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.
"Yeah, good riddance." Steelstrike responded, and set down the third- or was it fourth?- drink, signaling for another. "Was almost a relief when that stuff went up in smoke." he added, pointedly eying the femme to gauge her reaction. "Slaggers weren't laughing after that." He vented, settling back with another sip of his drink. That had been the very cycle before he pledged allegiance. Back then... the Decepticons had felt unstoppable. And there had been far more of them than there were now, it felt like.
He let his helm tilt, at the next question. Then shook it in a relatively decisive manner. "..Not really." he conceded. "...Why? One of your Autobot friends like geography or weather or something?"
Though now that he considered it, he supposed he wouldn't mind trying to fly what the humans called the 'Grand Canyon'.
He shrugged again. "Nope. I'm a Con, remember?" One servo came up to tap his brand. "We're all 'war war war'." he added, slyly, turning the femme's words back on her.
Javelin carefully took another sip from her glass - she wasn't even trying to keep up with the Decepticon in sheer amount, though she was matching him sip for drink. At first she said nothing, merely picked through her words cautiously.
"I remember that night. I was watching it from my place in Kaon. There was....a lot of destruction. A lot of confusion and chaos."
She swirled around her drink for a few moments, looking down into it, before speaking again, "Mmn? I was just wondering. Every planet usually has at least one nice place about it. One of the ones I was on just before coming here had this....I'm not sure how to describe it. It was like an ocean, only not water, not like here, you know. It was mercury. All mercury. So it was like this...." she raised her hands, sort of trying to actually map out the ocean, as if she could somehow show him what she had seen, "...this huge flat expanse of mercury, like a mirror almost. When the three suns rose in the morning, oh wow, it was unreal."
She paused, and the situation came back to her; sitting at a bar with a Decepticon, of all people, and talking about the beauty of a far distant planet.
Dropping her arms, feeling like an idiot, she took another sip.
When he spoke, turning back her words, she shrugged, speaking lowly, mumbling to herself, "I don't believe that."
She looked like she was about to say something else, when she suddenly looked up at the bartender, voice somewhat testy, "Can you please turn that to another station or something, for Primus' sake!"
By this point, Steelstrike was, what was the word, intrigued? by this femme. Not that he'd let any of that show. He'd a reputation to maintain, after all, and if the other Decepticons learned he was being almost friendly with this Autobot, he'd immediately be viewed with suspicion. Wings hiked at the thought. He would never betray the Cause.
"There was." he agreed, calmly. "That was the first time I really felt as if things *could* be changed. And it was about time." he added, with a short chuff of a vent. "The Senate clearly wasn't going to cooperate any other way. We needed a show of force. Prove we weren't going to be ignored any more."
Great. And now he was in debate mode. Good thing Vega wasn't here. It may have also had to do with the fact he'd finished his fourth drink and was signaling for his fifth. Couldn't get this drunk in the Nemesis, after all.
There was a long pause, before he let out another vent. "Liquid mercury, hm? That might have been interesting." he allowed, grudgingly. Then, "Yeah? What do *you* think, then? For real?"
Wings twitched, and he made no comment at the femme's complaint, only leveled an expressionless stare at the unfortunate Neutral.
Last Edit: Mar 18, 2017 18:44:31 GMT -5 by Deleted
The Neutral looked like he was about to make a comment to Javelin, but upon the look from Steelstrike, turned and moved to the radio. Several adjustments later, and another station was brought up. This one had rock and roll from the 90’s. The bartender silently shuffled back to checking over his inventory behind the bar.
Javelin took another sip, and rested her left elbow on the bartop, her chin in her hand. She kept her eyes on her drink, “I agree things had to change. It wasn’t right, how things were run. The lower casts being treated poorly. I had friends that weren’t treated like they should have been. But I don’t think it was done right. I don’t think people should have died.” Her voice was low, and almost more regretful than anything.
Idly, she started tapping fingertips of her right servo on the bartop, in tune to the music coming from the radio, “Oh. The mercury…yeah. I knew this flyer….like you, I guess, though not as big. He said when he flew over it, there would be this reflection of everything in it, right? Like a giant mirror. If you went down low to it, you’d have this upside down image of yourself, flying just under yourself. He said it used to practically make him dizzy. It was easy to get disoriented and crash there.”
