While this egg is largely uniform in color, there is no uniformity in its shades: you could describe the entire thing as yellow, but there are spots as light as white and dark as the darkest queen's hide, with much of a spectrum in between. Deep golden lines in an even hexagonal pattern cover the entirety of the shell, some filled in with a single swatch of deep molasses. Others are lighter, and look as if they've been broken open, dappled in pale yellow and crackled browns. A select few almost look at the right angle like they might be moving, with white shadowed circles that could be crawling free of the surface.

A rush of steel blue water envelopes this egg, eddying and whirling about the shell. White bubbles and froths here and there, fierce storms that threaten to take over from the rushing blue of the rest of the shell. And fighting among these colours, sometimes half-hidden, sometimes flying over them, are sleek silver shapes, almost appearing to be in motion and hastening from base to tip.

Leafy layers of verdant green curl and grow, reaching, stretching, shooting up and around in the unending patterns of garden hedge's summer glory. Crescent-shaped snow pea pods and tiny purple petals appear between spaces and shadow, danced upon by white butterflies, the minute flowers blossoming, blooming: perfect harmony and balance in calm leafy chaos.

Elongated thistle grey and powder brown thorns cross-cross, weave and needle out from this particularly spiky-looking egg, giving off an aura of danger. DO NOT TOUCH. But, those thorns can't be real! It's just an egg. Would it hurt to touch it? Will you prick your finger? The bright orange-red petals of a large open flower beckon you, appearing silky soft with yellow inside; beauty amidst the thorns.

Teenie tiny uniform bumps cover the top of this smallish oblong egg, coloured royal rose. Paler highlights lighten the area between two large navy blue ovals facing either side that appear to be 'eyes.' Along the base, eight curling tentacles with teeny tiny pale suction cups curl around in tight spirals. Is it watching you? With those eye markings, it certainly feels like it…

Eerie and surreal, the smooth shell of this egg is encased in a blue-grey mist. Dark striations weave their way up from the wide, rounded base in skeletal fingers as they reach upwards towards the obscured sky. Each brittle finger-like branch lies thickly coated in a white-ice encasing, as does the winter-dulled greenery clinging to the ground and riverbanks edge. Said river rests as smooth as glass, not yet frozen, dividing the egg's shell almost in half as it runs between the strands of trees to a horizon obscured in fog. So calm are those steel-grey waters that they reflect the trees above them, creating a perfect mirrored duplicate below.

Earthy tones cap the broad top of the egg's shell and angled in such a way to give a dizzying tilting effect. Blackness creates a gaping fissure that tears between the two sides, like an open wound. Fallen obelisks and toppled pillars of white crystals criss cross in a maddening pattern over that chasm — like nature itself was attempting to stitch it back together again. One side has no visible rock at all, covered in smaller crystalline structures and each point looking as sharp as any blade. The effect is one of chaotic grandeur and beauty, if not fantastical, for the sheer size of the crystals themselves — most would easily dwarf the largest man!

Contrasting patches of rich, inky black and crisp, powdery white adorn the smooth expanse of this egg, irregular in shape and size but coming together in ways that suggest over-sized rounded shapes: A plush, tubby belly full and satisfied. Stubby arms that cling to stalks of bamboo brown and leafy green. Chubby legs with curved toes that wriggle with joy. A large head with soft, oval ears that twitch with languid curiosity and big, round eyes that spark with untold secrets, masking depths that hold an ancient soul as old as the forest in which it resides.

Flares of pure energy bath this oval in countless hues of unfathomable heat, shades of yellow burning with a primal vehemence that hasn't diminished in the slightest since leaving its celestial source. Licks of powerful flame caress elegant curves in dancing, twisted strands of brilliance melding vibrant amber to vivid saffron, each flickering flash limned in a glittery iridescence of pearl and platinum. Bold and brash, primeval forces blaze from beneath in deeper threads of fiery red. Unforgiving and unrelenting, white hot intensity beckons the firm believer, culminating in a single roar of riotous, blinding light atop it's cone.

Singsong vibrancy is layered in leafy greens of every hue, branching out in a maze of directions one atop the other over and over until a thick canopy is formed. Rich emerald vines mingle with a profusion of jade leaves, dappled with sunshine that filters through the treetops to brighten the vibrant tropical plumage of fluttering birds, illuminate the blossoming petals of striking exotic flowers, and create shadowy niches where energetic monkeys play. The soft patter of raindrops splash droplets of crystal blue across this vibrant scape, a gentle backdrop to the musical celebration of life that is the muse of the rainforest.

