Lost City

 

     The island interior consists of still more dark basalt, but in strange, almost alien structures. Huge, multi-ton hexagonal columns also made of basalt are piled in criss-cross patterns to form rough, 15-meter walls. Inside the outer wall, the ground is flat, serving as the foundation for massive tombs, temples, and palaces, all with strangely-upturned corners that resemble ships more than buildings. Most of these have collapsed, not from the constant rumbling and frequent eruptions from the nearby Mount R'Lyeh, but from sheer age. Atop the tallest standing building is a huge gray monolith, pitted from the erosion of uncounted ages. From the crushed shells underfoot and the powdery remnants of long-decayed seaweed, it can be theorized that this city was once underwater.

 

Contents:

Bloodwulf

Vulcan

Terrorcon Horde

Hun-Grrr

Revenant

Trypticon <T>

The Powerbase

Sensor4

Obvious exits:

 North <N> leads to Mount R'Lyeh.

 Cliff <C> leads to Rocky Beach.

Fly <Up> 

 

Bloodwulf approaches the group. "Evening it may be, good it is not." Nodding to HG the sweep addresses him, "Your hunt is slow I take it?"

 

Terrorcon Horde

The terrorcons, a force of primal fury. Each an example of destruction, each an engine of that example.

 

Sinnertwin, as sentry of the horde, his job is one of constant vigilance against the hordes many enemies. His twin heads constantly scan around looking for trouble.

 

Blot, smelly and smelling of old garbage. Disguesting oils and fluids leak off his body but he makes a dam good soldier.

 

Cutthroat, the flyer of the group, his hawklike gaze looks all around, ready to swoop down and pounce anything that's labeled 'food' which is many many things.

 

Rippersnapper, the stunticons have Wildrider as a terrorist, it's only fitting that the Terrorcons have their own. The landshark stands idly by waiting for an opportunity to strike out at something in blind, animalistic rage.

 

These are the terrorcons. Pure unbriled rage who have the power to combine into the monster Abominus, which no force on earth could stop.

 

Your future?

 

If you're a target of the terrorcons, it's debatable if you'll have one.

 

Hun-Grrr nods slowly. "Yes, we not been off island for while. Terrorcons kill all on island bigger than turbo rat me think. When cons let terrorcons off island? They start eating trypticon soon." He gives a soft growling laugh, his attempt at a primitive joke.

 

The terrorcons are still around, each moving about in the shadows of the city, mostly restless. Sickly yellow or white optics look out at the group as the occasional growl or grunt sounds from the shadows.

 

Vulcan purses his hands behind his back as he stands, merely taking in the fearsome shape of Bloodwulf, remaining quiet for now.

 

Scrapper steps out of Trypticon and takes a deep mechanical breath. Although he's wearing his usual sour glare, Scrapper appears to be in remarkably good spirits. The Constructicon strides over to a huge pile of various scrap metal that was formerly the UN air craft carrier Anan. Sad, really. Half of the mighty vessel went to finishing the repairs to Trypticon, and the entire Rodney King Destroyer is in Scavenger's custody for the Stuntiship. The Cons go through materials awfully quickly. He happens to overhear Hun-Grrr's comment about eating Trypticon and snorts.

 

Bloodwulf nods, "Your frustration is shared. I have not hunted since I set foot on this primus forsaken mudball." He turns his attention to the seeker, "What of you. What action have you seen?"

 

Vulcan shifts immediately as though someone hit the PLAY button, his wings flicking forwards slightly as though opening up a window on a computer to deliver a message, his calm, sultry voice emitting cool, calm words "Well... the cycle after I had inpromptuly arrived and reactivated, I was summoned to the home planet Cybertron briefly to assist in driving off a corps of attacking humans... then once I had returned, unscathed to this smaller, cold planet, I partook in an endeavour to the northern hemisphere of this orb in a failed attempt to raid oil." he glances down to the visible metal patches on his red armor (that I forgot to mention earlier - Sorry!) "It was not a flying success you could say."

 

Bloodwulf snorts and shakes his head. His wings flex behind him as he replys, "One pitiful raid. this is no place for warriors and hunters. This is a place for recruits to cut their teeth." The sweep seems very disgusted to be here.

 

Scrapper then hears Bloodwulf go on about not having anything to hunt and actually breaks out in laughter. The lime green construction engineer walks over to the group. Despite fact he's the smallest robot here, Scrapper manages to project an air of authority when he speaks (at least right now, anyway. Scrapper is riding high on the recent Constructicon victories). "You folks are looking for a hunt? Well I have /plenty/ of things I need for my art. You could hunt down Chikome-Ollin and collect that bounty. And we're going to need supplies for the project. If you're looking for an excuse to hunt down Autobots, go steal me the metal we're going to need. The Autobots /always/ seem to show up."

