Knight to F5 Or Something IDK I Don't Play Chess

- THE LEVIATHAN -

Vargas was pacing across the loamy soil, heading for the cover of the trees. He was keeping himself slow enough--if needed--that V-Chaos-Thirteen could keep up.

"Right. You said that you are hungry." He intended to ask if it wished to join the Forge, to cover the rules--to give it a designation. But first came food. Monsters hatched hungry. Hungry monsters were not good conversation; several of Vargas's spawn had outright tried to eat him.

"Would you like me to help you to catch food, or show you how to do it yourself?" he asked, glancing to the living suit of armor.

He admired its design, if nothing else. It wasn't one of his--he had no idea whose it had been--but it was both functional and aesthetically impressive. Functional in the sense that it could have walked in among the soldiers of any surface army, and then... well, eaten them.

With its helmet.

But also would be quite capable of wielding weaponry in combat. I shall have to find it a sword or something like that. I could send it with The Sentinel to see the Blacksmith, I suppose--or maybe V-Onyx-Three can make it something. That was a thought. He wasn't sure how far along Onyx-Three was in its training, but he could check.

In the meantime, Vargas slowed as he reached the treeline. Smaller prey was plentiful in the forests of Pegasus, and he reached out his senses in an attempt to find something for Chaos-Thirteen--and perhaps himself--to eat. His senses returned nothing close (or perhaps his magic had failed), so he raised his head to scent the air, then glanced at V-Chaos-Thirteen, wondering what it might answer.

Thirteen didn't have trouble keeping up. At least, not in theory. It wasn't slow or limping in a way where Vargas would intentionally have to slow to accomodate, but it did frequently get... distracted. Like an old dad getting texts on his phone, Chaos-Thirteen kept stopping dead in its path to sniff the air. Once or twice while leaving Draco did it pause to snap at more wallcrawlers. At the exit, it stopped to contemplate which was the best way to consume the guard (though it decided it would expend too much effort).

It only sped up from its pauses when Vargas reminded it of food.

"Hungry," it reminded Vargas when he slowed and spoke. The Master was at least correct in his assumption that it would be bad conversation until it was fed-- though it remains to be seen if that would improve any once the beast had a full belly. It didn't initially respond to his question, however.

It stopped. It sniffed. There were many scents in the air: the tang of many beasts that came and went from Draco, the thick strench of oil that still clung to its chitin. These were familiar, at least; but there were new, unfamiliar scents, too. Pines and fresh water. The bitter smell of meadow deer. It was a lot.

Slowly-- eventually --a strange sense washed over it. Some instinct that had been baked deep within, a sense that it actually had to process what the Master was saying to it and formulate an answer. It barely understood what he meant, but it tried to think about it.

Thirteen's thought process went thusly:

vargas catch food = vargas eat food
vargas eat food = no food for me
no food for me = V ERY BAD!!!!

The beast's mouth split and a low growl laced its words. "I HUNT," it said (loudly, to assert dominance, perhaps-- or perhaps it was just mimicking Mirac again), tasting the air. It had a vague sense of which direction the meadow deer had gone in, and it lacked the wherewithal to know that chasing after them was probably a less than stellar idea.

So, off it was going, arms sort of A-posing at its sides as it marched into the trees.

- THE LEVIATHAN -

"Very well, then," Vargas agreed. He let it move off, and followed at some distance, but it wasn't long before he--also sampling the scents upon the air--realized what Chaos-Thirteen was following.

A meadow deer herd, somewhere in the trees. That would be absolute death for a new hatch, and Vargas grunted, striding into the forest to catch up. "Not those," he warned. Even with his help it was an unnecessary risk. "That smell you are following. That is dangerous. You could probably kill them once you have training, but I would suggest something smaller, for now-" The Leviathan paused, sandwiched awkwardly between two trees as he cast about for another scent. Then he pointed, long arms indicating another direction. "Smaller deer are that way--and... Hm. Rabbits are this way, but I think they will be too small for you."

...Would the sentient set of armor understand anything he was saying? Vargas paused and studied it, waiting for any response, to see.