Simon
(#26454938)
Here, sown by the Creator's hand | he/him
Familiar
Kelpie
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
25.14 m
Wingspan
24.41 m
Weight
8156.5 kg
Genetics
Latte
Skink
Skink
Flint
Toxin
Toxin
Mist
Runes
Runes
Hatchday
Breed
Eye Type
Level 8 Imperial
EXP: 910 / 16009
STR
6
AGI
6
DEF
6
QCK
5
INT
8
VIT
8
MND
6
Biography
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"Here, sown by the Creator's hand. In serried ranks, the Redwoods stand: No other clime is honored so, No other lands their glory know. The greatest of Earth's living forms, Tall conquerors that laugh at storms; Their challenge still unanswered rings, Through fifty centuries of kings. . . This is their temple, vaulted high, And here, we pause with reverent eye, With silent tongue and awestruck soul; For here we sense life's proper goal: To be like these, straight, true and fine, To make our world like theirs, a shrine; Sink down, Oh, traveler, on your knees, God stands before you in these trees." - The Redwoods by Joseph B. Strauss ╰━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━╯ It was the scrape of claws against stone that first made the Ridgeback pause, for as far as he knew, no one else was surveying this area. He approached the noise carefully—in those days, Sornieth was largely unexplored, and there were many dangers abroad that dragons did not yet understand. Soon the Ridgeback was close enough to poke his nose through a fissure. He peered down and saw a Guardian, perhaps only a few years younger than he, who was digging her claws deep into the rocks. “Hello?” he called out. “What are you doing here, Lady?” “I am working,” came the solemn reply, “storing away the knowledge I have amassed.” She did not seem surprised by the company, and she didn’t falter in her motions. The Ridgeback’s vision adjusted, and he now saw that the Guardian had been working for a long time: She had carved patterns upon the entire surface of the cavern. “Eyes,” he realized with a shiver. So many eyes, blank and lifeless, yet still seeming to bore into him. Their pupils were deep pockmarks of darkness in the iron-gray stone. “Where is your clan? Do you live here alone?” But the Guardian did not answer that or any succeeding questions. She was grimly riveted to her work now. The Ridgeback had noticed something curious in the stone, a faint glint of gold, but he didn’t think it’d be worth the trouble to ask about it. “Well, just be careful, OK?” he said uncertainly. With that, he backed out of the tunnel and returned the way he’d come. It was a long time before the sounds of carving faded away behind him. He wasn’t sure if they ever stopped. It was quite a strange encounter, one he was only too glad to relate to his fellow explorers later on. They were the first to speak of that mystery buried deep within the earth: the Cave of Knowledge, guarded by The One with Many Eyes. ~ ~ ~ In the misty beginnings of Sornieth, the gods created their children and urged them to set out into the world. The dragons slowly took over the planet. They formed huge clans and raised mighty lairs. Each deity remained in the territory they’d claimed for themselves, and all dragons who settled or were born in that territory were schooled in their deity’s values. For Simon, born and raised in the Sunbeam Ruins, this meant the pursuit of truth. But what is truth? It’s a question philosophers have always debated fiercely: “If I tell you the box is empty when it’s in fact full, that would be a lie. But if you believed those words because you didn’t know otherwise, would it still be a lie?” The puzzle was presented to curious students, and Simon, one of these students, seized upon that word: “If you believed those words because you didn’t know otherwise...” That was it: know. Young and impetuous Simon believed he’d cracked the code. Knowledge was immutable; you either knew something or you didn’t. “You can’t be deceived if you know everything there is!” he told himself. The notion quickly set fire to his mind, and he gathered all he would need for his pursuit of knowledge. Before long, he was gone. He headed north and took a ship to where the flowers bloomed in eternal summer splendor. “What do you know?” he asked the dragons who made their homes in the Viridian Labyrinth. “We know the thrum and beat of Nature, we hear and understand Her words,” they breathed to Simon in voices like rustling leaves or ponderously creaking boughs. Their green eyes blinked as they peered curiously at the strange Imperial. Two of them crept forward, gently took his paws. They led him to their village, where they taught him all they knew about Nature. —For this was Simon’s quest: to scour the world for all the knowledge it held, for with knowledge of everything, so he believed, no lie would ever slip past him. “Brave words for a drake who’s barely fledged,” cackled the dragoness. It was many years later, and it was yet another realm.... “How old did you say you were, little one?” “A little over a hundred,” said Simon, ever the truthful dragon. He said a silent prayer to the Lightweaver that he’d been blessed with an extraordinarily long lifespan, unlike others of his kind who had been extinguished