Meet the Eggs: Summer 2009

The following are the eggs and touches for Xanadu Weyr's Summer 2009 clutch by gold Avaeth and bronze Dhonzayth.

AncientForgottenTemple.jpg
Ancient Forgotten Temple Egg

Dank dark green coils and crawls along the base of this egg, twisting together into a tight tangle of weed-like protrusions that sinuously curve up along every single side of the shell. A monolithic pyramid of ashen grey struggles free of the encroaching greenery, its towering peak silhouetted against a backdrop of peachy orange that diffuses over the entire apex as though a mighty sun is glowing from within. Slashes of charcoal march in line up each side of the structure, coming to a halt near the top like some mockery of ancient stairs leading skywards to the heavens. Winding trails of ivy green cling to the edges of the stone, attempting to gain further hold on it with its deathly strangling grip. A deep black hole in the very heights of the central building peeks out from beneath overhanging streaks of vine green, looking extremely mysterious and foreboding at the same time. Tiny winged black shapes spew forth from it, twisting and writhing as they scatter across the plain of sunset orange, nearly masking the picturesque scene in a cloud of flying bodies.
Swirling Eddies of Fog creep into your mind, settling in a fine mist across your consciousness that refuses to lift. There it clings, drifting through your thoughts and memories lazily and with seemingly little care as it flicks past each one in succession. It's touch is fairly warm and humid, as though it were musty air coming directly from a tropical forest being blown right into your head to wreak havoc amongst your brain cells. Faint whispers trickle across your senses, bringing with it a feeling of extreme cunning that will not be swayed by any force on Pern. Before anything else can be discovered about the presence within the egg, the thickening fog slowly leaks out of your mind, seemingly exiting through your ear with a parting snicker.

Swirling Eddies of Fog roils and coils and snakes its way into your head again, twisting sinuously as though it were made of silk rather than a smoke-like substance. It embarks on a long adventure through your mind once more, flitting like some giant winged creature around your various memories, pulling each one forward as it delves deep into your consciousness. There is a hint of intrigue about the touch it leaves behind, as though it were mildly curious about some of the more action-filled happenings of your life. Soon, though, it seems to grow bored and lists back into its slumber, drifting slowly back out of your brain with a slow slithering motion and a parting snort of impatience.

Swirling Eddies of Fog slips quietly into your thoughts again, seemingly tired of the work it requires already after the other forays into your mind. It curls itself into a quiet corner of your consciousness, seemingly content enough to just stay hidden where it is. As it roils about in a sleepy, almost lazy torpor, it gives off the sense of its previous stubbornness and quick cunning. Just try to dare it to move when it wants to stay there, as it would seem it does most greatly. But, as with most other things dealing with the occupent of this particular egg, it begins to lose interest with your random thoughts fairly quickly and soon slides away, draining out of your head with a final laugh.
BestLaidPlans.jpg Best Laid Plans Egg

Like a crumpled piece of paper this egg seems to be covered with tiny dips and and ridges that give variation of shading to its single hued backdrop. 'X's are sprinkled across one side of the shell, 'O's across the other - variegated shade of grey akin to pencil lead. The cryptic symbols weave in and out of the pseudo folds and from within one of those imagined creases a third spills forth as handful of 'Z' shapes. Ragged lines of that same hard, leaded grey lead cross the surface from some of these strange marks, just where they lead not so clear. But there, hidden near the bottom, where shell meets sand, sits one lone 'M'.
Intimidating Rumblings gives nothing away. Not at first. But suddenly a shadow darkens your thoughts. The smell of 'funky old sweatsocks dipped in rotten eggs' weaving tendrils of menacing curiosity. Plans. We all have plans.

Intimidating Rumblings grins, a glisten of white. A hint of sharp, crooked fangs. You're still here. This.. this is good. Teal blue of pool water washes your thoughts. The not so subtle scent of chlorine replacing that of the garbage can. What do you know? What are your plans?

