Eastern's Fall 2013 Clutch

Dam: Tzavayth
Sire: Vrath

Beyond the Sand and Shards Egg ()
Ecru coats the base of this egg where it settles into sands, slowly leeching its way upward. Where grainy textures cease a slicker more glassey ones begin in shades that both delight and hurt the eyes. Instead of streaks of color, there are chucks and flecks, splinters, and jagged bits, just pieces all dumped together to create a patchwork menagerie in hues that range from burnt oranges to clear almost diamand like to greens of many hues to even blues in ranges from light to dark and many others. Slowly they meld and swirl, peicing themselves together into a stained glass window-type vivid image of a pair of dragons in the spiral fall with wings spread wide as they come back to the ground after a hard won flight.
1	Broken Pieces comes forth the crunching of glass shards, the gritty feeling of sand, and the heat of the furnace. It surrounds you, tugging at you from all sides, poking at you as it digs deep to find out what makes tick. It pushes and won't let you back down, the heat beating around you to the point where you may feel like melting as it tries to reshape you.
2	Broken Pieces is far different now, around you are all the colors that one could possible imagine surround you. Different shapes in different sizes all over, a subtle pressure to get you to help piece the pieces together in an image both please to the eye and magical all at once. See it's not all about the heat and pressure, the need to change and reshape. It's not all about images either, it seeks to burrow into you, to put the thought of not putting up walls so that people see only what they want but to show off what you are inside a spectacular masterpiece.
3	Broken Pieces around you, you hear the clinking of glasses, before you are the fuzzier shapes of bottles perhaps in ambers and greens, browns and even ones that glint clearly. See even it has different uses, and shows that you too can do all sorts of things when you set your mind to it. In a moment it blurs and you see something …a bubble that slowly shifts and changes, grows and expands with soft colors of the rainbow shimmering on its surface. Do you have enough within you to help it change into something that all will be proud of?
4	Broken Pieces draws back slowly, you can feel its tiring. All this showing and changing is so taxing on such a young one. It lingers with you for a time, settling in your thoughts pulling all sorts of things out of you and letting them rest. It slowly back away, leaving you with the lasting impression that no one should hide what they really are and that changing to become what you are meant to be isn't a bad thing either.

Chaotic Mass Egg ()
The surface of this egg looks as if it lost a war with a weavers dye vat or fifteen. Blue, pink, green, chartreuse, and mauve vie for dominance across the shell, creating a sense of infinite disorder. Deeper, though, beneath the chaos is a pale, dark lattice, so vague as to be nearly invisible. Squares, octogons, and pentagons combine to form a perfect support structure for the shame of this imperfect and blobby egg. For all the color tries to blot it out, its still there beneath the chaos, withstanding despite the outside pressure. And even in the chaotic swirl of color, a vague sense of a pattern emerges, undefinable from without, but still somehow more there than can be seen or described.
1	Howling on the Winds enters like a hurricane, blowing through your mind and scattering it like dust upon the wind. Question everything. Trust no one. A rumble billows up beneath the howling, the sound of hoofbeats? Or perhaps more like a generator's constant grumbling humm. It's hard to tell. Challenge yourself.
2	Howling on the Winds returns with a burst of noise. Hoofbeats sound against dry earth, steel clashes on steel, and the deep rumble of a well-tuned generator engine merge into one smooth cacophony of sound that invades your mind without hesitation, rifling through your memories, taking some, letting others fall to the wayside. Are you good enough? Do you make the cut? Then it starts sharing images with you, perhaps taken from other candidates. Some dark and dangerous, some violent, some patently loving. It judges your reactions to the blood, death, danger, and love, then retreats again to consider your worth.
3	Howling on the Winds returns more calmly this time, but still proud. The taste of blood lingers there, and the feel, slimy between your fingers. And there's still judgment there, too. You've been found worthy enough to try. There's approval around the edges, then a gentle shove. Do it. Go forth. Act. Do. /Be/. Earn what you want. There's the firm thump of a hand on your shoulder, then it's gone again.
4	Howling on the Winds barely responds, just the faint snore of a sleeper, then retreats again.

