Egg Name and Description
Coming Back From The Other Direction A Hero Egg
Like a treasure chest half-buried in the dark sand, this egg lies on its side with a sort of seam running lengthwise all around its circumference. But this box, from either a trick of the glowlight or shadow, seems just partly open, although the blurring of shades makes it difficult to tell precisely what it might contain. Maybe there's the telltale sparkle of purest gold, glimmering mutedly between wedges of creamy white, almost like teeth in a grinning maw. And is that there the barest hint of pink? One could even, with some stretch of the imagination, see a lurking tongue in that mouth, giving just the slightest hint of menace, though really, there's not much detail to be found. It could as easily be blood-red muddied with the surrounding colors. The rest of the egg is a nondescript brown, not unlike in warmth of tone to that of varnished wood, with texture evident in hue alone, for the shell itself is entirely smooth. But looking closely where black grains meet ovoid surface, a seemingly random tangle of lines forms the illusion of hundreds of tiny.. feet.
Loyalty Incarnate stirs, with the ponderous slowness of flowing tree sap. Cautiously, it becomes aware of you, oozing like molten gold into the cracks and crevices of your mind, before bringing all of its not inconsiderable attention to bear with a focus so abruptly intense it might be frightening, an unknowable and predatory force eyeing you up with as much chance of finding you to be a good lunch as good company. The careful grinding of stone (or is that teeth?) echoes and creaks in darkness absolute. And the pounding of your heart becomes heavy footsteps chasing you through warped shapes of caverns and tunnels, or perhaps through dim and ancient forests whose massive trunks and lightless canopy stretch into forever - or is this a craggy beach with waves crashing against the rocks and the glitter of stars bright upon the surf. The feeling of being watched so strong it's almost tangible, you wade suddenly into black mist that obscures even the path you took to get here, lapping cold as ice across your skin, the heat of the sands forgotten. Will you flee the inevitable force bearing down on you, that even now snaps at your heels and growls with hollow presence at your back? Or will you stand and face the creaking, chittering sound that shadows your every movement, sends itself hurtling ever closer? Up out of the fog come shapes of nightmare, fears given form, the landshape dissolving into your worst, most terrible memories. It is often said that before you die, your life passes before your eyes. It is, in fact, true. It's called living. And in the haze of rising panic, this relentless persuit comes to a shuddering end, riding to the rescue before you can be overwhelmed, these snatches of all those fragments of the past are seared away in a blood-red brilliance, an avenging fire from which there is no escape. And just as violently, it all falls away, even the ground vanishing from under you as you descend through nothingness, only to jerk back into the present, back into yourself.
Loyalty Incarnate is waiting, with all the patience of a stalking feline. Or a brick. It eases forward, seeking tendrils of root running deep into your thoughts, flowing down the dark and as yet unexplored passageways of your life with all the single-minded, unstoppable purpose of a marching glacier. Onward it treads, without care to what closed doors or walls you might have built, memories both unpleasant and fantastic pulled to the fore. Each is examined, considered in the manner of a Hold steward choosing the right people for the job, or a wingleader picking his second. There's a moment's pause, a deep and thoughtful rumble, before pieces of the best and worst are just as suddenly flung about, decorating the proverbial walls of your consciousness with all the taste and self-control of a deranged avian. This is who you are, in broken, unsorted magnificence, a thousand slivers of shattered glass glimmering in an ever-growing mosaic that reflects all aspects of yourself, all the greatest moments, the truimphs, the defeats, the most humiliating times. All of them are looked at with equal indifference, or is that curiosity? Lost in the myriad fragments, there is a frantic longing, desperately grasping for something, deep down, for that one perfect instant that defines you. That /makes you/. And then it stops. Maybe, as the images fade and the presence recedes, maybe that moment has yet to come. Maybe, in that one moment, you will not stand alone.
