An analysis of "Unclaimed Legacy", Necrass' module.
Hello, class. Today we will be taking a look at Necrass’ module, Unclaimed Legacy. It is perhaps the only coherent piece of writing HG released since halfway into Elegies, focusing on the twins as characters rather than products, on their emotional core and relationship, which is central to the Taran arc as a whole.
A Na Saoirsí cook finishes washing some pots and newly cast metal goblets.
She walks through the citadel corridor thinking about a better life and a new future, and picks up a pair of old stuffed toys holding each other.
She says: "Who dropped these dolls? Who has been to the citadel spire? Surely they have an owner, and lost items ought to be returned. I need to find who they belong to."
The cook returns to the kitchen with her pots, cups, and the dolls, and poses a question to the merchant who comes by to deliver some meat.
"Have you seen these two dolls before? Have you seen their owner?"
"No, I've never seen them before, nor their owner. But they're so adorable with their apple-like faces and potato-like bodies. If nobody wants them, you could give them to me." The merchant stretches out a hand and points at a doll, "I only want this one though. It's still in good condition, and much nicer looking than the other tattered one."
The cook refuses the merchant and leaves the citadel for the streets. When she passes by a guard escorting carts carrying grain, she makes her inquiry:
"Have you seen these two dolls before? Have you seen their owner?"
The guard takes the dolls, and mumbles: "I once heard of two self-centered brothers who each had a red dragon doll, but they were both unsatisfied and plotted to rob each other to get the other one. The elder had a hidden table knife while the younger carried some flint, and as they walked towards each other's beds..." The red dragon dolls suddenly scald his hands as if they were made of flame, and the guard bites his tongue, tossing them aside and running away as he says, "No, that story's completely unrelated to these two! I don't know about them or their owner!"
The cook picks up the dusty dolls, carefully wiping the dirt off them. She circles the city streets a few more times until dusk gives way to night, and a woman, a wakewoman, shows up behind her.
"Miss cook, I heard you've been asking around about something. I came here looking for you, because I know the answer you seek."
"Have you seen these two dolls before? Have you seen their owner?" the cook asks.
"I've seen these two dolls before, behind a coffin, under the moonlight. And yes, I've seen their owner, under the eaves, out in the wilds." The wakeman extends both hands and says, 'Give them to me, and I'll put them where they belong."
And so under the stars, the wakewoman walks all the way back to the citadel, to the highest lookout point, to a little room belonging to Tara's one and only red dragon.
"There were never a pair of brothers." She places the older-looking doll on the red dragon's bed.
"Nor did this belong to a pair of sisters." The doll's is tucked under a soft blanket, its head resting on a pillow.
"It has always belonged to the red dragon. A single red dragon, and then the other red dragon.
One dragon discarded it, and one found it a young partner."
She puts down the newer looking doll right next to the older looking one, making them snuggle together just like a pair of sisters.
"Today, they become a pair, and return to the red dragon's bed as a legacy."
Before anything else, I want to point out something about the title. The CN title is 未处理的遗产, which is not exactly “Unclaimed Legacy.” It is closer to Unresolved Legacy, Legacy Left Undealt With, or Unprocessed Legacy. “Unclaimed” works because the dolls appear to be lost items without an owner, but “unresolved” fits the emotional core better. This legacy has not been properly handled, mourned, buried, or made human again.
Unlike other parts of Necrass, the module escaped Yostar’s localization quirks, such as changing the meaning of things like “Deathflame’s Guidance” into “Pyral Psychopomp,” or softening her Talk after Promotion 1 line by replacing “imaginary city-state” or “imaginary polis” with “utopia,” and adding “theoretical” before “countless lives.” Here, the translation is mostly faithful to the source.
Just by looking at the image of the module, we see two dragon dolls. One is white, with a red-tipped tail. The other is black, with purple flame at the tip of its tail. The black dragon doll is damaged. It looks pitiful, stitched up, and one of its horns is broken at the top. The visuals alone make it obvious: the white doll represents Loughshinny, and the black doll represents Eblana.
“But Loughshinny is damaged too.”
