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.
There was a sort of stunned pause between the two Autobots, in the course of this war they had both been called everything under the sun, but being called 'shrimps' or anything to do with 'small' was not something either had heard very often.
"Did she..."
League didn't get a chance to finish his question before Bulkhead morphed his servo into his cannon and fire off a few shots at the intruding Decepticon. As Bulkhead started off the attack, League took this time to recover his pickaxe, slinging it over his shoulder as he turned to began a slow march towards the femme. Now, both bots were fairly damaged, League most likely couldn't take another heavy hitter and the femme looked like she had fire power to spare. But at this point the miner didn't give a slag, both he and his fellow living wall had been insulted, it was time to deal out a little hurt.
Once he was within range he swung the pickaxe down in an arch, aimed right for the femme's head as he pulled as much strength into the blow as League could spare. The Autobot cursed Megatron for crippling him, reduced to fighting with less then half his normal power. The best he could do was hope to land a few lucky shots and with the help of Bulkhead, drive the tank-former back, also keeping her away from Prime in case she got any ideas of ganging up on the leader as he squared off against Megatron.
Arma knew better than well, that when her lord was fighting with Optimus, then she was not allowed to interfere. Though, she would've liked herself try her luck with the leader of the autobots. Still, it was enough for her to see him getting crushed in her lords hands. She did not ansver the order, but it was crystal clear for her, to leave these battling leaders at their own peace. As she again fully concentrated on the bots she was supposed to fight, she was once again fully ready for battle.
The "insults" she had said, and which seemed to make these botties pretty angry like, were not connected for their size at any way, for Arma, anyone of the bots, without higher military ranking, whom she had annihilated more than just few. Though, most of them hadn't been the easiest ones to fell, and few were really close to end up annihilating Arma instead. But she was still there, and these "shrimps" would definitedly not stop her.
The first shots came, which she simply dogded, but when the bigger one swinged his pickaxe down, she swung her own, huge battle axe upwards, directing the coming attack away from herself. Without a moment hesitation, small hatch in her body opened, as the same moment flare was shot towards bot's face, meant to blind him for and second. As she let her battle axe fell into her right hand's hold, she morphed her left arm into machine gun like lighter weapon, which was weaker than her main cannon, but much faster. She shot a burst towards the bot in front of her, and immediatedly tried to kick him with all the strenght she had in it, aiming her machine gun immediatedly towards the another one of them, sending longer burst towards him.
League realized that the tank was a lot faster then she seemed, sadly he noticed just before there was a bright flash which caused his optics to go into sensory overload and crash themselves. In the heat of battle losing one's sight, even if just for a few seconds, could mean death. However League had gotten lucky as he felt thousands of little pellets smash against his plated hull. As the Autobot's sight came swimming back he shook his head, just getting himself steady before one massive 'Con attached foot slammed into his chest and sent him down to the ground with a booming thud.
Meanwhile Bulkhead was on the move, avoiding the majority of the machinegun blast only to catch a few scattered shots ringing off his hide. Being that this weapon lacked some real armor piercing power, it wouldn't do too much to either heavy weight unless the femme managed to pin them down long enough with the machinegun.
League was having a bit of trouble standing up, having only one arm and all, but his weapon made a handy cane in a pinch, shoving the pickaxe into the ground to get the leverage he needed.
"Gonna have to do better then that, little miss cannon hogger!"
Now the sub Autobot normally didn't take to verbal warfare, but his pride was a little sore from the comment the femme had tossed out in the beginning of the fight. League returned the favor before swinging his pickaxe around once more, this time aiming low. The hooked place of the pickaxe slammed into the tank's foot before League gave a sudden jerk, causing the femme to have her legs swept out from under her. He then whipped the pickaxe back up as he loomed over the smaller transformer, getting as much arch into his next swing as he could manage before bringing it down, aiming to rip the Decepticon a few new skylights.
