I will face god and walk backward into hell; team formation - Printable Version +- Beqanna (https://beqanna.com/forum) +-- Forum: Explore (https://beqanna.com/forum/forumdisplay.php?fid=1) +--- Forum: The Common Lands (https://beqanna.com/forum/forumdisplay.php?fid=72) +---- Forum: Meadow (https://beqanna.com/forum/forumdisplay.php?fid=3) +---- Thread: I will face god and walk backward into hell; team formation (/showthread.php?tid=11261) Pages:
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I will face god and walk backward into hell; team formation - Carnage - 09-08-2016 tl;dr - because he has 'god magic' Carnage still has powers, but he's sick, and they malfunction. - Carnage is looking for team members to join him to "take back" a land; so basically if your horse is mad about the change, or is easily swayed, or just likes Carnage a lot they can join! - FULL DISCLOSURE if this ends up in eventually getting a land Carnage 100% wants to rule it. i can promise this will be for, like, a month because he's actually super shitty to play. but if you sign on you sign on for a brief dictatorship. - PM me with any questions <3333 - the italicized paragraph is H.P. Lovecraft's, not mine! RE: I will face god and walk backward into hell; team formation - Harmonia - 09-08-2016 HARMONIA the pied piper RE: I will face god and walk backward into hell; team formation - Tioga - 09-08-2016 Tioga will be giving points to this cause RE: I will face god and walk backward into hell; team formation - Pollock - 09-08-2016 He does not care about their homes.
(Let the god read that from his mind, and judge him accordingly.)
Fuck their homes. His had been… unsatisfactory, as so many things in his life had been for so long. He had let that go. Shed the bindings of that word and that concept – let it die with the colt and boy (why won’t they die?); discarded it atop the mountains of misfit realities, things that fight his narrative and things that are senseless. Things of pine and castles of ice; polar bears and the sharp smell of melting plastic; hands and clothes sticking to his naked, hairless chest; the gurgling of babes and the loneliness sunk deep and heavy.
Let them die. Let them be forgotten, all.
He comes for fleshy things.
He comes for bodily pleasures.
He comes for things that are his.
(The bitch. That greedy, larcenous...)
Things that had been taken away when She had found herself used to abuse.
Had they not been Her monsters? If they bit Her flesh, was it not because She had inadequately cowed them when She had the chance to contain? He feels no sympathy, though She rolls beneath him and She bleeds him – She makes him mountains to climb without his nimble feet. Amusing.
He feels no remorse. She had taken his trinkets – these, at least, he had been given through natural means – fertilization, growth, all things that are Hers. Earthly.
But so too has She taken his weapons. No. This would not do.
They had not been fashioned of Her magic. She should have felt that when She slaked herself on them – those horns and feet, the Fear. That the make of those things were not her craft, but cold and iron, and jingled with the soft, cheery songs of another universe entire. Those efficient and brutal parts of him – the godly parts, not as magnificent as Harmonia’s, certainly not Carnage’s, but they had satisfied him. The things he had made! The beautiful, abstract expressionism... He had fought and fallen and killed for them, across continents and Atlantics.
Yet she had taken them all the same. Asked him to kneel for them. To kiss her ring.
No. This would not do, at all.
He follows the summons like another kind of pilgrimage – this one is easier, more benevolent. It does not seek to choke him, or trip Bruise (his son, he hurries along with a great, strange wing, to keep pace – he wonders where Sinew is, who had once nourished the dark god's disciple), and though he does not get to feel the weight of his headgear or the electric plunge into invisibility when he gets to Carnage, there is a different kind of fulfillment than when he reaches the climax of stone. The Father (for Pollock, a handful of greats back) offers something more substantial. Reclamation, pounding like a war drum.
... besides, he has always hated mothers.
The other golden wretch of this land speaks, the second does not (he wonders, fleetingly, if she does not scream either; he is who he is) but gesticulates, they pledge and the gift-giver considers.
“Yet she has been so very generous to the penitent thus far.” His lip curls and he dips his head, still resting a wing over his son’s back and side, something like protection. He is not one to follow, try as he had – not since he had been remade; he had been a wolf and shepherd in gold cloth since – but he finds stimulation in the chaos and vengeance that coats their lungs. “Fuck them. I have... stuff I need to do. For that, I need myself back. Whole. Besides, I think they need us.”
