Re/Aligned Mods (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
re_alignedmods) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
re_alignment_logs2012-06-21 04:54 pm
re_alignedmods) wrote in re_alignment_logs2012-06-21 04:54 pm
Entry tags:
- !npc | alpha trion,
- !npc | liege maximo,
- !npc | megatronus prime,
- !npc | nexus prime,
- !npc | prima,
- !npc | solus prime,
- !npc | vector prime,
- !open,
- brave police: j-decker | deckard,
- brave police: j-decker | gunmax,
- brave police: j-decker | mccrane,
- kingdom hearts | ventus,
- tf: animated | blurr,
- tf: animated | sari,
- tf: classics | elita one,
- tf: dreamwave | jetfire (crau),
- tf: dreamwave | starscream (crau),
- tf: idw | drift,
- tf: idw | wing,
- tf: prime | breakdown,
- tf: prime | knock out,
- tf: prime | ratchet,
- ✘ 9 | 4,
- ✘ batman: 90s animated | annie,
- ✘ kingdom hearts | luxord,
- ✘ legend of korra | korra,
- ✘ megamind | megamind,
- ✘ real steel | noisy boy,
- ✘ star wars | darth malgus,
- ✘ tf: animated | blackarachnia,
- ✘ tf: animated | optimus prime,
- ✘ tf: animated | prowl,
- ✘ tf: animated | slipstream,
- ✘ tf: animated | starscream,
- ✘ tf: animated | swindle,
- ✘ tf: bayverse | shockwave/driller,
- ✘ tf: beast wars | dinobot,
- ✘ tf: idw | optimus prime (crau),
- ✘ tf: idw | pharma,
- ✘ tf: prime | raf esquivel,
- ✘ tf: prime | starscream,
- ✘ tf: prime | wheeljack,
- ✘ yu-gi-oh! zexal | v
OPENING LOG: Awakening
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.))
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.))
Slipstream AWAKENING
She rubbed at the side of her helm, then pushed herself into a sitting position, not an easy feat, even for a bot of agile build, as the terrain was so- Well, not terrain at all. She was perched halfway up - or down - a loose mound of-
Her talons lifted a mahogany newel post carved with Fleur-de-lis...a tiny bi-lingual dictionary...a pair of spectacles...little, Asian-looking garments...a video game cartridge. "Junk!" She threw up her hands in frustration.
All of this reminded Slipstream of something. She tried to match this experience to something in memory. But, noting the lack of landmarks other than heaps of junk, and the very strange sky, she didn't immediately see how any of this could be familiar.
"Was it one of those sci-fi movies on the Man Channel?" She asked herself. For some reason, the Detroit stations aired a lot of old movies starring that Edsel guy. No enclosing walls or fiery doom, and no tentacle beasts, hopefully. Just plenty of trash.
Had she come online in a pile of trash once before? No. She hadn't! The information in the datatrack was like a bare armature of a memory; not something she had experienced. It was just something she knew.
Slipstream stood quickly, or attempted it, but sensors warned of an obstruction in her right thruster, and the mound shifted under the increased pressure of her left foot. Slipstream promptly fell more or less forward; debris slid down the backs of her wings.
"STARSCREAM!" She yelled. Offlined or not, somehow she was sure this was all his fault!
Re: Slipstream AWAKENING
The jet was hesitant to take to the air; greater visibility for him also meant the same for any others in the area, and until he'd scouted more information he'd not risk exposing himself. In any case, he hadn't determined a direction to travel yet, and he was loathe to waste the fuel without specific purpose. He'd just crested a rise of junk when he heard a commotion, the pile ahead shifting in a cascade and he heard an angry shout.
Rounding the edge of the mound he noticed what appeared to be another Cybertronian having some difficulty. Still on his guard but oddly relieved to see something at least somewhat familiar, Wing called out the other mech.
"Hello? Do you need a hand?"
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"Just because I look a little different, you think I need some bot's help?!" She snapped. Of course she could use help, but she wasn't going to just admit to any weakness or predicament. It didn't occur to her, in her anger, that at this angle, she was probably the only one aware of the particular curves to her frame, or that issues with such difference were more a symptom of time spent on Earth than base programming.
She wriggled, rubbish sliding from her wings. "Maybe I just like landing in loosely mounded particulates that jam one's thrusters!" Not that she wanted to admit to an impediment to flight, but ranting gave her frustrations an outlet. That, at least, made her feel better.
