ORIGIN

Vargas had spotted the additional chrysalids, and caught the recent scent of a few of the Sentinels. He suspected that--given their rapidly-increasing size--these were the work of Orthoclase-Alpha (and they'd better have been; he certainly hadn't given that layabout Ruby-Beta permission to reproduce, yet).

He looked them over; the selenite was curious. It wasn't Thirty-Five's-? Was it? That would be a... bizarre choice, though perhaps Desert had convinced Orthoclase to give it this chance, for some reason. Vargas snorted, amused; if Desert Rose had managed, then it was his victory to take. The bizarrely-watermelon-esque gem, the Zoisite--that one, he knew, had been the Collector's gift. And Vargas knew of a few of those, any of whom would have made good children; he hoped it was one of the decent ones.

Claws traced along one edge, and he turned to look back at the two large, slickly oily, black stones he'd left, himself, earlier this same day. He had decisions to make. He disliked the 'Sentinels'' naming scheme. Some masters did not at all care what their creations were called. Others gave them individual names. Vargas, as Overseer, hadn't really had the luxury of deciding their fates and thus, had given them a stone-number designation until they'd proven themselves.

But now-? He was debating getting rid of that system altogether--finding a new one; but in order to abrogate the first, he had to find a replacement, a second one.

Hmm.

He became aware of Orthoclase-Alpha's presence, then, and he turned, blinking. "Ahh, there you are. I wanted to ask; who or what provided this selenite?" It wasn't rudely-demanded; it was matter-of-fact. Vargas was curious, for now, and little more.

Vargas' eyes widened a touch--all six of them--in surprise, at the description. Vargas offered a nod to the Orthoclase as it pushed up from its bow, and glanced to the dead deer--taking it in--then to the selenite. "Violet-skinned, dark-haired?" he asked, and then looked to Orthoclase-Alpha again. "Tell me about it; why did you choose it?"

If it were the creature he was thinking of--soft, but with arms, hands; a hunter even from its hatching--then the results could be interesting. But left to chance, too, risky. Within this stone, he knew, there might be a mighty, armored, bipedal hunter with ever-useful hands forming; or it might be a soft-skinned, thin beast shaped like Alpha but a fraction of its size. That method of reproduction was... clumsy, he thought, at best. (Little did he know, of course, the results of his own attempts.)

"I've also taken one of the beasts in Cetus for my own uses. Our Creator, Orthoclase-Alpha, favored certain traits. Or it might be better to say, is associated with them. I wish to pay homage, as it is he who has elevated me to Master, now. Black and oily skin, the glowing eyes you and I share... With luck, our offspring--these spawn," he explained, gesturing to them all, "will be powerful symbols, ravagers created in His name and echoing His favored shapes. We will see," he added.

Master Vargas turned, and paced to his own chrysalises, tapping them one by one. Both were oily black, and both were already spreading and growing. "You know little of our past, but the Masters have not always cooperated. There is a rule, here: the strong rule the weak. The survivors mold the future. At times, all of us--any of us--would hunt, kill, usurp, betray, in order to better our own station. It was not... good, on the whole, for such things to get out of hand--to allow that would have been to weaken this entire nest. But if one of us died, well, then clearly we did not deserve our position," Vargas explained. His voice was low, rough, and measured. "And there were times when even the Masters fought about which direction to move. Jupiter was one of those who betrayed, and she hunted, at times." A claw tapped the nearest stone. "I do not know which of her victims this was; but to die to a Master is not so great a dishonor. They would have stood little chance against her. And their stone's presence in her collection suggests loyalty to the Creator, and so I have offered this one life. This other is my own creation, Orthoclase-Alpha."

There was pride in Vargas' eyes as he turned to stare at his spawn. "My first. A powerful beast--though there's room for error--created to wreak havoc. It will emerge fully-grown, and you will be tasked, at least in part, with training it in my absence. By 'absence' I mean whilst I am throughout the caves on my own business," he explained, "I would name you my Overseer--and that means you can choose a name of your own, if you want it," Vargas added, and despite little fanfare having led up to this announcement, he turned to face Orthoclase-Alpha squarely.

"I do not need to TELL you that is a great honor. It is granted on a base of necessity, yes," he went on--for there were really no other decent candidates, and he required assistance in embarking on projects of this magnitude now--"But it is granted also on a base of achievement. Do not think it is out of necessity alone; you have earned it. You will continue to earn it," he added, in a growl. A warning, of sorts, or was it assurance-?

The Master turned, gesturing to the chrysalids.

"We will train them, and test them. If they are skilled, they will be the bulk of our core force, and help train those in the future. But all of them will answer to you, Overseer," and Vargas looked pointedly back at Alpha. "Congratulations."

For a moment Vargas loomed, towering and staring down; and then he lowered himself to his haunches, getting down to business. "Now, we have several decisions to make, and I would like your input." It was, perhaps, to be a test as much as a request for ideas--but Vargas did want its judgment, for both purposes.

Vargas grunted, glancing around.

"First, where to train them. Where to base. I do not think this tunnel will be suitable for what I have in mind. When the old northern caves are reopened--and that should be soon--we may be able to pick a location there. Until then, I want you to think of other places we can train. The arena is an obvious choice; but there are others, as well."

It seemed a not-very-important point, particularly since, given his inflection and tone, Vargas seemed both willing and eager to return to whatever lay behind the blocked-off caves. But he continued, gaze swinging back to Alpha--and if he noticed the new Overseer's trepidation he did not mention it (nor anything else Alpha had said, perhaps because there wasn't much to say).

