Kup
Jul 24, 2018 2:20:07 GMT -5
Post by Deleted on Jul 24, 2018 2:20:07 GMT -5
Name/Alias: Ranix
Character Info:
Name: Kup
Age (or human equivalent): Equivalent of the late 60s
Gender (or human equivalent): Male
Species: Cybertronian
Faction: Autobot
Original occupation: Primarily: Front-Line Trooper
Occupation/Specialization: Instructor
Appearance/Alt Mode: A bottle green and gray frame hardened from violent engagements, and curdling conflagrations over the past few millennia stands as a testament to this Cybertronian's determination. While the styling of his frame isn't as aesthetically pleasing or trendy as some of the young Sparklings that rolled off the assembly lines would like, Kup's experience cannot be dismissed or ignored. The old mech stands at a height of 8.8 Meters (or 28FT), with the body-type mech template 8 on the chart.
His servos and gears have been tested, and his trials have been more than even a few Primes may have experienced. A pentagon crest rests above his brow between two raised ridges featured on the sides of his helm above two armored audio receptor housings or perhaps those might simply be for decoration.
Shoulders that have borne a burden, that vast experience and the things he's witnessed extend out into his arms and armored plating although deceivingly thin by the trends of the current cycles extends to his plated wrists featuring an orange 'L' Shaped stripe on both down to four servos and a thumb digit. The deceivingly fragile plating extends down past his waist and legs to his pedes, which seem to have been encased in thick heavy armor that almost seemed twice as thick as the plating spread across the rest of his frame and almost appeared to be heavier than the old mech could have handled.
A Cybertronian alloyed belt lay featuring a triangular “belt buckle” anchored firmly at his waist while the hood from his Alt-Form had formed an armored “vest” across his upper torso while the trunk had been condensed into a field pack across his back. Two field “pouches” capable of containing either Energon rations in travel size or an emergency survival kit, or repair kit or whatever else may have been practical to use hung off the left and right side of the belt. There are signs of aging in the form of what could be called age lines, and while there had been signs of wear and tear here or there nothing had been of a serious nature. Two pale blue optics peered out from beneath the trailing edge of the helm, framed a “face” featuring a nose with angled cheeks and a mouth.
Alt-Mode: 1964 Ford Falcon Futura Hard Top, 260HP V8, 2 Speed Automatic, Dark Green finish, featuring Steel siding and a full black Vinyl Top.
History:
Forged during the Closing-Cycles of the Age of Wrath, the old warrior known as Kup had been around for longer than even he could remember. Having been forged before the defeat of the Quintessons, he'd been able to have experienced the beginning of a Golden Age for Cybertron along with the many trials and tribulations that would follow. The height of exploration came around with the discovery and finally the perfection of the Space Bridge technologies that allowed Cybertron to have spread its reach across the galaxy to a myriad of worlds found suitable for colonization. Towers of metal crafted so delicately it seemed as if glass rose to fill the skylines of his planet's many city-states marking not only a time of unbound exploration, but a time of artistry to have flourished. A species freed from the long mind numbing servitude of the Quintessons had fought and earned their freedom to pursue anything in any field that no one had either tried or had piqued someone's interest. Cybertron had enjoyed the cycles of its Golden Age where every mech and femme to Sparkling had been able to roam without fear of retaliation and so it was in this Age the warrior named Kup had managed to come into his own. Unlike most of his kind, he'd grown bored and tired of the artistry although he had still admired it before having sought out a means to continue serving his home planet.
During his time in one of the many Militias that had formed following the Age of Wrath as a means for the Cybertronians to have at least had some form of standing military, Kup had found himself both a position of advising the up and coming Primes such as Zeta and Sentinel to having found himself waist deep in a bog or mud on some distant world at times. He'd found his advice either worked or had been easily dismissed, especially when it came to Zeta Prime while Sentinel Prime he'd found had listened even when the Prime had believed the semi-political semi-religious Prime had known better. He'd grown bored with the dealing of the Senate, and the Council. He hadn't been designed to be a politician, only a warrior and a good one at that. It had been the one purpose Zeta Prime had intentionally forgotten in his rush for power, and while Zeta Prime reigned in the office of the Prime Kup had found his position had been less of a warrior and more about keeping the mad Prime in check.
When Zeta Prime passed on the mantle to Sentinel Prime whom had been a promising and up and coming officer in the Council's Elite Guard, Kup of Tesarus had found he'd been allowed to shake off the politician's cloak or at least so he'd thought. He'd wound up being forced out of that role by the Implementation of the Caste System placing each Cybertronian into a neat or seemingly neat little niche and if the Cybertronian hadn't been able to fit either they were forced into a round hole or they had been relegated to a lower Caste. With the implementation of the Caste System, the old warrior had witnessed the first of many death knells to the Golden Age and the decline of Cybertron's scientific advancement. When the Space Bridges had been closed off for fear of a plague spreading from the colonies to the home world, contact with the colonies ceased. Cybertron had stood alone as it had during the cycles of the Quintesson rule.
