Atlantis

Eden

  Atlantis. What some remember as a cursed name. This city was a thriving mega-city, a sprawling city of draconic learning. A city of magic, slaves, torture, oppulance, artistry, military, and so much more. It was not the pinnacle of draconic civilization, but it was the sister-city to the draconic capital.   It was important because it was home to the intricate craft of weaving humanity’s essence in upon itself. Smithing flesh and folding the DNA upon itself till a weapon emerged. Within it’s streets draconics and humanoids peddled wares and lived their lives. Within mansions built atop spires of their golds dragons played puppet. And within halls of vials and implements both arcane and medieval, the scientists and flesh-shapers worked.   This was the city that was cast from eden’s surface by the righteous anger of heaven and hell. The city and much of the surrounding rural farmlands were ripped from Eden’s surface and sent flying into the abyss.   The moment this was done however, Eden was changed. The greater plane shuddered at the wound it endured as the angels had carved so deep that molten rock was visible at the bottom of the hole where Atlantis had laid. What happened next was chaos.   The earth at the edge of the scar broke from the pressure the plane’s vast oceans. As water poured endlessly into the bowl, the water’s equalization caused a flood of the surrounding areas. The water gushed, flooding the chasm and hitting the molten floor of the scar, a plume of steam seen continents away filled the air. The steam and heat swirling upwards as a spiraling maelstrom forming in the rough center of the new ocean.   All around the plane of life there consequences. In the short term there were droughts, floods, and famines. In the long term, shifts of climate as the world adjusted.   Eventually, the ‘Sea of Atlantis’ would become a trade hub and popular living location. The maelstrom became a tourist spot of sorts while the surrounding lands took on a tropical, humid climate.    

Earth, the seed of eden

As the sundered land of Atlantis floated into the abyss, flung by magic and rage, the tendrils of fate wrapped around the home and place of power. This shard of a greater plane, still the size of an average plane itself, began to crumple and smooth. The abyss itself slowly healing and polishing the land till it was a sphere once again.   And throughout this process, humanity lived. Supposed myths were born, based upon history orally passed down. Reinforced by the wider denizens of Oggdrissil meddling in Earth’s growth. Influenced by the ruins around that, as the plane turned into the Earth we know, disappeared from war, erosion, and the crushing of the lands. Stories of monsters who would eventually go into hiding. Stories of a flat earth and the world’s edge.   The greatest of these myths however, was the beloved human tale of Atlantis. For like earth was split from Eden, the city of Atlantis broke from the Earth. In the final moments of the abyssal polishing, in the last moments of Earth becoming a fully round planet, Atlantis was sundered from the land.   It is not known how. Perhaps it was the pressure of the crust compressing until an explosive result. Perhaps magic. All that was known to ancient philosophers and myth-peddlers was that Atlantis had supposedly sunk, for the second time.    

Atlantis, seed of earth

The city of Atlantis, supposedly long abandoned, floated through the abyss much like Earth had for millenia before. However, where Earth was polished into a plane all it’s own over millenia by the currents of the abyss, Atlantis was smooth in centuries.   The plane, akin to Earth’s moon in size, a city-state and a ‘micro-plane’ in one. Eventually, Atlantis would stop it’s aimless floating amidst the abyss of space. Orbiting a star different from Sol, tangled in the tendrils of oggdrissil. A small little plane on a small little branch of a titanic tree.   And here, amidst magically eddying weather, is the twice lost city of atlantis. A ruins of long lost glory and power. Draconic culture, science, and magic lost to time. The remaining quarter of the city lays nestled in a valley of greenery and mist. A warm sun or a damp grey overhanging above always save for when the eddies of magic make the weather unpredictable.   The city, atop a pillar-esque mount of rock, slowly crumbles at the edges. A titanic mountain range touching one side as, long ago, the mega-city broke into several tectonic plates underneath and a mountain-range carved this small section of the city away and into safety.   Nowadays, the micro-plane has been refound. Atlantis is repopulating. Portals connecting it to earth as misfits, peoples, and monsters of all types use the city as a port of safe harbor.