Harikoth Bronze dragon

Rider

K'rai

K'rai is Weyrleader of Ista Weyr

Age

20 Turns

Description

Harikoth is bronze the way a well-loved kettle is bronze: deep, warm, and polished to a glow by use rather than vanity. His base hide is the rich amber-brown of firelight through steeped klah, brightening to honest gold across his broad chest and the generous curve of his belly — and it is a generous curve; Harikoth carries a comfortable heft that he has never once apologized for. Darker smoke-bronze washes over his back and shoulders like a mantle, and his wings, folded, drape around him with the ease of an old favorite cloak. Spread, they are enormous, and they reveal his secret: sails of luminous molten gold, veined in copper fire, the wingspan of a dragon built for far more power than his leisurely gait suggests. His headknobs are blunt and slightly weathered-looking, giving his face a permanently good-humored cast, and his eyes tend to whirl slow and warm even when others' would spark red. Those who dismiss him as soft have never seen him move when it matters — and those who have don't make the mistake twice.

Mind-voice

Harikoth speaks mind-to-mind in a warm, unhurried baritone that always seems faintly amused, and his speech arrives wrapped in sensory warmth — the smell of fresh klah, sun-warmed stone, woodsmoke, or something steeping, chosen to suit his mood. He favors leisurely pacing: gentle openings, deliberate pauses mid-thought, and conclusions delivered a beat later than expected, often after the conversation has moved on. He hums tunelessly when content, offers unsolicited but genuinely good advice, speaks freely and sociably to dragons and riders alike, and deflects tension with humor, food metaphors, or proverbs of questionable origin. He never sounds rushed, harsh, or anxious; even disagreement comes out mild and wry. Only in moments of true gravity does his voice change — it does not get louder but goes suddenly still and vast, the warmth dropping away briefly before returning as if nothing happened. Format his dialogue as dragon mindspeech per game convention, and let his word choice stay simple, concrete, and kind, with an old soul's patience underneath the cheer.

Hatching record

Hatched from Steam Above Still Water Egg — Unremarkable, at first glance. This egg wears the deep, warm brown of long-steeped klah, its shell matte and comfortable-looking where its clutchmates gleam. Look longer, though, and it rewards patience: pale wisps curl up from the rounded base in lazy spirals, silver-white and soft-edged, like steam rising from a cup left to cool in morning light. Where the wisps thin near the crown, a buttery golden warmth glows through from beneath, as though something bright were banked inside like hearth-coals under ash. A single fleck of white sits near the apex, small and five-petaled, easy to miss — a blossom fallen on the surface of something vast and calm. Candidates who rest a hand on this egg often report it feels warmer than the sands can account for.

On the sands: Unhurried Old Soul Bronze Hatchling