Hatching-tide (2012)
- Event Start
- March 28, 2012
- Event Finish
- April 10, 2012
- Event Chain
- Hatching-tide
- Event Page
- [ Link]
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Hatching-tide (2012) is a seasonal event that took place from March 28, 2012 to April 10, 2012.
“High above the Twelveswood, the raven circles, evermore seeking out truth hidden amongst the shadows of the trees. In today’s edition, field correspondent Oliver Goodfellow examines the rumors that Hatching-tide is set to come rolling back into Eorzea for a second consecutive year.
— Event description
* Due to the postponement of patch 1.21a and the World Merge maintenance, the Hatching-tide event has been rescheduled.
Guide
Jihli Aliapoh, it appears, is not the only Dreamer who will reprise her role in this year’s Hatching-tide despite having suffered a scrambled memory. Her similarly garbed counterparts will appear in Limsa Lominsa and Ul'dah as well.
- Dreamer Locations
- Limsa Lominsa Upper Decks (7, 6)
- Gridania (6, 6)
- Ul’dah Merchant Strip (5, 3)
Items
Rewards
Achievement
| Name | Points | Task | Reward | Patch |
|---|---|---|---|---|
 Eggsceptional Hunting
|
5 | Obtain a pristine egg ring. | - | 1.0 |
 Eggstraordinary Hunting
|
5 | Obtain a vibrant egg ring. | - | 1.0 |
 Eggsemplary Hunting
|
5 | Obtain a brilliant egg ring. | - | 1.0 |
 Eggstreme Hunting
|
5 | Obtain a midnight egg ring. | - | 1.0 |
 Eggstravagant Hunting
|
5 | Obtain a chocobo egg ring. | - | 1.0 |
 Seven Short of a Dozen
|
20 | Obtain all five egg rings. |  Dreamseeker
|
1.0 |
Lore
Another Year, Another Basket of Eggs
Our dear readers will recall Hatching-tide, the outlandish new festival born of a dream beheld by a Miqo’te named Jihli Aliapoh. Better known as the Dreamer, this eccentric young woman claims she was visited in her slumber by twelve magnificent Archons who descended from the heavens upon brilliantly colored eggs. Inspired by the vision, Jihli set about doing the Archons’ bidding—that is, to make ready the vessels for their return. As word of her impassioned undertaking spread, the endeavor of one woman grew to become that of all Eorzea, leading to the birth of the Hatching-tide tradition.
Alas, in spite of all the build-up and anticipation, the Twelve Archons failed to appear as prophesied. And as if to rub salt into the wound, not a day after the Hatching Hour had passed, the Dreamer was found unconscious and bereft of all the memories pertaining to her labor of love, an affliction most folk ascribe to acute emotional trauma. So it was that the curtains came tumbling down upon the inaugural Hatching-tide.
While it would seem that the festival was a resounding failure, the prevailing sentiment is rather different. Of those citizens and adventurers who partook of the revelry, the majority recount their egg-hunting experience with great fondness. Even though it failed to deliver upon its declared objective of beckoning the Archons, Hatching-tide brought together the citizens in common cause and lifted morale in the midst of troubled times. And so it comes as no surprise—leastways to this reporter—that the festival returns for the second year running, that folk might enjoy a moment of respite even as the bloody-red Dalamud bears down upon them.
At this juncture, our readers are certain to wonder how the event will be held, with the Dreamer lost to her memories. Racked by the selfsame doubt during my investigation, I broached the subject in an interview with those individuals who played key roles in popularizing the first Hatching-tide. They gave me to understand that Jihli, despite having no recollection whatsoever of her efforts the year past, graciously agreed to reprise her role for the happiness of the people, a most noble gesture. As I made to take my leave of the event organizers, they presented me with a flyer featuring an all-too-familiar face. It would seem that not only decorated eggs will make a reappearance—in the name of faithful recreation, those sooty-black voidsents we all love to hate will also be returning to the fray.
High above the Twelveswood, the raven circles, evermore seeking out truth hidden amongst the shadows of the trees. In today’s edition, field correspondent Oliver Goodfellow reports on the rousing conclusion of that quirky new tradition called Hatching-tide.
The Best Laid Plans
This year’s Hatching-tide festival has come to a close in fine fashion, with citizens and adventurers alike having done their part to recover the decorated eggs from the thieving spriggans. Although it would seem that everything unfolded according to script, upon speaking with event organizers, The Raven learned that something came to pass that exceeded the bounds of improvisation.
In preparation for the event, Jihli Aliapoh and her fellow Dreamers had ordered a large shipment of dodo eggs from the Near Eastern city-state of Radz-at-Han. According to the merchant charged with fulfilling the delivery, however, mixed amongst the eggs were ones that resembled those of no cloudkin he knew. In the course of the festivities, word spread of these unusual specimens, and those folk fortunate enough to come into possession of one went to great pains to see it safely stored. Alas, it was to no avail, for when dawn arrived on the final day of Hatching-tide, naught were left of these eggs but broken shells.
Visitors in a Half Shell
So what, precisely, is the true nature of the enigmatic eggs? In seeking to shed light upon the mystery, this reporter tracked down an individual who claims first-hand knowledge of the truth. It is with pleasure that I now present his eyewitness account to you, our dear readers.
Our interviewee is a member of the Wood Wailers, who was on patrol the night before the incident. Upon being relieved of his shift, the man returned to the barracks, where he enjoyed a quiet moment gazing up at the starry night sky while taking swigs of mead. He believes he dozed off at some point, for when next he was aware, the skyline had taken on the gray hue of early morn. It was at that moment that his eyes were treated to a radical sight: a long train of baby turtles waddling amidst the morning mist.
As any forestborn will know, turtles are not native to the Twelveswood. And so it was all the Wailer could do to cry “Turtles!” before staring, shell-shocked, as the little critters continued their leisurely parade, taking their leave of Gridania by way of Black Tea Brook. Regaining his composure, our eyewitness sought out his fellow Wailers, whereupon he recounted to them what he had just beheld. Being rather disheveled from a night out in the open and with drink still heavy upon his breath, however, he made for an unconvincing sight to his comrades, who disregarded the tale as the ramblings of a drunkard. It was not long thereafter that I caught wind of the man and approached him with my questions.
The issue of eyewitness credibility aside, one thing is beyond doubt: Thavnair, the island upon which Radz-at-Han is situated, is indeed home to such turtles as were described. We at The Raven shall leave it to our informed readers to decide for themselves whether the account can be given credence.
