<link href='http://fonts.googleapis.com/css?family=Alegreya+SC' rel='stylesheet' type='text/css'><style type="text/css">.carnage_container{position:relative;z-index:1;width:460px;font:12px 'Times New Roman', serif;background:#040308 url('http://web.qx.net/zamora/stars-notdistorted.png');border-radius:300px 300px 0 0;border:1px solid #000;box-shadow:0 0 10px #000;}.carnage_container p{margin:0;}.carnage_container img{margin-bottom:-200px;border-radius:300px 300px 0 0;}.carnage_gradient{position:absolute;z-index:10;top:500px;left:15px;width:430px;height:100px;background:-moz-linear-gradient(top, rgba(118,118,118,0) 0%, rgba(76,76,76,0.8) 100%);background:-webkit-gradient(linear, left top, left bottom, color-stop(0%,rgba(118,118,118,0)), color-stop(100%,rgba(76,76,76,0.8)));background:-webkit-linear-gradient(top, rgba(118,118,118,0) 0%,rgba(76,76,76,0.8) 100%);background:-o-linear-gradient(top, rgba(118,118,118,0) 0%,rgba(76,76,76,0.8) 100%);background:-ms-linear-gradient(top, rgba(118,118,118,0) 0%,rgba(76,76,76,0.8) 100%);background:linear-gradient(to bottom, rgba(118,118,118,0) 0%,rgba(76,76,76,0.8) 100%);filter:progid
XImageTransform.Microsoft.gradient( startColorstr='#00767676', endColorstr='#cc4c4c4c',GradientType=0 );}.carnage_message{position:relative;z-index:10;width:400px;background:rgba(76,76,76,0.8);text-align:justify;padding:15px;color:#CCDDE6;}.carnage_quote{position:relative;z-index:15;text-align:center;top:-20px;font:18px 'Alegreya SC', serif;color:#B34747;text-shadow:1px 1px 4px #441211;}.carnage_name{position:relative;z-index:15;padding-top:10px;text-align:center;font:28px 'Alegreya SC', serif;color:#B34747;text-shadow:1px 1px 4px #441211;}</style><center><div class="carnage_container"><img src="https://i.postimg.cc/85yyTfqG/can-rage.jpg"><div class="carnage_gradient"></div><div class="carnage_message"><p class="carnage_quote">lord, I fashion dark gods too;</p>
He does not waste time. Sixteen come, in the end, though he isn’t sure they will all persevere – if anyone perseveres at all. He surveys them briefly, before getting to know them in a more intimate way – through death.
This is, of course, entirely unnecessary – he could have simply cast them to the afterlife without such fanfare. But where’s the fun in that? Besides, he envisions this as a sort of test. And he wants them to truly belong in the afterlife, wants them to be occupants, not voyeurs. It might matter. It might not.
He tears the first apart, leaves her drowning in blood.
The second is a surprise, and he laughs when he sees her. She tries to needle him, and it might have worked, once, when he was younger and his pride was a less steady thing, but now, he is simply silent as he tears her to pieces. He considers taking her magic for his own, but leaves it – he does not want to bother with such old, dusty things.
The third is Ryatah’s daughter – though not by him – and he wonders if her mother knows, or cares. He kills her quickly, and perhaps it is out of kindness, or something like it.
A shadow creature. He’s met such things before, bred them himself, and he is curious to see what happens when such a thing is unmade.
Another magician, then – don’t they know better? – and he kills her most gruesomely, rats pouring from her mouth. He considers taking her magic, too, but when he touches it something sparks in him, like static electricity, and he leaves it be. White magic has no place with a dark god.
The radioactive one – his own daughter - is easy, he simply mutes her power for a moment, and her own body does the work for him.
The next also has ties – his father helped raise Pangea, did he not? – but it does not stop Carnage from taking pleasure in turning the mountain lion onto him.
The next has died before, he senses, and he wonders if it will be beneficial, to have someone experienced in the art. He burns him alive.
He takes a definite pleasure in Ashhal’s death – though Carnage has largely surpassed jealousy, he’s not so evolved that he doesn’t take a certain pleasure in rending the stallion to nothingness. He makes a note to tell Ryatah of this, later.
Another mare, in thunder and colors, wood in her chest, making and unmaking her.
A child, then. He doesn’t hesitate, of course. She cracks beneath him, bones delicate as a bird.
A mare who faces dying with an impotent bravery. He burns her, too.
A old mare comes, one whose name seems almost familiar. He wonders if their paths have crossed before, and then he turns her heart to shards and watches her collapse.
Another child of his, this one star-laced. He remembers her mother, which is more than he can say for many. He’d named this one, had her not? Not that it matters – there is no nostalgia as he shackles her, drowns her.