Kup had found his abilities put to the test not in the political courts of the Senate or the Council, but in training new recruits into the Militias. Each City-State had its own Militia, but it had fallen to Kup as being forced into the Military Caste to have trained those incoming recruits in ways most had seen as archaic and outdated. He'd been forced to train them in the concepts of War, in strategy, tactics, marksmanship and other such qualities as defined a fighting man or mech as the case may have been. His grumblings had been largely dismissed, although he'd discovered all too quickly Sentinel Prime and the other Towerlings hadn't particularly cared for his grumblings or trinkets of wisdom. There had been at least a few cycles here or there where he'd honestly felt the Senate may have decided to have melted him down into spare parts, but that sentence never came.
When the discontentment followed by the rumors of a former gladiator rising from the pits of Kaon had reached his audio receptors, he hadn't been nearly as quick to have dismissed the concerns as those around him might have and in particular the ineffectiveness of Sentinel Prime. Kup had sworn he'd trained the current Prime when he'd been many cycles younger to have taken any discontentment as a serious matter, and to ensure that he'd kept War from ravaging from the metallic planet. Much to his disappointment and disgust, he'd heard on many news feeds following the various early acts of terrorism such as in the amusement parks and other such places that Sentinel Prime had shown a lack of connection with his fellow Cybertronians. Kup had learned that his former pupil had dismissed the uprisings from Kaon that had over the cycles gained followers and had spread to nearly every city-state on the planet. Throughout the conflagration that followed the once former gladiator from Kaon had made clear his intentions, Kup had found himself engaging the newly founded Decepticons or so they'd called themselves in last minute fields to the streets and highways to the base of towers and the depths of the canyons. In a way, he'd wished War hadn't marred the once beautiful Cybertron and there had been another part that had realized with an all too distinct familiarity that the civil war raging among the castes had been a legacy inherited from the Quintessons.
Millennia later after the Civil War had erupted between the followers of Megatron and those that followed Optimus Prime, Kup had borne witness to the dissolution of the Senate into the separate camps and had known that if there had ever been a possibility of Hope for a unified species it had been dashed. Having spent times in the trenches among the rank and file to the artillery specialists, the old mech that had trained other mechs through the cycles had proven with his Musket Laser in hand that even old professors had known a trick or two. Near the end or at least the point where Optimus Prime with his Staff had decided to evacuate the dying planet, the old mech had opted to have remained behind to have joined the rear-guard and though he had respected the motivations of the Wreckers he hadn't had an inclination to have joined them even though at a younger age he might have. Having found the larger ships had taken off without him, the old mech from Tesarus had found quite by accident an old ship -- an old exploratory cruiser in a junkyard the Decepticons had either overlooked, ignored or simply hadn't given a crud about. Upon closer inspection, Kup had discovered the old exploration cruiser had hearkened back to the latter cycles of the Space Bridge which had surprised him and rather by accident he'd discovered the systems aboard had remained functional even though he'd had to resort to the old Engineer's solution of giving a console or two a quick kick to get them online. Checking the reactors, the old Instructor had discovered an unused although limited supply of fuel had remained aboard tucked away in the old cruiser's holds, and after having fed the reactors he'd been equally surprised the old reactors had fired up without an issue. The old reactors constructed from an earlier age while being designed for reliability along with the rigors of deep space travel, and had when that cruiser had been decommissioned hadn't even served half of the rated service life.
With his supplies stowed aboard, the old mech sealed and locked the hatches to the hull before having taken his seat at the pilot's station. Over the many cycles of the Golden Age, he'd trained himself to fly and learning the lengthy lessons had in turn trained his pupils -- the recruits how to fly as well or at least how not to crash. Covering the entire preflight checklist, the old mech ignited the main thrusters required for take-off and the old cruiser cleared the junkyard before entering orbit. Knowing the launch would have been witnessed or at least detected by the Decepticon satellites, he'd submitted the coordinates he'd recalled from the briefings on the Ark and hit the switch engaging the main drives propelling the cruiser into the vastness beyond the dying world.
The journey had taken far longer than the old mech had anticipated, but eventually the cruiser's computer had alerted him to the detection of the third planet in a system with only a single star. The trip had taken many cycles, more than Kup would have cared to have remembered though he'd had to stop along the way at certain planets to at least let the drives and the thrusters cool down while doing other jury-rig repairs on the cruiser. On some of those planets, the species had been very hospitable while others had been downright hostile or simply gave him enough time to have repaired his ship before departing. Taking the controls, he'd managed to program in a rather steady approach through the planet's atmosphere except at the last possible moment a series of intense screeching and groaning had filtered across his audio receptors a sign he'd known only too well that while the reactors had been designed to withstand the rigors of deep space travel the hull after having sat however many cycles in a junkyard only to have withstand the stresses incurred by a launch into orbit had taken its toll. The first parts of the ship to have peeled or cracked before having fallen away had been various external panels belonging to the external hull before cracks began spreading throughout the inner hull and these were followed by even those panels being ripped out. Structural support beams and girders twisted from both the compromised hull to the heat licking at the hull from entering the planet's atmosphere. Grabbing what supplies he'd been able to including the cans of Energon of rations along with his trusty Musket Laser to a few grenades and even some other Knickknacks he'd stored in his pack or his belt-pouches, the old Instructor quickly slid from the pilot's station before double-timing it to the ship's only functional escape pod.
