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TOPIC | Straight From The Wyrm's Mouth Bio Shop
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@whippet44
What I had in mind was that he was born into a family of nobles, but they've never really cared about him and he was mistreated and abused by other dragons. And then his family was killed before him? Ahah I don't know >.<

Basically he's never been loved all his life, and as a result has no idea that the feeling exists ;u;
@whippet44
What I had in mind was that he was born into a family of nobles, but they've never really cared about him and he was mistreated and abused by other dragons. And then his family was killed before him? Ahah I don't know >.<

Basically he's never been loved all his life, and as a result has no idea that the feeling exists ;u;
23909884_wJCqmYTQfExzuNV.png
@Nyris Oh, sure, I'll fix it right away! Thank you!
@Nyris Oh, sure, I'll fix it right away! Thank you!
@whippet44 aahh I'm sorry I didn't tell you earlier! It must have slipped my mind ;n;
@whippet44 aahh I'm sorry I didn't tell you earlier! It must have slipped my mind ;n;
23909884_wJCqmYTQfExzuNV.png
@starz

Hey! Just give you the heads up that I changed my mind, the boy (Qualiniel) is gonna stay a noc! :)
@starz

Hey! Just give you the heads up that I changed my mind, the boy (Qualiniel) is gonna stay a noc! :)
@Nyris Whoa, that took a while! But since you offered a bribe from my list, it got completed as fast as I could write, heh!
Quote:
Broken. As removed as the moon and colder than ice. He does not know how to feel, how to see, how to love. He cannot, he cannot afford to get close to anyone. It's been too much, it's happened too many times. Opening up...it would make a gap in his armour, make him vulnerable, to loss and to pain. He's already lost so much and he can't bear to lose another. So he must hide his emotions, he must. As far as anyone can see, he doesn't have a heart, he doesn't have a soul. Detached, an autonomously comatose state. And after long enough, one will start believing in their own lies.

Pain. He's known too much, far too much in his short life. Betrayal and sacrifice, honour and pride. He was destined to bring glory to his clan, by his beauty and by his wit. Bright, innocent. A mind as pure as blank parchment, to mold into whatever they desired. A true child of all things right, untainted by darkness and spared by the shadows. His parents, critical. They needed him as a carrier of their blood, needed him as an heir to their business. Respect was demanded, obedience, hold your head low. Do not dishonor our family. Never satisfied, never impressed. Astaroth, eager to please and even more desperate to prove his worth. So young, so naive. But he had to obey. Punishment was to follow if he dared hesitate. Gashes in his flesh and wounds in his spirit.


Lost. A falling star, brighter than the sun, an angel who had lost his wings. To the earth he fell, and the voices, they called to him, desperate and pleading and terrified. From the sky, echoed from the sky. Beings hidden behind the clouds; they needed him, it was dark and they could not find their way. Why wasn't he in his rightful place, why had he descended from the ruins above?

Misery. He could see their faces, the faces of the dead. Why didn't you save us, they seemed to scream. We were not supposed to die. A bitterness rising in his chest, utterly helpless to the bursts of pain that seized him. And it was his fault, his fault, his fault.

Unfeeling. Looking up with dead eyes, a hopeless air that clings with every beat of his heart. Alive, but as good as dead. Dead, but not allowed to die. He beat himself down, hid the drake who he was before into the recesses of his memory. A heart of iron, eyes colder than bitter steel. Devoid of life, empty of emotion, a shell of his former self. Within, something is pleading with him, begging him to return, become the vibrant spirit he was before. But there is no one for him to return to.

Confusion. What was this feeling? Fear, foreboding, danger lurking at every twist and turn. Panic, constricting his throat, the constant thrums of battle sounding in his ears.
The gentle warmth spreading from his chest to the tips of his claws, flooding his limbs with a boundless energy. He could fly to the ends of Sornieth, face the wildest of storms and stand strong, destroy every fibre of the Shade’s restless presence with nothing but his wit. And the dragon that made the ground fall away from underneath his paws. As long as she was there, everything would be alright. Everything will turn out perfect and beautiful, just as she was.

