Erarei. Erei! We’ve spent years enjoying your character, and we only hope that you enjoy your Kheta as much! We’ve strived to make Khetanaxeroth as close to your concept as possible, but as always, she is whatever you choose to play her!

Unstable Tupperware Egg

Tipper topper, wibble wobble, inverted lids and warped plastic containers— this lumpy egg indicates a miasma of instability, all eggshell cream and faint tomato-stained orange. The chaotic capriciousness of the universe is embodied within this rather large ovoid, imprinted within the wavering foundation, sketched along the mismatched lines. If one were to seek balance, one would best look elsewhere: this egg, rather, gives the impression of a towering pile of junk, ready to crash down at the slightest molestation.

This egg was a running gag all throughout Search — and, actually, prior to search, if we're going to be serious. Lendai's husband swore that if we made a theme appropriate to the title of the egg, that he would desc it. And then Lendai was going to desc it. And then five other people were going to desc it! But on the last day, who desced it? The woman with the dragon who was clutched out of an Entropy egg. Somehow, I think it's fitting. Oh, and tupperware's totally obsolete. We have GLADWARE now. See? Change. XD - Rhaeyn

Unstable Tupperware Egg has had enough of this shindig. This eternal game of Jenga is about to come CRASHING DOWN. Crashing down! Left in the wreckage of warped-lid shell fragments is a leonine green of entirely predatory proportion. Can you hear me? Can you hear me now? Can you … hear me roar?

Bloodlust’s Ancient Seduction Green Dragonet

Beaten bronze struggles against sagebrush in eternal battle of domination over the sensuous battlefield of this sinuous huntress. Burnished as a leopard’s spots, faint mottling at flanks and underbelly defy the otherwise monochromatic terrain of muscular frame. The lioness-proud width of leonid features, the short neck and almost overlong back balanced by whipcord tail cannot be remanded by mere markings, however, and set her apart from the rest by her sheer, impressive size. Mistaken for blue, she could be, except for her undeniably feminine proportions and the dusty savannah of nigh-unabated tallgrass, a muted army green but for those bronzen spots threatening. Sweet cruelty is promised in the dusty ash of her wingspars, her wicked talons never far from the rapacious end of her next victim.

Public Impression Pose

Bloodlusts Ancient Seduction Green Dragonet halts, her hunt desisting almost instantaneously. A beat follows before eyes maraud her object of lust, paws light against the sands beneath her as they carry her stealthy form towards a darker skinned young woman. Peculiar, it would seem then, that talons incise against an egg shard along her path, the sound of a halted vinyl record meant to deter all attention towards Erarei. Her Erarei. Not the poor sap that steps in the way and meets fate with a broken shell as tail whips towards his midriff. Whoops?

Private Impression Message

Oh, for the love of hot summers; as a girl, small, playing among the caravans on the dusty trail. Watching Keroon’s foothills disappear, overtaken by the flat plain lands, dry grasses and succulent heat inspiring women to discard clothing and men to sing: you are a girl again, laughing and playing and amongst family. « Not with them, » a predatory soprano, languidly, with such sweet cruelty. « Now, you are mine. Forever, you are mine. » The heat comes crashing down, so hot as to inspire a mirage of sorts- for that cannot possibly be predatory green standing in front of you with wings aloft, claiming you for her own. « Erei, I am Khetanaxeroth. » Lofty, as if this is some great honor bestowed; « We shall hunt, for I am hungry. » A lessening, then; « Aren’t you? »

Dragon Theme

The American Lion is a little-known, extinct species of lion that we felt matched your specifications for Erarei’s dream dragon remarkably well. It outsized, in length, ever single leonid relative – even the fierce smilidon populator, the breed that many refer to as the Sabretooth, could not rival length, though it often outweighed the Americon Lion. To put in perspective, the panthera leo atrox is approximately 25% larger than modern African lions.

Her “looks” are directly taken from this picture:

Name Inspiration

Khetanaxeroth is not our fault, really. It’s all yours! kheh-tah-NAX-er-oth, as we love to pronounce it, was a conglomeration of many words: akana, meaning bowl or vessel in Egyptian; of course Sekhmet, the goddess who graciously shares attributes with Kheta; atrox leo, meaning cruel lion and stolen from the genus name. She is a full five syllables, and we hope that you love her enough to deal with the doubtless wailing over your specific request of such a long name. (Il’ad already volunteered to commiserate with you, if you so wish.)