Taking only a few steps from the pilot's station, the ship lurched again throwing the old warrior back against the pilot's console and though he'd attempted again to move around the seat the deck tilted again causing him to slip back into the confines of that seat. Giving a quick prayer to whoever might have been listening, Kup's servos gripped the yoke in a vain attempt to at least pretend he'd had control of the old cruiser now aflame with bits and pieces trailing off only to disintegrate in the atmosphere.
Personality: Humble, Loyal (though not blind), Crotchety, Loves to tell stories
Likes: Autobots, Ci-Gars, Telling Stories, The Old Days, A nice comfortable recliner
Dislikes: Turbo-Revvin' Young Punks, Those that interrupt his stories, Decepticons, Those that interrupt the stories of others, Those that assume because of his age he can't be out in the field, Those that underestimate him
Strengths/Weapons:
Vast Experience: Kup has seen and done far more than the majority of Cybertronians from being engaged in combat to rescue missions of young Sparklings to Towerlings and even a few turbo-revvin' young punks and a wayward Prime or two. He's witnessed multiple Ages on Cybertron to the implementation of the Caste System, which by the way he opposed but was ignored on. This vast experience can lead to a myriad of stories that he loves to tell except when he's constantly interrupted or his chassis is on the line. If it's happened, he's most likely experienced it or seen it. If it hasn't, well, it hasn't.
Storyteller: He does enjoy, and has gained a reputation of telling stories pertaining to the many experiences and other accounts from his past. Whether the stories are listened to or even enjoyed by others isn't his problem, but even with a great storyteller there comes a time when he's heard his own stories or had to re-tell his stories to where he's simply not in the mood.
Durable: It's simple. They don't make them like they used to. Being from an older Age in Cybertron's history, Kup was made when Cybertron still had vast pools of resources at its disposal and his frame is a testament to that. He may be old, but his servos and gears along with the protective armored plating can take a great deal more punishment leaving the old warrior still ticking and in search of Decepticon aft plates to bust. He's been shot at, kicked around, had buildings and towers fall on him without really leaving much of a dent or at least had when in cycles past when he'd been younger. He might not be as spry or young as some of the Cybertronians in the more recent Ages, but he's tougher not because he's more agile or more lucky. He's simply made of tougher stuff.
Patience: Being older, Kup has learned that patience in any situation is a far better alternative than having one's helm blown off or limb from some adrenaline hooked Sparkling that should have known better leaping helm first into a crossfire. The fact he's continued to remain online for so long is a testament to his patience. There isn't a situation he's encountered or with a Cybertronian that hasn't required patience to overcome, and while he's certain that there are those even among the Cybertronian ranks that might see the virtue of patience as a hindrance it's not his aft plate he'll be pulling back to the safety of the trenches or the shuttle or outpost.
Musket Laser: A testament as much to his experience as it is to the fact he just couldn't bring himself to trade it in for a larger gun, the Musket Laser may appear old. It is old. It's very old, but it's also very accurate. There have been many that have underestimated the older laser, but they've quickly been forced to change their tune after being knocked out of the sky by it or receiving a few blast head on. The old Musket Laser holds a detachable magazine holding up to eight bolts with an additional one in the chamber, and while the Musket Laser hadn't been powerful enough on its own to have chambered the more potent Ion bolts or those of a blaster if it had to it could still chamber a magazine of them although doing so would damage the frame causing micro-fractures along it. These particular laser bolts aren't powerful enough to take down someone of Megatron's thickness and are more likely to give the former gladiator an annoying rash if anything. The bolts could still punch through medium to light armor without much of an issue, but against heavier armored opponents Kup might as well be better off hitting them with a series of flares blinding their optics. Unlike more modern firearms that can fire dozens of bolts or have some internal magazine capable of holding up to hundreds of bolts, the spent magazine ejects on its own becoming inert prompting the old instructor to take the time to reach into one of his belt pouches for a spare magazine before driving it home. His recruits from the Academy remember with either fondness or from the pain that he'd also been able to load training bolts which while non-lethal had the ability to briefly stun or grab an unruly mech's attention.
Weaknesses/Vulnerabilities:
Cannot Stand Impatience: Being an older warrior, and a Cybertronian, he can't tolerate impatience. Now, he won't come out and say it directly unless someone presses his buttons the wrong way or somehow leads to him being dismembered. He understands younger Cybertronians may feel the need to leap helm-first into the fray and he may understand those same youths may not like him, but he won't let them rust on some field after taking a laser or a blaster hit. He'll drop a hint or two at times if he's witnessed someone being impatient when it really counts or he'll make sure they'll take notice from a story that includes a mech very similar to them.
Age: He's not as spry as he'd been once, and his frame can be stiff especially if he's either had a limb reattached or if he's just moved the limb the wrong way. He's an older mech, and in some obvious ways his frame conveys that. While he's kept his armor and limbs polished, there are signs of wear and tear in certain places.