Resistance. He fought against the force, with every bit of his strength and will. He couldn’t, he mustn’t. To fall for another, to grow close. He’d lose her. He was sure of it. Powerless against the grip, he had to turn away. Growing soft. Let his mask fall, lose himself to love, and face the pain that would follow. Consequence. It was a valiant effort, to say the least.

Acceptance. He couldn’t forget her, couldn’t let her go. Needed her. With her, he knew no fear. He would kill to protect her, be killed before anything could think of hurting her. And all of a sudden, he was alive once more. He wasn’t afraid anymore. Of love, of feeling, of emotion. For he knew that he would die to protect her, to stand by love and for the gain of all that was right. The warmth of a spring breeze can thaw even the coldest of hearts.

Quote:
Gentle. The caress of spring’s touch on earth, humming of life below the grass, flowing through roots. Flourish, petals sprouting from the dirt, twisting to meet her eyes, the unrestricted cool of ice. Birdsong, melodious and rippling from the sky, notes and chords, a message only she would hear, understand. The essence of life, of family, of the whole, radiating from her wings, with every beat of her heart. They have come from afar, to listen to the quiet silk of her voice, lulled by her simple presence, and found themselves through turmoil and alive once more.

She is always there, an ear when need be. And they find themselves spilling, pent up lies and unforgiving truths plunging from their hearts, the endless torrent of words. A voice of reason, peering into their souls, coaxing the creatures that cower, terrified of the dark, and show them the light of day. The flip side of a coin, the good that lies in life. Mends and forms anew. Sometimes, it’s all a dragon needs. Someone to talk to.

Oh, she had seen them all, the worst of the worst. They, who had lost so much that they had been lost, witnessed death and lived in pain. Sole survivors, prisoners of war, orphans and proud, devastated kin. Retreated into a most dreadfully bleak place, the recesses of their hearts, memories of their loss. Flashbacks, huddled in the dirt. And Sephira, silently standing guard, there as long as she was needed. Gentle, as the way one would feel with the urge of sleep.

Pain would be there, it would never disappear. But it could be left in the past. As with the fear, the echoes of war, foreshadowings of danger thrumming in the ears. Left behind, shadows wisping away, turned to face the sun and the future. Bright, warm, aglow with promise. And she could show them the way, the key to leaving a past behind.

But nothing could have prepared her for him. Cold, dead eyes, a weariness that clung to his lithe frame. It seemed as if he were broken beyond repair; anyone could see that it was a hopeless effort. Blocking her at every twist and turn, sullen and unapproachable, lifeless. More dead than alive, less responsive than the rotting corpses that were often strewn around the wasteland. Sephira couldn’t stay away, couldn’t leave this hopeless being, the embodiment of all things she had been known to cure, to fend for himself. Patience was going to make it or break it, take things slow. But he wouldn’t come around. It seemed as if he were unsure of how to interact with anyone, unable to understand unless it was an order.

Kindly words, a slow and gentle way, as if she were speaking to a confused child. And from his emotions, it was exactly what he seemed to be. Unable to speak his mind, dutifully obedient, as if he expected punishment. Behind the blankness in his eyes, she saw terror, memoirs of unimaginable horrors he had undoubtedly witnessed. Bit by bit, painfully drawn out, tedious repetition. And slowly, ever so slowly, he began the come around. Less flat in voice, the slightest spring in his step. One time she caught him smiling, and, from the feeling that erupted from her heart, relief and sorrow all mixed into one, Sephira knew that she loved him. But when the time came, he would no longer need her.

She was wrong. For he felt the same, the spark of shared glances, tingling of touch. The way her skin pricked when he brushed against her, the budding sarcasm that was fueled by his quick wit. His mask had fallen; she was head over heels. He had found himself and shed the pains of the past, leaving it behind as a heap in the dirt. Loped ahead and found her, a step forward, showing him the way. She was the light in his day, and he, her living heart and soul.


That would be 45k or its equivalent! I wasn't too sure what length you desired, so tried to tell the story in the number I thought suited it!
@Nyris Whoa, that took a while! But since you offered a bribe from my list, it got completed as fast as I could write, heh!
Quote:
Broken. As removed as the moon and colder than ice. He does not know how to feel, how to see, how to love. He cannot, he cannot afford to get close to anyone. It's been too much, it's happened too many times. Opening up...it would make a gap in his armour, make him vulnerable, to loss and to pain. He's already lost so much and he can't bear to lose another. So he must hide his emotions, he must. As far as anyone can see, he doesn't have a heart, he doesn't have a soul. Detached, an autonomously comatose state. And after long enough, one will start believing in their own lies.

