Eastern's Fall 2012 clutch

Dam: Tzavayth
Sire: Tzettenvonth

Destruction of Past and Future Egg (Planet of the Apes)
Pale blue-green encompasses this egg in a harsh, metallic sheen. Darker splotches of the same color form harsh shadows and creepifying streaks. Shadows bring out the slight outlines of features, the long crooked curve of a squared-off nose, the slightly slightly curved lines of not quite a smile. Thick wavy lines surround the top of the egg, spilling down one side in wavy curls contained only by two lines of deeper blue that wrap around the whole egg. Long lines project from those, creating what seem to be spikes, seven of them making an almost sunlike arch over the paired irregular trapezoids that complete the semblance of a face, more of those dark streaks making it seem almost as if its crying, pupilless eyes following all who move before it.
1 Shout of Impotent Rage rings loudly in your ears. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!!! The plush, rich scent of an ancient forest surrounds you, a gentle breeze running through your hair. Something cracks to your right. OH NO! Run! Run! Were not safe! Branches and leaves strike your face as you run. Through the gathering gloom, you can see light before you. Run! Run! says the voice, the smell of damp earth is almost overwhelming as you burst from the forest and… FWING! Up you go, surrounded in a mesh of woven hemp rope. Trapped. Caught. You should have run faster. Then the presence and the smell recedes, leaving you again alone.
2 Shout of Impotent Rage returns just as angry as before, GET YOUR PAWS OFF ME! The sense of being trapped is just as present even as you bang against the ground, released. The smell of wet fur and sweat surrounds you now, overpowering the softer scents of the forest. Its not a gentle hand that pulls you to your feet to examine you. All of you. Mind, body, and soul, it inspects you like a piece of meat, scattering your memories across the floor and treading upon them as theyre inspected. Snuffle wuffle SNORT. You have spirit. Lots of spirit, perhaps you can be the first. It doesnt explain, though, retreating again into the night.
3 Shout of Impotent Rage is softer now, biding its time. The sharp smell of spice and fruit surrounds you. Everything is cast in oranges and yellows, bright, opulent, and rich. Everything is warm, soft, comforting sand. Wait. Sand? What? Suddenly its gritty and harsh against your skin, everything itches. Youre so thirsty, your very lips crack from the parched feeling and theres a sadness and longing on the wind as it slowly fades away.
4 Shout of Impotent Rage is silent now, all there is is sadness and loss.
Hunter's Little Box of Implements Egg (Fright Night)
Thick, supple tones of brown and sepia form a subtle form on the lower half of this squat, almost square egg. Deeper tones cut through it in dark whorls and spirals, lighter tones cutting an almost glittery counterpoint. Around the exact middle of the egg runs a strip of pewter three fingers thick, shadowed beneath to give the vague impression that the ring of pewter stands out from the surface of the egg. Evenly spaced along that band of pewter are small 't's of dark, burnished onyx that glitters slightly like stones set into the metal band. Above the pewter is a series of shapes. Larger 't's nestled in amidst the vague outlines of bottles filled with clear liquid. Beige labels with the same simple t-shape and words in darker beige tones: Holy Water.
1 Melodramatic Scot reveals itself with a flourish of bright light and an enveloping darkness, soft like well-tanned leather and mixed with just a hint of acridity. Fire and soot and something more. Something sweet and cloying, like a brewers cellar after a spill, all those different years and flavors mixing together into something simultaneously sweet and foul. And the presence that rides these feelings is both dismissive and intrigued as it begins to wander through your mind, examining your memories like postcards, keeping some, tossing others aside. Yes yes, childhood, very nice. Oh, look, young love. That one is tossed aside without a second thought and a bright burst of more of the alcohol smell. Goals, dreams… wait. WHAT? What? Alcohol splashes into your face! Its not possible! Not possible!
2 Melodramatic Scot returns with obvious trepidation. You again? What do /you/ want? Didnt it make it clear I couldnt help you??? The plush leather feel tightens around you, accompanied by a few bright flashes of light and the sweet, brief kiss of fire. Youre still here? Hrm. Then perhaps, perhaps. Can you really conquer your fears? Reach your dreams? Face your sorrows? Can you stop all of the evil in the world? Again theres that sense of it rifling through your memories and your dreams, bringing forth your darkest memory and playing it like a video before, because I cant! And it flees, leaving you alone, though theres a sense of it still watching you for a long moment before it finally fades from your mind.
