I'm not a robot without emotions, I'm not what you see [OPEN]
Characters: Optimus Prime? Is it really Optimus Prime? And the assembled crew of the Convoy.
Content: Prime gathers his crew to shed some light on what happened, along with planning their next course of action. But something very strange has happened to him...
Setting: The Mended Drum, a seedy but bustling tavern in the heart of Kropmork.
Time: Evening, two hours after the journal post.
Notes: FIRST THREAD is for direct questions to Prime. Since he's addressing a crowd and is most likely going to be peppered with questions, there's no posting order. He'll field the questions as they come. Other than that, starting your own mingle/reaction threads is A+. Also, backlogging reactions in the other log is totally cool, too.
The Drum was an average establishment for Kropmork. Straw mats dotted the floor. Peanuts were amply supplied in little bowls along the bar, and a large orange orangutan was happily helping himself to them, crouched on a barstool. The rest of the clientele was a mix of humans and demihumans, all wrapped up in their own business. That was one of the good things about Kropmork bars; everyone took special care not to pay any attention to anyone else.
Unless there was a fight, in which case, all bets were off.
But the crew of the Convoy wasn't here looking for a fight. Instead, they were ushered into a plain back room furnished only with a couple of chairs, where two men were waiting for them. One of them was easily recognizable as first mate of the Convoy, Pip Bernadette. The other, none of them would recognize. He had bright blue eyes, short brown hair with a gray streak in it, a red jacket, and a posture that gave off the impression that he was taller than he was. He was standing behind Pip and to the side, hand on one hip, watching in silence as the crew came in.
It was only once they assembled that he stepped forward to stand in front of them, back straight, arms hung loosely at his sides. When he spoke, the voice was easily recognizable as the same one that spoke over the Network.
It lacked the metallic feedback that the mechanical vocalizer caused, but it was definitely the voice of their captain.
"Crew of the Convoy, I am Optimus Prime."
He paused to take a breath, waiting for any reactions to die down.
"I know I don't look much like your captain right now. How this happened, I cannot say for sure. But I can say with absolute certainty that whoever flew away in my ship was not me. My theory is that somehow, my consciousness was transferred from my original body to this human one in an attempt to gain control of my robot form...and, by extension, the Convoy." Prime paused, eyes sweeping over the room. He was far from used to being no taller than his crewmates, but he rather liked being on an equal level with them, he found. It let him look them in the eye. It almost made him feel like he was among the Autobots again. "Originally...that ship was created to be a weapon. As some of you know, I hail from Cybertron, a continent destroyed centuries ago by war. There is only a small fragment of it left.
"A team of scientists discovered this fragment. They found myself and Bumblebee on it, badly damaged. We'd been offline for centuries. They reactivated us in hopes of using us as weapons. When I refused, they turned on us. Bumblebee and I managed to escape, taking the ship with us." A heavy sigh. "I knew I hadn't seen the last of them, but I had no idea they were capable of something like this." Optimus looked down at both his hands -- his human hands.
Then, his gaze snapped back up to fix on the crew. "I don't know what they'll do with the Convoy, but I'd wager it's not going to be pretty. We must get it back before they achieve whatever they're planning. Now, I'm open to suggestions, but we need to act fast. We've already lost a day."
Content: Prime gathers his crew to shed some light on what happened, along with planning their next course of action. But something very strange has happened to him...
Setting: The Mended Drum, a seedy but bustling tavern in the heart of Kropmork.
Time: Evening, two hours after the journal post.
Notes: FIRST THREAD is for direct questions to Prime. Since he's addressing a crowd and is most likely going to be peppered with questions, there's no posting order. He'll field the questions as they come. Other than that, starting your own mingle/reaction threads is A+. Also, backlogging reactions in the other log is totally cool, too.
The Drum was an average establishment for Kropmork. Straw mats dotted the floor. Peanuts were amply supplied in little bowls along the bar, and a large orange orangutan was happily helping himself to them, crouched on a barstool. The rest of the clientele was a mix of humans and demihumans, all wrapped up in their own business. That was one of the good things about Kropmork bars; everyone took special care not to pay any attention to anyone else.
Unless there was a fight, in which case, all bets were off.
But the crew of the Convoy wasn't here looking for a fight. Instead, they were ushered into a plain back room furnished only with a couple of chairs, where two men were waiting for them. One of them was easily recognizable as first mate of the Convoy, Pip Bernadette. The other, none of them would recognize. He had bright blue eyes, short brown hair with a gray streak in it, a red jacket, and a posture that gave off the impression that he was taller than he was. He was standing behind Pip and to the side, hand on one hip, watching in silence as the crew came in.
It was only once they assembled that he stepped forward to stand in front of them, back straight, arms hung loosely at his sides. When he spoke, the voice was easily recognizable as the same one that spoke over the Network.
It lacked the metallic feedback that the mechanical vocalizer caused, but it was definitely the voice of their captain.
"Crew of the Convoy, I am Optimus Prime."
He paused to take a breath, waiting for any reactions to die down.
"I know I don't look much like your captain right now. How this happened, I cannot say for sure. But I can say with absolute certainty that whoever flew away in my ship was not me. My theory is that somehow, my consciousness was transferred from my original body to this human one in an attempt to gain control of my robot form...and, by extension, the Convoy." Prime paused, eyes sweeping over the room. He was far from used to being no taller than his crewmates, but he rather liked being on an equal level with them, he found. It let him look them in the eye. It almost made him feel like he was among the Autobots again. "Originally...that ship was created to be a weapon. As some of you know, I hail from Cybertron, a continent destroyed centuries ago by war. There is only a small fragment of it left.
"A team of scientists discovered this fragment. They found myself and Bumblebee on it, badly damaged. We'd been offline for centuries. They reactivated us in hopes of using us as weapons. When I refused, they turned on us. Bumblebee and I managed to escape, taking the ship with us." A heavy sigh. "I knew I hadn't seen the last of them, but I had no idea they were capable of something like this." Optimus looked down at both his hands -- his human hands.
Then, his gaze snapped back up to fix on the crew. "I don't know what they'll do with the Convoy, but I'd wager it's not going to be pretty. We must get it back before they achieve whatever they're planning. Now, I'm open to suggestions, but we need to act fast. We've already lost a day."