Loyalty Incarnate trundles forth, ungainly perhaps in the unfamiliarity with the things it sees in you, but single-mindedly determined to shove through any obstacle, to find out what makes you, well, YOU. And it does so with a speed that might be surprising, plowing right through the surface as a shipfish through water. Whether it takes an hour or turns upon turns, it seems determined to get to the bottom of things. To figure you out, to find what draws it to your warmth and your hurt. All those things it's seen, all those disjointed fragments of your life, the good and the bad, there is a stone-strong will to be a part of them, to be a part of something greater. Something that /matters/, and beneath the wooden facade, there is a quiet need. As great as the pull of the tides, as driving as the whip on a runner's flank. The need to connect. The need, to not be alone. But the same instant you see this endless search for what it is, the cold and dark descend again. Like breaking through the ice only to sink into fathomless depths, you're suddenly falling, bright pinpoints of light shooting past with painful brilliance, and you cannot tell whether you are still being chased, or whether it is you who are following, the terror of being found out, of being vulnerable coarsing through every fiber, dazzlingly bright in an instant, hazily dark the next, your thoughts not your own, and the line between you both blurring for what seems a fraction of eternity. And then truly, you are alone with yourself once more.
Coming Back From The Other Direction A Hero Egg hasn't moved. Really. That tremble of anticipation must just be your imagination.
Coming Back From The Other Direction A Hero Egg just sort of suddenly tumbles over onto its side, without much ceremony. Ker-thud-crack. A piece of its shell drops away. Dum dee dum, it's just sitting here. Maybe it's waiting for something.
Coming Back From The Other Direction A Hero Egg has been here all this time, waiting. And now, without any pomp or ceremony, it just gets up and walks away. That is to say, it hatches. Which is a lot more messy in practice than principal, but those legs shoving out totally get it wandering across the hatching sands for a good few lengths before it stumbles over in a crash and spills its contents all shiny and gooey and new.
Hatchling Name and Description
Far Side Of Darkness Bronze Hatchling
Even the greatest of masterwork smiths could not have wrought such a creature of purest bronze as this, bright molten hide without blemish or blush. Deep and vibrant as the heart of a flame, light seems to flicker over this dragon's form with every slightest shift, as if Rukbat's fire itself were captured and contained, encased in a perfectly forged shape of heated metal and taught skin. Power lies in obvious lines of muscle, from toned limbs to sleek flanks, and across the majestic arch of long neck and tail. There is no excess, no inch of him that, it might seem, is not made to serve a purpose. While clearly built for strength, there is a certain nobility to the slant of eyeridges and the set of his headknobs, reflected fully in the glimmering, alien facets of wideset eyes. But make no mistake, this is a predator, long narrow jaws and gleaming teeth accompanying a set of equally shiny black claws, scythelike and sharp. And also unmistakable is the fact that this beast was meant to fly. Enormous wings stretch from his back, thin membranes carrying a subtle brassy sheen when unfurled, the individual spars tipped in a contrasting darker hue which fades back into his general coloring as it nears the first joints, smoothly blending in such a way that, from the right angle, it might appear more shadow than patterning. That same striking coppery note is present to a greater degree along back ridges, with the barest trace of it adding a vaguely distinguished look as it shades the contours of face and muzzle.
Public Impression Message
Private Impression Message
Very subtly, as if drained from the area as water from a bucket, all the sound around you begins to fade away until finally it seems to cease. A quiet descends, like none you have ever experienced, thick and heavy, and utterly impenetrable. You see the hatching grounds before you, the other candidates, the rocking eggs. The galleries full of people. All of them, as if slowly frozen in time, dim into the background. Your whole world, the heat of the sands, the feel of the air against your skin, even the very texture of your white robe - it all vanishes like the light of a dying glow. Darkness isn't the opposite of light, it is simply its absence. This.. is something else entirely, something so much more important. As if Pern itself were holding its collective breath in a stillness so absolute even the beating of your heart has stopped. There is just you, that vital essence that makes you who and what you are, all the confusion and conflicts and paradoxes inherent in any human being washed away until you stand, singled out here and now. Just you, all that you are, all that you have been, all.. that you /could/ be. And then you understand. In every lifetime, there must come an instant when the path becomes clear, and all doubt falls away. And there is that one perfect moment that defines you. « This is your moment, F'en. » You do not stand alone. It comes to you in a blaze of purpose (which oddly enough has a sort of fluorescent greenish-yellow-purpleness to it). And then you are suddenly plunged into the world once more, into yourself, into light and sound inevitable chaos. And before you is the path ahead. A path paved in bronze. The path of a dragonrider, /Rakauth's/ rider. And for one perfect, defining moment, you know exactly who and what you are. That is, before the searing pang of shared hunger abruptly drags you back into the present, into the world of doubts and worries and trivialities. But none of that matters, not anymore.
