heavyweaponsbot: (Drink energon - be strong like bull)
[How long has it been since the old 'bot refueled? Before the battle with the End, if he remembers right. Which was far too long ago, if how tired and cranky he's feeling is any judge.]

[After some deliberation, he flicks the journal open.]


Where does anyone refuel around here? Speak up. Make it quick.

[If he doesn't get an immediate response, he will stomp his way out of his room, and start searching the Keep for anything that looks like a cube of energon. Or something to put his systems back in order again.]
heavyweaponsbot: (I dislike this plan.)
Headcount. Who all here remembers the Elegante? Speak up.

[There's a couple reasons for asking. The general headcount, and asking a few important questions that came up when he spoke to Zuko.]

Need to figure some things out.
heavyweaponsbot: (FLAWLESS.  VICTORY.)
[Good evening, Keep residents. Where is your resident Autobot, you might ask? Why, he's found himself the Armory, that's what.]

[And, he was hoping to find some scrap metal. But, like so much of his life, lately, he's out of luck. No metal, no charges, no medic... not even the stupid frog.]

[His engine growls a low, almost mournful note before his fingers close around one of the practice blades, and he flings it across the room, where it smacks against the wall with a satisfying sound of cracking wood.]

[But the feeling only lasts for so long, and he's left with a broken sword, and no 'family'. Not even the scraps he was looking for.]
heavyweaponsbot: (Running to fight)
[The voice that suddenly booms over the journals should be familiar to some.  And, if not, it's certainly loud and attention-getting.  Someone is clearly unhappy.]

This... is a lie. It must be. It cannot be possible -- not again!

[A pause.  There's some mechanical shifting while the party in question tries to remain calm.  There is also a sound like... water dripping?]

Who is listening? Can anyone hear me! This is Ironhide -- stuck in some... room somewhere. With a talking book. And no frog. I had a frog on me a moment ago.

[Another pause -- and he's right back to being borderline frantic.]

... Ratchet! Do you read this? Answer me! ... Answer me. You must be here.

NOTICE:

Jul. 9th, 2011 03:42 pm
heavyweaponsbot: (Default)
If you are in [livejournal.com profile] vertiline_rpg and still seeing this journal, please DE-FRIEND IT.

It is being reused. Thank you!
heavyweaponsbot: (Stand alone complex)
[If you haven't heard from Ironhide lately, that's because the big 'bot is keeping to himself. Ratchet... vanished. Bumblebee is too quiet.]

[He doesn't like this feeling. This weird... lonely feeling. And, in a classic Ironhide move, when he doesn't like something, he shuts down.]

[If anyone cares to, they can find the old weapons master standing near the edges of the temple grounds, staring at something invisible in the distance.]
heavyweaponsbot: (We are not amused)
... Why are the birds speaking.

[Ironhide can be found sitting outside of his artichoke pod and casually throwing rocks at one of the aforementioned birds in irritation.

The bird does not shut up.]
heavyweaponsbot: (Let's do this thing.)
[Today finds Ironhide prowling the temple grounds.]

[He's trying to decide whether or not to head inside -- as instructed. Does he go in and demand his cannons back? Or does he stay out here and purposefully ignore the summons in order to make a point?]

[Ironhide ends up standing in front of the temple, his arms folded, and scowling. He has sand in his joints, his chest is aching, and he feels like he's been strung along by their captors. They should have been told about what they were facing. And they weren't -- not one bit. He's extremely cranky, in other words.]

[Approach him?]
heavyweaponsbot: (Somebody call demolitions?)
[Ironhide's voice is all but completely obscured by the sound of whistling wind. He's likely shouting over the sound of it, straining to make himself audible.]

Keep out of the dirt town! Nothing but sand and wind here!

[A pause.]

And scrap metals!

[There's only wind for a while, as Ironhide begins to scan the area more closely.]

...

And corpses.
heavyweaponsbot: (OH FUCK MY LIFE)
[Sand in his joints, a gaping hole in his chest, no medic, no other Autobots, no way home... a tiny rodent following him around everywhere...

And now.

Snow.]

...

I hate this place.