3 Melodramatic Scot erupts with a burst of boozy smell and consternation. You again? Okay. Lets do this! The supple caress of leather surrounds you again, this time with more comfort and support, less pansy screaming. Ch-chick! Its ready to go. Strength and warmth surround you, pushing you forward, onward, upward. Its time to reach those dreams and defeat the evil. What evil? How can you not know that!?! Thats what brought us together in the first place. /All/ the evil! Then well make a name for ourselves. But now it is time to rest and prepare for the assault. Dont worry, together we can save the world.
4 Melodramatic Scot returns with a soft, snoozy sense of boozy stupor, wotcher? Naw. Were good. Totally won. Dont do nothin I wouldnt do. That doesnt narrow it down much. Thats, like, sushi and mini golf.
Get Your Groove Thang On Egg (Hairspray)
It's big, it's round, it's….groovy! This perfect sphere might look heavy enough to be sinking down into the sands, but instead it remains perfectly poised and rests gently atop them. Faint grey lines run from top to bottom and intersect with equally thin bands just a few shades darker. A grid-like structure emerges on the egg's surface, but the small squares are far from perfect. Sharp points and oddly slanted pieces jut out from the shell, reflecting light onto the sands for the creation of a brilliant shine. Each small prism that dots the exterior casts an ever changing iridescence upon both itself and everything else in the immediate area. The patterns constantly blend and fuse, commanding the senses from every angle; one blink and the lustrous designs will never be the same again. And why should they? That'd be far too boring. This egg is HIP and it ain't afraid to show it! But what's that? Sapphire blue explodes to create a diagonally tilted cylinder topped by a metallic dome of silver. Perched on the structure is a miniscule gray rectangle that seems to be the source of cream colored wisps. The strands coil and curl, creating a milky cloud that wraps itself about the brightly tinted image. Hey hey hey, WAIT! Did it just rattle? Or is it a trick of the eyes? A shim-my to the LEFT! A shim-my to the RIGHT! No, it couldn't have…those wild lights must have just been playing mind games.
1 Nicest Kid in Town enters. Suave, cool, collected. It looks good, and it knows it. Whisps of blue and green mix with red as it makes its way towards you. The colors suddenly dive towards your feet, creating a grid of multi-colored squares. Just as the consciousness reaches you, music seems to erupt from everywhere. Nicest Kid in Town circles you, form twitching to the doobop. And frankly? The way it moves makes it look mighty fine. But it can't be the only one that can dance, can it? As the trumpets blare, your memories begin to be searched. The process goes with the rhythm, as if it was less of an examination and more of a partner swing routine. What? You aren't having fun? Well shake them hips! Or maybe there should be an example first? Nicest Kid in Town begins to shake and shimmy as it retreats, the colors disappearing with it.
2 Nicest Kid in Town struts forward, shoulders shaking this way and that. It seems to flash a grin in your direction before bursting into flame. The embers spark and sizzle, reforming a dance floor beneath your feet. Have you been practicing? It certainly has. Flowing fluidly, your mind is accessed once more, just as gently and effortlessly as it was the first. Hmmm, pretty cool kid aren't you? That seems like it was fun. Oh and that too. There's certainly some spunk in you, isn't there? Nicest Kid in Town continues to grapevine through your memories, but a set in particular stops it. It holds it up, scrutinizingly. The one thing that will always be fought for. The one thing that calls for sacrifice. Nicest Kid in Town doesn't know if it likes it very much. Some thinking needs to be done. In the mean time…just get your groove on!
3 Nicest Kid in Town arrives with a fanfare of horns and the beat of drums. The lights aren't far behind, but instead of moving under your feet, they form a ball over your head. Tiny daggers of light fall upon you, making you the center of attention. The spotlight is on you, and the Nicest Kid in Town has made a decision. No matter what happens, no matter what pain is to come, you won't be fighting alone. And until then? No one can stop the beat of your heart. Nicest Kid in town slides, popping its chest and shoulders to the beat. The dancing procession takes it back into its safehaven, and the globe above your head dissipates. But it isn't leaving without one last message: the world keeps spinning, and so should you.
