Vigilance - Printable Version

They'd listen to Vargas's final notes and dismissal, but then they were already preparing themself to be off. A claw adjusts the armor around them, tightening it slightly to ensure it does its job. And then they are thinking about who to set out with. Nidhogg and smaller quilled thing already have their third.

Well, they'll figure something out. Maybe just saying their looking for partners will work. "Name's Rue. People can come with me for patrol. Need partners," they call out, in the hopes someone will listen.

With that, they pace off a short distance, to wait for others. If none join them, well, I'll just tag along with someone else.

Scion had to stop itself from lettihg out an audible sigh of relief. Thank the caves that was over. It had understood, a little bit, for a brief moment, the pressure of being a leader. And it found that it actually did not like it all that much. It had gotten itself a position, and that was fine with it, being able to boss the rest of them around, to know that it outranked most of the Forge, but fuck if it ever were to go any higher then that it might start actually bursting into flames from how much its brain had gone into overdrive.

With the meeting dismissed, Scion really had nothing else to do, or really want to do. Fuck if it was going on patrols - it was tired and decided that it was nap time, and a well deserved one at that.

A final nod to Vargas and it was standing and making its way to the small structure against the wall that it called its nest. It would probably not emerge for at least a full day.

*exit

It didn't know what Canis was. It didn't know what patrolling or partners were, or why some of the others that came around were yelling at each other: and Chaos-Thirteen did not care. It wasn't long before the Oilstone had become distracted (ignoring Vargas and his request for someone to take it to him) and was instead inspecting the wallcrawlers.

It grabbed one off the wall and opened its maw, rows and rows of teeth glinting in the dim light of Draco as it chomped the worm down nosily and licks its jowls. It did not feel satisfied.

Assuming Vargas came towards it, Thirteen twists its helmet-like head up towards him and barked one word. "Hungry."

If Vargas weren't so damn big, it might have considered which way was best to consume the Master.

Azrael nodded, satisfied with that answer for now. He was not a fool in that he would expect the Master to drop everything an launch a full assault on Ursa with little preperations, especially when there was more Hive to destroy, but he wanted it in his thoughts. He wanted it to happen soon. Because that was his point in joining the Forge, because they wanted Order destroyed, just as he did. And they were strong. But this inaction was beginning to nag at the edges of his mind.

A snort and he was turning from the group, pushing his way through until he was standing before the valkhound that had agreed with him. The one that had introduced itself as Mirac. The sword-hound was bloodthirsty and he had felt a faint kinship with it during its own speech. Loud, abrasive, and unapologeticaly chaotic. That was what he respected in the Forge Hounds - he, too, was all of these things. "You," he grunted. "If you crave a fight with Order, I will fight beside you. If we should not go alone, then perhaps we should go together." His eyes squinted for a moment as his head leaned forward. "Hm. The Blade of Destruction. The Black Talon of Chaos. I can come up with more."

- THE LEVIATHAN -

Vargas took a breath. Delegation was good, but he still had much to do. He had to provide... support... to V-Chaos-Eleven.

And what the hell was the suit of armor doing to the walls..?

He gave it a few minutes: to speak first with Eleven, and then to acknowledge the armor's singular word. "Let's... find you something to eat. Do you know who made you?" he asked it, quizzically. It wasn't one of his, but that didn't mean it wasn't some side-project of Totum's--or even an old design springing to life.

The caves were like that, sometimes.

Anyway; this wasn't something he could really delegate. The creature looked powerful, or at least durable, and he did not want it killing one of his others--and they had work to do. (Except Scion, who he was fairly certain was going off to take a nap, but that was its prerogative.) "Come. I will find you food. You will be part of the Chaos Forge," he added, although honestly he had no idea where it had come from. He just. Assumed.

Nidhogg had no idea why Vargas wanted to talk to one of his 'kids.' That was... worrying, actually. He huffed, and looked around. "DON'T KILL THEM," he called, over the din. And when Vargas's eyes swung to him, he added, "-PLEASE." It was totally without emotion; he didn't think Vargas would, anyway. But, like, what if he didn't say it, and then Vargas did do that?

That would suck.

But--yeah. Canis. Uhh. Two kids--wait for one--and this asshole with wings. (Nidhogg knew him. Nidhogg did not care about his name.)