The next is deaf, and he takes a sick pleasure in letting her glimpse sound, and then killing her with it.
The last to come is a stallion with a dragon inside him, and the dark god makes quick work of him as well, light pouring from him.
Finally, it is over, and he surveys the menagerie of corpses at the beach. There is a pleasure in such heedless slaughter, all in his name. He takes in the massacre a moment longer, and then reaches out to their waiting souls, the ghosts in the afterlife.
The afterlife itself looks much like the beach they have just departed. But it has a certain air about it, the colors washed from it. And unlike the beach they had just stood upon, the beach in the afterlife has a fog in the distance, thick and white. He looks at it for a moment, curious – it had not been there when he’d last visited, and the afterlife so rarely changed. He wonders how it came about, and figures he will know soon enough, once he sends them forth.
<i>There’s a place,</i> he tells them, his voice booming in their minds, <i>where the reality of the afterlife grows thin. Where it’s rubbed up against something, I think. Worn down. It’s not far from here. Just head further down the beach. Into the fog. </i>
What he does not tell them is that he has not stood directly before this spot, only sensed it. He had hated that buzzing noise so! He can hear it now, faintly, through their eyes, but it is more tolerable here, a world removed.
<i>You’ll hear a buzzing. Soon, if not now. The louder it is, the closer you are. It’s not…pleasant. There may be other things too, in that fog, so stay sharp. Though what are they going to do, kill you?</i>
He laughs – it echoes in their minds, unpleasant - and does not say that there are so many things worse than death.
<i>Good luck</i> he tells them, and then he is gone from their minds, and they are left to find their way to the next door, the next gateway.
NOTES:
- You are in the afterlife, which currently looks like a drab, grayer version of the beach, with a thick fog in the distance. There is a faint, insectile buzzing. Head off into the fog.
- Bad news – the fog has some…. interesting effects. Good news – you can decide what! As you travel through the fog, it must cause at least one (1) obstacle for you. This can be mental (going mad, emotional breakdown), physical (the fog itself starts to poison you), or other (are there…monsters in the fog? Maybe!).
- Also, and its own unrelated obstacle, as you move through the fog you start to notice an insectile buzzing, kind of like locusts. As you move closer to your destination, it grows louder, then almost unbearable – at the end, you can’t hear anything but the noise, and you can feel it grinding in your bones.
- You’ll stop a cliff, which is not a mirror of anything that exists in Beqanna. Wait there for the next set of instructions!
- Traits are allowed, but they’re noticeably weaker on this side of the afterlife. Furthermore, the further you move through the fog, if you use traits, they will start to misfire (you try to heal but injure yourself instead) or not work at all. By the time you reach the cliff, no traits are useable at all.
- If you have any questions, feel free to message me here or on Discord!
- Replies are due at or before <b>11:59 PM CST on Friday, August 14th</b>. If you need to withdraw, message me. Failure to reply without officially withdrawing will result in elimination and a defect.
<p class="carnage_name">c a r n a g e</p></div></div></center>
XImageTransform.Microsoft.gradient( startColorstr='#00767676', endColorstr='#cc4c4c4c',GradientType=0 );}.carnage_message{position:relative;z-index:10;width:400px;background:rgba(76,76,76,0.8);text-align:justify;padding:15px;color:#CCDDE6;}.carnage_quote{position:relative;z-index:15;text-align:center;top:-20px;font:18px 'Alegreya SC', serif;color:#B34747;text-shadow:1px 1px 4px #441211;}.carnage_name{position:relative;z-index:15;padding-top:10px;text-align:center;font:28px 'Alegreya SC', serif;color:#B34747;text-shadow:1px 1px 4px #441211;}</style><center><div class="carnage_container"><img src="https://i.postimg.cc/85yyTfqG/can-rage.jpg"><div class="carnage_gradient"></div><div class="carnage_message"><p class="carnage_quote">lord, I fashion dark gods too;</p>He does not waste time. Sixteen come, in the end, though he isn’t sure they will all persevere – if anyone perseveres at all. He surveys them briefly, before getting to know them in a more intimate way – through death.
This is, of course, entirely unnecessary – he could have simply cast them to the afterlife without such fanfare. But where’s the fun in that? Besides, he envisions this as a sort of test. And he wants them to truly belong in the afterlife, wants them to be occupants, not voyeurs. It might matter. It might not.
He tears the first apart, leaves her drowning in blood.
The second is a surprise, and he laughs when he sees her. She tries to needle him, and it might have worked, once, when he was younger and his pride was a less steady thing, but now, he is simply silent as he tears her to pieces. He considers taking her magic for his own, but leaves it – he does not want to bother with such old, dusty things.