[The big Autobot is standing in front of his pod, kicking his feet, and trying to shake the snow out of gaps in his armor, shuddering all the while.]
heavyweaponsbot: (Interesting.  Does it explode?)
[By now, Ironhide's probably made his way from Hande out to Sabatier. The dust does not agree with him, but he'll save that rant for another time.]

...

Anyone else find it odd there are suddenly towns where there once was fog? Where there were creatures capable of easily slaughtering humans?

Standing in a town right now. Still populated. No sign of defenses or damage. Yet... they were in the fog.

[He grunts, which turns into more of a cough as his intake vents clear themselves of dust.]

Does not add up.
heavyweaponsbot: (Action pose go!)
-- Eugh! Filthy... wretched...! Off me!

[Well. Anyone who was wondering where the hell Ironhide went off to, look no further for your answer. There are crashing sounds as the big Autobot tears his way out of the jungle. Underbrush is trampled, trees actually punched -- despite the fact that it doesn't really help matters.]

Where is that energon...

[He does sound displeased, more so than usual. Tramping around the jungle, getting stuck, and deprived of fuel for a long while doesn't do wonders for the old 'Bot's temper. And the rain isn't helping matters.]

I hate this place.
heavyweaponsbot: (Stand alone complex)
... Need a pair of hands. And cleaning equipment.

Got... organic bits stuck in my foot.

[He's just going to be pretending not to see all that carnage on his way back. Because repression is so very healthy.]
heavyweaponsbot: (But why is the energon gone? :<)
How long have these been here?

[For reference, Ironhide is standing in front of one of the newly arrived statues, scowling up at it. There's a ping as metal impacts stone -- someone just gave one of the things a cursory flick.]

I am less than impressed.

[He's about to say something else, but then there's a sharp crack. Ironhide makes a startled sound, which only gets worse as the loud crunch of a toppling statue fills the comm.]

...

Oops.
heavyweaponsbot: (Broke my damn juicebox.)
[Hello Vertiline. And how are you this fine morning? Hopefully you're not doing anything that requires your being behind the forge.

But if you are, you'll probably notice a massive black robot loading a lot of oddly glowing cubes into his arms. Along with a small collection of nails and such, pilfered from the forge itself.

His armor is battered, and pitted with holes -- the largest being on his chest. This accomplished, he proceeds to stalk back off toward his pod, the cubes carried very carefully. Every motion makes his joints creak. Once he arrives at the pod, he unceremoniously dumps the cubes inside, before stepping back out again.

Ironhide, at the end of this errand, can be found hunkered down in front of his pod, drinking out of one of the cubes, and thoughtfully watching the sunrise. Occasionally, he chews on one of the nails.

Approach?]
heavyweaponsbot: (Save your fears)
...

Rodents are supposed to die when you step on them. What is the matter with these creatures!

[There are a series of loud stomps, followed by cursing. In many languages.]

Get away! Disgusting little beasts!
heavyweaponsbot: (We are not amused)
[The com crackles. Ironhide shakes it. He hasn't bothered to go find his "living quarters". Not yet. He has a far more important job to attend to.

When the comm finally starts up, the voice on his end is deep, faintly accented, and still very angry.]

Autobots. Come in. Respond! I have lost your signals... answer me!

[When there is no immediate response, he snarls into it, then goes silent for several minutes.]

...

Where is this place?

HEY GUYS

Dec. 31st, 2010 04:06 pm
heavyweaponsbot: (gdit C4)
HEY

Jumping on the bandwagon here, and recycling this journal.  You miiiiiiiight want to defriend it :(  Not because I don't love you, but because I don't want you getting confused.

Everything after this entry is no longer relating to the MS ELEGANTE.
heavyweaponsbot: (Rise or fall)
[If it's possible for a five-ton Autobot to sound tired, Ironhide does.  Not nearly as much as he would, if he'd been organic, but still.  And then, finding the ship in complete disarray?  Not so good on the nerves.]

We... have returned.  All those who lived. 

[A pause, and he cycles air through his intakes.]

The one we went in for, the female, has been secured.  I want a status report from... anyone who can give it.  On the ship, on... yourselves.

[And anyone he cares about -- YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE.]

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Ironhide

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