((ok, so I got nostalgic and figured we needed a proper FnorDoM welcoming for the transfandom.com crowd. Everyone welcome to post whatever, this is an open ended story with little to no real point. I'm abusing The Rod since he was a really early visitor to the AUG before there was any sign of trouble at the transfandom boards.))

((BTW, You can find ALL the information you would ever want to know on the FnorDoM HERE ))

Roadbuster leaned against the large broom he was using and looked out over the vast empty expanse of the Parking Lot of the Risk'aha Plain. In the evening sky, radiation crackled across the vista, giving a greenish brown color to the fading light. It gave the largely empty plane a dry bizarre coloring and seemed to add to the desolation.

Far away, small pin-pricks of stars were just becoming visible as orange and purple dots of light.

He sighed. The Lot was quiet recently. Many of the FnorDoM members were on special assignment. They hadn't even had a barbeque by the pool since all those damn squid eggs hatched out of his...

Turning back to the broom, he continued to sweep up some small piles of skeletons tangled with fuzzy white hats and pants. Suddenly, his foot bumped into something.

*KLANK*

"What the f...!" Roadbuster looked down to notice a small black and white police car that had seemingly not been there only moments before, "PROWL! Where'd you come from? Where've you been!?"

Transforming, Prowl stood up with a smile, "Eh, I had some... business. Yeah, business on the West Coast. Here," he proferred a slightly mangled tiny plastic utensil that had been wiped conspicuously clean, "thanks for the spork. It came in handy. Where's everyone else?"

Roadbuster shrugged, "Don't know. Been wondering that..."

They were interrupted by a short bright flash in the night sky, a red burning ball of fire and haze appeared out of the darkness, and with it a hot flaming wind swept over the whole of Rroo'tah.

As they stared up into the maelstrom, fragments of metal and rock began to rain down on the duo. Prowl grimaced, "It's those damn Smurfs again, get the guns..."

Something landed, smoking, next to them. It was a charred lump of red flaming metal that jumped up and danced around, only exascerbating the flames covering his body. Prowl and Roadbuster merely stood watching it suffer for a few minutes as it managed to snuff the bulk of the flames out.

"Howdy." Roadbuster nodded.

Prowl looked up at him and then back at the robot, whose color scheme seemed to ironically be orange with flames, "Greetings. I am Prowl, and this is my associate Roadbuster. We would like to coordially welcome you to this, our planet of Rhoo'tah. Might I enquire as to your name, occupation, and or previous place of residence?"

The robot stood up straight, smoke still trailing from most of his chassis, and struck a cheesy pose with thumbs up and fingers pointing. Through a big cheeseball grin he said, "Name's 'The Rod' Because the women, they like the Rod... and by 'Rod' I mean my..."

Rolling his eyes, Roadbuster interupts, "We get it, we get it. Where you from 'The Rod.'"

The Rod pats out another small, smoking flame on his rear that he missed, "I'm the best thing from the Transfandom. But, well... it's having problems."

Prowl squints up at the still growing light in the sky, "Problems? It looks like your prior residence has gone into terminal nova."

The Rod shrugged, "Oh that? That's nothing. Just technical malfunctions." under his breath he mutters, "Wait till you see it really go boom..."

"What?" Roadbuster frowns.

"Huh? Oh nothing... so where the pit am I?"

((Meh, good enough. Some one should update that site, almost none of the links are right))

Somewhere on this wide open parkinglot of a valley known to the natives as Death Run, there was a high plataue. Lifting sharply up out of the valley as an oddity of nature, this mountain had it's own flat surface on top, every bit as much a parking lot as the surrounding area. This one section however was a haven to Cheetback, nestled away within Roadbusters domain.

Besides whatever miscelanious vehicles of both space flight or otherwise that were parked on the raised surface, there was always one thing here. A simple shack, run down and resembling nothing important or large.

Within this however was a most startling construction. The AuG Pub, it's door interdimensionally linked to numerous other locations, the insides having a tendancy to shift their mass and recreate themselves at their own whim ever since Doctor Archevilles nanites got free and decided to unionize for their own lazy purposes.

The sun of Rroo'tah was a red dwarf, the planet itself was heavily saturated in radiation, creating some very bizarre applications of creative evolution(nevermind that the gene pool had been tampered with since before life here began). Despite this, it was barely within human standards. A little dark, a little redshifted, and a little high in gravity, but on the whole hospitable and friendly to life.

