09-05-2016, 11:32 PM
<link href='https://fonts.googleapis.com/css?family=Jaldi|Lora' rel='stylesheet' type='text/css'> <style type="text/css"> .magnusfight_container { position: relative; z-index: 1; background-color: #000; width: 580px; box-shadow: 0px 0px 10px 1px #000; } .magnusfight_container p { margin: 0; } .magnusfight_image { position: relative; z-index: 4; border: solid 1px #7B757B; margin-top: 40px; } .magnusfight_gradient { position: absolute; z-index: 2; bottom: 0px; width: 100%; height: 100%; background: -moz-linear-gradient(top, rgba(125,185,232,0) 0%, rgba(7,20,1,1) 100%); background: -webkit-linear-gradient(top, rgba(125,185,232,0) 0%,rgba(7,20,1,1) 100%); background: linear-gradient(to bottom, rgba(125,185,232,0) 0%,rgba(7,20,1,1) 100%); filter: progid
XImageTransform.Microsoft.gradient( startColorstr='#007db9e8', endColorstr='#071401',GradientType=0 ); } .magnusfight_text { position: relative; z-index: 4; width: 550px; } .magnusfight_message { position: relative; font: 12px 'Times New Roman', serif; text-align: justify; color: #7B757B; padding: 10px 15px 20px;; } .magnusfight_name { text-align: center; font: 30px 'Lora', serif; color: #7B757B; letter-spacing: 10px; text-transform: uppercase; width: 35%; padding-top: 10px; padding-bottom: 20px; border-top: dotted 1px #353535; opacity: 0.7; } .magnusfight_quote { position: relative; padding-top: 10px; border-radius: 50% 50% 0 0; text-align: center; color: #fff; letter-spacing: 2px; font: 11px 'Jaldi', sans-serif; text-transform: uppercase; opacity: 0.8; } </style> <center> <div class="magnusfight_container"> <img class="magnusfight_image" src="http://i1380.photobucket.com/albums/ah167/laura_1026/magnus2_zpsubqdppd7.gif"> <div class="magnusfight_gradient"></div> <div class="magnusfight_quote">— find what you love and let it kill you —</div> <div class="magnusfight_text"> <p class="magnusfight_message">
When the land had shook beneath them, Magnus had feared. Not for his safety, but for those beneath his protection; those he had left behind when he had turned from the Gates in a blind fury—vehemently opposed to the direction of her new ruler. In that moment though, when the heavens had splintered open above them and the earth shattered beneath their feet, he had recognized what a folly it was to let politics affect his ability and duty as a guardian. And so he had feared for them and their safety. He had feared when his body had been shook, and he had feared when he had awoke on the mountain—alone.
But today, when he walked back up its steep slopes, he did not feel fear. He did not tremble as his feet found their way surefooted on the path that had so recently been trampled by the crowds finding their way down. The regret that he had felt and the guilt and the shame had been lost in the last few days, dissolving from his body to leave room for something else: purpose. A purpose that had started as the flickering of a candle that had erupted into a wildfire in his chest. A purpose that was fanned into life with every horse he had met and helped; those who had leaned against him when their injuries became too much, those who sobbed into his neck, those who looked at him with wide eyes, unsure where their families were.
All of it had flickered and fanned and then forged into something like resolve in his belly.
And that resolve had led to him clasping metaphorical hands with Offspring, certain when he stared the red-eyed giant in the eye that the once-King was honest when he said he wanted a sanctuary. He trusted in Offspring’s integrity; he trusted in his desire to do well for those who simply needed a haven. Trusted it enough that he was willing to overlook his distrust of the Valley and forge a chain that included both Eight and Topsail. If Offspring believed their intentions, then that would be good enough for Magnus.
After Offspring had set off for the Mountain to plead their case, Magnus had followed, his head down against the strong head wind. Magnus did not feel rejuvenated with past powers on his journey, had never been gifted in such a way, but he was in tune enough with Beqanna’s magical pulse that he could feel the difference here. Where the rest of the new land was relatively barren, this area was rich and fertile with her magic. It was concentrated here—a strong, thick current racing beneath the surface of the land.
He came up on Offspring’s right side, tilting his head back as Offspring bellowed to the Heavens. His gold-flecked eyes smoldered beneath the tangled thicket of his forelock and he felt his heart pound in his chest. He tilted his head toward the black stallion for a second, nodding. When Offspring grew silent, he looked back toward the horizon. “I am not a wordsmith of much talent,” he started simply, his voice whiskey and smoke, quiet in comparison to the powerful speech of the man by his side, “But should you choose to grant us a land, we pledge to serve those who come to it in need of a haven. We will use it to uphold your ideals with a kind but just hand; we will use it to protect those you call your children.”
His pulse pounded in his throat but he did not avert his gaze.
