Where once sat a blood-red ruby gemstone slowly growing against the dark stones of Draco, now a full chrysalis rose, sickened by Chaos, cruelly streaked with the oily cracks of corruption. The Black Spire’s sickly green iridescence seemed to shine off the ruby’s faceted surface, muddying the color of the once beautifully rich maroon. Marinating in the radiation given off by the Spire, it had at last reached the crux of its growth and there was a tremble and a single crack as the beast within awakened with a snap.

It did not happen slowly - within a few seconds, more cracks spiderwebbed across the surface and a scratching sound could be heard from within. In one sudden move, accompanied by the shattering of crystal, two arms thrust their way out of the chrysalis, gripping tight the sharp, broken edges as black Oil spilled from within. The triangular head appeared then, the whole beast scrabbling furiously to get out, like an animal breaking its way free from a cage, hissing and snarling all the way until it managed to thrust itself from its confines, collapsing on the stone floor of Draco.

It lifted its head, glittering green eyes looking back at the remains of the chrysalis where Oil still spilled slowly from the hole they’d busted in the crystal. With a snarl and a sudden move, it whipped around and lunged forward, with both right arms, swiping hard at the crystal and shattering what remained, scattering corrupted ruby shards and Oil across the dark stone.

Its eyes moved up to look at the Spire looming before it. It growled, still crouched on four legs, the fury in its eyes reflected in the gleam of the Spire. It felt the Chaos stir within its bones, resonating with the radiation pouring from the oily crystal. Was this what fueled the rage in its bones? The desire to run and destroy and ruin what lay in its path?

It swung its head around, stumbling away from the Spire, almost as if it were fleeing from the impulses. Yet it did not seem scared. Half-mindless in its movements, the haze of Chaos a veil over its senses.

Azrael had been watching. The moment the first crack had appeared on the chrysalis he had heard it and he had come running. He watched and waited - and not long after did the child burst free.

Eyes widened marginally at the sight of the gembound breaking free so violently, something feral opening up in his heart. The smallest of grins curled his expression as his gaze swept over the form of the newly hatched. He could see Ruby-Beta in it, of course - the head shape was near identical and the color of the fur was similar…but he could see himself in it as well, oh yes that was his. His child, his form. His blood to be unleashed to the caves.

It was smaller, now, perhaps the size of a young adult human, but he knew it would grow to a size comparable to him. It didn’t look as muscular (which was a little disappointing), but he could appreciate the hints of agility it displayed as it whipped around to destroy what remained of its chrysalis.

He watched, for now, giving it time, and only stepped out of his place in the shadows when it stumbled away from the Black Spire, at last revealing himself to his spawn.

He paused when it immediately began to growl, frowning. A growl rose in his throat as well, a warning that he kept in check. ”Hold your aggression. I am not here to harm you.” He remembered the gentleness he had once shown to Forgraves when he was younger. The fatherly behavior he had shown to those he’d helped raised. And he once again tried to bring that forth as well, kneeling down before the creature and reaching out to touch it. ”Welcome. I am Azrael. You are my creation.”

There was a moment in which he was convinced he would get bitten, but then the growling from the other slowly died away and he found himself looking into eyes that were no longer angry but…confused. Curious. The slightest bit apprehensive.

He shifted closer and laid a massive paw upon the shoulder of his spawn. A moment later he got closer and scooped it up gently, receiving a hissing protest, but ignoring the sudden display of aggression in favor of a smile and reassuring rumble.

He turned, the creature struggling a bit in his grip, but eventually calming down a bit (although he could tell it still remained tense). Azrael carried it away from the Spire and closer to where the Forge gathered, calling out ahead of time - ”Master Vargas! A new child for the Forge!”

@Vargas

- THE LEVIATHAN -

Vargas's approach a moment later was swift, but unhurried, the natural consequence of ridiculously long limbs. He honed in on the call, chartreuse eyes scanning the dark for a sign of the demon who had called him. There, he thought, spying shifting movement against the voidlight. He turned, heading for them, glancing over Azrael first (unharmed, nothing notable) and then the child.

