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xTailgate wrote:Tailgate

Allegiance: Autobot
Function: Scout
Alternate Modes: Sports Car (White)
Weapons: Laser Pistol
Height: 15 ft / 4.6m
Quote: “Let my fellow mechanical beings go!”


Strength: 5
Intelligence: 5
Dexterity: 8
Speed: 6
Endurance: 6
Courage: 7
Firepower: 2
Accuracy: 7
Melee: 8
Tech Skill: 7
Charisma: 8
Rank: 6

Profile:

Tailgate is famous-and perhaps infamous-for his tireless dedication to and championing for the rights of his fellow beings. Optimus Prime's deeply held belief that freedom is the right of all sentient beings struck a profound chord with Tailgate, who took up arms alongside the Autobot army as a result of it. However, the vorns of viewing Decepticon atrocities have taken a toll on Tailgate's perceptions. He's now so sensitive to the plight of beings across the galaxy that he makes no distinction between sentient and non-sentient creations. When Blaster started showing the Autobots Earth TV transmissions, Tailgate was horrified by the wanton destruction of machinery there. No amount of explaining has thus far managed to convince Tailgate that Earth's machines aren't sentient like Transformers and other mechanical beings. Until he realizes otherwise, Earth's cars and appliances have a well-meaning but severely misguided champion in Tailgate.

Abilities:

In car mode, Tailgate can go as fast as 180 mph under his own power with a range of 600 miles. But a powerful ferrocobalt magnet under his hood allows him to be pulled by and within a few feet of any vehicle he chooses to follow, reducing his own fuel expenditure to nearly zero. His range has virtually no limit when he travels like this.

Weaknesses:

Tailgate is prone to overheating, particularly when he's all worked up over some imagined injustice done to a machine.

Sample Post:

"We'll find you a good home, promise."

It had been a long day for Tailgate. The day started explosively with Tailgate liberating a poor toaster from the abusive hands of an elderly woman who beat the poor being mercilessly for burning toast (She was rather insane expecting him to withhold his full power). Once freed, Tailgate promised his full efforts to find the poor being a new, non-abusive home; his success could not compare to his drive, as the toaster refused to respond to Tailgate's proposals nor reveal his robot form. It would take more than another stubborn Earth device to drop Tailgate's Morale.

"What about this place?" Tailgate and the toaster were perusing the local junkyard when they came across an area teeming with earth-deemed "place to cook food appliances": ovens, stoves and-"Look, fellow toasters! Maybe with their help, you can forget about that abusive madam." He waited for a response, slightly disheartened when the toaster failed to provide one. "Well I'm not going to put you in another bad situation, just don't be afraid to tell me what you want."

The day was beginning to dwindle to a close, Tailgate fearing the worst for his toaster ally. "Will you think less of me i-Woah!" Unaware of the oil slick in his path Tailgate slipped, falling to the gound and losing possession of the toaster. The mute being slid several yards from Tailgate's grasp, bringing a small sense of panic to the protective Autobot. "So sorry, I'll come get yo-" He stopped vocalizing when he noticed a human appeared, oblivious to everything in his surroundings except for the toaster that appeared to materialize in his presence. "Aww shucks, I've been looking for a new friend" the human exclaimed in glee, then lovingly embraced the device while skipping into the sunset. "Steve, we're going to be best buds! We can paint and shoot and shoot paint an..." Tailgate witnessed the jovial human proclaim to the toaster, satisfied with the outcome.

"I think you'll be happy with him....Steve."

Very nice first-time app. Good sample. Approved. You can post his profile in the canon Autobots section, make an entry in the roll call thread and go get started with him. Enjoy

Thundercracker

Allegiance: Decepticon 
Sub-group: None 
Function: Warrior 
Alternate Modes: F-22 Raptor  
Weapons: Shoulder-Mounted Incendiary Gun 
Special Abilities: Ability to produce deafening sonic booms which can be heard for up to 200 miles.
Height: 31ft/ 9.44m
Quote: “The deadliest weapon is terror.”


Strength: 7
Intelligence:  4
Dexterity: 6
Speed: 8
Endurance: 7
Courage: 8
Firepower: 7
Accuracy:  7
Melee: 6
Tech Skill: 5
Charisma: 5
Rank: 5

Profile: Soaring swiftly through the clouds, Thundercracker gazes with scorn on the creatures below. He is utterly contemptuous of anything that cannot lift itself off the ground and claim the sky. Occasionally, he expresses that contempt by diving and striking, leaving flame and destruction as he again speeds upward. Yet he is not totally convinced of the cause that he serves. Only the words of his Decepticon companions about the rightness of their cause, the destiny of conquest that is their birthright, convince him to go on. He is persuaded because he wants to be persuaded. Without a sense of purpose, Thundercracker would find his life unbearable. 

Abilities: Like his fellow Decepticon jet fighters, Thundercracker can attain speeds of up to 1500 mph. He has the additional ability to produce controlled sonic booms of deafening magnitude that can be heard within a 200-mile radius. He can launch a drone rocket with a range of 500 miles that behaves similarly to a cruise missile and has the concussive force of 3000 lbs. of TNT. He has a shoulder-mounted automatic incendiary gun that shoots at 100 rounds per minute heat-resistant ceramic bullets containing a highly explosive flammable material that ignites on impact. 

Weaknesses: Lingering doubts in Thundercracker's subconscious sometimes surface and impede his effectiveness, particularly when innocent human lives are endangered. Usually his fear of Decepticon Leader Megatron compels him to overlook these doubts.

Sample Post:
Orem, Utah, USA

The wind blew harshly over the mountain range that looked over the town of Orem, Utah. The wind was so fierce that it caused the many trees that lined the mountain range to lean over, almost yielding to the might of mother nature. Leaves flew from the branches, and off the ground, along with stray rocks and dirt, all of which were picked up by the wind as if they were being discarded into a garbage can like a used tissue.

However, there was currently something on the mountain that the wind was unable to move- or rather, someone. Standing over 30 feet tall, the towering form of the Decepticon, Thundercracker was without a doubt the most impressive sight on the mountain range. Fortunately, for the sake of his mission though, the Decepticon was on the tallest part of the mountain range, making him practically invisible to the inhabitants of the nearby town of Orem, Utah.

The howling wind blew against Thundercracker, which caused his audio receptors to emit slight feedback inside of his head, due to the force of the wind. His white face contorted to a look of irritation- he hated the planet Earth, and the elements that came with it. The wind, being a current example, blew so harshly that it interfered with his sense of hearing. The dirt and sand tossed around by said wind dirtied his royal blue finish and wriggled its way into his joints so that it ground against his gears. To Thundercracker, there were no redeeming qualities to the Earth, a planet which he once described to Skywarp as being “so flat.”

