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Bailey's Gold Khalyssrielth x Yules's Brown Desmeth

Southern Weyr - Clutch 5 (PC)
3 bronzes, 6 browns, 10 blues, 16 greens

OOC Dates

Flight: May 25, 2014 Non-Leadership
Clutching: May 31, 2014
Hatching: June 28, 2014

IC Dates

Flight:
Clutching:
Hatching:

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PC Impressions

Niyati - Keeper of the Celestial Gifts Green Kaiyth - Cold Iron Egg
N'tael (Nathanael) - May The Desert Bleach Your Bones Bronze Tlazotezath - And Suddenly, Blood Egg
N'vik (Nevik) - A Hero For Tomorrow Blue Nivanth - Snow Day Egg
Qu'inn (Quentin) - Breaking Up On Reentry Brown Khozyvraith - I Dare Ya Egg
L'denn (Linden) - Pele's Favoured Ka Le'ale'a Wai Blue Vindryth - Tire d'Erable Egg
Prymelia - Drinker of the Desert Winds Green Issaeryth - Let It Go Egg
K'lir (Kultir) - The Blade-Burnt Bronze Bryntaeroth - Valkyrie's Passage Egg

Insta-Candidate Impressions

None

Adopted Insta-Weyrlings

Ko'rei (Koreiraj) - Sugar, Spice and All Things Nice Green Meichiioth - Playing Dirty Egg

Available Insta-Weyrlings

1 Bronzes, 5 Browns, 8 Blues, and 13 Greens

Post-Weyrlinghood Insta-Riders

Egg List

Unthaw The Ancient Egg
What lies within this rough-hewn ovoid? Cold, grim, remote sleeps its surface, the dirty-gray of old ice. It is only upon a closer inspection that one sees it, the ancient heart within. Here is no inorganic elemental force, but something more sinister: the tarred brown of ancient bone, the faintest traces of skeleton hallowed with age and with mystery. Dare not disturb it: everyone knows foul things happen to those who disturb the dead.

Winter Is Coming Egg
Stark, this egg of Winterfell, given to the landscape of snow: it is bare and barren alike, except for the unsettling crimson stream that winds its way from top to bottom. This stream, this river of blood, springs forth from a jagged slash of antler-shard at the top, sharply edged. The outlook is grim, caught between the bleak promise of the cold and the seductive pull of heartblood's pour: bleak indeed, promising nothing but the steadfash march of mortality's end.

And Suddenly, Blood Egg
A perfect sphere of crisp white perfection, blinding in its icy glory. This is not the sort of egg that draws stares: it is perfectly smooth, perfectly white. If you see it from one side, anyway. It's when you see it from the other side that things take a turn for the morbid. Flowing, swirling, pooling… blood? Like a gaping wound, a slow-motion waterfall of red red RED seems to ooze from the icebound sphere, languorous ripples creating an unsettling optical illusion. Ominous to its core, an unnatural heart revealed behind a frozen facade.

Snow Day Egg
Dense lies the fall of icy frost upon this hopeful egg, stretched from the base upward to the sky-blue that blankets the eggtop. More! More! Enough more and sweet, sweet, unexpected freedom! Bands of horizonal scratchings stripe the sides, disappearing beneath the snowfall… secrets of the future are told in the scrolling scrawl. Will you be free?

Winter Disaster Egg
Bulging over upon itself, lumpy ripples shiver down the sides of this enormous egg. Luminous frozen waves insinuate themselves over a darkness within: layer upon layer upon layer of creeping slush flows, once, twice, broke, exploded, frozen-over, melted, flowed, invaded, invaded, invaded. So invaded. Nothing will be the same. Never again.

Trapped By The Blizzard Egg
Layer upon layer of striated ivory climbs up the frigid wasteland that makes up fully three quarters of this egg's surface. Scattered spots of the same bland color sprinkle amongst a sliver of brick red and spatter a rectangle of black that pokes up into a backdrop of grey skies. Those bright colors of life slowly suffocate as bleached winter closes in to seal it in layers of ice until spring.

