Twenty Sides of Fate Egg

Oddly enough, this squat egg almost seems icosagonal rather than round at first glance. Soft gray shadows and planes crisscross over what would normally be an unremarkable white background, creating the illusion of twenty flat sides rather than the usual smooth roundness. In a fit of even more geometric strangeness, each of the multitude of sides has the appearance of a perfectly equilateral triangle, every one fitting perfectly against its neighbor. Each open triangular expanse is filled with a random collection of squiggles, tracings or faint lines in soft shades of blue, green or black - each one different and each one just off enough to be illegible. Some look like numbers, some look like pictures and some look like symbols though all of them will remind different people of different things. It's almost a pity the blocky egg can't be rolled around to view the sides hidden underneath the sand creeping up its shell, as they're sure to be just as compelling.

Megalithic Longstone Egg

Apparently hewn from granite, this oddly elongated egg sits as the impostor amongst the clutch, the immovable mixed in with the fragile. Faint whorls of ancient writings sketch over the surface, their meanings unknown and unreadable, while lichen's rusty reds and greens cling to the lower extremities and try to claw their way skywards. A suggestion of wings, while appropriate, seem out of place near the tip of the shell, the pure obsidian of their outline fracturing and creeping down the shell in an illusionary series of dusty cracks that threaten to split it almost perfectly in two.

Beyond the Great Desert Egg

From a distance this egg seems small and insignificant, the pale beige of the shell dotted here and there with patches of rough looking white that match the sands around it. Up close it proves something more of an enigma, as the sandy patches reveal themselves as not having been collected when it was laid, but part of the shell itself and absolutely smooth to the touch. These sandy trails swirl over the shell, picking out a vague wavering outline of the soaring spires and towering minarets of a great city. Opulent palaces with many windows are sketched there, while a faint flash of green near the base suggests a lush garden, and buried almost completely in the actual sands that surround it is a hint of blue winding halfway around the egg like a river.

Soul in Bloom Egg

This mid-sized egg seems quite normal with few irregularities in shape. Its wide base is dipped in the purest of blood-reds that, when viewed from a closer distance, is found to be a sea of tiny raised bumps, each bump marring the surface with its oblong shape, all amassing to create a bed of flower petals. Streams of jet black interrupt the peace however, rising up from the petals and branching as they climbs. Webs of thick, silver veins crawl across each branch, ever river bursting into a mass of delicate red flowers. Tiny splotches of red litter the rest of the surface, almost as if a wind were carrying the flowers on a journey, a few falling to join their comrades, the others sweeping across the surface in thick flurries. Between the reds, glimpses of dark blue shapes present themselves, flat topped trapezoids whose sides sweep down before curling up. Each rests on a square of pure white, their forms coming together elegantly to form a simple building. Dozens of these structures are spaced seemingly at random, but come together in a village of sorts. Yet there is a blur of colors that stands out among the rest. Discarding the blues and whites, reddish-purple stains soar up majestically, supporting an emerald green trapezoid much like the blue ones only far larger. Tendrils of orange gracefully curl themselves around the building, crawling across the surface in an almost possessive manner. One half of the structure is charred black under the attention of the flames, but the other seems to thrive, its colors shining bright as the orange glow of flames bathe the air.

Endless Eternity Egg

Time stretches across the gentle arc of the eggs shell. A pallid light washes out any vibrancy from the hues which paint its surface. The top third of the shell is that strange pale light dotted with bright red spots that move in a line from the apex down one side in uneven intervals, as if ones concentration has been pushed to near a breaking point. The lower the spot goes toward the horizon the more blurred and unstable it becomes. It pushes the boundary toward the hues which paint the middle third. A savannah of dried grasses stretches endlessly over soft rolling hills. Nestled within the hills one finds the most distinctive feature upon the shell, a sandy brown splotch. It might be a building, or perhaps it's just an odd kind of tree. Darker umber laces an irregular oval next to the brown splotch, and visible for those with the sharpest eyesight a pale brown shadow within them. It is a form that wavers like a desert mirage. Here and gone again in the blink of an eye, one may even doubt its existence. Further down the hues fade into utter darkness. It is unlike the soothing night, for it is an empty void of nothing which consumes the rest of the shell in an eerie relentless cloak. Unyielding of its secrets it ends in the darkness of oblivion.

Pillage Then Burn Egg

Deep mahogany tones envelope all but the top quarter or so of this shell. Deep cherries and walnuts cut through it in swirling woodgrain designs running swirling, imperceptible shadows over the egg. On one side of the egg is cut a rough shape of diamonds, a larger one atop a smaller just barely standing out from the tone wood behind. They two flow seamlessly one into the other into a single indescribable shape with a single red oval on each side that seems to pulse and glow like evil red eyes in the night. Opposite that, the wood rises up in a thin arc that curls back upon itself in a gentle spiral. If ever an egg had a clear front and back, it's this one. Along each side runs a line of lighter, pine-toned discs, each with a smaller silver circle in the exact center and a ring of silver along the edge. Each pair (one on each side) bears an identical symbol of stark straight lines, meaningless, though, to the Pernese eye. From the center, a single thin line of mahogany rises up to the very tip-top of the egg. Before it billows a sheet of pure white, accented only occasionally by shadows. Behind it is nothing but the clear blue of the sky.

Hidden Within the Aurora Egg

Blues as dark as the deepest of night sky stain the tapered tip of this elongated, medium sized egg's shell, peppered with pinpoints of white like a vast array of stars. One circular splotch of white, large and bright, much like a moon, hangs to one side and seems to lend some ethereal highlights to the rest of the smooth shell's unique coloration. The peacefulness of the night sky is broken by the eruption of color across it, ghostly tendrils of electric blue and greens, brightest at where they cross paths and along the base of the weaving, broken line that flickers across, around and out of sight. Below it, a horizon of whites rises up, sharp and jagged, reflecting pale blue and grey like the frigid peaks of ice and snow in some barren mountainous artic world. Hints of the same electric blues and greens join the icy whites, giving more illusion to the play of light reflecting off of snow in the deep of night. Down below and almost hidden, a darker splotch can be seen, so tiny in comparison. It takes on a near human silhouette, of some small child-like form in heavy winter gear, glancing upwards in awe and apprehension to the play and dance of light above where the blues and greens reach a near blinding hue, as they almost seem to touch the icy path ahead. And if one looks carefully, following the same path that that child-like silhouette points to, one may see the hint of something more among the chaos and ethereal wisps of blue and green. The way one finger of pale light curves and how another tendril bends, one could almost say it looks like the details of buildings, of a city nestled and hidden away and not meant to be seen, a gateway to a parallel world not meant to be opened, but be careful not to blink for just as one may seem to grasp it, the details melt away and one can be left to only be staring at nothing more than a pretty dance of lights in a cold, unforgiving arctic night's sky.

On the Wings of Dreams Egg

A lush, tropical paradise seems to have been imposed upon the shell of this rather squat egg - cliffs of brown and red and tan stretching upwards from a base of jungle green, reaching into the clear, blue sky that caps this ovoid. There is the impression of a waterfall spilling forth over the rocky crag, whites and blues falling downwards, speckles of spray spreading outwards as it drops. And yet, despite the remote scene that seems to be depicted, a yellow blotch sits near the top of the falls, an oddly defined polygon that seems out of place, while fingerprint sized spots of pink and orange and yellow seem to float away from it through the blue sky.