The Pub at the moment was empty, and standing outside was a statue. Human shaped, with the exception of the face(which was only vaugely human with large domed eyes and a fin that ran from the back of his neck to flatten into a nonexistant nose), the stone was distinctly out of place. This statue had been placed there long ago by forces beyond mortal comprehension. It was a gaurdian, ready to absorb the being of light and energy to create the ultimate warrior for justice and goodness. An Ultra-being trained since time immaterial to battle the darker forces of existance. This was Greater UltraMan... and he was the Pubs Bouncer.

Meh, it paid the bills...

((Heh, funny thing. We all forgot it existed till a couple days ago. None of the mods knows who even has the passwords to update it...))

The sky had been lit with an unsteady fiery wash that night. However, Greater Ultraman stood with unconcerned passivity. That is, until three forms drove up outside the pub and transformed.

Roadbuster, Prowl, and the still smoking The Rod made their way to the door of the pub.

"Hiya, Ultra." Roadbuster waves.

Prowl smiled, "Greater Ultraman, I'd like to introduce..."

Interrupting, The Rod gives a cheesy smile and extends a hand, "Hey, I'm 'The Rod!'"

Greater Ultraman looked at the proferred hand and then squinted at the red and orange chassied bot for a moment, "Are those flames hand-painted?"

"What? No! I'm The Rod. I have a custom paint jo..."

Roadbuster snickers, "They are!! Wait, are those marker outlines around them!?"

"No! No! Dammit NO! I'm The Rod, y'know... HOT ROD. RODIMUS. Whatever! These are the flames that..."

Prowl interrupts, "Y'know, the chassis looks more like Excellon to me..."

((Passwords? What passwords? It was just a post here in the Hub. Maybe you're thinking the RLD. Slipbot, Cheetback, and/or Sionyx are in charge of the Pub, so one of them probably started it. Or I did.))

The silver and crimson striped titan known as UltraMan watched mutely as they argued. He was surprised how often people would fill in his own lines through just his body language, given that he could not speak himself. At least not with words. He prefered actions anyway.

Given that The Rod still had his hand extended, somewhat confused even as they studied his drawn on markings, UltraMan seized it and gave it two firm pumps, expressing a endoskeletal bending strength in his grip.

The bouncer then stepped back, crossing his arms and leaning against the door frame again. These three were cleared to enter, but he'd be watching for any trouble. And if there was trouble he wouldn't hesitate to tear one of their legs off and beat them with it.

nice! i wonder when i come in

((Whenever you write yourself in!))

((Let me try))

An ocean of faces, flickering lights and smoke stood before them. The loud persistent roar of voices and sounds clouded their ears. They were all there, waiting for something to happen, enjoying every minute of it. Perhaps tonight was the night. And from no where in particular, there he was, walking around with his enrgon cube half empty, stood Computron. “Greetings and salutations!” he managed to say. “Computing is my primary function. My I offer assistance?” Sip. He was the quiet type, mostly reading past echoes of days gone by, always studying people as he accustomed to. Analyzing for what? Who knows? As he waited, he took another sip. Absent minded. No longer waiting for an answer, he walked away...Typical.

((lemme try))
Sitting at the bar was a young woman, about sixteen. She had short purple hair, red eyes, and was dressed in black. She was relatively quiet, except if she found she had something in common with someone, then she would become a chatterbox. She also had a short temper. A random drunkard in the bar started to hit on her, and after a short time, her anger flared up. She leapt to her feet and glared at the perverted drunk. 'Listen up buddy," she snapped. "Unless you want to become a bloody pulp under my boots, I suggest you get the f**k away from me, got it?" Needless to say, the man ended up pissing himself and ran to the far side of the bar. Huffing, the woman sat back down, fuming as more men started to gang up on her. She was losing her patience, and she was trying her best to fight the urge to go berserk.
((i decided to write in my frustration at the morons at school into my character))

(Now, was that all that hard?)
((Oh, and the 'passwords' i was talking about was in reference to that info link at the top... and yer,

))

Roadbuster, Prowl, and The Rod moved into the busy bar. Roadbuster didn't recognize some of the offworld background characters that had wandered in. It was usually easy to tell who they were from the vague expressions and general malaise that surrounded them. They were just fillers, to make Cheetback feel like he had some business.

