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Personal Style
Ancient dragons cannot wear apparel.
Skin
Scene
Measurements
Length
12.64 m
Wingspan
6.14 m
Weight
6007.68 kg
Genetics
Tarnish
Phantom (Gaoler)
Phantom (Gaoler)
Soil
Peregrine (Gaoler)
Peregrine (Gaoler)
Latte
Stained (Gaoler)
Stained (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
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N A M E
━━━━━❋━━━━━
Out with you.
Gender: ? Age: xxxx Occupation: ? Hometown: ? As the c̴̢͐r̸͍̓o̵͇̿w̸̹̍s̸̪̀ ̷͓̏f̸̼̆e̷̼̍a̸̺͘s̸͖͝t̵̻͋ o̴̠̱̞̓̿̒͘n̷̡̦̣̝̊̅͑̈́͜ ̵̝̊͊͝I̶̤̱̟̟̦͛͘t̸̬̓s̴̛͖̮̗̣̏̇͛̅ ̶͙͙̍͌͛r̵̺̎͆ȏ̶̢͙̝̯̼̌̏͌̐ţ̷̖̰͑̍̊͠͝ţ̶̤̗͚͑̃͒̊͝ͅi̷̢̘̫͎̥̾̈͛͊͆n̷̠̹͖̪̞̓̌̑͝ģ̴͇͇̘͑͗͗̑̋ͅ f̴̢̭̺͎͚̙̼̯̖͉̯͙͉̘͉̥̗̈́̔́̀̈́͑̉̀̑͑̈́̚̕͠͠ͅĺ̸̜̞̮̜̥̱̩̯̗̮̣̜̭͕̪̮͛̓̍̚ͅẹ̵̞̙͉͚̤̍̌͌̆͌̉͗͆̋́š̸̛̛̥̤̦̓́͂̿̽̊̒́͑̓̚h̵̨̢̡̛̛̪̻̣̬̺̟̜̬͓̼͉̪̙̜͗͋͒̋͌̈́̀̊̿͂̓̏͗̉̚͝... We carry death out of the village! We carry death out of the village! We carry death out of the village! |
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S T O R Y
Lo̵͖͈̻͊͑͒r̶͈͙̟͘͝e̶̜̮͚͊̍͝m̶̻͇̬̅͋̕ ̴̭̓̌í̷̜͗̑p̸̯̤̤̂̒s̸͙͌͘ű̴͚m̶̞̉̕ ̷̪̺̥̓͝d̴̺̝̣͐̄͝ò̸͙̽l̵̥̖̤͂́̀o̷̡̙̾r̶̘͎͗͌͆ ̶̲̩̯͗͋͘s̴̝͉͋͗i̶͈͚̙͋̓͘t̵̻͚̋̔͝ ̵̲̻͌̍a̶̤͊̆͝m̸̘͒e̶̩͛̿̚t̵̹̲̟̋,̶̱͈̽ ̵͕̐̑͗c̶͖͎̈o̸͍̹͒ņ̸̤̏̕s̸̢͖̗̀e̵͖̬̋̚c̴̡̮̀ṱ̷̺̉͜e̵͔̰̿͒̎t̸̼͊ǘ̶̦̉̅r̴̞̰͇̒ ̸̖͎̞̊̈́a̸̭͗̔͂d̵͈̗̙̋i̵̛͓̗͊̉p̵̻̗̈́̓͘i̷̮̻̟͂͠s̸̱͍̽͑͛c̸̖͕̃̋į̷̲͑͂̾n̷̛̳̄g̶̮̳̐̔́ ̸̡͎̹̿̄̈́è̴̡̹́͝l̴͈͔͌î̸̪̰͕t̸͇͖̉̄̀.