07-20-2017, 01:45 PM
<link href="https://fonts.googleapis.com/css?family=Almendra+Display|Asar" rel="stylesheet"><style>#etherchild{width:564px;border:1px solid #fff1da;box-shadow:0px 0px 5px #fff1da;}#etherchildbox{position:relative;z-index:1;background:-webkit-linear-gradient(bottom, rgba(23,21,22,0), rgba(23,21,22,1)150px);background:-o-linear-gradient(top, rgba(23,21,22,0), rgba(23,21,22,1)150px);background:-moz-linear-gradient(bottom, rgba(23,21,22,0), rgba(23,21,22,1)150px);background:-linear-gradient(to top, rgba(23,21,22,0), rgba(23,21,22,1)150px);background:-ms-linear-gradient(bottom, rgba(23,21,22,0), rgba(23,21,22,1)150px);margin-bottom:-160px;padding-top:5px;padding-bottom:50px;}#etherchildpic{position:relative;z-index:0;}#etherchildtext{width:500px;font-family: 'Asar', serif;font-size:13px;color:#fff1da;line-height:14px;}#etherchildquote{color:#fdf5ed;font-family: 'Almendra Display', cursive;font-size:15px;font-weight:bold;line-height:14px;}#etherchildname{color:#fdf5ed;font-family: 'Almendra Display', cursive;font-size:60px;text-transform:uppercase;margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;}#etherchildquote2{color:#fff1da;font-family: 'Asar', serif;font-size:13px;margin-top:-20px;}</style><center><div id="etherchild"><div id="etherchildbox"><p id="etherchildquote">The sun crashed down to the ground, the moon rose up into the sky bright red,<br/>the dead climbed up from their graves and fell to their knees saying<br/>"Come one, come all, come see and believe."</p><p id="etherchildtext" align="justify">He could choke on the taste of fear, sharp and metallic, burning his lungs as his breaths come harsh and ragged. He is tired, wearied by flight and misdirection, but he cannot stop. Not until he is safe.
But then he is no longer in the dark reaches of the forest. With no warning his churning legs are carrying him across an open clearing. He can see again, preternatural vision sharp in the murky light of this underworld. He knows he shouldn’t, but he slows, his feet drawing to a halt as he glances about him with a leery eye. Rolling hills stretch before him, dotted by occasional, sparse copses of pine trees. He does not recognize this land, even though it must be Beqanna [not the true Beqanna, but a false, hellish mirror].
After only a moment’s hesitation, he edges forward once more, propelled by the eerie growling of the beast. He can still hear it, that hissing snarl, the sinuous movement, the feel of hot breath, damp on his mottled skin. He shivers, his sweat-slicked flesh chilling in the still air. His steps hasten, quicker, quicker, until he is trotting at a brisk pace across the unnaturally still grasses blanketing the hills.
He halts abruptly once more when his powerful gaze catches upon bright pinpricks of red in the darkness. Fear races across his spine, the immediate thought of <i>“It’s back!”</i> clamoring through his fogged mind. But then the first pair of bright red lights [eyes?] is joined by a second. A third. A fourth. And then he loses count as they begin appearing all around him, filling the dim light with their menacing stare.
This time though, he is not fool enough to wait around. This time, he bolts, terror quickening his steps and giving him a precious burst of energy. The wolf is there beside him, friend and ally, the only protection he has in this dark, abnormal world.
Alas, he is not quick enough to outrun this nightmare. There are too many of them, and he had drawn far too close.The red, red eyes coalesce into shapes, featureless and foreign. But then they come closer, ever nearer, gaining too easily upon his lagging stride. As they close in, their appearance becomes sharper, more distinct. Thin, spindly bodies carrying long, grasping fingers and toes tipped by jagged claws. Their small faces are ugly and mean, pointed features and wide mouths split into sharp-toothed grins.
Another spurt of terror rushes through him, powering his weakening limbs, but it is not enough. Not even close to enough. Those feral creatures are soon upon him, unnaturally silent in their hunt, talons and fangs grasping for any piece of flesh they can find. The first creature to find him, to tear at his tender skin, draws a pained and panicked shriek from gasping lips.
But it is only the first of many.
He is young, small, not yet able to bear much weight beyond his own. Soon the grasping fingers become too much. No amount of bucking or bellowing seems to dislodge them. The wolf, snapping and snarling, grabs and flings gremlins from its master’s side, but one shadowy ally is not enough to fight so many. Even the addition of a second, a third, is not enough. The small beasts hold fast, their weight adding to his as they find finger holds, slowing his pace until he stumbles, falls. Until he is consumed by writhing, grasping bodies.
Tears begin to leak from his eyes as blood leaks from his skin, lapped away almost as quickly as it appears. Drawing sharply into himself, he curls into as small a form as possible, feeling his skin rip and tear beneath the seeking claws of those unsightly monsters. The wolves dissolve into a mist, the darkness drawing to him, settling upon him like a cloak. The only comfort he has in this moment, when he is so certain death is upon him.
But as the shadow coalesces upon his skin, it acts as unwitting shield, hardening to protect sensitive flesh from grasping fingers and teeth. He can feel them scrabbling at suddenly hardened skin, the scritch of talon against the blackened shell painful to his ear. And then a thought comes to him, one shining bright sliver of hope, the only chance he might possibly have of escape. With a heave and a below of effort, he throws his shield wide. Gremlins, abruptly displaced, fly through the air, spindly bodies flailing, mouths wide in silent yowls as they hit the ground with hard, satisfying thumps.
