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@crowsnake
corruptedcommunications started following you
A friendly chirp over the comm line. «Name: Crowsnake! Hello hello.»
Well. That was different.
::I am Soundwave. Greetings to you as well::
Heâd never heard of a mech by the name âCrowsnakeâ before.
«Hellow Soundwave! It nice talk to you. Crowsnake know eleven Soundwave now.» He means three Soundwaves. He's still counting in binary. «How are Soundwave doing?»
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"Okay. Crowsnake stay there." He spread his wings, and with a couple pumps and a small burst of help from his thrusters, got just high enough to glide to and land on the bar.
In a crumpled heap. Nose first. Squawk! He was still getting the hang of flying. He coiled up into a small bundle and shook his head to clear it.Â
Had Soundwave asked something? Oh. âYes. Crowsnake talk to him on the radio. He said his name Soundwave. His talk easy to understand.â
Not a bad flight, but still rather awkward. Â Soundwave briefly questioned the logic behind giving a long, wriggly bot wings before chalking it up to being one of the strange designs Primus put out from time to time as an experiment.
Shockwave wasnât the only one who built strange amalgams. Â Primus was just the only being allowed to get away with it.
At least Crowsnake didnât seem hurt.
[[A Soundwave that speaks?]]
Must be a boxverse alternate.
[[It is an acceptable speech pattern. Â Continue using it.]]
"Crowsnake will use. Yes. Acceptable."
He settled down, curled his wings around his coiled-up tail, and settled his head down to wait for the promised parade of hands.
corruptedcommunications started following you
A friendly chirp over the comm line. «Name: Crowsnake! Hello hello.»
primalprotector started following you
hI MOMMY.
Crowsnake's naptime dreamspace looks like the underground, except minus a roof, with a bright shiny sun overhead. He likes the bright sun but most of his time has been spent underground so that's the kind of environment his mind generates.
You can stay if you have nice hands.
((Rough lineart for Starscream-munâs minicon OC, Crowsnake. Colors and general tidying-up will come later, after the little guy decides on his paint scheme.
Artist notes are here, for those of you interested in that sort of thing.))
((OH NO HEâS ADORABLE LOOK HOW HAPPY HE IS))
((GUYS))
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"Yes! Yes!" He nodded enthusiastically. That was it exactly. "Looking for someone who will be able to wield Crowsnake."
Hmm. The temptation of having many hands to choose from was high. But he certainly didnât want to end up with anyone untrustworthy. He hardly understood what âuntrustworthyâ meant! (Good thing heâd run into somebody honest and reliable like Soundwave to steer him straight!) But leaving meant moving away from fuel, with no idea where the next source might be, or where to head to find more mechs. What to do?
"Decision: Crowsnake stay," he said. "Hide safe. Look at mechs secretly. Not go to untrustworthy bots. Good?"
Allowing the Minicon to stay was just going to make it more difficult for Soundwave to let him go. Â He wanted to just move Crowsnake on out already, so he could have his peace and quiet and be slightly moody over losing out on acquiring a new unit member.
Crowsnake had come to a decision, though, and if he was any kind of a carrier unit he would accommodate it within reason.
Even if he didnât like the decision.
That is to say, he wanted that choice to be made but not under those terms, andâ
This. Â This was why he tried to stay away from newbuilds. Â They were always more trouble than he wanted, getting into things and being difficult to deal with. Â Ones this small were worse, setting off old instincts and putting him at odds with himself. Â He couldnât say he would know his aft from his chronometer if someone chose that exact moment to ask him.
Maybe heâd get lucky and a Blaster would show up. Â Then Crowsnake could go with them.
[[Fine.]]
[[Tonight, you will stay near the bar, over there. Â It is a good place for watching others.]] Â He pointed to the place where heâd gotten the energon. Â [[Do not leave the area. Â If you are on the floor, others may fail to notice you and crush you.]]
He tilted his helm again, something about its speech pattern tugging at the back of his mind.
[[You have spoken to another Soundwave?]]
He couldnât say he disapproved.
"Okay. Crowsnake stay there." He spread his wings, and with a couple pumps and a small burst of help from his thrusters, got just high enough to glide to and land on the bar.
In a crumpled heap. Nose first. Squawk! He was still getting the hang of flying. He coiled up into a small bundle and shook his head to clear it.Â
Had Soundwave asked something? Oh. "Yes. Crowsnake talk to him on the radio. He said his name Soundwave. His talk easy to understand."
