The Incredible Sock Finagler Bronze Lazinzith
Dark, stark, yet blissfully alluring, he is a form distinct with a changing chroma that steals — entrances — the mind. Yet his edges be the scheme of daunting night, every curve delineates a shining antique bronze, every muscle the definition of a garish contender, and every shadow, an oil-like sheen that gleans to darkened evergreen. Where light touches him, a golden palette appears: though glossy it may be, a leathery texture is the varnish to his hide, giving a foil of increased strength to his hulking armor'd suit. His body is not large, but it is bulky, his smaller stature only serving to make more fearsome the indulging curl of each silver talon and the sharp, dangerous range of black ridges down his spine. He is unquestionably a heavy-weight champion bearing feisty disposition, and yet he would be nothing without a brawler's touch: like silvery ichor, marks of battle mar the planes of his angled face, his muscled haunches, his tail-tip. No doubt they are the first… but it is uncertain if they will be the last.
Keys To Your Nightmare Egg
Murky purple miasma swaths this shell in a sinister veil, creating a mysterious gleam depending on the angle the egg is seen, and draped over what appears to be a stony surface. Two large winged shapes flutter across the shell, sometimes at the apex and sometimes seen on the side as the egg is turned, almost leaping out at the viewer with bared sharp teeth. Serrated edges and haggard peaks of colored keys extend out from the black sands, circling around to form a cradle around the shell, contrasting against the rocky shell and vaporous cover.
Darkest Fears lurk faintly in the background, an ominous presence that you /know/ is there but cannot quite make out. Slowly, ever so slowly something touches— an icy tickling finger from bottom of your spine to the top, curling around looking for a hold. Meanwhile, darkness begins to crowd the edges of your vision, pulling you into the sinister shell.
Darkest Fears sharply sting your mind, the touch gripping to find something interesting. They pull out your nightmares, swirling them in and out through your thoughts, pushing everything else to the background. Nothing else interests them. What they seems to cling to what makes you tremble, scream, and slowly shoving them forward to study with a manic glee but ever so silent still.
Darkest Fears grip you tighter in a strangle hold, unwilling to let you pull away, twisting all your thoughts into something utterly terrifying. Hatching grounds nearly vanished, far off in another lifetime, as the egg continues to suffocate you in silence and terrors until—BAM! Explosion! Loud cackling! The presence immediately untangles itself and sinks away into nothingness.
Keys To Your Nightmare Egg, having slumbered for one idle moment back into the dreamy state of it's conception, finally arrives back into the hot reality of the sands. Quiver. Shake. /Growl/. What first comes from this beast is not a body, but a /noise/. Deep within the shell, a noise seems to erupt. Loud, deep, angry — ROOOAARRR!! Don't dare patronize this presence for taking his time! And finally, the source of the triumphant exultation comes to bear when, from the triangular hole formed upon his shell, a darkened, scarred head appears. It swivels, looks around, with teeming crimson eyes, before: RAWR SMASH! The entire egg goes shattering, and left on the sands is nothing other than a bronze that looks to strike fear — or.. something.. — into his foes.
Mmmmzang. Mmmmmziggity bop bop. Nnnnzikiziki tok tok neeeeeeeee rrr ziggazigga! … What the shardin' shellagong is that noise?! As if an answer to your unspoken confusion, a low, gritty voice soothes behind your ear. « Ain't that the finest beat ya ever heard? Don't lie. You know it, boy. » The voice, as delicious as it is poignant, intoxicates the mind with a thick… /Overly/ thick sloshing of whiskey. Like, whoa. The after-effects aren't exactly the most enticing: a haze over your eyes, a sudden lack of balance, and a stale smell of a drunken breath hovers over your senses. « Joo just see that green? DAYum, that's a /nice/ set o' haunches on that b— say, Rae… No, /A'in/. That sounds way more smoooth, don'tcha think, bro? » Not giving time for a response, a cool smack hits the side of your proverbial face, and his raunchy, voice BURPS, coughs, and scoots up to be closer — louder — in your head. « Let's blow these sands, grab some meat, 'n find us some tail t'chase. The Lazinzith be /hungry/, man. He be /real/ shardin' hungry. » Must be the drunken munchies!
