re_alignment_logs

It probably doesn't come as a suprise when Blurr shows up. He looks out of place, he's small and not very impressive looking, but he has other skills that might come in handy.

No one can't match his speed and, if anything, his determination is even harder to match. he approahc Megatronus, waiting until he's done before saluting him.

"Sir."

Blurr, at least, remains more impressive to him than any of the Haven's organic residents. Even that isn't much, but Megatronus Prime was assembled by the hand of a god. There's not much that impresses him.

"Punctual as ever," Megatronus comments, sweeping the small mech with his gaze.

He's not surprised to see Blurr arrive first, with his speed - but speed alone won't keep him safe in the Badlands. Extra firepower or increased durability would serve him well against the monsters. Or perhaps both.

Megatronus actually gets a little smile for that.

I try, sir. I really have no excuse to be late." Specially since his glyph affected his ability to know where he is all the time and how much it will take him to arrive to places.

"So _uhmmm do I have to do something..? Fight someone here already so you see what I can do, or...?" He's actually not sure how that power gif-thing that Megatronus offered works but he will try his best.

Presumably there's an additional motivation to be on time in the form of the most cantankerous of the Firstforged's number. Megatronus Prime does not like to be kept waiting.

"The Acolytes are indeed here for practice, but I would rather see you fight one after I've granted you your boon. It takes time to acclimate to new abilities. The question before us now is simply what gift would benefit you the most."

Which is why he's scrutinizing him right now. No offense, Blurr, but you look scrawny all around to him.

"What have you in the way of weapons systems?"

"Uhm, understood."

No offense taken. He got the same sort of looks all his life, but only when he stood still time enough for people to actually look at him.

But ah, weapons. Not Blurr's forte but he does have something. He raises his right arm and it quickly morphs into a chainsaw. "I'm more of a handcuff the criminals sort of mech BUT I am _{aware that is not}an option this time."

Megatronus snorts at the suggestion. So Blurr's the non-violent sort of enforcer of the law. No wonder they don't get along well. He's always found excessive force to be a quicker and more rewarding approach.

“I doubt the police force would be able to locate enough handcuffs to make such a tactic a viable one, in this instance.”

Just because they're going to be working together doesn't mean he can't be a sarcastic afthead about it. (Ask his brothers; they'd surely agree.)

It seems to him, however, that Blurr is a little under-equipped in the weapons department. Megatronus isn't terribly sympathetic to his shortcoming, but they do have a mission to accomplish, so he holds out a hand for Blurr to take. Perhaps surprisingly, he crouches down low enough that the much smaller mech will be able to reach it instead of making him jump for it.

“Let's see how well you handle something a little more dangerous.”

Someone needs to try and solve things in a non violent way. But Blurr has noticed that he seems to be the only one with that mentality here. He's been feeling really frustrated lately and tired of arguing with bigger bots than him, who think he's not enough because he's small.

"I should work on getting more handcuffs, thanks for the reminder." He's used to sarcasm, so he just smiles back. He takes the offered hand, silently grateful that Megatronus actually crouched down.

The arena, again. The last time he was here, he was haunted by Megatron's death, combing the churned up ground for scraps of metal, as though that could tell the story of the past.

This was different; here to do something, not simply live in the dual past, worrying over what he'd missed. He's ready to do something. He'd been fighting here and there, defending the Hub as best he could, but it had begun to feel all too much like Cybertron under the Swarm: never-ending enemies.

He watches Megatronus in silence, thinking back to his last encounter with the First-Forged, when he'd turned himself in after killing Prism. He's not sure of his reception here, but if Megatronus was anything like his namesake, he wouldn't turn away another blade for his cause.

Drift hopes.

Although he never shied away from a fight, the repetitive nature of the creatures' attacks had finally worn through Megatronus' temper. There was no challenge for him against them, and little reward in their death. They had little need for the materials their bodies provided. It simply granted the mechs in his quadrant a temporary reprieve in which to rest and spared his Acolytes a few hours of repairs.

For once, he'd grown bored with fighting. Once the leader was dead, he could have a moment of peace and quiet.

