• Logout
  • Beqanna

    COTY

    Assailant -- Year 226

    QOTY

    "But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura


    Thread Rating:
    • 0 Vote(s) - 0 Average
    • 1
    • 2
    • 3
    • 4
    • 5
    I will face god and walk backwards into hell; a 'petition'
    #1

    and lord, I fashion dark gods too;


    He has called, and they have answered. They come, they add their voice to his, and it powers him. They are a group defied, and though he has no love for them - only knows a handful of their names – they are rivulets coming together into a stream that feeds the ocean. They are necessary. Their fury is like fire and he is a man who has always adored fire.

    When there are enough of them, he goes to the mountain. Some of them follow. Some do not. It doesn’t matter – he has what he needs, from them.
    He doesn’t change when he crosses back over. None of his powers return. He is feverish still, a slow and dulling pain in his belly. But never mind that. He is a god
    (a sick god)
    and he has come to take what is owed to him.

    He knows how the process should go – he should fall to his knees and beg, denounce his own worthiness, repent of his sins (as if he could even remember them all). Even if he did all this, he knows, she would not listen – he is a cancer inside her, they coexist, but tentatively so. She sickens him, and he her.
    Sunrise, sunset.
    “I have the support,” he says. The fairy’s eyes are hard on him, glittering with disdain and fury. He wonders if fairies burn.
    “Give us a land.”
    He does not ask – he demands.

    You are not welcome here, she tells him. Or maybe he’s imagined it. But this was all a formality, anyway. He never expected to be given a land.
    Luckily he does not need to be given what he can simply take, instead.

    He gathers his magic, and it feels like lead inside him, throbs in his veins the way an infected tooth might throb in one's mouth. But he ignores the pain, which grows stronger as his magic cycles up, prepares for his newest creation, his masterpiece.
    A land in his honor, a new valley, built on – built from – ashes. He can see it in his mind. It will be beautiful.

    He mutters a word, guttural and strange, a piece of a long-forgotten and eldritch language.
    The word means: create.
    (He has always been a better destroyer than he has a creator.)
    The earth quakes as it shifts, as a new land is born – wrenched – from Beqanna, created not by the fairies, not by Beqanna herself, but by its dark god, its cancer.

    The pain inside him grows, awful and flaring. He is not unused to pain , but this pain is like wildfire, uncontrollable. He screams, primal and anguished, feels like he is being torn apart, but he does not stop this terrible creation even as Beqanna resists him, sickens him.
    He creates. God help him, he creates.

    What is wrenched forth is not the valley as he envisioned it. What he has created instead is a wasteland, a cancerous land for a cancerous god. It is the birth-thing of sick magic and a defiant land, hideous and barren, dead earth and alkaline water.

    The pain subsides, from fire to embers, with the act of creation finished, with a new, awful land sprawled out before them. It is not the valley, but it is fitting. It is his.
    (Never mind it was not his intention to make this. Never mind he had wanted a valley. Never mind his magic just malfunctioned, betrayed him. Never mind the fever. Never mind, never mind.)
    “It’s done,” he says, and his voice is slightly raspy, throat made raw from the screams of creation, “we have taken what she will not give.”
    Though what poor treasure it is – this wasteland. This terrible kingdom.
    And he, the king. Once again.

    Sunrise, sunset.

    c a r n a g e



    tl;dr
    - since fairies won't grant Carnage's 'request,' he took matters into his own sick, malfunctioning hands and attempted to create a new valley for himself and those recruited. this failed, due to his magic malfunctioning, so instead he created the wastelands. good job, carnage.

    points: http://beqanna.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=11382
    from this thread: http://beqanna.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=11261
    Carnage is redeeming 50 of his points for this land even though he's a jerk and 'made' one himself.
    Reply
    #2
    Gunsynd
    I wanna chain you up       I wanna tie you down

    From the gathering the monster follows his god to the mountain. Unlike the countless others that had climbed its slopes to ask forgiveness, he would offer no such sentiment. His god would demand what was theirs in defiance, not grovel in submission. He would soon be reunited with his mistress. 

