Character: Azrael Age: +38 (38th Cycle) Magic Level: +5 (Transcendent Pupil) ROUND 1 Attempt: +14 Penalties: - ROUND 2 Attempt: +14 Penalties: - ROUND 3 Attempt: +20 Penalties: - ROUND 4 Attempt: +17 Penalties: - ROUND 5 Attempt: +5 Penalties: - ROUND 6 Attempt: +18 Penalties: - ROUND 7 Attempt: +10 Penalties: - ROUND 8 Attempt: +19 Penalties: - ROUND 9 Attempt: +13 Penalties: - Total: 173

Character: Vargas Age: +39 (39 Cycles) Magic Level: +5 (Champion) ROUND 1 Attempt: +18 Penalties: - ROUND 2 Attempt: +6 Penalties: - ROUND 3 Attempt: +16 Penalties: - ROUND 4 Attempt: +19 Penalties: - ROUND 5 Attempt: +2 Penalties: - ROUND 6 Attempt: +4 Penalties: - ROUND 7 Attempt: +9 Penalties: - ROUND 8 Attempt: +13 Penalties: - ROUND 9 Attempt: +10 Penalties: - Total: 132

WINNER: Azrael

As Vargas stepped away, Ruby-Beta scrambled to its feet, shaking the dust and grit from its pelt, feeling the sting of the gash as the skin around it moved. It glanced up at Vargas and gave a grunt. "Yeah." It didn't offer thanks, still pouting and feeling guilty for being a burden, but there was now a layer of confusion as well. Why had Vargas stopped fighting? Wasn't his whole thing about survival of the fittest? The strong survive, the weak die. Had it somehow proven itself to him at some point, and he was no longer willing to risk it over an accident? Or was there some other reason? Ruby-Beta didn't want to think about if Vargas had somehow grown to feel some sort of parental connection, or another familial bond with any of its spawn. For Beta, their relationship was strictly one of a student and a teacher, a master and a worker. It didn't want to have another thought crisis.

It sat itself down and turned, brushing off its confusion and churning guilt to tend to its wounds. Lots of small scratches and the gash, of course. It slowly began licking its shoulder, trying to clean out any of the dust and rock before it got infected. Hopefully, it wouldn't have to run out of the way of falling boulders anytime soon.

Tail swished behind him as he took a step forward so that he was in a more comfortable conversation range with Vargas - no need to be on the defensive anymore, as it was no longer a battle. Eyes narrowed as he considered his words, a lip curling after a comment struck a nerve. "Use me? I am not a weapon. Not a toy! That, he would make perfectly clear. He was in charge of his own life and he had no intention of letting himself become some pawn or plaything in the game of someone else's making.

But, he had to admit, he had been thoroughly impressed by the fighting skills of the Master. If all others in his...group had such skills, then Azrael would be among kin. If not, then he would tower over the others, casting the others into his shadow. And if they were greater...then he had much to take away. To be honest, Azrael didn't have any reason not to join, other then his dislike of authority.

When Vargas mentioned reproduction, spawning others from the stones of Valkhounds (whatever those were), Azrael's eyes flicked again to Ruby-Beta. He had noticed before, but now he looked again and realized how deeply they resembled the other. The same head shape and acidic eyes, the spines and the color. Ruby-Beta was only smaller and more feline. Perhaps it had been spawned from a cat. And the ones at the door held Vargas's likeness as well. A sudden need rose in his chest. Imagine...his own spawn as well, prowling the caves as Mater Vargas's did. He remembered the day that Banshy had hatched and the deep primal satisfaction at seeing himself in another, seeing his spawn, a new life of his own making, walking and speaking and hunting.

While he didn't know what a Valkhound was, the name carried weight and Azrael figured it was something important, something powerful. Greed flickered in his eyes. Yes, he wanted that. He didn't mind if it had to be earned - it was only natural that he would have to prove his place. He would expect the very same, if he were in Master Vargas's place. But there was one thing he had yet to ask, yet to consider.

