Ophionyx » Hibernal Den » Morse

Morse

(#38118976)

Level 10 Coatl

Regis

Tunnel Hydra

Energy: 50/50

Personal Style

Apparel

Skin

Scene

Physical Attributes

Battle Stats

Measurements

Length

7.13 m

Wingspan

9.28 m

Weight

719.23 kg

Genetics

Abyss
Metallic

Sand
Bee

Ginger
Glimmer

Hatchday

Dec 18, 2017
(6 years)

Breed

Adult
Coatl

Eye Type

Plague
Rare

Level 10 Coatl

EXP: 205 / 27676

STR

AGI

DEF

QCK

INT

VIT

MND

Lineage

Parents

none

Offspring

none

Biography

"Someone get these cats out of my bedroom!"

Morse was a gifted magic user from the Plaguebringer's territory. He's proud, dignified and a chronic schemer. He leads the dragons of the Dark Keep, an ancient fortress half swallowed by a glacier. The recent warming up of the Southern Icefield has thawed out the entrance, so that Morse and his ragged band of followers could move in.
The coatl was exiled from the mainland. The Plague flight aims to strengthen dragons by exposing them to disease, not to create such horrors as Morse has. After news about his doing spread throughout the mainland, the only place he could flee to was the Southern Icefield.

Morse's upbringing in Plague territory has left him with an inferiority complex. He was weak and sickly as a child in a clan full of dragons bent on being as tough as they could get. Morse had to use his wits to keep up with them, but nevertheless envied their strength.
This envy grew into disdain for his fellow dragons and fueled his plans to create a special type of disease. Together with a handful of trustworthy allies he worked for years on a virus that would alter a dragons DNA in various ways. The most significant of these was that it cut a dragon off from its magic, causing its eyes to go dull grey and its life to be sapped from its body.
Morse took a perverse pleasure in watching his former clan mates, these tough Plague dragons, succomb to it one by one. The dragons who'd helped him develop it got a similar fate as Morse had secretly slipped them the virus to test it out.
But getting back at his old clan wasn't his ultimate goal: as a final act he infected himself with the disease to prove that he was stronger than all the others by toughing it out. He'd been preparing himself for this test for years, using his magic to strengthen his own body. His knowledge on how the disease functioned helped him force the right alterations on his own biology.

Morse was affected by the virus, but not in the same way as his victims. His ties to Plague magic were cut, but he didn't waste away: his preparations had made it possible for him to live without it. The dragons who witnessed him undergo this change were horrified: a dragon who functions without magic is akin to a zombie, it shouldn't be up and moving. And when it does it is all the more unnerving.

For this final act Morse had been awaiting the Plague warriors who'd been hunting them. They hadn't dared to get close to him out of fear of infection, but after weeks of staking out his lair they finally stormed in. Morse wanted them to see what he did. He needed them to watch in awe as he proved himself more resilient than any other Plague dragon by surviving on of the worst conditions that they had encountered. The vial he took contained the last of the virus, Morse had destroyed the rest of it. He wasn't interested in killing more dragons, just in showing his strength.

However, instead of awe or respect he was met with a kind of horrified pity. His pursuers, as much as they'd wanted him dead, couldn't help but feel a little sorry for a creature as miserable as a dragon cut off from the elemental magic. When he noticed their reaction Morse went on a crazed tirade about how he had become the embodyment of the Plague ideal and how he had accomplished the ultimate goal that they never could. He was dragged off to the borders of the Flight and left there. The other Plague dragons figured that there could be no worse punishment for him than to live on in his current state, even if Morse saw that very differently. He revelled in being what he'd become and kept trying to convince himself that he had succeeded in his plans, that this had been a victory. Somehow it didn't give him the fulfillment he'd thought it would.

Talk of Morse's actions superceded him. Dragons instinctively noticed that there was something off about him and feared him because of it. The rumours that had started in the Plague clans close to his old base of operations spread out towards other flight territories.
Morse had other things to think about than joining a new clan and didn't really care, but he started to realize the predicament he'd put himself into. Living without magic is all well and good when you're not out on the road with danger lurking around every hill. The coatl had never been a warrior and now he had no breath weapon to rely on. Once other clan's would notice that he was effectively powerless things could turn ugly.
Because of this Morse decided to lean in in the rumours about him. He played up the tales of the disease and lied about it being infectious. This worked out well for him. Clans he crossed would offer him food and valuables in exchange for him leaving. Instead of being chased away he was given a wide berth. This way of living suited Morse for a couple of years, but he couldn't get rid of the empty feeling inside him. He needed a new goal to strive towards.

Word of him had reached the ears of leader figures from the Fire, Wind, Arcane and Lightning flights. They weren't happy to have such a potentially dangerous dragon wandering around and feared that he might infect their denizens. A hit was put out on him and a couple of agents and bounty hunters set out to put a stop to him. Morse had no way of defending himself from them and had to think his way out of the situation. He couldn't afford a confrontation so he dropped the act of disease spreader and tried to find a clan to hide in. Most clans knew of him by now and would have nothing to do with him, begging him to leave and giving the bounty hunters his whereabouts. Morse was forced to hide out in the wilderness and hope to avoid detection, but he knew he wouldn't be able to keep this up for long.
His flight took him to the Ashfall Waste, the site of the yearly coatl migration. He was able to blend in among them and reach the shoreline, but he saw no way of crossing the ocean. He'd never be able to fly all the way to the Icefield on the other side.
By pure circumstance Morse happened upon the workshop of a tundra named Anton. It was a small cellar surrounded by strange black rocks. Morse had been looking for somewhere to lie low and the cellar had seemed abandoned, but when he entered the black rocks all started to move. They were small, cat like golems in various stages of disrepair. What had looked like a heap of furs in the corner turned out to be a sleepy tundra, who welcomed the coatl to his home. The dragon was unfazed by Morse's presence, which the coatl reasoned had to do with the the golems. Anton had a veritable army of them that could protect him from any threat. As days passed and Morse tried to make a little conversation he discovered that the tundra wasn't afraid of his magicless-ness. Anton plainly explained that Morse didn't smell dangerous, there was no scent of disease or infection on him. For this reason he didn't deem him to be the dangerous coatl he'd been warned about.

Morse saw an opportunity and asked the tundra if there was any way of leaving the land. There were a few ships that sailed between the Icefield and the Blacksand Annex that he could catch and Morse could stay in the workshop until one arrived. When the moment was there the coatl asked, in a spur of the moment, the tundra if he wanted to come with him. He hadn't realized how much he had missed the company of other dragons until the thought of being alone again had hit him. To Morse's delight, although he showed none of it, Anton said yes, and packed his materials to travel to the Icefield.
Once the two (and the swarm of golems) had arrived they set out to find a suitable lair. The Dark Keep was just what they needed, providing Anton with ample space for his work and Morse with a project. In the years they spent clearing the ice and restoring the damaged walls, more dragons arrived from all over Sornieth. The keep became something of a sanctuary where hunted dragons, however terrible their crimes, could find a place to stay. Morse sees himself as their leader and does most of the organising. He's still somewhat avoided by the other inhabitants besides the resident tundras, but his sense of grandeur has been restored and keeps growing bigger.

Flag by osiem, vista icon by Serpenta

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Exalting Morse to the service of the Icewarden 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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