Morii

(#31453488)
Level 1 Bogsneak
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Energy: 0/50
This dragon’s natural inborn element is Plague.
Female Bogsneak
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Personal Style

Apparel

Sweetheart Claw
Stonekeeper Emblem
Forest Rogue Gloves
Primal Claws
Sanguine Rose Thorn Arm Tangle
Forest's Edge Vines
Brown Wooly Coat
Red Rose Flower Crown
Magician's Herb Pouch
Lion's Breastplate
Scout's Cape
Witch's Cloak
Bloodstone Roundhorn

Skin

Accent: Boggess of Roses

Scene

Measurements

Length
0.78 m
Wingspan
1.17 m
Weight
2.74 kg

Genetics

Primary Gene
Sand
Falcon
Sand
Falcon
Secondary Gene
Maize
Basic
Maize
Basic
Tertiary Gene
Crocodile
Scales
Crocodile
Scales

Hatchday

Hatchday
Mar 11, 2017
(7 years)

Breed

Breed
Adult
Bogsneak

Eye Type

Eye Type
Plague
Rare
Level 1 Bogsneak
EXP: 0 / 245
Scratch
Shred
STR
7
AGI
8
DEF
6
QCK
8
INT
5
VIT
6
MND
5

Lineage

Parents

  • none

Offspring

  • none

Biography

MORRI
name credit
~
x • x • x

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Tiny Feathers Amaranth
Sand Creeper Corona Sempervivum
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STR
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INT
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AGI
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MAG
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CHA
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VIT
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Morri
n. The instinctual desire to capture the moment as it happens, to crystallize it as it begins to fade into the past; the construction of a world made only from clumsy attempts to preserve the present.

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This is what happens when you die.

Your body will give up resisting the gathering entropy, the sliver of organization that makes up you in an unrestrained world will fall into the easiest path. No more struggling to feed the starving muscles and organs, no more carefully walking the line between growing and tumorous, the lines between activity and burning up in a puff of passionate smoke.

There is one thing you should know: the separation of body and soul, of brain and mind, it does not exist in the manner believed to be. The physical form that so perilously exists, it is you, your soul. Or, at least, it gives rise to whatever concept of self you may follow. In a strange eternal loop, it is your mind, your soul, that affects every aspect of you.

Every choice, every amount of love you feel, every desperate peal of fear, it is all echoed in your corpse. Every rush of emotion, every moral you hold, it is written across your bones and skin, in the minuscule chemical reactions, if only someone could divine it from the foreign letters.

In a beautiful twist of irony, in a few hours, around the time your muscles will become drawn and taunt, autolysis begins. Without the constant movement of energy, of collecting and changing, proteins and enzymes will collect as you lay unmoving. Even after death your body will betray you, fall apart under the weight of its own complexity.

By now, you have begun to decompose. Thick, dark carrion flies may gather, or later, maggots. The nutrients that kept you breathing now serve a new purpose: to ensure the next generation of writhing insects makes it to the air. Fungi and flower will blossom around you. You may be pleased to know that you still affect the world, the acidity around you will change, calcium and magnesium levels will rise in the earth around you.

A ring of new life.

It would be callous, but true to say that this is the turning of an indifferent cycle, that your stopping means the same as the death of a songbird or deer. But it would be a lie to say nothing is gained.

The scrawled letters of your choices, your soul, you being, whatever name you give the collectiveness of yourself, remain. They are carried through the stems of ferns, in the eggs of insects and birds, in the blossoms of flowers.

It is an echo that will only weaken over time, but it may comfort you to know that in the petals around your grave, one might glimpse, through magic or simply careful observation, a tremor of your heartbeat.

You are immortal, fading fast, and living in your death.

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code by saturne
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Exalting Morii to the service of the Earthshaker will remove them from your lair forever. They will leave behind a small sum of riches that they have accumulated. This action is irreversible.

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