The heat of the savanna, hot on a midsummer day cool water, refreshing, tantamount to survival; the dust and bleary extant heat-induced mirages. Was that a hippopotamus dancing in a pink tutu? Kheta’s natural playful cruelty will extend to you, dear Erei, in the fact that while her mind voice is the perpetual Sahara summer day, she will constantly be pulling the vaguest eidolons of the *strangest* imagery. Did you see that?

« See what? » will be her sultry purr, a voice feminine and surprisingly high-pitched for all of her outwards leonine traits. The heat will pour in, however, and while she’s higher pitched than one would think, this does not mean her voice lacks a richness to tempt the boldest of bronzes, to the oldest blue curmudgeon.

When something angers the green, however… the storms roll in, and oh do they rage! Lightning will strike, and those sunlit, dusty plains turn into a vast, churning miasma of blood-soaked mud. We wish any the best of luck, to traverse the perils of Kheta’s rage and remain unscathed!


Oh, will you be vexed by your Kheta! Out of the shell she will be composed, prowling among the Sands with such grace as to make blues and browns weep for the moment of her first flight.

But that shall only be for the first few moments, we’re sorry to report.

As soon as she’s well-entrenched into the barracks, and besotted with the fresh herdbeast – and /Erei/, isn’t it a marvel? Food that doesn’t require hunting! Pre-slaughtered! It is a miracle! – she will sleep… and wake up an entirely different dragonet.

"If a ballet dancer falls over, it's knowing how to get out looking clumsy that counts."
- Ritchie BlackmoreZ

Bumbling tumbling and clumsy-footed, you’ll find her the type that knocks over the oil, clatters into others, trips over her own feet. She will loftily announce that she *meant* to do that, thank you very much, and wasn’t it funny to see Ysvarth dart to the side in uncharacteristic speed to avoid getting splattered by the near-empty, bloody food bin?

Oiling will be a problem. While she loves it when you can get her to submit to laying still, she’s much too restless to be enticed to it – unless you can catch her directly after eating. She loves to sprawl out after a good meal, and perhaps take a nap. But don’t try to ambush her while she’s good and asleep with oil: that path only leads to a surprised, hissing-bleary-eyed dragonet, and oil *everywhere*.

Awkward will be her growth, to the point that you’ll despair of her ever flying: what ungraceful creature could ever make it aloft? But once she reaches that point, that milestone, the entire class will likely be made to shut up. Because, you see, your Khetanaxeroth is simply lazy on the ground. Her paws are always too big. Her wings are too cumbersome to be bothered with folding correctly. That tail is too heavy to worry about moving out of the way. But in /air/… those difficulties are made moot. And oh, will she love to fly!

"When once you have tasted flight you will always walk the earth with your eyes turned skyward: for there you have been and there you will always be."
- Henry Van Dyke

She will be a marvel of the skies, delighting in the very act until the Weyrlingmasters themselves will be forced for you to rescind her to the ground, for fear of wing strain. She likely will have injuries over the first few months of flying, as well – by then, we hope you will have a good relationship with a dragonhealer or three. Wing strain, sail blistering, hide cracking from overlong exposure to fierce Northern winds – these will be your bane. Kheta is wont to ignore such feeble pains; they are nothing against the thrill of the air. Often you may have to trick her down to the grounds, for she will not come willingly.

Slowly, after the point in which you are both flying, she will begin to find her land-legs. She will even out, though her back will always remain overlong in relation to her neck, making her look very felenoid in execution. Once she has evened out, never again will she be without grace: grounded, aloft, or submersed, she will carry herself with unthinking care, all subconscious from the berating that Erei doubtlessly hammered her with in growth’s awkwardness. She will be the better for it, no doubt, though don’t expect any thanks from your perseverance. You are, after all, her pride-mate. She would do the same for you.


Oh, from the moment she hits that poor sod from Crom with that bit of eggshell on… you will despair of ever being rid of her. All in good game, of course, as your Khetanaxeroth is as part of you as your head, or your heart; but such a gangrenous limb for the acrid nature of her sweet cruelty!

None of Erarei’s prior healing experience will prepare her for the mental impact of having a carnivore – a bloodthirsty carnivore, mind – of Khetanaxeroth’s proportions, renting space out in her mind. To look up from reading to find your life-mate playing with fanciful, entirely delighted whimsy with slimy herdbeast entrails, well… it could be off-setting to genteel Erei.

