Steve
(#38162491)
Level 1 Ridgeback
Familiar
Disappearing Pisces
Click or tap to view this dragon in Predict Morphology.
Energy: 49/50
This dragon’s natural inborn element is Lightning.
Male Ridgeback
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Personal Style
Apparel
Skin
Scene
Measurements
Length
20.95 m
Wingspan
11.73 m
Weight
8466.59 kg
Genetics
Lead
Giraffe
Giraffe
Ruby
Stripes
Stripes
Latte
Glimmer
Glimmer
Hatchday
Breed
Eye Type
Level 1 Ridgeback
EXP: 0 / 245
STR
8
AGI
7
DEF
7
QCK
6
INT
5
VIT
7
MND
5
Biography
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________________________________________________________________ Hi, I'm Steve. I will be hiding out in your lair for a while, just keeping a low profile. Don't tell Boss that I am here. Steve the Intern - Origin of Steve There is a legend amongst the dragons who work in Tempest Spire. It's a story every new intern hears, and at first none believe it-- but word gets around, and strange things happen, and it's never long before they learn that the Monster of Tempest Spire isn't just some office hazing ritual. A flash of brilliant red in the darkness. The evil glint of Lightning eyes under a desk. The absent click of nails long after everyone else has gone home for the night. Of course, nobody can say for sure that what they saw was Steve, but everyone wants to assume. It's a good thing he's just bent on disrupting office work. Steve is the bane of productivity under the Stormcatcher's watchful eye. He's fast, smart, and scarily nimble for a Ridgeback. It's general knowledge that he's male, and a few reliable witnesses claim he's red. Most of the workers absolutely despise him, but there's always the odd dragon who laughs at his pranks and appreciates the breaks in monotony he provides (though nobody's happy when he messes with the coffee). If a seemingly benevolent dragon is deemed trustworthy enough, they will be invited to join a secret organization known as the Cult of Steve. Though they have no direct contact with the dragon they idolize, they have pledged to help him in any way they can, and perhaps an eighth of the pranks attributed to Steve are actually executed by his followers. Steve himself is something of a mystery. Is he a normal dragon trying to escape boredom? A spy from another flight desperate to disrupt Stormcatcher's offices? A rogue robot, programmed with considerable wit and poise? No. The truth is somewhere in between, and is in fact much, much worse. Many years ago, a young clan situated somewhere in the Shifting Expanse found the need to use the exalt cannon for the first time. They had chosen a horrible day for it: the wind was howling, Boss was shouting for more coffee every few minutes, and a sandstorm was threatening to kick up nearby. There were fewer attendants at the cannon than usual and none had the time to show the clan leader the ropes. Desperate to get the job done fast and return to her clan, the leader loaded up the new intern without checking for debris in the barrel. She also neglected to fix the trajectory for the cannon, figuring, as many do, that it would always point to the Intern Landing Pad. She began countdown immediately. She was very surprised when the intern launched alongside a huge quantity of scrap metal and about fifty cherry red Swingline staplers being readied for delivery. She would have been more surprised if she, tracing the arc and her former clanmate's screams across the sky, had seen the entire bundle splash right into Stormcatcher's coffee cup. The sheer strength of the brew served as a catalyst, meshing together aspects of everything within, before Bossdad glanced down and saw that his drink had been tainted. The angry deity yelled yet again for more coffee and dumped his out then and there, sending the newly-created monstrosity tumbling partway down the spire to the actual Intern Landing Pad. By then, however, it was too late: Steve had been born. An unholy combination of dragon, machine, coffee, and stapler, all in the shape of a Ridgeback. Steve was just a normal intern at first, but quickly grew bored of desk work. He'd just gotten these caffeine-powered robo-legs, and he knew they were capable of so much more than coffee breaks. At first it was just one prank. And then two. Three. And soon Steve was faced with the most glorious addiction and thousands of furious coworkers who only knew that the perpetrator had red wings. He does so love his job. Talons clicked against the battered surface of his desk, a tap-tap-tap that matched the cadence of exalt cannons firing in the distance. He was attempting to plan, and was offhandedly grateful that his cubicle was tucked into a less traveled corner of the Tempest Spire, where very few visitors bothered to tread. Especially Management, which was to his benefit, really. Yet it was from his cubicle far off the beaten catwalk that he reigned over his “empire”, free to orchestrate his next caper to disrupt the frenetic going ons of his fellow denizens of the Shifting Expanse. His beginnings were humble. A hatchling born to a nondescript lair, he had left as soon as he was able, following a call for something that he didn’t have a name for until he began an internship within the Tempest Spire. Originally he was a coffee grunt; responsible for getting coffee for the operators of the exalt cannons, and those dragons who were so concerned with their spreadsheets and numbers that they’d never known he had given them half-caf instead of the fully caffeinated dark brews they seemed to thrive on. It was there, as a nameless intern, that he realized the true potential of anonymity. No one cared to look any farther than the mugs he handed them, which left ample opportunity for mischief. And oh how he loved mischief. Half-caf coffees were the beginning. An introduction into his love affair with causing good natured chaos, and reminding his compatriots that life isn’t all about work, despite what the Boss might have boomed over the loudspeakers. His second caper was subtle, yet devastating to the workers within the spire, who couldn’t explain who, in the dead of night, had swapped out all of their 20oz coffee cups with 8oz ones. The storerooms had been plundered, all shipping manifests updated to exclude anything above 8oz to be delivered to the multitude of breakrooms that littered the levels of the Tempest Spire. Almost immediately a flight-wide email had been sent, demanding the return of the cups to their rightful owners so that the 27% dip in productivity would rise once more. He had returned one, and only one, and had scribbled “Steve :)” along one side. And so his legacy had been born. There were rumors that he didn’t exist. There were rumors that he ran a syndicate, and was the reason