09-19-2016, 03:35 PM
Gunsynd
I wanna chain you up I wanna tie you down
He had asked, and he had received. They had stood together on the slopes of the offensive mountain in defiance. And they had won. The fact that things had not gone precisely as planned does not reach him, he stands firm in his convictions. He would follow his god into hell if he only asked it of him. Little did he know how close he would come.
He feels the god’s gaze on him before his eyes process the image before him. A shiver of anticipation makes its way imperceptibly down his spine. And then the magic hits him; so unlike all magic he has experienced thus far. This was deeper, darker, more primordial. This magic is what the world was made of, what caused the earth the orbit the sun, what caused their hearts to beat. It was sharp… hot. While the process had been nothing but a pang of stomach pain for the god, Gunsynd felt the pain of his DNA being mutated acutely. When his power had been drained from him he had been put to sleep, but awake as he is, he wishes for the comfort of unconsciousness.
He grits his teeth and his eyes are wide from the searing pain. It seems to start at his hooves and slowly, methodically, work its way upwards like a flame. It rips him open and puts him back together again, slashing at his every molecule and cauterizing the seams with the heat of the dark magic. As it rises to his organs the pain becomes unbearable - it consumes him and a scream erupts from deep within his lungs. With whatever senses he has left he can see that his god speaks, then turns and heads down the mountain. Gunsynd cannot follow, cannot move a muscle. His brain screams at his body to move, to obey. But there is only pain and white-hot magic.
The whole ordeal takes only moments, but to the monster it seems a lifetime is spent awash in nothing but pain and magic. There is nothing else. It kills all of his other senses and his only wish is to collapse, to die, to make it stop. But there is no escape from it, as it works its way into his brain he wants nothing more than to lose consciousness and fall into the black abyss but the magic will not let him go that easily. Scream after scream is emitted from him but he can’t even hear the sound over the overwhelming sensations within his head.
And then it is over. The god’s magic leaves him, and he crumples, his legs folding beneath him like they were made of string. His heavy head hits the rocky ground and finally the soft sweet land of nothingness envelops him.
It is night when he awakens. The darkness makes it difficult for him to discern that he is back, but slowly his eyes register the moon hanging in the sky above him and then the stars that surround it. He senses the pain in his muscles and he stirs, lifting his head and shaking the dizziness away. Laboriously he rises to his feet and stands quivering in the moonlight, made new. Where there were once memories he feels now feels empty, liberated. The only thing on his mind is following the trail of his god’s magic down the mountain and into the land that it has created.
There are no thoughts of fairies. He does not think the mountain strange. He does not pine for the loss of a lover. He only moves one foot in front of another until he finds the wasteland. He knows that this is home. The same magic that made it has remade him. He feels it in his bones, that he and the land are the same. Cancerous, sick, ghastly. But here nevertheless. He finds the god with ease and his words reverberate within his skull. Some things come to light - the fairy, the anger, the defiance. But there is a sick, sharp pain in his brain when he thinks about it so he turns instead to matters at hand.
“I am here to stay.” He says almost too readily (the words are raspy and cause his throat to burn, though he can’t remember the screams that are the cause of his discomfort). “Use me as you see fit.”
I M J U S T A S U C K E R F O R P A I N
Sorry for the word vomit. Gunsynd is here and wants to be on the board
All my pretend votes go to naming the place Skaro <3