The third is Ryatah’s daughter – though not by him – and he wonders if her mother knows, or cares. He kills her quickly, and perhaps it is out of kindness, or something like it.
A shadow creature. He’s met such things before, bred them himself, and he is curious to see what happens when such a thing is unmade.
Another magician, then – don’t they know better? – and he kills her most gruesomely, rats pouring from her mouth. He considers taking her magic, too, but when he touches it something sparks in him, like static electricity, and he leaves it be. White magic has no place with a dark god.
The radioactive one – his own daughter - is easy, he simply mutes her power for a moment, and her own body does the work for him.
The next also has ties – his father helped raise Pangea, did he not? – but it does not stop Carnage from taking pleasure in turning the mountain lion onto him.
The next has died before, he senses, and he wonders if it will be beneficial, to have someone experienced in the art. He burns him alive.
He takes a definite pleasure in Ashhal’s death – though Carnage has largely surpassed jealousy, he’s not so evolved that he doesn’t take a certain pleasure in rending the stallion to nothingness. He makes a note to tell Ryatah of this, later.
Another mare, in thunder and colors, wood in her chest, making and unmaking her.
A child, then. He doesn’t hesitate, of course. She cracks beneath him, bones delicate as a bird.
A mare who faces dying with an impotent bravery. He burns her, too.
A old mare comes, one whose name seems almost familiar. He wonders if their paths have crossed before, and then he turns her heart to shards and watches her collapse.
Another child of his, this one star-laced. He remembers her mother, which is more than he can say for many. He’d named this one, had her not? Not that it matters – there is no nostalgia as he shackles her, drowns her.
The next is deaf, and he takes a sick pleasure in letting her glimpse sound, and then killing her with it.
The last to come is a stallion with a dragon inside him, and the dark god makes quick work of him as well, light pouring from him.
Finally, it is over, and he surveys the menagerie of corpses at the beach. There is a pleasure in such heedless slaughter, all in his name. He takes in the massacre a moment longer, and then reaches out to their waiting souls, the ghosts in the afterlife.
The afterlife itself looks much like the beach they have just departed. But it has a certain air about it, the colors washed from it. And unlike the beach they had just stood upon, the beach in the afterlife has a fog in the distance, thick and white. He looks at it for a moment, curious – it had not been there when he’d last visited, and the afterlife so rarely changed. He wonders how it came about, and figures he will know soon enough, once he sends them forth.
<i>There’s a place,</i> he tells them, his voice booming in their minds, <i>where the reality of the afterlife grows thin. Where it’s rubbed up against something, I think. Worn down. It’s not far from here. Just head further down the beach. Into the fog. </i>
What he does not tell them is that he has not stood directly before this spot, only sensed it. He had hated that buzzing noise so! He can hear it now, faintly, through their eyes, but it is more tolerable here, a world removed.
<i>You’ll hear a buzzing. Soon, if not now. The louder it is, the closer you are. It’s not…pleasant. There may be other things too, in that fog, so stay sharp. Though what are they going to do, kill you?</i>
He laughs – it echoes in their minds, unpleasant - and does not say that there are so many things worse than death.
<i>Good luck</i> he tells them, and then he is gone from their minds, and they are left to find their way to the next door, the next gateway.
NOTES:
- You are in the afterlife, which currently looks like a drab, grayer version of the beach, with a thick fog in the distance. There is a faint, insectile buzzing. Head off into the fog.
- Bad news – the fog has some…. interesting effects. Good news – you can decide what! As you travel through the fog, it must cause at least one (1) obstacle for you. This can be mental (going mad, emotional breakdown), physical (the fog itself starts to poison you), or other (are there…monsters in the fog? Maybe!).
- Also, and its own unrelated obstacle, as you move through the fog you start to notice an insectile buzzing, kind of like locusts. As you move closer to your destination, it grows louder, then almost unbearable – at the end, you can’t hear anything but the noise, and you can feel it grinding in your bones.
- You’ll stop a cliff, which is not a mirror of anything that exists in Beqanna. Wait there for the next set of instructions!
- Traits are allowed, but they’re noticeably weaker on this side of the afterlife. Furthermore, the further you move through the fog, if you use traits, they will start to misfire (you try to heal but injure yourself instead) or not work at all. By the time you reach the cliff, no traits are useable at all.
- If you have any questions, feel free to message me here or on Discord!
- Replies are due at or before <b>11:59 PM CST on Friday, August 14th</b>. If you need to withdraw, message me. Failure to reply without officially withdrawing will result in elimination and a defect.
<p class="carnage_name">c a r n a g e</p></div></div></center>