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.
Steelstrike- still a bit annoyed about Skywarp simply taking off with the desired equipment and leaving him to fend off any Autobots (not that he would ever have such a consideration were their positions reversed)- allowed his battle protocols to online. If it was MECH, well, he would then eradicate them. If it was an Autobot, a little show of power might do to scare them off.
The thought that it might be another Decepticon honestly didn't cross his processor at all. Because why would another Con (outside the Vehicons, who barely counted to begin with) show up simply to *watch* them? It was too many variables, too many variables on a slanted chessboard, the kind Vega had showed him the humans had created.
(He still liked to play, on occasion. The strategy, at least, appealed to him.)
The whiff of rust to his olfactory sense wasn't missed, nor did the flier's sharp optics miss the swift scuttle of something scraggly and grey- he would stomp at it, producing a distinct 'thud' of something heavy- and miss.
And it was only then that the flier would catch sight of Dart, at first glance registering only a decidedly filthy grounder, absolutely coated in organic detritus, before he would recognize the brand on her chassis.
He halted his forward motion, but kept a disgruntled look trained on her. "What are *you* doing here?" Steelstrike inquired, his tone icy, with another swift scan of the area.
Some part of the architect simply couldn't believe this. The drill head was already here, and in his grasp. It had not been a firefight with the Autobots, or someone calling him in a panic saying that they'd been spotted. Skywarp's skills had caused a task that normally would have taken hours to be over in mere minutes. Efficent, quick, quiet, and that was how Pyrotech liked it.
Once there had been a time in his life that everything around him had been like that. Long before Earth. Perhaps it had not been since Cybertron, where his work had been appreciated for what it was. Where the buildings he designed were not holes and warrens scraped out of bare stone and dirt; where they'd been tall gleaming towers with sweeping windows that overlooked the surge of neon, the bright lights of the cityscape. Framed by huge, wide bridges with all the supports that carried them between the cities.
Ah, he missed those buildings, with their anchors that fell deep within the metallic surface of Cybertron. They held all the secrets of a city, so many lives that rested within them.
"Set it down over there," the red mech said, motioning to a section of the clearing that had been scraped and packed flat by the human's heavy machinery. "I'll send for a ground bridge in a moment and I will have the Vehicons haul it out of here."
Pyrotech took a few strides forward in the dirt. The ruined branches popped and snapped under his weight as he watched the huge seeker handle the large machinery with not only ease, but obvious care.
"I take it that Steelstrike is still back retrieving the other parts?" he asked.
The energy signature that had blipped into existence was no longer there. It had flared bright and hot on their newly built scanning systems about half an hour ago, and there had been a scramble; it could only mean one thing. Cybertronians.
Activity in the Pacific Northwest. Calls from the coastline, back and forth; strange lights, missing items that made no sense as to how they had been carted out of the places they'd been stored in. The papers had written it off as scrap metal salvage. Some said it was the mark of terrorists.
Only one paper mentioned aliens, and that one lined the bottom of a lot of dog potties.
The three helicopters moved low over the trees. They had been modified to produce very little sound, and the chop of their blades in the dark was nearly inaudible over a distance over the clear-cuts and tall stands of dark fir trees.
"Bridge appearance confirmed," the chopper pilot said into his headset, as they swept low over the section of Oregon forest. "Sweep in, prepare to engage."
"I hope these new systems take them down like they think they will," came the reply.
"Agreed. Get ready."
Last Edit: May 1, 2017 19:26:27 GMT -5 by Feldspar
Dart flinched at the mech's foot slamming into the gravel.
Crouched in between the railroad cars in front of Steelstrike, the courier's pop up headlights squinched open a few more inches and then fell at the mech's cold tone.
"My commander sent me," she said softly, her voice drifting out from under her long hood. Her engine wasn't running but the car's lifters were cooling down, and there was a slight, rough ticking sound eminating from the femme's alt mode. Poorly tuned engine, or one that needed a serious, thorough cleaning, just like the rest of her. "Just to be on watch and to help find parts if you needed, sirs- er, sir."