Prowl however, picked up immediately on a few that were not of that crowd. Newcomers!

Roadbuster and The Rod sidled up to the bar. The Rod was still nursing a slightly bent up hand. From down the bar, and angry teen was glaring at them for no particular reason.

Elsewhere, Prowl had taken up to following the strange, absent minded greeter, "Hey, who're you?" He tapped Computron on the shoulder.

About then, a whistle blew somewhere, and an unseen voice yelled out 'BACK TO WORK BOYOS!!'

Suddenly, the entire bar underwent a massive change. Several patrons were sucked down as they cried out in screams of pain.

Dark Mousette looked around in panic as everything seemed to begin to melt.

Computron immediately correlated what was happening. His optical range deduced that things were being broken down on a nanite level, reconstructed and rebuilt as they watched.

A few patrons were also apparently being 'accidentally' assimilated into the new decor.

After a few brief cycles, the bar had changed completely. Now, everything apparently was covered in grass, with cardboard on the walls and ceilings.

Roadbuster looked around, "Stupid nannites." he raised a finger at the bar-bot, "Dark rum for me, Tequila for 'the Rod' here..." looking down the bar, he noticed the young teen, "... and milk for juniorette over there."

The instant she felt her barstool melt, she jumped about ten feet into the air, creating a shower of black feathers as huge black wings appeared on her back. She landed on top of the towering Computron, yelling expletives as she gibbered at the sudden change. The last thing she wanted was to join the decor. As soon as the chaos ended, she settled back down on her now grass-covered barstool, her wings vanishing as suddenly as they had appeared. When her milk came, she eyed it warily, for she did not trust the flame-colored robot. "You try and drug this Rod, and mark my words, all I have to do is yell and my buddies from HaloGrid will come to my aid." With that, she resumed eyeing the glass, worried about whether or not she would be knocked out if she drank it.

"We'll make sure he doesn't try anything." Roadbuster murmured as he leaned over the rum bottle he had been handed.

The Rod looks afronted, "Hey! One, I wouldn't... not try anything, and TWO, what exactly would you be able to do..."

His sentence was cut short by the noisy cocking and humming of a very large, very high powered gun levelled at his head instantaneously by Roadbuster, who was still mulling over his Rum bottle.

"Oh..." The Rod quickly sat back down, "By the way, did I say thanks for the tequila?" he takes a large swig as the rifle disappears as quickly as Roady had pulled it.

The teen grins and takes a long draught of the milk. As she drinks, a small tattoo on her neck is revealed. it says 'SPARTAN-V 424 Code Name: Phantom Thief'
((meh, i decided to throw in a nod to two of my custom user titles))

((My hard drive just died on me, my MAXTOR 60 gig is officially dead. I'll be busy for a while till i finnish my repairs. As soon as everything will be ok, i'll report in my Ask Computron thread. Too bad, i was enjoing this! :( ))

"There goes my last ration of energon. Slag! If only i could reprogram those things, we would'nt....are you ok miss?" he asked while picking up the now empty container that was drop by the unexpected suprise. Computron might have been a suitable bouncer but prefering hitting the data streams instead of the visiting renegades that stumbled day after day in the bar. He was payed by the power that were to perform maintenence and repairs. He could fix anything giving the resources. It was his job. He had notice the strangers battered armors and hacked their vital settings only to confirm the damage, nothing serious. He would'nt hurt anyone, not now. It was'nt the time. It was'nt he's style. "Sigh..I'm going to be busy for a while now, so much to do, maybe if i recalibrate the..." without hearing Dark Mousette answer, he walked away leaving the empty container on a table, dragging away a twisted hunk of metal that was talking to much and got what he deserved by not ducking fast enough.

In the corner of the bar, unnoticed by most patrons, there was an entertainment center. A large booth table, with an even larger hanging flatscreen whos pictures didn't always stay on their proper side of the screen. There were of course gaming systems attached to this flatscreen, but none of them were active. The tv itself was even turned off at the moment.

Beyond the entertainment center, tucked away in the corner so as not to make this place seem like to much of a sports bar, there were other enjoyments. Given the whimsical mood of the nanites there was sometimes a whole bowling alley back there. At the moment however, there was just the pinball machine. It looked like an ordinary pinball machine, with flashing lights and sounds that had been silenced to keep from disturbing others. The jutebox was there to disturb them if needed. The garish text, meant to excite one enough to play the simple contraption, gave the title of this game as the RLD, in both english and maximal scripts.