Azrael was cradling it--and his first impression, from what he could see past the demon's immense arms, was one of dark violet fur and a faintly feline build. But he'd need to see it standing, moving, to get a better look at it. He came to a halt before them, nodding down at the child. "Welcome," he boomed, and then nodded to Azrael. "Well done. It was to be V-Ruby-One, yes?" He remembered the permission-request in regards to reproduction with Ruby-Beta; he could sense, too, the flicker of corruption and the pulse of that oh-so-familiar gemstone. (And wondered, not for the first time, if arrogance--twinned perhaps with power--were inherent in that stone type.)

The rest he left to Azrael. The demon would know what to do, Vargas knew: to report in, show the child, give him his first impressions, and so forth. There was no need to demand or to compel.

@V-Ruby-One

Creation? The word bounced around in its head as it glared at the creature standing in front of it, barring its escape from the Black Spire. Acid eyes flicked across its body, observing the head, the torso, the legs, the four arms...massive wings as well. It didn't know what it was thinking, it couldn't think at all, not beyond the storm raging in its mind, its heart, its very soul...

But then the hand was coming closer and for a moment the ruby really did consider biting it. Tearing the hand clean off the body and ravaging the rest. But it did not. In fact, it stilled, aggression suddenly funneling out of its body as if it were water through a cracked basin. It felt...kinship. With this one, at least. Safety. The word came again - creation. It was...his. His creation. He made it. But a moment ago it had wanted to rip the world asunder, sew chaos and bring the walls of these caves crumbling down. And now it did not. Was it his doing? Or was it simply the veil of Chaos slowly receding as it moved away from the Source?

It did not know, it could not think clearly, and suddenly it was being held.

It struggled, suddenly afraid, trying to break free and scramble away, but the grip was strong - gentle, but unbreakable. After a few moments, it settled, tense and on edge, at the mercy f the one carrying it.

It had its first taste of control. The loss of autonomy. It wasn’t an all consuming control, it could still move its arms and legs, but it could not control where they walked. It felt helpless in Azrael’s arms, captured. Like prey taken in for the feast. It was still, yes, but it was like a ticking time bomb. And there were only seconds left of its tolerance.

Its eyes moved up to the towering beast before it and the last of its patience snapped. It stared down at it and it once again felt trapped, but now it was like an object, carried around and showed off to others. An object. A tool.

A creation.

It snarled and suddenly jerked, struggles intensifying, and this time using two of its arms, not the ones pinned by Azrael’s grip, and raked them over the side of the demon’s neck. The grip on it loosened for just a moment and that was all it took for the creature to break free with a hiss. Anger was veiling over it again and it fell to the ground, spitting and hissing, all the fur on its body bushed - cat-like in its appearance, tail lashing ferociously as it swung around, taking turns glaring at Vargas and Azrael, as if it expected either of them, at any moment, to pin it down again.

Azrael had puffed out his chest at the praise. Yes, he had done a good job with this one. His form and Ruby-Beta’s had combined beautifully. Strong, agile limbs, the ability to be both on four legs and two…and the touch of corruption would give it incredible power, power that he would deny himself to keep his mind, but perhaps this one, born into Chaos, would come to rule it.

”Yes,” he began, about to explain to Master Vargas what he intended for the child, when suddenly, out of nowhere, his creation began to struggle.

He growled and held tighter, but then there was suddenly a sharp pain as claws raked over his neck. Out of pure surprise, his grip loosened and suddenly the child was tumbling out of his arms.

Azrael was shocked still for a second, amazed that a simple child had managed to defeat his grip and gone out of his control, an then anger swelled in its place. He took a step forward, a glow lighting in his chest and bursting from his extremities. His horns seemed to grow many times as the light burst from them as well, fangs becoming pronounced and dangerous, all six eyes glowing bright with his fury. It was a threat, that he was not to be messed with, but he would not hurt his child.

”You will NOT do that again!” he snarled, almost a roar. ”V-RUBY-ONE. You will RESPECT me and you will RESPECT Master Vargas.” He took another step forward, looming over the child. ”You do NOT attack any in the forge! Am I clear?!”