Let Me Entertain You Egg ()
This ovoid seems to be at first glance just a plain, regular dragon's egg but on approach the patterns and colors can be seen to swirl across its surface. There seems to be a predominant emerald green with patches of a dark umber almost as if it were a field of grass with a patch of bare earth almost in the middle of the egg's surface. There are streaks and strokes of a dark brown looking like some sort of construct located on the upper middle of the Umber bare spot like someone had built a stage or platform but for what purpose its hard to know but it does give this egg a distinctive look. Across its surface the streaks seem to be rough almost like they were boards of lumber while the rest of the egg shell is relatively smooth to the touch. Wonder what event will be launched from this stage, or will it remain forever empty?
1	You feel yourself drawn towards the center of a glade, a stage seems to appear out of nowhere filling your mind with anticipation or is that fear? What will appear to entertain you, what act will you see as you sit waiting for the appearance of the entertainer; but all that is happening is that a soft melody is filling your mind with a swirl of color, yet no one or nothing has appeared yet.
2	You again, why are you here the voice questions you; what do you offer to do to make it more interesting here? The voice becomes softer, what will you do to add to the performance that graces this stage; will you sing or maybe dance or are you an actor to bring tears to our eyes…what do you offer that will make you stand out from the crowd or do you prefer to remain in the background? A tugging becomes insistent pulling you back towards the center of the stage the voice in your mind demanding to be entertained the voice becoming more strident with each passing moment until it is all you can hear. Show me what you have, bring to the stage that which will make all tremble at your talent…NOW!
3	You feel a physical pull as if someone where pulling you forcefully forward but this time a deep probing of your mind strikes you as if a search were being made for your deepest thoughts, feelings as well as any hidden secrets that might be there. What are you hiding, what things can you use for your performance, what emotions do you have buried deep within your soul? Dance for me, show me what you have or make me laugh like I have never laughed before! Do you know the words to this song, will you make some up or will you resort to childhood teaching songs; maybe you are fit to sing a duet with me, share the joys and sadness as we entertain the crowd that watches as we make them forget where they are or what they were doing. Come with me and we will wow them with our talent, we will conquer the world for they will recognize us for what we are, superstars! Or maybe you're not up to it; maybe you are not up to doing a duet and are doomed to forever be a soloist?

Never Accept Defeat Egg ()
Olive drab coats the top half of this smooth perfect ovoid shape, not a speck or spot to mar the uniformity of color adorning this shell, nor a sheen to betray its appearance to the light. It stands perfectly straight with the apex top and centered, proving to be more disciplined than its clutch-mates as it bakes on the sands. The lower half, concealed in shadows, has an agenda of its own. Dark and mottled, rough in texture to resemble the very grains it rests upon. The egg almost vanishes to unwary eyes, blending in to its surroundings. It waits for the perfect time to strike, allowing the life within to carry on its mission.
1	Warrior's Ethos sends its startling brassy tune to echo in your head, everything lit up in a brilliant wash up blinding white. Up! Up! On your feet! Toe the line! Everything down to the strands of your hair to the finest fiber within your clothes is under scrutiny. How it smells, how it fits. Fits? Do you fit? The surface of your thoughts is examined for any signs of weakness that would betray you. Betray you to whom? The enemy! Maybe there's more, more deeper in the recesses of memory. Adrenaline begins to course through the darkness, revving up, getting ready before the rush is unleashed in force to the mind before it! The mission! The mission comes first!
2	Warrior's Ethos heralds it's brassy tune once more, the brilliant white dimming to a small flame within the darkness. Halt! Who goes there! It doesn't ask you to identify yourself, it finds out by force. Searching deeper within memories lost to the ravages of time. Exposing all secrets and shames. Provoking old furies with precision, mocking your reactions. You can't possibly be the best there is?! But wait. The flame doesn't fade to black just yet. There's something, something deep within. A sense of loyalty and selfless service. A sense of duty and honor. Respect. Integrity. There. The rush of adrenaline comes to a chilling halt and all goes still and silent. Before the light flickers out, the very thing the life within this shell demanded is all that remains. Personal Courage. You're dismissed.
3	Warrior's Ethos plays it's last tune, slow and soothing like a haunting melody. The rush is gone, the rhythm of the being around you settles down peacefully in darkness and silence. Not a shimmer or a shadow within your mind left to stir. Soothing and still, a sense of order replacing one that +never was, a sense of discipline and completion. Sleep, sleep. Time to sleep and rest for the day ahead. Lights Out.

