Egg Name and Description
Strange Aeons Egg
A seemingly suppurating, squamous shape squats most sinisterly upon the sands. Its shape is ambiguous; its hue a matter of whispered speculation. Most will conclude that it is a wretched sort of green, nauseating to behold, and twists upon the shell in a terrible image. Behold! For something ancient and primordial crouches upon it, scaled and tentacled and winged. The very nature of the image is impossible to describe in detail; only the peculiarities can be articulated with any eloquence. It is a disgustingly glossy-looking thing, but those that dare to touch it will discover that it's naught but a normal egg - if only in texture alone.
twist and bend, warping themselves around your mind. The experiment is short-lived and the curious construct crumbles around you, leaving you surrounded with the ruination and rubble of abstract thought. Those thoughts are hewn of a strange, dark stone that quivers when you touch it. The texture is off - and, inexplicably, it makes you think of the taste of fish. Strange. The smell of the ocean drifts into your senses, clean and brisk - but wrong, somehow. The aroma is more than just a thing for the nose; you're suddenly aware of a color that cannot be - a squamous green. You shake your head to clear it and, in that moment, the egg's occupant retreats to the safer depths of its own dominion.
shudder into being, curved and coiled upon itself. You find yourself in the heart of it and your footsteps echo, echo, echo on the damp, dark substance. All the while, you smell squamous green and taste fish when you touch the walls; your senses are skewed and scattered, strewn about with abandon. The murmurings of distant voices are palpable, goosebump-inducing caresses along your spine. Something sloshes against the warped walls and the walls groan in response. Questions emerge - who are you? why are you? what are you? how are you? where are you? when are you? - but the answers you give are not satisfactory to the asking one. Water rushes in and, just before you drown, you're flung free and into the real world.
bend into being once more, shuddering into shapes that defy physics. But their structure is tenuous, their existence questionable. Your senses no longer make sense to you - tastes are colors, scents are textures, and textures are meaningless. The questions drum around you again, hammering hard like the waves that batter against the makeshift structure you're doomed to reside in. Something squamous and rubbery finally slams through the wall and seizes you, only to hurl you into the sky - and beyond. Cast among the stars, you can finally see - the mind you touched was but a tiny piece of something greater, something unspeakably terrible… and there is more. Much more. Just as you turn your sights to the cosmos beyond, you're aware of a shifting thing - a color that isn't; a hue that exists as an analogy alone - and then you're cast out entirely, the stars seized from you to leave only questions in their wake.
After an experimental twitch, Strange Aeons Egg falls still. Did it truly move or was it an anomaly of the light? Impossible to say.
Another twitch. A spasm. A shudder. And there- at last, a great crack splits down the unspeakable face of the thing that is the Strange Aeons Egg. Distorted features grow further distorted - and then there is nothing.
The split upon the face of the Strange Aeons Egg widens. Then it widens further as clinical claws probe the splintered opening. It doesn't take long at all for an egg-wet brown to finally emerge and prod at the remains of his former housing.
Hatchling Name and Description
The Very Model Of A Scientist Brown Hatchling
He's all limbs and neck and tail, this brown. Lanky and long and sleek, he's a creature that's meant to move - and move quickly. His muzzle is a bit on the short side, contrasting eyes that are abnormally large, and his maw doesn't seem quite as large as it probably ought to be. The most notable quirk is his right headknob, which appears to be much shorter than the other one is; an anomaly, to be sure. His coloration is a smooth, medium hue of brown that drapes itself over the majority of his slender physique. There are deviations: the tan that covers his mouth and touches his eyeridges, the pallor of his paws, and the dark, tribal patterns that slash their way from his forehead and down the back of his neck, between narrow neckridges. His wingsails are not immune to the markings, either; there, they're transcribed in near black, as if to emphasize their importance. The patterns turn into evenly spaced rings along the length of his tail, only to end on a lighter note. His claws are clinical and white, tipping too-long digits that are rarely still.
Public Impression Message
The Very Model Of A Scientist Brown Hatchling practically sprints along the line of Candidates, with no sign of exhaustion. He should be tired for as much as hes moved, but hes not - and thats perhaps for the better. After causing quite a ruckus - unintended! - among one knot of Candidates, he finally makes his way back around to the one person who passed all of his experiments. A certain seamstress is selected and he settles in front of her with an anxious twitch of his tail.