“We have nothing to offer you but the strength of our backs, the strengths of our heart, so we humble ourselves in this petition and ask that you show us, and those who rely upon us, mercy.” And then he fell silent, his thoughts racing to Ellyse and the life within her, to Camelia with blood crusting on her leg, to Longear’s silent sobs in the aftermath of the reckoning. He felt the weight of their request press down upon him and hoped Beqanna could see the truth of their request written upon their hearts.
</p> <p class="magnusfight_name"> magnus </p> </div> </div> </center>
XImageTransform.Microsoft.gradient( startColorstr='#007db9e8', endColorstr='#071401',GradientType=0 ); } .magnusfight_text { position: relative; z-index: 4; width: 550px; } .magnusfight_message { position: relative; font: 12px 'Times New Roman', serif; text-align: justify; color: #7B757B; padding: 10px 15px 20px;; } .magnusfight_name { text-align: center; font: 30px 'Lora', serif; color: #7B757B; letter-spacing: 10px; text-transform: uppercase; width: 35%; padding-top: 10px; padding-bottom: 20px; border-top: dotted 1px #353535; opacity: 0.7; } .magnusfight_quote { position: relative; padding-top: 10px; border-radius: 50% 50% 0 0; text-align: center; color: #fff; letter-spacing: 2px; font: 11px 'Jaldi', sans-serif; text-transform: uppercase; opacity: 0.8; } </style> <center> <div class="magnusfight_container"> <img class="magnusfight_image" src="http://i1380.photobucket.com/albums/ah167/laura_1026/magnus2_zpsubqdppd7.gif"> <div class="magnusfight_gradient"></div> <div class="magnusfight_quote">— find what you love and let it kill you —</div> <div class="magnusfight_text"> <p class="magnusfight_message"> When the land had shook beneath them, Magnus had feared. Not for his safety, but for those beneath his protection; those he had left behind when he had turned from the Gates in a blind fury—vehemently opposed to the direction of her new ruler. In that moment though, when the heavens had splintered open above them and the earth shattered beneath their feet, he had recognized what a folly it was to let politics affect his ability and duty as a guardian. And so he had feared for them and their safety. He had feared when his body had been shook, and he had feared when he had awoke on the mountain—alone.
But today, when he walked back up its steep slopes, he did not feel fear. He did not tremble as his feet found their way surefooted on the path that had so recently been trampled by the crowds finding their way down. The regret that he had felt and the guilt and the shame had been lost in the last few days, dissolving from his body to leave room for something else: purpose. A purpose that had started as the flickering of a candle that had erupted into a wildfire in his chest. A purpose that was fanned into life with every horse he had met and helped; those who had leaned against him when their injuries became too much, those who sobbed into his neck, those who looked at him with wide eyes, unsure where their families were.
All of it had flickered and fanned and then forged into something like resolve in his belly.
And that resolve had led to him clasping metaphorical hands with Offspring, certain when he stared the red-eyed giant in the eye that the once-King was honest when he said he wanted a sanctuary. He trusted in Offspring’s integrity; he trusted in his desire to do well for those who simply needed a haven. Trusted it enough that he was willing to overlook his distrust of the Valley and forge a chain that included both Eight and Topsail. If Offspring believed their intentions, then that would be good enough for Magnus.
After Offspring had set off for the Mountain to plead their case, Magnus had followed, his head down against the strong head wind. Magnus did not feel rejuvenated with past powers on his journey, had never been gifted in such a way, but he was in tune enough with Beqanna’s magical pulse that he could feel the difference here. Where the rest of the new land was relatively barren, this area was rich and fertile with her magic. It was concentrated here—a strong, thick current racing beneath the surface of the land.
He came up on Offspring’s right side, tilting his head back as Offspring bellowed to the Heavens. His gold-flecked eyes smoldered beneath the tangled thicket of his forelock and he felt his heart pound in his chest. He tilted his head toward the black stallion for a second, nodding. When Offspring grew silent, he looked back toward the horizon. “I am not a wordsmith of much talent,” he started simply, his voice whiskey and smoke, quiet in comparison to the powerful speech of the man by his side, “But should you choose to grant us a land, we pledge to serve those who come to it in need of a haven. We will use it to uphold your ideals with a kind but just hand; we will use it to protect those you call your children.”
His pulse pounded in his throat but he did not avert his gaze.
“We have nothing to offer you but the strength of our backs, the strengths of our heart, so we humble ourselves in this petition and ask that you show us, and those who rely upon us, mercy.” And then he fell silent, his thoughts racing to Ellyse and the life within her, to Camelia with blood crusting on her leg, to Longear’s silent sobs in the aftermath of the reckoning. He felt the weight of their request press down upon him and hoped Beqanna could see the truth of their request written upon their hearts.
</p> <p class="magnusfight_name"> magnus </p> </div> </div> </center>
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