Hemorrhage

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Caught between holding ancient wisdom, and having the social skills of a 5-day-old hatchling during their awkward adolescent period, lies Hemorrhage the necromancer. It isn't entirely his fault that he's not so great socially - he did just die, after all (which he points out whenever he is criticized) - and he's still a really valuable member of the Clan, albeit a somewhat childish and foolhardy one. Still, the Clan officials all agree, with a fond shake of their heads, that his heart is in the right place. They're just hoping he doesn't accidentally kill one of them at any point in the near future.

Contrary to popular belief, Hemorrhage had once been a beautiful dragon with an incredible ability to speak persuasively. He had great parents in his Plague home whom he loved dearly. Dragons simply fell all over him, his skills were great and everyone trusted him. However, this was ultimately his downfall. He was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time to overhear....something, something too terrible for him to repeat, and since his death he privately vowed to never even think of it again. In all honesty, he hadn't even been sure he was going to tell anyone about...the secret before his death, either, but the Clan still deemed him dangerous. He was assassinated, and his parents were condemned to death as well.

But though this was the end of his first story, his second, out of a lucky coincidence, was just beginning. A witch, out for a walk to find supplies not in the somewhat scorched Blacksand Annex, happened to see the mangled body of Hemorrhage lying outside a crater. Bored and a little curious to see what would happen if she attempted a bit of necromancy herself, the witch Meudwen began to revive the fallen Pearlcatcher with a long and complex spell. At last, she dragged the slowly waking Hemorrhage back to her own den, just as he became aware of his surroundings.

He was startled, to say the least. Startled and afraid and more than a little confused, but also intensely relieved and full of gratitude for this beautiful dragon. He almost passed back out from the flood of emotion, but Meudwen offered him tonics and gentle reassurance that Hemorrhage has never forgotten. To this day, Meudwen remains his second mother and best-friend-bar-none, and the only one who routinely puts up with him when he has his little temper-tantrums - his reborn form was not so civil as his past one - but she doesn't mind, as he follows her around like a lost puppy most of the time. She doesn't even mind the biting habit, much. After all, nobody's perfect.



He walked, without any purpose. He was just going on a walk, as one does when they want to be alone and thinking. His paws were a glorious and perfect black, and they shone silver as if he had dipped them in a drink of moonlight. His fur was shimmering, combed without knots. He was the prize jewel, what all the females wanted. Hemorrhage had flawless behavior and an expert tongue, he could get anyone to think anything. His thoughts, however, were not so innocent. He thought of the dragon. The dragon that had gone missing. He had found his den, and he had to tell someone; they had to bring him back.

His steps were quiet. He didn’t hear a noise.

Hemorrhage continued to walk, pondering who to tell and when. What would they do about it? Would he have to call a Guard or something in order to bring him back? Or would he do it on his own?

Click clack, click clack. These were the sounds of scythe claws. He walked on hard ground, and so they were amplified.

Hemorrhage whipped around just as a large, snarling Imperial slammed into him. His body was several times bigger, and so the Pearlcatcher was almost crushed beneath his scales. He shouted out for the last time in his beautiful voice, before he was stabbed in the throat with a silver knife. Blood spattered the ground, and the night was silent once more.

xxx

He felt like he had been thrown into water, and it was thick like tar. He screamed, because it burned a thousand times more than any blue waves would. This only caused him to swallow the lava, and it got worse and worse. He felt as if he was being dragged down by many dragons, and every time he flapped his wings to push himself upward he only seemed to fall further and further. All at once he reached air, and before he even took in a gasp he dug his claws into the land and scrambled up. He heaved and spit out lava, somehow still not dying; most likely from the strong digestive system of a dragon.

A purple coatl rushed out from somewhere, just as a black shade came over his vision.

xxx

A circular rug was in the center of the room, and a faded flower was the pattern he saw on it. His vision was blurred, but he saw several hanging plants that were blackened from ash, and long dead. A bookshelf was behind the shoulders of the hooded dragon that he had just noticed, and she was snout to snout with him.

“Aah!” He exclaimed.

“Oh no! I didn’t mean to frighten you,” She said, covering her mouth with her paws in horror. “I’ve brought you back from the dead, as you are too young to die… What is your name?”

Behind her he caught sight of a mirror. It’s glass face reflected what he feared the most. His scales were red and burned, and patches of skin had fallen off and formed disgusting shapes. His voice was a croak and slid like nails down a chalkboard. “My name is Hemorrhage, and how did you bring me back? I want to go back, I don’t want to live to get killed again. I don’t want to feel a knife sliding between the scales of my neck and the body of another dragon pressed against mine as they hold me down.” His eyes were blank and haunted, and he rambled all this, before falling to his knees and looking upwards with tears in his eyes. “Oh, Witch, won’t you protect me?” He whispered, expression still empty.

She came closer, shedding her outfit, and hugged him; a smell of warm and calming lavender was all about her. “Yes, please do be content. You don’t want to go back to the dead, he’ll be waiting for you soon enough.” Her voice did not falter, though he almost shivered at her words. Was she implying something? “So please, Hem, don’t try to die again. I’ll be here for you, and I will always be at your side whenever you feel afraid.” He cried into her chest, and they held one another for a long time.

Even when they let go, it was not truly; for they are always attached by an invisible bond. This bond is like the thread of a spider, and though it is natural and seems weak, the spider uses it and treasures it more than anything. This thread connects them, and they will never separate; even if death do part them again.

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