that there was an entire week where the exalt cannons only spat green goo and nothing else. While he most certainly was the orchestrator of the green goo (and hadn’t that been fun, sneaking goo from Baldwin’s bubbling brew), Steve wouldn’t say he was a syndicate lord. He merely…encouraged the antics of those who took inspiration from his work. Was he a visionary? Perhaps. Did he arrange to have every single coffee pot unplugged at 8 AM on the third Monday of every month? Absolutely. There was a canister in the bottom drawer of his desk, full of ‘W’ keys that had been appropriated from every keyboard in the Spire. In the sanctity of his own lair, he had framed the increasingly frustrated emails from Management, and had a wall dedicated to “fan mail” (or what he liked to call his Wall of Recruitment). Steve most certainly did exist, and he enjoyed his work. For most of the day, he was a nameless intern. The rest of the time, especially during Profit and Conquest pushes, he was Steve. Steve, who stole all the W keys on the keyboards, making it difficult for supervisors to tell us to work. Steve, who swapped out the 20 oz coffee mugs with 8 oz ones in the break room. Steve, who may or may not sleep on a bed of paper clips. Too many acts have been committed in the name of Steve to have been just one dragon. So, my fellow Sparks, the question is simple: who is Steve? An enigma within an enigma within an enigma (and perhaps wrapped up with a small mystery), Steve is a creature who does their work silently. When everybody else is refuelling on coffee, Steve is stalking ghost-like through the corridors, swapping petri dishes and stealing the word ‘work’ from posters. If anyone were to ask...well, no. No one had ever seen what Steve looked like, just seen the product of his misdeeds. Stolen keyboard keys, normal fluorescent lights turned into neon bars of color, signs with additions and detractions...nothing was safe from Steve's wrath, not even the Boss' favorite coffee mug. Steve from logistics is too much of a pansy to commit to any of these heinous acts. Steve from engineering had his claws full with work, preparing for the Thundercrack Carnivale. Steve from janitorial is allergic to staplers! The list of suspects dwindled and management has had to conclude that Steve simply isn't his real name, much to their frustration. The mischievous rampage continues from office to office. Each act has been signed clearly by Steve. At the coffee machine, a post-it note was found: 'I bet you're all espresso-ing anger right now lol. - Steve'. As you may have noticed, Steve signs after each correspondence at the chalkboard too. The trend continues with each act of terror, with Steve cheekily claiming credit at the scene of the crime. See, Steve is a mischievous narcissist. It is not enough that he creates chaos in the well-managed headquarters. He craves for the credit and reputation. It absolutely kills him when someone else is accused and cannot bear anyone else taking credit for his genius pranks. Steve had swapped coffee beans with jelly beans. It was a tough week for everyone. Rumored to be the cause of Bossdad's use of all caps when exhorting his employees to "GET BACK TO WORK!", Steve is the iconic office prankster. Steve is a valuable member of Stormcatcher's work force by dispensing humor and mild anarchy among co-workers and managers alike. This unique Ridgeback lightens the long work days with playful antics (or irritating shenanigans depending upon your point of view) and is a major component in the reduction of workplace stress. The following is a typical "Steve" scenario: Need to staple a report but the stapler is empty and not a single staple is to be found? Steve. Decide to use a paperclip instead but every last malformed piece of curved metal wire has disappeared as well? Steve. Well what do you know, thanks to the shenanigans of Steve, you've discovered that your manager really does prefer reports that are presented in a professional clear plastic binder. Thanks Steve! What else do you expect from a guy who made a list called 801 ways to annoy boss? The list went something like this: 1. Hide coffee filters 2. Hide coffee grinders 3. Hide coffee makers 4. Hide coffee cups 5. Don't capitalize boss's name 6. Use bad spealing on officcifal repuarts 7. Put smiley face stickers on security cameras 8. Set up boss's computer so that every time he emails someone the phrase "Get back to work" it autocorrects to "Get some more cupcakes and eat them NOW!" 9. Delete Excel from all (ALL) of the computers And so on. Steve also made a list of 127 ways to slow down work at the spire. It went something like this: 1. Hide coffee filters 2. Hide coffee grinders 3. Hide coffee makers 4. Hide coffee cups 5. Switch all of the labels on the machinery around 6. Play conga music through the intercom, and start a giant conga line through out the spire Now, this all started off innocently enough. While a stern and often uncaring boss, Stormcatcher was not unaware that his employees deserved a vacation of some sorts and after the... uprising last year. This year, he had something more relaxed in mind. A desert beach party was practical, affordable, relaxing, and would require minimal maintenance. A memo was written up and sent out to the flight, and then to the inhabitants of Sornieth inviting them all to celebrate this year's Thundercrack Carnivale: a dessert beach party. Wait, what? As with most (all) 'situations' caused in Lightning, this could all be traced back to one single intern: Steve. Steve has been an intern for so long simply because he cannot resist making trouble at any given opportunity. And this? This was one he would be ashamed to pass up. Apparently, Steve happened by the memo just before it went out. A quick flick of a claw and an extra 's' had the entire flight scattering about on not only an eternal caffeine rush but what could only be a pre-sugar high (or excitement). By the time Stormcatcher became aware of the proceedings it was too late and the flight was too far into preparations to be stopped. The dessert beach party was on! And what could Steve be planning next? To staple our ties to our desks? To steal all the blue marker pens? To write an erotic fan fiction featuring the Boss and forward it to all our emails? We can only wait and see, although this reporter for one hopes we’ll be seeing ‘A Lightning Deity told me to get back to work and I liked it’ very soon. |
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Porg Adoptable by akitcougar & Melvistle
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Exalting Steve to the service of the Windsinger 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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