Hemlock

A young girl, defiant of authority, and especially of her parents. An excuse to leave them, to be her own someone, to be unique. Through the grapevine she heard of the Necromancers, powerful plague alligned dragons who would sit in trial to harness the power of the Plaguebringer herself. Her parents discouraged this, saying that while her blood flows with the Plague, her Nature home would make the trials near impossible to accomplish, as the chances of mother accepting a child of her sister was far to minuscule to risk the trial, and thus her life.

Yet she left.

Her little body flew itself to the Plaguebringers domain, and as she pushed herself beyond her own limits in hopes her parents would not find her and take her back. She didnt even know why she wanted to do this, she just wanted to do something with her life other than sit around in the Viridian Labyrinth, being just a normal dragon with nothing to do with her life. She knew what she wanted, and that was to serve the Mother of her Mother. By the time she reached the Wrymwound to confront mother and ask for the gift, she was weak, tired, and covered in various scratches and bruises from her pursuits.

At first, the Plaguebringer laughed her off. Why would such a young and feeble mind wish to go through something so dangerous, anyways? For all she knew, she approached Mother about her ritual as part of a bet with her siblings. Yet still as the weeks went by the little coatl persisted that she give her the disease she needed to begin the ritual, and the Plaguemother continued to be hesitant. She never allowed a hatchling so young to go through the ritual, let alone one born to her sister, where faliure rates were to high to count. Yet still, as the little Coatl persisted, she grew ever curious as to the results of such a grim experiment, and this little one seemed very ambitious to earn their marks, and so after weeks of begging, the Plaguebringer gave her the Touch of Plague she needed to begin her path to a Necromancer.

It wasnt even a full 24 hours before the disease became apparent, creating small pock marks on her skin and bubbles of pus beginning to form in her flesh. All she needed to do was fight it, supress it, and harness it. The first weeks of her trial seemed promising, as she fought the disease that turned her skin into a field of craters and mountains, but all was seemingly well. Even the Plaguemother took interest in how well her little body was able to handle such a virulent disease.

On the dawn of the 20th day, she began to cough up blood. It was mucus-like, thick and sticky with a strong scent of disease lingering to it. By dusk of the same day, she was almost dead. She was too determined to die, she had already earned her stripes of victory, why now? As she lay in the place she crumpled to, she could feel the disease finally taking her. She had fought valiantly, but in the end her young body and mind couldn't take it anymore

She had failed.

She began making her way back to her home clan. She wanted to see her parent. Mommy and Daddy. She wanted to feel her moms warm coat and her dads long, trailing whiskers in her paws again. She wanted them to cuddle her again, help her ease her pain. Yet when they found her, somewhere in Dragonhome, they recoiled in disgust. They knew she was theirs, and yet her blood colored skin, her veiny, almost pulsating wings, and the distinct marks of a necromancer, failed or not, let them in horror. She had gone through with it, and worse yet, she was a walking harbinger of disease. They didnt even know how she was alive or why the Plaguemother would subject their child to such a fate, all they knew was that they could do nothing to save their child.

Yet still, knowing the consequences, they gave her what she wanted. She played with her dads whiskers, she felt the warmth of her mothers feathery coat, and as the sun set beyond the endless rock, she cuddled the both of them, enjoying the presence of her parents once again. It wasnt long before all three of them had made a nest to accommodate them all, falling asleep between the both of them.

When she woke up the nest morning, they were dead. Whatever she had had taken them overnight, their bodies drained fluids in the form of the same mucus like substance she had thrown up that fateful day of her failure. She tried to get them to wake up, her cries filling the shattered plains, yet there was nothing she could do. She returned to the Scarred Wasteland, knowing this was her life until it finally ended. Yet as the years went on, she never aged. Not even the Plaguemother could explain this phenomenon when she found the courage to approach her, all she did was shrug and cast her away.

They call her Hemlock.

Potentially immortal, forever diseased. Her virus can kill overnight, and she is welcomed by none, feared by all. She wanders the vast reaches of the Abiding Boneyard, knowing those who may stumble across her may finally seek the escape of the perilous plains through her touch. All she wants is company, and her hardened mind has accepted she will never receive this. Yet, deep down, her still child heart yearns for someone to love her, and to be able to survive her seemingly impossible to survive disease.

---

Can we get an F in chat :*)

---

Secret 2nd Dad