The whole experience was currently making Thundercracker very irritable- but what perhaps didn't help his mood was the fact that he had no choice but to stand on the mountain and wait for a signal. Currently, the Decepticons needed fresh stocks of raw building materials, as well as energon. Rather than attack each place one at a time, it was decided that a facility containing what the Decepticons needed would be attacked by a Decepticon, all at the same time. It was actually a clever plan, because at least then, the Autobots would be bombarded with so many S.O.S. calls from the places under attack that they (hopefully) would become overwhelmed by the anarchy.

Unfortunately for Thundercracker, though, having to wait meant Thundercracker had time to think. He hated having the time to think, because that's when his mind would have time to voice his most inner thoughts...

I can't believe I signed up for this...Just so I could have dirt thrown against me, and fight on a planet I don't even care about(!)

Thundercracker tried to push his inner nagging voice aside, since it wouldn't help the situation at all. Unfortunately though, his inner nagging voice was feeling particularly vocal today...

So, is this it? When I signed up to be a Decepticon, I did it because I believed that Megatron's way was the right way. If it was up to the Autobots, we'd have simply existed on Cybertron, and done nothing with our lives- new frontiers that were just aching to be explored and conquered would have remained unknown to us. But then again, at least if the Autobots had their way, I could at least be passing time on Cybertron, instead of getting sand in my gears on this lowly planet. I have pledged and risked my life these past few years for the domination of a planet that I can't even stand!

Thundercracker had always seen the point of fighting for Cybertron. After all, it was the Transformers' home world. What was Earth? Nothing but a little mud covered pebble in the vastness of space. Its only redeeming feature to the Decepticon empire was its bountiful resources that Megatron believed were too good to pass up. While Thundercracker understood that they, and their home planet needed new sources of energon to survive, he felt the Decepticon cause had become too focused on wasting the precious materials and energy that the Earth gave. After all, all the energon and steel was going to be used for in this instance would be to create a new weapon that could hopefully just destroy the opposing Autobots on Earth.

If I had it my way, we'd just push the Autobots out of the way, take what we needed, then head home. Thundercracker thought again. Instead, I find myself having to stay stranded on this planet because Megatron wants to get one over on Optimus Prime. I thought he had greater ideals for the Decepticon race than this. But these days, it seems all the Decepticons are for...

Thundercracker's already twisted face intensified as he became angrier- this time with himself, and the thoughts that kept bombarding him.

“Stop it!” Thundercracker growled to himself. “You needed a purpose to make your life meaningful, so you've got one! Just do your job and wait for the signal. What's the other option? Resign? Then what do I do with my life? As a Decepticon, I can conquer all- the ground my inferiors walk on, and the skies- my domain, that all the land dwellers wish they could call their own. The Decepticon cause might not look so great now, but at least someday, I will return home a conqueror.”

Beep, beep!

An electronic bleep emitted in his head, signaling that all Decepticon units were to scramble and attack their assigned locations. The bleep also signaled the end of another round of Thundercracker's endless struggle against his inner most doubts. Today, as Thundercracker's gaze of contempt focused down towards the steel mill at the bottom of the mountain, he had been able to tame his emotions. Bending at the knees slightly, he then used the power in his legs to leap off the ground he had stood upon. Quickly, his body began to twist and contort while gears clicked and pistons hissed as his body began an incredible series of movements that transformed Thundercracker from the robotic warrior he had been, now into the fearsome form of the F-22 Raptor- the conqueror of the Earth's skies... something that Thundercracker couldn't help but feel to be a fitting form.

BOOM!

His thrusters activated, billowing fire like a mechanical hydra, propelling the blue jet away from the mountain. The jet moved at such a speed that it broke the sound barrier of the Earth, causing an ear splitting crash to echo over the town of Orem, Utah, and ultimately the steel mill far below. The sonic boom was a chilling signal of things to come...

Marty Rocket wrote:Thundercracker

Allegiance: Decepticon 
Sub-group: None 
Function: Warrior 
Alternate Modes: F-22 Raptor  
Weapons: Shoulder-Mounted Incendiary Gun 
Special Abilities: Ability to produce deafening sonic booms which can be heard for up to 200 miles.
Height: 31ft/ 9.44m
Quote: “The deadliest weapon is terror.”


Strength: 7
Intelligence:  4
Dexterity: 6
Speed: 8
Endurance: 7
Courage: 8
Firepower: 7
Accuracy:  7
Melee: 6
Tech Skill: 5
Charisma: 5
Rank: 5

Profile: Soaring swiftly through the clouds, Thundercracker gazes with scorn on the creatures below. He is utterly contemptuous of anything that cannot lift itself off the ground and claim the sky. Occasionally, he expresses that contempt by diving and striking, leaving flame and destruction as he again speeds upward. Yet he is not totally convinced of the cause that he serves. Only the words of his Decepticon companions about the rightness of their cause, the destiny of conquest that is their birthright, convince him to go on. He is persuaded because he wants to be persuaded. Without a sense of purpose, Thundercracker would find his life unbearable. 

Abilities: Like his fellow Decepticon jet fighters, Thundercracker can attain speeds of up to 1500 mph. He has the additional ability to produce controlled sonic booms of deafening magnitude that can be heard within a 200-mile radius. He can launch a drone rocket with a range of 500 miles that behaves similarly to a cruise missile and has the concussive force of 3000 lbs. of TNT. He has a shoulder-mounted automatic incendiary gun that shoots at 100 rounds per minute heat-resistant ceramic bullets containing a highly explosive flammable material that ignites on impact. 

Weaknesses: Lingering doubts in Thundercracker's subconscious sometimes surface and impede his effectiveness, particularly when innocent human lives are endangered. Usually his fear of Decepticon Leader Megatron compels him to overlook these doubts.

Sample Post:
Orem, Utah, USA

The wind blew harshly over the mountain range that looked over the town of Orem, Utah. The wind was so fierce that it caused the many trees that lined the mountain range to lean over, almost yielding to the might of mother nature. Leaves flew from the branches, and off the ground, along with stray rocks and dirt, all of which were picked up by the wind as if they were being discarded into a garbage can like a used tissue.

However, there was currently something on the mountain that the wind was unable to move- or rather, someone. Standing over 30 feet tall, the towering form of the Decepticon, Thundercracker was without a doubt the most impressive sight on the mountain range. Fortunately, for the sake of his mission though, the Decepticon was on the tallest part of the mountain range, making him practically invisible to the inhabitants of the nearby town of Orem, Utah.

The howling wind blew against Thundercracker, which caused his audio receptors to emit slight feedback inside of his head, due to the force of the wind. His white face contorted to a look of irritation- he hated the planet Earth, and the elements that came with it. The wind, being a current example, blew so harshly that it interfered with his sense of hearing. The dirt and sand tossed around by said wind dirtied his royal blue finish and wriggled its way into his joints so that it ground against his gears. To Thundercracker, there were no redeeming qualities to the Earth, a planet which he once described to Skywarp as being “so flat.”

