ORIGIN

Vargas, Nemean, Astraea, and Totum. Dewberry committed these names to memory; if she met them, she would know to treat them with the appropriate amount of caution and carefully-hidden revulsion. Caution, because they were powerful enough to create and control monsters (the Sentinel isn't a monster) Gembound like the Sentinel, who was as big as her father and had teeth a hundred times pointier. Whoever Vargas was, he had to be even stronger and scarier-looking than the Sentinel. And revulsion, because that was the least of what these Masters deserved.

Clearly, they were powerful. It was in their name; they were Masters of magic or combat or whatever else they did. But did they help Gembound with that power? Chaos was in their name, and darkness was their magic. Darkness, the stuff of her nightmares, which would swallow up Gembound and leave them cold, alone, and vulnerable. Nothing good could come out of that. They created, but what did they give their child? Not the encompassing warmth and safety that a loving family should provide, but a cold command to watch and learn to fight. The Sentinel did not even know who their enemy was, or what they were fighting for.

Dewberry swallowed down her anger, quivering slightly with the effort. "Fighting people for real is dangerous," she croaked, her voice jumping from a hoarse, low tone to a fifth higher than usual. "If you end up fighting seriously, you should know why. You should decide for yourself if it's worth it." She was coiled into several loops, but her tail flicked in agitation. "And - don't do bad stuff," she finished lamely. She thought of Father, of his battle with the green lizard. She'd attacked him. Whatever Azure said about whatever family history they had, she'd still attacked him first and she'd seemed evil. Father had died. People died in battles and the Masters could just create warriors to fight whomever they wanted and would their children even know if it was good or bad - ?

@The Sentinel

There was a very long silence, a void that stretched on so long that the ticking of Sentinel's pocketwatch became apparent. He seemed to really think about what she had said, considering it, turning it over from every angle before--again quite slowly--coming out with his response.

The response, however, was just two more questions.

"What," he rasped, his head tilting to one side, "makes fighting 'worth it?'" was his first; and the second, following closely on its heels: "What is, 'bad stuff?'"

Morality hadn't exactly been a topic covered by the Chaos Forge, and the Sentinel's glowing blue eyes bored into Dewberry where she coiled before him, as if trying to see through her for his answers.

@Dewberry (I don't think the initial tag went through, was inside my table whoops)

Two questions, and not particularly easy ones at that. Dewberry supposed that it shouldn't have been a surprise; it was difficult to put the answers to questions of morality in words, and she should hardly expect these Masters to bother teaching them. Unfortunately, that meant the responsibility was now falling on her, and the answers did not come easily to her, either.

Her own silence stretched on as she thought, considering the possible responses. The problem was made more difficult by her upbringing: the Bloodberries hadn't quite been a shining example of morality, and Dewberry had still not figured out how she felt about it all. She'd pushed the question aside for the time being, since the battles had ended long ago, but she couldn't ignore them forever.

Azure said that her parents had killed others, and that their families had trapped Mother in retaliation. Was it possible that the lizard had killed Father for the same reason? Dewberry remembered little of their conversation before the fight had begun, but even if the words slipped from her grasp, she could still recall the hostility and hatred. She wasn't sure what she'd do if she met it again. If it attacked her with the same deadly intent - but it had not gone after the rest of her family, as she'd thought it might. But she resented it still, the emotion a small but steady flame in her stomach.

I want the lizard to hurt, the flame told her. I want it to suffer the way Father suffered. I want it bones to join the rest in Canis. But she did not want to actively seek it out. And she realized now, feeling rather sick, that this must have been what the others had felt, when they'd made the decision to fight her family. And, because she could not believe that her parents would kill others without a good reason, she thought it must have been what Mother and Father had felt, too. This was what had driven them to fight, hurt, and kill.

In the end, Mother hadn't died - at least, as far as Dewberry knew. She'd been trapped in a cage, instead. A better outcome than death, and she was grateful at least for that. Father had. The lizard had attacked him first. Maybe there could have been a better way, but they'd never get to find out. Even if it hadn't worked, wasn't trying better than jumping to murder? They'd only been talking, albeit with much hostility, before the lizard's first strike. And once that had happened, of course her father had had to defend himself and then there was no going back.

These thoughts were hardly a clear answer for the Sentinel's questions, even if she managed to condense them into coherent sentences. She wouldn't want to share them with a near-stranger, anyway. But what were some more general, even seemingly obvious (you never knew, with the way the Sentinel had responded to her questions) things?

