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Personal Style
Apparel
Skin
Scene
Measurements
Length
17.98 m
Wingspan
18.11 m
Weight
7566.73 kg
Genetics
Garnet
Speckle
Speckle
Garnet
Freckle
Freckle
Flaxen
Crackle
Crackle
Hatchday
Breed
Eye Type
Level 1 Ridgeback
EXP: 0 / 245
STR
8
AGI
7
DEF
7
QCK
6
INT
5
VIT
7
MND
5
Biography
The dragon feels... ancient. His skin itches and burns with the endless ferocity of a lost love. How long had it been, that he had felt this way? How much longer would he last?
He aches. Inside and out.
Blood drips cruelly down his molten flesh, and for a moment, it forgets why it was here. The dragon shakes himself, letting vile fluid rain down on the earth below. He mustn't forget. No matter how much it pains him.
It pauses for a moment in hesitation before its expression hardens. He lunges for his shoulder, sinking his jagged teeth into the shifting flesh. Bitter essence spouts from the wound. He digs in further, then pulls away with a sickening snap. The flesh begins to reform. It lets out an anguished groan, and returns to its grisly task.
Viscera lies scattered all around him by the time his limb is finally severed. Even then, the muscles weave together in a feeble attempt to fix the stump. He lets out a shaky sigh of relief as they wither, blacken, and lie still.
But it wasn't over yet. That was only a test, after all.
The creature begins dragging itself pitifully to the jagged monument in front of him. His bones creak in protest, but he pulls himself forward with an admirable determination.
This shrine. It was where all of it had begun. And, he hoped, where it would finally meet its end. He crawls into the contraption. It reeks of carrion. His own? Or were there others? No matter.
It's far too small for him, he cannot take full breaths in this space. As a child, he remembers, that had been different. A familiar whirring begins. The enclosure becomes even tighter, and his body begins crushing in on itself. Putrid bile bubbles from his cracked lips. His ripping-tearing-pulsing muscles stretch to accommodate the new force, reforming and melting again and again. The sound is deafening (are those screams his own?). Everything fades to black.
He blinks his eyes open, and he is once again standing in front of the shrine. It frantically scans its body. The torn arm is fully intact, without even a scar to show where his jaws had been. His skin burns.
And that's when it hits him. He couldn't. He couldn't die.
It lets out a gurgling cry, so guttural that it tears open his vocal cords; they only reform to let his scream begin anew. That dreadful howl pierces the air for what could be miles. The vultures that had been circling the area quickly flap away with a frightened squaw.
Tears pour endlessly from his crimson eyes. There is a hissing sound, and steam rises where the liquid touches his exposed flesh.
The pathetic display is only cut off when it collapses again, unconscious. It's for the best. When he awakens, he'll forget this ever happened. This too may be for the best.
He aches. Inside and out.
Blood drips cruelly down his molten flesh, and for a moment, it forgets why it was here. The dragon shakes himself, letting vile fluid rain down on the earth below. He mustn't forget. No matter how much it pains him.
It pauses for a moment in hesitation before its expression hardens. He lunges for his shoulder, sinking his jagged teeth into the shifting flesh. Bitter essence spouts from the wound. He digs in further, then pulls away with a sickening snap. The flesh begins to reform. It lets out an anguished groan, and returns to its grisly task.
Viscera lies scattered all around him by the time his limb is finally severed. Even then, the muscles weave together in a feeble attempt to fix the stump. He lets out a shaky sigh of relief as they wither, blacken, and lie still.
But it wasn't over yet. That was only a test, after all.
The creature begins dragging itself pitifully to the jagged monument in front of him. His bones creak in protest, but he pulls himself forward with an admirable determination.
This shrine. It was where all of it had begun. And, he hoped, where it would finally meet its end. He crawls into the contraption. It reeks of carrion. His own? Or were there others? No matter.
It's far too small for him, he cannot take full breaths in this space. As a child, he remembers, that had been different. A familiar whirring begins. The enclosure becomes even tighter, and his body begins crushing in on itself. Putrid bile bubbles from his cracked lips. His ripping-tearing-pulsing muscles stretch to accommodate the new force, reforming and melting again and again. The sound is deafening (are those screams his own?). Everything fades to black.
He blinks his eyes open, and he is once again standing in front of the shrine. It frantically scans its body. The torn arm is fully intact, without even a scar to show where his jaws had been. His skin burns.
And that's when it hits him. He couldn't. He couldn't die.
It lets out a gurgling cry, so guttural that it tears open his vocal cords; they only reform to let his scream begin anew. That dreadful howl pierces the air for what could be miles. The vultures that had been circling the area quickly flap away with a frightened squaw.
Tears pour endlessly from his crimson eyes. There is a hissing sound, and steam rises where the liquid touches his exposed flesh.
The pathetic display is only cut off when it collapses again, unconscious. It's for the best. When he awakens, he'll forget this ever happened. This too may be for the best.
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.
Feed this dragon Seafood.
This dragon doesn't eat Plants.
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Exalting KIDNEYS to the service of the Gladekeeper 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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