Limited Arsenal: While his aim with his Musket Laser is impressive, the Laser is really his only known weapon. He'll improvise when it's required, or needed, but unlike a lot of frames that came online after he did he wasn't designed to house extra weaponry. He might be able to store a few grenades or explosives in the belt pouches, but he'd rather not travel with grenades on his belt. Who would?
Special Skills:
Security Clearance: This might not carry as much weight as it had in cycles past, but due to his being closer to the Primes -- Zeta and Sentinel -- along with being held as a veteran instructor to the Militia he received one of the highest security clearances possible. Although, if he'd been able to remember it correctly that same security clearance had been revoked by Sentinel Prime except he also recalled how the Prime for some reason gave it back to him.
Ear of the Primes: Whether out of what some might call his folksy wisdom to wisdom gained from his experiences, he somewhat earned the right to have been able to have provided advice to the Primes even if it hadn't been listened or heeded to.
Belt Storage Bins/Pouches: This had more to do with how the belt had been designed and how he'd been designed where he'd been able to store a variety of items either of use or not in two large bins on the sides of the belt -- normal sized for Cybertronians. In an engagement, he'd been able to have drawn grenades from them or spare battery packs. Though, there had been a time he'd sworn he'd picked out a rubber duck even though he hadn't known what a rubber duck had been before he'd arrived on Earth.
Extra Info:
Sample RP:
“How're you doing, lad? I heard your speech on the Floor, and heard the Senate's reaction,” Kup asked. The old mech, a warrior from the Age of Wrath and the War against the Quintessons had been present in the Senate Chamber mostly allowed out of his security advisor position and had been witness to a rather passionate speech made by a young or at least in his eyes a young Senator from his own home City-State of Tesarus. After the Senate had called for a Recess in which they'd make their ruling afterwards, the old warrior had left the Senate Chambers in search of a hot oil machine before he'd decided to have tracked down the young Senator. He'd managed to find the young Senator on a bench outside of the Senate Chambers relaxing a little, and a breather of sorts from the stifling Senate Chamber. “You did good. You were articulate, and your words had weight. You made everyone from Tesarus proud, but you don't need little old me to tell you that,”
“You think so?” Senator Armature asked, looking up at the older warrior. Armature had risen through the ranks in the Scientist Caste to achieve the position of a Senator, and had represented the City-State of Tesarus which he'd felt most had been rather satisfied with. Though, he'd garnered more than a few enemies -- Senators and even those within that city -- that had wanted him to fail or to be removed either peacefully or by force. He'd been surprised the Senate had granted him the time on the Floor to have raised a passionate speech that hopefully encouraged or swayed them to consider his proposal of re-approaching and re-funding the scientific programs including the Space Bridge technology. The Senate had at least allowed him to finish, but had decided to call a Recess before they'd re-convened to make their decision behind locked doors.
“Aye. It was a nice speech, but you did kind of screw up,” Kup said, handing one of the cups of hot oil to the Senator. “Mind if I join you?”
“I don't mind,” the Senator replied, taking the still steaming cup of hot oil in hand as the old warrior joined him on the bench. “What did I screw up on?”
“You assumed the Senate would re-approach the colonization efforts from the early Golden Age and re-activate the Space Bridges. Most of the Senators in there are old, just not as old as me, and remember the Rust Plague. They remember the weighty decision of having to shut down the program and sever contact with our colonies or the Plague would have reached Cybertron,” Kup explained. “I respect any Cybertronian willing to re-ignite the Golden Age, and to make the planet a better place. I respect that, but you have to understand those Senators -- the older ones -- are burdened with fear. They're wrapped up in it. They know what our species faced, and they don't want to risk it. With that said, your speech might have swayed them,”
“I'm not sure if I should take that as a compliment or an insult,” Armature replied, sipping the cup of oil.
“I meant it as a compliment. You're a young mech with your helm and processors full of lofty ideals and your pedes are running on ambition,” the old warrior said. “I'm not like you. I'm not a young bot anymore, and in that sense I do envy you. You're young. You're energetic. You're afforded the chance to bring your lofty ideals to light. You're afforded that. Not many are,”
“You're not that old, Kup, and many bots would envy you. You have the ear of Sentinel Prime, and you had Zeta Prime's ear. You're allowed into the Senate Chambers while they're in motion,” Armature said.
“It wasn't something that came easy. I had to work for it, and for the record I am old. It's alright. I'm not ashamed of it. I won't rust and fall apart if you say it. I'm an old bot,” Kup said. “What is it with you youngsters and thinking if someone's not of a newer or recent model that they're afraid to hear their age?”
“My apologies. I didn't mean any sleight,” Armature replied. “You're old, but I value your insight,”
“That wasn't easy to come by either,” the old warrior said, sipping his cup of oil.
“Are you certain the Senators will back the decision to re-ignite the colonial expansion?” the Senator asked.
“I don't know. They might back it. They might reject it,” Kup replied. He'd observed his own species had become jaded and sotted ever since Sentinel Prime had organized, and implemented the Caste based system dividing their kind even further. The old warrior had wanted his species to become unified, to see that such stagnation as had been implemented had affected the social interactions, the cohort exchanges to every sector in Cybertron's life including the neglect of their once proud colonial programs. They had been explorers once that had sought out the Great Beyond for the sake of it rather than out of some social obligation to an arbitrary Caste.
