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.
Ironhide managed - barely - to NOT catch her underneath the elbows and bodily lift her away from the work. Settled for brushing a hand over her shoulder, just a light tap, instead.
"Why don't yeh let meh do that?" he suggested. "Really only room f'r one, an' yeh dug it this deep already. Ah'll let base know what's up, an' we can take turns clearin' this."
He fitted action to words, hefting and tossing out the largest of the chunks, and as he did so he re-opened his comm. A quick packet of info relayed back - Cleaver's identification and affiliation, her goal and needs, and Ironhide's suggestions and reasoning tacked on almost as an afterthought. Bulkhead acknowledged and Ironhide continued the job of lifting and throwing - nothing wrong with his backstruts, after all - as he waited for confirmation. It came quicker than he expected, Bulkhead must have been able to snag Prime fairly quickly.
He tossed another chunk of rock out with a huffed ventilation. "Ah'm free an' clear," he told Cleaver, "an yer free t' use our refiner. Escort in, escort out - security precaution - but it's yers if yeh want."
Having settled back with the Best News In Vorns on the lip of the hole, Cleaver had traded idly small talk with Ironhide whilst he didn't take turns in clearing out the rocks. Sorting, cleaning and storing the energon crystals as they were tossed up, the medic found herself quietly enjoying the company. Reflector was friendly enough, but he was young and skittish and fragged her off more than he made her smile. It was nice to just have another old frame nearby - one that wasn't threatening to open fire if she didn't leave or slap on a insignia.
Finally Ironhide hopped back up from the hole just as she was tucking away the last of the bounty into her subspace. Forearms sliding back into their natural configuration down by her sides, Cleaver tempered down an irritational prickle of anxiety and found some reassurance in the dark mech's gaze. "Sure the Prime's gonna be alright with me going back with you? I can hand the lot over and just wait here." Even though I don't want to, but scavengers are always second string.
Ironhide cycled a vent, twisting to ease tension wires that had tightened from the repetitive work of the digging. "Yeh could," he agreed mildly. "An' Ah'll personally guarantee yeh'll get every drop of it back, but yeh don't have to. Prahm gave the okay." They'd been out there awhile, and no one knew quite how accurate or attentive the 'Cons were watching. Cleaver was barely armed; Ironhide didn't want to leave her sitting like a target out in the open, but he doubted she'd appreciate hearing it either. "An' it's not like we'd give yeh anythin' the 'Con's want from yeh - base can't be ID'ed from th' inside."
A quick comm secured the groundbridge, tracked to his own location, and Ironhide offered the femme a hand. "Comin'?"
Mech was starved of contact - had to be. Cleaver offered a quirked smile and came to stand alongside the soldier, taking the extended hand as an invitation into space. She kept her arms in their natural configuration, but brushed her field over his own with gratitude. "Love to."