Alchora

[Corvid]

"Alchora"

    Most of the planet's surface is an icy tundra waste inhabited by only the most cold resilient of flora and fauna. Rather than the typical white-with-blue-undertones most ice of the universe is known for, the different liquids which make up Alchora's frozen surface offer a variety of color. Fields of pastels- green, pink, yellow, blue, orange, and others- scatter across the surface in random assortment that is both bright, and beautiful. The indigenous life have likewise adopted such bright coloring, whether a result of their environment effecting their biology directly or intentional camouflage varying from species to species, predator to prey.

---

[Corvid]

Standing over a Decepticon body, he snorted two large clouds of crisp, cold white air from his face. Crippled and maimed, the bot before him was reaching out a trembling arm in search of help. He gave the bot's back one final, thunderous stomp to put them out of their misery, the end coming with a loud accompanying 'crack' as metal gave way beneath massive boot.

"Tell us," a voice came from behind him. A femme's voice, smooth, but with the hint of a rasp to it. "Why again did we just make enemies out of the Decepticons? Thought you were their fanboys, or something like that."

The two bots standing side by side were vastly different in appearance. The larger of the two, the mech, a burly behemoth of a bot; somewhat round in shape, and imposing in appearance. His sharp crimson colors contrasted with the pale grey, almost white finish of his companion; a much shorter, lithe femme with an average grounder's frame. She folded her arms over each other judgingly, looking away from their mess with a huff.

All around them the remains of Decepticon forces lied scattered. Some scorched, others crushed, a few riddled with holes. Above them a Decepticon ship, the Antithesis of Redoubt, hung low in the air, smoking. Even now the sirens of the ship could be heard blaring as it began to distance itself from the ground, housing whatever Decepticons had survived the encounter. Soon after the ship disappeared, retreating to space to leave the group of neutrals on the surface alone.

[aphidly]

The helicopter turned away from the retreating ship he was watching to face the other two. His visor dimmed as if he were glaring before he finally spoke, "Conflict of ideals." Crimson subspaced his rifle and crossed his arms "I agreed with their original objective, but Fauxwing made it absolutely clear that the original cause of their faction is no longer their motivation to fight." he started walking off towards their ship, The Guardian, only pausing a few steps past them "I hear bounty hunting is far more profitable anyway." he continued on.

Orange optics looked up from the corpse being looted for supplies at the mention of bounty hunting "They must'a really pissed 'im off. That's the most talkative ive seen 'im in quite a while." the dark mech rose and small clouds of soot and smoke were shaken off him. He placed a ped on the chest of the bot he had been looting before grabbing the handle of the ax lodged in their chest. Didnt take much for Rust to remove the blade. "Thankfully for Crimson, I know how'ta keep us under the 'con's radar." The ax was now resting on his shoulder "And to answer your question Crim didnt answer. He at least use to hate Autobots far more than he disliked the Decepticons. I on the other hand, just want the factions to fall." he moves over to the next corpse and begins taking anything that may be of value to them. "Enough about us though, how about you? Why did you end up hitching a ride with us out here?"

[Corvid]

As Crimson explained the situation, Xenagogue and Sortie exchanged glances, the smaller of the two shrugging.

"That's a shame," she sympathized. Crimson didn't seem torn up about it. Then, it was hard to tell one way or the other in the wake of clashing with the Decepticon force that had followed him home. He might have given away his feelings by how ferociously he'd battled, but if he had, Sortie had been too busy with her own piece of the action to notice. Xenagogue likewise couldn't tell, not that his silence would have indicated as much.

The femme started doing some post-battle stretches after slinging the long sniper rifle over her shoulder, letting Rust explain Crimson to them.

"Oh, that's rather grim," she commented once told Rust's own aspirations. Her tone said what her words didn't; she was indifferent toward Crimson and Rust's ideals. For what reason, she didn't interrupt to share.

"I'd rather not say," Sortie said coyly, wagging a finger in playful warning, and winking.

"No reason whatsoever," Xenagogue interjected. Compared to Sortie's, his voice boomed. A deep baritone that was almost like the ground was rumbling beneath you, and equally as unconcerned with the conversation as a quake was people's safety.

"Hey! Don't give it away so willingly," Sortie complained. She made a 'tsk' sound behind him, putting her hands to her hips and turning away from him, pouting. "You're no fun, Xen."

[aphidly]

Rust looked up at the two, he chucked at Sortie's answer. Shaking his head as he rose to his feet again he walked forward to the larger of them "Why thank you, Xenagogue, for cooperating unlike miss stuff o'er there." the flier shifted and a puff of soot escaped his vents. "Either way, im grateful you two decided to tag along, we could've handled it, but Crim and I would've been in much rougher shape." he paused a moment "Speakin' of which, either of you hurt? An' dont act tough and stuff, im sure since you both 're standing your not off too bad, but you are my responsibility until you decide t'part ways with us." Rust was already eyeing them for any obvious damage. 

