Nimme » Lair » Atlas

Atlas

(#3774969)

Level 25 Imperial

Familiar

Blue Tang Hippogriff

Energy: 0/50

Personal Style

Apparel

Skin

Scene

Physical Attributes

Battle Stats

Measurements

Length

22.19 m

Wingspan

16.57 m

Weight

5852.17 kg

Genetics

Obsidian
Clown

Obsidian
Eye Spots

Sky
Basic

Hatchday

May 30, 2014
(9 years)

Breed

Adult
Imperial

Eye Type

Lightning
Common

Level 25 Imperial

Max Level

STR

129

AGI

DEF

QCK

INT

VIT

MND

Lineage

Parents

Offspring

Biography

Atlas

#3626696

Atlas

This scroll is compiled by Atlas, Head Archivist of Clan Cosaint.

Nickname(s): Atty, numerous other embarrassing one time usage pet names

Age: Adult

Position: Head Archivist

Mate: Creosote

Distinguishing Features: Black and white facial markings, a damaged eye plus scar, and my rather angry near constant Skydancer companion.

Personality: I would call myself a rather reserved dragon. I do not need to speak with others, and if they are content to act peacefully and leave me be I will be happy to do the same to them. However, I do think that I am friendly enough should one want to speak with me. It's just that I would rather keep to myself, or do damage control for Creosote. Do not consider me spineless, however. I'll protect my own however I need to given the circumstances.

This document's margins are littered with tiny droplets of ink, marks of a quill tapped upon the scroll again and again. Before his name, a large splotch lingers where Atlas struggled with his uncertainty when it came to writing about himself.

Why is it that writing about yourself is always the hardest part?

I was born in the Shifting Expanse to a small clan of Imperials. My parents were the secondary set of leaders, below my mother's sister and her partner. Three more mated pairs filled our ranks. They considered themselves geniuses and inventors, racing throughout The Lightning Farm to harness the power of the storm above them for the machines they built and managed for the glory of the Stormcatcher. The hierarchy of my clan was strict and unforgiving. If a member didn't pull their weight or seemed less intelligent than the others, they faced banishment and their name was stripped from the clan's history in order to preserve the brilliant legacy only known to the clan members. Our nests stood empty more times than not, due to their disinterest in stopping their work in order to tend to eggs. In the face of our clan history, I was expected to become another of their brilliant souls the moment I tumbled from my shell.

To their consternation, I took more of an interest in history than inventing. While they wanted to march on to the future, I wanted to know what my clan had made, how it benefited others, and who was behind it. As the years passed, increasing pressure was put upon me to conform which I, in all of my adolescent intelligence, met with open rebellion. For every attempt to teach me the inner workings of machines and our other tools, I asked question after question in order to rile them up. When their attempts to correct me turned physical, I turned this anger on their devices. I had long decided that their lifestyle was not for me, but I stayed in the hopes of influencing change. The nail in the coffin for me was Alea, unfortunately.

Alea was hatched by one of the “lower class” pairs perhaps fifty years after me, and though she was a sweet and well meaning creature she was not up to their intellectual standards and was seen as a sub-standard worker. Attempts to train her further were either total failures or called off in fits of rage as she bumbled through her tasks inefficiently. I should have known better than to leave her in their care as I went gathering – my punishment for not falling in line – but we all make foolish mistakes in our lives. I returned from a long-range trip to find her simply gone. No one would respond when I asked what happened to her, and no one moved to stop me from searching on my own. Despite my best efforts, Alea remained missing. Once I gave up on my search, I lacked the foresight to keep from turning on my clan. My insistence that erasing the histories of those deemed unsuitable was barbaric and beneath them fell on deaf ears. Threats of my exclusion from the clan if I did not bow and accept the way that things were did nothing but infuriate me further. Finally, the inevitable: as I returned from another gathering trip, my clanmates stood in a line before me. They attempted to take the supplies and run me off, and I fought to get to the lair and protect the other hatchlings from their ways. In the end, one Imperial cannot stand against ten. I was sent packing with no supplies and an eye damaged by another's claws in our struggle.

My expected death of exposure and thirst in the desert very effectively avoided me, however. Due to being forced to gather for them so long, I knew how to keep myself alive and used this in my advantage so that I could escape the Expanse. For weeks I wandered the desert wastes, camping out in abandoned lairs and trying to decide what to do with my life. Things were to thankfully change as I drew close to the Ashfall Waste. I heard shouting in imperfect Draconian, and once I closed in I found a bloodied Skydancer laying upon the sand with a Carmine Serthis yanking on her head feathers, trying to get her to rise. Calling a greeting and rushing over in order to help was a mistake, as the Serthis named Anathema turned and immediately began an attack, only relenting after numerous pleas and promises of peace sank in. She trusted me enough to move the Skydancer to my last bed after further promises, and while we traveled she explained their presence. They had fled from The Ashfall Waste to escape the Skydancer's father who used her as a soldier-slave and might yet be on their trail. I saw no need for senseless death, so I promised to help them recover and flee further. We stayed in this temporary lair until the Skydancer's strength had returned and she was safe to travel once again. Despite her best efforts to bite my head off when I so much as spoke to her at first, through our time together she had come to see me as a friend of sorts and chose to stay by my side after all as we explored the other Flight's homelands in pursuit of the perfect place to truly settle down.

