Tiptoe awoke with a start. The egg flopped against her side and startled her. She perked her head up, smiling as she watched with fascination. She watched the egg wiggle, then begin to crack, then a tail! Popping out of one of the cracks, a bright red tail poked out and she looked thrilled. Thrill turned to great confusion when out popped another tail, this one in a yellow color. Two? Not unheard of, but certainly not expected. The egg cracked further and, in one fell swoop, split in twoand two salamander babies fell apart from each other. Tiptoe blinked, then beamed a bright smile, proud of her two babies and amazed by how different they were. One a bright firey red color, the other a bright yellow, both so dear to her already. She pulled them closed and snuggled the squirming salamanders, thrilled that she was able to help them hatch.

A Voice from Deep Below had recently taken up tea-drinking, finding the right plants for the right brew was incredible, and with that, he decided that he wanted a salamander to call his own. What's better than brewing your own drink at home, without needing to find a friendly wild one.

It was just his luck that he had found an egg on one of his walks by the riverside to listen to the voice that hums from deep within the water, almost like a gift from the deep one, and so, he had worked hard on making a cozy little temporary home to try and hatch the little thing. It would be best for a fire salamander, he knew, but with how close it had been to the waterside, he would have to wait and see if luck was on his side - he had made the nest soft, warm and dry, like he had been told before.

Patience, he knew, was needed, and so, he started hunkering down in his cozy little spot, ready to defend this little egg with whatever he could do.

1. A bird flies down and tries to make off with your egg; fend it off before it does too much damage.
6. A crane with its sharp beak considers you its sworn enemy. Fend it off!
8. A smack of jellyfish float through your nest. Slight electrical pulses run through their long reaching tendrils.
18. You stay up watchful all night and start seeing things. Or are those spectrals?
8. A smack of jellyfish float through your nest. Slight electrical pulses run through their long reaching tendrils.

If anything, Voice had chosen a rather nice day to take on such a grand quest, the wind was nice and the motion of the riverside left a calming burble invade his space, leaving him the perfect opportunity to just rest and day dream. As the sun crossed the sky, he quietly assumed that the rest of the day would be like this, calm and without anything to report, but he was dead wrong.

From somewhere above, the soft chirrups of a passing bird started echoing around him, slightly dissonant from the babbling water, but not horribly so. Lifting his head to peer at it, he was surprised by the fluster of feathers, the little avian diving fast past his face. Frozen for a split-second, it barely dawned on him that the bird was after his egg, and in a quick moment, he leaned down, snapping at the air it had just occupied, teeth clattering as he tried to catch it.

This was his egg!

You can't have it!

With another bared-teeth look, he leaned up, snapping at the general location of the bird, trying to scare it off, only barely, the offender fleeing into a brush. Snorting through his nostrils, as if to say good riddance, he relished in his easy win for a moment, before the brush burst open again, scaring the buck onto his hooves.

With honks of indignation, a much larger enemy stood before him in the form of an angry swan, likely disrupted by the zipping of the smaller bird, wings open and ready for a fight. What it likely did not expect was the high pitched shrieking of a fully grown kimeti buck, standing on the tips of his hooves.

Both sides stopped at a stand-still for a moment, catching their respected breaths, before the swan seemed to just shuffle back into neutral position and side stepping the still very panicking buck. Watching it wander through the brush again, he couldn't help but pause and stare at it's exit. Did it just diss him? Was he really that frightful that it saw no challenge?

Rude.

After about ten minutes of pacing around the nest, he finally felt comfortable enough to shuffle down again and rest next to the egg, checking for any damage, which the egg seemed fortunate to escape from.

Heaving a long sigh, he laid his head down and let the time pass him, as long as nothing else popped up. Completely unaware of the movement of the sun, Voice dozed off quietly next to his little clutch, letting the warmth of the sunlight bake him a little.

Things seemed to be slow and easy going until the night time started to fall, in which he was woken up abruptly by a little shock hit him on the side, waking him suddenly with a little jump.

Oh.

That was, like, a lot of jellyfish. He kind of deserved this, didn't he, being so close to the waterway. Ducking his head into nest, he tried to make himself as small a possible, less space for tendrils to hit. He was. . . . fortunate enough to have experience around water-based creatures, living so close to the water himself.