The machine somehow was a constant in the Pub. There were, of course, a surprising number of constants, including the coffee machine and the drunk tank, but after witnessing one of the enviromental shifts finding these constants was often more trouble than it was worth.

From behind the machine, stepping out of what had been a shadow on the wall and was now a thick stand of reeds, came a dark figure. Not particularly dark of bearing, just darkly colored fur. His design called to mind the classic Maximal feline design, with a tigers head on his chest, but some minor details were off. The tigers ears and nose were enlarged, that of a foxbat, and leathery membrane wings hung from his sides, giving his humanoid shape the outline that he was wearing a trench coat. While his bodies features bordered on the nondescript(for that age of Maximals) his head was nearly featureless. Simply a black humanoid shaped head, with a grey visor and mask. The only thing else noticable was two horns extending from the back of his head, which seemed to be under his control. As he glanced around the horns rose up questioningly, like ears.

"Should I blame Virus, or is this new green look what some one asked for?" JaggedWing asked, addressing the general populace of the pub, but looking at Roadbuster in particular as he seemed one of the more solid minded around.

"Aw... silly Jaggie!" The childish chirp followed him from the reeds and a brightly colored little bird darted out, transforming into a very small girl with bladed metal wings. "Don'cha like grass?"

"I like grass. Nothing wrong with grass." JW% shrugged, letting the silver and yellow birdy set on his shoulder. She gave him a hug and then perched there to survey the pub for herself. "Grass invites silliness, makes you want to roll around in the soft green plantlife."

"Grass is cooooool."

((who's the little bot?))

((The little bot? ... well picture Transmetal Airazor... as a chibi. Or read the BeastWars Metals manga. Or... ask JaggedWing to introduce you.))

Greater_UltraMan watched Computron with some intrest, but finally decided that the eccentric gestaltic mechanoid wasn't causing any trouble.

As the Pub melted and flowed into it's new shape, UltraMan was entirely unconcerned. He had worked here as the bouncer for far to long for that kind of thing to disturb him. That a few patrons vanished during the conversion... well that wasn't unusual either. Almost always they were the background cast, and if they wern't often they came back sooner or later. Infact the background cast often came back now and then.

No, despite Computron's imposing size and eccentric behavior, he was less disturbing than the girl sitting at the bar. She looked like she would be just immature enough to cause trouble.

Plus, the nameless drunk who bothered her needed to be dealt with. As he ran to the far side of the bar a silver gauntlet caught his collar and lifted. While the grass was still forming, Ultraman deposited the pervert into the drunk tank. The tank itself was just a hole in the floor, usually locked tight.

The man with soiled pants fell in from the bouncer shoving him, and tumbled through the dimensional portal. He lay there on the rolling green hills with the bright sun shining down on him, wondering where the bar went. There was some movement on the horizon as the natives from this dimension noticed a new arrival. Very shortly the man was surrounded by teletubbies.

Ultraman closed the drunk tank portal and brushed off his hands, muffling the unholy screams of the drunken fellow. He would be sober soon enough.

With everything else looking under control... (Roadbuster was threatening The Rod with overly large artillery)... yes with everything completely under control, the Pubs bouncer could relax again, leaning against the door frame.

Dark Mousette sighed as she looked at her glass of milk. "I miss my old home." When one of the 'bots asked where she came from, she replied with, "I came from a space station called TransFanDom. I met a lot of friends there. I also had another name. When I lived on the TransFanDom space station, I was called 'Starfire Prime' ." She signed again. "I wish Agent X, Wing Zero, and Blurr's Main Squeeze were here."

JW% wandered over to get a better look at The Rod. This fellow in red and yellow flames could be a problem. Something about how the way he moved oozed confidence. Confidence could be deadly. It could also mean competition.

... "I wish Agent X, Wing Zero, and Blurr's Main Squeeze were here." ...

JaggedWing felt a soft warm push off his shoulders, and heard the faint hiss of his smaller companions thrusters. She flew over to the bar and landed, perching on the edge with her feet dangling. Her robotic mode actually looked more organic than the mechanoid falcon mode. Instead of the silver and white with red and blue markings and highlights, she now had a downy yellow chest and legs, with a white middrift and an orange headdress. The falcons tail, which resembled more the tail of an airplane than a bird, now hung from the back of her head like a pony tail.

