<link href="https://fonts.googleapis.com/css?family=Average" rel="stylesheet"><style>#ashhalnekkie{width:542px;border:25px #000000 solid;border-radius:400px 400px 0px 0px;overflow:hidden;}#ashhalnekkiepic{position:relative;z-index:0;margin-top:0;}#ashhalnekkiecontainer{background:-webkit-linear-gradient(top, rgba(113,113,113,0), rgba(113,113,113,1)150px);background:-o-linear-gradient(bottom, rgba(113,113,113,0), rgba(113,113,113,1)150px);background:-moz-linear-gradient(top, rgba(113,113,113,0), rgba(113,113,113,1)150px);background:-linear-gradient(to bottom, rgba(113,113,113,0), rgba(113,113,113,1)150px);background:-ms-linear-gradient(top, rgba(113,113,113,0), rgba(113,113,113,1)150px);width:542px;position:relative;z-index:1;margin-top:-160px;padding-top:100px;}#ashhalnekkietext{font-family: 'Average', serif;font-size:14px;color:#bfbfbf;width:450px;margin-bottom:0px;}#ashhalnekkiequote{font-family: 'Average', serif;font-size:15px;text-transform:uppercase;line-height:14px;color:#ffffff;}</style><center><div id="ashhalnekkie"><div id="ashhalnekkiepic"><img src="https://i.postimg.cc/3N0LWsPr/Ashhal3.jpg"/></div><div id="ashhalnekkiecontainer"><p id="ashhalnekkiequote">I tried to sell my soul last night<br/>Funny, he wouldn't even take a bite</p><p id="ashhalnekkietext" align="justify">The incessant buzzing grinds in his bones and rattles his teeth, making dwelling on his recent hell impossible. Even Carnage’s voice echoing once more in his mind fails to draw ire as it had before. Though he would be damned if he’d be a fucking puppet, jumping into the maw that grows and glimmers beneath the crumbling cliff is beginning to sound better and better with each passing moment (if for no other reason that to end this misery).
Death had never frightened him. And after seeing the endless existence he had most feared (a fear he had tried to bury deep), even the unknown hell waiting inside that portal could not inspire a matching fear.
And so, with gritted teeth, he jumps. Though his wings spread wide by force of habit, they do nothing to blunt the fall (as though they simply could not catch air here where the afterlife is every kind of wrong). The mouth gobbles him eagerly, plunging him into an endless, decaying pitch.
He can feel the way it tears at him, as much a physical sensation as it is a mental one. It delves through every fiber of his existence with greedy hunger, seeking, plundering. And it sure as hell finds plenty to plunder. Over a century of memories (a hellish existence, when replayed through this grotesque lens). It sees everything, the things that matter and the things he would rid himself of if given the chance.
But that is not what it wants. As he falls for what seems like eternity, he knows (<i>he fucking knows</i>) it doesn’t want the things he rejects. It wants the things he clings to, even if he hates the way he clings.
In the end, he is so goddamn helpless against it. It Devours. Like a bowl of ramen, it unravels the twisted, tangled bits and slurps at them greedily, ripping them from his skull. Until even the oldest and most faded pieces of his memory reach the surface. Briefly. Before they too are taken.
Until the bones are sucked clean and he is spit out the other side, hollowed out and emptied of all that which once defined him. His memories, both good and bad, ripped clean away.
For a moment he lay crumpled, the ringing in his head as unbearable as the soundless vibration in his bones. When he picks himself up and shakes himself, the ringing dissipates, leaving only the humming clarity of his newly undefined existence. And as he looks around, he can tell this world is a strange one, though he’s not certain why. The warping of the land around him, the disturbing undulation of lines that shouldn’t move, stir an unease deep within but no understanding of why he doesn’t like it.
He knows only that he needs out. As quickly as possible.
If it even is possible.</p><img src="https://i.postimg.cc/s1FTWnrY/Ashhal_Name2.png"/></div></div></center>
Edit: Ashhal lost his memories to the door/mouth
Death had never frightened him. And after seeing the endless existence he had most feared (a fear he had tried to bury deep), even the unknown hell waiting inside that portal could not inspire a matching fear.
And so, with gritted teeth, he jumps. Though his wings spread wide by force of habit, they do nothing to blunt the fall (as though they simply could not catch air here where the afterlife is every kind of wrong). The mouth gobbles him eagerly, plunging him into an endless, decaying pitch.
He can feel the way it tears at him, as much a physical sensation as it is a mental one. It delves through every fiber of his existence with greedy hunger, seeking, plundering. And it sure as hell finds plenty to plunder. Over a century of memories (a hellish existence, when replayed through this grotesque lens). It sees everything, the things that matter and the things he would rid himself of if given the chance.
But that is not what it wants. As he falls for what seems like eternity, he knows (<i>he fucking knows</i>) it doesn’t want the things he rejects. It wants the things he clings to, even if he hates the way he clings.
In the end, he is so goddamn helpless against it. It Devours. Like a bowl of ramen, it unravels the twisted, tangled bits and slurps at them greedily, ripping them from his skull. Until even the oldest and most faded pieces of his memory reach the surface. Briefly. Before they too are taken.
Until the bones are sucked clean and he is spit out the other side, hollowed out and emptied of all that which once defined him. His memories, both good and bad, ripped clean away.
For a moment he lay crumpled, the ringing in his head as unbearable as the soundless vibration in his bones. When he picks himself up and shakes himself, the ringing dissipates, leaving only the humming clarity of his newly undefined existence. And as he looks around, he can tell this world is a strange one, though he’s not certain why. The warping of the land around him, the disturbing undulation of lines that shouldn’t move, stir an unease deep within but no understanding of why he doesn’t like it.
He knows only that he needs out. As quickly as possible.
If it even is possible.</p><img src="https://i.postimg.cc/s1FTWnrY/Ashhal_Name2.png"/></div></div></center>
Edit: Ashhal lost his memories to the door/mouth