2017-08-30 Not So Clever Girls
From Transformers: Lost and Found
|Not So Clever Girls|
|Plot||Artifacts of the Knights of Cybertron|
|Summary||Frisk gets an artifact, and the ladies.|
Frisk had been given the usual tracking device, sent along with Lockjaw to search on none other than Eukaris - though a very remote section of it. The jungle is thick here, what little light breaking through the canopy illuminating slivers of tree trunks with bizarre rainbow bark. It's raining, not heavily, but enough to turn the underbrush muddy and troublesome. Groves are split here and there, pulled apart by great fissures in the ground from the destruction of the monolith. These fissures have become broad ravines that slowly fill with rainwater.
Frisk and Lockjaw may recognize the distant, tinny trumpet of a saurian over the faint rumble of afternoon thunder.
Frisk has been standing there for the last five minutes, letting the rain drench and sink into his plating. Its both comforting and distressing to see his homeworld again, happy to be back but horrified by the state its in. The place has been nearly ripped apart, "Chela... this place is a wreck..."
As much as Lockjaw dislikes Frisk, he's still a tribemate, and thus, she feels responsible for his saftey. Given what's been happening on these artifact excursions, leaving him to himself would feel like sending him to his death, and she would feel at least a little bad about that. Plus, she's called dibs on killing him. Not to mention that, despite her own recent visit to Eukaris, she can't help but feel a longing to see her home more.
Of Course, this is not how she'd hoped to see it. Of Course, she knew of the destruction before coming here, but to see it first hand is something else. A shocking sight that does require some time to simply stand and absorb. Thus, Frisk's comment earns a nod, and a low grunt of agreement.
She would be content to stand here a while longer, but another sound cathces her attention, her head snapping up in the direction of the source "There's someone else here." she rumbles as she takes a step forward.
The same distant trumpet grows louder, and more trills join the chorus until it's cut off, silent. Frisk's artifact tracker will lead them down one of the ravines, the muddied ground steep and slick. There's usually no Eukarian settlements out this far, but the prints in the mud show about four mechanoids trekking through the area, fairly recent.
<FS3> Lockjaw rolls Reaction+Reaction: Success. (8 4 3 5)
<FS3> Frisk rolls Transportation: Success. (6 6 2 6 6 4 4 1 4 2 8 4 6 5)
"No, really?" Frisk sarcastically comments, hopping down off the branch he was on and flipping into root mode to trudge his way through the muck. He heard the noise too, but it doesn't bother him as much as it seems to bother the gator.... Ok, it didn't bother him when it was still far off. "... Ok just.. Follow the artifact," He glances down at the tracker, "... Thingy. Hopefully we'll find it without running into anything." He slips and slides as he goes, pulling a few rather impressive saves and poses as he skids, but manages to prevent himself from falling just yet.
Lockjaw snorts "And now we will. If it weren't for the artifact, I would consider eating you before you call more bad luck on us. We are not on the ship, I'll remind you. There is no one stopping me from doing it here." for all her threats, her tone remains fairly good humored, if a bit wary. Frisk can afford to feel unconcerned, as Lockjaw has taken that duty onto herself.
She snorts again as the terrain grows more slippery, causing her to nearly loose her footing. She has nothing against getting a little dirty, but she'd much rather not fall and leave herself vulnurable. Infact, she'd actually preffer getting muddy over that. With the characteristic tch-ch-chs, she shifts down into her more stable, if more grounded, beast mode.
It's not terribly long before the pair comes upon... a dagger. Ornate with a slightly curving hilt, etched with intricate designs and inset with blue-green gems and nacre. It shines, even as it sits in the mud in the middle of the ravine, all alone. It's here where the canopy opens up to an overcast sky and the rain falls more heavily.
Frisk spins to a stop in the mud, legs shaking and sliding in the mire as he keeps his torso still to stare across the ravine. "Ok well that's not suspicious at all." All the readings seem to be saying thats the artifact, or the artifact is over there at least. "Wonder if I can climb a tree and glide over there..."
Frisk's antic earn him another snort. You'd think that having lived here, he'd know that he's taking some risks there, doing something so attention-getting and prone to making him fall and leaving him vulnerable. And guess who'll have to come and save him!
