Dart
(#39015332)
A storm is brewing, and I'm going to summon it
Familiar
Tribeam Lurker
Click or tap to view this dragon in Predict Morphology.
Energy: 0/50
This dragon’s natural inborn element is Lightning.
Male Fae
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Personal Style
Apparel
Skin
Scene
Measurements
Length
0.69 m
Wingspan
0.78 m
Weight
1.45 kg
Genetics
Abyss
Falcon
Falcon
Cantaloupe
Blend
Blend
Sanguine
Peacock
Peacock
Hatchday
Breed
Eye Type
Level 8 Fae
EXP: 10455 / 16009
STR
5
AGI
8
DEF
5
QCK
6
INT
48
VIT
5
MND
10
Biography
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Dart
Dart is one of Brimdrost's brightest minds. Although most of the city's infrastructure was established before his birth, the fae improved all of it with his astonishing talent for engineering and technology. The upkeep of almost all of its services and attractions is due to his innovations in catching, generating, and storing electricity. He is generally quiet, but is always more than eager to talk about his newest projects or discoveries. Small talk bores him, and it isn't rare for him to outright ignore dragons he finds mundane. He also tends to become overly obsessed with things. |
"Can you feel it Murk?"
"A storm is brewing."
♥ Mate xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx |
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"And I'm going to summon it"
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It's my fault. He thinks. His claws shudder. She sits at his feet, frail and broken. She is not supposed to be silent. Achalendra is the sun, bright and lively. He is the moon. They are siblings, and the moon cannot shine without the sun. The world cannot continue without the sun. She cannot be gone. "Achal?" He asks, but she does not answer. "Please Achal." His mind races, for a plan, for an excuse, for a solution. He cannot find one. For once, he is not in control. The city's lights, once his pride and joy, are blinding. He wishes the cavern-spanning hologram of the sun would disappear. The sun is gone. He stumbles back, pulling the tips of his wings from the blood. Something clacks nearby, iron talons on the stone ground. An automaton stands above him. It mimics a wildclaw, and if it weren't for the dead light of its eyes, he'd think it was one. "Excuse me," it says, monotone, "what seems to be the problem." He tries to speak, but the words won't come out. His breath catches. The machine turns towards the fae on the ground, pivoting unnaturally on its feet. Internally, its robotic mind recognizes the blood. With no emotion it sends a request to the main computer for assistance. The guard questions him, but their prodding is gentle. Dart is still so young. Most of them remember when his parents stumbled through the city gates, sand-bitten and carrying eggs. They remember how devastated he was when Roquet left to join a pack. This is much worse. Dart sits at his sisters bedside. Flash sits next to him. The only sound is of his technology, quietly beeping out the rhythm of her heart. He expected this. Both of them are dragons of few words. But he almost starts to cry when his mother's wing pulls him close. Another failure he thinks. Equipment is thrown to the ground, some of it shattering. The framework is there, but it isn't complex enough. Every time he transfers a mind to the computer, it is distinctly different. Dull. Not good enough. Murk appears from the darkness. His voice is quiet and sympathetic. "Everyone's worried, Dart. Please come outside." The fae says nothing. He simply glares and goes on to the next computer. Dart isn't quite sure how long it has been. The only indication of time in his lair is Murk, who brings him food and news three times a day. He no longer asks Dart to stop. But it doesn't matter, because Dart knows he is close. If his coding was physical, it could wrap around the planet. When he implants the most complex AI into an automaton and sets it loose among the tourists, none of them notice the difference between it and a real dragon. Soon he'll transfer her mind into its coding. The system is automated now. It runs constantly, testing for errors and fixing them according to his parameters. Even without his help it evolves. He simply nudges it one way or another. It is only a matter of time. But the world is not merciful. He's in a good mood that day, when Murk enters his cave. One more tweak and it will be finished. Hope shines in him brighter than ever before. He ignores the pity in his guardian's eyes. "I'm sorry." Ice runs through his veins. "She's gone, Dart." For the first time in years, he leaves his lair. Time passes, too slowly and too fast. He remembers the funeral through a haze. The following days are numb. Too soon and too late, the scars heal. Murk helps him every step of the way, and eventually things are almost back to normal. His old lab is left undisturbed and forgotten by everyone but him. It takes months before he is ready to go back, and a few weeks more before Murk lets him. "Are you sure about this?" Murk eyes the cave warily. It's on the outskirts of the city, beyond the actual buildings where dragons work and live. He stands right at the threshold. "Shadowheart knows what he's doing, why don't you let him take care of it?" Dart snorts with more confidence than he actually feels. "Of course I'm sure. It's too intricate for anyone else to take care of." He hops down from Murk's back. "And there are... Things down there I don't want anyone else to know about." Murk frowns at that, but says nothing. They enter the cave side by side. It's colder and darker than Dart remembers. The many, many computer screens are blank, although they still hum gently. Murk reaches out and taps a button, causing the mountain of screens to bloom with blue light. Dart snickers when Murk startles. "They're all part of one computer. I needed a couple extra screens to keep track of everything." Dart explains as he flies up to the main monitor. His crests flutter. "I forgot to turn it off…" His guardian moves in to look at one of the screens. Complex lines of code take up most of it. He squints at them. Being Dart's assistant, he's normally good at translating programming languages but the words on the screen don't quite match up to anything he's familiar with. "Hey, what did you use to make this?" He steps away from it and turns his attention to the knotted cords on the ground. "It doesn't have a name." Dart doesn't look up from his monitor. The light from it casts him a soft, eerie glow. "The normal languages weren't flexible enough, so I made a new one." Clicks sounded as he typed. "It was part of my plans to revamp the automatons, remember?" "Uhh, yeah." Murk did not remember. ART: 
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