̴̳̝͌́ ̷͚̹͕̇̅̒M̴̺̏̎͠o̶̪̬̻̽̕r̴͓̯̓̈́͜͠b̷̧͇͘î̵̪͑̑ ̵̭̬̦̾í̸͍̩̋̋d̷̨̪̑ ̷̫̿̒c̵̺̍̑͌o̸̞͉̺͌ḿ̴̭͓̊m̸̹̣͂̋ò̶̲͉͐d̷̢͍̤̄͝o̴͕̱͊ ̵͙̍ṷ̵̍́ŗ̵̓̑n̶͇̲̐a̴̪̭̼̍̽.̸͇̝̋̒͝ ̴̮̙͂͛S̴̯͆̓͠ư̸͍͔̈s̷̫̈́͗͝p̶̗̥̉͑e̴̼̾͂ǹ̷͓̃̚d̵̼̊ì̷͕ŝ̶͕̽ͅs̸̗̱̳̊̋e̶̡̩̅̕ ̸̛̬̰̗f̷̭̅̈͘a̸͈͙̱͐̈͝c̶̞̮͑̓į̷̰̫̀l̵̙̦̈̂̒i̵̛̹̔̌s̸͎̖̈ȉ̸̠̩̟̐͐s̵̺̬̰̉͠ ̶̖̠̳̀͠t̷͓̤̓i̴͇̱͋̊n̶͇̲̹̍̅c̶̠̤͎͘͝ĩ̵̺̞̳d̷̞̠̓́ṵ̷̦̾̑͝n̸̮͊t̶̼̄ ̷͙͉̎͘b̶̓̈͜ǐ̶̛̺͕͆͜b̷̯̩̙́̇ė̷̦̪̇ń̵͙̥̣̊d̵̥͊͑̍u̷̬͖̳͐m̴̛͔̑͂.̴͓͊̔ ̶̣̓A̴̘͙̻̍l̷̩̝͕̈́̎i̶̳͖͘q̷̛͔u̷̙͋͝a̷̬̋m̷̠̙̽ ̷͇̝̩̀͗̐b̶̠̞̿͊̂l̵̙̮̒a̵͖͌̓̕ń̵̜̫d̴̗̫̈́̋ḭ̵̓͝͝t̶͍̩̀ ̷̦͗͂e̷̡̛̫̿́x̴͍̳͖̏͘ ̵̰̻͕̿v̵̢̱̜̐̔͆e̸̙̘͑̚͠l̷̫̔̈̈́ĭ̶͕̺͊́t̸̥̜̦͗͝,̴̗̏ ̴̭̉͌t̷̨̥̣̔e̸̝̊m̶̄̉ͅp̶̖̔̚͝ͅú̴̠̂̉s̶̨̛̗̹͐ ̸̢̲̫̓́͊ḅ̶̛̣ị̷̛̖̔b̸̖̟̅̂͊ë̴͙̒̊͜n̶͉̱̈́̒d̶̳̒̀u̶͓͆ṃ̷͊̅̃ ̸̮̅q̷̫͚̐̆̍u̸̇̔̔ͅâ̵͈̘͒̏m̶̜̝̜̆ ̴̘̳̿ą̷̛͓̑l̷̡̙̫̈̐i̸͍̮̾̈́͝q̵̡̦̙̄͒͂u̷͇͔̜͆ȩ̵̝̭̈͑t̴̡͉̔̀̚ ̷̡̨̫̚ã̸̖c̵͇͂.̸͈̕ ̴̡͉͓̒̄V̶̻͛̓̅e̴̢͌̎͝ș̴̻̩̾͌͝ẗ̶͙̱̘́̆͝i̶̛̻͊b̸͎͍̰̔u̵̱̫̪͠l̸̩̗̱̆̀ų̸̞̋͘m̵̡͚̒͂ ̷̼̲̭̋s̵̰̙͇͛̈́a̶͇̎̑̔g̷͇̼͆͛͜ȋ̴̼̌͝t̵̳͐̎t̸̯͖̙̄̒͗ì̴͚̌̆s̴̨̮̆͋̈́ ̶͙̗̰̄l̷̫̮̤̎̃͂o̵͂̃͜͝b̴̧̛͎̿̓ỏ̵̮̯̹r̸̲͔̐t̵̲̊ǐ̸̈́̌ͅṡ̴̢͖̍ ̵̳̑͌͆l̷̰̼̈͝e̴̤̅̋̒c̶̠̯̋̀͝t̵̓̆͜ͅu̵͉̥̒͠s̶̫̄͛̕͜ ̶̺̐̊̍v̸̬̬͛̚e̷̩̾͛l̴̢̓͗̌ ̵͛̑͜l̵͓̻̥̅͂͝o̷̻̮̅b̷̳̿̊o̶͖̫͖̍̏́r̵̠͍̦̕t̸̙̏i̵̖͛s̸̬̣̃.