ORIGIN

Vargas glanced over at the call, noting his very first true creation heading toward him.

It would be nice to say that Vargas's tastes in monster formation had matured, since then. That he looked at Khavur, grimaced internally, and thought to himself "what the hell was I thinking?" But--while he'd probably make more graceful designs going forward--he didn't think that.

He saw "Khavur, Reaver of the Dark Above" (whose over-the-top title even he mistook, sometimes, though who knew if anyone else had noticed it) and saw perfection. Look at those dragon wings! Those many deadly limbs! Those two shearing heads!

If only he had thought to look after his creations' minds a little sooner.

"Khavur," he greeted, turning, and it was not with his usual enthusiastic boom. It was hard to embrace positivity when a Hand had just turned one of his Forge members inside-out (again) for its insolence (again). His demeanor, instead, was both businesslike and somber. "That was not a good beginning," he remarked, glancing to the Reaver. "The owl, I mean." The rest went unsaid--that he could promise not to kill them over nothing, but could not promise what a Hand might do for such arrogance; that he was irritated at the loss of a messenger; that bloodshed on the floor of his "new method" was a foolish thing. There was no point in repeating it all: it was, he thought, self-evident.

His faintly weary demeanor reflected it: he was not pleased about what had happened, not any of it. But he hardly gave a second thought to Chaos-Two, and he didn't mention it, at first. To him, that had been practically a kindness. "Come," he suggested, and turned, pacing off a ways--enough where the others could still see him, find him, but enough that they would be out of earshot--and able to see that he was in a "meeting," for now.

When he'd moved a bit away, he turned back to Khavur. "A guard," he began. "We will get you set up as a guard, if that is what you wish. Let me begin by asking why you have settled on this role, and to ask if there is anything else you want to say, for now."

He was operating under the assumption, still, that Khavur had jumped at the opportunity to find a way to stay near Chaos-Two. Chaos-Two, however, wouldn't be at the farms for long--and Vargas hadn't wanted to enable the pair to spend more time socializing and strengthening a social bond rather than training and working. He didn't intend to force them apart, either, but he wanted a productive Forge and no opportunity to breed rebellion. It was all an incorrect assumption, but then, the Master was hardly infallible. For now, he had a lot to arrange, much to organize--Khavur, now, one of the chief among these subjects.

Protecting and teaching, Vargas noted to himself, as he listened. He gave a short, soft bass hum of thought, and spoke in the same measured, sober tone. "You say it interests you. Before I answer your questions, I do want to be clear: this is what you want to do?"

It was, perhaps, a lesson actually learned, and one he was putting into practice--he'd started with the Zoisite, with V-Chaos-Two, but it was something he'd extend to all of them. Old dogs, new tricks, and all of that; and yet Vargas had quickly gathered that forcing these creatures into positions they disliked only destroyed their potential. Their happiness-? If he considered such things, he would not be the one to easily admit it.

But now, there were questions to answer. And the first came with a short, dry laugh, though one of genuine amusement. "No. I placed Draconua to guard the Black Spire purely because I am fairly certain she would try to mate with the thing, if she could and had the anatomy for it, and it will keep her out of our way. Keep out of hers, but if she threatens or harms you, tell me at once. I will not be tolerating it," he added, bluntly. The Sleepless Chaos was, so far as Vargas was concerned, teetering on the edge of her third strike--so to speak.

"We will look at where you are to guard, but my plans are to have food stored in Draco, and there will likely often be new spawn growing there--some children, and perhaps hatched children, as well. And the buildings, too, once they are built. It would be your task to ensure the safety of all of those, if you believe you can manage it," he added. "And if you wind up requiring help, we will find someone to work with or beneath you--if you have learned enough, by then, you will likely command them. We will see when the time comes. No, it would not revoke your rights, but I would ask that you inform me or the Sentinel before departing so we know to guard in your stead," he explained.

