2017-07-31 I Serve My God

From Transformers: Lost and Found

I Serve My God
Date 2017/07/31
Location Circle of Light Outpost
Participants Drift, Whetstone
NPCs !Drift, !Wing
Plot Artifacts of the Knights of Cybertron
Scene GM Tez
Summary Drift and Whetstone go to intercept !Drift and !Wing, who have been busy slaughtering at a Circle of Light outpost.

After the Circle was shattered by Tyrest and Dai Atlas killed, their isolation perhaps came to -- if not an end, definitely a late middle. Some returned to Theophany to rebuild; some remained on Luna 1; some went to Cybertron. And a few made their way to a small outpost, formerly a watchpost of the Circle, where they tried to simply find peace again.

So when a panicked comm goes out from the outpost to the scattered Knights of the Circle telling them that they are under attack by Drift and Wing--

Well, that draws a certain response from the Lost Light.

Maybe they should have brought back up, but here the are, Drift and Whetstone having spacebridged standing in the smoldering ruin of the Outpost. The air is thick with the stench of scorched energon, and a dozen civilian frames lay scattered in the street, cut down or pierced by gunfire. There is a pile of Great Swords in the square, and a cry of anguish rises above the crackle of flames from the burning buildings as yet another is slaughtered.

It's barely been moments, and already the settlement has been all but erased from the surface of the planet.

As soon as Drift heard there was trouble at the outpost, he wasted no time in answering the call for help. He was hoping, really, truly hoping, that the remaining members of the Circle of Light could defend against his and Wing's doppleganger until they got there. He had read in reports that !Drift was horrifically injured during his last encounter with the Lost Light, surely he would be too weak to do any irreversable damage.

Boy howdy was he ever wrong.

There are no words when he lays eyes on the destruction, only a look of horror as he takes in the sights and smells of the bodies scattered around. He should call back-up while he still can, but the sound of another being slaughtered pushes him into immediate action. "We have to find them. Now," he tells Whetstone moments before transforming into his sweet car mode and zooming towards the source of the noise.

Whetstone struggles to hide his grief with every charred body they pass. "Will the stars not grant the Circle /any/ respite?" he snaps at the sky, "What is our crime?" The sky doesn't answer him, but at least Drift tells him to hurry the hell up. "Right..." With a bounding leap, he twists into the air in beast mode and flaps after the sweet car.

The shot of a gun puts an end to that cry. There are others, softer: from the sounds of the voices, half the outpost remains trapped in the building, with two very familiar frames between them and the door. Their dark frames are further sooted by the smoke, and their eyes glow a vile red as they turn toward the approaching engines.

"Wing," !Drift snaps, his gun pointed at the rest of the Circle.

Wing barely needs the order to attack: he's already coiled, and he jets to meet Whetstone in a clash, his Great Sword still strapped to his back. He engages with tooth and claw, moving to tear Whetstone's wings from his frame.

<FS3> Opposed Roll -- Drift=unarmed+2 Vs Whetstone=unarmed

< Drift: Good Success (7 3 8 8 3 1 5 2) Whetstone: Good Success (8 5 6 1 5 1 7 1 7 5 6)

< Net Result: DRAW

Whetstone's optics snap wide when !Wing springs at him and collides midair. "Grah!" He twists around on the ground as his wing strains in its joint, kicking up more soot to paint his draconic belly black. "You needn't answer to him, Wing!" he barks, gracelessly twisting back into root mode to draw a blade, still tethered. "Shake free of the shackles!" He seems reluctant to actually return the attack.

Drift's fuel goes cold in his lines when he hears his own voice say that name. Then he sees him. Wing. Or rather, he sees some bastardized version of the jet he once knew. He knows this monster isn't Wing but he can't help the emotions that swell up inside him. He looks just like him, just like the mech he sees in his dreams every night.

Lacking the gift of flight and having no ranged weapons means he's unable to assist Whetstone until they make landfall, at which point he rushes over and transforms. He knows he and Whetstone have no chance against any incarnation of Wing on their own, but together they should have a chance. So why aren't his swords drawn? "Listen to him!" he shouts, grabbing at !Wing to try and pry him away from Whetstone. "This doesn't have to be your life anymore!"

!Drift keeps watch on them, but leaves the fight to !Wing:

As they fall, !Wing twists, rolling with an easy grace. He rises with his hands on his blades, pulled back by Drift's hand on his arm. He arches subtly into the pull, as though used to being lead by a touch, only to draw sharply back as he gets a look at the armoring on his own. It's entirely the wrong color.

