And lastly, the final Valkhound of Wyrm's swarm stalked in. D'valinn had its name, and no way to claim it. It was edging the inevitable confrontation, when those great rusted cogs in the Master's head churned to life and he put two and two together.

He'd named himself chunky. If this is how well the spawn with Gravedigger were faring, it loathed to know the quality of life of Audland's.

D'valinn sat on his haunches, keeping distance from Vargas. Just in case.

His gaze swept those gathering, with something like... approval. Or maybe it was amusement. Hard to say, but it lingered on Fenmyre briefly as if surprised, and Snicker even longer.

When it was clear that those who were closest were gathered, The Collector stood straight. He took three steps toward Master Vargas, and swept into a low bow, before using his rank to its limit. As in, he was a smartass just to the point before he might be beheaded or the like. "O your most glorious royal highness," he began, drily. "Ex-Overseer, Leviathan, Master." He rolled his arm before him, bowing lower, before straightening. His eyes now gleamed with distinct malice.

Legitimate? Possibly. Calculated? Certainly.

"While I am loathe to serve as errandboy for the caves, and I am certain you have your own sources of information..." and here he paused, looking around, and offered a soft "Hmm" as if surprised at the utter lack of spies and scouts. Again his gaze settled on Snicker. Maybe that one? He cleared his throat. "It is my duty at the very least to inform you that the Hive may know of the upcoming... reduction in our numbers." Our numbers. Comrade. "I have a contract with one who wished to contact the Hive--all quite confidential, so I cannot go into it, but it has brought some enlightening information with it. I do not know if their plans or if they have any, in any case. But I thought it prudent to warn you that they may act. That is to say: The Hive is aware you are sending a large number of soldiers to war. Do with that as you wish... unless you have questions, of course. Master."

The next bow wasn't quite sarcastic.

- THE LEVIATHAN -

Vargas listened with mounting irritation. The misdirection nearly caught him; the almost deliberate near-mockery, the dismissal and implication the Collector was doing them a favor.

A growl rumbled briefly through his chest, erupting in words, though Vargas thought before he spoke them. "And I wonder who told them. Oh, I won't ask. I'd rather not lose anyone even remotely useful, and I am certain that it was a mistake. No one here would be so foolish as to share information with the Hive." His gaze swept his Valkhounds and the rest of the Forge but it was empty, brief, and settled with a narrowing of all six eyes on Algol himself. "Your ploy of the put-upon servant only takes you so far. I would ask what price you demand for this information, but I presume your life is enough?" he went on, his voice saccharine sweet.

He was rewarded enough by the pause of surprise. Before the Collector could continue, he interrupted. "Leave. I will deal with this. The rest of you stay," he added.

After the obvious platitudes and the robed figure's dismissal (and hasty retreat), Vargas grunted his irritation. He looked more closely over the Forge. "That," he said quietly, "is a problem. As unfortunate as the point may be, he has one: we have too few spies. Hrmph. It is good enough material for a lesson. I will have to put you all on high alert, give you assignments... Chances to earn rewards, that is. TELL ME," he boomed, abruptly at full volume. "Were any of you spies and saboteurs to act against the Forge and this Nest: WHERE and HOW would you strike?"

Everything was a test, but it could be a teaching moment... and maybe they'd have some good ideas. He didn't discount their minds.

Oh, and if some of them were secretly meeting with the Hive? His stare might've looked threatening, but honestly, Vargas had no idea. So far as he was concerned, this was all the Collector's fault.

@The Sentinel @V-Onyx-Three @Creep @Virosa (AND THE GANG)

The Collector was well-spoken, as Virosa's favourite kind of Gembound often were. It imagined a songbird in a little cage, singing its pretty song as it was whisked throughout the caves, made to watch The Black Tangle as it worked.

The Collector was a little big to fit in a cage, though.

Virosa wasn't going to war, so it would be forced to shoulder this burden some. But in its long time away from the home-cave, it'd learned a lot from the residents of Eridanus. It rose above the crowd, antlers threatening to graze the ceiling, as it balanced on its hind legs and tail.

"How... Master, we are... Not..." Its red gaze shifted upward as it searched for the word. "Liked. We serve the Creator. We do... Not much, otherwise. Rrevalk is distant. Other forces, fill the void."

It was thinking of Rift, how he spoke of a she who brought him back from the dead. However she'd been, he was wholly faithful - brave, even, staring down Valkhound several times his size. "She, Mother. She peddles in... Family. We, Chaos, see her... For what she is. But..."

"There are Gembound, many, who... Have not chosen. Chaos, or Order. With... Gentle words, promises... Belonging, family... The neutral, may be swayed. The caves... Remain... Divided." With the power of delicious, factory-produced chips, Mother could rally more to her cause. "The Forge is... More powerful... But our reputation?" They were the Monster Factory, the dark, decrepit, oily corner of the world.

