Aethril was studying the other creatures that came marching into Draco-- after supplying a little nod to Vargas. A bright smile, one that was genuine was flashed to Overseer Cain. She wished she'd brought some milk for it, but perhaps now was not the time nor place. Perhaps if it wasn't busy after this meeting...
Soon joining Cain was a whelpling that kept nodding at her. Pretty white and gold scales bounced, bleached in the Voidlight.
A humanoid-like creature. Nidhogg, getting wrestled by Vargas (not an unusual occurrence, she remembered). Another creature staring at her before scowling with disgust at everyone else (and didn't that boost her inflated ego?). A buglike creature approaching and interacting with Pollen. Out of the new arrivals, it was only one that really caught the Hand's attention, and when it did, she gasped.
Draconua was by far the most disgusting creature she had ever seen. Oil-slick, stinking, with a rippling mouth going down the sides of her throat. Her flesh rippled and twisted and grew. Seemingly displeased with this, the Valkhound turned, amputated herself, and choked down the writhing appendage into her own mouth.
She was beautiful.
Aethril made no real attempt to hide from Draconua who was contacting her-- though no explicit words were shared between them. Chaos twisted and bent and the implications filled Draconua's head-- blatant admiration, impressed with her... let's call 'eating your own tentacle' skill, and a desire (perhaps more of an offer) to speak with Draconua later. In private.
Finally, Vargas spoke. Screamed. Aethril's head turned idly towards him to listen. To her introduction she offered a smile and an incline of her head directed in no particular direction, nor to any particular creature gathered around. A brighter smile was passed to Cain again, new name announced, and if she didn't know better, she would have cheered for it.
Vargas, as it turned out, had ideas-- or were they all his Overseer's ideas? --that were interesting. Farms and rewards and punishments aside from death. These weren't the kind of things Aethril herself had been useful, but as long as they worked, she was unsure if she could care less how Vargas went about doing his job. Especially if it kept people in line.
She was, however... impressed. Vargas knew how to project to his people. He knew how to talk. He hopefully knew how to keep their attention-- but a flicker of worry lifted in her chest as she took a glance over to Resident Failure, Chaos-two.
One hand went to Obieth, fingers cupping underneath her cheek and gently pulling the Valkhound's head into her thigh, itching away at the hollow of her chin in thought. Her eyes watched the white shape of the owl perching onto Chaos-two, and was unsure which one was more pathetic: the creature allowing itself to be bullied, or the creature so sorely begging for her Master's attention?
Her tone went softer, however, when her head angled to Pollen. Pollen, who loved nothing more than Rodd Danger and anyone associated with him.
A nudge. A wink.
He'd decided that, after recuperating, and learning to fly with his altered wings and center of gravity, he'd pay Master Vargas a visit. He'd... also done his paint and dyes as best he could, not a single speck of white to be seen on his whole body- deep gleaming navy, pale sunset purple, and then a paler sky blue around the top of his head to allow his red eyes to stand out sharply in contrast.
The bauble he always wore still hung merrily against his neck, glowing a pale blue galaxy within as he alights within the Voidlight of Draco, and listens to the whole speech. Seems he's gotten much better at his timing- or worse, depending. Guests are hardly a good thing to have over when you've got business to iron out - remembering his first official meeting with the Bonebound with a shudder. Nemo recognizes Esther, then, from the failure of a Raid, and alights near the slightly different other- wondering if they'd too fallen asleep and changed like he had due to the sheer stress of the event.
Not that they'd blame anyone.
Aethril, though, he turns his head to gaze at her in awe, beak slightly open as he does so, and only able to offer a small wave of his wing to avoid smacking anyone if she ever looks in his direction. Her perfect choice of color aside, she had an aura of power and confidence that he... vaguely envied, what with his anxieties having been nipping at his tail feathers for most of his life.
Envy aside, he focuses on looking at the gathered Gembound, and his face folds into a deep frown when he realizes he's... white. That cursed color he's begun to loathe, and all his dye gone to waste in the odd light of the breathing cave that, frankly, makes his feathers stand on end.
"Hmpf, waste of time..." he huffs oh so quietly as he lifts his elbow to inspect his whole body, to see if it really was a result of the light making him appear so bright. The lammergeier has the air of someone who's attempting to fix their hair repeatedly on a windy day... frustrated, but feeling a smidge ridiculous for it none the less.