The whole experience was currently making Thundercracker very irritable- but what perhaps didn't help his mood was the fact that he had no choice but to stand on the mountain and wait for a signal. Currently, the Decepticons needed fresh stocks of raw building materials, as well as energon. Rather than attack each place one at a time, it was decided that a facility containing what the Decepticons needed would be attacked by a Decepticon, all at the same time. It was actually a clever plan, because at least then, the Autobots would be bombarded with so many S.O.S. calls from the places under attack that they (hopefully) would become overwhelmed by the anarchy.

Unfortunately for Thundercracker, though, having to wait meant Thundercracker had time to think. He hated having the time to think, because that's when his mind would have time to voice his most inner thoughts...

I can't believe I signed up for this...Just so I could have dirt thrown against me, and fight on a planet I don't even care about(!)

Thundercracker tried to push his inner nagging voice aside, since it wouldn't help the situation at all. Unfortunately though, his inner nagging voice was feeling particularly vocal today...

So, is this it? When I signed up to be a Decepticon, I did it because I believed that Megatron's way was the right way. If it was up to the Autobots, we'd have simply existed on Cybertron, and done nothing with our lives- new frontiers that were just aching to be explored and conquered would have remained unknown to us. But then again, at least if the Autobots had their way, I could at least be passing time on Cybertron, instead of getting sand in my gears on this lowly planet. I have pledged and risked my life these past few years for the domination of a planet that I can't even stand!

Thundercracker had always seen the point of fighting for Cybertron. After all, it was the Transformers' home world. What was Earth? Nothing but a little mud covered pebble in the vastness of space. Its only redeeming feature to the Decepticon empire was its bountiful resources that Megatron believed were too good to pass up. While Thundercracker understood that they, and their home planet needed new sources of energon to survive, he felt the Decepticon cause had become too focused on wasting the precious materials and energy that the Earth gave. After all, all the energon and steel was going to be used for in this instance would be to create a new weapon that could hopefully just destroy the opposing Autobots on Earth.

If I had it my way, we'd just push the Autobots out of the way, take what we needed, then head home. Thundercracker thought again. Instead, I find myself having to stay stranded on this planet because Megatron wants to get one over on Optimus Prime. I thought he had greater ideals for the Decepticon race than this. But these days, it seems all the Decepticons are for...

Thundercracker's already twisted face intensified as he became angrier- this time with himself, and the thoughts that kept bombarding him.

“Stop it!” Thundercracker growled to himself. “You needed a purpose to make your life meaningful, so you've got one! Just do your job and wait for the signal. What's the other option? Resign? Then what do I do with my life? As a Decepticon, I can conquer all- the ground my inferiors walk on, and the skies- my domain, that all the land dwellers wish they could call their own. The Decepticon cause might not look so great now, but at least someday, I will return home a conqueror.”

Beep, beep!

An electronic bleep emitted in his head, signaling that all Decepticon units were to scramble and attack their assigned locations. The bleep also signaled the end of another round of Thundercracker's endless struggle against his inner most doubts. Today, as Thundercracker's gaze of contempt focused down towards the steel mill at the bottom of the mountain, he had been able to tame his emotions. Bending at the knees slightly, he then used the power in his legs to leap off the ground he had stood upon. Quickly, his body began to twist and contort while gears clicked and pistons hissed as his body began an incredible series of movements that transformed Thundercracker from the robotic warrior he had been, now into the fearsome form of the F-22 Raptor- the conqueror of the Earth's skies... something that Thundercracker couldn't help but feel to be a fitting form.

BOOM!

His thrusters activated, billowing fire like a mechanical hydra, propelling the blue jet away from the mountain. The jet moved at such a speed that it broke the sound barrier of the Earth, causing an ear splitting crash to echo over the town of Orem, Utah, and ultimately the steel mill far below. The sonic boom was a chilling signal of things to come...

Hmm...gonna say this is a very solid Thundercracker app. So, yeah, all right then, approved. Nothing to edit. You can make an entry for yourself in the roll call thread and then dive in. Thundercracker was last seen in the Sea of Change thread, but I would have him bounce up to the Thanatos thread soon (or just start him off there and cover his bouncing in some narrative) in order to get him involved in the goings-on. Or he can hitch a ride with the Combaticons, who will be headed that way soon. Most of his other fellow Seekers are up there. Or he can just hang out with the 'Cons that are in Sea of Change. Up to you.

Welcome aboard and have fun!

Thought I'd grab this guy to do a little NPCing.

Name: Nautilator
Allegiance: Decepticons
Function: Underwater Excavations
Alt. Mode: Amphibious Clawed Beast
Weapons: Triple crusher cannon
Height: 26 ft / 7.93 m
Quote: “Blame someone else before they blame you.”

Strength: 7
Intelligence: 4
Dexterity: 3 in water, 5 as robot, 3 as a crab on land
Speed: 3
Endurance: 8
Courage: 6
Firepower: 7
Accuracy: 5
Melee: 6
Tech. Skill: 5
Charisma: 3
Rank: 5

Profile: Despite his fierce appearance and formidable weaponry, Nautilator is actually a stumbling, bumbling amphibious foul-up. Originally a land-based warrior, he underwent adaptive reconstructive surgery for oceanic combat on Cybertron without ever being tested to see if he had an aptitude for the undersea environment. Once he joined the Seacons, it became apparent to everyone that he liked that environment--he just wasn't very capable within it. His fellow Seacons have had to haul his chassis out of tidal undertows more times than they care to admit. Some of them secretly whisper, "Let him drown," whenever he calls them for help nowadays. They're also fed up with having to retrieve him--almost every time he goes on one of his underwater exploratory excavation missions, he usually gets lost. And to make relations with his comrades even worse, he's always-quick to blame them for his mistakes. But there are very good reasons why the Seacons usually come to Nautilator's aid, as Snaptrap explains, "if he didn't bring back an occasional lost bomb from the ocean bottom, we'd have left him down there to rust a long time ago."

Abilities: In creature mode, Nautilator uses chemical, thermal, electrical, magnetic, seismic and sonic sensors located in his legs and tail to search for and detect underwater fuel deposits and other materials useful to the Decepticon cause. His claws have an unbreakable grip and can pierce the thickest of ship hulls with minimal effort. He wields a triple crusher cannon, a weapon that shoots energon bands that encircle and trap their target, tightening around it until only rubble remains. He can mount the cannon on his mouth, convert to weapons mode and use it in a stationary position, or use it on land in robot mode. In weapons mode, he can also convert it to a torpedo cannon.

