Elphael » Lair » Drew

Drew

(#47761002)

The Disaster Relief Unit

Familiar

Seething Stove

Energy: 40/50

Personal Style

Apparel

Skin

Scene

Physical Attributes

Battle Stats

Measurements

Length

5.34 m

Wingspan

6.64 m

Weight

608.86 kg

Genetics

Charcoal
Metallic

Charcoal
Basic

Cyan
Capsule

Hatchday

Dec 18, 2018
(5 years)

Breed

Adult
Wildclaw

Eye Type

Lightning
Uncommon

Level 1 Wildclaw

EXP: 0 / 245

STR

AGI

DEF

QCK

INT

VIT

MND

Lineage

Parents

Offspring

none

Biography

DREW
^{A robotic deserter from the Tempest Spire. A gentle giant who cherishes the simple, tranquil moments in life.}

^{Pronouns: He/him

Factions: Refuge}

Disaster Relief Unit, or Drew, as most call him nowadays, is a synthetic lifeform dedicated to preventing and reducing damage before, during, and after the event of a disaster. He knows the labyrinthine tunnels and massive structures of Refuge with perfect recall, as well as the surrounding areas of the Stormcatcher's domain. He is equipped with swappable modules for clearing rubble, extinguishing all types of fires, and stabilizing injured dragons. He can lift his own weight many times over. And while his bright, unblinking eyes may unnerve some organics, in times of crisis their unwavering glow is a welcome sight. Drew serves his clan with pride, always prompt, civil, and dependable in the face of danger, and an attentive, gentle friend while off-duty. But what many don't know is that he once served under the Stormcatcher himself, retrieving escaped or malfunctioning units in preparation for deactivation.

Perched outside an abandoned factory, DRU-512 steadies his Decommissioner, ready to take the shot. He takes the wind into account. His combat subroutines calculate the optimal angle at which to fire the sniper bolt. His new, experimental subroutines "calculate" that the wind should feel nice caressing his tactile sensors. That the rushing noise should bring a sense of calm; that is, peace, or the absence of stress. That if he were organic, and had watery, fleshy eyes instead of his own optics, it would be wise to wear goggles. It would have been wise to deactivate those subroutines, thinks DRU. Just focus on the mission. There is time to feel later.

His target flutters around a clustered rock formation close to a metallic heap of trashed spires. DRU's thermal scanners indicate she's running quite hot. Nearby, at the factory's base, a Pearlcatcher hatchling sits nestled in a pile of cables, a Swift Volt nuzzling the youngster's cheek. DRU thinks he should feel "tenderness" and "concern" at the sight. No. Later. The Decommissioner is a weapon of stealth and precision, built for drone retrieval and optimized to reduce the risk of collateral damage. They will be fine. What's more, the mission will, in all probability, be a success.

He's been tracking this one for the better part of the day. It's one of those repurposed models, one of those Faes they used to use as manufacturing 'bots, but this one's been outfitted with a heavy laser for demolition work. Sure, it can cut through almost any material, but the older, less powerful Fae just can't handle the tool's demands, as Tempest Spire engineers found out too late. Best case scenario, the Fae overheats and shuts down. Worst case, it goes boom, letting loose a highly destructive, uncontrollable barrage of lasers that even the Stormcatcher himself would flinch at. DRU wonders how things have gotten so frustratingly out of control that a simple remote recall will not suffice. DRU wonders a lot of things lately, really, thanks to his experimental upgrades. All these things like advanced emotions and complex morality and --ugh-- sentimentality-- well, they're highly unnecessary, aren't they? He should just turn them off. Just focus on the mission. But the Boss had installed something in him that made him want to feel, and that was the strangest part. He can't turn it off-- not completely. He sighs-- sighs! Sighing is unnecessary, he muses. And breathing, too, he assures himself. He'll become like one of those organics if he doesn't stop himself. And to make matters worse, he's not sure if he really dislikes the prospect.

DRU-512, with slightly more difficulty than usual, slides back into the mindset of an elite operative of the Stormcatcher. Going off the angle of fire, he runs through the most likely scenario. The bolt will hit. It will embed itself into the Fae's midsection, attempting an override: Cease all work and return to base immediately. If the override fails, which is not likely but still possible, a second bolt from the Decommissioner will attempt to induce a complete shutdown, after which DRU would manually retrieve the 'bot. That is, of course, if nothing goes catastrophically wrong.

Inevitably, it does.

DRU looses the bolt. His Decommissioner confirms a hit. That's it, he thinks, ready to mark another tally on his left shoulder. But instead of heading back toward base, the Fae stutters, swerves to the left on unstable wings, crashes square into the rocks, and fires a laser volley in every conceivable direction. Lasers slice clean through several spires that, once looming tall, now threaten to smash into the dusty earth of the Lightning Farm. Boulders fragment into large, dangerous chunks. Looking at the oblivious hatchling still curled up near the factory, DRU feels fear. It feels like an imminent, total shutdown. With all of his power, he pushes back his feelings and jets across the terrain toward the helpless dragon. Falling debris and rubble have caged the poor thing and its panicking familiar, but DRU feels nothing as he charges through the sparks and smoke. With one arm, he hauls the hatchling and its familiar out of the wreckage, shielding them under his metal wing so as to prevent further damage. This is no different than a standard recovery mission. Bring the target in as intact as possible. The target-- oh.

