heavyweaponsbot: (Drink energon - be strong like bull)
[Ironhide took one look at the little metal cuff dangling off of one big hand, and... promptly chewed on it. Hey, it was metal. He eats metal. More or less.]

[When that failed, he snarled at it, as if trying to intimidate it into submission. Again. A failure.]

[So, with nothing accomplished, the big Autobot stomped out to the tree he and Xanth rigged up as a punching bag. And that is where he can be found -- beating the tar out of the quintain.]

((ooc: Aara is flagged to be handcuffed. Anyone else is free to bother.))
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: (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: (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.

heavyweaponsbot: (But why is the energon gone? :<)
You humans have the strangest things in your belongings...

[The video cuts in briefly to show Ironhide on the luggage deck.  He's holding what appears to be a piggy bank in his hands, examining it closely.  It jingles.

In his other hand is what looks like a can of compressed air... and a bottle of Old Spice body wash.]

At least some of it is useful.

[He sets the piggy bank aside and selects the can next.  The video cuts out then, but, shortly thereafter, there is a loud POP.  Ironhide is silent.  When he speaks again, he sounds disgruntled.]


Who would keep air in a can!
heavyweaponsbot: (Your plan is dumb)
[Today, the Elegante will be graced with a roaming, restless Autobot. He starts out up on the top deck, practicing combat drills. There's only so much he can do just hitting bees. Granted, he is working alone, but it's better than nothing. He'll be up there, rolling, running, and punching at the air for several hours before heading out.

Next stop is Deck 12, to gather up more scrap metal. He's there for about half an hour, rooting around, finding things like staples, jewelry and the like.

Lastly, he goes to the bar for a refueling. Which he will sit and drink slowly, scowling at the general area around him. Despite feeling somewhat accomplished, he's also feeling stiff from the workout, and that, inevitably, makes him grouchy.


((ooc: Open to anyone at any point!))
heavyweaponsbot: (Interesting.  Does it explode?)
[It's the end of the week. Do you know where your Autobot is?

If you said digging around on Deck 12 looking for more bits of metal, you'd be right. He doesn't particularly need it, without the ammunition to replenish, but the gaping hole in his chest takes more than a little effort for this auto-repair systems. And they do need the extra material.

He's currently got a set of metal sporks in hand, and is fiddling with the lock on a steamer trunk, wondering if he can get it off.]

((ooc: For [livejournal.com profile] medicalofficer but others are welcome to run into him as well!))


heavyweaponsbot: (Default)

June 2014

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