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Personal Style
Apparel
Skin
Scene
Measurements
Length
4.31 m
Wingspan
3.55 m
Weight
288.11 kg
Genetics
Aqua
Jaguar
Jaguar
Rose
Peregrine
Peregrine
Beige
Smoke
Smoke
Hatchday
Breed
Eye Type
Level 25 Tundra
Max Level
STR
133
AGI
8
DEF
5
QCK
40
INT
5
VIT
6
MND
5
Lineage
Parents
- none
Offspring
Biography
slate is... a dragon.
incredibly clinical and aloof, and prone to hour long mumblings in the dead of night on the growth and breeding patterns of an undocumented subspecies of janustrap.
but other than that, slate's not exactly a social butterfly, always more interested in a project of his than anything anybody has to say. and if he does actually speak to you, it’s bound to be something inscrutable to sornieth at large. if you had met him, it wouldn't be for long, and you'd be left wondering if you had simply imagined the entire encounter.
nobody can get into his head, to understand what clicks behind the mask, to get a glimpse of his inner feelings.
and maybe that's a good thing.
slate grew up in the bustling heart of the millmeadows. but he didn’t get along with much of anyone. while the other hatchlings learned to fly, all slate wanted to do was sit in his room and dissect dead animals.
he was a gifted child, of sorts. sore lack of magical ability made up for by technological brilliance. he made an amazing mechanic, sorting out problems and inventing their solutions. he never had a problem, being called upon for help. getting to work with the machinery was enough thanks for him. he was a kind young man, if macabre in his taste.
but everyone knew that something was off with the mayor’s only child. there was just something wrong with him. something in the air that made your scales stand on end when he looked you in the eyes. one shuddered to think of what he was doing cooped up in his lab, behind locked doors. he was creepy. and slate knew what the town all thought of him. it kept him up at night.
he had just wanted to be kind. genuinely. but how could he, when everyone tiptoed around him like he was to butcher them in their sleep? like a ticking time bomb? he knew he was slipping, but he had no one willing to pull him up from that ledge. if anything, they were actively pushing him off.
so what else could he do, but become what everyone thought he already was?
you can't tell slate gustmeadow what to do. and nobody will, ever again.
the reclaimer's glacier was the easiest place to hide, though it is anything but a permanent home. "permanence" is something of a myth these days, especially with those nosy mouthbreathers on his trail. over the years, an assortment of screwups, some of his own creation, have taken to following him around. well, that's what he calls it, if anyone was to ever ask. but really, in the full truth of the matter, there's a real bond that he wont admit to. when all of you are living on the fringes of dragon society, surviving on soylent and scraps, only living space a portable workshop made of rusted metal, when any outsider could land you dead or worse, you have to lean on each other somewhat. he cares. he's incredibly protective, even.
but slate would never let anyone know a word of what i've just said. if he did, the walls would come down, and people would get the wrong idea all over again. it's the only way he can control the situation, to be the disturbing, ominous figure that everyone would think he was anyways.
so maybe it’s a good thing, that nobody can know what goes on in that head of his.
he feels as if it’s just better that way.
Click or tap a food type to individually feed this dragon only. The other dragons in your lair will not have their energy replenished.
This dragon doesn't eat Insects.
This dragon doesn't eat Meat.
This dragon doesn't eat Seafood.
Feed this dragon Plants.
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Exalting Slate to the service of the Icewarden will remove them from your lair forever. They will leave behind a small sum of riches that they have accumulated. This action is irreversible.
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