Hatching

[Desert]

ooc; because Desert wants to be nasty to her charries again, i'm hosting an unofficial Hatching -- if you were ever on Neo and RPed DRoP there, you'd recognize how this is gonna go. just toss a candidate into the fray, i'll control the eggs and hatchlings, and just sit back and watch the hilarity.

i'll warn you that i'm not holding back. there will be some crazy crap going down: maulings, multiple Impressions, you name it. if you have any suggestions, PM it to me. and let me know if you want me to be merciful to your character or else they will regret ever being born.

anyone is welcome to join in, with real WoP charries or random ones you feel like abusing. it's a free-for-all here on the random RPs board. we start after i post the setting (this makes me remember when Neo was fun)

[Desert]

The Weyr's dragons had no sooner let their mournful keen die out, when the first eggs of the newly orphaned clutch began to twitch. The clutchmother's rider had tragically died soon after the eggs had been laid, forcing the queen to endure her vigil over her offspring in torment. The once-mighty queen was a ghost of her former glory by the time the eggs were ready; she had struggled to heave her weakened body off the ground enough to between.

The rest of the Weyr gathered their wits again, ushering guests into the stands and gathering candidates onto the sand; everything was done mutedly, with lingering sad grays in the adult dragons' eyes. The usual sense of anticipation that accompanied a Hatching was tainted by sorrow for the passing of the queen-mother.

It was a good-sized clutch, for the clutchmother had been in her prime of life, and all the eggs seemed healthy. Guests wagered on what would emerge from each egg as white-clad candidates were dropped onto the Grounds. The deep, throbbing hum picked up: ragged at first, but as the eggs moved more vigorously, the adults' morose mood lifted and the hum picked up strength. The pulsating sound was exciting, almost uncanny, and made several of the younger candidates shift uncomfortably on the blazing sand. Anticipation was thick in the air.

Suddenly, a loud crack rent the air, and the hum immediately cut off, leaving in its wake a deafening silence. A series of splintering sounds came from the heart of the clutch, and everyone leaned forward, wondering what would emerge from this first egg.

ooc; ready set GO

[Dragonmage]

Kurynler (K'ler) shifted on the sands. He had been very rushed as he tried to get his robe on so it had ended up backwards and he was trying to turn it the right way without attracting too much attention. His younger sister, Ageian, looked even more uncomfortable than he felt. Although her robe was on the right way, she hated being in overly hot places. The sands were going to be a torture for her. What dragons would hatch and impress today?

Ageian began to sob quietly as the dragons started to hum. Couldn't the queen have just lasted until the day after her clutch hatched? And why had she died anyway? She was in her prime and should have lived for a good while yet unless something happened to her rider.

[Desert]

As the dragons keened for their queen, Kadran flinched. He clapped his hands over his ears, but that did little to muffle the piercing sound from ringing in his head. Faranth but he hated that sound! Then the peace was further shattered by some of the younger candidates pelting into the barracks, looking frantic as they rifled through their trunks for their robes.

Unsurprised, Kadran took his time in slithering off his bunk and pulling his robe out. If the queen was dead, then that meant her eggs were ready. Perhaps it was callous of him to think of the clutchmother's death so clinically, but death was just a part of the way things were. Let others get worked up about it, he'd take the ups and downs in his own stride.

The younger candidates scampered to and fro, reminding him of wherries, and a smirk tugged at Kadran's lips. Why these dimglows got all worked up was beyond him -- after five Turns of nothing, Kadran had given up any hope or expectation of getting anything out of Hatchings other than a new scar. He rubbed the long-healed lacerations over his right hand that had all but crippled it; he was glad that he was left-handed, so that injury hadn't hindered his daily life unduly.

With a not-so-white robe draped over his lanky frame and heavy boots -- not the traditional sandals, for Kadran preferred comfort over adherence to rituals -- on his feet, Kadran trudged after his fellow candidates to be taken into the Grounds. It was habit now, after being a candidate for so long: he could do this in his sleep, and sometimes did.

The sand was so fardling hot. Kadran did not appreciate the shimmering heat that rose from the grit coating the floor; still, he found it in him to smirk at the awkward, mincing gait of others who had not been so well-prepared as he. Idiots. He yawned and took his usual spot at the back of the pack -- up against the wall, where he could lean and be out of the action. It was a good place to half-doze the pointless exercise away.

ooc; i'm waiting to give more peeps the chance to show up, then i'll start. the amount of entertainment to be gained from these is directly correlated to the number of people.

