Mullwine
(#62838035)
Level 1 Gaoler
Spiced
Bloodstone Beetle
Click or tap to view this dragon in Predict Morphology.
Energy: 50/50
This dragon’s natural inborn element is Plague.
Female Gaoler
This dragon is benefiting from the effects of eternal youth.
This dragon is an ancient breed.
This dragon is hibernating.
Expand the dragon details section.
Collapse the dragon details section.
Personal Style
Ancient dragons cannot wear apparel.
Scene
Measurements
Length
2.54 m
Wingspan
0.29 m
Weight
104.19 kg
Genetics
Maroon
Phantom (Gaoler)
Phantom (Gaoler)
Blood
Striation (Gaoler)
Striation (Gaoler)
Blood
Runes (Gaoler)
Runes (Gaoler)
Hatchday
Breed
Eye Type
Level 1 Gaoler
EXP: 0 / 245
STR
7
AGI
5
DEF
7
QCK
5
INT
5
VIT
9
MND
7
Biography
╭━━━━━━━━╮
    ╰━━━━━━━━╯ |
x |
MULLWINE
Spiced Apple Cider Warm | Inviting | Aromatic
╭━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━╮
"Kindness is the language which the deaf can hear and the blind can see." ~Mark Twain ╰━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━╯ The portion of the bakery headed by the Gaolers is warm and dimly lit, the soft pulsing of lanterns decorating the walls. This corner is secluded, yet cozy and quiet, less boisterous than the Coatl's half, yet a source of good feelings and warmth all the same. The counter is lined intricate patterns of various tantalizing desserts, which glimmer in the low light as a friendly looking Gaoler approaches, her aura almost motherly, making you want to stay here forever, just lounging in the soft chairs and chatting quietly among your friends. Her voice is a soft croon, a complimentary contrast to the humming chirps of the Coatls, as she asks you kindly, "Now, what can I get for you, little one?" Your eyes twinkle as your gaze lands on your chosen dessert, your mouth watering as the sweet, thick scent drifts towards you. You tell her what you wish to order, joy building in your heart. She smiles widely. "A wise choice, and a personal favorite of mine." With a cheerful laugh, she darts off to retrieve the freshly made dessert, returning with an aromatic platter of Spiced Apple Cider beautifully shaped into the visage of a fluffy, wide-eyed baby Gaoler. Lore by PrinceBirb08 Bio Code by Maevepanda | x |
The Witch Baby
Warmth fills the air in the cottage, the sort of warmth that comes from a smoking fire on a winter eve, or a kettle of cosy hot chocolate. Tendrils of haze flow lazily, like tired fingers, through the dimly lit rooms. The light comes from small lamps perched on the old wooden banisters, windowsills, fireplace mantles, and the occasional lit fireplace in the main rooms. Outside are the cold, damp woods and the darkness of the night; this cottage provides welcome respite for poor travellers and other wandering souls.
It's an old leather armchair that catches your attention as you wander into what is probably the lounge. This room is one of the rooms with a blazing fire, the flames warming your cold, aching bones, and beckoning you into the soft fabric of the chair. You oblige, sinking into the leather which, though old and cracked, is soft and soothing. Closing your eyes, you breathe deeply and sense the sweet, gentle aroma of spice mingled with the smoke from the fire. Looking down at the blaze, you see little bundles of dried oranges and cinnamon, maybe even a few pieces of nutmeg, or some thyme leaves, all strewn across the fireplace. They're steadily burning, releasing their calming scents which immediately relax you.
You don't notice that you've fallen asleep until you wake again. It's still dark outside, but the fire burns more slowly and an orange light has begun to seep into the forest behind the window. As you become more aware of your surroundings, you notice a steaming mug set on the table beside your chair. A whiff of fruit and spice comes your way, this time from the mug, and you realise that it's mulled wine.
The thought that there might be someone else in the cottage strikes you for the first time, and just as it does, your eyes are drawn to the far corner of the room. A chair just like your own, deep purplish red with brown seams, is set in shadow, and upon it is a young gaoler hatchling. She's a darker shade than the chair, the colour of mulled wine, and she's stirring a half cauldron half teapot whilst watching you with interest.
