Everything was all settled: its exoskeleton and carapace had molted back to a somewhat protective state; its height had topped out in a last-minute growth spurt, though it still had some filling-out to do as far as weight was concerned; and, the nervous heaviness in its stomach at approaching its Overseer again had faded somewhat.

He'd been located somewhat easily, and Alpha managed to announce that it was ready, at least, to see what task it'd be assigned by the Collector in exchange for useful stones of old. Not yet for combat against any winged beasts (the one it had fought turned out to not be the same) or creatures receiving special training from Vargas himself, but for this.

The orthoclase padded further into Canis, uncertain of where, exactly, to make its summons. It cast a wayward glance at Vargas - wherever he'd settled - and across all of the bone pit. Finally, it just barked out, "Algol?" Not wanting to be caught unawares, it remained standing, glancing back at its Overseer every once in a while.

@Vargas (Game Master Dark)

Vargas padded up idly, lifting one shorter hind leg and tilting himself back to scratch at his ribs and flank, dog-like. Then he settled, and twisted up more like an ape to scratch again with a six-thumbed hand.

Fleasnakes, he judged, with a grimace. It was so damn hard to get rid of the things once they'd infested you.

With a light leap, the Overseer pounced onto a nearby bone wall. Half it broke and crumbled beneath his weight, clattering away, and he nearly stumbled off it; at the last instant he caught himself, pulling himself farther along, to a stable section, to sit and to wait.

"You can come out, and skip the theatrics," he rumbled.

Alpha might have smelled the Collector coming, if he'd smelled of anything more than old bones. As it was, the faintest whiff of fur and musk came as he spoke--his voice a few feet behind the hybrid. And perhaps that was just as well; with Alpha or Vargas, either, speaking up from just beside them was liable to be... unpleasant.

Algol prided himself on his cunning, and not placing himself directly in the line of fire of an easily-startled murder-machine was always a wise choice. As it was, he still appeared abruptly; and he was still startlingly close, though still just out of limb-reach.

Alpha-limb. Not Collector-limb.

"Itching to see me, are you, Overseer?" came the silken voice, and then, after stepping slowly back, the Collector swept into a low bow. "An honor, I'm sure. And what a fine and strapping--thing--?--you have. But--ahh, you'll be here for business, hmm? Tell me, then; to what do I owe this visit..?"

@Orthoclase-Alpha

As completely expected, Alpha started at the sudden appearance of a massive silhouette before it - and oh-so-creatively, it tensed and rattled. A blink and some belated putting of two and two together later, the orthoclase set its jaw, deliberately smoothing down and dropping its head a bit.

It stayed quiet, even as the Collector addressed Vargas and gave some sort of odd compliment about it - its quills pricked, not entirely sure what to do with the knowledge that it was fine and strapping.

Vargas didn't particularly give a response, and Alpha's head swung towards him, quietly asking for permission so as to not, well... overstep. Acidic eyes bore into its own. A test..

The hybrid gazed back, taking a small, passive step towards Algol, steeling itself. One last glance towards the Overseer, and it spoke, "my designation is Orthoclase-Alpha. Overseer Vargas is seeking stones of the powerful and proven for breeding and testing. He sent me to you - as part of training."

@Vargas

The Collector listened, one red eye widening as if a brow had slightly arched, and peered briefly at Vargas. Hands clasped before him as he turned back to Alpha.

"Interesting. A cut above the usual rabble, Overseer; very well done," and his voice was as oily-smooth as ever. "Though I suppose that is your job. And I know my own; I give nothing away for free. Not even to you, Vargas; nor to your admittedly-admirable spawn." This was given in flattering tone, a sweeping bow directed toward Alpha.

"But I'm certain that you know that, and wouldn't dare impose on me any other way; so do tell me, what sort of tasks are you capable of performing, Orthoclase-Alpha..?" Glee and interest both flickered in his voice.

He knew this Overseer, oh yes; everything was a test, and nothing delighted Algol more than to delve to the limits of his tasks.

Vargas leapt down from the wall with a grunt, oblivious to the shatter and scatter of bones. He paced closer to Alpha, pausing near, but not hovering. His demeanor seemed businesslike, and little else.

"I am more than aware of your tricks and games, Algol. And you know my opinion on these matters. Tell him what you can do, then, Orthoclase. But no cheating it, Collector; I know the nature of your 'rewards.' Whatever you task it with, the reward had best be good. You see the results of my first generation of work. We aim to improve that--and you know the news on the wind. It would behoove you not to try any tricks with this." There was a bite to his voice, a threat, but it did not seem to refer to him alone.

@Orthoclase-Alpha

One claw lifted, paused halfway into a step back - perhaps the only sign of how Alpha was taking that flattering tone and the sweeping bow directed at it. It was... uncertain, to say the least, of how it should react to that (if at all.) As Vargas moved closer, the orthoclase instinctively took a few steps to the side, giving him space to stand in the forefront of the conversation. When he didn't move any closer, but offer a thinly veiled threat against trickery, Alpha stiffened and remained in place.