Personality / RP Tips
In every lifetime, it is said, there is that one perfect moment that defines you. That sets the course of your fate. You are one of those lucky enough to have found it, Faen. Or so Rakauth would have you believe. You are a dragonrider. One of the select few - one of the dragonmen of Pern. Walk that path with pride. The fate of the weyr may one day rest in your hands. F'en, rider to bronze Rakauth. No matter where you go, what you do, what sort of man you choose to become, this one thing will define who you are for the rest of your life. Because of your dragon's color, whether or not he manages to warrant it, people from Holds and Hall will look to you for leadership. For guidance. For a voice in times of trouble. And even in a weyr as often laid back as Ista, the same holds true. In some ways, Rakauth exemplifies his color, and will once he's grown, urge Faen to embody those ballads of the noble dragonmen of olde. But more than anything, there is an understated dignity to him that will both inspire and encourage.
"All right," said Susan, "I'm not stupid. You're saying humans need … fantasies to make life bearable."
Death: Humans need fantasy to *be* human. To be the place where the falling angel meets the rising ape.
Susan: With tooth fairies? Hogfathers?
Death: Yes. As practice, you have to start out learning to believe the little lies.
Susan: So we can believe the big ones?
Death: Yes. Justice. Mercy. Duty. That sort of thing.
Susan: They're not the same at all!
Death: You think so? Then take the universe and grind it down to the finest powder, and sieve it through the finest sieve, and then /show me/ one atom of justice, one molecule of mercy. And yet, you try to act as if there is some ideal order in the world. As if there is some, some rightness in the universe, by which it may be judged.
Susan: But people have got to believe that, or what's the point?
Death: You need to believe in things that aren't true. How else can they /become/?
- (Terry Pratchett, Hogfather)
This quote captures perfectly Rakauth's own motivations, his entire purpose. Whether the world is fair, or not, whether the things Faen does are childish or overly-playful, whether or not the sun rises with clear skies or stormy clouds - regardless of it all, he will reason, if you do not believe you /can/, how else can you make it /be/? While it may not be entirely obvious at first, as he ages Rakauth will develop a serious side, one which regards duty and justice very highly, and as he learns about these concepts, the more important such things as mercy and honor will become to him. Eventually those things - justice, mercy, duty - they will form the everburning flame which drives him. To live as dragons should, for the purpose they were intended, even in the absence of Thread.
Rakauth is an old soul, gentler possibly than most bronzes, at least on the surface, but with an uncanny wit and wisdom beyond his turns. Even from his earliest moments, his alien intelligence will challenge you to be more and do more, question your own motivations, and reach for things most normal men only dream of. After all, with bronzen dragonwings to carry you, there is almost /nothing/ the two of you cannot accomplish. He has absolute faith in you, and will be a rock to brace against no matter what life may throw at you. Your eternal, unshakeable support when things are rough, your confidante and advisor, who will see situations from entirely new perspectives and be able to apply that formidable mind to any problem, often coming up with surprising and inventive solutions. Most importantly, he will encourage you to think outside the proverbial box, to explore and learn, to find that all-important purpose - in whatever wing or job it may be.
Everything starts somewhere, though many physicists disagree. But people have always been dimly aware of the problem with the start of things. They wonder how the snowplough driver gets to work, or how the makers of dictionaries look up the spelling of words.
- Terry Pratchett, Hogfather
While some hatchlings have endless questions and little self-control, Rakauth will be the sort to listen rather than pester, to learn from observation with a keen intellect that can grasp concepts quickly and build upon prior knowledge. That isn't to say he won't ask you when he is confused or at a loss, but you may be surprised at just how much he manages to pick up on his own. However, he is such a thinker that you may find yourself quickly out of your depth with concerns about the origins of dragons, how weyrs and holds came to be the way they are, whether Nziekilth's chickens or those eggs came first, the meaning of life - really deep and unanswerable questions coming from a creature no more than a few sevendays old. You will be hard-pressed to satisfy these queries, and they will only get deeper and more thoughtful as he ages. On the other hand, you may find that much of his early months will be far easier than for other weyrlings, at least in that respect, though there will be an adjustment as you both get used to the sheer strength of your bond. And to all the new and amazing things to experience and learn. Rakauth is something of a scholar when it comes to new ideas, although his memory is no sharper than any other bronze dragon's. He'll just tend to recall abstract concepts far more easily than other things. Which means you, Faen, will have to be the one remembering the more tangible things like wing formations or where those straps were kept. For he'll often be a little absent minded when it comes to the more practical matters of day-to-day life. Thankfully, he has you to keep him firmly grounded in the here and now, an anchor when his own distractedness gets the better of him.
