re_alignment_logs | OPENING LOG: Awakening

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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.))

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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.

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.

Edited 2012-06-23 06:25 (UTC)

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.

This was more than enough to cause Four to cower, his hands held above his head as he trembled violently. He stayed that way for a few moments as he waited for the monster to crush him like all the monsters back home tried to do. When nothing happened, he lowered his hands gazed up at the face, his expression of pure fear still in place.

The monster had spoken to him... that was something the monsters back home didn't do. At the mention of the mark, he glanced at his arm, having noticed it earlier. What was the mark, and what did it mean? This was a place where he could get answers, and Four never ran from an information source... though he did usually have his brother with him.

Those other languages the creature spoke sparked his interest, recognizing only a couple of them. English? He knew English! His optics flicker twice, the tiny lightbulbs behind them blinking as he catalogued the languages to memory.

Slowly, Four raised a small finger and pointed up at the giant. Who are you?

Edited 2012-06-24 03:01 (UTC)

For a moment, Liege was taken aback by the clicking shutters. While hardly threatening (as obviously the creature was terrified, and rightly so), if that was how it communicated he was going to have some very real language problems soon.

When it didn't outright run, though, Liege gave it further consideration. Courage was not a bad sign...and being small was not an immediate disadvantage. A creature like this could easily slip into almost anywhere un-noticed...

Which gave him more than one rather devious idea on what to focus on for his research, next.

The pointing, on the other hand, was completely misinterpreted...and when a tiny finger was raised, a rather giant finger descended, his own curiosity getting the better of him. Instead of moving to squish, however, the finger merely settled down in front of the cloth being, and rested there...an invitation.

"Tell me you can speak?" He asked, settling on English as the language which it had reacted to.

The moment Liege moved, Four was absolutely convinced that he was going to be crushed. He very nearly fainted, because who wouldn't in his situation? The finger wasn't moving to crush him like an insect though... it had settled in front of him, as if inviting him to crawl on. Okay, Four was equal parts intrigued and terrified, but there was no way that he was climbing on that.

His fingers clasped nervously in front of him as he tried to decide what to do. Curiosity and the desire for knowledge wanted him to move forward and take this chance to gain some answers. The desire to survive told him that he should run away and live to get answers another day. But what if he couldn't get answers another day?

The question made him nervous. He couldn't speak, what if that made the giant monster mad? Well, there was no way he could lie about this, so he shook his head slowly, and reached up a hand to tap his own throat. No, he didn't talk, he couldn't.

The fact that the creature understood English was acceptable enough, as Liege was not certain he'd have tolerated having to learn shutter-flashes.

When it did not accept his invitation, however, he frowned. It was not readily that he extended a hand to others, and he was not eager to have it denied.

Seeing that the creature was still terrified did only a bit to lessen his chagrin, but since it was willing to continue their. Ah. Conversation, he let the insult slide.

"No talking, hm."

More than he wanted to admit, he desired to bring this new form of life back with him, and find out what sort of interior lay beneath the cloth. Was it sentient? A drone? Could it be recreated? Could it be improved? Manipulated? Utilized?

What sorts of desires did it possess?

"Did you ever want to?" Slowly, he smiled, pressing the finger a little closer in encouragement.

Four drew away from the finger as it was nudged closer, but managed to stand his ground. He was beginning to see that the monster wanted to examine him, much like Four liked examining interesting things he found. If Three were here, he probably would have approached the giant, with Four trailing nervously behind him. Four had to make this decision on his own.

Slowly, he raised a little wooden foot and placed it forward. This was a good start, he could build on this. Another foot step later and he was... an inch closer. Four didn't have very long strides, and he was worried that he was going too slowly for Liege. Finally he reached Liege's finger tip and hesitated. Well, he was here...

One hand reached forward and rested on the smooth metal, his tiny copper fingers at stark contrast to Liege's cybertronian skin. Almost instantly Four wanted to know more, everything, about this monster. With surprising agility, he quickly scaled the finger tip and balanced on the very edge, staring up at the robot with an intense look of curiosity, most of his fear having drained away.

Did he ever want to speak? He shook his head. No, if the Scientist wanted him to speak, he would have designed him to speak. Four trusted the designs of his creator, and was happy to remain non-verbal.

