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This post contains potentially sensitive material:

gore

violence

Aurelia watched and listened as The Hand, Aethril spoke for all to hear. Her voice only accompanied by the sound of a heel scraping over rock and feathers that were so easily crushed beneath. The Hand was gracious, allowing Overseer Cain to try and handle the situation. All points that left their maw seemed perfectly valid to Aurelia, but it was not her place to rend judgment; so she listened carefully. The avian who her Overseer Cain had called Meat, was to plead their case. Words came and went, laced in what Aurelia felt to be ill, paired with rather fast-shifting eyes of a bird who seemed to lie. And it seemed she was right if what happened next was anything to go by.

The Hand held her chin high, poised with grace and a voice that was no doubt commanding of attention to all those within Chaos Forge now. She spoke of Master Vargas and her Overseer Cain, that they were good people, of course, Aethril was correct. Aurelia never held doubt to this fact, and it only spurred the young valkhound on with pride and excitement that this Hand would speak highly of them and their care to the nest and those who dwelled in it. Aurelia couldn't help but writhe beneath pale skin, tendrils of muscles snaking over one another in silent and harmless agreement.

Aurelia's heart skipped a beat just then, when all six eyes locked with Aethril's-it was only for a moment but it was more than enough to leave a lasting impression on the young valkhound. She could not breathe, not from fear but- something else entirely. It was admiration and the recognition that Aethril was wholeheartedly something so incredibly more than what she could ever dream to be. Aspirations anyone?

"You are all cut from the same cloth. You all serve a purpose."

And there it was, a surge of validation. A swell of desire and pride and an utmost understanding of her place and their's. It all churned in her chest at the drop of just a few lines given from just one soul. One very unique and powerful soul. One who was making an example now.

What happened next Aurelia could not have guessed, it was a power unlike that of which she could fathom. There was the thunderous tearing of live skin and crackling of bones. The avian tore apart, inside out even, spewing ribbons of blood and visera alike. The sound alone drove a chill up her spine, skin writhing with sudden vigor to where it would almost look painful to those who could manage to look her way. All the while that ravenous hunger roiled and grew in her gut. Her teeth began to itch as she focused on the sight before her, the smell assaulting as she breathed almost a bit too heavily, a bit too needily from a hunger she had yet to understand. But that wasn't to say she hated it, curiosity and a feeling that perhaps this was right- this was normal... Right?

The avian was no rat, it was different than the food she was to eat- it was.. a fellow forge member- but now, it was nothing but meat. It was perhaps a bit ironic given the name her Overseer had addressed them by just a few moments earlier.

Still, the once hushed whispers grew loud, scratching and banging with voices that sounded almost her own and yet not. It was almost a tad overwhelming for the young valkhound had her other senses hadn't pulled her focus so viciously elsewhere. Which perhaps was for the best considering the thoughts the voices urged her to listen to.

Something though was growing with each passing second as she watched pale and pink flesh squelch upon the ground with a hearty wet slap of organs and entrails. She knew not what it could be, nor the reason; only to know it as that hunger for flesh and bone. Of something else once living. Something that was meant to be crushed between teeth like a twig beneath one's heel. To be popped and torn, picked and licked from tooth and claw.

Luckily for the young valkhound though her sudden away of attention was pulled from this whole inner ordeal. Golden eyes flickering from where the bloody smear of meat used to rest and now settling on Aethril. She listened with overwhelming attentiveness. Her words however were soon caught in her throat as if her gut begged to devour them due to the very starvation she was currently subjecting it to. She swallowed, but still managed to find her voice as she bowed appropriately towards The Hand, Aethril, in acknowledgment.

"It is understood."

- THE LEVIATHAN -

Draconua's assurance: 'There is no greater honor,' was a surprising, pleasing relief. It worked, he thought, a weight he hadn't known was there suddenly lifting. That was one less problem, then, to deal with--well, he hoped, at least. Surely there was no way that could backfire--and this thought, though amused, was dry.