 

Revenant has disconnected.

 

Hun-Grrr growls and folds his arms. He looks over at Scrapper and says, "Collect? Good, we collect autobot scrap for you. Where we go for it?" He really does not know this planet very well.

 

His terrorcons slip out of the shadows to listen intently, the prospect of eating autobots, or at least trashing them, sounds inviting.

 

Vulcan speaks up then "As much as I would be honored to assist, I'm still on medical leave." he sounds dissapointed "But I will be glad ot assist you here, Scrapper, with simple salvaging of this metal while the others go and collect more."

 

Bloodwulf seems more put out by Scrappers suggestion than he did by the prospect of not hunting. He shakes his head and says, "If that is all this planet has to offer then I have no interest in it. I do not see why my skills are required here. I target specific prey, not just whoever shows up to stop a raid."

 

Scrapper shrugs and replies first to the Terrorcon, "If you're gunning for Autobot scrap, just hit any ol' Terran city that's not in South America or Europe. The Autobots aren't allowed in there." Scrapper snickers here. "The fleshbags won't let 'em in." He almost breaks out in chuckles here at the thought of humans ordering Transformers around. "Oh, and better not nail New Zealand, since they helped us. Really, ANY scrap'll do." The Constructicon pauses and gazes at the new arrival, looking him up and down. "If you can weld two steel beams together or bring back metal for us to use then your help'll do fine." Ah yes, Scraps is in such good spirits today. Must be this kickass project he's embarking on. He eyes the Sweep and suddenly remembers how freaking annoying they are at times. "Fine. Go hunt down Cikome-Ollin. Believe me, every slaggin' Con in the Empire will thank you for it."

 

Scrapper makes this last thing to Bloodwulf sound like a suggestion, not an order. 'Cause, y'know, Sweeps are like that.

 

Vulcan nods "I am certain I can do that job for you sir if it will assist us in repairs or building." he states willingly, white silvery wings spreading out slightly and fanning gently, keeping the blood flowing. Or wahtever he had for blood.

 

Hun-Grrr growls happily, even terrorcons like targets. "Good, we do." He looks back at his terrorcons and says, "We go kill stinkin Ollin, bring carcass back, fleshy part to eat, metal for Scrapper!"

 

Cutthroat, Sinnertwin, and Rippersnapper growl in delight, while Blot just oozes. He's good with it either way.

 

Scrapper nods and is pleased to have apparently been able to recruit the Terrorcons in for this. While Devastator is six bots of pure badassery, breaking him out all the time cuts into their efficiency at their /real/ task. Hours wasted with the fighting, and a day or two for recovery. Bah. Let the Terrorcons handle that. Course, there's still the chance Galvatron et al will want Devastator there. The curse of being badass. Why /yes/, Scrapper IS quite overconfident. Almost makes you think might be used for part of a courage upgrade or something. Almost.

 

Bloodwulf idly thinks that Predaking could whip Devys little green butt any day of the week but since noone can hear thought, it doesnt matter. What does matter is the current delima. Be bored and disgusted or go with the Terrorcons and at least have some mindless destruction. Instead, he takes the 3rd option, "I will hunt Ollin in my own ways." And with that simple statement, the sweep turns and heads towards the shore.

 

Scrapper watches as the Sweep departs and nods, "Ok, good luck, Sweep." He refrains from using the name not out of a lack of respect, but simply because they all look the same. Aside from Scourge, their voices just mingle together sometimes. "Just keep in mind that the last Seeker that tried to hunt Ollin down alone got FedExed back to me in multiple pieces." Pause. "I'm serious!" Scrapper shakes his head and figures Bloodwulf has a better shot at things than any ol' crappy Seeker would anyway.

 

Hun-Grrr growls at Bloodwulf and says, "Terrorcons and Sweeps hunters. We hunt in pack, pack attacks as one. You no go off, you hear? Or you end up shot..if not by Ollin...by me." The terrorcon commanders optics flash a sickly yellow but turns to Scrapper, the highest rank here, that's one thing HG will respect, boundries between divisions are not visible with the terrorcon. "You let him go?"

 

Vulcan sidles over to Scrapper, folding his arms acros shis patched chestplate "So... Scrapper sir, where shall I start on this construct?"