!Wing twists away and lifts his blades. He does not wield his Great Sword -- not yet; that remains strapped to his back. He holds two shorter blades, which he sends out in a testing, casual strike to measure their determination, one strike at each. "Do I look bound?" Wing asks, his smooth voice broken by a rasp. His hands and legs move freely, and as for the collar at his throat--. He tilts one of the blades away so that he can lift his thumb to it, hook into it. "I chose this." There are old scars on his frame from repairs and welds that have been perfectly-imperfectly repaired. Their quality suggests a conscious choice to keep the marks rather than sand them smooth. "I chose him." He strikes again, harder.

<FS3> Tez rolls Drift+2=melee Weapons Vs Whetstone=melee Weapons: Success. (6 1 7 4)

<FS3> Opposed Roll -- Drift+2=melee Weapons Vs Whetstone=melee Weapons

< Drift+2: Embarassing Failure (1) Whetstone: Great Success (4 3 6 3 2 3 2 8 1 7 7 5 1 7)

< Net Result: Whetstone wins - Crushing Victory

<FS3> Opposed Roll -- Drift=melee Weapons+2 Vs Whetstone=melee Weapons

< Drift: Good Success (4 2 3 4 6 6 5 2 6 6 5 7 1 5 7) Whetstone: Good Success (8 6 2 4 3 2 7 8 3 3 6 2 3 2)

< Net Result: Whetstone wins - Marginal Victory

<FS3> Opposed Roll -- Drift=melee Weapons+2 Vs Drift=melee Weapons

< Drift: Good Success (4 2 4 5 7 4 6 7 3 8 6 3 6 1 5) Drift: Good Success (5 5 8 8 4 2 2 4 3 3 3 6 7)

< Net Result: DRAW

Whetstone no longer hesitates. He doesn't have weird hangups about this particular mech, though it /is/ painfully disheartening to see him in willing servitude, to be sure. "I don't know the world you know, but a Knight would never choose this! You shame your God!" His wing freed, he springs backwards to parry the slash and return one of his own, scimitar aimed for a shoulder joint rather than anything fatal. "You and your master won't get away with this!"

As soon as !Wing draws his swords, Drift does the same just in time to block his strike. He was sure that his doppleganger used violence to break !Wing's spirit and keep him under control, but learning that all this is entirely voluntary.. well, it's hard to wrap his head around. "Why!?" he exclaims, arms shaking as he blocks !Wing's second blow with a clash of blade. "Why would you choose this!? Why him!? Why would you want this!?" He doesn't dissuade Whetstone from fighting back but he himself still has yet to do anything but defend himself.

"I serve my God." And, honestly, it's 50/50 on whether or not he means !Drift. There are marks of violence across !Wing's frame: old violence. If his spirit was broken, it was long enough ago that he believes all his choices his own. When Drift fails to provide the fight that !Wing is looking for, he scorns him in a glance and then turns to face him more fully. If Drift will not fight back--. The strike on his shoulder jars his arm, but he doesn't drop his blades. Sorry, Whet. He's focused on Drift right now. "I found him when he was weak, and I made him strong -- stronger than me," !Wing says in a reverent hush, the part of his lips soft and hungry and frankly it's a little unnerving a look when paired with the cruel strike of his swords, seeking Drift's energon lines. "I'll carve the weakness from your spark," he says with fervent need.

<FS3> Opposed Roll -- Drift=melee Weapons+2 Vs Drift=melee Weapons

< Drift: Good Success (4 8 1 4 2 5 6 8 5 1 8 5 3 2 5) Drift: Good Success (2 2 4 8 7 6 3 2 5 3 3 5 1)

< Net Result: Drift wins - Marginal Victory

Whetstone snarls, casting a quick glance at !Drift, then back to... Drift. "Drift! I can't take him if you don't help me! Steady yourself - he's not... He's not what he was to you. Focus, attack!" With !Wing honed on the other Knight, Whetstone tries to get behind !Wind for a heavy slash just below his jets.

<FS3> Opposed Roll -- Drift=melee Weapons+2 Vs Whetstone=melee Weapons

< Drift: Amazing Success (5 8 7 8 6 8 2 7 4 8 1 7 1 3 8) Whetstone: Failure (5 3 4 6 2 6 5 4 4 1 3 6 1 6)

< Net Result: Drift wins - Crushing Victory

Drift gets chills when !Wing looks at him like that. It's a look that seems to alien on that face and it disturbs him like nothing else he's experienced so far. He just stares as !Wing descends upon, his body shaking and his swords rattling in his grip. Even Whetstone's voice seems so far away right now. Only when !Wing's blade cuts into his armour does he snap out of it, steeling himself and twisting his arms to deflect the rest of the strike.

"Hnng!" he stumbles backwards from the force of the blow, a steady trail of energon begining to seep from his wound. "Don't worry, Wing." He seathes his swords while !Wing is distracted with Whetstone and draws his Great Sword, which immediately begins glowing in his grasp, to strike at him. "We'll put you out of your misery."

