[center][Img]https://i.imgur.com/MjvPQnN.png[/img] & [img]https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/539670012026159134/635993362184536084/Cyclops.PNG[/img] Cyclopes[/center] It was atop a mountain summit that Synros was born once again. This was neither the greatest nor the least of the Qiangshans’ many peaks, merely the first one that the cyclopes had stumbled upon when they’d first marched that way so many years ago. There had been some great and fiery scaled beast nested up there, but it had been no match for Atlas; the giant had lifted an entire hillock, carried it up the mountain on one shoulder, and then used it to crush the waking beast. Or so the tales went; Atlas had been the first to reach the mount, and the beast’s skull had already been reduced to splinters by the time his smaller brethren caught up. Some suspected that Atlas had merely pummeled it to death with his fists or hurled boulders at it, but the giant insisted he’d crushed it beneath a hill. In the time since their conquest of the peak that had become their camp, the cyclopes had continued to go about gathering meteorites from far and wide. By Synros’ decree they brought their prizes back their mountain and heaped them up, slowly raising a small pyramid of the black sky-stones. Atlas would have none of it, though. Instead he prowled the mountain range, wandering up and down the slopes in a journey half to satiate his curiosity and the cyclopes’ longing for exploration, and half to appease his now infamous bloodlust. Many a dragon was driven from its nest by the giant’s brawny hands and the massive rocks that he threw. Decades passed, though the cyclopes had neither concept of years nor sense of time. In those days they roamed their faroff mountains in packs mostly unopposed by and unknown to the rest of the world, and very few perished. The fear of those earliest days began to fade from their hearts, but so too did some of that grim and whetting determination that had accompanied their uncertainty. They were beginning to grow soft, the meteorites were trickling in slower than ever as they’d already scoured many hills a dozen times over, and Atlas was ever more restless, so Synros finally decreed that they had gathered enough. He summoned them all to the peak and they waited days until every last band had returned. Once all of them were accounted for, the demigod spoke. They all watched attentively--all of them save for Atlas, who instead sat down and toyed with a boulder in his hand near the back of the crowd. [color=2f4f4f]"In the dark of night and the stillness of my eye, I have seen visions of the glory and might that is ours to claim,”[/color] his great and powerful voice resounded, recoiling off the distant mountain peaks. It was punctuated by a thunderclap of a crash as Atlas tossed his boulder off the mountain slope. “Then why you tell us to run aroun’, picking up rocks? No glory in that. No strength in scurrying down there like bugs.” The colossus stood up to his full height and raised his chin to look down on Synros and the whole crowd. He somehow seemed to grow another three hands taller, looming over them like that. Synros frowned and crossed all four of his arms. At first he had thought that he’d found a staunch ally in Atlas, but the so-called Might of the Cyclopes had been an obstacle and an adversary at every turn despite how he’d once proclaimed his friendship- Atlas wasn’t done. “And why is it that you all listen to him, anyways? Just ‘cause he has four arms makes him better than me? Than us? Just one of mine could hurl him off this mountain!” The giant flexed his arms overhead, and it seemed as if even more rocky flesh erupted out from the gaps between the chiseled muscles. There was freakish muscle upon muscle upon muscle. The display sent an icy lance of fear into Synros’ spine, but with an indomitable will he fought it off before it could creep into his expression. [i]He is like stone, a mountain made flesh, but stone is not strong, for it will shatter where steel only bends. I must be Steel![/i] [color=2f4f4f]"Brother, I will show you strength,”[/color] he finally said. Atlas grinned, and he charged forward, pushing his way through the throngs ever closer to his next battle, with the lusting light in his eye seemed to roar, [i]’Finally!’[/i] Synros advanced too, but he stopped right before he reached the line of cyclopes, and he stooped down to lift one of the fallen meteorites from its place at the bottom of the pyramid stack. He held it high into the air for all to see, then set it down upon a bench-like flatten rock and struck it with his fist. Then he struck it again, and again, his back to the crowd even as Atlas blindly tried to push forward. Synros knew not what he was doing, but he felt a calling, as if this was just [i]right[/i], and he chose to trust his instincts. His four fists rained down upon the dull grey rock so fast that they were a blur, and the meteorite groaned and glowered with a soft heat, and then it surrendered and was finally broken and shaped to his will. He held up the product for all to see, and it was a great helmet with short, ornamental spikes atop its otherwise functional form. The front was open and gave way for his eye and face to remain unobstructed, so perhaps it was more like a crown. He held it high, and when Atlas finally broke through the crowd and stood right before his rival, he looked down in confusion. Synros seized the moment and placed the crown upon his head before an awed crowd. And then he took into his hands an even greater meteorite, and he began to forge the rounded end of a mace. [color=2f4f4f]"This is my strength, the might I have seen. Watch, and I shall give it to you too!”[/color] he proclaimed, and suddenly the throng was rushing forwards to engulf Atlas once more as they crowded as close to Synros as they could be. And then Atlas knew that he had been tricked and bested, for this was not a contest of true might at all. [hider=Summary+Might/Prestige] The cyclopes make their home in the mountains of DF. They spend a long time just keeping to themselves out in the wilderness, gathering up meteorites into a great big pile at Synros’ behest. Atlas is not thrilled with the prospects of being a “scurrying bug” looking for rocks, so he wanders the mountains during this time and is mentioned to have had several encounters with nesting dragons, none of which end well for said dragons. The tension between Atlas and Synros eventually comes to a boil, and Atlas wants to fight, but Synros cleverly chooses that moment to realize his power of shaping metal. He uses his fists to cold-forge lumps of meteoric iron into a mundane helmet and mace, but this is just the beginning. No MP spent. Synros is crafting mundane iron weapons as a free action under his portfolio of Steel. Atlas prestige was 7, now 9 +1 for minor role +1 for major role [/hider]