 

Scrapper snorts and shrugs at Hun-Grrr. "Like I can stop him. Sweeps have certain liberties. If he wants to run off and get himself killed by Ollin, then it's no plating off my chassis." Don'tcha just love cheesy Transformer translated sayings? Turning towards Vulcan, Scrapper pauses and says, "Suppose there's no point in waiting, eh?" Scrapper smiles behind his faceplate, "Before we can start building we've got to clear the area around Trypticon and begin pouring down the new metal foundation." Scrapper begins walking over to a strange contraption, expecting Vulcan to follow - and Grrr if he's interested in helping. It's easy. The contraption looks somewhat like a portable cement mixer. Only it is very /very/ hot. Hot enough to melt Cybertronium (what Cybertron is made of).

 

<OOC> Bloodwulf wavies out.

Bloodwulf has disconnected.

 

Vulcan nods as he follows behind. "I can handle the heat." he reassures the constructicon. "Its what I enjoy most, I find. So we first obtain a cleared area of how large?"

 

Hun-Grrr nods and shrugs, "Hunt Ollin nother time, laugh at sweep when come back scrap." He follows, if only to watch. He can barely work a remote control on a tv, let alone something like this.

 

The terrorcons follow along, following their leader, not really interseted in what Scrapper is doing, but he'll be doing to the island, which is going over their heads faster than one of Starscreams plans for decepticon conquest going down the crapper.

 

Scrapper smiles and his optics flash eagerly. This is what he was made to to do. Taking on a huge construction project that'll change the landscape of Earth forever. Mmmmm. He snaps out of his little daydream and replies harshly, "The entire island." He pauses and clarifies, "But of course for now we'll start small." He points to the half aircraft carrier and says, "We'll use all the scrap metal we have and cover as much ground as possible. This should cover us over to at least the ruined city. Once we get more scrap to continue, Bonecrusher should have the relics knocked down." A sad end for such an impressive ruin. Scrapper transforms and begins clearing out the area, making it smooth enough for the metal to be poured (it's so simple Blot could do it!... well maybe not /Blot/...)

 

Scrapper folds into himself, shifting into a lime green payloader. Oh, and he can fly in this mode via a giant purple wing that attaches to his form when needed. Cough. What?

 

Vulcan nods "I'll start to remove the debris then. Are we destroyig it via fire or setting it to one side?" he asks, starting by picking up the lighter end of a tree that comes down.

 

Scandal emerges from the city that is Trypticon.

Scandal has arrived.

 

Hun-Grrr grins and gets an idea. It's a 'very' good idea for a terrorcon. He over heard Scrapper talking about knowing down something and says, "Terrorcons...you want to distroy? Lay down old city flat! Help Scrapper out."

 

The terrorcons automaticly snap out of their lazy lathargic state. Each one, besides Blot maybe, growl and snap at the chance to break something that they won't get yelled at.

 

Scandal steps out of Trypticon, trailing a long thin pack of cords behind her. At the other end of the cord is a box around which the cord is tied. She's whistling an entirely unpleasant sounding song to herself as she tugs along the box.

 

Payloader <Scrapper> hesitates and says, "Bonecrusher won't be happy. But eh, screw him." Ahhhh, brotherly love. "Go ahead and have fun, Terrorcons. Reduce. That. City. To. Dust." The Constructicon chuckles and continues to level the ground, "I'll get rid of the debris, Vulcan. YOU operate the Cybertronium layer. Surely they taught you SOME basic technical skills at the Decepticon War Academy."

 

Vulcan pushes the tree to one side and hehs "Its been a long time since those days, my dear Scrapper. It will come back to me." he flicks his wings, wnadering over to the machine, taking a few moments to familiarize himself with the equipment "... of course, technological advances work against me too."

 

Payloader <Scrapper> grunts and replies harshly, "Well if you screw this up then I'm going to kick your ass!" He probably can't back up those words, but with great rank comes great abusability. Scrapper won't allow some idiot warrior to mess up what should be his crowning achievment. His other art projects are tiny compared to this one. The payloader knocks over a tree and crushes it beneath his wheels. Bonecrusher would be proud.

 

Vulcan hehs "Its not THAt advanced." he states as he starts to activate the machine, spreading his wings to embrace the heat coming from it. He carefully lifts and shunts several large peices of metal into the feeder end to start with. "There we go."

 

The terrorcons, Rippersnapper, Blot, Sinnertwin, and Cutthroat all give a roar of approval as Scrapper gives the ok. After all, MSE always yelled at them before, now it's ok! Each one takes a run at the city, doing their own type of damage in turn.

