|
Post by Emirate Xaaron on Apr 28, 2010 14:22:42 GMT -5
The clergyman looks a bit disappointed and perhaps a bit disapproving. Looks like Emirate Xaaron guessed wrong! But then, they've claimed to be Autobots in public before, and getting caught in a bad lie is not something of which he is fond.
The cuttlefish-creature's beak twists into something that just might be a smile, and he tries to pat Breakaway on the back with a short tentacle that is wet and scented of brine but not slimy. He offers, "Learn more of the way of the universe, eh? Why don't you and your... companions come sit in the front row?" He flourishes out a long tentacle at the front row of pews. "Best view of the show there."
Emirate Xaaron moves a bit closer to Prowl, still ill and distinctly uncomfortable. He grimaces and murmurs lowly, "I'd like to say I have, but I can't really remember when."
|
|
|
Post by Breakaway on Apr 28, 2010 23:39:02 GMT -5
"The front row? Are you sure we aren't too brightly colored? Wouldn't want to take any long-time church-goers favorite spot or anything."
Breakaway doesn't mind the tentacle-pat. He's had a human in his cockpit. Organics don't phase him. A decon shower or a quick jaunt into the stratosphere and most of it comes off anyway.
"What kind of show?" He really hopes he's not going to have to sit through a sentient sacrifice or anything and be expected not to do anything about it.
|
|
|
Post by Prowl on Apr 29, 2010 10:59:14 GMT -5
By now, Prowl is nearly shoulder to shoulder with Xaaron. He'd rather be that than next to the clergymen of the building.
He glances towards the front pews, and notices that they've started to gain the attention of more than just the clergymen. There are common folk staring to stare with disapproval that the three mechs are interrupting their time before the service.
"As much as I hate to admit it, we may have to take a seat," Prowl looks over at Xaaron, "Lest we draw the ire of more beings here," His voice drops even lower to a whisper, "I will not let my guard down."
|
|
|
Post by Emirate Xaaron on Apr 29, 2010 19:19:17 GMT -5
The cuttlefish clergyman's voice stays mild, but he now sounds more like he is ordering than suggesting, "Oh, I insist. You are quite lucky. We are discussing the creation tragedy today."
He tries to herd the three Autobots toward the front row, which is oddly empty. Sure, there are a few folks sitting the front row, but it isn't anywhere near full, not like the middle rows and back rows. Maybe Unicronian cultists don't like neck strain?
Emirate Xaaron sighs and folds his hands behind his back, reluctantly letting himself be shooed to the front row. He murmurs, "Glad to hear it, Prowl."
|
|
|
Post by Breakaway on Apr 29, 2010 21:08:37 GMT -5
Breakaway resists being pushed at first, then relents. This whole scenario is giving him a bad feeling. Over the shortwave, he transmits //I really don't like that he's so insistent we sit in front. We'll be at point-blank range if the 'show' is something messy.//
|
|
|
Post by Prowl on Apr 30, 2010 10:20:52 GMT -5
Prowl settles down in a pew, a bit stiffly if anything, and doesn't let his back actually touch the back of the pew.
Creation tragedy? Sounds pleasant.
He glances about and then up at Breakaway. //As I told Emirate Xaaron, I will not let my guard down. I suggest you do the same. We do not know what this service entails. They could be very interested in causing bodily harm to us as part of the service, for all we know.//
|
|
|
Post by Emirate Xaaron on Apr 30, 2010 13:59:50 GMT -5
Emirate Xaaron agrees cheerily over radio, //Oh, this is doubtless a terrible idea. But I think we owe it to the others to find out just how terrible it is.//
He static-coughs a bit as he sits down, rather lightly, where indicated.
A trio of clergy, the cuttlefish, an insectoid, and a gaunt, spindly cream cyborg, walk down the main column between the rows of pews, to the fountain, and they dip horned bowl on sticks, which look a bit like censers, into the hissing, bubbling green acid fountain. This draws a hush from the crowd. Then, the solemnly walk up to the pulpit, and the insectoid takes the pulpit, and in a loud, basso voice that really carries, he proclaims, "In the beginning, there was the void."
