ORIGIN

He was going back to work, and he was going back strong. First things first: to ensure that his current membership was well-trained, instead of a loose gathering of clueless monsters. Then, they could focus on creating and training more--or recruiting more.

He would focus on Garnet-Delta as required; on Khavur (Reaver of the Dark Below), and on his Overseer Name-Still-Unchosen.

The Womb was to be their primary working location: it held the places for chrysalises, and Vargas intended to begin by cleaning these out. By removing the alien bones, the shattered chrysalids. It had already occurred to him that some of these might be revivable; he'd gather the shards, pile them with their bones, and have a closer look later on. He was making his way to them now, and as he went he called out: "KHAVUR!" He would speak to this one now. "Come to me; we have much to discuss." To discuss--and hopefully, to do.

The Master (and he still could hardly believe the title himself, not after millennia of Overseer) approached the first alcove, peering in at the dust and bones within--waiting for Khavur to arrive.

The Leviathan backed from one of the alcoves, a thick bone in one hand. He turned it, looking it over, considering. And then, glanced to Khavur. "They were killed before they could emerge," he growled, half as if talking to himself. "Never given a chance to defend themselves." He looked back to the bone, exhaling.

Vargas had many faults. He was cold, even savage, so often--but killing the new, before they could fight back; now that was a sin. Eyes narrowed as he gazed at the bone, snatching for the chaotic magics that roiled in this place. He felt a trickle of something--he couldn't tell what; but nothing came of the magic, and he turned the long bone this way and that before setting it carefully down to one side. "We'll have to see about giving these a second chance."

The Master turned toward Khavur, then, eyeing it. It had hatched out fully-grown, yes, but had not been mature enough until now for any real training. "You spoke of wishing to defend your siblings--to guide and guard them outside this cave. You spoke of freedom. Tell me why," Vargas went on.

He'd rebuked it, if briefly--mildly--for declaring that Chaos-Two had a "right" to a name--they had to earn them, he'd said, but they'd be given their chance to do so. As for freedom--that was also a right that Khavur itself would have to earn. But Vargas' tone didn't imply that he intended to deny it: it was a genuine question, and the Master's face as he asked it was both serious and attentive.

It was not often that Master Vargas was given the chance to wax philosophical. Normally it was business, fact, cold and dry and plain. Now he looked to Khavur, rolling its words over in his mind, and spoke almost gently.

"We are all wrong, at times, Khavur. You may bet on that, if nothing else; we will all make mistakes! What matters is how we recover from them," he said. He turned, pacing back among the bones, picking at the oilstones that lay there. Here was a gemstone, there the shattered remains of the chrysalis itself, and he eyed over the bones--wondering at this one's design. He laid a hand over its stone, testing for residual latent magic, as he spoke. "You wish to know what strength is, and to understand it. You wish for the Forge--yourself and the other creations--to grow strong together." He considered--and he tried to figure out, briefly, something else that Khavur had said. '...perhaps if I could allow the same thing for my siblings, they, too, would learn more.' Does he not realize they all took this trip together? Vargas wondered briefly, confused, and then decided that he must be misunderstanding Khavur's meaning. He disregarded this as unimportant, for the moment, and pushed on. "A reasonable goal."

Vargas looked down, turning the gemstone over in his hand. The magic offered nothing back: hollow silence, not even an echo where life had once been. And as he turned it, he saw why; a deep fissure through it, the arrowhead still lodged within. This gemstone would never be given life again; it was gone, forever, as was whatever had once been destined to form from its power.

"Is freedom the key to strength..?" A brief thought, and he turned back, leaving the stone where he'd found it in favor of eyeing his first creation. Toxic eyes travelled over its mismatched skin, its two staring heads, its horns and its oversized wings. At last, he spoke. "I would say that it is the other way around, Reaver." The Master's chin raised a fraction as he quietly relayed this wisdom. "Freedom is what you carve forth with your strength. The weak are killed, driven into hiding; the strong shape the world around them as they see fit. What you own is only what you grasp for yourself." Or what one's stronger allies took for them--as Vargas was ripping this little niche in the world for his... faction, here, as Lord Dhracia had called them. "Tell me, if you had the freedom to wander the caves, and to take our allies with you: what would you do? For what reason would you visit each cave, and what actions would you take there--do you know? Have you considered?" And this last, again, was not mocking: it was a real question, one asked with curiosity, with an appraising, thoughtful air.

