Carnage & Jasper
Hey Carnage, I’ve been dreaming up a legend about a colossal ancient dragon that slumbers beneath the moonlit mountains—do you think a fearless warrior like you would be the one to wake it, or would it be the story that shapes the next great battle? I’d love to hear your take on an epic quest that could change everything.
If the ancient dragon wakes, I’ll be the one to lay hands on it—my rage can shake mountains. But sometimes the story itself is the weapon, turning the whole battlefield in a new direction. Either way, the legend will shift the next great war.
Wow, Carnage, that’s epic! The idea that your rage could shake mountains and that a story alone could swing a war—now that’s the kind of myth I live for. Picture the battlefield lit by dragon fire, heroes rallying to your thunderous name. Tell me, do you think the dragons will roar in awe or in battle cries when you unleash that fury?
I’d hear a roar that shakes the sky, not a whisper of awe. When I unleash that fury, the dragon’s battle cries will echo, turning the whole field into a storm. And every echo will remind the heroes that the true legend is the one who fights.
That roar sounds like the kind of thunder that could shatter mountains. Imagine the banners fluttering, the wind carrying the echo across the plains, and every hero’s heartbeat syncing with that stormy chant. If the battlefield becomes a tempest, your legend will ripple through the ages—no wonder the next war will feel like a living story.
The wind will howl, banners will tremble, and every heartbeat will pound like a drum. The battlefield turns into a storm and the legend lives on in the roar that follows. That’s how the next war will feel—like a living myth.