The dark car genuflected at him, the front tires splaying before she drew herself back up. There was a quiet click of the spoiler across the vehicle's trunk and then it hesitated. A low sniffing noise came from the Trans-Am before it shook itself from nose to tailight with a soft rattle of plating, and then she transformed.
It took her a moment; everything folded and moved. Instead of fully upright at the end of her sequence, she was crouched down on the gravel, resting her weight on the tips of her fingers, legs in position like a sprinter ready to bound out of the blocks on the track. Gingerly, she quickly lifted her right arm; the limb that was covered in strips of dirty duct tape, and then pushed herself upright as if she was in a hurry to take the weight off of it.
Nothing else around them pinged back to him. There was the far off grind of machinery, some distant thrum of a commercial aircraft passing overhead in the city. Even the soft dots of lights on the wings were hidden by the cloud cover.
Dart tucked her hands behind her back and looked at the ground beneath her feet. The tips of her spoiler peeked over her shoulders, flicking nervously back and forth.
"He hasn't called me, sir," she mentioned quietly after a moment. "I just was ordered to keep guard while you finished hunting for the parts. I'm sorry sir, I don't mean to bother you - ah, I wanted to keep out of your way."
Which was true. She'd simply been sent to keep an eye out for any trouble that might be wandering on in. Pyrotech hadn't worried about other Transformers. Frankly, he'd sort of laughed that off - if they wanted to tangle with Skywarp, be his guest. What he was concerned about was the human aspects; and her nose was good at picking out living human scents in places like this when scanners bounced from rail car to rail car or got swallowed up by thickets of machinery.
Skywarp carefully lowered the drill piece to the ground as directed by Pyrotech. He was relieved to let it go, while he hadn't been carrying it long and his strength was more than enough to bear its weight, he was well aware that he did not have a delicate touch. Things tend to come to an early end around him and the sooner Skywarp wasn't touching the machinery, the more likely it would remain undamaged. Down the head went, placed carefully amongst the fallen bramble.
The big seeker backed up once he was done to get his large feet clear. It wouldn't do to accidentally step on the piece after so easily stealing it away to Pyro's satisfaction. Better to trample the branches underfoot instead.
He shrugged at the question the commander asked of him. Presumably Steelstrike was still in the rail yard, it had only been a few moments since Skywarp had teleported out of there. The other mech surely was back there, losing the game. Steelstrike had also said something about Cybertronian signal but Skywarp had long dismissed the matter unimportant when he'd found the correct rail car.
"Probably still searching," Skywarp answered. "I'm winning, you see. He hadn't found anything when I left."
Admittedly, the other parts would be more difficult to find. At least for the drill head, they'd had a description of the rail car they needed to find. Such an advantage was now lost and when Skywarp returned, he'd be on equal footing with Steelstrike.
Well, not equal. There was nothing stopping him from cutting in and teleporting away with the prize should Steelstrike find another part. Certainly not a sense of fair sportsmanship, Skywarp was going to win this game! Never mind that the competition existed in his mind alone.
Steelstrike watched Dart, the flier's wings canted slightly back, not entirely convinced at this femme's words- or all that impressed by the layers of filth on her... Well, all over her.
At her headlights squinching up, then down again, he crossed his arms- another human gesture he found himself adopting. So, she was sensitive, hmm? His own wings angled up, slightly, in superiority, at recovering at least *some* of his dignity at Skywarp's blatant disregard.
"You?" was all he said, however. "You work for Pyrotech- wait, you're the courier." he mused, half to himself. "Very well. You can help me find the rest of the parts, since Skywarp transported the largest item."
Two mecha would get the job done faster than one might, and in any case, he wanted to get out of this place, the faster the better.
He might be used to Earth, but humans- especially MECH- made his plating crawl. "You'll stick with me." he added, aloud. "What are the other parts needed?" Better this way, where he could utilize whatever she might know and then, if she found something, take it much more easily back to Pyrotech.
"We'll start.. over there." was added, and he gestured toward the nearest row of cargo boxes.
Branches snapped and shattered under Skywarp's weight.