The Fae lies crumpled up at the base of the overlooking cliff, sparking and letting off short laser bursts. Another one hits the side of the cliff, chipping away menacingly at the stone. A stray chunk of rock hits DRU's back, putting a heavy dent in his armored casing and his backup power supply. This must end now, thinks DRU. With the two survivors still under his wing and falling debris everywhere, he charges toward the Fae and thrusts the spike of his Decommissioner through the torso. A risky move, but necessary for manual deactivation and retrieval. The Fae powers down, her eyelights dimming, but not before letting off a final discharge of electricity. DRU stumbles back, systems operating but unstable. He reaches for the deactivated Fae with one barely responsive hand, and, Stormcatcher be praised, his grip holds. He pulls the four of them out of the factory's vicinity, feeling numb and overheated. Before his vision cuts out and his limbs fail him, he spreads his wings over the Fae and the hatchling and watches the Swift Volt scamper out from beneath him into the depths of the Lightning Farm. He feels-- well, a rush of everything, really, but mostly relief.

When his awareness returns, he notes he is sitting in an unfamiliar workshop, on some sort of table, hooked up to numerous cables.

"Ah. Lovely. It appears he's finally conscious now, dear," says a Pearlcatcher.

"Please, treat him gently. He may require further care yet due to the toll his work has taken on him," murmurs a Skydancer next to her. His tail is curled protectively around a curious little hatchling, and he is smiling softly.

DRU's optics focus on the youngster. He identifies it as the one he rescued. How long has it been since his mission? Not more than a couple days, his clock suggests.

A small dragon flutters past the couple, curiously craning its neck toward DRU. DRU shifts into high alert. The Fae. She's still operational? He raises an arm to loose a Decommissioner bolt and finds it bare, exposed wires extending out from where his weapon would have been.

"Um, no. Darling, I'm ever so sorry, but you're in no shape to fight now. And though greeting our new acquaintance is a lovely idea, I'm afraid a third bolt through the chest isn't a proper introduction."

DRU withdraws in shame, lowering his weaponless arm and folding it across his body. Of course. They repaired his target, too. He locks optics with the Fae, who twitches her crest and mumbles something that DRU knows is an elaborate curse. After all, he understands basic Fae and Coatl as well as common Draconic. He does his best to apologize, and the Fae seems to accept it, emitting what seems like a laugh.

"Hello. This unit's designation is DRU-512, or Drone Reco--" He stops and sighs. This is not a mission.

"Hello, my name is DRU-512," he says, correcting himself.

The Fae seems full of vibrant energy, despite her monotone.

"Hi there. I'm so glad you didn't hit me again. That would have been a shame. I'm DU-71, but could you call me Deeyu?"

"I could, Deeyu. Could you call me Drew? I feel it's fitting," he says, adding a bit of warmness to his metallic tones.

"Sure can, sureshot." she replies.

"Deeyu, this is important. Are your lasers functional?" DRU says, and then adds, "and are you feeling well?"

"Delta and Deluge fixed me up a little, but they swapped out my big zappy beams for these weak, cruddy things-- no offense, guys. But just look. I can't even cut through--"

Before anyone can stop her, Deeyu's laser slices clean through an empty table in the corner of the workshop. Crystals and cables clatter onto the floor. A Swift Volt squeaks in surprise.

"Whoops. Never mind, we're good. And I am fine," she says to the blank stares of everyone in the room.

Drew sits in his quarters, curled up against the wall, charging. He's always on call if Refuge needs assistance, but for now, he is at rest, and allows himself to feel until the time that feelings become a liability. He thinks of how much he likes living here, and how rewarding it is to keep his new friends safe. He feels proud, fulfilled. He looks over to Deeyu's spot on the opposite wall. She's gone, presumably off somewhere in the Canyon, wreaking Refuge-sanctioned havoc. Thankfully, she's not the destructive creature he initially believed she was.

He's thankful for all he has, but sometimes, he wonders if someday, the Boss will send someone after him, maybe Deeyu too, since they're technically both deserters. Another retrieval mission, and this time he'd be on the nastier end of a Decommissioner. But wouldn't the Boss want this? That is, a creature with a true capacity to feel? Drew was only acting on his feelings by leaving.

With that reassurance, he turns his thoughts to other things. A cluster of pretty blue flowers he observed blooming in the gardens. Refuge's latest clutch of hatchlings, healthy and happy. His new, improved rescue and stabilization subroutines that would help preserve the lives of his cherished friends. He feels too much this time, and it's so hard to not feel. So he just goes to sleep instead.

Drew wrote:

^{"I may have a hide of chrome, friend, but I have a heart of gold! Deeyu said that should be my motto... do you like it?"}

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0/1000

Click or tap a food type to individually feed this dragon only. The other dragons in your lair will not have their energy replenished.

Exalting Drew to the service of the Lightweaver will remove them from your lair forever. They will leave behind a small sum of riches that they have accumulated. This action is irreversible.

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