At first glance this egg teems with vibrant life, active and mysterious. Clustered to the point of claustrophobia and steeped in layers of stifling heat, deep emerald greens hum with activity that teases the eye, haunting, mingling and mixing with leafy shades that sway both lighter and darker in hue until the viewer has trouble focusing on one particular spot. Highly condensed life lurks beneath every bit of foliage; prickling nerves with the tingling sensation of eyes watching everywhere. The spots of a jaguar emerge on a high branch, slipping from one shadow to the next, the slithering patches of a frighteningly large snake glide around a moss-covered trunk, blending in the blink of an eye with the myriad of sinuous vines threading through it all. The closer one looks, however, the more still it becomes. Closing in on itself. Holding its breath. Sinister, black shadows hide its secrets well, creeping like a fog along the ground. Hushed voices dart amidst the compact foliage, eerily incoherent, echoes of things not meant for the ears of strangers. Whispers of ancient ruins where danger abounds, of treasures buried under rock and stone where only the bravest of the brave dare tread.

From a distance, the egg looks like an intricate jigsaw of green and blue, speckled here and there with vibrant reds, jewelled violets, and impossible yellows. Upon closer inspection, the craggy bedrock of sandstone, mottled granite and chipped obsidian hide beneath that layer of life, stubborning holding on, though it can't possibly win when the time comes.

This egg looks almost… fuzzy to the touch. Fine, wispy hairs seem to grow off the pale white surface, seemingly connecting it to the ground below. Other than this, the egg seems normal until one spots small fungus like things protruding from the crown and sides, each with a flower or mushroom like top gracing it's head, all seem innocent enough until one realizes that this fungus has completely high-jacked the egg, wonder what its done within.

Round and squat, this egg is pretty nondescript in various shades of tans and browns. Sinisterly, a bulbous protrusion curves out from the base, like a creamy sack that doesn't quite belong. An air of patience clings to the still nature of this egg: as if within lies a transformation most dire.

Large, larger, largest: how an egg can hold so much promise of destruction lies in the red hue that saturates the creamy base color. Not unlike a reddened eye, where striations hint at a madness that lies within. Foaming froth tops this egg and trickles down, though it's well placed away from the crop: something dark, something deadly, something terrifying lies coiled within.

Dis widdle eggie is so cutes. It's grey and and orange and looks like it's full of fluffs! Big green splots of color look like the saddest eyes to ever be sad, while a pink widdle triangle is set just above the curling lines of a teensy little mouth. Splotches of white could be wee wee wee fangs. Lashing playfulness coils within, but without? It's so cute, it hurts.

So sweetly innocence sits this azure blue egg, but for the fact that one side of it is splashed in writhing tendrils in a riot of color: cream, jungle, red, tan. Earthen tones seek to claim from without what lies burrowed within. Bulging out, the infected side is sickened from what appears almost like monsters trying to break free. But then, a simple turn of the head and all is well with a pale azure surface to calm the soul.

Neither the least attractive, nor the most attractive of the bunch, this little egg is innocuous and easily passed over once the sand's packed around it. Almost sand colored, almost rock colored, and yet almost fall-leaf colored: not much attracts the eye. Perhaps traces of veined patterns can be found acros the surface, but yet? should a passerby turn the eye upon this little nondescript egg, a sense of wonder lies promised within. Neither too big, nor too small there is little to say what draws attention, but many will find themselves staring, waiting for what change may come.

The top of this tall, elongated egg is a dull, boring brown with a white stripe running along it, creating the impression of a cap. If you look at it from that angle it's really unimpressive. But the rest, oh man. Dude. It's like… CRAZY. Bright, swirling colors of the rainbow present themselves in a dizzying array of stripes and bursts. Was that leprechaun? No, no. Can't be. But man, just looking at this thing is making you feel like you're way out there. Pinpoints of light peek out between the rainbows like a secret canopy of stars, like the universe is just trapped in there. Weird.

Rich, shiny brown coats the shell of this egg. It would be rich and attractive if there wasn't something greasy about it. Something unclean. It makes the skin crawl just to look at it, like it's unnatural even though it's so earthen. But just to make matters worse, this utterly repulsive egg seems to have its own set of wings. Ready to take flight at anytime, if the conditions are right. The dark ebony spots that resemble beady nefarious eyes don't help. Neither do those striations of deeper brown, are they legs?! Little crawly arms? Ugh.

It's an intense green that overtakes most of the entirety of this egg. Vibrant and lush, a particular lovely shade of verdant that almost seems glossy to the naked eye. Perhaps one would even call it… mantis green. Though perfection is not quite complete, as there are two identical large shaped ovals near the top of the shell, each placed with precision just opposite of the other. The color just a shade lighter than the rest of the egg. Within, a black circle resides in each, almost as if two eerie eyes seek out for that perfect mate… for that perfect meal.

Rolling hills do descend, no monoliths of mountain but playground of freemen. Summer's bounty of lush green turn pale from the combined magic of tiny white flowers, leading around the egg's edge in full flush. To top the egg is to crown it in purple twilight with fourteen swarming gems known as stars, a constellation of free unity.

Stifling, abyssal darkness engulfs this egg beyond all hope of sunlight's touch. Yet blinding bolts and sparks of blazing white and platinum pierce jaggedly through the void-dark veil, limned in heated rose gold and vermilion. A study in dramatic contrast is this otherwise smooth and perfectly-proportioned egg - light striving against dark, lightning crackling and crawling over and through smoke and shadow as orange-red embers float and swirl above the cataclysm wrought across the shell.