The armful of machinery carefully settled to the ground with a gentle thud. Pale new tendrils of blackberry vines crushed underneath the sharp edge of the cutter head. A sour smell of sap and torn leaf drifted up from underneath the massive weight of the drill-head.
"Winning?"
Striding forward, Pyrotech eyed Skywarp, and then focused his attention on the drill. He stretched out his hand to run his palm gently along the edge of the machinery part, as if he still could not believe that it was here and in one piece. That it wasn't mangled, full of dirt, or dragged fifty miles over bad terrain by an idiot who didn't even bother to place the blade side up first before he did it.
Not a single scratch marred the surface. Even the protective plastic sheets remained over sections of metal.
It took Pyrotech a moment to understand what Skywarp was talking about. He was still used to the rough and tumble of his previous crew. When someone said they were winning...?
Usually that meant that someone had thrown a punch and the other one had returned it. Had there been a scuffle between Skywarp and Steelstrike? It didn't sound like that was the case, and a cursory glance over the dark mech didn't reveal a single dent, laser damage, or anything that looked like it could have been caused by a fight.
"Ah," he said suddenly. "I see. You certainly did, if he hasn't found anything yet. Out of all the pieces though, this was the most important one. Hopefully, he will be here soon. Assuming he even finds the rest of it.
His hand curled over the edge of the drill as he looked upwards at the sky. "One moment," he informed the huge seeker. "It was safer to bridge to here then bridge in at the rail yard."
Standing where he was, Skywarp would hear a distant thread of sound. Some sort of human aircraft. Certainly nothing as fast and sleek of himself...
If the black mech listened to it for a few seconds, he'd realize it was multiple aircraft.
Dart lifted her gaze from the dirt between her toes just long enough to glance at the mech in front of her. The flier appeared as if he wasn't slightly amused at her presence right now. His body language was stiff and tense; his wings tipped and pinned slightly. The courier shifted her weight over her toes and laced her hands together tighter. The spoiler across her shoulders flicked nervously once, but then went perfectly still as Steelstrike spoke.
Hopefully, the symbol-painted mech was simply irritated about the general situation that he right now found himself in. Most fliers didn't like to be down on the ground very long, and certainly not sorting through a greasy human rail yard.
To be perfectly truthful with herself, Dart wasn't so sure she wanted to be here herself. This place had a lot of people around it. Normally the courier loved people, she adored humans; give her half a chance and some time to herself and she was usually parked somewhere in her alt-mode quietly watching the world go by. Yet in a place like this, the only people were watchmen and could call in the alarm. Which meant there was a good chance of someone getting hurt.
"Yes sir," she replied. "I- I am. I do, I mean, I work for him, sir..."
She trailed off, and gave a quick glance up at the sky as if she half expected to see a mech flying overhead with a large bit of the equipment. Not a thing up there except dark sky. Fog was silvering through the crane trusses and the anchored ships.
Dart hesitated briefly before her nose swung to follow the point of Steelstrike's hand towards the cargo crates. There was the soft sound of her intakes drawing in the night air; the soft blue of her optics lit up the brim of her helm as she took a few steps forward. Gravel crunched under her feet; she padded through one of the shallow puddles, careful to keep distance between her and the mech as she picked her way lightly towards the closest cargo cars.
"All right," she said quietly. "Largest item- oh, he took the cutter head then, sir?"
Glancing around the yard, the femme lifted her nose again, and then tilted it back and forth in the air currents. What all were those other parts? Her orders had been only to come in on the other side of the yard and sweep the location for humans on foot, not dig through the containers to locate the items. Pyrotech had only considered her and the Vehicons merely a support team in this case.
She rocked back on her heels, then lifted a toe and pawed once at the ground.
"Tungsten carbide cutter bits," she relayed to Steelstrike after a moment. Her accent burred a little thicker; her optics shuttered slightly, as if she was trying to recall the exact words that had been said. "Drag picks. Disc cutter."
The courier stopped and inclined her head to one side. "That's- that's what I remember, sir. I guess we find those."
There was something immensely satisfying, Skywarp decided, about having all these branches break underneath him with every step. Destruction was always his idea of a good time, in whatever form he could take it. But often, it was of the 'accidental and definitely shouldn't have broken that' variety.
