ORIGIN

Well, there was only one thing to do. Gatto didn't like walking through piles of corpses, but they didn't have much of a choice if they wanted to see what laid beyond Canis. At least as they moved through the dry room the finally spotted signs of other living creatures-- a mouse scurrying under the bones, scraps of fur... Presently, they walked along the path cleared of bones, walking in the footsteps of... traitors? Rebels? Gembounds, who like them, believed in making their own rules? But they had not been champions, and they had failed.

... It was chilling to think about it. Their steps fell in line with those of complete strangers, forgotten to time. Did they have numbers, or names? Did it matter? Their head buzzed with the thoughts, and they had to shake their head free of the distractions. The Masters wanted them distracted, compliant and therefore complicit. They had to keep their wits about them, and try to find where the others had gone off to--

In their distraction, they nearly missed the shadow that moved ahead in the distance. It wasn't too hard to forget the looming shape of Vargas; even in their sleep, they could picture him clear as day: a reaper, crushing the gems of those that fell behind and were left to turn to sand. Garnet had told them to avoid the Overseer, to stay low and out of trouble, but that was never exactly the Agate's style.

The cockatrice raised their head high, and with a bawking snort, they crowed, "Well look who it is!"

Vargas had been standing silent, staring down at a long, straight bone held in one hand. It held a glittering, neon-green gem, and he found himself wondering how it had remained intact. He wasn't the one to destroy them during the trials, at least, not usually--but on his hunts...

He remembered this one. How could he have missed its stone-? An oversight, perhaps. Before he could think on it further, there was the quiet sound of approach, and the crowing voice that could only belong to--hell, what was it? Jasper? No--Agate. Vargas turned, squinting six eyes down at the cockatrice, studying them briefly. The spines, he thought, were new--as were the mandibles.

His memory supplied its number. "Agate Two-Three-Six. Just waking-?" he asked, voice indifferently curious, void of emotion. He was merely thinking that a late wakening was strange. The rest--likely by Hag'rteho's hand--had woken sooner. Had Agate weakened? It had come in last, in the last trial. Was it faltering?

He set the large bone down and paced forward, leaning down and peering forward. One six-fingered hand reached down to lift the cockatrice by the neck, for a moment--again indifferent, a regular sort of Overseer's inspection--assuming, that was, that they allowed it.

Mandibles. Spikes.

He set her back down again,* and rumbled thoughtfully. "Many of the others have new wings, or stings. But you had wings already. This is an interesting change. Strange, though. You were one for agility, no? A combat enhancement... I'm unsure you've the fortitude for it," Vargas mused. He then shrugged, and again, his indifference almost made it seem as though he were talking to himself. "Worth an attempt, however. It does lend some adaptability should you be attacked. I wonder if you can burrow, as they do-? Some can," he informed her.

He studied the creature, committing her new form to memory, going over--in his mind--what they'd now be more or less useful for. Is it harder for her to eat, now? More vulnerable to damage, these jaws, or infection? The spines may provide some protection... This was his job, after all--the overseeing of tests and the functionality of the designs--and he did it well.

Gatto stood tall as Vargas approached, against the natural urge to run. That would probably be the worst thing they could do, or rather, the thing that would most likely trigger Vargas to chase and murder them. Presumably. They only vaguely knew the Overseer, but for now the Master's secretary (that's what he was, right?) seemed calm and detached. Unlikely to do anything particularly unfortunate to them.

Ah, but that didn't stop them from squawking noisily as Vargas-- easily twice their size-- grabbed them with a larged clawed hand and twisted them about, wings flapping for an awkward moment as they were examined in what was probably the most uncomfortable fashion. They did not struggle much aside from the startled flapping, the swish of their tail; after a heartbeat going limp in the neck hold.

"Well!" They squawked, getting their feet back under them once Vargas had set them down. Vargas was foolish enough to underestimate them, hm? They supposed they could double down on the tough-guy act; they doubted the Overseer would see their words as anything more than hot air. It would be his problem that he underestimated them, wouldn't it... "Funny you say that," they boasted, "I'll have you know that I am quite fortuitous!" Wait, that was the wrong word. "I mean, fortitudinous!" They raised their head high, feathers and spines puffing out and bristling as they swept their tail back and forth behind them and scuffed at the dust under foot with their talons.

Could they dig...? They had no reason to try. Maybe in the sand-- but they would rather not go play around in Sandworm territory to find it out. "As for why I'm just waking up, you see, I am used to there being more of a ruckus! Why, normally-- there's a call for the trial! I suspect," they clucked a chuckle under their breath, "should someone had come about calling for the Champions, I would've been the first one to wake!"