"Aw... I'm sorry." She chirped, her eyes wide as she looked at Dark Mousette. "It's never fun leaving friends..." She blinked and a smile spread across her face, her feet kicking freely off the edge of the bar. "But you could always make new friends! An' then, when your old friends find you again, you can introduce them to your new friends!"

JaggedWing walked stepped over to the bar, his clawed feet moving daintily to the point that he seemed at times to float rather than walk, and made an inarticulate sound, his mechanoid body reproducing the sound of clearing a throat relatively clearly.

"Oh! Sorry!" The little bird girl chirped startled, as if remembering herself. She looked a little embarrased. "This is JaggedWing, an' I'm the cutie winged warrior of love and justice magical girl Pretty Sparrow." She lifted up, her wings like curved knife blades spreading from the two turbines on her back. How they seemed to vanish when she wasn't using them was a mystery. Once in the air she gave a little twirl to go with her introduction and landed on her tip toe with a wink. "Nice ta meetcha. What's your name now? If it's not, like you said, Starfire Prime that is..."

A stranger walked in about that moment attracting most of the attention in the bar." A Mechanician!" Someone yelled in mistake. Now walking to the jukebox, he inputs a song, barely managing. The display reads: "...ARTIST: NINE INCH NAILS...TRACK NAME: THE FRAGILE..." an old forgotten song.

“What the heck is that thing?” Asked The Rod pointing with his gun instead of his finger.
Many others staired curiously. A patchwork of a different robots held toghether hastly, walking to them with an strange limp. Some recognized the busted ancient model robot that was dragged by the leaving Computron but this guy was different.

Dark Mousette looked but seem unmoved by that monstrocity, prefering sipping her glass of milk now that she was rid of the idiots bothering her. She listened to the strange music as she did.

“Greatings again.” managed to produce the vocal synthetizer with a voice sounding more garbled than expected. “Little bots don’t recognize Computron? I am using this puppet to send a message. I'm experiencing technical difficulties. The repairs are going well. Soon, my repairs will be completed.” Static noise.

JW% and Roadbuster just looked at each other.Greater Ultraman seemed amused by the way the puppet stood, immitating him in the process. He let the thing walk in after seing it harmless.

“Good to see ya again Computron!” said RoadBuster, “hows it hanging?” he added while pointing at the wires and circuit-guts that fell from an opened panel. Explosion of laughter. "what..." He was cut short.

“I also come with a message of great importance.” He added: “The battles of Religion and Science is far from over. Trouble is inevitable.” Computron’s puppet stood in silence. After a pause, the puppet seemed to be failing. It shook and fell to peices. The head still had a hint of spark in it.

“I’m loosing my puppet. My connection - ...static.. - failling. I have intercepted many encrypted communication suggesting a growing number of planned attacks in this place, be carfull little ones.” The eyes losing their glow, the head remained motionless. The message was delivered.

Dark Mousette smiled and jumped in anticipation: “I can’t wait for some action!” She said. They all agread. The song ended as the barman yelled: "Maintence!" and watched inferior automatons remove the heap. Why was Computron helping them?

((excellent! Not only more posters, but now a bit more of a storyline!!))

Roadbuster gets up and surveys the towering scrap-pile of a bot. He manages to catch the fake-Computron's head as it tumbles off the graying bot. "Well, that's great..."

Prowl mumbles, "It's probably the Smurfs..."

Roady turns and glares, "It's not the damn Smurfs!" Then he turns his attention back to Dark Mousette and 'The Rod.' "Wait! She just said she's from Transfandom... Isn't that what you were blathering about Rod?"

The red-orange bot with the bad custom paint job shrugs, "Yeah. I knew her there..." and takes a gulp from his tequila bottle.

Roadbuster looked at them both, "Maybe you should explain just what is happening out there, and why the Transfandom seems to be a fiery ball in the distant sky?"

He slams the head back down onto the shoulders of the faux-Computron, sending sparks as it breifly flares to life. "SMURFY!" the scrap pile randomly cries as his body joggles a bit.

A voice rises sleepily from a table in some corner, "Did someone say action?"

"Now why does it feel like I've not moved in months," Swoop asked as he rose to meet the noise in the room. "Ack! I've been terraformed!" He tries in vain to remove the plant matter from himself before asking, "Does anyone have a quick way to take care of this without setting me on fire again?"