@Esther (for visibility)
More came to sit with the group - not everyone, if Esther's memory is correct. Some new faces, too - ones they've never seen before. Their thoughts were quickly ushered away when a dark form hisses and is forcefully pushed down to listen - Esther never wants to be in that kind of position. Even if they aren't the most... Obedient, they can safely say they're better than that one or - with a short glance to her - Draconua. Their eyes dart to Vargas' large form when he begins to shout superfluously - most of the group already has eyes on him even after their quick greetings. That sure will get their attention if he doesn't already have it, though.
Aethril - a hand? The term... Esther has never heard it. Nor have they seen any semblance of Lord Dhracia. That, to them despite not being new, is a new term - new valkhound - valkhand? They quickly scrub that out of their head and instead turn to peer at Overseer Cain - they forgot that the lot of them didn't already have names. It's odd, but maybe Vargas didn't want to name them in case of their deaths - ? Or perhaps, he didn't think to give them one. There's other reasons in there too, but Esther does not linger on them. It's dangerous, and the last thing they need now is something dangerous to think about.
Esther does not know who Desert-Rose-Thirty Five is, but being a survivor of that seems... Important. On top of it being more than once - they don't look over at whoever he is when Vargas mentions him, however. That can be saved for later, if the two ever find a moment to interact. Esther doubts they will for now, but perhaps at a future date once all of the commotion of the new things is over.
Plans, roles that need filling. The latter is more exciting to the gembound. Esther has been... Mostly role-less since joining the group. Their magic training has been going, but other than that... They've not been doing much besides participating in the mass-quests of the caves. (They think back to the water, and look down at the water-breathing ring on one of their fingers. Maybe they can use it again sometime to explore more - a thought for later.) Punishments and rewards brings their attention back up to the Master. They can see the need for both, still - the group hasn't been doing much to warrant the latter lately. At least Esther thinks so. Then again, they are not part of the inner-workings and don't know much of what is going on within Chaos Forge.
Esther holds back a grimace when Vargas starts yelling again. They're thankful he feels excited enough - passionate enough - to talk like that, but still. Another master offering teachings? That... Is a good way to get the curious excited for things. Esther themselves is definitely going to take part in them. Homes for everyone... A good idea - did any of them start their own already? Esther does not know, but they are curious to see what will come of that decision. Once they figure out who, exactly, will be building them. Their eyes shift to the humanoids then, but quickly turn back to Vargas when he begins speaking some more. A home as a reward, a good idea for those who want that kind of thing (or don't have one elsewhere). What's stopping them from building their own home, though? Will Vargas simply knock it down and consider it disobeying him? For wanting something most needed to live - They're getting ahead of themselves.
Farming is good, at least for the ones that can eat plants. Does the forge have many of those? Are lessers going to be included in this? They can only imagine how much beings like Vargas and Draconua - or the other purple one they've seen lingering around - eat. It's going to be hard to keep a large amount of lessers like that alive with how large the group is. Vargas does have the right idea when he says it will be good for recruitment. Knowing you will have meals every day of your life is... A good thing.
Esther does not look at V-Chaos-Two when they are called out for their failure. Everyone does it - they cringe when they remember all the times their fire failed before. It still hurts to think about that time. Esther ignores the talk of guardians, they are not fit for that kind of role, they also show no interest in building. Not with their body. Not farming either - a lot of this sounds like Vargas will need gembound with real hands. Not that Esther doesn't have that they do, but they won't be able to do the same things that Aethril could, for example. Not that they expect her to build, they don't. String lights, hunters, water, skins - none of it takes their interest, except maybe hunting, but once again - how much do the big ones eat? The talk of scouts, though, peaks their interest and Esther sits up a little straighter. They ignore Draconua this time.
Recruitment... Esther thought what Vargas brings up was already the typical situation for things like that. Still, it's good to know for sure. Rewards again, something for the group to think about later. Harming another Forge member is forbidden, something they figured already was a rule in the first place. Having punishments specifically garnered to that is nice though, and makes them feel more protected from certain things (Draconua). Still, the conformation of another thing is nice. The children thing is... Odd, to say the least. Esther hopes its mostly a thing to regulate their populations, but perhaps it's also so the forge members don't try to do their own things? They all have their own hobbies, but they serve the group first and foremost so it make some sense. No distractions from their jobs. Makes work easier.
Being a servant is another thing Esther does not find surprising. Maybe it should, but they just... They can see it happening to at least one of their members in the future. Not anyone specific though, but the rank is there for a reason. Trial by combat, death - some more non-surprising things. They do grimace at the testing design talk - what it implies they don't know, but it does not sound good. And that's the point. More ranks and rewards - Esther is losing focus of it all at this point. Their attention comes back at the deathmatch, but they already know they won't be participating either way.