Character Info:
Name: Kup
Age (or human equivalent): Equivalent of the late 60s
Gender (or human equivalent): Male
Species: Cybertronian
Faction: Autobot
Original occupation: Primarily: Front-Line Trooper
Occupation/Specialization: Instructor
Appearance/Alt Mode: A bottle green and gray frame hardened from violent engagements, and curdling conflagrations over the past few millennia stands as a testament to this Cybertronian's determination. While the styling of his frame isn't as aesthetically pleasing or trendy as some of the young Sparklings that rolled off the assembly lines would like, Kup's experience cannot be dismissed or ignored. The old mech stands at a height of 8.8 Meters (or 28FT), with the body-type mech template 8 on the chart.
His servos and gears have been tested, and his trials have been more than even a few Primes may have experienced. A pentagon crest rests above his brow between two raised ridges featured on the sides of his helm above two armored audio receptor housings or perhaps those might simply be for decoration.
Shoulders that have borne a burden, that vast experience and the things he's witnessed extend out into his arms and armored plating although deceivingly thin by the trends of the current cycles extends to his plated wrists featuring an orange 'L' Shaped stripe on both down to four servos and a thumb digit. The deceivingly fragile plating extends down past his waist and legs to his pedes, which seem to have been encased in thick heavy armor that almost seemed twice as thick as the plating spread across the rest of his frame and almost appeared to be heavier than the old mech could have handled.
A Cybertronian alloyed belt lay featuring a triangular “belt buckle” anchored firmly at his waist while the hood from his Alt-Form had formed an armored “vest” across his upper torso while the trunk had been condensed into a field pack across his back. Two field “pouches” capable of containing either Energon rations in travel size or an emergency survival kit, or repair kit or whatever else may have been practical to use hung off the left and right side of the belt. There are signs of aging in the form of what could be called age lines, and while there had been signs of wear and tear here or there nothing had been of a serious nature. Two pale blue optics peered out from beneath the trailing edge of the helm, framed a “face” featuring a nose with angled cheeks and a mouth.
Alt-Mode: 1964 Ford Falcon Futura Hard Top, 260HP V8, 2 Speed Automatic, Dark Green finish, featuring Steel siding and a full black Vinyl Top.
History:
Forged during the Closing-Cycles of the Age of Wrath, the old warrior known as Kup had been around for longer than even he could remember. Having been forged before the defeat of the Quintessons, he'd been able to have experienced the beginning of a Golden Age for Cybertron along with the many trials and tribulations that would follow. The height of exploration came around with the discovery and finally the perfection of the Space Bridge technologies that allowed Cybertron to have spread its reach across the galaxy to a myriad of worlds found suitable for colonization. Towers of metal crafted so delicately it seemed as if glass rose to fill the skylines of his planet's many city-states marking not only a time of unbound exploration, but a time of artistry to have flourished. A species freed from the long mind numbing servitude of the Quintessons had fought and earned their freedom to pursue anything in any field that no one had either tried or had piqued someone's interest. Cybertron had enjoyed the cycles of its Golden Age where every mech and femme to Sparkling had been able to roam without fear of retaliation and so it was in this Age the warrior named Kup had managed to come into his own. Unlike most of his kind, he'd grown bored and tired of the artistry although he had still admired it before having sought out a means to continue serving his home planet.
During his time in one of the many Militias that had formed following the Age of Wrath as a means for the Cybertronians to have at least had some form of standing military, Kup had found himself both a position of advising the up and coming Primes such as Zeta and Sentinel to having found himself waist deep in a bog or mud on some distant world at times. He'd found his advice either worked or had been easily dismissed, especially when it came to Zeta Prime while Sentinel Prime he'd found had listened even when the Prime had believed the semi-political semi-religious Prime had known better. He'd grown bored with the dealing of the Senate, and the Council. He hadn't been designed to be a politician, only a warrior and a good one at that. It had been the one purpose Zeta Prime had intentionally forgotten in his rush for power, and while Zeta Prime reigned in the office of the Prime Kup had found his position had been less of a warrior and more about keeping the mad Prime in check.
When Zeta Prime passed on the mantle to Sentinel Prime whom had been a promising and up and coming officer in the Council's Elite Guard, Kup of Tesarus had found he'd been allowed to shake off the politician's cloak or at least so he'd thought. He'd wound up being forced out of that role by the Implementation of the Caste System placing each Cybertronian into a neat or seemingly neat little niche and if the Cybertronian hadn't been able to fit either they were forced into a round hole or they had been relegated to a lower Caste. With the implementation of the Caste System, the old warrior had witnessed the first of many death knells to the Golden Age and the decline of Cybertron's scientific advancement. When the Space Bridges had been closed off for fear of a plague spreading from the colonies to the home world, contact with the colonies ceased. Cybertron had stood alone as it had during the cycles of the Quintesson rule.
