Ramjet, Herald of Unicron (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
herald_ramjet) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
re_alignment_logs2012-11-22 08:16 pm
herald_ramjet) wrote in re_alignment_logs2012-11-22 08:16 pm
[Semi-closed/open] Don't attack the level boss alone, it's a bad idea.
WHO: Ramjet, Vector Prime, anyone else though the Vector/Ramjet fight is closed.
WHERE: A bit outside Haven, a hill has taken on a decidedly odd looklook he can't just sit around in the Badlands and enhancing it, it gets boring.
WHEN: Pretty much now.
WHAT: Vector is stupid, Ramjet whups some ass. Anyone else who wants to meet a thirty-foot tall, melty, evil jet?
WARNINGS: Violence, naturally.
The Badlands were all well and good, but that was established territory, and thus not very interesting. So Ramjet had found a tunnel-riddled hill (which he wasn't entering) and set about judiciously spending his time there.
It was starting to look a bit... wrong. Nevermind the area around the hill, which had strange holes and tears which didn't look so much "attacked" as just... lacking. He didn't really need to do that, but atmosphere was important after all.
Technically, Ramjet didn't even need to do much yet, as his mere presence was disturbing the reality around him, but he was getting bored, even if he could be patient.
WHERE: A bit outside Haven, a hill has taken on a decidedly odd look
WHEN: Pretty much now.
WHAT: Vector is stupid, Ramjet whups some ass. Anyone else who wants to meet a thirty-foot tall, melty, evil jet?
WARNINGS: Violence, naturally.
The Badlands were all well and good, but that was established territory, and thus not very interesting. So Ramjet had found a tunnel-riddled hill (which he wasn't entering) and set about judiciously spending his time there.
It was starting to look a bit... wrong. Nevermind the area around the hill, which had strange holes and tears which didn't look so much "attacked" as just... lacking. He didn't really need to do that, but atmosphere was important after all.
Technically, Ramjet didn't even need to do much yet, as his mere presence was disturbing the reality around him, but he was getting bored, even if he could be patient.
IT'S A GREAT IDEA MAN I'M LIKE A LEVEL 2 EPIC I COULD TOTALLY SOLO
Another irritation added to that, though...
They were...not to attack, yet. Not until they had cemented their plan. To strike alone was foolish, he knew this, but surely- surely he could do something. It was just one. He was more than capable of handling himself in a battle against one Unicronian.
This was not his thought when he came across the tattered reality. His thought was only to investigate, but when the opportunity presented himself, well. Vector Prime knew restraint, but this...
He dropped, landing in a crouch some distance behind Ramjet, golden optics blazing in anger.
This was beyond unacceptable.
"Pitspawn."
WELL IF YOU WANT TO WIPE AND REPAIR YOUR EQUIPMENT...
Looking the mech over, it didn't take long to actually realise who it was that'd come to pay a visit. Vector Prime wasn't the only one of them that necessarily could fly, but Ramjet could certainly recognize Vector as much as he did Megatronus.
Well, this would do.
This would... very much do, because who cared that this wasn't exactly the same one? Singularities meant they were the same where it mattered. What also might matter is that the Firstforged here are quite a lot taller... Well, it'd matter if Ramjet had to play by normal rules, but he doesn't.
"Ah, one of our dear creator's favourites. Vector Prime. It wouldn't do to call you old mech at the moment, would it?" He's laughing, just quietly, right underneath his vibrant, mocking tone which doesn't quite seem to mesh and die or even echo as a voice properly should.
omg ur using hax
Vector Prime scowls at this and the clear mockery, reaching behind him. His hands grasp a pair of hilts, then pull forwards, unsheathing the Blades stored at his back.
"I care not for your prattling. You will leave this world. Now."
A large part of him hopes he doesn't. It's part of his programming to destroy Unicron and related parties, isn't it? Would giving him a chance to flee be against this? Surely, it would be better for all of he could end his spark, right here...
no subject
Ramjet regards those weapons, and then draws his own. Where it ought to steal a wing from him, since it is technically a wing-blade, there's merely the briefest flicker and settle from one wing as the blade appears. At the moment it's looking pitifully... inadequate not just against his potential opponent's height but also the size of those swords.
"Always intent on business, always busy, Prime?" Ramjet shifts, in more ways than one, tarnish that doesn't really represent the corruption of Unicron sliding over his frame in spots and blemishes. "And I think not. We've only just gotten started! Wouldn't do to leave now, with the tears not deep enough!" He flings one hand out, gesturing to their surroundings, Cybertron, Lambda and Badlands all.
His grin isn't physical, not yet, but it can certainly be heard.
Come play with him, Vector. It's just one single Unicronian, isn't it? You've probably not even paid attention to the Link and "Convoy's" warning...
no subject
He's paid attention, of course, but whether or not he thinks such valid...
"If you will not go by your own will - then you will go by mine!"
And with that - he most certainly attacks first, rushing forwards and cleaving both swords in a horizontal strike.
no subject
And with the shifting, suddely jagged blade in the center, Vector's swords might not have hit the wingblade, but instead a glowing, near-painful extension. The air trembles, and does worse than die around the unnatural weapon.
"If you can make me, then!" Now, Ramjet's chin and the bottom of his mask slide apart, literally melt in strings of metal to grin, and the insides aren't metal, just swirling yellowish energy.
And then Ramjet disappears, reappearing up in the air above Vector and as much falling as doing a diving attack, the wingblade tearing a bright slash in the sky.