Vargas nodded, at this last. "I informed as many of you as I could that Master Farina would require aid. I know that Labradorite took that advice--I suspected you had gone, as well. I hear that it was a success, yes?" he asked--an invitation to tell him more, though certainly not a demand. It was more conversational than anything, and he added, "if you were along with that, you would be rewarded as you see fit."

Khavur's first question had Vargas shake his head. "No. Training new spawn is something that will be done by myself, at least until and unless I can replace Orthoclase-Alpha. Myself, and Desert Rose," he corrected. "Desert Rose will be teaching them the basics of all things, and I will take on those who choose combat as their path." He paused, eyeing Khavur for a moment. "You did mention an interest in training others. Is that something you desire?" he asked, curious.

Khavur hadn't struck him as the particularly nurturing or parental type, but maybe he was wrong; or maybe it had other motivations.

The account of the Black City was met with quiet attention, and when Vargas answered it was with a grunt. Leave it to Farina to meddle with his designs. "Artio is one of the Masters. I am told..." Vargas took a breath; it wasn't something he liked to think about. Nemean, a traitor... "I am told that Nemean betrayed them both." He shook his head, a little. "With any luck, Artio will be reborn soon enough and aid us with this nest. It is good that you both survived, in any case. What does your venom do?" he asked.

He wondered if that were the tendrils of drool he'd noticed a few moments prior. Perhaps it was best not to swallow the stuff.

As for rank-? Vargas thought about this, for a moment. "You completed your training, and earned the right to wander; that would have made you a Hound, and this would elevate you, I think, to Proven. That is as high as most of the Forge will go; meat and Hounds will answer to you. This is what you want?" he asked, clinging as always to clarity.

The Leviathan considered. So Khavur wanted to teach the young..?

"If that interests you, then I have a proposition for you. Now, the next time there are spawn to raise, Desert Rose will look after them. But after that, the next combat-oriented child will be yours to train, and we will see how you do, yes? Or you can go out and procure a willing volunteer to teach, and we will see how they turn out. If you do that bring them to me first," he added.

As for the venom-? "Hmm, well if it becomes too problematic, inform me. I am capable of reforming you as I did Chaos-Two--though I imagine Farina's work will not be that sloppy! You will likely find control of it soon," Vargas explained. Her work usually was not bad--unless deliberately ruining his creation would be a little joke of hers.

"As for Hounds, and Meat: most of them are Meat. You have Overseer Cain, of course. The Sentinel is a Hound. Whoever else aided Master Farina will be promoted to Hound, once they have reported in. That's all I can think of, at the moment," he added. But he wasn't done speaking, yet.

"In terms of your duties, I will assign you this: search Draco closely, with the following in mind--we need a location to store our food supplies. Should there ever be another rebellion, or a cave-in, or what have you--we want ample food to last us a few days at the least." They would return, of course, to their chrysalises rather than starve; but in their stones they would be helpless against incursion. "And that food should be in someplace defensible, in case Draco is ever broken into--more likely, it will be threatened by thieves or scavenging Lessers. While the Climb will be made into housing, I want you to find someplace you deem suitable for the food storage. When you've chosen a candidate or two for a spot, find me, and we'll confirm that it's a fitting spot. So--defensible, as I said; no extremes of temperature, or humidity; someplace away from Lesser access, if possible, but not difficult to get to. Understood?" he asked.

The faintest, momentary change in demeanor wasn't lost on the Leviathan, though he wasn't a mind-reader enough to know what it meant. Was Khavur pleased-? Upset? He couldn't tell, but he was curious.

He had little more to actually say, however, and when Khavur requested time away, Vargas shook his head dismissively, even waved one hand. "Take a week, if you need it. We have done without the stores for this long." Was he feeling generous-? Or perhaps wanting to contrast himself with the viciousness that Aethril had displayed?

Both?

He didn't say; maybe it just really was not a big deal for him. Maybe Khavur's state of mind was more important than finding a cache for food.

Secretly, it was mostly that: Orthoclase-Alpha still haunted his mistakes.

"That will be all, for now. You have been doing well, Khavur; let us grant you the opportunity to prove yourself even further. Report in, once you have returned."