Even if they do not appreciate.
Balance.
RE: I will face god and walk backward into hell; team formation - Igni - 09-09-2016 She’s drawn to them, like a mot lured to a flame. Ever since the change happened she had been alone. In the Tundra she had spent quite a lot time on her own too, but that had been different. Familiar faces had always been near. It had been days since she had last seen someone she knew – before the change to be exact. She’s lonely and doesn’t understand what is going on. Her home had disappeared and the kingdom members, including her parents, were nowhere to be found. It makes Igni feel even more lonely, as there is no-one around to help her get back up. Never before had she felt so helpless and alone. It are all strangers too her, but she finds comfort in their presence and the gray stallion’s words. He talks about a god – addresses it as her – but then he speaks about himself as a god like creature too. One god was angry with them, and the other wanted them to take back what they had lost? It confuses the blue roan girl, but she cannot say that his words don’t sound alluring. If there were two gods and two ways, why would theirs be wrong? And so she stays, happy that she has found a place to belong again. ”Please.. please build us a home” she requests softly, voice barely audible as she looks up with awe at the gray stranger that had introduced himself as Carnage. OOC: So, Igni isn’t evil at all, just a headstrong former Tundra pony that is eager to prove herself and her worth. She is young, lonely, confused and scared. So she would easily believe that Carnage is doing this for them and truly wants to help and such. RE: I will face god and walk backward into hell; team formation - Gunsynd - 09-09-2016 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. RE: I will face god and walk backward into hell; team formation - Raelynx - 09-10-2016 I love the way that your heart breaks with every injustice and deadly fate It is so rare for him to feel true emotion. So often, there is nothing truly worthy of feeling, of anything beyond mild interest, or amusement, or complete disregard. But now. Now, he is angry. Seething, if truth be told. For a monster who so rarely feels a thing, it is truly impressive. Raelynx RE: I will face god and walk backward into hell; team formation - Rodrik - 09-11-2016
RE: I will face god and walk backward into hell; team formation - violence - 09-11-2016 violence I’d stay the hand of god, but war is on your lips RE: I will face god and walk backward into hell; team formation - bruise - 09-11-2016 Loyalty is an unfamiliar curse that does not flow through his veins. He does not tie himself to others, does not pledge himself to causes. Even though he is a young boy, still spindly in his youth, he recognizes that in himself. The only loyalty that could be argued was that of him to his father, the golden monster by his side, and even that could be argued as self-serving. He had things to learn from Pollock, tricks and skills to master—or, at least, he would as soon as he could get such gifts back from whatever cruel mistress saw fit to strip him of them. He was not like his sire. He had not been born bare of the true Gifts; he had not known that from a young age. He had, instead, been given a sweet taste of Fear’s nectar and then had it taken from him. He had been allowed to walk down the mountain with nimble feet, generous horns curving beautifully from his skull. He had known what it meant to master your own body—to traverse dangerous paths without concern. He had even known the darker corners of his gift. He had seen beauty and art when he had pulled on the thread of Fear and the mare had collapsed. He had known love in that moment. He had let her name him, unknowingly. He had loved her. [He still thinks of her, coat of cream and eyes of emerald. He will think of it often.] But then, then the faeries had stripped him of his gifts. Wrenched them from him for the sins of others and that would not do. That would not be an injustice he took willingly. So he walks next to his father, aching for the gifts of agility and speed that had been but briefly his own. He walks and then stands silently next to him as they pledge themselves to dark god—a magician of powers beyond his imagination. A dark god who had committed atrocities he could not comprehend. Bruise found he did not care of it much at all. He would not pledge his loyalty or give unnecessarily, but he would stand behind him if he could get back what was his. He would join alongside his father if he was to take back what was rightfully his own. So he nods toward Carnage, surprisingly hard and stern for his age. He knew that Carnage did not need them, did not care for their best interests (he would not, if he was Carnage), but this, he does not care about either. He did not need the dark god to love him or protect him like a lamb. He needed Carnage to tear apart limbs and rip apart the earth until it spit up their gifts, until Fear once again was his to wield. Bruise head like a hole; as black as your soul. |