Clutch 1

Dwahro's Green Lefati x Black Corres

Two months after the hatching of the clutch, the younglings' hides had just about hardened and the breeder deemed them ready for departure. All five of them had survived their childhood in good health and dominance was quickly established amongst them. The most vicious and predatory were the young black and the young purple, who constantly competed for control of the group.

When the appropriate day arrived, Lord Breeder Dwahro sent out a general summons to the five buyers. They all arrived by the appointed time, though it really wouldn't have mattered if they'd been a few minutes late. Their offers had already been accepted.

In honor of the occasion, the breeder was wearing...black. A black drakkinhide jacket that closely resembled leather covered a black silk shirt, and loose-fitting black pants continued the pattern. Black drakkinhide boots, from the same drakkin as the jacket but a great deal stiffer, protected his feet from the playful gnawing of the rambunctious blue.

The only spot of color on the ebony-skinned, white-haired man was in fact his belt, a thick golden affair with a red-gold-green Lesthpoldian DragonStone set into its buckle. The valuable stone was one of the present buyers' offerings that he happened to take a fancy to. Why collect expensive things if you didn't show them off every now and then?

With the buyers around him and the hatchlings clustered around his feet, the drow lord was feeling rather smug. It was even more profitable selling to foreigners than to his own people! No doubt the others would want a piece of the trade just as soon as possible, which was fine by him. It wouldn't do to completely deplete his supply of younglings.

"Welcome," he said at last. "Since you all know your offers had been accepted and all hatchlings have survived, there really isn't a reason for me to give a speech. Drama isn't my style, and I doubt that most of you would appreciate it anyway. So. I'll reward the hatchlings in the order that you applied. It makes records easier to keep. Be ready for them."

Having said his short piece, Dwahro nodded once, decisively, and nudged at the bronze with his foot, directing him to a black-clad, goggle wearing young man. The creature glared at the offending appendage but strutted over to Aprismal with minimal fuss. The new owner was left to deal with the problem of restraining his restless new charge.

Next was the blue, still trying to pierce the near-impenetrable boot. This was sharply shaken off and roughly shoved towards the warrior woman Astaire and her wolf companion.

"I'd recommend several durable chew toys for that one," he muttered, checking his boot for nonexistent damage. "Durable ones."

The third hatchling he actually had the self-assurance to pick up and hand to its caretaker. The young green seemed alright with the handling, its tail lashing a bit and its horn-nubs coming in contact with the breeder more than once. Tytula accepted the hatchling carefully, keeping its tail away from her as much as possible.

"I remembered your admiration of Lefati's coloring," he said dryly. "When one of her less-unmanageable sons turned out the same same color, I knew he was yours. Besides, the DragonStones were quite an impressive gift, and the supplies were much-needed at the time."

The remaining hatchlings were the black and purple that had issues with authority. They would be an awful handful to "tame" for anyone, but he didn't doubt that their new owners would make it happen...eventually. The black was the next to leave, very nearly biting the breeder's hand as he grabbed the hatchling from its scrap with its purple brother. The creature was quickly moved over to the only other dark elf present, Killashandra DeKrys of the far off drow city Shar'Nezaad. A silent look passed between the two of them - she may have been a renegade from her house but she was now on her way to being a somebody in Rileikoul's arena.

The final hatchling, a ferocious young purple, snarled and made a lunge at the person nearest him - not Dwahro, but the human berserker Gabrin! The man easily deflected the attack of the immature fighter and subdued it with ease. This was not someone unfamiliar with wild creatures and fights. Though he would not have admitted it out loud, Dwahro was extremely interested in how well his new creature would perform in the pits. It was why he'd been awarded one of the two uncommonly colors drakkin in the clutch, along with his truly astonishing array of gifts.

"Well, there you are," the drow lord said with satisfaction. "The little monsters are no longer my responsibility. Train them well and they may well prove to be a sound investment."

He paused for a moment, watching the foreigners handling the drakkin with varying degrees of success before concluding the event. "Before you leave, be sure to collect the small packages awaiting you at the door. They contain several species of subterranean insects that do well in the conditions that drakkin prefer. They will provide your hatchlings with hours of amusement and a ready source of snacks, as they breed quite rapidly. I look forward to seeing you - and your treasures - in this city again someday."