Bakar
(#72418912)
Dancing in a swirl of golden memories | he/him
Familiar
Sparkle Nymph
Click or tap to view this dragon in Predict Morphology.
Energy: 50/50
This dragon’s natural inborn element is Light.
Male Imperial
This dragon is hibernating.
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Personal Style
Apparel
Skin
Scene
Measurements
Length
23.15 m
Wingspan
18.99 m
Weight
6192.39 kg
Genetics
Black
Iridescent
Iridescent
Gold
Bee
Bee
Metals
Glimmer
Glimmer
Hatchday
Breed
Eye Type
Level 15 Imperial
EXP: 14654 / 60881
STR
6
AGI
6
DEF
6
QCK
5
INT
8
VIT
8
MND
6
Biography
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BAKAR CHIMALMA
| chronicler |
"Led through the mist
By the milk-light of moon
All that was lost is revealed
Our long bygone burdens
Mere echoes of the spring
But where have we come?
And where shall we end?
If dreams can't come true
Then why not pretend?
How the gentle wind
Beckons through the leaves
As Autumn colors fall
Dancing in a swirl
Of golden memories
The loveliest lies of all."
.
.BAKAR CHIMALMA
| chronicler |
"Led through the mist
By the milk-light of moon
All that was lost is revealed
Our long bygone burdens
Mere echoes of the spring
But where have we come?
And where shall we end?
If dreams can't come true
Then why not pretend?
How the gentle wind
Beckons through the leaves
As Autumn colors fall
Dancing in a swirl
Of golden memories
The loveliest lies of all."
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Koschei’s fretting was beginning to get on Charon’s nerves. “Gnawing on bones nervously isn’t going to make him come home faster, you know,” she says, finally turning to the mirror that’s taken up a space under one of the courtyard trees. She’s covered in… Well, must’ve been a rabbit once. “Kos, are you listening?”
“I am listening, mistress Charon,” she says, finally lifting her head from her stress project. “But you must understand your father has been gone for far longer than accounted for and now Talos has taken a temporary leave. It leaves us with just you.”
“And Pandora, and Mina, and Zagreus, we’re not understaffed!” She fidgets with her earring. “Do you worry or something that Dima isn’t going to ever come back? Where else is he supposed to go?” Koschei throws her a particular look. “And no, he’s not going to stay with Talos’ sister, even if he chose that I doubt Talos would let it happen.” More so, she could feel somehow that just wasn’t in Dima’s heart.
“Well, there is his heritage,” Koschei responds, like that explains everything. She shoots Charon a long hard look, only breaking eye contact to tear a bite out of her meal with far too much nasty chewing.
Charon let’s the silence hang in the air. Distantly, she can hear birds chirping. “… I know,” she finally says. “But this woman is a creature of alliances. I doubt she’d just lock him up. And Talos would be able to pick him up once he’s finished up business back in his old haunt.”
Koschei’s Fins flatten and unflatten. She slightly bares her teeth. “I don’t like it much.”
“Do you like anything that isn’t my father or tearing things apart?” Charon snaps, opening her mouth to add an insult or two before- “… Dismas?”
There’s the slightest stir in the aether around them. Koschei might not feel it, but to Charon it’s an extra, finely attuned sense. She rises from her chair, her gaze turning to one of the archways into the courtyard. She swallows. “… I’m here, dad.”
The archway alights then, flames licking the edges as a portal takes shape. Through it, steps Dima, an ornate cloak slung over his shoulders. The first thing Charon noticed is that his colors once again have changed. Flight of fancy or unintentional?
The second thing she notices is the three hatchlings, almost completely identical in hide, that sit wiggling slightly in his arms.
Dima chuckles apologetically. “Sorry I’m late. I uh… I can explain,” he says, eyes flitting down towards the hatchlings. “… Charon, these are your new half siblings.”