Brainfreeze! Egg
No smooth shell to be seen here, for this egg is put together of lumps… or perhaps the better term would be 'lobes'? Covered with dark swirls of sulci fitting snugly between ridges of gyri, this medium-sized egg is further busied by criss-crossings of yellow, little bolts of electrical activity charging the shell with far more energy than the dull, myelinated background. But for all the energy in this egg's shell, the bright zaps of golden colour networking across the shell's facade is streaked with glacial blue shadows, while gyri are rimed with white frost.

Banded Indulgence Egg
Where this egg lacks in size it makes up for in color. Banded in frosty layers of vanilla, chocolate and strawberry from squat bottom to narrowed top there is a sense of creamy indulgence that suffuses it. Enticing the eye to devour and tantalizing the taste buds of your mind with promises of rich rewards there wraps about it, a glimmer of sweeter times to come.

Tire d'Erable Egg
Over a background of driven-snow purest white, dark amber melts haphazardly in wide, pulling swaths of slow-moving viscosity over the shell of this small egg. The darker drizzle maintains a mouthwatering visual texture, the colour glistening throughout a spectrum of burnt-oak whiskey, rippled golden and crimson in turn: truly eye-candy coloured. The color sinks against the white, the edges crackling and staining, as if sweet syrup sinking into snow.

I Dare Ya Egg
This dubious egg is strangely shaped indeed. When viewed from afar, it seems far too skiny, but up close it is worse: a thin egg long from apex to bottom, colored a flat, corrugated metal sheen that emphasizes the length of it. It’s otherwise unremarkable, but for the strange chill it seems to radiate – or perhaps that’s the impression you get when you see small, dark patches, as if someone tried to touch their tongue to it…

Flying On Broken Wing Egg
Glittering white with hints of downy softness shade upwards from base to rounded tip, swirling an ethereal pattern of a heavenly being. About its wider base etches a pattern of flared robes that gently narrow with the egg’s shape toward a waist and then the idea of shoulders and a head. Swept to either side, reaching right up to the crown is a magnificent pair of wings. Feathered along their edges they appear delicate in their construction yet at the same time infused with the promise of glorious flight.

The Only Way To Quit Egg
Somber and spare, shaded an intriguing washed-out grey, this egg sits apart from the others. There is a stern austerity to the middling shell, a dignity that defies the truth of its existence. That truth can only be seen to those who dare to venture up-close and personal: it's covered with tiny cracks of black addiction in regular patterns of starburst clusters, ready proof of an addict's soul. The white valiantly seeks to close the gaps, and may yet come close to it by the time it reaches the stage of being hatching-hard. All the darkness in the world may be overcome, if only one has the will to quit cold-turkey.

The DEW Line Didn'’t See This Coming Egg
Matte white, this rounded egg has very little notable about it… but on closer inspection, one could see neat hatch-marks, straight grey lines sternly marching around the circumference, in directions both longitude and latitude. Roughly midway up the slope to the top of the egg the lines stop, leaving the cap of the egg bare and dull. That as the rest of the egg conceals a secret, for should one look closer, there’s a still shadow of a brachypterous threat from above with diaphanous wings a handspan wide, while little blobby figures seem to race away from it.

Let It Go Egg
Frozen fractals dance their way across this egg's shell, expanding their icy grip in patterns of geometric perfection. While the base of the egg is a deep blue, the patterns above it are frosty white. It appears to be frozen, which means whoever touches it will be in for a surprise when it's actually warm. The opposite of touching an ice cold coal, it just doesn't seem to fit.

Hoth's Not A Dragon Egg
But sir, this egg is supposed to be devoid of colored forms! Indeed, it is a pale thing, one to fit in with the icy brethren laid shining 'pon Southern's sands: it looks nothing more than a snowball, crusted-over with crystallized ice. But no, a smorgasboard of life-forms can be seen frolicking through the ice fields: here's a wampa, there's a tauntaun, toss in a few ice scrabblers, a rebel camp or two and encroaching AT-ATs. It gives the impression of them, there scrimshawed upon the shell, darkness against light. Not much can be seen in specifics up-close, however, all outlines just pinpoints of darkness: 'fraid there's not much left. It must've had a self-destruct.

