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.
Post by Nathan Walker on May 16, 2021 22:57:48 GMT -5
“It’s a shit job, but someone has to do it...”
A recognized trait among soldiers in anyone's army, going back to even the days of the Roman army was how shitty the job could be most of the time. Oh sure, the recruiters and their ad campaigns really sell you on it at first, saying you’ll see exotic places, pick up new skills, and get paid so much money.
Some of it was true, you did learn some new skills like how to cram your life into a duffel bag, how to ‘hurry up and wait’. And it was a guaranteed paycheck, which to some people Nathan had met while in the service was one of the best things to have happened to them.
As they moved up and down the terrain, Nathan kept his eye on Butch, always watching in case she was going to pull a fast one. Not that he expected any sort of betrayal, but in this desolate out of the way environment anything could happen. He noticed that she didn’t keep her back to him for longer than she needed to, meaning she was also showing the same amount of caution.
When she said her father’s name, Nathan blinked before concealing his surprise with practiced ease. When he had been putting his stuff up at the N.E.S.T. base, some six months ago, he had noticed on the back of the door the name “Robert Cassidy”. Upon further inquiry it had been revealed to him that Robert was the man he was replacing.
No...the chances of that happening were next to none...
“Well...sometimes that is how it happens. I got lucky with my name...”
Post by Cassandra Cassidy on May 17, 2021 20:45:23 GMT -5
If Butch noticed the slip of surprise, she didn't show it. Instead, she was keeping her eyes on the way ahead again, listening with one ear. "What, no inside jokes?" she asked, stepping over a small branch. "No embarrassing incidents, no jabs from doing something stupid in the field? Surely there has to be something they call you to try to get under your skin." There was a tease to her words, a sort of wry humor found in how straight-laced he seemed. Butch hoped it didn't come across as mean-spirited.
"Yeah...that's how my father ended up with a couple of them. Some of his buddies met up with me after I heard the news. Nothing like hearing dear old Dad, trained to kill a hundred men a hundred different ways, was called 'Baby Carrot'. It was because he was the 'shortest' in his squad, according to them, and a redhead. Auburn, more like it, but still red enough to count. There's probably a joke in there that's better left unsaid."
A touch of a lazy grin had come across her face, lifting the corners of her mouth. "What a bunch of shit-disturbers. I could tell straight away they were his kind of people. I don't know anyone else who could get away with calling him that."
She came to a small bend in the trail and rounded it. The trees had thickened and there was a noisy chatter coming from a branch above. Looking up, Butch spotted the bright white belly of a chickaree, the squirrel glaring down at the them. Black beady eyes full of indignance, it went on all fours and chattered, squealed and hollered. Butch couldn't help but find the sight amusing, in a ridiculous sort of way.
"What's your problem, buddy?" she chided at the squirrel. The question's answer came in the form of a pinecone, lobbed at Butch's face with as much spite the squirrel had. The woman dodged it with ease, the grin on her face growing as she sidestepped out of the way. "Heh. Going to have to do better than that, little one."
Something hit her in the back of her head. Butch whirled around, tense, and looked up. Another chickaree had appeared, squalling at her now as well. From where it sat on a branch on an opposite tree, two smaller heads poked out from the gaps in its perch's leaves. It looked like they were a couple of juveniles, and the aggressive behavior finally made sense to Butch. "I guess they think this is private property," she said, looking over at Diamondback.
Post by Nathan Walker on May 30, 2021 19:27:31 GMT -5
“Well, it wasn’t my first nickname.”
Nathan said it almost dismissively as he followed along. Like everyone else he had less than a flattering nickname back when he was regular infantry, though after some incidents he’d gotten a different nickname before ending up in Army Special Forces where they usually cared to have decent nicknames.
“But not much gets under my skin.”
It was true, Nathan tried to let most things just roll off him without any issue. He had known guys and girls who blew up at every perceived insult, let their temper rule them, and that was something he made a strong effort to avoid. He rather followed his grandfather’s example, preferring to talk low, talk slow, and not talk too much. He found that it allowed him opportunities to observe things about people and situations, things that he might exploit.
When Butch began talking to the squirrel, Nathan huffed slightly with amusement but did not watch for too long, instead continuing to keep his gaze up and out towards anything that might attack them. When Butch spoke to him again, he arched a brow towards her.
Post by Cassandra Cassidy on May 30, 2021 20:02:50 GMT -5
"Chickarees are territorial," Butch explained. "This isn't out of the norm for them. Doesn't matter if you're walking under a tree or hiking through a park - if a chickaree thinks you're trespassing?"