Pain. He's known too much, far too much in his short life. Betrayal and sacrifice, honour and pride. He was destined to bring glory to his clan, by his beauty and by his wit. Bright, innocent. A mind as pure as blank parchment, to mold into whatever they desired. A true child of all things right, untainted by darkness and spared by the shadows. His parents, critical. They needed him as a carrier of their blood, needed him as an heir to their business. Respect was demanded, obedience, hold your head low. Do not dishonor our family. Never satisfied, never impressed. Astaroth, eager to please and even more desperate to prove his worth. So young, so naive. But he had to obey. Punishment was to follow if he dared hesitate. Gashes in his flesh and wounds in his spirit.


Lost. A falling star, brighter than the sun, an angel who had lost his wings. To the earth he fell, and the voices, they called to him, desperate and pleading and terrified. From the sky, echoed from the sky. Beings hidden behind the clouds; they needed him, it was dark and they could not find their way. Why wasn't he in his rightful place, why had he descended from the ruins above?

Misery. He could see their faces, the faces of the dead. Why didn't you save us, they seemed to scream. We were not supposed to die. A bitterness rising in his chest, utterly helpless to the bursts of pain that seized him. And it was his fault, his fault, his fault.

Unfeeling. Looking up with dead eyes, a hopeless air that clings with every beat of his heart. Alive, but as good as dead. Dead, but not allowed to die. He beat himself down, hid the drake who he was before into the recesses of his memory. A heart of iron, eyes colder than bitter steel. Devoid of life, empty of emotion, a shell of his former self. Within, something is pleading with him, begging him to return, become the vibrant spirit he was before. But there is no one for him to return to.

Confusion. What was this feeling? Fear, foreboding, danger lurking at every twist and turn. Panic, constricting his throat, the constant thrums of battle sounding in his ears.
The gentle warmth spreading from his chest to the tips of his claws, flooding his limbs with a boundless energy. He could fly to the ends of Sornieth, face the wildest of storms and stand strong, destroy every fibre of the Shade’s restless presence with nothing but his wit. And the dragon that made the ground fall away from underneath his paws. As long as she was there, everything would be alright. Everything will turn out perfect and beautiful, just as she was.

Resistance. He fought against the force, with every bit of his strength and will. He couldn’t, he mustn’t. To fall for another, to grow close. He’d lose her. He was sure of it. Powerless against the grip, he had to turn away. Growing soft. Let his mask fall, lose himself to love, and face the pain that would follow. Consequence. It was a valiant effort, to say the least.

Acceptance. He couldn’t forget her, couldn’t let her go. Needed her. With her, he knew no fear. He would kill to protect her, be killed before anything could think of hurting her. And all of a sudden, he was alive once more. He wasn’t afraid anymore. Of love, of feeling, of emotion. For he knew that he would die to protect her, to stand by love and for the gain of all that was right. The warmth of a spring breeze can thaw even the coldest of hearts.

Quote:
Gentle. The caress of spring’s touch on earth, humming of life below the grass, flowing through roots. Flourish, petals sprouting from the dirt, twisting to meet her eyes, the unrestricted cool of ice. Birdsong, melodious and rippling from the sky, notes and chords, a message only she would hear, understand. The essence of life, of family, of the whole, radiating from her wings, with every beat of her heart. They have come from afar, to listen to the quiet silk of her voice, lulled by her simple presence, and found themselves through turmoil and alive once more.

She is always there, an ear when need be. And they find themselves spilling, pent up lies and unforgiving truths plunging from their hearts, the endless torrent of words. A voice of reason, peering into their souls, coaxing the creatures that cower, terrified of the dark, and show them the light of day. The flip side of a coin, the good that lies in life. Mends and forms anew. Sometimes, it’s all a dragon needs. Someone to talk to.