There's a loud cocking noise, "Hold still..." Roadbuster murmers.

"WAIT! I said withOUT setting me on..."

There's a hissing and a splashing noise as Swoop flinches away. A deluge of noxious smelling liquids pelt him.

He de-flinches and looks down, the grass was wilting and falling away, "Oh, hey that wasn't that bad. Why do you have weedkiller?"

"S'not weed killer." Roadbuster hefts the weapon over his shoulder.

"Then what..." a burning sensation starts to creep over Swoop's frame

"Acid." Roadbuster shrugs nonchallantly.

Dark Mousette, who was transfixed by the peppy little robot Pretty Sparrow introduced herself. "My name is now Dark Mousette, after my idol, Dark Mousy."She looks at the acid-covered Swoop, and then at Roadbuster. "Maybe you should have used a less corrosive acid, or weed killer instead." She pulls out a single black feather, and negates the damage done to Swoop. She looks at the fake Computron. "Wonderful, the Smurfs strike again. Those little blue freaks gave me hell back at TFD. They'll ruin this place too if we don't stop them."
((dark mousy's feathers are magical))

"Oooh, Dark Mousy! He's dreeeeamy..." PrettySparrow got a far off look to her eyes for a moment, but her hyperactivity couldn't be contained for long. JaggedWing for his part simply put his hand to his temple and groaned.

"I guess that beats my suggestion of a base catalyst." He shrugged, and PrettySparrow lept for his shoulder again, perching there and massaging his headache away. "We've fought Smurfs before. Those perverted little blue socialist extremests are always wreaking havok around here, or at least trying to. If not them, then the Pokémon, or demi-gods who think they're more than that." A battle between science and religion really didn't set well with JaggedWing. He didn't hold with religion getting uppity on his watch.

"They all squish real good though!"

"Yeah. Nothing to worry about. Which means I don't think that's what our bucket of bolts buddy was trying to warn us about." JW% cast a glance at UltraMan. The bouncer was perfectly happy to see a brawl start in the Pub, because that would mean he could end it. "The main problem is that I'm afraid if worse comes to worse we'll get kicked out. Breaking things in the Pub is... kinda contractually denied around here. May have to take the fight out into the parking lot."

"You could have left him like that, I thought he looked rather amusing." A new mental voice chimed in, followed by an odd chirping noise that sounded a bit like a laugh. "I'm up here." The voice added, seeing a few of those present looking around in confusion.

Perched on a shelf above the bar was a small golden creature—a perfect dragon in miniature—with shining opalescent eyes that were, at this moment, a tranquil blue-green color.

She casts a confused look at PrettySparrow, and, with another feather, spawns a small pink and black jet. "Starflare, go find the other TFDers, tell them Starfire sent you." The tiny jet transforms into a tiny robot, who salutes her, turns back into the tiny jet and zooms off, searching for her creator's comrades.
((starflare is one of my original transformers))

"Thanks for the help," Swoop says as he wanders to the bar. "I think next time I'll stick with the fire..."

"Hey Jade." JW% hadn't been surprised to see her in the rafters. The rafters of the pub were some of the more used seats in the house it seemed sometimes. He gave a friendly wave at the dragon, hoping he identified it correctly. Shapeshifters with unlimited transformations could sometimes be difficult to identify by sight. "How's it going? Haven't seen you around lately."

"Oooh, shiny dwaggie!" PrettySparrow stood up on his shoulders, holding on to JaggedWing's horns for balance as she reached up to pat Jade on the head. She couldn't reach, but seemed to forget for a moment that she could fly.

"You look good Jade. Lost weight?"

Dark Mousette looked up, confused. "Who's that? Can they help us?"

Jade fluttered her wings a bit before respoding, telepathically again. "I had a problem to take care of back home...it took a lot longer than it should have." Jade finally answered, her eyes beginning to turn red. She gave her a head a bit of a shake, and slowly her eyes returned to their preivous blue-green. "What is after us this time? Smurfs? Mutant penguins? Or something new?"

"Oh yes, forgive me, I'm being rude." JaggedWing steps up onto a barstool and balances on the tips of his claws of one foot. This put him aproximately between the two ladies. It also raised PrettySparrow up enough that she could struggle up into the rafters and glomp onto Jade's neck.

"Dwaggie huggles!"

