"Sing, my pretties! Cry like the world is ending, lament like the battle is lost; and sing me a funeral song."
Nosos Virus Symptoms:

  • High Blood Pressure
  • Haemophilia
  • Albinism
  • Easily injured

Don't let the red patches fool you. That's not fur, that's blood. As an albino, my eyes are the most piercing red and my feathers the purest white. Pure, innocent, and utterly boring. As nice as white is, all this blood does make a much prettier sight don't you think?

I can never tell where my foes blood ends and my blood starts. Everybody bleeds after all. But perhaps no one quite as much as me. I suffer from both haemophilia and high blood pressure, every cut and bruise and scape is etched into my skin; a scalpel on yielding flesh, metallic sheen covered in gushing crimson.

People say dull-coloured Coatls are cursed, bad omens, that my lustless feathers are a sign of my weakness. But you see, the true hues of my skin are revealed in moulted bruises; not pallid and white and colourless, but green and purple, blue and crimson. My body is a canvas, wreathed in broad strokes of ever-changing colour, and the world has no lack of artists who would add their own touch, their mark across my skin.

There are things far worse than haemophilia. Those who call it disease has clearly never seen true plague. They will learn, as I have, to love the pain. There is nothing nobler than bleeding for your cause. I am born of Plague, but not bowed by it. It is evidence of my strength, of my drive to survive, not of weakness.

But enough of me, what brings you here at this hour? Oh, you're injured? And they send you to me? I've said so many times—

Actually, since you’re here, let me grab a few samples. Oh don’t look so worried, it’s not as if you aren’t already bleeding. Come on, sit down. This will definitely hurt, but you're a big boy, you can handle it.

I suppose I am the clan "medic", in one sense. I actually know a thing or two about the body, which is more than most around here can say. I've trained under a real surgeon too, it was marvellous, truly eye-opening. Though I don't see why everyone started expecting me to actually want to heal people, I learnt medicine out of curiosity, not for any actual desire to help creatures like you.

I don't know what you were expecting. Did the blood all over my feathers not clue you in? Grab a couple bandages and go walk it off, and quit your incessant complaining. You are nothing until you have suffered for your cause, until you have nothing more to give.

I bleed every day, trailing behind me a path of defiance against death, against disease. I stand resolutely against any who would do battle with me, my bloodstained feathers a herald of my wounds and of the wounds of those who challenged me before them. Through it all, I am unmoved, undefeated.

You sing your laments to the dead, to those who would drown themselves to dim their pain. But I sing for those who have never tasted that sweet agony, who have no cause for which they bleed.

"Coronach dedicated his whole life to the study of disease, which would be admirable, if he weren't more interested in causing it than curing it. One wonders why he bothered studying for so long. Anyone can be a killer, but it takes real skill to heal. Coronach seems content to be more or less second rate." - Vitiligo
"Coronach is a typical Plagueling, standing strong despite his afflictions, and of those he has several. Through it all, he's managed to attain a level of competence in his craft that few ever manage. Although he is undoubtedly skilled, his cleanliness leaves much to be desired, and his bedside manner is virtually nonexistent. But then again, it's not his job to be nice to you, and you're hardly in a position to complain." - Eupatrid

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