"And it was not."
The lights go out.
|
|
|
Post by Breakaway on May 2, 2010 19:52:36 GMT -5
Breakaway can't really sit on the pews, due to having the majority of a fighter jet on his back. He sort of crouches in front of the bench instead. He pays close attention to the ceremony, particularly the part with the cartoon acid in the censers. //If they start throwing that around like it's incense, I'm going to be upset.// And then the lights go out. The jetformer focuses his attention less on his optics and more on his radar. He's run night ops before.
|
|
|
Post by Prowl on May 3, 2010 21:21:49 GMT -5
Prowl flinches a bit backwards at seeing the acid. That doesn't look pleasant either. His hand slowly lowers to his side barely noticeable as he's moving slowly, ready to draw a weapon at any second.
But beyond that he's still.
|
|
|
Post by Emirate Xaaron on May 6, 2010 13:53:10 GMT -5
"Our Lord drifted in perfect, dreamless sleep, uninterrupted perhaps for eternity," the preacher's strong, steady voice continues.
"But eternity was not long enough."
The lights trickle back on, dim and wavering. The crowd boos and hisses, even the children.
(Emirate Xaaron stays silent.)
"The wretched light had the audacity to reach out, but the dark was waiting for it! The dark was ready! As life tried to take hold in the universe, shattering that perfect sleep and ruining the void, there could be only one solution-"
And the whole of the church chants as one, "DEATH!"
(Emirate Xaaron is still silent, and his hands clench ever so slightly.)
|
|
|
Post by Breakaway on May 6, 2010 23:46:44 GMT -5
The sermon is really beginning to creep Breakaway out. Especially the fact that most of these people are probably perfectly normal people and this is just what they do on Thursday nights (or whenever it is) because that's how they were raised. He glances at Xaaron and Prowl, then tries to distract himself from the ceremony by running a weapons diagnostic and imagining a high-speed bombing run on the Unicronian temple.
|
|
|
Post by Prowl on May 8, 2010 19:34:27 GMT -5
Prowl flinches ever so slightly at the shout of Death. He glances sideways at Breakaway, then Xaaron. His optics dim as he tries to lightly meditate and put himself in a better place than this.
It doesn't work as well as he hoped. There's a... Feeling that looms in his processor that is quite a distracting feeling.
He shifts, and goes back to keeping his hand held tightly at his side.
|
|
|
Post by Emirate Xaaron on May 15, 2010 10:28:48 GMT -5
"And so our Lord did task himself with purging the universe of the universe, so that he might sleep again, and he started with those worst offenders of all!"
The Autobots might just feel all eyes on them now.
"With those who refuse to grow old!"
Yes, they're definitely being looked at.
"With those who refuse to age!"
Even by the other robots in the church.
"With those prideful who bow not to entropy!"
And there are some clergy members, who had been circulating aimlessly through the aisles, who are now not moving randomly but are definitely moving toward them now.
"With the machines."
Oh. Those clergy members are trying to grab them.
As he starts to stand, eyeing the exits, Emirate Xaaron curses his creaky old joints. Damn them for thinking we don't age!
|
|
|
Post by Breakaway on May 15, 2010 10:48:03 GMT -5
In the cultists' defense, Transformers from Breakaway's reality really don't age, unless they don't get enough energon.
Breakaway rises from where he's crouched in front of the bench, planting his feet far apart and clenching his fists in front of him. He's not a melee fighter but his big metal fists can do wonders on a squishy organic face. He turns slightly to look at Prowl and Xaaron and asks "Nonlethal force?"
|
|
|
Post by Prowl on May 16, 2010 14:52:23 GMT -5
Transformers in Prowl's reality either age gracefully like Yoketron or age like Ratchet.
Melee fighting is what Prowl excels in. He holds his hands out in front of him and then quite easily repels one of cultists that tries to grab at him and pushes it back with a kick that looks quite harsh but merely knocks it off balance and backwards.
"They might already be blocking off the exits. We have to assume the worst on getting out of here," Prowl looks over and frowns. "Non-lethal force may not work so also get ready for that."
|
|