Looming larger than most of its brethren, this brawny egg is gaily striped and whorled from tip to base with every color imaginable. Neon greens and blues glow beside more sedate maroon, indigo, and purple, highlighted by flaming red, orange, and yellow - all in endless variation. Who knows what color of dragonhide it will spawn, when any and all are possibilities?

It's pink, this egg, pretty as a princess: sweet and spongy, sassy, the stuff dreams are made of. It's small, easily overlooked except for the native allure of shell; there's just something about it, all flushed eggshell curves, a sight that enthralls and demands attention from hands and tongue alike. What? There's nothing wrong with licking this egg. Moist describes a lot of things, you dirty-minded reader.

The air is still and electric around this egg, noise is muffled as if waiting in the eye of some great storm. Purples, blues, grays and shades of black all war to swirl together like crashing thunderclouds. Unease is a feeling most abundant as a white hot streak spiders it's way across cloud darkened curves. Objects both seen and unseen are dragged through the threatening sky on unfeeling winds of terror. A storm rages without as life blossoms within.

Darkness covers the expanse of this shell, broken only by starlight and globes of different shapes and sizes orbiting a blazing center of light. This light brings life to those orbiting globes, in places showing gaseous rings, or lush green lands spotting water filled orbs. All circling, forever more, that brilliant yellow light trapped in a sea of stars and darkness.

Never able to stay upright like it's brethren, this egg is perpetually on it's side as if constantly knocked over by some quake or highborn wind. At first, it's crown looks quite undisturbed, perfectly white and still, until one moves around it and the chaos begins. Sweeping blues, grays and raging whites crash over the surface destroying everything in their path. And here, blazing reds, oranges and yellows take what's left. The surface seems to quake as water and fire consume everything in their path, leaving nature to decide what happens next.

Yellow as deep as the yolk of an egg coats the shell of this egg until about three quarters down where it splits into eight tentacles of swirling yellow.The soft pink of coral coats the bottom of this ovoid orb. But wait! This is not all! As you get closer, vibrant rings of blue with a dark, brownish center spot the yellow, making a bold statement of color.

Sprung right from Igen's stark Sands and the surrounding waste, this egg stands tall amidst it peers, seemingly aglow as if kissed by Rukbat's dying rays. Red and orange and brown, rough and rugged, a glimmering band of reflective inclusions spiral 'round the broad, craggy swell, scattering light - prismatic - with no obvious source.

Riotous color, greens and yellows, blues and oranges, purple, red… colors that are difficult to even name spread in joyous profusion, a buoying confusion of light and life uncontained. Until, abruptly, around the other side saturation pales, color leaching away to dull and dusty white, a waste barren of anything but the bleached bones of life's echo.

Bright speckles fleck the violet-black mantle of a well-shaped egg. A flare of iridescence sweeps across the swell of smooth sides, striated ribbons of green and purple that shift back to velvet darkness and wing down in graceful arcs, feather light and graceful, until shadows at the egg's base swallow them whole.

Imagine Erikkan's most beloved palette splashed with all the colors he'd use to paint the strength of Igen's Wings fighting Thread while the Zingari dance below and all of this spanned by a glorious double rainbow stretching from Star Stones to Crater Lake and you'd still be beggared to describe the colors found on this one little egg. And for all that glory and all that brightness… there is a dark promise here. It is not something seen so much as felt. What is it?

This egg glitters with regal frost, silver and blue-gray, purest white, sparkling at its crest and coolly gleaming at its base. No one side of this egg looks the same as any other, tiny structures spanning its surface, raised in crystalline precision, pristine and pure and not one like the other.

Glacially-bright crystal white is slashed through with a few bold smears of purple. Veined with intense violet, each streak fades along its length into the pallid backdrop, as if blanched of color during the battle to push through the immaculate white. Closer inspection of the somewhat rough surface of this egg reveals fainter lines of spring-new green, each seeming to rally around the only other color that dares interrupt the chilly radiance of this egg.

Light plays with egg; for when its shell is visible, no matter the egg's orientation, illusion paints cords of shadowed browns twisting and twining over misty-blues and swirled faint greens, always reaching toward the sands. Sometimes speckled mists seem to ride some unseen zephyr to shroud even the grounding snaking umber lines that reach ever down, but time will again reveal the coiling lengths, and perhaps resolves them into a heavier, firmer foundation that may eventually displace the more ephemeral hues upon this shell.

Smokey blue-grey roils around the doomed chroma of needle-dark greens, hazy sienna and straw-tans, but is itself topped by towering licks of flame orange. Ochre edges flare in triumphant clarity against shadowy umber, seeming to curl around the lesser colors with chaotic appetite. Here and there, as if the fiery bursts have consumed all pigment, charred black is left smeared across the shell of this egg.