Weaknesses: Nautilator suffers from a defective gyroscopic circuit center, which accounts for his poor navigational skills. He also rusts relatively easily, and can stay underwater for no longer than 4 hours without suffering damage.

Blades wrote:Thought I'd grab this guy to do a little NPCing.

Name: Nautilator
Allegiance: Decepticons
Function: Underwater Excavations
Alt. Mode: Amphibious Clawed Beast
Weapons: Triple crusher cannon
Height: 26 ft / 7.93 m
Quote: “Blame someone else before they blame you.”

Strength: 7
Intelligence: 4
Dexterity: 3 in water, 5 as robot, 3 as a crab on land
Speed: 3
Endurance: 8
Courage: 6
Firepower: 7
Accuracy: 5
Melee: 6
Tech. Skill: 5
Charisma: 3
Rank: 5

Profile: Despite his fierce appearance and formidable weaponry, Nautilator is actually a stumbling, bumbling amphibious foul-up. Originally a land-based warrior, he underwent adaptive reconstructive surgery for oceanic combat on Cybertron without ever being tested to see if he had an aptitude for the undersea environment. Once he joined the Seacons, it became apparent to everyone that he liked that environment--he just wasn't very capable within it. His fellow Seacons have had to haul his chassis out of tidal undertows more times than they care to admit. Some of them secretly whisper, "Let him drown," whenever he calls them for help nowadays. They're also fed up with having to retrieve him--almost every time he goes on one of his underwater exploratory excavation missions, he usually gets lost. And to make relations with his comrades even worse, he's always-quick to blame them for his mistakes. But there are very good reasons why the Seacons usually come to Nautilator's aid, as Snaptrap explains, "if he didn't bring back an occasional lost bomb from the ocean bottom, we'd have left him down there to rust a long time ago."

Abilities: In creature mode, Nautilator uses chemical, thermal, electrical, magnetic, seismic and sonic sensors located in his legs and tail to search for and detect underwater fuel deposits and other materials useful to the Decepticon cause. His claws have an unbreakable grip and can pierce the thickest of ship hulls with minimal effort. He wields a triple crusher cannon, a weapon that shoots energon bands that encircle and trap their target, tightening around it until only rubble remains. He can mount the cannon on his mouth, convert to weapons mode and use it in a stationary position, or use it on land in robot mode. In weapons mode, he can also convert it to a torpedo cannon.

Weaknesses: Nautilator suffers from a defective gyroscopic circuit center, which accounts for his poor navigational skills. He also rusts relatively easily, and can stay underwater for no longer than 4 hours without suffering damage.

NPC away.

After much intense deliberation, I've decided to try out this ole girl.

Arcee

Allegiance: Autobot
Function: Warrior
Alt. mode: A Pink and White, Open Top, C4 Corvette Convertible.
Weapons: Electrical Disperser Rifle, Electro Sabre.
Height: 28ft / 8.54m
Quote: “Looks are always deceiving.“

Strength: 6
Intelligence: 8
Dexterity: 8
Speed: 8
Endurance: 5
Courage: 8
Firepower: 6
Accuracy: 8
Melee: 9
Tech Skill: 6
Charisma: 7
Rank: 6

Profile: Arcee is a Fembot of contradictions. Whilst kind, loyal and entirely dedicated to the well being of her friends she is also utterly merciless and entirely ruthless towards her enemies, the Decepticons. The shift in personality is seamless and, during the course of battle, can and will switch between one and the other without warning.

As an Autobot, you could not ask for a better and more trustworthy friend, as a Decepticon, at least you can be thankful for a swift death. She is not inherently malicious, nor violent, in nature, and would in fact be thankful if war ended tomorrow, but so long as the Decepticons remain hell bent of distributing their brand of genocide, Arcee is all to willing to return the favour.

During times of peace Arcee is often a morale officer within the Autobot ranks, helping those around her cope with the trials of a war torn world. Whilst understanding and often willing to listen Arcee is also extremely opinionated and isn’t afraid to state what she believes in, always offering reasons to back it up.

In the past Arcee, due to her more delicate frame in comparison to her male based counterparts, has often been underestimated and her value to the war effort easily dismissed. It is these perceptions she has, in recent years, cast off through example, and now, she never intends for her efforts to be so easily dismissed again.

Not by her colleagues and most certainly not by the Decepticons.


Abilities: Through first hand experince on the battlefield, and driven by a desire too prove herself too her larger fellow Autobots, Arcee has rounded out into an versitile Warrior. As both an accomplished Marksmen, and skilled in close combat, Arcee has forged herself into a valueble asset in any conflict.

Arcees armour is relatively light, even in comparison to the average Autobot. In trade she is exceptionally agile, enabling her avoid enemy firepower rather than absorb it. She considers this a satisfactory state of affairs; after all, it is far better than to not get shot in the first place.

As a Light Speeder Arcee can reach speeds of up too 290 MPH.

In terms of weaponry Arcee is armed with a Rifle that discharges and focused electrical bolt of energy with pin point accuracy. Also in her inventory she carries a finely crafted sabre. Whilst obviously acting as a bladed weapon the Sabre also carries an electrical charge of its own, allowing an additional extra punch against opponents with thicker armour.

Human Avatar: A young woman in her early twenties, with her blonde hair tied back in a pony tail. Her usual attire consists of a pink t-shirt, along with a denim jacket and jeans.

Weaknesses: Arcee‘s frame is relatively fragile and, if caught in a crossfire can not, and will not, sustain much damage.

Sample Post:

Cybertron - Iacon

The distant rat-tat-tat-tat of gunfire echoed in the air, rattling off of the sides of the abandoned building that lined the roadway. The answering volley of gunfire was not far behind its predecessor. Used to be, these streets would be packed with Cybertronians going about their daily business. Arcee cast her optics up to one of the many billboards perched atop the many buildings. Some form of propaganda was plastered on it, faded and peppered with bullet holes. A decepticon insignia was just barely discernable.

Arcee drew out her electrical dispenser rifle and fired. Spiteful though it may be, she detested the Decepticons and the war that they'd brought with them. She put the shot dead-center between the insignia's optics. The pink warrior felt some small amount of satisfaction, petty though it was. Arcee transformed and continued on her way, heading toward the origin of the distant gunfire.

-----

The field of battle was in utter chaos. The skirmish was steadily building in a violent cresendo until it achieved fever pitch. Ramping off of a section of collapsed roadway, Arcee soared into the air above the battles, transforming into robot mode as she drew out her electro sabre. A devilish grin spread over her faceplate. transfiguring her gentle, kind visage into some hellish fiend.

"Reinforcements have arrived!" Arcee cheered as she landed atop one of the decepticons, driving her sabre down into the cavity between the armor plating and the spinal column.