4 Nicest Kid in Town thinks you're afrotastic, really. But isn't there something else you should be doing right now? It's busy practicing some moves, and by the looks of it….the session won't be ending any time soon.
Jewels of the Unfathomable Deep Egg (Flipper!)
The ocean lives upon this large egg, wrapping itself gently around the surface in shades of cerulean and turquoise. Currents of powder blue begin everywhere and nowhere at once, carrying flecks of silver-gold that produce a dull shine and subtly call for attention. But a more brilliant display declares its presence at the base. Blooms of orange and magenta sparkle against their sea-colored backdrop, broken only by branching tufts of yellow and green. The telltale shadows of figures emerge from the thicket of rich foliage, only to disappear the moment they are focused upon. The playful umbrae weave themselves between the hues of their residence, remaining just outside the visible range, just at the corner of the eye. Movement and stillness coalesce in dazzling arrays, assaulting the senses to an almost sickening degree. And yet there remains so much more to be seen. A tide the color of ruby and amaranth seeps down from the apex, both beautiful and deadly as it advances into the tenderly rippling sapphire. Perhaps the day when the never-ending depths of this ovoid are fully explored will never arrive.
1 Oracle of the Sea zips forward, followed by the sound of waves crashing onto the shore. It circles you slowly at first, but soon begins to speed up. Once. Twice. Just seconds later it becomes impossible to keep track of how many times it has gone around. But what would Oracle of the Sea be without some sort of spectacle for your entertainment? With each turn, a brightly lit orb falls in behind it. It's only a matter of moments before hundreds of iridescent globes have swathed you in a soft bubble of illumination. But you're hardly alone in that sphere. Oracle of the Sea wraps around you playfully, chittering into your ear. What it's saying though? Well, it's rather impossible to tell. And yet, there might have been a reason behind that babble. During that time, small wisps of consciousness slowly begin to seep into your mind both gentle and curious. It swims through your happiest memories, pausing here and there. OH! That one. That's the one! Why were you trying to hide that? It's so exciting. Exciting enough that it must be tried immediately! Without even a warning, Oracle of the Sea suddenly retreats, taking the light with it and leaving warmth behind in the darkness.
2 Oracle of the Sea returns with a clash of symbols and bright trill of tympani drums. The entourage of lights isn't far behind, but they seemed to have changed slightly. Different colors and shapes seem to be slowly forming out of each individual orb, every one unique, none the same. There's so much more that needs to be known! It reaches out for your mind once more, clumsier in its excitement. Approval seems to seep through as it goes through your life. Can be quite the tricky one sometimes, can't you? Of this could be fun, very fun indeed. And yet, everything suddenly comes to a halt. One precious memory is taken and held close. Tendrils of affection wrap around it. Is this what you call tears? The lights dim around you, spirits dampened. Why did this have to happen? The Oracle of the Sea slowly begins to fade into the darkness, holding that painful shard against itself. But it leaves behind a single message: you were never meant to feel that pain. Never again.
3 Oracle of the Sea emerges from the darkness, alone this time. There is no wavering in its path towards you, determination in every fiber of its being. And just as it reaches you, an army seems to emerge from behind it. Thousands of lights erupt into the air, every shape, size, and form imaginable. Together they begin to hum, increasing in volume with each passing second. One word reverberates through the air, filling your mind: PROTECT. Memories of loneliness and pain are tossed aside as it reaches out for those moments of pure joy. It displays them before you, as if promising that only happiness will come in the future? Why? Because there is /no one/ in this world like you. Slowly, the army begins to melt into the darkness once more, and Oracle of the Sea begins to retreat with it. Now is not the time fight. It must gather its strength for the day that you will need it.
4 Oracle of the Sea is quite busy right now. There are pranks to plan and energy to be gathered, for the day is coming soon. It will not wake again until then.
Pungently Rotting Egg (Dawn of the Dead)
Pale gray slowly threatens to turn this egg into something it was not meant to be. What it might have been before it was deposited on the sands is anyone's guess. Bright green ichor seeps from what looks to be a large chip in the side of the egg and slowly drips down the pale gray surface until it pools about the base of the egg. Unhealthy grayish pink flesh reveals itself at the chip and what almost looks like muscle tone can be seen where the chip had been. The whole entirety of the egg emits a sense of death and decay as if the hatchling within is not quite alive. The very surface of the egg itself looks like it might fall apart at the barest of touches and a pungent odor surrounds this egg, almost as if the egg were rotting from the inside out.