After a moment, the little shocks slowed down into nothingness, and after a moment, he lifted his head again, peering around. The coast seemed generally clear, except for a small haze near the waters. What was it, he wondered, squinting into the darkness. Some kind of spectral or ghost?

No.

More jellyfish. AUGH.

Ducking down again, he let the second round of the smack to pass him, and with the resulting silence that came after, he warily curled up further, trying to see if he could sleep off the rest of the night.

Opening his eyes to the start of morning, he let a content sigh escape his mouth, turning down to egg. To his great surprise, it had already pipped and watched as the little lizard break at the shell that it had been confined to. Two little beady eyes opened to look around it's new grand home, and with a little quiet squeal, Voice felt a rush of pride.

It was like being a father all over again.

His new child was just very, very small.

This had been a strange gift in exchange for her services and Blood from the Tree still wasn’t sure she believed everything she’d been told about it. Only once had she ever received an egg as payment and that had been intended for eating. But the kin- who she’d treated for slight pokeweed poisoning and given a couple remedies to try and lessen the Ache’s symptoms -had been insistent that she hatch it. He’d said that, depending on where she decided to build a nest, a salamander would hatch from the egg that was capable of creating fire, water, or even plants! A myth, surely, Blood from the Tree was convinced. But it would be a lie to say she hadn’t been just a little curious. The kin had said it would only take a day to hatch…what harm would it be to give it a try?

So, after treating the kin and pointing him back in the direction of his home in the swamp, Blood from the Tree returned to her own home, and started putting together a nest. Allegedly, the conditions of the nest determined what type of salamander would hatch from the egg and while the kin didn’t know the exact details of these conditions, it seemed to make sense to both of them that somewhere warm and dry would at least result in the kind that could produce fire. One that could grow plants seemed more useful to a healer like herself, but neither of them felt confident in the kind of nest that would take. But warm and dry was relatively easy. A bed of dried grasses to start with soft cushion of fur from a particularly wooly totoma and a circle of stone to soak up the sun, which of course meant this nest had to be in the sunniest spot she could find. Once that had been constructed, she settled the egg into the center and waited.

And nothing happened, of course. Because it was an egg and it, allegedly, took a full day before hatching. So, Blood from the Tree went about her day, sorting the herbs and roots she’d collected, taking inventory of what she was running low on, checking on the honey production of her two humblebees. But then she spotted something drifting through the fields. Something she couldn’t make out at first but as it got closer it looked like….a bunch of jellyfish? Here? So far away from the beach? How does that even happen?

Regardless of the answer, they were drifting in the general direction of her egg and she wasn’t going to let all of her work go to waste because of some rogue jellyfish. Blood from the Tree grabbed a stick and gave all of the floating blobs a good nudge until they were all bobbing away and no longer threatening her little experiment.

Not five minutes later, she caught a bird fluttering down to the nest and begin pecking at it. At first, she thought it might be trying to steal materials for its own nest, but as she got closer, she saw that it was pecking at the egg! Rushing over scared the bird off and thankfully, it didn’t seem like any damage had been done. But she was going to have to be more vigilant now.

Hours passed and while Blood from the Tree continued to do her work, she kept an eye on the egg at all times. But nothing else happened. Except that she was starting to get hungry, and as luck would have it, she’d intended to spend some of the day replenishing her stores. Since she now had to remain within eyesight of her new charge, that was out of the question. She still had the whole night ahead of her though….Maybe she could just sneak some of the honey from her humblebees. Just really quick, it would only take a second.

Unfortunately, with night creeping it, this meant that the nocturnal creatures were starting to stir. For Blood from the Tree, however, the real threat wasn’t from hungry beasts prowling for a snack. It was a lovesick sugar glider who had been snooping around her bees’ hive that was the real problem. It spotted her and immediately decided that she was its new mate. There was a lot of shouting and kicking and running around before the thing got the hint that she wasn’t interested. Very, very quickly, she snatched a quick snack from the hive then hurried back to the nest.