"If you fight... fighting for real should be the last option you consider," she decided. "When the fighting starts, it becomes a lot harder for the situation to resolve any other way. You could get hurt, or die, and so could everyone else involved. But even your opponents... everyone wants to be able to live their lives and to have the chance at a bright future. It's not fair to take that away from them without having tried other options first. Most of them are just like us: they want to be safe, and they want the best for the ones they care about." She realized, then that she didn't know what the Sentinel wanted. Did he have his own desires, other than to serve? She didn't think it was the best time to ask.

"Whatever you do, it should only be equal to, or less than, what the other has done. If they have attempted nothing violent, do not harm them. If they have only said hurtful words, do not fight them. If their attacks are not aimed to kill, do not be the first to attempt murder." That was the simplest part, but if the Masters and the Chaos Forge were as bad as they seemed, there would be someone - maybe a lot of someones - out for their blood eventually. And who could say if it was justified to fight them, if they attacked first?

But if they were justified, then they wouldn't attack first. There would have to be some kind of provocation to make their anger justified.

"There might be a time... when someone seems like they are the first to attack. But there is a possibility... that there was a prior grievance, an injustice that was first done to them. Consider their motivations, and consider if they are justified in their anger. Consider if their response is proportional to what has already happened. Consider this before you take sides in a fight. And if there is a possibility of another way out - something that would do less harm to those who do not deserve it - that is better than fighting."

@The Sentinel (TL;DR: she's quiet for a long time, then she talks)

Some of these concepts were meaningless to him--the idea of "fairness," for example, or "injustice." He examined these words in his mind, but felt nothing for him.

That wasn't to say that the lesson was unwanted or even discarded: far from it. He found immediate sense, and therefore value, in Dewberry's assertion that 'when the fighting starts, it becomes a lot harder for the situation to resolve any other way.' That made sense: why create unnecessary risk? And into that fed the other remarks she offered: that there were perhaps hidden motivations to take into account. That even if aggression began, it was possible for things to be resolved without harm. It wasn't about morality, then--or at least this was how the Sentinel took this lesson: it was about practicality, instead. Others might not want to fight. "Beginning a fight," he began at last, moving from silent study and rapt attention to slow, cautious summary, "is a risk." He looked to the snake, as if for confirmation, as he continued. "Once begun, it is difficult... to end. Unless there was... hidden purpose. But... at times... a surprise strike is... decisive," he added, head tilting a little as he thought this over.

After all, the first strike, when unexpected, could end a battle before it began--a fight that might otherwise prove unavoidable.

"How does one... decide?"

'Bad stuff,' he thus assumed, was making a poor decision about the beginning of a fight. And, too, if there were those out there who didn't want to fight, surely that meant that the threat of a fight could be utilized?

He tucked that idea away for future use, though it was probably not exactly what Dewberry had intended. It wasn't that he was malicious, exactly, but viewing morality (for the first time, no less) through the lens of logic was unlikely to provide clear sight the first time around.

@Dewberry

A surprise strike? Was that what the lizard thought it had been doing? But if it was a surprise, then the fighting had not yet started, and there might yet be a way out without harming either side. Dewberry shook her head, trying to muster up the words. "That would… hurt the other one? But you might not have to. Neither of you have to get hurt… that's only a possibility, I guess, but - I think - it's worth trying, if the result would mean that both are unharmed…"

How did one decide? How could you tell when a situation was no longer salvageable? It was always possible that you could be mistaken, if you struck first, but where was the point that that became an acceptable risk? Did such a point exist? Dewberry did not know herself, so how was she supposed to explain it to an alien hound whose parents seemed to have so little idea of morality? (Not that the Bloodberries were exemplary in that regard, either, but if she could avoid thinking about that then she would.)

It was easier to judge something as right or wrong, Dewberry realized, than to set out definite moral rules in words. And if even the former was difficult at times, then the latter was edging on impossible. I've done a lot of talking, she decided. It would be good to hear the Sentinel's current point of view. "That's a hard question," she admitted at last. "It might be easier if I knew - what would you consider, and how would you decide, currently? If you told me, I could-" Not point out what's wrong, no, because she wasn't too sure if she could even tell, but- "It would be a place to start. To discuss, I mean."

@The Sentinel

That the Sentinel was genuinely considering Dewberry's wisdom was clear: he not only listened in silence, but after a long few moments' thought, he lowered himself to sit cross-legged on the ground. He looked somewhat puzzled, drawing his halberd to rest across his lap.