Their attention turned to the side at a very... White gembound next to them. One they distinctly remember from the ursa raid some cycles before. They can't remember if he attacked Draconua or not, but he probably did. Stupid for it, too, but not stupid enough to keep doing it if he tried. Overall they don't really have anything negative to say about him. They don't get any words in, instead standing up.
Nevertheless, Khavur was quick as a rabbit in white; it had been anticipating this meeting for a long time. In preparations, it had struggled with the pesky venoms that occasionally dribbled out of one head, or the other, or both at the same time. It had not yet discovered whether or not either one was potable to itself, but it didn't really want to risk that experiment here and now. So, it hadn't eaten in a while, and in some secluded corner of Draco it had exercised its will over its own body... and had failed. Again.
The result was lots of very nasty, very unsafe spit. The gemstones and dust piles probably wouldn't mind.
Then, Khavur was there, tactically seating itself in between Chaos-Two and Draconua, using its wings as the primary blocker. It sat in a sort of guardian posture around Chaos-Two and Selenite-One, whom Khavur was a little surprised by. It had not seen this one in a while...
As soon as Master Vargas had started booming his thoughts and directions, Khavur had to fight back the urges to wince. Chaos-Two had sent it a thought which Khavur could only sympathize with. However, before it could even respond, a voice came rippling through Khavur's ears like a silver needle-- who was this? Khavur's small-horned head twisted to see:
Bipedal, like Chaos-Two, the Sentinel, Selenite-One... and yet not monstrous like them in the slightest. They were... pretty, actually. Khavur didn't understand that concept, or why it had entered their mind, but oh well. Moving onward: they had along with them the teeniest green bean pipsqueak Khavur had ever laid eyes on -- it preemptively curled its tail around Chaos-Two, both as a comforting gesture and as a way to keep such weapon-like tail from accidentally shifting and impaling or lacerating the little one. Reminded Khavur of when everyone else here had been but grubs, except for Master Vargas, Orthoclase-Alpha, and itself.
Some brain fog must have cleared away suddenly because: Oh- wait, that was Aethril, the Hand? Like Lord Dhracia? And that green one her servant?
Khavur lost the thought it had intended to send.
Both heads returned to Master Vargas -- but not without offering a low, disapproving growl towards Kethri. Were the owl not a potential ally, Khavur would have swallowed her whole.
Now then, to the parts of the speech that interested Khavur:
Khavur swelled with pride at the mention of Chaos-Two's successful contributions. Gardening, refurbishing, rebuilding... this was far more native to their environment, and in some ways, Khavur's as well. Khavur wouldn't be taking place among the gardens or their caretakers; it simply wasn't built for that kind of a task, but it probably would not be so improper as to drop by with offers of assistance and... whatever was needed for gardening. Cherry juice and emotional support maybe. The mention of gaining support through respect rather than hatred pleased Khavur as well. It was smart... aligned better. Now that it wasn't fuming mad, admittance came easier: Master Vargas made good points sometimes.
It very much liked the clear path of promotion laid out ahead. It made everything feel so much more achievable. Ambition, latent like acid in the blood, began to boil up... and Khavur yet again had to hide the physical reaction to this emotion. Travel, bring recruits -- Khavur could do that. Avoid the Black Spire like death itself -- Khavur could do that! The Reaver ever so briefly thought of itself in hypothetical situations where it might dig, or string lights, or bring messages... but of course, none of them could suffice. Mentorship and guardianship was written in its destiny like wounds marked in its flesh. All it had ever wanted, laid out in front of it... that made it hungry.
Or maybe that was just the whole skipping lunch thing.
Besides those most intriguing parts, Khavur had found the punishments to be... fair. The assumption of them awaiting death at every corner felt pretty correct, honestly -- Khavur momentarily felt a stroke of sparkling yellow amazement painted alongside a splash of sickly green. Yes, envy and ambition combined was a mental venom like no other. A potion of death, if you will.
Khavur's small-horned head glanced down at
At the end: questions? None. Well done. Ideas? A few, but they weren't done cooking yet. And interest in roles? A beastly rumble slipped from the large-horned head's throat:
He bellowed, a greeting laced with enthusiasm, demanding attention to all of Chaos Forge. He spoke of names unknown, but his message rang clear- to give respect to them and to treat than as your own in family- but not rank. But the mention of a Hand, no wonder Aurelia's gaze pulled to her when she was looking for a seat. She was pleased with herself, having attempted to bow towards Aethril previously as if she knew the importance of their being. Though Aethril gleamed royalty, power, someone commanding of respect- so perhaps it wasn't that impressive on Aurelia's part.