Optimus scowled, pulling himself to his feet, clearly not in much of a mood to talk. He slipped into a defensive stance, blades held ready and eyed the Decepticon leader as he circled before him, "It is high time you answer for your crimes against both this planet, and our own, Megatron. We end this now. 'One shall stand...' " He half-stepped diagonally, blades swinging, as Megatron passed in front of him, cutting off the other mech's orbit around him with an attack. His weapons sung as they sliced through the air, one aimed to bite into the side of Megatron's neck, the other shooting forward lower his abdomen.
It was an awkward cross to cut both blades off from their strikes, but Megatron stepped into the strain with relish. He drank in the Prime's anger, drew the hot field against his own and marvelled at the raw intensity of it. Certainly it seemed that Barricade had done something to warrent the Autobot's attack, and if Optimus himself was seething...
"One shall fall," he finished, optics narrowing with effort as the tall mech pressed his weapons, now held at bay by sword and gauntlet.
In the back of his processor, his battle computer blurted a concerning stastic- 30% below optimum functioning. The wounds he'd already received were relatively small by they were sucking power, though it was only a fraction of what was now pouring out across the bond and into the ether. Enraged or not, the limits of his systems were currently tighter, and Optimus was a worthy opponent on a 'good day'. With the Prime this incensed and his spark spasming phantom pain and very real drainage, Megatron knew that it may well be him that fell.
Only if he gave Optimus the lethal chance, however. Pushing the ails aside, Megatron shoved Prime's blades back with a shout before charging straight back in with a vicious back-slash to the side.
<<Feel free to whump Megatron in your tags. He needs to get a bit beaten up before things explode.>>
Arma noticed very soon, that her machinegun was in actual combat pretty harmless, it wasn't after all designed to penetrate the heavier armors, but to stop the bigger masses of the lighter enemies. And yes, for being bots, these guys seemed to be pretty resiliant ones. That was nothing to get concerned about. As she was just about to charge to attack the bot that was still standing on his own feet, she made it to see that the bigger one was up again, and felt quickly the pickaxe hitting her leg, felling her on her back. Her face, or rather, her optics were without any seeing emotional change, as the rest of her face was covered by her battle mask. Even when pickaxe was striken again, meant to rip her armor, her face remained unchanged. Before hit, she hitted the pickaxe with her fist, moving it enough not to hit her, fatally. It hitted her armor, but was after all directed to the ground by her armor. She looked slimmed than she really was, her armor looked thinner than it really was. Though pickaxe left pretty deep scratch on her armor, and would've pretty surely penetrated it if hitten straight. Arma could've let it hit too, and make the another one lose his weapon, but wanted to finish these off without taking too much damage.
Without hesitating, she directed her machine gun to the face of the bot, firing a burst. This one might even hurt, at this distance. As she spinned up, she again grabbed her battle axe, directing it this time to the bot's legs. The words this bot had said, had no effect on her emotions. But she still was about to show him that she was able to do more than just that. It was though not yet time to use her main cannon, battle was still just beginning. She seemed pretty careless, standing there, still her optics kept on eye for all of action on the field. She observed all she was able to, of the battle of leaders, and still watched for these two.
It was laughable, or would have been if Bulkhead had not been, in fact, the shortest slagging thing on the battlefield. He wasn't used to staring at other bot's shoulders or chests - it threw off his aim, things that would have been headshots on an Eradicon bouncing harmlessly off of chestplates that his blaster wasn't heavy enough to punch through.
Time to up the game. Exventing, Bulkhead stepped into the opening League left, the femme's gun momentarily on the larger mech, which gave Bulkhead time to bring his own gun to bear. Tit for tat, as the humans said, and he fired off several rounds at her optics, the last shot still bursting in the air as he leapt forward, wrecking ball swinging.