"Okay sure." He wasn't sure what he was agreeing to, but it was directed at Archon and V-Chaos-Eleven. "We'll, uh, wait. Make sure he doesn't kill 'Agate.'" He paused, looking around. "But we'll wait over there." Away from the crowd, and in a place Vargas probably, maybe, wouldn't find it insubordinate somehow. (Nidhogg really didn't know how all that stuff worked.)

Mirac grinned up at the Corundum, thoroughly enjoying the names gracing his ears (wherever the hell those were). So much better than Missed-rac. Mirac was a blade of great strength and accuracy and would NEVER miss. But to the corundum Mirac said: "Yes, YES! these are all VERY nice and good! Mirac will SAVE these for when he needs them. Mirac LIKES you, Corundum."
Then, as if things couldnt get any better, Vargas offered a spar with Mirac. "Mirac wishes for battle with ORDER. A lack of promise of VIOLENT MURDER is DISAPPOINTING." Unlike Azrael, Mirac was the fool that expected Vargas to launch an assault on Ursa without preparation. He hummed. "Mirac is considering your offer. Mirac says: YESYESYES SPAR WITH MIRAC! SPAR SPAR SPAR! Mirac looks FORWARD to this!"

Mirac was practically buzzing with anticipation at the idea of fighting Vargas once more. He would be without wielder, but a fight was a fight. Mirac followed Vargas' eyes to the back, where V-Chaos-Thirteen was eating wall bugs. But oh, those metal plates! Now there was a truly worthy design. It struck Mirac with how right it thought a creature like that look. "Mirac LIKES you metal thing. Mirac thinks that new one's design is VERY efficient!" He called after Vargas and V-Chaos-Thirteen. Then, Azrael approached, making Miracs already good day even better.

"AH, ANGRY ONE! YES YES, Mirac sees fellow HUNGER for DEATH and DESTRUCTION! We are KINDRED yes? Mirac can tell because your names are GOOD. Mirac LIKES you. Mirac will be SAVING THESE as well for when Mirac meets ORDER once more. Mirac thinks you should give MORE names soon. Though if you wish to FIGHT with Mirac, you must WIELD me. Mirac is good at KILLING to chrysalis and very SHARP for swinging through FOES. Mirac is ALSO better than very bad stupid POLEARM that OTHERS use." Mirac raised his voice for the last bit in case The Sentinel was there, very obviously jealous of the Sentinel's weapon. Then, almost forgetting, Mirac turned towards the Corrundum. "Corrundum ALSO has good names. Does CORRUNDUM wish to JOIN on our RAMPAGE?"

"speak" think

In the few minutes that Vargas gave it, Chaos-Thirteen almost immediately returned to the wall to eat crawlers, grasping at worms and shovelling them into the glowing hole its mouth split into. Its tongue lashed out and it was just about to lick the wall where crawler-legs had just touched seconds ago when its attention darted to Mirac.

A very simple thought process occured, then. Mirac was loud. So it should also be loud.

"HUNGRY," it told Mirac. And then, in a moment of observation, "YOU ARE NOT FOR EATING."

Compliment? Insult? Ancient wisdom passed down from its creator? Who knows, because Vargas was loping towards it and the oilstone's head whipped around, horse-hair tail pattering the wall. Existential questions like 'who made you?' slid right off a smooth, five-minute old brain like water off a duck's back. Instead, it looked the Master in the eye and repeated, loudly, "HUNGRY."

It didn't care what a Chaos Forge was, either-- and so, it did not bother questioning it. The only thing that reached the thing's ears was Vargas's offer to give it something to eat. Perhaps it was happy when it turned and followed the master, chitin and teeth chattering as it went.

"YES!" Corundum agreed, her broad grin widening.

Then she strode over--a stalking gait precisely like Vargas's. What she did next, however, was something Vargas wouldn't do in a thousand years: she attempted to high-five the sword.

Maybe Mirac would find a way to high-five her back. Or maybe she'd cut herself on the blade. More likely her hand would skid off ineffectively, or palm-slap the poor sentient war-sword of chaos.

"Let's go!" she exclaimed, either way, enthusiastic.