Playing fast and loose with IDW gender WTFuckery
"Different?" Wing questioned. There were several slender frames among the knights, warriors of good caliber that he'd fought beside and sparred with who easily held their own. He saw no reason why this one would be different. He took several steps down the mound parallel her position as he spoke, doing his best not to further destabilize it, the wing struts on his back flicking out here and there to keep his balance. "I merely considered that you might desire and benefit from assistance. It's yours to accept or refuse."
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She just did her best to track his movement as she shifted enough to get a hand free. "A bot would have to be pretty unintelligent to refuse a free assist." If it was hers to accept, there wasn't exactly debt involved. Slipstream extended her right hand.
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"It would seem to be a fair arrangement." He smiled and stepped closer, planting his feet solidly as he could, the red of his knee stabilizer jutting to one side as he reached out and clasped the other's hand firmly around the thumb. His grip was firm but not overly so, and he braced himself instead of pulling outright, allowing leverage and the other bot's strength to do a fair amount of the work.
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She rose steadily, and would have fired thrusters to hover above this mess, but something was still jamming the one. Dropping her hand, Slipstream said, "Can't say I wouldn't mind getting off this pile of scrap."
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"I would agree. It's not...the most hospitable to be sure." He toed something unmentionable from his footplate and looked around the heaps of junk. "I'm not certain where we are exactly."
Wing looked back to her. "Call me Wing, by the way. Would you like help with that thruster?"
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She shifted her gaze to the unfamiliar body type and what looked like flight control surfaces. Observation: no more hidden than the last. "It's not Earth or Luna." She judged that from a scan of the sky. She would have next guessed one of the Jovian moons, but no gas giants were in view. "It doesn't look like Cybertron." And, that slash in the sky was like something out of a sci-fi show. It didn't look good.
"Wing," she said, "it's not a bad designation." She thought it a curiously nice name, actually; wings being at one's side, something to be guided or instructed under, allowing the freedom of flight, stability within atmosphere, a unit within an air force, a place to wait until it was time to take the spotlight, a gift for improvised tactics.
It argued all the more for the bot being a flier. She wasn't quite decided if it was better or worse to have a flier know she was grounded, even temporarily. "Slipstream," she said, with a quick gesture toward herself. "You think it's smart to fly here?" Of course this didn't answer whether she'd like help picking whatever it was from her thruster-heel, not directly. She didn't think it made sense to repair the thruster now, if she was going to be walking down the mountain of trash where it might just get jammed again.
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Her frametype seemed familiar, Vosian perhaps? Seeker potentially. He supposed he'd find out. "Well met, Slipstream," he inclined his head. "I'm not sure that it's safe to take to the air yet. Having no idea what we're dealing with here, and being airborne means being very exposed. I was trying to scout some on foot first, as inconvenient as that is." The folded wing panels on his back twitched again as if in agreement. He was also loathe to waste the fuel, but inferring that there might be any possible shortage of fuel around a Decepticon did not be the brightest of ideas.
no subject
Slipstream gave a nod, then stepped carefully down the slope, testing the larger pieces of debris with the point of her foot, before shifting weight. "That's a good strategy," she said.
It was near to her own. Slipstream had to wonder how Wing hadn't been snatched up by the Decepticons, given he actually seemed competent and a decent strategist, not to mention a flier.
"So, where were you, last? During the war?"
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"Curious. I...had recently spoken to someone, of your own faction even, whom was very eager to get back to the war. He seemed to believe it was still going on."
It was possible she was lying, but he could see nothing to gain from the deception. Perhaps there was another explanation. Slipstream seemed amicable enough and was certainly sensible. The situation called for pragmatism over factioneering, something Wing hoped would continue to prevail.
Slipstream's careful words regarding Earth were noted. "There are several planets that are places of...interest to both Autobots and Decepticons. It rarely bods well for the inhabitants." His tone is even and cool but not without an undertone of recrimination.
Wing gestured to the south. "I was picking up some strange sensor readings from that direction. I've no way of knowing how correct they are--I can't tell if there's some local interference or if they need re-calibration--but it was the direction I was headed. For lack of something better."
The knight chooses his words carefully when responding to the other jet's question. "I hail from one of the outlying colonies. Created near the start of the war." His hand strays to the center of his chassis, thumb absently rubbing the plating there. The ailerons flanking the nacelles on his shoulders draw in tightly.
no subject
She'd been disappointed by two Decepticon leaders thus far, and she was aware she wasn't very old for a Cybertronian. She didn't want to be leader, she really didn't, but they needed someone better!
