ORIGIN

Vargas returned, carrying a dead marsh deer underneath one arm. Its body, beneath its leathery hide, was both limp and undamaged; the Master had killed it with nothing but a test of magic, of the power to stop it long enough to pace over and swiftly--as was his tendency--snap its neck.

Now he stalked back to where he'd left Hunger, not slowing his pace--he had to get back to the creature before the deer began its spiral into decomposition.

"Here," he bellowed, coming to a halt and lobbing the unmarred carcass at the 'log' floating at the lip of the Heart.

"Now, are you ready to fulfill your part of this bargain-?"

It had laid there, 'deactivated' in a sense--blank, without thought, without feeling. Its breaths were only occasional as it waited for some form of input, some sensory prompt, to reawaken it.

That prompt came in the form of a dead deer hurtling for it, landing with a loud splash just in front of it. It lunged, jaws snapping over meat and cracking bone; and sank back into the swamp in an instant, dragging this new meal with it.

There was a roll, a twist of meat, a tossing-back of the broad head to gulp down the flesh of the deer. For a long moment it did not answer, consuming its meal not with the gradual movements of an alligator but the savagery of the eldritch. When it had finished, blood stained the water around it, pooling with the oil-slick that slipped forever off its hide; and it looked at Vargas.

"I... do not... know how. But... if you tell me... I will try. It is... our bargain," it agreed--and found, to its dull and muted acknowledgement, that it somehow valued the concept of upholding its end. For now, at least.

Vargas grunted, dropping slowly to his haunches in the muck-water to wait for the creature to finish eating. He was patient; he had no reason not to be. He could drag this thing out of the water via magic alone, if he had to.

Its answer was honest enough, and he pushed up, nodding. "Come here, then. I will give you a piece of stone. You will touch it--with a limb, a snout, whatever. It may make it easier for you. And then, impart your magic--your essence--toward it. Consider it... casting magic, like that smoke cloud you created, but in order to imbue the stone with life."

He waited until Hunger was slowly dragging itself onto shore, and then looked back at his gemstone: the oily rock that had sat, unmarred, for centuries. Well; time to take a piece, then. He grimaced, focusing.

Hunger hauled itself to shore, and over to the Master. Its jaws remained cracked open, single red eye observing Vargas's movements. The beast was drawing a sliver of oily stone from behind it--where it'd come from, Hunger was unsure, and was not curious enough to ask.

It simply waited, dully, and when Vargas drew up to drier land and set the gemstone down, Hunger followed and attempted to follow its instructions.

Blood-slicked snout dipped down, gently touching the stone, and it focused on what Vargas had suggested.

It went still, for a moment, empty but vaguely bewildered. It nearly ignited itself into smoldering smoke, again, but at the last instant the magic... seemed to channel the right way, and then peter out.

It drew back. "Yesssss," it informed the Master, somewhat nonsensically.

Hm. He thought that the beast had done it correctly; and indeed, as he went to pick up the stone, he found that it was already spreading, fusing to the earth, seeking out nonexistent rock below.

"Good. Your cooperation is noted," he added, and then pushed up. "Don't damage this, now. I will need it, once it grows."

He'd come back to check on it frequently, but for now--ignoring Hunger slipping disinterestedly back into the swamp--Vargas spent a few moments to cover the growing, oily chrysalis in mud, reeds and leaves, to hide it as much as he could from sight. Finding it again might take time, but he was confident that he could; and his day's work was not done yet.