Another pinecone went flying from the first squirrel's branch. It landed harmlessly at Diamondback's feet. The small creature got down on all fours and chattered at him again.
"Then it'll voice its displeasure. Act it out, too. They're too bold for their own good." She looked back up at the instigator of the throwing fit. "Too bad I can't pop you out of the tree and cook you up for lunch, now can I?"
The comment earned her a particularly-large pinecone being thrown at her face. The chickarees in the other tree screeched at the pair, the juveniles now out in the open. Butch shook her head and started walking again, making sure Diamondback was at her side. The chickarees yelled for a few more minutes, then disappeared into the branches. Quiet descended over the forest, hesitant and pausing, before its birds struck up their songs again. The half-silence had likely been a reaction to the squirrels raising a fuss. They, like many small animals, served as natural alarm systems for other fauna.
Butch walked in silence, stopping now and then to watch a bird, snake or other small animal move by. Whenever there was a flash of feathers, the scutter of paws, or the rustle of bushes, she'd turn her head to look. Her attention would be on the source for a brief second or two, then back to the trail. She paid as much attention to her surroundings as Nathan did, though her posture wasn't tense. It was more that she was absorbing what was around her, noticing details to file away or taking in as much as she could. Her pace kept steady despite so many distractions, and despite her worn face, she didn't seem tired.
A breeze hissed through the trees, stirring both leaf and needle and the tops of lower bushes. Butch brushed a few strands of hair behind one ear, and out from around her dogtags. The forest began to thin, revealing sandstone cliffs and a long patch of scrub. The hot Nevada sun beat down bright and unrelenting. It looked like they'd be out in the open for a bit, and Butch glanced over to see how Diamondback was faring.
Post by Nathan Walker on Jun 20, 2021 17:21:23 GMT -5
Nathan had not expected a complete explanation into the behaviour of the chickarees, nor had he expected his companion to be so well versed in their behaviour. Honestly, his comment had been a bit more on the sarcastic side than an honest inquiry, but he listened respectfully and said nothing until she had finished speaking.
“Not enough meat on him really to make it worth it.”
They’d have to kill maybe three or so to really make a meal out of them. Nathan’s grandfather had told him the stories about his own father, Nathan Crane, who back in the Great Depression had hunted small game like that with a single shot .22 caliber rifle to put additional food on the table. According to great-grandpa, it had helped him improve his accuracy when his stomach depended on it.
And when he was behind the lines during D-Day, some of those lessons about hunting small game had helped him stay alive until he linked up with other American paratroopers to try and ‘get it done’, in his own words.
As they walked, Nathan could see that Butch moved quite comfortably in thier environment, seeming to pay attention to what was going on around them but was more relaxed, not tensing up like Nathan’s first time on patrol outside the wire. He definitely would have thought she was an ex soldier if not for their earlier conversation.
Out of the sake of mostly making conversation, but also just staying vigilant, Nathan spoke as they moved down the trail.
Post by Cassandra Cassidy on Jun 20, 2021 19:57:32 GMT -5
"Getting away from people," Butch replied. Insects buzzed in a loud, persistent hum as the two's feet crunched into the dirt. "It's quiet out here. Nice park."
Somewhere in the distance, a wobbly and rhythmic, "Kraaawk! Kraaawk!" echoed, and Butch stopped. She looked into the distance, squinting and still, turning her right ear to the direction of the sound. The call rang out again, answered by a fainter, more distant, "Kraa-kraawk! Kraawk!" that rose and joined a brief chorus. Butch was motionless the entire time it played on.
The woman let slip a tiny smile when the sound stopped. "Pinyon jay," she murmured. "Good to know. I wondered if they might be here." Butch looked over at Diamondback if he was still beside her, face a mite sheepish as if she'd forgotten he was there.
"Sorry," Butch said. She began to walk again. "They're not the most common bird, those pinyon jays. Most of the pine-juniper forests they live in are being developed. I haven't seen one at all in my time here. I won't stop like that again."
She reached into something at her unseen side - a hip pack the color of her cargo pants. Unzipping it, she pulled out a bottle of water and took a quick swig, but there was deliberation as she did. Butch glanced at Diamondback before she opened her pack, then reached in with a casual hand. The bottle, withdrawn without urgency, lingered in her hands long enough for him to get a good look at what she had. (That, or she genuinely had difficulty fussing with the bottle cap, having to give it a few twists to pop it off. Her face and posture didn't give any indication to what the truth might've been.) At least it wasn't a gun or some other weapon for him to worry about.
