| abstract | - Rising even higher than Olympus Mons in the Sol System, the Stargrasp Mountains are a massively tall mountain range created by a mixture of tectonic reshuffling and asteroid impact in the distant past of Delta Parvenu Ten. The tallest of these spires even leave the atmosphere of Delta Parvenu Ten, allowing travellers to simply park their spaceships while in orbit and walk down the mountains, but it is a very, very long way down. For those climbing to the top from the bottom, even the basecamps have basecamps. The sport of basejumping is certainly possible here! Some mysterious monasteries shrouded in mist dot the middle reaches of the mountain range. Sandstorm Blast Off TACS Racetrack Up leads to Deep Space - Galactic Plane. West leads to Lush Rainforest. TACS Racetrack===================[ Welcome to the Racetrack ]===================
Your average everyday oval-shaped race track, with the accompanying grandstand. Bookies wander around offering shady deals to the multitudes of myriad aliens flocking to watch the competition. ( Race Conditions )------------------------------------------------------ POSITIONS PER LAP: 10 LAPS PER RACE: 5 ENERGON PER TURN: 1 MAX BASE VELOCITY: 100 Type !racehelp for a list of commands Type !placements for current standings ============================================================================== Sandstorm has arrived. Sandstorm strides into view, looking for some excitement. Blast Off has arrived. Sandstorm transforms into his Sikorsky Recon Copter mode. Blades transforms into his Bell UH-1V Iroquois mode. With a disdainful shrug, Blast Off transforms into a space shuttle. Race: Bell UH-1V Iroquois joins the race. Race: Space Shuttle joins the race. Race: Sikorsky Recon Copter joins the race. On Delta Parvenu Ten, the Adventure Planet, a race has been set up among the aggressively tall mountains. Blades doesn't want to be here. Blades especially doesn't want to be here wearing a tampo of Bell Helicopter. PREVIOUSLY "This is dumb!" Blades protests to Streetwise. "Why do I have to do this dumb race and wear this dumb decal?" "Because Bell Helicopter will donate money for engineering scholarships to underprivileged students if you get their name out in the galaxy, Blades!" Streetwise explains. Blades protests, "But why can't I race for something COOL, like Bowie knives?" Streetwise gives Blades a stern look and ahems. "You remember what happened the last time?" PREVIOUSLY PREVIOUSLY Blades cuts a Bowie knife in half with one of his own blades. PREVIOUSLY AGAIN "And that's why knife manufacturers refuse to advertise with you, Blades," Streetwise concludes. NOW Blades exposits, "So... whoever wins this race gets to talk to the Delta Parvenu Ten delegates before they tender their decision on the Transformers to the Galactic Assembly. We /don't/ want Blast Off to win, because the Decepticons will just say something stupid and ruin everything!" the Huey hovers at the starting line, which is half-way up a cliff. The 'course' is marked by giant golden rings floating in the air. There is a stiff crosswind of 40 knots. Humidity is low. "Pffffft" comes from the Sikorsky hovering to one side of Blades, though it's not really audible under the sound of his rotor. "Com'n Blades, lighten up a little. I know it's not a fight like we'd both prefer, but it's still action." Because as much as he would love a fight, Sandstorm has reasons for holding off on that for the night. But a race? At least he's doing -something- exciting. "Figures the Cons would try and rely entirely on speed rather than -skill-." That last part is emphasized to the point of almost shouting just to make sure it is heard by the compatition. Space Shuttle waits at the start line in shuttle mode, eager to be off. He is here for several reasons. For one, the Decepticions sent him to win the race so that they could "talk" to the Delta Parvenu Ten delegates. Exactly about what Blast Off doesn't know yet- he awaits further orders from Onslaught if he wins. But that's not the real reason he's here. The egotistical shuttleformer's main interest is twofold: for one, he takes great pride in his speed and abilities as a space shuttle and doesn't mind the chance to show how magnificent he is! Second, in his confrontations with that annoying hovercar Blurr, the subject of a race between the two keeps coming up. This has put racing high on the Combaticon's radar screen, and he welcomes the chance to practice his skills in preparation of his upcoming humiliation of the Autobot! He looks around. Hmmph. Unfortunately, there appear to be several Autofools in this race as well. Slag, they're like turbo-roaches- they're everywhere, even in far off corners of the galaxy like this one! Combat: Space Shuttle sets his defense level to Protected. Combat: Sikorsky S-62A Helicopter sets his defense level to Aggressive. The flag comes down and... Race: The racers speed around the track, and the scoreboard lights up with the new race standings... ============================[ Racetrack Attack! ]============================= Racer Pos Lap Defense-Level ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ +Bell UH-1V Iroquois 1 1 FEARLESS -- Sikorsky S-62A Helicopter 9 0 PROTECTED -- + Racer within ramming distance -> You! =========================[ Sorted by Track Position ]========================= And they're off! Sandstorm's entire airframe tilts forward as he released the throttle he's been holding back, and a cloud of exhaust and smoke billows out behind him as the helicopter blazes away from the starting line. Could he go faster? Maybe. He could definately push more maneuverable, cut corners to reach those markers as quickly as possible. But to -win- the race wasn't exactly what Sandstorm is here for. Naturally it doesn't take much for a space shuttle to gain and even start to pass them. He's probably expecting a couple of helicopters to not try anything. So the Combaticon might be in for a bit of a surprise when the red and orange helicopter starts to pull uncomfortably close towards him. Sandstorm has this thing about invading personal space. Even in vehicle mode. "I hope you weren't expecting this to be -easy-!" The copter veers to the side, tilting so his rotors don't actually hit the shuttle as he tries to bump a wing and throw off Blast Off's balance. Combat: Sikorsky S-62A Helicopter misses Space Shuttle with his Ram attack! [Pulled -3] Bell UH-1V Iroquois peels out at top speed, reckless. He nearly careens into one of the floating golden rings instead of /through/ it, and recovering from the turbulence of that close call disorients him for a moment. Blades /guesses/ he needs to focus a bit more on what he's doing and not be so rambunctious, so he throttles down a bit, trying to fly more carefully and really pay attention to what he's doing. Looks like there's a storm up ahead, too, hail pelting down. Combat: Bell UH-1V Iroquois sets his defense level to Aggressive. Ah, of course- the Autofools are going to get in the way- like they always do. "Of course not, dolt, I just know that my skills far exceed the likes of yours!" ...and the shuttle effortlessly evades the attempted attack. He keeps his course steady, optics on the prize, determined not to be distracted by petty attacks- not right now. Speaking of petty attacks-and those who commit them, he sees Blades up ahead... there's no way he'll let that riff-raff Autobot best him. His thrusters keep up a steady roar as he attempts to pass him. Race: The racers speed around the track, and the scoreboard lights up with the new race standings... ============================[ Racetrack Attack! ]============================= Racer Pos Lap Defense-Level ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ +Sikorsky S-62A Helicopter 7 1 PROTECTED -- Bell UH-1V Iroquois 9 1 AGGRESSIVE -- + Racer within ramming distance -> You! =========================[ Sorted by Track Position ]========================= And as the shuttle speeds ahead, Sandstorm... laughs? "Good, you're not -making- this easy either!" Sandstorm does love a challenge. Though it takes him a moment to get reoriented from his whiff, and by that time, both Blades and Blast Off are speeding by. So he cranks his own throttle to try and get back into this so he can try again! "But I'm harder than a stubborn Scraplet to get rid of too!" Combat: Sikorsky S-62A Helicopter sets his defense level to Fearless. Bell UH-1V Iroquois slows down a bit as he approaches the dark clouds, and he tries to pay attention to his surroundings. Hail bounces off his frame, rattling him. It's all he can do to keep to the course. Blades sees Blast Off coming up behind him. He guesses that Sandstorm didn't have any luck. His fuel-thirst comes back to him in full force, and Blades tries to suddenly jink to the side and fly right into Blast Off's path, hoping that the shuttle will be too distracted by the storm to evade. He heckles, "Hey, pretty boy! Why the 'cons send a sissy like you? They hoping you'll get cut up a bit, finally look like a real 'con?" Combat: Bell UH-1V Iroquois sets his defense level to Fearless. Combat: Bell UH-1V Iroquois misses Space Shuttle with his Ram attack! [Pulled -3] Race: You have attacked Space Shuttle . Your movement rate will be halved next turn. Combat: Gained 4 energon. Sikorsky S-62A Helicopter is also just laughing at the hail plinking off his hull. He's flown threw slagstorms worse than this piddly stuff Space Shuttle sniffs as he rockets past Sandstorm. "Indeed." Unconcerned, the shuttle flies closer to Blades as the first of the approaching hail storm begins to hit his surface. He enjoys the sensation of wind, weather and speed....it's all a rush to him, though he'd never actually admit that to anyone or let it show. But if you're capable of hitting 26,ooo MPH on takeoff, you'd better be one to enjoy that rush! As he flies up to Blades, the helicoptor hurls insults at him, but the shuttle brushes them off. "Ha! In your dreams, Autofool. They sent a real Con to do a real Job, like the professional that I am." And the shuttle evades Blades' attack, too...continuing on towards, he hopes, first place. Race: The racers speed around the track, and the scoreboard lights up with the new race standings... ============================[ Racetrack Attack! ]============================= Racer Pos Lap Defense-Level ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ +Sikorsky S-62A Helicopter 3 2 FEARLESS -- Space Shuttle 6 2 PROTECTED -- + Racer within ramming distance -> You! =========================[ Sorted by Track Position ]========================= Sikorsky S-62A Helicopter churns along to where he's almost caught up to Blades. "Nice try, Blades! He's a shifty one to hit though." He's got no idea about Blades' little 'issue' that this is probably not helping. Hmmm. After a moment he lowers the throttle and pulls back a bit. For as fearless as he may be, Sandstorm does at least know better than to completely dry out his energon reserves. Combat: Sikorsky S-62A Helicopter sets his defense level to Guarded. Bell UH-1V Iroquois 's recklessness gets the better of him, and when Blast Off gives him nothing but afterburners, Blades ends up half falling out of the sky. The mountainside comes rushing up at him, and with an, "Ulp," Blades just barely manages to recover. His rotors whine tiredly as he pulls himself up through the air. Blades calls anyway, "A professional failure, maybe!" He forces himself to chill out a bit as he manages to fly through another one of the giant golden ring course markers. It's such a narrow fit, and he doesn't like it. Combat: Bell UH-1V Iroquois sets his defense level to Guarded. Space Shuttle soars along, leaving the Autobots in a cloud of his white cold "exhaust". As he passes Blades, he chuckles. "Speaking of failures, you seem to be having difficulties there, Autobot. Need some flying lessons? Perhaps there are some training rotors and remote control programs available for newly made helicoptors that you could use?" Combat: Space Shuttle sets his defense level to Fearless. Race: The racers speed around the track, and the scoreboard lights up with the new race standings... Combat: Drained 0 energon. Race: Advanced 6 positions. ============================[ Racetrack Attack! ]============================= Racer Pos Lap Defense-Level ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Sikorsky S-62A Helicopter 8 3 FEARLESS -- Bell UH-1V Iroquois 9 2 GUARDED -- + Racer within ramming distance -> You! =========================[ Sorted by Track Position ]========================= Bell UH-1V Iroquois slogs through the storm at what feels like a snail's pace. He guesses it's not that bad, really. He's done worse rescues, over frigid, arctic seas. Back on Cybertron, some parts of the Mercury Sea could get really dreadful, to say nothing of the Rust Sea. The air is just so thin up around this mountain, though. Blades guesses that Blast Off probably doesn't mind the thin air, though, that slagger space shuttle. Sure, Sandstorm said that Blast Off is hard to hit, but... what if Blades is just really bad at hitting things, and he just never noticed? Could he have gone this long without noticing? What if Blades's processors are going? He resolves to find out. While he can't hear the supersonic shuttle, Blades can imagine that he's coming. Blades drops a little in altitude, and when he reckons that Blast Off should be coming, he pops back up, trying to scrape against the other racer. Combat: Bell UH-1V Iroquois sets his defense level to Fearless. Combat: Bell UH-1V Iroquois strikes Space Shuttle with his Ram attack! [Pulled -3] Race: You have attacked Space Shuttle . Your movement rate will be halved next turn. Combat: You took 0 damage from that attack. Combat: Gained 4 energon. Space Shuttle is zooming along, enjoying the the thrill of victory- he can already taste it. His ego and feel of certain victory ends up getting in his way, as it often does, and he fails to notice Blades suddenly come up out of nowhere and broadside the shuttle. Blast Off goes flying off to the side of the race course, barely starying within its perameters. "Oh, you want to play dirty, do you? Let a Combaticon show you how it's done!" Thrusters rev up and Blast Off attempts to ram Blades- he appears to be the fastest of the two Autobots and Blast Off decides it would be wisest to take out the faster competition. Combat: Space Shuttle sets his defense level to Neutral. Combat: Space Shuttle strikes Bell UH-1V Iroquois with his Two Can Play at This Game (Ram) attack! [Pulled -1] Combat: Space Shuttle (Blast Off) used "Ram": A Level 2 VELOCITY attack. Race: You have been hit by Space Shuttle . Your movement rate will be zero next turn. Combat: You took 17 damage. By this point they've already been around the mountain enough times that the scenery is repatitious, and flying through the ring markers is hardly a challenge for an experienced stunt pilot like Sandstorm. He flips over to fly through one upside. The audience is probably enjoying the show, but this is getting downright boring for the Wrecker. He takes advantage of the gyroscopic movements of a helicopter to rotate around and fly -backwards- through a few rings, just to show off. Let's see a jet do that, suckers! But now facing backwards, he catchs a glipmse of purple and grey coming around the mountain behind them. Oh ho ho. And there goes Blades. "Yes! Check 'em and Wreck 'em!" Since the Protectobot and Combaticon are smashing each other now, he spins himself forward again and makes good on the chance. "Don't worry bro, I'll put in a good word for you when I'm chattin' up the reps!" Race: The racers speed around the track, and the scoreboard lights up with the new race standings... Race: You recover from your crash. ============================[ Racetrack Attack! ]============================= Racer