Sassibirb » Hibernal Den » Almog

Almog

(#28836365)

Level 1 Coatl

Energy: 50/50

Personal Style

Apparel

Skin

Scene

Physical Attributes

Battle Stats

Measurements

Length

7.97 m

Wingspan

9.5 m

Weight

717.83 kg

Genetics

Obsidian
Starmap

Obsidian
Constellation

Maize
Runes

Hatchday

Nov 27, 2016
(7 years)

Breed

Adult
Coatl

Eye Type

Ice
Common

Level 1 Coatl

EXP: 0 / 245

STR

AGI

DEF

QCK

INT

VIT

MND

Lineage

Parents

Offspring

Biography

Creator | Innovator | Experimenter

Council Member, Almog

Research Partner,
Servio

Apprentice,
Song

Personal Hoard

“Keep at it! Failure and success both yield results, but stagnancy shows nothing but a lack of resolve!”

Almog swept through the howling shore, rapping out instructions to the other dragons who were flitting about, fighting through the savage winds of their current lair, clutching parchment and holding tightly to odd scraps of metal and leather. Her keen eyes missed little, even in the tumult of the never-ending storm, and she darted about, seemingly everywhere.

“Keep that here! Don’t get those plans wet, we’re to need them! Gah, no, I’ll take that—we’re using these as a conduit, and so these leathers are to shelter them! We’ve been over this, haven’t we?”

Her commands, interspersed with the squeaking of Coatl, were difficult for many to understand, but her tone was usually enough; the sense of urgency and impatience kept those she’d netted into doing work for her busy. Her apprentices, Servio and Song, helped as best they could with translating in murmured tones, but she paid them no heed, her restless attention driving her on to more pressing matters.
--
Almog is a coatl whose life had been full of creation, though it was not always electrical in origin. When she had first come to the Ashfall Waste, she had immediately felt at home—even if her drab plumage meant she wasn’t welcome among other coatl. That hadn’t bothered her at all though; what had captured her heart was the pounding of the forge, the rhythm of the magma flows. The heat that molded both metal and the world itself into new forms. When she was younger, she spent much of her life there, learning from other blacksmiths and becoming a fairly adept blacksmith herself. She found solace and meaning in the creation from dangerous heat, and ash stained her already dark hide, obscuring her runes. This was her life, and she’d trade nothing for it.

But alas, age catches up; the career of a smith is not an easy one, and all too soon, so it felt, her bones were jarred with each fall of a hammer, her lungs straining in the raging fires of her forge, and she felt her strength threatening to fail her more and more often. The inevitable was coming, and she wasn’t prepared to have to give up her position as a blacksmith, and find some other occupation.

For the first time in decades, she left the Ashfall Wastes in search of a new purpose; a new life. She took only the tools of her trade, and her finest crafted pieces—all that she could carry, really—and roamed Sornieth.

Like many wanderers, her travels took her to the peaceful Windswept Plateau, where her icy personality contrasted to the laid-back clans of the area. But it was something in their laziness—as she saw it—that compelled her to remain, and to offer advice and information. She was always listened to, and found a few fellow smiths and other crafters here, which she took joy in speaking with. And it was easy, really; so simple to stay here and let travelers come to her. And she learned so much—learning of ways of altering the world and things through other means. Wind carves, ice and water weave their ways into the world, and while fire was much swifter and more brutal, electricity offered a totally new perspective. Suddenly, all of these metals she had bent to her will offered more, much more, than what met the eye. It could conduct; and through this conduction, wonderful things, inexplicable things, could be seen, could be powered. Having been in a budding Clan for a while, she decided to set up camp and begin her explorations into the mechanical. She soon earned herself an accomplice in an arcane dragon, but others from the Clan came too, fascinated by what she was doing, and hopeful in the chance to finally have a story of their own to share.

And so, Almog began a new stage of her life. It is not as immediately satisfying as the forge, but it’s good enough for her, and offers so much to be discovered and learned. She yearns to go to the Shifting Expanse one day, and to see firsthand what the dragons of the Lightning element have accomplished, but until that opportunity arrives she thrives and learns off of the visitors to the windy plains. She's often hailing messengers who carry tools that The Stormcatcher demands, and studying them closely so that she can recreate them for her own experimentation.

Her role in the Council comes from her experience. Very few other dragons here have done as much as she has. Her insight on everything from forging to her mechanical pursuits, to the general wisdom that comes with age makes her invaluable to the other, younger dragons of the Clan.

Current status, post-Crescendo reversal: Very frail, but pushing through. She sleeps a lot, and does seem ill, but refuses to succumb to it. Song and Theo look after her, helped by Falaereon.
Grieving over the loss of Servio.

Nosy Radament

Almog, resting as she was on the cool tableau, couldn't let herself relax. Her physical form may be weakened, but her mind was as sharp as ever, and right now it was in a turmoil of thought and suspicion. This Radament, son of Kauket and a Sunchaser, was trouble. That's all she knew, ever since he'd first become interested in her projects. Always asking 'what about this?' and 'what are you hoping to do?' He's only been here a few scant weeks, and already he's trying to figure things out that are none of his business. He carries a wary air, as if he's scared of something. Of what they're doing! She's no scoundrel. They're not making automatons or toying with alchemical monstrosities. Metal and gears are pure. Honorable pieces of material, awaiting the zap of electricity or the pounding of a hammer. Why, then, is he so watchful? What is he trying to find out? What is he hiding, if she would dare be so bold to nose right back into his business! But she's reluctant to admit any of her suspicions, because they are just that; suspicions. She has no proof of any malicious intent behind his actions. A curious mind is nothing to be ashamed of. If only she could find out more about where he came from. If only she felt better.

Well, it'll keep to one day. In the meantime though, she'll be wary of this one and chary with her replies. Such nerve...

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Exalting Almog to the service of the Stormcatcher 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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