07-13-2017, 01:56 PM
<link href="https://fonts.googleapis.com/css?family=Bellefair|Cinzel" rel="stylesheet"><style type="text/css">.Crevan1_container {position: relative;z-index: 1;width: 500px;padding: 15px;background: #fff; border: 0px solid #000;box-shadow: 0 0 1em #000;}.Crevan2_container {position: relative;z-index: 1;width: 540px; /*frame width*/padding: 15px;background: #fff url("https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/564x/1d/6f/4d/1d6f4d55e55355a358d018d690218c41.jpg");border:0px solid #000;box-shadow: 0 0 3em #000;}.Crevan2_container p {margin: 0;}.Crevan2_image {border: 0px solid #000; /*image border size, style, and color*/}.Crevan2_message {text-align: justify;font: 12px 'Times New Roman', serif; padding: 15px 0; color: #5A8E87;border-top: 1px solid #000;border-bottom: 1px solid #000;}.Crevan2_name {text-align: center;font: 70px 'Cinzel', serif;color: #5A8E87;padding: 0;text-shadow: 0 0 1em #000;}.Crevan2_quote {text-align: center;font: 14px 'Bellefair', serif;color: #2CA9AD;padding: 0;}</style><center><div class="Crevan2_container"><div class="Crevan1_container"><img class="Crevan2_image" src="https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/564x/55/e7/43/55e743df0c173a0252c6fc359f995220.jpg"><p class="Crevan2_name">Crevan</p><p class="Crevan2_quote">We forget all the names that we used to know</p><p class="Crevan2_message">It hadn’t taken very long for his own paws to disappear. At that time, the black curtain around him had been a reprieve from whatever it was that was left to lurk in this ruined wasteland. The natural conclusion that Crevan had drawn was escape; if he could slip quickly enough into the familiarity of the woods he might be able to avoid confrontation with the beastie, <i>whatever it was</i>. Unfortunately for him, the rule remained that when someone assumes things they shouldn’t, they usually suffer.
Within minutes of losing natural sight, it became evident to the pale-colored shifter that escape was unavoidable. He’d tempted fate by coming here, to the Forest, and now with every labored stride it seemed that outrunning the <i>thing</i> had been a fool’s errand. There was only fear left to drive him on into the heart of his mother’s kingdom, that and the occasional flicker of yellow-orange heat as it skittered alongside him. Soon enough, there would be nowhere left to run - he knew Circinae’s home as well as a wolf should; the edge of all land was approaching fast.
It’s only as the trees break in cover ahead that Crevan feels a sense of hope, thinking, <i>“I’ll dive if I have to, right over the dunes and down into the sea.”</i> (and they’re so very close now, the smell of briny air is already assaulting his nostrils) A few more painful lopes on weary legs and the earth would melt into sand, and he’d be free …
But his freedom would come at a price.
The creature had outwitted him. Up ahead, separating the now-motionless wolf from his tender ideas of hope, was a rounded, heaving body of ember yellow. The color has never been so much a warning as it is right now, even with the familiar shiver of a bloodred heart off-center in it’s chest. There’s no design to the animal (if he’s even sure it <i>is</i> one) but he can discern two elongated necks, winding seductively about each other while the squat, lizard-like body beneath seems poised for a chase.
Crevan turns away. The physical effort of even <i>lifting</i> a single paw has him trembling with exhaustion but the act is useless anyways. The creature has voided the dunes and showed his hand by appearing very near to him - <i>there had been no chance of escape from the first step</i>.
A dying predator loses sensibility when he feels the brush of the reaper’s lips against his cheek. In Crevan’s case, it’s the rancid slick of wetness against his hip that sends him into a frenzy. Shrouded in total darkness the shaggy canine and hydra clash together, screams and shrieks rising above the canopy of night to echo around them. Our Taigan sees white, yellow, a flash of red, and then his teeth make purchase against a single neck and he <i>tears</i> through, blanching at the pain in his mouth while oiled blood sprays across his face and down his furred chin.
It buys him time to dart away, to collapse into the sand and shift back to horse while the Hydra wails in acute pain. Volatile in nature, the being’s mythical blood has taken an acidic taint which leaves a bare trail from Crevan’s once golden lips down to his heaving chest. The skin along his ribs is ribboned, flayed by tooth and claw alike. The former injury, hurting much more acutely than the latter, is throbbing while he turns his head to catch sight of the now three-headed mythos as it scuttles up the ridgeline to finish the deed. <i>“Stand up.”</i> He tells himself, and like a puppet suddenly reanimated, he stands. The red heart of his enemy seems closer now, thudding with feverish excitement as the Hydra nears. <i>“Hold steady.”</i> Crevan commands his body, though the being is almost upon him and his constitution is weakening.