Chaos-Two came to him--which was good--but spoke volumes of tumbling words, which was bad. Just before they'd finished, Vargas interrupted: "I did not invite your input," he said, and his voice was boomingly loud--enough for the entire Forge to easily hear--but deadly calm. "No, you did not tell me about it. Yes, that is your mistake. You have the option of language: use it. Next time, you tell them what you intend to do! You warn them! I have just laid out these rules, and I do not intend to immediately begin to bend them for you-" ...but here, Vargas fell silent.

Kethri was speaking. Here was her response, and Vargas turned to listen. Not a single apology, he noted; no assurances. Only... blackmail? Draconua's outburst, too, drew his head in a sharp swing, and he snorted faint amusement. Before he could respond, Aethril was speaking; and Vargas was not about to interrupt a Valkhand. 'While I very much appreciate your valiant defense of my honour, Chaos-Two, you were given an explicit boundary by your Master.' Vargas nodded faintly, glancing to Chaos-Two. "It is not your place to act as an Overseer when you have not earned that right, Chaos-Two. You come to an Overseer or myself with your complaints: the rules are not only for when you FEEL like obeying them." His tone, again, was both loud and firm: this would (as promised) be an example for them all.

And Overseer Cain: 'I offer her purpose be made to deal with unpleasantness. Murder. Assassination...' I do not need assassins, Vargas thought irritably; I need messengers.
But it was not to be.

And as Aethril began to speak, his heart sank--not for Kethri, no, but for the Forge. 'Master Vargas and Overseer Cain are good people. They are fair. While they have the Nest's interests at heart, they also have your interests at heart...' Oh, yes, he knew what was coming. An example. He wasn't sure, of course--not until the magic ripped the little white owl inside-out, tearing it into a ragged mess of silent, twitching flesh. Master Vargas stifled his sinking disappointment. But he didn't look at the pile of feathered meat, no.

Because it wasn't Kethri's death that bothered him. 'Master Vargas is protecting you from me.'

He had failed, then. He had not been strict enough--not harsh enough--and Aethril felt it her duty to be the looming monster in his stead, the whip to his carrot. Fuck, thought the Master--a rare swear that sank quietly into his subconscious. Toxic gaze cut at last to Kethri's dead body.

If I had been harsher, this would not have happened. It wouldn't have needed to, he thought.

He looked to Chaos-Two.

This mistake would not be repeated. "NOT to doubt our own Hand," he began--loudly--which probably wasn't the best way to start, with contradicting her, but he had a point to make, "but I am not 'good' and I am certainly not here to coddle you all. These rules are to protect the Forge as a whole, our work--and you from one another. They are FAIR rules, and I will not be BENDING them UNFAIRLY! You can expect consistency from here on out."

And with that he turned sharply--a violent motion, one arm shooting out to snag V-Chaos-Two's leg; to jerk the creature off its feet and bite down with his jaws. It was a bite that, if it connected, would do approximately the same damage as Chaos-Two had done to Kethri--more a warning than real damage, but enough to draw some blood.

And then he would release it--setting Chaos-Two down, and looking out over the Forge to see the impact his (and Aethril's) words, and actions, had both had.

@V-Chaos-Two

adding a roll so if Chaos-Two would IC attempt to avoid + the roll's a fail, then it can be avoided!

The Sentinel stood stock still, silent, but his hand was clenched around Mirac's hilt.

The scent of blood, the sudden upsurge of Chaos in the false Order his Master had attempted to impose--it tugged at something within him. Something that lurked within his stone, his magic; something that promised power. That promised... freedom.

That faint desire to rip free of his civilized facade, his false bindings, and tear loose; to utter a resounding roar and plunge Mirac's blade into the nearest unguarded flesh-...

The Sentinel took a breath. Held it; exhaled. He struggled to keep his attention on Vargas. On the rules.

His hand was clenched around Mirac's hilt.

The scent of blood--the booming voices, the snarled threats--sent Nidhogg into a frenzy. Any brief, calm promise he'd held as "hunter" was lost as that same hunter's instinct overpowered him in an instant, the corruption laced through his veins tightening like puppets' strings.

He scampered forward as if suddenly unbound, arrowing through the group and straight for Kethri's corpse. His acid eyes saw nothing else. He slavered as he bolted for her, no longer seeing her as a person--if ever he even had.