Intimidating Rumblings makes one last impression. The sound of a marching band's last note - 'like a water buffalo losing its lunch'. That's all and then its gone, skittering across a plain that seems strangely like grass.
BrassBound.jpg Brass Bound Egg

The rich brown of old leather wraps this egg from its steady base on through its broad tip. Barely sloping, its sides tend more to roundness than the typical oval curve of most and it seems very solidly settled in its hollow of sand. A line of bronzed dots studs its way around the egg's crown, just above a shadowed dark line that presents the optical illusion of a crack, where none yet flaws that smooth leathery surface. Overlapping this line, lyric curving shapes touched with the sheen of aged brass curl downward, like the clasps of an old trunk, holding fast whatever treasure lies within.
Intrepid Sleuthing Thoughts reach for yours the moment they feel your touch. Who are you? What's your name? Where are you from? What are you doing there? Questions and more questions as they try to figure out the puzzle of you.

Intrepid Sleuthing Thoughts curl more closely into the nooks and crannies of your mind. Here a thought is illuminated, turned this way and that to increase understanding. Why did you do this? Why does this memory mean so much to you? How has it made you who you are right now?

Intrepid Sleuthing Thoughts start to retreat, drawing away the light of understanding, pulling back into shadows of reflection and musing. Sometimes, the clues need to be slept on before the provide the answers to the mystery.
CliffAerie.jpg Cliff Aerie Egg

Remote, lofty, abandoned, a small city of stone sleeps upon the surface of this egg. Still as a sepulcher, these walls have borne silent witness to ancient anguish. Blocks of crumbling adobe curve across the upper half of the oval shell, an encircling kiva in which the precious content of this egg lies dreaming. Pale chert, warmed by Rukbat's everlasting rays adds baked texture while infrequent rains crackle the surface, lending a weathered and timeless quality. Enshadowed by ochre cliffs, the lower half dwells in stark contrast to the other; darkened in cool shade, moist rimrock's soothing sanctuary, no invader dares pass.
Storms in the Desert breathe winds that gently tug on you. The heat of the sands recede as a cool mist enfolds you, roiling damply upon your face and skin. The earthy scent of rain-dampened rock mingles with the tang of juniper, sage and creosote permeating your senses. Wind-bourne, a question flows through your mind, Can you lift up your voice to the clouds and bring rain in abundance? The mists dissipate, but one question lingers, sighs on a gentle breath, Where, with whom will you find understanding?

Storms in the Desert darken the mists that surround you. Afar off, a distant thunder growls, reverberating off of shadowed rock walls. A feeling of uneasiness pervades, a subtle pressure that bears down on your awareness then intensifies. A question trembles, terrible in its urgency, Can you command the lightning and get it to answer your call? There is a sense it is vital that you know. Mists dissipate, leaving behind a hollow echo, From where will you draw your strength of mind?

Storms in the Desert violently wrench, yanking you into complete darkness - it's a dizzying, disturbing transition. Flickering orange light dispels the darkness, the crackle of flames, the scent of burning mesquite and roasting meat saturate your awareness. Muted voices and laughter drift through your mind, a tranquility shattered by vicious cries and fear-laced screams. A resounding concussion rocks your head but oddly, there is no pain, although the taste of blood is warm in your mouth. As the sensations ebb, steady drumbeats pulsate questions through your mind, Can you help the one that is without power? The darkness, last to go asks, What reserves have you against the time of trouble?

Storms in the Desert beat a steady throb in the palm of your hand, travel up your arm to engulf your mind. A peculiar dimness surrounds you, although you are in reality still standing upon the sands, a rhythm seems to take your body in a slow spiraling dance, the movement is both beautiful and awful, evoking a powerful emotional response. As insistent as a drum the question comes, Have you found the treasures of the snow? All sensations fade but flute-like tones sing in your memory, Do you know the old ways of the ancient ones? Lingering notes, the final drops of a spent rain query as they taper away, Who will give you hidden wisdom?
ElevenWorldlyWonders.jpg Eleven Worldly Wonders Egg