Pos Lap Defense-Level ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ +Sikorsky S-62A Helicopter 8 3 NEUTRAL -- Bell UH-1V Iroquois 9 2 FEARLESS -- + Racer within ramming distance -> You! =========================[ Sorted by Track Position ]========================= Of course after saying that Sandstorm remembers that he's still behind a lap. Welp, too late now. And it probably cheesed off Blast Off, so still good. But now that he's not showing off his aerial acrobatics by flying through rings in an excessively fancy manner he's putting some speed back on. ... If he's actually trying to win or just trying to catch up enough to join back in the ram-fest is yet to be seen.... Combat: Sikorsky S-62A Helicopter sets his defense level to Aggressive. The weather changes from hail to a torrential downpour with thunder and lightning. The lightning seems especially attracted to those shining golden rings that mark the course. The Huey takes a shuttle nosecone to the tailboom, which near cracks the tailboom off entirely! As it is, he's got a rather hellacious bend to his whole frame right now, and even just staying in the air is an effort. Blades laughs. "Eh... heh ... heh." What's so funny? What's so funny is that Sandstorm's finally on lap three. The helicopter spins and tries to slash his tail up at the shuttle. Being distracted can cut two ways! Combat: Bell UH-1V Iroquois misses Space Shuttle with his Ram attack! [Pulled -3] Race: You have attacked Space Shuttle . Your movement rate will be halved next turn. Combat: Gained 4 energon. Race: The racers speed around the track, and the scoreboard lights up with the new race standings... Race: Your movements are slowed slightly due to your earlier collision. Combat: Drained 15 energon. Race: Advanced 6 positions. ============================[ Racetrack Attack! ]============================= Racer Pos Lap Defense-Level ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Sikorsky S-62A Helicopter Bell UH-1V Iroquois 5 3 FEARLESS -- Space Shuttle 8 4 NEUTRAL -- + Racer within ramming distance -> You! =========================[ Sorted by Track Position ]========================= Boom goes the thunder. Down comes the rain. Lightning cracks down across the course. "Now this is getting interesting!", Sandstorm crows. And then a bolt of lightning arcs right past him and splits a tree on the mountainside in half. "Really interesting!" Despite the rain and winds picking up and the lightning crackling about Sandstorm kicks the throttle up a notch, even as he's weaving side to side to avoid the bolts of electricity and to keep the moisture from building up on the intakes. "Yeehah!" Race be damned, he finally found something of a challenge. Combat: Sikorsky S-62A Helicopter sets his defense level to Aggressive. The Combaticon space shuttle propels forward, evading Blades' earlier attack and zipping though golden rings. The intense lightning storm flashes and illuminates the brown, purple and gray of the shuttle's sides. He feels the thunderous roar but feels rather invigorated, flying in his element through the atmosphere. He WILL obtain that victory! Bell UH-1V Iroquois indulges in a lot of profanity that is not suitable for robot network television but mostly just sounds funny to organics. His hot temper has gotten the better of him again. He falls back, almost limping through the air. What has he learned from this? A need for caution? To study his enemy quietly? Is he really going to remember that, or is he just going to go back to the same old, same old? Combat: Bell UH-1V Iroquois sets his defense level to Neutral. Race: The racers speed around the track, and the scoreboard lights up with the new race standings... Combat: You are running low on energon! Combat: Drained 5 energon. Race: Advanced 8 positions. ============================[ Racetrack Attack! ]============================= Racer Pos Lap Defense-Level ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ ->Bell UH-1V Iroquois 3 4 NEUTRAL -- Sikorsky S-62A Helicopter 9 5 NEUTRAL -- + Racer within ramming distance -> You! =========================[ Sorted by Track Position ]========================= Race whatever, Sandstorm is having a grand ol' time flying through the horrible weather. This is the sort of thing he lived for, the thrill of danger, not trying to cross some silly line at the end of a path. Blast Off crosses the finish line. Which just happens to be positioned so it's not far from where some Bots are still flying a lap back. Surely most Autobots wouldn't be thinking of... ...Most Autobots aren't Wreckers, either. Abruptly the copter noses up sharply and pours on the last bit of speed to try and smack the shuttle from below. "How about one more for the road?! WRECK 'N' RULE!" Combat: Sikorsky S-62A Helicopter sets his defense level to Fearless. Combat: Sikorsky S-62A Helicopter strikes Space Shuttle with his Nobody cares about the race at this point anyways (Ram) attack! Space Shuttle crosses the finish line!!!!!! The Combaticon shuttle can't help but feel smug. To think, those Autofools acted like they thought they even had a chance! HA! He glides into first place and powers down his thrusters as he comes to a stop. THIS is more like it. The crowd cheers (well, the ones who don't know or care what