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

[maxicpolarity]

Liege decided that he would have been significantly more pleased about this entire situation if he hadn't been in the middle of trying to fuse carbon to electrum.

He liked electrum. It had incredible properties for magnifying the particular wavelengths associated with physical energy--lasers, for instance--and under the right conditions could even reflect said energy. The problem he'd been running into was that he couldn't get it to bond to anything, which meant he couldn't apply it, long term, to something useful like a shield.

This aggravated him.

It aggravated him greatly, but he'd been close to getting it to like carbon, which liked basically everything else, and if he could get it to like carbon....

Well.

He could have.

Except that there were Refugees to rescue.

Any other day he would have been excited. As it was, today, he wore a significant scowl, certain that any Refugee worth their metal would have found a way to his lair by now, or could live a few more days on the pile without his interference. He'd come...but he'd come out of curiosity and obligation more than out of desire.

Desire, he felt, could come later.

After carbon.

For now, all he wanted was to gather what was his and take it back where it belonged.

This wasn't going to be pleasant, but it was still going to be done.

[4_toteachus]

These giant monsters made of metal...

They were everywhere.

Four feared them instantly, and he had done everything he could to avoid any contact with them. Machines were programmed to do damage, and destroy everything, they couldn't be trusted, and Four wasn't about to risk anything to approach one. He wondered if they were the reason why he was here, and why he couldn't find his brother no matter how hard he looked. Did they take his family? They could of, the last machine he met killed most of his kind off. Four's observations were that Machines were mostly made to cause destruction, and did not have any other purposes.

This one robot he stumbled across was bigger than anything he had ever seen. Four had a very active imagination, but he couldn't believe that anything that size could even exist. He didn't know why he was here, or why he didn't just turn around and run off, he had his brother to find after all.

Still... if this machine was that big, and he was only seven inches tall... he could stand to get a better look at him from a different angle before leaving. Hoping that the monster didn't see him, he practically crawled from one chunk of metal to the next, trying to get a good glimpse of him from the front.

Please don't see him.

[maxicpolarity]

For the most part, Liege did not see the tiny creature who stalked toward him, so caught up in his own thoughts was he. As far as he could tell, the creatures he was supposed to claim were out there in the junk.

He did not entirely desire to traverse through the junk.

He had acolytes for that.

Instead, his optics dimmed. Before this, when there had been other Refugees, he had been able to sense them. He'd been able to pinpoint their locations within his fortress easily, and determine at least a general direction for them outside of his walls. If he concentrated hard enough, he could feel them now, before him, walking amidst the piles, heading to investigate his brethren...

...standing right beside him.

Confused, Liege's optics brightened once again, and he peered down...and down...and down again, until his lenses focused on what he was looking for.

"Got you..." he smirked, and moved to crouch over the tiny...cloth?...being that bore his mark.

[4_toteachus]

That right there was exactly what Four DIDN'T want to hear.

Perhaps it would have been wiser for him to flee after the first good glimpse he captured of the giant. But his curiosity drove him to stay where he was and examine the robot from several different angles. The longer he stayed there, the more his fear receded and his insatiable desire to examine new things grew.

Who was this giant? Where did he come from? Why was he designed like that?

The fear came back to the stitchpunk in full force when the giant suddenly noticed him. His legs refused to move, despite his desperate urging for them to. He wanted to run, far away, but he remained rooted in place, staring up at Liege with an expression of pure terror. From Four's perspective, it was as if the sky itself had grown a face, and was glaring down at him with a remarkably human (yet not human) features.

[maxicpolarity]

Despite his initial, terrifyingly possessive crouch over the creature, Liege was currently content to observe.

He'd traveled a great deal, encountering flora and fauna and mecha and crystals and gelatinous substrates that had all displayed some sort of sentience. This cloth mechanoid was not the strangest he had seen, by far, but it was the only one he'd seen like it. He couldn't place its planet...not immediately.

Instead, he ran through the language file he'd been given by Trion, covering the basics from their previous encounters with Refugees: Cybertronian dialects, English, Japanese, Quintesson, each sentence in a different tongue.

"Not what I was expecting. You do produce energy, so you must have a power source. You're too small, however, to be of much use...yet I doubt you'd have my mark if there was nothing to distinguish you."

