Reginn

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The Beginning.

He doesn’t know how long he’s been walking—limping—for. His mind was numb from the pain as his body kept screaming at him, begging for him to rest.
But he couldn’t. Not until he knew he was safe.

Over the next few days he wandered, barely stopping to even eat. He couldn’t. It wasn’t safe enough. Just a little more.
Until finally, he succumbed to his injuries.
His body collapsed onto the ground in a heap, ragged gasps leaving his lungs. He had given up.
Now all he could do was lie and wait. Wait for the ash to reclaim his fragile body. For the light to fade.

But it didn’t.

It felt like weeks before Reginn stirred, having been roused from his near-death coma by…a voice.
We are not yet finished with you, King of Souls. Get up.
The Imperial groaned, his eyes squeezed shut. Until the voice grew more persistent.

Get up.

Reginn remained as he was. Perhaps whoever was attempting to waken him would-

GET. UP.

A piercing ache spread from his head to his talons, the shrill ringing of his ears causing him to jolt with a gasp, squirming as his he was trying to crawl out of his own skin. The pain subsided after a moment, and once he was able to regain control of himself, he looked around.

He was alone. Not a soul in sight. Not a mouse heard.
It made him shiver.

You are not alone.

Every hair stood on end. Every muscle in his body tensed.
He was found.
He tried to stand, move any part of his limbs to try and get up. Try and flee.
But his body would not listen. It was not his body anymore.

You fought well.

“Please-“

But you know you could not hide forever.

It felt as if something—someone—had him pinned. And no matter how much he tried to resist, he could not escape.
He could hear his heart racing. His blood turning ice cold.

Lord of Souls. Bringer of Fear. Your time has come.

He tried to scream. But his mouth could not open, and it felt as if someone was gripping his voice box to keep him quiet. Every inch of his body writhed in agony.

The perfect vessel. Finally in our grasp.

It felt as if he was being crushed.
And deep down he wished the Eleven would let it end.

The world went silent.

Reginn couldn’t move. His limbs numb, his eyes felt like weights.
But he could sense his surroundings.
And he could feel the eyes that were watching him. Piercing into his broken soul.

Your Queen. [name]. She has arrived.

His…his Queen? But he hadn’t-

Vessel of Fear. With this new soulbind, a new era of Corruption has begun.


Reginn has a heart of gold, that much is true. He always wanted what was best for his family. However, with how sickened his mother was, and how desperate his father was to cure her, Reginn's own mind became distraught. What started out as a simple journey to the Trials, led the Imperial to make a vital mistake: allow himself to be taken over by a Symbiont, The Cure. Reginn, while still as caring as before, now demands power above all else.


Power is a deep cave to delve into, and even if the riches contained within are many, there are also many ways to wind down to them. Reginn was the one to suggest them and the Cure start a clan of their own. This was after many days of endless needling, the Cure asking Reginn to invade a clan's territory and subjugate them. It wasn't a badly thought out plan- the Cure had a certain area in mind, one located just above a rich deposit of ore, and Reginn certainly had the power to enact the Cure's will. However, Reginn couldn't take it- he still had empathy for his former peers of dragonkind. With the Cure's inspiration, though, Reginn came up with another idea…

...Well, what about subjects, then?
"There are many vagabond Necromancers out on the lamb. I'm sure we could form a base out of them, then reach out to others. With time, we will grow our ranks through a pool of willing recruits."
And what if they join us without the best of intentions?
"Then we make them realize how foolish it would be to side against us. Not through force, but through the extension of an olive branch."
Pah. And you'll just let them walk away if they refuse to join?
Reginn forced a grin that made his stomach churn.
"Whoever said they'd live?"
The Cure cackled, the noise echoing inside of Reginn's head.
Yes, yes… Annoying as you are, straggler, you have some good ideas rolling around. Now, let's talk location.…
Reginn let the Cure's voice fade into the background. They'd concede to whatever it wanted. At least he managed to save the lives of that village.

Reginn and the Cure have a relationship defined by how they manipulate each other. To Reginn, the Cure is a force of nature to be tamed and, in the most dire of circumstances, redirected towards one's enemies. To the Cure, Reginn is the subject of a long game of conversion. It's a silent battle they've waged against each other for many decades, and one they will fight until one of them bends the knee. However, there is a third option neither of them have considered. The amount of time the Cure has spent bound to Reginn is long, and with their relative pacifism comes a certain risk: that of the Source's subjects becoming impatient with the lack of decisive action…

There's whispers in the streets of rebellion, you know.
Reginn put down his quill, leaning away from the desk his notebook was layed on as he rubbed his temples.
"Every clan has some dissenters. In fact, we're lucky we haven't turned the way of that Shadow clan to the North, killing each other over some-"
The Cure cackled, and Reginn rubbed their temples just a little bit harder.
Dissent and rebellion are two different things, straggler. The latter is a trained version of the former- and is much more dangerous to a fledgling leader like you.
Reginn scoffed.
"Fledgling? We've been at this for decades-"
A blip in my life. You've lived an easy life as a leader. This will test that.
"... Alright then. Who should I be keeping an eye out for?"
Everyone. And no one.
That horrid cackling again.
"What is the point in this if you won't tell me the truth?"
I want this game to be even, but I don't want it skewed in your favor. It isn't good practice in chess to point out what pieces are at risk of being taken.
The Cure laughed for a moment, before the noise from their end of the conversation cut out all at once. Reginn leaned forward once more, finishing up the sentence they were last working on. In the margins, however, they made a little note:
"Dissent v. Rebellion."