OPENING LOG: Awakening

[re_alignedmods]

WHO: Everybody!
WHERE: The Junk Pile.
WHEN: Right here, right now.
WHAT: Game opening! Our Heroes find themselves in a strange place not of their own world, however familiar (or not) it may be.

---

Consciousness is slow, and a struggle to obtain. The moments before darkness are hazy enough; a great vertigo, a twisting, and then, falling. Falling for what seemed like forever. And when you are finally aware of your surroundings, it is most decidedly not where you came from.

Instead, you are now in what appears to be a wasteland. A wasteland...of junk. Debris as far as you can see, heaped in mini-mountains that offer only so good of a view of the world around you. Perhaps in the distance, you can make out some flatter land, perhaps you can just make out what looks like a crevice - but it's difficult at best. The light here is all wrong, the two greatest sources being a white line in the alien sky that doesn't so much give off light as simply have it - and something in the south that glows like a setting sun.

You may or may not notice it at first, but you, too, have something alien - something on your arm, more likely than not. A marking that glows softly, but offers no clue as to how it got there - no pain, no sensitivity. It's simply there, as you are here.

So.

Now what?

((OOC: This is it, you guys! Have a blast! Please remember to keep everything under the first thread for now; we'll be adding the Firstforged in in a little bit...

OKAY There is now a second thread to post in! Feel free to make new threads there to react to the arrival of the Firstforged, or respond directly to the Firstforged themselves.))

Comments

[winged_knight]

Patience, as with anything in life, was key. Wing had dealt with greater communication difficulties with other mechs even without a language barrier; he was pretty sure he could manage this. There was no need to rush.

McCrane's withdrawal was unsurprising, Wing could only guess that this was very alien to him. He did not press and has happy when the other mech decided to reinitiate the attempt.

The impressions that flowed through the blade bond were not as strong as those that originated from the weapon itself, but it was something more than they had before.

A name, "Crane?" Or a variation on it that he didn't understand. An affiliation with courage and lawgivers. Something about searching for truth and... definitely a strong notion of home. The a question about the Great Sword itself.

How could Wing even adequately describe it? He could say what it was, but why it existed and could do the things that it could? That was difficult enough to explain even without a language barrier. Start simple.

"A symbol of our knighthood. It holds ancient knowledge."

[mccrane]

"Crane. Yes."

This time, when the word-feelings came through, he did not back away.

Instead, he let his crane arm lift over his shoulder, resting there so that Wing could see what he meant, hook dangling, before returning back from where it came. "It is my second mode."

He had a third mode, as well, but trying to describe how he united with his team to form a larger robot was not a discussion for today.

When Wing spoke, he listened, even if he flinched a little at the continued strangeness of it all. The message was much simpler this time, however, and left a clear impression in his head. Sword equaled Knight, and Sword was old.

Unfathomably old.

It made him hesitate once more, sensing the importance of this object to the mech who wielded it, knowing how odd he'd have felt for someone else to use his shotgun. It was only the fact that Wing's hand stayed by his that showed a continued permission, and a desire to carry on.

That would be enough, for now.

"Do you know where we are?" he ventured, hoping the concept was not too abstract to communicate.

[winged_knight]

This was progress, and even if it was slow, it was forward movement. That fact that not 10 minutes ago they were grappled on the ground and were now exchanging names, was a victory in Wing's mind.

He nodded at the confirmation of McCrane's name, putting the designation and likeness to memory. The words that followed Wing had a harder time understanding. Another aspect? Clarity struck when he saw the dangling hook--did that mean he was actually a crane? An alt-mode, meaning this mech could transform as well!? The notion shocked him, was there another mechanical race out there that had their kind of adaptability? Or did McCrane have Cybtertronian origins? The shock and wonderment was displayed clearly on Wing's face at this revaluation, the ailerons flanking his shoulder nacelles flicking out playfully.

"I also have a second mode. A jet." The folded wing panels on his back spread, extending from his shoulders with the soft sound of shifting metal. Wing grinned, both pleased and excited by the notion. It was a kinship of sorts in a situation where finding common ground had only come through struggle.