Yes. As per Elegies’ ending, she is damaged emotionally. But her sister is damaged physically and emotionally. She is broken. An undead. A corpse with a gouged-out heart, feeling nothing but pain in every moment she exists. She can’t feel much else, if anything. Even her sense of touch is dulled.
Before we delve into the text, I would like to say that the module is full of visual metaphors. Let’s start with:
“A Na Saoirsí cook finishes washing some pots and newly cast metal goblets.
She walks through the citadel corridor thinking about a better life and a new future, and picks up a pair of old stuffed toys holding each other.
She says: ‘Who dropped these dolls? Who has been to the citadel spire? Surely they have an owner, and lost items ought to be returned. I need to find who they belong to.’”
The story opens with an ordinary Taran. Not royalty, not Wellington, not a soldier, nor either of the Dracos. A cook.
She is washing pots and newly cast metal goblets, walking through the citadel while thinking about the future and a better life. This represents the ordinary future Loughshinny and Eblana supposedly fought for. A city, a country, and its people living, not just surviving while a guillotine looms over their necks. And this matters because many Tarans were not choosing revolution from a place of comfort. They were pushed toward “salvation” by desperation, necessity, and powerlessness. Tara’s common folk did not have the luxury of clean choices. For many of them, the question was not “should we revolt?” but “how long can we keep living like this before the empire finally closes its hand?” That is what makes the cook important. She represents the people who deserved a life beyond being stepped on, used, and discarded by forces greater than themselves.
It also reframes “legacy” away from political grandeur. Tara’s future is not a banner. It is whether normal people get to live. Pots, cups, kitchens, meals, daily work. That is what a country is supposed to protect.
Why is this opening important? Because it starts with the future the twins wanted, but the dolls drag the unresolved past back into it.
But what are the dolls in the first place, outside of representations of the Dublinn twins? They are the private truth underneath the public myth. The cook finds two old stuffed toys holding each other. The supposed legacy of the Red Dragon is... two toys. This is the module taking the whole Taran arc and spelling out that beneath all the grand national tragedy, there were children. It strips the myth down to its emotional root. Not someone whose duty is to bring back fighters from the forge. Not someone whose purpose is to restore a nation or bring peace. Just two dolls.
“The cook returns to the kitchen with her pots, cups, and the dolls, and poses a question to the merchant who comes by to deliver some meat.
‘Have you seen these two dolls before? Have you seen their owner?’
‘No, I’ve never seen them before, nor their owner. But they’re so adorable with their apple-like faces and potato-like bodies. If nobody wants them, you could give them to me.’ The merchant stretches out a hand and points at a doll, ‘I only want this one though. It’s still in good condition, and much nicer looking than the other tattered one.’”
The merchant’s instinct is commodification. He sees the dolls as cute objects, and obviously, he wants the one in better condition.
But this is not the entire story. This is also a critique of how the world, or many people in it, see the sisters. Pick the intact one. Pick the pretty one. Pick the one that can be used, sold, displayed. Discard the tattered one. It assigns value depending on characteristics. Not value as a person, but value depending on quality and symbolic usefulness.
If you recall the events of Elegies, as well as parts of What the Firelight Casts, the Earl of Warwick did something similar. He chose Eblana over Loughshinny because she listened to him. She was the one he could indoctrinate better. She had the better qualities for his purposes. Even now, Necrass is discarded while Tara has the “doll in better condition.”
Here, I would also like to mention HG’s hypocrisy. The module criticizes people seeing the twins through value, quality, and usefulness. Then HG turns around and pumps out a L2D bikini skin for a revenant, not even long after this module, animated with her dipping her toes in the water, smiling, giggling, and playing at being alive. Then, we proceed with another skin during her banner rerun, this one selling the undead queen fantasy. And this is without even getting into the sanitization and thorough defanging of Necrass as a playable character. In this case, it feels a lot closer to “sell the qualities that can be sold, and discard anything damaged.”
The module understands the broken doll. The marketing sells the prettier surface. Necrass is less of a character and more of a product.
“The cook refuses the merchant and leaves the citadel for the streets. When she passes by a guard escorting carts carrying grain, she makes her inquiry:
‘Have you seen these two dolls before? Have you seen their owner?’
