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Personal Style
Apparel
Skin
Scene
Measurements
Length
3.76 m
Wingspan
3.3 m
Weight
811.12 kg
Genetics
Caramel
Skink
Skink
Caramel
Spinner
Spinner
Buttercup
Glimmer
Glimmer
Hatchday
Breed
Eye Type
Level 1 Skydancer
EXP: 0 / 245
STR
4
AGI
5
DEF
4
QCK
9
INT
9
VIT
4
MND
9
Biography
 Workaholic | Brilliant | Anxious
Relationships   
Items 
Send a male baby to Sergeant as a gift - because they're awesome! |
Dellin
Alchemist
Translator Freshly Brewed A brilliant scientist and alchemist, the coatl was brought into the clan as Baldwin’s pupils grew in number and exploits. The need for a dedicated alchemist to research and work for the clan led the queen to recruit the newly trained Dellin into the clan’s ranks. Young and not altogether sure about her new duties, Dellin’s first years with the clan were spent in a constant flurry of activity as she tried to catch up to the knowledge being shared by scholars around Sornieth. Though her experiments often met mixed results, her unwavering focus slowly earned both the respect of her peers as well as the knowledge to finally be considered a master alchemist by their standards. Whenever she wasn’t actively researching her next project, Dellin worked as a translator from her native tongue to common draconic. With the discovery of bogsneaks as a viable breed that could be obtained via alchemy, Dellin’s final test was to somehow bring one such creature to life. After countless attempts, she managed to obtain one viable egg, and to this day the odd creature serves as her companion and assistant, rarely leaving her side. Alone Although her career as a brilliant alchemist was successful, the coatl’s arranged pairing to the clan’s beastclan ambassador wasn’t as lucky. Raised by beastclan centaurs, Gypsum had little interest or time for a mate – and failed to see the appeal of Dellin’s breed, especially with the language barrier between the two. Both were outsiders in a way, and try as she might the female couldn’t seem to connect to the mate that seemed to loath her. With the arrival of Agate into the clan’s midst, Dellin was quickly put aside in favor of a more diplomatic mating arrangement for Gypsum. For a long time, the coatl was content to throw herself at her work, alone day and night save for her assistant. Brewer Dellin had her priorities straight. She focused on her research, she did amazing work and made sure that the clan was one of the most advanced. Whenever new discoveries were made, she’d be hot on their heels, pouring sleepless nights into careful crafting her latest experiments. She was happy. When the queen demanded that she take part in a second arranged mating, the coatl couldn’t understand where she had gone wrong to be punished like that. Her work was reliable and well done; she obeyed her queen’s orders and made sure that neither she nor her bogsneak companion created any ripples within the clan. Being forced into another mating was more humiliating than she could bear – and as far as she knew, few dragons had ever had to mate again. Those who did often ended up exiled or thrown to the Icewarden’s mercy shortly after. Liber was different. In a lot of ways, he was different in all the same ways as her, so it wasn’t so bad. The brewer had started his life as a snapper, and pushed harder than anyone else to learn his trade despite the handicap of being a clumsier breed than most. Even after being bestowed the magic scrolls to change his body into that of a skydancer, he kept mostly to himself. Unlike Gypsum he didn’t go out of his way to seek her out and be cruel – more often than not entire moons would pass before Dellin saw him, and she was quite sure that her assistant spent more time with her so-called mate than she ever did – and he gave her space to work. Being respected for what she did felt like a novelty, and still being free to make her own decisions almost made her scared that at any moment he’d notice her and realize that he could do as he pleased on his new authority over her. But he never did. Reborn It took a long time for Dellin to get comfortable around Liber, and around other dragons. When she did, the brilliant alchemist decided that it was finally time to be selfish for once. Using her skills (and a decent amount of the clan’s treasure), she crafted the spells and concoctions needed to start fresh. There might be many coatls within the clan, but the language and cultural barrier always drove them to stick together, preferring the familiarity of their own kind to the puzzlement of other breeds that saw them as foreign. Forced to dealing mostly with skydancers and imperials, Dellin would rather be a skydancer with an exotic accent rather than the often amusingly awkward coatl they saw. The scroll made her into a skydancer, but it was the genes gracing her body that Dellin was most proud of; she had brewed both herself, and they were her best work. Gone was the awkward coatl female that hid in her lab, and in her place was a skydancer that inspired the respect she had always been due. 