Wing schooled his mood a touch as he watched McCrane, the Brave obviously deep in consideration over something. When he spoke, Wing caught some of the basic notion. A query: location. At this Wing frowned slightly, shaking his head.

"I don't know this place. I only just arrived."

[mccrane]

McCrane shared Wing's difficulty with the translation of 'second mode,' staring for a good while at what he was sure had been 'two options.' The addition of jet, thankfully, made everything clear, and McCrane's eyes widened in surprise.

Another robot that could transform? He nodded, confirming the idea, pointing to the tires on his legs to show in lieu of actually transforming.

Wing still did not look much like what he imagined a jet looked like, but...considering Drill Boy didn't look capable of flight, either, Wing was actually a few steps up. His pinions at least were streamlined!

"A jet, and an alien." He murmured. The other robot he'd encountered earlier had indicated she could turn into a boat, and she had also been alien... "Cybertronian?" he asked, wondering if that was the similarity, not realizing that it might have been the 'planet computer' of before.

"She called this Cybertron." McCrane looked around. "But she did not recognize it. It looks nothing like Earth, but..." He glanced down, saw what he was looking for, and, without letting go of the sword, he bent to pick up a mannequin. "...but this is from Earth." Many of the things in the junkyard were. Many of the things in the junkyard also weren't.

It was all so confusing.

"I do not remember how I came to be here," he tried, instead. "Do you?"

[winged_knight]

The notation of the tires in McCrane's legs clinched it; this other robot did indeed transform. Wing grinned in amazement.

The jet cocked his head at McCrane's next words, catching something like 'different' and then a concept that was definitely 'Cybertron's people'. "Yes!" Wing nodded. "I am Cybertronian." The rest was more difficult to decipher. Cybertron again, mention of another person, unfamiliarity, and, soil or ground? Wing looked curiously at the mannequin for a moment before making a different realization. "You've meet another Cybertronian here?"

The jist of McCrane's last question was plain enough in context and Wing shook his head again. "I don't know. I was in the middle of a battle. Something terrible happened, then I awoke here."

[mccrane]

That was strange. It sounded like an affirmation, but then there was mention of the planet computer again? So he was Cybertronian, but he was...

Wait.

No.

Cyber. Tron.

Suddenly, that made a great deal more sense to him. Their homeworld sounded computerized, and it was a planet, of course. So then, the next question had to be about meeting other people of the computer planet, to which the answer was a simple "Yes. I met a female."

That had been perplexing to him. She had definitely been a 'she,' but she'd not noted any particular differences between herself and other Cybertronians.

The definite denial to his last question, however, caused McCrane to sigh. He'd been hoping for some clue. The explanation he figured he mostly understood. Center of a fight? Yes. An event of sadness? Yes. Awakening.

Yes.

"Has this ever happened to anyone you have known?"

[winged_knight]

Wing got the confirmation of his question, but the 'female' part comes across making very little sense. Wing hoped it wasn't important.

It did seem as though McCrane was achieving recognition of some kind, so though it was not his own Wing was happy for the progress.

The knight understood the basics of the last question and gave another negative response much to his own disappointment. "I've never heard of anything like this happening before."

"I had only just awoken when you cam along, how long have you need here?"

[mccrane]

Nothing.

Again.

If McCrane was the type to swear, he would have. He'd hoped the other robot alien would have some clue to...something. To some piece of the mystery. To more than Elita had known.

His frustration was apparent, though it wasn't directed at Wing. Against all odds, there was no unifying factor amongst the people who were waking up here. None of them remembered how they'd gotten here. None of them had similar pasts. None of them even knew what could have done this.

Still, he tried to respond as best as he could to the query about time and presence, understanding the gist.

"I have been awake for nearly two hours." It had been eventful, to say the least. "Looking for fuel, and for clues, and for anything familiar." Anything.

Thus far, he'd found Gunmax.

And there'd only been one real, unifying clue.