During weyrlinghood, his size will at first be a source of both pride and discouragement, as while he /is/ a bronze, every dragon must learn to walk and manage tail and wings. You might find a few less than elegant moments in your future, and Rakauth will be terribly sheepish and apologetic about it all. And maybe a little frustrated till he figures the whole thing out. And if he manages to really bungle something, he might be a bit put-out for a while, though he has a streak of determination that often won't let him simply give up. Perhaps it's this stubbornness that will get him through those lessons he isn't particularly good at, though you will find that once he does acquire enough coordination and confidence, he will make mistakes less and less. Indeed, after awhile, he will relish the physical activities as much as the mental ones, and will definitely encourage Faen to accompany him on laps of the bowl, or physical training. A healthy body, he may come to believe, promotes a healthy mind.
And should the worst happen, and he actually manages to overdo it and strain a wing or, Faranth forbid, actually break something in his enthusiasm once he finds his coordination, he is likely to take any injury or unavoidable restriction in stride. « Bloody embuggerance, this, but it won't last forever. » He is unlikely to complain much, no matter how dire or unpleasant the consequences, and this sort of thing will continue into adulthood, as he finds his limits and accepts whatever hardships may come along. Indeed, you may find him surprisingly philosophical, using the time to focus on other things and always willing to persevere. Should you ever seriously break a rule or get yourself in trouble, he will of course be disappointed in you, but there will be no overbearing lectures, no 'I told you so's. Never any anger directed toward you, although he may develop a slight grumpy streak eventually. He is your other half. Your failings are his failings. And that feeling of disappointment, that you let him down, may be more eloquent than a thousand scoldings or lectures. Because in the end, were you ever to disappoint him, it would devastate him to the core. Such is the strength of your bond.
But alas, while he may eventually excel at both the physical and mental lessons, he won't always be the best student - or not obviously so. Instead, you might find that his tendency to learn from listening means he isn't out volunteering first or trying to win the Weyrlingmaster's approval much. It might even seem, at times, that he tends to fade into the background, but this is just the way he learns, and it will be up to you to volunteer first or show off that fancy landing you /know/ he can do. Because in the end, while he might have pride in you both, Rakauth is not a bronze who runs purely on ego, unlike some. You may even find him occasionally wondering what could have possessed Malphath to say this or that thing, or what on Pern possessed Raenth to go bother those people. And that one bronze with a thing for the color pink? Yeah, /that one/. Rakauth is going to be utterly baffled by him. You may find, perhaps increasingly as he ages, that small, often amusing comments come more easily as he finds humor rather than frustration in the way others behave or how the world is, asiding to you some random related fact that gives you both a chuckle or two. Call it footnotes on life, if you will.
"What is it that a man may call the greatest things in life?"
"Hot water, good dentishtry and shoft lavatory paper."
- Cohen the Barbarian in conversation with Discworld nomads (Terry Pratchett, The Light Fantastic)
As he ages, he will also pick up a few quirks, some of which might extend to you. For one, your looks and the way you present yourself will at least matter on formal occasions, though if he ever gets ahold of a black fedora or other attire he comes to believe is 'dashing', he may, with some amusement, suggest you try it. After all, a sense of style couldn't hurt, and it can't be any worse than that one wingleader with the ..questionable fashion sense. Not that he'd ever look down on anyone for something so trivial as appearance, but you'll find he may develop some definite likes and dislikes, many of which will be influenced by your own growth and preferences. He is neither vain nor materialistic, but does appreciate the practical things in life. Parties and praise are great indeed, but the hotsprings and a clean couch is worth a hundred gathers.
"So mistletoe, in fact, symbolises mistletoe?"
"Exactly, Archchancellor," said the Senior Wrangler, who was now just hanging on.
"Funny thing, that," said Ridcully, in the same thoughtful tone of voice. "That statement is either so deep it would take a lifetime to fully comprehend every particle of its meaning, or it is a load of absolute tosh. Which is it, I wonder?"