 

Sinnertwin just starts blasting collums with his back mounted cannon weapons, turning chunks of stone into melted and blown apart slag.

 

Cutthroat takes off into the air to nail the still standing walls of buildings. His razor sharp wings slicing through any stone as if it wasn't there, they collaspe behind him in huge clouds of dust.

 

Rippersnapper just runs around taking bites out of each, spitting out, as it's not human, but still.

 

And blot? Well, Blot is blot...he just stares bumbly at the crashing towards of rock. His optics follow it down with a loud boom shaking the earth around him. His large paw claw like things rub its gut as he says, "Bwot getting sick..."

 

Scandal grunts to herself as she pauses to regard what is going on outside, an angry look crosses her face, "Bloody waste." she murmers harshly, the sweetness that she once had in her voice gone after trial after trial, "Wiping everything out just to put our own twisted creations in it's place, instead of building our creations along side..." she hmmphs and stalks off towards the cliffs, the box dragging behind her and leaving a gouge in the ground that is not insignificant.

 

Hun-Grrr stands away, taking down stone isn't his thing, so he just watches with a gleam in his optic band. He looks over at Scandal and says, "Why waste? Humans not using it...let terrorcons play. Finder keepers....loosers...get trashed." Or something like that.

 

Vulcan spots Scandal as he pushes the machine forwards carefully to start to cover the area with a very cautiously poured amount of Cybertronium... just small amounts for now, to build up slowly so that any marrings can be caught early on. He lifts an arm and waves to the girl, Flashing a charming smile.

 

Payloader <Scrapper> shoves a rather large boulder out of the way with his shovel and watches with his sensors as the first plating goes down for the new Decepticon fortress. Pride overcomes the Constructicon as he visualizes the finished project. Right where Blot is about to be sick... yes, that's where a missile turret is going to go. He eyes Scandal and whatever she's carrying, but doesn't bother to ask. Slowly but surely, the area directly around Trypticon is Cyberformed.

 

Vulcan is going very slowly as he pours the metal, not wanting to make any mistakes. Steam billows around him in the scortching heat, and it hisses and snaps... those still able to see him will see his wings have gone black, and his red armor, except where the patches were, had gone dark as well. His wings beat, sending the steam flying away and keeping the air a little cooler.

 

The terrorcons go about their task, destroying in minutes what it took a people hundreds of years to build. Wow. Laser, claw, and razorwing, blast, rip, and slice their way across a strip of the lost city, leaving death and destruction in its wake. The occasional THUD of a large body nailing a support pillar before it crashes or a screech as Cutthroat can be seen popping up above the dust clouds to dive back down against a building is heard or seen. And behind them? Blot, sitting right where the turret is going to go. His column not even touched, but then...HUUUURRRLLLL! Blot pukes a bucket load out of his square mouth, thick liquid nails the base of the pillar and even faster than what his brothers could do, the stone pillar cracks, smokes and gives way to crash on the ground. Blot smacks his claws together, happy he did something, "Blot notsh sicksh now!"

 

Payloader <Scrapper> tries to ignore the Terrorcons as they work in their most grizzly way. He idly wonders what's worse: The Terrorcons puking on things to destroy them, or Bonecrusher's unique zest for running things over. Tough choice. Regardless, Scrapper has his own job to do, even if it is pretty simple. Grunting in approval of the sheets of metal that are formed, Scrapper eyes what remains of the scrap heap and makes a few quick calculations, "Looks like we're going to run out just shy of the Lost City." He chuckles and adds, "The /former/ lost city. That's probably for the best since the place'll still have to be cleaned up." Can you imagine Cutthroat with a broom and dustpan?

 

Vulcan works away, acutally looking half-happy in the hot steamy area around the machine. He watches the dials carefully, then stops just short of the space, turning the thing off as he looks back at what he did "That was exhuberant... how long will it take to cool before we apply a second coat?

 

Hun-Grrr could, and with an apron as well, he'd look so cute! Hun-Grrr growls in satisfaction at his terrorcons turning this place into a warrens. It's too bad Scrapper won't let the terrorcons keep a bit of what they distroy. A warrens on earth, now that would be fun! Hun-Grrr glances over at Vulcan shruging and frowning as if having an arguement with himself.

The terrorcons blast claw and slice their way into everyone's hearts. But if you ever put that stuff on Cutthroat, you'll end up as his supper. The stip of the city is nearly distroyed as the dust settles but the savages are far from finished. Sinnertwin smacks hard into Rippersnapper while moving towards his next building to knock down. Rippersnapper spins around, white optics glaring at the hellhound, "Why you knock into Rippernsnapper!" He growls snapping at his brother.