He raised a claw and pointed it at Vargas. "You are a competent fighter. My blood has not run so hot in many cycles. I thank you. I said my support is yours if you fight well...and our goals align. You said I would fight with you, but you have not told me what you fight for." It came down to that. If he didn't like what he was fighting for, then there was no power in the world that would get him to fight. At the very least, he knew they were no friend to Mother.

@Vargas

- THE LEVIATHAN -

Azrael's initial assertion indeed made his dislike of authority immediately and abundantly clear. It was almost a relief: no one could be this perfect, and somehow, it gave Vargas something to tackle. But he waited until the demon had finished speaking, studying him closely.

"Your remark and your question tie together," he began, and slowly sat back. He was, meanwhile, wholly unaware of the faint existential crisis he'd accidentally inspired in his spawn; his attention, after that 'yeah,' was fully on Azrael now. "It also reveals a spot of ignorance in your worldview. Allow me to shatter it for you: these caves are not a place of freedom. We are all tools," he added, his voice booming with conviction. "Our Creator--he who had these caves carved out for his purposes--is the embodiment of Chaos. Do you understand-? This nest--all of these caves--exist solely for his will. It is power that earns freedom," Vargas added. That, or slinking in the shadows, avoiding everything but that will never bring you anything but fear and death. He didn't say that part, if only because Azrael didn't seem the sort to do so.

"In Draco, we look after the creation of His soldiers," he went on, turning to gesture toward the Black Spire. "We Masters create them. The Chaos Forge protects and trains them, and helps to perfect their designs." Mostly by trial-and-error, survival of the fittest, but still. "Those who serve Him well may be brought to the surface to see it, or even to decimate worlds, by his Hand. And we are afforded power, freedoms, and luxuries that the rest are not--though I do not think you, any more than I, are a creature who seeks luxury."

Nostrils flared in a thoughtful exhale. "All of this means that we must also defend these caves against those that would usurp His plans, who would topple Chaos. We root out and destroy Order. We hunt and kill those that would betray." Though, in fairness, those days seemed long gone. "If this interests you I offer you a place; as a 'tool,' as you say, or a weapon, we all must serve a role. If not, I will take your offer as an ally and call upon you if there is need, and you may choose to answer." It went without saying that the potential to decimate surface worlds, or gain Valkhound spawn, would then not be offered; but Vargas did not mind either way.

If Azrael refused, though, he was half of a mind to ask what he might trade him, in return for his possibly fathering a spawn for the Forge; he had proven the worth of his design.

He wondered which of the Masters had created him.

@Ruby-Beta (or just Azrael?)

Azrael narrowed his eyes as he took in Vargas's words and their meaning resonated deep in the pit of his stomach. "These caves are not a place of freedom." Well...obviously. If they were, then there would be no walls, no ceiling. There would be endlessness, not a finite world. But he did not imagine that there was some greater power, some all-seeing Creator. He didn't want to accept what Vargas was saying - that he was created as just some tool, some weapons for another. No, it was against his very nature to bow to anyone else, let himself be but a sword in anothers' hand, but Azrael was no fool. He glanced at the writhing Black Spire and knew what Vargas was telling him was true.

Was that it, then? Would his pride and strength and passion only ever amount to being a pawn?

He growled, but it was out of frustration, not an intended threat to continue their fight. "So. We are just playthings, are we? Our purpose - every purpose of everyone - is to serve a Creator we never met?" If the Creator had created him, then why had it not appeared to him in his life? Why had he not known, or anyone he had known, for that matter? He opened a claw and looked at the eye within, staring back at himself, as if contemplating what he was, who he was, who he was supposed to be.

Was...was it Forgraves' purpose too, to serve? And Banshy? The old names rang in his head like a sweet, lost memory. He couldn't imagine the fox having anything to do with chaos and war. He let out a grunt and looked back at Vargas. "I ask this then. You say the caves exist for his will. But I know those outside of Chaos. Not of Order," and he spat the word like it fouled his tongue to say, "but with peaceful intentions. Who do not fight. Who only live. Are they not of His design and will as well?"

