Sua's Screaming Blue Murder Brown Skeseth

Nuclear War Egg

Seething and hissing, bubbling and oozing, this egg is splashed lasciviously by orange so bright it seems radioactive and green so vibrant and fluorescent it glows. Eyes, deformed eyes of vicious red watch mutated and disfigured horribly, stretched out and distorted in an acid dream polka dot sequence, mixing with hot pink flecks and backed by unforgiving black in a sort of twisted array of warning lights. Spiralling and burbling tumultuous amidst the black is a tangle of charcoal, rising in a horrific climax to hover in a gunmetal, cinder gray mushroom-shaped cloud.

Hatching Message

Nuclear War Egg shudders and rumbles ominously, before disintegrating in a sudden, raging explosion that sends shrapnel-like egg shards through the air. Egg goo courses freely, toxic waste pooling into a sticky puddle beneath the seemingly empty remains of the demolished egg. Then from the wreckage, a scythe-like object emerges: a wing claw, then a wing spar, and finally something large and inky ascends, higher, higher, freeing itself from its prison to emerge triumphant. Wings slowly spreading in glory, neck and head thrown back, defined, Screaming Blue Murder Dragonet lets out a shriek of a trumpet, its dark form casting shadows as it shuffles out into this mortal coil.

Screaming Blue Murder Brown Dragonet

Erebus enrobes this dragon in infernal oblivion, the deepest shades of brown draping over his body. Like a heavy weight, sepia and loam drag at the mind, smothering the heart with sheer oppression. Hideous depths of fathomless ocean wash over leathery hide, intensifying the darkness. Murderously long snout sweeps back towards faceted eyes rimmed by angular ridges, finishing in a crown of demonic headknobs. Serpentine neck flows smoothly into a sinuous body, lithe muscles knotting beneath that oh-so-dark hide. Bolts of electric opal originate from silver knife-like talons that cap wing bones, snaking across rakish, scraggly wing sails with malicious intent. Ochre talons, honed to a razor-sharp edge, extend from long, deft feet that sport popping, cracking tendons. Tapering tail is whip-thin, creating a sense of fragility - a notion quickly dispelled by sinuously powerful muscles that run its length.

Public Impression Pose

Screaming Blue Murder Dragonet makes his decision as he draws near enough to get a good look. All trace of slow deliberation vanishes in a blink, and he's on the two candidates, striking, coiling, wrapping around the one he has picked. His tail tightens around Surupa, and the menace in his eyes softens for a moment as he recognizes his victim. She is his.

Private Impression Message

Somewhere in the depths of your mind, a bell tolls. For whom does it toll? For you, of course! « Ding, dong… » comes a low chuckle, talons beckoning in the shadows. The Reaper has come. « Aaaah, my precious, precious Surupa. You have breathed your last… alone. Now every breath you take will be taken with me. I am Skeseth, and I have come to keep you for eternity. » There comes a scrabbling of claws, and the gleam of eyes in the darkness. « You will come… won't you, Sua? »

Sua! You've been an absolute darling, and we love having you here at the High Reaches! We hope that we've created something sufficiently evil for you. Enjoy your dragon, and don't scare /too/ many people with him… -HRW SearchCo 2001: A Search Oddity

Egg Inspiration

Freaky as all get-out as it is, one can't deny that the development of the Nuclear Weapon is one of the most distinctive new technologies of the modern day. It plays a huge part in the way modern warfare and politics are carried out, and it is, undoubtedly, going to shape the future. This egg was themed on Auriplayer's intense fear of Nuclear War/Winter. I watch entirely too much SciFi, and a large portion of the desc, especially the part with the "eyes", was based on this creepy idea that life will exist on earth after a Nuclear War- it'll just be horribly deformed and mutated. Nuclear waste is also included in the desc, in the first line, and the last line refers to the mushroom cloud that formed over Hiroshima in all that war footage I've seen.

Description Inspiration

Erebus [n. Greek Mythology] : The dark region of the underworld through which the dead must pass before they reach Hades.

