|“||I yearn for the times when our family was not weak, when the name Aren rang clear and true and struck terror into the hearts and minds of commoner, noble and magician alike!||”|
Created by QueenArasene
|Occupation||Grandmaster, House Aren
She is an extremely skilled bone mage and laid out the foundations for her own faction in this Civil War, a faction that quickly gained the derogatory byname The Rat, after Beatrice Aren's faction in the first Aren Civil War.
As the war progresses, Morbidia has demonstrated her knowledge of arcana and a noticeable amount of foresight. She was the first among the factions to encounter The Corruption and, after only a short amount of time in which its curse took hold on her. Shortly thereafter, she stood tall as the only faction leader surviving the war intact, and promptly set to restoring the Aren Family to not only its former, but a new glory.
Morbidia Bevelda Aren was born on a dark and silent night sometime around the year 1988 of the fourth age, during the reign of Grandmaster Robert Aren. She was not considered a particularly remarkable child, yet given the appropriate care and affection that another addition to a comparatively stable House Aren should be awarded. Her first years were comfortable, and she quickly learned to wield the silver spoon that the squalor of the House could provide. It was an innocent time, a time where she could be a child and think nothing of the world or politics. As is always the case with such things, however, the time of her innocent childhood was soon to come to an end, and the harsh realities that had molded and provided the prosperity of her earliest years came crashing down on her in the form of new opportunities- and responsibilities.
Even as the fourth age turned and became the fifth, the Aren family relentlessly trained all of its young members that showed signs of proficiency in the magical arts. Morbidia, clearly an underdog in terms of strength magically, went from teacher to teacher, frequently taking a beating for her insufficient progress. It was a harsh time, but in retrospect- a long time later-, Morbidia acknowledged that these physical repercussions eventually motivated her to make the best of her ability and develop finer skills, making up for her lacking power. Her first, primary school of magic was actually air magic- not uncommon for a time when runes were sparse and the rediscovery of rune essence only just had begun to accelerate the growth of human kingdoms.
However, as the runes did become more freely available and Morbidia aged, wider fields of magic opened up for study, and the young witch was- although reluctantly- accepted as a student of the Galethornian magics. Here, she meticulously dug herself through the study of carnalmancy, graduating with a passable mark. Her skill with magic had improved, but her power- and this her tutors, as well as she herself could tell- was nearing its peak. Nevertheless, she forged onward and took the first few steps into the world of osteomancy, which swiftly became what she was notorious for. Even though attaining a passing grade in carnalmancy had taken her the better part of three years, Morbidia breezed through her exams concerning bone magic barely six months after being introduced to the craft- with all her marks being exemplary, and her skill still accelerating. Cerebral and spectral magic were almost thrown to the wayside, but Morbidia- in her young adultdood- was required quietly but insistently to take up study of these crafts as well, if only to keep her in balance with herself and the family's wishes.
Not all about Morbidia's adulthood is known. We do know she finished her study and learning of Galethornian magic- less perfect in some areas than her teachers may have liked, but skilled enough to know her limits and perform a plethora of feats that ordinary mages, much less people, would never find themselves capable of doing.
However, with her earned knowledge, and now thoroughly acknowledged place in the House, Morbidia finally found herself in a place where she could demand a freedom she had not felt since the days of her early childhood, and subsequently she made off with a decently sized rune package to make her own fortune- or at least live the life of a wanderer- in the world outside the Aren Institutions. It is presumed that these years are the ones that the Boneyard's construction began. In fact, the Boneyard's construction was considered a great success by Morbidia, who had met a mildly adventurous carpenter on her journies and took him back home- or rather, took him back to where she wanted to go, and built a home together with him in the distant reaches of Arandar.
The first iteration of the boneyard was, truth to be told, cozy. It was the residence of young, happily married people with few worries in the world, and it stayed that place for years and years- even after Morbidia had their child, a happy baby boy who grew up a sheltered child. Very sheltered, considering the people he saw until such time as he turned twenty-seven were his parents. Despite her slightly off-putting name and occasionally rather harsh personality, Morbidia had taken a slice of happiness for herself and was, by all accounts, living it out to the fullest. When her son became too insufferable from being cooped up in their home, she allowed him to leave and sent him, with all the best intentions, back to her family with good wishes, a letter of reccommendation and the hopes that he would become a good man in the fullness of time.