    As he climbs the steep slopes he feels his power returning to him. His wings return to his shoulders, the transparent flesh webbed between leather-covered bones. He flexes them and feels his body shudder with the joy of the sensation. He regains the mastery of his body and he feels himself grow lighter, less dense. A predatory snarl makes its way to his lips as he anticipates the meeting to come. 

    His god does not disappoint. Gunsynd watches the grey creature face the fairy without fear, without hesitation. A similar fire that burns in his dark eyes - he is so close to regaining his home. And then he begins - his god of destruction and fear turns his powers towards something new. He stands by his side as the world turns inside out and upside down at his request. He watches the display with awe. 

    He ignores the screams, ignores the pain etched on the creator’s face. (Creation is pain, he had birthed children, he knew this to be true.) He aches for his lover, his mistress. Here she is, on the brink of being reborn. His breath catches in his throat as the earth shakes in defiance. He steals a glance at the terrible fairy creature in this, the moment of his god’s victory and laughs in deep guttural satisfaction.

    He cannot see the land from where they stand. But Carnage quiets and declares he is finished. This is enough for the beast. He feels the weight of loss lifted from him. She had been reborn to him. They would watch her grow (he and his god, together). She would be delighted with him, and they would begin their games anew. It had all been a test of his devotion. He had won.

    The monster revels in this great victory. He turns to the grey god and bows his head in full view of the fairy. “You have succeeded where all others have failed. You have returned what is rightfully ours. You are the only one worthy of devotion. Shape us to better serve you. Make us whole so that we may protect what you have conceived.” The beast is almost rabid with excitement. His words flow forth with the conviction of the most devout. He is ready to begin.

    I M   J U S T   A   S U C K E R   F O R   P A I N


    @[Cassi]

    So Gunsynd can’t see the land that Carnage actually created, so he assumes that Carnage was completely successful in recreating the Valley. He requests that Carnage return his gifts to help serve the Valley. Of course I don’t have enough points yet, so I’m gonna go with Self-Manipulation for now since that’s the biggest one. Using 30 points which can be seen here: http://beqanna.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=11425 This should take him down to 0 points, or 1 after this post Tongue
    Gunsynd is currently pretending to be someone else! He is now 15hh, hybrid, flea-bitten grey with clear blue eyes and goes by the name of Ginkgo. He will not have use of his traits while he is in this form. Please play as if he is simply the other persona unless your character has some sort of mind-reading. Thanks! <3
    Reply
    #3

    Love is friendship set on fire ...
    She follows him from the meadow towards the mountain, blindly. To Igni the mountain only holds bad memories and even though most seemed happy to be there and have their powers back, Igni feels like she doesn’t belong in that world. Not too long after her birth Beqanna had taken their kingdom magic, leaving the blue roan girl to grow up without it. She didn’t look at the magic as a bad thing, but it simply wasn’t pointed out for her. To reach her goals she would simply have to use a different path.

    It is her god, so it is only natural for her to follow him to the vale, right? It is there that she awaits his return, watching from below. Not that she can see much, but she can hear the screams. They get to her, making her shiver and cast her gaze down. Their god went through all that for them, to help them, to care for them, so she can only feel amazed as he goes through it, respecting and adore him for doing it. Oh, if Igni only knew about his real motives.

    Then there is the black one. Tall and muscular. He could rival uncle Offspring and if the Tundra would’ve been there still, he would have been the type of horse she would’ve tried to recruit. After all, in Igni’s eyes he was the perfect example of a valuable member. That was the same thing that had attracted her to Lior. It was like she saw him again – she had lost him during the change or maybe she just hadn’t found him yet – but seeing this stranger her heart fluttered all over again. Yes, the once Tundra mare had found her next crush with ease.

    Where she would genuinely honour and love Carnage for his godly being, it would be Gunsynd (and his son Lior) who made her heart flutter. He simply seemed so perfect and nobody would be able to disagree with her on him being handsome. Because he was handsome as fuck.
    ... and fire is the burning passion within.
    Reply




    Users browsing this thread: 2 Guest(s)