ILUVDRAGONS » Lair » Amare

Amare

(#14809965)

Level 25 Wildclaw

Familiar

Stonewatch Harpy

Energy: 48/50

Personal Style

Apparel

Skin

Scene

Physical Attributes

Battle Stats

Measurements

Length

6.64 m

Wingspan

7.28 m

Weight

701.3 kg

Genetics

Charcoal
Tiger

Charcoal
Stripes

Tomato
Smoke

Hatchday

Jul 09, 2015
(8 years)

Breed

Adult
Wildclaw

Eye Type

Fire
Common

Level 25 Wildclaw

Max Level

STR

120

AGI

DEF

QCK

INT

VIT

MND

Lineage

Parents

Zeki
Vyria

Offspring

Biography

____

A M A R E

The Hireclaw
______________________________________

A Hireclaw did jobs no one else wanted to do. Searching the ruins of the lost civilization for trinkets worth selling, pushing back the borders of the Beast Clans in organized attacks for the safety of dragons, cleaning a lair for extra treasure. No task was above a Hireclaw. If you paid, they’d do it. Raised in a clan of Hireclaws, Amare naturally followed in his clan's clawsteps.

The clan had three rules to follow:

1. Might is right. The strong get to chose. They have proven they are the most capable to lead.

2. You owe a debt to your clan and your parents, for caring for you in your youngest years. To repay that debt you must give your parents their weight in gold.

3. You must earn your own reputation.

The clan however, held a number of unspoken rules and beliefs. Amare knew that his parents had probably wanted to find him after he went missing that day, despite the clans belief that if you perished in any circumstance except battle, you were never really worthy of living. No one would morn you if you passed, at least not openly. Amare had seen the corpses of his friends lying out in the ashen lands not far from his lair in the Emberglow Hearth, picked away at by the animals that called this ashen waste home.

He did not know if their parents mourned them in secret, but you must always appear strong. Weakness has no place in the clan.

Amare sat quietly in the confines of his current home and quietly reflected upon the incident.

As a hatchling he wandered too far from his nest. His parents let him do as he liked - if he died, then he would've never had what it took to be a Hireclaw. He strayed into the fringes of Harpy territory, not knowing the dangers. Stumbling upon an old hermit Harpy's home, he did what any curious hatchling would do: investigate!

The hermit Harpy discovered the young hatchling getting his snout into all her things, breaking all of her precious creations. Pottery shards littered the floor, and the hardness of the young hatchling's scales crushed everything he stepped on.

The old frail Harpy watched in despair as her home was torn apart. She reached for the broken white mask that was slung over her shoulder. As she rested it within her face-feathers a subtle crack could be heard as part of the mask fell away. The lines she had intricately carved as a fledgling were worn away by time, the only details left were the markings of her clan's crest.

The old Harpy knew that seeking help from her sisters wasn't a wise choice, but it was the only choice she had. She had been shunned for choosing art instead of war, she knew her sisters were fighting for their homelands, trying to try stop the invasion of the scale-winged-demons, but she found no art in war.

There was no joy in art anymore within the united Harpy clans. There was only tradition. There was no freedom to create, to craft. Everything artistic was done with the intent to embed the traditions of the past into the present. Those who preserve the traditions of the flock were valued highly but she was shunned for wanting to create something new. All the creativity of the Harpy species was funneled into the art of war, the only goal was to get better, be more destructive. The frail Harpy steeled herself for the short journey and hoped her old and fragile wings would carry her to the Harpy Roost.

Amare continued on his blissful rampage, until he stumbled upon a painting of the Flamecaller torn to pieces by Harpies. Even though he was a hatchling and didn't truly know who the Flamecaller was, she was recognizable to him. It unnerved the small hatchling and he scampered out of the hermit hut. He walked around finding his way back to the lava flow near his clan, but he had no sense of direction and had no inkling of how to get home. The way he had come had been slow moving, easy to navigate. Here he was met with oddly shaped rock pillars and a twisted expanse of moving islands. He suddenly heard the beating of feathered wings.......

A flurry of shrieks echoed around him, bouncing off the lava. He turned to face his adversaries. There was a party of three, at the helm was the old frail Harpy, followed by two younger Harpy's with dark masks.

The blood stained black masks of the younger Harpies terrified Amare, but nonetheless he faced the Harpies with fire in his eyes.

The young Harpies dove for Amare, but he ducked every attempt. Knowing he had very little chance in an actual fight against these seasoned warriors he jumped into a crevice in the lava rock. Even though he would've fought with vigor; he wasn't so stupid as to try and fight them. The young Harpy's tried to shove their talons into the crevice but they were too large. Amare sat in the corner dodging the reaching talons. Soon the young Harpies turned their attention to the old Harpy, completely ignoring the small hatchling they could never hope to reach. The hermit was hovering in the air to avoid the fighting. The two young Harpies shoved her to the ground, ripping her apart with their talons. Her feathers became matted with blood and her white mask shattered. The younger Harpy's screeching laughs could be heard as they flew away.

Amare could hear the strained breathing of the old Harpy, and he ventured out of his crevice, curious. Why did the other Harpy's attack her?

He looked into her eyes, they were begging. Even though they were mortal enemies, both species locked in war with each other. He knew what she wanted. He bowed his head as a sign of respect to the dying Harpy. She closed her eyes, awaiting her fate. Amare bit her cleanly on the throat, killing her instantly.