She knew not of Dhracia but perhaps in time she would. Though soon her mind flickered to her Overseer Cain. The announcement of their name, and the reminder of respect. Flesh writhed in silent celebration, her Overseer deserved the upmost respect. There was someone new mentioned too- Desert Rose, said to be an old Champion- perhaps she'd ask Cain or the gembound themself about it. She was after all quite curious.
Master Vargas spoke of the general purpose of this meeting, jobs, roles, punishments and rewards alike. She would be sure to listen, memorize even to the best of her ability. First he had plans, as any great Master should. There would be lessons for the Forge and any visitors- how generous! She couldn't help but wonder who or what Master Astraea was, perhaps Aurelia herself would be able to attend. She wouldn't mind learning how to read or write, and with her hands perhaps it would be easier for her than most.
Then came the mention of housing, something to be earned; private and all your own! Once more pristine pale skin began to writhe again. How wonderful it would be for her to prove herself In the coming cycles! To earn a home all her own and decorate it with items of her accomplishments!
Master Vargas mentioned another- V-Chaos-Two. They would be farming? How nice! Food was the way to many's hearts, and perhaps clarity- she after all taking note on the whispers that ached and begged whenever she was a bit peckish herself. More visitors meant more potential family- though the mention of..rebels sat oddly with her...Were there those who sought to harm The Chaos Forge?...Another topic to bring up, perhaps Master Vargas or her Overseer Cain would have more to tell her about such individuals. She after all wouldn't want to be caught off-guard, not when she could help it.
Roles were the next topic, and once again Master Vargas brought up V-Chaos-Two. It was- well made glaring evident that they had failed their trial. She could only listen, it was not her place to judge- nor did she particularly hold the ability to. They had failed yes, but they were doing something else now- perhaps something better suited for this skills. They were to aid with farming and that alone seemed to be such an important task. She could only wish them luck on their future endeavors and hope their effort yeiled success.
It was also reassuring to know, if she did fail- or perhaps did not feel comfortable in a certain role that Master Vargas would listen to those who sought another. Recruitment was also an intriguing note, something to remember should she venture out of Draco in the future no doubt. Aurelia though was unsure on where her skills-or well what skills she had that would be useful to The Forge at this current moment. She was yet to be fully tests, but that would soon come to light in time, she just needed to be patient.
Punishments were laid bare for all to see. They seemed fair, justifiable, Aurelia had no complaints. Though she didn't particularly care for the being made a servant for other Forge members. She would be sure to never feel that fate. The shackle-collar? Whatever it was though brought a rush of curiosity to her. Not that she was wanting to test them out, or seek punishment to get a closer look. She was just curious, plain and simple. But that too she would remember.
Ranks! She listened closely, wondering what rank she'd be called-Meat- oh. Well that was better than maggot or grub she supposed. All in due time she thought to herself. She find herself to Hound eventually- and perhaps Proven soon after. Proven did sound like just the title she wanted- maybe even one day she too could be an Overseer- follow in Overseer Cain's footsteps. They were the best after all!
Mentions of more rebels and rewards for capture- but also recruitment for new Valkhounds. She smiled, her Overseer Cain was clearly ahead of the rest having brought her here just a few days ago. Though that was no surprise to the young Valkhound- Overseer Cain was a cut above many here.
Mentions of a palace spurred her curiosity once more, she wouldn't mind a trip there; even just a momentary visit just to see and learn. Though something called the Deathmatch spurred something else inside her altogether. Would she take part? When was it to occur- would she be ready by then? She was eager to prove her mettle.
Though she remained silent when it was time for questions and inquiries. Her questions did not pertain much to what important matters were currently at hand. And she had still yet to prove her skills to her Master or Overseer. And for that she couldn't wait.
It was difficult, at first, to concentrate. The familiar shape of Overseer Cain drew her eye; the immensity of the gathering group was a little overwhelming. The sensations had already started out strong; now they crushed in even harder. Glinting ivory scales. The soft rustling of feathers. The rank scent of monster. Glowing eyes and rattling weapons. Claws lightly scraping across the stone. Here and there, the sounds of others breathing, the sharp inhales before someone spoke--the deafening boom of the Leviathan over it all--all of it took her breath away and left her mind reeling between sensations.