This was no good. Watching was only making him desire to return to his experiments...perhaps with this new creature.

[angleofscience]

If Jetfire had known what the Firstforged had been doing before coming here, he might actually have agreed that they could have waited... There were six others to answer questions, right?

Either way, Jetfire didn't know and had been all set to - after getting Starscream or at least informing him what he was intending to do - leave the immediate area of and around the junk pile to explore further when the flashes of light heralded the appearance more cybertronians.

Question was, was this how all of those who'd landed in the junk pile had arrived, or did these individuals belong here? If the latter, it was another evidence in favour of this actually being (a) Cybertron.

Currently, however, Jetfire had other things to concentrate on, as he'd had to angle away and fly backwards to not fly into the one that had appeared in his direct flightpath. So now he hovered in the air only a short distance away, wondering if they were all combiners, or similar to the Omega Guardians; the size was about correct for at least one of them (as Omega Supreme himself was an... exception).

But there was the fact of a lack of similarity - though this being in all probability a different dimension, similarity wasn't required, surely. This of course necessitated that they belonged here and even if they did, they might not be the same, or similar as, the guardians.

But in that case, what were they?

... And if they belonged, might there be explanations? Hopefully more... ah, logical than what they'd been given in the Keep. And considering his, Starscream's and the others' arrival... It was quite clear that at least "Lord Deior's" explanation had been a lie.

(He was rather relieved by that, actually, despite the fact of a certain possible future reality for him if so.)

[maxicpolarity]

Liege felt he could appreciate the skills of anyone who managed to not fly into him at his sudden appearance, especially given how greatly he desired to not be in an accident so soon.

Or ever.

He could also appreciate the size of this one. It wasn't every day that one of the Refugees approached the heights of the Firstforged, which marked this individual as particularly unique. Useful.

His.

He could see the mark on the outside of the jetcraft, glowing green, but mark or not he would probably have decided to engage. He'd not let Megatronus have this one.

"Don't tell me you just intend to stare," he commented, simply, in basic Cybertronian. "That won't solve anything."

[angleofscience]

The only reaction to the comment - rebuke or not, since it was true - was a shake of his helm and lowering himself to be face to face with the mech. He could have landed, but since he had the possibility of conducting this conversation at the same height, he would take it.

It wasn't often anymore he met anyone who was taller than him, after the reformat, but this had seemed to be the correct direction to take to fulfilling his function as well as what he wanted out of his frame.

"Certainly not, on both accounts." There's a brief, infinitesmal pause where Jetfire deliberated between being direct, and less so. In the end, though, if the mech decided to lie, it would either be revealed by asking one of the others, or they'd all be upholding the lie.

"Our arrival here... was it an accident, or, ah... by design? Either way, I assume we're quite stuck for the time being, which won't kill most of us. I've noticed, however, that there's some organics present... If this is a Cybertron, how are they supposed to survive?" He hadn't had any greater contact with any of the ones that seemed to be organic... humans, but that didn't mean he'd be inclined to just let them slowly, or not so slowly, die, simply by the circumstances of the situation.

[maxicpolarity]

Liege had no problem with the direct-ness. For the moment, he had no issues with being seen optic to optic, either. It was natural that this mech would have questions, and seeing as how the Acolytes who would normally be answering such simple questions for Liege were having to travel by foot and wouldn't be here for a time, he would answer.

"It was by design, but not by any design of ours." He cocked his head upward, looking to where the Lambda cut through the sky. "Everything you see here came from that. It is a nuisance that I intend to put an end to...but...seeing as you're here now, you might as well get comfortable." He offered the nearby pile to the jet, if he was interested in height without hovering.

"The humans will live. I've had them before." His arms crossed, glancing toward the thickest part of the junk. "The last ones managed to find food somewhere in this mess, and they did quite well at thriving, if I do say so myself...but why are you concerned? You're Cybertronian, aren't you?"

[darthmalgus]

Darth Malgus found the planet to be strange. His connection to the force felt like a distant echo ...

Which he did not like at all. It was still there, just not as it should be.

And neither had been his lightsaber, or the respirator that helped him breathe normally. It was mostly the missing lightsaber that infuriated him.