"Second, I want to decide on my own naming convention. In the past, the Masters might have had their own ways; some earned names quickly, some were named, some were not. As Overseer, I offered only rapid designations to keep up with pace and to avoid any attachment. Names were earned. I think that is still a good motivation; to gain your own place, you must earn it, as you have." He nodded Alpha's way.

He made no mention of Orthoclase's prior... incidents, like the whole "spider thing" or "dragging the angry dragons back to Canis." Apparently, that had all been just peachy. "The stones and numbers were suitable enough, but if we reuse them I wish to add to them. Something we can use as designations in quick conversation, so it can't be too complex. Something... pronounceable, so it cannot be amalgamations of letters added together, either," he added, thoughtful. "I have earned the right to name them how I wish--it is another way I might exercise my influence, do you understand? But as my new right hand I would ask you if you hold any thoughts on the topic. If you have any ideas," he clarified.

His gaze drifted off again, then, ranging over the chrysalids, and he nodded to the selenite. "I will be interested to see if you are right. That method of reproduction is clumsy, but it has yielded interesting fruit, yourself among them. It has potential."

There was silence, for the most part, from Vargas whilst his Alpha spoke. In his mind, he ran over Eridanus. He had dismissed it; it wasn't particularly defensible, if it came down to it, and in his mind, its terrain was far from 'difficult.' But the Orthoclase had a point about cover; and Vargas realized, with some amusement, that its bulk likely left it the brute shoving through thick foliage rather than the hunter using it to its advantage. This was in part why he, himself, did not think of Eridanus as any sort of challenge: he could see the heartbeats of others through the leaves, and stalk in slender-limbed silence through the trees.

As for designations, then, he'd have to think harder on that; and he set his mind to that, sort of 'in the background,' letting his subconscious mull it over and relegating it to "deal with that later." When Alpha named the Zoisite, however, six toxic eyes sprang wide.

"Athelia! That bitch!" he cried, with a sharp shake of his head, and then glanced to Orthoclase. "I refer to the Collector, not her--she was a powerful champion, yes, and..." (And he looked over Alpha, and offered the next sentence in a sort of begrudging admission) "...And not entirely unsuited to your form. Strong, but quick, and armored. But she was-..." He gestured with one hand, grimacing. "Upside-down. That bastard. I told him no tricks! There's no knowing how that will come out," he added, glancing with a grimace at the Zoisite. A perfectly good design, potentially ruined; if it came out half upside-down, half right-side up, unable to move... "I will have words with Algol," he growled, and felt a little sting of satisfaction at this. The Collector had offered that little trick after Vargas had explicitly told him not to; and now he was a Master. He wondered if Algol were fretting, worrying about what Vargas might do. He doubted it; the slimy bastard would probably insist with his oily 'silver' tongue that it was a serious, honest choice. And Vargas couldn't even really fault him for it--though it was a risk, the Zoisite wasn't a bad match at all. ...If it worked.

He shook his head, and looked to Orthoclase again. "If it works, it could be one of your most powerful spawn. If it comes out... deformed, it will be useless. Algol must have known this. He is ever a foul trickster," he added with a growl. "In any case, Eridanus is not particularly difficult terrain, but it could be useful for training movement in cover. I'd prefer somewhere open so we don't lose rebellious spawn so easily when they're young. I will think on it--so will you," he added; "Perhaps we should take Monoceros back from the dragons."

After a moment he began again, thinking. "It may be best to use the old system--stone and number--but with a modifier. To indicate the new generation, such as... V, for version, and for Vargas, yes? So if a new Orthoclase hatches, it would be V-Orthoclase-One? It is simple enough," he added, mulling it over. He doubted they'd run into any stone-number duplicates anyway, but the V could serve as a differentiator just in case. And he'd so long ago lost track of which number they must be up to--sleeping tended to have that effect--that starting over was rather a necessity.

"Stones like mine will be designated Chaos. V-Chaos-One, for example. What are your thoughts?"

"'Reduce the waste?'" he asked, glancing to Alpha with mild confusion. He was unsure what his new Overseer meant by that.

As for the suggestion of waiting for the spawn, Vargas considered. "I do not need them--not for that, not any longer. My reformation came with more than simply a title and spawn-abilities, Orthoclase-Alpha." Vargas turned, and eyed his spawn. It wasn't something he'd really done, yet--not at any length, not outside practicing on a few Lessers for hunting--but he focused for a moment on it. The attempt was something like a bloodhold spell; simply the forcing movement in another creature. And for Orthoclase-Alpha he did little--and the power was weak, regardless. Just a step toward him, and then he released his hold and grunted, looking away again, looking over the chrysalids. "And if we want to train them there, we'll need the place. We will have our own airborne army soon enough--but I would like to recruit the dragons to help reopen Draco. The children won't be grown by then, and I would rather have air support. I will have to speak to them, somehow. It would help if they were not incredibly stupid," Vargas added, sourly. Large, airborne, and fire-breathing did not mesh well with stubborn, aggressive and very, very dumb. Dread, at least, simply could not be reasoned with.

"I will think on it. Meantime, keep an eye on these stones, as I will. We cannot let anything come and kill them in our absence; they're... important, to us." Six toxic eyes narrowed, and then swung toward Alpha, studying it intently for a moment.

"This is more than my rebirth, child. This is a new chance for us all to prove ourselves. Do not forget that. You may not have known our Creator; but you do not wish to disappoint him. Do not, forget that."