Slither Drake

Lore

In the shaded glades and misted edges of ancient woods, one might glimpse a thin ribbon of movement in the air—neither serpent nor spirit, but something far older: a Slither Drake. These small, aerial dragons possess bodies as long as walking staffs and scarcely thicker than a human wrist, with translucent wings tucked tight against their sides as they coil through the air in silence. Most are mottled green, copper, or gray—colors that vanish easily among vines and smoke.

Unlike their greater kin, Slither Drakes are not beasts of flame or fury. They do not speak in thunder or hoard treasure in deep vaults. Instead, they hover—aloof, observant, and eerily calm. Their eyes, too wide and far too knowing, seem to weigh every soul they meet. Though mute by voice, many who earn a Slither Drake’s trust report feelings of emotion not their own, subtle impressions, or dreams not dreamt alone. Whether this is true telepathy or mere projection remains debated, but it has kept arcane scholars and hedge mystics equally intrigued.

Despite their size, they are not without hunger. Slither Drakes feast on insects, small birds, and woodland rodents, hunting with a patient grace. They do not pounce or strike; they drift, barely stirring the air, and descend in one smooth, silent motion. Their bite is venomless, but swift, often ending a mouse’s life before the wings even beat again.

To befriend a Slither Drake is no small feat. They do not crave affection or food, and many ignore attempts at approach entirely. Yet, on rare occasions, one will choose a companion, curling itself about their shoulder or neck, watching as they walk. Such bonds are never forced. Slither Drakes come and go as they please—and once departed, they are seldom seen again.

Their origins remain a mystery. Some claim they are the faded echoes of a dragon lineage long lost to history. Others believe they are a natural offshoot, shaped by lean times and quiet places. Whatever the truth, they are treated with cautious respect in druidic circles and feared by superstitious hunters who whisper of omens in their gaze.

Though incapable of speech, though harmless in strength, a Slither Drake is rarely mistaken for an ordinary creature. It carries the stillness of old magic and the patience of deep time—coiling not just around the body, but the story that follows.