1 Pungent Odor of Undeath slowly fills the nostrils with a foul odor that would remind one of rotten eggs long left to decay. It approaches you leisurely, it knows it has all the time in the world and it isn't in a big hurry. Sickly yellows and unhealthy grays reach out and slowly takes in what you have in stock. Oh, it'll certainly have that big of gossip, it's ever so juicy and quite fresh, after all. Oh, how wonderful, you have surplus in memories that you're not using anymore, those get taken and are coveted. Excited giddiness fills you as it pulls pieces and chunks of your memories and hoards it like a starved madman who suddenly has an all-you-can-eat buffet before him. As quickly as it had come, sulfur fills your nostrils and it returns to the bog it had come from. These will hold it off for a while, it knows you'll be back, and it's had a sampling of you now. It'll be hungry later.
2 Pungent Odor of Undeath is no longer patient, what took you so long to return? It has been waiting for you to return with your juicy memories. It rushes forward, bringing with it a sulfurous quality that would remind one of something being left to rot for a very long time. It is impatient to begin, and your mind is the only thing that can satiate the hunger that it has. It no longer seems to care what it takes, everything is on the menu. That important date that you were keeping in the back of your mind? It's a delicious slab of meat. Your most precious memories of your parents? Why, they're as delicious as those warm hot bubblies you enjoy. It doesn't even wait to check out, and quickly retreats into the bog before you can stop it.
3 Pungent Odor of Undeath surrounds you as you come back, it knew you would, and it has been waiting for your return. Sulfur, rotting flesh, and the smell of pure death surrounds you as it entices you forward. It has been waiting for this moment. There's a sale going on, and it's all-you-can-eat. And what else is there to eat other than your precious brain? It attacks without warning, consuming everything and leaving nothing behind. Everything is on the menu and it has an appetite that'll never end. Only when its hunger is satisfied does it leave you, leaving you nothing, as it returns into the darkness that it came from. Braaaaiiinnnnsss.
4 Pungent Odor of Undeath returns with that harsh scent of decay and sulphur and, in that moment, you know it will eat your brains and it's too tired to deal with you again right now.
Escaping the Storm Egg (Clash of the Titans)
Dark blues and wispy grays swirl and brew about the surface of this egg they gather and sweep and occasionally part to hint at a starlit sky that is quickly covered again behind the clouds. A small white dot seems to be trying to brave the storm even as electricity builds behind the clouds, threatening to pour over any minute and unleash their fury at the intruder. As the white dot travels against the stormy sky, it reveals itself to be a white runner with feathery wings that extend and beat to keep itself aloft. A man is seated on the beast's back, just like a dragonrider might be, except this man is on a flying runner. Lightning strikes out against the egg, causing the sky to be illuminated as they escape the impending storm.
1 Whicker of Electricity is a storm on the horizon, one of epic proportions. Clouds flit about your mind and crackle with electricity, a blinding light flashes across your vision and you're greeted with a winged runner, as white and as pure as snow. Electricity lashes out as it rears on its hind legs, kicking out its hooves as it freezes you in place. You get a feeling of being examined, your memories flicker throughout your head as if being called for judgment from a higher power. Courage? Sure, you have plenty, but do you have raw strength? All heros have something that defines them, but what defines you? A quiet snort echoes through your mind, no, it does not have any quests for you at this time. Perhaps return later, then it might have something for you.
2 Whicker of Electricity fills the air about you with blue static and you get the sense of hooves approaching as you invade its territory. You certainly are brazen if you dare approach it again after it had not been pleased the last time. The storm can be heard on the horizon, it isn't a danger to you just yet, but it's anger thunders across your thoughts. Visions of flying flicker across your mind, taking you into the heart of the storm and flying in between bursts of lightning bolts. Are you brave enough to accept this challenge, will you back down in the face of danger? Only time can tell if you're ready to take on the ruler of the sky and face the wrath of its lightning.