Amare's parents found him standing above the old Harpy with a bloodied snout. Why they ventured to find Amare was a mystery considering the nature of their clan. Maybe they did want to keep him alive? They praised him for years to come thinking he had fought the old Harpy and won. Not bad for a hatchling. Amare didn't have the heart to say he only eased her suffering.

HHe thought that he could use this incident to gain favor within his jaded clan. He had ‘proven’ himself strong. He quickly gained popularity and applied himself to any and all training offered. The leader had even offered him a training session to hone his ‘talents’.

The recognition he had gained from the old Harpy's death weighed on his mind for years to come. He could never escape that he was not the dragon his clan thought he was. Even though he excelled at most types of combat, it was because trained vigilantly with the burden on his mind. He would try and become what his clan thought he was. No, he would surpass that and become greater than his burden.

When he finally paid off his debt to his parents after many years of toil, he set out to travel the world. To better himself, and make a bit of treasure along the way, and to leave the clan he could never really call home. His natural talents lay in fighting, so he normally took jobs from those who wanted his claws. He did what jobs he had to, to get by. He ventured all over, from the frozen lands of The Icewarden, to the realm of The Gladekeeper, and ended up in the realm of The Arcanist.

He found on his travels he enjoyed being a trainer. It gave him great pride to teach another dragon the intricacies of combat. He looked after all dragons who came under his wing. Though he was indeed paid by the Progen’s of each clan to teach, but to him, the money was a bonus. When he looked at each dragon he taught, he saw himself as a hatchling – eager to learn and vulnerable. Most of the dragons he taught were training to become useful for a deity. He didn’t understand the appeal of that line of work, but it was their choice and he didn't judge.

Amare found himself being followed by an odd hatchling. She followed him as he had trained other dragons. She would always watch wide eyes at the skills he taught. Nothing could satisfy her questions. One question would lead to 10 more, and then 100……

She then insisted he train her! Normally Amare wouldn't train a hatchling, but she was so eager to learn, so how could he say no?

Amare was in for a shock when he discovered that she was actually one of the Progen’s for her clan. He had thought she was a hatchling but she was just really small young, adult dragon. Amare watched her before he decided to train her. He wanted to see the other aspects of her personality before reaching a final decision.

When she wasn't bombarding Amare with questions, she was at the Fairgrounds trying to make as much treasure as she could. Amare realised that she didn't have the skills to be a proficient clan leader. Her curious streak meant she annoyed others by going into their things or saying something that wasn't 'socially appropriate'. Her curiosity would sometimes put her in a bad situation, which wasn't good for her or her clan. She was shy when bartering for goods, meaning she would pay multiple times the worth of that item. The other Progen would watch over their clan when she went down to the trading post and auction house, to barter things.

Amare soon refused payment knowing that she was struggling to also provide food for her clan. All members in the clan were young and inexperienced at gathering food, supplies and things to craft and trade. He showed them most of what he knew about gathering, weaving, digging, scavenging, hunting, fishing and crafting. He found himself growing more attached to this clan and his wandering heart felt at rest. It was as if he had a place to call home.

Amare decided he would train her. The clan leader was clumsy at first while training and Amare became frustrated because he could see her potential. She was agile and flexible, she just wasn’t used to the way her own body moved. Combat required a ‘grace’ of sorts – an ability to freely move and change, to face any and all kinds of threats that a dragon could face. He discovered her keen eye could see the movement of her opponents. Paired with her forward thinking, she could anticipate attacks before they were flung at her.

Amare found himself caring more for her and the dragons in her clan. He enjoyed her company and seeing her grow. Soon she became a competent leader, caring and protecting for her clan. He felt a sense of pride. He had never fathered hatchlings, but he felt joy watching her grow as a dragon and as a leader. Maybe this was the same feeling. Was this what it meant to really care for other dragons as if they were family? He had never felt like he had a family. He had always seen others as far away from himself - even his parents. After feeling the pride he felt for this young progen, he wondered how his parents had been so distant. Did they not feel the same for him as he did for this young progen? He would never know now. He didn’t want to set foot back in the clan. He couldn’t bring himself to.

Before long Amare found himself training new dragons from her clan. Whether they were hatchlings or those who stayed temporarily for training before they ventured to serve a deity, he found that they were all just as curious as their leader. Even the male Progen was a curious lad. He had never enjoyed the company of other dragons more. They would sit in the main cavern of the lair and talk, laugh and tell stories. Amare would tell everyone of his adventures and mishaps, and a few other dragons would tell theirs. Whether mundane, funny, serious or despairing, he enjoyed the company of these dragons. They did not even berate him when he told the story of the Old Harpy. He had no need to pretend to be something he wasn’t. He could be free of the burden that had plagued him.

Even now Amare resides within this lair he now calls home. He tries to teach all who come through – whether it be for a passing time or longer. His heart that had been harden by his original clan, had been softened by this clan and its odd leader. He hopes to continue teaching those from this clan and those willing to learn.

Coding And Bio Done By ILUVDRAGONS resources by Mibella

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Click or tap a food type to individually feed this dragon only. The other dragons in your lair will not have their energy replenished.

Exalting Amare to the service of the Arcanist 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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