We are a literate, intermediate to advanced AU Transformers RPG Based off of the first season of TFP with dashes of other incarnations sprinkled here or there. Characters from any continuity are welcome however must be restyled to match the TFPrime universe.
Active, with ongoing plotlines, we are always willing to integrate new characters into storylines once incorporated into the setting.
(Well open to anyone who could logically BE there at the time.)
The day that Bluestreak had masted, or at least gotten the hang of the art of walking had been a day of celebration for hir cohort. The days subsequent to hir discovery of such mobility not so much. The Sparkling was small, already a capable climber, eager to explore and as it turns out an escape artist as well. This last one is probably Jazz's fault somehow.
And that is how Bluestreak came to be wandering the halls of Autobot HQ Looking equal parts lost and excited. Ou was coming out of hir shell and wanted to meet new bots but perhaps it would have been better to get one of hir cohort to come with hir?
The One of the Order of Solus was, as a rule, a busy femme.
Cybertron was at war, which meant there were always civilians hiding in the cracks of their breaking world who needed protection. Direct action in the field remained the Order's best chance of defending them, but increasingly Elita-One found herself using negotiation with the war leaders to minimize casualties. The Autobots and (increasingly grudging) Decepticons could be prevailed upon to limit their battles, to avoid areas with large numbers of refugees and to render medical and material aid to the people they did hurt. It took all of Elita's skill and energy to convince them, but it was work well worth doing.
When Solus hands you a tool, don't stand there dithering about its properties. Learn to wield it.
So Elita was at the Autobot base, in the middle of negotiations with Optimus Prime about a group of ships ready to take civilians away from the fighting. It was a measure of the Prime's trust in her that she had no escort, but she would have liked one at the moment - all the hallways in the Autobots' bunker had been designed for sturdiness, not style, and they all looked the same. Elita paused a moment to get her bearings.
A small chirp sounded to her left. Elita glanced over, expecting to see a deployer drone, but a sparkling stood looking around instead. Elita pressed a hand to her spark, and refrained from melting with all the proper dignity and iron will of the One. No, really. Honest. No melting here.
Bluestreak was beginning to consider that maybe escaping hand;' been such a good idea, The familiar hallways were so much BIGGER when ou was on hir own. Then the little sparkling heard some one call out and turned towards the sound.
She was the second most beautiful femme Bluestreak had ever seen. Chromia would always be number one in hir spark after all. She was some one Bluestreak had never seen on the base before but even so she looked nice enough and if life with hir cohort had taught her anything it's that Femmes are the ones really in charge.
Carefully the little grey sparkling makes hir way over to the pretty femme and gives her a big smile. Reaching out to grab hold of her leg for balance.
Ou was without doubt the most adorable sparkling Elita had ever seen. Gratified that ou wasn't afraid of her, Elita knelt slowly to address hir directly, in her gentlest voice. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Bluestreak. My name is Elita." Ranks were for grown mechs and soldiers, so she omitted hers. "Do you live here? I'm visiting for the first time, and I'm afraid I'm a little turned around."
It took not time at all for Bluestreak to warm up to the new femme. Reaching out with hir arms to indicate that she should be picking hir up. Doorwing buds fluttering happily behind hir.
"Hello 'Lita! I live here, I can show you were to get un-lost!"
The little sparkling wasn't usually this forward but ou had been getting lonely and besides she looked like a nice femme.
Obedient to the little one's expectations, Elita scooped hir up and cradled hir close, standing slowly so ou didn't get dizzy. "Yes, I am," she answered, amused at how Bluestreak's accent changed when ou said Prime's name. I wonder who's responsible for that. "Do you know where his office is? I would be much obliged to you if you could direct me there."
And so she could watch Bluestreak reduce Optimus to a melted puddle of Prime, which was bound to be adorable and amusing.
Bluestreak held on tightly to Elita as she stood. Snuggling a little into her arms to get comfortable for the walk. Bluestreak knew were to find Optimus but it was a little bit of a walk from here.
"I know were to go!"
One little hand pointing in the proper direction. Excited to be having a bit of an adventure with the new 'bot.
Optimus was in the middle of something, several somethings actually, and a via-neural link field report with three ground scouts on the south border. Rapidly, he would be in the middle of half a dozen things, when Elita-One navigated her way through the bunker to talk to him. Normally, he would have taken it upon himself to greet the One personally, but a carpet bombing of their most recent supply caravan had thrown their operational HQ into something of a tailspin. They needed the medical-grade stims, energon, and nanite infusers that had been in that caravan and he was being forced to ration what they had to a level that forced his medics to operate on a level barely above triage.
Ratchet had very nearly punched him when he gave the CMO the news.
He had a spec ops unit, a black-tactic crew straight out of the surge at Tarn, currently assigned to the recovering of the medical supplies. Fuel came secondary he was afraid to say. They had enough of a surplus to get away with missing the supply for this orn, but they would lose two dozen of their critical condition soldiers without those medical supplies. And that was just background noise against the aftermath of the lastest Decepticon guerrilla attack. Prime himself had dispatched half their number, but not before another bomb took out one of their equipment convoys… said convoy’s teammates hadn’t quite recovered.
Optimus was filling out a field report and inspecting a holo-feed at the main data-console, and quite distracted enough to miss the arrival of anyone who was not another field scout with intell on Con troop placement.
"In here, little one?... Oh, excellent, here we are! You're a good navigator, Bluestreak."
