[ Zarvind ][ Kealath ][ Logs1 ][ Logs2 ][ Logs3 ][ Mail ]
Disclaimers: All references to worlds and
characters based on Anne McCaffrey's fiction are copyrightę Anne McCaffrey 1967,2000, all
rights reserved, and used by permission of the author.
The Dragonriders of Pern« is registered U.S. Patent and Trademark Office, by Anne McCaffrey, used here with permission. Use or reproduction without a license is strictly prohibited. The following are logs created for the interest of members of Threadfall MUSH (mush1.nis4u.com 4201). Threadfall MUSH runs with permission, and any violation of copyright is entirely unintended.
Dragon Name: Kealath (key-A-luth)
Impressee: Z'vind (Zarvind)
Hatchling Name: Divine Vortex Brown
Hatchling Description: Alyssa
Egg Name: Fiery Destructive Wrath
Egg Description: Cymber
Hatching Message: Alyssa
Impression Message: Alyssa
Conclusive perfection is depicted in every mottled nuance of this divinely crafted brown dragon, his form a complete depiction of the verdancy of a newly born world. Raw earth drifts in darkened crevices across the landscape of his back, broad and deep with the bluish shadows of networking subterranean caves tinged only faintly with the stubbornly clinging fingers of finely dusted emerald lichen. Curving wingbones arch with finely honed precision to support the chaotic imagery of his nearly translucent wingsails, themselves animated to depict the fiery flow of amber-touched lava across the mahogany of virgin soil, rich tresses of curling bubbles that erupt into splattered droplets of illuminated gold. Trickles of these more livid hues creep along the sinuous line of his belly, slowly hardening into duskier hues of obsidian that flicker with mirror-like polish over the warm cinnamon of his heavily muscled hindquarters, a powerful compliment to the chaotic vortex of creation. Thick fronds of burnt sienna billow along his extremities, swirling as if caught on the first breeze of existence to envelop the elegant spade of his tail, the fierce curve of his talons, and the gentle slope of his muzzle in the warmth of a newborn embrace. The crest of the surf clings to his forelimbs, paling the jungle of silvery cedar where waves might lap against a seaward forest, the soft azure dappled with milky brown shadows of a thick canopy's web of overhanging branches.
Hawaiian mythology details the creation of the world specifically as it would have effected the people and the islands. The story goes that Keawe, the first god, evolved order from the chaos of the first flames of life, drawing the sun and the sky and then turned himself into the remainder of the gods who would complete the process. He became his daughter Na Wahine, and his son Kane. From these two would come the three sons Ku, Lono, and Kanaloa who, along with Kane, were worshipped as the primary gods of the Hawaiian culture. Every man worshipped the god that oversaw his own profession, for there was indeed a specific deity for bird-catchers or canoe-makers, fishermen or sorcerors. The stories are, however, convoluted as they were passed down by oral tradition and vary from one retelling to the next, though the general framework has persisted.
Jagged capped is this starkly upheld egg, cast aloft like a tower of unified strength to balance upon its squatter end in the overheated Sands. Runnels of carved stone blast valleys and crags into its outer surface, scarring the smoothness of the ovoid form with a bas-relief network of sharply-defined mountains. Basalt and malachite melt sable and emerald in a whirling miasma of hypnotic hues that is nonetheless overwhelmed by the potent fury of the anguished and impassioned tones which paint the rest of the curving canvas. Roiling veins of livid canary battle over a field of crimson rain, both erupting in twinned explosions from the central heart of the brownstone peak. Sky and agitated sea reflect the cloudy anger of a dance in the fire's wild heart, a sole obsidian figure spiraling upward, head cast back in a scathing thrum of passionate laughter. Wickedly gleaming amber depict eyes, the knife-sharp curve of a smile promising devastation to the gap-cracked landscape. Trailing pumice streamers of ash and burning rock, the maelstrom's heat descends into the charcoal-churning waters, which bear a reflection of depicted carnage along the base.
The Hawaiian volcano goddess, Pele was born as a Flame In the mouth of Her Earth Mother according to ancient legend. Her sister the sea was always forced to cool the goddess' fiery temper, and eventually she settled at Halemaumau on the island of Hawaii. Pele is revered as both a goddess of fire and a goddess of earth, for through the molten bouts of her anger do volcanic eruptions shift stone and melted rock to rebuild the islands around her. The goddess is said to embody the image of raw life-force, at times fiery-fierce, and at others as calm as a late-summer sea. The peoples of the islands worshipped her as a basic facet of their theology, and this reverence formed one of the basic elements of their culture. They lived in the volcano's shadow and their thoughts and prayers were devoted unto it. This egg is the work of Cymber.