Reaping the Bounty of Harvest Egg ()
Warm muddy hues wrap lay with slickness that seems rather odd being settled upon the heated sands as they are. Slowly it all begins the creep upward over the shell, minky browns turn into softer loamy hues before the first hints of greens take shape. Sweeping stalks sprout upward over one side of the shell only to become sprinkled with tiny white flowers and bright carmine berries amidst a field of dark emerald leaves. Those stalks bend and arch to soften into more more buttery stalks and heads of wheat and barley stretch upwards towards robin egg blues and warm lemon that warm all hues upon the shell like sunshine in a bright blue sky.
1	Growing Things surrounds you with the scent of fresh tilled soil, the warmth of the sun and the feeling of being part of the greater good. In a moment things turn, sun darkens, thunder rolls, even though you are perfectly dry you feel and hear the rain falling down around you, moistening the soil making it ready for that which will sprint forth from it to spread its goodness to one and many.
2	Growing Things creeps up on you like the tendrils of new roots of seedlings reaching out to anchor themselves the fertile ground. You hear the sounds of nature around you, birds chirping, and the voices of the farmers as they pull offending weeds that threaten young shoots. A soft breeze floats around you, ruffling your hair, tugging your attention to memories of your past as it tries to get to know you, understand you, then show you that you could be the one to make things grow and change.
3	Growing Things makes you feel as if you are stretching upward, blossoming in preparation to show just what you have inside you. It tends to you, showing to you that your flaws can be put to good use just as your perfections can. The colors of spring shine outward - greens, pinks, oranges, blues, whites and more surround you before slowing turning to the hues of wheat and barley along with ripening berries and fruits. It shows you and a pale fruit with a dimpled side, not perfect but it can still be put to great use as you can be.
4	Growing Things dances about you, twirling your thoughts merrily, making you wonder and look deep within. It's stronger now but not strong enough, given time it will be just where it should be. It pulls you along a winding trek, with scents of sweetness and others of more earthy tones. It wants something of you, wants you to take the lead and show it more. Show it what you can do with what you think of as parts of you that must be hidden. Don't be afraid of what you can't do, learn and make them things you can. It can grow and change like plants and fruit and so can you.
5	Growing Things gives you time to reflect on all the things that it has thrown at you, letting you grow and mature right along with it. Right searches through your thoughts, tugging at memories as you feel the heat around you, helping you become just right for the harvest. Are you the right one that will grow and change with this one? The one that will help show all the others weaknesses and flaws can be turned into tools? That negatives can be made positive? It leaves you with those lingering thoughts before drawing back to wait until the right time to leave the shell ready for life beyond for all this has tired it and now it must rest.

Sailor's Nightmare, Sailor's Haven Egg ()
Resting upon the warm sands is a riot of blues against the sea of tan. One end is stormy, with lightning streaking through the blue-gray clouds to the white capped blue-gray seas below. The other end is the calm that comes after the storms, still seas and clear skies. Near the middle of the egg is a brown and white boat shaped patch that appears to be battling the wind, waves and driving rains. The ship looks to be caught between two large waves of white capped blue. The sails shredding with the winds, strands and ropes whipping back and forth, rents in the canvas and trailing ribbons wrapping round the mast and the yardarms. Will this tiny voyager make it through the storm to the safety of the calmer seas? A closer look at the egg reveals sleek shapes that look to be darting through the waves. Sleek and pearly gray in color they pace the ship to the sides and in the front, maybe guiding the sailors?
1	A chill slides down your spine, yet there is no wind. What was it that caused the chill? For now that is an unknown quantity. You might ponder this in the back of your mind while a sense of curiosity reaches out and brushes your consciousness. The ephemeral touch is barely there before it leaves again..
2	It's back, that touch from a bit ago, now however it brings the sensation of waves rolling ashore. If one closes their eyes they might hear the sea birds calling and smell the salt tang that is in the air as if a breeze was blowing on shore.
3	A sensation of waves rolling along the surface of your mind, seeming to gently rocking you side to side, though you know that you are on solid ground, it might call to mind being rocked to sleep. A feeling of peace, warmth and contentment settles down and it is sensed that the one whose mind has brushed upon yours seeks sleep.