He might not have been able to teleport before, but if this is how his usual ability to traverse the dimensions are temporarily manifesting themselves, he'll certainly take advantage.
no subject
It's the itch of the sensors within Vector Prime's wings that warn him as Ramjet teleports, and that give him warning - he only reacts, kicking forwards and off the ground as he gains height. He whirls around to face the smaller mech, expression tightened in to a focused grimace-
So he can block. And move.
Vector will simply have to be better.
He's quick to renew his assault, trying to see if he can give Ramjet no time to teleport, only time to try and focus on blocks and parries and Vector's quantum system is working quickly, taking in all the data it can to try and calculate the probability of a counter to this or a parry to that...
no subject
If nothing else, he knows Vector well enough to be able to spot the similarities in fighting style, to pre-empt a thrust here or a slash there while at least somewhat avoiding what's unfamiliar, or where he outright miscalculates.
And even when he severely makes a mistake to feel the cold, vibrating burn of one blade cutting through his leg, the other still blocked, it doesn't even matter.
Doesn't matter, as his frame shifts and simply knits together as the blade passes through. He chuckles, then and presses up close, close enough the gathering, jangling discordance of uncreation might be missed long enough for him to fire it off.
How about that Vector?
no subject
The smile disappears at the sight of the frame restoring itself. What...?
"Hhhnh!"
A close-mouthed cry of pain, accompanied by Vector whirling back, trying to get some distance so that he can glance down at the wound - a scorch in his side that looks as though something simply tore a chunk out of it. Like no injury he's no suffered before, and for the moment, it baffles him.
What in...?
no subject
"Ah, that." Ramjet grins at the obvious confusion, spreading arms and sword wide as he looks his opponent over. "The lit darkness outside the angles of reality eats it, Vector. It's gone now, that piece. Diminished." Ramjet chuckles and levels his sword at his opponent, ready to spring again.
no subject
The taunting raises Vector's ire, overriding his caution. His optics slit, the thin, cold smile he wore before now an ugly expression of abhorring. "It can be repaired," he growls, raising his swords, twirling them in his hands once before sinking in to a battle stance. "I cannot say the same for what my Blades will do to you-!"
tick
Speaking of which, they're glowing, just a bit. Golden energy moving from the hilts down, fully encompassing the swords-
tock
-and then he's rushing forwards once more, launching another aggressive assault. This time, when the blades cut through the air, they're cutting through more- they leave thin tears in their wake, ones that heal quickly enough, but Vector Prime is actually cutting the fabric of the very world in an effort to ensure that Ramjet won't be able to regenerate.
It's a small comfort that it's able to heal, thanks the power shunt, but Vector's counting on this to ensure that when he wounds again - it'll stay wounded.
no subject
Vector Prime might not remember what he said elsewhere, elsewhen, about two of the mechs right now present in the Haven. It might be better if he had, perhaps. Convoy Super Black, Nemesis Prime he'd condemned as the spark of Primus shard within him corrupted and dead.
Ramjet, the Herald of Unicron this version of Vector Prime was facing? An uncertainty to what the, perhaps former, cybertronian even was any more. Convoy was more flexible... was clearly not beyond the touch of Primus' light.
Ramjet, as tiny flicks of Vector's swords gets through his guard as the wounds bleed black light and nothingness, pulsing in time to a rhyhm that shouldn't be..? Unhealed they may be forced to stay, but out of those wounds, white and blue tentacles slide, nearly... shyly.
They don't belong here, and yet, on this twisted abomination, who's neither pure of spark or wholly Unicron's any more, even less Primus', they fit.
"Regretting it yet, Vector Prime? Angles, boxes, flows and time, what you deal with I am beyond!" The wounds stay unhealed as Ramjet teleports, diving down at the same time as he unleashes another beam of uncreation.
It's a lot stronger, a lot larger than the first one.
no subject
So far, nothing. His research has been forestalled, with the more pressing threat of the Lambda and the Badlands. Such thoughts have been reluctantly pushed back, in exchange for others...
The threats at hand do far more to take up his attention. Such as this one, which will simply. Not. Fall.
Ramjet is anathema in all senses of the world. His presence is abhorrent. And Vector Prime is learning, much to his dismay, that it may not be something he can handle on his own.
But he will not back down. Even as he grimaces in the face of his foe, slits his optics in the face of his power...
"I," he seethed, "am Vector Prime. And I will not fall, not to the likes of y-"
His words are cut off as he's thrown backwards, a golden-black streak falling across the sky.
no subject
Then his expression focuses and he tosses himself downwards, teleporting at the same time to appear right above the larger jet, momentarily faceplate to faceplate.
"But falling you are, old mech. It seems time makes you less... arrogant. What a pity." A blue, clawed hand reaches out, just barely brushing down the sides of the Firstforged's helm before they dig in and Ramjet's wingsword stabs down and in, a last, parting indignity as Vector's own speed is the only thing to pull him off the blade as Ramjet pauses long enough to allow that to happen.
The crater's going to be gloriously large.
no subject
The undeniably young face looks at Ramjet, distressed but not afraid. Whatever comes, though he may dread it, there is a determination there that will not break...
Even as he gasps at the grasp, and then outright screams at the final stab. There is pain there, and the damage takes its toll as he streaks downwards, grasping at the hole- no. The void within his midsection, the circuits and machinery that are simply no longer there but wail in agony nonetheless, echoing his cries...
At least, until he hits the ground. There is the sound of collision, of metal groaning and creating as the crater does not disappoint...
And then silence from the still, unconscious form.