Chaos reigns supreme over the surface of this rather squat egg, manifesting in the form of a clashing array of patterns. Filtered light cascades in a shimmering stream from the apex like some mystical sun fixed immobilized to the heights, sending a dazzling mixture of dapples across the encroaching darkness below. The scene itself is one of eleven mishmashed shapes all vying for a place of prominence over one another. Towering edifices of stone grey and massive sand brown pyramids jostle for position around a large, central mass that sits in a pool of light where it can't be missed. The stately vision rises like a sacred shrine from the depths, rising over all with marble white pillars and a misshapen granite-colored blob that rests safely within the confines of the structure. Writhing shapes of darkness seethe upwards towards the protected peak, boiling together in a cascading mass of dark red and black bodies that look almost like an invading force of creatures intent on destruction.
Opalescent Bubbles drift serenely across your consciousness, flittering briefly from colors of calming blue to darker red in the blink of an eye. It's all a fairly beautiful sight for several moments as the vaguely shaped bubbles form and pop in succession, switching colors like a kaleidoscope. There is something quite peculiar about the shapes, which seem to be carrying little capsules of emotions in them rather than simply varying hues. A general feeling of great intelligence flows through the ever moving stream of shapes, punctuated by soft feelings of peace, calm and tranquility. It's almost as though the inhabitant inside is in a trance-like state, yet there is a hint of annoyance flickering through it's serene facade. A fleeting vision of an aching longing for freedom slips by in a flood of red-tinged spheres, along with the sense that the mind itside is merely biding its time. Soon. Soon the world will know of its daring deeds, but it must wait for the perfect opportunity to carry out its plans. A final flurry of aquamarine slips through your mind, carrying with it a feeling of mingled excitement and anticipation for the future before it dies away.

Opalescent Bubbles flit across your mind in an agitated stream of constantly changing colors and emotions. Everything seems to be shifting between a peaceful trance-like state to many different thoughts at once that seem to be cycling quickly through the occupant's mind in turn. Half-formed plans come to life in the shape of multicolored spheres ranging from deepest blue to bright red, all of them being brought to the forefront of your mind as though asking for opinions on each. It's difficult to tell what any of these are, as they are withdrawn almost as soon as they are put forth in a flittering whirl of colors in your mind's eye. From the whirling, spinning quality of the bubbles, it would seem the mind is extremely excited and almost gleeful to show off what it's been concocting while sitting serenely inside its egg prison. From the various snatches that remain still for long, it would seem that many range from plans of adventurous pursuits to less than honorly activities, but all seem to maintain an overt sense of intelligence that is in every pulse of color that escapes this mind. With a final shower of violet bubbles to indicate its happy anticipation of these plans, it drifts back into its serene sleep. Ohmmmm.

Opalescent Bubbles bounce fitfully through your mind, drifting from vibrant color to color with each movement. All of the bright spheres begin to swell enormously, bulging with different wild schemes and oozing multitudes of emotions that begin to conflict with one another. With so much being thrown at you at once, it's difficult to make out one thing or another, but there is a general overall sense of growing pride at its own cleverness that permeates throughout. Each bubble of emotion grows even bigger as the mind inside begins to pump more feeling into each of them, eager to show all of its great exciting plans to one who might be its future partner in crime. Swirls of these bulging circles crowd their way across your consciousness, each one vying for its place amongst the other as the entire stream becomes more and more sluggish due to the extreme clogging of emotions. Soon the inevitable happens: all of the bubbles pop simultaneously in a giant explosion of color that is momentarily blinding. Once every last vestige of hue fades away, it would seem as though the mind within has gone silent again, content to wait out the rest of its stay in the egg in sleep.
ForgottenYellow.jpg Forgotten Yellow Egg

Large splotches of a pale, washed-out yellow coat the outer surface of this egg, working upwards from the centerline, sweeping around it. Here and there, its as if the yellow is peeling away, revealing a dusty brown underneath, while the top of the egg is wearing a cap of maroon. Overgrown green sprouts up to engulf the bottom portion of the egg - light and dark, patches like a variety of leaves overlapping, and hiding the mysterious yellow hue away, relegating it to memory alone.
Suspended Flecks of Dust touch your mind softly, slowly, barely noticeable at first, simply little sparkles in a ray of yellow-tinged sunlight. A flicker here, a sparkle there, seeming to float effortlessly. Slowly, it settles, slowly it gathers in the recesses of your thoughts, hiding old memories away.

