Egg Name and Description
Most Terrible Poverty Egg
Bleak, dark, and nearly nonexistent; this little egg blends itself most remarkably with the black sands of Ista's hatching grounds. Easily passed over for merely another small mound of sand, as black and grainy as its shell is, the egg is in danger of being forgotten almost entirely. That is, if it were not for the faint distant flickering candlelight towards the center of it. Its warm glow is less inviting and more a battle to stay alive and noticed, if barely, as it illuminates a shadowy outline of a figure curled up at the furthest corner of the egg. Invisible, alone, and forgotten.
Oppressive Sorrows are just a distant thought in the pitch black darkness, hard to trace and feel. And suddenly there is nothing else around you— the sands below you are gone, your fellow candidates missing. Just you and nothing, very much like the feeling :between: with no comfort of a dragon underneath you. Yet there is the quiet tickle of a whisper that touches the edges of your mind, as if there were a barrier that the sound cannot break. Fighting, pushing, trying to leave the shadows and yet failing… failing every time. There's one last grasp, the touch slipping away from your mind even as it desperately tries to hold one… and sucked back into the prison of its shell.
Oppressive Sorrows return in one desperate maneuver to latch on tightly, breaking through the wall blocking it out and falling upon your mind like a thick smothering blanket. A flood of quiet weeping surrounds you, pulling you away from everything else to tumble into the nothingness where it dwells. Chills run up whatever part of you is touching the shell, fear of being trapped in that solitude of nothing, with the burbling of whispers and sobs. Faint candlelight finally touches the darkness, glowing more as the touch keeps its hold and warming the icy chill just a little around the edges even if it is not much comfort.
Oppressive Sorrows cling on as if the very life of the hatchling itself depended on it. A sting of pain grazes your mind as if there are claws seeking to dig in and hold on, followed by a rush of anxiety. The weeping turns into an ear-piercing wail that is abruptly cut off as a cool breeze sweeps through and snuffs the faint candlelight. A profound darkness returns, and suddenly the feeling of ice so cold it hurts fills the skin that touches the egg. There one moment, gone completely the next, with only silence remaining and the sense of something lost.
If an egg could sigh, the Most Terrible Poverty Egg would be doing it. It shivers, just a little, with the candle mark on its surface threatening to snuff out entirely. Exhausted by the effort, it ceases to move, lapsing once more into terrible stillness. There is yet the spark of life left, but it is hard to see.
A moan. A whimper. Noises it cannot yet make properly, but the shell is surely straining for the effort being put upon it. Most Terrible Poverty Egg is starting to stretch a little, that little bit of flame on the surface being distorted futher. This time, a wild crack lances through it, nearly bisecting it. Perhaps startled, the resident within stops.
No more! It's too much! Most Terrible Poverty Egg can't stand the feelings any more and it /heaves/ itself over to dash the shell on the sands. An ink-dark limb juts out of the wreckage, then another, before a curiously duo-toned — and rather pudgy — brown dragonet hauls himself to his feet.
Hatchling Name and Description
Bumbling Big Brother Brown Hatchling
Short and squat, any sense of length to be found in this brown dragon might be hard to find. His muzzle is a narrow thing, a bit long and just right for sticking into trouble, while his tail is pudgy and drags more often than not. Lush tawny brown — faintly kissed with a golden sheen, but not so much to make him bronze — pours down from the top of his head and encircles his neck, only to stop abruptly at his beefy shoulders. It emerges again on the broad sails of his wings and over his meaty haunches, only to fade out along the length of his thick tail. Darker brown makes a cunning mask, starting just under his eyeridges and stretching out over his cheeks and pinching a bit toward the middle of his muzzle. That deep, carob shade covers his legs all the way up to where they meet his body, fills the void between his neck and shoulders and is smeared on his belly as if he'd been walking through a puddle of ink.
Public Impression Message
Private Impression Message
Pon. Pon pon. Pon poko poko pon. The sound of a strange drum rises at the back of your mind, paired with a soft humming noise that overwhelms the roar of the crowds. Suddenly, everything is gone — the sands, the candidates near you, even the dragons and eggs before you. A bubble of light dances like a dust mote before your eyes, swelling and growing and flickering until an orb-shaped paper lantern bobbing just within arm's reach. And, as you reach for it, it bursts open, with a brightly laughed « Oh ho! Oh ho! G'thod! I'm so glad you could be here! » The drumming continues, intermittent and oddly timed as it is, with the jingle of coins ringing — bright and golden — in the background. The feeling is one of overwhelming warmth and jubilation, a full body hug that reaches into the soul and leaves a warm and fuzzy feeling in the very pit of your stomach. That fuzzy feeling also seems to strangely resolve in front of you, in the form of a two-toned brown dragonet that's seated at your feet and looking up with love in his rapidly whirling eyes. « What fun we'll have, G'thod! What delight! » And, suddenly, your stomach pangs with hunger that isn't entirely your own. « But first, you must show me this 'food'. I'm hungry, oh-so-/hungry/. Why, I might shrivel up right here if we don't get something. » And while it doesn't occur to him to give his name, you know it all the same: you are G'thod and he is your Pokth.
Personality / RP Tips
Oh ho, but Pokth will be a handful! From his early days as a weyrling, he'll be difficult to keep up with. Food will fascinate him endlessly and you'll have to struggle not to overfeed him despite all of his begging and pleading to the contrary. His tail will be naturally pudgy, so it might be difficult to tell if he has thick-tail or not — get used to carrying buckets and knowing how to administer a purgative, in either case. Oil will be a plaything, as will water, and be mindful not to leave anything out that he can fit in his mouth or smack with his tail. It's not that he's clumsy, not at all — he'll be an agile fellow on the land as well as the air — but he's just /curious/. Nosy might be more accurate, but he's well-meaning about it. Playing tricks on the others is another fond habit of his, though his tricks are never malevolent — he doesn't want to hurt anyone, but since when did sticking trundlebugs in Nziekilth's couch ever hurt anyone?