It took sharp concentration, an effort of real will, for Obieth to thrust these distractions aside and focus on the distant form of Master Vargas. His hulking body was hard to miss, at least, even when he marched this way or that, behind other monsters whose height would have eclipsed any smaller creature.
Aethril had forbidden her peering into Vargas's mind. Aethril suspected Vargas of treachery. Obieth was Aethril's bodyguard. Perhaps a more obedient pet would not have kept pushing her luck, but Obieth's loyalty was to her next meal and her soft bed--to the spirit of the law and not the letter of it.
So, she pushed. Eyes locked on Vargas, the rush of his acid-mouthed words lost to her, their meaning an empty current, at least at first. Again something kept her out--his power? Her own failure-?
Her tail lashed behind her, once, twice; to anyone else it might have seemed (if for some reason they were staring at Obieth, and not Vargas) like impatience, but it was irritaton.
How dare he..?
For a moment she lapsed, taking a necessary moment to breathe, and as she did so she truly tried to listen to his words--to pick from them any sign of disloyalty, of something that might scream, rebel.
There was... nothing interesting. Nothing interesting to her, even on its own. Punishments, rewards, things she already had access to, promised to his Draco slaves. She was unsure why they were even here, but she glanced around again, wary.
Calculating distances--was there anyone too close to Aethril? Imagining attacks, and how she might defend against them. Her training with Overseer Cain, and reflection on it, had taught her something important; she could, theoretically, completely protect Aethril from even a dozen attackers so long as she was given sufficient warning, and until her magicka ran out, or she herself was killed. So she kept on her toes, alert enough to anyone nearby, so that "sufficient warning" would not be missed.
When some unknown force crushed Nidhogg to the ground, he was furious. He tried to fight, to writhe, and found that nothing happened--his body did not respond, taken by some magic well beyond his own control.
Eventually, however, a healthy respect (and memories of Vargas being angry before) dimmed his enthusiasm, and he settled; and eventually, the magic relaxed. Nidhogg remained in place, for now, and to his credit, he did try to listen--if only out of his resentment of Vargas, and the fact that Vargas was the (almost) biggest, (currently) loudest thing in the room.
He understood most of it, in a sort of vague, overarching sense. Had he been asked to recall details he would have undoubtedly missed a number of them, but that had been a long, long speech. The serpent had listened warily to the descriptions of punishments and found them disinteresting. He'd heard the descriptions of rewards, and wanted them--the freedom to roam, the right to his own name, and most of all, a 'vacation.' Not to... vacate, or whatever one did on vacation, but to stalk the palace halls for prey. Somehow, he pictured a "palace" as a catacomb of long, low-ceilinged, dark corridors.
Nidhogg might not, on his own, have grasped that he was to announce a chosen role for himself--or, at least, that the option was open--if the others hadn't started declaring that they wanted to be scouts, or messengers, or guardians. Jealousy spiked as his toxic eyes darted between them, a hiss again curling from him--and, desperately envious and intent not to let the chance to claim something pass him by--he skittered closer to Vargas, staring up intently.
Yes-! ...He might have said it before, actually; maybe he was already meant to be a hunter but he wanted to be one now. To wander and hunt and kill-! With freedom, and shadows, and--killing!
Yes, that sounded good.
When Nemo appeared, the Sentinel quickly moved to intercept him. A few striding steps and he stood before him, halberd raised at his side.
Vargas had made it clear that this meeting was for the Chaos Forge, and for Aethril's allies--not for strangers to overhear. Once he ensured that Nemo would not hear the speech or subsequent meeting (that he would truly be far enough away), the Sentinel turned back and listened.
Punishments. Ranks. Rewards. The Sentinel was not a creature of great ambition, truth be told. He valued his freedom to some small extent, but even after earning it, he had never used it: he'd returned to the Aperture and stayed there at all times, except for necessities.
Still, the realization that others could perhaps rise to a point where they could command him--without having truly earned the right--would be a thorn in his side, he recognized at once. He resolved to rise to Proven as quickly as he could--he was, by his quiet estimation, Hound already. Assuming he understood correctly. Beyond that... he had little cares, but somehow the idea of a den held interest to him. Interest... and somehow, potential stress; an unfamiliar sensation. Surely, if he held a den, he would need to guard that as well-? How would he guard two places at one..?
In any case, he had his task; he had no desire to change it, and so--after taking in as much as he could of the punishments and the rest--the Sentinel remained silent.