Carefully--very, very carefully, with the practiced skill of one who was used to dealing with sensitive and deadly substances on a daily basis--he raised his finger upward, eager to get as close a look as possible. His lenses could focus down to very minuscule amounts, but there was something to be said about lighting, and detail, and trying to get a good image when what one was trying to focus on was moving about.

He did catch a flash of a number...a four?...on the chest of the small creature, and wondered at it. He had marked subjects similarly, in the past.

"Well, then...number four." He said, choosing to use that as a designation until it revealed otherwise. "There must be something that you want?" He could, he knew, look for himself...but that talent of his wasn't foolproof yet, and it would be easier to try if the creature was already thinking about what it desired.

Many of the old Refugees had desired to return home. It had been an excellent motivating factor in rendering their assistance. Surely, if this creature was truly sentient, it would have something he could similarly use.

The monster used his name, and Four offered the tiniest of smiles, and a small, shy wave. He didn't like being up this high, or being so close to such a creature, but there wasn't anything he could do about it now. All that was left was to go forward with his investigations.

He moved quickly across the monster's palm until he was on the other side, much closer to Liege's face. His eyes flicker as he commits the entire face to memory. The nose shape, the facial shape, the eye shape, the texture of the monster's skin, the head design, even his voice he stored away. Everything he remembered he would never forget, and he would remember every second of this encounter from now until he died.

At the question, he did the first thing that came to mind: He pointed at Liege again. He wanted information, and Liege was the only one who can give it to him.

Liege took the wave to mean that, more than an identifier, the number four was its name. That was useful, if simplistic.

What was not simplistic was the creature itself. Simple scans revealed a somewhat complex interior of clockwork parts, obviously hand-made but surprisingly durable. Where it was getting its sentience was beyond Liege's imagining, as it didn't seem to have a processor, but...

It was learning, nevertheless. And it understood him.

"Me?" Liege asked, surprised. "Or something from me?" For the first time, he wondered what on Cybertron something like this would eat. It wouldn't be much, whatever it was.

In the back of Four's mind he was still extremely worried about his brother and his family, but he was sure that he would find Three soon, and he would share this experience with him when he did! To emphasize his interest in Liege himself, the stitchpunk pointed up at him again, this time tilting his from side to side.

Four's ability to give answers was very limited, and this did not bother him too much. Still, it would be nice to find a way to communicate with this massive being without having to mime everything to him, Four wasn't used to needing to communicate with others besides his brother.

Well, this was different. Normally, they were able to understand every language.

Not having a language made that somewhat...difficult.

Liege was also relatively sure that even their smallest communications devices would absolutely dwarf this creature.

"Very well. I shall talk about myself, and you may stop me by shaking your head if you don't wish to hear more. In exchange...I would like to do an examination of you. Is this acceptable?"

He was going to need to get some smaller tools.

Oh, and...perhaps this would work.

"Do you write?"

Unaware of the communicator problem, Four continued to watch Liege carefully, recording every movement the giant made. The conditions made him hesitate slightly, but he quickly nodded his head. This was merely an exchange of information right? This was something he did all the time with Three.

The second question he answered with a nod, he could write! Did the giant wish to communicate through written word?

Oh, yes, the giant wished to communicate through written word.

First, however, you are going to get poked with one of his other talons, very gently. It might still feel like a wall hitting you, but at least it is a slow wall.

"My name is Liege," he began, shortening it considerably for the time being. "I am one of thirteen lifeforms indigenous to this world. It is our job to protect it, and to build on it, and to prepare it for our creator to return to it and inhabit it."

He was definitely going to need smaller tools.

Still, he could at least record the pattern of light flashes that this creature's optics made, and store them for later. "However, what I wish to do is stop the Lambda tear," he pointed toward the rip in the heavens, "From continuing to deposit foreigners like yourself onto my planet, so that I can continue exploring among the stars."

Unable to do more than gently poke at Four for the moment, Liege deposited him down on top of a dusty table, hoping that would work for a surface to write on.
"Now. Tell me about you."

Four shuffled nervously as he was poked by the giant, definitely not comfortable with this. But he made a promise, and an exchange of information should be fair, she he tried to stay still while Liege examined him. Liege... what a noble sounding name. Liege was often defined as having the right to feudal allegiance or service, it was interesting that this should be his name.