His possessions were gone. Others were in the area, but all he felt were lingering senses of confusion. No answers. They would provide him no help.

He avoided most of the others, paying them no attention as he searched for something that would provide a clue. His frustrations pulled inward and gave him focus -- it aided him without his respirator, but even his rage would not help him breathe forever.

When the large figure appeared, he did not move, or so much as flinch. He stared almost curiously, his scarred face tilting downward slightly.

"Intriguing," his words came out almost raspy, though there was no outward indication of anything else.

He said nothing more, there was no need.

[maxicpolarity]

Liege had seen humans before. They were resilient, for organics.

This one, in particular, seemed like it had already been through plenty of trials and tribulations, though, without Liege's assistance. He watched it, curiously, wondering why it seemed to have such difficulty breathing, yet still seemed so in control of its situation.

"Perhaps more than you know." He replied, meeting the gaze with a mirrored expression. "Or perhaps not." Liege smirked. "Since you appear to have left your fear behind you before arriving."

[darthmalgus]

Malgus let his senses wander briefly, though it took more effort than it should. Even his gaze drifted before returning to the large living-machine.

"Fear serves no purpose other than to hinder your own actions," he did not match Liege's smirk, but simply looked his way before moving slightly to the side.

Like he was in search of something.

"However, if it is what you are looking for, there are others here who allow it to linger." He did almost smirk with that statement, but he was far too focused for it to me anything more than a brief twitch.

[maxicpolarity]

"Fear serves a purpose well enough, when you can instill it in others," Liege countered, but found himself intrigued enough. There was something particularly resonant about this one, even if he couldn't put his finger on it yet. Like his own talents, it had a tendency to hide when searched for, but crept up on him nevertheless, whispering ideas in the darkest hours of the night.

"You sense it, then," he purred, instead, fascinated by the concept. "Care to indulge me as to how?"

[like_a_bossbot]

He was no closer to finding answers than when he'd first woken.

He wasn't about to halt his intakes, waiting for Starscream to come through; the Decepticon only ever had his own interests in mind, and wasn't the type to put much stock in teamwork. A quick scan of his own memory files had yielded next to nothing, aside from the convenient gap when his arrival would have occurred. Scanners indicated that this wasn't Earth, but outside of that...

It was about that point that he'd spotted the distant flashes.

His attention snapped back to reality in that instant, scrambling up one of the mounds of old scrap to get a better vantage point. It was difficult to tell much from a distance, but they were certainly larger than any 'bot Optimus had ever seen. His mind called back to the massive Omega Sentinels from the history vids; from what he'd read, they'd possessed personal transwarp technology, which could have explained their sudden appearance. But... their frames were all wrong.

Not only that, but these 'bots were still conscious. Perhaps he was completely off track, but... he and Starscream hadn't been. If they were still aware and functional, did that mean that they'd come here intentionally?

There was only one way to find out.

Optimus swallowed his reservations, moving to approach one of the titanic arrivals. He'd long since sheathed his weapon, hands open in a gesture of peace - not that he'd be much of a threat to them anyway.

"Excuse me?"

[maxicpolarity]

Liege had decided, after a few discussions, that perhaps today was not so much a waste as he had feared it would be. Electrum could wait, when there were so many interesting individuals to study...especially ones that could actually assist him with his own endeavors.

Having subjects and laboratory assistants all rolled into one?

That made him pleased.

As such, he was in much less of a bad mood than he could have been when one of Primas was approaching him...a fact that always made him slightly unnerved. They'd always had such strong senses of 'right' and 'wrong' and Liege's work...well. It didn't lay along those parallels.

"You look like you're lost, Refugee." He murmured ironically, one talon stroking his chin in contemplation. He was one of the smaller of his brethren, which at least made it easier to hold conversations when your disciples weren't only coming up to your knee.

[like_a_bossbot]

'Lost' was one word for it.

Optimus had never really considered himself 'small'. Of course he was dwarfed by the Decepticons, but among his fellow Autobots, he'd been on the larger end of the scale; he'd been protoformed near the end of the war, at a time just before they'd begun to favour the smaller, energy efficient models.

