#dragon scion

[lost-wayfinder]

Anatomy of a Dragon Hatchling (scion of Mordremoth, reacts to Zmiy or Airell, they/them)

[sleidog]

a happy little guy, still gw2cc, for eyris :D [who's username wishes to not appear as a proper tag for some reason]

[lady-quen]

Numen, "Love" of Jormag, the scion of Ice. Also known as "The One Who Opens the Door". (He/They)

I don't have their norn design (nor name) yet, but imagine the most innocent blonde boy of short stature with striking blue eyes and the softest smile :) Character backstory below cut! Pspspspsing at all angst hound Commanders out there!!

An orphan rescued from an abandoned village in the Deep Shiverpeaks. Though losing entire settlements to the savage Sons of Svanir was a common occurence, there were no signs of attack, no blood, no slaughter, it just seemed like the inhabitants simply got up and left merely moments before a norn patrol arrived to rest at the local inn. Doors and windows were open, rendering interiors freezing.

The child, naturally, had no known name and was of an unsettlingly pale complexion. He was taken in by the warriors and brought to Hoelbrak, where he grew up more or less normally.

Though he did fit in, he was frail and unfit to pursue his legend, or even be a hunter, despite clearly wanting to. Instead, he was an elementalist with the rare affinity for ice, something the elders theorized to be a result of the near death experience in his infancy.

The boy joins the Commander's party relatively early on, perhaps as an adoptive younger sibling/childhood friend to Braham, and makes himself useful with his unique magic. It's during S3 that things begin to get weird, with Jormag stirring from slumber leading the young man to run off as though following a silent call, before eventually returning seemingly with no memory of whatever happened.

During IBS, he starts acting even weirder, with people mysteriously going missing when left alone with him, as though spirited away. The Commander and Braham confront him, wishing to get to the bottom of what's happening to their friend, only for the reveal to happen.

He was never a norn, but the shapeshifter Numen, the One Who Opens the Door. Every cycle this happens, the scion's memory is wiped and they're found and taken in by the living races, they come to be loved, grow into an identity, only for that love to become everyone's downfall. In Jormag's own words,

"You'll sleep now, and be their child. But you will always wake, and be my child first."

The character could go a traditional villainous betrayal route or (maybe preferably) an "I never wanted this but I can't refuse my creator" tragic route. Two personalities fighting inside, the servant of the Ice Dragon and the personality developed during his time in Hoelbrak and then, with the party. But most importantly, the Commander has to make a choice between saving many people via slaying Numen during a Dragon Response mission or trying to save him, in whatever way they might devise.

Naturally, if they do slay him, Jormag's only got one thing to say: "I see you're more than willing to discard love... if it only aligns with your heroic ideals. Weighing lives on a scale when patience cannot be afforded. Well, no matter. Raven taught you well. I wonder just how easily you could do the same to Aurene?"

"Tell me, o Commander of Tyria, what's worth more to you? The world, or her?"

[commanderteag]

I come bearing another silly scoin. Primordus, here's the child you forgot about. Coulr.

Yapping about her under the cut and her dragon form.

Brought into existence in one of her father's fits of rage, they never truly interacted. She was basically just living rock that craved chaos and destruction. From this, she took an interest in the Charr. The cats are known for their fighting and destruction, especially with a group of them specialising in fire. With some effort, she managed to shape herself into a way that could just about pass as a Charr

For a short while, she snuck in way into the flame legion but grew bored quickly. Turns out they don't like women doing things, so she left. With some stolen intel,l she managed to buy her way into the blood legion. She was an explosive one, but aim her right and she proved pretty useful. She is very unserious and always thrill-seeking, with little care for what happens around her. She is a child of destruction after all.

Her dragon form:

She's meant to be rocks like her father, but the way I drew it makes her look fluffy lol

[thealphabard]

I'm kind if dusting this account off and dedicating a whole post to my Zora character cause Ive fallen down and can't get up.