"And you?" Butch asked, returning her bottle to its pouch. A jackrabbit glanced up at the two from between branches of sage, staring as they walked past. Once their backs were to it, it went back to nibbling on whatever tender shoots it had found in the shrubby shade. "Why are you here?"
Post by Nathan Walker on Jun 20, 2021 23:09:59 GMT -5
“I see.”
Nathan could understand that, wanting to get away from people. And yeah, it was a nice park.
He gently waved his hand in a “don’t worry about it” motion at Butch’s remark. He was a patient man, as one member of his team put it a few years ago, he could sit on the porch all day whittling wood and not get bored or distracted. Something that came in handy while hunting, or when waiting for the right moment to shoot a terrorist leader from seven hundred yards away with a .338 Lapua sniper rifle.
Everyone had their hobby...
When she reached into her pouch, Nathan watched her slowly but did not draw his handgun, or even brush his jacket away like in the westerns. He just stood there watching while she pulled out the water bottle, registering it in his mind before allowing his body to relax from it’s tensed position. If she had pulled her own weapon, Nathan knew that trying to outdraw her would just get himself killed. Even if it had been a knife, at this range she could have crossed over to him and gutted him like a fish before he drew.
At her question, he looked out towards the stretch of field for a long moment before returning his gaze to her.
“Scouting for hunting season. Venison and other game taste much better when you get it yourself instead of at the butchers.”
Lot of things tasted better when you did it yourself instead of buying it at the store. That’s why Nathan made his own sauces, and sometimes even baked his own bread. Something to be said about earning your food the old fashioned way, like back at his grandparent’s house.
Post by Cassandra Cassidy on Jun 20, 2021 23:34:14 GMT -5
"Isn't that the truth?" Butch said. Her eyes followed Diamondback's, and she gazed at the same stretch of empty land he focused on. "I used to hunt a lot, too. Lived in the bush for a few years. I'd get up at dawn with my father to check the snares around our house for ptarmigan and hare. Went on hunts with him, too."
Ptarmigan wasn't a desert food. Mountains and the Arctic were where the small, plump birds called home. Wherever Butch was from, it was likely somewhere cold and far away. Yet, even though she was sweating in the heat, the climate didn't appear to bother her.
"You seem to have been watching everything as much as I have," Butch commented. Her eyes squinted again, stinging from the harsh light - unlike Diamondback, she was without sunglasses. Either they were in her hip pack and she didn't bother to pull them out, or she hadn't packed them. "Anything with potential you've noticed out here yet? I think that watering hole might be a start. Cougar's probably beaten you to the punch, but you could set up something in the area, if they let you shoot there. There's lots of cover, and water is enticing."
The cicadas kept buzzing. The jackrabbit, wherever it had moved next to hide, kept nibbling. There was peace in the absence of mass motion or noise, unlike the cheek-to-jowl press of Vegas. Even Jasper turned noisy and smoggy during parts of the tourist season, or if a car show was in town. The park's air was camphoric, but in a subtle way; a breeze carried notes of dry earth and pine. Even if the two spoke with soft voices, it carried so much farther than if traffic and chatter drowned them out. Butch relaxed a little more as she took it all in, scanning the horizon in a casual, admiring watchfulness.
"We shouldn't be out in the sun too long. I think there's shade up ahead, if you want to stop for a bite to eat. I have extra food if you don't."
Post by Nathan Walker on Jul 22, 2021 21:16:23 GMT -5
“Trapping huh? I respect anyone who can rely on trapping as a food source.”
Nathan had never really made any attempts at trapping before, but it was something he had learned while in Survival School. Her mention of the ptarmigan caused him to raise his eyebrow in thought. If he remembered correctly, ptarmigan lived in the colder arctic regions. That made sense though if she lived in the brush growing up. While there were remote places in the United States, most of the “homestead” type living that involved setting traps would be up north in the Alaska/Canada region. At her next comments, Nathan thought for a moment as he walked before answering.
“Yeah, I make it a point to listen and watch more than I talk.”
Talk low, talk slow, and don’t talk much. Words that Nathan tended to live by along with ‘better to not speak and be thought the fool, then open your mouth and confirm it’. But there was another reason besides not looking foolish. His job on the team was intelligence and reconnaissance, which meant that he ended up learning more by using his eyes, ears, and nose more than using his mouth. At Butch’s thoughts about setting up his hunt, Nathan shook his head with a smile.