He frowned, tossing and turning the possibilities in his head. He could accept the offer of an alliance and walk away now, free to do his own work. But what work was that? He had no purpose, no goal or ambition. And the tantalizing offers of spawning valkhound and ravaging worlds and...the surface, which Azrael had never dreamed truly existed until now, would be lost to him. But if he accepted, he would be, as he said, a tool.

But he wasn't one that couldn't take new steps. He could learn to accept his role. And if he decided, in the end, that it wasn't worth the rewards, there wasn't a power that could stop him from leaving then and there. And besides, there was something dark blooming in his heart. An idea, a stupid one, oh so, so stupid, but ever so delicious.

He held up his head, decision made. "I will join you. You fight against Mother, that is more then enough for me. My time since burning her in the swamp has been gray, empty. If I must be a tool to give life purpose, then a tool I will be. I will burn your enemies, and the Creator's as well."

@Vargas

- THE LEVIATHAN -

Ahhh--an unexpected edge of philosophy in Azrael.

This, he hadn't expected. It spoke of a level of intelligence beyond that of a brutish monster. There was pride there, too, and Vargas studied him with ever-rising interest. He truly would be an asset, he thought, though even now the thought was tentative--a "pending" tacked on until he could get to know the demon better.

Still, he did not take the question as rhetorical. He knew the answers--for the most part--after all. The Creator was not some distant deity of myth and "maybes;" he was a tangible power with spoken goals. And whether wanted or not, Vargas bucked in to... reassure? Or simply to explain. "You asked of those who only live, who were not of His design. Let me begin with that: there is wild magic, magic left behind by other forces or simply residue. At times life is created by chance! Its shapes, its chosen forms, are those favored by that form of magic." This was as best as he could simplify: different magics had different--as the Creator put it--"preferred shapes." "Those creatures that you see--I do not know how you feel of them but for the most part I leave them to live as they would, so long as they do not interfere." This wasn't what Azrael had asked, no, but he was getting to a point: "But they have no purpose. They spawn. They breed. They squabble and die, for the most part. If some find a purpose then so be it, but it is one that will never leave the cave, one that will never impact a greater world. No one outside these caves will ever know that they have lived. Perhaps that is enough for them," he went on, glancing away into the distance.

"But we are not playthings. We are an extension of His power. Shaped and molded, tested and proven. As for freedom-? I have been to the surface outside these caves. I was not created with the power I hold, Azrael. I was created merely to Oversee, to fight and to kill, to hunt and to guard. But I performed well, and I proved myself, and in time I was given the title and power of Master. And with it comes my own sort of freedom," he explained. "It is as it is for those creatures, for any creatures: the more powerful you are, the fewer can command you, harm you with impunity, restrict you. Chaos values strength: the strength to forge one's own path!" Philosophical-? Yes, but--in Vargas's mind--the very core of what he fought for. "The power the Creator grants comes with restriction, yes--rules--but too with the chance to rise ever-higher, as I have. And I believe," he went on, eyeing Azrael closely, "that from what I have seen? You have great potential. I welcome you into the Chaos Forge."

He took a breath, head tipping up a little, so that he was peering at Azrael with a sort of thoughtful imperiousness. "Should you have questions, feel free to find me at any time. Or should you simply wish to speak. What sort of role do you think you would like, or would you rather meet those among us before deciding?" He seemed a soldier--or a guard--but Vargas would not assume on his behalf.

He looked, then, to Ruby-Beta. "You will be rewarded for finding this one--for bringing him to us. What is it you desire?"

@Ruby-Beta

It listened to their conversation, playing as aloof while it licked its wounds, but it listened to each word carefully, the thoughtful back and forth. It was nervous that it was all for nothing, that Azrael would find servitude to the Creator to be too much against his pride. But, to its surprise and delight, he chose to join.

And when Master Vargas turned to address it, Ruby-Beta turned and looked up, sitting up tall and proud, having finally - finally - gotten something right. Its judgment had been sound and its bit of planning paid off. And now the Forge was up one very powerful member and, more importantly for Beta, it had finally proven itself to Master Vargas and was granted a reward.