The rest of the night was surprisingly quiet, but Blood from the Tree was exhausted and hungry in the last few hours. She tried to think of ways that might coax the creature inside to emerge, remembering how some parents would sing to their eggs. This wasn’t going to work, but she was a little delirious and desperate, so she began to sing a croaky, out of tune song. She thought, for a moment, that the egg actually moved, but this also could have been the sleep deprivation…

Finally, long after the sun had risen and she should have eaten breakfast, Blood from the Tree heard a crack. She jumped with a start and closely examined the egg, discovering a fine crack along its side. It took another half hour or so, but a creature did emerge and it did look like a bright yellow salamander. As she drew her nose closer to the thing, she could feel heat radiating off of it. The kin's story was true! Also, she could at long last go get food and go to sleep!

Grained Melon trotted alone through the swamp, the sun was shining. He liked moments like this, quiet exploration, a little alone time, thought he couldnt help but miss his best friend, Quacking Melon. The little duck would try keeping the tempo of him and when he was to slow he would complain until Grained Melon walks slower or it could sit on top of his head, between his ears, telling him the direction he should walk.

He looked around. "Quacking Melon would have loved this", he murmured to himself with a little chuckle. As he rounded a huge tree, something caught his eye.. a little glowing something almost hidden in the moss. He blinked, tryed to see better, then stepped closer, tilting his head curiously. There, half buried, was an egg, it was pale, almost white and a little transparent. When he toughed it gently with his hoof, it felt slightly gooey, like a blob of slime. He neard his head to the strange thing and whispered, eyes wied. "What are you?"

Grained Melon thought back to the storys he had heard about this kind of eggs. Wasnt it something about samalanders? Should he try hatch it? "But how..?", he trailed off, staring at the egg. He thought realy hard.. then he smiled wide "Quacking Melon knows how to build nests! Whow did he build his again..?" The buck closed his eyes, trying to picture his little duck friend. He was an expert at nest building, always fussing over his little spot. "Okay, I can do that!" Grained Melon said, tapping his hoof against the ground. "Quacking Melon always say a nest has to be safe, cozy and just in the right spot. Maybe something warm and dry could be good for the egg.." He glanced around and spotted a sunny hill herby, it was higher up, away from the water and the sun bathed it in light. "A perfect spot", he thought, trotting towarts it, carrying the egg carefully.

When he was on top of the hill he layed the egg down gently on a patch of soft grass. "Hm.. how did Quacking Melon started building his nest..? First I need a soft bottom I think", he muttered, mimicking Quacking melons quacks. "Maybe moss of feathers. Hm I dont think I will find feathers, so moss it is!" He trotted back to the swamp edge, collecting bundles of moss in his mouth. After laying it down he added sticks to make a sturdy frame. He wasnt that good like the little duck but he gives his best waving them together. When he was happy he stepped back and said a little proud to himself "There! Thats the right shape for you!" looking at the bowl shaped nest. "But something is missing..", he frowned, trying to remember.. Then it hit him, the little duck always added a bit of decoration to makes his nest special and extra comfy! He looked around, maybe flowers? He gathered some wildflowers and tucked them around the edges of the nest. He walked around it, nodded and then placed the egg gently in the center of it. It looked safe and snug. "Quacking Melon would be proud", he said with a grin, laying down beside the nest. "I hope Im doing this right.. Dont worry little egg, I keep you safe, even up here. You can grow, I will take care of you!"

He streched out, keep watching it. For now all he can do is waiting.

--- Rolling for Events ---

9. A heavy lighting storm rolls in suddenly, and a fierce bolt splits the ground not far from you ominously.
15. Somehow, you set up in a spider nest, and at night they emerge: cobwebs and hatchlings as far as the eye can see.
4. A group of furbies try to scamper off with your egg. Fortunately for you, there's no ringleader and they're clumsy.
18. You stay up watchful all night and start seeing things. Or are those spectrals?
21. Not too far away, you find some additional supplies to more comfortably protect your egg.

1-84: One lovely salamander emerges from your egg.

Grained Melon layed beside the nest, ears up as he kept a watchful eye. Right now the egg was laying cozy in the moss but peaceful moments never last long.

Like he said, it starts to rain, first only some little drops, then more and more until its more of a storm. The sky was dark gray and Grained Melon saw lightning on the horizon. He was standing over the nest, try to shield it as best as he could from the weather, while glancing nervously around. A bright flash lit up the swamp as a bolt of lightning struck extremly close. His heart raced and he leapt into action, quickly using his hoves to push together more sticks and moss to cover the egg. "Everything is okay little egg!", he muttered to it, shilding it with his body as the storm roared on. His ears tqitched at every crack of thunder but he stood firm, keeping the egg safe. When the storm finally was over, he let out a sigh of relife and adjusted the nest, making sure it was okay. But what was that?