Acting on instinct League brought his arm up to protect his optics from the hailstorm of bullets heading form them. Then right after he felt the bite of the war-axe, shredding into one of his legs. Now, the Autobot would have been much more ticked off if that was all, but it seemed that Bulkhead was taking advantage of this and stepping in to do some damage as well.
With Bulkhead coming from one angle, League knew he had to attack from the other, if they were careful they could overwhelm the femme and keep her pinned down until she either gave up or none of the three bots were able to fight. But to do this he would have to uncover his optics long enough to swing and the machinegun could do some monstrous damage if he took his arm away even for a moment. The axe in the leg he didn't mind so much, League wasn't much for running or any sort of fancy-footwork.
Then the submarine had an idea. Sweeping his head back as far as he could manage, the mech took his arm away and coiled it across his chest to add his full weight into the next hit. Then he sent a backhanded swing towards the femme. All the while his optics were out of harms way, though he was pretty much swinging blind. Thankfully a walking, smartmouthed tank wasn't the hardest thing to miss.
He saw the slash, but didn't block. Bracing, Optimus took the hit, blade lodging into the plates of his flank, energon running rivulets down his thigh from the wound. He ignored the injury, using the moment to seize Megatron's sword arm under one arm as he swung his other inwards, aiming for the center of his his enemy's abdomen.
Megatron braced his armour for the hit, twisted his body to blunt it in the same nanosecond as every micron of space between his armour clamped shut. He should have absorbed the injury, and mechanically he did - his armour held. The energon blade slid in a wide gash across the interlocking plates of his abdomen, but didn't get close to penetrating through to anything vital.
Internally, however, his protoform blistered at the impact, weakened by the energy pouring out through the sparkbond. If that blade had breached through, his autorepair wouldn't have stood a chance.
This was how bondmates got killed at the same time - one instinctively tried to stop the other sinking to the Pit and ended up dragged down with them.
With his own sword lodged in Prime's side and the arm locked in place, holding their bodies too close to kick away, Megatron was left with little option but to slam his free fist into the mech's side. He growled with the blow, tasted energon, pushed the implications of that aside. At some point his spark had settled to a dark throb, indicative that whatever was happening to Barricade had, at least, stopped. He pushed the implications of that out of his processor, as well.
Arma noted the incoming bot, and was forced to turn her machinegun like blaster into blade, to be able to block the strike with wrecking ball. Her sight was also caught for an while, to let the bigger bot out of her sight, and she just saw the pickaxe coming again, and tried to rise her axe to cover herself. She quickly realized that her axe was stucked in the bot's leg, and the only thing she was able to do, would've been abandoning her weapon, to be able to dodge. She though, didn't. The pickaxe hitted her on the area, between her neck and shoulder, spilling energon on her head, and dripping along her armor. The cylinders in her legs yelled, as the strike was really strong, and would've normally dropped the enemy on it's knees. But Arma was not ready to kneel before these... shrimps. They were still just shrimps for her. Still, this position was pretty bad, she had her another arm, holding the wrecking ball bot, and the other one held still her battle axe. Situation could get easily worse than this, if she would not act quickly.
Arma hopped on her other leg, and kicked the midair one towards the wrecking ball bot, same time turning her another hand back to normal, grabbing her axe with both hands, starting to lever it upwards, possibly tried to fell the bigger bot, but the main reason was, to get stucked axe removed. It worked, as she felt the pressure ease, and quickly pulled her axe away, making some distance between herself, and the bots. The pickaxe was removed from her wound also, but she was still leaking energon, though, not seriously yet. But she realized she shouldn't take these two too lightly. As her axe's blades were pulled back in, she attached it to her right arm. "Looks like it's my time to stop playing, and start a fight." The treads at her backside turned upwards, as she took stance, with most possible support, as she targeted her main cannon towards bots. As she felt the energy level being right, she fired. The gun let massive boom, as shot, and Arma slid backwards few meters, and the barrel was thrown upwards due to the strenght of the recoil. She had no idea, had she hitten either of them, as the massive explosion tore apart the battlefield in front of her.
