Djerra's Story

It had only been a day or so since Djerra had simply popped, as was his unfortunate habit, from a trashy bar in a trashier space station to the wilderness of yet another strange and unfamiliar planet. He had taken it in stride, immediately casting an eye out for possible predators, taking note of his surroundings, and looking for what food seemed the safest. This place didn't look too bad. It didn't look too close to civilization either, though. Over the day, he had gathered some strange berries that several different types of creatures had partaken of, and had found a rather defensible spot. He had spent the night there, sleeping lightly, and was now looking for water sources.

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.

Cydrok had seen better days. Heavy bags hung under his eyes, but still a lot of willpower was there to drag him from the wreckage with his good left arm. His right arm however... Metal and robotics lay dead and defunct, the crash breaking some vital component and leaving him with the dead weight of a built arm. This could have been a problem if he hadn't lived with it for months now, to the point he had a muscular frame to accommodate its weight.

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.

Djerra watched the man as he activated whatever it was in creatures that enabled them to survive, that surge of will to force one's body beyond its natural limitations. The fires dwindled to ashes, and Djerra could finally gather to courage to approach. Hesitantly, he sidled forward until he was standing over the man (not towering, of course. Just standing over). He assessed the man. Human, or close enough. Cybernetic arm and a strong body. But physical features could only give him so much. What kind of person was he? Not knowing how far away the closest sentient, friendly habitation was, he might have to share resources with this man if he saved him. If this man was going to be nothing but trouble, Djerra didn't need him. However, another set of eyes and hands... er, hand, might be beneficial. While Djerra was dexterous, and could get a lot done with his vines, he lacked the strength that this man apparently had.

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.

Cydrok was asleep for a few hours before he finally woke up, only a twitch of his fingers to indicate he was anywhere near conscious before he finally rose. He looked dazed, out of it, but for the most part the damage was superficial or psychological. There were bruises all up and down his good arm and his right side, a nasty gash on his forehead and his clothes were ripped in a few places, but altogether he was okay. Okay 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.