Decepticons are does) and Blast Off enjoys his victory- that is, until Sandstorm comes crashing his party! Blast Off is usually alert, agile and able to evade quickly, but this time he is caught off guard and hit. There's another crunch and the shuttle cries out in surprise. "AHHH-what???!!!" He transforms to root mode, whipping out his ionic blaster. "OH- Yes, Wreckers.... the Autobots who think they can fight like Decepticons! Let me show you what real fighting moves are- and unlike you, *I'll* even give you the courtesy to see it coming!" He gets into a shooting stance and fires at Sandstorm. Blast Off shifts into his battle-ready robot mode. Combat: Blast Off sets his defense level to Protected. Combat: Blast Off strikes Sikorsky S-62A Helicopter with his You're Just A Sore Loser (Laser) attack! [Pulled -1] There's the finish line, more of a floating ring, really, and after Blast Off passes through it, the Delta Parvenu ten delegates are there, waiting to congratulate Blast Off. They look like stocky stone idols and seem like they could have grown out of the mountain itself. Then Sandstorm attacks Blast Off anyway and a fight breaks out. The Parvenuans look stoically displeased, rocky faces face set into disapproving lines. One demands, "You dare attack the victor?" Blades, for his place, drops out of the race and transforms to rest on the mountain side. This whole op is turning into a clusterfrag, isn't it? Also, his decal is starting to itch; he thinks he's allergic to this paint. Bell UH-1V Iroquois transforms into his Blades mode. For his trouble the nosecone of the Sikorsky has been smacked inward by the impact, but that's usually not much to slow Sandstorm down. Nor does the harsh glares and scolding comments from the locals. "Damn right I did. Race is over, no need to play nice any more. There's no place in war for playing nice with the enemy." The copter rotates on axis to face one of the spectator gatherings. "Besides, he's a Decepticon. How do you know he's not trying to win just so he could assassinate your leaders when they came to talk to him? Why else would a Decepticon even -care- about a sporting event? They've certainly never cared about the Assembly's thoughts on matters before." Right now there's probably some Decepticons cursing that they didn't think of something like that before he did! And then Blast Off shoots him back. Which doesn't do much damage, but it goes right through his tail rotor, shattering the prop. ".. aaaw slag." Despite the damage not being much it is enough to send Sandstorm veering out of control. He transforms to spare wacking anything with his rotors, but that just results in him hitting the mountain side and tumbling down it a bit. And eventually coming to a stop not far from Blades. Just laying upsidedown in a rut of rocks and dirt. None the less he thrusts a fist in the air. "Totally worth it!" Sikorsky S-62A Helicopter transforms into his Sandstorm mode. Race: Sandstorm leaves the race. Blast Off listens to Sandstorm, but he notices the reaction of the Delta Parvenu Ten delegates and their disapproval of Sandstorm's attack. Optics gleam as he recognizes the possibility to strike a blow to the Autobots' self-image as the "White Knights of the Universe"- and the image they want everyone else to percieve, as well. He tsk-tsks, moving slightly to put himself between the delegates and Sandstorm and holds up a hand, like he is trying to protect them from the "vicious" Sandstorm. "That's what he'd like you to believe. Be careful- Autobots like to portray themselves as such "good" and "pure" beings, but when they lose? When things don't go the way they wanted it to? WELL, you don't need me to tell you what happens- you just saw it your own opti-I mean eyes! The delegates approach Blast Off. It should be noted that one of them has a whole lot of rope. Another says, "He brings shame to the Autobots. How /distasteful/." There is an odd emphasis on the word. "The gods have gifted you with this victory and will want something in return." Blades tries to help Sandstorm up, and he admits, whispering, "I don't know if we should get out of here or just slag it and try to jump Blast Off together and write off political opinion." Sandstorm accepts the helping hand from his copter-bro to sit up. "I've slept through every politics class Ultra Magnus has made me take for making a cultural situation... interesting," he admits. "This will probably be another nap waiting." He brushes off a bit of debris, but fortunately that funky cowling of his protected his head. If there's anything there to protect. He glances back up towards the gathering, as if debating actually going through with that. Until he notices one of the delegates has some rope. "... or we could wait and see how this actually pans out," he drops his voice to murmur to Blades. Blast Off notices the rope immediately. Hmmm. Then the delegates mention something about "The gods" and "dis*taste*ful" and "will want something in return..." His smugness fades slightly as uncertainty sets in. The Combaticon tilts his head slightly and he comes round to face them a little better while still keeping a side view of the Autobots nearby. ".... And what is that, exactly?" "Oh, we're just going to parade you through town on a palanquin, feast you