The lights of the ship turned on as engines prepped. It seemed to distract Rust for just a moment or two "We will need to move eventually, before Moping? Gah what was the name of the commander for this sector? Whatever, before the commander sends in anyone else to investigate. Though im sure we have plenty of time." He returned his gaze to Sortie and Xenagogue.

[Corvid]

"Don't mention it," Xenagogue replied, turning away from Rust and plodding off, leaving the sound of loud, echoing stomps and bright, pink-stained footprints in his wake.

"He means it," Sortie assured Rust with a smirk, "He's not nearly as nice as he lets on."

She'd have looked offended at the mech's attempt to check on their condition. As genuine as he was, neither Sortie nor Xenagogue seemed to appreciate it. A nonchalant shrug her only answer, Sortie was already checking out of the conversation as she started the loot the Decepticon corpses. Picking at different armor plates, checking for functioning weapons and occasionally pocketing the odd gadget, she took her time with the morbid search.

[aphidly]

Rust rolled his optics at the two "Got it, should write down somewhere that you two are afraid of medics." though, Rust wasnt a medic, in fact last time he checked he wasnt even a rescue anymore. Prison time will do that to a mech he seemed to decide in his head. These two didnt seem to be much the chatty type, and one one hand, Rust was glad, but on the other hand, it was rather difficult to get a grasp on how dangerous these two were. No records that he had access to or could have Crimson hack into seemed to hold anything useful.

It was . . . Frustrating. . .

Even still, Rust looked over a Sortie and sighed "Didnt mean to be pushy or anythin' with askin you two why you're here or if your hurt, just want you to know." a small container was in Rust's hand all the sudden. He plopped onto the ground in front of one of the bodies he had just looted. "Just want to make sure Crimson is safe with you two on board, and even though I may not be some fancy certified medic, I was still built to be a rescue bot, its just second nature to fuss over others for me. Even at this point in my life." interesting, the plant life on this planet must have higher magnesium concentrations. Rust hadn't seen a plant that sparked as it burned until now, and he had visited plenty of planets with interesting fauna.

[Corvid]

"Still talking?" Xenagogue returned, his featureless face looking as impossible to read as ever. Though apparently not so pleased with all of the abundant conversation. "Hmmph. Soft," he snorted again.

"Rust says we'll need to move eventually," Sortie said to Xenagogue, concealing a piece of armor with a Decepticon insignia on it. "What do you think?"

"Sooner rather than later," he replied with a grunt. Staring blankly at Rust. The Decepticons knew their location, everyone knew as much. While he was just as satisfied fighting off Decepticons with Sortie, Crimson had changed their circumstances. No longer off of the Decepticons radar, able to move around freely- they had been marked. Sending a ship after Crimson said as much; no meeting that ended that way could have been favorable.

[aphidly]

Rust narrowed his optics and let another puff of smoke leave his frame as Xen addressed the conversation "Still moping?" he growled. The burning leaf in his hand was set down into the pool of energon surrounding the body he was next to. It caught flame. Rust stood and stowed away his fire kit. now just staring at the colorful flames.

The flier turned to look at his two guests a moment barely listening to the short conversation. Leaving would probably be a good idea, Rust turned back to the fire again. His burst of . . .anger? Whatever it was began to fade as he turned towards the ship now and began walking towards it. It took little time for him to reach his destination and board the ship, even less time after that to make it to the cockpit. "Destination?"

The dark red mech seated next to him in the pilot's seat didnt answer for a long time "Dont really care."

[Corvid]

Joining the pair aboard the Guardian. Before boarding, Sortie took several steps back, winding up. Then she began a short run. A hop, a skip, and a jump later (with the assistance of a slightly outstretched arm from her larger companion) and she was sitting on Xenagogue's shoulder. She was a little larger than looked convenient for even someone of Xenagogue's size to carry, but an arm wrapped partway around her lap ensured she'd stay in place well enough for her own comfort. Lumbering forward with thunderous foot steps, Xenagogue stomped out the fire Rust had started before stepping aboard the ship.

"I'm hoping somewhere tropical," Sortie commented upon entering the ship, bracing her forearms on the walls of the ship as Xenagogue searched for a seat. "I hate the cold. Doesn't agree with my frame."

"You can't feel the cold," Xenagogue observed very matter-of-factly. Sortie shrugged.

"It's the principle of the thing, you know? Like, what if I could feel the cold? I'm sure I'd hate the cold. At least, I'd like to think I would. ... No, I'm definitely sure, I'd hate the cold. What about you?"

"..."

Seemingly forgetting she'd even asked, perfectly content to ignore Xenagogue's silence, she shouted up to the cockpit.

"Hey, can we go someplace warm!?" The distance between her seat and the cockpit didn't warrant shouting, but Sortie apparently hadn't made that connection, because she had always shouted to the cockpit from the back anyway. It had been like this the whole trip. At least their temporary camp on Alchora had afforded Crimson and Rust a break from the exhaustive company of Sortie during a road trip, but soon they'd be reminded what it was like and they'd be begging to make landing somewhere.