Despite the pain, the weakness, despite the blood now flowing freely from his torn skin, Ether hauls himself to his feet and runs. His gait is hobbling and difficult, each step painful and strained by torn skin and muscle, but still he runs. Drawing his loyal shadow back to him, he coats himself once more in the armor. It eats away precious energy, but for the moment, it doesn't matter. His only aim is survival.
Finally, one last hill is crested, revealing a smooth, mirrored lake resting in a shallow basin. His heart thumps hard in his chest as he stares at the crystalline surface, ragged breath metallic in his mouth as he is reminded of just how badly he needs a drink. But he fears it, that still water. Fears it like those goblin creatures, like the snarling serpent once again far too close. Ever there, ever behind him, driving him onwards with dark, sticky despair.</p><p id="etherchildname">Ether</p><p id="etherchildquote2">Shadow son of Shahrizai and Ilka</p></div><div id="etherchildpic"><img src="https://s3.postimg.org/t9uy4hbs3/Ether.jpg"/></div></div></center>
But then he is no longer in the dark reaches of the forest. With no warning his churning legs are carrying him across an open clearing. He can see again, preternatural vision sharp in the murky light of this underworld. He knows he shouldn’t, but he slows, his feet drawing to a halt as he glances about him with a leery eye. Rolling hills stretch before him, dotted by occasional, sparse copses of pine trees. He does not recognize this land, even though it must be Beqanna [not the true Beqanna, but a false, hellish mirror].
After only a moment’s hesitation, he edges forward once more, propelled by the eerie growling of the beast. He can still hear it, that hissing snarl, the sinuous movement, the feel of hot breath, damp on his mottled skin. He shivers, his sweat-slicked flesh chilling in the still air. His steps hasten, quicker, quicker, until he is trotting at a brisk pace across the unnaturally still grasses blanketing the hills.
He halts abruptly once more when his powerful gaze catches upon bright pinpricks of red in the darkness. Fear races across his spine, the immediate thought of <i>“It’s back!”</i> clamoring through his fogged mind. But then the first pair of bright red lights [eyes?] is joined by a second. A third. A fourth. And then he loses count as they begin appearing all around him, filling the dim light with their menacing stare.
This time though, he is not fool enough to wait around. This time, he bolts, terror quickening his steps and giving him a precious burst of energy. The wolf is there beside him, friend and ally, the only protection he has in this dark, abnormal world.
Alas, he is not quick enough to outrun this nightmare. There are too many of them, and he had drawn far too close.The red, red eyes coalesce into shapes, featureless and foreign. But then they come closer, ever nearer, gaining too easily upon his lagging stride. As they close in, their appearance becomes sharper, more distinct. Thin, spindly bodies carrying long, grasping fingers and toes tipped by jagged claws. Their small faces are ugly and mean, pointed features and wide mouths split into sharp-toothed grins.
Another spurt of terror rushes through him, powering his weakening limbs, but it is not enough. Not even close to enough. Those feral creatures are soon upon him, unnaturally silent in their hunt, talons and fangs grasping for any piece of flesh they can find. The first creature to find him, to tear at his tender skin, draws a pained and panicked shriek from gasping lips.
But it is only the first of many.
He is young, small, not yet able to bear much weight beyond his own. Soon the grasping fingers become too much. No amount of bucking or bellowing seems to dislodge them. The wolf, snapping and snarling, grabs and flings gremlins from its master’s side, but one shadowy ally is not enough to fight so many. Even the addition of a second, a third, is not enough. The small beasts hold fast, their weight adding to his as they find finger holds, slowing his pace until he stumbles, falls. Until he is consumed by writhing, grasping bodies.
Tears begin to leak from his eyes as blood leaks from his skin, lapped away almost as quickly as it appears. Drawing sharply into himself, he curls into as small a form as possible, feeling his skin rip and tear beneath the seeking claws of those unsightly monsters. The wolves dissolve into a mist, the darkness drawing to him, settling upon him like a cloak. The only comfort he has in this moment, when he is so certain death is upon him.
But as the shadow coalesces upon his skin, it acts as unwitting shield, hardening to protect sensitive flesh from grasping fingers and teeth. He can feel them scrabbling at suddenly hardened skin, the scritch of talon against the blackened shell painful to his ear. And then a thought comes to him, one shining bright sliver of hope, the only chance he might possibly have of escape. With a heave and a below of effort, he throws his shield wide. Gremlins, abruptly displaced, fly through the air, spindly bodies flailing, mouths wide in silent yowls as they hit the ground with hard, satisfying thumps.
Despite the pain, the weakness, despite the blood now flowing freely from his torn skin, Ether hauls himself to his feet and runs. His gait is hobbling and difficult, each step painful and strained by torn skin and muscle, but still he runs. Drawing his loyal shadow back to him, he coats himself once more in the armor. It eats away precious energy, but for the moment, it doesn't matter. His only aim is survival.
Finally, one last hill is crested, revealing a smooth, mirrored lake resting in a shallow basin. His heart thumps hard in his chest as he stares at the crystalline surface, ragged breath metallic in his mouth as he is reminded of just how badly he needs a drink. But he fears it, that still water. Fears it like those goblin creatures, like the snarling serpent once again far too close. Ever there, ever behind him, driving him onwards with dark, sticky despair.</p><p id="etherchildname">Ether</p><p id="etherchildquote2">Shadow son of Shahrizai and Ilka</p></div><div id="etherchildpic"><img src="https://s3.postimg.org/t9uy4hbs3/Ether.jpg"/></div></div></center>