He had asked a difficult question, and she did not know the answer; she had turned it back on him and now he was confronted with just how hard it was. Where was a line to draw? Granted, he was not looking at it through a lens of morality, but practicality. Risk assessment. At what point, he thought, did the value of a surprise strike outweigh the risk of what might have been unnecessary combat? How did one gauge whether letting a chance at an ambush go was worth possible conflict avoidance?

The answer, such as it was, came after a few moments' thought: A powerful foe... too risky to fight... is best destroyed outright. But then, how did one gauge danger-? It came down to experience--and the Sentinel was wise enough to recognize that he didn't have enough of that.

At last he looked up at Dewberry.

"A creature... too dangerous to fight... is one that might be destroyed. Before it has a chance... to attack first." He tilted his head. "But... the Sentinel does not know enough of what makes a creature dangerous. There is magic. You are small, but you are powerful. It requires... more combat," he decided. The only way to figure this out, it seemed, would be through testing and fighting, and learning by doing.

@Dewberry

The Sentinel seemed to be in careful consideration for a long time; it seemed that this was a difficult question for both of them. But when he at last spoke, his answer gave Dewberry somewhere to start. "Someone powerful doesn't have to be destroyed," she said, just in case the Sentinel was thinking in a drastic direction. She hoped not, but with someone so powerful, she didn't want to risk not being clear. "If they are unpredictably violent, if they want to harm those who have not done a proportional amount of harm to others first, they should be stopped."

"But if they have good intentions, like defending others, or if they are angry about something bad that was done to them first, maybe they can be reasoned with. We all have magic here, whether it's our first choice in a fight or not, so anyone could be very dangerous without looking like it. But by watching the way they act, you could try to see if they might accept another solution that doesn't involve fighting, or if you think a surprise strike might be necessary."

Dewberry still didn't like the idea of striking first, but if she could convince the Sentinel only to use it against bad people, at least that would be a better outcome than whatever way he thought before. She guessed it had been something along the lines of do whatever the Masters tell me. Which... well, wasn't she also pretty much telling him what to do? The idea of any similarity between her and the Masters disturbed her, but... at least she wasn't giving birth to seven foot tall alien hounds to fight and forge chaos. She was trying to prevent that. That had to count for something.

@The Sentinel

Once again, she made decent points, and the Sentinel hastened to agree--if only because he had been making the same assumptions, in his mind. He did not wish misunderstanding, here.

"It does not mean... mere strangers; but those who would... pose a threat. It must guard the door," he tried to explain. If an army or an obvious attacker came knocking, then--figuratively speaking--versus someone there to explore, or to speak with the Chaos Forge. He paused, studying Dewberry, and looked for a better way to explain.

"The Master requires no protection. It is to guard... the children. The fresh spawn." Another pause, and he tilted his head. "Risks must not be taken."

Did that clarify things..? He was there to ensure that the newly-hatched were guarded. That something did not come in, and steal or eat or kill them. He had to do his job right, or the spawn--the children--might be killed. It wasn't exactly a moral choice, no--but perhaps a slightly more palatable one.

He lifted his chin a fraction. "The little serpent has taught me much. The Sentinel thanks it," and here he straightened, pushing up with his weight on the halberd.

It still wasn't morality; but it seemed he had taken from this conversation something... relatively reasonable, at least.

@Dewberry

Relief flooded through her. The Sentinel did not guard some evil gathering of villainous masters planning… whatever it was they planned, but children. Whether they were spawn of this Chaos Forge or not, whether they looked monstrous or not, they were still only Gemlings. There was no fault in protecting them.

"You're welcome," she said, and as he straightened she did too, unwinding herself and half-turning toward the tunnel out of Polaris. "If you want to talk again, or, uh - stare at the Spire together, my name's-" Caves, had she really not introduced herself yet? "- Dewberry, and I live in Orion. The room that way, with the sweet-smelling tunnel." Orion was, admittedly, a very big room, but she was wary of letting this Chaos Forge find out exactly where she and her family lived. "Bye, I guess - good luck with your traveling."

@The Sentinel exit

"Dewberry," he repeated, in his rasp.

A pause, as he considered--as he thought about the valuable lessons that he had learned from this one, in particular. Well-wishing wasn't really within his scope of experience, and yet he felt that somehow perhaps he ought to offer more than a simple departure--as she had offered a visit.

"It will see Orion, then." ...No, that wasn't quite right. But what was-? "Its lessons have been useful," he tried--surely an assurance such as that would warm anybody's heart.

Satisfied, the Sentinel turned, and regarded the Spire again; and thought over the things that thus far his journey had revealed to him.

exit Sentinel; @Dewberry (for visibility)