Amund

- Quartermaster
- Totally wishes you'd STOP BREAKING STUFF
- But also knows where TERRIFYINGLY OBSCURE THINGS ARE!?!?!?! (how do you do that, sir!?)
- Excellent at containing things that are too strong to be destroyed but also too dangerous to be left to roam around (WHY IS YOUR OFFICE FULL OF THAT STUFF?!)
- FREAKING GORGEOUS. and probably knows it. yaay pretty boys.

- Possibly with Lisabet



Amund was hatched to an ice lair that soon took to the high seas. He grew up learning all that went into seamanship and trading. Though his parents had hoped that he would become a bosun's mate, Amund's strengths lay more in quartermastery. Tracking cargo and supplies and knowing where an item might be found if it was not in its assigned place were skills that he found intuitive. And so, he spent many years of his life working the seas with his family.

However, eventually the choice was made to move to the Ashfall Waste. Amund was not worried about this move at first, but he soon learned that the pulsing heat of lava was something he could not abide. It dried out his eyes something fierce, and he felt quite out of sorts for long stretches. After much consultation with his family, Amund decided to leave the crew and seek his fortune elsewhere. His parents were saddened to see such a useful member of the crew leave, but they were also excited to see their eldest son strike out on his own.

Amund traveled the seas for a while, joining crew after crew until he decided enough was enough. He could have returned to the icy lands of his birth, but he had seen so much of the world. He wanted so much more than the icy frontier had to offer.

He came ashore in Dragonhome after meeting an imperial fisherdragon named Shearwater. The two talked ships and storms and seas for a long time before Shearwater suggested Amund take some time to visit the Oakrest citadel, if he were so inclined. It had been a long time since Amund went inland, but he was always up for an adventure.

He learned two things about Dragonhome as he traveled to the citadel. First, the days were scorching hot, but not as bad as the Ashfall Waste. Second, that the nights were often cold enough to frost the sands. Fascinated, he toured the city proper.

He had to admit that he was impressed by these backwater dragons' ability to carve out a life among the lifeless landscape. The sweeping brown of the Shattered Plain reminded him of the sweeping white of the Snowsquall Tundra after a blizzard. It was charmingly familiar, but it was also novel.

It was not long after he arrived, however, that the clan's peace was greatly disrupted.


(there's a thing from the hatchery that goes here?? )




There was rumor of a bad cough with a fever sweeping through the Citadel, but it hadn't reached anywhere of note. Still, Sassafras had suggested they leave. She'd talked of going perhaps to Wild Orchard or Endhaven or even Prufrock and perhaps Amund could take up sailing again. Better than sitting in these stuffy stones all day, waiting to find something else to add to this collection of oddments.

But Amund wouldn't budge. His place, he decided, was Oakrest - waiting and watching for things found in the depths of the tombs or out on the plains or washed in with the latest floods. The collection meant so much to him, because it felt like for the first time he was doing something, even if it was just ensuring no one else could have the bizarre baubles he kept encased in ice and glass.

They fought bitterly for a time, and Sassafras headed down to the gates to see if she could gain a travel permit. Meanwhile, their nest was drawing nearer to hatching, and despite their differences, the two determined to raise their children to the best they were able. And while Sassafras waited for her number to be called for an examination by the clan's physicians, she returned to her work distilling oils and perfumes.

The little ones were such joy to her life, and though she was never the warm and doting mother others may have been, her affections were still not as remote as they may have been, either. She kept her sons underfoot, and while they were in earshot, she was civil with Amund, who did not stop hoping he could talk her out of leaving.

"You love your stones more than you love me," she said sharply one evening after their sons were put to bed.

He looked away. "I feel more obligated to keep them safe," he said.

"Don't lie to me," she sighed. "It's like the shine you held for me has long since tarnished, and you've no will to polish it."

She packed her belongings quietly, and though she knew her sons would not be fooled - they were skydancers, after all - she wanted to put up appearances of normalcy.

But the cough started before her number was called. And when the fever came soon after, she begged Amund to take the children somewhere safe. He watched from afar as Nibiru sat beside Sassafras, their face covered with a mask, and held her hand. The pearlcatcher did what Amund could not, speaking quiet truths of sweeping glaciers and frozen winds, letting her be gently carried to death.

It was all he could hope for.

He wept bitterly with his sons, and they grieved in their own ways, but he could not stop hearing his own lie on his lips, nor her metaphor about tarnished silver.