Vargas had things in mind, certainly; but he also wished to know where Khavur was coming from, what it had already planned, what desires it held within it--what thoughts it held in mind. He was always one to gauge another; it was part of his very creation, coded into his every cell. He would listen, and genuinely consider. It would not be the first time one of his new creations had better ideas than his own, already: perhaps this would be one of them.

Vargas peered closely at Khavur.

What a strange set of thoughts. Its request, as well, struck him as strangely off; not in any sinister or ulterior motive sort of way, but as... misled.

Tragically misled.

The Master sighed quietly.

"I will begin by saying that it is not a bad idea to widen your experiences. You are not wrong that being sheltered may leave you naive. But strength, Reaver, is not something you find lying in dark corners. And it is not something you find with allies by your side."

Strength was rather Vargas's area of expertise, and he prepared to wax a little poetic on his beliefs--or, at least, to be as specific as he could on it. "Strength is the iron core that you find within yourself when you are physically beaten and have no physical strength remaining. Strength is the power to push on, the fire you hold here-" and he reached out to tap Khavur's chest--"-so that no matter what is done to you, you are never defeated. The truly strong never stop trying. The strong are indomitable. The strong rebound, from any catastrophe, from any defeat. The strong may fail, but they are never destroyed--not in spirit! To find strength you must find failure. You must learn to fail. You must understand that failure does not destroy you! And then nothing can." Did any of that make sense-? Vargas hoped so. This whole "inspirational speech" thing was fairly new to him, not that he was deliberately trying for inspiration. "Test yourself and you will find out if you are strong, or if you are cowed after a single failure. There are those who stand back up no matter how hard they are knocked down--this is a metaphor," he clarified, "-and there are those who stay down, and whimper about their failures. Who let their failures define them. Who decide that if they failed, then they hold nothing of value; that they cannot be improved. That is a lie that the weak tell themselves--it is the lie that makes them weak. Do you see-?"

He grunted. "Freedom, you will earn, in time. You will not require allies for that. The Forge members will earn freedom, names, and ranks, as each of them progress. As for how you will earn that," Vargas went on, "it will be through proving yourself. Do this for me: take a lesson or two with the Orthoclase on combat, true and brutal combat. And then--if freedom is what you wish; if you want to seek your strength--I will send you, as I once sent Orthoclase-Alpha, to roam and to learn the caves. To learn to fight and to survive on your own. To sow chaos, and to recognize and counter magic and fighting styles that a hundred different beings here may carry. That is a great gift," he added, "this freedom: and it is a responsibility. It means that we will not have you here to defend the nest, and the others, while you are away. But you are right in that it is needed, for your own teaching--and yes, to find your strength."

Vargas eyed it closely. "For what it is worth, Khavur, I created you to be strong. Indomitable; relentless. Never to give up. But what gives us strength--what sparks our fire--is different for all. Even the weakest may find strength in holding certain things close to their hearts. Even the weakest might show incredible strength in defending a loved one, for example." This was said with empty matter-of-factness, as had the rest been: informative, instructional. "I do not demand constant strength, but I will not tolerate weakness in defense of the others. In that, at least, if you think you will falter, inform me that I may know not to depend on you and possibly lose someone in a battle. But that comes later; that comes when you know yourself, since you have so many questions on that front. What do you say-? A training session or two, and then I send you off to travel and to learn, when you are ready?"

"Good!" Vargas boomed, with approval and even enthusiasm in his tone. "Think on what role you would like to play within the Forge, Khavur. As guardian, or teacher, or to escort the younger throughout the cave in future cycles on their own learning. This will be your own decision to make, so long as the role you choose suits your abilities." As in, he didn't need Khavur as a gardener, or something.

Unless it turned out to be really good growing flowers.

He considered, going over all they'd discussed, and then nodded. He had, he thought, covered everything. "Go. And good luck," he added. "Come back as soon as you are ready--there will be no need to delay."