( @Nemo for visibility)
It'd been missing for some time since it'd gone to Fornax- long enough for those aware of why it'd gone to question what had happened. That is, if they
But it's return, about a cycle prior, would be noted if only because of how much it'd changed. It'd body now featured a multitude of sharp spikes, like the jagged spikes below a seaside cliff. It's stiff dorsal fin transitioned into a silky, sail-like fin at the base of it's tail, continuing down the length of it's tail until the tip, where it widen into the shape of a fish's tail and featured a number of softly-glowing crimson markings. The same red lights could be found on it's new spikes and it's final change- large, paddle-like clawed arms in place of where it's flippers were. These were too short to reach the ground, and not shaped to bear weight, anyways- but they gave needed utility to what had previously been useful only when navigating the depths.
It'd already talked with Zoisite, told it what had happened in Fornax. It
It'd been in the forge when Vargas's call to meet around the Black Spire had echoed through Draco. Obediently, it'd heed that call, despite the potion of curious, confused dread brewing in it's gut. It'd sit nearby Zoisite, tail curling close to it's body to limit the puddle of Oil that would inevitable form where it sat. It's gaze would shift towards Zoisite and, at the sound of clicking heels, over to the exit.
It stiffened, instinctively drawing for magic so familiar it was more a safety blanket than anything else. The cloak of darkness that cast over it dimmed it's eyes and new, luminescent markings. Made it's oil a little less shiny. But it wasn't
When Vargas spoke, It listened. But it was
Plans-
The mention of Recruitment made Labradorite think of the valkhound in Fornax, the one who had helped, in part, to defeat the Kraken. It seemed to serve Farina- so would it be willing to help The Forge? Master Farina seemed..
Discussion of
The meeting ended, finally, with the announcement of a challenge- a challenge it, perhaps, had a head start on- and mention of a
@V-Zoisite-One (Mention)
Ah, there was Aurelia.
The Valkhound settled beside Cain, pale flesh writhing in a way that seemed uncomfortable and yet was perfectly natural for her. "Aurelia," Cain murmured softly in acknowledgement. "Listen closely." Though, it likely didn't need to tell her that.
Eyes swept the crowd once more, meeting Garnet-Epsilon's gaze briefly. Its fellow Garnet gave it a nod, and Cain returned the gesture, before its ears flicked toward their Master to listen attentively. Curiousity prickled at it, as Master Vargas addressed Epsilon first, sounding surprised that the Garnet was alive. Apparently the absence had been noticed, and apparently, it was now the Overseer's duty to deal with it.
Crimson eyes settled hotly on Epsilon's pelt, considering what it would say when the meeting was done. Vargas bellowed out to the crowd, but those eyes remained thoughtfully on its fellow Garnet.
Almost everything in the meeting had been discussed in some detail with Cain prior, though the suggestion of housing and learning to read and write was new. That filled Cain with curiosity-- it had its perch, and was rarely bothered, but a proper place for privacy... Well, wouldn't that be interesting?
Its Master finished out the meeting by encouraging the rest to come forward with what they felt they were suited for, and Cain's stare had not budged from Epsilon. At the Garnet's own words: punishment, Cain's ears pricked.
Cain reached out with its magic, trying to pry the answers from Epsilon's own mind, and as it did, its curiosity bled through the brief, weak connection. Why, it wondered. What did you do? Instead of accessing Garnet-Epsilon's thoughts, the Overseer's own mind briefly slipped into its half-sibling, full of menacing curiosity dripping from the tone of its thoughts.
As soon as it came, it was gone, the magic fizzing out ineffectually. Cain didn't even know that its thoughts had been broadcasted to Epsilon, but unwittingly, it functioned as a nice "see me after class", didn't it?
Otherwise, Cain was making mental notes as everyone spoke up with their ideas and dreams and goals:
Kethri, a messenger.
Epsilon, a messenger and scout.
Esther, a scout.
Already, three that Cain would likely have to train. Cain had always been avaliable to train, but it seemed with Master Vargas kicking things up a notch, it would have to seek out these individuals and properly schedule some effective training regimines with them. Presently, it had a small plan forming to do so.
Khavur, a guardian. (If only Alpha was... Functional.)
Nidhogg, a hunter. (It was already fairly effective at that, by Cain's estimation.)
Labradorite-- wanted to do manual labor, apparently. Good for it.
Cain remained quiet, attentive, but already had its place as a cog in the machine of the Forge; it had no reason to speak up just yet. In a moment, perhaps, but there were still some... undecided, among the group.