[Epic Squid of Legend]

(>=( orange is NOT an awful color, thanks! -harumph, heel-turn, clickity-clack we're on the track ect ect-

I shall bring in a few of my old favorites, as well as one particular little girl that none of you have seen before.))

Lanna had been very fretful furing the whole ordeal. Constantly seen sitting or stnading somewhere looking horribly anxious and down-right nervous. Her hands were constantly in fidgity motion, and today was no exception. As the keen burst into the air Lanna just about fell down in fright. What on Pern was that dreadful noise? Then she saw the rush of Candidates swarm past her, and knew then that the Queen had died.

They had been told when the Queen Mother had died that the eggs would be ready... so they were! She hurried forward, her tiny frame jostled by the other Candidates in an attempt to get at her trunk. She was very small, only coming to the shoulder of most other girls and she weighed only 95 pounds- a real twig. She was young, too. Only thirrteen turns. She hadn't even hit her cycle yet, her body looked so androgenous that many people thought of her as a pre-pubecent boy... until they saw her face. Her face was a round, heart-shaped thing with full cheeks and high, shapely brows. Her eyes took up a lot of room, big round brown things they were. Doe-eyes, really, giving her the innocent look that she very much portrayed. Her hair was short and extremely curly, as most people her skin-color hair was. It, however, was not black, but rather a chesnut color. Her skin, too, had an almost reddish tint to it that gave it a soft sheen.

She hustled forward, dodging between hastily moving bodies to reach her robes. She grabbed them, throwing it over her daily-wear before being knocked off her feet by some lumbering mountain of a girl. Lanna squeaked, hitting the floor hard and scraping the skin off her right elbow in a nasty scrape. It began to bleed, but she did not notice. too pumped on adrenaline. She got up, straightened her robes and donned the ceremonial sandals before running with the rest of the Candidates to catch a ride into the Sands.

Her dragon was a Blue, and she had to be lifted up on the seemingly gigantic beast by the CandidateMaster. The ride was short, and she was dumped quickly onto the Sands just as the first egg cracked and the humming ceased. Her eyes were wide with excitment and her hands immediatly flew to each other to begin their wringing and fidgiting.

(Other Characters to come <3 Meet Lanna, a new charrie whose personality is based off of a very old one.)

[Desert]

The first egg to shatter spilled an ungainly creature into the world; its hide was a dark midnight blue color, but it seemed to have too many limbs. An extra set of forelegs was splayed out on the sand, collecting sand that stuck to the amniotic fluid covering it, along with its singularly peculiar wings. It was almost as if, on its wings, the radius and ulna bones had separated, for from the elbow joint of the wing sprouted another forearm; at its end was a hand-like appendage armed with short, hooked claws. This hatchling bounded upright with an indignant squall, and stood with regained poise to survey its surroundings.

Next, the second biggest egg in the clutch literally exploded, showering everyone nearby with egg fragments. Not one, but two dragonets emerged from the remains; even from the beginning, these two were obvious opposites. The smaller was a lean, feline female with reds, oranges and yellow-golds sprayed across her hide like licking flames. The larger was a brown-like male, whose hide was mottled with shades of gray ranging from iron to silver, along with icy blues and darker, gray-tinged cobalt hues. These colors faded hazily amongst each other in an almost camouflage-like pattern; even where there was no blue, the salt-and-pepper grays looked from a distance as if blue. The male regarded his sister calmly, while the fiery female hissed at her brother and stalked away.

Two eggs, at both extremes, began rocking: the single largest and single smallest eggs twitched almost in synchronization. What did they contain...?

The blue-black displacer dragonet -- it was hard to tell its gender -- remained where it was, but the two eggtwins split up and went their own separate ways. So far it looked like the fire-colored amenti was the most vicious of the dragonets so far, but no one who had ever attended a Hatching before was convinced that it couldn't get much worse. The amenti's more chill arctic brother took his time; he strolled nonchalantly through the mob of boys, occasionally nosing one that seemed promising, but he went through the entire group and came up with nothing. He looked about to head toward the girls, when the amenti emerged from that semicircle and hissed. Okay, so sister says no touching. The arctic accepted that warning coolly and stood in the no-man's land behind the boys, tail flicking contemplatively.

[Dragonmage]

((Seonian is my maybe cyan rider to be for Ricxth. He's a bit of a doormat. The following is Kurynler's opinion and not mine. I love mutants.))