Suspended Flecks of Dust continue to gather over your mind, turning history to shadowed thoughts, hiding them away under a thin layer of gray. The past, the past is no more, the past is of no consequence. The sunlight slowly begins to fade, tints of orange shining through before it fades completely, the dust growing thicker.

Suspended Flecks of Dust seem to surround you, blocking out the light, blocking out the past, blocking out everything. Heavy, they gather, they cast you into the shadows of thoughts, the recesses of memories. And then, suddenly, a ray of sunlight bursts through, burning the dust away, burning the shadows away, and opening you up, once more, to the light of the present.
HandofGreed.jpg Hand of Greed Egg

Black tendrils, smooth and leathery that appear solid almost bulging forth as an odd malformation of the egg. To the touch, it's smooth as it snakes downwards from the top of this large egg. The tendrils curve down to the very bottom of the egg; a hand reaching into the depths, stealing the undeserved treasure. In the palm of this black hand of tendrils; the prize is an off green-gold colored object, now trapped in the grasp of the black tendriled hand. A close look reveals outlines a face colored in soft green, within the grasp of the greedy fingers.
The Curious Eyes is spying upon a scene most unusual. Revealing the scene to your minds eye, you see a fusion of colors. Blurry colors of blue and brown form the figure of a man, thin and frail, reaching into /something/. He withdraws one of those thin arms with a prize in hand, the odd colors of green in those oddly blurred black fingers. The head turns, blurry white eyes seem to find you before a feeling of fear overwhelms you. All too suddenly, the scene is gone! There's nothing but darkness now and the underlying sense of fear.

The Curious Eyes returns with caution, the risk of being caught eminent by the feelings it emits to you. Fear, worry… But more linger, pain, anger, saddness. Do not worry of it now, though! Look, the man must be found for the treasure he stolen is not rightfully his. Which way to look? High? Low? What way did he go? No, no, no.. He's lost for now. The search begins, this way and that.. Between blurrs of green, red, and blue.. Nothing. With a feeling of impatience, the vision fades and nothing more is there but lingering thoughts of who the figure is and where he is..

The Curious Eyes returns, the blurry scenery errupts with an excitement of colors.. Blues, pinks, purples, and yellows all together in a colorful array. You are up high, the gentle breeze brushing along your cheeks. The eyes turn, giving you sight of a blurry white square upon the ground. Feelings of alarm overwhelm. Oh no! Oh no! Perhaps.. Perhaps.. Yes, yes. That'll work! Just you wait and see.. That will work, the figure oh no, he will not get away. The treasure will be returned and all will be right. Your vision fades, but it leaves you with a sense of rightness and accomplishment.

The Curious Eyes is dancing around your mind, a bright explosion of colors. We did it! We did it! The figure was caught, all is well again. Smiles and rays of light, a fluttery feeling of delight. How wonderful you are. With a feeling of warmth, the feelings vanish.. And nothing is left.
OceansDeception.jpg Ocean's Deception's Egg

Sunken deep in darkened waters is the make of this little, round shell— ripples of yellow and foamy white across the surface of light and dark blue. From the rounded top, the foam fades from light sky blue to a royal blue, glimmers of red and green shot through like finger fish swimming about. As the the bulk of the shell itself sits above the hatching sands, a dark gray can barely be made out in the navy blue. A few pieces of gray have broken off from the main bulk, but for the most part the water logged gray remains intact. Silvery lines attach the gray to a brown bulk that fades into the blue, though one side looks unhinged as if smashed. Just above where the egg sinks securely into the welcoming heat of the sands, the navy blue finally fades to a pure black, giving a sense of depth between top and bottom of the shell.
Golden, Wind-Blown Strands dance about your mind's vision, always just at the tip of sight before it disappears into the darkness. For a few minutes this continues, leading you further and further into the depths of it's own maze… luring you away from the sands about you. Finally, the jovial chase stops, and the hairs blow gently in your direction, caresses of hair like a soft feline or canine as it stands their waiting for your next move. A mental sneer crosses the expanse between you and the strands, daring you to guess it's true nature, it's ultimate intent in the chase of minds it's led you on…