"Although I may not be a lioness, I am a lion's cub, and inherit many of his qualities; and as long as the King of France treats me gently he will find me as gentle and tractable as he can desire; but if he be rough, I shall take the trouble to be just as troublesome and offensive to him as I can."
– Queen Elizabeth I

Also offsetting will doubtlessly be Kheta’s headstrong challenges. They will be consistent, in the fact that they never end. Brief, small status quo challenges: a physical bulldogging, a mental screech that dares reprimand. An indolent look, a vocal snort of derision. Lack of attention when attention is due. They will all be focused, intensely so, with that predatory fashion which this green is completely composed off; but never will languid laziness be attributed to these challenges. They are sharp, and acutely of the moment. No doubt, Khetanaxeroth will lose more times than win – especially when growing up. Life can be hard as a weyrling green with a mindset as Khetanaxeroth’s, but you will never hear her complain over it.

Indeed, as Erei starts to fully comprehend her huntress green, she’ll start to learn that her dragon is very much like one of the fabled Southern felines in execution. She is social, by no means a butterfly, and loves company. She loves talking, lounging, indulging in gregarious pursuits. She’ll even – at least at first – be completely agreeable to the idea of hunting with her clutch mates. She enjoys the complexity of other dragons, has a certain fascination for learning how people tick. She’s very brilliant, in her own manner, but her intelligence is not a thing of book-learning and any word longer than her own name. (Er, though that really doesn’t say much…) Her brilliance is a street-smart thing, a knowing of how things react, why they react. Perhaps it does not even come naturally: perhaps it will be a result of all of her small challenges, enabling her to rather analytically process information by sheer fact of all the data she will gather over the course of her life.

"Most women defend themselves.
It is the female of the species
it is the tigress and lioness in you
which tends to defend when attacked."
– Margaret Thatcher

Oh, but aren’t we getting ahead of ourselves! Weyrlinghood. Oh weyrlinghood, whyfor thou have forsaken Khetanaxeroth of her glorious grace? As previously outlined… weyrlinghood will be awkward. Physically. Emotionally, mentally, not so much. She’s a self-possessed, self-assured creature of whimsical savagery. And she is surrounded by her *pride*! All of her clutch mates will be seen as unique extensions of the same entity, each with strengths and weaknesses, and all quite her own. She may be slightly more possessive over her clutch mates than other dragons, even leaping to the defense of them in face of a Weyrlingmaster’s discipline.

« Kilsuth, Eovisoth did not *mean* to be disrespectful to Cimarroth! Besides, »
with carnal mirth showing smoky in her mind voice, a certain sarcastic truthfulness underlining her words faintly, « Cimarroth obviously started it. »

This will be just as much of her personality as her social ‘graces’. Her protective spirit goes hand-in-hand with her natural playfulness. Don’t be alarmed if you wake up one groggy early morning to the sight of her and the smaller blues wrestling like overlarge dogs, with snapping teeth and playful darts to hind legs and underbellies. She’s a very physical dragon, your Kheta. And her sense of humor is… vaguely perverse. She’ll be wont to sprawl on Ysvarth, since she knows he *hates* it. She’ll avoid Eovisoth because she knows he likes it! And Ligryth, well, she’ll just ignore her altogether. Don’t ask the green her opinion of her fellow green-in-size. She’ll have disdainful humor in reply, a brief flash of her eternal amusement of being just /slightly/ larger. Competition is inevitable, obviously, in a dragon of Khetanaexeroth’s spirit.

And oh, will she vex Erei. She is so idle with her ruthless rancor, giving sweet susurrations to whispers of absolute barbarity. She delights in being wicked, as is only her reward; it is who she is, after all. She cannot change herself any more than she could hope to change the stars.

"A lion's work hours are only when he's hungry; once he's satisfied, the predator and prey live peacefully together."
– Chuck Jones

In perverse, absolutely perverse contrast, her occasional gentleness can be so astounding that it may rock Erei to private tears when she’s moved to show it. While she is not maternal, she will have a certain weakness for the small and the helpless – when they are of her kin, of course, and not prey. And her demographic of ‘small and helpless’ is surprisingly… far reaching. Alsuroor is perhaps the most visible in this, as Kheta will often be given to taking naps in the bright sunshine, with the golden firelizard cradled cozily between snout and forepaw. When a clutch mate stings from Ysvarth’s calculating manipulation, Ligryth’s deliberate malice, or Eovisoth’s uncaring chauvinism, well, better believe that it will be Khetanaxeroth there to curl about the offended dragon, with a beautiful, wordless melody plucked from the near reaches of Erei’s mind.

