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 Thundercracker on Aug 28, 2022 16:27:40 GMT -5
Thundercracker didn’t pay too much attention to the board at first, instead focusing on the weapons as those were the most concerning for him. He made sure to inspect each weapon he recovered, trying to ascertain if it was still live and capable of firing. Those that he was sure were rendered safe he set in a pile behind him, while those he was dubious about he set in front of him a ways with the muzzles pointed into the facility.
He paused when he recovered the long gun. The tank that had the liquid sloshing around made him guess that this probably was some departed soul’s flamethrower. Thundercracker had never really understood the fascination with the weapons that some individuals seemed to have, fire wasn’t as big a concern for beings made of metal unless it was really, really hot, and the cost of having to carry around the fuel making you a prime target for a sniper seemed to him to be nothing more than a suicide waiting to happen.
He set that device in his “dubious” pile, making sure that the muzzle was pointed away from him.
“I have everything I need. So you all are welcome to anything I find provided it’s not going to blow up in your face the first time you use it.”
Twin blasters, twin swords, missiles, and a rotary cannon. Everything that Thundercracker needed in order to survive. Anything else would clutter his space and provide for an opportunity to get misplaced or stolen.
For a moment, the cherry-red mech seemed taken aback almost at how well the axe seemed to fit in his grasp. He was not one for weapons - usually. The energon prod was about as far as it went should he feel like getting up close and personal, however something just seemed so… right, about this axe.
Turning it this way and that to catch what little light he could, he inspected it with care. He also did not know much about weapons, merely the aftermath of what happened when they were used. However, he could tell that whoever had owned this previously had taken good care of it. The fact it was so shiny when everything around was covered in dust and grime was curious, though he wouldn’t pay it much mind, figuring it held some sort of coating for easy cleanup.
Energon was messy, after all, and such a pretty thing needn’t be stained.
While he wasn’t transfixed on the thing, per se, his attention was fully on it. At least until Pyrotech spoke and his gaze would once again drift to the other mech.
“Well, if you insist.”
He didn’t have to be told twice. The job was grim indeed, and should he walk away with it with a ‘prize’ for doing a job well done? It might as well be the weapon that was almost as shiny as he.
The name Thermal did not ring a bell, though a hum of thought was given.
“Perhaps I shall name it after its previous owner, then. Or is that considered taboo?”
Was it bad luck, even? He did not know the specifics of things. Humans named things - cars, boats. Weapons too, probably, but naming them after previous owners?
Probably the least he could do, unless it had held a better - more fitting - name in the past. Ah well, he was never one for dwelling on such things.
Tucking the weapon into his subspace, he would make his way over to the indicated corpse. He appreciated Pyrotech picking one out for him, as while he would’ve just chosen one at random eventually, having some sort of direction was always welcome.
“I suppose that’s as good a starting point as any.”
He listened to Thundercracker as he spoke, but would not comment. Unless there were other shiny things down here, like another axe to match the one he found? He probably wouldn’t be taking another weapon for himself. The sooner they got out of here? The better.
As his sawblade had already shifted into place moments earlier, he would lower into a crouch next to the body as the blade spun to life with a heavy whir. He’d salvaged many a corpse before, however they were usually a lot ‘fresher’ than this unfortunate individual.
Ah well, work was work - and it did not take him long to start the process of cutting into the fallen mech’s chassis. He was being perhaps a little too careful, but he was wary indeed.
Thundercracker would find a few more items. Most of the gear down here wasn't of notable value; it was obvious that this was all battlefield clutter. Things that had been left behind and pulled from the battlefield, shoved down here so that the humans wouldn't find what the Cybertronians had left behind. These were the sort of weapons that were not like his; cared for and repaired throughout their career. They were the sort that had been patched to the best of someone's ability; begged, borrowed, sold and stolen throughout their history of existence. They'd traveled on mechs across the galaxy, been carried into a war that had spilled across a galaxy and ended up here, buried in a hole in the outback of Australia.