Of course, such was not to be. Thentar Aren, the poor soul, found himself thrown ungraciously into the arms of one ruling Ignitus Aren, on the home stretch to madness in his search for immortality. He barely survived his education before the next part of the family's squabbling turned into a short, but violent war and his life was snuffed out as unceremoniously as it had begun. All he left was a lingering, painful memory and a bitter taste in Morbidia's mouth, and a pregnant beau whose name and appearance was lost to time. Morbidia, unaware, lived out the life of her husband in quiet harmony. He, a quiet man and not the greatest philosopher, took little affront at the way his wife brought in the occasional bone to brighten up the garden, even though over the years the garden did turn out to become more bone than plants, and the surroundings began avoiding their comfortable house.
The forgotten yearsEdit
Nothing lasts forever, though painful moments may seem to. Times of happiness, on the other hand, usually seem to fly past like water rushing off a cliff. Similarly, Morbidia's life of contentment with her husband eventually passed and she was left old, alone, and ever so slightly bitter. Eighty years of her life had passed, and then she had to bury the man she'd cherished quietly and fondly for fifty of them with her own hands in the back of their shared garden. Morbidia was at a loss; she did not know where to turn or what to do. What could she do, what would she do? The homely tasks were all to easy, and certainly required no time at all to complete. If she wanted, she could even neglect them, or let the ambient magic that had seeped into the house slowly clear them up by itself. No, with nothing left to do Morbidia threw herself into first despair, and then an old passion with the entirety of her being. This was, to be entirely honest, the true birth of the Boneyard as we know it today. As Morbidia's search and knowledge grew, so did the variety and percentage of bones around her house, except for- and this she was always careful with- a small piece of the back of her garden, where a bush of holly was left to grow, carefully tended. It was the only piece of green left in the surroundings, and was never graced by the visit of another living plant again.
Morbidia, on the other hand- after some wobbling, as could be expected- flourished. Slowly at first, as she had to venture out of her home again, but then ever faster as her boldness increased and she traveled ever farther away from her home, always in the search of new additions to her catalogue of bones. All sorts of creatures died under her meticulous hands: birds, predators, prey- even the smallest insects were not safe, long as they possessed anything that could be called a skeleton.
She reached, after significant forethought and many deliberations, out to her house of birth again- quietly, avoiding and deflecting undue attention, and gained the friendship of a likeminded wizard under their protection who was especially interested in the arts of carnalmanacy. Together, they made an expert hunting team, although there was the occasional tension between them. Morbidia knew there was a volatile darkness in the deepest depths of her new friend's mind, and kept a wary eye on him whenever she had grounds to worry, and oftentimes when she did not either. It was during her partnership with him that she first called ravens to her, to serve as extra eyes as her own were beginning to wane.
Two morbid years passed. The two left a bloody trail across the continent, which could be followed if you were attentive enough- but you would have had to be looking very closely indeed, since they never left ample evidence. Only now Morbidia could sense the darkness in her friend swelling- he grew unbalanced and demanded ever greater and greater kills in their hunts. Morbidia restrained him as best she could, but she feared the confrontation: uncertain of her conviction if it came to a battle between them. Similar thoughts, however, must have plagued her fellow wizards and thus she woke, one night, to the insistent tapping of her ravens, telling her in stark, brutal mentions that her friend was gone.
It had to be done; Morbidia left the camp without hesitation and followed the trail her friend had left- or rather, the most likely route, which was straight toward the closest hamlet. And truly, there was an uproar going on there. She had slept too long. The villagers had noticed nothing at first, with the flesh mage creeping through their houses and eviscerating three families without as much as a mouse squeaking, until a dog began to bark at him and was swiftly silenced. That was something that drew attention, and when Morbidia arrived with springing steps, she could see a gruesome engagement in full swing, with brave men trying to fight off the beast her friend had become with long pikes. Of course, their attempts were futile.
So Morbidia did what she had to do- she drew the attention of the beast and made herself guilty of multiple manslaughters: villagers who couldn't get out of the way in time and were caught dumbly gazing at the raging battle.
Dawn came, and midday almost went until the battle ended, with Morbidia barely victorious. She was hobbled, her eyesight gone, and used (to the faint cheering, but mostly eadly silence) a slightly shaking hand to draw her former friend's spine from his body, and fashion it into a cane. Quietly, she found the leaders of the village and told them, in a voice like the grave, to burn the body- no, the monstrosity- that had attacked their village. The villagers, near petrified with fear, dared not disobey and so it was that a large bonfire consumed everything she and her erstwhile friend had touched in the little hamlet.
