Post by Fadura on Dec 29, 2008 19:35:33 GMT -5
NAME: Grave Robin
ALLEGIANCE: Neutral
JOB(S): Robbing graves under the guise of a mortician for the most part.
ALTERNATE MODE(S): European Robin
QUOTE: "What you don't need, I take. Not like the dead need much of anything anyways."
BRIEF HISTORY:
Grave Robin was created at the tail end of the Great Wars as a jet model before upgrading into a, well, smaller jet model and after a brief stint on earth, she became a robin. What was she doing on earth? It's a mystery even to her (or so she says). After her return to Cybertron she took up the job of being a funeral director before quickly discovering that selling bodies was a far more interesting and well paid job than simply being a funeral director.
PHYSICAL APPEARANCE:
From a distance Grave Robin could probably be described as 'cute'. Her beast mode head frames her face giving the illusion of a bob haircut, her optics are round spheres of baby blue and she has small full lips. She is thin, fragile in appearance overlaid by a color scheme of warm reds, yellows and browns with a tuft of sky blue on her chest.
Her beast mode wings follow along the underside of her arms and her beast mode tail feathers move to the small of her back. The beast mode legs stays the same giving her double jointed legs. If one looks closer you also see tiny marking covering every inch of her being, most prominent along her forearms and lower legs.
PERSONALITY:
She's just a bit crazy. Just a bit. Of course, when you think you're haunted by dead people you'd be crazy too. Her living quarters are full of anti-haunting artifacts, anything from Starscream's long lost hand to plastic talismans. Protection spells are carved into every possible inch of her body and even tattooed into her beast mode parts (only visible if the feathers are moved aside, however).
Paranoia of the supernatural aside however, Grave Robin is actually quite a merciless chick; sneaky, pragmatic, amoral and a tad finicky now and then. If she weren't she wouldn't be stealing dead people's body parts now would she?
WEAPONS/ABILITIES:
Asides from a small energon dagger Grave Robin actually has no weaponry. She relies primary on someone else's protection and also her own usefulness to the customers in the business she runs to escape sticky situations. She's pretty good at talking her way out of situations, or so she thinks anyhow.
WEAKNESSES:
She has an all consuming fear of ghosts and physically, well, she's the type of person a big mech could crush into a metal pancake without kicking up the cooling fans.
SAMPLE POST:
"You know," Grave Robin mutters as a matter of factly to the grey face she was placing on top of the shelf. "Sometimes I almost regret taking up this job." She pauses to peer at the proud Maximal face, resting her chin atop one knuckle. "It's not because you're dead though, no, I mean, come on, it's not like you can do anything about it. It just..."
She shrugs and hops off the ladders before bending down to pick up a box, leaning her head back slightly so she wouldn't have her face smacked by the arm that was sticking out of it. Pausing contemplatively in the center of the cluttered room, the small flier uttered a thoughtful 'hmm' before placing the container down in a dark corner.
"It's just that you're so annoyingly difficult to smuggle out of the smelters nowadays. Regulations and all that." The words were spoken in a playfully mournful tone and Grave Robin's bright optics cast a fiendish little gleam as she straightened to peer back up at the face. "Of course, your face isn't much to look at either."
ALLEGIANCE: Neutral
JOB(S): Robbing graves under the guise of a mortician for the most part.
ALTERNATE MODE(S): European Robin
QUOTE: "What you don't need, I take. Not like the dead need much of anything anyways."
BRIEF HISTORY:
Grave Robin was created at the tail end of the Great Wars as a jet model before upgrading into a, well, smaller jet model and after a brief stint on earth, she became a robin. What was she doing on earth? It's a mystery even to her (or so she says). After her return to Cybertron she took up the job of being a funeral director before quickly discovering that selling bodies was a far more interesting and well paid job than simply being a funeral director.
PHYSICAL APPEARANCE:
From a distance Grave Robin could probably be described as 'cute'. Her beast mode head frames her face giving the illusion of a bob haircut, her optics are round spheres of baby blue and she has small full lips. She is thin, fragile in appearance overlaid by a color scheme of warm reds, yellows and browns with a tuft of sky blue on her chest.
Her beast mode wings follow along the underside of her arms and her beast mode tail feathers move to the small of her back. The beast mode legs stays the same giving her double jointed legs. If one looks closer you also see tiny marking covering every inch of her being, most prominent along her forearms and lower legs.
PERSONALITY:
She's just a bit crazy. Just a bit. Of course, when you think you're haunted by dead people you'd be crazy too. Her living quarters are full of anti-haunting artifacts, anything from Starscream's long lost hand to plastic talismans. Protection spells are carved into every possible inch of her body and even tattooed into her beast mode parts (only visible if the feathers are moved aside, however).
Paranoia of the supernatural aside however, Grave Robin is actually quite a merciless chick; sneaky, pragmatic, amoral and a tad finicky now and then. If she weren't she wouldn't be stealing dead people's body parts now would she?
WEAPONS/ABILITIES:
Asides from a small energon dagger Grave Robin actually has no weaponry. She relies primary on someone else's protection and also her own usefulness to the customers in the business she runs to escape sticky situations. She's pretty good at talking her way out of situations, or so she thinks anyhow.
WEAKNESSES:
She has an all consuming fear of ghosts and physically, well, she's the type of person a big mech could crush into a metal pancake without kicking up the cooling fans.
SAMPLE POST:
"You know," Grave Robin mutters as a matter of factly to the grey face she was placing on top of the shelf. "Sometimes I almost regret taking up this job." She pauses to peer at the proud Maximal face, resting her chin atop one knuckle. "It's not because you're dead though, no, I mean, come on, it's not like you can do anything about it. It just..."
She shrugs and hops off the ladders before bending down to pick up a box, leaning her head back slightly so she wouldn't have her face smacked by the arm that was sticking out of it. Pausing contemplatively in the center of the cluttered room, the small flier uttered a thoughtful 'hmm' before placing the container down in a dark corner.
"It's just that you're so annoyingly difficult to smuggle out of the smelters nowadays. Regulations and all that." The words were spoken in a playfully mournful tone and Grave Robin's bright optics cast a fiendish little gleam as she straightened to peer back up at the face. "Of course, your face isn't much to look at either."