Oh, she had seen them all, the worst of the worst. They, who had lost so much that they had been lost, witnessed death and lived in pain. Sole survivors, prisoners of war, orphans and proud, devastated kin. Retreated into a most dreadfully bleak place, the recesses of their hearts, memories of their loss. Flashbacks, huddled in the dirt. And Sephira, silently standing guard, there as long as she was needed. Gentle, as the way one would feel with the urge of sleep.

Pain would be there, it would never disappear. But it could be left in the past. As with the fear, the echoes of war, foreshadowings of danger thrumming in the ears. Left behind, shadows wisping away, turned to face the sun and the future. Bright, warm, aglow with promise. And she could show them the way, the key to leaving a past behind.

But nothing could have prepared her for him. Cold, dead eyes, a weariness that clung to his lithe frame. It seemed as if he were broken beyond repair; anyone could see that it was a hopeless effort. Blocking her at every twist and turn, sullen and unapproachable, lifeless. More dead than alive, less responsive than the rotting corpses that were often strewn around the wasteland. Sephira couldn’t stay away, couldn’t leave this hopeless being, the embodiment of all things she had been known to cure, to fend for himself. Patience was going to make it or break it, take things slow. But he wouldn’t come around. It seemed as if he were unsure of how to interact with anyone, unable to understand unless it was an order.

Kindly words, a slow and gentle way, as if she were speaking to a confused child. And from his emotions, it was exactly what he seemed to be. Unable to speak his mind, dutifully obedient, as if he expected punishment. Behind the blankness in his eyes, she saw terror, memoirs of unimaginable horrors he had undoubtedly witnessed. Bit by bit, painfully drawn out, tedious repetition. And slowly, ever so slowly, he began the come around. Less flat in voice, the slightest spring in his step. One time she caught him smiling, and, from the feeling that erupted from her heart, relief and sorrow all mixed into one, Sephira knew that she loved him. But when the time came, he would no longer need her.

She was wrong. For he felt the same, the spark of shared glances, tingling of touch. The way her skin pricked when he brushed against her, the budding sarcasm that was fueled by his quick wit. His mask had fallen; she was head over heels. He had found himself and shed the pains of the past, leaving it behind as a heap in the dirt. Loped ahead and found her, a step forward, showing him the way. She was the light in his day, and he, her living heart and soul.


That would be 45k or its equivalent! I wasn't too sure what length you desired, so tried to tell the story in the number I thought suited it!
@whippet44
oh my gosh.
that's beautiful! I actually teared up a little <3
Thank you so much ahh

I've got an ebony filigree tail guard, would you accept that? ;u;
@whippet44
oh my gosh.
that's beautiful! I actually teared up a little <3
Thank you so much ahh