What Liege said was not easy to understand. The idea of being on another planet was simply beyond his comprehension... at first. Four was designed to be open-minded, and existed to absorb information, not judge it. The Lambda tear caught his interest, and he glanced up to where Liege was pointing. Was that how they got here? The robots too? The opportunities to learn more about other cultures and worlds was an exciting one, and he suddenly wanted to get started. First he needed to find his brother.

Whoops, and suddenly he was on a table. Okay, he could deal with this.

Tell him? How about he showed him?

Four's eyes click and whirr, and suddenly there was a black and white projection cast over the tabletop.

The first thing to show was an elderly old man with a tired face, yet a look of determination in his eyes. The still image flickered away to a moving picture showing a marching procession with a waving man standing proudly above the crowd as they cheered for their saviour. A picture of a very odd looking machine appears, only to be quickly replaced by an image of a newspaper clipping stating that the "Fabrication Machine" was a new way to peace. That quickly went away to be replaced with a picture of different machines with single eyes.

Four showed Liege the many newspapers he had gathered over the years. The Chancellor had declared war on struggling countries and had conquered them. He demanded the Fabrication Machine to make more and more machines of war, and eventually the Fabrication Machine snapped. The Newspaper headlines that Four was now showing Liege were alarming, telling everyone that the machines had turned against them, and that they were losing the battle against the machines. Everyone believed that this was the Scientist's fault for creating them, and the Scientist was disowned.

More pictures of war, carnage, and death are shown, this time shown from a low angle, as if Four himself had witnessed these...

Four stopped for a moment, tired out by this. Projecting was by no means an easy thing to do. Give him a moment, he'll get back to it.

Liege was expecting writing.

When writing wasn't what he received, however, he couldn't have been more pleased. The communications issue that he'd been fearing, it turned out, wasn't so much of an issue at all, and he leaned over to watch the small projections with interest.

The scenes weren't unfamiliar.

He knew of war.

He knew, even, a little bit about how wars started, about how a species desires could outweigh the value of another's lives. This seemed similar to that.

However, he wasn't exactly sure where Four fit into this story.

"This is your world?"

Four nodded. This was his world, the one that had existed right before his creation. He only got to witness the very end of human civilization, and it made him feel sad. It was time he moved onto the next part. This time there were excerpts from the Scientist's diary.

"This is all my fault.

I can't stop thinking it. A fool like me deserves no forgiveness.

I am a catalyst for destruction. Pain. Suffering. I am the reason why mankind finds itself in the middle of the worst battles since the Great World War. This era of Machines holds the potential to devastate the infrastructure of entire societies. I put us here.

For what? A damned experiment? For the Chancellor?"

Another one appears.

"The mayhem continues. The Fabrication Machine is producing new death-dealing machines faster than they can be deployed into the field. They crowd the streets; sweep the fields of the countryside, and travel across expansive oceans. Their negotiation tactics are simple: kill as many people possible, as quickly as possible, and return to the Fabrication Machine.

And so, in this time of insanity, I am driven by my visions. Friends, I am modifying the device, the Talisman, to become something greater. I will create again, and this time I will do it right."

"The inky sky and echoes of mortar explosions are an unnerving backdrop for research.

I didn’t realize how much time had passed since my toymaking days… how my fingers lack the precision of motion they once did. But the dexterity I’ve lost has been replaced by an incomparable urgency.

Not the kind of urgency I endured from the Chancellor while developing the B.R.A.I.N. No, this is about something so much bigger. I had it all wrong before. It’s strange how tragedy brings everything into focus.

If only I had more time, but the first one is almost complete. Must keep working."

After that, Four slowly begins to show Liege everyone. One, Two, Three and himself, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, and finally Nine. When he stops, he collapses, unable to take the strain of projecting any more. He had never pushed beyond the edge of his endurance before...

Well, now.

What a fascinating talent for a small creature to have.

It became obvious as the story progressed that 4 was man-made, but it did surprise him how alive the tiny robot seemed, for all that...especially given the somewhat shoddy construction.

It was solid, at least.

Solid enough that he heard the audible thunk of its body hitting the table when he fell. Briefly worried, Liege reached with his talon to give number Four a poke, sliding the tip of his finger just underneath him? it? to prop him up.

"So you've been through more than a small adventure," he noted, mostly to himself. "Tell me, is there something that you need to eat to recuperate?"

The tiny body was warm. That still surprised him.

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OPENING LOG: Awakening

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