ORIGIN

HERE! WAKE UP, HERE!

The thoughts, shrill in his mind, woke him sharply from a groggy sleep. His head came up, silver eyes opening and blinking as he tried to struggle to full consciousness.

Pride looked around.

It was his familiar screeching into his mind, with images rather than words, and with the emotion of urgency and alert. He could see, along the link, brief imagery of a creature: massive, violet, long-limbed, and stalking swiftly his way.

Beside him lay the cave deer, frozen in exhaustion now, its eyes wide and its jaws open with lolling tongue. A heavy peridot crystal kept it collared to the cave floor, but it had scrabbled at the rock as Pride had slept the sleep of the half-dead. Hoof-marks scoured the floor, and he grimaced; he half wanted to reach out mentally to reassure it, but he had to conserve his strength. He offered its skull, instead, a brief touch from his nose--it rolled its eyes to stare at him in fear, but he pulled away.

The rain had stopped. The birdbath-sized goblet, however, its diamond glittering in perfect reflection of his gemstone and his armor both, was full of water nearly to the brim.

Pride quickly moved to it, settling himself, blinking away sleep and trying to look... composed; he twisted his head back toward where Mischief was, and awaited the arrival of the Overseer.

Vargas strode forward with long and sweeping strides.

He did not quite know what Pride wanted; only that the stag wanted to talk to him, vaguely about the dragons and his 'expectations,' whatever that meant. And let it be clear: Vargas did not answer to anyone but the Masters, and their own masters in turn. However, these new 'Gembound' seemed to think themselves equal to one another and the request had been delivered respectfully enough. He had nothing to lose--assuming it wasn't a trap, and the Overseer sensed nothing of the sort.

There were only three beings up ahead: the deer, another, smaller deer, and--oh. Vargas paused, turning, all the 'brows' on one side of his head-ridge perking. A small creature was crouched in the shadows, not far off. Watching him. A lesser, perhaps-? It was smaller than a rat, but as he stood there, one forelimb raised, it did not flee. Instead, the small, white hare took a single hop out of the shadows and sat up, staring at him.

...Oookay.

Vargas shook his head and turned, pacing onward.

The Throne. If only the stag understood the blasphemy of his actions. He shares his new form, and he calls to me from his old seat of power. Requesting a meeting to ask my intentions. He has no idea of the irony.

Yet as he approached, even his steps faltered.

What the hell is this..?

It was a tableau, of sorts, and a... a twisted one. Vargas' eyes narrowed as he took it in.

The white stag lay at the base of the Throne, watching him with a sort of aloof and dignified calm, armored fully in diamond. Before him lay a massive diamond goblet, of some form, filled with water; and to one side lay an exhausted cave deer, collared in green stone.

What was this..?

For all the appearance of cold calm, Pride would have been visibly shocked had he not seen, first, through Mischief and then had time to compose himself. As it was, he struggled to keep his calm, forcing down the adrenaline at seeing the massive beast pacing into view. Even Mischief was driven to caution, though she was, as always, near-fearless. Natural, Pride supposed, when one was swift enough to escape most physical threat, and too inexperienced--or too carefree--to know or care about the dangers of magic.

Ahh-... but back to Vargas. Pride knew full well the picture he presented. He'd laid it out, after all, carefully orchestrating it to strike a very precise chord. The impression he made now would set the tone for the rest of the evening--or however long their interaction, whatever it turned out to be, would last.

The white stag rose, half-turned toward Vargas, and inclined his head in polite invitation.

"Overseer Vargas, I presume..?" he asked, his tone lilting, his words precise. "I've been expecting you."

Pride turned, eyeing the cave deer briefly. He lashed out his magic, or tried to; nothing came, and he took it in stride, as one must. He lay back down, settling himself. "I am Pride. Please, do join me. I've taken the liberty of preparing you a meal."

Vargas stared.

He looked from the stag, to the water, to the trapped deer, back to the stag again. It held Astraea's new form, but more... pristine, though even with its supreme composure it didn't bear the sense of inherent power that the Master bore in every step. It-... wasn't far off, though, in its confidence--no, its arrogance.

The Overseer, as he paced forward more slowly, reflected. He was a good judge of character and this struck him two ways at once. First, that Pride was a powerful magic-master, perhaps; some form of equal or near-equal who held control and power. Second, that the white stag was an arrogant little shit who was putting on airs.

After a moment, he decided that he'd settled on the latter, and strode over to the trapped deer.

"Yes, Orthoclase-Alpha gave me your message. What do you want?" he asked, bluntly. Two massive arms reached forward and took the peridot collar in his hands, and with a sharp motion he snapped the gemstone holding the deer captive. He left it there--alive but exhausted, scrambling on the stone--and turned back toward Pride, not deigning to sit.

"I hunt my own food," he added, brusque.

...All right.

His entire carefully set up facade was torn aside in an instant. He glanced at the deer, noting for a moment, disappointed in himself, that this Overseer apparently had more mercy than he did.

Oh well.

He looked back to Vargas, and focused briefly on his magicka--he should have raised his shield earlier, and he mentally berated himself, briefly, for having neglected it.

"Of course. I didn't mean to impose," he answered, smoothly, magic flickering out and raising the potential energy around his armor. "Though I suppose I am doing so merely by asking to meet you." He restrained the impulse to apologize for not having gone to Vargas, feeling that would be construed as weak, submissive; instead he pushed forward. "Thank you for meeting with me, regardless. I wish to ask you a couple of questions, if you do not mind, and to make an offer of my own. Two offers, in fact."