Well.
Crowsnake had spent enough time in Soundwave's abode.
He hadn't seen any visitors come by that he liked the looks of, for one reason or another, so clearly it was time to move on.
He'd send a little farewell hiss to Soundwave as he passed if Soundwave happened to be there; if not, he was wandering out into the wild again.
Time to crawl about and see what he could see.
Happy hiss. Yes, this was clearly Soundwaveâs face. Mystery solved.
He eyed the scale in disappointment. âToo small,â he declared. âNot good grip. Crowsnake need better servos.â
If Soundwave finds himself the target of any rumors down the road about how his feelers are actually his face, he is going to know exactly who to blame.
Running with it would have the potential to stop bots from constantly smashing his visor in.
Then again, he doesnât care to have his feelers injured either.
Never mind.
[[Good grip?]]
So that was it. Â He understood.
Soundwave slowly withdrew into his usual cold and standoffish state in order to hide the disappointment of having to free such a fabulous Minicon to find a new host.
It happened. Â No carrier unit could match everyone.
[[You are looking for someone who will be able to wield you.]]
[[There are no other servos here.]] Â A pause and a thought. Â [[In a few joors, there will many, but he can not guarantee that they will belong to trustworthy bots.]]
[[It is in your best interest to move on before then. Â The method is your choice.]]
"Yes! Yes!" He nodded enthusiastically. That was it exactly. "Looking for someone who will be able to wield Crowsnake."
Hmm. The temptation of having many hands to choose from was high. But he certainly didn't want to end up with anyone untrustworthy. He hardly understood what "untrustworthy" meant! (Good thing he'd run into somebody honest and reliable like Soundwave to steer him straight!) But leaving meant moving away from fuel, with no idea where the next source might be, or where to head to find more mechs. What to do?
"Decision: Crowsnake stay," he said. "Hide safe. Look at mechs secretly. Not go to untrustworthy bots. Good?"
Gasp! A fellow wiggly person! He smiled at it. âHello!â Oh, wait, it was attached to Soundwave. Maybe this was where his face was located? Hmm. He flicked a tongue at it.
When Soundwave displayed the images on his head (wow!), Crowsnake looked at the hands critically. The shapes looked decent enough, but he couldnât get a good estimate of scale from the picture, and he suspected they wouldnât be quite up to snuff. âHow big the servos, friend?â
Soundwave twitched a tendril in imitation of the Miniconâs glossa, though he didnât need that to smell, see, or taste.
Hopefully, it would serve as a distraction. Â He didnât want Crowsnake to question why he didnât call it âfriendâ in return.
[[Approximately this long.]]
He used thumb and forefinger to mark the size down on the table where smaller bot could see. Â It could gauge the width on its own based on the pictures.
Happy hiss. Yes, this was clearly Soundwave's face. Mystery solved.
He eyed the scale in disappointment. "Too small," he declared. "Not good grip. Crowsnake need better servos."
Crowsnake looked up from his cube-tasting to regard Soundwave thoughtfully. Stay? Hmm. He hadnât considered staying anywhere before. Until now, heâd been preoccupied with getting to the surface, and after that, getting to energon and people. Now that those needs had been met, was he satisfied? Could he stay here? What else did he need before he was content?
His thoughtful gaze moved from Soundwaveâs head down to his hands. Those sad, skinny little hands⊠âQuery: any good servos here?»
Soundwave tilted his helm, not one-hundred percent positive he understood the reason for that question.
His servos were good, werenât they? Â They functioned, could get into tight spaces, were capable of precision movements, and allowed him to be a quick typist.
Perhaps Crowsnake required something he did not have?
He offered the end of one of his feelers, clicking the claws and using the tendrils to grasp a cube.
Thinking that might not be it either, he also blipped for attention and displayed Rumble and Frenzyâs servos on his screen - smaller than his, tipped with small claws, battered and scuffed from their rough and tumble ways but still equally functional. Â One had digits that tapered a little more than the otherâs because of the need to be changed into a drill - the only true outwardly visible difference between them when their arm weaponry was not out and theyâd changed paint colors.
No other Minicon in his unit had servos.
[[Sufficient?]]
Gasp! A fellow wiggly person! He smiled at it. "Hello!" Oh, wait, it was attached to Soundwave. Maybe this was where his face was located? Hmm. He flicked a tongue at it.