Standing next to Leige, however, he began to understand how the humans in Detroit must have felt.

Thusfar, the being did not seem aggressive, at least.

"My name is Optimus Prime."

The response was automatic, programmed into him by the sheer number of times he'd been called by something other than his name - not that the stranger could have known it.

"I'm the leader of a small crew of Autobots, stationed on the planet Earth," he explained. "And, I was hoping that you could answer a few questions."

AwakenNnnnnope. Just 5 more minutes, Mum. Give or take 2 weeks.

[my_own_trope]

Starscream clearly wasn't in Kansas anymore. Nor was he anywhere that remotely looked like the bottom of the Arctic Ocean. In fact, he kind of looked like he'd been tossed in the trash because wow, there was a lot of crap lying around him... and on top of him... and awkwardly lodged in some places he'd rather things not be lodged in...

But that wasn't even the worst of it. He was naked. And for a robot that spent the majority of his life without clothing, this was a biblically uncomfortable realisation. Where had his armour gone? He'd won it mostly fair and square, and he hadn't taken on that blowhard Optimus Prime and Megatron's new favourite lieutenant for nothing!

Without his Tcog or any allies or good luck he needed that armour. Who cared how, why, when, and where he was. His first order of business was covering up his new-found modesty (see: constant awareness of how delicate he actually is) with some fancy metal duds. Soon as, you know, he found it from among these mountains of junk. Pushing himself up, and dislodging something from his thigh joint, he looked around suspiciously. His internal navigation suite was coming back in error, and that wasn't really the greatest sign. But then neither was being anywhere without his kidney, and he could deal.

Spying what looked like a quarter of a hull from a wrecked ship half buried in the garbage, Starscream's priorities changed. He didn't recognise the build as anything remotely human, and that meant there was a chance it was Cybertronian; that in turn meant that maybe, if his stars had finally aligned, maybe the vessel had run on energon. And just maybe there would be some left in a reserve tank.

He was so hungry.

Scrambling over, and squeezing himself into an opening that was barely large enough, Starscream demonstrated two things:
A) his ability to make good on his very lean frame and make like a dormouse into a tiny hole in the wall and
B) his complete disregard for how precarious a mountain of haphazardly piled trash probably was.

Soon as Starscream was fully inside whatever he'd climbed into, the entire (portion of a) ship gave a metallic groan. And oh. Right. Gravity. And mass. And all that equilibrium business.

"Scrap."

Starscream, the ship, a good half of the mountain of miscellany it had been sticking out of made some loud noises together, and then as a whole, toppled over, reburying everything. Including one very irritated, and still very hungry Seeker.

So really, absolutely nothing was accomplished here except the rearranging of unwanted detritus. And Liege, buddy, maybe you should just go home and back to the sweet embrace of your pal Carbon. It's probably be for the best if you did let this one refugee find his way to your lair all on his own...

And hey, don't worry. This isn't the first time Starscream's had to dig himself out of a cave in.

Nothing is ever easy for Starscream, I see~

[maxicpolarity]

((OOC: Lemme know if this is alright~))

Liege witnessed the ruckus with something that, thankfully for Starscream, was closer to amusement than ire. His day had gotten better, thanks to the rather useful assortment of Refugees that he'd picked up, and he'd seen that green glowing bit on your arm.

It meant he wanted to know more about you, if nothing else, and Liege was not precisely the most patient of mechs. He wasn't going to wait for you to dig yourself out, no.

He was going to walk over, and reach into the ship-hull filled with junk, and grab the first part that felt robotic and alive to pull you out by.

In no known reality does the universe not want to kick him in the (gorgeous) shins

[my_own_trope]

((Likewise!))

Liege my friend, have you ever tried to grab a cat that did not want to be grabbed? Okay so, maybe you've got no idea what a cat is, and while it is nothing like a Starscream in the least... this situation is still strangely similar.

Starscream, who was pretty sure he was sort of upsidedown, and with a wing wedged under what might have been a command console, was also pretty sure he wasn't keen on suddenly being SEIZED by the ankle by something unidentifiable from out of nowhere.

Making an alarmed noise that sounded a little like, "AFKJSDLEK," Starscream greeted this foreign grabby presence the way he greeted most things in the world. With flailing; claws out.