"Dark Mousette, this is Jade, shapeshifter extrodinare and the resident mistress of the armory for the Fnord Empire." He gestured with one clawed hand at the miniature gold dragon. "Jade, this is Dark Mousette, a fallen angel from Transfandom. Her home is... no longer availible to her or anyone else, so she has taken refuge here, along with other companions." He gestured open palmed with an elegant flurish, as if asking Dark Mousette to take his hand.

"Now, as for what's attacking us this time... we're not yet sure. We haven't yet gotten past the cryptic warnings part of the adventure. You know how it goes." JW% shrugged. "RoadBuster is putting money on the Smurfs again, but honestly it could be anything."

Roadbuster looks up, "What?! No! I said it's NOT SMURFS, NOT!!" He buries his face in his hands and composes himself, "Ok, look... we're not sure what it is. Something certainly made Transfandom explode, and The Rod and Dark Mousette are the only two to have made it here... yet."

Dark Mousette scratches her head, "I thought it was Smurfs. They were little... and blue..."

Prowl jumped up, "I TOLD you they were Smurfs!"

Roadbuster shook his head, "Dark Mousette, how long do you think it will take for the other Transfandomers to arrive?"

Dark Mousette looked around, searching for the tiny jet she had sent out to go find her friends. "Well, that depends. Agent X might have to gather up all of his 'Warped' comics, AutobotWonko the toy pimp will end up dragging all his little toys with him, and Wing Zero is probably busy beating up Blade Raider." She looked over at PrettySparrow and smirked. "Starflare does the same thing."

"Good enough. That gives us time to go visit Doc and let him know what's going on..."

"Doc? Who's Doc?" Confused, Dark Mousette found herself clinging to JaggedWing, feeling a little nervous about this "Doc" person.

JaggedWing's main bone struts for his wings were forearm mounted, giving him what appeared to be large sails on his wrists. But he still had some attached to the main body of the wing that hung at his side, so he still had control over them even if most of the time they looked like nothing more than a leather trenchcoat.

Dark Mousette felt one of his wings wrap protectively about her, while he held her hand comfortingly. She probably didn't feel that he had started manipulating gravity around her, lifting her up almost level with him while he floated somewhere above the bar and just below the rafters.

"Doctor Archeville? I don't nessisarily think we need to see him just yet, but we can if you want." JW%'s voice was warm and friendly, and the mobile horns on his head were extended up and back in a relaxed manner. Had his mouth beneath his mask been visible it probably would have been in a reassuring smile. "Doctor Archeville is the ruler of the Fnord Empire, and founder of this particular planet. He is... I suppose as near to a leader as any of us will accept."

"Jade... can I place an order with Kay? Pleeeeeeease?" PrettySparrow had been built initially in the RLD. She was, at her core and despite what seemed much to the contrary, a pleasure bot, trained to make people happy. Her touch was almost always enjoyable, so long as you didn't mind being snuggled by a little girl who looked no more than nine years old in human terms. At the moment she was utilizing her vast knowlege of pressurepoints and nervous systems of numerous species to find just the right spot behind Jade's dragon horns where she liked to be scratched. "I'll give it right back! Just use it once, I promise!" PrettySparrow was also giving Jade big sad puppy eyes and putting just enough pout into her voice to be cute without sounding spoiled.

"If Starflare does the same thing, I'm sure they should meet." JW% chuckled. "Don't worry about DrA. He's perfectly harmless and likable, so long as you like cthonic slime covered tentacles, things which man is not meant to know, and the occasional mad science experiment being done on you..." JaggedWing paused realising that was probably less reassuring than he intended it. "And Doc's wives will keep him in line. They're good at that."

JaggedWing figured first contact with Dark Mousette was going well, she was all but clinging to him for protection. That, unfortunately meant that with his luck she was going to try to stab him in the back any moment now. Probably with something that would explode once it got inside. Well, at least it wouldn't be unexpected. Until then he at least had a farmilar role to play, until she decided to be irrational. He really hoped she wouldn't, but he knew his luck.