A smear of rust would dust Thundercracker's fingers, red and powdery. These items had survived all this time, but they certainly wouldn't survive Earth's microbes and weather left down here.
The long gun and the tank rested among the pile. It was probably the best quality weapon within the grouping.
"We can take it back to the outpost," Pyrotech told Thundercracker. "I'm sure some Vehicon will find some use for it."
He took a few strides to where a pile of copper cable was wound around a large wooden spool and lifted the end of the line, inspecting it before he glanced back at Knock Out.
"I don't think it's considered taboo," the architect mused. "That said, he was an idiot. I'm not sure I would personally name anything after him."
The handle smoothly fit into Knock Out's dark palm and balanced beautifully as he turned it this way and that. The red eyes of the carved rat on the handle seemed to wink at the medic as if to say he was certainly no idiot, unlike the weapon's last owner. As he tucked it away, it slipped perfectly into the space where he tucked it away into as if it enjoyed those clean spaces, free of this dirty and dank hole in the stone. Maybe it was as fastidious as the medic was, the sort of weapon that understood how important it was to be elegant and clean, no matter everything the war threw at them both.
The rest of the Decepticons didn't understand, did they...?
No, of course they didn't.
Things were quiet for a while after that. Pyrotech was picking through the supplies and putting some aside into a pile, even as Thundercracker and Knock Out worked. The body proved to be easy, and surprisingly not messy and vile. The energon in the lines and the fluids had turned to thickened sludge, and things like the transformation cog slipped free with minimal prying. After that corpse was stripped, Pyrotech motioned to the next one, and then the one after that.
They had just started on the fourth corpse when Thundercracker would feel an odd, slight vibration in the floor. It was almost imperceptible with the sounds of cutter and grinder, but it was there...
Post by Thundercracker on Nov 13, 2022 23:17:17 GMT -5
One thing that Thundercracker had learned after melenia of existence and war, everything decayed at some point. Sure, some faded things went faster than others based on whatever material they had been made of, and with proper upkeep one could stave off decay for centuries. But at the end of the rotation, everything had an expiration date.
Something to muse on as he went through the decaying remains of his fellow cybertronians.
Thundercracker placed those thoughts aside, merely continuing to organize the weapons and equipment he found into his various piles of probability. At the mention of having the vehicons go over them and take what they want, Thundercracker frowned. He wasn’t opposed to the vehicons having any good equipment, but none of this was what he would exactly call ‘top of the line gear’. Besides, if the vehicons had any sense they would stick to the more simpler and less flashy stuff. If some vehicon grabbed the flame thrower for example, it would probably make them a more likely target and get them and everyone around them killed.
That’s why Thundercracker stuck with the normal stuff anyway.
He was just about to turn and ask Pyrotech where he wanted to assemble the equipment for transport back to base when he detected something...no...that wasn’t right...
He felt something...some sort of vibration...in the floor?
“Hey Pyrotech...you’re sure this place was shut down, right?”
He laughed, tsking as he shook his helm, pausing the sawblade for a moment. The high-pitched whir that came with the blade's movement slowed, before stopping completely as his other servo reached into the gaping chassis to wiggle and pull on something, before seemingly deciding it wasn’t quite loose enough.
“Perhaps I’ll find a more fitting name for it, then. Hm. You mentioned he called it by name - do you happen to recall what that was?”
If the weapon already had a name - one that hopefully wasn’t ridiculous, anyway - perhaps it would be wise to continue that tradition, even if he wasn’t about to do something as silly as using it in any sort of battle cry. Though he could only hope that he would have far better luck than the previous owner no matter what it was called.
The blade would whir to life again a moment later. The noise was loud once more, as to be expected, however given his familiarity with the sound, he had learned somewhat to tune it out. Not quite to the point of hearing every word in a conversation, however he did a good enough job of it that Pyrotech should easily be heard should he raise his voice just slightly.
Though from where he currently knelt, he could not hear the question from the Seeker across the room. A good thing too, he hadn’t felt the vibration beneath them - and given how eerie this place was already? The last thing he wanted was more reason to worry.