The tower crumbles. The stark disposition of the Fiery Destructive Wrath Egg crumples as so many of its fellows, dissolving into a mass of liquid shards that wrap themselves about the roughly-hewn, newly shimmering form of the brown dragonet left in their wake. Tossing shards aside, he moves from the remnants of his egg with the initial stumble of a first step.
The physical embodiment of the heat that surrounds you rescinds for a moment, wavering so that it is not only tolerable but easily ignored. It is not now your feet that burn but your heart, your soul, your very existence. << Z'vind? >> comes the molten fire of a subtle but enveloping voice. And then there is jubilance! << Z'vind! I knew I should find you here! >> And you - how could there ever have been a doubt that Kealath would be here for you? Kealath, the fiery wonder of the world, the greatest and craftiest brown on Pern has found and adores you! << I am SO hungry, Z'vind. >>
Cunning and crafty is Kealath, so much so that it seems at times he never will be properly contained. No matter what obstacle may befall him, Kealath is ever-ready to hatch a plan that will allow him to overcome it. He is not yet big enough to walk as far as the ocean? Fine, then perhaps you should bring him a bucket-full of the saltwater that he may investigate it for himself. He is too large to execute the wingtip turns of those agile little greens? Fine, then he will brake quickly and duck about himself - all but a contortion of his great form until he has done something similarly impressive. Never one to be outdone is this brown, for his proud nature dictates that he must ALWAYS be the first and foremost at everything. Headstrong and lively, it makes for possible trouble to those who are not prepared to deal with such fits of temper as this brown is ready to deliver. As tempestuous as a proddy green at times, his will is tempered only by your own and it is only when YOU tell him to that he will be soothed. Sulky, << But, Z'vind, I wanted to be the first one to fly among my clutchsiblings. >> And so you will have to exercise the utmost patience in explaining exactly why he cannot be the first to do EVERYthing, that sometimes sharing is better than winning.
Even still, Kealath will not take kindly to second place - be it in spring games or mating Flights. Here is an ardent lover, given over entirely to the thrill of the chase so that the very fibre of his being is tied to the flexings of his sturdy muscles, his drive unfathomably focussed. His own nature being rather flighty and given to fits of temper, he is easily lured by a glowing green - << Oh, indeed. You do look VERY lovely today, Genevrath, >> as he dutifully pads along after her with a string of attentive croons. Let it not be said that he is gullible, however, for once they are aloft, Kealath is nothing but focussed on the prize, never one to be lured by the flighty wiles of females. Compliments abound until the moment is upon him, for then is this brown so driven that he cannot even waste the precious fuel of his energy on sending forth compelling flattery or sweet warbles.
Strangely enough, Kealath is also greatly pleased to be the bearer of gifts - be they small trifles for you or great pleasures for his fellow dragons. A devout and cunning fisherman, he is quite often to be found catching the smaller fish and delivering them happily onto the beach for waiting firelizards or hungry wherries. Seeing a pretty stone - or boulder as the case may be - he is inclined to deliver it to the first lovely female who crosses his path, making a great show of delivering the prize whether it be to gold, green, or girl. Unfortunately, he will have a hard time learning what exactly is and is not his to give, and will occasionally be found pilfering quilts or tunics or other such trifles to deliver as tokens of his affections. << How was I to know those furs belonged to Marcath's rider? They were right there on the cot, and I thought that Mamonth's lifemate might like them... >> Though sometimes naive, this is nonetheless a charming generosity that only heightens the sweetness of this warmly affectionate brown.
Maaui-tikitiki, as he was AoTeAroa, was the greatest of fishermen and the most daring of individuals. Cast aside by his mother that he might drown in the sea as a child, he returned home to his mother to become her favorite son, a born hero and stronger than all mortal men. His feats range from slowing the sun's passage across the sky that his mother might have more time to finish her work, to lifting the sky so that it didn't rest so low that men had to walk on all fours, to discovering the secret of fire and delivering it unto the people of the world. So popular was Maui that his exploits carried to New Zealand, where he was told to have pulled up the North Island known as Ika-a-Maaui from the bottom of the ocean using the jawbone of his ancestor as a hook.
The warmth of a flickering hearth sometimes transmuted into a rich conflagration of bubbling, consuming amber - the liquid fire of an impossibly glowing stream that winds and threads itself through the thoughts of all who listen: This is the great voice of Kealath. Tempered at the edges so that, when he wills it, the flame of his mental presence is baked into coarse hardness, seldom employed by ready for the wielding nonetheless. His is not the way with words so much as the poetry of a single image, traipsing into the mind of his listener with a harsh clarity, the edges crisply defined as if held captive by the sharp rays of a hot summer afternoon.
[ Zarvind ][ Kealath ][ Logs1 ][ Logs2 ][ Logs3 ][ Mail ]