You asked for death in dragon form, and we obliged. The first word of his description is part of the underworld, even. All the colors of his body are dark, spine-shivering shades, and the bluish tint to his hide isn't happy blue-it's suffocating, drowning-in-the-ocean blue. The bolts on his wings are like the lightning that always cracks around a mad scientist's castle, and his talons are sharp enough to serve a steak dinner with. To top it off, his tail is so very, very whip like and the tendons on his feet stick out like they do on really creepy villains' hands. And it helped that we found the Dragon Tarot Death card, which gave us much in the way of inspiration!

The dragon tarot deck was created and illustrated by Peter Pracownik, under the guidance and direction of Terry Donaldson.

The Death Card for this particular deck means the following:
XIII Death: A skeletal dragon stands in a netherworld of shade and mist with a scythe in one hand, reminding us that each of our lives hangs on a slender thread. Behind it stands the rollright stones of some ancient circle. To one side we see and hourglass, suggesting we must all make the most of our lives, for time is running out. To the other side, we see an egg, symbol of rebirth, and a reminder that life must go on in one form or another. Divinatory Meaning: The clearing away of negative conditions in order to make way for new, more positive influences. Reverse Meaning: Not being able to let go.

Altogether, we gave ourselves nightmares dreaming him up. Enjoy!

Name Inspiration

What could sound more evil than Skeseth? We wanted something short and abrupt, that would immediately appear to be dark, mysterious. The name seemed a perfect fit to the death-dragon you desired. The name derives from skesek, a Cornish word meaning 'shady', which certainly fits such an evil creature!


A rasp, a hiss, a grating baritone - Skeseth's voice will be that of bones being dragged across dull dry rock. A haunting echo, it will sneak up behind you when you least expect it, creeping over your shoulder in sinister laughter. He will tend to draw out his vowels, eerily, a bit like Gollum from the Hobbit.

«My preeeeciooouuuus.»

You will never hear him speaking in a 'normal' tone, or even hear him raise his voice, for Skeseth will communicate with you in a perpetual whisper as if everything he tells you is some sort of personal, morbid secret. When he gets angry, there will be a metallic clang of a scythe, a snappish bite to his whisper. When happy, you will often hear the sound of his malevolent chuckles, like hordes of leggy tarantulas, scurry off into the dark about you.


"And I looked, and behold a pale horse: and his name that sat on him was Death."
-Revelation 6:8

The most obvious thing about Skeseth is, of course, how very dark he is. Almost black in places, nowhere does he show any signs of happy, pleasant shades of brown. The only place he lightens at all is where lightning runs across his wings, and even that's a sinister sort of lightness - after all, lightning is a definite bringer of death. Most of his hide has a very deep, smothering overtone of navy; the bluish cast to his hide makes him easy to pick out from amongst other browns - but very hard to spot against shadowy rock.

Body-wise, he looks like nothing more than a skeletal serpent. There is no extra fat whatsoever on him, and all his features are elongated, lithe in an ever-so-deadly way. Ridges and head knobs are more angular, sharper than most dragons', and his talons are honed to wicked points. His tail is long and incredibly thin, enough so that he will actually be able to crack it like a whip and get the echoing, reverberating *crack*. Think of a foxhunting whip, if you've ever heard one. He'll doubtless enjoy the effect it has on people.

His movements are very sinuous - flowing, yet coupled with a side-to- side rippling motion reminiscent of a snake. On the ground, it's a sort of an amalgamation of stalk, slink, and slither, but in the air, it's like he's twisting his way through the sky rather than really flying. It's bound to creep out passengers. He's very agile and supple, but not in a fast-paced acrobatic way like the smaller colours. Supple to the point that he can almost fold in half, his moves are filled with such deliberate menace that it comes as a surprise to prey, passengers, or other dragons when he reverses suddenly after such seemingly steady movement. Death abhors predictability, and so does he.


