Setting
The reality? A scientist catching a late night space taxi urging the driver to jump through a nebula of ionized gasses. And this was the price he was about to pay. Cydrok, formally known as Adam Noble before he decided his given name just wasn't him and chose something more suiting, found himself clutching onto the seat with his fingers, face red from the sudden pressure changes and the sheer g-force. The belts strapped over his chest currently kept him restrained in case worst came to worst, and it was about to.
But the closer the ship grew to the ground the more it managed to level up, jets firing and wings deploying, until the angle of its decline could almost be considered slight. A pity about the sheer speed they were going. The impact was violent, the first hit crushing the entire front half of the ship into one solid block, and then flipping through the air. One of the wings snapped off on a tree, only making the spinning and hurtling all the worse as chunks of burning metal were flung in all directions. Three bounces later the vehicle finally lost all of its momentum and came to a single massive crash, leaving a trail of destruction and fire in its wake.
And when the silence finally settled, the wildlife went back about its business as if nothing had happened, leaving a lone man to struggle out of the wreckage with cuts and bruises covering his body.
He had been concentrating so hard, looking for signs that led to running water, that he did not hear it at first. Rather, he did not notice that he could not hear it, the sound of the forest, anymore, until it was almost there. He looked up when he did notice, expecting some predator come to threaten his life, but saw nothing. And then... Flames. Before his eyes, a giant phoenix dove into the earth, shedding its shining feathers passionately as it went through its death throes, taking a streak of the forest with it. Djerra covered his eyes with one hand, back-pedaling furiously as he tried to get away from the flames. Panic rose through him, hot and yellow, like sour, sour milk boiling and bubbling up into his throat.
Calm down, just calm down, he thought to himself as he scrambled away. Willing himself to look, he brought his arm down slightly to gaze upon the wreckage. A ship, it seemed. A small one, probably somebody's personal ship. It was torn and crushed in a way that metal should not be, and the flames licked around the edges, already dying down. Djerra tried to slow his breathing. The fire's fading. It's okay. As he watched, however, he could see movement. He moved as close as he dared, the warmth of the hot metal preventing him from getting close enough to help. A man, it seemed. He was badly injured, but Djerra wasn't sure whether or not to call out to him. So, he waited. He decided to stay back. It would not be his decision on whether or not this man made it out of the wreckage alive, but the man's himself.
He heaved his legs out of the rest of the craft, not bothering to glance back to see if the driver had made it. Hell, he was lucky to have made it. Ever inch he moved ached like all hell. And finally once free he rested his head on the ground. Everything sounded like a high-pitched whine and his vision was all blurry. Shock was sinking in something unpleasant, but he couldn't care less. His short brown hair was a mess, his matching eyes sagged shut and he just lay there.
Making his decision, Djerra let his vines unwrap from around his body and billow out from under his cloak. He had them wrap around nearby trees and their other ends to the man's torso and legs, and lift him away from the wreckage. The placed him close enough to the flames that he could be warm if he stayed like that until night, but far enough away that he would not be burned. It occurred to Djerra that the man might still be conscious and alarmed, but after he had set the man down, he simply wiped off the sweat from his exertion from his brow and went back to his search for water. Perhaps the man would recover well with a bit of rest, and perhaps he would be an invalid for a while until Djerra had to decide whether or not he was worth keeping. Either way, they would both need some water soon enough.
However his movements were shaky, and the bags under his eyes hadn't gone anywhere. He looked exhausted. His hand rose to rub his head, then moved to his shoulder. There was a clanking noise, then one of pressure and a few clicks. Then finally four clips released and the robotic arm came off with a heavy thud. It was a strange piece of technology, a cable dangling uselessly from it obviously meant to connect to a pack, but there was no such pack on Adam. One could almost conclude the gun barrels at the end were useless.
Only then did he look around to try and take stock of what had happened, where he was and who might have saved him. Well, he could answer the first two. Crashed and lost.
"Thank you, for the meal." Gaven muttered to no one in particular as he stood up and walked over to his catch. He has seen pictures once before on the Origin. The creature had once been known as a 'Deer', though back then it had been much more flesh and alot less machine. He actually liked them without the machinery; they were kind of cute, little, jumpy creatures. Now they were just barely nature touched.
With a sigh, Gaven grabbed the creature by it's back legs and dragged it off towards his temporary camp. He didn't really have time to think on how cute the creature could have been; food was food. It wasn't long before he reached his camp; a simply log set next to a firepit, under a large, leafy, makeshift roof. A quick flick of his wrist sent a few drops of a reddish liquid from a vial he'd pulled from his side pouch as he walked in. Instantly the scant kindling in his fire pit roared to a flame.
"Well, guess I've gotta de machine you my friend." Gaven grumbled as he flicked one of his knives free and set to preparing his meal.
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