"Roady, are you sure we want to call Doc in on this without maybe rounding up more of the gang? Or collecting more clues? Doc has been kinda..." For a moment JW% tried to figure out how to phrase things. "Twitchy lately. Ever since his mysterious return from the dead he hasn't seemed quite himself." During a recent battle that went very badly, Doctor Archeville and several others had attempted to fuse the fundimental force of Chaos, exemplified by Cthulhu, and the fundimental force of Order, exemplified by the Clockworks. They had succeeded, and Doctor Archeville had sacraficed his life to instill a sense of humanity in the resultant cosmic force. His sacrafice had been in vain, as Cthulhuworks had no effect on the outcome of the battle and ultimately grew bored and left, once more returning to it's natural state. That had torn Doctor Archeville's spirit in twain, a condition he still hadn't recovered from. However, during the battle the Spark of Starscream had sampled enough of Doctor Archeville's spirit and attempted to replicate it. This would give Starscream a backdoor pass into all of Doctor Archeville's labs, creations, and Empire. Unfortunately it worked to well, and now Starscream truely believed himself to be Doctor Archeville, and was posing as such now.

Those few that knew all of this however figured that trying to sort things out right away would be more of a mess than it was worth, so they allowed DrA to rest in his Afterlives as a hero deserved, and allowed Starscream to believe he was Doctor Archeville and rule as Doctor Archeville should.

"Wait... you don't suppose that this has something to do with that whole mess, Order and Chaos at war do you?" JW% glanced around the room. "No, I guess not. Computron said Science and Religion, that's not quite the same." He shrugged good naturely. "Okay then, not Smurfs and not Cthulhuworks. What IS your money on?" He could probably list vanquished enemies for quite somewhile, and there was always the chance that this was something new. He wanted to hear their thoughts first.

"I'm not sure. We need... a clue."

As if on queue, something came flying through the window of the Pub, sending a spray of turf and grass out as it impacted across the bar with a thud.

The bar-bot cheerfully put out the flames that now threatened to consume the place, as Roadbuster reached over and picked up the shiney blue fragment of plastisteel.

'The Rod' gave off a gasp as Roady hefted the large broken piece to the light, "Hey there! I recognize that!" the red and orange bot pointed at the fragment.

The blue and silver broken metal had a banner, recognizable to the newcomers of Rroo'tah. Across the shining silvery piece was scrawled a note.


"It's written in crayon." Roadbuster cleared his throat and read it aloud, "The Transfandom has fallen, and Fnordia is next! Beware our wrath! Sincerely hoping you're all doing well, Various And Great Inconceivably Nefarious Anarchists."

(( LOL, I love the sincerely part!))

As breifly shaken from its death by the impact, from a corner of the bar came a loud static noise....."-static-...can you hear me? I'm not certain you are..."
Everyone turned and gaze at Computron's puppet head now used as a improvised stool. A half-drunk sitting on it almost fell as the supprise struck him, spilling he's beuvrage. "i'm hoping you can receive this......head almost no...-static-power. I'm sending you a small map of the area. I was able to capture this image while my..-static- ship was crashing in the sea fnorian sea." "A small basic sattelite i ejected while crashing here is permitting -static- do this"

Computron has spent countless time in he's ship exploring after he's creator built him. While exploring this regions of space, he was struck by a suprise micro-comet shower damaging he's ship, crashing it in the process. For weeks now, he was gathering up the credits and parts to fix he's ship. But something compeled him to stay longer...what could that be?

Computron's puppet head was barely functional and was only able to receive audio, no transmission was possible. One of the eyes lit up and breifly showed a basic map on the side of the bar and ingraving it in the process.



"I just found out my intercepted information was manipulated, who ever's doing this know we're here. This version does'nt have the precise location of the bar....static...i can't transmit the one with...." Loud buzzing sounds.

A small explosion sounded inside the head. Smoke spewed from the eye socket while the ocular sphere went flying and rolling on the ground. The head truly dead now, everyone looked at the map.

"For referance, the Pub is located... here..." JW% points at the section labled 'Death Run'. In particular the leg of the 'R'. "I remember the Land Rush adventure, and the route we took. After Cyrex let us spend the night in his Dark Realm, a pretty unstable geographic area as marked by that purple swirling, we continued south along the water route..."

((I could have sworn I've done a better map since that one.))

The silver and crimson titan snapped to attention as the flaming debris came through the window. That was not a natural angle for reentry, and without entering through the portals of the doors or windows you would effectively miss the pub itself, the interior being somewhat disconnected from reality.

Besides, crayon tends to melt off during atmospheric entry. No, that bit of debris had been thrown. Thrown into the Pub.

Into HIS Pub!

In a blur of silver Ultraman was charging outside, after whoever threw the burning message. Those damn kids! Get off my lawn!