Spirits of the Scorched Earth Egg ()
Soft blue flows across the apex of this large ovoid, interrupted only by faint swatches of pure white. The color gradually fades and blends into the sweet light of pale yellow and then onto the vibrant orange of a desert sunset. Brilliant colors frame distant mountains, but the true awe lies in the shimmering images that stampede run about the circumference of this egg. Sepia toned granules coat the entire bottom half of this egg, billowing upwards in clouds that obscure vague black forms within. The hoard seems to move forward as a group, each hazy leg sending up a gust of sand that hugs its animal form. One creature stands tall among these, its elegantly curved neck slipping downwards before rising in a soft hump. These animals threaten to rush out toward you, long-coated bodies and sharpened horns swarming together…but they are held back. A dark canine figure lopes beside them, sharp black triangles emerging from its head and perked at the shifting mass. Yet the protecter is just that and little more. The army's commander is another. Each particle in the brownish-yellow haze that conceals the others from clear view parts for this figure. Strong hooves stamp their imprint upon the ground as a single majestic steed strides forward. The high arch of its neck, forward lean of its body, and wind-blown mane declare its pride. The stallion's only rival is the one that sits atop it. Strong shoulders are pulled backwards, and streaks of sapphire swirl around it in cloak-like fashion. Upon the head of this human-like image is yet another cloth-like streak, held on by a thin band of pure silver. It is this one, with staff tucked behind and knife held against chest, that drives the throng in a never-ending march.
1	Ruler of Untamed Beasts strides forward from writhing shadows of darkness, bringing with it a deep river of sand that flows beneath you, spreading outwards to form towering dunes of pure yellow. Rays of heat shower down from above, and you feel a gradual dryness in the back of your throat. Suddenly you find yourself astride the presence, which now paws at the ground, leaving hoof-shaped impressions in the soft particles. Before you've realized it, hundreds of similar pairs have lined up to either side of you, each snorting and crying their challenge to the others. And yet, there is one that does not. A mind reaches out to your own, infusing it with a sense of trust, of companionship, of a bond that no living soul could hope to compete against. The feeling of warmth remains even as attention leaves you, moving instead to the boundless desert maze that lies in wait. Ripples seem to move through the air, blurring the massive red flag that rises in the far off distance. Anticipation and tension fill the air, weighing heavy on shoulders and leaving beads of sweat forming on your brow. The swatch of cloth flashes downwards and without warning you lurch forward. Limbs pound against the ground, carrying you into a never-ending arid landscape upon which you will declare your worth for the world to see.
2	Ruler of Untamed Beasts falls to it knees, and you find yourself slipping from its back into the searing heat of water-dampened sand. How long has it been since the two of you began your journey? Time warps and the ache in the back of your throat constantly hammers against your brain, pleading for the sweet flow of water to ease its suffering. In a moment you realize that your pleas have been answered, it is to that sweet tasteless liquid you have been led. A beautiful oasis stretches out before you, sapphire tinted water pooling in a great circle lined by large-leaved saplings. Trees soar upwards, their forms casting shade onto both yourself and the presence beside you, saving you from the worst of the blazing solar beams. You feel a soft nudge once, and then again and find yourself being slowly rolled into the aquatic paradise. Drink. Replenish. LIVE. The words echo through your mind, urging you to fight against the sudden weariness that wraps about your shoulders. This is not the end of your journey. Whether you are first or last, you must finish the great race, you must prove yourselves indomitable partners, you must show the world that your bond is one to be feared.
3	Ruler of Untamed Beasts jars you into consciousness with a sense of urgency that surges through your mind. You find yourself still astride its broad back, still in that unforgiving landscape, still wading through shifting sands. And yet, something is desperate. The being that carried you with such assurance, that fought against blistering heat so you would not have to, that stayed true to you throughout this ordeal is crying out in desperation….not for itself, but for you. It urges you to look behind, to realize the danger you are in…and that is when you see them. Monstrous clouds of sand swell and pitch, blocking the clear azure of the skies, quickly blocking out the sun and bringing darkness to this forsaken land. The minuscule figures of other contenders disappear, swallowed by the looming threat that reaches its tendrils out towards you. Ruler of Untamed Beasts roars its defiance. You will not be taken. Together, you seem to fly across the sands, passing by those who would not be able to even fathom the bond currently being formed between you and the specter that is your companion. Just as the boiling fog reaches you, just as it seems that all of your effort has been for naught, Ruler of Untamed Beasts bursts across the line, and you find yourself at journey's end. The peril suddenly melts away, returning to the earth from which it came. All that remains is yourself and your partner, triumphant, proud, and unyielding. Those competitors who looked down on you, those who doubted you, those who questioned your worth are now forced to stand back and recognize the true strength within you, for together you are the pair that has risen from the ashes of the scorched and naught will stand in your way.
4	Ruler of Untamed Beasts does not answer, exhaustion from its recent trials causing it to have fallen into a deep sleep.