A smile creases her kindly face, and instead of feeling worried, you feel strangely calm and relaxed. You smile back as a small beetle scurries up to the rim of the pot and drops a bundle of glowing red moss into the brew. The gaoler's attention turns to it, and she leans forward to pick up the beetle and let it crawl onto her shoulder, where it snuggles into her fur. Thinking of your own beloved friend, the beetle's role becomes obvious; a familiar.
"Have a drink." The gaoler tells you gently, her voice innocently gentle and young. "I brewed it freshly this morning."
You reach out to the mug and clasp it tight in your talons, your palms tingling from its warmth. A sip of the liquid and flavour bursts across your tongue, sliding down your throat and warming your heart. It's as though no drink has ever tasted so good before, and you gulp the rest down greedily, only stopping to feel a brief moment of regret once it's all gone.
~ Lore by Fennecfox21
Like the lore? Click here for my Lore Shop!
Warmth fills the air in the cottage, the sort of warmth that comes from a smoking fire on a winter eve, or a kettle of cosy hot chocolate. Tendrils of haze flow lazily, like tired fingers, through the dimly lit rooms. The light comes from small lamps perched on the old wooden banisters, windowsills, fireplace mantles, and the occasional lit fireplace in the main rooms. Outside are the cold, damp woods and the darkness of the night; this cottage provides welcome respite for poor travellers and other wandering souls.
It's an old leather armchair that catches your attention as you wander into what is probably the lounge. This room is one of the rooms with a blazing fire, the flames warming your cold, aching bones, and beckoning you into the soft fabric of the chair. You oblige, sinking into the leather which, though old and cracked, is soft and soothing. Closing your eyes, you breathe deeply and sense the sweet, gentle aroma of spice mingled with the smoke from the fire. Looking down at the blaze, you see little bundles of dried oranges and cinnamon, maybe even a few pieces of nutmeg, or some thyme leaves, all strewn across the fireplace. They're steadily burning, releasing their calming scents which immediately relax you.
You don't notice that you've fallen asleep until you wake again. It's still dark outside, but the fire burns more slowly and an orange light has begun to seep into the forest behind the window. As you become more aware of your surroundings, you notice a steaming mug set on the table beside your chair. A whiff of fruit and spice comes your way, this time from the mug, and you realise that it's mulled wine.
The thought that there might be someone else in the cottage strikes you for the first time, and just as it does, your eyes are drawn to the far corner of the room. A chair just like your own, deep purplish red with brown seams, is set in shadow, and upon it is a young gaoler hatchling. She's a darker shade than the chair, the colour of mulled wine, and she's stirring a half cauldron half teapot whilst watching you with interest.
A smile creases her kindly face, and instead of feeling worried, you feel strangely calm and relaxed. You smile back as a small beetle scurries up to the rim of the pot and drops a bundle of glowing red moss into the brew. The gaoler's attention turns to it, and she leans forward to pick up the beetle and let it crawl onto her shoulder, where it snuggles into her fur. Thinking of your own beloved friend, the beetle's role becomes obvious; a familiar.
"Have a drink." The gaoler tells you gently, her voice innocently gentle and young. "I brewed it freshly this morning."
You reach out to the mug and clasp it tight in your talons, your palms tingling from its warmth. A sip of the liquid and flavour bursts across your tongue, sliding down your throat and warming your heart. It's as though no drink has ever tasted so good before, and you gulp the rest down greedily, only stopping to feel a brief moment of regret once it's all gone.
~ Lore by Fennecfox21
Like the lore? Click here for my Lore Shop!
Mullwine was born in the Milky Tea Patisserie
Mullwine is a proud member of the Everlasting Autumn Flight!
Mullwine is a proud member of the Everlasting Autumn Flight!
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.
Feed this dragon Meat.
This dragon doesn't eat Seafood.
Feed this dragon Plants.
You can share this dragon on the forums by either copying the browser URL manually, or using bbcode!
Exalting Mullwine to the service of the Lightweaver will remove them from your lair forever. They will leave behind a small sum of riches that they have accumulated. This action is irreversible.
Do you wish to continue?
- Names must be longer than 2 characters.
- Names must be no longer than 16 characters.
- Names can only contain letters.
- Names must be no longer than 16 characters.
- Names can only contain letters.