When Soundwave displayed the images on his head (wow!), Crowsnake looked at the hands critically. The shapes looked decent enough, but he couldn't get a good estimate of scale from the picture, and he suspected they wouldn't be quite up to snuff. "How big the servos, friend?"
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"Hello Crowsnake! Ready for your very first medical exam?"
totally-an-autobot-clone:
"Hello, Crowsnake. Â Iâm Knock Out. Â We spoke on the comms, remember?" Â Knock Out walked over to the table, looking at the newspark with avid curiosity.
((casually squishes these together.))
Oh! New person! Crowsnake lifted up from where heâd been sampling that one energon cube, and smiled fangily at Knock Out. âHello, friend! Query: how do you do?â He raised up on his coils, and flapped his wings cheerily. «Crowsnake ready.» He didnât know what a medical exam was, but by the maker he was ready for anything.
"Very well, thank you." Â What a polite newspark. Â And what an interesting chassis. "Have you tried transforming yet? Â Soundwave tells me you turn into a sword."
"Good. Thank you." A new phrase. He filed it away with the other linguistic quirks heâd adopted. "Yes, yes! Crowsnake a sword. See!" And he transformed. His body snapped out to perfectly straight, the length below his wings flattening to a thinner layer. His optics shuttered and fangs turned inward to hide his face. Scaly armor locked together to form a solid metal face, and along the flattened length of the sword blade, sharper bladed edges emerged and combined to form the swordâs cutting edges. The wings curled up and in to form a shield-like hand/arm guard.
"Crowsnake venomous!" he declared proudly.
Knock Out has been reaching for Crowsnake when he made this proud announcement. He drew his hand back.
"Venomous! Well, well, thatâs very unusual. Which parts, specifically? Just your blade? Or all of you?"
The newspark had control of his transformation sequence, in any case. Knock Out ran his scanner over him. âYouâre in tiptop shape, Crowsnake. Nowâhave you thought about paint jobs?â
"Blade edge and fangs and rattle." He transformed back to snap his teeth and shake his "rattle," a bulb filled with venom at the end of his tail.
"Answer: Crowsnake not thought about paint jobs." He flicked his glossa toward Knock Out. "Knock Out paint job smell good, friend." (Heâs actually smelling the polish and wax.)
"Why, thank you!" He liked this one. A lot. It might be worth noting that snakes were his favorite Earth animal. Not his favorite Cybertronian creature, but still. "If youâd like to be more colorful or have pretty designs, I can paint you thatâs what a paintjob means."
Oooh. He rattled his tail in excitement, and rolled onto his back. "Crowsnake like to have pretty designs!"
cold-eye-of-science started following you
«Hello hello, Crowsnake here! Who that?»
::I am Shockwave.::
«Hello Shockwave. Statement: it nice talk to you, friend. How you?»
"Hello Crowsnake! Ready for your very first medical exam?"
totally-an-autobot-clone:
"Hello, Crowsnake. Â Iâm Knock Out. Â We spoke on the comms, remember?" Â Knock Out walked over to the table, looking at the newspark with avid curiosity.
((casually squishes these together.))
Oh! New person! Crowsnake lifted up from where heâd been sampling that one energon cube, and smiled fangily at Knock Out. âHello, friend! Query: how do you do?â He raised up on his coils, and flapped his wings cheerily. «Crowsnake ready.» He didnât know what a medical exam was, but by the maker he was ready for anything.
"Very well, thank you." Â What a polite newspark. Â And what an interesting chassis. "Have you tried transforming yet? Â Soundwave tells me you turn into a sword."
"Good. Thank you." A new phrase. He filed it away with the other linguistic quirks heâd adopted. "Yes, yes! Crowsnake a sword. See!" And he transformed. His body snapped out to perfectly straight, the length below his wings flattening to a thinner layer. His optics shuttered and fangs turned inward to hide his face. Scaly armor locked together to form a solid metal face, and along the flattened length of the sword blade, sharper bladed edges emerged and combined to form the swordâs cutting edges. The wings curled up and in to form a shield-like hand/arm guard.
"Crowsnake venomous!" he declared proudly.
Knock Out has been reaching for Crowsnake when he made this proud announcement. He drew his hand back.
"Venomous! Well, well, thatâs very unusual. Which parts, specifically? Just your blade? Or all of you?"
The newspark had control of his transformation sequence, in any case. Knock Out ran his scanner over him. âYouâre in tiptop shape, Crowsnake. Nowâhave you thought about paint jobs?â
"Blade edge and fangs and rattle." He transformed back to snap his teeth and shake his "rattle," a bulb filled with venom at the end of his tail.