Food-! It was food! Dead and thrashing and meaty food!

His rush was that of a wild thing: not deliberately violent but utterly oblivious to everything bar his goal.

+1 corruption point gained below

She straightened, now on high alert, as order cascaded toward the edge of chaos. It was still all held together--barely, by a thread, where it needed to be; the threat of destruction, she could sense, was enough to keep it from toppling over.

Obieth was, however, attentive to the words as well as the mood of the room: to Kethri's missteps (which she met with a bored gaze and utter disdain), to Cain's careful maneuvering (and she knew she didn't understand all that was happening, there, beneath the surface) and Vargas's brutish posturing. She was, herself, confident in her own position: both figuratively (sat by the side of the most powerful being in the room; my, wasn't Obieth smug right now about her life decisions), and literally (likewise, sat by the side of the most powerful being in the room).

It was only when Nidhogg bolted toward them that she acted--unaware that he merely wanted the meat, and unlikely to have allowed it even had she known. His sudden, slavering rush was met with Obieth standing sharply, stepping forward with a wicked, fangs-bared hiss as she took two quick steps to intercept--to stand between he and Aethril.

"You will TURN BACK," she snarled on the heels of her hiss, voice a guttural, vicious warning. And twinned came the magic--forced into his mind, jerking him around, sending him back the way he'd come like a broken marionette.

TURN. BACK.

Obieth drove him away--out of the meeting, away from the group, out across the open rock--and then released him to look about himself in confusion. A short glance back at Aethril and around (to confirm no further danger) and she sat back down again, teal eyes narrowed on her target. If he came back again, perhaps she'd kill him.

godemoting my own idiot

Chaos-Two had just gotten Kethri killed. As he watched her dig her own grave it was like cotton had filled their ears. They had no spear to clutch to hide their trembling hands or to turn their head and hide their saucer-like eyes behind, meaning all their terror was on display as they watched Kethri be mutilated.

"PERHAPS THERE LIES SOMETHING RESEMBLING A SPINE AFTER ALL!"

They didn't want a spine. They didn't want this, they didn't want to be the one who'd essentially sent a person, no matter how hopelessly cruel, to her death.

Chaos-Two was snatched up and they only managed to let out startled bleat before it was over, the pain nothing compared to the worst they'd ever felt. A paper cut in comparison. But it wasn't the bite that hurt them, it was the fact that Vargas did, and it was like something they'd been desperately clinging to had slipped from their hands.

They fell onto their side and hissed, quickly standing up and limping away as fast as possible. The wound stung more than it should have as they tried to retrieve their spear to hide behind, aching to rejoin Khavur and retreat into themselves further.

’... There's no saving him,’ they thought sullenly, though such thoughts quickly turned bitter, ’There is no love, no goodness within him. He broke Overseer Alpha and he will do the same to the rest of us if he continues on this path.’

Chaos-Two glanced at Zoisite, at Labradorite, then at Selenite.

’He would break or kill us willingly if it meant using our stones to create more of his wretched monsters.’

But how did little Chaos-Two ever hope to change Vargas' mind? To make him see that what he was doing was evil? That this Chaos would destroy everyone in the end? Or was that the point?

They made their way to Khavur and retrieved their spear before sitting down heavily next to them, clutching their leg as they inspected it. Nothing to worry about, at least for now. They instead turned towards Khavur, aching to be small again so they could hide under their belly again. They wanted to hide under their wings and cry into their hide, feeling hopeless and like their death was looming over them.

They leaned their forehead against their spear and tuned everything out, their eyes open but unseeing. They couldn't stand to be involved in reality anymore, they wanted to go away. So they did. The shock definitely helped them retreat into the back of their mind, locking everything out just so they could get a moment of respite.

Their eyes glazed over and they were still, their wound bleeding sluggishly with no attempt to cleanse it or treat it despite having the means to do so. They'd departed from the meeting, though their body remained.

@Khavur for vis since they can prolly hear chaos-two's thoughts

Garnet-Epsilon


They almost realize what's going on-

Talk of an example being made.