“Even if I could, I don’t like to set up near a water hole. With game I like to stalk, give them a fair chance to get away.”
He left it at that, allowing Butch to fill in the rest of that sentence. If Nathan were hunting anything other than man, he was going to allow them every chance as he was more interested in the experience than needing to hit his bag limit. Humans on the other hand, Nathan was going to stack the deck in his favor as much as possible. If that meant staking out the only watering hole from four hundred plus yards out with a high powered rifle, Nathan would do it without a second thought. He motioned her onward as they walked, shaking his head in thanks but no thanks motion.
Post by Cassandra Cassidy on Jul 23, 2021 2:26:06 GMT -5
The lightest touch of a smile was on Butch's lips at the trapping comment. It lingered there, fading and growing again when Nathan explained how he liked to listen. "I can appreciate that," she said, one hand rising to wipe some sweat off her brow. "I like the quiet. I think this is the most talkative I've been with a stranger in some time. I suppose it's a sign I'm in good company."
And her posture reflected this too, relaxing by a slight fraction more. It was still cautious, but the edges to it and the sharp moves in her steps had become smoother. She wouldn't turn her back on him, but there was something friendly established. Either she was good at hiding some sort of insidious intention, or she really was a simple hiker.
When Nathan assured her he had something to eat, she grunted and nodded before continuing on. She walked several steps in silence, glancing left and right in casual turns of her head. "So you like giving your prey a sense of sport," she picked up the conversation with, squinting her eyes at the horizon. The open brush began to thicken, but any trees with shade were still several yards off. "Does that extend to folks from the other branches when they come to visit? I hear that the Army-Navy Games can get pretty fierce. Something about all the various parts of the Forces having a 'sibling rivalry'."
The elevation was beginning to dip a little. The trail, though flat, ever-so-gently began to angle down. There wasn't enough of a change to give the pair a vantage point, but it was something to look out for. The gradual change in the path might turn into a sharp dip at some point.
Post by Nathan Walker on Aug 29, 2021 20:54:26 GMT -5
“Only certain prey.”
As Nathan followed her through the brush towards the shade trees, he chuckled slightly at his own statement.
“Fellow service members are pretty much fair game no matter what. Yeah it can be considered a sibling rivalry, but there are some Coast Guard and Air Force guys that I have serious respect for.”
Chair Force and Puddle Pirates. Universally considered the laughing stock of the armed services, but Nathan had personally worked with Air Force Pararescuemen on some assignments in the past and those guys were some of the bravest men he had ever seen. And those guys also had mad respect for their Coast Guard counterparts. That told him all he needed to know.
“End of the day, we’re all on the same team.”
The sad thing was that such a saying needed to be said more than once. Sure there was always the fight for resources as there was always never enough to go around to satisfy everyone’s wants, but Nathan had seen the aftermath of some pretty serious fights when a buddy of his got into a shouting match with a couple of Marines. It made him shake his head in disappointment, because he’d rather be sharing a beer with these guys than throwing fists against them...
Post by Cassandra Cassidy on Aug 30, 2021 20:21:00 GMT -5
"Heh...good to know. I'll remember that next time it looks like the guys on leave look like they're about to start something. It's hard to tell sometimes when they're joking or when they're going to cause trouble."
The inside joke about prey was lost on Butch. Nathan might be about to lose her in the brush, too, as she had hopped forward and taken off into a jog. Hurrying forward a few feet, Butch knelt down in the middle of the path, careful as she picked up a long, dry stick. It looked as if someone had moved it before she got there, the dirt around it already disturbed. Standing back up, Butch swung it in a low, lazy half-circle a couple of times, then began to poke around the path. Turning over a few small stones, lifting a few pieces of dry deadfall, she walked forward slowly.
"Careful where you step," Butch called over her shoulder, turning her head to look at the Army man. She poked and lifted a few more pieces of the terrain, checking around some of the thicker sagebrush as she did. The shade Butch promised was just ahead, courtesy of three tall pines. "There's a rattlesnake nest somewhere around here. I almost stepped on a couple unfolding in the sun this morning."
After a bit more poking and prodding, Butch dropped the stick on the path and beelined for the trees. A few sandstone boulders would provide a place for the hikers to sit, framed by tufts of sage and dry grass. With a glance to make sure Diamondback had kept up, she moved to the largest boulder. It was about a head or two taller than Diamondback, and Butch scrambled up it with ease, perching on the top.
