Post by Deleted on May 8, 2005 10:28:31 GMT -5
(3. No claiming eggs, they do not belong to you.
4. You do not control the eggs even after they hatch, they do not become yours until they leave the board, and have bound themselves to you in blood.
5. Make your character unique. Just bowing and telling them about your tragic past and how you travel the world will not win them. Be unique.
(c) )
(7. You may try anything you want to win over the hatchlings.
8. You may try and hurt the hatchlings.
9. However the hatchlings are apt to become violent and may maul your character. If they do maul your character, your character is mauled.
10. Wait until the end of my introduction to begin posting yours, but you may ask to join before hand.
11. No list descriptions.
12. My post is long deal with it, this does not mean however that I expect your posts to be this length. I will try to post as quickly as possible.
14. If you have read the rules, show me by not interrupting my post with your introduction until I am finished! Thank you. )
Gently, softly, quietly, silently, bravely, she crept. Through the thrush of weeds and the mush of mud, she crawled. Her knees were dirty and bruised, angry red cuts marring moderately perfect skin. She grinned, her mouth a jumble of incorrectly placed teeth. Brown hair flew freely like a mane of feathers, and soapstone eyes darted from willow tree to mangrove tree, looking for something. Some sense of something that would be very visible to her if it was here, and it was the sense of mystery that needed no fog or incense. It was here, and she reveled in it. A bird cawed in the distance, a herald for twilight. The fiery sky was reflected on to the swampy ground. As if looking for a palpable reminder of the place’s mysticism she stood up. Her eyes narrowed and she clucked her tongue against her cheek disapprovingly. It would have to be here, and then she saw it. There on a small limestone island in the middle of the marsh were five delicate eggs. She grinned, and unloaded her pack onto the small island carefully. She was finally here at the hatching grounds.
The eggs themselves seemed to be apparitions by the way the shimmered and shined in the muggy air. The first was of course the leader; it was the most real of them all as well. It blended in with the swap incredibly well, its brown shell caked with dirt and mud, small spidery emerald cracks ran up the length, though they seemed to be for decoration rather than proof of the hatchling’s efforts.
The second egg was much more flamboyant in its designs; however its taste in colors was to be debated. Large purple polka dots were splattered on carelessly to its shell, some colliding with others. The actual shell was a muddy ivory. Overall it gave the impression of looking a bit to like the women’s grandmother’s favorite dress. However this only increased its charm. It rested at a lazy angel tipped back to the watery marsh, though not precariously.
The third was indifferent, and looked quite normal. It was off-white, with small splotched of quite natural dirt on its shell. Although if one looked closer you could see that underneath the very fake exterior shell there was another shell, a shell of the darkest midnight. It was hiding beneath the normal façade of reality when really it was the most mystical of them all. On its shell stars swirled with the moon, creating new constellations each second. But no one could see that, all they saw was a plain white egg that looked like it might hatch a rebellious chicken.
The fourth was a pale turquoise with a metallic shine. It was completely turned over on its side, and pattern less. It did not shimmer or hum. Instead of hiding its self like the third did, or showing itself like the second, it simply was. There were no patterns decorating its thin membrane, though a dark shape could be seen through its almost translucent shell. No dirt stained it, but there seemed to be predetermined blemishes on its shell anyways.
The fifth was rocking, moving, humming, and singing. Pure notes radiated from it softly a symphony of colorless music, emotionless. It was colorless but not white or translucent but colorless. It looked as if it had stepped out of a painting that had yet to be completed; it was in a word sketchy. However that didn’t keep it from humming and rocking and generally being rambunctious.
The women grinned at the eggs her eyes going wide with excitement. Hastily she picked up a stone from the mud, cleaning it off with her dirtied green tunic. “Make this hatching ground mine, as said by Lady Keeper Arulea. I declare this the Amour Grounds. May all who wish to gain a companion, or may all that the great lady wish a companion of find there way here.†And then she sat, anticipation radiating from every pore. This was her first hatching as keeper, and she wondered how it would fare.