The guard takes the dolls, and mumbles: ‘I once heard of two self-centered brothers who each had a red dragon doll, but they were both unsatisfied and plotted to rob each other to get the other one. The elder had a hidden table knife while the younger carried some flint, and as they walked towards each other’s beds...’ The red dragon dolls suddenly scald his hands as if they were made of flame, and the guard bites his tongue, tossing them aside and running away as he says, ‘No, that story’s completely unrelated to these two! I don’t know about them or their owner!’”
This segment is about the public and political version of the legacy. Rivalry. Inheritance. Violence. A conflict of siblings turned into a moral fable.
But that is the moment where the dolls scorch him, as if they are rejecting this repeated story of fratricide and greed, because his reading is wrong. He did not do any research. He simply repeated what he heard.
Which brings me to another point. A meta critique point.
Fandoms love flattening and flanderizing characters. “Purple dragon bad, orange dragon good.” “Greedy dragon.” “Evil sister versus good sister.” “Power-hungry psychopath.” “Innocent cinnamon roll.” All of those are the same kind of reading as the guard’s story. It turns the twins into a crude political folktale and misses the actual tragedy and the core of the story.
“The cook picks up the dusty dolls, carefully wiping the dirt off them. She circles the city streets a few more times until dusk gives way to night, and a woman, a wakewoman, shows up behind her.
*‘Miss cook, I heard you’ve been asking around about something. I came here looking for you, because I know the answer you seek.’
‘Have you seen these two dolls before? Have you seen their owner?’ the cook asks.
‘I’ve seen these two dolls before, behind a coffin, under the moonlight. And yes, I’ve seen their owner, under the eaves, out in the wilds.’ The wakewoman extends both hands and says, ‘Give them to me, and I’ll put them where they belong.’”
This is the important shift.
The merchant misreads the dolls through consumption. The guard misreads the dolls through political myth. The cook reads them humanely, but she does not know the answer. The wakewoman is the only one who does.
She is the correct reader of the dolls because she understands rest, because she is already related by profession to endings, death, funerals and passage. Look at where she says she saw them. Behind a coffin. Under the moonlight. Under the eaves. Out in the wilds.
The coffin represents Necrass, whose funeral was denied. A body that should have ended. The wilds represent the wandering, displaced, homeless condition she has. The wakewoman then does what nobody else can do: she returns the dolls to where they belong.
Not to a museum. Not to a throne room. Not to a battlefield. Not to other people as propaganda. A bed.
This ties directly into what Necrass actually wants beneath all of that posturing and exhaustion.
“And so under the stars, the wakewoman walks all the way back to the citadel, to the highest lookout point, to a little room belonging to Tara’s one and only red dragon.
‘There were never a pair of brothers.’ She places the older-looking doll on the red dragon’s bed.
‘Nor did this belong to a pair of sisters.’ The doll is tucked under a soft blanket, its head resting on a pillow.”
The location is very important here. The text says it belongs to Tara’s one and only red dragon. At this point, that should mean Loughshinny, the surviving and accepted Red Dragon of Tara. So the older, damaged doll is not just being returned to “a bed” in some abstract sense. It is being returned to her sister’s room. Eblana, or what remains of her, is symbolically placed back beside Loughshinny.
The dolls map to the twins, but the wakewoman rejects that? This is not me selling you donuts (Romanian idiom for lying), but the metaphor here is subtler. They do not belong to “two sisters” as two normal girls in a normal family. They belong to the Red Dragon.
That means that from childhood, they were swallowed by the role. They were never allowed to simply be Eblana and Loughshinny. They were made into bloodline, omen, symbol, shadow, Leader, heir, weapon, and nation. In other words, the role of the Red Dragon consumed everything, including sisterhood.
“It has always belonged to the red dragon. A single red dragon, and then the other red dragon.”
The Red Dragon is not a stable person. The Red Dragon is a role, and it passes through bodies. First Eblana. Then Loughshinny. Then back to Necrass, as a failed remainder of Eblana. And at last, back to Tara, trying to decide what the “Red Dragon” even means now.
The doll belongs to a role, but the story returns it to a private bed. The Red Dragon’s legacy was treated as something public: crown, nation, war, rebirth, and sacrifice. But in an emotional reversal, the real legacy is private: a place where the damaged self can finally lie down.