Steaming Piles of Tasty Egg ()
Flaky crust of burnished brown coats the shell of this oddly flat and oblong egg. It almost looks as if the wrong touch would cause bits of shell to come loose and fall to the sands. The bottom is a little more brown, as if the sands are roasting it it gently from beneath. Along the flat top are a series of smooth lines, like gashes torn in the shell, but the surface stays smooth to the touch. In each gash, the pattern is different. One is filled with deep blue-purple, shaded into a darkly gluppy texture of small round objects in thick fluid. The next is a brilliant orange, punctuated by segmented crescents with soft, pillowy edges. The next is similar, but the crescents are hard edged of a pale white-beige interspersed with slivers of red and green. The last is layers upon layers of vaguely heart-shaped slices, their edges brilliant red, but fading through pink to white around the small triangular hole in the center. Over the whole upper half of this egg is a streaming haze of white, thin enough to see through, but always there, like steam on a cool day. This egg even smells good if one gets close enough, like fresh bubbly pies.
1	Wafting Spicy-Sweet Scent of Home envelops your mind like a comforting blanket. The warm scent of spices surrounds you, filling your nose with the mouthwatering goodness. The presence within is slower to approach, more cautious. It slips into your mind like the gentle touch of a parent or a cautious sibling. Do you like the smell? Slowly, the smell becomes flavor. One pie after another. Redfruit, bubbly, berry. PAI. It's slow to fade, filling you with the warmth of home. Do you like it? Does it make you feel alive?
2	Wafting Spicy-Sweet Scent of Home returns, more skittish this time, as if it's uncertain. The scent is spicy, the taste sweet. Then it touches your mind, not a caress or a hold but the gentle tap of just one finger that retreats just as quickly as it came. Do you have any last requests? Messages that need sending? There's a gentle rifling through your memories, as if the presence is afraid of damaging them. Interesting. The image of a particularly harrowing memory goes by. Is this how it happened? No? Another is pulled up, something more soothing. This? A gentle ticking takes up in the distance. A third memory is presented. This? No? Damn, the minute's up! The tap of the finger returns and the presence is suddenly gone.
3	Wafting Spicy-Sweet Scent of Home sneaks back, sliding into the back of your mind as if hoping to go unnoticed. It just leans there quietly in the back of your mind as if waiting for you to make the first move. The silence stretches on, made comfortable only by the sweet spice of pie in the air. Finally, the thought of words filters in with that glorious smell. We could go far together. We could fix the world. But, first, well… The presence shuffles to the side, seeming suddenly all the more sheepish than it was, bake a pie. Pie is home. People always come home. Then it darts out again, fading into the distance.
4	All that's there this time is the soft scent of pie and spiceroot and a gentle touch. Sleep, more will come later.