Blingin' Egg
No ice to be found here, unless the ice you speak of is like Talicanitath's diamonds: for pure crystallized carbon encrust the jagged shell of this larger-than-life egg, or so it would seem by the blinding reflection of light. It appears as multifaceted as any dragoneye, faintly silver and gleaming with refracted glory, a dazzling array of brilliance. Alas, for all it could be elegant and lovely, it somehow misses the mark, skirting strongly into the land of gaudy ghetto-fabulous.

STOP: Collaborate And Listen! Egg
This egg is back with a brand new invention: white grabs a hold of it tightly, gashes of blue flowing like a harpoon daily and nightly. Will it ever stop? Yo, it don't know, but turn of all the lights and it'll glow. To the extreme it rocks the sands like a vandal, lighting up the Hatching Caverns and waxing clumps like a candle. Ice, ice egg; vanilla ice, ice, egg. Word to your mother.

That's So Ratchet Egg
Mostly pale and flesh-colored, this egg, excepting for the skimpy band of neon green that ekes out a stark existence in tattered tightness around the meridian of the egg itself. Far to the north, near to the apex itself, a gaudy orange glows into view; vaguely oval-shaped and scored with black and red, when seen from afar, an imaginative eye could discern an abstract kind-of-human-looking mask… a mask with a completely different complexion than the rest of it, the pale expanse of the egg's bottom dusty and sallow other than the extremity of the egg's bottom, barefoot-dirty dark.

Shaven Sasquatch Egg
A physical manifestation of a shiver, this huge egg is, awkward and uncomfortable to even look at: it is a freaky shade of skintone-pink, as raw and tender as a newborn baby's fine flesh. It looks nigh-wholly smooth-shaven, and is indeed satiny to the touch… for the most part. There are things that mar that perfect facade: odd patches of apricot fuzz here and there, and a scattered network of livid-red knick-marks. All of these conspire to give the very uncomfortable impression of having shaving one's nethers, or other part not often shown to the tanning influence of Rukbat, and doing a piss-poor job of it.

Seal'd With A Hiss Egg
Blorp. Just LOOK at this egg, all fat and adorable: it lays askew on the Sands, half buried, for all the world looking like it's bobbing languidly in a sea of grit. It's cute, if any egg might be deemed cute: piebald in its mix of whites and grays and browns, with subtle vertical streaks that roll pudgy down its sides. Twin black blotches are strangely soulful. And yet - below that. A flash of white. Twin rows of jagged triangles, harsh blackness between them. Om nom NOM.

Playing Dirty Egg
Entirely nondescript, this petite little egg is a blend of nude and cream spattered across a smooth shell; the colors contrast prettily against the black and white sands that shelter it. What makes it special is its size: though it merely sits at a scant half-size of the largest egg, a decidedly devious air lurks about it.

Valkyrie's Passage Egg
Unnamable is the iridescent flow of colors that shimmer across this egg, shifting sweetly, swelling, dimming, flying, racing across the shell in wild swervings. They seem to inspire a soul-deep longing: to devour with the eyes, hands, to touch and be touched in return. Shimmering is the kiss of a glorious death flowing from the crown, crimson life draining down into the icy crux wrapped in luminous ephemeral skirls of fae light, more achingly beautiful for their transience.

Cold Iron Egg
The luck of a thousand horseshoes is pounded into this tiny egg of silver and dull light. Luck is only half of it — the other laments a dire portent, tracings of crimson lifeblood that pool in cracks and crevices, never quite completed-cleaned. Fey ichor stands not a chance against the sturdy realism of this very present egg, as smooth and rounded as if forge-fired and Smith-beaten to a fine lustre. It radiates a sub-zero aura as tacit threat; cold iron is faerie's bane, nothing but a sharp edge to those mere mortals who would claim familiarity with the cold shell's surface.

Black, Blacker, Blackest Egg
So dark and so impossibly black, this egg! It must surely have been dropped from Between, rather than the tiny teacup gold that hovers over it. There is one subtle difference: the million tiny pinpricks of white glowing across its surface, here a milky swirl and there an alignment of three, beckoning the explorer to come adventuring in the cold, icy nothingness. But do not be fooled, for in its inky blackness lurks a dark presence reminding that in space, no one can hear you scream.