"You saw other Decepticons here?" She hadn't, yet. "You get names?" Their designations would be helpful in judging if she trusted their claims, or possibly in locating allies. Maybe with someone with real leadership potential who knew how to listen to good advice when she gave it!
In comparison, further discussion of Earth or colonies didn't interest her. There were plenty of Cybertronian colonies between the Commonwealth and Empire, not that she'd seen them herself. Still, that there existed odd looking bots from outlying colonies made sense to her.
She scanned south as she listened, then turned. Slipstream wasn't sure what to make of the hand gesture, it didn't look deliberate. But to her, the movement of control surfaces seemed to say tension. It wasn't quite as clear as when reading Starscream's body language, or that of her brothers.
"You some kind of..." She had to search her language data to even come up with a term for it, "objector to war?"
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Of course, the First Forged are likely to arrive before the 2 hours is up.
Little do they know
This was fun! :D
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"Actually, the name's Wheeljack, princess."
The Decepticon symbols on your wings do you no favors either, but he'll offer a hand up. Mainly because he was kind of lost and making enemies isn't the smartest thing to do.
no subject
Was the name familiar? She wasn't sure. She hadn't met this bot, in any case.
Slipstream wrestled with the shifting slope of debris, trying to get her arms free enough to look suitably cross. "Are you bots serious?" First the white knight shows up, and then there was this scoundrel type.
All the same, she offered her left hand, with a wary side-wise glare. It wasn't smart to make new enemies, before she found allies. She could play nice- well, sort of.
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"Got another name? Or does Princess work?"
He'd rather make allies first too.
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"Slipstream," she said. A matter of record, something soldiers gave enemies, and maybe even public knowledge. It didn't hurt to give that much. But she added, "It's not like it's secret!"
"Let me guess," she said, putting some slight effort into looking nonchalant, while favoring her right leg. "Not from around here?" Wherever here was.
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"Got some scrap with Starscream too?"
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"And, don't even get me started about him!" A beat, and then suddenly the topic was interesting, "You know him?"
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Is this going to be a bonding moment about hating Starscream? Because he's totally down for that. A hand rests on his hip, gesturing to the distance just casually. "That waste of a spark made an imposter of me and put me in prison. First thing I'm gonna do when I see him is pound a few dents into his scrawny chassis.
I like ta think it's stress relief."
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And, Starscream was a much more interesting topic, anyway. Not that she was interested in him. The loser! She laughed, an involuntary trill at 'waste of spark', then tried to school her expression. Starscream hadn't even had a spark, recently; not the one she knew.
Slipstream put up her open hands. "Don't look at me to stop you. Though- one might think, by now, that he likes it."
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He gave a slight chuckle, gesturing to her. Now that he thought about it, he'd never seen a femme seeker, let alone one on the Decepticons...And one that promoted the smacking of Starscream?
"Apologies for this comin' out odd, Slip, but you're a bit odd for a Con. Most try and tear out my spark by now."
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"Designation's Slipstream, Wheels."
She shifted weight to her left leg. Her hand on that hip, she raised the right, as if were inspecting the tips of her talons for sharpness. "Don't know what Decepticons you've met, but I can't say ripping open spark chambers on strangers sounds fun. Don't see you guarding a space bridge, or even drawing weapons on me. Don't see any warlord, here, deigning to give me orders, either."
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This is all sorts of awkward to him, actually. Is he really having a conversation with a Decepticon that didn't have them on either sides of a blaster? It was a new feeling. He unhitches his grenade, tossing it up and down idly as he listens to her, eyebrow perking at every part of the statment.
"Strangers with Autobot symbols? Thought that was your job. Snuffin out sparks, I mean. Least, that's what I've been dealin' with for the past few centuries. Rotostorm, Seaspray, Inferno. All of them scrapheaps. And strangers to a Con."
Not that he expected sympathy, but he's trying to figure out if she's just putting on the charm and claiming she's not as evil as expected.
"You're meanin' to tell me not all of ya are like that? What's the occasion?"
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Her optics tracked the grenade, which she supposed to be a type of explosive device, though it was not identical to those she knew Starscream to use.
"An air warrior is not some debris-sweeper, or exterminator!" She didn't have her brother Thundercracker's ego, but Slipstream did count herself as a Seeker, and an Air Commander. She had some pride, an possibly a fair amount of elitism to match.
"I'm not some frontliner who lacks for strategy." She smirked. "But, keep asking why my claws are still clean, and I might just have to dirty them, Jackie."
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