He reached out, letting go of the hilt for a moment, pointing to the symbol on Wing's arm before returning his hand for the sword to translate.
"We all have this."

[winged_knight]

The other mech's agitation was clear and Wing had to share that feeling. Finding a way to communicate only to discover there wasn't much useful to communicate was more than a little frustrating.

Two hours. Longer than Wing had been awake to be sure. And fuel. Oh, yes that could be a problem. "What do you use for fuel? I'll need to search for my own fuel but I can keep a look out for you too."

Wing looks startled a moment when McCrane points to the glyph. He cranes his neck to see around the bulk of shoulder nacelle, and low and behold, a complex golden glyph on the surface of his arm. He ran his fingers over it tentatively, then looked at McCrane's symbol which was different.

Yet...familiar. Both of them were.

Wing cocks his head a moment and kneels, hand sliding down the dark blade of the sword, his thumb trailing over the glyphs in its fuller. None of them matched, and the blade's markings were much simpler, but the strokes and curves seemed to share a kinship.

He looked up to McCrane. "I think they may be Cybertronian in origin. But I have never seen them before."

[mccrane]

McCrane stared for a moment, having a bit of difficulty translating the multiple mentions of feeding but...

No.

He'd mentioned looking for fuel.

That must have been what Wing meant.

With a nod, he reached down to his side and unlatched his fuel door, showing the gasoline hatch inside. He could technically drink it to ingest, as well, but this was much more universal looking.

"I have a combustion engine, which can use either gasoline or diesel." It depended on the need. As a construction vehicle, he worked better with diesel, but it wasn't always easy to find while out on missions.

He was more pleased to see Wing concentrating on the symbols, however, especially when he seemed to draw a correlation between the ones on their arms and the ones on the sword. 'Cybertronian' seemed to describe them both.

"Ancient," he ventured a guess, since that had been how Wing had described his sword.

He slid his fuel hatch closed and looked around, as if this new piece of information would give him more to go on.

When it did not, he sighed. "But not enough information. I will need to talk to others, to learn more."

It's good his gas hatch isn't where Deckerd's is. (!!! How FORWARD! We've only just met...)

[winged_knight]

Wing is patient while McCrane works out the translation, and Wing soon needs to do the same.

Combustion engine? This throws him for a moment until he taps his historical archive. Interesting. In contrast to their sentience and mechanical complexity they had a remarkably less advanced fuel system. And it was only thanks to exposure to other alien cultures that he any clue what gasoline was.

"Finding fuel of that type here might be difficult. If we knew its chemical make-up it would be easier to find on sensor readings." He tapped the side of his helm, near his optics, realizing that the concept was likely too complex to be communicated properly.

Wing nods at the word "ancient". Whatever the glyphs origin were, it was either very old or very new. Still, the Cybertronian influence was comforting to him.

And he has to agree with the last statement, as it's pretty easy to decipher. "Are there more here you think? Perhaps scouting the area is a good next step?"

[mccrane]

He understands when Wing mentions fueling and difficulty, because he's already run across that fact himself. There hasn't been anything remotely resembling a gasoline can, here, for as much as there has been everything else. The rest of it, however, sails right over his head...especially when Wing taps the side of his helm.

He shakes his head.

At 'scouting,' though, McCrane gestures off toward the distance. There's movement out on the piles of garbage.
"I will talk with them." He points. "If I learn anything, I will try to get in touch with you."

He looks down at the sword, and up at Wing, wondering if he even needs to ask this next question, but erring on the side of being polite. Just in case.

"Will you be alright, if I go?"

[winged_knight]

Wing follows the direction McCrane points, looking off into the distance and noting the movement. He understands 'talk' and 'learn' but is pretty sure he's misconstrued the meaning behind 'touch'. The corner of his mouth twitches with mirth and he clears his vents.

"I will be fine. I'll the opposite direction--" He points over the ridge behind him," --and see what I can discover. Then we can share any information we find."

He gives a nod, "Good luck to you then, friend."