long ago. “Ah,” sighed the magician. Her violet eyes blinked. “How quickly they grow, how quickly....Child, what brings a light wyrm such as yourself to the domain of Shadow?” “Teach me what you know.” And on and on it went... “Teach me what you know,” he said to the captain of the ship as they crossed the Sea of a Thousand Currents. The craft yawed in the thundering waves and the crew scurried hither and yon, but the Snapper remained as steady as a mountain, his face as perfectly impassive. Simon bent towards him as he began speaking his secrets in a gruff and gravelly voice. “Teach me what you know,” he entreated the engineers of the Shifting Expanse. Many of them hurried away, anxious about the next thunderclap bellow of “GET BACK TO WORK!” but a couple of the more jaded ones looked narrowly at Simon. “You look strong,” one grouchy electrician muttered, “but smart, I guess. Shall we see what you’re capable of?” From the Shifting Expanse, he journeyed south, to learn from the metalsmiths of the Ashfall Waste. He stayed with them for a time, practicing their techniques alongside them. When he had learned all he could, he left the oppressive heat of the forges and took a ship to the vast Southern Icefield. There, he huddled beside the archeologists in their caves of ice as they carefully labeled and classified what they dug up from deep beneath the frost. By then, Simon had amassed much knowledge, and even his bleak-faced lecturers couldn’t complain about his efforts. “There is little you do not know,” they admitted grudgingly. Simon’s spirit soared. He had by then lived for close to 200 years, but he was still as energetic as he’d been when he’d first started on his journey. He knew there were others of his kind who were close to a thousand years old—“And by the time I am their equal in age, I might know everything in the world!” After the harshness of the Southern Icefield, life atop the Windswept Plateau felt like a vacation. He played together with the Wind drakes even as they taught him how to build kites and decipher the whispers of the air. He savored his time here, for the next realm he set foot in was the Scarred Wasteland. “And what do you know, child?” rasped the shaman of the clan he took lodgings with. The shaman was so old and wizened that it was impossible to determine their gender, and no one could recall what it was. Not that anybody cared. “I know much,” Simon declared proudly. He stood head and shoulders above the Plague shaman, his eyes glittering with confidence. “You know little,” growled the elderly dragon. They gestured with their staff, and Simon saw beyond them rows of stones, slender markers sticking up from the ground. A graveyard. “Do you know what the dead have seen, even those of them who went on before your parents hatched? Do you know what lies within the embrace of death?” The shaman thumped the ground for emphasis, and their eyes gleamed beneath the bird-skull helm they wore. “No. You and I, we know nothing.” For the first time in decades, Simon was troubled. His time in the Ice Flight had taught him that a great deal could be acquired from ancient artifacts—but could the knowledge be incomplete? Or worse, could it be faulty? He recalled the puzzle he’d heard in school: “If you believe it but don’t know otherwise, does that make it the truth?” Further travels didn’t offer any reassurance. In the Starfall Isles, he was surrounded by dragons who were deeply interested in the unknown. “Mysteries lie all around us!” they declared. For them it was motivation, but for Simon, it was disquieting. An entire Flight of scholars claiming there was much they didn’t yet know? “Perhaps it is because they’re led by the youngest god,” Simon thought uncertainly. “They are not as well-established as the other Flights....Yes, that’s it. I shall go to the source of all dragonkind, the eldest of realms and gods.” ~ ~ ~ In his cavern of stone, the Earthshaker raised his head. His priests had brought him word of a young drake who had arrived, claiming to be in search of knowledge. Simon had written a letter asking to meet with the deity, “for surely one as ancient as yourself knows all there is to know!” “How exuberant he is,” said the Earthshaker, and it left his mouth in a weary sigh. “Yes, I will speak with my sister’s child.” The priests stared at him in surprise. They’d thought they would be told to send Simon away. But the Earthshaker had spoken, and he could not be ignored. Simon arrived a few days later, and he was brought before the deity. He stood there, trembling a little, as the great doors closed behind him. “You seek knowledge,” the Earthshaker said. His voice was a whisper, but one with enough force to make the cavern shake. Simon nodded uncertainly and then began, “Thank you for letting me speak with you, Great Father. I have traveled far in search of knowledge—” “You will not find it here.” The echoes faded away. Simon blinked, stared at the Earthshaker in stupefaction. “What...?” “What do we know? We know little...so very little.” The Earthshaker’s eyes held deep sadness, and he looked down at Simon with sympathy. “We amass knowledge as if it were pebbles for a collection. It is