Down the tunnel, away from an inconspicuous lump of iridescent black stone made to rival what threatened to grow over a stone archway, Draco's groaning hum echoed. Its rhythm imitated the heartbeat of something living, breathing, and alive; and, whatever lingered around to hear it had long last come to be aware of it.

Suspended in a mixture of magic and membrane fluids, a little thing began to listen. A hammerhead pressed against the flattest edge of a rapidly-thinning shell. Glittering green eyes jerked into motion, still bleary and managing to seem half-lidded despite the complete absence of eyelids. Its claws, unfamiliar (and yet so familiar—it had spent all its existence with them) with movement, wobbled through the liquid suspension and scraped against the membranous wall.

Iridescent fluid sputtered from the hairline fractures, and a series of hatching crack!s susurred through the tunnel—regardless of if anyone or anything was around to hear it.

From the splintering shell... came an ugly little beast: bare-skinned, gangly, short-tailed, and with merely the pinprick tips of quills pushing through skin. Sharp-edged claws peeled away the fragments of shell that'd clung to its angular head and formed an otherwise insurmountable obstacle for its own (apparently) limited form.

Then, it rocked onto its forearms, half-stumbling out of the remains of its chrysalis. Where eyes couldn't have possibly blown-wide with combined awe and shock, its jaws split into a half-second gasp ("ah!") and it arched its back. Still yet, it was clear of the shell, and it was free.

... and now...

The yet undesignated V-Chaos-Six was scarcely larger than a young tiger cub standing on an unsteady all fours. The Oilstone jutting from its right shoulder seemed almost too large for it, but—ah, well, there was determination in it. Eyestalks twitched one direction and another, perusing its surroundings with a cursory look. Then, with a great gaping yawn of gooey mandibles, the neonate rocked back onto its haunches like an obedient pup.
@Vargas @Vander + any other Forge members!

- THE LEVIATHAN -

He'd been watching over this one himself--what with the Sentinel's absence after Deathmatch. He had split his time, in recent days, planning, working, and worrying. It had started subtly, at first: would this one end up weak-willed and simpering, as its lifegiver had been? Would he even know, until it was too late--a twist of personality at adulthood, as before? From quietly stubborn and determined, to a sobbing, bitter-minded wreck?

In the end, Vargas had grimly determined to treat it as unrelated to its failure of a creator. He would take it as it came: treat it as a wholly new being, and judge it for whatever, and whoever, it became on its own. Still, the cracking of its Oilstone was an unexpected sound--he'd thought it had a day or two more. Lost track of time, he supposed, as he rushed down the tunnel to greet the newest spawn. It happened; these things were rarely precise.

Ahh, it was-... small.

The Leviathan slowed as he approached, so as to get a good look before addressing it. He had a brief, fleeting memory of Chaos-Two, at its hatching, clinging to his tail--back when it had been a fumbling, young thing. And not a braying idiot.

This one had hatched wholly on its own: picked itself from its gemstone, plucked the residue from its face, and sat--awaiting orders? Dull-minded? Empty? Vargas found it hard to tell: it was without expression that he could see, with strange mandibles and stalk-like eyes. He hadn't expected a sort of exoskeleton, in places (and part of him, again, worried about moulting)--or was that just a structure beneath its skin? Acid eyes ranged over its form again. Vargas took in its coloration, the beginnings of quills just emerging, and the too-large chunk of gemstone at one shoulder. For a moment, he regretted allowing Maximus to plant the damn thing here: the fool had undoubtedly been too soft to allow its own spawn to be corrupted (yet had abandoned it without a second thought)--ahh, but enough about them.

Vargas pushed the wayward annoyance from his mind. This was a new chapter. A new being. He would stop comparing them now. He would focus on this one: on its brilliant purple color, its strange crab-like eyes, and the training yet to come.

He halted before it. Undoubtedly Desert Rose would not be far behind, and so he began to speak while he had time with this one, alone. "I am Master Vargas. You are V-Chaos-Six." He paused only briefly; each word was carefully enunciated, his own gaze attempting to pick over this new spawn's body language, to see whether it could understand him. "You are a creation of the Chaos Forge, and you will learn-" Hm, learn what? Normally, he would have told it, learn to fight, to kill. To survive. But things had changed, hadn't they-? He let them pick their own paths, now, for the most part. Training was more... generalized, and far less bloody, for better or for worse. "-all that you need," he settled on, "and find a role to aid this nest. Do you understand me?" he asked, and his tone was placid, patient, rather than a demand.

@V-Chaos-Six (but perfectly willing to wait for Vander)

Desert Rose was more than aware of Maximus's departure and subsequent (abandonment?) ... gifting, of the lost child to the Forge. He was less aware of when, exactly, it would emerge. Its chrysalis was hidden in the tunnel, yes, but he'd been doing his best to keep an eye on it as best he could.

Though, it's not entirely a surprise that he wasn't the first to the scene. It was roughly the right time, he figured, but he wasn't too pressed about it- if it'd left, he could've found it, he figured. Where could a fresh gembound go, really?

The memory of his own hatching came fresh to mind. While it was from his father's perception, would Chaos-Two have felt the same way? Did they imagine they were stealing their child? The desert rose didn't want to risk its angry return, but he couldn't imagine they'd try to face them with Draconua still remaining in Draco. Perhaps the child need to be accompanied if it went outside of Pegasus, in case Chaos-Two attempted to get a hold on it...

