Role

Chapter 5

While just a few days ago it was a joyous time of excitement, the mood now
was of trepidation and caution. The brief show of joy when it was heard the
egg had been recovered was quickly tempered by a more somber mood when the
egg was actually seen. Jyasillas walked with determination and poise as it
was her egg, an egg of Sra and under the harvest moon the heir would be
hatched. Gently placing the crimson streaked egg upon the nest before the
altar, the lingering smell remained of the swamp. Yet Jyasillas tried to
convivence herself it was just the smell upon her garments and that most of
it was in her head.

The celebration and rituals continued as was planned, even with the now
somber mood filling the air. A low soft beat of drums starting up as the sun
approached the horizon, with the last dying light falling upon the apex of
the altar. In the twilight dusk, the drums began to slowly rise in volume as
their primal beat seemed to whip the villagers into a frenzy. Gone was the
fear for this was a time to celebrate the birth of another Brightscale.
Several Saurians in ceremonial garb danced wildly around the fire which
blazed before the altar. A low chant matching that of the drums, yet there
was another sound buried deep within their chants. It was as if something was
slightly off beat, causing an itch or irritation where one could not scratch.
But only a few seemed to notice it, chief among them Jyasillas. However this
minor irritation would not stop her from this moment, for it was years in the
making.

As the harvest moon crested the tree line, the drums came to a sharp
crescendo and then a dead stop into silence. Jyasillas stood and took her
place behind her egg and raised high an ivory knife, giving an offering to
the Sra and gods to bless her heir. With all eyes upon her, she brought down
her knife to pierce the egg shell to give release to her spawn within. As the
knife dug into the shell, a wail pierced the night somewhere deep within the
swamp. The egg began to shatter along the crimson lines which streaked across
its surface, with black ichor oozing forth and the smell of death from
within. Fearing her spawn had not survived its ordeal within he swamp,
Jyasillas began to claw away at the shell to get a whatever was inside.

As the shell was peeled away, there laid upon the altar was a newborn Saurian
with its chest rising and falling as it was still alive. Yet Jyasillas gave
out a cry for what she saw chilled her to her soul. Unlike those of the
Brightscale line, this spawn did not have the mirror white scales like she
did. Instead his scales were a dull white which gradated into a deep crimson
in color towards the tips. There was black ichor stains around his eyes and
at the tips of his claws. As his eyes opened, everyone gasped as golden eyes
with a crimson red iris looked out directly at everyone.