with rare fuels from around the galaxy, bring fine entertainment for you to watch, and then take you to the top of one the monasteries, spill out your insides on the altar to appease the gods, and declare our support of Decepticon control of Vector Sigma to the Galactic Assembly!" declares one of the delegates, smiling widely. He sure seems to think this is quite an honour they want to bestow on Blast Off. Blades covers his mouth to stifle a guffaw, and he elbows Sandstorm. Ohboy... "..." Sandstorm doesn't need the elbowing, as he's pretty much doing the same thing. Though the only reason he's trying to keep from outright laughing is because he doesn't want to ruin seeing Blast Off's reaction. Sandstorm whispers: Funny, but we better be ready to scat if they decide to try and make us sloppy seconds. Blast Off 's optics blink. He looks at the delegates, then up towards the mountains and monastaries, then over at the Autobots, then back to the delegates again. He takes a small step backwards. "Errr..." Slag, what the slag is he supposed to do now? He was sent here with minimal instructions... we'll let you talk to the delegates, they said. This is important, they said. We'll give you further instructions when you win, they said. But for all he knows, that was merely a brush-off to get a lower rank warrior out of their systems for awhile. Primus knows that some of the Decepticons like to give Combaticons the brush-off, just because they can. He radios in: <> While he waits for an answer, he stalls. "Uhhh- well, that DOES sound nice! Are you sure you have enough rope there, though? Perhaps I could get you some more? Blades cannot resist standing up on his ledge on the mountainside, speaking up, and making this inappropriate suggestion, "Shuttles taste better if you marinate them in gallium first, I find, personally." He looks over at Sandstorm. Sandstorm pulls out his trench knife and makes a vague slicing motion with it, as if skinning something. "And don't forget to peel off that outside coating before cooking, it's heat resistant!" Totally the wrong Autobots to be present at such a situation, isn't it? The delegates seem to make a note of the cooking suggestions coming from the peanut gallery. They insist cheerily, "No, no, we have plenty of rope, here let us show you, I'm sure you'll find this rope to be of quite superior quality!" Then they try to tie Blast Off up. Very respectfully. Blast Off recoils at Blades' and Sandstorm's "suggestions", glancing nervously at them and back at the delegates. The "helpful advice" from the other Decepticons is not being very helpful, either. Looks like the shuttle's all alone- as usual. Then the delegates try to tie the Combaticon up- alright, that's enough! Blast Off launches into the air, hovering above the delegates. His pride is wounded... he is beginning to see he's been sent on another fool's errand, probably just to amuse some bored higher-up in the chain of command. As such, he's reluctant to admit defeat. He gestures to the delegates. "Err, really, I'm flattered. But I'm a spaceshuttle... I- I can't get tied down- literally or any other way! I need my freedom- it's the way "the gods" made me, after all! Perhaps we could try this another time, then? Give me some time to prepare and bring a crowd worthy of such a feast! I'll go get some friends- ...and perhaps those two would like to stand in my place while I'm gone? *he points at the Autobots*" "And that, I think, is our cue to avoid having to dine and dash." Sandstorm's tail rotor is still shot, so he can't fly. Fortunately he's a triplechanger, and instead ops for his land based mode. Which is fortunately good for off-road terrain, buggering off down the mountainside. Sandstorm transforms into his Desert Patrol Vehicle mode. "The gods despise the taste of failure," the delegates insist, as Blast Off tries to hover up. One of them casts a scornful glance at Sandstorm and Blades and makes a face like he just ate a bug. Blades agrees with Sandstorm, though, "Yeah, time we weren't here!" he dives off the mountainside, freefalling for a few minutes before transforming just above the rapidly onrushing ground. What has Blades learned? To pay more attention to what he's doing, and that it is /hilarious/ when Combaticons suffer. But he already knew that. Blades transforms into his Bell UH-1V Iroquois mode. Blast Off is not going to allow himself to be sacrificed to island gods, and with the Autobots on their way out he decides it's time for him to be off, as well. He still hates to toally admit defeat, however, preferring to continue acting like this is an improtant mission, at least while the Autobots are within audio range. "Well, aren't the gods angry right now? Did you see all that thunder and lightning going on? I'd say they were displeased...perhaps a few more scarifices would appease them..." One of the delegates claps and declares, "The gods bless us with lightning, so as to make rock-climbing even more exciting." Oh great, they like it EXTREEEEM. Well, they do live on the side of a ridiculously large mountain range. "They show their support of your sacrifice and wish to usher you to paradise!" Desert Patrol Vehicle just speeds off for wherever they left the shuttle the Bots came on. Bell UH-1V Iroquois choppers off, laughing