Megatronus noted the presence of another in his arena before he actually identified him. He dismissed the Acolyte opposite him and turned to greet the latest arrival. Drift, then.

"Come to join, or simply to observe?"

He would indeed accept volunteers of any Alignment. Despite frequent quarrels with his kin and his apparent disdain for the majority of their refugees, he occasionally saw the value of cooperation. He'd been built and gifted with a temper, but also with a sense of duty. The defense of the Haven was paramount.

"Join." There's no hesitation. "If these things are here to attack us refugees, it's the least we can do to join the fight to repel them."

"If only that were a sentiment shared by more of your fellow refugees," he says. So far, only a fraction of the Haven's population have answered his call.

Megatronus considers the remainder cowards.

"They intend more than that. Their goal is, and always will be, the destruction of the Haven. We must offer the same in return."

"Some of them aren't fighters," Drift says. He's not going to defend everyone, but some of the ones not here, he thinks, have very good reason not to fight.

He gives a grim nod. It would have to take something extreme to finally lure the First Forged into action. "Then that's what we'll give them."

Rose is use to fighting things that are much larger than her, so it seems natural for her to volunteer to join the mission to take out the source of the monster centipedes. She's already slain a few already, after all.

It takes her a while to make her way to the arena, since she is conserving her energy for the upcoming battle and thus didn't want to use her Dragoon armor to fly there. She glances around until she sees the First-Forged and approaches him when he isn't occupied with beating up on one of the Acolytes. She gives a respectful bow, like she would with any other lord or king whose command she was under.

"My lord."

Fresh out of a sparring session, Megatronus is in a reasonably good mood. There's very little that can improve his disposition as much as taking his aggressions out on a non-sentient subservient can.

"Good. At least you know the proper term of address," he says, pleased that this one has manners. Megatronus' impatience with organics is significantly lessened when they're able to show him the respect his ego demands.

He takes a step closer to Rose, visually examining her. Flesh creatures rarely appear impressive, but a great proportion of those who had passed through the Lambda had powers well beyond what their organic shell should have allowed.

"Show me, then: how is it that one such as yourself has succeeded against the creatures?"

Rose tilts her head back some so that she may look up at Megatronus. It's the first time she meets one of the First Forged in person, and it is a bit unnerving. At least she does a good job in not letting her body language show how that.

"Very well," she replies and takes the sword hilt from her belt and a small orb from a pouch. The orb starts to glow and a blade that is like flame extends from the sword hilt.

"With these. The sword was created to pierce the metal like hide of a dragon. It takes more effort to cut into those monsters, but I can manage. The orb is a Dragoon Spirit which I use to summon my armor and cast attack spells."

Starscream is sometimes stupidly brazen which is why he walked right up to Megatronus after entering the arena. At first he didn't comment, he just watched the combat practice going on.

He finally spoke after a few moments of observing.

"This is surprisingly familiar. Where have I seen this before?"

Big egotistical-tank mech fighting in an arena who likes to beat things up just because?

Ahh, right. Megatron.

He wasn't, however, stupid enough to say that last part out loud. Yet anyway.

Being brazen, at least, was a trait that Megatronus could respect, even if everything else about Starscream made him wonder why in Primus' name the mech bore his Glyph in the first place.

The Firstforged lifted a hand, simultaneously shooing away the nearest Acolyte and warning the jet.

"I suggest you cut short that line of thinking, unless your next words are particularly complimentary."

He knew by now what sort of comments to expect from Starscream.

"And I had such a good story to tell, too. Maybe next time."

He should really not do this when he is within arm reach of someone much bigger and stronger than himself. One day he'll learn this.

Maybe.

Starscream shifts his stance so that his arms are folded across his chest.

"So, how long do you expect this little trek into the wilderness to last?"

Oh boy oh boy oh boy oh boy! Hot dog! Frenzy was riding on the euphoria of future bloodlust and carnage. Immediately after the open invite requesting skilled warriors, he knew he had to help the boss out. So he wasn't Megatron, no, but technically, he was? Whatever, he hadn't been really paying attention to Megatronus's explanation about who he was and what powers he had some time ago. Just that they were immense and very rad.