It waited patiently for its turn to speak, using that time to mull over its repertoire of abilities.

Given that window, it offered plainly, "I can track and hunt or subdue a target, cast offensive magics, do battle, defend myself and others - act as a shock trooper." The last part was tacked on, a suddenly-remembered summary of what it was being trained for.

@Game Master Dark

The news on the wind.

"Tsk, tsk, and here I thought we were friends, Vargas; old friends," the Collector crooned, ignoring the roll of Vargas' eyes. He swept close, around between the two--too close to Vargas, who peeled back an upper lip in faint disgust--and circled to stand before Alpha.

He looked him over.

"Still... I think we share a goal. These stones--the few that remain, the few I've collected... and I do have my share, I assure you. Past Champions. Even... other stones; but in the interest of our shared goals, then, Overseer," and the leering was audible in his voice, "I will ask only one... little thing."

He leaned forward a little, studying Alpha. A new generation, to be sure. Big, brutish; not quite Vargas, but damn close. And there was something... familiar about it, now that he looked--and it clicked, it connected.

That exoskeleton. That gemstone.

The Collector laughed. He leaned back, tall and towering, and laughed, and laughed.

When his cackling died down, he grinned at Alpha, the brief glint of sharp teeth visible beneath the hood. "I granted your mother a boon, you know," Eyes flicked to Vargas, amused; and he looked surprised. "-Oh, you didn't know?" Sweet mockery. "She was not strong enough to carry it, in the end. But she was strong enough to reject it. And you know my gifts, Overseer," he added, darkly, "Or, at least, you insist that you do. She had the strength to reject it."

The Collector turned, leaning briefly on a stack of bones, drumming clawed hands with a clickety-clack, clickety-clack, before shifting back to face them one last time in a whirl of cloak. "A shock trooper. And I suppose you'd like something to match, or improve, this bloodline? Very well. All I would ask, noble Overseer, and you beautiful Orthoclase-beast: prove yourself worthy of it. Go forth, and wreak chaos. Fight, and kill. Make your name known throughout the caves and I will grant you a stone worthy of ascendance."

He did not vanish at once: he had enough respect, at least, for Vargas not to do that. The Overseer was not his superior--but neither was he his; and the Collector believed in at least a half-decent working relationship with one's co-workers.

He enjoyed watching Vargas, in any case. Watching him wreak havoc; watching him hunt--now that was fun--and watching him scramble, or his children in this case, to do the Collector's bidding.

m for quoted f-bomb

He did indeed roll his eyes. But he stayed silent, listening half-indifferently. The Collector's theatricality was, in Vargas' eyes, half the price one had to pay for his rewards. He picked up what was valuable, what might fall through the cracks; he performed his given task through those who came to him to be granted those gifts.

A recycling bin, really, and little more.

But then the Collector's words caught Vargas by surprise--he knew of the stone-giver?! Vargas stared. He worked his memory back, blinking his many toxic eyes, and Elyon's voice floated through his mind.

"Tall, scary, black, beady little fuckin' eyes..."

...Ahh.

Vargas recovered from this shock quickly (and made a mental note: Elyon had apparently shown some form of strength, which was good; the Collector, he knew, was doing him a favor in telling him this). He laughed, brief but hearty, a bark more than anything. "She mentioned you. She thought you were, ahhh... 'scary.' Impressive, Algol, considering she was nearly my match in straight combat."

A twist of hard skin, a leering grin, and he then looked to Orthoclase. He'd asked Orthoclase to wander the caves anyway, to kill the weak and fight the rest, to instill his own will on others. It would be a test, of sorts; if the creation was worth using, it'd survive. If it wasn't, well. Vargas hoped that it was; it certainly looked impressive.

He just hoped it found Elyon's dexterity, given time.

@Orthoclase-Alpha

Alpha didn't move as the Collector circled it, appraising - except for its head, eyes tracking his path around, and a slight shift to the side as he vanished into the massive blind spot behind it. Defensive, but otherwise not... overtly aggressive or wary.

It stared blankly as he came back into view, cackling with all the eagerness in the world to make its eyes narrow in confusion. Desert Rose's words echoed briefly in its mind, something about mothers and fathers, and it looked at Vargas. Who was it's mother - and where could it find her to fight? Another beast that'd nearly bested the Overseer in combat and, apparently, been able to reject something.

The orthoclase absolutely planned, then, to go after its mother, demand a fight, pummel her and show its worth - it mentally shook itself and nodded once, "I'll do as requested." Acidic eyes glanced at Vargas, and its head followed. This task was, essentially, what it'd already been enlisted to do. It shifted weight from one side to another, staring at Algol for lack of anything else to say, really.

@Game Master Dark