Now maybe his panicked thrashing dislodged something pokey that fulfiled its inanimate obeject's purpose of being generally pokey towards the hands of demi-gods, or maybe Starscream accidentally knocked Liege's arm against the sharp edge of a console top, or maybe, and this is purely hypothetical speculation mind you... but maybe Stasrcream was trying to free himself using the only on-board weapons he had that wouldn't explode in his face; namely: his scissor hands.

This first impression thing was kind of getting off to a very prickly start.

[youhavebeenswindled]

Swindle was finally taking a break from rooting through the junk and gathering up items of interest. He supposed he should try to find out exactly where he was, and what he was even doing here. That right there was sure to be an interesting answer! Now if only he knew who to get it from.

He spotted the giant on the horizon, and made a quick beeline towards him. Liege's size didn't bother him, nor did the slightly forbidding air that he gave off. Swindle was used to travelling into dangerous areas, and he often found that they were worth the trouble.

"Lemme guess, this is, as humans would put it, your neck of the woods?" He remarked to Liege casually, as if this happened everyday. It would be stupid to throw caution completely out the window, so Swindle stopped far enough away so that he could run off if things turned nasty.

[maxicpolarity]

"You're very astute," Liege supplied, watching the green-ish mechanoid approaching him. His own useful conversations with the Refugees had put him in a better mood, but the recent tussle with Starscream had served to dampen it somewhat and he was eagerly hoping that he and his brethren would be able to return back to their work, soon.

At least this one was somewhat green.

He liked green.

He also liked the lack of fear.

"The nearest woods are a few star systems away, however, not that I can see much use for trees." He smiled to himself, a smile which broadened upon seeing the mark on Swindle's arm. "So what can I do for you?"

[youhavebeenswindled]

"Trees are quaint for organic planets."

He shrugged carelessly, placing a servo on his hip. Oho, so this stranger wanted to do something for him? Swindle had the feeling that the longer he stayed on this guy's good side, the better off he'd be.

"A little bit of information for this lost mech would be nice, if you don't mind that is. I seemed to have lost my ship and my inventory, and I wouldn't mind knowing where these went off to.

Oh, where are my manners! The name's Swindle, pleasure to make your acquaintance."

To show his respect, he offered the much bigger mech a bow.

[organ_pharming]

Pharma lay amidst the junk, staring up at the sky and waiting for death to claim him. Why had he been brought here- been given this second chance- if just to die under an alien sun? It was not what he deserved. He'd planned everything so carefully, so expertly. Ratchet had been a problem, but Pharma had sincerely believed he could outwit him. And he had- in the end, the other medic had merely gotten lucky.

"Died handless in a junk pile. That is really going to ruin my spotless reputation," he sighed.

[maxicpolarity]

The sky on Cybertron was beautiful.

Liege had watched it many a time from the rooftop of his fortress, pleased that there weren't many lights on the surface that could block his view. They stars were bright, and the Lambda was even brighter, and as much as he had hated it he sometimes liked the creatures that it brought.

They were fun to play with.

However, at this moment, Liege was not staring upward at the sky. He was staring downward, blocking it, peering at what he only suspected was alive due to the mark on its arm, and the words it was mumbling.

"Death? Here? Hardly," He laughed, softly. "But you'd best not ruin my reputation by being the first mech here to go."

Something was obviously wrong with this one, though. He'd not seem someone arrive in this bad a shape before.

let me know if this works

[sword_redemption]

That whole 'not seen someone arrive in this bad shape before'? CHALLENGE ACCEPTED.

"Almost there," Drift murmured, to himself. He had the coordinate from Wing. He'd promised he would find this medic. And he would keep his word or die trying.

Sometimes he'd come close to doing both. And this was starting to look like another one.

He stumbled, barely catching himself with a knee before going down completely, causing metal to shift and clatter. He gave a sound, halfway a groan, half a growl, as he forced himself up, to the top of the rise of scrap.

His geolocator gave a ping, just as he saw the white and red armor, and then the other mech, standing over him. "Don't get any stupid ideas," Drift said. He drew his blades, ready to attack.

Kind of. As ready as you can be running low on fuel and sick.