Kup had found his abilities put to the test not in the political courts of the Senate or the Council, but in training new recruits into the Militias. Each City-State had its own Militia, but it had fallen to Kup as being forced into the Military Caste to have trained those incoming recruits in ways most had seen as archaic and outdated. He'd been forced to train them in the concepts of War, in strategy, tactics, marksmanship and other such qualities as defined a fighting man or mech as the case may have been. His grumblings had been largely dismissed, although he'd discovered all too quickly Sentinel Prime and the other Towerlings hadn't particularly cared for his grumblings or trinkets of wisdom. There had been at least a few cycles here or there where he'd honestly felt the Senate may have decided to have melted him down into spare parts, but that sentence never came.
When the discontentment followed by the rumors of a former gladiator rising from the pits of Kaon had reached his audio receptors, he hadn't been nearly as quick to have dismissed the concerns as those around him might have and in particular the ineffectiveness of Sentinel Prime. Kup had sworn he'd trained the current Prime when he'd been many cycles younger to have taken any discontentment as a serious matter, and to ensure that he'd kept War from ravaging from the metallic planet. Much to his disappointment and disgust, he'd heard on many news feeds following the various early acts of terrorism such as in the amusement parks and other such places that Sentinel Prime had shown a lack of connection with his fellow Cybertronians. Kup had learned that his former pupil had dismissed the uprisings from Kaon that had over the cycles gained followers and had spread to nearly every city-state on the planet. Throughout the conflagration that followed the once former gladiator from Kaon had made clear his intentions, Kup had found himself engaging the newly founded Decepticons or so they'd called themselves in last minute fields to the streets and highways to the base of towers and the depths of the canyons. In a way, he'd wished War hadn't marred the once beautiful Cybertron and there had been another part that had realized with an all too distinct familiarity that the civil war raging among the castes had been a legacy inherited from the Quintessons.
Millennia later after the Civil War had erupted between the followers of Megatron and those that followed Optimus Prime, Kup had borne witness to the dissolution of the Senate into the separate camps and had known that if there had ever been a possibility of Hope for a unified species it had been dashed. Having spent times in the trenches among the rank and file to the artillery specialists, the old mech that had trained other mechs through the cycles had proven with his Musket Laser in hand that even old professors had known a trick or two. Near the end or at least the point where Optimus Prime with his Staff had decided to evacuate the dying planet, the old mech had opted to have remained behind to have joined the rear-guard and though he had respected the motivations of the Wreckers he hadn't had an inclination to have joined them even though at a younger age he might have. Having found the larger ships had taken off without him, the old mech from Tesarus had found quite by accident an old ship -- an old exploratory cruiser in a junkyard the Decepticons had either overlooked, ignored or simply hadn't given a crud about. Upon closer inspection, Kup had discovered the old exploration cruiser had hearkened back to the latter cycles of the Space Bridge which had surprised him and rather by accident he'd discovered the systems aboard had remained functional even though he'd had to resort to the old Engineer's solution of giving a console or two a quick kick to get them online. Checking the reactors, the old Instructor had discovered an unused although limited supply of fuel had remained aboard tucked away in the old cruiser's holds, and after having fed the reactors he'd been equally surprised the old reactors had fired up without an issue. The old reactors constructed from an earlier age while being designed for reliability along with the rigors of deep space travel, and had when that cruiser had been decommissioned hadn't even served half of the rated service life.
With his supplies stowed aboard, the old mech sealed and locked the hatches to the hull before having taken his seat at the pilot's station. Over the many cycles of the Golden Age, he'd trained himself to fly and learning the lengthy lessons had in turn trained his pupils -- the recruits how to fly as well or at least how not to crash. Covering the entire preflight checklist, the old mech ignited the main thrusters required for take-off and the old cruiser cleared the junkyard before entering orbit. Knowing the launch would have been witnessed or at least detected by the Decepticon satellites, he'd submitted the coordinates he'd recalled from the briefings on the Ark and hit the switch engaging the main drives propelling the cruiser into the vastness beyond the dying world.
The journey had taken far longer than the old mech had anticipated, but eventually the cruiser's computer had alerted him to the detection of the third planet in a system with only a single star. The trip had taken many cycles, more than Kup would have cared to have remembered though he'd had to stop along the way at certain planets to at least let the drives and the thrusters cool down while doing other jury-rig repairs on the cruiser. On some of those planets, the species had been very hospitable while others had been downright hostile or simply gave him enough time to have repaired his ship before departing. Taking the controls, he'd managed to program in a rather steady approach through the planet's atmosphere except at the last possible moment a series of intense screeching and groaning had filtered across his audio receptors a sign he'd known only too well that while the reactors had been designed to withstand the rigors of deep space travel the hull after having sat however many cycles in a junkyard only to have withstand the stresses incurred by a launch into orbit had taken its toll. The first parts of the ship to have peeled or cracked before having fallen away had been various external panels belonging to the external hull before cracks began spreading throughout the inner hull and these were followed by even those panels being ripped out. Structural support beams and girders twisted from both the compromised hull to the heat licking at the hull from entering the planet's atmosphere. Grabbing what supplies he'd been able to including the cans of Energon of rations along with his trusty Musket Laser to a few grenades and even some other Knickknacks he'd stored in his pack or his belt-pouches, the old Instructor quickly slid from the pilot's station before double-timing it to the ship's only functional escape pod.
