ORIGIN

Hunter was not used to fighting beasts larger and stronger than itself. In its defense, it also hadn't picked this fight, but it had little choice in the matter, now; and the strike to the side of its jaw caught it entirely by surprise. In hunting and killing its prey, it was usually a matter of lurching up, latching on, and dragging down. It was not a wrestling match, there was no tactical consideration, no advanced strategy to employ.

But that's what Vargas was doing. What good was Hunger's death-roll if the Master was not even harmed-? Its grip was dislodged, its teeth aching, and it hissed and tried something new. Something novel. It spun--as fast as it could, with an injured forearm--and lashed its spike-scaled tail for the Master's face.

The tail swept out like some sort of very fucked-up broom-swipe from an over-angered grandma. Not that Vargas would have known what a broom was. Or a grandmother, for that matter.

He jerked his head back, a quick movement, but it seemed that the tail would have missed him, regardless. Instinctively he lashed out, trying to snag onto the tail with both arms--and to them back up quickly, dragging Hunger so as to keep the pointy end--well, the more dangerous pointy end--pointing away from him.

He could feel blood dripping down his open shoulder, his upper arm torn--the muscle nearly gave when he tugged, but it held. It was enough--it would be enough.

It could feel the tight grip across its tail, feel itself dragged further and further from the water. Feet struggled, and failed, to get any form of grip on slick mud.

Thus far, the Master hadn't truly harmed it--but Hunger did not stop to consider this; there was no time. And even if it had, it was more than possible that Vargas simply hadn't had the opening to do so. Hunger had no plans to stop and give him the chance.

Hunger, in fact, had no plans at all.

Instinct still drove it, a spark of desperation reaching for its rarely-used magicka.

It was the sort that ignited the oil across its hide, but in a slow, controlled burn that gave off clouds of black smoke, rather than in consuming flames. Perhaps that would give it the opening it needed to get out.

He had a grip--a strong one--and then suddenly black and acrid smoke was pouring into his face.

He had, somehow, not even considered that the beast would know magic--but here it was, and it was fire, and Vargas was at once concerned. What else might it know-? They were near enough to water that fire might not be fatal, but it could be a nasty surprise if this bastard wheeled around and gave him a face full of flame, the way that dragon had-

Vargas let go, backing away quickly at the thought--but when Hunger started scurrying off for the water, he quickly gave chase.

"STOP," he boomed. And, somehow, hoped it would obey.

The weight that thumped down on it was immense. Immense--but slippery. Hunger's smoke-boiling skin was still oily, and he could feel Vargas struggling to get a stronger grip on it. It redoubled its efforts, hissing and fighting the Master's bulk, clawing raked lines through the mud as it struggled on.

If it could get to the water--well, it could hold its breath for a good, long while.

Could Vargas-?

He felt it fighting beneath him, felt the twisting muscles dense beneath the thick, armored hide. The oil helped against Vargas, too, the skin slick, too slick to grip. He grunted and readjusted his weight.

"Stop!" he demanded, again. "I only want to speak, now. I have a deal to offer you!" It was, he reasoned, far too stupid to be expected to respond to rank. If he made demands as Master, it would not listen. Alternatively, he supposed he could drag it out again and beat it into submission--but it would be far easier if the damn thing would just listen. Even for a moment.

There was, of course, another alternative--but Vargas did not want to have to resort to that. If he were forced to control the creature's body, it would be unlikely to give its magic willingly.

Hunger hissed, wet and guttural, and angry. Or, as angry as the reptilian, cold brain could get. "Rreeleaassee... meee..." it gurgled, still struggling, frustrated, to escape the Master's grasp. "And then... I will lisssten..."

That seemed reasonable enough, even to its simple mind. If it were safely in the water, it could safely listen. It did not like being up here, on land, trapped by a larger creature.

It was... unpleasant.

Vargas grunted. He debated it, for a moment; but if the beast disobeyed him, he could always force it to return. He released it, for now, and pushed backward.

"Do not dare to disobey me," he warned it, in a growl, quickly making room between them. As Hunger scuttled for the water, he spared a brief glance, and touch, toward his right shoulder. The upper arm's flesh was torn, and would bruise--quite badly, if he were any judge. Its brute strength, at least--its jawpower--was impressive. But this was an ambush predator; he could see that, now. If it were to be of any use to him, he would need flexibility and strength. That said, its armor was impressive, for being simply hide. And its oil was quite strong. Its element, too, would be fire, and that was always powerful--if deadly.

"You're slow, rigid. But you're strong," Vargas began, looking toward the water--to find the parted jaws some twenty feet out, their single red eye watching him. "Your hide, your oil, those are both useful for defense. I will create a stone. I want you to breathe your magic into it. Will you do this willingly?" he asked, watching it closely.

Hunger felt the weight suddenly remove itself, and it scurried forward, half-limping but with three still-good limbs. It crashed into the black lake water an instant later, sending up a splash (and how it hated that--one of the few things it felt emotion for; it took some pride, felt it was right, to move in sleek silence, not loud thrashing). It dipped beneath the water's surface and circled back around, keeping what it imagined to be a safe distance between itself and the ex-Overseer.

It was not, in fact, a safe distance; but it did not know that. And anyway, Vargas leaping into the Heart would give Hunger some advantage of being in the water. It wouldn't be enough, really, but still...

It floated there, jaws parted, the water calming around it as it listened. The thing wanted it to give magic to a rock. It was unsure why it should do this, or even how to go about it; the only magic that it knew was to burn its own hide to escape larger beings, a trick it hadn't had to use in many cycles before today. And anyway...

"Thissss," Hunger began, its guttural voice once again nothing but very wet air, "Isss not... a deal..."

Then it waited.

Vargas had offered it a deal.

...Okay, fair.

"I did, didn't I?" he agreed with a savage grin, looking over what little he could see of the creature. For a moment, he considered simply leaving it here--creating his own original creature, instead, or rather more than one--but he decided against it. He wanted this echo of the Creator's power in one of his first brood as Master. It was... symbolic, in a sense.

"Tell me, what is it that you want?" He was curious. In his era, others might ask for a place to live, or for clemency against future trials or punishments. Additional freedoms, perhaps, or even protection.

What did this one desire..?