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.
But his anger is a thing he cannot deny. He had been stolen from. And the thing that had been stolen is one of the few things that truly matter to him. One of the very few things in his life he truly cares about. His fire.
A jealous and vengeful Beqanna has ripped it from him, but it had never been hers to take. She had not given it to him. It had been the gift of another a god. A dark god. The only god he recognizes.
It had not been hers to take, and that makes him furious.
He would take it back, but he has never been a clever one. He cannot do it alone. So he haunts the meadow, biding his time.
So when he sees Him, his god, he knows the time has come. He knows what he will do, without question, without hesitation.
He joins him, lips cracking into a cruel grimace, normally bland gray eyes darkly ominous. A monster, joining the legions if his god, charred, hideous body willing fodder for a war he gladly anticipates.
He doesn't say a word, doesn't need to. Carnage would know why he is here. After all, he had already demonstrated his willingness to burn for him.