Drizzle Drizzle Egg
Compact and squat, this grey egg is unpleasant to view: streaks of water droplets trace down over the curved edges of its shell, that which is water-resistant melding miserably into a sodden blanket of checked red, yellow and brown. No light or bright pinpoint to hold out hope for a nicer day, for this is an egg that will remain drab and drear, shiver-inducing and completely uncaring for how many layers you may swaddle on.

Global Scale Passive Aggressiveness Egg
This egg is split neatly in half, and though the edged lines may be jagged and not necessarily straightforward, it is easy enough to see that one side is brightly, dangerously red to contrast the opposite cool, calm blue. Nuclear threat lies beneath this division, and espionage certain as isolated speckles of meddling-purple on both sides of the wall. For all of that, there is an unease to the truce of coloration at the egg's base, an impatient waiting for change. But as the rift soars skywards, there seems to be a general degradation of difference, and the presence of a third — fourth? — color: a new freedom constructed in purest white.

Slushy Rain Egg
Red and yellow-white slide and skate and cross as bright arcs of swirling color, giving light to this otherwise ghostly gray-white egg. Alarming are the flares of red, skidding into one another, breaking into splashes of orderly blue amidst the slashes of gray panic wrought streaks, shuddering to a stop in blobs of dingy white.

Contagious Egg
In a sea of ice and snow, this is an egg of disgusting, pustulous virulence: it is nothing more than the color of blood-streaked snot, spring-green and lemon-yellow among curds of cloudy conjunctivitis. Phlegm speckles it cheerfully in places, while runny-nose translucence gives the entire shell an iridescent sheen. It is small, one of the smallest eggs of the clutch, but no less potent for its diminutive stature. Those who dare to approach, who dare allow their fingers to trace the outlines of outbreak that abscess across the abyss of the shell… well, they may get more than what they bargain for.

Shortest Day of the Year Egg
This large egg is mostly the dark black of a night sky, speckled with stars and streaked faintly with red and green wisps. Around the middle lies a darkness-cutting band of watery yellow, as the faintest hint of daylight trying to beat back the night. It doesn't last long, the narrow sash melting off to descend into a dark, shadowy underpinning that hasn't seen a full day in months.

Beer Thirty Egg
If not for Desmeth, this egg would draw eyes and speculation to it alike, for it towers as one of the largest eggs, gilded topside in the shameless sunshine of a wheatfield ripening in late summer, parched and parching. Below is a cold, beckoning richness, lager-brown and stout, bubbles of lighter color clinging to the alcoholic mayhem wrought on this beer-battered, beer-bottomed shell. A thin line of ivory separates the wheat from the product below, looking like nothing else but the head from a fine-poured brew. There will be drunks waxing poetic over this egg, if not any other.

Cold Hearth Egg
The appearance of iron-black bars rise along the lines of this egg, emerging from beneath as a cage to lock around embers long dead, forgotten, longed for. About the center of this ovoid, where there should be heat and life, is only an ashen smear of empty aching loneliness, a memory of cheer and warmth, more bleak for its absence. In the voids that mar its surface, grey-brushed wind sing a hollow lament.

Exsanguinated Egg
No sparkles, here, only the cold-to-the-eyes, warm-to-the-touch dichotomy of undeath. It is alluring, this lean oval of silver and darkness, silver and cold, a masterful illusion that somehow leaves one frozen to the core. Such succulent sweetness, however frigid: frost delicately lace-rimes where ebony meets silver, a quaint concession of vanity from a distant age. Run, child, run while you can, for there are two points of ivory, sharp, looming out of the hooded death-darkness: this may be a lifeless husk, but there is passion within, an unholy drive to possess that which can never be returned to it.

Nothing Left Egg
There is something miserable to this midgrade egg, something forlorn and empty. Dim and dusty, it is an ambiguous shade of grey with strange, slightly-darker shapes, their edges well-marked and pristine as if things have sat upon those very spots for ages and ages, unmoved. But now they are, all the furniture gone, leaving only bitter memories and a startled sorrow. On a creamy expanse near the top there is the shine of a worn gold ring, abandoned and simultaneously the only thing left to occupy this space; for here there is only the workings of an ice-cold heart, and the haunting of a thousand meaningless memories.