Silver eyes raised to the Overseer's toxic-coated spines, its glowing six eyes (similar, he realized, to Alpha's four; were they related, then-?) and its generally massive, athletic, spined form. Everything about it screamed predator.

Everything about Pride, he knew, screamed prey. It left his heart racing a little too fast in ways he didn't like. And it sent, at last, the exhausted cave deer half-scrabbling, half-dragging itself away from the Throne, and back toward safety.

Pride envied it that.

Vargas didn't even look at the fleeing cave deer. Nor did he look at the water. He didn't know if it any of it might be poisoned and he sure wasn't about to risk it. If this white moron thought it would assassinate him, it had another thing coming.

But he didn't put a lot of thought into that. He wouldn't touch the crap; that was enough, and his mind moved on. He dropped into a sitting position, haunches alone larger than the stag's entire body, his tail swishing slowly behind him like a cat as he stared down from his tower of spines.

"Ask, then," he snapped.

He reminds me of her, he realized, suddenly, images of Lord Dhracia in his mind. And he was not her. The graceful power, the elegant and well-spoken facade over incredible potential--Pride played at it, but he was not it. Disdain and resentment flickered through him, and he pushed it down, for now; he would listen to what the stag had to say.

He just didn't think he'd like it very much.

Pride inclined his head. Inside, his mind was racing from point to point, trying to keep up. Trying to stay ahead. Impression failed. Magic at decent levels--rest was good. Barrier up.

Time to make his impression, then, another way.

He began to speak: brisk, businesslike, and to the point. He was, as always, well-spoken and perfectly-enunciated; he'd let, he hoped, his worth speak for itself, now that the rest had failed. "We have heard that you're having issues with the dragons. Dread, and his family." A pause, quite brief. "I represent the Kingdom of the Seven here in Orion. Hardly a kingdom at all--the name is arrogance, it was not mine. But we serve as protectors, guardians. Your conflict concerns me for two reasons," he went on. "First, we--and many others--are allied with those dragons. They've aided us in the past. They've aided Astraea," Pride added, pointedly. So far as he knew, the Overseer still answered to the Masters. "So if you come into conflict with them, you may start a cave-wide war. Gembound will die. I am not threatening you; I cannot tell who might win, or lose, but it would be needless violence." Pride tilted his head, a little, studying Vargas, scrutinizing him. The Overseer's expression was rigid; perhaps only physically so, with hard hide and little muscle for fine emotion, but he was difficult to read. "Second, and correct me, of course, if I am wrong here, but you are from a different era. Another time. We have heard this spoken of only in passing: a time of violence, yes? Of order and strict rules."

Pride paused, again, regarding Vargas solemnly. Trying not to think about how the thing could break him in half with one twist of its limbs, as it had snapped the peridot collar. "I would like to ask your plans, your intentions, in that regard. Gembound here are used to living free lives, and the Masters seem to have, for the most part, given their blessing in this regard--and yet I get the impression that you intend to change that. I'd like to offer to open dialogue... as a mediatior, to ensure that neither situation ends in violence."

Vargas lost a little--but not much--of his annoyance as he listened. The stag was, at least, well-spoken and to the point, without all the little formalities and irritating dancing around the topic that Vargas had expected.

Its words, however, left a grin twisting on his face, and he loomed a little closer.

"'Open a dialogue?'" the Overseer repeated, sneering. "Ahh, you're asking our terms, is that it-? Very well. These are my intentions: to return the caves to the state they should be in. And my terms? Obey, and I will not slaughter you."

It was harshly-said, a low snarl, and Vargas leaned forward with no qualms about his threats. Unlike Pride, he didn't care if he came across threatening. He was the Overseer. They would obey. Or he would kill them.

The Overseer's eyes narrowed, and he sat back, some. "You do not understand why, do you? You have no idea what you are living in, here. A shadow of a threat looming over you. You see me? My shape, my teeth, my claws. Don't tell me your magic can save you--it can't. Now know this: there are other shadows, above me, behind me, looming over us both. If this cave is not put into working condition, those shadows will kill all your little friends," he added, dourly. And then, a harsh, dark laugh. "You should be thanking me, really."

Pride struggled not to quail back at the threats, at the incredible physical presence looming over him. Oh, he didn't like this. He didn't like this at all. But Vargas' words had his own eyes narrow, his brow furrowing despite his fear. He had to stick to the topic at hand, not get distracted.

"Very well; and what state should they be in?" he asked, mildly; "What, specifically, are you aiming for?"

He paused. There was a baited hook, there, dangling before him and as foolish as he knew it would be to take it, he couldn't help himself. He had to ask, had to push, had to press. He knew it would anger Vargas-... But he had to find out. "And that is it..? All of this control, this strength--and you are acting out of fear?" he asked, and he couldn't hide his faint surprise, though he did his best to keep mockery from his tone.

He tensed for the backlash that he knew must be coming.

Vargas snorted. If the deer was trying to get a rise out of him, it would fail. "Yes!" he boomed. "As would you be, if you understood even a fraction of the danger you are in. You would be a fool not to be afraid," the Overseer answered. Yet there was no fear in his voice, only matter-of-factness.

"As for the specifics of what I want," he went on, and regarded Pride quietly for a moment, drawing his claws through the rain-clotted dust. "We must get back to creating, designing, testing. We must have samples ready for collection. Soldiers, scouts. You cannot understand the consequences of what will happen if they are not-"