We ranged far and wide, settling in a clan for a few years and moving on again likely to another Flight entirely when the time felt right or it became clear that we were not in our true home. Over our time together, Creosote and I grew close. Life is not without its drama, alas. We had been living within the Sunbeam Ruins for a few months in a mixed species clan that hosted envoys from other Flights occasionally. During our association with the clan, a Water Flight envoy came to visit them. Creosote chose to have nothing to do with the Guardian as the memories of her warfare with those of the Water Flight remained close to her heart. I, in turn, found a kindred soul. The Guardian – Qasim - had a wealth of knowledge gained from a long life in addition to the skills of a warrior, a field I had studied in order to assist the clans we settled down with. At the end of his tenure, Qasim offered Creosote and I a place in his clan so that I could continue my studies under him. I was thrilled, and my common sense went into hiding. I rushed to bring the news to Creosote, certain that with time she would overcome her hatred for the Water Flight, adjust to life in our new clan, and be fine. To my dismay, she refused the offer and in no uncertain terms said that she would not consider following me there. Still I tried to change her mind, while slowly coming to terms with the fact that I must make a choice between the two. Before I could reveal my decision, however, Creosote made it for me. We went to sleep together one night, and I woke the next morning alone. In my search for her, I found a dragon who had stood as a guard the night before that reported Cre slipping by, saying that she was restless. At the risk of sounding like a forlorn Hainu, I waited for a few days but she didn't return. I was then certain that I had driven her away with my pestering on such a sensitive issue and tried to accept that she was unlikely to come back. Qasim offered him a home once more, and this time I accepted.

I put years into my new clan, studying the history of Sornieth and gaining something approaching mastery of my fighting skills. Despite my adoration for Clan Anat, I couldn't quite settle down fully. Finally, it seemed that the only answer was to move on. After saying my goodbyes, I rose from the sea and took off, letting the winds take me to where it would. The Scarred Wasteland, The Windswept Plateau, Starfall Isles, and Dragonhome passed beneath as I traveled. Each location – save the Wasteland, which I could not escape fast enough - only held my interest for so long before I flew away with hardly a farewell into the next area. Eventually I landed in The Viridian Labyrinth, meaning to ask for hunting rights and nothing more from the first clan I ran into. This was granted so long as I stuck around to provide some muscle against a neighboring clan they were involved in a border dispute with, which I accepted. As the matriarchs of the clan met to hash out their terms, I followed at a distance with the other Wildclaw warriors and watched the enemy clan's members for any suspicious actions. Perhaps I need not describe my shock upon spotting a familiar black and gray Skydancer with a Carmine Serthis riding along on her neck. Cre eventually picked me out, and it was something of a pleasure to see her “This is my strong side” facade falter and Anathema slumping her shoulders and burying her face in her hands.

The meeting that followed dragged on for far too long, and once it was over without any bloodshed we both rose to meet each other. After the clichéd moment of stumbling over each other to deliver our apologies, we got to brass tacks. Creosote apologized for fleeing the way she did. She didn't want to stand in the way of something I so clearly desired and couldn't overcome her own feelings on the matter. Of course, it was my fault for pushing her so in the first place, though that didn't stop me from admonishing her lightly for disregarding her importance to me. We got to talking about what had happened during our separation once the melodrama was over. Cre revealed that she had turned to wandering quite like he had, only settling down with her Nature clan when she was promised training as a healer. After a spell, Cre's clan came looking for her and I went with them. We lived together once more, however a stigma against myself - for the clan matriarch remembered which side I stood on during the border dispute - eventually turned the clan's favor against us as Cre defended me with her usual abrasiveness. After an incident which may have included accidentally setting their sacred clan tree slightly on fire, we decided that it was time for us to explore side by side again. Rather quickly in the dead of night, we crossed the inlet beneath the Nature domain and entered The Tangled Wood where we ran across the lair of Clan Cosaint. After our initial introduction, my interest in the fledgling clan led us back time and time again, until we chose to become fixtures in their hierarchy.

In our settling here, we found a clan we both love and is willing to put up with our intricacies. As you likely already know from reading this scroll, I took to becoming the clan record keeper. Relatively few of our lairmates - save Idris, who has connected with me over our shared love of history and sometimes assists me in these efforts - are interested in the task. Once, Brannan asked me why I would waste so much time doing "something so frivolous when there's more to be done". In a moment of dramatic timing that I will never be allowed to live down, I gave him the quote most of this clan knows me by these days: "Because all dragons deserve to be remembered."

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Exalting Atlas to the service of the Lightweaver 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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