Information


Mornenion has a minion!

Hafalheld the Zodiac Snake Spirit




Mornenion
Legacy Name: Mornenion


The Reborn Rreign
Owner: Shakespeare

Age: 15 years, 6 months, 1 week

Born: September 19th, 2008

Adopted: 15 years, 6 months, 1 week ago (Legacy)

Adopted: September 19th, 2008 (Legacy)


Pet Spotlight Winner
February 11th, 2014

Statistics


  • Level: 99
     
  • Strength: 277
     
  • Defense: 238
     
  • Speed: 241
     
  • Health: 237
     
  • HP: 0/237
     
  • Intelligence: 278
     
  • Books Read: 267
  • Food Eaten: 0
  • Job: Certified Mad Scientist


The still waters of the lake reflected the dark green of the nearby pine trees and the smooth gray of towering Mount Septentrion. No sunlight did it reflect that day, though heaven's eye shone brightly. Never did any ray of light pierce through to disturb the dark waters of Kenelm. Men told stories of the lake and the mountain which overshadowed it. There, the great dragon Mornenion lived, making his lair in a high-up cave of the mountain. None of the men of the valley had ever laid eyes upon him, but legend told of his fierce wrath and terrible fury. No living memory recalled the last time Mornenion had left his lair, but tales spoke of the winged shadow falling over the towns when he would take to the sky. Thankfully for the villagers, Mornenion was content to stay in his cave and sleep, guarding his treasure against brave adventurers and thieves.

***

Mornenion's great nostrils flared with each intake of breath. His great eyes were closed shut against the rays of light trickling in. When a shaft of light should happen to fall on his scaly armor, deep green, as dark as the richest emerald, shone back though his armor was clouded from years of disuse. While he appeared to be deep in sleep, he had only the sleep of dragons, which is not true sleep. In his mind, he ran through all the contents of his hoard. Every gold coin, gilded sheath, and fair trinket had its place in. Not even the smallest of rings, made of the least semi-precious metal, escaped his mental recollection. Dragons have an incredible memory, thought they rarely put it to use except to think of their treasure and the occasional, rare adventurer or magician who had somehow escaped their rage.

In his mind, Mornenion was handling the greatest of all his objects: a sword of great power. Though its blade was unadorned, its pommel held a single, deep green emerald of nearly the same shade as the dragon's scales. Its guard consisted of a pair of intertwined serpents who stretched out, fangs bared and poised to strike. In place of eyes, the serpents each had two small alexandrite gemstones which glinted in sunlight. Mornenion knew, however, that the true worth of the sword was not in its stones, though they would be worth a king's ransom, or in the workmanship of the blade; although a fine sword, it lacked the heft of dwarven axes or the sharp edges of elven work. No, the blade had a hidden power which few would mark at first sight.

So it was however, that the dragon had the ability of keen sight and knowledge, as did all dragons, to see the truth and the history of the blade. For it was old, older than Mornenion himself, and rarely did he come across anything which had even half his years. He saw, looking at it, that it had many names, given to it by men who had at one time borne it: Hafalheld it was to a great king of the north, whose fair halls now stood in ruin; Orscbane it was to another warrior who had carried it into battle against the Five Armies of the orc kind; Methesorath it was to the elves of fair Theiden, who carried it only for a little while. These, and many other names, it had. Mornenion could see these names and more. He knew the blade was made by the Farsworn men of the north, whose race was now long dead. He was but a hatchling when the Farsworn died out, leaving little behind. Now, the men of the valley had no memory of them, not even in song.

No, the power of the blade lay in the magic intertwined within it at its making. It could call up storms to harry foes and swift winds to speed on friends. It could command nature itself. Mornenion had no need for the blade's powers, but he treasured them none the less. It was just as well, for the blade would not have responded to his draconian blood. Only to the dead race of Farsworn would it respond, or to one who had some sliver of blood, however diluted. Many of the blade's masters, Mornenion knew, did not have the power to call upon the blade; still, it granted its bearer strength beyond that of mortal men, even in the hands of one with no kin to its maker.

***

Far below, a traveler pulled his cloak thick about him and raised his hood up further. The icy wind bit at him and cold droplets of rain flew in his face. He looked up at the overcast sky, but seeing no encouragement from the heavens, he turned his eyes once again to Mount Septentrion. Many leagues he had traveled to look upon Kenelm and to climb the slopes of the mountain reflected in its dark waters. Many leagues he had sought for the dragon Mornenion, though others laughed at his folly. The traveler had an errand, which could not afford to fail. His only response to the pelting rain was to pull his thick cloak closer and hurry onward. On his finger, a pale ring glinted and two alexandrite eyes gleamed out from the head of a serpent.

Credits:
Ring CI : Destiny
Sword CI : Buttercream
Click images for full-size.
Mornenion art : dracula
Pet/minion overlay, profile, and story : self

Pet Treasure


Unadorned Celestium Sword

Swirly Pale Gold Engagement Ring

Green Dragon Scale

Alexandrite

Zodiac Snake Spirit

Pet Friends