When he's young, you'll find he's a bit of an odd duck — afraid of the dark and terrified of leaving your side for long stretches of time. As he grows, both of those traits will wane considerably, though he may still insist on a glow basket near his couch or beg for 'together time' if he feels you've been off too much. It's not that he's particularly needy in that regard, but he likes you — it's why he picked you, after all! — and he feels safest when you're around. Just don't point out that if anyone needs to feel safe, it's a squishy human like yourself …
Curiosity will be the one sense of hunger that will never fully abate, either. Anything new will elicit a barrage of « Oh ho! What's that? What does it do? Why does it do that? What a strange /thing/! » from your precious Pokth … and then you'll have to be quick to dissuade him from sticking his nose or paw into whatever it is. Children's toys — the kind with wheels and moving bits, that is — will be of particular interest and he may insist on collecting them.
Mud, by the bye, will be one element you'll never get him out of without a bit of a struggle. Mud, muck, any particularly slippery or slimy stuff will be grand fun for him to squelch his toes into — and he'll insist you join him, declaring, « It's good for the feet! I heard that once from a little avian! » It won't be the first tale he weaves … nor will it be the last. Pokth is a lover of stories as much as he is a lover of people, and if he can come up with something to cover for that one time he was chasing a wherry and smashed through a fence — « The wherry was a /monster/ of a wherry, G'thod! Truly, a sight to behold! Oh ho, but it went crashing through the fence and there was nothing I could do about it at all. » — then all the better.
He will love people and love to be around them, so don't be too surprised when he starts nudging you to talk to this person or that person or, « Oh ho! I don't know who they are, but they don't look too busy. Maybe they have a fine tale to tell! » Gathers and other events with lots of people will be things he will /thrive/ on, and if he catches wind of one happening, he'll be insistent, down to begging and pleading to go. While he won't be too inclined to bespeak others, he'll shamelessly use you to fill that gulf and act as translator both ways. He'll also be perfectly fine left to his own devices, though he may attract children and firelizards as if he were some kind of strange magnet — worse still if mud is involved. And don't forget his inner trickster — he'll just get more sophisticated as the turns wear on.
In flights, he's something of a go-getter … when he has the get up and go, that is. He won't be a prolific chaser by any means and, in fact, he might be a bit slow to the party when it comes to flights in general. He just won't get what the fuss is. And, before you fret about it, he won't be in the least inclined to chase Th'don's green. You might find that the only way to get his pudgy butt into the air is to have at least some attraction to the green's rider. Of course, once he's up there, he'll give it all he's got and then some — cajoling with stories, pleading with the promise of wealth, sending waves of that warm-and-fuzzy adoration … what female can resist! If he catches, he'll be the cuddly type afterward … but, if he should be bested by another, be ready for him to eat his sorrows away by chowing down an ovine or other 'light' snack.
In all, he's a lover, not a fighter — a loyal friend who'll always be there to remind you of the good times, when he can remember them. Because for as much as he loves people and protecting them, you are the one he loves most. To you, Pokth gives his undying devotion and adoration.
He speaks in thunderous booms and great drums, with the tinkling of metal coins sometimes providing accents. Rarely will fire flare into his mind but, when it does, it tends to take the shape of candleflames that cast shadows in the backdrop of his mind — his mood is best reflected in those shadows, most particularly anger and sorrow. Generally, he's a jovial fellow and his voice reflects that — broad and expansive, filling the mind with delightful drumming and an entirely too delighted « Oh ho! » from time to time. He can be wildly eloquent at times, especially when telling his stories — stories illustrated with candleflame-cast shadows and vivid props on a shimmering curtain in his mind — but, when he's tired or listless, he might only answer only in the wordless thumb and rattle of drums and coins.
"The most terrible poverty is loneliness and the feeling of being unloved."
The theme for this cycle's eggs and dragons were Phobias and Philias, fears and likes. And as the quote from Mother Teresa mentions, this egg was based off of Monophobia, which is the fear of solitude and being alone. The quote, of course, is where the name of the egg comes from and the picture is just as the egg image shows, of someone curled up in the dark with very little light.
-Created by Ysa
"You may say that I'm a dreamer
But I'm not the only one.
I hope someday you'll join us
And the world will be as one."
- John Lennon, "Imagine"
Inspiration: At the core of things, Pokth is a philanthropist. His philia is Philanthropia — a love of humanity — and it tends to show when one least expects it. But, that's not all, not by a long shot. No, the vast majority of what makes Pokth is a mythical creature called a Tanuki:
Fat and happy, with a generous mischievous streak, he seemed to be the perfect inspiration for your portly brown. The peculiar patterning of the real life "raccoon dog" was a good match for your descriptive preference, and everything else just seemed to mesh rather naturally after that.
Name: Pokth is drawn directly from the 'Pon Poko' sound a Tanuki makes when drumming on his belly. I tried to keep it short and sweet, per your requests, while keeping it unique. I like the sound and tend to pronounce it like 'pox' with a k, but there's a bit of wiggle-room as that goes. :)
All in all, I hope you like him! He was a blast to write and I really hope you have a blast playing this not-so-little guy. And, of course, if there are bits and pieces — or whole sections — you don't like, you're more than welcome to tinker and retool. Afterall, a Tanuki is mischievous and there's no telling just /what/ kind of antics he'll get up to once he's in the world! ~M'gaal
|Name||Bumbling Big Brother Brown Pokth|
|Hatch Date||06 June 2010|