... Maybe.

Anyway. "Speaking of," they cleared their throat, "what is all of this? It has been only a few cycles, has it not? And no Trial? What is this place-- and where has everyone gone?" They had their answers from Garnet already, but it didn't hurt to play dumb. Especially considering both parties had agreed to never speak of their meeting ever again.

Vargas studied Agate for a moment, watching it puff up and ruffle and sweep its tail about. "Fastidious," he 'corrected' with a tone so dry it could have served as kindling.

As the cockatrice kept on babbling, he lowered himself with an abrupt thump onto his haunches, staring down at it.

"Mm, right, yes. Very... likely. First to waken, and all that," he went on, going so far as to offer an indifferent wave of the back of one six-fingered hand. I do not care.

Ahh, and the questions. The same ones the others had--every one that woke. Hell, the same ones he'd had. Bored, by now, of giving the same answers time and time again, he now rattled them off in a terribly uncaring fashion. "It has only been a few cycles, yes. I suspect Hag'rteho allowed you to awaken naturally, this time. As to the 'why'--well, the caves and system have much changed, Champion." Again Vargas' tone was dry, so it was unclear whether he was using the title with genuine respect, or mockery, or maybe a little bit of both. "There was a great sleep, and the masters rested after all their hard work, as did all their creations. Consider the caves a sleeping beast only now reawakening; it is a little tired, a little rusty, as were we all upon being woken for this last trial. We will flex its limbs and get it back into working condition soon enough." Vargas glanced around, and waved that same clawed hand in a bored manner around at Canis. "This-? This is Canis. This is where the poor creations wound up," he added, and then twisted his rigid face into what might have been a grin, directed Agate's way. "But thus far you have proven strong enough to avoid that fate. Which is good. I imagine it's boring being nothing but bones." Vargas glanced down again at the green-studded bone, the one that had to weigh twenty pounds on its own and was several good feet long. He seemed thoughtful, for a moment, his grin fading; and then he looked back at Agate.

"Let's make sure you stay that way. We will spar, yes? And you will show me what you've got. What you can do, now, with-... that," and with this, he gestured at Agate's jaws, as someone might indicate a misplaced bit of food.

The information Garnet had given was good information, surprisingly enough. The Agate watched Vargas, eyeing him up thoughtfully and twisting their head to one side, squinting with their beady little eyes as they absorbed every little bit of knowledge.

Spar? The offer certainly made their feathers puff up, but they knew better than to hesitate. "Spar?!" They squawked, "are you sure you're prepared to tussle with a real champ?" They boasted, sure, but for what it was worth it was in fairly good humor. They were, naturally, deflecting away from the way their eyes bulged with surprise and the way their voice cracked, playing it off as though they were tickled pink by the suggestion. They remained steady on their feet, even if their heart quickened.

Hopefully Vargas wasn't listening to their little racing pulse. They clacked their mandibles together, glancing up and down Vargas as though sizing him up. Hesitantly, they took a step back, and then another, spreading their wings. "Let's both agree not to maim each other, yes? A friendly spar? I think that'd be more than agreeable-- no sense in murdering one another, haha!" They cawed and cooed, trying to gauge from Vargas's indifference if his boredom was... Well... Dangerous to their invaluable and well guarded life.

It... Seemed like Vargas was meaning for a true and proper, non-murdery spar. In which case, the cockatrice thought with a smoothing of their downy coat, this was quite the opportunity to test what exactly they were dealing with. Overseer Vargas was definitely not the least or greatest of Gatto's problems, but he would be a good measure of where they were at.

Fighting him and winning would not be easy though. The spine-covered rooster clicked their beak, and after a heartbeat of further hesitation, they suggested in a friendly manner, "Why don't you make the first move, comrade?" It would be easier to fight the way they lived in the Hydra; by trying not to die, rather than trying to pick a fight, at least... For now. They had a weird new set of chompers to come to terms with.

Vargas stared, for a beat, almost puzzled. "I will not harm you badly," he said, at length. If he'd wanted to do that he'd have come out of the shadows claws-first; surely Agate knew that-? No... perhaps not. And how could it? It has never rebelled. It likely has no idea of my other tasks.

He shrugged it off, and briefly limbered up. It would be interesting to see what this one could do, now, though its small size and likely light bones would need careful attention. He genuinely wasn't out to crush it.

Vargas studied Agate briefly, and then gave them a stern nod. "Get ready, then," he warned, tensing.