Private Impression Message
Well, that does it. You've gone and blinked the sands and everything away into nothing. Or did you? A singular presence slowly congeals at the fringes of your psyche and it begins to probe without any sense of shame or fear. Tentacles reach at first, but they fade away in favor of words: « Human. Female. Kaylis. Excited and nervous. Afraid? Strange. No. No reason to fear. Will not hurt. Cannot. Am Grellith. Pleased to meet you. » Everything comes back in a rush and you find yourself with a lean brown poised in front of you. « Need food. Hungry. Then sleep. Then more food. But, first. Food first, I mean. »
Personality / RP Tips
Congratulations! You've Impressed trouble.
Grellith, that is.
Grellith will be problematic from the start - and for all the right reasons. He's a cunning sort, quick to learn - and quicker still to apply that learning to the world around him. Science - as soon as he understands what it is - will be his primary passion and he will always encourage you to get things for him to read or do things that he cannot do for the sake of his experiments.
Flammable! Or inflammable! Can't remember which! Doesn't matter! - Mordin Solus
He also has a memory on him that might shame even the golds; he won't need to rely on your memory nearly as much as another dragon might. He can hang onto things for nearly twice as long before it fades into the ether. Of course, this might balance out another peculiarity of his: his truncated right headknob will make it somewhat difficult for him to hear and transmit via telepathy, which results in a very distorted mental landscape and an increased reliance on actual words. He may insist on others speaking to him with direct language, rather than sharing images, and this will make *between* training that much more difficult for you - and a worthy challenge for him.
He's also hyper, which has its benefits - and faults. He will never sleep as often as the others do, which is a bit of a mixed blessing; it'll give you more time to do things through the day during those early months, but he'll also need more attention. He also won't do well being confined and will insist on going outside whenever possible so he can stretch his legs and wings out. Even when he's at rest, he'll be in some kind of motion. Twitchy wings, squirming tail, tapping claws - all of these are habits he'll indulge in without thinking about it.
This may make things especially difficult during weyrlinghood - he's restless, fidgety, and too darned smart for his own good. He'll likely try to push himself - and you, by extension - too far during lessons, just to find where the lines are.
Then he'll strive to surpass them.
As he grows into adulthood, he'll settle a little - but not much. His hyperactivity and desire to learn will only increase over the turns, making him a force to be reckoned with. He'll never be satisfied with things as they are - if they can be fixed or improved, he'll want to make that happen. His scientific leanings might skew more towards medicine over time and you might be encouraged to take up dragonhealing or people-healing or all the healing all the time always.
His desire and ability to experiment will only increase when you collectively gain relative independence. Don't be surprised when your weyr gradually turns into a collection of those experiments - which may or may not include injured animals in need of care.
He will prove to be achingly intelligent, with a powerful vocabulary and a tendency to think out loud - which is to say, all of his thoughts are yours to experience. When he's trying to solve a problem, he'll talk it through in his head and leave you privy to every step of the process. That thinking of his tends to follow peculiar lines; it's rarely entirely linear and positively dizzying to behold.
Mordin Solus: [Talking to himself] Maybe with an inhibitor? No-no-no no, entire catalyzing process would fail. Severe neurological damage. Never mind.
Eve: What are you talking about?
Mordin Solus: Method to extract functional cure without killing you. Many variables. Your immune system compromised. Considering options.
Eve: And you have to do that out loud?
Mordin Solus: Yes. Auditory learner. Need to hear self think, simulate conversation to promote new ideas, maximize productivity.
Eve: But you're talking about me dying.
Mordin Solus: Oh. Apologies. Medical details causing emotional distress. Hadn't considered effect on patient.
Eve: No, it just means I can't sleep.
He will likely be a late bloomer when it comes to flights. It's not that he doesn't find females attractive; he just doesn't find the odds all that appealing. He will rationalize his choices in terms of probability of success and, thus, will rarely chase unless those odds are appropriately high enough. Sometimes he'll blood; sometimes he won't. Consider it just another variable to be tested.
Of course, once he's in the air, his quickness and ability to calculate on the wing will be invaluable; he'll be able to outmaneuver most males with ease and keep up easily with greens and even the occasional gold. Of course, he'll talk aloud through the whole thing - either to you or to them or to everyone - while he hashes out his strategy.
