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.
Bulkhead grinned, a low burst of laughter echoing through his chassis. "I wouldn't know," he confided to the little femme. "Can't pilot for scrap, myself, but it seems like half the new roster we've had lately have come in hot and crashed." He hooked a thumb back towards the control room behind them and the gold symbiont on the console. "Don't worry. You're not the first to come in a little rough, and you're in a LOT better shape then some people I could mention. Ratchet made us decontam the medbay after Steeljaw came in."
Speaking of which.... the white and red medic had his back to them, bent over one of his worktables, but he straightened up quick enough at the sound of their steps. Bulkhead gave him a grin and half a salute. "Hey, doc! Got someone new for you, and she could use a bit of a patch."
"Don't worry," he added to Soundranger, voice low behind the shield of his cupped hand. "He's more bark than bite, and he's the best medic around."
"Bulkhead..." Ratchet growled, and the former Wrecker straightened hastily with a jaunty wave.
"Just droppin' her off, Ratch'! Gotta go do a quick clean up on her ship before the 'Cons get there." Still grinning, he gave Soundranger an utterly unsubtle thumbs up. "Great to meet ya, and welcome to Earth! Just do what the doc tells you and I'll see you around later, alright?" Not giving her a chance to reply - probably because the medic's optics had narrowed another degree - Bulkhead ducked back out, heading back to the control room.
Ratchet vented sharply, optics slitted as he watched the heavy frontliner hastily retreat out of the medbay. "Coward," he grumbled, but there was no sting to it, and even less when he turned his gaze on the femme. A scan, flicked across her frame, made him frown, but it was a profession expression of concern and his voice, when he indicated she should make her way to the medberth, had none of the growl he used on Bulkhead.
"That looks like it's going to need a bit of welding - come on, then, up you get." A flick of a control lowered the berth to a level she could comfortably sit on and Ratchet was already in motion, plucking supplies from the cabinets ringing the small room to drop onto a tray which he brought back to sit beside the new femme. "I'm Ratchet," he told her, "chief medic at this base, in case that big lug forgot to make any introductions at all." He had her file already, forwarded through the ident checks from Blaster, but he kept up the routine for appearances sake - little things, normal bits like names and introductions, could ease things. "And I'm going to guess you had a bit of a run in with the local scenery on your way in as this doesn't look like 'Con work. Don't worry, you're hardly the worst crash landing we've had. What's your designation?"
The medical bot was before her before she realized anything and was quickly ushered into the bay. Sound Ranger blinked and sat softly as she could without jostling her wound and listened to the doctor ready to follow any order he issued. His introduction was quick and well thought out and she pulled her plates back softly in response.
“I did have a run in with the foliage. It was not on purpose I did so. My designation?” With a frown she rubbed her side thoughtfully before answering. “I am a scout, that is what I have been this entire war.” Her voice was soft and shifting around she sighed. “My name is Sound Ranger; I am a Scout and an Autobot.” Ranger seemed a little out of it but in combination with the crash landing and the shuffling around she was going through to get her patched up and comfortable it was very fraying for the nerves. Another sigh. “Thank you, for your help in advance.”
((ooc: apologies for the late post. Been busy, and sorry its kinda short. Not as detailed as it usually would but pretty decent in my opinion. My brain has not been working as of late.))
Ratchet huffed softly. "If you ask me, the foliage of this world has it out for us. Trust me, you're not the first or the worst - that mouthy gold quadrupede out front? I had to spend two joors just decontaminating him - he had a crawling organic infestation the likes of which I've never seen."
He worked as he talked, a surprisingly light touch for large hands and blunt servoes running a tactile assessment over the femme's wound. Mesh patch, liberal neural spray - about what he would expect from a frontliner doing a patch job. Rough, but efficient... for an emergency stabilization.
The medic nudged Sound Ranger slightly, urging her back onto the berth. "Here, brace whatever way's comfortable. I need to pull this patch off, get it cleaned out properly - trust me, the last thing you want is any of the local dirt or rust getting in there - and then we'll weld it up proper. Won't take any time at all, and you'll be right as ever." Or as right as most new arrivals ever were, and Ratchet was already filing away a catalog list of routine maintenance the femme probably needed and how many supplies he had on hand or could requisition through Agent Fowler. "Once we're done here we can get you settled in quarters, sort out a duty shift for you later - scout, you said? Patrols, mostly, then, but most of the scouts seem to like it just for a chance to get out and run their wheels."
The talk was just patter, meaningless things to keep her attention as the medic deftly pried the edge from the patch seal, took a good hold, and yanked. It came off clean in one startlingly loud rip, energon - fresh and half congealed - gushing free with it. Ratchet slapped one hand onto the femme's shoulder to steady her and keep her instinctive jerk from tearing her away from him, while the other discarded the patch and scooped up a bit of toweling from his tool tray, already soaked in cleanser. "Hold still," he warned her mildly. "That patch was the worst of it, but this is going to sting."