@Vargas

- THE LEVIATHAN -

Vargas was looking over the child, listening to the start of Azrael's answer, when the fresh hatch simply attacked the demon. He misinterpreted; he assumed its sudden struggles were the result of his presence here, that the child had become frightened of him. But even so, he noted its strength and its ferocity, the resentful determination with which it glared back at them, and he approved.

Ahh, but he would not undermine the parental lesson, here. His initial instinct to boom that approval and to reassure the child was muted by this: he could not offer praise where Azrael had just laid down the law. And really, Azrael was right. So Vargas reinforced it, instead, the praise placed upon the tail end. "Your lifegiver is correct," he rumbled, power behind each syllable. "You are of the Chaos Forge, V-Ruby-One. You will be trained and taught to work toward our goals, and rewarded where you succeed. Punished, where you fail. But we are fair!" he added, a loud declaration--though he was unsure how much the new hatch would understand--"and will not cause you harm without reason." There: the reassurance that he hadn't come to tear it apart, if even it understood, or cared.

His gaze cut to Azrael. "It seems strong," he said, and his tone held clear praise in it.

@V-Ruby-One

Azrael looming over the child made it crouch further, snarling with anger as a surge of Chaos rose up within its belly. Licks of dark flame singed the side of its pelt and it suddenly felt heat, not something it had done, and fear struck it like a train. Was it burning? Was there fire? Had Azrael done this? Master Vargas? Something else?

It wasn't burning, but the momentary loss of control had it struggling to reign itself in. It didn't understand - they were so in control, so calm and reasonable (well, Azrael was angry but...not attacking. If it had grown that angry, it would have torn him apart), not fighting back against some unseen force that was trying to bring it to violence at every turn.

Fur slowly began to flatten across its back as it reigned itself in with a great effort, trying to listen at the same time. The...Chaos Forge? Why was its name V-Ruby-One? Why couldn't it have a name like Azrael or Vargas? Those names were much better. Suited it better. It grit its teeth with irritation, wondering if it meant that it was lesser then them. Weak. Small. No...NO it wasn't weak, it was strong! It would show them! It would show them that...that....

What?

It looked up at Master Vargas, crouched more in submission now then defense, at last beginning to feel the first desire for knowledge. The first spark of intelligence beyond bestial, chaotic instinct.

"Why...V-Ruby-One?" It struggled to pull words together, trying to feel the meaning of each before it spoke them aloud. "What...goals? Why do I...Why am I..." It growled, wracking its brain for the right word, but nothing sprung to mind. Chaotic didn't cover it. Out of control was only a facet. Irritation began to seep back in, growing stronger by the second as it visibly fought against itself to keep from going out of control. But Chaos still burned like poison in its heart, corrupting each moment until there was nothing but a need for violence, destruction, and disorder.

Claws came up to grip at its head, as if it would hold back the coming storm, but nothing could stop the sudden burst of magic from within as Ruby-One roared its agony. It suddenly whipped towards its life-giver, eyes burning almost accusatory and an instant later, black flame erupted at its feet. It hadn't been aiming anything in particular in his direction, but it was him that would take the brunt of it anyways - besides, of course, Ruby-One who stood at ground zero of its own eruption.

It howled, agony from the flame, anger at the world for being so unfair, despair that it could not control itself at all...perhaps this was its punishment. For what, it did not know. Perhaps it was simply cursed.

Azrael had no knowledge of the V-Ruby-One's internal struggles against itself - all he saw was an unruly child that had woken up in a state almost close to a feral beast. Not so different from his earliest days - after all, his first act had been to kill and eat another Gembound. He would have to watch this child and teach it right, lest it go down a darker path then he did.

He nodded with approval at the words Vargas shared with it, crossing all arms across his chest as the glow slowly died away. It seemed to be calming, for now - listening. He had little to add to Vargas's description of the forge, and he would impress on it later that it would answer to Vargas, of course, but it would answer to him first, and then the Forge. While Azrael had created it as a gift for the Chaos Forge, he still intended to raise it the way he wanted to and pride kept him hungry to steer it in the way he chose, and nobody else.

He rumbled when Vargas turned to him, eyes gleaming. "Yes - I was right to seek Ruby-Beta for its stone. My strength and its agility have made a good match. And Chaos will give it powerful magic. It is a good creation." And his own voice held approval as he looked down at the child, as if it should take the praise for itself - and be grateful for it.