So the moment Frenzy had free time (which was quite often), he made his way off to the arena in his home-sector. All the while playing and replaying images of destruction in his tiny, violent-obsessed mind.

When the Cassetticon arrived and looked upon the Firstforged, a big, excited grin split across his face. "Hey, yo, boss!" he shouted up at the considerably larger mech, arms akimbo. "Reportin' in fer some serious aft kickin'!"

If it meant anything to Frenzy, Megatronus most obviously had the advantage of height over any of the Megatrons he'd met – and if challenged for his position of authority, he would have gladly proven to them that it was more than size that made him a force to be reckoned with.

For now, though, the centipedes were the only targets of his rage.

"Ideally those of the creatures and not of any Autobots who may accompany us, I expect?" Megatronus said, smirking.

A lack of focus on the nature of their opponent just so long as they had something to tear at was a trait that often made an appearance in those the Lambda granted to him. He would have to keep an eye on the little Decepticon. Frenzy was small, but that combined with his ferocity could be its own advantage.

Oh, yes, the higher, the better. Because the view would be great! Assuming Megatronus would be cool with a shoulder parrot.

Frenzy smirked, a big, lopsided thing full of teeth. "Nah," he 'reassured'. "I'll spare 'em this time. Temp'rary truce, yea?" He shrugged. Besides, right now, giant, killer centipedes sounded more fun to kill than Autobots.

Frenzy swaggered up to Megatronus, all cool-like. The giant did scare him a little--people with a lot of power had that affect. But, regardless of height, it would have the same affect on mechs twice Frenzy's size as well. The admiration and excitement, however, outweighed the trepidation exponentially. Plus Megatronus didn't come off nearly as... Hmm. Crazy bitter? as his former boss sharing the same name, more or less. Or so he supposed.

"Gotta tell ya, boss," Frenzy said, and leaned against one ginormous foot, "I'm gonna be tha best soldier on yer team." He paused and tilted his head. "Y'know, why don't I jus' come on up there an' tawk to ya?" Oh, sure, it was a bold and potentially dangerous move, so Frenzy only climbed the foot a little then stopped. Waiting for an okay or a warning.

Saber was glad to see such a large group had gathered. Although she had little reason to speak to Megatronus, she did acknowledge he was the one that organized this and wanted to pay respect where respect was due.

When he'd walk by, she'd allow him to do so and would not impede his motions by stepping in front of him. After all, he was busy and there was no reason for her to take up his time. She would be in view and earshot when she spoke.

"Saber reporting. It's a pleasure to be following you into battle, Megatronus Prime."

Raising her hand to her chest as she had when she answered his earlier announcement, she lowered her upper form in a polite bow.

Considering the knight had already taken down several centipedes with ease, she was none too concerned about the situation they would soon be facing. Saber seemed confident, and if it wasn't for her size, she'd fit in just as much as anyone else present.

Marvelous is in full armor by the time the Galleon dips down in robot mode outside the Arena--it's a rather towering presence. He's left Doc back in the temples--sure, it was easier to pilot Gokai-oh with someone to keep an eye on the output systems for him, but he hadn't gotten this far without more than enough ability to fight on his own. Besides, Doc tended to shriek when there was trouble. Not to mention the fact that having one of his crew members from back home would be a distraction.

He considers opening a private message to Megatronus instead of going to greet him in person, but there's something to be said about facing the guy whose Glyph you're stuck with, so he kicks open the cockpit hatch. With his Gokaiger armor on, he's able to jump into the Arena without hurting himself. (It also looks about ten times cooler.)

"Your reward's gonna be worth dealing with all these other guys, right?" is his only greeting, arms over his chest and helmet tipped up toward his First-Forged.

“You have a protective shell for that meat of yours. Good.”

Not to mention the sizable ship the man arrived in. The Prime is almost impressed. Call him when it can turn into a tank.

Megatronus, thankfully, has an appreciation for directness and those who speak their minds rather than wasting time on small talk and pleasantries. He expects no further greeting. (Though a bow and a “my Lord” at the end of his sentence wouldn't have gone to waste. The Prime does have something of an ego.)

“The deaths of the creatures themselves is your reward,” he says, smirking beneath his mask. “What more were you expecting?”