Cleaving open the unfortunate Decepticon's back and unleashing a deluge of energon, Arcee touched down and began hacking at the nearby Decepticons with intricate and savage arcs, parrying and evading when necessary. She gradually fell back to the Autobot defensive line - or what half-way resembled one - and fought alongside the few still maintaining it. One of the Decepticons broke through and charged at the line, swinging his mace wildly. It crunched with a sickening thud into an adjacent Autobot's shoulder. Arcee snarled with anger and attacked while the Decepticon was busying himself wrenching his mace out of her comrade's shoulder. She leveled her electrical dispenser rifle at the Decepticon's head and pulled the trigger, hitting her mark easily at point-blank range.

The Decepticon crumpled. That was all Arcee registered as she rushed to her wounded comrade's side and caught him as he fell down on one knee, clutching at his crushed limb. Arcee slung his still functioning arm around her shoulders and slowly helped him away from the fray, supporting his weight as best she could.

Carefully, Arcee gently lowered the wounded soldier to the ground. The pink warrior took his hand and offered him a kind, reassuring smile.

"Don't worry. You're going to be just fine."

Looking up, Arcee cast her optics about for anyone slightly resembling a medic.

"I've got wounded! I need a medic over here!"

It wasn't long before someone came to tend to the injured warrior. Arcee lingered a moment more, making sure that her comrade was tended to before turning to face the battle once more.

Unforgivable.

Arcee dashed back into the fray.

Absolutely unforgivable.

Foxfire13795 wrote:After much intense deliberation, I've decided to try out this ole girl.

Arcee

Allegiance: Autobot
Function: Warrior
Alt. mode: A Pink and White, Open Top, C4 Corvette Convertible.
Weapons: Electrical Disperser Rifle, Electro Sabre.
Height: 28ft / 8.54m
Quote: “Looks are always deceiving.“

Strength: 6
Intelligence: 8
Dexterity: 8
Speed: 8
Endurance: 5
Courage: 8
Firepower: 6
Accuracy: 8
Melee: 9
Tech Skill: 6
Charisma: 7
Rank: 6

Profile: Arcee is a Fembot of contradictions. Whilst kind, loyal and entirely dedicated to the well being of her friends she is also utterly merciless and entirely ruthless towards her enemies, the Decepticons. The shift in personality is seamless and, during the course of battle, can and will switch between one and the other without warning.

As an Autobot, you could not ask for a better and more trustworthy friend, as a Decepticon, at least you can be thankful for a swift death. She is not inherently malicious, nor violent, in nature, and would in fact be thankful if war ended tomorrow, but so long as the Decepticons remain hell bent of distributing their brand of genocide, Arcee is all to willing to return the favour.

During times of peace Arcee is often a morale officer within the Autobot ranks, helping those around her cope with the trials of a war torn world. Whilst understanding and often willing to listen Arcee is also extremely opinionated and isn’t afraid to state what she believes in, always offering reasons to back it up.

In the past Arcee, due to her more delicate frame in comparison to her male based counterparts, has often been underestimated and her value to the war effort easily dismissed. It is these perceptions she has, in recent years, cast off through example, and now, she never intends for her efforts to be so easily dismissed again.

Not by her colleagues and most certainly not by the Decepticons.


Abilities: Through first hand experince on the battlefield, and driven by a desire too prove herself too her larger fellow Autobots, Arcee has rounded out into an versitile Warrior. As both an accomplished Marksmen, and skilled in close combat, Arcee has forged herself into a valueble asset in any conflict.

Arcees armour is relatively light, even in comparison to the average Autobot. In trade she is exceptionally agile, enabling her avoid enemy firepower rather than absorb it. She considers this a satisfactory state of affairs; after all, it is far better than to not get shot in the first place.

As a Light Speeder Arcee can reach speeds of up too 290 MPH.

In terms of weaponry Arcee is armed with a Rifle that discharges and focused electrical bolt of energy with pin point accuracy. Also in her inventory she carries a finely crafted sabre. Whilst obviously acting as a bladed weapon the Sabre also carries an electrical charge of its own, allowing an additional extra punch against opponents with thicker armour.

Human Avatar: A young woman in her early twenties, with her blonde hair tied back in a pony tail. Her usual attire consists of a pink t-shirt, along with a denim jacket and jeans.

Weaknesses: Arcee‘s frame is relatively fragile and, if caught in a crossfire can not, and will not, sustain much damage.

Sample Post:

Cybertron - Iacon

The distant rat-tat-tat-tat of gunfire echoed in the air, rattling off of the sides of the abandoned building that lined the roadway. The answering volley of gunfire was not far behind its predecessor. Used to be, these streets would be packed with Cybertronians going about their daily business. Arcee cast her optics up to one of the many billboards perched atop the many buildings. Some form of propaganda was plastered on it, faded and peppered with bullet holes. A decepticon insignia was just barely discernable.

Arcee drew out her electrical dispenser rifle and fired. Spiteful though it may be, she detested the Decepticons and the war that they'd brought with them. She put the shot dead-center between the insignia's optics. The pink warrior felt some small amount of satisfaction, petty though it was. Arcee transformed and continued on her way, heading toward the origin of the distant gunfire.

-----

The field of battle was in utter chaos. The skirmish was steadily building in a violent cresendo until it achieved fever pitch. Ramping off of a section of collapsed roadway, Arcee soared into the air above the battles, transforming into robot mode as she drew out her electro sabre. A devilish grin spread over her faceplate. transfiguring her gentle, kind visage into some hellish fiend.

"Reinforcements have arrived!" Arcee cheered as she landed atop one of the decepticons, driving her sabre down into the cavity between the armor plating and the spinal column.

Cleaving open the unfortunate Decepticon's back and unleashing a deluge of energon, Arcee touched down and began hacking at the nearby Decepticons with intricate and savage arcs, parrying and evading when necessary. She gradually fell back to the Autobot defensive line - or what half-way resembled one - and fought alongside the few still maintaining it. One of the Decepticons broke through and charged at the line, swinging his mace wildly. It crunched with a sickening thud into an adjacent Autobot's shoulder. Arcee snarled with anger and attacked while the Decepticon was busying himself wrenching his mace out of her comrade's shoulder. She leveled her electrical dispenser rifle at the Decepticon's head and pulled the trigger, hitting her mark easily at point-blank range.

The Decepticon crumpled. That was all Arcee registered as she rushed to her wounded comrade's side and caught him as he fell down on one knee, clutching at his crushed limb. Arcee slung his still functioning arm around her shoulders and slowly helped him away from the fray, supporting his weight as best she could.

Carefully, Arcee gently lowered the wounded soldier to the ground. The pink warrior took his hand and offered him a kind, reassuring smile.

"Don't worry. You're going to be just fine."

Looking up, Arcee cast her optics about for anyone slightly resembling a medic.

"I've got wounded! I need a medic over here!"

