The Melancholia

The Melancholia is a sickness of the blood; vital to the very nature of dragons and yet toxic to the mortal creatures whose blood is shared with them. Those who are born of these lines are damned, without hope of a cure or salvation.   It is possible that as the lineage grows more distant from its draconic ancestor, that the effects will grow less pronounced or even disappear altogether, yet there has been no evidence of this. Those with serpents in their veins always find poison in their hearts and minds.

Originating within the ancient dragons, The Melancholia is more accurately described as an allergic reaction. More Cryptic than mortal, the Dragons very nature is overpowering and vital. The mortal coil can only contain so much before it begins to crack and sunder, and so it was that those who took upon themselves this lineage found themselves changed by its nature.   As such, the true cause is not a virus or genetic quirk, but that of a soul quite literally trying to break free of its prison. The madness and frailty of body comes not from plague or disease, but the physical deteriorating in the wake of that which should not be.

As varied as the creatures that spawned and those who suffer from it, The Melancholia can exhibit many different symptoms. For some, it is a madness that coils deep and frays at the mind. It tears and sickens and corrupts until only the corruption is left. For others it can appear as a physical change, a body breaking into a shape more suited to contain that which burns bright inside.   For all, however, it has some effect. Obsession, Genius, Madness, Pain, Change; mercurial is the blood of serpents and inevitable is its victory over the host.

There is no known treatment for The Melancholia once its symptoms exhibit themselves. For many, the only choice is seclusion from the world and then death; hiding from reality as further they succumb. For others, death brings the only salvation, a full-hearted charge into the abyss that calls endless within.   There are rumours of course, as always there are, of a cure. Some Cryptics claim to offer respite from the blight but such deals are tricksome by nature, and dependant upon the good graces of fae spirits. Others speak of a distant east; rumours of their arts genetic and biological that could perhaps remove what was never asked for in the first place.

It is difficult to determine whether The Melancholia is fatal, or if those who suffer from it invariably make fatal choices. Regardless, most show their first signs at a young age, usually minor and easily explained by the oddities of childhood.   Over time, however, the effects grow more poignant. A distrusting nature becomes paranoia, a birthmark becomes a living tattoo; as time passes the body crumbles more and more in its grasp. For each and all does the condition worsen at a different rate, and there are as many theories and falsehoods as to why precisely this might be.

There is no known origin, or at least, no specific origin. Ages past before The Mourning War, the elves mixed freely with the dragons of old; delighting in the strangeness they brought and the power they wrought. Over time, this blood began to settle in the lines of the Elvarn, and as the tribes began to form amidst their kingdoms, so too did their peculiarities follow suit.   The Tennen-Cairn, ever cold and bitter, began to grow obsessed with death. They mastered the arts of war and sung their songs of Unseelie Princes in the winter's realm. As they grew older they began to fade, not just of colour and vibrancy, but quite literally from the world around. The Baldurans continued their chase of coin and wealth and joy and art and- and- and- Always more, always something different and something new. They became gold-sick and greedy; idolising the self over all else even as they grew jaded by a world they had already known.   The Failin-Die fell to the flame; the ever-change and bright vivacity of existence. The Seelie became their bretheren in their woods of dappled light, and as fast as they were to make friends, so quick were they to declare foe. Mercurial by nature, and delightful until not. Last were the Vokai, who fell to hate, and of them even the Elvarn know little else. Other tribes exhibited other symptoms but of them little was recorded or remembered, and over time the dragon's blood divided a people who were once whole and of one.   Eventually, as humans migrated into the southern lands, the Elvarn blood mixed with theirs, and once more The Melancholia began anew. An illness defined by the life of its host, in the dragons it was a subtle thing, and in the elves it was only noticed during their twilight years. Half-elves however, suffered the full extent of this blight within their short existence, and so was defined the history of Naggaryn by lunatics, fools, and geniuses of the darkest kind.

The Melancholia is viewed with ill-favour in the north. Many find those who suffer from it to be dangerous and unpredictable; often causing problems when there need be none, and sharing more than a few traits with the mercenary nation of Tol Baldir.   In the south, however, in great Naggaryn, it bears an almost holy reputation. The old elven tribes had wedded the great princedoms of this region, and so those who suffer from its blight often claim kingship in their line. For certain, none can doubt that the current state of this land can be blamed upon its rulers both sick and depraved, and so those of equal temperment are seen as rightful leaders of a nation that has long deserved the rulers it has received.