@Titivilus @Genghis @September (Tectus) @Moros @Olixeus @Cain @Juggernaut @Galleon

There were a few important details that happened to the train before the explosion. Let's go over those first. First of all, interaction!! Very exciting. The train does not look excited in the traditional sense, because it has no physical way of doing that. However, to the fluffy young pup that had asked it a question, there is a pretty enthusiastic message of:

ᚡᛡᛆᛐ?

The runes appeared as though being scrawled by some invisible hand about 2 feet up from the ground; hopefully high enough for the puppy to read. High up for a dog not even fully grown, and that might scare a human! But who can really say what the train feels or thinks about that size, when it is a full 9 feet tall on average? Is it afraid? Overjoyed?

Pondering can't last too long. We have another thing to attend to—and no, it's not the explosion. Yet. And to be honest, the impending red starburst blast about to come from the wall will not be the most interesting part of this experience; at least, not for the train.

There is likely a soft thud! as Cain lands ungracefully atop the train's very own head. Cain would feel under its body a surprising... soft, suppleness from the outermost layer of skin. The wall of muscle and bone underneath was hard as any rock, unyielding to its weight, but the caterpillar-like flesh on the top was smooth and lightly squishy. Almost... comfortable, if it deigns to think such a thought. In the train there is much latent moisture, water being rushed through all the cells and veins that Cain now sat upon, nourishing the nerves that bristled at its presence. Would Cain bend down its ear? Listen to the sound of the pulses of all those many veins, as one listens to the earth?

The train, of course, can feel its new, tiny hat. It remains unharmed, but curiously has something to say. In smaller words than what Genghis would get, and scrawled with alarming accuracy near where Cain's paws met the train's skin:

ᛡᛂᛚᛚᚮ。

The sign would be easy enough to see; bright reddish-orange on lime green, sure to stand out. But would that draw Cain's attention, when motion seemed to stir elsewhere on the train's head?

From Cain's perspective, it would be easy to see the sort of pore out of which two pointed, gemstone "ears" would poke. And it would be easy to notice, to feel the ruptures beneath its paws, as the emerald chunk began to... stir. To rattle and shift. Would it be almost like a mirage to Cain at first...? A figment of its imagination, perhaps?

The gemstone would appear to be getting larger.

Upward, upward—whether Cain noticed or not, the emerald would rise upward, revealing more of itself. Eventually, the purple-mauve skin underneath would peek through. Up, and up, more purple-mauve flesh creeping like a vine until the emerald could be held at eye level with Cain. And then, it spun around.

From here, Cain would be able to see it clearly. The caniform carving of a "head" in the emerald. Its general shape of ears, mouthless muzzle... And from here, it is up to Cain to figure out which bothers it most: the wide, almost alarmed, humanoid eyes staring at him from behind the emerald mask? Or the violent rupture of moving tendrils, splaying out from the central pillar in a myriad of directions, moving underneath the elastic blob of matte skin?

The shape of the pillar twists, it turns; its writhing parts coalesce, then undo, then aggregate again into shape after shape. Trying, testing. All the while the hard, black pupils beam straight at Cain, unwavering. Unblinking, for there it seems there were no eyelids with which to blink. Does he feel alarmed? Dubiously like prey? It will not matter. In short time, the train's ultimate goal becomes evident.

It has copied the upper half of Garnet-Delta's shape, in the form of its flesh puppet. As though Cain itself were the jack in the box, or the puppet in the hole. And perhaps more frighteningly, it has done a pretty bang up job. For the most part. If a keen eye remains undistracted by all the... methods being employed here, that eye may notice that this mirror form of Cain is built more around matching the shapes and aesthetic appearance than Cain's actual anatomical function. And who can really blame it? The train has hardly seen Cain move.

The details are not super striking—it is hard to see much when the color of the elastic flesh seems to deliberately blur the details, eat up the light. But the shapes are good enough to be recognizable. That is, until your eyes meet the wings. The wings are where things really begin to fall apart. A bit of a soggy disappointment. It seems that a more structured material than muscular tendril is required to give a wing a good shape, and not one that bears resemblance to several large strands of pasta with a pile of flesh sagging depressedly over the top of them like dirty laundry dangling perilously from a chair.