It wasn't long before someone came to tend to the injured warrior. Arcee lingered a moment more, making sure that her comrade was tended to before turning to face the battle once more.

Unforgivable.

Arcee dashed back into the fray.

Absolutely unforgivable.

Eh, you didn't even need the sample. She's yours! Have fun with her. I believe she was last seen on the 22.

Name: Stingray
Allegiance: Decepticon (albeit with severely shaken loyalties)
Function: Aerospace fighter
Alt. mode: Fighter jet
Weapons: Arm-mounted photon blasters
Special Abilities: -
Height: 26 ft (8.5 meters)
Quote: "You can't strive for what you can't believe in."


Strength: 5
Intelligence: 7
Dexterity: 8
Speed: 9
Endurance: 5
Courage: 7
Firepower: 5
Accuracy: 7
Melee: 6
Tech Skill: 5
Charisma: 6


Profile: A long time ago, before the war that eventually devastated Cybertron had started, Stingray lived her life in the dilapidated slums along the borders of Kaon. Wandering aimlessly with a gang of young mechs in the shadows of run down, barely functional hab-blocks, they harassed and bullied all the scattered, helpless dropouts of society unfortunate enough to get in their way. Violent brawls, clashes with rival gangs or the law enforcement were just everyorn practices. Routines. Hatred for anyone blessed with a better life, standing higher in the social hierarchy or possessing even a few energon-chips more of wealth was taken for granted.

Then came the rise Decepticons. Proclamations of a dawn to a new era, of removing the ruling echelons of Cybertron's society won many of the poor and the desperate to the cause that had emerged from the gladiatorial pits and soon expanded to revolutionary proportions. Street gangs, thugs, low-lives, all the drifters and outcasts heeded the call of the Decepticons' well placed and prepared iterator agents by the scores. They saw their chance to pay back the many vorns of suffering to the originators of their misery. Stingray and her fellows were no exception, either. And as Kaon fell to Megatron and Sentinel Prime lay dead, it was no question that the storm of change everyone had felt coming finally arrived.

War raged across Cybertron and an arms race unfolded between the opposing sides. Specialized training facilities were established. The Decepticons formed the soon grown to be well recognized and feared elite aerial units, the Seekers. Stingray was drafted as a cadet, along with most of her former associates. The training regimes they were subjected to were rigorous and unforgiving. Not every one of them survived to active duty. But in the end, Stingray felt reborn; strong, capable, disciplined and most importantly, respected for her status.

As the great battles spread to other worlds as well, Stingray got a real taste of war. Injuries, comrades lost, near-death traumas and the remorseless ravages upon alien cultures were leaving imprints on her psyche. Slowly, doubts arose in the young femme about the righteousness of the cause she had been fighting for. Cruelties she witnessed in labor and disintegration camps prompted her to look deeper into her own conscience.

On one particular occasion during a raid on a supply convoy, Stingray attempted to hold back one of her squad mates from torturing one of the surviving crew personnel to death. She couldn't say why she did it, it just occurred to her. Surprised and angered at her actions, the other Seeker called Stormtalon shot her in the chest section with a full powered, point blank burst. The last thing Stingray heard before she collapsed and went into stasis lock was the scornful snicker of her comrades.

She came to in an Autobot medical and repair facility, several orns later. She was soon informed that she had been taken captive and brought back to operational condition for questioning. She was frightened, having remembered what a Decepticon prison camp was like, not to mention the memories of being forsaken by her former squad mates. After a thorough check-up she was taken away for interrogation. An interrogation that consisted of no torture, no brain module probing and no surgery in a woken state. Only thorough cross-examination and application of pressure through conversation. The officer conducting the whole process was not exactly kind but clearly had no desire to humiliate or hurt his charges purely for entertainment. After it was all over and she was led to a cell, Stingray found a multitude of questions coming forth from her thoughts about why things had happened the way they had. She had a lot to think about.

Incarcerated and later transferred to the Garrus Penitentiary, Stingray has ever since tried to come to terms with the conflict within her spark.


Abilities: Stingray is a well-trained, disciplined and agile warrior. She was drilled in for all aerial basic tactical configurations, formations and maneuvers. All of which she can execute near flawlessly while in the air. In jet mode, she can reach the speed of Mach 3.5. Her effective range is 4000 kms (~2500 miles ). Both in jet and robot modes she carries two photon blasters, which have an effective range of 2000 meters (1,250 miles). The photon charges are not able to pierce through heavy armor, but can do significant damage against joints and soft spots if aimed correctly.


Weaknesses: Stingray is a lithe femme, edged for speed and maneuverability. With no space around, she's unlikely to slip away from attack. Also, she has no real protection against heavy firepower and while her close combat skills are adequate, she couldn't hold her ground in prolonged fight.



Sample post:

Stingray was led by two guards into a dully lit room. It was empty, save for a crooked, stumpy chair set up in the center. A damp smell nagged at Stingray's nasal receptors, as if the place hadn't had air circulation for several mega-cycles. Patches of rust were creeping up the the bland iron walls, eating away at giant bolts that held exposed support girders in place. A deep, mechanical murmur was issuing from the background, like running machinery in the distance.

One of the guards turned to some sort of control panel on the wall as they entered and manipulated the switches. Additional lights flickered to life. Stingray narrowed her optic ridges as it took her visual systems an astrosecond to adjust to the new brightness levels. She was shoved into the chair in the center.

"Stay here," one of the guards said and jabbed a finger at Stingray to emphasize the point. The young femme didn't reply. The two mechs strode out of the chamber, through the door they had come in. A metallic clank and a strong hiss indicated that it went shut behind them and the pressure seals engaged to make sure it stayed that way.

Stingray was left alone. Apart from the background noise, she was surrounded by eerie silence. She began to survey her surroundings. At the opposite side of the chamber, she was looking at another door, similarly heavy-looking as the one she had been admitted through. But apart from that, no other hatches, no venting ducts, nothing. An entirely closed section of the autobase. Stingray suspected that she had been brought down several levels below ground.

She weighed her options. Manual actuators cuffed, a transformation inhibitor scrambling all electric impulses incoming to her T-cog mag-locked on her back, her chances for escape were barely more than negligible. Even if she could somehow get free off the cuff and remove the inhibitor, her wings had been detached, practically rendering her alternate mode useless.

It seemed her best option, her only option, to stay put.

She sat there under the flickering lights for a time that to her felt immensely long. Her chron unit wasn't working so closed away in the damp chamber she had no means of judging how long had passed. She began to feel edgy. She wasn't exactly sure what would happen to her now, but had a few not to reassuring ideas.

Suddenly, Stingray was startled by a creaking noise. The door in front of her was thrown open with a protestingly loud, metallic whine and a mech entered. He was not a regular brig guard. He walked with a composed bearing and his optics flickered with silent determination. Stingray looked up at him warily.