At the corner of his eye he saw something crawling. Long, tiny legs. A spider! It came from near the forest. First there was only one, then he saw more little creatures, crawling toward the nest. His eyes whide he stomped his hooves and flicked this tail to keep them away. He ran into the hoard of spiders, just stumping and trying to get them away from the egg. It seems to work, they fled apart and it didnt take long before they disappeared into the forest. There was nothing for her to get here. Back to the nest he checked if everything was okay and he had luck, the egg was fine.

Just as it seemed to settle down a gang of furbys appeared. They chattered and squieaked, eyeing the egg as if it where the yummiest they have ever seen. The buck ones again steped in front of the egg. He stood up to his full height and looked at them with slightly wild eyes. “Oh no, you don’t!” he growled. The furbs were persistent but clumsy, tripping over one another as they tried to dart around him. The buck blocked there attempts, using his snoot to gently but firmly nudge them away. When one managed to get close enough, he gave a low, rumbling stomp that it ran away. “This is not snack time!” he huffed, finally chasing the last of the furbs back into the forest.

As the hours dragged on, Grained Melon got exhausted. His eyes where heavy, but he refused to close them. His gaze darted from shadow to shadow, every flicker of movement making his heart jump. Was that a spectral floating though the trees or just imagination? He shook his head, trying to stay awake. He circled the nest repeatedly, making sure nothing lurked too close, until he saw the first light of dawn. As mordning broke he noticed a flash of color in the bush near the hill. Curisous he appoched it and found a cluster of wildflowers and sturdy vines. He was exited, something to make the nest more safe! He gathered them up, returning to the nest and wove the vines into the structure, making another layer of protection. The flowers were pöaced gently around the egg, creating a nice scent.

He once again layed down beside the nest. Had the egg got bigger? Must be his imagination. The important thing is that they made it through the night.. just a little bit longer..

Grained Melons eyes widened as the gentle cracking grew louder and the shell of the egg split open. He leaned forward, hilding his breath, as a small, red salamander cames out of it. Its colors where shimmering like fire in the light. The salamander blinked and let out a soft chirp. Its tiny tail flicked and curled as it makes this first steps, stumbling slightls as it walkes to the buck. "Well hello there", he murmured, his voice soft. He was full of awe and joy. The salamander, still a little unsteady, waddled forward and nuzzled his hoof gently. "You are so shiny red and cute!", Grained Melon laughed softly his heart swelling with pride. "We made it!"

1300 words - claiming my RP points.

“Egg”

”Egg!” Bite ignored the Voice for the second time. The kincaller who followed him rarely said anything coherent at the best of times and today? Bite’s patience was being tested. “Egg!” A fan of tailfeathers brushed across Bite’s face as the bird swooped him.

“What?!” Bite snapped, biting at the bird as it came too close. He had been traveling for days, far from the parts of the swamp he’d been raised in. At first it had been in search of the Limitless Forest, home of the enigmatic blessed of the swamp. Now, he only wandered as he processed his first experience. The memories of his time in the Lunarian Isles existing at odds with life as he knew it in the Swamp. Much like the small stone cup currently being carried by the bat draped across his back. It had rolled away from his feet once he’d left the strange tree. The fact that he had claimed something from this other world fueled a new desire in him.

His wandering had taken him far to the north, the swampland drying out into tall stone pillars rising like ancient trees themselves straight out of the ground, shadowy crevasses snaking and twining around them. He was near the foothills of the mountains. He wondered how deep he could go before the chains of the Ache dragged him back.

“Egg.” The Voice spoke again, landing in a spindly birch and looking pointedly down at its base. Bite followed it’s gaze and there, laying oddly alone and exposed among the dry moss at it’s base was a small translucent egg. It shimmered with movement. Salamander. he thought. He’d never seen one, but kin talked and Bite was always listening.

Bite looked around. Evening was coming on fast enough, especially in the shadow of soaring rock formations around him. Gingerly, with careful hooves, Bite coaxed the little egg into his cup and picking it up with his teeth to hand back to the sleepy Bat.