Treads - and the kind of artillery that normally came with treads - meant treads plus any sort of transformation equalled time to fragging duck. Bulkhead was already hurling himself to the side when the blast came; the force of it launched him airborne briefly and dropped him back down in a long, mesh tearing slide across broken concrete until he fetched up against part of a broken wall. It washed static through his optics and audio arrays, the world going hazy in bursts of white nothing for several long nano-kliks as he struggled to reboot systems that still felt rattled from Megatron's fist.
"Ugh..." A shake brought one optic back online and a hard thunk of his own hand against his helm jolted the other back into place. His audios were ringing, but functional, and he was torn and singed all over but it'd hardly have been a fight worth remembering if he hadn't been.
Still - he was getting fragging tired of being outmassed and outgunned in this fight. "Alright," he grumbled, shoving himself to his pedes, wrecking ball on one arm and blaster in the other. "No more playing nice."
The tank femme had thrown herself back a good step from her own recoil. Bulkhead, with a low roar, flung himself at her, shots aiming for joints and optics as he dove in close enough to bring the blunt bludgeon of his ball into play.
By the time League saw Bulkhead on the move, his sonar detected an incomming shot. With no way to run or get out of the way in time, he dropped to his knees, ignoring the sparks that shot from the damaged leg and them through up his arm and pickaxe to cover as much as he could.
Thankfully it wasn't a direct hit, League would have been done for if it was. He did however get hit by the shock wave and a spray of shrapnel that ripped into his body from all sides. Grunting in pain League slowly stood back up, his optics glowing with dull rage as they locked onto the tank transformer.
The heavy weight started to make a slow limping march forwards, he wasn't making ground at anything close to a fast rate, but every step he took the mech began to fire a missile from his remaining shoulder. Six of the explosives soared through the air, arching towards the femme as League aimed for the ground around her instead of directly at the bot, If he did there was a chance that Bulkhead would just charge in and knock her out of the way and League couldn't have that.
As she heard the first footsteps, she knew she had missed, at least one of them. It however was secondary right now, as her primary mission was to keep these ones away from fighting leaders. She might weaken them, and finish off later. But, after all, the faster, the better. The first signs of closing bot came, when few shots were aimed at her joints, and few came straight towards her optics. The joints were, even if not heavily, at least somehow armored, and endured these hits pretty well. But her optics would've taken heavier damage, so she just swung her left arm to cover her face. As she felt no new shots, she targeted the incoming bot with her main cannon, and would've hitted, if made to fire. But as she heard incoming missiles, she had to use both of her arms to cover herself, as she thought missiles had been targeted on her.
She was surprised, yet not showing that outside, when she just heard explosions around her. Then bot already crashed into her, striking her again back, almost felling her on ground again. She started to counterattack at same moment, as her cannon turned around, pointing now backwards. And Arma striked her fist forward, arching from low, towards the head, or chest, firing the cannon same time, giving great power burst for her punch with recoil.
Optimus staggered, grunting against the blow as it connected with his side jarring his internal components and denting the overlapping plates of his side. Only his fury and the blade half protruding from his opposite flank kept him standing as a wave of weakness pooled in his legs, threatening to bring him to his knees. Something was off though, Optimus could feel it in his haze of righteous furry. The blow hadn't been quite hard enough, the strike to his side not deep enough. For whatever reason, the tyrant was NOT in top form.
Growling though the pain, he seized Megatron's arm and spun, flinging the mech over his shoulder and wrenching the blade from his side at the same time. Vents whirring at their top speed, he approached the fallen mech, energon streaming down his left leg and bloodying his footsteps.
"Its finished Megatron," he rumbled, ignoring the mechblood dripping for the corner of his mouth. He raised his blade again, no hesitation, fully intent on driving his weapon though his adversary's spark. "May Primus have mercy on your spark."