Text here. "Speech." Thoughts.

Khavur was rushing at this point. Maximus was getting restless waiting, Khavur was as well. It was glad it had found a way through the tunnel of black and white, although where the white was to be found, Khavur hadn't a clue. Maximus probably wouldn't like that tunnel. Khavur would make sure to get them out speedily, and beyond that, they would have comfort in each other.

There were a few things Khavur had to learn about this room before it could return. Things like where the red dog, Giggle, might be; what was the terrain like -- hard to walk on, easy to fight on; what else, besides the red dog, could live here; were there any more Chaos Forge members out here, scattered like metal jacks?

Khavur would begin looking around hastily, perhaps not as thorough as it should have been. Seemed like 'room of bones' really, really suited this place. Where had they all even come from? Khavur had its own guesses, none of them particularly spectacular, all of them suspecting Master Vargas of something. Only beasts like them could cause such tirades of death, Khavur was convinced. Beasts like them, with time as their primary set of weapons. From the other kinds of Gembounds Khavur had seen (which was, admittedly, few) they seemed too small. According to the Sentinel, they had much to teach, but was mass murder included in that curriculum?

Khavur wandered mainly amidst the bones. It was like company, but far less vociferous. How would Maximus react to all of this...? Placid and patient as they often were... would it be too much for them? And for Khavur... was it enough for Khavur--?

The stones were interesting. The stones in some of the bone piles, that was. Did Master Vargas know about them? He seemed interested by the stones in Draco. Would the stones here... well, since they had bones at all, Khavur supposed they had had a chance. They had failed. But then, hadn't Khavur been born a f-- If they couldn't get a second or third or umpteenth chance then how could Kh--

The Reaver looked away.

The distant, acrid scent of rats was obvious in this place. Bones littered the floor, strewn across it and piled into structures. Stagnant water pooled here and there.

Canis was not a cave that had ever intended to be filled with life. Though there certainly was life here, then, it did not leap out at Khavur.

Instead, it tantalized: that hidden thread of odor here; the shifting and faint movement of a creature of some kind over there, beneath the bones; the fainter taste of flowers from somewhere farther distant. Mostly it was still, and quiet: a place inadvertently peaceful, though it had once been a repository of the results of horrific violence.

It was easy to imagine that one were alone with the bones, and the ghosts of the very long-dead.

@Khavur

Text here. "Speech." Thoughts.

Silence. Not complete, but the existence of stasis overwhelmed the hint of being. Cherries and gore. One to cover up another. So sick of the stench. How would a mix feel? Khavur's gut was twisting --

Maximus. Maximus. It couldn't forget its partner, its best friend. Beloved brother. It never forgot, not really, and that was starting to become a problem... but which problem would swallow the other? The urges, or risk? Khavur could take physical risks. Something emotional might break the core of its being. Then what use would it ever be...?

Khavur needed to leave.

I AM A BAD RUNNER. I CANNOT POSSIBLY ESCAPE MYSELF. And it didn't want to, it really didn't want to -- look at these bones! These gemstones! Look at the potential! But it wasn't trying to save its own life. It wasn't, in this moment, even really trying to create its own life.

It sought among the bones, perhaps one with a gemstone would appear. Something with a skeleton so Khavur could see what it once was. Another gift for Draco.

Text here. "Speech." Thoughts.

All it found were bones. Bones. Bones. Did it even recognize, even realize what all of this meant? Never before had it seen so much death all around. The oppressive, empty chill that ran down one's spine at the revelation of life that once was... did Khavur not experience that? Just how far did the dullness of its feeling reach? Into the heart? Into the brain?

Khavur was created for many reasons, many it probably could not even begin to understand. Regardless of what it grasped, the reasoning, the definition of Khavur's form remained: monster. Whatever emotions it felt, whatever perspective it had on all of this desecration... could not be mortal. Simple souls, souls born of pure unadulterated absence of reason, might have had trouble understanding it. The hunger, or rather, the cause of it.

The Reaver felt giddy. Something just out of reach. It grabbed a little bone, small and frail in a titan's claws. A joint with an obvious bend. Khavur would try to bend it against its angle.

...Snap!

Text here. "Speech." Thoughts.

Glee.

Khavur chuckled at the flimsy bone. Not big enough, not strong enough to make it through this world. Wasn't it aware? If only it could have been more dense, or perhaps harder to access, it could have lived forever.