"It could be both," said the Senior Wrangler desperately.
"And that comment," said Ridcully, "is either very perceptive, or very trite."
"It might be bo"
"Don't push it, Senior Wrangler."
- Terry Pratchett, Hogfather
He sees the world as it really is, oftentimes more clearly than others, and he isn't above pointing out the rubbish when he sees it. Although, he'll at least do it tactully. He holds no illusions about his place in it. You both could rise to greatness, could do almost anything, but the actual /doing/ will take hard work. Sometimes tedious, sometimes menial. But if the end result is worth it, then the less interesting stuff is worth doing /right/. Life isn't all fun and games, and he won't be afraid to tell you so. Encouraging he might be, a partner in crime at times even, but it must be balanced with what is neccessary. Duty alongside adventure. It's something he may challenge you to rise to, his own sense of purpose strong enough to carry you both through any difficulty, though in the end, what he lives for, is you. And whatever direction your lives might take, he will always be yours. Never forget, Faen, that you were chosen - be it fate, be it luck, be it pure blind chance - you out of all those who stood upon the hatching sands were singled out for this purpose. Bound mind and spirit with a bronze dragon. And as long as his heart still beats, you will never lack for support or encouragement, an ally and a friend, through whatever path lies ahead.
Some dragons are loud. Some are colorful. Some have voices that touch the senses while others touch the heart, but yours is none of these things. Your dragon doesn't just evoke images and feelings when he communicates, he evokes entire beliefs and ways of thinking. Is he concerned about you? His voice will /embody/ that concern in his words, not just from the gently paternal tone, but the entire philosophy of mutual love and trust upon which all rider-dragon relations are built. He will exist, in unspoken yet felt meaning, for you alone. Is he angry? Amused? Be prepared, especially early on, for the sheer intensity of his mind, as it washes like that out-of-season hurricane across your mental landscape, leaving nothing untouched. This is a dragon who could easily overwhelm, though never on purpose. He simply is. Where some bronzes have ego and others volume, Rakauth has intense and dedicated focus.
Within the egg, there had been a wordless confusion, a desperate need to find something unnamable yet vital. Neither of you knew it then, but that desperate seeking would lead you both to each other. And from there, into a bond that, even after so many centuries, the Pernese have yet to be able to convey adequately to those who have not experienced it. And indeed, for your dragon especially, you may find words to describe his mind equally as inedequate, for words alone could not do justice to the scope of what his mindvoice encompasses.
Root and claw, darkness and fear, fire and light, fragility and hope. These are all facets of things which Rakauth may employ, but in the end there is a quiet to him that goes beyond mere imagery and words. Where the metaphor meets the mind, and that first spark of understanding flickers - that is Rakauth's voice.
Radiating from the book was the light that lies on the far side of darkness, the light fantastic. It was a rather disappointing purple colour.
- Terry Pratchett, The Light Fantastic
You may find, if you ever try to describe exactly how your bronze talks, at least to anyone who hasn't already heard it, that you'll end up with a jumble of disconnected things - ancient as the whispering rustle of old books in the deepest depths of a forgotten library, radiant as the heart of a newborn star, deep as the scent of twilight just after sunset - how does one even translate that into sounds? Mere spoken human words will be entirely inadequate, and often fall short of the true marvel that is his mindvoice. And yet he does speak, though even in your own head you'll never 'hear' him - you'll never be able to say, for instance, that he is a baritone or that there is a slight reverberating echo, as if simultaneously turning pages just barely within hearing range. But the /feel/ of it will take hold of you, and you will simply /know/ what is intended. That is, provided Rakauth himself isn't confused about something, in which case it will be even worse, grasping at everything in an attempt to pin down that one mode of thinking that perfectly frames what he wants to convey.
With such scope and intensity, as you might have guessed, Rakauth has a voice that, while hard to describe, is also one that other dragons often can't help but listen to. It's the sort that, despite being neither loud nor especially colorful, somehow just captures attention. As much as Faen might seem a natural leader amongst his friends, Rakauth's mindvoice carries a sense of innate wisdom and competence, even if in practice neither of these may actually be the case any more than anyone else's. But you will find, like the quiet yet commanding voice of a well-trained orator, that many will find themselves listening to him, to his reason, to his quiet intensity. And never forget (for he surely will not let you) that his is also the mind of a predator. And while there is nothing remotely either viscious or bloodthirsty about the way he speaks, there is a ferocity, beneath it all, that you may glimpse if ever you are in peril, for that intensity can be turned just as easily with deadly precision into a true force to be reckoned with. Nevermind the huge, several-ton and very tangible /dragon/ with teeth and claws behind that powerful mind.