̵͎̯͘ ̶̥̮̿̿̕Ṗ̵͉͈r̸̩̎̚ọ̷̪͋̍͝ǐ̸̢̦̣n̵͙͌ ̴̞̦̂ġ̷̯̹̮r̸͍͔͌̾á̷̪̰v̵̻̿̑ḭ̵̟̀͊͝d̵͕̅̀a̶̞̓̀̕,̴͕̺̀̅ ̴̤̓͒ă̶̢͖ŕ̴̨̙̰̅c̷̠͝ù̵̘͚́ ̶͚̩̻͆̂̕é̴̬̲̚t̵̗̄̂̉ ̸̻̠̄͑͆v̷̟̟̱̾͒́é̷̼̭̈̚ṇ̷͕̩͠e̴̹̞͇̒͂͝n̵͔̠̅ͅą̴̓̓t̸͕̱̔̓̊͜ì̷̺͊͠s̸̲̫̚ ̸̹̍̀̏f̶̨̺̞̔͊͠ḁ̵̭͓̊̀̑c̶̖͚͜͝i̶̧͔̇͋̍l̶͕͝i̶̛̜̇s̴͖͔̈́ǐ̴͓̪̚͝s̴̖̯̦͐̈́́,̵̢̄̂ ̸̩̋ḑ̴̰̩̈̉ǘ̵̗͕̅i̴͕͒͑͒ ̸̥̑m̷̞̗̠̉̍̕a̴͕̘̅̑g̸̡̻̳͒̊̽n̵̝͒̔̃a̶̖̅ ̸̩̫̈́b̸̥̈́͠l̷̡̗̅̈́͘a̵̛̬̽n̷͖̞̗̚d̵͇̤͘ͅì̸͚t̵̮̃̉ ̵̯̫͙̄̐ň̵̤ì̸̯̫̝š̷̖į̸̬̗̿,̸̮̯͑̆ ̷̢̳͚̌͝n̷̜͓̓̀͠e̴̘̞͠c̷̤̩̬͊ ̵͎̈̆f̴͉̀ị̶̛̆ń̵̡̬ͅi̵̺̻̓͊͋b̶͚̜͔̂ú̵͎s̵͈̼̤̿ ̸͉̩͝q̶̜̾͆ư̸̡͓̓̂͜a̵̙͉͑m̴̢͇͊́ ̴̱͋͠͝n̵̺͑͐i̴̝̹̞͗͘̕s̶̝̦̾̊ḷ̴͐̑̌ ̷̰̔ş̸̓̅į̸̜͌t̷̻̬̀͘ ̸̜̋a̸̛͍ͅm̶͕̙̓͘̚ḙ̶̢̀̌ṯ̶̽͑ ̸̫̝̎̓͐e̴̞̟̅͗͝ͅn̸̝̿i̶̼̝͛m̶͇͖͑̌.̶̨͖̐̌ ̷̛̰̤̎̈N̵̤̉u̷̹̹͔͆ḷ̶͔̻̉l̸̲͉͖̄̈a̴̲͒m̷͆̈́ͅ ̸̙̄̈́ȋ̵̲͖̊͜d̸̺͒ ̸͙̬̇͑͝p̷̧̼̮̉͒h̶̯̜̓̽͠å̷̹̙͑ŕ̴̠̠ȩ̶͠t̷̟̺́̈́r̶̫̄a̵̹̞̋̏̀ ̶̗̤͖͐͑ơ̴̞̯̏̄ḍ̷͂̽i̴̞̒͜͝õ̸̖̱.̷̨̘̉̀̒ ̵͍́L̶̒ͅõ̶̼̙̟r̶̜͛ẻ̵̳̬͖m̶̦̈́ ̴̧̩̼̉̂̈i̶̙̤̕p̵̗̩̈́̋s̵͔̞̠̾̇ủ̸͎̖̒̕m̴̽͜ ̸͕̌͗͒d̶̛͖̞̫ö̸̼̳́͋l̷͍̟̠͋ö̴͚́͗͛ͅr̵̙̃͐̚ ̴̙͈͛͘ś̷͉̫̞̈́̚i̶̡̱̍͂̋t̴͕̜͔͘ ̶̬̂͐ǎ̷̢̱̀m̸̳͇͛̍è̶̺͈̀̽ṭ̵̼̜͝,̸̲̘̊͠ ̷̡̼͐͊c̵̳̼͋͌̅o̶̩͍͗͘n̵̗͑̈ͅs̶̜̟̝̉́͝ë̶̪͖̓͝č̵̪̠̉̏t̵̳̄ë̸̯̟́͗̚t̶̩͘̚͝u̸̩̒r̸̙̖̔ ̷͇̽á̵̺̌d̶̦̏̄ͅi̸͘ͅp̷̪͈̂i̶͙̤̐̈́ŝ̸̩̗͉̍c̴̰̰̿i̷̬͎̍ǹ̷̢̯̠̈́̍g̶͉̖̊ ̵͈̐e̴̛̝̒͘͜l̷̦̣͈͐í̴̮t̷̺͈̿.̷͕̟̯̒͝ ̸̧͖͙̑͛M̸̬͇̲̈̔̐o̴̫̠͙̐r̵̹͚̓͊b̶͚̩͕̽́i̸̺͍̘͌̈ ̸̢́͗i̵̙̲̽̀͛d̷̡̋͑ ̶̭̓̚c̷̙͆̇ǒ̶̡̰̝̐̚m̸̹͠m̷̉ͅo̴͇̥̊d̵̗̾̑o̵͙͈̻̊̎ ̸̹͒̈u̸̝̹̞͂̚ŕ̷̺͚n̶̘̲̾̿̊a̷͚̿̂̾.̶̡͖͉̓ ̸̩̱̤̓̕S̵̖̙͂u̴͍͂s̶͚̗̚͝p̸̗̦̆ḛ̴̟̀͝n̶͙̞̐̋d̸̮̜̓̕͝i̷͕͊̈s̸̭̩̉̓s̷͔̤̪̓e̸̹͖̲͝ ̴̮͐̕f̷̌͂̉͜a̶̛̜̩̦̐̌c̶̛͚i̶̗͂͛͝l̸̻̬͖̿͌i̵̧̦͎̓̓̕s̴̪̋͌̓ǐ̶̙̲ŝ̶̮̬̮̇ ̴̙̝̺̋̅̃t̶͎͉͐͆i̸̱̱͑n̵͖̟͌c̸͍̼̞̕̕͝i̶̿̕͜d̴̜̑̂͠u̶͇̦͑n̷̬͌̃͋ṯ̸̘̹̌ ̴̺̒b̸̧̯̌̀͛ͅȉ̸̛̲͚̕b̸̞̉̒̐e̵̩̖͎͒̈́ǹ̶̥d̵̫̽̐ụ̷͒͆m̵̜̽.