09-09-2016, 06:52 PM
Gunsynd
I wanna chain you up I wanna tie you down
Things were happening. He watched silently as they mingled in the meadow, as they spoke (some in hushed voices, some in grand proclamations) to one another. He saw alliances form, former relationships fall. It all happened so quickly. He had been caught up in it too - rushing like a river towards the falls. It had been intoxicating, something to keep him busy. But when he stepped back to observe he found that this new order was not to his liking.
Yes, he watched as they marched up the mountain in their little groups. He watched as they returned, oftentimes speaking excitedly about their pilgrimage to see mother earth herself. From this sort of passive espionage he found that his fears were now realized. She wanted their devotion, and would accept nothing less.
And he could have given it, perhaps, if a little begging could have returned his lover to him. But the lands that the mother gave were not what they once were. He had examined the new terrain, and found that it was different in every way from the way it should be. Completely unacceptable. He does not care for them, or their traits, or even his. Not unless he can have her back. Without her, nothing else matters.
Today, he stands at the base of the mountain awaiting the newest adventurers to descend and spew their stories to one another in excitement (how pathetic, do they have no pride?). He has decided that he will not bow to her. She has abused him grievously, and for this he owes her nothing. But while he waits he does ponder his next move. It is then that he notices it; that familiar pulsating sensation that is magic. But it is not on the mountain, it moves among them.
He feels this well before he hears the call (senses alert for any indication of where the source might be), and he is quick to move towards it. It is not long before he finds him - the god. Oh yes, he know of Carnage (anyone who has lived long enough is sure to have at least heard of him) and his connection to his beloved. Despite himself, he feels hope surge through him as he moves closer to hear the sermon.
He watches carefully as the grey being speaks, and knows well the lies behind the smile and the hidden truths that lurk beneath what is actually said. But he recognizes the resentfulness and the indignation, so he lets himself be carried forward. Like an insect drawn to its demise by the dance of flame, Gunsynd allows himself to believe that this creature will restore his Valley to him.
Others approach, some speaking, some remaining silent. He watches them, uninterested (except for the young Tundra mare who seems just too appetizing). When they are quieted he bows to the god (his god). “I am Gunsynd. Use me in whatever way you see fit.” He does not beg for the return of the Valley, for it does not cross his mind that the creature might not want to restore it. He does not beg for his powers, for if the god needs to use him, he will know that he will be far more useful with them restored.
Speaking his peace, he quiets once more and continues his observations. This is the path he will tread.
I M J U S T A S U C K E R F O R P A I N
I just have to say that everyone has written beautiful words and I am not worthy.