, it would be to one of the queens, who rise less often and offer a greater sense of commitment. It allows for him to be possessive, like the Viking warriors who valued their wives above all – fighting alongside them in battle and including them in their funeral pyre in the event of death. And to you, B’ayn? Well.

« /You/ are welcome. »

He’s always looking out for you as well, and you may trade off on the position of wingman. You are his blood brother. Expect for your bedroom conquests to be of as great of interest as are Hroskuth’s own. He may be prone to broadcasting them and he will undoubtedly be persistent in sharing the intimate details. You will know his draconic fetishes as well as he may know yours.

« Ladies! I like them like my meat, THICK AND JUICY. See Erolinyath over there? I will show her what a man should be. »

All men are fiercely competitive, and being the MACHO MAN he is, Hroskuth will handle defeat as the sorest of losers. He will gripe, moan, complain, and berate the winning pair for as long as the flight lingers in his (thankfully) short-lived draconic memory. What you will not escape, however, is the will to improve himself. B’ayn will find it hard to enjoy any measure of a flight lost by Hroskuth, yanked from any potential hook-ups to instead PRACTICE aerial maneuvers and devise a new approach to catching that green or gold whenever she next rises. And you can be sure he will chase after those he has lost to before perhaps more often than he will pursue those dragons he wins with often – all in the desire to prove his manly best.

Braigdyn, B’ayn, SearchCo has had so much fun creating your Hroskuth, but this is only as we have conceived him. Only you, the player, can truly lend your man’s man of a brown life, and we provide you with this Inspiration to do just as the name implies, and nothing more than inspire! For see, you’re stuck with us now and we’re glad to have you! Ultimately, however, Hroskuth is entirely yours, and you have every right to play him entirely as you see fit! Consider this more of a suggested guideline where you can pick and choose which parts you like best and run with it, and interpret him however you want. Overall, we hope your Hroskuth, because we sure do enjoy you!

Name: Eth’n, R’yst, Y’an
Egg Desc: Eth’n
Dragonet Desc: Y’an; R’yst tweak
Messages: Eth’n, R’yst, Y’an
Puppeteer: R’yst
Inspiration: Eth’n, R’yst, Y’an

Clutchmates: X’vik and brown Argolath, Za’an and green Erolinyath, Kaishori and blue Avirath, S’zin and bronze Karsedreth

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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