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Dellin's Diary (Salvaged Pages) wrote:
Day 247
It has been many moons since the queen issued her orders. I’ve since taken to writing in my native tongue, afraid that my clanmates might happen upon my findings in common draconic and what my fate might be. Regardless of any royal sanction, I’m on my own.
After Baldwin discovered a mysterious concoction capable of creating a new breed, the clan council deliberated for days and nights on what to do. Religious dragons abhorred the idea of godless creatures among us. Scientists were more welcoming, but hardly kinder – they sought live specimens to experiment on, arguing the new creatures to be but common beasts. To keep the peace, the queen ruled that no Bogsneaks should be allowed within the clan. Without a single representative ever being heard, an entire race was banished from our territory.
However, many clans have already started taking in those strange creatures into their midst. Strong, if a bit dull, they have been employed as hired muscle, beasts of burden and mercenaries throughout the land. The queen wondered if maybe one could be of use to the clan. Not a common dragon to be changed – the painful transition would surely be objected to, and to buy a young one for the purpose of experiments would be met with riots from the clan.
In order to get her guard, the queen wanted a bogsneak to be born.
That’s where I came in.
That’s where I lie awake at night worrying if I can accomplish such feat.
Day 298
Something went wrong.
I was sure that the latest batch of eggs was stable enough. I keep going over my calculations, and yet something invariably went wrong. Maybe the shortage in electricity was not enough to spark the life within. Maybe I’ll have to steal more from the engineers’ den next time.
The results of my latest experiment are two deformed creatures. The don’t seem to be as sentient as dragonkind, and are unable to communicate in common draconic. What I assumed to be fluid from their eggs keeps seeping from their skins, and they drip ominously wherever they go.
I have told the queen that both were terminated before the eggs could hatch.
Both slargs are now confined to my laboratory, where no one will happen upon them.
Day 317
I’m running out of time.
Gypsum has been going through my notes at night. I haven’t seen him in months, but I’m sure that he must know what’s going on. The slargs provide no input. I’m alone.
The latest batch contains 3 eggs. The scavenger, Thorne, has asked no questions as to why I need them. I have asked none as to where they came from. Regardless, that is my last chance.
Day 318
I have gone over my calculations and the formula as many times as I could since I started. But for minor modifications, I’m confident that this time I shall succeed.
I have also applied each variation to a different egg. I have little hope that all 3 might work
Day 350
It has been almost a full year since I began my endeavor. Talk has died down from when the new dragons have first been discovered. Isolated within this mountain, the clan seems to have forgotten they ever were.
The slargs are behaving erratically around the eggs. One in particular seems to have caught their attention, and they’ll often growl at it. I expect that one to be the first to fail.
Gypsum has yet to come back.
Rumors of my replacement have begun to circulate the clan. I hope that my success might convince the council and the queen that it’s in their best interest to keep me. I know not whether I truly want to stay or not, but I dread what might happen to me should I fail.
Day 361
The first two eggs have failed.
This time no slargs were produced, much to my relief. Surprisingly, the strange egg seems to be still mutating, the scales getting thicker and changing shape. I document the changes every day and pray.
Day 363
I have caught the slargs in an attempt to destroy the egg. Both creatures were atypically upset, and could not be subdued. They shall be kept caged for their own safety until this experiment is through.
For all our sakes I hope it’s soon.
Day 400
The egg has started to crack. What I first thought were cracks due to the lack of humidity (I long ago learned to keep the eggs moist to avoid drying and rotting) have spread across the surface. I expect the bogsneak to hatch soon.
The slargs have begun to utter high pitched screaming sounds. I sedated them before they hurt themselves. I know not what is happening. I do not wish to find out.
Day 400 – Midnight
It’s alive
The creature that emerged from the egg is horribly wrong. The colors don’t resemble at all those that I concocted. The eyes are mismatched to one born to the ice realm.
Like the slargs, it seems incapable of speech, communicating in gurgles and growls. It’s ambulatory, but moves sluggishly. I’m unsure if it’ll survive the night.
The queen has sent word that she wishes to see me.
