Haruven
(#1937528)
Level 8 Imperial
Familiar
Frozen Goblin
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Energy: 0/50
This dragon’s natural inborn element is Light.
Male Imperial
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Personal Style
Apparel
Skin
Scene
Measurements
Length
26.94 m
Wingspan
23.89 m
Weight
7037.53 kg
Genetics
Midnight
Iridescent
Iridescent
Midnight
Shimmer
Shimmer
Blood
Gembond
Gembond
Hatchday
Breed
Eye Type
Level 8 Imperial
EXP: 15652 / 16009
STR
43
AGI
6
DEF
6
QCK
20
INT
8
VIT
8
MND
6
Biography
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B I O G R A P H Y
When Haruven hatched, his clanmates gathered round to marvel at him. They beheld his deep black scales and the blood-colored glints flickering across his body. "He will be very handsome when he grows up!" --And thus Haruven came into the world, praised and admired simply because he was beautiful. He was born in the Sunbeam Ruins to a modest-sized lair. He was raised mostly by his father, as his mother was always away...somewhere. With that casualness common to every child, he simply never thought to ask, and his father never volunteered information. He garnered more praised as he grew. Various dragons complimented his silky hair, his midnight scales. Even when the glints of red grew into Gembond bumps, they were unperturbed: "See how prettily they shine against his skin!" Haruven preened and drank up the praise. His beauty was further enhanced by the clothing his father introduced him to. The Wildclaw studied fashion trends and frequently brought home apparel for his son to try on. Young Haruven would put on these clothes and strut in front of an appreciative audience. Every twist and turn brought oohs and aahs from the crowd: "What a handsome boy -- you're getting to be as good-looking as your father!" Because of the comparisons to his father, Haruven decided that he would get a similar job someday -- a clothier or a fashion designer. But then, something strange happened: his mother came home. The cheering that greeted her arrival was unlike the indulgent comments Haruven had gotten used to -- for his mother was a warrior, and a very good one, at that. The clanmates hailed her as one of their staunchest defenders. But Haruven felt nervous -- his mother had left on combat missions before he’d hatched, so it was his first time meeting her. What if she disliked him? 
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B I O G R A P H Y
He needn't have worried -- his mother embraced him warmly, and she stared at him with wonder in her golden eyes. "My little boy...You look just like me!" That he did -- he had inherited her dark skin and deep red Gembond. But as they spent more time together, he felt a bit distressed, because he wasn't like her. Not one little bit. His combat-hardened mother could dispatch monsters with ease, whereas Haruven had never even seen a battle. He was a near-perfect replica of her, but was not at all like her. "You're just like your father," the other dragons continued to say, but though they meant it as a compliment, it no longer sat well with him. All the pretty clothing, all the poses, twists and turns -- it was so empty compared to his mother's great work. Like her, he could do so much more. He could be so much more. This was not to say that Haruven completely scorned the fancy clothes he'd grown used to. They made him feel good, and also more confident. It was shortly after he was grown that his mother went away to serve the Lightweaver. By then, Haruven had also made his choice. He bade his father a fond goodbye and then went off to receive combat training. It wasn't easy for him, and not just because he lacked combat experience -- trainers and teammates took one look at his beautiful clothes and snorted with disdain. "What a fop," some of them muttered. "A fancy kid who thinks it's all glory and grandeur. Once he realizes it's tougher than it looks, he'll slink home; just wait and see." But when these words reached Haruven's ears, he only became more determined to progress. He threw himself into his training and succeeded where others might indeed have given up and gone home. As for his reputation as a fop -- never mind that! He would become a warrior and look damn good at it, too. He was always heard poking fun at his comrades' unkempt appearances. At the same time, he extolled the virtues of his latest outfits. It ticked his teammates off, but also worried some of them -- they had recently been tasked with driving a flock of harpies away from a beleaguered clan's territory. It would be Haruven's first major battle. How would he fare? They were successful in expelling the harpies, though Haruven sustained a grave injury: a deep gash on his hind leg, inflicted with magic. The medic said he would heal, but he would also have a great scar there for the rest of his life. His teammates watched dubiously as the news was given to him. A scar marring his once-perfect skin -- how would he take it? "Pfft...It's nothing at all. Why, I'll barely even notice it! Besides, there are more important things to consider." Haruven looked up at his comrades. "Why all the gloomy faces? Didn't we win?" They started to relax. He wasn't as flighty as they'd originally thought. He never had been -- but a late realization was better than none at all.
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B I O G R A P H Y
Many years have passed, and Haruven has become a skilled fighter. He now resides in Clan Tyeth, where he is recognized as the third-strongest Sky Warrior. He maintains his impeccable sense of fashion and his great confidence in himself -- and also that ragged scar stretching up his leg. He is still frequently complimented for his good looks. His outfits continue drawing praise, which he brushes off with airy comments: "Oh, this old thing? I just sort of threw it together. You ought to try it sometime...." Most dragons misinterpret this and storm away in a huff. Haruven’s response to comments about his scar is a bit different. He smiles and says, "Ah...Yes. For a while there, it was quite nasty. But I've gotten used to it, you know? There are more important things than a tiny blemish like this." And other dragons, looking at the wings that show his skill as a Sky Warrior, can only smile back and agree. Bio by Disillusionist
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Bio template by Mibella, find it here.
By ophician #66554
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