The mech came closer, stopped in front of her and looked her straight in the optic. Stingray felt a shiver run down her spinal cord.

"So, your name is...?" he said and glanced at the datapad he carried in his hand. His voice was curiously calm, devoid of any hostile or threatening intent.

"Designation: Stingray," the femme said tensely. "Serial number: 16249147458." It was a basic training reflex. Whenever interrogated by the enemy, recite only trivial information. Easy to deflect verbal probing but very unlikely to have any use against physical means of extraction. Just how much, Stingray thought she would find out soon enough.

"I'm Pointblank," the mech said calmly. "I'll tell you how this is gonna go, kid. I know you don't know much since if you did, they wouldn't have left you behind like that. And not with..." He pointed at Stingray's chest which still bore scorch marks where she had been shot and scars from medical refit.

Stingray looked away. She felt the betrayal again. Being shot by her own comrades and then abandoned, left to die amidst the smoldering ruins of the supply convoy.

"So why don't you tell me what little you've got?" Pointblank continued. "How many of you were there? Where's the base of operations you launched from? Why attack a convoy that carried civilian supplies?"

A brief pause. Then, Stingray looked at him again, confused but defiant.

"Designation: Stingray," she said. "Serial number: 16249147458."

Pointblank frowned and let out a long sigh. He leant down and bore his gaze into hers.

"Is it really worth it? Is really standing out for those slaggers worth it?" he asked. His voice hardened.

Stingray didn't answer. She didn't know what the mech was driving at but she had a feeling he was going to say something she really, really wouldn't want her audio receptors to pick up. Her pump rate quickened.

"That convoy was practically defenseless. They had nothing that would end you up in the state you were in when we found you," Pointblank said, slowly, measuredly. "So that's gotta mean it was your pals who took care of you."

Stingray's optics widened a few a microns. She was still looking up at the Autobot in defiance.

"It was them, wasn't it? Why did they do it? Quarrel over an energon-chit? Or argue over who shot more of the poor sparks? You said or did something they didn't like?" His voice took on a slightly mocking tone.

The edge of her mouth compartment twitched.

"They wrecked you up and you still hold your back for them. You really wanna convince me that's just right? Is that really where you wanna stand?"

Long silence followed. Only the distant machine noises in the background were heard.

"Stormtalon. Our squadron leader. And there were six of us," Stingray said slowly, gritting her teeth.

"That's better," said Pointblank and input the information to the datapad.

Gatkowski wrote:Name: Stingray
Allegiance: Decepticon (albeit with severely shaken loyalties)
Function: Aerospace fighter
Alt. mode: Fighter jet
Weapons: Arm-mounted photon blasters
Special Abilities: -
Height: 26 ft (8.5 meters)
Quote: "You can't strive for what you can't believe in."


Strength: 5
Intelligence: 7
Dexterity: 8
Speed: 9
Endurance: 5
Courage: 7
Firepower: 5
Accuracy: 7
Melee: 6
Tech Skill: 5
Charisma: 6


Profile: A long time ago, before the war that eventually devastated Cybertron had started, Stingray lived her life in the dilapidated slums along the borders of Kaon. Wandering aimlessly with a gang of young mechs in the shadows of run down, barely functional hab-blocks, they harassed and bullied all the scattered, helpless dropouts of society unfortunate enough to get in their way. Violent brawls, clashes with rival gangs or the law enforcement were just everyorn practices. Routines. Hatred for anyone blessed with a better life, standing higher in the social hierarchy or possessing even a few energon-chips more of wealth was taken for granted.

Then came the rise Decepticons. Proclamations of a dawn to a new era, of removing the ruling echelons of Cybertron's society won many of the poor and the desperate to the cause that had emerged from the gladiatorial pits and soon expanded to revolutionary proportions. Street gangs, thugs, low-lives, all the drifters and outcasts heeded the call of the Decepticons' well placed and prepared iterator agents by the scores. They saw their chance to pay back the many vorns of suffering to the originators of their misery. Stingray and her fellows were no exception, either. And as Kaon fell to Megatron and Sentinel Prime lay dead, it was no question that the storm of change everyone had felt coming finally arrived.

War raged across Cybertron and an arms race unfolded between the opposing sides. Specialized training facilities were established. The Decepticons formed the soon grown to be well recognized and feared elite aerial units, the Seekers. Stingray was drafted as a cadet, along with most of her former associates. The training regimes they were subjected to were rigorous and unforgiving. Not every one of them survived to active duty. But in the end, Stingray felt reborn; strong, capable, disciplined and most importantly, respected for her status.

As the great battles spread to other worlds as well, Stingray got a real taste of war. Injuries, comrades lost, near-death traumas and the remorseless ravages upon alien cultures were leaving imprints on her psyche. Slowly, doubts arose in the young femme about the righteousness of the cause she had been fighting for. Cruelties she witnessed in labor and disintegration camps prompted her to look deeper into her own conscience.

On one particular occasion during a raid on a supply convoy, Stingray attempted to hold back one of her squad mates from torturing one of the surviving crew personnel to death. She couldn't say why she did it, it just occurred to her. Surprised and angered at her actions, the other Seeker called Stormtalon shot her in the chest section with a full powered, point blank burst. The last thing Stingray heard before she collapsed and went into stasis lock was the scornful snicker of her comrades.

She came to in an Autobot medical and repair facility, several orns later. She was soon informed that she had been taken captive and brought back to operational condition for questioning. She was frightened, having remembered what a Decepticon prison camp was like, not to mention the memories of being forsaken by her former squad mates. After a thorough check-up she was taken away for interrogation. An interrogation that consisted of no torture, no brain module probing and no surgery in a woken state. Only thorough cross-examination and application of pressure through conversation. The officer conducting the whole process was not exactly kind but clearly had no desire to humiliate or hurt his charges purely for entertainment. After it was all over and she was led to a cell, Stingray found a multitude of questions coming forth from her thoughts about why things had happened the way they had. She had a lot to think about.

Incarcerated and later transferred to the Garrus Penitentiary, Stingray has ever since tried to come to terms with the conflict within her spark.


Abilities: Stingray is a well-trained, disciplined and agile warrior. She was drilled in for all aerial basic tactical configurations, formations and maneuvers. All of which she can execute near flawlessly while in the air. In jet mode, she can reach the speed of Mach 3.5. Her effective range is 4000 kms (~2500 miles ). Both in jet and robot modes she carries two photon blasters, which have an effective range of 2000 meters (1,250 miles). The photon charges are not able to pierce through heavy armor, but can do significant damage against joints and soft spots if aimed correctly.


Weaknesses: Stingray is a lithe femme, edged for speed and maneuverability. With no space around, she's unlikely to slip away from attack. Also, she has no real protection against heavy firepower and while her close combat skills are adequate, she couldn't hold her ground in prolonged fight.