<i>“Now.”</i> He thinks.
A jet of fire leaps from Crevan’s tender throat and bridges the short gap between them. In the saturated blackness around them even the blaze cannot be dimmed, spirituous as it is. Seared by fire’s touch the Hydra writhes in torment, unable to sprout more heads while Crevan’s flame devours it completely. The final few shudders of that telltale heart are almost comforting to the champagne stallion while his strength renews with rest. <i>“Even more comforting if I could figure out its purpose.”</i> He reasons as his eyes flicker back to the dead wood.
There’s no avoiding the truth now. He <i>knows</i> the circumstances are too good to be true. He’d found himself in a fairy ordeal, a quest that his people have spoken of in passing. He’s not sure why he’d been chosen, no one ever really is, but now - while he stands panting and bloodied on the edge of this <i>other</i> Taiga - he’s more determined than ever to see it through.</p><p class="Crevan2_quote">Then our skin gets thicker, living out in the snow</p></div></center>
Within minutes of losing natural sight, it became evident to the pale-colored shifter that escape was unavoidable. He’d tempted fate by coming here, to the Forest, and now with every labored stride it seemed that outrunning the <i>thing</i> had been a fool’s errand. There was only fear left to drive him on into the heart of his mother’s kingdom, that and the occasional flicker of yellow-orange heat as it skittered alongside him. Soon enough, there would be nowhere left to run - he knew Circinae’s home as well as a wolf should; the edge of all land was approaching fast.
It’s only as the trees break in cover ahead that Crevan feels a sense of hope, thinking, <i>“I’ll dive if I have to, right over the dunes and down into the sea.”</i> (and they’re so very close now, the smell of briny air is already assaulting his nostrils) A few more painful lopes on weary legs and the earth would melt into sand, and he’d be free …
But his freedom would come at a price.
The creature had outwitted him. Up ahead, separating the now-motionless wolf from his tender ideas of hope, was a rounded, heaving body of ember yellow. The color has never been so much a warning as it is right now, even with the familiar shiver of a bloodred heart off-center in it’s chest. There’s no design to the animal (if he’s even sure it <i>is</i> one) but he can discern two elongated necks, winding seductively about each other while the squat, lizard-like body beneath seems poised for a chase.
Crevan turns away. The physical effort of even <i>lifting</i> a single paw has him trembling with exhaustion but the act is useless anyways. The creature has voided the dunes and showed his hand by appearing very near to him - <i>there had been no chance of escape from the first step</i>.
A dying predator loses sensibility when he feels the brush of the reaper’s lips against his cheek. In Crevan’s case, it’s the rancid slick of wetness against his hip that sends him into a frenzy. Shrouded in total darkness the shaggy canine and hydra clash together, screams and shrieks rising above the canopy of night to echo around them. Our Taigan sees white, yellow, a flash of red, and then his teeth make purchase against a single neck and he <i>tears</i> through, blanching at the pain in his mouth while oiled blood sprays across his face and down his furred chin.
It buys him time to dart away, to collapse into the sand and shift back to horse while the Hydra wails in acute pain. Volatile in nature, the being’s mythical blood has taken an acidic taint which leaves a bare trail from Crevan’s once golden lips down to his heaving chest. The skin along his ribs is ribboned, flayed by tooth and claw alike. The former injury, hurting much more acutely than the latter, is throbbing while he turns his head to catch sight of the now three-headed mythos as it scuttles up the ridgeline to finish the deed. <i>“Stand up.”</i> He tells himself, and like a puppet suddenly reanimated, he stands. The red heart of his enemy seems closer now, thudding with feverish excitement as the Hydra nears. <i>“Hold steady.”</i> Crevan commands his body, though the being is almost upon him and his constitution is weakening.
<i>“Now.”</i> He thinks.
A jet of fire leaps from Crevan’s tender throat and bridges the short gap between them. In the saturated blackness around them even the blaze cannot be dimmed, spirituous as it is. Seared by fire’s touch the Hydra writhes in torment, unable to sprout more heads while Crevan’s flame devours it completely. The final few shudders of that telltale heart are almost comforting to the champagne stallion while his strength renews with rest. <i>“Even more comforting if I could figure out its purpose.”</i> He reasons as his eyes flicker back to the dead wood.
There’s no avoiding the truth now. He <i>knows</i> the circumstances are too good to be true. He’d found himself in a fairy ordeal, a quest that his people have spoken of in passing. He’s not sure why he’d been chosen, no one ever really is, but now - while he stands panting and bloodied on the edge of this <i>other</i> Taiga - he’s more determined than ever to see it through.</p><p class="Crevan2_quote">Then our skin gets thicker, living out in the snow</p></div></center>