4. You do not control the eggs even after they hatch, they do not become yours until they leave the board, and have bound themselves to you in blood.
5. Make your character unique. Just bowing and telling them about your tragic past and how you travel the world will not win them. Be unique.
(c) )
(7. You may try anything you want to win over the hatchlings.
8. You may try and hurt the hatchlings.
9. However the hatchlings are apt to become violent and may maul your character. If they do maul your character, your character is mauled.
10. Wait until the end of my introduction to begin posting yours, but you may ask to join before hand.
11. No list descriptions.
12. My post is long deal with it, this does not mean however that I expect your posts to be this length. I will try to post as quickly as possible.
14. If you have read the rules, show me by not interrupting my post with your introduction until I am finished! Thank you. )
Gently, softly, quietly, silently, bravely, she crept. Through the thrush of weeds and the mush of mud, she crawled. Her knees were dirty and bruised, angry red cuts marring moderately perfect skin. She grinned, her mouth a jumble of incorrectly placed teeth. Brown hair flew freely like a mane of feathers, and soapstone eyes darted from willow tree to mangrove tree, looking for something. Some sense of something that would be very visible to her if it was here, and it was the sense of mystery that needed no fog or incense. It was here, and she reveled in it. A bird cawed in the distance, a herald for twilight. The fiery sky was reflected on to the swampy ground. As if looking for a palpable reminder of the place’s mysticism she stood up. Her eyes narrowed and she clucked her tongue against her cheek disapprovingly. It would have to be here, and then she saw it. There on a small limestone island in the middle of the marsh were five delicate eggs. She grinned, and unloaded her pack onto the small island carefully. She was finally here at the hatching grounds.
The eggs themselves seemed to be apparitions by the way the shimmered and shined in the muggy air. The first was of course the leader; it was the most real of them all as well. It blended in with the swap incredibly well, its brown shell caked with dirt and mud, small spidery emerald cracks ran up the length, though they seemed to be for decoration rather than proof of the hatchling’s efforts.
The second egg was much more flamboyant in its designs; however its taste in colors was to be debated. Large purple polka dots were splattered on carelessly to its shell, some colliding with others. The actual shell was a muddy ivory. Overall it gave the impression of looking a bit to like the women’s grandmother’s favorite dress. However this only increased its charm. It rested at a lazy angel tipped back to the watery marsh, though not precariously.
The third was indifferent, and looked quite normal. It was off-white, with small splotched of quite natural dirt on its shell. Although if one looked closer you could see that underneath the very fake exterior shell there was another shell, a shell of the darkest midnight. It was hiding beneath the normal façade of reality when really it was the most mystical of them all. On its shell stars swirled with the moon, creating new constellations each second. But no one could see that, all they saw was a plain white egg that looked like it might hatch a rebellious chicken.
The fourth was a pale turquoise with a metallic shine. It was completely turned over on its side, and pattern less. It did not shimmer or hum. Instead of hiding its self like the third did, or showing itself like the second, it simply was. There were no patterns decorating its thin membrane, though a dark shape could be seen through its almost translucent shell. No dirt stained it, but there seemed to be predetermined blemishes on its shell anyways.
The fifth was rocking, moving, humming, and singing. Pure notes radiated from it softly a symphony of colorless music, emotionless. It was colorless but not white or translucent but colorless. It looked as if it had stepped out of a painting that had yet to be completed; it was in a word sketchy. However that didn’t keep it from humming and rocking and generally being rambunctious.
The women grinned at the eggs her eyes going wide with excitement. Hastily she picked up a stone from the mud, cleaning it off with her dirtied green tunic. “Make this hatching ground mine, as said by Lady Keeper Arulea. I declare this the Amour Grounds. May all who wish to gain a companion, or may all that the great lady wish a companion of find there way here.†And then she sat, anticipation radiating from every pore. This was her first hatching as keeper, and she wondered how it would fare.
