Eurydome. Eurydome, and V-Chaos-Nineteen. Audland much preferred her name to the other's. In his mind, he opted to refer to something-something-Nineteen as "Teeny". For no particular reason. (It's not even fair; Timir is HUGE! But maybe that's the point.)

Audland nodded his thanks to Teeny (Timir)'s compliment. He idly watched the progress of the other two while listening to Eurydome's exposition. Audland couldn't blame them for their struggle. This room had been left unattended for a long time, it seemed. It was interesting to know that Teeny was made, and had to earn a name. More interesting to know that Eurydome... already had? Or, based on what she'd said, it seemed that she always had one. So she wasn't from Vargas?

And of course, in the back of his mind, Audland was wondering about...

"I don't know who made me, or if I was even made." Audland looked at another wall of fungus, opting not to assist his company with their own globs of it. His help was rarely all that helpful. "But I know what I'm s'posed to do." Rather than try to make his own (apparently) timid fungus grow forth, Audland reached out a hand and warped the orderly white fungus into the black oily kind that Chaos preferred. It didn't take all at once; unexpectedly, Order resisted. While it would help, Audland wasn't sure he really wanted to leave fungus of any kind up around these crystal walls. They were too pretty to be disturbed this way. Even a valkhound could recognize that.

"I don't really serve anyone. Not like, a person. Guess that makes me new. Are you...? Do ya serve Master Vargas?"

To Timir, Audland said: "Fire's not always great. Good here for sure, but mine tends to burn me right back. You've got good, uh... sparkly claws. A reliable form, too. Is that what all you need for war?" Audland asked Timir, but sort of turned to Eurydome for assistance with finding an answer.

@Eurydome

Eurydome looked over at what Timir was doing for a moment, gaze lingering on his sparkly pawpads. Not that it was her business or anything, but she dimly wondered what or why he'd been made that way for. Maybe it was distracting during combat? Maybe if the light hit it right when he swung, it would blind his opponent. Her own were dull, dark blue-purple, more for grip and climbing than anything else.

A beat later, the gladiator realized Audland had asked her something. "Yes, we both do," she said. "I like it. Some don't." Don't think about her, don't think about her, don't think about her, "some find doing their own thing more satisfying than serving the Masters."

She made another distracted swipe at the thick bundle of stalks, though she was busy thinking (don't think about her) about other things. She wedged her claws back out of the fungus haphazardly.

To Audland, she shrugged a shoulder. "I wasn't made for war," she said simply-- and what did or didn't make a beast good for war wasn't her concern. At least, she was half-certain being a soldier was different from being a gladiator, or else Vargas would have had her participate in war, too, right?

Her head turned to Timir. "What do you have?" She asked.

@Timir

Timir grunted, holding up the clotted fungus stuck to his claws, as if in answer to Eurydome's question. "Disgusting," he informed them both, in what was probably his longest and most complex word to date.

He then shook it off more thoroughly and plodded back to another sheet of the stuff where it hung draped over a crystal. He couldn't read Audland's thoughts, but he'd probably have agreed: even he, blunt beast built for war, saw this as something of an aesthetic sin. As in: gross. Disgusting, even.

"I was made for war," he offered, engaging in actual dialogue. "But I joined Chaos Forge and took the... number-name, so I would get free training first. Less chance to die," he explained. At least, that's what he'd been told. "I don't have to stay. If I come back." He paused, distant for a moment. Whatever he was thinking was dismissed with another grunt a moment later.

"I'm supposed to use my magic. I think. It's air. Mostly. But it lets you sneak up on people. Move in silence. Make them choke." He thought for a beat. "And lure them in with noises." A hunter, in other words, though how well that would translate to "rank and file soldier" was definitely a question. Maybe the 'war' was more of a free-for-all. Nobody'd told Timir, and he didn't know enough to ask.

He craned his maned head back, and the intense calculation he engaged in for a moment was almost visible. Then he tensed, and a sudden blasting gust of wind swept past him, originating at his flank and ruffling his fur as it went. In a moment it had scoured the sheeted fungus, like clinging cobwebs, in a large bundle and tossed it clear from the crystals he was eyeing, leaving them pristine.

Timir grunted for a third time, and glanced back--satisfied, but with the side-eye hopefulness of a kid hoping for some praise.

@Audland

Audland didn't mind the slow and steady pace of the conversation. Clearing nasty mushrooms by itself would be a boring chore. It was natural for those ascribed janitorial duty to idly chatter. He made little noises of response to Eurydome and Teeny's answers.

However, when he noticed the lackluster performance of one of his compatriots against the other, and how the conversation was slowly swallowing the interest of all party members, an idea came to mind. He'd work his proposal into his responses.

At Eurydome's claim that she was not made for war, Audland appeared surprised. It was hard to believe the degree of musculature in her form held any other purpose but combat. Well, war wasn't the only combat they existed for, evidently. Audland wondered what combat she had been intended for. Perhaps fighting Order, like him?

