Atolm

 As the runt, Atolm could easily have been at the bottom of the sibling pile, but instead, what he got was half a dozen older siblings... older, and much bigger. Born nearly two feet smaller than the others, the glowing little spitfire was quickly spoiled rotten; the bigger they got, the better life got for their (rapidly-learning-to-play-adorable) little brother. Physically even less than unimposing, Atolm learned to handle increasingly larger playtime partners, to focus on manipulating energy, and of course to "go for the eyes" when need be. If nothing else, his 'breath' has more than grown the way it should.

 As time went on the differences exacerbated. Not only had he barely grown three inches, but getting fed is downright humiliating after so much time. The siblings mother eventually had to admit he'd been adopted, a proverbial cuckoo-egg left in a nest he'd never stand a chance of disrupting. Embarassingly enough, he'd been so small he'd gone unnoticed until the daughters claimed the last egg for themselves. Life had been pretty good up to this point, so whatever just left him and ran off was quickly forgotten.

 Nevertheless, one must eventually leave the nest and make one's mark on history. Atolm knows his grandmother - everyone's grandmother apparently - knows the secret to size, power, size, and being popular with the women (he may not have listened carefully). Deserving these most high secrets of the multiverse will surely require incredible name and deeds, and so, against much fuss he left; in search of smaller, weaker things; things he can be strong, proud, seem decidedly manly in the presence of.