3 Whicker of Electricity appears with a clash of thunder that erupts from the cloudy sky that swirls about your mind. Electricity crackles and fills the air as a white winged runner approaches you wearily. It considers you and glances at the raging storm above. Will you be the one to conquer the storm and bring peace to this land, or will you be destroyed by the lightning that strikes at your mind. Only the chosen one hand-picked by the ruler of the skies itself could be qualified. It considers you a little while longer, the choice hasn't been made yet, and more observation needs to be done. The white runner takes to the skies, leaving you stranded on the ground. It hovers in the air for a little while longer before lightning strikes at your feet and it disappears into the storm. Let this be a warning, the time is readily approaching, and soon the storm will be too much to bear.
4 Whicker of Electricity has warned you, and you know if you stay too much longer you will be caught in the wrath of the storm and there will be no escape this time.
Carnivorous Plant Egg (Little Shop of Horrors)
Corrosive collisions of mint and emerald swath across an oblong eggshell, speckled with opalescent silvers, that give the faux-appearance of gleaming dewdrops. Where soft spots are hardening, dark vein-like ripples remain in a jungle cross-hatched pattern, spanning around the circumference and dipping down towards the sands like roots. A nice sized egg indeed, rotund end leads to taper. The former, shaded with wisps of pastel pink leaflets and the latter, lined crimson, with erose triangles of white that look alarmingly like teeth, their jagged interlude accented by hues of royal purple. There is an eerie essence around this egg, something intoxicating, unquenchable and mesmerizing.
1 Like Callow Blossoms in Spring, verdant growth from within calls to you softly, a presence growing ever so slowly. Budding life beckons as vines twist through your mind, they reach every crevice of your being taking hold of consciousness. Reaching for the skies, contained in a tiny shell, ready for the world. Are you ready for this?! Watch out for the thorns, appreciate the flowers, there's comfort in those alluring petals of experience. There is an ever-consuming essence that plays with your senses, it is sharp in some ways, sedating in others.When you start to pull away, it pulls you back. Immense energy is undulating through your mind, like some type of cosmic wave. What will become of this? You feel the grip weaken and it slips away, fleeing faster than it arrived, leaving you wanting more.
2 Like Callow Blossoms in Spring, something flickers in the back of your mind, eternal flame of orange, nearly intoxicating. A tiny bloom appears at first, vitality within, smooth and pulsating.. and then- CHOMP! Hey… I know you! Do you know me too? Do you even want to know? The power becomes overwhelming, forcing you to succumb. Whatever is hiding inside grabs, tugs and pulls, playing with your mind and invigorating your senses. As vague vision and memories flood your mind's eye, missions become clear and refreshed feeling rains over you. The world looks beautiful through your eyes. Dare you even connect to such a thing again? An effervescence puckers the atmosphere, tingling electricity emanating from the depths within. There is something dark and cold taking over just long enough to send a tingle up your spine and stand all your finest hairs on end. Perseverance persists before fading away as fast as it came. There is something cataclysmic about the whole ordeal, step away if fear rules, try again if your interest is piqued.
3 Like Callow Blossoms in Spring, the grasp on your essence reaches deeper, towards the root of being, all encompassing and unyielding. It strikes you, pure voltage, a true power house of kinetic force. There is something of great instinct here, something organic no doubt, full of sunshine and soil, photosynthesizing with each passing moment. Can you help this seed of life grow in to the greatness it is bound for? There are tendrils of light, beaming through you like Rukbat's rays, lovely warmth enveloping every cell possible. The intention is pure, but this presence reminds you that sometimes things can get out of hand. The energy continues to grow and you feel as if you have been thrust in to some type of conundrum. To be, or not to be? That could very well be the question, but who is asking? Control and primal instincts fuse, pulsating like the hearts inside, beating stronger by the second. That lulling beat surges right through you, things like this only carry on for so long, and then, it is gone for good, leaving you to your own quiescent thoughts.
Boroughcastle Brigadier of Doune Egg (Homeward Bound)
Short, squat, speckled and shiny, this egg's colors sprinkle across shell in swatches. There is something pompous about the way the shades blend and mingle, so much so, it is difficult to detect precisely where one ends and another starts. The first layer is definitely blackish-purple, peaks and valleys dappled with hunter greens and murky brown bases. There are sky blues, accentuated with powderpuff whites, expansive colors portraying vast distances, as if a landscaped terrain makes play of the surface. To the impressionist's eye, one may see the infinite travels that will hatch from within, hidden by the serene scenery found on the exterior. The egg itself is in pristine condition, but the colorations show signs of roads well traveled. The excitement and fanfare displayed would jump right on to the sands if it could, bold, unyielding and cohesive.