Pink Slushy Egg
Delicious, pink, slushy: this middling egg is crusted in sugar crystals shimmering in any amount of faint light, blending with crushed ice into a wholly unwholesome beverage. Occasionally, small sprigs of mint-green pop out from the shell, refreshingly cool against the vivid magenta. Perched atop this egg is an paper umbrella’s fine protection for the ice below, saving the cold for a thoroughly good time.

I Got 99 Problems But A Blizzard Ain't One Egg
Creamy, delicious; pure vanilla is the confectioner's foundation to delectable creation in iced perfection that hardly seems appropriate to be born of its dam. Chunks of buttered toffee, chips of pecan and bits of caramel blend through a chocolate swirl winding lazily through the creamy backdrop. Painfully sugary, a sweet-tooth's dream, it is arranged to display the perfect blend of salt-sweet-nutty, sitting proudly upon a base of cobalt blue with a slash of red and orange. A delight for the tastebuds, the very essence of this egg calls to all to touch it, lick it… The whipped lines of the drag of a cosmic spoon hint that at least something has already taken a bite out of this egg, but would you?

The Last Lonely Deviled Egg
Did something … wrong … happen to this egg? It doesn't look quite right, at the least: creamy egg-colored and perfect from about three-quarters up on the shell downwards. But the top… oh, the top. The top is lumpy and yellow and rough to the touch, distressingly flattened: merely a mound of filling haphazardly displayed. A warning dust of red has melted into the shell itself, the sickly smoke of paprika highlighting the fridge-dried-out edges of mustard and the faintest speckle of green — oh, Faranth, hopefully that is relish and not MOLD. Eggs can't mold… can they?

Candidacy Logs

Because of how logs were shared and stored on the wiki, logs for Clutches prior from 2013 will not be shown in this section. Check under the "additional info" tab to find them.

Log Tag: swpcsearch2014

56 logs

18 Feb 2015 07:00

Comments: 0

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Lisette looses her spoon.

Comments: 0

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T'ral and Quentin discuss music, Impression and time. Quentin gets a music lesson.

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The Candidates hold an impromptu beach party upon their return from the icy Southern Hold.

26 Jun 2014 07:00

Comments: 0

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Prymelia over sees the building of Snowmen and Nathanael comes bringing gossip.

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H'ris visits the Ice Hold and gets a tiny tour from Quentin and Nathanael

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Various degrees and forms of mortification abound in the Archives as Sabina, T'ral and Koreiraj meet. Koreiraj leaves with a knot.

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Renalde asks when Prymelia is going to put her talents to a proper use.

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It's all Quentin's fault. Diya and Nate were going to build snowmen.

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Dione took care of Nathanael; Nathanael takes care of Dione.

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Sabina was assigned a day off. Linden and Niyati help her enjoy it.

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Renalde supervises Linden, Niyati, and Sabina's work. Sabina gets unusually angry much to Renalde's amusement and new chores are assigned all around.

Comments: 0

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El’ai gathers a gaggle of candidates on the Sands and receives unexpected ‘reward’ for his efforts.

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A little courtyard clearing contest amongst the candidates.

Comments: 0

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In search of something, anything, to do to break the tedium of endless chores, Prymelia inflicts herself upon K’ane.

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Nathanael shows T'ral the Hold, ending in the stores where the two discuss a variety of topics.

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Sabina serves soup to a Candidate with the sniffles and gets a side of gossip.

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Sewing, boot altering, and a chat in the Alcove.

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A trip to the glacier is planned.

Comments: 3

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T'ral and Prymelia really talk for the first time.

15 Jun 2014 07:00

Comments: 0

Dione, AWLM and eggs by Hannah

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Finally getting her chance on a dim night, Dione jumps at the chance to touch some eggs, and comes away with unsettling viewpoints

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Thanks to an alarming cold, Linden and Nathanael soak in the hold's new hot springs. Dione and Niyati are there to provide mothering and eventually evacuation to warmer climes.

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Just a little bit of egg watching with some… extra help.