I've got an ebony filigree tail guard, would you accept that? ;u;
23909884_wJCqmYTQfExzuNV.png
@Nyris Sure ^^. The current LAH price for an ebony filigree tail guard is 10kt, so you could send that and the remaining treasure, if you'd like!
@Nyris Sure ^^. The current LAH price for an ebony filigree tail guard is 10kt, so you could send that and the remaining treasure, if you'd like!
@whippet44 300 word = 10k (didn't you say something about discounts I'm a little poor) Dragon ordering for? Arcazula Reference picture? [img]http://flightrising.com/rendern/350/233741/23374088_350.png[/img] Personality? Calm and friendly, but a leader. Position in Clan (if they have one!)? Leader Things/events you want to incorporate? His childhood as an orphan. The meeting of his mate, Makala, in the Crytaline Reaches. The Migration of his clan after the Arcane defeat by Lightning at the beginning of June 2016 Theme? Powerful and quiet, but gentle inside. Tense? Present.
@whippet44
300 word = 10k (didn't you say something about discounts I'm a little poor)
Dragon ordering for? Arcazula
Reference picture? 23374088_350.png
Personality? Calm and friendly, but a leader.
Position in Clan (if they have one!)? Leader
Things/events you want to incorporate? His childhood as an orphan. The meeting of his mate, Makala, in the Crytaline Reaches. The Migration of his clan after the Arcane defeat by Lightning at the beginning of June 2016
Theme? Powerful and quiet, but gentle inside.
Tense? Present.
tumblr_inline_nwu3o7f6l51t7d5o3_500.gif
@Yavanna Open again! Just send the information of the two dragons you want me to write anytime, I'm finally ready again! Sorry for the wait!
@Yavanna Open again! Just send the information of the two dragons you want me to write anytime, I'm finally ready again! Sorry for the wait!
@whippet44 Yay! ^^ These two are mates, and I'd like the 500 word bios, please :) [b]Dragon ordering for?[/b] Hestia [b]Reference picture?[/b] [url=http://flightrising.com/main.php?dragon=3713716] [img]http://flightrising.com/rendern/350/37138/3713716_350.png[/img] [/url] [b]Personality?[/b] The Viridian Labyrinth and its well-being is her Charge, and she is a stern and staunch protector of it against anyone and and anything she deems a threat to her beloved forest. She's seemingly tireless when wandering the woods on what she calls her 'patrols', and for a Guardian of her size, she's able to navigate even the thickest parts of the Shrieking Wilds with playful ease. In the company of her mate Oris, her demeanor softens and she can often be seen affectionately nuzzling him or watching him craft his trinkets for hours on end. [b]Position in Clan (if they have one!)?[/b] Hestia is a devoted believer in the Gladekeeper, and so was initially very distrustful and stand-offish at [url=http://flightrising.com/main.php?p=lair&id=147616&tab=dragon&did=12144876]Yavanna[/url], who many claimed was a Nature deity or spirit as well. She smelled heresy, especially since while Yavanna never [i]explicitly [/i]claimed to be what others called her, she never outright refuted them either. Thus Hestia initially stayed just to keep a close eye on Yavanna and her dealings in "Hestia's" protected domain. It soon became clear that no matter who or what Yavanna really was, she too was deeply devoted to the forest, and thus Hestia relented and decided to tolerate her presence and actions. The two still don't see eye to eye in many things, but they stay relatively respectful of each other. Hestia also feels very divided over [url=http://flightrising.com/main.php?p=lair&id=147616&tab=dragon&did=22226671]Unnamed[/url]. She can very much sympathize with him on account of their Charges being very similar, if not the same, but the fact that his mere presence is a hazard to the forest she's sworn to protect... [b]Things/events you want to incorporate?[/b] She grew up in the Viridian Labyrinth, perfectly content, but once she became an adult, she grew a little restless and worried. Shouldn't she be feeling the call to head out and find her Charge? And yet she wanted nothing more to stay in her home Flight. For a while she attributed her reluctance to sloth or cowardice, even though when it became to other aspects of her life she was more diligent and brave than most. Eventually she forced herself to travel, thinking that maybe she had to get closer to her Charge to sense it. Throughout her voyage, she felt lonely and miserable. On the shores of the Tsunami Flats, she met Oris, who quickly became a good listener and companion for her. At his urging she eventually headed back home, and upon entering the forest again, instantly felt much, much better. Over time she came to realize the full extent of her Charge, and embraced it. Now she criss-crosses the Labyrinth along with her mate. [b]Theme?[/b] She's a Guardian of the forest (in both meanings of the word) [b]Tense?[/b] Past and present [b]Dragon ordering for?[/b] Oris [b]Reference picture?[/b] [url=http://flightrising.com/main.php?dragon=14690340] [img]http://flightrising.com/rendern/350/146904/14690340_350.png[/img] [/url] [b]Personality?[/b] Calm, thoughtful, introspective. He isn't one for many words, but is more than happy to listen. He is happiest while collecting raw material for his crafts and tinkering away. He can lose himself for an entire day in his craftsmanship. That doesn't mean he is neglectful of his mate, but most of their bond is expressed though physical proximity and quietly cheering on the others passion. [b]Position in Clan (if they have one!)?[/b] He's a craftsman of sorts. Mostly he makes jewelry and other nick-knacks that look pretty but don't necessarily serve any other use. Most of the materials he scavenges and collects himself. He especially likes little shells, interesting stones, feathers and bone pieces. He doesn't much care for making 'valuable' stuff though, and he is still able to barter his products for simple things he and his mate lack. Wandering the forests with Hestia allows him to pick up all manner of materials. Whenever they stay at Yavanna's, there's usually a tiny collection of neat things like crystal shards [url=http://flightrising.com/main.php?p=lair&id=147616&tab=dragon&did=19547074]Taarie[/url] has found on her mercantile travels to Dragonhome waiting for him. He always leaves her some of his trinkets in return. [b]Things/events you want to incorporate?[/b] It was Oris who, watching Hestia recoil from crossing the border to the Ashfall Waste, suggested that perhaps her Charge might be back in the Viridian Labyrinth. He followed her back, having grown fond of her, and they have stayed together ever since. [b]Theme?[/b] Introverted craftsman with a warm heart. [b]Tense?[/b] Past and present
@whippet44 Yay! ^^ These two are mates, and I'd like the 500 word bios, please :)