"Answer: Crowsnake not thought about paint jobs." He flicked his glossa toward Knock Out. "Knock Out paint job smell good, friend." (He's actually smelling the polish and wax.)
Well, this is a bar/dance club, and drunk dancing bots have a tendency to spill fuel. Even after clean-up, the smellâs pretty strong around the place.
Oooh, energon. And it wasnât even inside other people. Much easier to get to. Crowsnake listened attentively to Soundwaveâs instructions, then set about choosing a cube.
He flicked his glossa out to sample each one, hissed at the fourth one (too bitter), sampled the second and fifth one again, and stuck his snout into the middle cube to drink. This was good strong fuel.
Once it was gone, he topped off his tank from the fifth cube, and then returned to flicking his glossa in the second cube. Not drinking it, just repeatedly tasting. He liked the flavor.
Plain energon, then? Â That was easy. Â He had plenty of that around, and it was much less difficult to acquire than anything with additives.
Unfortunately, he soon had reason to regret alerting the Datanet to Crowsnakeâs presence. Â His helm rang with constant messages demanding the acquisition of the Minicon, forcing him to spend the entire time it took the mech to finish the cube debating with others and defending his right to claim the serpent as its mentor.
Which led to a Shockwave calling him out on his bluff, and, by extension, the need to ask a question.
[[You are welcome to remain here as long as you wish.  Do you intend to stay?]]
Privately, he hoped that the newbuild would choose to stay with them all, but it was true - he couldnât make any demands of it. Â It would either agree and resent him, which would make for a failed working relationship, or refuse and flee anyway.
[[He⊠will arrange transportation if you do not.]]
Crowsnake looked up from his cube-tasting to regard Soundwave thoughtfully. Stay? Hmm. He hadn't considered staying anywhere before. Until now, he'd been preoccupied with getting to the surface, and after that, getting to energon and people. Now that those needs had been met, was he satisfied? Could he stay here? What else did he need before he was content?
His thoughtful gaze moved from Soundwave's head down to his hands. Those sad, skinny little hands... "Query: any good servos here?»
goodnight-iacon started following you
«Hello hello Crowsnake here, who this?»
So many new radio signals! Being on the surface was way more interesting than being in the ground.
"Blaster, baby. Just call me Blaster, and how do ya do?" Never heard of this one, but at least he knew Laserbeakâs shenanigans with his comm station didnât put it out of commission.
«Crowsnake good, friend! Query: how you?»
"Well, Iâve been better, baby, but I think Iâll be alright.. though, you sound like youâve been spendinâ a lilâ time with Soundwave, or am I mistaken?" He didnât know any other mech who started questions off with âqueryâ.
«Yes yes! Talk with two of Soundwave. It nice talk to them.» He liked the second Soudwave's tendency to announce what kind of sentence he was making before he made it. For Crowsnake, who was only just starting to learn how to use language, it made communicating easier.
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Free to watch âą No registration required âą HD streaming
"Hello Crowsnake! Ready for your very first medical exam?"
totally-an-autobot-clone:
"Hello, Crowsnake. Â Iâm Knock Out. Â We spoke on the comms, remember?" Â Knock Out walked over to the table, looking at the newspark with avid curiosity.
((casually squishes these together.))
Oh! New person! Crowsnake lifted up from where heâd been sampling that one energon cube, and smiled fangily at Knock Out. âHello, friend! Query: how do you do?â He raised up on his coils, and flapped his wings cheerily. «Crowsnake ready.» He didnât know what a medical exam was, but by the maker he was ready for anything.
"Very well, thank you." Â What a polite newspark. Â And what an interesting chassis. "Have you tried transforming yet? Â Soundwave tells me you turn into a sword."
"Good. Thank you." A new phrase. He filed it away with the other linguistic quirks he'd adopted. "Yes, yes! Crowsnake a sword. See!" And he transformed. His body snapped out to perfectly straight, the length below his wings flattening to a thinner layer. His optics shuttered and fangs turned inward to hide his face. Scaly armor locked together to form a solid metal face, and along the flattened length of the sword blade, sharper bladed edges emerged and combined to form the sword's cutting edges. The wings curled up and in to form a shield-like hand/arm guard.
"Crowsnake venomous!" he declared proudly.
cold-eye-of-science started following you
«Hello hello, Crowsnake here! Who that?»