Charon swallows. “Of course they are.”
lore starter by mir #175648
code by archaic #19153
45kg (shhh we don't talk about it)
45kg (shhh we don't talk about it)
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For as long as Bakar could remember, other people had been open books to him. This had not necessarily been a good thing.
As a child, he’d babbled freely about the images and words that swirled into his mind. “You’re thinking ’bout the bread you burned...”
“You wanna buy that calli-gerphy set...”
“You’re scared o’ my dad!”
His clanmates laughed at these observations. “What a clever child,” they murmured. “He’s got keen ears; we should be careful about what we say around him.”
Still, several couldn’t help thinking, “I’m certain I never spoke of those. How did he know...?”
Bakar kept talking of these things as he grew older. After all, how could he know?
How could he know that he was seeing other dragons’ thoughts and memories?
He wasn’t yet old enough to understand that his ability was...uncommon. To him, it was as easy as breathing. He didn’t need to concentrate or exert any effort: Other dragons’ minds simply opened themselves to him, their thoughts tumbling into his unsuspecting paws.
“You’ve lost your grandmother’s ring. Oh, but you should tell her! You should...”
“You’ve been training to be a healer, but you hate it. It’s just because your parents said...”
“You’ve always loved her? But she already has a mate...”
The observations that had once elicited indulgent chuckles now brought out suspicion, fear, even rage. Bakar, at least, was smart enough to know when he’d crossed a line. He mumbled apologies and sought refuge in his family’s quarters. Away from the suspicious mutterings his words now inspired, the distaste that grew day by day.
“He’s a mind-reader,” his elders realized, “and a powerful one, it seems.” They smiled to themselves as they considered the possibilities: Bakar could be a great spy, or a scholar or scientist...
But as it turned out, uncovering others’ thoughts wasn’t all he could do.
“Oh, it’s you.” The disdainful greeting came from a Spiral whom Bakar found lounging in the garden. He was an itinerant scholar who sometimes visited the lair, and the young Imperial had had a run-in with him some years before. He’d inadvertently blabbed some secrets regarding the scholar’s research...
The memory oozed through his mind like syrup through a sieve. And then it seemed to happen in slow motion: The Spiral’s expression changed, became more...blank. He looked around in bemusement.
“And who might you be, sonny?” he asked, his manner now entirely avuncular. Before Bakar, baffled, could respond, the scholar stared down at his tomes.
“Fascinating! I don’t believe I’ve ever...Now, why would I be researching this subject?
“What am I...Where am I...?”
Bakar ran, leaving the scholar still mumbling to himself, tomes and scrolls dropping from his limp claws.
He’d noticed it for some time now, how people seemed to be more forgetful when he was around, but he’d thought it was just simple absentmindedness, or that they’d been making excuses to chase him away.
Now, though, he was certain: He couldn’t just read others’ memories. He could also take them.
“Perhaps,” his elders thought, “this can still be turned to our advantage.” So they brought in other scholars and magicians to train Bakar, and teach him how to control his magic.
Unfortunately, their efforts were futile. It seemed that the more Bakar tried to suppress his abilities, the more powerful they became. Some of his would-be teachers had to withdraw, as their own memories were extracted and they forgot their skills. Those who were able to protect themselves stubbornly persisted in training him.
But it never really felt as though they made significant progress, and ultimately, Bakar’s life became a lonely one. Those who didn’t want to lose their most precious secrets shunned him—unfortunately, this meant virtually everyone else.
“We’re running out of options,” Bakar heard the researchers say one day. He was crouched behind a translucent magical screen; they used these in the belief that it helped suppress his powers (though results on this, too, were inconclusive).
“We can hope that his powers will wane over time or that he’ll learn to control them...but neither outcome is certain. Perhaps it’s best that others avoid prolonged contact with him for now...”
