Gwynn turned her body to face the speaker, listening quietly and intently. She chuckled at the mention of artistic skill and playfully punched the dwarfs shoulder [color=82ca9d]"I guess an art commission wasn't totally off from the truth then"[/color]. The priestess continued. 

The word dragon sounded familiar but she couldn't place it's meaning. And then the eggs were revealed.

She let out a small gasp. A folktale her mother had told her often. Large powerful shaekens which laid huge decorated eggs 'that were this big!' her mother would say, tapping her hand to her hip. 'large powerful beasts which great abilities! Some say they could breath fire!' the fire would flare up when she said this, always happy to contribute to her mothers theatrics. 

She felt the souls inside the eggs. Unformed like chicken eggs but they felt already ancient like large trees did. One had a speck of familiarity. The presence that could be felt when her mother told her tales of one of her ancestors long ago who lived with shaekens. Perhaps that shaeken egg was descended from one of those shaekens. Her mother had died before she could teach Gwynn how to converse with spirits so she only knew how to vaguely recognize their energy. And the older the spirit the more difficult it was to converse or awaken so their was no hope of any advice from the one who lived with shaekens. She could still venerate them to invoke their goodwill in whatever was about to happen. She rummaged through her pockets to see what she had on hand. From her pouches she took a bit of dried raspberry leaves and the stem of an orange flower. She crushed them with her fingers and drew a circle and egg on her palm. After muttering a small prayer in her native language she swept half the ashes discreetly off her hand to scatter and the rest she scooped into a small locket which she promised to burn later as was proper. She doubted it would catch attention from the ancient ancestor.