Comments: 0

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Kultir and T'ral visit at the end of a long day.

Comments: 0

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Two candidates on serving duty in the dining hall slip away from their chores and get to know each other a little better in the stables.

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T'ral takes a crew of Candidates up to the Ice Hold to clear debris. Nevik gets bowled over. Again.

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Prymelia and Nathanael get to touch eggs and are both in turn, touched. (Egg posing by Bailey )

Comments: 0

Kultir, Linden, Quentin (egg posing by Bailey, Yules, T'ral, and Br'er )

Some Candidates get to touch eggs, with a variety of actions.

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Aunt and nephew have a reunion and a bit of heart to heart. Quinn misses the obvious - as usual.

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Linden and Nathanael play a prank on the candidates.

Comments: 1

K'ane, Prymelia, NPCs Jeriko and Jinx.

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Prymelia pulls playroom duty and discovers there’s more to K’ane than just disused dress boots.

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T'ral and Quentin discuss important things. And politics.

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Prymelia has a pair of boots and is on a mission of ‘mercy’, Linden gets drawn in to help.

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Wherein T'ral really REALLY needs to work on his poker face. (But I hardly know her face! HEYO!) Poor Linden.

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Pillows lead to conversations.

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T'ral is getting bandaged up while Prymelia is doing her shift in the Infirmary.

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Kultir leads a group of Candidates out of the Weyr to retrieve some snares left prior to his being Searched, but the gathering gets crashed by unexpected and feral company!

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Where one Candidate leads, two more follow… right into a secret room with a startling surprise!

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Candidates plot a trip to the beach!

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Candidates sneak in for a little egg viewing and keep a heat stricken goldrider company.

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K’ane drags Prymelia up to the Ice Fields to help corral some runners. An ass is lassoed, a runner is bitten, snarks exchanged and a somewhat civilized conversation held. And K’ane looks good with a bindi.

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K'ane takes a handful of candidates on a field trip. Tuli tries to break it up. Shenanigans.

Comments: 0

D'ren Dorrono (NPCed by Nathanael)

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D'ren delivers Nathanael's note to Dorrono, and the pair talk.

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Two Candidates swap stories and get to know one another while working in the stables.

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Novice cooks attempt to make stew.

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Bailey and Yules are getting away from it all (to, admittedly, Ista Hold), and run in to a familiar face… and come back with him.

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A young bronzerider puts out a call for help to bathe his gigantic dragon and Candidates answer!

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Dione and T'ral get lured out of the baths by a mischievous dragon. Dione gets an eyeful and a knot!

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Nevik and Kultir are hanging on the beach when Esanth sends out a distress signal! Nevik to the rescue!

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From maps to munchies, Candidates get into it all.

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A wave of Candidates take up residence in the Candidate Barracks.

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After some tense discussion in the Baths, Yules and Ebben discuss the Long Game; then Yules gives him a new one.

Linden goes to tell his mother he was Searched for Southern.

K'ane finds Linden at the Igen Lake Shore and offers him a knot for Southern's clutch.

01 Jun 2014 07:00

Comments: 0

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Prymelia’s life literally comes crashing down around her ears compliments of one Dhioth. Hannah is there to hand her a knot and K’ane is given something to keep his hands busy.

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Yules needs some new leathers. Desmeth needs a hat. Niyati might need some rest after this.

31 May 2014 07:00

Comments: 0

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Kultir averts disaster and comes away with more than what he had while saving two girls at the same time!

Weyrlinghood Logs

Because of how logs were shared and stored on the wiki, logs for Clutches prior from 2013 will not be shown in this section. Check under the "additional info" tab to find them.

Log Tag: southern-pcling2

42 logs

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Nate takes a moment to look back on where he's come in life by going back to his roots. (Backscened to after the Weyrling Graduation)

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Prymelia and Issaeryth look back on the road they've traveled together thus far.

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Southern's Weyrlingclass Graduates! Congratulations! Look out, Pern! HERE THEY COME!

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(BACKSCENE) T'ral, Esanth, Qu'inn and Khozyvraith take that first flight! OOOORAH!

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(BACKSCENE) T'ral catches up with a strung-out and groggy Qu'inn. Esanth shows Khozyvraith something interesting he saw on the 'Grounds.