Morbidia, battered and bruised, retreated to her boneyard and was lost to the world.
The following accounts have all been roleplayed out ingame. However, they may be biased.
The Call in the NorthEdit
The cry of undeath tore her from her studies. It was loud, overbearing and brutal, tearing through the natural order like a knife through flesh, and it called to her. She could feel the blood singing in her veins as the ripples of whatever event passed by her, carrying farther outward into the wide reaches of the world. Morbidia looked at herself and saw an old crone, lost and forgotten by the world. Sure, she had outlived most anyone she'd ever known, but what had the long life brough her thus far? Little, far too little. Face setting in a determined expression, she snatched her stick- the motion long practised and snappy- and made her way to the source of the call. The far northern reaches.
It was an iceberg. Chill wind tore through her robes here, but a true witch could not feel cold and Morbidia was nothing if not one of their numbers. She hobbled, in her typical fashion, forward to the tip of the iceberg where one figure was radiating undeath. Others joined her; some new, some old, none truly worthy. Morbidia expressed her disapproval quietly, all the way up to the peak of the iceberg, where she was confronted by Demyx Aren himself, in the undead flesh. Immediately, she descended to heckle his methods and reasoning, calling out his promise of revenge over the Calderon as petty personal rivalry.
The Skirmish in Seer's VillageEdit
Battle for AspectaEdit
An Undead CorruptionEdit
AppearanceEditThough Morbidia's appearance has improved since her first reappearance in the Sixth age, where she resembled little more than a hobbling old crone, she should in no way be considered eye candy. Especially as the corruption spreads over her body, the resemblance of beauty she may once have had is lost, and even the irony straight look she prefers has taken a visible hit, leaving her more dissheveled than usual.
With the help of Axel Vekon, the Corruption was temporarily banished from her, leaving only a series of faintly visible scars that demonstrate the spread of the disease and what a toll it had taken on her. These scars appear primarily like shadows on her skin and leave the impression of someone who has barely escaped death.
Morbidia's face can be considered a work of art. It is gaunt, like much of her body, and in the right light can be seen to appear downright skeletal, as if the skin and muscle on her face is merely an afterthought added. Lines on her face suggest that if the skin were less tightly stretched across her bones, she would have friendly wrinkles. The most dominating feature in her face are her bright emerald Aren eyes. They have an uncanny sharpness to them and tend to glow mildly whenever Morbidia undertakes any magical activity.
Her mouth is thin and her lips pale; her nose was probably broken at one point but has clearly healed up very well. Over this spectacle grows a shock of deep black hair, another strongly identifying feature of the Aren family. Morbidia keeps her hair free and loose, though moderately well kept. When it is released from whatever hood she might be wearing, it will flow as if washed and brushed regularly, but allowed to gain a natural mess from frequent- and indeed almost constant- activity.
As the corruption spreads, it has marked Morbidia's face with an ugly, dark vein that resembles a crack in her face which spreads from her shoulder upward, passes the cheekbone and ends just above her eyebrow. These scars are now faded and bleak, but remain marring her face as a physical reminder of the dangers that messing with unstable magical forces and entities can entail.
From a bodily perspective, Morbidia shows off several of her most defining traits. She is, as expected of a mage, nowhere near peak physical condition and can even appear weak and brittle. Gaunt, bordering on unhealthily thin, unusually pale, she tends to stand bent over the stick that is her weapon of choice. It is very rare to see her venture out without the stick she uses for walking and leaning on, and for most people it seems likely that were it to be taken away, she would most likely fall over.
Morbidia's fingers and hands are notably well kept and very clean, despite her reputation for being a grave digger and necromancer- occupations that frequently sully the hands of their perpetrators. She tends to wear dark or dully colored robes, favoring dark greens, black and grays in her color choice.
The corruption has touched her and clearly put a mark on Morbidia's physique: her right hand and arm are wasting away and turning black, veins carrying the color from her limb to spread around the remainder of her body. At the tips of her right hand, bone is already showing through the thin, stretched skin and it is clear that any movement of the limb must be associated with significant pain. Though the hand was restored, it retains a faintly charred look and appears to be less nimble than it may have been in Morbidia's youth- and especially at the aforementioned tips of her fingers, the skin is very thin and fragile, and it is possible to see her bones through her fingernails.
