The hatching had begun. Before the last of the candidates could get into place--and while attendants hurriedly chopped gobbets of meat from hunks of Inyu flesh--the first of the quintet of eggs shuddered to a momentous shatter of shell and goo, and a shiny, slimy, ugly looking dragonet splattered to the ground. Bottle-green, this dragonet was shiny more then just from the detritous that enmired his hide. Like his mother, he had a semi-glassy iridescence that would set him apart from most other dragons for the rest of his life. Well, that, and the flaming, eerily glowing orange eyes that glared across the bay right now, their first use giving him nothing but disgust. Similarily, the rest of the bay didn't seem to pleased with the sight of him! Warsath, for that was his name, got off of his chubby tail and onto his equally chubby hind legs--moving like his biped mother might have, when she was a hatchling--twoards Botun. ~You wreak,~ the hatchling said, but he didn't seem displeased.

Behind him, three of the four remaining eggs were shuddering hard, their inhabitants fighting to break free of their rock-hard encasements. The fourth egg gave a few faint shudders, but nothing more.

Almost in tandem, a glassy red and blue disgorged themselves into the faintly fetid air, and behind them, a glossy purple struggled into existance as well. The red was already on her feet, and while she stumbled for a moment, it wasn't long before she reached the feet of a grumpy old Chaos Cat, one Oro by name. ~Hey, want a head-butting contest?~ Larece asked, snorting, her ember-bright eyes flaming.
"Do I look like a battering ram to you?"
~No,~ replied the shiny red, ~you look more like a practice target!~ and, poor Oro squawking and running away, her new bond literally chased after her to the feeding tables, head lowered to prod the female with stubby horns, should she slacken the pace!

By the time that this had all occured, the blue and purple had made up their minds. Striding slowly but deliberately, Neleneth approached Ildech and stood at her foot, her barbed tail twitching as she quickly learned to balance herself. ~You,~ Neleneth said, simply but undeniably addressing the half-dragon. ~Come with me.~ and the Shield female--well, she didn't necessarily obey... let's just say that she agreed.

Yeliace, the purple, was dancing about on the spot, and whatever he was saying seemed to be making his own mother angry, for the orange dragoness snorted and glared at him. She gave the remaining egg a proprietory poke, suggesting that perhaps the purple was insinuating it in some way. Indeed, the remaining eggs seemed to be a dud. It was no longer moving.
After a few more moments of assumed taunting, the dragonet stumbled away--as unsteady as a drunk, and about as clear minded as one! Baby-chubbiness aside, he probably wasn't going to be a pretty dragon, but then, none of these were likely to be, either. In any case, the purple eventually flumped to a stop before Brontin. The Gotrip eyeed the dragonet suspiciously.... certainly he wasn't expected to find the magic-unlocking abilities that 'true-love' would bring with... well, this!
~Y'know what?~ Yeliace replied, picking up his very thoughts, ~I'd like ta see ya try! Hah, shin-shot!~ The hatchling rammed poor Brontin in the knee.
Cursing like nothing else, the obese goat-man half collapsed, eyes squinty with pain. "What was that for?!"
~Maybe I'm a masochist. Get up, tubbo, unlike you, I haven't had a meal today!~

The arguing (and occasional cursing) continued, and most of the attention was on that. Trialth, however, had focused on different things. The mother, still irate at Yeliace's taunting, tapped again at the silent egg. When nothing happened, she tapped harder. Suddenly the egg gave a start, as if brought back to life. Trialth, startled, released the egg which, in one mighty shudder, cleaved open into several different pieces.

A quiet fell over the bay as a frail--no, skeletal paw pushed away a part of the shell. Quickly revealing itself, the last hatchling's head came into view. Undoubtedly like its mother, it had the crest and tri-horns, the wings, everything... but it ceased to look like anything alive after that. More, it looked like a walking museum monument mixed with the ungodly fire of demons and other hellish things. A skeletal with a hearthfire in its otherwise empty ribcage, wherever it put its fleshless, glowing forelimbs, the ground beneath it wilted a little.

It (he?) paused for a moment, silent, judging those that stood before him. Then, with an uncanny grace, the hatchling (as high as most peoples' waists, if not larger!) moved towards the candidates. Some quailed back. Others stood their ground, nervous but unwilling to let an opportunity like this fall by the wayside. The hatchling hadn't eyes for them (literally, he had only glowing, burning sockets of orange flame!), for he'd already made his choice. Kret Yrenvar found himself waist to face with Raniace, and Raniace looked up and back, nodded once. When he spoke, his voice was quiet, like a resigned but peaceful ghost. ~You will no longer sleep poorly, boy,~ the hatchling said, as if he were the elder! Kret, gulping, gave a single nod. He knew what Raniace meant, even if he wasn't so sure about his haunted dreams.

The skeletal dragon lead the young man to the back of the bay, not so much for the food, but to join the rest of his kin.

Trialth grinned a smug, draconic grin. Her children would prosper, she was certain of it.

And thus, another hatching came to a rather dark close.