“One dragon discarded it, and one found it a young partner.”
She puts down the newer looking doll right next to the older looking one, making them snuggle together just like a pair of sisters.
“Today, they become a pair, and return to the red dragon’s bed as a legacy.”
“One dragon discarded it” is a little harsh in EN. The CN is closer to “left it behind” or “put it out of mind.” That reads like Eblana leaving behind childhood, softness, rest, and ordinary attachment because survival demanded it. Not because she is some psychopathic draconic Antichrist like some parts of the fandom read her as. Conversely, the other dragon found it a partner. This reads as Loughshinny’s side of the bond, trying to give Eblana’s abandoned things companionship.
However, this is also where the point becomes clear: the dolls only become complete together.
Not as a nation. Not as a dynasty. But as a pair.
Incompletion is one of the core themes of Elegies. The dolls are incomplete apart. The sisters are incomplete apart. Tara is incomplete: surviving, but not living, unrecognized and with Victoria still having political leverage over it. Reed is emotionally incomplete. Necrass is incomplete, kept going by the same Arts she once commanded.
I’d like to point out another theme at play: survival versus living.
Eblana survives by becoming a weapon. Reed survives by hiding as a shadow. Necrass survives death, but cannot live. Tara survives under Victoria’s shadow, but does not fully live as a nation. That is the cruelest part of Tara’s so-called salvation. It was not freedom born cleanly from choice, but survival dragged out of a people placed under threat for generations.
The dolls are different. They do not survive in some grand political sense. They do not win wars. They do not rule. They do not build nations. They simply belong somewhere.
A blanket. A pillow. Two dolls together.
It is the opposite of the battlefield, the throne, the balcony, the warship, and the corpse wandering the land. It is a place of rest. It is home. It is the smallest possible image of a life that was denied to them.
And that is why I personally consider this to be the strongest material we have on Necrass, or at least the least tainted by gacha writing. It understands that beneath all her theater, what remains is not domination, but exhaustion.
The module does not redeem Necrass by making her harmless. It humanizes her by showing what the Red Dragon role buried. The point is not that Eblana was secretly innocent. The point is that before she was a tyrant, a revolutionary, a corpse, or a product, she was a child who was never allowed to stop being useful.
Necrass wants what Eblana never got: to stop, to be put where she belongs, to rest beside her sister, and at long last, to have the legacy reduced back into something human.
As a whole, this module communicates through metaphor that the role of the Red Dragon consumes everything, turning children into political instruments, and that the cost of being in such a role is everything that can be called private.
Overall, how does this module tie to Necrass? She is the broken doll. Not literally 1-to-1 in every detail, but emotionally. She is the damaged, older doll. The one with history in its seams. The one people either reject, misread, or try to consume in a prettier form. She carries the Red Dragon’s legacy as a corpse.
It also shows us the real exhaustion behind her question of “a future without death.” It shows us that Final Embrace is not about her becoming a gentle Grim Reaper. It is about her missing the final embrace. The module tells us of a Necrass that wants to return to a private ending history denied her. A place where she does not have to be a Red Dragon. A place where she can be with her sister again.
The module’s answer to Necrass is not conquest, not redemption, not player-facing appeal, and not “death has been tamed.” Its answer is a simple bed.
The Red Dragon’s unresolved legacy was never only Tara’s crown or revolution. It was the private life the twins were denied. What she wants beneath the armor is not dominion over death, but release from the bloodline, the flame, the role, and the history that refused to let her end.
The dolls returned to bed. Necrass is still waiting for her rest.
I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. This was originally a part of a significantly longer and much broader analysis and critique of the Taran arc as a whole, but if I'm honest, it might be way too much, even for me. When I wrote out the skeleton of the structure, I stopped at 81 points. That's a LOT to talk about. Even if I'd strip it bare to pure narrative critique only, we'd still have to go through 23 points, or elephants (or Gammoth, even mammoth if you'd like them fluffier). At that point we're not addressing the elephant in the room, we're addressing a herd. That's why I split off the module analysis and wrote it separately. More digestible.