But he frowned, then. It was struggling against something, holding its head and trembling where it crouched on the ground. A soft growl rose in his chest and he tensed, worry taking him over.

He still wasn't able to anticipate the attack, though, and as his own flesh and blood turned to him, anger and hatred burning in its gaze and in its scream, he felt only confusion. Why?

But it didn't matter because suddenly he was on fire. Black, horrible, corrupted flame. With a roar, he jerked back, wings swiftly unfurling as he leaped back, distancing himself from the flame before it burned too deep. Why...was it cold? He felt sick to his stomach from the fumes the flames put out and landed on his side, pawing at his arms and legs where small embers of violet fire still burned.

@Vargas

+1 Corruption

- THE LEVIATHAN -

He saw the signs an instant before the child erupted into flame--the distraught frustration, the clutching of the head. The roar, most of all, was the greatest warning--one that Azrael, it seemed, had little time to heed. Or perhaps the demon had not the experience of Chaos, true Chaos.

Vargas, however, did. He went from indulgent instructor to combat-ready in an instant, though rather than aggressor, his demeanor seemed almost parental. This child was too young--he knew that--to be expected to control itself. It was not at fault. And if it were not immediately aided, it might burn itself to cinders.

He reached for magic--which did not come--and with a guttural snarl of frustration aimed to grab the child instead, to roll it. It was belated. It might not save it from its own burns. But it was all he could do, for now, to pat harshly and quickly at the embers. He spared a glance for Azrael, too--but he could not aid them both at once. With luck, the burns would not damage the child too badly.

"Control yourself!" he barked, instruction infused with command. He could not stop this child's use of its own magic, but perhaps his innate authority would get through. The urgency in his tone, too, spoke for itself: this was concern, and not cruelty. "You will destroy yourself this way!"

He would have grimaced, were his rigid face capable. As it was, he felt the sinking sensation of pointless loss. This was not a good start. It was a traumatic memory that would scar this child, the first moments of its existence a dark mark upon its mind. He hoped that it would be able to move past it--but it would require guidance, no doubt. "I will teach you," he assured it, hastening to try and calm it some. "But your anger only causes you harm."

Another glance toward Azrael--he hoped that while he attempted to aid the child, the demon could put his own flames out.

@V-Ruby-One

Distant,y, it could hear a roar, but there was nothing louder then it’s own screams as it fought against the flames to no avail. Its own power consumed it like the night consumed the sun, unstoppable and unrelenting. But then a second force was pushing it over, moving it around, it helped as it banged against the hard stone floor, and shrieked when it agitated the burns already marring its skin. It struggled, clawed at what held it down, lashing out with fear, with anger, with everything it had, but the pain was too great, rendering its blows weak and uncoordinated.

A sharp bark, a command, jolted its brain to freeze in place. Magic cut off in an instant, but fire still burned, unwilling to give up that easily. But then as it was continuously pushed against the floor, it realized that the flames were dying, it could see more now, feel less a sense of sharp burning and more dull encompassing pain as burns settled in, rubbed raw against stone.

It stopped moving, giving in momentarily to a state of half consciousness as Vargas put out the remainder of the black flames, leaving patches of blackened fur and burned skin, the odor of charred flesh billowing through Draco. It felt tears clawing their way to its eyes but it pushed them back, Pride already wounded beyond belief, already too numb to feel anything but shock.

It didn’t even spare Azrael a glance. It wasn’t concerned about him. It didn’t care. Maybe it felt just a bit of guilt for the blast of flames, but it was all drowned out by its self pity the thick lining of hatred in its throat. Hatred of itself, of that Chaos that had caused this in the first place.

Vargas - no, Master Vargas, he promised to teach it? Did that mean he understood? That he knew what forces drove its heart awry? It lifted its head to look into Vargas’s multitude of eyes, all fight long gone. ”Teach me? How?” It paused for a moment, swallowing heavily.

”Why?” The question was hoarse and small, but loaded with every question it had ever had. Why would he teach it? Why was it like this? Why was its name so impersonal? Why had it been born?