11-01-2020, 07:42 PM
<link href="https://fonts.googleapis.com/css2?family=Syne+Mono&display=swap" rel="stylesheet"><style type="text/css">.chemosh_container{position: relative;z-index: 1;width: 600px;background: #0e0e1c;font: 11px 'Syne Mono', monos-pace;line-height: 1.5;padding-bottom: 15px;border: 1px solid #10030D;box-shadow: 0 0 10px #f3e2c9;border-radius: 20px;}.chemosh_container img {border-radius: 20px 20px 0 0;width: 600px; height: 400px;}.chemosh_container p{margin: 0;}.chemosh_message {position: relative;z-index: 10;margin-top: -50px;background-color: #252e40;box-shadow: 0 0 10px rgba(78, 152, 165, 1);text-align: justify;width: 530px;padding: 15px 20px 0 20px;color: #10030D;border-radius: 20px;}.chemosh_name {position: relative;text-align: right;z-index: 10;padding: 0 30px 0 0;margin: 0;font: 36px 'Syne Mono', monos pace;color: #000000;}.chemosh_quote {position: absolute;z-index: 15;top: 330px;width: 600px;text-align: center;font-size: 12px;letter-spacing: 2px;font-style: italic;color: #eeeeee;}</style><center><div class="chemosh_container"><img src="https://i.postimg.cc/bv17k35s/creepygif.gif"><p class="chemosh_quote">in this hole, that is me...the dead are rolling over</p><div class="chemosh_message">
He is no stranger to things that go bump in the night.
As a skeleton cloaked in the constellations and carrying the blood of the Dark God, he is one such thing.
But the bump on this night is not from him, though he does not shy away from it. Curiosity has killed the cat more than any other thing, a fact he knows to be true, but he travels towards the sounds anyway. Like a moth to a flame he goes, heedless of his own mortality but filled instead with a curiosity that makes his bones ache. Fleshless, bleached white bones that are visible to the naked eye. The cool wind does not affect him in this form, and the sensation of pulling hair in briars is not there to distract him. He travels quickly, not knowing what he was searching for but eyeless sockets peeled all the same. And then he sees it, just ahead and cloaked in a slight mist. A gate, though he does not have the word to describe it. It is definitely foreign to the landscape and gives him a pause.
<b><i>”Trick or treat?”</b></i> says the voice, and he cocks his skull at the gate ever so slightly. He thinks for a moment, and the lack of muscle and tendon makes it impossible to read his expression.
<b>”Trick.”</b> he says, throwing every bit of caution he has into the cool fall breeze, watching it swirl away into the mist and fall amongst the rotten leaves littering the forest floor.
<p class="chemosh_name">--CHEMOSH</p></div></div></center>
He is no stranger to things that go bump in the night.
As a skeleton cloaked in the constellations and carrying the blood of the Dark God, he is one such thing.
But the bump on this night is not from him, though he does not shy away from it. Curiosity has killed the cat more than any other thing, a fact he knows to be true, but he travels towards the sounds anyway. Like a moth to a flame he goes, heedless of his own mortality but filled instead with a curiosity that makes his bones ache. Fleshless, bleached white bones that are visible to the naked eye. The cool wind does not affect him in this form, and the sensation of pulling hair in briars is not there to distract him. He travels quickly, not knowing what he was searching for but eyeless sockets peeled all the same. And then he sees it, just ahead and cloaked in a slight mist. A gate, though he does not have the word to describe it. It is definitely foreign to the landscape and gives him a pause.
<b><i>”Trick or treat?”</b></i> says the voice, and he cocks his skull at the gate ever so slightly. He thinks for a moment, and the lack of muscle and tendon makes it impossible to read his expression.
<b>”Trick.”</b> he says, throwing every bit of caution he has into the cool fall breeze, watching it swirl away into the mist and fall amongst the rotten leaves littering the forest floor.
<p class="chemosh_name">--CHEMOSH</p></div></div></center>