- THE LEVIATHAN -
Vargas grunted. He turned, eyeing the rock to one side of him, and gestured idly toward it, snapping his magicka toward the Black Spire and tugging at its chaos. Maybe it'd give Eurydome a drink. Maybe it'd set him on fire.
Maybe nothing; it didn't matter much.
He coughed, instead, the magicka heating his phlegm into something else; he hacked it to the rock and shook his head. "Ignore that," he instructed.
He looked back to her.
"These caves were a nest of the Creator--do you know of the Creator? He is chaos. This nest--your master, all of the Masters--were always intended, instructed, to create armies for him, here. These armies were then taken to serve him in other places." He paused.
He was keeping it simple, and trying to gauge how simple was too simple, and how complex might overwhelm her.
"Your design would have made for a good soldier, taken from this place to fight His enemies. I suspect you were a copy of one of those, or perhaps a test. The arena battles, the Hydra trials--if you know of them--these were all meant to prove designs suitable for His soldiers. Master Jupiter was one of those creating such soldiers."
He took a breath, thinking.
"Some rebelled, in the end. They did not want to serve the Creator, and his Chaos; or they wanted their own freedom, rather than to serve the Nest for which they'd been created. Or they pitied the failures, all of whom were culled. Killed," he clarified, and then--for honesty's sakes--"My own task was often this culling, hunting down the failures--after Overseeing the trials." Strange to think that he'd been in the thick of it while one of Jupiter's own creations had no idea of the purpose for which the caves had even been intended.
"Some of the Masters rebelled, as well. Or drew back, and damaged the nest by omission." His tone, so far, made no indication of right or wrong. Surprisingly, perhaps, he did not seem to condemn either side: his tone was factual, steady, a slow stream of information intended only to do just that: inform.
But here was the final point he had to touch on:
"I suspect that Jupiter, Tamulus, both injected something other than pure chaos, destruction, into some of their creations." Ahh, his words were careful--so terribly careful--a tentative crystal construct that could far too easily be shattered by the right questions. "It is possible, but I've no confirmation on that; you may find that you do, in fact, have flaws that point you toward such things as sympathy and kindness. Mercy."
"That brings me to the here and now. All of us--every one--drifted into a long sleep, for hundreds of years--thousands, I do not know. When we began reawakening we found that others, new spawn, like those of Tamulus and Jupiter--that they had been cropping up of their own accord. Wild magic, I think, from a changed Spire, if you have seen that." Too much--there was just too much to tell. "They have been living free, drifting without purpose and leadership, for a generation or three, I think. Mostly we let them be: we have been trying, in these past few years, to wrangle the nest back into something resembling its purpose."
But not fast enough.
"Lord Dhracia--the Creator's Hand--came to this place not too long ago. Revisited it, now that we awaken, and she killed some of those who would rebel, who had rebelled. Punished others, for straying from their purpose. All of that rebellion put us all at risk, for the Creator would not tolerate a Nest that has gone rogue. One of those she killed was Jupiter."
No details, then. He left that hanging, for a moment--gave Eurydome time to process it. And at no point had he shown anything resembling emotion. Whatever cards he held were kept folded tightly to quilled chest, and he tilted his head, took a breath, and finished: "Do you understand? Do you have questions?"