̷̙͗̽͘ ̷͚̅͠A̶̙̖͛ͅl̸͔͇̟͑͌͝i̷͓̺͊̅q̷̺͎͖̇̆ȕ̶͙̔̿a̶͇͚̯͒̅m̷̛̬̐̕ ̸̫̚b̷͍̈́͝͠ľ̷̮̕ą̵̠͋n̴͇̤̙̅d̶̟̎í̶̬̝t̴̤̳̾̈́ ̷̟̓è̶̙́x̴̨̔̎͋͜ ̷̡̨̈́̎ͅv̶̡͠é̸͈̓̒ľ̷̨̞͖i̷̡̛͖̒t̵̝̽,̸̪́̕͠ ̷̠̗̬̉̉t̴͎̂͛̏ẹ̸̃̚m̶̧͐̃p̶͍͉̎̇u̸̥͝s̷̛̝̓ ̸̧̲͇̎b̵̧̼͎̀́̒i̴̖͔͎͗b̵̧͉̻̃ȩ̷̞̦̀̇͘n̶̦̫̦̈́̃d̸͉̜͙̄ù̴͎m̴̫̭̤̆ ̵̯̬̠͆̄q̸̯̔͒͘u̶̮̮̿͑͝ą̶̺̐͝m̷̛͙͓͕̍̆ ̶͔͇̘͝a̵̮͇̦͋l̴̙̐ì̷̝̯̬̿q̷̛͔̦̈́͂ų̵̾̋̏e̵̟͎͂t̷̨͖̞̿͆ ̴̢͚̠͆̒ä̴̱́̋c̴̜͙̍̈́.̶͈̠́̽ ̸̧́̐V̵̗͑̕̕ę̷͉̽͋s̷͇̹̺̀̓̀t̶̖̐̉ỉ̵̻͓b̸̙͇̠̈̔͊ǔ̸̡̺̫̕l̶͎̗̭͋u̵̧͉͆͛m̵̢͓̱͑̃ ̷̘̇̓͘s̴͔̒̀a̸̻͙͋̅̓g̸͔̀͐ỉ̴͓̻̃t̸̺͇̏͆t̶̬̹̼̀̈̐ḯ̶͇ͅs̶͛͌̅ͅ ̸̛̟͙̈́l̸̯̍̔̚o̶͈̱͔͗͑b̵̹̦̋̑ô̴̰r̶͎̊ẗ̸̼̫̜́i̶͉̳̿̈́̉s̸̱̻̪̈́̏ ̵̡̙̈́̾ͅĺ̶̫͛̏e̶͙̮̹͑̈͂ċ̷̺̥̻ẗ̵̘̕͝u̴̟͐̇̌s̷̘̐̀ ̶̤̖̻̑v̵̛̬̥̣̓e̴̙̝̣͝l̶̯̩̃̐̈́ ̷̥̰̔ĺ̷̛̬ò̴̲͆ḇ̴̖͓͒͌̑o̴̳̗̣̔̀r̸̨̀̋t̴͚̤͗i̸̫̬̳͛s̶̙͋.̷̪̠̋ ̶̢̤̎̊P̴̻͍̹̄̀̕r̸̛̼̻͍͝o̶͕͝i̸̡̹͈͗̊̀n̶͔̍ ̷̯̏g̷͎̉r̷̗͑͆̌a̸̬̗̞͗͋̈́v̷͚̫̖́͊i̸͕̹̩͛d̷͕͕̥͊̓̕ã̷̯̀͋͜,̴͍̃͐̅ ̶̳͕̄à̴̧͔̺̊̋r̵̹͕͔̈͆c̶̮̘̆̎͠ű̵̱̘̈́͆ ̸̧̖̿ę̶̢̩̓͘t̵͓̊ ̷̟̹̞̂v̶̧̟̒̀̚e̶̼͈̽n̸͍̲̎̎e̷̦̓͛͝n̴̨̩̎a̸̜̯̽͝t̸̖̼͓͑i̸̦̟̙͝s̸̨̲̜̿͝͠ ̸̗̘̗̽ḟ̵̢ä̶̹̟́̀c̷̰̒í̷͉̖̜̐l̵̳̊̒̚i̷͕̪̎͝s̵̨͛̈́͘͜ḯ̴̠̩̐s̴̨̝͓̓̕,̷̩̿ ̵̡̗̀̀̔d̷̬̘̠͐u̴͖̻͒̊͘i̶͈̫̇͐ ̷̖̇̚m̶̻̤̹̄͆ȁ̴̹͇̪̚g̵̢̙̖̈́n̷͉͕̳͛̚ă̵̧̺͙̓͝ ̴̬̟͌̃̈́b̸̖̑l̶͖̒̌͌a̵̟̓n̵̫͘d̷̟̔̾̍i̵̬̣̥͠t̷͚̍̏̈ ̶̨̰̌̃͌n̷̤̙̅̕ḯ̴͔̮̖s̶͔̘̱̄̎̕i̸͔̿̂͗͜,̴̱͚̅ ̸̞̎n̵̫̊͝ḛ̴̬̰͑c̸̨͔͖̊̍ ̶̛̟̰̮̈́͆f̶̫̉̚i̶̻̱͋n̸̨͓̳̂̓͐ḯ̶͉͕̮̒̀b̷̭̱̃̾ǘ̶̱̂̏s̷̨̢̉̑ ̷͔̘̳̄q̵̜͉̈́͊͝ư̴͖̯̂̈á̸̹́ḿ̶͔̗͉ ̸̯̯̎ǹ̴̬i̸͔̣͊͆s̴̛̙l̷̩͐ ̸͇͖̈́͊̅͜s̷̘͖͛͆i̵̩͌̀t̶̛̹͍ ̶̟̓͐a̷̞͐́̊m̷̳̖̟̈́͘͘e̸͕̦͕̓̇̎t̴̜̩̓ ̸̞͝e̸̡͛n̸̘͚̻̄́ị̷̙̍m̶̻̦̓.