((ooc: I let his paid run out and now all I've got are this, his default, and all the crack icons. >,>))


[Thundercracker shifts, the fire-lizards on his wings and vents twitching and chirping as they rebalance.]

No one was there when I woke up. I just found myself on the berth in my apartment.

As for the Glyphs . . . they were energy signs embedded on someone's surface, usually on a shoulder. There were five that I know of, each denoting a different First-Forged. Mine marked me as . . . "belonging", for lack of a better word, to Alpha Trion. A little of his power bound to my spark - or whatever - somehow kept me from being driven violently psychotic by the energies of the Lambda that tainted me by having been pulled here through it. Same for everyone else. Apparently, we'd arrive somewhere in the junkyard directly below the Lambda - where the Warehouse is now - and acolytes of the one of the First-Forged would find us and take us back to their temple, where we were bound to the First-Forged before we gained consciousness.

Unfortunately, that's about all I know.