Say hi to akos! He's actually from our dnd campaign centered around hyrule. His class is called a dragon scion, his patron is dinraal, and he weilds 2 scimitars, Whisper and Mist. I love this campaign so much lol

[likemesomesalads]

Fae is a smol bean next to auntie Kuunavang

[lady-quen]

The whole bird is here at last.

[lady-quen]

Dragon of Ice and Love.

"Awaken, my child. Your long dream has ended. It is now their time to sleep beneath the stars. And when their eyes next open, yours shall again fall closed."

Cycles within cycles, grinding everything to dust. They grew tired of it, too - a lonesome thing, unfeeling as ice. Stalwart in the face of change, a glacier from the dawn of the world. Jormag was forevermore. There was no shift of the seasons for Jormag, the eternal winter.

Jormag was lonely. They made a Scion. They called them "Numen."

The divine spirit that has long guided seers and augurs, the beat of their heavy, sleeping wings reflected in the movement of birds. Even when they dreamed beneath the ice, they dreamed of flight. Eagle, Owl, Raven - and many more. Throughout the ages, divination was so often carried out at shrines of feathers.

Numen was Jormag's gift to this world. An assurance that history would run its rightful course, a benefactor, but most importantly, they were the One Who Opened the Door. Once it was open, Jormag would awaken, and the Cycle would repeat. Not many could pass through the door, of course. It was only open for a time, after all, and not many had minds clear enough to understand the enormity of the gift. And yet, that was its truth: Jormag loved the world, in the only way a thing of ice could ever love.

Ice protects. Ice fortifies. Ice preserves.

The winter was a time of stasis, but also renewal.

Numen was the instrument through which the magic was performed; The beast exhaled plumes of dense mist which enveloped those who wandered in it. The world ceased to exist to those lost in the fog, and they found themselves in a new dimension altogether - a pocket of the Mists where they would become still statues of ice, and await the new dawn. The Dawnwalkers thawed once the long night had passed, stepping into the new world confused and conflicted. Their memories wiped or altered, minds perhaps not unchanged - but their bodies were as pristine as they had always been. And the door closed behind them. History began anew, like a shift of seasons. Numen fell asleep, and whatever persona they had taken on was gone - not unlike the freshly melted snow.

1309 AE - blue eyes open. A norn child, this time. But their eyes were always so, so blue.

They rescued them - took them - from a village still and quiet. No soul left save for the newborn with snow-pale skin and a soft, sweet smile, never crying despite the bitter cold that permeated their body. The men who found them panicked, but they were perfectly fine. The cold caused no harm to their nascent form, instead feeling like a gentle morning kiss from a world that had waited so long to welcome their birth again.

The crib they were found in was not theirs.

Neither was the name they were given. Arnfinn. An old seer's child who died in the womb. In this way, the name had grown impatient, waiting for its wearer only for him to never be born. And the name became lonely. So very lonely, for so many years, until, with a knock at the door a group of warriors arrived at the woman's abode, carrying a sweet, giggling babe.

"Welcome to the world, at last... Arnfinn." She smiled, through the same eyes that once foresaw the death of her son. And they - he - brought peace to her. For she could see the fates of all those around her, but never his. Her dear son, blessed by Eagle, or whatever yet remained of her faith in Hoelbrak. Whenever she glimpsed him, he was as though shrouded in fog, and for once his life unfolded day by day.

For once, she found the joy of life again in not knowing. And, so suddenly, it had all been worth it, all along. Following Eagle all these years, her constant vigil, and now her prayers were answered. Time-worn skin flush with new life, a warm smile graced her grizzled features, and she placed a tender kiss on a crown of fresh blond locks.

"Sleep now, my sweet child." She tucked Arnfinn in, striking blues smiling back at her before falling shut with a yawn.

"Sleep now, my sweet child." A voice repeated from within his mind, a voice he would hear on this day and then not ever again - not until the beginning of the dusk.

And though he knew not yet the words, he thought back: Goodnight, I love you.