impossible—eventually, without our noticing, so many of them roll away. You will find that the gathering of knowledge is an endless chore, that even after many years, you will have less than you started with.” “But...But I...” Simon paused. He looked helplessly up at the Earthshaker. “The world changes. I know this better than anybody. As the years roll past, more things come into fruition, and more. More things are discovered...Yet more knowledge to amass. Measured against the span of time, the gathering of knowledge is, as I said, an endless, impossible chore.” And now Simon lowered his head. “Yes, Great Father,” he whispered. He understood: As the world continued to change and more discoveries were made, there would be more things to know and learn. He remembered the Plague shaman pointing to the graveyard: the knowledge of the past and future, and much of the present...It was entirely inaccessible to him. Other dragons had said something similar. They’d told him it was impossible. But he’d believed, because after all their world was magic, and what couldn’t magic do? But now one of the gods was telling him it was impossible—what could he say to that? Indeed, what could he do but agree? Another memory flashed into his mind: His teacher had just presented the box puzzle to Simon and the class, and the hatchlings were clamoring to know if the box really was empty or not. “What’s in the box?” the teacher had asked, and she had winked a shining eye. “You will never know.” ~ ~ ~ Simon returned home. He took a ship that deposited him on the northern coast, across from the Labyrinth where he’d started his journey so very long ago. He looked briefly at it, then turned and began the slow trudge back to the place he’d been born. He was so wrapped up in despondence that he did not notice the Imperial walking next to him. He only became aware of her when a beam of sunlight lanced through the clouds, briefly flashing across her wings. He choked down a yelp as he took her in for the first time. “Where do you hail from?” the Imperial asked, quite unconcerned. She was a great deal larger and older than she was, with a gleaming golden body and wings. She looked down at him with eyes as bright as his were. “The Sunbeam Ruins. This land is my home.” “No. I meant before now. Did you arrive here by ship, my boy? What is a youngster like you doing out here alone?” “I was studying.” “Studying?” “Yes. In Dragonhome...I went to learn from the Earthshaker.” Simon spoke slowly, uncertainly. It was like prodding a bruise that still ached. “He told me there was nothing he could teach me. So I came home.” “Ah, you have traveled far. And before that...?” The story slowly uncoiled. As they walked along the coastal road, Simon told the stranger about his travels, his quest for knowledge. The old dragoness listened patiently. Occasionally she asked a question or two, but that was all. Eventually the tale came to its end. Simon’s head drooped, and the dragoness sighed. “You are weary,” she noted, and she pointed ahead. Simon looked up, saw the faint glow of lanterns. Night was approaching, and he would have to find a place to stay. “Your quest has taken you far, and you need your rest. I know that town. It is a good place, filled with many curious dragons such as yourself. Perhaps you will learn much from them.” “But it’s useless,” Simon protested. It was a bad move; the dragoness’ eyes flashed. “No knowledge is useless,” she rumbled, and the force of her words shook the trees. “It is what you learn, not how much, that matters. Now, be on your way, my child.” Simon stumbled away from her in a daze. He was tired and still upset, and so it was some minutes before those words sank in. When they did, he whirled to address the dragoness again—but she was no longer there. It was then that he noticed a bright golden star streaking overhead. “Is that her? Perhaps she lives nearby....” But as Simon watched, the star soared higher and farther until it disappeared over the horizon. It moved faster than any dragon could fly, and when it finally vanished, a warm breeze swept over the forest. The grass bent, but he remained standing rigidly, his eyes wide. “It couldn’t be,” he whispered to himself. It was some time before he managed to tear his gaze from the horizon—over which, he realized, the Beacon of the Radiant Eye lay. ~ ~ ~ Simon found lodging in an inn. The innkeeper was a kindly Ridgeback, and like the Imperial, he gently asked what had brought Simon here, “for this place is remote, and we don’t usually get customers as young as yourself.” The old Imperial’s words had achieved their desired effect, and Simon felt a lot less sullen about retelling his story now. The innkeeper’s reaction was somewhat different, though. He shook his head in fond reminiscence. “You remind me of my great-grandpa. He was like you, also seeking knowledge....He’d found it long ago, you see, when he was a youngster like you. Or no, wait, actually it was...” Simon’s hide prickled. He queried, “Your great-grandfather found...knowledge?” “No...” The Ridgeback sighed. Simon was about to sigh, too, until the innkeeper murmured, “And anyway, that’s not right. It wasn’t knowledge he was searching