Taking only a few steps from the pilot's station, the ship lurched again throwing the old warrior back against the pilot's console and though he'd attempted again to move around the seat the deck tilted again causing him to slip back into the confines of that seat. Giving a quick prayer to whoever might have been listening, Kup's servos gripped the yoke in a vain attempt to at least pretend he'd had control of the old cruiser now aflame with bits and pieces trailing off only to disintegrate in the atmosphere.
Personality: Humble, Loyal (though not blind), Crotchety, Loves to tell stories
Likes: Autobots, Ci-Gars, Telling Stories, The Old Days, A nice comfortable recliner
Dislikes: Turbo-Revvin' Young Punks, Those that interrupt his stories, Decepticons, Those that interrupt the stories of others, Those that assume because of his age he can't be out in the field, Those that underestimate him
Strengths/Weapons:
Vast Experience: Kup has seen and done far more than the majority of Cybertronians from being engaged in combat to rescue missions of young Sparklings to Towerlings and even a few turbo-revvin' young punks and a wayward Prime or two. He's witnessed multiple Ages on Cybertron to the implementation of the Caste System, which by the way he opposed but was ignored on. This vast experience can lead to a myriad of stories that he loves to tell except when he's constantly interrupted or his chassis is on the line. If it's happened, he's most likely experienced it or seen it. If it hasn't, well, it hasn't.
Storyteller: He does enjoy, and has gained a reputation of telling stories pertaining to the many experiences and other accounts from his past. Whether the stories are listened to or even enjoyed by others isn't his problem, but even with a great storyteller there comes a time when he's heard his own stories or had to re-tell his stories to where he's simply not in the mood.
Durable: It's simple. They don't make them like they used to. Being from an older Age in Cybertron's history, Kup was made when Cybertron still had vast pools of resources at its disposal and his frame is a testament to that. He may be old, but his servos and gears along with the protective armored plating can take a great deal more punishment leaving the old warrior still ticking and in search of Decepticon aft plates to bust. He's been shot at, kicked around, had buildings and towers fall on him without really leaving much of a dent or at least had when in cycles past when he'd been younger. He might not be as spry or young as some of the Cybertronians in the more recent Ages, but he's tougher not because he's more agile or more lucky. He's simply made of tougher stuff.
Patience: Being older, Kup has learned that patience in any situation is a far better alternative than having one's helm blown off or limb from some adrenaline hooked Sparkling that should have known better leaping helm first into a crossfire. The fact he's continued to remain online for so long is a testament to his patience. There isn't a situation he's encountered or with a Cybertronian that hasn't required patience to overcome, and while he's certain that there are those even among the Cybertronian ranks that might see the virtue of patience as a hindrance it's not his aft plate he'll be pulling back to the safety of the trenches or the shuttle or outpost.
Musket Laser: A testament as much to his experience as it is to the fact he just couldn't bring himself to trade it in for a larger gun, the Musket Laser may appear old. It is old. It's very old, but it's also very accurate. There have been many that have underestimated the older laser, but they've quickly been forced to change their tune after being knocked out of the sky by it or receiving a few blast head on. The old Musket Laser holds a detachable magazine holding up to eight bolts with an additional one in the chamber, and while the Musket Laser hadn't been powerful enough on its own to have chambered the more potent Ion bolts or those of a blaster if it had to it could still chamber a magazine of them although doing so would damage the frame causing micro-fractures along it. These particular laser bolts aren't powerful enough to take down someone of Megatron's thickness and are more likely to give the former gladiator an annoying rash if anything. The bolts could still punch through medium to light armor without much of an issue, but against heavier armored opponents Kup might as well be better off hitting them with a series of flares blinding their optics. Unlike more modern firearms that can fire dozens of bolts or have some internal magazine capable of holding up to hundreds of bolts, the spent magazine ejects on its own becoming inert prompting the old instructor to take the time to reach into one of his belt pouches for a spare magazine before driving it home. His recruits from the Academy remember with either fondness or from the pain that he'd also been able to load training bolts which while non-lethal had the ability to briefly stun or grab an unruly mech's attention.
Weaknesses/Vulnerabilities:
Cannot Stand Impatience: Being an older warrior, and a Cybertronian, he can't tolerate impatience. Now, he won't come out and say it directly unless someone presses his buttons the wrong way or somehow leads to him being dismembered. He understands younger Cybertronians may feel the need to leap helm-first into the fray and he may understand those same youths may not like him, but he won't let them rust on some field after taking a laser or a blaster hit. He'll drop a hint or two at times if he's witnessed someone being impatient when it really counts or he'll make sure they'll take notice from a story that includes a mech very similar to them.
Age: He's not as spry as he'd been once, and his frame can be stiff especially if he's either had a limb reattached or if he's just moved the limb the wrong way. He's an older mech, and in some obvious ways his frame conveys that. While he's kept his armor and limbs polished, there are signs of wear and tear in certain places.
Limited Arsenal: While his aim with his Musket Laser is impressive, the Laser is really his only known weapon. He'll improvise when it's required, or needed, but unlike a lot of frames that came online after he did he wasn't designed to house extra weaponry. He might be able to store a few grenades or explosives in the belt pouches, but he'd rather not travel with grenades on his belt. Who would?