When Drift draws his Great Sword, the lash of energy channeled through the blade leaps with a fierceness and a wildness he has never seen before. Yet for all the ferocity of the flickering aura, the feel of the blade in Drift's hand projects a steady reassurance, as though a gentle hand touched his spark to soothe it and kindle hope from horror.

!Wing's Great Sword, on the other hand, spits angry sparks as Whetstone's scimitar meets its metal. !Wing throws his smaller swords to the dirt draws the blade. He turns to bring the sword up in a strike that carves its way beneath Whetstone's guard to stagger him. !Wing moves with a grace that makes his pivot seem casual, unhurried, and yet he is so swift in his strike that they barely have time to realize he is moving before Whetstone is bleeding -- badly. And then !Wing moves in again, to follow the devastating strike with another.

<FS3> Opposed Roll -- Drift=melee Weapons+2 Vs Whetstone=melee Weapons-4

< Drift: Good Success (4 1 3 4 1 7 7 6 1 3 6 5 3 4 6) Whetstone: Good Success (7 4 1 4 4 7 2 2 3 4)

< Net Result: DRAW

Tez spends 1 luck points on whet wants to die.

<FS3> Opposed Roll -- Drift=melee Weapons+2 Vs Whetstone=melee Weapons-4

< Drift: Good Success (3 5 4 3 7 1 5 4 7 6 3 1 5 1 6) Whetstone: Good Success (4 3 1 3 1 6 7 8 5 6)

< Net Result: DRAW

Whetstone can only manage to effectively block, it seems, and it's draining his energy quick. He grinds a clawed heel into the ground to try and evade the next slash, from the spark-powered blade itself, but moves too slowly, and feels his armor peel around the heat, severing important lines all along his abdomen. With a sharp cry, he staggers back, only to be forced to parry again. The swing slices his scimitar's blade right off, and he tosses it away, still reeling backwards. "Drift!"

Drift has drawn this sword many times but this time.. this time it's different. He swears the spirit of Wing himself has reached out and soothed his spark so he can face off against the monster responsible for the death and decay all around them. Is it possible that that is what's happening? He would say yes but he also believes in fairy tales so..

"Whetstone!" No longer paralyzed by memories of what once was, Drift springs into action. He swings his sword in an upwards motion to slice across !Wing's back and draw his aggro.

<FS3> Opposed Roll -- Drift=melee Weapons+2 Vs Drift=melee Weapons

< Drift: Great Success (3 5 7 7 1 2 1 7 6 8 1 2 7 1 1) Drift: Great Success (2 5 8 8 6 2 8 1 8 6 1 7 2)

< Net Result: DRAW

As Drift moves, light unfurls from the blade of his Great Sword to sheathe his frame in a coruscating aura. It trails from his shoulders like the points of a jet's turbines; from his back like the angle of wings. He moves with an unnatural swiftness, and !Wing barely has time to get his own blade up as he falls back. !Great Sword meets Great Sword: the one spitting dark sparks, and the other brilliant with light. When they clash, the air splits as though lightning strikes. The noise is shattering. The air is sharp with ozone and prickles with charge as Drift and !Wing are both thrown back.

Whetstone spends the next several glorious seconds just bleeding, and watching in great awe as the other knights clash. He can only stand back as they're thrown, eventually drawing his own Great Sword, merely to jam it into the ground and lean on it as energon gushes over his hips and knees. Lightning... struck just then, right? This is happening? Whetstone glances skyward again.

Drift can't see it for himself but he can 'feel' his aura. It makes him feel strong despite the fatigue that weilding a Great Sword causes, and it makes him feel steady where he was shaking before. The deafening sound that follows the clashing of swords surprises him, as does the whole 'getting thrown back' thing. It takes him a moment to gather himself and get back on his feet, but when he does he's lunging straight for !Wing again. This time he angles the sword perpendicular with the ground and thrusts it at his chest, right where his spark should be.

<FS3> Opposed Roll -- Drift=melee Weapons+2 Vs Drift=melee Weapons

< Drift: Amazing Success (6 7 1 6 8 3 8 8 2 8 8 6 8 3 8) Drift: Good Success (4 8 5 4 6 4 4 6 6 2 8 1 8)

< Net Result: Drift wins - Crushing Victory

The sky is clear, but the air still prickles, live with charge. The aura around Whetstone's blade is as wild as that around Drift's. They have always had an energy, a spark -- coming to life in their hands. But this? This is something else entirely.

In hand, the Great Swords feel as though they have been awakened in ways they've never seen. The usual sensation of feeling drained by their use is gone; instead, they feel strengthened. The light that sheathes Whetstone pours over him to wrap almost warm, affectionate, about him, and there's mercy in the way the light gentles the severity of his wounds. It gives him strength -- strength enough to stand, to push forward.