And what of its loved ones? What of its dearest kin? Were they like it? Too weak? They knew not their Masters. Or perhaps they did -- but no, if Masters were like Master Vargas, they never would have made something so pitiful. But that was alright, there was mercy in this world... a mercy found in the climb to perfection. A mercy found in the gemstone that could not only be revived, but morphed.

The excitement was building. It was hard to understand, even for Khavur, but it rode the wave. Clambering on, it decided to lift its giant tail into the air. The potential energy loomed ominously over the bones, an electric warning: see? See what a monster can do?

Khavur's tail landed directly on one of its own faces.

OW.

Khavur mainly felt the pressure of the impact. Most likely it would form a bruise, but Khavur wouldn't feel it. Grimacing at its own failure, it snorted. It expected the kinetic energy to leave swiftly after the shame hit. But perhaps there was mercy, salvation... perhaps it needed to try again, lest it end up like the very shambles and ruins it threatened.

Text here. "Speech." Thoughts.

A horrible, sickening mixture of glee, rage, the threat of underlying fears... this next tail sweep was a lot more emotionally charged than the first. And yet, it was still flimsy. Khavur snarled, its tone and vibration acting as harmony to the melodious scattering of a few bones.

I WILL SHOW THEM WHAT A MONSTER CAN DO.

Suddenly the stage was set, and eyeless skulls became a watchful audience. Bones rattled, clacked, and chattered. Khavur would not be made a fool again.

maximus maximus maximus maximus-- MAXIMUS WILL LEARN. THIS IS FOR THEM. THIS IS FOR ME.

Khavur would walk further, eyeball some more mounds. Again, it would threaten with weight, inertia, fury and terror--

Release.

Bones flung about, but again, a faulty swing. Khavur could feel the errors latent in its very being. The skeleton audience was cackling at the clown dancing on the stage.

I AM A MONSTER. I AM A MONSTER. I AM A MONSTER.

Khavur would swing again. Whiff! Again! Skitter! AGAIN!

Its eyes felt red, hot, boiling. Cherry slicked the bones, the walls, anything nearby -- splattered like blood. Four wild eyes darted across the room, a rumble from deep in either throat rising to a fever pitch.

I AM NOT SOME WEAKLING FOOL. I WILL BE MORE THAN FAILURE.

IMPERFECTION. Khavur saw it all around, couldn't get it out of its eyes. Couldn't seize it, halt it, close its eyes. Reddening, like the world of a bull, like a forest on fire. Khavur had to show it -- had to show the whole room, the whole audience, the whole world -- what it could have- would have- should have done to Vargas that day--

Ire and agony fueled each strike as Khavur made it a mission to decimate every imperfection in sight. Bones, crawling with imperfections, evidence in stone for what FAILED.

IF YOU CANNOT WITHSTAND ME, THERE IS NO WAY YOU CAN WITHSTAND VARGAS.

Another whip of its deadly tail, a lash as powerful as a tumbling tree.

Almost a miss. Still, clattering was heard.

IF YOU CANNOT WITHSTAND VARGAS, YOU CANNOT WITHSTAND LIFE.

Another whirl. This time a miss. The next, in blinding rage, was a hit, but imperfect. IMPERFECT. IMPERFECT. Khavur's breath felt steaming. Its chest heaving, its mind sweltering, swelling, its eyes simmering--

LIFE IS MUCH CRUELER.

Swing.

LIFE IS WHAT KILLED YOU.

Lash.

LIFE IS WHAT WILL KILL YOU.

Crash.

YOU WILL DIE.

Swipe.

I WILL DIE.

...

Eruption.

In a catastrophic flurry of pummeling and flailing, the final sweep of Khavur's tail struck perfectly against a remaining mound of bones. They flew abruptly, wildly, as if all the energy has been transferred to them, as if they were suddenly repelled by each other. Clashing, crumbling, fragmenting, doused in cherry gasoline.

Khavur watched, mystified to silence. Its eyes betrayed a terror deep, intrinsic.

A threat to survival, as if it watched its own murder.

Petrified Khavur would remain, turned to stone...

...

...blink. Blink. Blink, again. Feel the pounding of the heart, listen carefully. A fluttering, a gust, light air for the light head. A sky, a sun where there should be none.

"Dont lose yourself to what Vargas consumes himself with. We will be butterflies." Khavur hadn't even been paying attention-- the hiss crackled like a fire on festering wounds-- "I will make sure of that. No... Master will stop us from being happy."

We will be butterflies.

I am a monster.

I will die.

Khavur dragged itself away slowly, frightened and tired like a wounded deer. "Thank you. I... am sorry." The skeletons, now far more dead than alive, watched in chilling silence.

- exit -