Dragon ordering for? Hestia
Reference picture?
3713716_350.png

Personality? The Viridian Labyrinth and its well-being is her Charge, and she is a stern and staunch protector of it against anyone and and anything she deems a threat to her beloved forest. She's seemingly tireless when wandering the woods on what she calls her 'patrols', and for a Guardian of her size, she's able to navigate even the thickest parts of the Shrieking Wilds with playful ease. In the company of her mate Oris, her demeanor softens and she can often be seen affectionately nuzzling him or watching him craft his trinkets for hours on end.
Position in Clan (if they have one!)? Hestia is a devoted believer in the Gladekeeper, and so was initially very distrustful and stand-offish at Yavanna, who many claimed was a Nature deity or spirit as well. She smelled heresy, especially since while Yavanna never explicitly claimed to be what others called her, she never outright refuted them either. Thus Hestia initially stayed just to keep a close eye on Yavanna and her dealings in "Hestia's" protected domain. It soon became clear that no matter who or what Yavanna really was, she too was deeply devoted to the forest, and thus Hestia relented and decided to tolerate her presence and actions. The two still don't see eye to eye in many things, but they stay relatively respectful of each other.
Hestia also feels very divided over Unnamed. She can very much sympathize with him on account of their Charges being very similar, if not the same, but the fact that his mere presence is a hazard to the forest she's sworn to protect...
Things/events you want to incorporate? She grew up in the Viridian Labyrinth, perfectly content, but once she became an adult, she grew a little restless and worried. Shouldn't she be feeling the call to head out and find her Charge? And yet she wanted nothing more to stay in her home Flight. For a while she attributed her reluctance to sloth or cowardice, even though when it became to other aspects of her life she was more diligent and brave than most. Eventually she forced herself to travel, thinking that maybe she had to get closer to her Charge to sense it. Throughout her voyage, she felt lonely and miserable. On the shores of the Tsunami Flats, she met Oris, who quickly became a good listener and companion for her. At his urging she eventually headed back home, and upon entering the forest again, instantly felt much, much better. Over time she came to realize the full extent of her Charge, and embraced it. Now she criss-crosses the Labyrinth along with her mate.
Theme? She's a Guardian of the forest (in both meanings of the word)
Tense? Past and present

Dragon ordering for? Oris
Reference picture?
14690340_350.png

Personality? Calm, thoughtful, introspective. He isn't one for many words, but is more than happy to listen. He is happiest while collecting raw material for his crafts and tinkering away. He can lose himself for an entire day in his craftsmanship. That doesn't mean he is neglectful of his mate, but most of their bond is expressed though physical proximity and quietly cheering on the others passion.
Position in Clan (if they have one!)? He's a craftsman of sorts. Mostly he makes jewelry and other nick-knacks that look pretty but don't necessarily serve any other use. Most of the materials he scavenges and collects himself. He especially likes little shells, interesting stones, feathers and bone pieces. He doesn't much care for making 'valuable' stuff though, and he is still able to barter his products for simple things he and his mate lack. Wandering the forests with Hestia allows him to pick up all manner of materials. Whenever they stay at Yavanna's, there's usually a tiny collection of neat things like crystal shards Taarie has found on her mercantile travels to Dragonhome waiting for him. He always leaves her some of his trinkets in return.
Things/events you want to incorporate? It was Oris who, watching Hestia recoil from crossing the border to the Ashfall Waste, suggested that perhaps her Charge might be back in the Viridian Labyrinth. He followed her back, having grown fond of her, and they have stayed together ever since.
Theme? Introverted craftsman with a warm heart.
Tense? Past and present
j3zsWMV.png
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