"Doesn't death swallow everything, eventually?"
- Plato

Hunting will be one of Skeseth's favourite things to do, and many mornings you'll find yourself roused by his quiet hiss. « Let's goooooooo. I can smeeeeell them. » Early in the day or late evening will be his preferred hunting times; both allow him to go unnoticed, whether under the cover of darkness or hidden by mist. He'll swoop down upon the herds silently, choosing a victim with care. Waiting until it strays away from the herd, he times the attack precisely, launching himself at the pre- chosen 'beast or wherry. He proceeds to attack it with astonishing precision: Each limb will be deftly torn off, a surgeon's care taken as he renders it into many pieces. He's fastidious in regards to his kills, and at the end of a meal will leave a bit of bloody flesh behind, a marker of sorts, before vanishing immediately, unseen by any but you. He won't allow himself to be watched when preying upon the herds, especially not when any dragon will see him. His style is that of Jack the Ripper (, leaving his feastings a strange mystery to others.

His love of darkness and the concealing morning mists is a deep one, so don't be surprised if he wants the gloomiest weyr on all of Pern - it's in his nature to choose a low positioned weyr, where he can fade almost immediately into the fog each morn. Some days he'll refuse to stray into the sunny afternoons, waiting instead until the sun begins to dip below the horizon. Then he'll slink out, ghastly and often ready to frighten whatever hapless 'brat dares get in his way. Indeed, he will become a valuable resource to the nannies, who will fix uncooperative children with a glare and warn them: "If you don't go to bed this instant, Skeseth will get you!" The night-craving brown can sneak right up behind his food and brats alike, giving both a good dose of terror.

Amusement is another thing your dragon craves, and Skeseth has no trouble with the idea of getting it at the expense of others. While some prefer to get their laughs through trickery, the pure pain of the truth seems to be his preferred method of torture. Every bit of information he hears is stored in his mind - or yours, lest he forget! - every bit of bad news recorded and ready for a perfect chance to be imparted on the unsuspecting. « Doom-o-gram! » Fellow dragons will begin to dread that sadistic gleam in his eye, the whisper in his voice as he casually manages to wreck another's day. « Oh, so you are fond of her? A pity. I just saw her twining necks with another blue, up on her ledge. She seemed to barely recollect you when I mentioned your name. A shaaaaame, indeed. » He'll try to drag you into his troublesome revelations, rasping that you simply /must/ tell F'oobie that his sister is ill, yet Threadfall is too close for his wingleader to even /consider/ letting him go to her. After all, if he's going to be the good messenger of bad news, he'll need a little help, right?

"I like to tell people I have the heart of a small boy. Then I say it's in a jar on my desk."
-Stephen King

Skeseth has a morbid sense of humour. He enjoys dark commentary and shocking statements. « I love kids. Especially if they're marinated just right. » Nothing quite so amuses him as the reactions he gets to such comments. Another source of infinite enjoyment, once he's done shocking people and delivering his bad news, is the sheer thrill of scaring the living daylights out of the unwary. He'll lurk, waiting for an unsuspecting victim to wander too close, before pouncing out of the shadows and watch the ensuing heart attack. With practice, he'll be able to crack his tail at the same time, and the loud noise added to his pounce will undoubtedly cause some to need a change of clothing.

He's a troublemaker, especially when young, using his frightening appearance and voice to intimidate his less confident clutch mates. Harping on perceived faults endlessly, his teasing and taunting will become particularly merciless when he thinks of his victim as arrogant. When young, he won't be able to take what he dishes out, but as he grows older, he'll adapt. Draconic memory may not be great, but he'll remember that time Lorsa's green turned at the wrong time during the drill, or that instance when T'am's bronze dropped out of the green's flight before he himself did. Nor are his scathing remarks limited to performance. During weyrlinghood, don't be surprised if he gets into scraps with Uzasnyth - comments about his fellow brown's short tail will earn him a swipe across the muzzle by those sharp-sharp taloned paws.. You'll often be forced into the position of peacemaker, defusing nasty comments from your dragon to keep other riders from blowing up at you.

He'll be baffled when his comments and appearance fail to intimidate other dragons, and infuriated when his subtle, sarcastic insults are one- upped. In fact, he'll single out these dragons as a special challenge and try to make them feel the fear of his presence. Qelketh, his fearless clutchmate, will be the source of much aggravation for him, and when the two face off, it'll be a little like a showdown in the Old West - and we know who's the bad guy, right?