Sure, he's offering a temporary boon to each of them, but why not have a little fun and make his company sweat for a while first? For that matter, he's curious what Marvelous would ask for if given the choice.

Megatronus could bite him, the Galleon was awesome.

"I always come prepped 'nd ready to go," he answers. Any concerns about proprietary standards never even cross his mind, and why would they? He has better things to do than stand on ceremony. Even for surly giant tank robot guys.

"I come all the way out here and offer to clear out your monster problem, and that's all I get?" he says, half tease half serious.

Then he shifts his weight. "I'd never turn down a little firepower," he admits, "but if your power thing'll work on my ship--" he gestures over his head--"then I'll take whatever you're thinkin'."

Belatedly, he wonders if it'll even work on the machine. Then again, giant robots. Couldn't be functionally much different, right?

Tarn said he'd arrive, so he does -- though his reasons for showing up are hardly as noble as most.

Eventually a large, sturdy, well-equipped tank rolls into the arena, and there's something distinctly casual about the way it drives in, and then parks.

He'll let involved parties come to him. Barring that, he's got more than a vested interest in observing who else heeded the call of this Prime.

Involved party number one decides to make his way over. Tarn had been just shy of belligerent over the Link, and that simply won't do. Regardless of his Glyph, the Badlands are an entirely different battleground from the Haven: Megatronus doesn't need mechs who'll give him an argument on his side. Not today.

“I trust your presence here means you're willing to submit to my authority?”

That 'greeting' rubs Tarns all of the wrong ways: like sandpaper over a sensitive, freshly waxed piece of organic anatomy. The fact that it's Megatronus saying it, helps nothing.

Languidly shifting out of his alt-mode (just so he can enjoy the sensation), Tarn inclines his head respectfully (you know, once he has a head anyone can see).

"As long as your directives are tactically sound, then we're after the same thing."

At some point a certain widow makes her way into the arena and keeps to the shadows for several long moments. After Blackarachnia feels satisfied by her observations of everyone else showing up to this little get together, she lets go of her beast mode and steps out of the shadows, ready to defend herself if the need arises.

As long as no one provokes the she-spider, she'll be perfectly happy to tag along and provide any cover fire they might need. Or you know, paralyze a few idiots if they get in her way.

Leviathan doesn't waste any time making her way to Megatronus' sector after the call goes out, except for a quick detour to a lake to add more water to her Frost Javelin to enlarge the bladed part. Any extra reach would help in the coming battle.

She doesn't interact with any of the other volunteers immediately, studying them intently to see who had shown up. Might as well pick someone to stick close to during the fighting before it started.

Being able to fly is a truly marvelous thing,especially when you get thrown in a world made for giant beings. It didn't take long for Melan Blue to reach the Arena. He landed a few feet away from the imposing figure of Megatronus, bowing slightly in salutation.

"Sir."

His face is neutral, showing no fear nor excitation for the uncoming fight. It was his duty to protect the people here, or so Melan thought. At least, it was the duty he choose for himself.

Megatronus would disagree with that sentiment if Melan voiced it. He likes the solid feel of Cybertron beneath his feet, the closeness to the matter he came from and the reminder of his connection to it. For him, the ability to fly would only distance him from reality.

Of course, he's also never inconvenienced by the vast distances separating the Haven's landmarks. He can teleport.

The Prime nods in response to the bow, pleased with the amount of respect he's being shown. Though his relationship to Prima can be a difficult one, his brother's refugees are at least often well-mannered.

“I don't believe we've been properly introduced. Your name?”

He's a busy mech, and his attention to the Link can be spotty at the best of times.

Well, since walking was a pain for GunSwordmen, Melan was quite happy to be able to fly. It's teleporting that would made him uneasy: after all, how can you know what is waiting for you at the other end? You just pop out of nowhere, and enemies can ambush you.

Megatronus wouldn't have to worry about enemies, though. If the Knight had understood correctly, very few things on Cybertron were able to fight against a Firstforged.

"My name is Melan Blue, Sir." The GunSwordman took a few seconds to think before continuing, neutral as ever. "I fear that my arrival here had crippled me somehow. I am not as efficient as I usually am."