1 The Venture is Long and the Road is Bumpy whisks you away, taking you over mountains and through the most raw aspects of nature. A forest of varied emotions rush past you. You feel slightly anxious, excitement and despair, a journey of consciousness, will and survival skills. Be on your toes, there's uncertainty at every corner. The next turn dunks you in a river, submerged separation, swimming for your life. Will you ever find your way back? There is something enticing from across the vast expanse of distances traveled, a calling for loyalty, of real bonds, that just cannot be denied. Better hold on, it's gonna be a wild ride, it's pack mentality, you're either in or your out.
2 The Venture is Long and the Road is Bumpy blindsides you like a delirium induced mirage, nothing like the feeling of home sweet home. There is a purpose behind the quest that you are on. Arduous journey it is, and with this egg, you snooze you loose. It demands all of your focus, finding your way back to whatever 'home' means to your heart. Once you find your way, across the bridge of fruition, you're right back where you started, yet nowhere at all. Suddenly, there is a reminiscent feeling of being lost that lingers when that captivating connection decreases. Days, and sevendays and even fortnights may have passed, but still you are left thinking of all the potential contained in one tiny shell.
3 The Venture is Long and the Road is Bumpy is like a savage beast spotting an unsuspecting victim, slowly it sneaks through the tall grass. Don't even! Moving in from an ambush, it runs, it leaps! YESS!! You are engulfed in a playful persona akin to something canine, or even feline maybe, either way there is something likened to a pounce toying with you. Like begging for food, there is scintillation and stimulation. Maybe if you say pretty please? The value contained is clear, the promise of a lifelong bond and endless adventures in lands unseen, a true expansion of the microcosm known as your life on Pern. You have learned all you need to know in this very moment. Now all you need to learn, is how to say goodbye.
Riddled With Bullet Holes Egg (Scarface)
A subtle strive for power is contained in this brand new egg as it lies boastfully large on the sands, shell swollen from the dragonet inside and fat with promise. The egg is coated with a new car shine and a glint of polish across its unscratched inky surface. The entirety of the egg is sprayed over in jet black paint, showing chrome bits on either of its ends, as if the chrome strips would protect it from bumps from other eggs. A sheen of purple tinted glass emphasizes the egg's utmost points, but the front portion is riddled with spider webbed lines lancing out from a round pit in the glass, causing shattered pieces to sprinkle down the sides of the egg. Close to this action, bold blotches and splatters of crimson are apparent, much like a bug smearing on flight goggles. In a final display of violence, repeated countless times down the sides of the egg are these deadly pits, punched mercilessly through the black exterior, each pit ripping aside the shine to replace it with sharp angles of torn metal.
1 The World is Yours, so push it to the limit. Let the wind race through your hair as you soar: high, mighty and proud. Just as you're starting to enjoy yourself and get comfortable… a SUDDEN scathing laugh interrupts your victorious revelry and elation from being on top. Is it your own or is it something touching your mind that laughs -at- you. What are these thoughts? Is someone judging you? Or are you judging yourself? And why are they laughing? That's when you can feel it, the careful stabs slicing inwards to your subconscious mind, delving deep to leave its mark. It settles there in a brooding manner, contemplating you and what your experiences offer. It's an eerie sensation because you know its watching you in such a sinister fashion, as if you were some little cockroach to squash. A coldness starts to race across your body - your arms and legs start to prickle with goosebumps and your stomach roils the longer you stay with hands upon the shell. If you aren't intimidated, you should be. The weight of the link between you and -it- becomes tighter in your chest, as if you were just knifed in the belly. Something inside suggests that if world is truly yours, you need to prove it. A sickly squelch rings in your ears as the knife twists and then pulls completely out, leaving you swiftly in your own pool of emotions.