"It's not the size of the dog in the fight, it's the size of the fight in the dog." — Mark Twain
From the first to the last, Lazinzith will never be a large bronze. He's not overly tiny, but the Pernese gods did not endow this boy with a size to strike fear into his foes. They did, however, endow him with a personality to at least attempt to do so.
Though his ambition is not really to fight, Lazinzith has a habit of inspiring everyone around him to want, at least in the draconic sense, to punch him in the face. Nearly everything that comes out of his mouth — and trust me, /quite/ a bit comes out of his mouth — is his own fandangled opinion about how things should be, one way or another, and they always seem to run against the grain with everyone else.
He likes to point out things that are stupid, annoying, ugly, or simply anything he finds worth mentioning, and though he usually tends to blantantly state them to whatever dragon's in listening distance, A'in will be the listening ear for most of Lazinzith's ramblings. « Ya see the way that lass there bat her eyelashes at him? She must be daft if she thinks the whole Weyr don't know she wants to take her pants off for that sucker. » « Man, his belly's hangin' loooooow today, yo, I bet he ain't seen a second o' exercise in two Turns. Lookit! LOOKIT THERE! His crack's hangin' out! See that? NEVER. DO THAT. »
You will find out much, much about the Weyr and it's inhabitants that you never wanted to know, all thanks to your new lifemate. But as much as he'll point out the things he seens in others, don't be surprised when he starts to nit-pick A'in, as well. « What? What was that? WHAT was that? Did you just do what I think you did, boy? » 'Boy' will be A'in's permanent nickname, when Lazinzith is irritated.. playful.. excited.. Okay, maybe all the time. He walks around with a permanent attitude problem, and a trail of Pernese oaths, up-in-your-face remarks, and cool, under-his-breath comments that might lead A'in to believe that nothin' on Pern could possibly NOT get under his lifemate's skin.
However, nothing that Lazinzith points out to A'in is in an attempt to degrade him. In reality, it's quite the opposite; everything he does, says, in regards to his 'boy' are quite entirely in an effort to make him the most bad-ass, buff, suave, and cool man in the Weyr — or because he loves to verbally spar, even if all for play.
Among advising A'in of the 'She's hot, she's not' pickings of the females of the Weyr, he'll make good on attempting to woo their respective dragons, if they have them — especially if they're green. However… He may not exactly be the smoothest man on the block, himself.
Hancock: to pinned-down cop Good job! Do I have permission to touch your body?
Female Cop: Yes!
Hancock: It's not sexual. Not that you're not an attractive woman. You're actually a very attractive woman and…
Female Cop: screaming Get me the hell out of here!
When it comes to dealing with the lady-folk, he's much, much more reserved. Sexist? Perhaps. Wants to maintain his connections come flight-time? Perhaps. He's much more sensitive to their needs. However, when all's said and done, nothing will stop him from bragging about his endeavors — at least, to you.
Mike Lowrey: Whooo. Did I. Let me tell you, this girl was…
Theresa Burnett: Hey hey. Don't you go telling my boys none of your sleazy sex stories.
Mike Lowrey: Aw, no. I only tell your husband my sleazy sex stories.
Now, when it comes to women — greens and golds, that is — physically, he'll definitely have an edge for the more curvy of the bunch. Not pudgy, /womanly/. The skinny ones will still get his eye, but even so, he cares much more about personality when picking his wimminz than bodily form. In his Girlz, he'll look specifically for a bit of an abrasive personality to match his own. A girl that 'don't put up no s***' and has an impulsive, independent personality. In that regard, you may find him really latching onto Tavissath of all the others in your clutch. (But of the clutch, it will be Ittisieth that he'll clash heads with the most. His snobbish attitude and prissiness will rub your dude the wrong way, totally.) As for other 'women'? If he ends up in a flight with a gal he doesn't particularly like, well… They won't receive the greatest welcome in the morning.