 

Payloader <Scrapper> transforms, walks over to Hun-Grrr and smacks him one for making him think of a Terrorcon in an apron. Well no, he doesn't. But I wish he could have. Regardless, while Scrapper wouldn't mind letting the Terrorcons take some of the debris, they ain't getting an ounce of his land. It all belongs to the glorious city. Yes, Scrapper is quite obsessed about his artwork. Especially something this major. "We'll give it twenty four astro-hours." Bless those astro-units. "Then it should be ready for the final coating." Scrapper pauses and considers just how much metal this is going to take. Ah well.

 

Vulcan nods at Scrapper "I only applied a thin coat, that way we can remove any impurities before it gets too thick to work with." he points out.

 

Hun-Grrr growls at himself. He watches the other two work, which gives Hun-Grr not a whole lot to do. He approaches Vulcan and says, "Me help...." sternly.

 

Sinnertwin snickers from both heads as they speak as one, "We didn't bump into you fishhead...you bumped into us." they growl.

 

Rippersnapper gets closer to the hellhound, teeth barred, "Me should rip out fuel pump for that!" The terrorcon dives for the other, each slamming hard into each other and rolling around.

 

Cutthroat notices and glides over to watch hovering on anti-gravs.

 

Blot slops over towards where Hun-Grr is and says, "Leader hun-grrrsh, Sinnersh and Rippersh are fightingsh again."

 

Payloader <Scrapper> transforms and nods to Vulcan, "Excellent work. This is proceeding even better than I had thought. Once the entire island has been coated we can begin building the actual structures and facilities above ground." And working in the various trenches that'll have to be dug out for the transformation section. And of course Scrapper has to worry about the whole /volcano/ that's here. He looks over to the Terrorcons and mutters to Vulcan, "Geez. Always fighting with each other." Don't bother saying it.

 

Vulcan gives Scrapper a small bow "My pleasure... Ah, Hun-Grr... well, I suppose now is a good time as any, while it is still soft, to remove the deformities." he spreads his angelic wings, taking off into a small hover, as he moves over the molten liquid. "I suppose we can simply disintegrate any lumps, or blow them smooth... what would be your reccomendation Builder Scrapper?"

 

The lime green payloader folds up into the Constructicon known as Scrapper.

 

Hun-Grrr has no suggestions. He growls holding out his hand as Blot tells him the news. Only one way to break this up. The commander walks over to the start of the demolition and with his hand out, his Wailing doom appears. The long gray cannon weapon that everyone loves. It auto-powers up, because he'd never figure out how to arm it himself, he points it up into the sky and fires, a sonic boom reverberating everywhere as he calls out over the din, "STOP FIGHTING! YOU TERRORCONS! NOT STUPID STUNTICONS!"

 

Scrapper is a Decepticon, and his natural evilness shines through even with his non-conquesting related duties. He considers the question for only a second before replying, "Disintegration." The decision is not made for technical reasons (both solutions work equally well) but for artistic reasons. This is to be a fortress of evil. A fortress of power. No sissy 'blowing' for /this/ fortress. Only the most violent will do. Go Decepticons! He continues to eye the Terrorcons and smirks. Must be kinda nice to be twice the size of your brothers.

 

Vulcan nods at scrapper as his wings beat, his entire form wavering from the heat. "Understood." he pulls out his rifle and starts adjusting it to Pulverise. "Let's see...."

 

Sinnertwin and Rippersnapper stop fighting, Blot huddles behind his leader, while Cutthroat looks on. The pair stop fighting however, each saying it was the others fault, but soon they move off to finish the ripping apart of the city.

 

Scandal has left.

Scandal passes through the gates to enter Trypticon.

 

Scrapper gives a final nod to Vulcan and mutters a rare compliment, "Good work." He says this reluctantly. Yelling at people is usually more satisfying than being nice to them. It's another one of those Con things. "I've got work to do inside Trypticon. Going to have to get Scavenger to build trenches around the parimeter of the island..." Still muttering to himself, Scrapper passes through the gates of the City-Fortress.

 

Vulcan smiles again at Scrapper charmingly as he floats over the molten lake carefully, firing off a careful shot at any debris he should find, to remove it before its there permanently.

 

Hun-Grrr moves back letting his horde work, he really has nothing else to do, but leans up against a large bolder watching his terrorcons work. However, with no one really guiding them, they soon loose interest in the work and move off. Blot still sitting there at the next pillar, trying to get sick again to knock it down.