Norn
(#71586625)
THE GRAND CENOBITE
Familiar
Fire Sprite
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Energy: 50/50
This dragon’s natural inborn element is Fire.
Female Imperial
This dragon is on a Coliseum team.
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Personal Style
Apparel
Skin
Scene
Measurements
Length
30.76 m
Wingspan
20.13 m
Weight
6667.05 kg
Genetics
Slate
Skink
Skink
Sanguine
Jester
Jester
Sanguine
Glimmer
Glimmer
Hatchday
Breed
Eye Type
Level 25 Imperial
Max Level
STR
133
AGI
8
DEF
5
QCK
40
INT
5
VIT
6
MND
5
Biography
Grand Cenobite Careful Malicious Patient. DETAILS NICKNAME; Mother of Machines GENDER; Female PRONOUNS; She/they ORIENTATIONS; -- ALIGNMENT; Lawful Evil LIKES; -- DISLIKES; -- RELATIONS Reginn; Brother Aerugosanguis; Father Haema; Mother Maeryn; living jewelry ART art1 by credit1 art2 by credit2 art3 by credit3   
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Her brother is a king, but she does not care to be a queen. Reginn the Great, Reginn the Mighty, he who is Lord of the Legion. He who expects loyalty from his kin and leaves destruction in his wake when it is not received. He who ravages clan after clan, he who took the Flame into himself and was consumed by its madness. Oh, he loves his progeny, of course. He has some fleeting affection for his siblings, numerous as they are-- their bloodline is nothing if not prolific. But he has little tolerance for those who do not join him. Children, grandchildren, sisters and brothers. Some he has slain, laid to rot in their own destroyed clans. Others he kidnapped, forced to live in his clan though they fear him more than a hatchling fears the toridae. Some few have escaped his control, living peaceful lives without that fire looming over their shoulders. Some even had the will to defy him. And survive. She lived away from his shadow for years. She is larger than he, though not quite as heavy, and she knows the soul of fire as well as he, though she is not fool enough to draw it into herself. His spiraling madness is not mirrored in her. Where he is strong she is nimble, where he is intelligent she is cunning. Their parents had no expectations of her, only love, and she will die before she bows to any expectation of his. Teeth, fire, tongue. He razes villages, but she brings them to heel with a word, with a glance. Fear is not the only tool they have at their disposal, and her words are insidious, her desires unknown. She calls loyalty to her as easily as some dragons breathe, but she does not trust, and she does not care. Separate from her brother's squabbles, she watches, she waits. She desires not the responsibility of a queen, but there is power in a title just as there is power in a name. Reginn weaponized his own, made himself a contamination the world itself must fight against. He spread his influence through the Necromancers and through dragonkind as a whole, and he does not stand for challengers. But he will bow for a usurper. She watches. She waits. She plays the delirious, the unaware, the quiet, the religiously dedicated. She wants not power, after all. None think her as hungry as her brother. She whispers and manipulates and convinces, but above all she waits. The phyrexians and their transient god rise and fall, and she lets her people join in the effort to cull and heal and contain the remainders, lost without their so-called Machinist. Maple believes them dealt with, believes their story at an end, but for all the spiral's careful planning she is still young. She has much to learn. Decia plots. She whispers too. And though she herself is far more subtle than her father, her words find their way to more clever ears, and those ears carry them on to Norn. Phyrexia's daughter is many things, but she is not a leader. Though her sire named her heir, she lacks what it takes to inspire or command an army, and the remaining phyrexians, those infected with her elusive strain, will not follow her. Norn finds her in the dark, plagueborn eyes a beacon glowing from the shadows. The girl suspects not, even when she has her cornered, Fire's heat pushing her back against the wall. "You will infect me," she hisses, lowering her head close to the coatl's. And she does - Decia is not as arrogant as her father; she knows when she has been beat without having to be forced down. Her claws pierce the flesh of Norn's neck before she steps back far enough for the slithering little creature to escape. Later, she will find her, eliminate her before she can crawl back to her father and warn him, but for now she has served her purpose. And the ichor spreads. Much like Reginn's influence over dragonkind has spread, so too does she feel the viscous sludge creep through her veins as she retires to her den. It seeks dominion, craves control, but she watched Maple hold back her own infection for years. She knows how to bend it to her will, to force it to comply, and though the pain is intense, when it is over she emerges into the sunlight with mechanized fluidity that matches that of her fleshly body. The body that no longer exists. As expected, Decia's strain runs true: her wings, fur, scales and skin are all intact, but beneath the thin covering of organic matter lie muscles and tendons of mechania. She looks for all the world as she did days before, as large and regal and Plague-blessed as ever. But blood no longer flows through her veins. She gathers them, the scattered survivors, the few who refused to be neutralized like ghouls, cut off from their new power, and it takes but minutes to dominate them. Careful words and a clever tongue as always. Decia flounders, unable to grasp how the others could so easily turn away from her defeated father and look to a new leader, a new mother. Heir she may be, but the child knows nothing of how to inspire. Or how to control. Her brother rules by force. She rules by careful manipulation, her words and promises too tempting to deny. She gathers the phyrexians and she leads them as Decia cannot, as Phyrexia only wishes he could. She gathers them and she brings new ones into the fold. Under her they are organized, under her they have direction. They spread anew, being much more careful about those they infect now. Only the willing, only those who turn their starstruck eyes on her elegant call. Only those who come to her on their own, who bow out of desire rather than terror. Their numbers have dwindled in the last year thanks to Maple's and Reginn's efforts, but now again they swell, now they overtake. Phyrexia at his peak could not have dreamed of so many followers, so many worshipers, all ready to live and die and kill at her command. Her brother thinks himself Lord of the Legion? Well, now she has a legion of her own. |
TEMPLATE "WATERWAY" BY XEMRISS #44020;
PLAGUE BANNER AND BOTTLE BY OSIEM #30450;
PLAGUE BANNER AND BOTTLE BY OSIEM #30450;
- despite her lore being Cool, Strong, Powerful Leader, Norn is basically a jealous younger sibling harassing and constantly trying to outdo their older brother
- literally none of the Phyrexians realize this except Izathel
- ALL of her and Reginn's relatives are well aware and many are even amused by her attitude toward him
- Maple in particular is torn because she already dealt with and overthrew the Phyrexians when Phyrexia himself led them, and now Norn has an even bigger army of Phyrexians, but she also puts 90% of her energy into trying to seem flashier and better than Reginn, so.....
- she could fight him, and maybe possibly even win, but why would she do that???
- she does love him in her own weird way. like yeah she's jealous and "hates" him, but she'd be distraught if something actually happened to him. total "I'M the only one allowed to hurt you!" type deal.
- for that matter, she loves all of her relatives and is incredibly doting. it's just Reginn she acts like this about
- she met Arngrim, Reginn's living jewelry, and immediately went and found Maeryn, who was like "yeah this might as well happen" and now spends his life sitting on her head and posing in whatever way causes light to reflect off of him and directly into Reginn's eyes
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Exalting Norn to the service of the Tidelord 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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