2 The World Is Yours and it seems to know that you've grasped the concept or else you would not return. It doesn't feel so uncomfortable this time, the little stabbing connection leeching into your inner mind yet again, settling in those marks it has now carved out. You begin to feel something different this time, propelled back into other thoughts, comforting ones, encouraging ones. One such thought has you walking along a razors edge. It could be stone cliff beneath your feet, maybe a tight rope, or you could even be walking on air - but you know it signifies the balancing act you have to make in life. Your goals and dreams versus those around you. Your wants and desires versus the good of the common people. Your needs and the undesired outcome it could have. Do you push one aside for the other? Do you take what you want? You feel that one wrong move and you are over. Just like that, with one wrong move you could be whacked. All that work would be for naught. You have to wise up and make the best decisions. Fight on for you. Don't look down, keep your head up, open up the limits, pass the point of no return, reach for the top! *CLACK* Your thoughts are interrupted by the ominous noise, something loud, as if a chamber of a gun pulling back. The hammer is being drawn back, something malicious is aimed at you. You're likely going to sense your own fear surmounting and your own panic building. Everyone can get to the top if you reach for it, but it's how you defend it that matters. You're too close for comfort, there are precious bags of information it must protect, stolen from your mind and others, no doubt. Only one can have them - only one. The one who knows no limits…! A loud *BAM* sounds in your mind as something hot zips toward you, chasing you, searing right into your chest to force you out.
3 The World Is Yours so what are you waiting for? It knows you wait for it, but the world has to wait for it. It's not the right time. Yet, it still stabs with uncertainty if you are the one. Truly, it has taken a shine to you, roping you in with such mesmerizing promises, hypnotizing and captivating your thoughts. But can you handle it? Riches, power, domination. A partnership that is to the death. These are not easy things. Can you crash against the gate of your own limitations? Can you be more than what you are? Or will you sink like a stone when you're put up to the challenge. A clatter of coins spilling against a hard surface fills your ears, the hard sound of a machine reeving up, the sweet laughter of the opposite sex. Wealth, power, mates. So many paths that can be taken. The coin sound repeats in unison with that scathing laugh and an added smell of cigar smoke wafting into your mind. Finally, that sweet sound of a gun being loaded, metal clicking into metal. No one can stop it now. Abruptly a gurgling sound washes over your head, the laughter heard as if you were underwater, your lungs start to hurt, you're sinking, your feet are weighted down. All the while it watches… When you take a breath, the feeling of the mind within the shell has fled.
4 The World Is Yours if you can dare grab it. A stab rekindles the touch, but briefly. The grand illusion comes with a wash of darkness and the flutter of money bills being blown around from an open suitcase. It's all about power and taking control, but there's nothing left to know. Choices will be made, a reckoning will happen… A chainsaw buzz rips through your thoughts and slices through the connection. A finality there. Trespass no more.
Hurry West To The Railroad Egg (3:10 to Yuma)
Dust flies over a hot baked tumbling land, richly enfolded against desert creams, and dashed across the girth of the squat shell. The dust rises in peculiar plumes over the rolling hills of barren trees and parched grasses, giving direction to the pursuit that marks the way to the long snaking iron road. Pressed against the background, towers of red rock lift in pillars that touch a hazy sky. These columns are sparse in some areas, though they lace through the shell as a divider between the flat lands and the promise of the western goal. And that's where it sits. A remarkable looking machine, larger than most of the Pernese sleds that are imaged in the archives of Landing. It's chugging away on massive round wheels attached to the lattice work of track which snakes and coils across the landscape into unknown horizons. It trails carts as large as itself behind it and has great white clouds rising in 'puffs' atop it's stooped chimney. Alongside this curious iron horse is what appears to be a town of roughhewn buildings, merely a speck upon a vast plain of all that this shell is. If one can squint close enough, there just might be some formation of a word painted in amongst all the other detail, but it doesn't make sense, most of it, jumbled together and too miniature to view, except… for the unmistakable representation of three numbers, a zero, a one, and a three. Or is it all your imagination? From afar, this egg displays a canvas of a rich mottled browns, pleasant to look at.
1 Pertinacious Clodhopper dangles and twangs with a lively western whistle to greet you. Its easy this one. Simple. The tones are much like the shell of the egg or that of the dusty sand it lies upon. Muted browns and shades of golden sand filter in to your thoughts. There is no pressure, no harshness unless you hate the heat and hard work, instead just a good natured age old greeting of one gentleman or gentlewoman to the next. A subtle plunk of an old fashioned cowboy piano hammers away to convince you to open up, to come on in, take a seat and get cozy. There might even be the sweet scent of perfume drifting into your senses, in union with a tickling brush of feathers as the mind inside your own urges you to let go and allow this one some time to meet you properly. Don't be so tense. But just like any good old time, it seems there is some other distraction which calls to it, leaving you to debate just how forward you want to be with it.