Usually, Morbidia is found dressed in very sensible, stern robes that serve functionality over any kind of aesthetic reason. Though she sternly refuses to entertain the idea of wearing pants, Morbidia's approach to dressing is more about practicality than looks, much to the annoyance of Vynriette Aren. Since her claim and subsequent ascension to the position of Grandmaster of House Aren, Morbidia can, without fail, be found wearing a set of three rings: One gold ring with a ruby set, recognizable to be Ignis, one of the five Aren Rings of power worn on her right index finger, one simple, white gold ring of unknown origin and meaning, worn on her left ring finger, and one gold ring with a shimmering diamond, marking her truly and earnestly as the Grandmaster of her family.
Similarly, Morbidia will usually be found wielding the Staff of Galethorn Aren, as per her proclaimed right as Grandmaster of the Arens. This artefact has replaced her earlier, commonly worn bone stick.
Skills and AbilitiesEdit
A reasonably prominent member of the Aren family, Morbidia considers herself to be one of, if not the, best osteomancers currently alive. She is an extremely skilled magic user and well versed in several schools even beyond her field, though her speciality is Galethornian magic, especially the path of bone magic. When it comes to a battle of skill in this field, she is extremely strong as long as she can procure or find any piece of bone in her vicinity- and it is known that she is not above abusing her own body in order to provide such. Particularly worrying is the fact that her mastery of bone magic gives her opportunity to attack from any angle, and puts any foe with their bone exposed to her grasp at significant risk. When it comes to raw magical power, Morbidia can step up to several very powerful mages of history, though she knows very well that there are those she cannot hope to best in a battle of raw strength. In fact, she has repeatedly used this knowledge to her advantage by mentally wearing down more powerful enemies and baiting them into using strong abilities with only a miniscule amount of her own power used.
Throughout a number of battles and duels she has displayed a good grasp of battlefield control, able to use attacks toward her to her own advantage and abusing clever positioning to avoid, block or dodge enemy spells. She also appears to have a decent amount of foresight in her strategic choices, evidenced by some of her carefully calculated movements made in order to put her enemies in strategically disadvantageous positions.
Furthermore, Morbidia should be considered an accomplished necromancer and death mage, able to survive in almost any environment and capable of summoning body doubles of herself seemingly at will. She has displayed moderate control over these doubles, though they are clearly used more as distractions than actual weapons. It is presumed that she may be immune to poison as well.
When it comes to powers beyond the battlefield, Morbidia can care for herself quite well. Though she can hardly be considered a master cook, she is capable of providing wholesome meals for an entire family if necessary and has displayed a particular liking to the harvesting of crops.
She should be considered, by virtue of her magical studies, an accomplished wet nurse and doctor, well capable of curing most injuries. Notably, she appears to be at a loss when faced with regular illnesses or poisoning, both ailments that cannot be easily remedied through the fields of her magical aptitude. In addition, Morbidia has a lucky hand when it comes to embroidery.
Morbidia should be considered a clever individual with honest, homicidal moments. She takes great pride in both her name and her profession and choice of magic, going as far as displaying significant distaste when her primary school of magic is confused with necromancy. Most of the time, Morbidia must be considered a cold and calculating person, preferring to sit back and talk instead of diving head-first into combat. Despite this, she is known to be heavily decisive and certainly rather stubborn, willing to go to great lengths to achieve her goal once she has decided on it.
In this manner, for example, she originally used words as a weapon in her first exchanges and skirmishes against Demyx Aren. As she learned more of him, she eventually arrived at a point where she was liable to violently attack him on sight.
Morbidia is a great believer in control and planning, and shows visible hesitation and dislike toward situations she does not believe she could remain in control through. It is evidently rather important to her to showcase that she can overcome not only one, but both of her curses with willpower, restraint and mediation.
From her father, Morbidia was cursed with violence. Through long years of intimate self-control and spiritualism, she has softened it mildly, but the intensity of the curse remains. It is one of the reasons why she does not believe in violent means to solve problems, as she knows she is liable to run amok and cause wanton destruction once she passes her limit and the curse activates.
Furthermore, and to her great chagrin, Morbidia is cursed with weakness. Aren women are generally accepted as potentially more powerful than their male counterparts, and Morbidia strongly believes she could have been among the strongest mages in her time if not for the curse holding her back.
- Morbidia's Ravens are called Hugin, Munin, Yalthar, Caecilius, Balthazar, Rapps and Martin.
- Morbidia possesses a relic called a life weave, a hanging curtain that contains intricate information about the long years of her life.