Kurynler gave a shudder of disgust when the displacer hatched. To him, the extra arm coming out of each wing just looked so unnatural and the extra set of arms just added to his feelings of wrongness. His gorge rose and the sour taste of bile slid into his mouth. How could such a freak even live until hatching? Weren't most deformed mutants supposed to die in the shell?

He let his light brown eyes fall on the gray mutant from the second largest egg. At least this one and its twin, a sleek red dragonet, didn't have any parts that just looked horribly malformed. The arctic seemed to just skim over the boys as he looked for his person and tried to go investigate the girls, but his amenti sister hissed at him to keep him away.

Ageian let the tears slide down her face, but bowed her head so that not as many people could see her cry. Dark hair swung forward, further obscuring sight for both her and an observer. The tears fell to the sand and sizzled as they landed, creating miniscule puffs of steam. The explosion of the second largest egg was what dragged Ageian's eyes back to the, now pathetically exposed seeming without the queen mother to guard it, clutch. The amenti made the corners of her mouth turn up, just a bit. What a fighter? That was one dragon who certainly would not take any disrespect.

Seonian shifted his weight from foot to foot restlessly. The sandals he had barely remembered to shove on in the bustle and rush of getting to the sands were keeping the heat from reaching his feet not at all. Being very new to the Weyr clearly had major disadvantages. What exactly was he supposed to do now, while his feet turned into lumps of charcoal? Just stand around and wait for the hatching to be over? By that time, he would have blisters at least and more probably serious burns.

[Desert]

The queen egg -- it could only be thus, since it was by far the largest egg in the clutch and had been cradled protectively between the queenmother's paws for its entire incubation -- began to shatter. It rocked energetically in the dragonet's quest for freedom, nearly smashing into its neighbors, before the tough shell finally gave way. It seemed to dissolve into a myriad of tiny shards, leaving its inhabitant to unfold herself regally.

She was indeed a massive creature -- when full grown easily twice the size of a gold -- and from the look of it, she was fully prepared to use that fact to her advantage. Tough scales with a metallic sheen covered her head, neck, and forehand, ending halfway down her ribcage into silky hide. Her forepaws had a singularly avian appearance and were armed with hooked fixed talons, and on her head was a crown of small spikes; her headknobs would in time become gently curved ibex-type horns. All down her back, in the place of dorsal ridges, were tall spikes; at their longest, which was the point level with her withers, the spikes were easily a third of her height. As she flared her wings to shake off the excess amniotic fluid it was revealed that the spindly fingers ended in jutting spike-like claws. Her bifurcated tail also sported elongated spikes, slightly curved, looking like an old Terran stegasaurus. Her whole body, from scales to spikes, was a wine-red hue. It shaded darker with a purple tinge through the spikes and wingspokes, so that by the wicked tips they were black -- a hue shared by her hindclaws and foretalons. When the queenling opened her mouth, she put on display a fine pair of saber-like upper canines, that by the time she reached adulthood would probably jut below her chin.

Truly, this queen was a beautiful creature. But aggression and haughty spite was writ large in her tense posture and the angry red of her eyes. She surveyed the candidates and audience coldly, unmoving until one of the eggs next to her twitched. With alarming speed the huge queenling whirled and dealt the smaller egg a resounding smack with her spiky tail, smashing the shell to pieces and eliciting a pained squawk from the dragonet within. She dipped her head and hauled the tiny -- undersized even without being compared to its tormentor -- blood out of the wreckage of its egg and tossed the runt out onto the open sand with a contemptuous flick of her head.

The blood hissed balefully at the tyrant, eyes wheeling an odd blackish color amongst smudges of red, and mantled aggressively at his opponent. The tyrant queen strolled nonchalantly into the open ground, her stride deliberate and menacing, until she towered intimidatingly over the blood. That only seemed to encourage the runty terror, as he leaped straight up and attempted to sink his oversized talons into her head; but the glossy scales prevented any such thing from happening, and as the blood clung tenaciously it provided the huge queen an opening. She tilted her head slightly, mouth agape, and bit down savagely into the blood's exposed and vulnerable belly.

The blood shrieked in pain and rage, releasing his hold on the tyrant's face; as he dropped, he left a considerable chunk of his abdomen in the queen's teeth. She tossed her head back to swallow her mouthful, then gave her tiny opponent a long, expectant look. She was daring him to come back for more; her tongue caressed her lips sensuously to clean it of ichor as she took a single, confident step closer to the blood. He hissed balefully at the queenling and bolted as fast as his badly injured body would take him; the first candidate he encountered barely had time to blink before the blood was on her, wicked talons shredding through flesh and seeking teeth opening several harsh wounds.