Edited 2013-02-13 07:11 (UTC)

While far from the first to arrive at the Arena, Rex eventually did find his way there on wing. He flew in via the Sky Slicer, coming up over the Arena and then surfing down the slant of spectators' rows to the floor below. He crouched low along the board as he did so, the neon glow of the Sky Slicer's anti-gravitational units making him easy to notice during descent.

As he kicked up off the ledge, Rex spun into a Double Cork 720 before coming down and grinding to a drifting halt a reasonably respectful distance from Megatronus Prime, all things considered. Ever the show off, the EVO wasn't going to show his face in the Arena without showing some guts while he was it. They were going in after an enemy that could potentially eat them all alive, after all.

Board building down, Rex lifted his goggles and faced up to the giant that was Megatronus Prime. His eyes widened a fraction at the sheer size of the Firstforged and despite his tendency toward the casual, he did straighten up just a bit as he presented himself.

"Rex Salazar, reporting for bug extermination duty...sir." The last bit is somewhat tacked on, but it's present none the less. That the formality even makes it out of the kid's mouth at all is significant.

Wing has been careful in his preparations, making certain all is in order before arriving at the Arena. So maybe he's not as prompt as others, but by no means does that mean he has any hesitation in this.

In fact he is eager, not so much for the violence but for the opportunity to rise to the defense of Haven and this world. He's done with losing people to this place, having their attempts at peace shattered by a force so much greater than them. And even if this wouldn't mean an end to it all, it is a step in that direction. He'd promised Vector his aid long ago, now was the time to prove his mettle, even if through the Prime's brother Megatronus.

The jet tips a wing and circles the Arena once, scouting out of habit, choosing the safest place to touch down before committing to landfall. He unfolds from his alt and lands gracefully in Megatronus's line of sight, content to wait patiently until the Prime is finished with his current business. Wing stands calmly, making one last check of his weapons and the first aid field kit in his storage as he waits, but rise of his pinions and the rustle of his wings betrays his anticipation.

Cybertron has become more and more like Tuchunka as time went on. Unlivable conditions for organics? Check. Barren wasteland? Check. Violent big guys butting heads? Check. Dangerous creatures attacking from inhospitable wastelands? Check. Yep, it's like he hadn't left home and home was taken over by a bunch of dense synthetics.

But hey, they offered a chance for some fighting and honestly? How could he pass up that opportunity? Once he arrived in the arena, he was far more than ready to go ~~and possibly beat Rocket's score.~~ Practicing his swing, the krogan prepared himself for the next fight. The company he was in wasn't what he'd consider ideal, but any company was far from ideal. As he'd hate to realize it, he'd gotten used to working with synthetics. Too used to it. But for now? He'd follow along. He'll show them what being a krogan is all about. Bring it, Megatronus.

As the Prime saw it, the Lambda was dropping far too many organics on the planet in general. He could tolerate the presence of lesser synthetics, but meat creatures had so many additional needs simply to ensure their continued survival. They were high maintenance.

It was worse that so many of them had answered his call – he hadn't anticipated that a great number would be eager to face the possibility of death in order to defend a Haven inhabited and administered primarily by mechanoids. Now he fully expected to have to spend extra time keeping an optic on them and preventing the largest of the monsters from getting too close. His brothers and sister would surely whine if he didn't return their refugees in working condition.

Some of the fleshlings irritated him less than others, however. The krogan, at least, didn't seem in the least bit intimidated by him. Cowards tried his patience.

“Wrex,” he said, approaching to within a few feet. The battlemaster was both well-armed and well-armored, but Megatronus remained doubtful that such a small creature would do well in the Badlands. “You'll be insulted if I suggest an upgrade, won't you?”

Wasn't like the Lambada politely asked him to dump his ass here on your backyard, synthetic. But Wrex does what he can to survive in this place. And living on tuchunka, you get real used to surviving in real tough situations. However bad these Badlands really were, Wrex doubted it. Fighting alongside Shepard really stretched your definition of 'unsurvivable'.

And Megatronus? To Wrex he was just the guy who acted like the landlord. He didn't see much of him, but he could appreciate a mech that knew the value of combat.