for. It was the Cave of Knowledge, something about ‘many eyes’...” Simon was mostly quiet as he ate his dinner. But from time to time he questioned the innkeeper, asking more about the long-gone Ridgeback’s stories. The innkeeper was only too happy to answer; he wove tales of a dark cavern under the earth, one punctuated by dark eyes and glints of gold. He remained oblivious to Simon’s growing discomfort. That night, the Imperial’s dreams were disquieting, visions of trudging through a foggy darkness while dark eyes winked at him from just beyond his reach. A voice whispered incessantly; he didn’t know the words, but the tone was unmistakable. It was beckoning him forward, urging him on. In his dreams, Simon bellowed a wordless, ineffable reply. In the morning when he arose, a similar mist had blanketed the land. “Cold morning. A traveler could get lost out there,” the innkeeper commented. He looked worriedly at Simon, who was preparing to leave. “I know where I’m going,” Simon replied, and such was the conviction of his words that the Ridgeback didn’t question him. The young Imperial walked out and then vanished into the mist. ~ ~ ~ Simon had claimed to know where he was going, but he didn’t know exactly where it was. The innkeeper’s words were ordinary enough by themselves, but strung together, five of them formed a song that tumbled ceaselessly through his head: Cave of Knowledge...many eyes....It was a maddening beat that drove him on as drumbeats drive an army; he marched unerringly forward though there was naught but mist around him. In the fog, sounds were muffled. It seemed to him that the loudest ones were the thunder of his heart and those memories of voices: “Mysteries lie all around us!” the Arcanites cheered, followed by the Plague shaman’s rasp of “We know nothing.” The Earthshaker lowered his head and sighed, “The gathering of knowledge is an endless, impossible chore....” And finally, the old Imperial spread her shining golden wings. “It is what you know, not how much, that matters.” In Simon’s head, her voice now sounded younger and infinitely more powerful. He had been lucky. Very, very lucky... Only, had it been luck? An unknown amount of time later, the mist seemed to clear. Simon squinted as the world slowly reappeared. He could now smell a faint salt tang, and there—the mournful soughing of the waves. There was something else, too—something vast. It loomed out of the fog before him, towering over the land: a mighty tree, its trunk large enough so that only fifty Guardians standing together would be able to encircle it. It completely dwarfed the redwood forest blanketing the hills nearby. Simon’s jaw hung slack in awe as he followed the trunk up...up....He waited for the fog to dissipate, but it did not. It was then that he realized, with a sudden wave of dizziness, that he wasn’t looking at fog—it was the sky. This enormous, majestic tree stretched up to pierce the very heavens. “Is this the Behemoth? Something’s weird....” Simon noticed that the mist remained around the tree no matter how fiercely the wind blew. The tree was securely cloaked, almost hidden from prying eyes. Prying eyes... The Ridgeback had mentioned a Cave of Knowledge. Could it be nearby? Simon’s eyes moved downwards, probing at the roots of the tree. They clung fiercely to the rocks beneath, and well they did, for the tree was perched precariously on a cliff beside the tossing sea. Simon felt another shiver ripple through his hide even as he stepped forward. He approached the tree. No one else seemed to be about, and he marveled that he hadn’t heard of such a wonder before. Another part of him was murmuring that something wasn’t quite right about this place. Why hadn’t he heard about it before? Such an interesting location would have been talked about, described and illustrated in texts.... He recalled the Lightweaver pointing out the town and telling him, “That town is a good place, filled with many curious dragons such as yourself. Perhaps you will learn much from them.” And he had...Indeed he had. He’d been led here not by happenstance, but by something else—fate, perhaps? Or maybe it was that other faint voice tugging on his mind, urging him on and on.... “Welcome,” the voice seemed to sigh from above, rustling among leaves and boughs unseen. “Welcome to the Tree of Knowledge.” Yet Simon didn’t hear it; so focused was he on searching for the Cave of Knowledge instead. It wasn’t long before his questing eyes saw it, a patch of darkness between two roots of the tree. He drew nearer, nearer...and as he did, he saw them: eyes. Many eyes, knots and burls, actually, protruding from the bark of the redwood tree. They bored into him, beckoning him closer. It was a silent call he had answered gladly. At last, he had found that which he’d sought: all the knowledge of the world, past, present...and possibly the future as well. He didn’t notice as the mists closed up behind him, hiding him and the cliffs from view. The Tree had found its Guardian, just as the cave had, and it had no more need of the outside world—for now. ~ written by Disillusionist (254672) all edits by other users
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