Sample post:

Stingray was led by two guards into a dully lit room. It was empty, save for a crooked, stumpy chair set up in the center. A damp smell nagged at Stingray's nasal receptors, as if the place hadn't had air circulation for several mega-cycles. Patches of rust were creeping up the the bland iron walls, eating away at giant bolts that held exposed support girders in place. A deep, mechanical murmur was issuing from the background, like running machinery in the distance.

One of the guards turned to some sort of control panel on the wall as they entered and manipulated the switches. Additional lights flickered to life. Stingray narrowed her optic ridges as it took her visual systems an astrosecond to adjust to the new brightness levels. She was shoved into the chair in the center.

"Stay here," one of the guards said and jabbed a finger at Stingray to emphasize the point. The young femme didn't reply. The two mechs strode out of the chamber, through the door they had come in. A metallic clank and a strong hiss indicated that it went shut behind them and the pressure seals engaged to make sure it stayed that way.

Stingray was left alone. Apart from the background noise, she was surrounded by eerie silence. She began to survey her surroundings. At the opposite side of the chamber, she was looking at another door, similarly heavy-looking as the one she had been admitted through. But apart from that, no other hatches, no venting ducts, nothing. An entirely closed section of the autobase. Stingray suspected that she had been brought down several levels below ground.

She weighed her options. Manual actuators cuffed, a transformation inhibitor scrambling all electric impulses incoming to her T-cog mag-locked on her back, her chances for escape were barely more than negligible. Even if she could somehow get free off the cuff and remove the inhibitor, her wings had been detached, practically rendering her alternate mode useless.

It seemed her best option, her only option, to stay put.

She sat there under the flickering lights for a time that to her felt immensely long. Her chron unit wasn't working so closed away in the damp chamber she had no means of judging how long had passed. She began to feel edgy. She wasn't exactly sure what would happen to her now, but had a few not to reassuring ideas.

Suddenly, Stingray was startled by a creaking noise. The door in front of her was thrown open with a protestingly loud, metallic whine and a mech entered. He was not a regular brig guard. He walked with a composed bearing and his optics flickered with silent determination. Stingray looked up at him warily.

The mech came closer, stopped in front of her and looked her straight in the optic. Stingray felt a shiver run down her spinal cord.

"So, your name is...?" he said and glanced at the datapad he carried in his hand. His voice was curiously calm, devoid of any hostile or threatening intent.

"Designation: Stingray," the femme said tensely. "Serial number: 16249147458." It was a basic training reflex. Whenever interrogated by the enemy, recite only trivial information. Easy to deflect verbal probing but very unlikely to have any use against physical means of extraction. Just how much, Stingray thought she would find out soon enough.

"I'm Pointblank," the mech said calmly. "I'll tell you how this is gonna go, kid. I know you don't know much since if you did, they wouldn't have left you behind like that. And not with..." He pointed at Stingray's chest which still bore scorch marks where she had been shot and scars from medical refit.

Stingray looked away. She felt the betrayal again. Being shot by her own comrades and then abandoned, left to die amidst the smoldering ruins of the supply convoy.

"So why don't you tell me what little you've got?" Pointblank continued. "How many of you were there? Where's the base of operations you launched from? Why attack a convoy that carried civilian supplies?"

A brief pause. Then, Stingray looked at him again, confused but defiant.

"Designation: Stingray," she said. "Serial number: 16249147458."

Pointblank frowned and let out a long sigh. He leant down and bore his gaze into hers.

"Is it really worth it? Is really standing out for those slaggers worth it?" he asked. His voice hardened.

Stingray didn't answer. She didn't know what the mech was driving at but she had a feeling he was going to say something she really, really wouldn't want her audio receptors to pick up. Her pump rate quickened.

"That convoy was practically defenseless. They had nothing that would end you up in the state you were in when we found you," Pointblank said, slowly, measuredly. "So that's gotta mean it was your pals who took care of you."

Stingray's optics widened a few a microns. She was still looking up at the Autobot in defiance.

"It was them, wasn't it? Why did they do it? Quarrel over an energon-chit? Or argue over who shot more of the poor sparks? You said or did something they didn't like?" His voice took on a slightly mocking tone.

The edge of her mouth compartment twitched.

"They wrecked you up and you still hold your back for them. You really wanna convince me that's just right? Is that really where you wanna stand?"

Long silence followed. Only the distant machine noises in the background were heard.

"Stormtalon. Our squadron leader. And there were six of us," Stingray said slowly, gritting her teeth.

"That's better," said Pointblank and input the information to the datapad.

As usual, very nice app! Approved! Good to have ya back, Gat. Rank 5.

Please forgive me for not adding a sample post. Having just seen this fella in need of a home (you know, because he'd been abandoned for sooo long...), I just had to do something about it. But I'll add a sample post if you guys want.

Name: Hot Spot
Allegiance: Autobot
Subgroup: Protectobot
Function: Protectobot Leader
Alt. mode: Blue Mitsubishi Fuso Great fire engine
Weapons: Two Fireball Cannons
Height: 35ft / 10.67m
Quote: “Rust never sleeps, and neither do I.”

Strength: 09
Intelligence: 07
Dexterity: 07
Speed: 04
Endurance: 09
Courage: 09
Firepower: 07
Accuracy: 07
Melee: 08
Tech Skill: 07
Charisma: 09
Rank: 07

Profile: With all the hyperbole of a motivational speaker and the energetic fury of a whirlwind, Hot Spot is all about action in both word and deed. He’s not satisfied unless he is at the center of activity; anything less and he doesn’t feel like he’s alive. Hot Spot is dedicated to operating at maximum efficiency for every moment that he’s functional. He is an instinctive and canny fighter and an inspirational leader who charismatically exhorts his troops to give 110% of their effort at all times. Unfortunately, few can keep up with his manic pace.

Abilities: Subject has above average intelligence and incredible strength. In vehicle mode he can travel at speeds up to 90 mph for a distance of 600 miles. In this mode he has a host of fire-fighting and rescue capabilities. His hose-line is designed to shoot any non-corrosive liquid, including water, for a distance of 1,200 feet. He can alter the position of his ladder to operate as a vehicle carrier if needed. In both modes he wields two fireball cannons that shoot 2,000 degree Fahrenheit blue fireballs a distance of 1.5 miles. His specially treated armor is invulnerable to temperatures up to 5,000 degrees Fahrenheit. His holomatter avatar is a young male firefighter decked out in full uniform and helmet.

Weaknesses: Aside from the doggedly determined Streetwise, few of Subject’s troops can live up to his tireless example and operating efficiency. His overly frequent use of his fireball cannons can cause them to backfire, spilling the flammable liquid that fuels them.