“So that’s the way it’s going to be?” Bakar thought, hunching down further. His life stretched ahead of him: an endless sea of closed doors, sidelong glances, and suspicious whispers. He suddenly had a terrible mental image of himself stumbling out of his room, only to find that the clan had collapsed into chaos due to forgetting...or worse, them imprisoning him and forgetting all about him, leaving him to die alone in the dark...
“No, I can’t do that, I won’t die here!” But he wasn’t sure if he could live here, either.
“What’d they say: prolonged contact? Then if I don’t stay near someone for too long, it should be fine. I’ll be fine...”
The researchers dispelled the magical screen. It dissolved into motes of golden light, and Bakar beat these away with his wings as the researchers finally hurried out, one golden Nocturne pausing to wink at him.
Without them, the chamber was suddenly a lot quieter. Bakar looked thoughtfully at the space where they’d stood. They might not have been able to reach a conclusion, but he had. He would need maps, supplies, guidebooks...
It was time for him to head out into the world.
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The clan, seemingly relieved by Bakar’s decision, let him go. He knew he couldn’t blame them, but he also couldn’t help feeling a bit resentful. He wondered how things would have played out if he hadn’t broached the subject: Would they have forced him out instead?
It was a moot point, and one that paled next to his current situation: Until now, he’d lived safely and comfortably in his clan, with others to see to his needs. Away from the lair, though, he had only himself to rely on.
He had been well educated, so he fell back on these skills to earn his keep as he bounced from clan to clan, variously working as a clerk, a librarian, a scribe...He wrote down bits of knowledge, clan records, even other dragons’ stories. And when they started to forget what they had told him, sometimes repeating the same instructions every day, he quietly packed up his things and moved on.
There were times when Bakar considered taking advantage of this forgetfulness—using it to rob people’s vaults, for example. He could steal everything they had and make them forget they’d ever seen him, or that they’d ever owned those things to begin with...but he never stooped that low. He found the idea abhorrent.
He supposed he could also attempt to extract specific ideas from people’s minds. But without more knowledgeable researchers’ aid, he had no way of telling how accurate the results would be, and he feared he’d do more damage than intended.
“I’m doomed to remain a vagabond forever, then?” he asked himself drearily. It was midafternoon, but the thunderstorm that now approached was so dark that it seemed night had already fallen. This particular trading post was usually a hive of activity, but the grounds rapidly emptied as dragons and beasts sought shelter from the storm.
Bakar crouched under a shop awning. He considered where to go next while he was waiting for the rain to stop....
“Penny for your thoughts?”
He jumped in surprise as he noticed a Nocturne perched next to him. The smaller dragon was garbed mostly in gold, and the stark flash of a lightning bolt revealed musical notes painted upon his wings.
“Probably one of the street performers,” Bakar guessed. He answered the Nocturne’s question with a noncommittal, “Just waiting for the storm to pass.”
“Aren’t we all? Where’re you headed next, friend?”
“Nowhere,” Bakar sighed inwardly, but he couldn’t say that out loud. To do so would make it seem more real, more definite...
He spoke in a roundabout way instead, telling the Nocturne how he was just drifting from one clan to the next. The Nocturne’s face remained in shadow, but Bakar could see him nodding, and every now and then he murmured in agreement or politely asked a question.
Gradually, it began to grow lighter, and they realized the storm was passing. Bakar lapsed into silence. The Nocturne leaned out from beneath the awning, heedless of the rain speckling his armor.
“Time for me to fly,” he murmured. He nodded back to Bakar, who was momentarily unnerved—he saw now that the Nocturne’s eyes were Ice-blue, but all this time, he’d thought they were gold. “Some trick of the light?”
“Farewell, friend,” he mumbled, and the Nocturne glided after the retreating storm.
Their conversation had been pleasant, so Bakar wondered at the uneasiness he felt right after the Nocturne left. Thinking that the talk might’ve been a distraction so that an accomplice could pilfer his belongings, he checked his pockets and bags. But nothing had been taken.
