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Molten bronze, heated red-hot, burns at the wide and hungry maw of this rather long and lean dragon. The pure red-bronze pours fluidly back, rapidly cooling to a sooty, aged bronze that drapes the rest of his lean frame in sultry shades. He is a beast of scintillating smoke and unquenchable sparks, embers of lurid red-gold clinging to his underside and spilling down the insides of his wiry limbs. His wings are broad and composed of dark panes of exotic bronze smoke, trailing edges ablaze with fiery glints of gold and additional glimmers of red-bronze. Charcoal coats his talons and appears smudged upon the too-long digits of his paws, as well as being twisted along the sinuous length of his tail. Color is renewed once more at his tailtips, where heated bronze flares into life once more.
Egg Name and Description
Smoldering Ashes Egg
Ashen white crests the apex of this egg as if fleeing the smoldering remains below. White rapidly blurs into slate and then to charcoal at the base, overlaid with a jagged lacework of seething gold and red. A smattering of white is strewn about the surface, only to be quickly subsumed by the dominant darkness. It appears to be burning slowly from the inside out, even if it feels no more heated than its siblings.
Hatching Message
Finally, finally, /finally/, the Smoldering Ashes Egg bursts open in a flurry of shell shards and furiously flailing limbs. As a dark bronze heaves himself out of the wreckage, he lifts his head and bellows a challenge — to his siblings, his sire, perhaps even to the candidates themselves. The message is clear: this Sacrificial Incense And Embers Bronze will /not/ be held back from his hunt — and that hunt is for a sacrifice.
Impression Message
Public Impression Message: His frustration mounts and the seething — nay, /furious/ — Sacrificial Incense And Embers Bronze stalks down the line of candidates one last time. Not a one of them is a fitting sacrifice; not a one of them is worthy to kneel before him. He gnashes his teeth, burning red eyes scanning those timorous and eager faces with a searing intensity. And then, there is one. One. The bronze rears up, sinking his claws into the shoulders of the youth named Mergaal and stares into his eyes. This one, yes … this one will suffice. For now.
Private Impression Message: The sands bleed away in a flurry of smoke and ash and your lungs ache from a sudden burst of heat. Metallic noises fill your mind, the subtle gears of some unseen machine clicking, clicking, clicking maddeningly along until they stop. Something opens and the gears are exposed, only for you to reach for them … and drag you into them. You are ground down to nothing, consumed, and then flung back out — it leaves you simultaneously feeling empty and complete, drained of who-you-are and restored with the strength of something unspeakable. «You will do,» a smoky voice intones, paired with a sudden, intense hunger that burns in the pit of your belly. You are startled from your reverie by the revelation of pain in your shoulders, a pain that rapidly drags down your chest; it burns, yes, but it's a good pain, the pain brought by him. The Healers will tend to you quickly, no worries about that, but the scars on your shoulders and chest will remain as a burning brand — you are Zaqalekhth's … not that he would ever let you forget it.
Personality
Early on, it will be apparent that Zaqalekhth is a hungry, hungry beast. His hungers will vary as he ages, but his insatiability will remain a constant struggle for both you and him. In his youth, he will want meat — lots of meat, as much meat as can possibly be consumed and then some. He will demand baths, oilings, and more baths. He may complain of a constant heat coursing through him; this is just another of his peculiarities, another quirk that will never fully leave him. He just runs hotter, faster, and hungrier than his brothers and sisters — you will just have to learn how to adapt.
Lessons will be consumed greedily, knowledge digested and regurgitated to be chewed and re-consumed. He will do very well at all things laid before him; he is, in that regard, a perfectionist and rather demanding at that. All physical tasks will be completed to the utmost of his abilities and he will shine above all the rest with what might appear to be effortless ease. Only you will know the pain and struggle, the late-night self-imposed lessons and the lack of sleep, the extended studying sessions and the extra lessons wheedled from Wingleaders and other riders.
Thus does his journey begin.
As an adult, little will change. He will remain hungry for everything — knowledge, food, adventure, females — and will never fully be sated by any of it. So, instead, he will seek control in the form of rituals. Hunting will be an elaborate affair as will bathing and oiling. He will insist on certain items being displayed during certain times of the year without explaining why. Another oddity will surface as he ages — a desire to listen to the dreams of others. More than that, he'll often seek to interpret them, as seen through the lens of his psyche.
He will develop an adoration for the element of fire and will generally show a dislike of swimming; baths are acceptable, but he won't be the sort that one would catch swimming for the fun of it. Fish, by extension, are not considered edible. Expect to have many candles and lamps, for he will spend many an hour just sitting and staring at the flames dancing.
Your Zaqalekhth will be a painfully prolific chaser, in keeping with his constant need for fulfillment and stimulation. He might not catch often (if at all), but the flames of passion fuel him in a way that his adoration of all other things cannot. Expect to be dragged halfway across Pern if he catches even the vaguest rumor of a green or gold rising.
When he chases, he chases blindly; the other males are only shadows, smoke cast off by the blazing female figure. When he fails, he falls and this will be the only time he will tolerate the water long enough for him to calm down. His restlessness will be far more pronounced at those times, though he's never really /not/ restless.
But if he catches, he will linger only a little while, rapidly moving on in search of his next potential conquest. This changes only if he happens to ensnare a gold, though he will never be the affectionate or adoring sort. He will linger as necessary, doing as the gold bids (to a point) and rapidly moving on when the eggs finally hatch.
In the end, he will consider you the greatest sacrifice laid at his feet — you, M'gaal, are the only eternal source of satisfaction he will ever have.
Mindvoice
Smoke and sparks form the backdrop of his words, his voice naturally deep and often barely more than a whisper. Incense scents the space within his mind, darkness presiding and shadows writhing where the curious aren't meant to intrude. Scattered throughout are indescribable emblems and patterns, odd shapes that might represent words … or something else entirely. With his words comes a sense of some well-hidden clockwork; sometimes the clicking and creaking can be heard, but more often than not, those machinations remain silent and unseen. Rage brings with it a surge of hellfire, his normally soft voice rising into a cacophany of shrieks — splintered a thousand times over into something altogether unholy. The bizarre symbols that normally decorate his thoughts take on a distinctly obscene quality when he's in such a state, warping them into weapons of hate, rather than tools for enlightenment. Only true fury can cause his mind to fully open, exposing the incomprehensibly diabolical gears that grind and spark behind the words.
Inspiration
He is a blending of Molekh (Moloch) and some hints of Zaqar. Have fun. ;)
Credits
| Name | Zaqalekhth |
| Dam | Unknown |
| Sire | Unknown |
| Created By | M'gaal |
| Impressee | M'gaal |
| Hatched | Unkonwn |
| Igen Weyr | |
| PernWorld MUSH | |