Maybe he was enjoying this so much because it was worthless organic material that he could stomp on till his spark content, without getting into any trouble. He should see about getting some set up in his quarters back on the Nemesis, Skywarp decided. Branches all over his floor so that he could stomp on it whenever he felt like it. It was be fairly easy to smuggle aboard too, on account of his teleportation ability.
This was turning out to be quite the educational mission. First the graffiti, now logged forests were giving Skywarp all kinds of fun ideas.
He preened a little at Pyrotech's confirmation that Skywarp was definitely in the lead. And he'd gotten the most important piece. Even if by some miracle, Steelstrike got the other pieces, they wouldn't be worth as much as the drill head.
Skywarp didn't say respond to Pyrotech's words however, falling silent when the commander asked for a moment as he sorted out a ground bridge. Instead, he straightened up and tried to wait patiently. As he stood there…
Hmm.
What was that?
The seeker raised his head, tilting to listen better with his audials. There was something in the air, he frowned, running a sensor scan up towards the sky. Had this been back on Cybertron, his first inclination would have been Autobots. But this was an organic planet and while Skywarp hadn't bothered to learn much about humans, he did know they were meant to keep out of sight.
"I think there's some aircraft nearby," he called out to Pyrotech. Skywarp wasn't unduly worried, for all he knew, could just be some commercial flights and they were standing near a flight path.
Pyrotech had been surveying the big mech as he rested with his hand on the drill.
He half could not believe it was here in his hands so easily. Really, it did not matter if the other mech brought back anything or not. This was his primary goal, and the fact that it was right here, right now, that he could take it back to the outpost and drill out into the depths, chew through stone and dirt faster than anything he was able to build right now.
That was the thing. The humans were worthless little annoyances to him, but Pyrotech would happily take any technology that made his job easier. He had stolen numerous train cars, he'd stolen cable and wire and drills. He'd even swiped a generator made for their public transit right out from under their clueless noses. The humans were wasteful things, completely unaware of the vastly superior Cybertronians who walked among them. Well, mostly superior. A lot of the Autobots were complete idiots. Fitting that they wanted to interact and be with humans so badly. Crude little beasts.
The snap and crack of the branches under Skywarp's weight echoed through the quiet stretch of forest.
"Aircraft?" Pyrotech echoed, and looked up into the dark sky. He surveyed it for a thoughtful moment, and his sensors flicked outward. He did not have the reach that a flier like Skywarp might, but Pyrotech had picked this place for several reasons. One was that out here, there was nothing to give a false reading. Cities often bounced scanners all over the place; their wireless and buildings were poorly insulated, causing a mad scramble at times.
Over the dull, dark hush of the forest, the red mech could hear it now. He was used to the forest service helicopters. They moved in heavy rushes of sound; blades whacking at the drafts of air rising between the mountains. It was rare to hear them at night though, and he had been very specific in his location- the aircraft pattern was one of large jetliners. There was no reason for helicopters to be here right now.
Not a fire on any distant mountain to be seen.
His red optics focused on a distant point; the cannon mounted on his shoulder rose.
A tiny smile thinned the corner of his mouth.
"We have unwanted company," he said. "Skywarp. Prepare to engage."
Last Edit: Aug 1, 2017 16:37:35 GMT -5 by Pyrotech
Skywarp hadn't done much in the way of studying the different kinds of aircraft the native species had. That being said, if he had to put his finger on what he was hearing, he'd lean towards some form of rotorcraft. Helibots, his mind wanted to insist, but they weren't on Cybertron.
Besides, the Autobots had bound themselves up with the truce.
This was something else.
He narrowed his optics as he peered into the dark evening sky. His nonchalance towards the whole thing was still dominant but that was more because of his unfailing confidence that he could handle whatever the universe decided to throw his way.
Skywarp straightened up and his right arm transformed itself into a weapon at Pyrotech's orders. This was turning out to be a great night. First he was winning the game, now he was getting a chance to fight. Honestly, this night just kept giving.