[aphidly]

If Rust had seen the lumbering giant stomp out his fire, he would have been offended, but since he didn't the rescue bot went blissfully unaware. Instead he started take off prep and closed the ship's entrance once he was sure their current companions were boarded, which was easy as Sortie immediately began to yell again. Rust opened a map and looked over his safe havens and hideouts, at first he was looking for somewhere warm, until Sortie decided to shout.

"Swear to Primus, gonna fin' somewhere colder than Alchora if you keep yellin', Sortie." He had turned in his seat to look back past the entrance of the cockpit.

Crimson was still silent. He resisted the urge to pick up the nearest object and chuck it back towards the occupants of the main cabin. Instead he started the engines, waiting for them to warm up. "Be right back." he quietly told Rust before leaving the cockpit to find a cube. He returned shortly after and sat down again just in time for the 'ready for take off' light to blink on.

"You know the drill, dont wander until we make it into space, this junky clunker isn-" Rust's voice is cut off by what sounds like a rough shove that possibly forced the seeker out of his seat based on the crashing noise "Fine, jeez, dont know why you like this ship so much I have like five others you could chose from, Crim. The Guardian still has trouble breaking orbit." there was a quiet pause before a soft "Because it is a piece of garbage in the shape of a ship." another crash sounded, and moments later Rust was kicked out of the cockpit. He took a seat on the opposite side of the cabin from Xen and Sortie.

[Corvid]

Never a more perfect imitation of a statue, Xenagogue stared at the wall of the ship.

Sortie yammered on.
“What!?” she shouted. “A little louder! The engines- they’re too loud!” (They weren’t.) “I can’t hear y-” (She could hear him just fine.) When Rust went to the back of the ship, she stopped yelling and lowered her voice to only slightly above suitable volume. Her norm.

“Big guy kick you out? It’s alright, I think you’re right. It is a bit of a clunker.” (Forgetting her halfhearted ruse that she couldn’t hear over the engines.) “Though I think with some sprucing up, it might be a nice place. Some highlights, maybe a bit of a brighter color scheme- ooh, you think we could match the colors to Alchora?”

In eerie silence, Xenagogue slowly turned his head. Looking toward Rust, and then once his eyes fell on him, staring more through the bot than at him. Rust didn’t normally sit in the back. Now, the dead eyed stare would make sure he never wanted to again.

[aphidly]

As the ship began to take off Rust simply rested his head in the palm of his hand "Dont let Crimson catch you agreein' with me on that, im not sure if he would be angered to the point of violence or tears," he paused thinking about it "Probably tears." to be fair though, it was probably for the best. "Im sure Crimson would take any color suggestions rather gladly. He's been wantin' to repaint the hull of The Guardian for some time now. Well, actually as long as I can remember."

Rust grew quiet again as the ship continued to climb. Rust found his gaze traveling to Xenagogue, at first he was about to comment on the glare until he noticed, or at least thought he noticed, the distance in it. Only because of his experience with Crimson's often distant spaced out looks. He wanted to ask if the mech was feeling okay, but so far the pair hadnt seemed very fond of his concern, so for now he left it.

The ship continued to grow more ungraceful in its climb, to the point Rust actually almost looked concerned. Rust turned to ask Crimson if everything was okay with the ship when suddenly the violent shaking and struggling sounds the ship was making ceased and they exited orbit.

[Corvid]

Sortie was futzing about in the back, fighting against the pull of gravity for as long as possible before it finally became too much, and she settled into a seat until they could break atmosphere. She folded her arms crossly, seeming displeased at her restricted movement.

"Pink, pink's good. Ooh, or-" she talked over Rust, continuing on her tangent before hearing the revelation that Crimson had wanted to pain the ship for some time. The wind seemed to have been taken out of her sails when she learned that a redecorating would be not only accepted, but welcome. She moved on to the next thing that popped in her head.

"So you guys know that ~we~ don't have a destination, but what exactly is yours? You never said where you were heading, or why. Come to think of it, we haven't really been going anywhere lately."

[aphidly]

Rust had been only half listening to Sortie, but once the sound of turbulence faded it was rather hard to block out the sound of her voice. Rust's gaze slowly moved back to her, and by the time it did she was asking about their destination. He shrugged "I am just following Crim for the time, I think he needs a break after the stress of me trying to throw the last sector we were in, the one we picked you two up from, into chaos." Rust still hadnt answered the question really, he seemed to realize it though, "I assume that we are heading the safehouse we moved the neutrals to temporarily. Gather supplies and ask about bounties," he pauses, "Not sure that there are even any other places to head off to."

Crimson enters the main cabin, there were a few hours of clear flight that autopilot could take care of until they neared their destination and Crimson would have to take over again. He looked around remembering that everyone was still there and shuffled to the corner closest to the cockpit and furthest from everyone else.