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Pooled Dreams Trickle Through My Fingers...




Editor's Note: The 'Transformer' cybertronian dialects vary in their cadence, possessing several thousand modifiers to affect each 'word' used.

Example:

English: A Beautiful Woman
Cybertronian (Iaconian Dialect): Femme-adult_Seen-admired-honored-liked_Good-Attractive-physical-frame-shape-color-whole

All this is 'said' in one short use of fast-paced cybetronian dialect. The modifiers are sub-sounds inlaid into the 'word' itself; they define and correct the 'word', which acts as a base upon which the modifiers build a pinnacle of meaning - a scaffolding of clearly defined terms that altogether refer to one single 'thing'. The following report has been translated approximately, as a result, to Homo-Sapien English, which does not possess the necessary modifiers and inlaid cadences to affect each 'word'. Therefore several English 'words' are occasionally used to express one cybertronian 'word'. In the main body, approximations have been made to smoothen reading, but essential meaning has been captured as much as possible. Read carefully accordingly.

ReportInjustice_HuntSecure_IncreaseEvolve-PowerStrengthResources.
Filer?<OfficerProwl>Injurer?<UndeterminedHiddenUntouchable>Subject?<RequestingAuthorityLevelMagnus_AuthorityLevelOfficerInsufficient>

BeginReportStart.

In the third Deca-Cycle of Stellar Cycle 921457.92, Second Era, a vocal transmission from an unknown origin was broadcast planet wide using the Iacon Capitol's Public Frequency, 00.235 Epsilon-Goma. It was recorded as follows for justice purposes and for reason of substantiating a request made by this officer for advanced authority, level Magnus. The perpetrator has not been secured/located/identified by means available to Officer level authority.

"We are.

These two words reach your thoughtless audials, and Cybertron moves on – lives and breathes, fueled by our existence. But we live too, bound and wrapped as the core of our planet’s being – irreplaceable in our function. None but a traitorous fool dares to remove us from our station, for fear that this, our great nation, might collapse at our absence…
 
We are, and we are mighty. A cohesive unit, forged and forced into shape, each duty seen and done by our servos - our aching struts and our bodies, until each of us shatters and is replaced again.
 
Does this not sound pleasant, Cybertron? We are your workers – your miners and your sons, your servants and your daughters. We are the gears in your body – the tanks that fuel you and feed your spark. We are these, and we are many.
 
Unity commands us - binds us and drives us. Mindless obedience and sacrificial death is ours, forcibly fed as our minds’ only food – our mouths greedy for anything if only it sates our thirst for purpose and knowledge.
 
We are wronged.
 
These foods do not sate. We are not free or sacrificial – we are a sacrifice itself, bound and gagged and offered all as one. Our might is the might of a dumb beast, driven like a drone until we bleed and die. We are replaceable – each of us a sick, weak cog in a merciless, sparkless machine designed for one purpose: The satisfaction of tyranny.  We serve it faithfully without faith, passionately without love, and obediently without choice. When we shatter, we are cast aside, our place fitted with another slave – another shackled soul.
 
We are, it is true, but we are not free.
 
Freedom is our right. Choice is ours to take – given by Primus and gifted by our nature. We are not workers; we are beaten into that mold. Choice may shape us back again, Cybertron. Choice may bring us together again, instead of binding us tightly -packaged fuel to an endless lust.
 
You have already taken your first step of freedom. You listen, and I speak. We are together, you and I – parts of a whole and yet individual. I challenge you now, my fellow brothers and sisters of Cybertron – I challenge you to stand up for what you are. They can do nothing- even as my silence falls, they cannot stop my voice from fading.
 
You, Cybertron… can do everything."

End Transmission. Origin remains undetermined, and perpetrator remains to be apprehended. Request for Magnus level authority reinforced.


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:iconwingedwolfmedic:
Wingedwolfmedic Featured By Owner Jun 18, 2016
"Megatron..." A silver and blue cybertronian wolf femme growled.
Reply
:icontfmegatron:
TFMegatron Featured By Owner Jun 22, 2016
The warlord heard.
Bloody-colored optics seared into the femme's own, their owner's massive frame gleaming like a mass of blades as it turned - the better for Megatron to regard her. Sharp teeth bared in a sneer that was cruel by habit rather than intention, and the red gaze narrowed to thin, impatient slits of volcanic intensity.
Silence was his answer to the wolf's growl; the femme's intention in approaching him was unclear. 
Reply
:iconwingedwolfmedic:
Wingedwolfmedic Featured By Owner Jun 22, 2016
The wolf femme walked forwards with intention of harm,
her fangs were baring right there where she was standing. 
"Skylinx Prime, daughter of Optimus." she said.
Reply
:icontfmegatron:
TFMegatron Featured By Owner Jul 15, 2016
No matter the battlefield, hatred was the same. Be it between friends, strangers, lovers, or enemies, nothing could alter or disguise the burning light of hatred; the wish for harm and destruction on an opponent. Many times he'd felt that fire himself - had used it as fuel for countless blows. He recognized it in his canine visitor; in her walk and in her bared fangs.
The warlord smirked. The barest hint of surprise stained his expression at the name of Optimus Prime, but it faded quickly, swallowed up by something darker and far more dangerous. "And what, then, is your quarrel with me?" His voice was measured, rough, and insidious; it twisted like a serpent between them, mocking the daughter of Optimus Prime. "Why approach me, to face what your father could not destroy?"
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(1 Reply)