Once the soldier had picked his place to sit, Butch would adjust her hip pack to where Diamondback could see it. With a casual, careful sort of slowness, she pulled out a Tupperware sandwich container. She placed that in her lap before pulling off the blue lid. Inside was a simple sandwich, squashed down on a cooling pack and plastic-wrapped. Next to it was a Baby Ruth bar, and after that, something misshapen, seedy, and colored red-purple.
Post by Nathan Walker on Oct 4, 2021 22:17:38 GMT -5
Despite Butch’s apparent efforts to lose him in the bushes, Nathan kept up with her as she broke into a jog. He’d always been a natural athlete even before joining the Army, which made the physical requirements quite easy to surpass even at the level of Army Special Forces. When she stopped Nathan paused, eyes concentrating on the ground like Butch when he saw it. A snake, most likely a rattler, had passed by here recently. Butch was making sure that they gave the snake enough warning so that it wouldn’t attack them on sight.
The irony of a rattlesnake being close by wasn’t lost on him.
“Check.”
He followed her slowly, making sure to only step where she stepped. It was instinctive really, part of it drilled into him during training to avoid mines, while the other part made him feel like he was back in the White Mountains with his grandfather and uncle tracking an elk or mule deer.
Seeing Butch break into a run after tossing the stick aside assured him that they were safe enough, and he broke into a run after her. When she scrambled up the rock he followed after her without a word, mounting to the top like a mountain goat. When he saw her caution he slowly did the same, pulling off his backpack with slow, deliberate motions and opening it. Out came a near identical sandwich container with similar contents, except instead of a Baby Ruth bar it was a single Reese Peanut Butter cup, as well as a water bottle and a ziplock bag containing an apple.
Post by Cassandra Cassidy on Oct 4, 2021 22:52:08 GMT -5
"Yes," Butch said. Her face had the barest hint of a smirk at its corners, the look faint enough for most to miss. "Looks good. Sure you don't want to trade for something bigger than one little cup?"
Regardless of whether he accepted her offer or took the sarcasm for what it was, Butch would dig in. She gingerly removed the sandwich from its place, balancing the container on her lap. Her left hand held the sandwich with an awkward, stiff pose, the fingers not bending right. The right would maneuver the blue lid back on and snap it closed. Butch took small, slow bites of the sandwich - it looked like roast beef and cheese - and stared out at the scrub.
Minutes passed with nothing said by the woman. She watched the bush with a half-distant look, turning her head when a bird or rabbit passed through. Her eyes were always on the horizon, snapping to focus on something before drifting out of focus. In the shade, her posture began to relax, and her face looked even wearier than before. Something sank into the circles and wrinkles on her weather-beaten, freckled face.
The quiet continued. At one point, she stopped eating entirely, and stared into the distance with a thoughtful look. She nibbled at her sandwich, but it was as if eating was a half-remembered second thought. Diamondback was likely to beat her in the race to dessert if she didn't finish the slice in her fingers. She looked like she needed the lunch more than he did, too - her arms and figure were on the bonier side.
"Don't mind me being so wary," Butch said at last. "I didn't want to spook you after that cat back there. But that sounds like I'm assuming a lot about your temperament, doesn't it?"
Post by Nathan Walker on Jan 16, 2022 23:08:07 GMT -5
“Nah. There’s a tradition to this.” Nathan said as he extracted his own sandwich from it’s plastic wrap containment -a turkey and swiss on what looked to be wheat bread- and took a bite out of it before he looked back to her and smirked. “Whenever I used to go on an outdoors trip with my grandfather out into the wilderness, my grandmother would take a two pack of these and divide it in half. She’d put one into my lunch pack and the other one into the fridge.”
He paused as he took another bite from his sandwich and seemed to stare out into the wilderness for a long moment before continuing.
“She would say that it was to prevent me from staying out in the brush for too long, that it would motivate me to come back even if I had to drag my grandfather back by his ankle kicking and screaming...” he sighed as he shook his head with a chuckle. “I don’t know, maybe it was her own special way of teaching me patience or something...”
He set the sandwich back in the container and pulled out the water bottle and apple, taking a bite out of the red fruit then washing it down with a swig of water. At Butch’s comment about not spooking him, he chuckled again and shook his head. “I think in some ways I prefer that cat over people, no offense.” he said quietly before he took another bite of the apple. “That cat was just doing what it and it’s ancestors have done for thousands of years in this park. Circle of life and all that...people on the other hand...”
Nathan appeared to wax thoughtful for a moment as he stared into the wilderness before taking a bite of his apple. “People...where to begin with people...” he muttered.