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(BACKSCENE) Weyrlings learn to sort Firestone. FAUGH!

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Niyati is late to report in after Catmint gives its After Action Report following the Threadfall over Southern.

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Niyati, Kaiyth, L'denn, Vindryth (L'denn & Vindryth, NPCed by T'ral)

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The Catmint Wingleader's side of Threadfall in the skies over the boardwalk! Dragonriders and groundcrews fight the surprise Threadfall!

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Weyrlingmaster and weyrling come across each other on the beach. Some truths are revealed, some banter exchanged and a sore point inadvertently touched on.

Some language

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In the aftermath of a surprise Fall over the Boardwalk, the weyrlings become DRAGONRIDERS!

24 Aug 2014 07:00

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Riders: Cha'el, El'ai, Hannah, K'lir, Prymelia, T'ral
Weyrfolk: Ellen, Ksenia, Neve

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Thread falls in the skies over the boardwalk! Dragonriders and groundcrews fight the surprise Threadfall!

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Nika and T'ral perform checkups on Kaiyth and Bryntaeroth.

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The weyrlings are out on a scavenger hunt!

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N'tael doesn't act like a Bronzerider, and so Zeyta is going to teach him how to do it right. Tlazotezath and Kczyslawborth have a meeting of minds.

mild violence

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A Weyrling pair's first mounted flight.

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First Betweening lesson and a confession.

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Weyrlings take their first trips ::Between::!

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(Backscene) Kaiyth has her first hunt! Niyati gets a new work assignment in advance of the weyrlings making their first flights.

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A couple of Sr Weyrlings take their dragons for a much asked for hunt!

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(A few days before graduation) N'tael and T'ral have a brass-tacks discussion about Tlazotezath. PLANS ARE MADE.

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Post weyrling graduation to seniors, a pair of women make each other’s acquaintance and go on an adventure.

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The southern weyrlings are now Seniors!

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Ripples are sent across Prymelia’s pool of tranquility resulting in a theft.

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Prymelia is in the archives making good use of a day stuck in the Weyr due to weather. She is, until T'ral comes along.

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N'tael finally has some moments of quiet to write home to his father.

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Vig: Prymelia is hiding things, Issaeryth snuffles them out and has QUESTIONS!!

Sexual innuendo

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A group of weyrlings get to enjoy first flights through the eyes of their bonded.

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N'tael wakes up from a dream and goes to try to find peace from Tlazotezath's vision of him.

Graphic displays of violence

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Vig: Issaeryth steals into Prymelia's dreams.

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Prymelia and Issaeryth and a handful of other weyrling pairs, under the watchful eye of K’ane and Nyssa with only one (okay maybe two) minor mishaps, take their first ride together.

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Bryntaeroth does some swimming, T'ral and K'lir discuss their bondmates.

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Running from yourself is hard to do.

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The Weyrlings are shut in for their first post-impression threadfall.

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Prymelia catches a few extra winks in her eggs. T'ral finds it awkward to navigate rank and friendship.

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Prymelia and Issaeryth once again encounter El’ai and Sekhaenkath.
Things go better until they don’t.

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K'lir's first foray into the baths since the Hatching. T'ral considers timing it (not really) to have bath-maker's babies.

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T'ral checks up on N'tael and Tlazotezath. The little bronze does not like being handled.

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Issaeryth makes an observation, Kaiyth expands on it and Sekhaenkath valiantly tries to ignore it by showing the young ones glimpses of the world that awaits them. Meanwhile the human halves are left tap-dancing around draconic faux pas

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Tlazotezath's idea of clean doesn't match N'tael's.

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Exploring messes, mindscapes and all the ways dragonets can cause trouble.

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The morning after the hatching, Prymelia and Issaeryth receive advice from K’ane and Dhioth.

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Two dragonets explore the rain soaked training ground.

Themes

Egg Theme: Cold!!
Dragonet Theme: Hot!!
Hatchsecs:
Size: Mixed

News & Updates

Title OOC Date Summary

Note: When adding new announcements and news for a PC clutch, please make sure to include the following tag: swpcsearch2014