The answer came to it immediately. It had thought for a long time what reward it would choose and, while not very original, was something they wished they could have done from the start. "The freedom to roam, Master Vargas. Thank you." And to Azrael, it added, trying at the very least to be friendly, "Well, I think you'll like the Forge. I'm glad you decided to join. We'll have to hunt again soon."

It was with a strange measure of relief that there were powers outside the Creator in the caves, that not every bit within would serve some great, violent purpose. While Azrael did not mind bloodying his claws (in fact, he relished it), there were others - ones he cared about - that he never wanted to see battle. They were grown, yes, independent, of course, and he had not seen them in some time, but Forgraves had always been a healer, not a fighter. Banshy, perhaps, may grow to be a strong warrior, but he had always shown peaceful intentions. He would be the violent one, so that they did not have to be.

"I see," he rumbled. "Then there is no quarrel with them. They live their lives as they wish. Fine."

His next words stirred the beast within Azrael. A Master...from someone who was not one before? Was it possible, then, that simple gembound could rise to that role? Or something even greater then that? Even though he had only taken his first step, Azrael already felt himself yearning for more. An ambitious creature's first taste of power and the potential to grasp it for himself. The more powerful...the greater the freedom. He stood up taller and snorted loudly, heat blooming again in his chest, the glow against his skin growing brighter, his eyes literally gleaming from the pure fire that raged through his bones. Oh yes...if chaos rewarded power then he would embody it, as he had always done and dreamed to do - a ravager, a warrior, a force of destruction.

"Thank you," he rumbled, a sincere thank as he could give, but it was unclear what he thanked for - a place in the Forge or the path to power he had shown him. The glow dimmed as the magic faded, but he still felt excitement itching beneath his pelt. "Must you even ask? I am a FIGHTER, a DESTROYER. But I can hunt, as well. Lessers and Greaters alike. I will burn your enemies...and feed your soldiers. Is this role an acceptable one?" Azrael sure hoped that the Forge had enemies. It had been so long since he had anything worth fighting for.

He glanced at Ruby-Beta, eyes narrowed and twitching with faint amusement. Freedom to roam? So much work for the poor beast, only to be allowed to walk around the caves. If Vargas, or anyone else, tried to keep him in this tiny, dusty cave...well, the walls would crumble before he let it rest. "Yes. You are still weak and a COWARD, but if you are as good at hunting as you are at jabbering, then we shall have our rematch. But this time, I will WIN."

@Vargas

- THE LEVIATHAN -

"A good choice! Granted," he boomed at once, his tone one of approval. Travel opened one's horizons, allowed them to learn from others and challenge themselves in wholly new ways. "New experiences strengthen us."

Then he looked back to Azrael. He noted, with amusement, the flare of light and heat within the demon at his words. But its response--that of the eager soldier--was somehow unexpected to him. Perhaps he'd become too accustomed to his beasts--made for war--turning around and being rather simpering and softhearted wrecks. This creature was clearly an older design--one most certainly forged of Chaos, despite its fire--and pure in its destructive intent. He nodded. "Good. Perhaps I will arrange training soon--spars between our members--and you can get to know them then, and prove yourself. In the meantime--bring in that meat. I will judge when to proceed but meanwhile, Ruby-Beta, take him to see the rest of Draco. Warn him of the Black Spire," he added; the last thing he wanted was for their newest member to get melted on day one.

The 'coward' had him glancing quizzically, sidelong, at Ruby-Beta, though. He wondered if it might protest. Why had Azrael deemed it cowardly-? He wondered at that, though he did not judge; Ruby-Beta was part cat, designed for deadly ambush rather than outright battle.

"Introduce him to anyone you find," Vargas went on, at last. "And warn him of those who outrank him. Come back to me when either of you have need of me. Is that all?" he finished--in case either still had any questions.

When none were given, he moved off, a nod of his head indicating final approval.

@Ruby-Beta

exit due to inactivity (super late lol)