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.
(( OoC: Tagged: Cyclonus. Others in the neutral zone may join if ya ask first. :3 ))
The roar of subsonic engines was a dull hum over the plains below. A lone jet stream crossed the open, cloudless sky, conditions that Soundwave did not like; not at all. His approach on the demilitarized zone would be unconcealed, aside from the radar cloaking that this "drone" was equipped with. That ability was hardly useful if they could simply look out the window…
The communications officer was not here to spy on these neutral mech, in any case. He was here to find the source of the transmission that had been blasted across every open airwave on his watch. The one that hadn't registered as a language in the database, and that he hadn't been able to pinpoint until it broke orbit. The moment that he received approval, he was gone.
Not quite as stealthily as he would have liked, but he was upon the transmitter.
Once within range, Soundwave opened up his own broadcast signal, and began to transmit the same message to them. To the Pit with him, if he was going to set foot in that place, but an open broadcast should easily rouse the mech that he assumed had been living under a rock somewhere for the last few hundred cycles.
Or get him fired upon by an Autobot paying them a visit.
Cyclonus had found himself a small portion of the cave, away from the others. He had much to think on, much to take in. He was processing the new language that the others were using - 'neocybex' he'd heard it called - and it was definitely not to his tastes. It lacked the formality and power of the old tongue.
'Old tongue'. Two months ago it was how everyone on Cybertron talked.
His temporal displacement brought him great consternation, and it was making it difficult to find his center during his meditative exercises. Sitting in crystalotus position on the floor of the cave, staring into a large, makeshift candle in an oil drum, he once more shuttered his optics, trying to regain his shattered sense of inner peace. He prayed to the Guiding Hand silently for divine intervention, that Solomus would illuminate his steps into a darkened path --
He was interrupted by Soundwave's transmission.
Sneering as only he could sneer, a low growl passed his vocoder. Cyclonus was further irritated by the interruption - now of all times, when he finally had quiet - would it never end?
He recalled that when he arrived, he had asked for communication from survivors. It seemed they had finally deigned to speak. Opening up his broadcomm channel, he sent a message back to the unknown mech, responding in kind. He was here, he stated in both Old Cybertronian and Neocybex, and ready to speak.
Rising from his place on the floor, Cyclonus slid his swords back into their scabbards against his wings.
Smoke curled from the snuffed candle as his shadow left the doorway.
(( OoC: ... could've sworn that I replied already. Weird. ))
The spybot halted his broadcast. It took him a few kliks to infer what the reply had been, exactly, but it was a reply, so at least this mystery mech was here. Soundwave had dug up what he could on the old languages, but shamefully, there was so little information left. He didn't dare try to communicate the language back, that would just sound silly. It was odd enough that this one would be speaking it in the first place.
The Reaper drone tilted to its side, beginning its descent on the neutral base. The thin craft was nowhere as quick or as powerful as the other Decepticon fliers' chosen forms, but it suited the communications officer just fine. Silent, imposing, and the ability to look a quarry in the eye... from the upper atmosphere. The MQ-9 glided low across the plain, and jerked upward before transforming, a metallic thud of pedials landing in the dust.
Now, just to wait on his new friend to come out of his hole. Just to be sure, he relayed a confirmation tone and a text-only message; Outside. Wish to meet fellow survivor. Narrowed down to the responsive communication channel only, of course. They didn't want any unwelcome intrusions on this meeting, now did they?
Cyclonus made his way out of the Neutral Base, and in the process, considered that it was a bit strange that whomever was sending him messages didn't want to come inside. Either they were so huge they would not fit inside (and he used to pray to the Guiding Hand in the shadow of those who certainly would not) ... or they felt uncomfortable being inside a base full of those who claimed neutrality.
Both were equally puzzling. Either these 'neutrals' were not as pacifist or they claimed, or someone wanted him alone and potentially vulnerable. Neither prospect was good. He cursed his lack of information.
Nevertheless, Deuce had asked him to consider protecting the neutral base, and it was a fair trade for a place to stay and refuel. If the neutrals were hiding something untoward, he'd deal with them later. If this outsider was the trouble maker... well, they had mentioned something about an ongoing war between 'Autobot' and 'Decepticon'. His swords were ready.
At last the ancient mech left the cave system. Soundwave's form was hard to miss out on the plains just a short distance from the rocky outcropping he was standing on. Cyclonus jumped from the ledge, transforming into an ancient Cybertronian space craft, shooting upwards in a brief burst, before transforming back and landing on the plains feet-first. He strode towards Soundwave and stopped a few bodylengths away, giving the aerial frame a good bit of personal space. The smokey lavender mech was built with a balance between power and agility, his legs and arms like columns, his torso broad but lean. His face, however, could be startling: it resembled a skull, and seemed to be permanently fixed in a disapproving scowl. He bore a minor, if notably unrepaired injury in the form of a missing horn.
Cyclonus immediately noticed the insignia on Soundwave, the same he'd seen on many corpses back on Cybertron. He did not yet know what that insignia represented. The golden age seeker made an attempt to communicate in neocybex.