Teeny's multi-word response wrested Audland's attention before he could ask. It was interesting to hear his perspective. So death did happen in war—Audland hadn't really known, he'd just assumed based on um... surrounding context. The Forge—Master Vargas?—offered training to survive it, perhaps in exchange for service. Or maybe being trained for war was the service. Air, it seemed, was a useful choice for manipulation when it came to survival. Doesn't everyone need it? And indeed, Teeny's winds proved quite large in effect. Audland leaned for a moment against a wall to watch the magical gust rip the fungus off the walls like a frenzy of invisible hands. He clapped for Teeny. "Bravo."

Audland approached a different cluster. Lord, there were so many. "I've got that, too, 'cept mine ain't so sneaky. It whispers." Audland would attempt a demonstration.

With a wave of his claws, the room's general brightness seemed to flicker, and a torrent of whispers erupted from one spot in the air above their heads. A vacuum strong enough to pull white clods of Order loose and drop them on the ground like snow. Less strong than Timir's display, but certainly impressive in its aesthetic presence. Audland smiled.

He turned to Eurydome. "Think you can beat that?" He'd step aside, offering the floor and all its surrounding walls to her. "Show us what yer made for." The gauntlet was thrown; just as Audland had hoped.

@Eurydome

OOC:
Total points toward cleansing - 101
Audland rolls - X + 7 + X + 19 + 8 + 15
Timir rolls - 18 + X + 20
Eurydome rolls - 14 + X + X

X = miss, AKA not contributing toward total

Eurydome's head swung to Timir briefly, though she soon realized he was talking about the fungus itself, and not throwing random insults around. "Yeah, it's sick," she said quietly.

Admittedly, Eurydome didn't find Audland's magic much better, though. Maybe that was one of the broken things Jupiter had put into her. Both seemed unpleasant, albeit in opposite ways. He was, though, offering her a challenge, and Eurydome scarcely shied away from that.

"I don't really do magic," the gladiator did say, though. She made another pass at the fungus and finally managed to get enough strength to uproot the massive shelf she'd been struggling with, her hind claws drawn and digging into the firm, white stalk as she uprooted it entirely.

She pressed down on the mass with her forelegs, crushing it and ripping it beneath her foreclaws. At least she'd managed that. "I like using my own hands."

@Timir

Timir looked up, shaggy head swinging for Audland to observe the other's magic. He'd puffed up a little at the praise, though whether it'd been serious or sarcastic, he couldn't tell. He didn't know enough to wonder: he just assumed it was legitimate, and was very proud of himself as a result. So he dutifully watched Audland do much the same, though his magic was tainted with that Chaos force behind it. His glowing eyes flicked upward, toward the eerie press of whispers and the flickering lights, before he looked admiringly at Audland. "Are you coming to war?" he asked, and didn't bother to hide the hopefulness in it. He had no hands with which to clap, and he'd never been to war, before, but it seemed to him like this magic would be a great thing to have on your side.

He spared Eurydome a glance as she worked, too, but mostly he was focusing back on the fungus. To claim he wasn't himself a little intimidated by her choice of phrasing would've been a lie, though he didn't peg it as such. He just sort of felt a tad unsure after seeing the way she tore it up.

Timir edged away from her a step.

His attempt at tearing up some of the fungus, himself, served as a dramatic counterpoint: he failed where she'd succeeded, his lunging rip (not intended to outdo her but to try it, himself) ending up with him once again getting crooked talons tangled in the mess. He grunted and tugged at the stuff, but it'd take him a minute to tear it up.

@Audland

Audland acknowledged Eurydome's preference with a nod as he watched her tear down an entire shelf of the nasty fungus with her bare claws. A struggle it had been, but indeed, her hands suited her. Magic like Audland's was almost a waste of form—not that Audland particularly cared about wasting his own. "Well done," he would lend Eurydome the compliment as he had done Teenymir. It was only fair.

The stench unleashed in the cave was growing almost unbearable at this point. Audland considered moving to another section. But first, he would address the question: "Me, goin' to war?" Audland echoed first so that he would have more time to think. "It depends, t' be honest." On what? Audland couldn't keep the twinge of melancholy out of his face. "On a lotta factors. Do you know, what happens at war?" He primarily asked Teenymir, but any answer was welcome.

In the interest of hearing an answer, Audland would wait on moving to a new section, and instead attempt to set fire to another smaller clod of fungus.

@Eurydome

OOC:
Total points toward cleansing - 114
Audland rolls - X + 7 + X + 19 + 8 + 15 + 5
Timir rolls - 18 + X + 20 + X
Eurydome rolls - 14 + X + X + 8

X = miss, AKA not contributing toward total

Considering the infestation level is at like 775 rn, when do people want to stop?