Hancock: I hate to burst your little crazy-lady bubble, but it must not have been all that great, 'cause I don't remember you.
Should he happen to fly a queen and end up a clutch-daddy, it'll come as a rather large shock to him, at first. He won't dislike the idea, but depending on his relationship with the clutch-mother, he'll be either non-existent on the Sands, or, if he gets along with her, will be around to annoy her shardin' tail off with his nonsense. He'll be especially critical of candidates, and may at some time or another, while they're on the Sands, bespeak them just long enough to tell them what's on his mind. « Pull those pants up sonny, before I have them drag your sorry butt away from mah babies! » Once the eggs do end up hatching, he'll be something of a doting father… More in the big-brother sense, though. He'll help 'em out, show them the ropes, until they're old enough to take on their own wings and his "guidance" isn't needed anymore.
Lazinzith will walk with a permanent swagger to match his black-rap-star attitude, which will translate into the air something of a bouncy hip-hop beat of his wings. Everything he does, physically, will be over-exaggerated, cool, and showy. He isn't specifically arrogant about it, but he knows his stuff, knows his bod', and shiznat if anyone tell him otherwise. He'll hold his own pretty well, but if it happens to be /A'in/ that's the brunt of any abrasive comments, he'll be the first to stand second… and will try to inspire his lifemate to fight back with the antagonist.
As independent as he is, and as independent as he expects A'in to be, he'll be a permanent 'backseat driver' in his lifemate's life. However… Should A'in try to reverse the role, he'll be in for quite a surprise, for this bronze is a bit of a hypocrite. Lazinzith does NOT like being told what to do. Ever. He does his own thang, when he wants to, and if someone's got a problem with it, it's just Too Darn Bad. The time that this will become most apparent to Raevin won't be long after they Impress, as the first time that they have to get up for drills, it will be a miniature waking nightmare.
Boy at Bus Stop: hits him to wake up
Boy at Bus Stop: Hancock!
Hancock: What, boy?
Boy at Bus Stop: points to TV screens Bad guys.
Hancock: What, you want a cookie? Get the hell out my face.
A'in will never, ever, be on time for morning drills. Lazinzith does NOT like being woken up. He will moan, groan, angst, complain, and only once A'in reaches the point of desperation will Laz finally get his lazy bronze butt off his couch and go to drills. It won't get much better as he ages, either. He'll struggle relentlessly to get out of some of the more mundane tasks. Once he's awake, he's a darn hard worker and puts everything he's got into whatever job you so choose, but oiling? Bathing? Why you gotta force things on him, bro? If his skin starts to get crackly from refusing the oil, he'll brush it off as « It ain't no biggie » and take it as 'battle wounds' against a war of pointless ninniness. Dirt? Whatevah. Blood? Iz cool. Bad breath? « You sayin' I smell funny, boy?! »
One thing, though, that will never make sense is Lazinzith's obsession with /shoes/. It may not be real apparent at first, but especially once you're both hooked up with your own ledge, your shoes will start disappearing. Your visitors shoes will start disappearing. Where they'll go, he'll never say, but his cheeky comments of « Those are some fine shoes, man! » will make a great deal more sense once those 'fine shoes' are never seen again. Better believe it if you meet a weyrbrat telling tall tales of a bronze dragon trying to fit shoes over his front talons. Just don't embarass yourself trying to explain that it happened to be YOUR bronze with the absurd fascination for footwear.
However, as strange, gritty, boistrious and annoying Lazinzith can be, A'in will always be his best 'bro. His pal, his comrade, his homie. He'd give his life for his pal, and at the end of the day, when all's worn out and life seems like it might've been better without him mucking things up, he'll shoulderbump A'in, give him a mangy smile, and let him know, « Boy, you make this dump a fine place to be. Thanks, bro. » And that will make it all for the better.