!Wing is slower to recover than Drift, and for a long moment, it seems as though Drift's sword might strike true. The very tip of his blade bites into !Wing's armor, just as !Drift yells: "Wing!"

!Wing jets backward, and Drift's blade is left to bite dirt, burying itself in his over-extended lunge. !Wing's blade carvew in a cross over Drift's chest, breaking through to the edge of his spark.

And yet--

It should hurt. It should be crippling. But the light pours from the blade even as energon pours from Drift's chest, replacing every lost bit of strength with the hope of more. They got this.


!Drift grabs !Wing by the arm, studying the two Knights with an expression of unease. This is not right. "I've set an explosive to detonate in there," he says, sounding almost bored. "I'm sure you'll make the weak choice." He turns to walk toward the pile of Great Swords, and while !Wing strains a moment on his metaphorical leash, it looks as though he will follow. Inside, there's a muffled scream. Tick tock?

Drift's eyes widen when he hears himself yell Wing's name, just like he did when Braid shattered Wing's spark. Reliving that memory, even just for a second, is enough to distract him long enough for !Wing to get an unimpeded strike. Oddly enough, Drift doesn't even realize he's been struck until he sees the energon pouring out of his chest. He could probably see his spark if he looked into the wound hard enough but that seems like a great way to induce a full-blown panic.

"Gyaah!" Drift raises his sword, seemingly unaffected by his critical wounds, but !Wing and !Drift are already on their way out. He could chase after them but what about his bretheren trapped inside?

"If you have the strength, follow me. I'm not letting them down again," he says stoically before cleaving his way through the door for what will surely be an amazing rescue.

Whetstone doesn't notice the aura of his blade until the stirring of strength prompts him to open his optics again, as he drifts wearily with his brow against the pommel of his weapon. Energon still dips from his jaws, but the pain seems to ebb. He straightens, yanking the blade from the ground to hoist against his shoulder. He wants to say this is some type of blessing, that Primus is /finally/ shining on them in some way... But he can't bring himself to award the glory on someone else, something else. Not when they're both slashed to pieces and there's an explosive coupled with what's left of this outpost. "Right," he grunts, darting after Drift.

!Wing looks back, discontent, but !Drift hooks two fingers in his collar and pulls him closer, and that's the end of that. When Drift and Whetstone have the time to look for them next, they'll be gone -- as will be the Great Swords they'd collected.

The explosive is not hard to find inside, between the rest of the Circle and the door as it is. There's a cluster of grenades, timed to detonate, and Drift and Whetstone just barely have time to split them between them and get them out.

They are just barely in range as they detonate.

<COMBAT> Tez will use a Missile this turn. is right next to the explosion and Drift, Whetstone is nearby.

<COMBAT> Whetstone passes.

<COMBAT> Drift passes.

<COMBAT> Tez uses a Missile!


<COMBAT> EXPLOSION! Pretty Close To Drift - Serious wound to Right Hand.

<COMBAT> SHRAPNEL! Drift - Moderate wound to Chest.

<COMBAT> SHRAPNEL! Drift - Light wound to Head.


<COMBAT> EXPLOSION! Pretty Close To Whetstone - Critical wound to Neck.

<COMBAT> SHRAPNEL! Whetstone - Moderate wound to Right Leg.

<COMBAT> SHRAPNEL! Whetstone - Light wound to Right Arm.

<COMBAT> Tez has started a new turn. Pose and choose your action.

<COMBAT> Whetstone has been **KO'd**!

"Hurry!" Whetstone yells to the civilians as they try to escape the blast radius. But they're just a little too late, and a sizable sliver of shrapnel catches him squarely in the back of the neck, jutting all the way through to the front. He muscles through it for about three seconds before gurgling energon and collapsing on the ground in a gruesome mess, wings falling limp. His blade clatters beside him.

Drift is grabbing his fellow knights and practically shoving them out the door as fast as he can. At one point one of them trips and Drift delves deeper into the building to pick him up and push him along. Just as he and Whetstone prepare for their own daring escape, the grenades detonate and wreak havoc on both their already broken and battered bodies. Shrapnel impales itself through Drift's chest, narrowly avoiding his spark, and some nails him in the face, but the most serious wound belongs to his hand. Well, it's not really a hand anymore, more like a shredded stump of metal.

Thrown to the ground in a puddle of his own energon, Drift has just enough energy to drag himself over to Whetstone and summon a spacebridge.

When all is said and done, their bodies are dumped right back where they started, the space bridge room deep inside Tempo. Whetstone is out cold and Drift isn't far behind him. The last thing he remembers is asking Anialus for help before everything goes dark.

Curiously enough, Drift might remember Anialus having a lot of questions about his Great Sword -- and not getting many answers, thanks to that dark. Maybe they'll have to come back when their blood is in their body instead of on the floor.

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