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<center><div class="rlayout"><img class="rimage" src="http://i59.tinypic.com/iwr9et.jpgg"><div class="rgradient"></div><table class="rtable" style="width: 550px;"><tr>
<td class="rwords">Rebirth—that is what this new life has given him.
He is no longer a servant to the constant hunger to live. He is longer chained to the master of the darkness, his supposed creator. The voices do not scream out for him. The souls of the others did not drive him to madness. There is only one thing he feels—silence.
This silence is his blessing. He rejoices in the very peace of it. It has its own rush of adrenaline, almost like the first time he felt the life go out from another being. The first time he murdered someone had been phenomenal—how wonderful it had been to take something so precious in this world, something so lightly taken.
A second chance—how long would it last? The question crosses the red stallion’s mind briefly. His creator, his master, would not stop until he had him coiled up again (more tighter than before). The red evil, the monster he is, would never be free from the darkness. But, for now, he is not a servant to the darkness. He is free from it all.
<I>”MALIS!”</I> He hears the screaming voice. It is the first word he hears coming down from the mountain. The red devil does not linger at the outskirts of the meadow; instead he turns in the direction of the stallion that keeps calling out for some other horse named Malis. He does not think about the mountain, it holds everything he had been before he came here, but instead of what lays ahead of him.
A new life to begin that is full of opportunities and new things to discover.
The red stallion, adorned with a new horn (it’s beginning to become an nuisance with constant want to itch it) eventually finds the stallion that is screaming at the top of his lungs. His nutmeg eyes, masked by a warm nature, see at last the stallion has found whatever he is looking for. But he cannot help to take a closer look at the black older stallion. There is something familiar about him—maybe that is why he had been drawn to the voice in the first place.
<font color=6e210d> “Hello there,”</font> he says with greeting, a warm and neutral grin spreading across his chapped lips. <font color=6e210d> “I think I know you,”</font> he says looking towards Erebor. The memory of the black stallion are blurry, but so are the many memories since he had become a servant to the maker—ever since he had killed Aryeh on the beach all those years ago. <font color=6e210d> “I’m Rodrik.”</font> A simple name in reality, but it holds so much more for others and once in this land called Beqanna.
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<BR><table class="rtable" style="width: 550px; margin-top: 20px"><tr><td class="rname"><center>Rodrik</center></td></tr></table><table class="rtable" style="width: 550px; margin-top:11px; margin-right: 0px;"><tr><td class="rtitle"><I>angels banished from heaven have no choice but to become devils</I></div></td></tr></table></div><font color=black size=2 face=garamond>character info: <a href="http://www.boards2go.com/boards/board.cgi?action=read&id=1388523069.40866&user=shelbi">here</a> | character reference: <a href="http://i8.photobucket.com/albums/a47/strangeandunusual/references/RodrikforShelbi_zpsfdaa97ce.png">here</a> | image © <a href="http://uribaani.deviantart.com/">uribaani</a></font></center><link href='http://fonts.googleapis.com/css?family=Cinzel+Decorative' rel='stylesheet' type='text/css'>
Jenger said I should join :|
<center><div class="rlayout"><img class="rimage" src="http://i59.tinypic.com/iwr9et.jpgg"><div class="rgradient"></div><table class="rtable" style="width: 550px;"><tr>
<td class="rwords">Rebirth—that is what this new life has given him.
He is no longer a servant to the constant hunger to live. He is longer chained to the master of the darkness, his supposed creator. The voices do not scream out for him. The souls of the others did not drive him to madness. There is only one thing he feels—silence.
This silence is his blessing. He rejoices in the very peace of it. It has its own rush of adrenaline, almost like the first time he felt the life go out from another being. The first time he murdered someone had been phenomenal—how wonderful it had been to take something so precious in this world, something so lightly taken.
A second chance—how long would it last? The question crosses the red stallion’s mind briefly. His creator, his master, would not stop until he had him coiled up again (more tighter than before). The red evil, the monster he is, would never be free from the darkness. But, for now, he is not a servant to the darkness. He is free from it all.
<I>”MALIS!”</I> He hears the screaming voice. It is the first word he hears coming down from the mountain. The red devil does not linger at the outskirts of the meadow; instead he turns in the direction of the stallion that keeps calling out for some other horse named Malis. He does not think about the mountain, it holds everything he had been before he came here, but instead of what lays ahead of him.
A new life to begin that is full of opportunities and new things to discover.
The red stallion, adorned with a new horn (it’s beginning to become an nuisance with constant want to itch it) eventually finds the stallion that is screaming at the top of his lungs. His nutmeg eyes, masked by a warm nature, see at last the stallion has found whatever he is looking for. But he cannot help to take a closer look at the black older stallion. There is something familiar about him—maybe that is why he had been drawn to the voice in the first place.
<font color=6e210d> “Hello there,”</font> he says with greeting, a warm and neutral grin spreading across his chapped lips. <font color=6e210d> “I think I know you,”</font> he says looking towards Erebor. The memory of the black stallion are blurry, but so are the many memories since he had become a servant to the maker—ever since he had killed Aryeh on the beach all those years ago. <font color=6e210d> “I’m Rodrik.”</font> A simple name in reality, but it holds so much more for others and once in this land called Beqanna.
</td></tr></table>
<BR><table class="rtable" style="width: 550px; margin-top: 20px"><tr><td class="rname"><center>Rodrik</center></td></tr></table><table class="rtable" style="width: 550px; margin-top:11px; margin-right: 0px;"><tr><td class="rtitle"><I>angels banished from heaven have no choice but to become devils</I></div></td></tr></table></div><font color=black size=2 face=garamond>character info: <a href="http://www.boards2go.com/boards/board.cgi?action=read&id=1388523069.40866&user=shelbi">here</a> | character reference: <a href="http://i8.photobucket.com/albums/a47/strangeandunusual/references/RodrikforShelbi_zpsfdaa97ce.png">here</a> | image © <a href="http://uribaani.deviantart.com/">uribaani</a></font></center><link href='http://fonts.googleapis.com/css?family=Cinzel+Decorative' rel='stylesheet' type='text/css'>
Jenger said I should join :|