The theme for this clutch was Companions/Sidekicks, and as you might have guessed from the various dragons SCo has plopped out, we're all HUGE geeks. Srsly. |: <3 The type of dragon you asked for seemed uniquely suited to this theme, and I tried to bring out as many aspects of this as possible in writing his insp.
Your particular dragon's egg takes its inspiration mainly from the first two Discworld novels by Terry Pratchett: The Light Fantastic and The Colour of Magic, in which the practical and streetwise 'wizzard' Rincewind is subsequently and unwillingly dropped into great adventure and the perilous job of being a guide to the world's first tourist. The egg description and mindtouches center around the 'relationship' between Rincewind, Twoflower the tourist, and the Luggage. The egg desc itself is based on the infamous Luggage, a trunk with thousands of tiny feet made from rare sapient pearwood, which is unfailingly faithful and has a homocidal attitude to anything that might possibly threaten its owner. The mindtouches echo the story of their travels across the breadth and width of the Discworld, and beyond, with nods here and there to some of the later books. Rincewind himself, despite being the most inept wizard to ever exist and having failed Unseen University (Discworld's version of Hogwarts) has a quick mind (and even quicker feet) and surprising talent for languages, as well as incredible luck. He is also, arguably, the most important character in the entire world, having saved it on more than one occasion throughout the series. Also, he is a terminal coward, so much so that (if Einstien is right) he's running back from the other direction a Hero. The Luggage, on the other hand, fears nothing except possibly termites and being abandoned. And is both relentless and unstoppable in its purpose, which is to follow and protect its master. Also, it's sort of like a walking (trampling) Bag of Holding, with multi-dimensional insides, some of which contain a LOT of gold, some of which you can put your laundry into and have it come out clean and smelling faintly of lavender, and some of which have big teeth and eat people. And monsters. OMNOMNOM.
In creating Rakauth, I attempted to keep spoilers to a minimum, in case you haven't yet read the Discworld books (and if you haven't, I highly reccommend them - they are totally awesome - think Hitchhiker's Guide meets Tolkien and has extremely witty geeklings), while also giving you a dragon that ties well into its inspiration, as you requested. :D
Rakauth is a conglomeration of many things geeky, most of which revolve around Rincewind, the Luggage, and their companions. However, because there isn't really one character in the Discworld books that truly personified the sort of dragon you wanted, I looked a little deeper, and decided to base him not on a single character, but on Terry Pratchett himself! He takes a lot of personality from the author, as well as various quirks from the senior wizards of the Unseen University, specifically two of the Archchancellors in the books: Mustrum Ridcully and Galder Weatherwax. I've added a little bit of Dumbledore in for good measure, as all three have a somewhat absentminded professor vibe while at the same time being both serious and encouraging of various sorts of adventure. As an aside, the Death of Discworld tends to be very kind and very wise, and while I didn't add it to his mind desc, while writing Rakauth's insp I imagine he'd speak with very much the same sort of indescribable, ageless voice (shown in the books as speaking all in caps, but I figured that might get annoying to do it constantly). XD
Rakauth's name was possibly the most difficult to decide on, and I totally flopped between Atuinth (named after A'tuin, the giant space turtle the Discworld is carried on) and a number of related names trying to think of something in another language that would fit with the companions/Discworld theme. In the end, and with suggestions from Sh'koi and Angharad, I settled on Rakauth, which takes inspiration from Kurmaraja of Hindu mythology (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kurmaraja) which is part of a giant world turtle myth, and likely where Terry Pratchett himself yoinked the idea. It's also a little reminiscent of the thaum, which in Discworld is the magical equivalent of the atom.
I hope you enjoy your Pratchett dragon, and have as much fun playing him as I had creating him. As always, he is yours to bring to life however you wish - so feel free to pick and choose whatever takes your fancy! :D He was crafted just for you by the Shovel.~ Also Cenlia might have been attached to it at some point.
|Name||Far Side Of Darkness Bronze Rakauth|
|Hatched||28 July 2012|