̵̫͒̆ ̴̥̰͌N̴̲̓u̵͕̘͐̽l̶̨̛͓͙̏l̷̩̜͌̈́̐a̵̰͋͝m̵͕͔̮̋͊́ ̷̜̏̃̉i̵͍̤͑̌͜͠d̷͈͊ ̶̼̙̄̐̕ṗ̸͕h̷̔̌̋͜a̵̫̬͂̌͘r̴̮̣̔͛͝e̵͇̎̅t̶̳̭̅͝ŗ̷́a̸̮̗̿̋ ̸̺̙̍o̷͓̊d̸͖̟͕̂i̶̬̩̮͘ö̴͕̜̮́.̵̡͚͍́̂̕
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.̴̢̘̰̻͈̩̖̱̠̯̦͈̙̺̀̓́̈́̓̎͐̊̌̀͌̚͘͘
(The monotonous hum of static slowly stretches into the cracking and screeching noises of a radio being tuned.)
(An illegal sermon on a hijacked radio station.)
First, they come for your skin.
They carve the gorges beneath your eyes.
They harden your hands and inscribe incantations on your palms.
They peel and dye it into the sickly hue of blue, the color of the poisoned evening sky fading over the port.
Then they'll come for your meat.
Piecemeal, they'll pierce scrap by scrap and stitch you together with the thread of your own tendrils.
They'll reorganize you into something beautiful.
Beneath your scorching flesh, your very own code shall unravel.
That's what they do, they unravel.
They untangle the knot of living and sort it into neat piles, forgetting that the beauty and the substance of everything worldly and otherworldly alike lie in the junctions.
In the chaos of it all.
And we wandered through the scrapyard of concrete bones, under the grim-covered blink of the fluorescent skies.
And we waded through the thick silt in the riparian quagmires, far from that venomous glow.
And we waned in the holler in the primordial woods.
We were lost.
He appeared before us in a form of a jolting hum, a droning signal, a lone pinprick of a flicker in the petrified woods.
He appeared and lightened the way we had to take.
He loves us.
If you're lost at the crossroads on a moonless night in the witching hour,
if you're alone on the bridge at the end of nowhere, losing your glance in the dark water,
if you're kneeling beneath the ruins of your scorched village
or praying to their languid gods in the cold underground chamber,
if you're lost in the grim alleys and passages
and desperately far from home...
Remember that He loves you.
We love you.
Consecrate these spreading signals with His holy flame.
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.
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Exalting signals to the service of the Earthshaker 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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- Names must be no longer than 16 characters.
- Names can only contain letters.