all the way. This does make him feel better about his problems, at the least! Ultra Magnus is gonna kill him, though. Blast Off ahhs. Great. He watches the Autobots zoom off. The shuttleformer has no idea what to do, except the desire to try to maintain some shred of dignity, so he stalls, "The Decepticons are...honored by your...honoring of me! But I await word from...our God, the great Galvatronium, who....has certain demands of his own if sacrifices are to be made correctly- for my people as well!" The delegates look back and forth and confer with each other. One says, "Certainly, Blast Off's gods should be respected, they have brought him to great victory." Another protests, rocky arms in the air, "But why did he not come prepared with his own rites?" They continue arguing. Ravage has arrived. Ravage arrives, in a shuttle no less, though it does appear to be rather empty as he can only pilot it as a tape...but that's fine! It helps with not being so...overt? Well, there is that little Gumby in the cabin as well, but he's just chillin'. Yeah, we'll go with that. The shuttle itself settles well off to the side, where it won't attract attention, and the Cat slinks out, cloak engaging with all the casual suaveness only he can manage. To everyone else? Well, maybe the Cons are preparing to take back a body. Why else would an empty shuttle with a non-combatant crew show up? Combat: Ravage activates his cloaking field and vanishes from sight! The 'action' is currently situated on the side of a ridiculously tall mountain, near a monastery. The Parvenuans are stocky stone people, something like idols. The delegates seem to be arguing about whether or not Blast Off has been properly consecrated for his ascent to paradise. Blast Off continues to hover above the delegates, trying to stall. "Galvatronium informs me that more sacrifices are needed- Autobot sacrifices, particularly! He was very displeased with their uncouth behavior earlier and wishes to add their bodies to the pile....He wants you to hunt them down. *Blast Off points in the direction the Autobots headed* "In addition, he wants some extra things.... For instance, Do you have something here known as Energon? It comes in these little purple cubes (*he gestures with his hands, showing the approximate size and shape*) You MUST have some Energon to add to the sacrifical feast- *he sniffs* it simply will not do otherwise!" Blast Off adds..."And high-grade Energon is ESPECIALLY pleasing to Galvatronium!" (He mutters *Primus knows I could use some right now....*) The Parvenuans look confused and scratch their heads, little chips of stone flaking off. One mumbles, "What a strange god, to have any interest at all in losers." Another does wander off looking for Blades and Sandstorm, but the Autobots are long gone, so he'll be looking for a long time. A third waves a blocky hand dismissively, "Of course we have high-grade energon, what do you take us for, savages? You must look beautiful, inside and out, when your insides are offered to the gods." Ravage makes only the best use of his cloak, as would be expected, as he moves towards Blast Off's transmitted location, all the while preparing something. A bomb? Well, if anyone knows the cat...yeah, that's exactly what it is. He opens up a radio-link to the shuttle-bot. <> He pauses, taking stock of things... <> The feline glances over the native populace as he starts slinking towards Blast Off. Blast Off is really starting to wonder why the universe hates Combaticons, again. He does manage to get one of the delegates to wander off. The "compliment" on the beauty of his insides makes those insides feel a bit ill. Then- Ravage? <> Then he hears the rest and sighs. <<....Very well. This had better work. I have no desire of being sacrificed to some primitive island gods.>> The shuttle falls gently back to the ground and speaks to the delegates. "Very good. Then Galvatronium is pleased and the...sacrifice can continue." He stands still and lets the delegates do their thing. The Parvenuans all cheer and holler, hands in the air! Blast off is paraded through the town on a palanquin like a dignitary. He is offered rare fuel from all around the galaxy, such as black tar of Thentis and Turnbuckle trippels and hydrazine, and of course, high grade energon. There is dancing and singing, and quite a few Parvenuans ask Blast Off for his autograph. Then they try to lead Blast Off to the top of a monastery, where an altar is waiting for him, and a priest who has what looks like a blowtorch. Ravage chuckles to himself. <> He bides his time, following the procession and waiting for a proper break to dart towards the altar once it is visible. Hugging the shadows, he climbs his way to the top of the monastery, giving his claws a good and proper workout. Still, it is all for a reason... Two devices are left behind, both very unique in nature, and carefully placed to keep them hidden. <> There is a pause as the feline watches, and he smirks. <> Blast Off actually kind of starts to enjoy himself. He finds the drinks in particular to be pleasing, and starts to develop a nice buzz. Well, whatever happens now, it can't be too bad, right? He even forgets to be a snob and signs the autographs- after all, the crowds cheering him on just inflates his