She smiled to herself, taking another sip, the memories of that planet coming to her for a few minutes. The inhabitants had been strange, but polite. Javelin had learned to speak their language there, awkward and halting at first, but soon mastered it.
Javelin glanced towards Steelstrike for a second, but didn’t answer his last question. Instead, she asked one of her own.
When you worked with the Vehicons, it was hard not to overhear the little bytes of gossip. One such nibble had mentioned the Neutral base having a bar and said bar having some tasty drinks. That was enough to get one thirsty femme longing for a cold cube after a hot day’s work.
And so Terrabit just casually happened to port over to the bar in question. Her chin guard split and slid back and her visor slid up to reveal her bright orange optics. She looked around taking it all in as she walked in and then paused long enough to soak in the music.
“Not too shabby.”
Eyeing up the two at the bar, Terrabit grabbed a seat next to Steelstrike and sat.
“Howdy Steelstrike, howdy blue bot. Name’s Terrabit, I’d apologise for all the times I may have tried to obliterate your carcass but…not sorry.”
Terrabit shrugged apologetically. Truce or not, she was still packing heat and always ready to bring it on. She still believed in the cause after all, the Decepticon insignia was worn with pride in her case.
She ordered a cube of some exotic drink.
“How many to catch up?” She asked the flier.
Last Edit: Mar 22, 2017 23:50:56 GMT -5 by Deleted
Steelstrike's attention would shift from Javelin to the Neutral bartender, optics narrowing slightly at the apparent aborted comment; his attention remained on the mech all the way from the bar, to the radio, and back again to the bar, before he held out a servo to signal for Drink Five- no, Six.
So he was getting a little overcharged- it wasn't badly, at least, and he certainly wasn't going to share any Decepticon secrets. He knew better than that, even if he'd acquired the beginnings of a pleasant fuzz.
That same fuzz allowed him to dismiss her last words about the beginning of the war- if bots had deactivated, it'd been because they deserved it, he rather thought.
I lived, after all, and I'm still here.
To her next comments, about the planet of mercury, he only gave an unconcerned shrug of his wings, flicking them as if to dispel water. "I'd wonder at any flier who crashed." was his reply. "*Decepticon* fliers wouldn't do something so foolish on purpose."
Then he paused, again, gathering his thoughts, though his wings hunched in what could almost be viewed as defensiveness. "I was a guard. Contract. Even watched out for some Important Bots. At one point." Red optics turned to her, then. "You?" His tone acquired a sarcastic edge then. "Bet you were a courier."
And then the other Decepticon entered, and the *almost* relaxed state Steelstrike had been working to achieve- perhaps encouraged by drink and the complacent assurance that this bar and everything and everyone in it were in his thrall- was shattered; he sat up straight, all his icy arrogance of before coming flooding back, red optics narrowing slightly. "...Terrabit." was returned, flatly.
Then his expression turned even more narrow-eyed and thoughtful at Terrabit's question. "Ten." he answered, smoothly. There. Let that serve Terrabit right for intruding on 'his' game, of sorts.
Last Edit: Mar 28, 2017 19:55:17 GMT -5 by Deleted
Javelin had been leaning against the bar as she drank, and listened. She had finally been relaxing just a tad, starting to consider another.
"You were a guard? Really?" she faintly smiled, "That's pretty cool, actually."
She finished the last mouthful of her drink, "Me? No, Energon scout. Mostly. I did....other things here and there, though."
Hearing someone else enter, she turned, looking over her shoulder, and suddenly tensed.
Another Decepticon.
Javelin turned back to the bartender and motioned for another drink.
When the newcomer greeted Steelstrike, Javelin at least got his name. She filed that away for later. She thanked the bartender when he slid the drink towards her, and tried not to bristle when the newcomer made the "obliterate" crack.
Amusing.
Javelin's arm slipped behind her back, as if to reach for the bow she always wore there, then let her hand drop when she remembered there were no weapons allowed within the Neutral Base. She covered the motion with an absent minded scratch at her back, then just mutely took another drink.