In the myth, Sekhmet's blood-lust was not quelled at the end of battle and led to her destroying almost all of humanity, so Ra tricked her by turning the Nile red like blood (the Nile turns red every year when filled with silt during inundation) so that Sekhmet would drink it. However, the red liquid was not blood, but beer mixed with pomegranate juice so that it resembled blood, making her so drunk that she gave up slaughter and became an aspect of the gentle Hathor.

Fear not. Those moments will be rare against Khetanaxeroth’s pleasure in delighted ferocity. Even more rare will be her Bloodlust. It will happen but annually, perhaps; certainly with her first kill, even moreso pronounced for her first flight. The green’s blood will sing to her a song of war, and it will provoke nothing but savagery. During her first kills, Erei will likely need to find a way of manipulation – a trickery to keep her from decimating the entirety of High Reaches’ herds. Or, later in life, trickery to keep her from decimating High Reaches’ population of blues, who will tend to be far too small to handle the physicality of a Khetana Flight.

For all of her bloodlust, her gentleness, her profound delight in the unholy, Khetanaxeroth is first and foremost Erei’s. Only a slight second to her lifemate is her overarching pride: the Weyr. This will no doubt be much distressing to Erei, who likely shows no commitment or attachment to the Weyr whatsoever; but Khetanaxeroth is remarkably similar to Aevryscienth in the fact she will tolerate no insult to her Weyr. High Reaches is home. Good luck ever trying for a transfer, Erei; you will get yowled out of the Weyr by an outraged lifemate, who thinks you quite insane for even *thinking* of leaving her family, her friends, her life! Her *pride* is at High Reaches. Her pride *is* High Reaches. We will be most happy to leave that epic battle of wills between you two.

"One has to accept pain as a condition of existence. One has to court doubt and darkness as the cost of knowing. One needs a will stubborn in conflict, but apt always to the total acceptance of every consequence of living and dying."
– Morris West

Erei and Khetanaxeroth have far differing personalities, in some respects. In others, perhaps they are too similar. Hotheaded. Temperamental. Serene. Some of this apply to both… some of them more obviously not. However it may seem at times, with aforementioned yowling sure to hound any neighbors of Erei to throwing pillows – any arguments between the two are sure to be swift, and over, just as Kheta’s constant challenges to other dragons are. She is not one given to holding grudges, or being deliberately, intentionally hurtful to others – her cheery maliciousness rides a fine line of predatory mirth balanced against her instinctive social understanding. Good luck staying mad, or pouting, around the green; she’s like to laugh you out of the weyr, for being so delightfully ‘rustic’.

She's as pretty as a picture
Every bit as funny as she is smart
Got a smile that'll hold you together
And a touch that'll tear you apart

When she's yours she brings the sunshine
When she's gone the world goes dark
Yeah, she's heaven on the eyes
But boy she's hell on the heart, yeah


Dominance is Kheta's game when she takes to the skies. Her matriarchal disposition, quite similar to that of the senior queen's, leads temptation into a brutal fate for most, only the most deserving becoming her vanquisher while other suitors fall claim to her stubborn perverseness. She is almost always given to either blooding a full three herdbeasts, or none at all; truly, it depends on the nature of her pre-flight waking, though oftentimes it will appears as if there is no rhyme or reason to that which she does.

Once you feel her touch and you've felt that rush
It's gonna mess up your head
But here's the kicker son
Your old ticker's gonna beat you half to death

The winner, nearly always of her own choosing less an aerial mishap occur, tends to be older than most or barely weaned from the egg, though certainly mature. Those of near-equal tenacity will only get in the way and she will let them know in an articulated and highly physical manner, but more so through Erei. Elimination is key; the controversy being the morality that is withheld within the healer-turned-rider.

Afterwards, she’ll sprawl about with her recent mate as if he was just another member of her pride – for all of a candlemark, or perhaps two. Then her ritual of cleansing and oiling will be demanded, and once more she will go back to being the dry, perversely-humored Kheta, just another member of her pride.

When she's yours she brings the sunshine
When she's gone the world goes dark
Yeah, she's heaven on the eyes
But, boy she's hell on the heart
Yeah, she's hell on the heart
Hell On The Heart
– Eric Church


Name: Xilaros
Egg Desc: Rhaeyn
Dragonet Desc: Xilaros
Messages: S’lo, Xilaros
Puppeteer: Xilaros
Inspiration: S’lo, Xilaros

Eth’n and bronze Ysvarth
Sutri and blue Eovisoth
R’yst and green Ligryth

Harper Tale's 56th Hatching
High Reaches Weyr's 20th PC Clutch
Lendai's gold Talicanitath x Y'an's Bronze Aojadinth
Sunday, March 21st, 2010

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