If he fails, he'll just spend the rest of his day - or night - puzzling out what went wrong. If he succeeds, though, he'll linger for a while and attempt to get some conversation out of the female - mostly to determine just how and why he succeeded. As for you- well. Whatever you do is your business, but don't be surprised if he pokes his nose into your matters as well to determine whether the other rider was good or bad and why.
Sexual activity normal stress relief for humans and Turians. Still recommend caution. Warn of chafing. - Mordin Solus
And if he manages to catch a gold… well.
He'll make a pretty good clutchfather, all told. Sure, it depends on the gold, but he'll be endlessly fascinated by the decision-making process when it comes to which eggs are moved and why. All of it, every aspect of draconic reproduction will - for those sevendays, anyway - be a point of utter and complete dissection. Every detail will be picked apart - the color of the eggs, the diet of both dam and sire, the temperature of the sands, and so on ad nauseum.
He'll also try to keep track of his children as best he can, if only to see just how they turn out - and whether they fit his predicted models of them.
In the end, it had to be you and it had to be him. Why? Reasons. That's why.
Had to be me. Someone else might have gotten it wrong. - Mordin Solus
His mental landscape is a queer and twisted place, a blasted heath full of unmoving ash and twisted trees. In moments of utter joy, that land will erupt with alien flora and fauna, all of it hewn in hues that know no proper name on Pern. Sadness renders all under a sickly gray pall and the world is reduced to ruin once more. Anger - a rarity, indeed - erupts in a singular beam of light, light in hues that offend all the senses and destroy all pretense of logical thought. There is, simply, something wrong here - and not even he knows what it is.
At other times, you may find this landscape replaced with the non-euclidean constructs of his pre-hatching times; this place, too, is distorted and weird, full of saltwater and desperately grasping tentacles that seek to contain abstract thought for further analysis.
Ultimately, there is no knowing just what cosmically contorted realm you'll end up in if you probe into his thoughts.
There is always a disturbing sense of synesthesia when you speak to him - and it may affect others as well, though the degree is highly variable. His attempts to convey colors may confer tastes instead; his efforts at sharing a texture may translate into a smell - and so on.
Thus, it's easy to see just why he prefers to speak with words: they're precise, clean, and don't involve the alien landscape and distorted senses that comprise his mind. When he speaks, he's quite clear in his word choice, though he may leave off unnecessary words for the sake of speaking quickly. And he does speak quickly, indeed, as if he can never get the words out fast enough. His vocabulary will prove to be both vast and disturbingly scientific; his proper voice will be a bit on the higher side of things, but still masculine.
And, of all things, he has a most excellent mental singing voice.
The egg is derived from the description of a certain sculpture of Cthulhu in the Lovecraft mythos. The descriptions vary slightly:
One sculpture "yielded simultaneous pictures of an octopus, a dragon, and a human caricature […] A pulpy, tentacled head surmounted a grotesque and scaly body with rudimentary wings.", while another "represented a monster of vaguely anthropoid outline, but with an octopus-like head whose face was a mass of feelers, a scaly, rubbery-looking body, prodigious claws on hind and fore feet, and long, narrow wings behind."
The mindvoice, thus, was based on descriptions of R'lyeh, where Cthulhu lies sleeping. In all, the egg might best be described with this quote:
That is not dead which can eternal lie,
And with strange aeons even death may die.
Of course, other bits were derived from "The Color Out Of Space", which is a very interesting read indeed. That story provided most of the inspiration for his proper mindvoice, as it turns out - and if you care to read it, it's available here:
The name is taken directly from your prefs - it suited him and, thus he became it. I'd like to think it's somewhat Salarian and, with some added twists, equally Lovecraftian - but, in truth, I just like the way it rolled off the tongue.
The rest? That's pure Mordin Solus, with some tweaks to fit him in the world of Pern. He does have a few physical quirks and other odd bits but, for the most part, I'd like to think I did the ol' Salarian justice.
In the end, he's all yours to take and keep or change as you see fit. I hope you enjoy him as much as I enjoyed writing him! - B'haal
|Name||The Very Model Of A Scientist Brown Grellith|