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depinvenom: Dragon Lair » Corvalon
Level 25
Tundra Male
Apr 11, 2017 (1 year)
Stats Growth
PrimaryJungle Cherub
SecondaryLeaf Freckle
TertiaryJungle Thylacine
Eye TypeNature Common
Energy: 50 / 50
Apparel & Skins


Leader • Progenitor • Adventurer

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Ever since Corvalon was but a little hatching he's loved the thrill of the wild, the call of the unknown, and has always felt drawn to what he hasn't seen before. Despite being the clan's leader, he tends to disappear for days and return at random, leaving his mate and second-in-commands in charge of the clan for a while. His higher-ups especially have seen this dragon's tie to the wilds and humor him when he feels the need to go out on his own.

Despite his occasional absences, Corvalon spends much of his time at home with any hatchlings in the clan, always full of happiness to give to the little ones. He brings back odd trinkets to share with everyone after his random "journeys", and it's rare to see any dragon without an odd trinket or toy from him. He is always glad to share stories from his grand adventures with anyone that’s willing to listen to him talk for hours on end, as once he starts telling stories he tends to get carried away.


Corvalon enjoys dying his fur many different colors to match the scenery around him- all the better for blending in when you find something dangerous, he claims. His fur has been every color of the rainbow at some point, but no one is better at blending in with the multicolored flowers of the Shrieking Wilds than him. It’s not uncommon to see him leave one color and return another, sometimes only partially dyed and sometimes completely new.

Occasionally these random colorings will mimic creatures around him, leading to occasional scares when a clanmate sees what appears to be an enemy approaching their lair. A smile and shout will resolve many of these conflicts, however- This storyteller’s voice is unmistakeable as it’s heard near constantly. He tends to prefer dying his fur in small portions to overall, but is not against changing his normal green to a completely different hue.


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Corvalon has lived in the Viridian Labyrinth his entire life, but has visited every other land one could name; he's spent enough time in nearly every place to have someone, somewhere, that knows his name. The one place he refuses to visit unless absolutely necessary is the Scarred Wasteland, as it was the one place he was unable to stand. Everything there desperately wanted to kill him, from the packs of Plague mirrors to the land itself. He only stepped foot in the deep red terrain if absolutely necessary.

In the Labyrinth itself, Corvalon grew up in the Shrieking Wilds, often accompanied by a Moss-Covered Golem, and later by a Tuxedo Floracat that has stuck with him to this day. He has been surrounded by animals since he was a hatchling, and tends to take little creatures around with him wherever he goes. He found a green python when he was young, and by some miracle it didn't bite him, instead curling up again on his wings or horns. Similar to a hatchling, his mane has become a home to many frogs as well.
Bio template by Mibella, find it here.

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Corvalon walked through the deep red dusty sands of the Abiding Boneyard, his eyes flickering around, constantly watching for anything malevolent. He was exhausted enough from outrunning the pack of Mirrors that chased him the moment they saw the color of his eyes. He didn’t belong here, and that was the truth.

The sun had set about half an hour ago, basking the red desert that was the Scarred Wasteland in an eerie, reddish-gold glow. The moon was a deep orange. He looked up at the stars now, almost dislodging one of the small frogs that were hiding in his mane. The only creatures that stayed out were the green python coiled between his horns and the floracat that was settled on his back, currently sleeping.

He hoped that he wasn’t walking astray, because he had nearly no sense of direction in this horrible place. The tundra was just trying to cut through to get to Starfall Isles, where he planned to help prepare with the upcoming Dominance battle. He relied on the stars to know where he was going, and if it was in the proper direction.

He tried to recall the tips that one of the clan guards had told him for crossing the Scarred Wastelands. Mido, a Plague dragon himself, said to stay confident, use those fangs of his, and scare off anything threatening. Don’t let them see his eyes. He could do that. He took a deep breath and calmed down, dispelled his natural fear of this place, and walked on, altering his path to adjust to the curve his route took.

He’d dyed his fur to look like one of the enemies that spawned in this disgusting land, his wings a deep red with his mane a fluffy white. He resembled a Scythe Kamaitachi. It had taken hours to make it look proper, but it seemed that the red around his eyes that was supposed to draw attention away from the natural color made it worse. His deep red wings covered the slumbering floracat on his back, shielding it from the diseased landscape.

He glanced up at the stars again, and adjusted his path one more time.
Coding by 1nfestation (ID#296458). Find it here.

Corvalon padded through the Starwood Strand, ducking beneath branches and brilliantly glowing blooms to avoid catching petals in his deep green mane. He could barely see the stars overhead, his primary method of navigation, but he was mostly sure that the Focal Point was in the rough direction he was headed. The Tundra craned his neck upwards to try and see the sky better but ended up smacked his face into a branch. Luminous blue flowers cascaded around him. He winced and backed up a step.

A floracat that had been walking beside him stopped and batted at a falling flower playfully. The branch that smacked Corvalon also dislodged a cute little frog that had been sleeping in the Nature dragon’s mane, sending it tumbling over the back of his neck. It hopped back up and burrowed back into the fluff. A black cat that perched on Corvalon’s head tried to smack it on its way back. He was oblivious to his companion's shenanigans in his moment of confusion.

He didn’t mind the flowers, but they were near impossible to pick out of his fur, especially in this darkness. The blooms made a softly glowing ring around his neck and stuck to his wings. At least they softly lit his way a little better. Corvalon ducked around the offending tree and continued on his way, minding the resident foliage a little more this time. He trusted his instinct that he was moving in the right direction instead of checking the sky.

The flowers actually looked rather nice, he thought to himself. Perhaps he’d try this look more often- he was sure there was some soft blue paint back in the hoard at home somewhere. The blue matched his fur nicely. Corvalon dyed his fur quite a lot, in almost any color or pattern, so this wouldn’t be anything difficult to accomplish. He figured he’d try it.

He came to a clearing in the thick woods after another half hour or so of walking. The island that was Focal Point loomed in front of him, the edges of the island framed by the blue trees in his view. He knew his astral guidance would never lead him astray.

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