The last two example's they knew of were the old Overseer, Orthoclase Alpha, and then that... gazelle that had been shredded before them by Lord Dhracia.

So, at the cracking of bone, they tilt their head to the side... unable to escape the noise, the smell, of what happened. But they slide their gaze over to the Overseer and Master Vargas, eyes hard with something hidden deep within.

So much for a promise of no death.

Then Vargas tears a bite into Chaos Two, and Epsilon has an epiphany that is guided by the Hand's speech.

Cut from... whatever cloth is. If we are all the same, interchangeable. Made, tools, through and through.

Ears drop to lay along their spine, then, no longer looking as straining and attentive as they normally do. They watch the Hand take the owl's stone, and then look around some more to see what everyone else is up to.

Labradorite puppeted away by the lap cat, and a flash of some odd coloring off to the side as Chaos Two huddles down, a blank look they'd recognize if they ever looked in a mirror on a bad day.

But the blood will... be an issue.

Epsilon makes a choice, here, a big one only we know will change their outlook for the worse in the future. So the hybrid gets to their feet, rising from where they'd been sitting and walking over to Chaos Two to inspect the wound... they can't offer any help now, not without any puffy weeds or water, but maybe they can do... something about it later.

I am not a weapon, or a tool. I'm me, and I quite like my current... biological arrangement. There has to be something in between being No-one, and being Nothing...

@V-Chaos-Two

Desert Rose remained stock-still throughout the process- his introduction, the plans laid out, the punishment.

He only flinched at Kethri's inversion before pointedly looking away. That was not his place to perceive the remaining mass- he would not look to Aethril now. She would not be a punishment for him. Instead, his eyes unfocused to some distant point as his ears pinned back, the voices around him growing distant.

Business as usual. But- ah, he hadn't spoken on his own placement, and slowly he refocused back into the living world, sitting up a little straighter. Everything had been filed away for the sake of professionalism, here. All that was left was the small dragon's lifted chin, his talons shifting closer as his shoulders squared forward.

There was a long moment of silence following the punishment given to Chaos-Two, and it was then that he'd finally spoke up. "If no one else is inclined to it-" and he finally glanced out to the crowd, his brilliant eyes striking through various others in an emotionless gaze- "then I will train the young. And in the downtime when we don't have any, I can perform duties as a messenger, too- one stationed here, in case we need to get a specific message out fast. Or a general back up, in case..." Well, he glanced, finally to where Kethri once stood. The latter was something he was finely attuned for and felt like a natural fit, but the former?

Well, even if he hadn't had much experience with children, he'd started to understand them thanks to living with his excitable half-sibling. Even if he was small, he could keep them in check, manipulate them into place- raise them as the Forge's best.

Somehow, that sounded actually pleasant, for him. He had been overjoyed at the first rearing. Certainly, he could handle more.

Breathing in sharply, Desert Rose cleared his throat. "Will there be any upcoming chrysalises?" Right to business, then, and something that could be good to know for the rest of them. Breeding rights would be earned, yes- but did Vargas have anything in mind for now? There was the one for Dhracia, as far as he was aware, but when would that hatch..?

Many questions for later, then, he supposed.

Cain liked Kethri. Cain enjoyed her presence like a cat enjoys a small, jingling ball that it could bat around on a whim to get seratonin. It thrived on the feeling of joy Kethri felt as it promised her a beautiful position, one that it knew Aethril would not let her have. It was all just a simple game of cat and mouse, and Kethri was too stupid to realize her role in all of this.

It was just a shame that Kethri never evolved past the point of being a toy to play with, that she never evolved into someone worth anything more than a mild chuckle.

Kethri spent her last words pretending to thank Aethril while actually thanking Overseer Cain, the one who, ultimately, brought this fate upon her. She had wasted cycles away trying to claw some sort of meager existence for herself, and what did she had to show for it? In the end, she had been an experiment, a toy, an example, and at no point had she been worth anything more.

Cain wouldn't miss her. It felt the sentiment that Kethri wanted to try again, in another life, and then it felt the searing pain of flesh being turned inside out (ouch) but its magic soon cut off as Kethri died, and the emotional connection was cut like a string.