Elita was not a big believer in baby talk. Sparklings could not possibly get any benefit from being talked to like an insipid moron, in her opinion. But they did like to be talked to, and encouraged to talk back - and a bit of flattery never hurt, either.
"Optimus Prime," she greeted with a smile, hoisting Bluestreak up on her hip. "You're surprisingly difficult to find, for such a big mech."
It hand't taken long at all for them to find Prham. Chirping happily at Elita's praise, doorwings perking up in pleasure. Frowning a little however when ou saw Optimus and that he was"angsting" again. Bluestreak didn't know what that meant but it's the word jazz used when he got all sad looking like this. Holding tight to Elita ou reaches out for him with the other.
“Elita One.” Optimus looked up from the holo-display, brow ridges jumping up slightly at the sight of Bluestreak happily chirping in Elita’s arms. He put down the data pad he’d been filling out and turned to give the One and her passenger his attention. “I see you have met one of our recent MIA’s.” Optimus leveled one of his best (or worst) ‘very disappointed’ looks at the tiny wiggling new-spark. “Bluestreak, Jazz has been…” Freaking out and blowing up my comm for hours in a panic and recruiting whole units to search for you in a mass panic not unlike the outbreak of Cybonic plague. “…worried. You should let him know you are okay.”
“Prime?” A field LT was at his elbow. Optimus pulled a data slug from the console and handed it to the femme who saluted, collapsed into his alt mode, and took off, fishtailing out of the room into the halls where someone immediately swore at her for speeding. That done, Optimus turned back to the waiting Order commander.
“Apologies. We are in the middle of a supply crisis. Our last convoy was hit directly after a major operation against the Decepticons and we are beginning to feel the shortage direly. Forgive me if I seem… partially elsewhere.” He had half a dozen thought threads running other logistics issues in the background of his mind. One of his field operatives was requesting extraction. He diverted a greater amount of focus to him while he addressed Elita. ”The refugee ships. What is their situation? Last intell placed them south of here, prepping to launch out of the hot zone. Have you encountered an obstacle?”
Of course she had, and likely a big one if the One wasn’t simply taking care of it herself.
Last Edit: Aug 20, 2012 13:24:43 GMT -5 by Deleted
The Prime was definitely distracted, being pulled in ten different directions at once. Elita almost felt guilty giving him yet another crisis to deal with. But this was their world, and their responsibility.
Hoisting Bluestreak up closer to her shoulder, she moved forward to stand next to Optimus, mingling her glyphs of concern and tiredness (tired of this war, tired of worrying that it is unwinnable) with his. Not alone. Short of challenging him to a sparring match right there in the central hub, it was the best she could do for him. "Megatron has deployed a flight of his soldiers, led by Starscream, to block the launch. The refugees have received demands to surrender their resources, both material and personnel. The Order wing class is engaging them, but they are eighty-four percent outnumbered and could use ground support." She lifted her optics to the Prime's. "It is imperative we end this battle quickly, Prime. Or I fear the refugees truly will surrender."
Timidly Bluestreak hid hir face into Elita's shoulder as ou was shifted. Ou hand't meant to worry Jazz, just wanted to explore a little. Ou was getting to that phase were ou wants to see ALL the things after all.
Though it didn't take Jazz to figure out Optimus was tired, Elita too though she hid it better. Bluestreak was only just beginning to comprehend the war in it's most vaguest terms and couldn't really understand what was going on but COULD understand is that they were sad. Still holding onto Elita Bluestreak reached out to pat Optimus Chirping to get his attention.
It was entirely possible Optimus was far too comfortable with being called a ‘fragger’. He didn’t bat an eye at the new-spark’s boisterous command A: because he was still in the middle of processing what Elita had just said and B: because it seemed that Blue had recently retired ‘Prahm’ and adopted the expletive as a secondary call-sign for the Bot Commander. At this point, he was too distracted to disapprove. It was a testament to how long Elita One had been at these war-tasks with him, because the peripheral harmonics of her engine noise, glyphs humming in at the edges of his own field – this was familiar to him as the stock of an iron rifle, as the transformation sequence of his battlemask. He felt, more and more, that in the midst of violence was subsuming all his other familiar sensations.
“No time to rest, Bluestreak.” Prime looked away from Elita’s star-fusion stare, offered the young one a half-smile. “Have to go now. Find Jazz. Ironhide is about to be occupied. And then some.” Optimus opened a channel to the ground units with the least number of casualties. “This is Optimus Prime. The Decepticons have launched an anti-aircraft blockade against the refugees under the Order of Solus. Unit leaders rally ground support and prepare for deployment. Await deploy command. Situation update inbound.”
He looked again to Elita. “Do you have… a visual of what we are up against?” he asked, indirectly asking for a patch into her optical memory banks, something he could send his CO’s to give them an idea. Ground support, working in conjunction with the Order, would likely be minimal in casualties. The blade-techs of the Order knew their war around warfare for all that they tried to abstain from it directly. In the defense of those under their protection, there was no deadlier opponent than a femme of the ancient Order. As he well knew. “I have three infantry units prepping for immediate deployment.”
Last Edit: Aug 24, 2012 10:12:49 GMT -5 by Deleted
<<Jazz will come in unobtrusively and claim bitty Bluestreak wherever's convenient, so feel free to puppet him. He'll try not to bug Optimus and Elita, so he won't be chatty.>>