V A U X

The Electrician

The unholy offspring of a lightning and arcane dragon putting their talents together to breathe sentience and a soul into a being of metal. That's what Haetara is. A freak of magic and science. An unexplained piece of ancient technology uncovered when the clan's tunnels were being dug. Of course, Vaux pushed his way to the front at the very mention of a robot. Haetara had went unblemished all the hundreds of years burried dormant underground, and the idea of giving inanimate objects life intrigued him. He had her dug out on the spot, and as soon as the tunnels were done he dragged her into his new workshop to begin work at once.

It seemed the hunk of metal had a tank-like underside. But for what? It was empty. A quick examination determined that it was a fuel tank. But, now he needed to know what kind of fuel. He soon determined by the smell, internal workings of the engine and small bacteria samples of the inside of the tank confused him. The results told him the fuel was blood. But, where would you get enough blood to fuel such a beast? And more importantly, why blood? Was regular fuel not much easier to obtain? Or was the original maker simply derranged? Would it even be worth it to revive the beast?

So many questions crossed his mind, but unfortunately Vaux had no care in the world for the life of another. He was too fixated on his projects to have time to do so.

So, with months of work and countless beastclan lives being used for his own sick goals, he created a working machine to effectively remove as much blood as possible from a specimen. Such a sight to behold is rather terrifying. While most of his subjects are beastclan, sometimes an unlucky dragon will make their way to end up strapped to the murder mill.

All those lives taken to power one artifical one.

With a complete disregard for others' wellbeing, it makes it easy to do things like this.

Once, long before joining Atrox, Vaux was in the process of building one of his machines, he was very absorbed in it, becoming careless in his ecstatic efforts to finish his creation that he made one fatal mistake. He cut one wire, and the entire thing exploded, with him right in the center. Fortunately, he had survived. At least, half of him. He was paralyzed from the waist down. Unable to move his legs, he now had to drag himself with his front claws out of his workshop.

He soon grew tired of laying in the hospital bed, and decided he would take matters into his own hands. He left the hospital and once again entered his singed workshop, and began working on something to cure himself at once. He created a small electrical pack, and then connected it with a wire to the spinal cord in the back of his neck in order to hopefully 'recharge' his nerves.

It worked, for a time, but he soon found that without it he was once again paralyzed. So, he wore it continuously. But due to all that excess electricity in his body, his fur became constantly static, standing on end 24/7, electric bolts sometimes even flying around his fur.

With all this, something happened to his brain. A part of it was fried, deactivated. The part that contains empathy and kindness. Whether this was a result of the snapping of his spinal cord, the electricity frying his brain, or a head injury during the accident, he does not know. But all he knows is, that part of his brain is dead and gone.