But, that was for the later. Right now, they needed to assess its hatching- so when the underling saw Vargas racing out of Draco following a distant sound, the desert rose lifted his head and surged up to scamper behind him.

Curse his tiny legs- he'd arrived a bit later than the Master, approaching in the silence that followed his question. It'd be best to wait to speak. Vargas would introduce him, right? Slowing down, Desert Rose leaned under Vargas and carefully stepped below him, dwarfed by the massive valkhound. Hm. From this angle, he could finally see the new being, and...

Well, it wasn't like him, and it was certainly purple. Strange- gangly? Would it grow into those limbs? Already, the dragon cast a judging glance over it, clicking his teeth quietly together. Its clawed hands would be good for grasping, perhaps, but the nails may be in the way- good for grabbing into soft-bodied creatures? And those mandibles, along with the quills, would do good for defense.

And with a size like that, would it grow to rival Orthoclase-Alpha..?

Desert Rose shook the idea from his mind, standing close to Vargas as he reported for duty. It wasn't his place to take the lead just yet, after all.

@V-Chaos-Six (guess who wanted to be double pinged lol (hint: not me))

"Ah—!" blustered out of twitching mandibles as a massive—and notably purple—figure came to loom over it. Glittering eyestalks leered up at the beast, immediately looking him all over. There was no ounce of hesitation in its body as it came to stand back on its knuckles. Flat, vaguely bovine nostrils flared as it sniffed closer to Master Vargas? Even at a distance, he had a peculiarly… tangy scent, or something sour. The neonate yet lacked the knowledge to attribute the odor to being like that of acid. There was a dusty undertone to it, too. The beast was just shy of smelling like cleaner.

And here it was, smelling like birth and—vaguely—rot.

Its eyes twitched and glinted in the light as he spoke and as it investigated him, the very picture of curious attention. Someone could almost construe the act as endearing—if it did not resemble a somewhat mangled human toddler with cloven hooves and a thin, ugly tail that started to wag unsteadily. A hind leg clattered against the floor as it took another wobbly step rife with fearless determination.

Once there, it craned its head to be essentially vertical. Even from there, it could adjust its eyes to stare around the end of its snout, and its mandibles hung open. There was a brief moment of awe, of admiration, then, as the hatchling struggled up to its hind legs; but, once it was up there, it tilted its head one way, and another. Big, came to mind, and none of the other adjectives that would be appropriate accompanied that thought—adjectives such as scary, terrifying, run-away-now…

"Vargas… ?" it tried with great confidence, lifting a hand to point at his face, high above it. A beat, and it lowered its arm to gesture vaguely at itself. "Six." A few words omitted, but altogether a stunning attempt to confirm identities.

V-Chaos-Six plopped back down onto its haunches, tail sweeping across the floor with a nonstop rattle; all the effort of standing up was apparently too much for a baby to bear. It was not without a conclusion, though: a solid nod that it overcompensated for and nearly fell flat onto its face as a result of. "Six understand." (... as much as a newborn could. Roles and nests and whatnot were quite the abstract thing to grasp out of the gate.)

Suddenly, its gaze snapped away from Vargas entirely, fixing on the brand-new shape standing near him. It was just about eye level with itself, but round—and jagged-looking, almost… ?—with a strange mouth and growths from the head. Bright blue eyes looked it over, and its own beady lime ones did the same. New. Small. A quirk of the stalk here, there. Like Vargas?

After a few moments' staring, V-Chaos-Six sat up like an ape and pointed at the apparent newcomer with its whole hand—in lieu of just an index fing—… erm, claw. "Is Master Vargas?"
@Vargas

- THE LEVIATHAN -

Desert Rose's arrival was greeted with a brief nod, and with Vargas moving to one side to make room for him. Vargas then looked back to the child, focusing on what it had said, and was still saying.

'Vargas...?' was met by a "Master Vargas," but not in a tone of correction; rather, it sounded like elaboration and agreement, approval, intertwined. It was close enough, at this age--and it was a damn good sign that the child could both understand, and repeat back so clearly, at hatching. It boded well for it. Even 'Six understand' was good, and 'Six' alone was likewise-... close enough.

But the final question--its point at Desert Rose, its question--almost elicited a snorting laughter in the Master. It didn't--he stopped it at a half a sharp exhale--but it almost did. Yes, the child was endearing; he didn't feel much toward it, but he was pleased at least at its demeanor.

"No, that-" and he glanced with amusement at the draconic hybrid before him, "is Desert Rose Thirty-Five. Desert Rose will be helping to raise, and train, you." He paused, looking at it, and gave them a moment to acclimate--having already cleared the space between them. And then, more quietly--to Desert Rose himself--Vargas asked, "What do you think of it?"

It was a genuine question; he wanted Vander's opinion. His own, at least his first impression, was that it could be capable: that it was attentive, controlled, and fearless--all good traits. The eyes were... strange, but the rest of it, though somewhat lopsided, looked capable enough. And anyway, it might outgrow the gangly proportions--who knew? He saw nothing worrying about it, yet; but he wondered what Desert Rose might see.

@Vander