She wishes to hear the news of my latest experiment. She wishes to know that I succeeded.
May the gods help us all; I think I did.
It has been many moons since the queen issued her orders. I’ve since taken to writing in my native tongue, afraid that my clanmates might happen upon my findings in common draconic and what my fate might be. Regardless of any royal sanction, I’m on my own.
After Baldwin discovered a mysterious concoction capable of creating a new breed, the clan council deliberated for days and nights on what to do. Religious dragons abhorred the idea of godless creatures among us. Scientists were more welcoming, but hardly kinder – they sought live specimens to experiment on, arguing the new creatures to be but common beasts. To keep the peace, the queen ruled that no Bogsneaks should be allowed within the clan. Without a single representative ever being heard, an entire race was banished from our territory.
However, many clans have already started taking in those strange creatures into their midst. Strong, if a bit dull, they have been employed as hired muscle, beasts of burden and mercenaries throughout the land. The queen wondered if maybe one could be of use to the clan. Not a common dragon to be changed – the painful transition would surely be objected to, and to buy a young one for the purpose of experiments would be met with riots from the clan.
In order to get her guard, the queen wanted a bogsneak to be born.
That’s where I came in.
That’s where I lie awake at night worrying if I can accomplish such feat.
Day 298
Something went wrong.
I was sure that the latest batch of eggs was stable enough. I keep going over my calculations, and yet something invariably went wrong. Maybe the shortage in electricity was not enough to spark the life within. Maybe I’ll have to steal more from the engineers’ den next time.
The results of my latest experiment are two deformed creatures. The don’t seem to be as sentient as dragonkind, and are unable to communicate in common draconic. What I assumed to be fluid from their eggs keeps seeping from their skins, and they drip ominously wherever they go.
I have told the queen that both were terminated before the eggs could hatch.
Both slargs are now confined to my laboratory, where no one will happen upon them.
Day 317
I’m running out of time.
Gypsum has been going through my notes at night. I haven’t seen him in months, but I’m sure that he must know what’s going on. The slargs provide no input. I’m alone.
The latest batch contains 3 eggs. The scavenger, Thorne, has asked no questions as to why I need them. I have asked none as to where they came from. Regardless, that is my last chance.
Day 318
I have gone over my calculations and the formula as many times as I could since I started. But for minor modifications, I’m confident that this time I shall succeed.
I have also applied each variation to a different egg. I have little hope that all 3 might work
Day 350
It has been almost a full year since I began my endeavor. Talk has died down from when the new dragons have first been discovered. Isolated within this mountain, the clan seems to have forgotten they ever were.
The slargs are behaving erratically around the eggs. One in particular seems to have caught their attention, and they’ll often growl at it. I expect that one to be the first to fail.
Gypsum has yet to come back.
Rumors of my replacement have begun to circulate the clan. I hope that my success might convince the council and the queen that it’s in their best interest to keep me. I know not whether I truly want to stay or not, but I dread what might happen to me should I fail.
Day 361
The first two eggs have failed.
This time no slargs were produced, much to my relief. Surprisingly, the strange egg seems to be still mutating, the scales getting thicker and changing shape. I document the changes every day and pray.
Day 363
I have caught the slargs in an attempt to destroy the egg. Both creatures were atypically upset, and could not be subdued. They shall be kept caged for their own safety until this experiment is through.
For all our sakes I hope it’s soon.
Day 400
The egg has started to crack. What I first thought were cracks due to the lack of humidity (I long ago learned to keep the eggs moist to avoid drying and rotting) have spread across the surface. I expect the bogsneak to hatch soon.
The slargs have begun to utter high pitched screaming sounds. I sedated them before they hurt themselves. I know not what is happening. I do not wish to find out.
Day 400 – Midnight
It’s alive
The creature that emerged from the egg is horribly wrong. The colors don’t resemble at all those that I concocted. The eyes are mismatched to one born to the ice realm.
Like the slargs, it seems incapable of speech, communicating in gurgles and growls. It’s ambulatory, but moves sluggishly. I’m unsure if it’ll survive the night.
The queen has sent word that she wishes to see me.
She wishes to hear the news of my latest experiment. She wishes to know that I succeeded.
May the gods help us all; I think I did.
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