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.
Optimus knelt, staring, really registering the definition glyphs on the word ‘agreed’. Not just giving his word but bound by his word he had sworn himself to follow the parameters of their truce – the same definition as used by military leaders when sealing a truce, more than a signature on a digital document but a binding agreement seared into coding that would hold far, far more weight. It made the possibility of Megatron lying merely to gather targets in a single area a far less likely possibility – still not impossible but an unnecessary gesture to a batch of Neutrals if one planned to wipe them out. As Cleaver said: it created a zone of peace that could not be easily breached without cost.
The Prime shook his head. “Cleaver… I cannot say that I know how to assimilate this,” he began slowly, ignoring the treacherous flicker of hope that crossed his spark. Some distant flash of light in the dark. “Megatron as I last saw him was not… sane. Anything he does now necessitates my caution but in the event that this is true, it is more ground than Megatron has given in vorns.” He regarded the damaged medic with something more complex than gratitude, but intense as hope. “You’ve managed something I have been unable to negotiate since the start of this war and for that I thank you.”
The flush of quiet pride in what she'd achieved was immediately swamped by something between shame and embarrassment at having Prime thank her. Like this was something that ought to have been his victory, not a battered old Neutral who possessed so little self preservation as to go to Megatron's flagship and just ask for a patch of frontline turf that he would avoid whislt he continued to decimate their species in with the Autobots. Cleaver ducked her head a little, grateful for Optimus's thanks but feeling wholly undeserving of it, and quite uncomfortable with the weight of it in his voice and field.
Finally, and still hugging her side in the dark, Cleaver nodded a little and offered softly, "'Welcome, Prime."
Optimus inclined his head slightly. “Cleaver, you’re still badly damaged. I know you’d rather that Ironhide not express his brand of protectiveness, but I speak from experience when I say that he means well.“ His tonal signifiers became wry. “And that I am experienced in evading his concern when need be. If you require, I can contact Ratchet discretely, use the bridge to get you to coordinates of your choice, and Ironhide need not know until you are ready to tell him.”
The Prime was electing not to engage the topic of a neutral party achieving a modicum of peace. To Optimus, it was less surprising that Megatron might agree to such a truce in general so much as the fact he was agreeing to such terms now in the wake of the Decepticon defeat at Chernobyl. Megatron would never see reason when he, Optimus, was involved but there was real tactical advantage to a Neutral party like there was in any war. It was not unprecedented so much as it was… high risk and unlikely. For every Neutral let live there were whole cohorts obliterated in orbital fire and massacre.
He was grateful that Cleaver was alive at all.
Last Edit: Feb 15, 2012 14:36:06 GMT -5 by Deleted
Cleaver looked up to meet his gaze more evenly, vocaliser soft. "Not necessary, but thank you."
Transforming her left arm back into its natural configuration, she put the tip of the blade into the ground and used it as levarage to get back on her pedes. Sand clung to her back and joints, sticky from the energon and coolant she'd lost, and a brief shiver of her rotors dislodged only a fraction of it.
She gave Optimus a wry smile, releasing the now marginally-seeping wound to stand more upright. "Nothing for this now but cleanser, a patch and a solid few breems of recharge. As for Ironhide..." Cleaver tasted the edge of the Prime's field, trying to parse out a clue as to what, if anything, the big lug might have disclosed. Either Ironhide was a wall of silence, or the Prime was impressively discrete.
Probably the latter.
The femme shook her helm a little, but even with the edge of irritation in her field she couldn't suppress a smile. "Just got visions of Ironhide doing something stupid and reckless like stomping off to the Nemesis on his own. I suspect that mech's got a tank an' a half of protectiveness and a speck of self preservation to run with it at the best of times."
“That vision would not be entirely inaccurate,” said Optimus somewhat wearily.
He scanned Cleaver once more, getting no immediate grievous errors to his untrained sensors, meaning that if she was about to crash and die it would be from something only a medic could detect. But in the Prime’s opinion, any potential intimate of Ironhide’s was likely possessive of exactly as much stubbornness as the mech himself so Optimus was not past thinking that the medic could, perhaps, still be putting on a brave face. Her discomfort was unnecessary in Optimus’ view but trying to make her see that was not unlikely trying to explain to Hide that punching Decepticons in the face, while a worthy past-time for a warrior in battle, was not always the answer.
“Cleaver, if Megatron has agreed to a DMZ then consider the Autobots in full support.” He looked at her. “Perhaps this goes without saying, but should you need our aid in any capacity you may contact us and rely on us.”
Cleaver bristled before she could catch the twitch in her plates or the prickle in her field. It was clear that he'd noticed it as well, and she canted her head a little to take the sting out of the old gripe. "Thanks, but trying not to rely on support with this."
Last Edit: Feb 16, 2012 18:49:19 GMT -5 by Deleted
“The offer,” said Optimus, tone still calm, “nevertheless stands. The choice to accept or refuse, now and into the future, is always yours, Cleaver. For my part, I choose to keep that door open to you should circumstance make cooperation necessary or… preferable.”
The emphasis on that last word was softer and more intimate rather than military, an offer in a personal capacity rather than one in the mien of a commander making an alliance. Cleaver was a friend of Ironhide’s and a trusted one at that. To make the offer, regardless of her independence, was the point. She was not the first, nor would she be the last, to stand on her own well and away from Decepticon and Autobot violence… but for those of them that could not walk away and had the responsibility to remain… having a safe zone into which they could walk for a time could mean everything.
“Can I assist you back to your residence or are you operational?”
The inflection did not evade Cleaver's notice, laid thick as it was, and Cleaver found herself smiling a little for it. "I'm fine to walk, and it's only a 'bridge away. Like I said, rest's all that's needed. Besides, I'm sure you're busy doing Autobot things. Patrol. Paperwork." A broader smile, remembering Ironhide's expression at the task. "Monitor duty."
Optimus inclined his head, a small smile mirroring hers. They would part ways tonight and Optimus would have more to think on than ever, but going for a long drive was no longer an option in the wake of this news. He would be headed back to the Autobot base. “All of the above, friend.”
He lend her a hand to help her to her pedes, forgetting until her weight was pulling against his wrist rotor that it was his still damaged arm and a fission of pain shot up his arm from wrist to elbow, jamming a bolt of heat and pain data up into the neural lines of his upper arm. He grunted slightly, but pulled Cleaver up and then the pain was gone the way it always was.
“I will relay the information about the Neutrals to the others. They will be glad for some piece of good news.”
Last Edit: Feb 17, 2012 12:55:11 GMT -5 by Deleted
Cleaver's attention snapped automatically to the mech's arm at the pained sound, pinning it as the cause. Recent repair work was evident on it, but she motioned to it anyway as she transmitted for the groundbridge to cycle up. "Have your medic take another look at that. If they want, they can call for a consult. Would be good to see another one of my tade."
He nodded once, amused at the usual medic instinct to heal other when they themselves were injured. The groundbridge cycled up behind her. “Thank you, Cleaver. I will have Ratchet see to that.”
He watched her go through the bridge without comment after that, optics refracting the light off the vortex as the fabric of the universe bent in bright fractals and slowly spun closed again. The darkness and quiet that followed afforded the Prime a moment to ex-vent and reach up, once, to pressed a hand to the armor of his armguard and pulse EM into the throb of protomass beneath. He turned from the energon strained dirt and transformed again, taking off for home.