It watched wide-eyed as the Sentinel lifted off the ground, shimmering blue wings erupting from behind his back. It stepped around in place, excited to be able to do something like that too, reaching for its own sternum to feel if there was a similar thing attached to its body. It felt around a little before it felt the streak of oilstone. Its heart leaped in its chest and tried focusing on that instead. This time, magic surged and they let out a small noise of surprise as they felt their mind pressing forward towards the closest living being - The Sentinel - but it only lasted for a moment before the Warden cut it off, in shock a little.
But that was something it could do, apparently. It would have to try that one again sometime.
It was time to move on now, and the Warden took only a moment to decide.
He felt the tickle, if distant, at the back of his mind. It did not last long, yet the presence had been there nonetheless. He tilted his head to one side, studying his spawn with renewed interest.
His tone was not one of demand, nor disappointment, but simply interest--as one professional might ask another about the tools of their shared trade. He adjusted the butt of his halberd against the rock, pausing in place, and considered.
Was that enough to explain it-?
He turned, gesturing, and carried on.
Vargas came forth quickly, hope sparking in his chest. This was the stone they'd held great hope for--and revived by the Deathmatch champion (as low as the competition was, compared to in eons past), surely it would turn out to be powerful? An admirable fighter, a devastating combatant and, if they were lucky, one that would be difficult or even near impossible to take down.
Plus, someone extra for guard duty, at times.
He called back with a
He should have, he reflected, probably have asked that first.
@The Warden
It tried to listen to the Sentinel as it was speaking but he was again speaking in tongues again and the fresh-hatched child found itself unable to follow. Magic could have teeth? It tried to imagine what that meant; phantom teeth sinking into its hand if it failed a cast or did something incorrectly. And whatever he'd tried to say next...yeah the Warden simply did not understand what any of that meant. But it didn't make to correct him, sure that someday it would understand what he was talking about.
As for the Master, well.
It took a single step back as the Master approached, taken aback by his sheer size. It had expected, of course, to this Master to be impressive - and he was - but having only itself and the Sentinel as reference for how large a creature could get only took it so far. The Master Vargas was massive and the Warden dwarfed him significantly. Not that it was particularly scared of him, but there was simply surprise in it that anyone could grow to be so massive.
Vargas listened, faintly amused (but also pleased) at the strong list being rattled off. He noted the Sentinel standing silent and listening (and looking, too, somewhat proud?) and then nodded to the Warden.
He tried to remember which fighter this might have been, in life, but it was difficult to tell. Possibly the one that'd been blind, or near-so, and used sound to navigate-? It'd borne the same colors, at least, though the shape here was something quite unique.
@The Warden
The Warden listened attentively, feeling a burst of pride at Master Vargas's approval. It must have been doing something correctly - perhaps that list had been a good idea after all! Its claws clenched at the idea of being taught fighting. Would it fight with its hands? Or with a weapon, like the Sentinel? Or perhaps both? Whatever, it wanted to learn fighting. It wasn't sure what compelled it to thirst for combat so much, but it could imagine itself locked in combat with another, weapons or claws clashing against each other, howls and screeches filling the air, blood flying and splattering against the rocks, sowing chaos, war, destruction, death...
The Warden snapped out of its vision after a second, only a moment having gone by, but it immediately refocused itself back to Vargas, nodding again.
Vargas gave a nod to the Warden, and a booming couple words of approval:
The Sentinel gave a single nod in turn, sharp, proud; he then looked down to the Warden.
Pegasus wasn't too far off, and as far as food and water went, the sooner the Warden knew the path the better. As he set off, he began a bit of instruction once again.
He picked his way past the swelling opening of the Aperture, turning to beckon the Warden through--toward the trees farther down the tunnel, and Pegasus beyond.
@The Warden (Idm if you want to fade off here, or continue in Pegasus?)
Update: yes exit
At Vargas's booming approval, the Warden straightened up more, looking quite proud of itself for earning the Master's approval at so young an age. It glanced at the Sentinel and was pleased to see the same pride. This was good - all of this was good and was very swiftly building up the young Valkhound's ego. All this approval and pride and promises of strength and weapons and superiority were sinking quickly into its head.
At the Sentinel's beckoning, the Warden nodded and turned to follow, sparing one more glance back at Master Vargas before looking back at its father (parent? creator? life-giver? some other word?) and following his path out of Draco.
And the notion that it couldn't protect itself, the Warden instantly drew itself up, feeling a pang of anger in its chest, wounded pride wanting to make some kind of outburst.
Shoulders fell a bit as it came to the realization and a small sigh escaped its jaws.
*exit