1. Medbot; Different cartridges of generic painkillers and pills and bandages with an entire database of at least first level first-aid in a memory card in motherboard. Useful for small injuries.
2. Construction Robot: Big hammerlike hands with small dills in compartments on the arms; Able to download dimensions and digital blueprints to REM cards. Good for building simpler objects and structures.
3. Proofreader. It's like spell check but with the warm constructive criticism a computer can't quite capture, and with more of an appreciation for the Oxford comma.
I've really fallen in love with silver ragons so here would be infomation:
-Maximum Height: 22 feet.
-Maximum Weight: 1,280,000 pounds.
-Wingspan: 150 feet.
-Breath Weapon: Paralyzing gas; cone of cold.
-Favorite Food: About anything; they especially like to taste new things.
-Habitat: High, lofty places-the cooler the better.
-Enemy: Red Dragons.
*Favorite Treasure: Beautifully crafted jewelry or finely woven fabrics.
I was walking outside, thank goodness, when it happened. My nails hardened and blackened and ripped through my shoes. Mottled fur sprouted from my skin and my teeth grew into fangs. Soon I was a whole new creature. What kind, I was unsure, but I felt more powerful, definitely stronger.
I quickly realized that being a monster in a school of monster killing badasses was not an ideal situation. So I panicked and decided to wait until it was slightly darker to deal with my problems. So I hid at the edges of the forest until dark and as the moon appeared in the sky. I figured getting someone who could help me would be wise, but as I had lost the ability to effectively use my vocal cords, I wondered how to do that. I was tired, and it was cold, so I walked to the gates of the school. With my claws I scraped a peace sign into the ground and hoped it would be enough.
The orientation had been interesting enough up until this point; the Academy was an interesting school. But now, as the minions poured in and the cat monstrosity drew closer. For a brief moment I wonder if the monster and the featureless cat I saw earlier have any connection, but it seems unlikely. The thought is dismissed.
I don't quake with fear at the beast or minions. But then I remember that I am a coward, and that running has kept me alive more than fighting. I take the two nearest chairs in my hands and run towards a door. Hopefully this might work.
I set the chair in my left hand down and take the other in both hands. I am not strong, but I slam it into the door. Property damage is fun. Hopefully this damn door will break and a few of us can run for it. I look back at the monster.
Some people are hurt. I am a Sylph, but I can't help. I continue the assault on the door. It shows a little wear but I am not fast enough. I hope someone might help me out, but everyone seems preoccupied. I wish I was clever. I wish I could think of a way to kill the beast and be the hero. But I'm not. I hear a minion behind me. I turn around and smash the chair into it. It seems at least a bit hurt, and wanders elsewhere in the room.
Maybe if some could get past the cat we could get out through the gaping hole in the wall.
Slam, slam, slam. This door just won't give. I gaze at the chair I have to my left and then at the splinters in my skin.
I abandon my damaged weapon and take the new chair.
I rush into the crowd. Hopefully this will end well. I look one last time at the barely dented door, and I wish, once more, that it would open. I wish for a lot of things. Look where it got me.
The metal gate rises far above your head, and the wind bites at your skin; obviously three sweatshirts wasn't enough to replace a jacket.
Your name is Niamh but some call you Quigs, a clever shortened version of your last name. Some even go so far as to use the endearing name of Quiggles. You really respond to whatever name people call you; you think nicknames are groovy.
As you go through this inner monologue for awkward wording, you notice a cat standing close to the bars of the gate. You can't see the cat's face, but all other instincts tell you to run and befriend the cat. Cats are one of many things you love dearly.
You kneel and stick your hands through the gate bars, and try to get the cat to come closer. The current featurelessness of this feline should be concerning, but it looks too fluffy to resist. It runs away before you can really make any progress in making it like you. Oh well.
You return to looking at the gates. You decide it would be much more helpful to look beyond the gates, so you do that instead. You see a bunch of students rushing around to get ready for orientation on the 10th, and a few handing in their applications. You pluck nervously at your backpack's drawstrings, and a surge of terror rises through your stomach. But you can feel excitement, too, and you know that deep down you are really pumped for the school year. You feel even better as you see a few horned Homestucks, and some obvious Pokemon masters. You even see some people equipped with wands; certain Potterheads. And there's one person just carrying a bowl of spaghetti lovingly; you dismiss it as slightly odd surrounded by more oddness.
You hope they like you, and you can't wait to get a roommate after orientation.
You slip through the bars of the gate since you're not sure if you're allowed to open them. You're not sure how to open them either. You know you will begin to search for the library soon, but right now you take it all in, everyone's faces, the building itself, and the brilliance of it all.