« Whatsa matta whichoo? » Apparently, English classes were not available pre-Hatching for this bronze, and even upon insistence, grammatical decency will be 'below him'. He's not lazy about it, he just doesn't care. Why should he speak proper? If ever questioned about it, he'll wonder 'when did you go an' make me a Harper, boy?' and leave it at that. Ain'ts, slurs, cut-off and missing words… Yeah, he's Too Cool for School, yo.
Not that he's dumb, by any means. Quick as a whip and as witty as the best, his voice is a constant cracker of jokes, and the way he seems to say everything comes across as constant sarcastic silliness. Nothing he says ever sounds serious, unless the need is absolutely dire. He might like to pick a fight, but he tries to do it in as humorous a way as possible.
But behind his brawny, rather deep voice, there will always be a sloshing of alcohol. It'll mix into /everything/, as if everything he says, he says after 6 hours of drinking. Should he talk too loud or too much, you'll get the aftertaste in your mouth, and actively smell that hangover breath. Whiskey golds will lace his thoughts, lacing into everything, along with a mental haze of someone who could never walk in a straight line for the police. When he's particularly happy or excited, a hip-hop beat will appear in the background behind his voice… If he's upset, that bad-breath smell will get infinitely worse, but infinitely more intoxicating.
Obviously it's stuck in the egg's name too, but this egg is based off of Nightmare, the boardgame, which is a video boardgame where the players need to collect keys while racing the gatekeeper that is on the TV, occasionally popping in to scare the players. The egg itself is described off the boardgame box: http://www.retrojunk.com/img/art-images/nightmaregame.jpg as well as the keys you have to collect. :) This egg and its mind touches were made by Ysa.
You wanted something fun and easy to say, so, taking from the suggestions of letters and some poking of online translators for meanings in other languages, Lazinzith was born! Pronounced 'Lah ZIHN zihth', your bronze's name is derived (however loosely!) from the Italian translation of 'sock thief', ala 'calzino ladro'. I think the meaning itself is rather self-explanitory. ;)
The clutch theme was 'Children's Games', and from that, Lazinzith's 'game' is… yes… Sock Wrestling. This fits well with Laz's inspiration, in that he is a rather rogue-ish, fighty fella, and likes to make clever jabs and such at his opponents. As well, his shoe-stealing fetish fits in well with the idea of winning by removing a player's socks. For a brief explanation of the game, go here: http://www.gameskidsplay.net/games/circle_games/sock_wrestling.htm
Lazinzith is, aside from inspiration drawn from the Theme associated with him, based on the many, numerous, and not-very-varied characters played by Will Smith. He's a gangsta. Sorta. Inspiration was mainly drawn from the movies Hancock and Bad Boys, although similar personality types may be found from the characters he plays in Men in Black, Enemy of the State, Independence Day, Hitch, and… Many many others. As opposed to a wolf in sheep's clothing, I picture him more of a 'sheep in wolf's clothing'. He's good natured, under it all, but… His rough exterior makes it a bit hard to see sometimes. (Also, I like to observe, Will Smith seems to have a thing for Shoes in his movies, too, most notably in 'I, Robot', where he blatantly showed off his vintage kickers.)
In accord with his shoe-fetish, Lazinzith's coloration is based on nothing less than a Shoe. This shoe: http://images2.solestruck.com/donald-j-pliner-shoes/Donald-J-Pliner-shoes-Bozza-%28Bronze-Antique-Metallic-Shine-Nappa%29-010604.jpg His color has the same flashy appeal, mixed with a bit of a greenish, oil-spill like sheen where shadows fall. The black leather appeals to the dark, pitch back line of ridges down his back, and the lighter stitching like his bold, easy-to-see talons. The mark across his muzzle is given as requested, though moved more from his eye to lower down on his nose to look more like a 'fight wound'.
Lazinzith himself was written in entirety (description, personality, mindvoice) by none other than Korvok. Yarrr!
|Hatched||September 26th, 2009|