Special Skills:
Security Clearance: This might not carry as much weight as it had in cycles past, but due to his being closer to the Primes -- Zeta and Sentinel -- along with being held as a veteran instructor to the Militia he received one of the highest security clearances possible. Although, if he'd been able to remember it correctly that same security clearance had been revoked by Sentinel Prime except he also recalled how the Prime for some reason gave it back to him.
Ear of the Primes: Whether out of what some might call his folksy wisdom to wisdom gained from his experiences, he somewhat earned the right to have been able to have provided advice to the Primes even if it hadn't been listened or heeded to.
Belt Storage Bins/Pouches: This had more to do with how the belt had been designed and how he'd been designed where he'd been able to store a variety of items either of use or not in two large bins on the sides of the belt -- normal sized for Cybertronians. In an engagement, he'd been able to have drawn grenades from them or spare battery packs. Though, there had been a time he'd sworn he'd picked out a rubber duck even though he hadn't known what a rubber duck had been before he'd arrived on Earth.
Extra Info:
Sample RP:
“How're you doing, lad? I heard your speech on the Floor, and heard the Senate's reaction,” Kup asked. The old mech, a warrior from the Age of Wrath and the War against the Quintessons had been present in the Senate Chamber mostly allowed out of his security advisor position and had been witness to a rather passionate speech made by a young or at least in his eyes a young Senator from his own home City-State of Tesarus. After the Senate had called for a Recess in which they'd make their ruling afterwards, the old warrior had left the Senate Chambers in search of a hot oil machine before he'd decided to have tracked down the young Senator. He'd managed to find the young Senator on a bench outside of the Senate Chambers relaxing a little, and a breather of sorts from the stifling Senate Chamber. “You did good. You were articulate, and your words had weight. You made everyone from Tesarus proud, but you don't need little old me to tell you that,”
“You think so?” Senator Armature asked, looking up at the older warrior. Armature had risen through the ranks in the Scientist Caste to achieve the position of a Senator, and had represented the City-State of Tesarus which he'd felt most had been rather satisfied with. Though, he'd garnered more than a few enemies -- Senators and even those within that city -- that had wanted him to fail or to be removed either peacefully or by force. He'd been surprised the Senate had granted him the time on the Floor to have raised a passionate speech that hopefully encouraged or swayed them to consider his proposal of re-approaching and re-funding the scientific programs including the Space Bridge technology. The Senate had at least allowed him to finish, but had decided to call a Recess before they'd re-convened to make their decision behind locked doors.
“Aye. It was a nice speech, but you did kind of screw up,” Kup said, handing one of the cups of hot oil to the Senator. “Mind if I join you?”
“I don't mind,” the Senator replied, taking the still steaming cup of hot oil in hand as the old warrior joined him on the bench. “What did I screw up on?”
“You assumed the Senate would re-approach the colonization efforts from the early Golden Age and re-activate the Space Bridges. Most of the Senators in there are old, just not as old as me, and remember the Rust Plague. They remember the weighty decision of having to shut down the program and sever contact with our colonies or the Plague would have reached Cybertron,” Kup explained. “I respect any Cybertronian willing to re-ignite the Golden Age, and to make the planet a better place. I respect that, but you have to understand those Senators -- the older ones -- are burdened with fear. They're wrapped up in it. They know what our species faced, and they don't want to risk it. With that said, your speech might have swayed them,”
“I'm not sure if I should take that as a compliment or an insult,” Armature replied, sipping the cup of oil.
“I meant it as a compliment. You're a young mech with your helm and processors full of lofty ideals and your pedes are running on ambition,” the old warrior said. “I'm not like you. I'm not a young bot anymore, and in that sense I do envy you. You're young. You're energetic. You're afforded the chance to bring your lofty ideals to light. You're afforded that. Not many are,”
“You're not that old, Kup, and many bots would envy you. You have the ear of Sentinel Prime, and you had Zeta Prime's ear. You're allowed into the Senate Chambers while they're in motion,” Armature said.
“It wasn't something that came easy. I had to work for it, and for the record I am old. It's alright. I'm not ashamed of it. I won't rust and fall apart if you say it. I'm an old bot,” Kup said. “What is it with you youngsters and thinking if someone's not of a newer or recent model that they're afraid to hear their age?”
“My apologies. I didn't mean any sleight,” Armature replied. “You're old, but I value your insight,”
“That wasn't easy to come by either,” the old warrior said, sipping his cup of oil.
“Are you certain the Senators will back the decision to re-ignite the colonial expansion?” the Senator asked.
“I don't know. They might back it. They might reject it,” Kup replied. He'd observed his own species had become jaded and sotted ever since Sentinel Prime had organized, and implemented the Caste based system dividing their kind even further. The old warrior had wanted his species to become unified, to see that such stagnation as had been implemented had affected the social interactions, the cohort exchanges to every sector in Cybertron's life including the neglect of their once proud colonial programs. They had been explorers once that had sought out the Great Beyond for the sake of it rather than out of some social obligation to an arbitrary Caste.