Rook
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Post by Rook on May 4, 2010 21:22:29 GMT -5
Day 10, aboard Ship, Private Thread S1 Intro
There's a crow flapping down the corridor aboard Ship. It's much larger than crows normally are, but still tiny compared to the architecture. As it approaches a door that it was directed to earlier, the portal opens and the bird flies through. Inside there is a desk, which the crow alights on. It then brushes some errant feathers into place with its beak before transforming into a robot.
The robot, whose name is Rook, looks around the room before finally settling his gaze on its other occupant. After a pause that's short enough to be polite, but long enough that it's clear he's deliberately delaying, Rook asks,"You're Needlenose, I take it?" in an upper-class Iaconian dialect that might be rendered in a cartoon by the dulcet tones of Alan Rickman. (If the cartoon had a ridiculously huge budget.)
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Post by Needlenose on May 5, 2010 17:02:50 GMT -5
Needlenose is, in fact, turned away from the door and towards the wall to his right. In his hand is a black, oblong object rounded edges and buttons of various shapes that he is pushing furiously. A wire connects the controller to a segment of the wall itself, which has been modified to include slots and buttons of various sorts. Into one slot a cartridge is inserted, and above the panel of controls is a flatscreen display or monitor of some sort. On the display, a blue animal with a pointed back, big red shoes runs through a low-resolution landscape and through assorted unnatural landscape features such as loop-de-loops, floating platforms, and other such oddities. From time to time, the blue creature curls up into a buzzsaw and zooms through opponents.
"Yeah, where you taking it?" Needlenose asks without looking up.
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Rook
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Post by Rook on May 5, 2010 20:35:31 GMT -5
Rook flaps over to perch on the back of Needlenose's chair and tilts his head to one side, then the other, staring at the screen. "I believe I was supposed to meet you here so that you could verify that I don't present a security risk. Though of course if you're busy, I'm sure it could wait." His voice drips boredom.
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Post by Needlenose on May 5, 2010 22:28:57 GMT -5
With a touch of several buttons, the blue buzzsaw rolls through a loop-de-loop, apparently collecting floating rings in the process (ka-ling-ka-ling-ka-ling-ka-ling!) before buzzing directly through a two-dimensional plateau.
"Oh, I am exceedingly busy," Needlenose answers, tone suggesting that what he's doing is the most important thing in the universe. Then his antennae perk upwards and he straightens and adds cheerfully, "Lucky for you, I'm also great at multitasking!"
"Let's start with name, function, and weaponry, shall we?"
Needlenose does all this without looking up.
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Rook
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Post by Rook on May 6, 2010 0:50:28 GMT -5
Rook is unimpressed by the video game. "So I can see. My name is Rook. I am a diplomat. I am armed with a pistol and blades." The crow pauses, then continues. "In my home reality, the Needlenose of the Great War was renowned as an artist. Do you share that talent?" None of the history tracks ever mention that Needlenose was a video game enthusiast, but then that sort of thing rarely makes it into the history tracks.
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Post by Needlenose on May 6, 2010 9:24:39 GMT -5
"Oooooooh I'm a talented guy all around," Needlenose answers cheerfully. On the screen, the blue character approaches a roundish man in a roundish floating vehicle of some sort. "Very talented in very many ways, a few too many to list," he adds as the blue character jumps into the air and buzzsaws into the machine. "But we aren't here to talk about my talents, we're here to talk about yours."
The egg-shaped machine blasts the blue buzzsaw, and golden rings fly everywhere, causing Needlenose to tilt his right antennae at an odd angle and squint one eye faintly in annoyance. He hnhs, and sends the blue character scurrying about to pick as many of the rings back up as he can.
"So with that in mind," he continues, "what are your talents?"
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Rook
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Post by Rook on May 6, 2010 23:30:49 GMT -5
Rook briefly considers throwing a dagger into the monitor in order to get Needlenose's full attention, but decides that he isn't tired of life yet. "As I stated, I am a diplomat. I am well-versed in negotiation, dealing with the press, dissembling, and all the other various skills necessary to represent the interests of the Predacon Alliance to the Imperium. I can also handle myself in an honor duel."
The Predacon is silent for a while as he watches the larger robot play, then deadpans "Nice move."
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Post by Needlenose on May 7, 2010 7:35:39 GMT -5
Eventually, the little green buzzsaw bounces against the egg machine enough times to send it fleeing off the screen, low-resolution smoke trailing behind it. Needlenose shrugs, leans forward, and shuts the system off before tilting his head up to look at the bird perched on his chair.
"Ah, see, and here I was thinking that maybe you had talents and skills not specifically related to your function. Silly me!"
"So d'you have any special or unusual abilities beyond 'I'm a diplomat?' or should we just move on?"
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Rook
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Post by Rook on May 7, 2010 21:30:27 GMT -5
Rook grins at the Targetmaster's words, and flits from the chair back onto the desk to give Needlenose back his personal space. The battle has been joined! He inclines his head to the larger mech in a slight nod and says "I can see you won't be deterred. I shan't keep any secrets from you then. I can recall perfectly anything I see or hear for even a moment and have some small skill in circumventing locks and the like. These are of course valuable diplomatic skills." This last is said with a smirk. "I'm also a student of history, though sadly I've not as much time for it as I'd like." The crow steeples his spindly fingers under his chin. "The chance to meet alternate versions of historical figures from the Great War somewhat softens the blow of getting sucked into an alternate reality during a state dinner."
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Post by Needlenose on May 7, 2010 23:27:14 GMT -5
Needlenose spins his seat towards the desk and leans back, fingertips on his chin, considering. Hmm. Intelligence division, then. He tilts his head to the right and one antenna cocks at an odd angle. Then he nods, leans even further back, and lifts his feet to the desk.