Then comes the eruption. And somehow, it does not seem to interrupt the flesh puppet's change in form.

At last, the pore of the wall explodes, and out comes a spiky, red-and-grey armored crusader. The false gemstone head of the Cain clone flesh puppet turns in with an unnatural smoothness to cast its unerring gaze upon the new sight. The Gembound is clearly a warrior, brandishing its weapon; it seems to be asking for a challenge. It also seems to know one of the other Gembound here. This does not really seem like the train's scene. In fact, a keen observer may notice it moving away about a millimeter of an inch.

To Genghis and Cain, it had something to say. But to the newcomer, the large text floating on its body* slowly dissipates. All the train does for now is watch.

(*see the train's first post to this thread.)

(OOC: The train is not interacting with Saran'zol! It is, however, interacting with @Genghis and @Cain , although they may not be able to understand it.)

OOC: Maw is challenging Saran'zol.

The Vesuvianite had followed Tectus here, much like a duckling. However being much smaller than her meant it couldn't quite keep up. It finally arrived, huffing and puffing, just as the stone shattered. It stopped in it's tracks, eyes wide with a mix of awe and fear as it regarded Saran’zol and listened to its speech.

It doesn't quite understand what's going on. It gets the sense that it's in danger, but more than that, that there's something to prove. It bounds forward, out of Tectus's shadow. "I can fight!" crowed the tiny [by valkhound standards] puffball.

@Tectus

What was that? Cain stared at the patterns that appeared directly under paw. Bright, warning color lettering in a language unknown to Cain. It didn't think that it could memorize them, though they were fairly short: it looked like rudimentary scratched letters in a foreign dialect. Maybe the librarians-- Cain's thoughts were thoroughly interrupted by what came next.

The strange gembound it had landed on (Valkhound?) extended itself, pushing out a new... limb? From its carapace, one that held a brilliant emerald gemstone (Gembound.) and, twisting, to meet it was a masked face with black, dark eyes that stared unblinking upon it.

Cain had half a mind to reach for its magic and push its mind into this thing, to force understanding despite the barriers that seemed to linger within the eerie silence of the thing. Considering the tension still present in its half-bent wing, however, it resisted the urge. Claws remained fully extended, fur bristling down its spine as it watched the horrid transformation.

... It was trying to make a mirror image of Cain. As if this being looked upon it and said, ah, yes, I can do that too. It was a horrible process, one that made Cain's lips draw back into a snarl (maybe it would read more as a grin to the strange train). Its jaw cracked and shifted, additional teeth bursting into newly formed pockets in the gums, filling it with quite the vicious maw. In the corner of its vision, it saw that more arrivals had come, and a designation rang out.

Bloodstone T-One-- it was not a designation from the Chaos Forge, but it was close enough to ring as familiar, to be understood as the Old Ways. Cain's crimson eyes darted away from the thing making a mockery of its form to stout, violent fuchsia hue of Tectus. Not quite Vargas-related, but that same Valkhound purple in the shape of a sturdy, doggish alligator.

That matched the description.

Cain winced. Had she noticed it? It seemed as though Overseer Tectus was busy with one of her subordinates, and...

The stone wall collapsed. The False-Cain turned to look upon the change to the situation, and very slowly the body of the train under Cain's claws seemed to drift so, so slightly away from the challenger. Cain flicked an ear at the challenge provided, the warnings that came from Saran'zol's voice.

Might be worth trying to bloodhold the thing, if it turns aggressive... But then again, a familiar Drone of the Hive steps forward, accepting the challenge, and... It would be convenient if this now-freed Valkhound could destroy it where it stood. That would be quite ideal, actually. For now, Cain remains on its perch beside its flesh-copy, trying to keep tabs on its fellow Overseer while staying out of the way. Out of harm's way.

It... Probably should try to communicate with the thing that has made a mockery of its form.

Straightening, it looks the emerald mask in the eyes, and gives a small snort. "Overseer Cain," it declares, short and concise. What were those symbols? Can this thing even speak?

@Titivilus