The tyrant queen turned her attention back to the gathered humans. She either didn't notice -- or, more accurately didn't bother to acknowledge -- the many-limbed displacer scamper out of her way and into the ranks of candidates. It wasn't about to get on this monster's bad side, oh no! It ducked into the boy's circle and weaved through the packed bodies, glancing over its shoulder every now and again as if afraid the tyrant had followed it.

[esper]

((I'm joining late! I am actually attached to these characters, so they might work their way into actual RPs... But, as far as this goes... NO MERCY! >3 Do whatever pleases you, Desert!))

They arrived on the Sands right before the first egg Hatched, dropped off by a Blue and then running to their spots in their respective circles.

Cypriene dashed to the Girl's semi-circle with barely a pause to bid her cousin good-bye. Even in sandals and on sand, she covered the distance in seconds. Her long legs ate the distance, but the control that kept her from sliding in the hot, shifting sand was learned, not genetic. She pulled up sharply as she reached her proper place, heart beating hard and breathing tight, but from anticipation rather then the short sprint. She was almost sick with anticipation and the desire to Impress, but her face was almost somber in its expressionlessness as she tugged her robe back into the proper hang.

The creature that finally made its way from the mass of eggs brought her up short, mentally. She didn't like to think that she was shallow enough to judge on appearances only, but the creature exceeded the bounds of what could be a "normal" range. And the practical part of her whispered that if its very structure was so horribly far from the norm, who knew what hideous mishaps deformed its insides. It might not even live very long; that was not the dream she'd been wishing on. Cypriene was relieved when it didn't move to the girls, though she hoped it would avoid Kiphy as well.

Cypriene hung back in the girl's circle, since she didn't need to push to the front; Cypriene was only an inch shy of fix feet, tall for a woman if not particularly so over all. She had no trouble viewing everything... A fact she soon came to regret. The hatching of the twins was marvelous, and she followed the fire-colored creature as it approached the girls, eying it with the critical eye of a Weyrbrat who's heard people judging hatchlings since the day she was born. It was very pretty, and unlike the first-hatched seemed sound of body. She considered it, the only sign of nerves her repeated checking of her hair bands; she had them every hands breadth or so down her glossy black hair, holding it into one thick rope without having to braid it; her hair was very straight, and braiding it tightly often broke the strands.

The way of suppressing her nerves failed entirely with the hatching of the Queen egg. Through out the attack on the blood, throughout the joy, even when the infant Queen ate the bite she took from the Blood Cypriene didn't look away; she didn't even blink. She didn't scream like some did, and she didn't even loose the glassy, detached look on her face. She felt like someone had pulled ice water into her veins; her stomach clenched, all queasiness strangely forgotten in the surge of terror that tensed every muscle in the preparation to flee. Cypriene's mind told her she wasn't going to leave without a dragon until they were all Impressed, but her body thought it could be negotiable. And it had control of those long, fast runner's legs...

She did flinch back when the Blood attacked, cowardly allowing him to have his way with the poor Candidate unfortunate enough to be in the front. She should be helping! But she didn't move, unable to force herself to take even a step toward the ripping, snapping monstrosity!


Kiphy picked his way to the boy's semi-circle with exaggerated care. The last thing he needed was to trip and wind up burying his hands--or his face-- in burning hot sand. He and his cousin might be built alike, long and lean, but she had all the grace. He was clumsy to the highest degree, and his robe was too long. He suspect this was a joke played on him by the other boys in the barracks, even though it had seemed undisturbed since the last time he'd worn it. There was no way he could be shrinking! It was supposed to have been tailored to fit /him/! He was only six feet tall, and the robe was made for someone at least six foot one, maybe two.

By the time Kiphy reached the semi-circle, the first two eggs had already hatched. His eyes swept over the scene, and his surprise would have been comical to anyone who could have dragged their eyes away from the three strange dragons to look at one plain boy who was nearly tardy to a Hatching.

Kiphy was, fortunately, distracted by the twin dragon that approached the boys; he didn't watch the whole mauling, or the viciousness of the newly hatched Queen. As soon as he realized what was happening to the Blood, he jerked his eyes away and didn't look back to see if it was over. The Blood attached a female Candidate, but it wasn't Cypriene; that's really all Kiphy cared about at the moment. The Sands were a lot more dangerous then he'd dreamed.