Atleast he has the sense to be as vary of a random dagger in the middle of nowhere as she is. "It may have been burried until the disaster, but this is much too convenient." She agrees. Frisk's ponderance gets a distracted "Don't let me stop you" as she herself inches closer to the dagger, all senses on high alert.
<FS3> Frisk rolls Recon: Failure. (3 4 3)
<FS3> Lockjaw rolls Gator Senses: Good Success. (1 7 4 7 3 6 6 7 4)
<FS3> Frisk rolls Transportation: Great Success. (7 6 8 2 3 8 4 4 1 3 7 1 5 6)
<FS3> Frisk rolls Stealth: Good Success. (1 3 5 8 1 5 4 4 3 4 5 8)
Frisk suddenly surges backwards, flipping into alt mode and disappearing into the foliage of the treetops. While he may be goofy, Frisk isn't dumb. He knows that being out in the open on such a clearly suspicious situation is a very bad idea. Of course, he has to get to the dagger.. But get to it the fastest way he knows.
Out from the treetops comes a flash of blue and beige feathers as Frisk glides out across the ravine, plumage flared. Upon approaching his target, the mech suddenly flips out of alt mode and lets himself drop to skid across the mud like a skier with a crouch and snag the dagger as he veers past it.
<FS3> Frisk rolls Transportation: Failure. (1 6 3 4 4 1 2 6 5 1 2 2 6 6)
Lockjaw's GATOR SENSES will alert her to the swift approach of two bipeds behind her, and two in front. In the dimming light, it will become clear they are large raptors, all with varying plummages, slicked back under the rain. They lunge after Frisk when he scoops up the dagger, two of them taking chase as the remaining pair try and keep Lockjaw where she is.
Frisk is fast! But not fast enough in this rain. A big, powerful raptor foot smashes the small mech into the mud, her curving talon clacking against his back. "I knew that dagger would be a great lure. Give us all of your energon, or we'll shred you!"
Frisk lets out a whoop of victory, he got it did you see that Lockjaw he- he is now eating mud. Smashed into the sludge, several bubbles pop out from beneath the surface, likely from a sarcastic comment the microraptor makes. Despite his situation the dagger is raised in victory and waved around to show Lockjaw back at the shore. Look he got it!
Frisk then starts tapping along his back until his free hand reaches the raptor's foot, experimentally patting it a few times to be sure of where it is... and then plunges the claw like digits of his other hand into any seams he can reach to rip and tear at wiring.
All four of the raptors toss their heads back and hiss their laughter. The alpha's laugh is cut off when Frisk claws at her foot. "Agh!" She lifts her foot in a split second to reposition it, and drives it back down on Frisk's back. "It's every Scalewalker for themself out here! Though you're not a Scalewalker, are you. More like a Belly-crawler! Hah!" She drives her sickle-like claw between Frisk's shoulderblades, but not too deep. "Drop the blade, little mech."
A black raptor with a white stripe prances around Lockjaw, snapping and springing away, apparently just for fun. "Energon or your friend gets snapped up!"
Frisk manages to lift his head out of the mud enough to look up at the alpha holding him down. He stares up at her for several seconds before painfully shifting his arm to prop up his chin up, grunting pained at the claw that jabs him. He manages to grunt out, "Hi, how ya doin?" He's channeling his charm here, how can you not like this face? ... he doesn't drop the blade, though. He might be stalling and/or waiting for the alpha to lower her guard. Look at how weak and charming he is!
<FS3> Frisk rolls Plumage: Success. (3 4 3 8 4 3 2 1 6)
The insult goes by unnoticed. Lockjaw is not one to lose her cool in a dire situation just because of something like that. Her optic flickers back towards Frisk. Too far. She wouldn't make it in time at this distance. Looking back at the pack, she considers her other options. If she attacks now, that might just hasten his demise - too risky. Giving up without a fight is out of the question entierly. However, she might be able to give them a little of what they want - for now.
"You are a disgrace to the tribe" she hisses - specifically hisses, her mouth still open in a threat display towards the pair infront of her as she backs away from them, and towards the one that has Frisk down.
The alpha twists her head, staring down at Frisk. She leeeeans in closer, her glassy eye close to his helm. "Your feathers are charming." She huffs air over his feathers, and abruptly lifts her head. "Okay, new plan! We take your miniature friend."
