[ As night descends, it brings with it that cutting desert cold that can take unwary and unprepared travelers by surprise. Fortunately, those travelers are usually organics for whom relatively minor drops in temperature can be an issue. Megatron is not one of those and is doing quite well, thank you. Especially now that he hasn't any need to hide himself away. He's pulled himself up outside one of the crumbling buildings and sits in his little-seen until this point alternate mode, a large and menacing looking alien tank.
Fortunately for all of you shivering organics, he also puts out a lot of heat at this size. He has an engine and a spark and the gods alone know what else powering him, which means perching on his engine deck (or, if you're very polite) inside the control cabin makes for a much warmer proposition than thin blankets and guttering fires. He allows it, of course, but he doesn't have to like it. As someone clambers upwards: ]
Don't smear any of your excretions on me, if you can help it.
2.0/3.0ish ( For Dean )
[ With the sun beginning to rise, now's the time when there's light to see and to start searching for the necessaries of life. So his engine rumbles up from it's low idle and Megatron eases himself along the streets. He could take on his own form, but the tank is somehow less obvious than a nearly forty-foot robot. And treads can cover a great variety of terrain faster than feet.
So here he is, Dean in the commander's hatch as they move along a dusty road that might as well not exist, bumping and scraping along. It's not a smooth road, and the fact that megatron casually ignores the idea of avoiding potholes, dips, or large rocks probably doesn't help--he's mostly thinking about himself, sorry Dean. As they pull up atop a small rise, with the already burning morning sunlight beating down on them, Megatron speaks up. ]
Do you see anything? Any vegetation or sign of habitation?
[ There might be (some) water in town, but Megatron isn't about to let the party limit themselves to a single known source, just in case. ]
4.0/5.0 (Open)
[ As the renewed attack begins, Megatron moves to position himself somewhere with a good view of what's to be happening. He doesn't take a weapon himself (nor does he wish to, unless the most dire of circumstances arise), instead he's trying to coordinate, moving from place to place as quickly as he to carry information, to offer advice and keep everyone informed of the battlespace. As he watches the ebb and flow of the fight he is thinking, always thinking. Plans and possibilities raised up, considered, stored or discarded as the situation demands.
It's in this role that you might run across him, whether in his alt-mode or towering over the roofs of the decrepit town at his full thirty-eight foot height. He makes quite the landmark, though, so he may end up attracting the attention of some of the Bouldersnakes attacks. As the fight goes on, his voice comes to an ear: ]
Two hundred meters to your left. A group of them are attempting to approach through that gully.
[ Or: ]
Push forward to the right. They've lost some appetite for it there and we might be able to keep them on the back foot.
[ Or other commands. Well, advice. But they guy did lead a war for millions of year. ]
( If you'd like a different or closed starter, hit me up on plurk gravenrose )
Megatron » Transformers IDW
[ As night descends, it brings with it that cutting desert cold that can take unwary and unprepared travelers by surprise. Fortunately, those travelers are usually organics for whom relatively minor drops in temperature can be an issue. Megatron is not one of those and is doing quite well, thank you. Especially now that he hasn't any need to hide himself away. He's pulled himself up outside one of the crumbling buildings and sits in his little-seen until this point alternate mode, a large and menacing looking alien tank.
Fortunately for all of you shivering organics, he also puts out a lot of heat at this size. He has an engine and a spark and the gods alone know what else powering him, which means perching on his engine deck (or, if you're very polite) inside the control cabin makes for a much warmer proposition than thin blankets and guttering fires. He allows it, of course, but he doesn't have to like it. As someone clambers upwards: ]
Don't smear any of your excretions on me, if you can help it.
2.0/3.0ish ( For Dean )
[ With the sun beginning to rise, now's the time when there's light to see and to start searching for the necessaries of life. So his engine rumbles up from it's low idle and Megatron eases himself along the streets. He could take on his own form, but the tank is somehow less obvious than a nearly forty-foot robot. And treads can cover a great variety of terrain faster than feet.
So here he is, Dean in the commander's hatch as they move along a dusty road that might as well not exist, bumping and scraping along. It's not a smooth road, and the fact that megatron casually ignores the idea of avoiding potholes, dips, or large rocks probably doesn't help--he's mostly thinking about himself, sorry Dean. As they pull up atop a small rise, with the already burning morning sunlight beating down on them, Megatron speaks up. ]
Do you see anything? Any vegetation or sign of habitation?
[ There might be (some) water in town, but Megatron isn't about to let the party limit themselves to a single known source, just in case. ]
4.0/5.0 (Open)
[ As the renewed attack begins, Megatron moves to position himself somewhere with a good view of what's to be happening. He doesn't take a weapon himself (nor does he wish to, unless the most dire of circumstances arise), instead he's trying to coordinate, moving from place to place as quickly as he to carry information, to offer advice and keep everyone informed of the battlespace. As he watches the ebb and flow of the fight he is thinking, always thinking. Plans and possibilities raised up, considered, stored or discarded as the situation demands.
It's in this role that you might run across him, whether in his alt-mode or towering over the roofs of the decrepit town at his full thirty-eight foot height. He makes quite the landmark, though, so he may end up attracting the attention of some of the Bouldersnakes attacks. As the fight goes on, his voice comes to an ear: ]
Two hundred meters to your left. A group of them are attempting to approach through that gully.
[ Or: ]
Push forward to the right. They've lost some appetite for it there and we might be able to keep them on the back foot.
[ Or other commands. Well, advice. But they guy did lead a war for millions of year. ]
( If you'd like a different or closed starter, hit me up on plurk