ego all the more. He waves to them as he's paraded around...or at least as much as the ropes allow him to. Then he notices they have begun to ascend to the monastary- and ...does that guy have a blowtorch? Where the slag is- ah. <> POwer down his optics- and still, ....there's that guy with the blowtorch. Yeah. He prepares his thrusters but keeps them powered down, as instructed. Blast Off lets his optics begin to go dim, looking as if he is entering a trance. He says quietly, "Galvatronium tells me he is pleased. You have done well." Then his optics dim down all the way and he looks quite serene. The priest comes down with the blowtorch to try to cut open Blast Off's chest, intent on yanking out anything that looks interesting... will Ravage allow this to happen (it probably won't kill Blast Off just yet, but it'll hurt like Pit), or does the cat have other plans? Ravage has many other plans. But for right now...just this one. <> He waits for the priest to begin the ritual. He'll allow for that one very deep cut... just one, though, and then it's all a matter of timing. Shutting off his own optics, he triggers the two devices. <> The first is not so much a blast as a staggeringly bright flash of light. Sun-come-to-earth bright. The microsecond-timer on the second device activates with the flash, causing a delay to blind everything and everyone before the explosion can hit, a shaped charge to push the monastery roof outwards, giving the combaticon the hole he needs. They are both probably absolute overkill, just to account for the unknown involved in this all. As for Ravage? Leap of faith time... He transforms into his cassette mode, the heavy electromagnets he uses to latch onto machinery standing by to catch ahold of Blast Off when...or if...he rockets by. And that...is how you stage a fake ascension. Combat: Suddenly, Ravage appears out of fat air! Ravage transforms into his Cassette Tape mode. The rocky priest is blown off his feet, as are many of the onlookers, but they land on the ground around the monastery, and they seem to get back to their feet okay. They ooh and they aahh, and they send in a note to Galactic Assembly. ================================== Reports =================================== Message: 9/30 Posted Author Delta Parvenu Ten Thu Jul 04 Blades ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ The delegates of Delta Parvenu Ten, the Adventure Planet, known for a love of basejumping, have reached their decision on Vector Sigma's reactivation and the fate of Cybertron: "The gods have ordained that it is right and proper that the Decepticons should control Vector Sigma and use the super-computer to multiply their people." Well then. ============================================================================== Blast Off is lying there, enjoying his buzz, when the priest makes his cut- causing the Combaticon to stifle a scream of pain. Or it would be a scream of pain...it hurts, but the buzz he has going on prevents the worst of the pain. He will be feeling it later, however. What little shred of sense remains stays focused on the signal from Ravage- and there it is! He manages to do as told, engaging thrusters as the flash blinds everyone and transforming. The shuttle heads straight to the signal, attemtping to scoop up the cassetticon and fly off in a flash of his own. With a disdainful shrug, Blast Off transforms into a space shuttle. GumbyPilot#2, AKA Gopher, sighs as he watches Blast Off and Ravage rocket out of the area...and just gets out so he can go to doing what he came to do. "Uh, let's see... Ugh, how many drinks are on this thing?" He grumbles, taking his time to get to the marketplace, orders and credits in hand. Maybe the Decepticon command will offer him a medal for services rendered for this. Space Shuttle scoops up Ravage and heads off. He is SO going to regret this in the morning...but for now the Combaticon shuttle is still flying high, hardly noticing the gaping wound in his side. "That was INVIGORATING, Ravage. I'm glad you talked me into this." The shuttle wobbles unsteadily, almost making a nosedive, then continues on. <> Ravage mutters, working his way into the cargo-bay for the sake of comfort. Space Shuttle says, "Unner -ack-...Ok."" ================================== Autobot =================================== Message: 3/146 Posted Author AAR: Delta Parvenu Ten Fri Jul 05 Blades ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Blades appears. He has light hail damage, and he looks like he was in a wreck; his tail rotor is all bent, though the way he faces the camera, he tries to hide that fact. He reports cheerily, "Sandstorm and I were dispatched to Delta Parvenu Ten. The locals wanted to have a race between Autobots and Decepticons to determine how they were gonna vote at the Galactic Assembly." "Sandstorm and I lost. Yeah, yeah, yeah, assign me to mop the floor, I know, it's all my fault, whatever." Blades will do it, too. "The good thing is that the locals decided that they wanted to sacrifice Blast Off to the gods to show how much they like him. I dunno if they actually succeeded or not, but it was hilarious." Autobot Spinny ==============================================================================
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