Javelin couldn't help but notice Steelstrike's body language when the newcomer, "Terrabit" entered.
They can't even relax around their own, she thought.
She blinked into her drink, though, when Steelstrike gave the number of drinks he supposedly had.
Well....this might be interesting after all.
Last Edit: Mar 29, 2017 18:18:34 GMT -5 by Javelin
Steelstrike's wings returned to a more or less neutral angle as he considered. "To be honest, most of the time, it was boring as slag." he responded, after a pause. "No one ever really even got shot at, really. And I wasn't allowed to use anything but a stunner even if they did."
His wings angled up, then, in consideration at her next words. "I figured something like that. You've got one of those smaller, easy to maintain frames." Not like his own, clearly combat-designed frame. One on one- he was *certain* he'd come out the victor, though as time passed in this dismal little bar he was thinking about that a little less (if pressed later, he would insist it was because of the drinks and not any overall judgement lapse past getting overcharged.)
Another slight pause, this one barely a second. "...What's *your* name, Autobot?"
Having said his piece to Terrabit, and now attempting to (re)gain control of the conversation, he angled it to a different topic. "You know, I never *was* a fan of over-the-top displays when *action* suits so much more effectively."
That all said, he signaled the bartender for another drink. Why stop now?
OOC NOTE: Permission given to pass Terrabit over in this reply.
Javelin nursed her drink along, not really in the mood to get drunk. She was too new to this planet, and alone in the bar with a 'Con. She wasn't sure just how involved the Neutrals here would get involved if Steelstrike suddenly took something she said wrong and started swinging. She had her speed to dodge and avoid, but she'd prefer to just not have to deal with that in the first place.
She glanced up at him, a little startled he was even asking. She supposed at this point there was no harm, and it's not like he could look up her past and discover she had performed great heroics. The majority of her past history in the Autobots was reconnaissance. Been in a few battles, though nothing like the massive ones in the key locations.
"Oh. Designation's Javelin."
She said nothing more, just took another sip of her drink. The music in the background changed into something more upbeat, and subconsciously she started tapping her ped against the stool she was on.
Hearing him talk, she looked at him again, smiling a little, "Oh yeah? I dunno, you tried a fancy one when you first walked in here. Wings all splayed and stuff. What would you do as an action, then, instead of a display? I mean, you seem like one of those flyboys that likes to make a grand entrance, right?"
She grinned at him openly, not mocking per say, just more lighthearted teasing. Maybe the booze was starting to help her relax a little as well.
Terrabit's... appearance and interjection aside, the weird sort of peace in the Neutral Bar had re-balanced, and well enough in (he thought) Steelstrike's own favor that the flightframe let out a chuff of air from his vents. "Javelin, hmm?" It was unlikely that even if he looked up her name that he would be able to find anything; she seemed to be, apart from her 'bow'.
"...That wouldn't have anything to do with your original function, would it? Being fast, or anything like that?" Great detective work, really.
Maybe he was more overcharged than he thought.
He considered that for a moment, then decided he didn't care. After all, he wasn't technically on shift any more.
Steelstrike signaled the bartender for another drink, not really caring about any payment he might be piling up.
Then, at her next comment, he sat up taller, wings twitching as he turned his helm back as if to regard said appendages. "First impressions are important. Might actually even weight even a battle's scale in your favor. You wouldn't fight *Megatron*, for example."
Last Edit: Apr 19, 2017 18:51:28 GMT -5 by Deleted
Javelin leaned back, nursing her drink along. She didn't want to be completely drunk.
"Yeah, light and fast, that's me." She smiled into her drink.
"First impressions might be important, but you can't judge the quality of energon by hue alone."
That was all she said. Despite relaxing somewhat, she wasn't going to say anything on her fighting style. Steelstrike was still a 'Con.
Of course, it wasn't like she was going to fight Megatron, no. Not unless he backed her into a corner. And even then, the outcome would hardly be a surprise. She figured Megatron could crush her chassis with one hand, spark and all.
"So who were you a guard for? Someone famous, or just important? Anyone I would know?"