...but what he didn't appreciate was the suggestion. His face visibly wrinkles at the idea. This guy was on fast track to sounding like Saren.

"Let me answer you with another question: how'd you feel if I suggested to get upgraded to a navigation computer?"

Wrex had perhaps an unfair advantage over the other organics on the planet so far, thanks to his biology. Megatronus was surprised (but pleased) that he had yet to field any requests for organic food and whatever other special care the average meat creature needed to survive. He wasn't going to ask what the krogan had been eating.

The Prime smiled beneath his mask and let out a low chuckle.

“Depending on my mood, I might abandon you to the Badlands, or gift you to Liege for one of his experiments. How fortunate for us both that you are suggesting no such thing, hm? Don't be overly concerned for your meat. I am offering nothing that would alter your frame.”

It was understandable that the krogan might worry about damage to his form. How long did most organic bodies last? Barely ten thousand years? A fraction of Cybertronian lifetime, at best.

You don't want to know what the krogan had been eating. Then again, krogans are built for scarce eating, those humps aren't just for asserting authority. Wrex himself was used to scarce living, beside he wasn't going to ask a synthetic to baby him.

"If you had to make choice IF I made a suggestion, you'd be better off putting me in the Badlands." he might just like you Megatronus. Keyword is might.

But serious talk, though, "So what do you offer?"

Perhaps he should have considered himself lucky that he had yet to actually face one of the creatures that have invaded the Haven, but "lucky" definitely wasn't a word he'd use right now. Blitzwing preferred to have some semblance of intel before waltzing into a fight -- a preference that his other personalities didn't seem to share.

Oh well. What can you do?

He arrives in his jet mode, but doesn't touch down in the arena immediately; he takes a few brief moments time to scan the surrounding area first. When he does finally land, it's a reasonable distance away from Megatronus, and Blitzwing bows his head at him with his usual stoic face. "Blitzwing, reporting."

The creatures are large, ferocious, and impossible to reason with. What more information could one possibly need?

Based on that thought alone, Megatronus would likely get along better with certain elements of Blitzwing's personalities than others.

He nods in lieu of offering a verbal greeting when the mech approaches, quickly scanning him with a look. He hasn't met this one before or heard much spoken of him, yet, but he recognizes a fellow tank. Partially, anyway – shame about those wings marring his form.

“You look well-armored. What other talents have you?”

Right down to brass tacks. Blitzwing rolls his shoulder and goes into a matter-of-fact explanation.

"I haff bozh a tank und jet at my disposal in terms of alt modes, so I can provide support from eizher zhe air or zhe ground -- whichever is more needed. My role can also change as needed."

He takes a moment in pause. If there's a hint of trepidation in his face, he doesn't acknowledge it or make any excuses for himself. "Und as for firepower... zhat changes vizh the modes. Namely, I can eizher freeze zhe assailants in their tracks, or help blow zhem up."

Another pause, and then... a little whirr as his face rotates away to a new one.

"Und I can do bozh if I want to, too~!"

This one was a lot...bigger...than the ones she was used to, but Shaoshao was no coward. Shaoshao would not let herself be a coward, and, chin jutting high and hands balled in to fists, she'd made her way to the arena.

...did everything have to be sized for them? Irritating beyond belief-!

But this was necessary, and far overdue. If Shaoshao was going to get anything done...

Then she'd need tools.

And if this was the one ordering them all, then surely he could find some.

((ooc: Again, feel free to ignore if this is too old and/or you're busy. =3;;;))

Admittedly, the idea of meeting face-to-face the mech who pretty much equates to Demigod-Megatron is no small amount of intimidating. But Thundercracker refuses to let that stop him. This Megatron seems strict but not unreasonable or abusive. And he can't let fear rule anyway. Besides, this is important. This is his home now, and not a bad one. By Primus, he's not going to let some cowardly, unseen foe try to take it over by hiding behind mindless drones!

He arrives at the arena, first swooping overhead in alt-mode, then dropping altitude before transforming and landing lightly not far from the MUCH taller First-forged. He closes the rest of the distance to a respectable space, not too close, and offers a nod of greeting. "Megatronus. Thundercracker reporting in."

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