Shelter wasn’t hard to find this near the mountains. Any number of hollows, crevasses and caves surrounded him. A choice at random, a crooked sliver of an opening turning into a domed room angled just enough to catch the remnants of the setting sun would serve for him that night. It was Warm and Dry and small enough that his body heat alone would keep him comfortable till morning. As for the egg…Bite took the cup carefully from his bat and set it on the ground beside where he’d chosen to lay. He turned to the kincaller that was perched on a rocky ledge watching him. “Make yourself useful.” He nodded at the cup then left the cave. They wouldn’t be going anywhere for a while and he needed to eat.

Behind him the kincaller started scratching in the earth, plucking downy feathers from its breast and trilling snippets of zikwa brood songs heard long ago.

Rolling

The sun was nearly beneath the horizon when Bite returned to the small cavern where he'd left his pets and egg. Soon as he drew near though a cacophony of screams, screeches, yowling and snarling assaulted his ears. He dropped his hunted kill and charged towards the chaos. Two lynxes spat and shrieked as they fought both each other, and the efforts of Bat who was trying to drive them away. Voice was inside the cave and of the four of them, making the most racket as it mimicked the sound of the cats, of Bat, of things Bite had never personally heard and every other noise it knew. The kincaller was fluffed up and mantled over the nest it had made for the small egg, Bite's cup tipped over and tucked up beside it under Voice's feathers.

Teeth and hooves did what his bat's wings couldn't and soon the lynxes were gone, chasing each other back into the forest where eventually he couldn't see or hear them. "Enough!" He hissed at the Voice, startling the bird into silence mid-croak. The kincaller managed to look offended as it busied itself tucking egg and cup back underneath itself.

It didn't take long for Bite to find the lynxes, or some other opportunistic creature, had made off with his kill while he was distracted. Adding further to his irritation for the day, Bite was only able to scavenge a small patch of mushrooms to last him through the night. After his time in the Zikwa caves with the Harbinger... Bite was not a fan of mushrooms but hunger was hunger and if he was going to be fighting off lynxes all night he'd need something.


Luckily... maybe... depending on your point of view. The night was blessedly quiet of external activity. Bat swooped in an out as he willed, the Voice slept and minded it's nest and Bite... well none of the mushrooms he'd gathered were what he'd call edible. He spent a night (was it only one?) drifting between a timeless stupor and vivid visions. He time he returned to lucidity he tried a different mushroom with trepidation. By morning he decided even the finality of death would be preferable to eating another mushroom. Only once before had he woken up with as many regrets as he did that chilled dawn. The only improvement being the lack of a brightly colored and far-too-chipper buck chattering his ear off.

His body ached. His head swam. He was both hungry and nauseated and couldn't decide which feeling was stronger. He dragged himself upright and out of the cave, searching for water as the shadows faded. The sun was too low to reach the forest floor among the rocky walls surrounding him, but the world lightened enough to wake up the creatures of the forest. Bite found a small stream and drank slowly, each mouthful threatening to turn his stomach as he did. He largely ignored the sounds of the small creatures nearby. The rainy season was ending and it was the time of year where every small creature was running and swooping and making noise about something.

When one of aforementioned small creatures thumped into his neck, he just shook it off and continued to drink. When it did it again and clung on, he shook harder, walking a few steps away. Bite looked up from the stream to see it was a small sugar glider. It darted into a bush and reappeared on a branch near Bite's head. It squeaked and huffed and chittered excitedly at him and Bite was once again reminded of that buck so many months ago. He turned and walked away, heading back towards the cavern to check on his familiars.

It wasn't a few moments later he felt a thump again and the small rodent trilled and hicoughed at him as it climbed his hair. Bite shook his head violently, sending it careening through the air. "I will eat you." He growled, leaving the sugarglider dazed behind him. Thinking it was over Bite trudged back towards his familiars, nosing underneath the Voice to make sure it hadn't decided to eat his egg in his absence. He gave it a stern look and settled back to the ground, exhausted and sick.

Chittersqeak! For a third time, Bite felt the small thump of the sugarglider hitting his neck. With a snarl he knocked it to the floor with one hoof and before it could recover... he made good on his earlier promise.

Rolling fire salamander color