“Can’t be too careful, you never know what people are thinking,” he muttered to himself. And then it hit him like another lightning bolt, and he paused, staring blankly ahead.
That had been exactly it: He hadn’t known what the Nocturne had been thinking. He hadn’t been able to read, let alone steal, any of the stranger’s thoughts and memories.
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Ever since his earliest childhood, Bakar had been unable to avoid siphoning others’ thoughts. At times it felt as though something else inside him was at work, some other part that was greedy for other dragons’ minds...
Some of the researchers who’d worked with him had been able to resist this—but always with the aid of magical spells, which required near-constant concentration. The black Nocturne had evinced no such magic. Furthermore, he’d been completely relaxed and able to comfortably converse with Bakar—impossible if he’d been maintaining a powerful shielding spell the entire time.
“Could it be that I...?” But no—Bakar quickly confirmed that he hadn’t suddenly gained full control over his abilities. Other dragons’ thoughts still slipped into his mind as easily as water through a sieve.
Still, that there were dragons who could shield their minds so completely fascinated Bakar. He tried to follow the Nocturne’s trail, and he described the mysterious dragon to those he met. Always before he’d idly stored their stolen memories away, but now he examined these more carefully, hoping to find some trace of his quarry.
A Nocturne garbed in gold...
“There!” It was a festival, and amid showers of confetti, Bakar spied a Nocturne’s spiked head, silhouetted against the setting sun. Horns...The black Nocturne had curved horns, didn’t he?
As he drew nearer, though, his heart sank: The Nocturne had curved horns, yes, but she was delicate gold, garbed in a shimmering cloak. Not the one he was searching for...
Or was she? One of Bakar’s own memories resurfaced: He was young and apprehensive again, watching the researchers discuss his condition. But one of them had turned to wink at him...
And she did so again, before vanishing into another cascade of confetti. Bakar searched the crowd for her, but she had gone.
A black Nocturne...or a tan one...garbed in gold...
Another cloudy afternoon: Bakar was with other tourists admiring the great gnomon of Sundial Terrace. As he absently scanned the crowd, a dark Imperial caught his eye. His whiskers twitched in a shy smile.
Before Bakar could comment, the Imperial lifted his wings—several wings. Suddenly his back and sides were alive with feathered shapes like crows. He wrapped his wings around himself...and promptly disappeared in a dark-feathered implosion.
“Did you see...?!” Bakar’s shout of surprise died in his throat. The other dragons were calmly going about their business, which meant they hadn’t seen...
He had, though. And he’d also noticed that the Imperial had been a black dragon...garbed in gold...
As his travels continued, it seemed he ran into the black-and-gold dragons more often. They were of various breeds, various Flights. But all shared the same color scheme, as though it were some sort of uniform. All seemed to enjoy catching his attention before vanishing from view, no matter how hard he tried to keep up with them.
And all, it seemed, were immune to Bakar’s mind-reading.
He began looking through books and tales as well. His search eventually turned up a location: the Cathedral of Eyes.
It was a storied, ancient place. Not all the rumors about it were pleasant—it was said that many who sought it were never heard from again....
The implication was that those who dwelled there were most likely dangerous. But Bakar had come to think of those mysterious, black-and-gold dragons as friends. He had always been lonely, his powers isolating him from everybody else. But those mysterious dragons didn’t fear him. In fact, they always seemed glad to see him....
Bakar didn’t pause to wonder why they never conversed with him for long, why they seemed to appear only to beckon him onward.
He wanted only to find them again.
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Months later, Bakar had reached his goal: the golden Spiral hovering before him, glittering with golden scales, seemed the living embodiment of the Cathedral: its splendor...and its dangers.
For Cipher, the golden Spiral, was a demon. Bakar had learned something of him during his travels: that Cipher was sly and cunning, always working towards inscrutable goals of his own....
But the demon had been nothing but genial towards him. And something about his golden-eyed gaze was familiar. Bakar remembered other black-and-gold dragons, from many different Flights...how their eyes had shone gold, flaring with the light of recognition, when they’d turned towards him.