Golden, Wind-Blown Strands suddenly leaps forward, the golden strands dancing into brown as the colors inner mix in your mental vision. As it does so, it latches on, clamping down in what for a split second feels like pain, but in the end turns out to be the sheer need to -know-. Without much request, the soft golden turns to whips, lashing at your memories with an eagerness that reminds one of a child raiding the cookie jar. Pulling forth each simple memory — the sky, grass, particular flowers you've seen before, people, dragons it demands to know what each is, and what it means. The vice grip slowly ebbs with each picture, suddenly coming upon memories, both happy… and sad, within your life. It doesn't understand, but the ripple of empathy is there as it views each like a treasure, sunlight settling across the yellow tendrils to make them come a-light in a softer tone.

Golden, Wind-Blown Strands continues to entangle your mind as eventually each memory is rifled through — it begins to piece together information about you, and your life… as if this might help figure out some bigger puzzle it has not yet revealed. Slowly, the grip falls away and the caress returns, flicking across your mind as if standing behind a beautiful, blond woman in the breeze. Your purpose is complete, it has gained what it wants from you, and with that same sneer of before… it thanks you for your willingness or possibly unwillingness to answer it's questions and piece together it's knowledge. The sunlight around the mind ebbs into moonlight, and there is a feeling of tiredness there. A simple glare is turned your way, as if wondering why your still there as it curls up back into the recess of it's own darkness. The feeling of the glare intensifies for a moment before a sheer amount of pain lances across the connection, as if you'd suddenly been hit in the back of the head. As that feeling passes, the link of before is gone, cut with little consequence of the life-line, leaving still a bitter ache in it's wake…
OdditiesofTheft.jpg Oddities of Theft Egg

The egg itself looks flimsy and weak, quite ready to break with too hard of a a gentle prod. Gold is the color of this egg, pale gold like a soft metal. But, most of the gold is obscured with red, like locks of hair, spanning downwards and splaying out with it's slight waves of curls. Beneath the red weaves of hair, one can faintly see letterings along the gold most of it hidden beneath the hair. One will see the letters of 'P' and 'I' etched gently in the gold, separated by illegible letters.
The Lack of Morals arrives with a slow sense of security, wrapping around your mind slowly and soothing gently. Shhh. It's alright dear one, try again next time. Next time.. It'll be all better, won't it? You've just got to /practice/ dear. And let me take care of everything else.. There's a crackle of fire, echoing like the cackle of a ner-do-well.

The Lack of Morals comes forth, cackling with a fire. Watch it burn dearest! Oh, it was your favorite but see how it burns.. I do it for you. Just for you dearest. A flicker of anger, frustration and pain with an explosion of color. How perfect you will be, dearest.. /Perfect/. The cackling flickers and then fades, lingering in your mind.

The Lack of Morals fills your mind with an agonizing wail. How could it happen this way?! How could it be ruined like this? Don't hate me, dearest. It pleads with faint colors of pink and shimmers of blue for sorrow. Please forgive.. Another wail the cackling fire no longer dominant only the faint wail before it fades completely.
OfColoredClay.jpg Of Colored Clay Egg

The egg is molded into what appears to be a figure of perfection for an egg. Scales of glitter green are painted along the shell of this egg, while wispy blues twine themselves along with the greens for a playful dance. But all is not serene for there are dark likes along the top of the egg, giving the illusion that this egg has already cracked with the heat of the sand like a clay figure that's been left in the kiln a little too long
The Heart of Fire arrives with a gentle hrr echoing in your ear, a soft breath of smoke touches your mind with swirling colors of grey and white. Do not be sad. Do not make him cry.. A gentle voice pleads from within the smoke that encases your mind. A moment of silence, another soft hrrr and the smoke fades the scent of smoke lingering.