2 Pertinacious Clodhopper lets out a noise similar to hissing steam, a long winded hiss that makes the heat of the sands feel a little more uncomfortable. There's a big old chug and a clunk too, as if something were grinding to a halt, perhaps even a mechanical groan behind it all. Whatever it is, the mind inside slowly works itself to greet you in that friendly fashion, sluggish as if just rising from a rough night, but there. It seems to recall you were just here once, weren't you? It struggles it does, to pin point what it was about you that it liked. In the meantime, there's a fan brush of feathers tickling your nose agian and that nice girly perfume like smell, causing you to feel a tingle of good pleasure. Ahh but now is not the time to worry about you and what it liked and didn't like. So much time for that, you'll have to excuse it, but it's not in a rush. Now, there's a nice sound of a liquid pouring into a glass and ice clinking against it, you can smell it… it's whiskey. Unfortunately there's nothing about sharing written about whiskey - this one is all about drinking alone. A tip of a hat and you're cut off. It's hiding something, don't you think?
3 Pertinacious Clodhopper is in a hurry! You're abruptly overwhelmed with the sound of horse hooves against a dusty hard packed earth. You can feel the compelling urge to run, to escape, to flee. And there's a good reason for it. The sound of a gun battle blazes forward, echoing with hoots and hollers of those who pursue, like some ancient nomadic tribe… A jumble of colors and visions assaults your senses, turning the whole of your world into a dusty cloud of excitement and fear. Ride to live, laugh at the danger, put up your boots once it's all over. Is that the way you handle your life? It delves in deep now, racing to find a spot within you that will provide it shelter and keep it from those who aim to cause it harm. It'll watch your back if you do the same. That's the way of it. It seems to find a spot, it hunkers down, you feel everything around you tune down in volume. It turns quiet now, with only a soft gentle breeze to lick across your thoughts. A small crackle of fire warms you and a canine howls in the distance to remind you of some distance between you and the mind within you now. However, this day is done. Best you take first watch.
4 Pertinacious Clodhopper is hard to arouse with your simple touch now. There's nothing coming to your senses but the urge to sleep. Don't you feel tired? Maybe you need to take a snooze and hang your hat up. Just for now. Tomorrow is another day.
Obscured by the Mist Egg (King Kong)
When you first look at this average sized egg from a distance it is hard to see anything past the grey dusting over the shell. Way more than fifty shades of grey are dancing around on the outside of the shell. The shades are swirled around and from far away just make the egg seem almost dull and boring. Upon closer inspection however, the hidden secrets are revealed. Beneath that misting of swirling greys it becomes obvious that the shades of grey are an optical illusion. The shades and tints are created by the colors that are hidden within the greys. Lush verdant greens of various shades and patterns almost like that of leaves. There is a forest under all of the mist. And in the forest, many more surprises. A river of sapphire is obscured by the greys. It cascades down the side of the egg. If your gaze crosses the river and makes the journey towards the top of the egg, you will find your way up a mountain. The mountain a mixture of rich earth tones and the forest of greens, and drawing your gaze to the top you will find the alter. Two dark stone grey colored pillars stand out, and the spot between the pillars is empty. Waiting for it's next sacrifice to be tied to it. Perhaps you?
Old Yet Reliable Transportation Egg (Flashdance)
Is it or isn't it? The first question that pops up when this egg is seen. The slightly bigger than average size gives no indication one way or another. The egg for the most part is faded yellow. The kind of yellow that was once bright like the color of a field of daffodil's on a sunny day. That yellow has faded, muted with age. The color has taken more of a plain butter tone. Some speckles of rusty orange mar the yellow. There are two perfect silver circles, staring out like eyes. Upon the sides of the egg are four more circles, these are charcoal grey with lighter grey centers. Three of them are near perfect circles, the last one looks slightly deflated. The back side of the mostly yellow egg looks pretty much identical as the front. Instead of silver circles, the two on the back are angry red. And towards the bottom, the egg looks like it might have been dented. But it is an illusion from the discoloration in the yellow that just makes it appear to be. The egg surface is just as smooth and perfect as the rest of the egg.
Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License