Unusual Eyes

"Dragons with unusual eyes have depths in magical ability, and sometimes in personality, that can be hard to fathom. Their powers run deep, their bodies serving as a reservoir that can be drawn upon even when resources run thin. Unfortunately their endurance can make them reckless and unusual-eyed dragons might overextend themselves if they are not familiar with their own limits. In regards to the trials, if these dragons are touched by Mother's Blessing they find that they can overcome the plague through sheer force of will. They beat back the sickness limb from limb, organ by organ, until it lies dormant within them, ready to be called upon. While it is rare for an unusual-eyed dragon to fail the second trial, they have no guarantees in passing the third."



Morganthe stood on a bone spire, deep within the Wyrmwound, wings outspread to catch the humid and heated air rising from the putrid miasma underneath her. She felt the contagion in the air, as if it'd seep into her skin after too long. She'd finally made it. After a meditation on her goals, Morganthe felt more determined than ever. A small and vicious grin grew on her face as her eyes opened to take in the rusty sky.

A Necromancer could be a leader. A shaman. A healer. But Morganthe wished to study diseases and her Mother's teachings and doctrines.

She wasn't sure if her clan or family knew her intentions. She'd left a detailed note on them and mentioned the giant ribcage-supported caverns she'd decided to claim after her Trials. Morganthe wasn't sure if she'd survive, but the First Trial had been enlightening.

Originally, Morganthe had planned to lead others into glorious battle, blades glimmering in the dying sunlight. But it was not the Plaguebringer's plan for her. Her long First Trial had assisted the acolyte in hearing her Mother's voice, opened her heart to her Goddess's wishes for her child. Morganthe leapt into the air, catching a thermal with ease and rising high above the Scarred Wasteland. Her paws held her Second Trial already, black veins spreading upwards with each flap of her wings. If Morganthe didn't control the Black Vein poison, she'd plummet in only a few hours.

Her Mother was challenging Morganthe and she would rise to meet it. She was honored to be considered so strong a candidate for the Necromancers. The short flight landed her in the Initiate's lair, and the Necromancers around her stepped back. Morganthe had to do this on her own. She ignored them and the other prospective dragons, feeling the poison slink ever closer to her heart.

She laid down on the soft earth, feeling more than hearing it's soft thrumming heartbeat. Plaguebringer, may I find my worth in your eyes and prove your favor is rightful. With the silent prayer, Morganthe turned her magic and focus inward, chasing out the darkening lines in her flesh and casting the blemishes out.

She was told her Second Trial was inspiring to behold. The black veins staining her flesh and scales beaten back in an awe inspiring display of power and their Mother's interest. Morganthe was presented with her Third Trial after a day of rest.

A subject to infect and heal in the same instant. The dragon before her had a soft countenance, large Arcane eyes determined. She reached out a claw, black veins already staining the paw, and tapped the Fae softly on the forehead.

The veins spread quickly from the small wound and he staggered with a moan. Morganthe, using her other foreleg, cupped his chin. Wide purple eyes met her own dark red and she smiled kindly.

"Be not afraid. My Mother takes, but also gives." With those quiet words, the veins staining his fearful face, fins covered in weblike death, began to retreat. His fever, which she now noticed and filed away for later speculation, dissipated with little fanfare.

Morganthe passed her Trials and was brought before the symbols. Looking over the blades, masks, jewels, and other paraphernalia, Morganthe tilted her head back and screeched, voice rasping and highpitched. The noise startled a few Necromancers, but summoned her symbol with ease. A Riot Hazebeacon, lantern dark and unlit, came to Morganthe without a noise. She knelt before the Necromancers surrounding her, the Hazebeacon landing upon her left shoulder, and spoke.

"May I serve our Mother in my solitude with the upmost devotions and spread her dogma with clarity." With that, Morganthe stood and began her journey to her new lair.

Perhaps solitude would lead to leadership and the battle she longed for.