“Have we met?” he asked Cipher. The demon laughed and beckoned him closer.
Cipher ruled the Council of the Cathedral: those black-and-gold dragons who aided him with his work. Indeed, it was on his instructions that they’d gone out into the world, their paths occasionally crossing Bakar’s. Through them, Cipher had seen the Imperial’s face and listened to his woes. He had felt the questing brush of Bakar’s mind as it had tried to siphon away his thoughts...and, with nary an effort, he had shrugged it off.
This revelation excited Bakar—more so when the demon whispered that he could teach Bakar to control his powers. In exchange, the Imperial would join the Council, his abilities at Cipher’s disposal.
Many other dragons had balked at that offer. Bakar was not one of them. To him, it seemed like a win-win situation: control over his powers and the companionship (at last!) of dragons who did not fear him.
“What must I do?”
“You? Why, you’ve done enough already, my boy! All you need to do is relax...and I’ll take care of the rest.”
The room began to darken. Bakar thought he was being lulled to sleep, but his mind remained alert. In fact, he felt more alert than he had in years.
And then he realized: He was feeling more alert because the constant clamor of other dragons’ memories inside in his mind was softening, quieting. As if they were being drawn out...
And they were! The room was darkening as those thoughts and memories flowed out of Bakar’s nostrils, ears, and mouth in a smoky stream. The smoke was dim gold, like rich, dark honey—though at its depths were flashes of color and light. Bakar watched, entranced, as the demon coaxed the stray memories out into the open, directing them with his claws as a knitter works with their needles.
“So many memories.” Cipher’s eyes shone like miniature suns through the haze. “You’ve been busy, haven’t you, Bakar?”
The Imperial stammered helplessly, but Cipher waved those words aside with his tail. With his claws, he directed the cloud of memories to one side of the room.
“It helps that you had some training. Inadequate training, perhaps, but training nonetheless.” Cipher winked in a familiar, sly gesture. “Over the years, you’ve worked so hard to shut that memory-stealing part of yourself away. All that remained was to extract it...and my, what a peculiar mind it’s grown!”
Bakar gasped as he saw that the cloud was now coalescing into a distinct shape. Wisps of black and gold vapor drifted around its edges. He saw feathered wings fluttering along its sides, muted light pulsing deep within.
And its eyes, burning hungry and red.
Before the creature could leap at Bakar, Cipher waved—and the dark cloud vanished. Bakar felt a strange twinge when they were gone, a strange, hollow ache, as though he’d woken up hungry.
“Where did they go?” he asked. For some reason, the word “they” seemed a better choice than “it”. “Perhaps because,” he thought, suppressing a shudder, “they’re made of memories torn from so many minds...”
Cipher answered, “They are nearby. Like you, they will be in my care...”
“Can we get rid of them?” Bakar was about to ask, but he couldn’t say those words. He knew, with heavy dread, what else that creature was. Why he’d felt so incomplete once it was removed from him.
And Cipher calmly continued, “...but they are hungry, always starving for other dragons’ thoughts and memories. I think I understand.” His eyes sparkled humorlessly. “The constant hunt for knowledge...It gnaws away at you, it truly does.”
His gleaming tail draped carelessly around Bakar’s shoulders, like a friendly arm. The Spiral’s face rose next to his eye. “With it now separated from you, you’ll find it much easier to control your abilities! You’ll be able to remove memories at will, even restore them. Oh, you’ll pick up stray ones every now and then, but that other, dark cloud will relish them. How about it, Bakar? Shall we get to work?”
The horror Bakar had felt at confronting that dark fragment of himself now fell away. The haze was gone, and there was only the golden room, the demon riding upon his shoulder.
“Yes, Master,” he murmured—and now his voice was echoed by the rest of the Council. “Let us begin our work.”
~ written by Disillusionist (254672)
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