When threadfall time comes, Skeseth will be ready, and lo doth darkness spread across the land when he takes wing! For no dragon is as serious at fighting those silver tendrils as he. He fights with a ferocious intensity that will be almost scary, even to you. He will not tolerate failure on his part or from any of his wingmates, and gets cranky if he feels he hasn't done perfectly - if he has failed you in someway. If scored, the wounds will heal and leave electric opal coloured scars, not unlike the streaks of lightning on his wings.


"And I will show that nothing can happen more beautiful than death."
- Walt Whitman

Beautiful may not be the first term to describe Skeseth during flights, but it can strangely fit the feral prowling that he'll launch into. The slightest change in a female's hide won't escape his notice, and he'll be the first to slink to the pens. He'll get copious amount of joy from blooding, with a pleasant ritual massacre of as many herdbeasts as he can sacrifice to his blood-thirst before the glowing female takes flight. Skeseth will be among the first to then launch into the air, ready to shadow behind the green like the Grim Reaper, waiting for a chance to bring her to the underworld. Once up, he'll be all twists and turns, snaking moves and slithering strategies. Like a phantom, he'll be light on the air and quick to hunt after his prey, quick to use all his cunning and ruthlessness to be near the front of the pack. He's not afraid to bite a neck here, or smack another with his tail to set them off-balance. He sees the others as the Enemy, doomed souls that are below his regard.

Should he fail in flight, he won't spare another moment on the female, sulking in a quiet rage while he returns to you and his weyr. He'll bounce back within the hour, after a little coaxing. It will have been more a wound to his pride than anything, Skeseth having little care for the attentions of females. The female will slip from his mind, but he might consider the catcher to be a particular target for his nastier pranks. If he should succeed, however, after a few moments of passion, he'll be off, sated and ready to let the female's name drift away into the recesses of his mind. He doesn't have time to fawn and twine with whatever green comes his way, instead preferring to love 'em and leave 'em, with a snarl on his way out the door. Any green that should choose to dote over him can only receive a silent glare in return.

If something strange should happen, and love should pitter-patter in his little brown heart, then the lady in question will have to deal with a constant shadow. He'll refuse to leave her alone, remaining hidden nearby (as well as a dragon can hide), the occasional scuffling step letting her know that /something/ is following her. Faranth help anyone that offends his desired lady, any brat that sneezes too close to her will end up face-to-face with a snarling Skeseth. His idea of romance is a bit of a strange one, his presents of a more disturbing type than most would give. He'll leave them without a word, later stuck explaining to the dragon-in-question exactly /why/ there's a herdbeast skull on her ledge. « It's a preeeeseent. I… thought you would like it. » Unless he finds a girl that appreciates wherry limbs and dead flowers, he's going to have trouble finding anyone but you to love him.

Of course, this is by no means a forced interpretation of Skeseth. He's yours to play with, to experiment with, and to hopefully frighten small children with. I hope that you enjoy him as much as we loved making him, and that you have a good time being up here in the cold, cold 'Reaches!


Name: Pyrene
Egg Desc: Auri
Dragonet Desc: Ciera; Ilare, Auri tweak
Messages: Auri, Ilare, Ciera
Puppeteer: Lylia
Inspiration: Ilare, Lylia, Ciera, Auri

Hiza (Hiliza) and green Issryuith
Loe (Loren) and green Ayamizureth
Lorsalia and green Yajisarath
Chelle (Mechelle) and blue Rhajath
Cris (Cristen) and blue Qelketh
Kh'ryn (Khory) and blue Zylpheth
Reiko and blue Cerdith
Rianne (Marianne) and blue Kearneth
Khena (Kinecha) and brown Mneoth
K'nex (Kezenex) and brown Shirasuth
Pae (Phea) and brown Uzasnyth
T'am (Tamber) and bronze Farleth
X'ner (Xaner) and bronze Nezdarvyth

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