He paused: giving them time to do just that. To prepare. To dodge, or retaliate, or whatever they might do--and he was curious to see. To begin with, he simply sprang at them: leaping, a massive pounce, his many fingers reaching for Agate in an attempt to snag them in his grip.

Yet he was careful with his weight--and his pointed claws. He was not aiming to truly harm; and he was cautious, professional even, in his restraint.

Agate was thoroughly reassured by Vargas's promise not to harm them badly, though, ha! Vargas was the one who needed to worry about getting maimed, not them! So the cockatrice convinced themself, moments before the apex predator sprang for him. In an instant, they were knocked to the ground by a cage of long, spindly fingers and thumbs, wings buffeting to try and right their fluffy body.

They did not panic, though immediately adrenaline hit their system. It was a friendly spar, but they had gone cycle after cycle living as though they could be snuffed out in an instant. The trauma did not go so easily ignored, even for the bird that tried to keep their confidence high, even if they were mostly faking it... basically all the time. Their crimson eyes noted the glowing, dripping spikes that coated Vargas's underbelly. Those would most unpleasant, so they tried to squeeze out between Vargas's fingers and away from all of those definitely dangerous needles.

Getting their talons under their body, they extended their sand worm needles along their spine with a bristle, lashing their tail, and did their best to shove forward toward a gap between his thumbs. With any luck, and acting quickly, their spikes and powerful tail would be enough to force a bit of a slack in Vargas's grip before he got a solid hold so that they could scramble free, and from there, they could retaliate--!

One step at a time, though.

Vargas turned, wincing as the spines flicked up in his hand. Sharp. Strong. He withdrew his grasp quickly as Agate squeezed out. Some part of him wondered what might happen if he just impaled his hand on those spikes. The smaller cockatrice would certainly get caught, then, no? Helpless, struggling-? But it wasn't worth the wounds, not for a spar.

Ahh, but where is it going-? What is it doing next? he wondered. He was swift--despite his size--and he made the quick decision to pursue, to chase, to stay looming over Agate, if he could. Let them scurry off; he wouldn't let them get distance, wouldn't give them the breathing room they sought.

Quite possible, though, the far smaller creature would be more agile than the (admittedly also agile, but far larger) Vargas, and slip away.

Vargas was not fast enough, however, and the Agate scrambled free, wings spreading wide. With a few powerful strokes, their light weight body took flight, sweeping out of reach of Vargas. They were tempted to go for the Overseer's many glowing eyes as they swept overhead, but they had agreed not to maim one another-- and, well, even if the Overseer had enough eyes for twenty gembound, it was against their agreement.

Naturally, Vargas would overpower them if they were not careful. It would take one misjudged dive, and they could end up impaled on those nasty spikes. Agate swept behind Vargas, extending their talons and snatching a thick looking jawbone from the near endless supply of bones that littered Canis's floor. If there was one thing the cockatrice was good at, it was making use of their surroundings. Taking whatever advantage they could squeeze out of a situation.

Slowed down some by the weight of the bone in their talons, they had to act quickly. If Vargas reacted too fast, then they might not get the chance-- and if the bone was too heavy, their flight might even careen completely off balance into the bones. However, if their plan worked, they could get some height on Vargas, and dive, using their speed to put some force behind the dense jawbone to throw it at the Overseer. Again, keeping some distance between them. They figured flight wasn't going to keep Vargas at bay forever; those strong limbs were probably good for lunging and pouncing, snatching little birds like them out of the air.

Moreover, the thrown bone probably wouldn't hurt too badly, but maybe they'd wack them good in the head and stun them for a few moments. Maybe it would be enough of a distraction that they could get a better hit in some other way. Whatever the case, they acted on their plan without hesitation, aiming to strike Vargas with the improvised, makeshift tomahawk.

Vargas turned, scuffling on the rock as he came to an abrupt halt. Agate had taken flight, and he swivelled in place to track it--

--a bone came hurtling out of the air, and Vargas had the briefest of moments for a surprised when did it pick that up-? before the thing had spun right into his face. He staggered, a little; it wasn't that heavy, but it was enough to hurt, and a quick shake of his head took precedence over a response.

It would give Agate the opening it needed--but not before Vargas, in a brief fit of irritated instinct, swept the jawbone back up in his own hand and whipped it back at the Agate.

It went whirling (with a quiet whistle) past the cockatrice, spinning harmlessly out into Canis, where it landed with a loud clatter--and Vargas, lifting his hand to briefly rub his own jaw, stared up with calculating eyes.