The striped raptor trots along after Lockjaw, apparently aware, at least a little, that these gator-types can actually move fast. The alpha scoops Frisk up into her mouth, and all four of them break into a run, up out of the ravine.
Frisk's visor suddenly widens dramatically as he is scooped up, hanging limply from the mouth of the strange femme's alt mode. Wot. All at once he starts to wriggle and squirm in an effort to get loose, "W-what? Naw you uh, you don't wanna take me! Why don't we- we just stay here and talk ya know? We just got back and are a bit behind on what's been happening. Are the- are the tribes really working together now?" Those same feathers flare, he flirted his way into this mess he can flirt his way out of it!!
... Kilabyte won't be happy if she finds out, though.
<FS3> Frisk rolls Plumage: Success. (6 4 2 3 3 1 2 1 7)
Lockjaw wheels around when the pack suddenly breaks into a run, taking Frisk with them. Oh no you don't. He may be a scoundrel, but he's her scoundrel, dammit! The gator gives chase, her maw swinging open again, but this time, in an attempt to snatch one of the raptors by the ankle and drag her down.
The alpha just repositions her hold on Frisk. It's not a particularly comfortable hold, but she's sure not to stab him with her teeth. Then a bright fan of feathers obstructs her view, and she drops Frisk with a squawk. Frisk won't get far before three raptors crowd him and poke their snouts at his plumage. "Do it again."
"RRRAH!!" The fourth raptor gets caught in the jaws of the gator, and she claws frantically at the ground, kicking up mud. "Let GO!"
Frisk yelps as he is dropped, flipping back to alt mode in an effort to glide down the last foot and break his fall. Of course, he barely has time to right himself before three faces are shoved into his own. "Uh...." Not seeing a way out of this, the microraptor lets the plumage on his neck and head rise, fanning out his arm/wing feathers as well.
<FS3> Frisk rolls Plumage: Good Success. (5 6 5 7 2 3 8 5 8)
"As you wish" With a turn of her head, Lockjaw yanks on her captive's leg, aiming to drag her down to the ground, or atleast throw her off balance as she herself shifts up to full height. The raptor will find either a closed fist, or a large foot coming down at her, depending whether or not she's on her feet still. Lockjaw's other hand is already reaching for her sword.
Frisk is surrounded by short chirps and warbles and cooing. So pretty. So fluff. "New new plan! Small raptor is alpha." All nod in unison, while their poor friend is getting smashed into the mud with a big foot.
"Mercy!" the squirming raptor yelps, then glares at her packmates. "Stop fawning and help me!" They don't help her. Every Scalewalker for themself!
Frisk has no idea what is happening. Now entirely lost as to what is going on, Frisk leans to the side to stare out back at Lockjaw and her trapped victim between one of their legs. She seems to be having fun but uh... "H-hey Lockjaw, heh .. looks like.. I'm new alpha... ha." Please leave that one alone and come help him. He may have been too charming for his own good here. "Uh I'm just gonna..." Awkwardly sidling to the side, Frisk tries to wriggle his way out of the living cage they have formed around him and scoot his way back to Lockjaw.
He's just gonna.. go thata way.
All three of his packmates trot after him, primly.
"Stay down if you wish to live" Lockjaw warns her captive, pressing down a little harder with her foot before moving towards the others "Alpha of a pack of idiots" her optics locked on the other packmembers, she tromps over towards Frisk, sword grasped in one hand. "I'm amazed you've managed to survive so long if you just turn your backs on your enemies like that. Though I suppose you are good at running away" she steps right over Frisk, placing herself between him, and the raptors, before giving them a full, toothy smile "I will give you a chance to do that now" her massive sword rises up infront of her "Run."
<FS3> Lockjaw rolls Protective: Great Success. (8 6 7 2 5 3 7 8 6 5 2)
The raptors fluff up and start to hiss as Lockjaw nears. "Ugly brute! You're jealous!" They chitter to themselves as the flattened one peels herself out of the mud to rejoin her pack, limping. Maybe it's the sword that startles them. But before they take off, one extends her neck and yanks one of Frisk's tail feathers free to keep. Yoink!
They dart back into the jungle.