Last Edit: Apr 20, 2017 17:35:06 GMT -5 by Javelin
Steelstrike straightened, then, realizing perhaps a moment too late that sitting hunched forward with his helm twisted all the way to the side in an effort to stare at his own wings wasn't exactly beneficial to any imposing image he might otherwise be trying for.
Wings readjusting to a more comfortable angle, only twitching slightly, he took another deep drink. So what if he looked undignified. It wasn't as if this Autobot was taking pictures, or anything? Nor was it as if he was sharing any and every secret he'd ever had and held. No, something as minor as showing off one's wings was hardly damaging, or asking an Autobot's name.
The truce would hold, today, on Steelstrike's part.
That wouldn't prevent his vents from hitching slightly. What had everything come to, that Steelstrike was getting steadily drunker in a Neutral bar on some forsaken planet, with an *Autobot* for company, no less? He would have almost preferred deactivation in space.
Almost.
"No.... No one you'd know.... Unless you knew Meister, and he's dead. Or some Senators..." was added, and he took another drink. "I didn't really associate with anybot but other fliers outside work..."
Javelin took another sip, swirling the contents around a little, "Meister? No, I don't know that name. I mean, if I heard his music I might remember having heard it, but..."
She chuckled, "Only stuck to your own, huh? I think a lot of people did that, back then."
Her smile faded.
"Maybe that's why everything went so wrong so fast. Too many stuck to their own. Too many classes and strata and circles within circles."
She exvented, "I lived in Kaon a while. The people there, the "manual classes"? They were the nicest people I knew. Hammerfist, the others, the miners. They were good people, you know? They deserved better."
Javelin took another sip. Now she was starting to get depressed.
As if on cue, the radio in the background suddenly switched over to a sad, slow song.
She shifted, and raising her glass, she downed the remains in one gulp, then waved the glass at the tender for a refill.
"...Yeah." Steelstrike responded, after a pause, wings shifting back as the flier stared at his own drink- he *was* on his tenth now, for real, a swirly dark colored make. "...What you said." Even if by choice, on his own part- there had been many mecha who, even if chance had permitted, who would have opted the same. "Fraggin'... Senators saw to that, sure. Even if we.. we tried to cooperate- no, *expand* past our roles."
When had the counter under his right servo become so *fascinating*? He peered at it, intently, for a long few moments, not answering or registering her next words. "That.... That dirty spot there moved..." He sounded suspicious.
He didn't, as a result, register any of the rest of her words, as his focus had been diverted; shifting restlessly, a little, in his seat, he also signaled for another drink.
His wings twitched again, in irritation, as the song changed again, and if he'd had operational weapons, he would have pointed one at the bartender. "Turn that *slag* off."
If his vents hitched a little, well... he *was* inside where it was a little stuffier.
She nodded her thanks to the bartender as he passed her another drink, trying to count up what she owed him. She'd have to stop soon, she didn't want to start running a tab. She took a sip, and nodded to herself. Not high grade, but not the cheaper stuff either. Javelin figured this would be her last. Too many more of these and she'd need help getting back to the base.
Not the impression she wanted to make this early in her arrival.
She turned to watch Steelstrike as he spoke, eying his drink. She had a sudden image of the flyer trying to get back to wherever it was he was staying, flying drunk.
Javelin took another sip before he could see she was trying not to laugh. She didn't want him think she was actually laughing at him. Probably wouldn't end well.
"Yeah, the Senators. They ruined everything." She sighed, then blinked her optics at his next comment. Wait. A spot was moving? What?
Maybe he had had more than he should have.
Javelin watched as the bartender quickly moved towards the radio, switching the channels again, and felt a stab of sympathy towards him. They hadn't really been the best customers this night.
Taking another sip, she noticed the odd hitch in his vents. What was that all about?
"Think this is gonna be my last. I'm not like you, I can't keep pouring them into me. Small frame, fills easily with booze." She chuckled at that, for some reason finding the image kind of funny.
"It's been a while since I had real booze, though. Too many vorns on biological planets. They can't make anything worth drinking for their lives. Ugh. I missed this. This...." she made a vague motion around the bar with a servo, "This...you know."
Another sip.
"How long have you been here, on this planet? Or have I asked you that already?"