The Heart of Fire releases a gentle hrrr, angrier than the gentle breath from before. The smoke is fire, an explosion that enters your mind and grips there tightly. You made it cry. Why? Now, you must find for yourself.. The right thing to do. Flames become smoke, an angry black that fills your mind and then fades abruptly.

The Heart of Fire comes forth with a hiss and then a hrr of relief, a soft breath. Did you cry? Good.. Good. You know the secret, then. Do not make it cry again. It cannot fix again.. White puffs of smoke grace your mind with a gentle hug then fade completely with one last hrr whispered in your ear.
WhataMess.jpg Quite a Large Mess Egg

At first glance, the shell of this egg just seems to be a haphazard pile of wood and stone in a field. A closer look reveals glimpses of furniture shapes tucked in under the rubble, as though it was a building that collapsed for some reason. Taking a higher angle to peer at the egg, the field surrounding the ruin has a sort of pattern to it, a flattened footprint in the grass, with the wreckage at the center of it.
Sumptuous Silk and Rich Velvet know how to make an entrance, boldly going forth, entering your mind with confidence. It is marvelous, and it can do no wrong! Rich purple velvet slides across your field of vision, an illusion, but somehow very very real. Over all is a sense of smug self-assuredness, it is perfect, it is right, it can do no wrong. A distant layer of something else lingers beneath this smugness though, a hint of longing.

Sumptuous Silk and Rich Velvet slow down just a little, though the world is fast-paced and full of action, and one simply /must/ keep up. The velvet seems a little threadbare on closer inspection, and the silk a little tattered around the edges. A magnificent structure is formed of stone, towering above the land, but the touch of the mind seems to be more wistful than anything. Oh, isn't this a fantastic structure? An image of the egg itself is thrown up, in sharp relief. Another fantastic castle is quickly built over the wreckage, then torn down.

Sumptuous Silk and Rich Velvet share the image of the egg again, with a pang of regret and concern. There's a desperate need underpinning all, the mind needs you to know that it it is appalled by this, but it mustn't let its calm slip, even for a moment. The burden clearly weighs heavily on the mind. It is marvelous, and it can do no wrong.

Sumptuous Silk and Rich Velvet have fallen silent, you feel little more than an echo of smugness and longing.
TheMissing.jpg The Missing Egg

An abyss of pure black is the foundation of the egg, making up most of the coloring on the egg. In fact, there is no color beyond a spot of white towards the middle of the egg. The spot of white is made into the shape of a figure should one stare at it long enough, alone in the darkness with no distinctive indication of man or woman. Trapped in the cage that is the egg, a small one at that and there's no way out from the darkness.
Small But Curious comes forth with an explosion of excitement and fear! Look, someone took them! A blurr of a figure, feminine, perhaps pretty. Blurs of pink and lavenders make the figure before it fades from sight. A search! Time for a search. With an explosion of red, it leads you down into the darkness..

Small But Curious reveals a darker room, but you can see, figures sitting together, blurred together. A point in the direction of other figures, fear and anger radiate forth with blurs of red at the side of your vision. They don't see you, but soon.. You are leaving, fading away. Clues gathered, now, but the truth is not yet there.

Small But Curious brings you forth, another figure with pale pinks and baby blues, beside you. Sadness radiates from the figure with deep blues surrounding it. Soon, you part ways and area heading down another direction. Dark figures are reaching, then, an explosion of pain and darkness fills the vision.

Small But Curious opens, with brightness and a figure of pink and deep purples is near you. Pain, so much pain from both you and the other figures. But, the clues are matching up. And soon.. You are running, towards something. Blurry greys surround you, and soon.. Very soon. You see the figure that was missing, no longer gone. A feeling of shock, someone else is gone! And, it fades away again to search.

Small But Curious hurt comes forth, waffing. But, it's all solved. Punishments are dealt and.. Peace reigns. Figures of pink and purple, pink and blue, come together with happy waves. It's all done now. Everything is better. And with content, eyes close and leave you in darkness.
Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 3.0 License