ORIGIN

Eurydome. Eurydome, and V-Chaos-Nineteen. Audland much preferred her name to the other's. In his mind, he opted to refer to something-something-Nineteen as "Teeny". For no particular reason. (It's not even fair; Timir is HUGE! But maybe that's the point.)

Audland nodded his thanks to Teeny (Timir)'s compliment. He idly watched the progress of the other two while listening to Eurydome's exposition. Audland couldn't blame them for their struggle. This room had been left unattended for a long time, it seemed. It was interesting to know that Teeny was made, and had to earn a name. More interesting to know that Eurydome... already had? Or, based on what she'd said, it seemed that she always had one. So she wasn't from Vargas?

And of course, in the back of his mind, Audland was wondering about...

"I don't know who made me, or if I was even made." Audland looked at another wall of fungus, opting not to assist his company with their own globs of it. His help was rarely all that helpful. "But I know what I'm s'posed to do." Rather than try to make his own (apparently) timid fungus grow forth, Audland reached out a hand and warped the orderly white fungus into the black oily kind that Chaos preferred. It didn't take all at once; unexpectedly, Order resisted. While it would help, Audland wasn't sure he really wanted to leave fungus of any kind up around these crystal walls. They were too pretty to be disturbed this way. Even a valkhound could recognize that.

"I don't really serve anyone. Not like, a person. Guess that makes me new. Are you...? Do ya serve Master Vargas?"

To Timir, Audland said: "Fire's not always great. Good here for sure, but mine tends to burn me right back. You've got good, uh... sparkly claws. A reliable form, too. Is that what all you need for war?" Audland asked Timir, but sort of turned to Eurydome for assistance with finding an answer.

Audland didn't mind the slow and steady pace of the conversation. Clearing nasty mushrooms by itself would be a boring chore. It was natural for those ascribed janitorial duty to idly chatter. He made little noises of response to Eurydome and Teeny's answers.

However, when he noticed the lackluster performance of one of his compatriots against the other, and how the conversation was slowly swallowing the interest of all party members, an idea came to mind. He'd work his proposal into his responses.

At Eurydome's claim that she was not made for war, Audland appeared surprised. It was hard to believe the degree of musculature in her form held any other purpose but combat. Well, war wasn't the only combat they existed for, evidently. Audland wondered what combat she had been intended for. Perhaps fighting Order, like him?

Teeny's multi-word response wrested Audland's attention before he could ask. It was interesting to hear his perspective. So death did happen in war—Audland hadn't really known, he'd just assumed based on um... surrounding context. The Forge—Master Vargas?—offered training to survive it, perhaps in exchange for service. Or maybe being trained for war was the service. Air, it seemed, was a useful choice for manipulation when it came to survival. Doesn't everyone need it? And indeed, Teeny's winds proved quite large in effect. Audland leaned for a moment against a wall to watch the magical gust rip the fungus off the walls like a frenzy of invisible hands. He clapped for Teeny. "Bravo."

Audland approached a different cluster. Lord, there were so many. "I've got that, too, 'cept mine ain't so sneaky. It whispers." Audland would attempt a demonstration.

With a wave of his claws, the room's general brightness seemed to flicker, and a torrent of whispers erupted from one spot in the air above their heads. A vacuum strong enough to pull white clods of Order loose and drop them on the ground like snow. Less strong than Timir's display, but certainly impressive in its aesthetic presence. Audland smiled.

He turned to Eurydome. "Think you can beat that?" He'd step aside, offering the floor and all its surrounding walls to her. "Show us what yer made for." The gauntlet was thrown; just as Audland had hoped.

Audland acknowledged Eurydome's preference with a nod as he watched her tear down an entire shelf of the nasty fungus with her bare claws. A struggle it had been, but indeed, her hands suited her. Magic like Audland's was almost a waste of form—not that Audland particularly cared about wasting his own. "Well done," he would lend Eurydome the compliment as he had done Teenymir. It was only fair.

The stench unleashed in the cave was growing almost unbearable at this point. Audland considered moving to another section. But first, he would address the question: "Me, goin' to war?" Audland echoed first so that he would have more time to think. "It depends, t' be honest." On what? Audland couldn't keep the twinge of melancholy out of his face. "On a lotta factors. Do you know, what happens at war?" He primarily asked Teenymir, but any answer was welcome.

In the interest of hearing an answer, Audland would wait on moving to a new section, and instead attempt to set fire to another smaller clod of fungus.