"Then I'll be putting that history knowledge to the test. I need a brief history of your universe. Highlight major figures and technologies." He lifts his right hand. "And don't bother to point out that we already know. The truth is, we can't be sure we do, and won't know until we hear what you've got to say." He snorts. "And even then we can't be positive, but, you know, we'll be closer."
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Rook
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Post by Rook on May 8, 2010 22:31:58 GMT -5
Rook raises an eyeridge. "I'll just give a brief history of Cybertron, rather than the whole universe. Data is somewhat sparse, as we're a rather forgetful species in my home universe, plus the Maximals deliberately suppress certain information." The crow makes a noise that sounds like he's clearing his throat, then continues. "None of us are quite sure how our form of life first came about, though various theories, including divine creation by Primus and manufacture by Quintessons have been put forward. All was well for a time, and then, for reasons that have been lost to history, the Great War broke out. The war raged for millenia. The Autobots were led by Optimus Prime, and the Decepticons by Megatron, until Unicron showed up and Megatron was reformatted into Galvatron. Eventually the Autobots were victorious and the Pax Cybertronia was signed. This peace treaty strongly favored the Autobots and made Decepticons into second-class citizens."
Rook begins pacing back and forth across the desk as he talks, gesturing vaguely with one arm. "It was around this point that the Great Upgrade was made, reformatting Autobots into Maximals and Decepticons into Predacons. These new forms were smaller and more energy efficient. With the war seemingly over, the Maximals began peaceful expansion and exploration of the galaxy. Many exploratory teams adopted the alternate forms of local lifeforms to better study planets they landed on. Ship-mounted transwarp drive technology was . . .well, not perfected, but brought to a point where it was stable enough to be used, around this time. Transwarp drives consume less energy than a space bridge, and allow travel through space-time, though the use of the few transwarp capable vessels for time travel was strictly prohibited. Approximately three hundred stellar cycles have passed since the War ended, which brings us to present-day Cybertron."
The Predacon stops his pacing and faces Needlenose again, hands clasped behind his back. "The Maximals, in keeping with their community-oriented culture, are ruled by a Council of Elders. The Predacon Alliance, on the other hand, is made up of factions constantly jockeying with one another for power and prestige. At the time I was pulled into this universe, the Tripredacus Council was the most powerful governing body in the Alliance. The Council of Elders consists of the Right Honorable Prowl, Ironhide, and Silverbolt, all veterans of the great war. The Tripredacus Council is made up of the Generals Ram Horn, Sea Clamp, and Cicadacon, all very secretive individuals. Information on them is sketchy at best. Needless to say, all the infighting keeps we Predacons firmly under the Maximal yoke. Our numbers are smaller and our power less due to sanctions and legal restrictions. Of course, not all Predacons are content to slowly and stealthily gather resources for a new war, as is the Council's policy."
The bird holds one hand in front of his face, idly inspecting his claws before he resumes speaking, a hint of anger in his voice. "A few months ago, a criminal styling himself Megatron, who had previously been the apprentice of the gangster Cryotek, stole a valuable artifact, the Golden Disk, from the archives where it was kept, and absconded with it in a transwarp-capable ship, which he also stole. He vanished via transwarp to parts unknown, and a Maximal science vessel, the Axalon was dispatched to retrieve him, as it was the only transwarp-capable ship in the vicinity. The general populace is completely unaware of these events, though highly-placed members of both factions know. The cover-up has been . . . difficult." He sighs. "Is that sufficient, or would you like to hear more?"
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Post by Needlenose on May 9, 2010 20:48:47 GMT -5
Needlenose hmms softly as he considers what the crow says. "Well... I'm not hearing anything so far that contradicts the other Predacons that seem to come from your reality, but really, none of them seemed to know much." He leans back. "Y'weren't kidding about there being lots of gaps. I have heard a bit about the transwarps." Then he tilts his head and mutters, "Actually, I was supposed to hear more about that, but that kind of fell through." Then, louder, he asks, "How much do you know on the technical side of that?" Yeah, Needlenose knows he said he's a diplomat, but hey, some people have other hobbies!
Building circuits doesn't count. Building circuits was once Needlenose's living, dangit!
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Rook
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Post by Rook on May 9, 2010 23:46:22 GMT -5
"I can fill in some of the gaps, but you did ask for a brief history." Rook shakes his head sadly as he says, "I don't know anything about the transwarp drive technology that isn't common knowledge. It's a closely guarded secret, for obvious reasons. Despite my best efforts, I've been unable to get so much as a glance at a schematic."
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Post by Needlenose on May 13, 2010 19:39:18 GMT -5
"If you could update our files later on," Needlenose practically purrs, "we'd be most appreciative, but for now, yes, a brief history would do, yes." He leans back in his seat and hooks one leg over the other.
"So, I know you're a diplomat, and you mentioned being skilled at dueling, but beyond that, how much combat experience do you have? What sort? Any team combat or just, well, dueling?"
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Rook
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Post by Rook on May 13, 2010 20:05:51 GMT -5
"I would be more than happy to share my historical data," Rook replies. "As to combat, you must understand that while I am a Predacon and conflict flows in my oil, I am not a soldier and I come from a Cybertron that is not currently at war. I am capable of defending myself if need be . . ." here the the bird flicks both wrists, and daggers resembling black feathers appear in both hands from up his feathery 'sleeves', then are quickly placed back into subspace, "but it is not my primary function. If I must confront a foe physically, I prefer surprise. I've never been in a pitched battle. The closest I've come is observing war games."
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