Coate
(#94769564)
Has lore!
Click or tap to view this dragon in Predict Morphology.
Energy: 48/50
This dragon’s natural inborn element is Plague.
Female Spiral
This dragon has recently returned from a Hibernal Den. It cannot hibernate
again until Jun 26, 2024 05:02 (20 days).
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Personal Style
Apparel
Skin
Scene
Measurements
Length
3.68 m
Wingspan
1.71 m
Weight
87.35 kg
Genetics
Smoke
Iridescent
Iridescent
Garnet
Sludge
Sludge
Garnet
Capsule
Capsule
Hatchday
Breed
Eye Type
Level 1 Spiral
EXP: 0 / 245
STR
5
AGI
9
DEF
5
QCK
8
INT
6
VIT
6
MND
6
Biography
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C O A T E VESSEL OF AGONY
╭────────────╮
STR ██░░░░░░░░░░ INT ██████████░░ AGI ██████░░░░░░ MAG ██████░░░░░░ CHA ████░░░░░░░░ VIT ████████████ ╰────────────╯ 
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╭───────────────────────────────────╮
A maggot, a finger, a skull, all crush just the same beneath a cruel enough heel ╰───────────────────────────────────╯ A thousand faces; screaming, bleeding, pleading. They push against their confines, faces a gaunt and ghastly mockery of suffering. Blood bubbling and foaming up like the tides of some vast, monstrous shoreline. There is gristle in the ears, in the eyes, in the teeth. It squeaks and it squelches, it reeks of butchery and bestial urges. Coate feels the taste of it lather their tongue thickly. Rich and coppery, as if a penny has been placed within their mouth. They grind their teeth down, feel their own ichor ebb up from their butchered gums and add to the frothy mix. If they swallow it down, does their own life essence feed the hoards? Does it drown the masses? Overwhelm them with the unceasing tides of red? It chases Coate everywhere they go, the screaming, the pleading. Shouting, screeching, shrieking, and endless cacophony of noise. It's like birdsong, ever present from dawn till dusk. Some of the tunes are melodious and trilling, while others are squawked and vulgar. Coate has gotten good at zoning out to it's racket, but if they concentrate, sometimes they can pick out distinct voices. They despise the messiness of it all. Intrusive urges to shove their hands down their own throat and tear the festered innards out. Would the faces pressing up against their insides spool out alongside the entire mess? Would they be like gangrenous, globular tumors? Teratomas of tooth and wads of hair, all shaped into a wailing effigy of a being. Would each one be distinct, each an individual? Coate knows from their voices that they all are. Even their name irks them. Coate, Coate, Coate. Like the sound of a cat hacking up it's own grime. Like the sound the word Clot makes as it sticks across the tongue. Coate, Coate, Coate. Just saying it makes them want to hurl. Who is the more tortured? The trapped souls Coate harbors within their very own River Styx? Or is it actually themself? Doomed to an eternity of this misery. Gods of torment and agony don't deserve peace or joy in their lives, afterall. One intended to pose as a living prison of flesh and bone for the dammed has to befit such a role. |
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This dragon doesn't eat Seafood.
This dragon doesn't eat Plants.
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Exalting Coate to the service of the Plaguebringer 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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