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

That works! /fastfowards a bit, assumes Vector can tell it was Liege around by plot magic

[vectorianpolarity]

//Lead on.//

Though, for all the leading, for all the searching...it only ends with Vector kneeling on the ground, considering all the data he has available...

"I will contact my brother," he concedes, with just a hint of...something else in his voice. Something guarded. "Perhaps he has it well enough under control."

[winged_knight]

Wing waits patiently as Vector inspects the scene, the few droplets of red rust the only indicator he can find that this is the correct location.

"As long as they are both safe somewhere, that is what matters." He wants to ask more, but he takes note of the Prime's tone and makes a compromise. "So...there are others like you?"

[vectorianpolarity]

"Indeed," Vector confirms, getting to his feet slowly. "Thirteen in total, though...I doubt you will see all of us. Some of the others find this more..."

How to describe their attitudes without being too harsh?

"They choose to keep away from it," he decides, "and focus on their Work."

[winged_knight]

"Thirteen?" The smaller jet cocks his head and his gaze goes distant as if contemplating a spark of memory. He makes a thoughtful noise then and shakes his head once, as if stowing that thought for later.

"I imagine their work must be important then." There's a half a question there, but it goes unspoken. "May I ask what that... Work entails?"

Wing looks about the Junk Pile, "You said this is Cybertron. I don't doubt you--" for a reason he was still trying to completely fathom, "--but it's nothing like the Cybertron I know. Only the stars are familiar..."

[vectorianpolarity]

"It will be, given time. But we have not yet finished preparing it for what it is to become - that is our Work, Wing, nothing less. Until such a time as Cybertron is ready to house its god and its people, then our task is not yet complete."

He sounds...quite solemn about it, but more than that. It's the sort of speech one gives when one is assured of their task and their place in the cosmos - and of its success.

[winged_knight]

"...to house its god?" Wing repeats, more to fully grasp the concept than to question its validity. "You mean...Primus?"

His gaze is distant as he stands quietly and feels the weight of it, a solemn gravity that settles around them as context begins to illuminate the bigger picture of what thus far had been an awkward and confusing puzzle. A quiver runs through his EM field as he tries to grasp the depth of portent, strange prickles spreading over his frame.

When he snaps back to focus Wing turns to the Prime and asks simply, "What can I do?"

[vectorianpolarity]

"Of course."

There was only one god that the Cybertronians would ever have as their own. Primus in all his glory, and until such a time as Cybertron was prepared for his arrival...

And it pleased Vector to no small end to see that Wing was willing to assist.

"Help us cleanse this world, Wing. There are beasts who lurk within its shadows, who would poison Primus' vessel - and even for those who cannot fight, there is construction to be done. For once Primus arrives, so shall more of his children, and they will need a foundation upon which to stand. I can think of no better to construct that foundation, than one who knows exactly what will be needed."

That would be you.

[winged_knight]

He's quiet for a time, thoughts rolling around in his processor, not in the way of a scientist, with the logic or theories and extrapolations, but like a theologian, marrying symbolism with concepts and philosophizing ideas.

"So this it...the Beginning? Of our world, everything?" He's trying to absorb it all; it's a big to take in all at once.

"Yes. I will. However my skills and knowledge can be applied, then let it be so. I am at your service." Wing is fervent, animated now. So many, many centuries spent protecting, preserving, all passively underground. To finally get the opportunity to be proactive in those goals, and not just preserving the remnants but aiding in the creation of something new...he was starting to feel, more and more, that he was exactly where he needed to be.