Aethril's words still buzzed in Cain's ears, but the Overseer bowed its head with a nod of acceptance and, frankly, reverence. It heard Aurelia, of all creations, speak to acknowledge Aethril's words. The feline glanced toward the Valkhound, and gave her too a nod of approval. Everyone else was silent, shocked cold by the cruel death.

As if it wasn't the coolest shit that had happened in the caves since they had moved here, but tsk. They all had feelings about their morality that they rarely backed up with actual worth. Aurelia would be different, at least.

Cain heard Vargas's voice and immediately turned toward him, trodding closer with its tail raised high, looking keen and eager to see the punishment given. It wanted to support Vargas in his new methodology, so it stood firm, proud, and unflinching as Vargas gave the Chaos-Two a soft chomp of warning, enough to break skin and little more.

Another silence.

Nidhogg hissed, and Obieth hissed back. Cain flicked an ear in that direction, but Obieth had it handled like the good guard-cat she was.

It was Desert Rose who broke the silence, and Overseer Cain looked toward him with curiosity. It seemed he wanted to raise the newest batch of recruits, and that filled Cain with a sudden, surprising eagerness. Though Desert Rose's offspring had not been particularly fantastic, the old man (comparatively speaking) had taught him some in his youth, and being a Champion had his own worth. More than Palefur ever had, anyway.

The question of chrysalises made Cain itch in a way it hadn't before. Maybe it was the recent training of Obieth, the on-boarding of Aurelia, and its growing plans as an Overseer in general, but... Cain had been stewing on its desire for an apprentice, one that it would raise closely to follow in its footsteps.

Struct by this sudden feeling like a sensation it had been waiting on cue for, Cain immediately trotted across the gathered group, trotting past the corpse of inside-out bird flesh without so much as blinking.

"Actually, Desert-Rose," the Overseer began.

It now stood only a few feet from Desert Rose, its words polite as it explained its... well, idea. "I had been considering my reproductive options for some time now. I've explained to Master Vargas my intention to make an apprentice of my own creation." It stared steadily at Desert Rose, evaluating the slightly larger dragon's reaction. "If you are to raise the next clutch, I would be amiable to the idea of you as a stone-giver, and aiding me in raising it."

It was nothing if not a blunt way of putting it.

@Vander

Attikias knew he was going to be late. He probably missed the whole speech, too- he had to gather up a lot of things, and he kept second-guessing himself, uncertain how much he wanted to actually bring.

What he settled on was just his satchel, filled with tons of drawn-out plans and ideas for homes. Lights, what deer would make the best bedding- what to make the bedding out of, even- even down to various structures like a hatch for those who wished to enter their homes from above.

And, of course, Melody came along with him. She'd help for seeing construction from different angles, so he didn't have to cast magic to get a higher view, after all. The little songbird had nestled into the papers of his bag, on top of a little bundle of pelt to keep the scratchings in bark free from any smudges or the like. It'd settled in alright enough to carry, at least.

The elf heard the tail end of something- some sort of speech, from- Ah, shit. Aethril was here. Keeping quiet, Attikias crept around the edges of the gathering, his hands carefully on the leather of his satchel's strap. He couldn't prevent Melody's wings from fwipping through the air, but he himself could at least keep his own presence on the down-low, avoiding garnering the Hand's attention.

But as he rounded some larger person, he glanced down to what they were all looking at, and-

Oh, fucking caves.

Attikias flinched his gaze away and covered his mouth, his gut already turning. What the fuck did he miss? Pointedly not looking at the mass on the ground, Attikias sidled in closer to those sitting near Vargas, trying to train his mind on the architectural plans instead of whatever that used to be.

"I um-" he cleared his throat, speaking quietly. "I brought some building plans." Focusing on Vargas's enormous claws, Attikias opened his satchel and drew the first one- a larger one, for something close to the base, possibly made of earthen magic and rounded off at the top with a single opening for any potential smoke. Who knew if they wanted a fire pit- it would be nice, perhaps? Besides, options would always be good.

Carefully, Attikias glanced back to the flesh, then back to Vargas's limbs, feeling almost like a sheep admist wolves.

He just had to be cautious. That's all.