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 nodded slowly. "Yeh know yeh won't get any argument outta meh," he said, flickers of satisfaction and anticipation and concern all chasing themselves through the field still pressed up against the other mech's. He touched Optimus' forearm, finger tips pressing to the metal as though he might find, by touch alone, the damaged portion that his scans couldn't. "Get yerself rested up an' a clean bill of health. We'll make sure everyone else is up to par. When yer ready, we will be to."
He hesitated for a moment, touch following the hidden path of the lines he had just rethreaded beneath the armor plates. "If yer lookin' t' take th' fight t' th' 'Cons... Ah'm all for it, but there's more'n just us an' them here. An' Ah don't just mean Cleaver."
Ironhide scowled, a sharp flick ringing painlessly off of armor. "Had meh talkin' one thing, then got meh distracted with another. Ah'd been meanin' t' talk t' yeh about it. Cleaver said we're not th' only ones gettin' incoming - she'd had Neutrals landfall." He met the Prime's gaze, tone serious. "She's been thinking of tryin' t' set up a space for 'em." He shrugged, one shoulder lifting and falling. "Ain't nothing concrete in th' works yet, but it's more'n just her. This rock's th' best place t' come down in this sector an' it ain't just 'Bots and 'Cons finding it." He canted his head slightly to one side, sheepish. "Knew yeh'd wanna know."
Last Edit: Feb 27, 2012 17:18:56 GMT -5 by Deleted
Optimus rumbled slightly at Ironhide’s words, folding his arms across the chest plating, EMF rippling slightly with both intrigue and a note of worry. Neutrals in the Decepticon/Autobot conflict had a long and varied history of abuse, namely on the side of the Decepticons but like all wars the Autobots were not without blame for many crimes committed against the supposed impartial faction. Troops directly under MEgatron didn’t usually destroy Neutrals unless they were seen to be openly helping or dealing with the Autobots. He was just as likely to bribe them over to Decepticon objectives as he was to kill them all. Troops farther from Megatron’s command didn’t tend to share his tactical proclivities though, preferring the ‘with us or against us’ approach.
“Cleaver’s existence, and that of her group, goes unnoticed by the Decepticon faction as of yet. I would never protest the creation of a safe haven for Cleaver and her own but Megatron may not see it that way.” He had told Steeljaw, their resident pseudo-Autobot Neutral much the same. Concern crossed his field. “I assume she’s exercising the necessary precautions to say from Megatron’s notice, especially now. His usual… tactical mind may not be in a place for negotiation. It is never easy to say with Megatron.”
Last Edit: Feb 28, 2012 11:51:03 GMT -5 by Deleted
The sound of a weapon system powering up was loud in the quiet emptiness of the training room. It took Ironhide a fraction of a nanoklik to recognize the deep harmonics of the sound as his own caliber artillery; it took somewhat longer than that to throttle back the instinct that powered it, EMF flaring embarrassment but with an undernoted growl that he couldn't quite bite back.
Precautions. Like he hadn't thought of THAT the minute Cleaver had outlined the idea, but there wasn't a Pit slag of a thing he could do about it. She had said she would 'sort something out', but the only way to truly sort anything would be to negotiate with the Decepticons. With Megatron himself, if anything real was to come of it. He had managed not to insult her to her face by trying to put himself between her and the very idea of that sort of danger, but every time it had come up since - in Jazz's bright opticed admiration, in Bluestreak's worry, and now in Optimus' measured concern... Ironhide couldn't stop thinking about it, and thinking about it was like raking hot claws through his internals, leaving him helpless and sitting on his hands in the way he liked least.
It was, ultimately, up to Cleaver. He couldn't protect her from it, no matter how much everything in him clamored for him to do just that. The best he could do was have faith that she knew what she was doing, which he did, but it didn't make it any slagging easier to cycle down his defense protocols when mecha would insist on bringing up just how slagging dangerous it was.
Ironhide vented, hands clenching and unclenching as the tesselations of his cannons shifted fitfully beneath his armor plates. "She knows it ain't safe," he growled. "Not somethin' Ah was gonna try t' talk her out of, though. She knows th' risks." He opened his vents, spilling air back out from his system, scooping cool back in as he met the Prime's gaze. "Ah reckon she thinks it's work it, if it gives her and hers somewhere t' call 'home'."
Optimus’s EM field pulsed gently at the sudden cycle up of weapon systems, visible or not he heard and felt the older mech’s systems shift hostile out of pure reflex. A non-verbal ‘easy there’ from the Prime, his optic flickering as he studied the weapon specialist’s face in that moment and confirmed his fears. Cleaver was intending to literally negotiate for a ceasefire treaty for her neutral party – go to Megatron himself to talk out the terms of such and thing and Optimus too felt that razor edge of unease slide deep through his neural network and into his fuel tank. He kept his own anxiety in check however because Ironhide didn’t need to see it.
“Then there is little we can do but hope for her success and offer our aid. Autobot protocol for refugees and Neutrals is very clear and I stand by it. If Cleaver and her number need aid we will provide it and defend them from Decepticon attack.” We may be on earth to defend humanity, Optimus thought, but we certainly aren’t going to let our own die. He moved to place a hand on Ironhide’s shoulder, a direct charge of comfort/support/promise crossing from his frame to Ironide’s. “It’s her choice to take these risks… but it’s ours to offer our support and we will if she ever calls. I promise that, Hide.”
Ironhide's hand rose to briefly cover Optimus', pressing warm appreciation into the other mech's mesh. "Ah know," he said quietly, "an' Ah thank yeh for it."
He shook his head briefly, suppressing his own systems. "Primus willin', she'll get what she wants an' we won't have t' do anything." A ghost of a grim smile curved his mouth. "She's got th' bearings for it, that's for sure. An' she don't want meh fussin', so Ah'm tryin' not t'. Ain't ever been an easy thing for meh, yeh know that, but Ah'm tryin'."
Optimus tilted his head slightly, a sympathetic expression crossing into his face. “I’m familiar with your… fussing, Ironhide, especially in regards to those you care for. And I appreciate your efforts at reigning it in.” He was obviously not just talking about Cleaver. “But at least in this instance, know your apprehensions are shared and that we will all be keeping an eye out for any sign of Cleaver’s needing help. I do not disagree with your thoughts on her. If Cleaver is half the mechanism that I think, then she will likely out live us all through sheer determination, Megatron or no.”
Optimus registered another pulse of pain data from his arm, a dull, diagnostic echo as more repair nanites redirected pointlessly in search of the source. He would have to have Ratchet deal with that. Until then, his other arm’s combat mode and long-range weapons were doing just fine and he could dedicate his right arm exclusively, if need be, to close combat sword play. The Prime nodded once more to his weapon specialist, taking the last pulse of comfort from the older mech’s touch before stepping back toward the entry way back to the main corridors.
“Ratchet should know about the malfunction before the Decepticons pull us into conflict again. Thank you again, Ironhide.” Optimus didn’t specify what, exactly, he was thanking his friend for. He simply left it at that.
((OOC: could wrap here or get a bit more from Hide. :3 U know I love me some Hide-style gruff-fluff.))
Ironhide huffed softly. "Like Ah used t' tell recruits, 'should' an' 'done' ain't even in th' same quadrant. Yeh get yerself t' Ratchet, do what he tells yeh t' get it fixed." Field and hands flicked in tandem, ushering the larger mech out into the corridor. "Or Ah will start fussin', and none of us need that and yeh sure as Pit won't be thankin' meh for it. Get some rest. Th' rest of us can worry about th' 'Cons for a bit."