@Vargas

The Sentinel listened. First to The Collector, and then to Vargas, and then to Virosa.

Virosa, he studied with interest. He decided, quite abruptly, that he liked it. It was monstrous in an aesthetically beautiful way: twisted and dark, lanky, menacing. Yet it was thoughtful and well-spoken, something sorely lacking among the Forge and most of all from the Sentinel himself. His own thoughts were often so terribly tangled: difficult to straighten into a straight path of words that others could easily follow. But its point was so incredibly potent that he very nearly nodded along.

He thought, his fist tightening and loosening absently around his halberd's haft. Though he turned his gaze to the Master, the Halberd's eye remained idly on Virosa.

"The Sentinel stands watch," he rasped, lurching abruptly into speech as it finished. "It is not eyes beyond this cave. It is not ears in their shadows." He shifted position slightly as he considered. "They have marched in Order to other places, when they thought us weak. Perhaps they will again. But..." and here he hesitated.

"The Sentinel hears from others. Those who come. Those who go. It stands watch at the gate. They speak of places purged. And this is only now. The Sentinel wonders why." He tipped his head slightly to one side, studying Vargas and hoping that the Master understood what he was trying to convey: that the caves were being cleansed of Order with sudden ease mismatched to previous struggles. Why had the Hive retreated? Why were they not fighting back? "They are resting. Or they are weakened. Or they are sick. Or they are gathering strength." He paused again, eyes gleaming. "The Sentinel wonders if they are gathering strength." Then he turned, looking beyond his Master to the Black Spire. To this, he nodded. "It would destroy the Black Spire." That seemed the obvious target, to him. They'd come in en masse, perhaps, and shatter it, destroying the Forge's ability to create Valkhounds--at least, as far as the Sentinel knew--and half of the Forge's ability to stabilize. They'd all be dead in weeks, and Order would never even have to fight them.

Of course, he wasn't really familiar with the other Oilstone sources in the caves; he was hardly omnipotent, despite his strangely well-travelled demeanor.

He had lingered on the edges of the meeting, not quite sure if he cared to join in. Azrael had been reconsidering his place in this organization for a time, soured by their lack of action against his enemies, bored and regretting his previous decisions and behaviors. But he stuck around, just in case. And it seemed, at last, his time was here.

As soon as the Hive was mentioned, Azrael stood at attention, turning to face the Collector and shouldering his way into the gathering. It was like a blind scramble to push his way to the forefront until at last he was in eyeshot of Vargas.

"MASTER VARGAS," he roared over the heads of the valkhounds. "WE SHOULD STRIKE THEM FIRST - THEY WILL UNDERESTIMATE US!! They will not THINK we would DARE!!" He snarled and clenched his fists, the very thought exciting him, as if he could already feel his claws sinking deep into the flesh of Mother's soldiers.

Slinking in the edges of the group from where it had emerged from the shadows, Scion perked up a bit at the potential for...subterfuge. Finally...something it may be good at. Something it'd trained for, had knowledge and experience and....hmm well it hoped it would be something like that. Twin tails waved thoughtfully behind it.

It glanced at Azrael disdainfully but looked more at Virosa, nodding. Yes, it would continue that line of thinking. "If I were Order, I don't think I'd look to attack us directly. Even with fewer forces, we're still well-defended, and they're weaker here. I'd take potential allies from us. Ruin our image in the caves further to try and weaken us outside of Draco." It blinked slowly as it looked to the Black Spire. "I don't think they'd know how to destroy it, though. But if you need, Master, I can do work to spy. I'm trained in it - I can gather more intel for you."

Aghhhh and it had been having such a nice few cycles enjoying a period of utter sloth. Back to work, then, if Vargas deemed it so.

A spy? Who? Thoughts flickered towards his mother and Alek, his closest relations beyond the Forge. If he had accidentally communicated secret information with anyone non-affiliated, it would be them, though he could be sure he had not disclosed such information and that they were not Order. Satisfied with this self-assessment, they sought an answer to the next question posed for discussion.

Gaze snapped to Azrael as he spoke. Ears folded back. The duel. The loss. But that was not a good reason to dislike him when it had been won fairly, even if his booming voice ran ragged against his hearing. "Strike with caution. refrain from leaving us open to counterattack." he responded. A slight disagreement, but not motivated out of prior grudge. Hopefully he would see it as such.

A nod towards Virosa and Scion. "We can spy and gather information. Understand Order but also neutral gembounds. Build relationships. Provide help."

And, finally, a last thought. "I can provide tools. Enchantments. Weapons. Or fight. Spying... is not my expertise. I can learn if needed."