03-11-2020, 04:20 AM
<link href='https://fonts.googleapis.com/css?family=Annie Use Your Telescope|Allan|Abel' rel='stylesheet'>
<style> .leilancontainer {position:relative;z-index:1;width:600px;background-color:#bed9f7;border: 3px solid #a2b6d6;box-shadow: 0px 0px 3px 3px #191D21;} .leilanimage {position:relative;z-index:2;} .leilan-name {position:absolute;z-index:3;top:20px;left:60px;font-family:Allan;font-size:36pt;color:#918c8c;text-shadow:1px 1px 5px #342929;} .leilan-gradient {position:relative;z-index:4;width:600px;height:100px;margin-top:-83px;background: -moz-linear-gradient(top, rgba(190,217,247,0) 0%, rgba(190,217,247,0) 19%, rgba(190,217,247,1) 84%, rgba(190,217,247,1) 100%); background: -ms-linear-gradient(top, rgba(190,217,247,0) 0%, rgba(190,217,247,0) 19%, rgba(190,217,247,1) 84%, rgba(190,217,247,1) 100%); background: -webkit-linear-gradient(top, rgba(190,217,247,0) 0%,rgba(190,217,247,0) 19%,rgba(190,217,247,1) 84%,rgba(190,217,247,1) 100%); background: linear-gradient(to bottom, rgba(190,217,247,0) 0%,rgba(190,217,247,0) 19%,rgba(190,217,247,1) 84%,rgba(190,217,247,1) 100%);} .leilan-quote{position:absolute;z-index:4;top:954px;right:250px;width:350px;font-family:Annie Use Your Telescope;font-size:13pt;color:#342929;letter-spacing:1px;text-shadow:1px 1px 4px #083789;line-height:90%;} .leilan-textbox {position:relative;z-index:5;width:580px;background-color:rgba(26, 30, 34,0.7);} .leilan-text {position:relative;z-index:6;padding:15px;font-family:Abel;font-size:11pt;letter-spacing:1px;color:#bed9f7;}
</style>
<center><div class="leilancontainer"><img class="leilanimage" src="https://i.pinimg.com/originals/60/9b/7e/609b7e1531a75368283318eddc1edaf4.jpg"><div class="leilan-name">Leilan</div><div class="leilan-gradient"></div><div class="leilan-quote">a dragon who couldn't be hurt on the outside<br>could have so many ragged holes inside</div><div class="leilan-textbox"><div class="leilan-text">Leilan’s rule is… well, let’s say it’s as chaotic as his will - some days he likes to do good, others he likes to provoke people. He offers stability to the ones who ask it of him, leaving them on the Island Resort or in Ischia when it joins them through some sort of trade and a marriage (he doesn’t really remember). He offers insanity to those who insult him, because he likes the way they think, and offers life - and loot - to the ones who come to him for power. He outlasts several kings and queens on the mainland, keeping his own land neutral in name enough for a time being. Some of his subjects are restless, and he tells them they can do what they want outside his borders, just not in his name. Never are they officially his.
Someone always dislikes him for some reason, either within his lands or on the outside. That has not changed, perhaps even worsened. He is rude more often than not, knowing he has the power to waylay their threats, and sometimes he knows just who to charm - he was always a clever boy indeed. Sometimes he gets bored, and he remembers what he did, way back when. Remembers the insane version of the lightning woman and the glorious creature she became when death brought her back.
Once, he gets stabbed in the back quite literally. From the shadows someone comes - perhaps, he thinks, they were related to Beryl in some way - and kills him. But the ice dragon is cursed with immortality, and he does far worse things to the spies in the night when he comes for them the next day.
For a time, there is fear and silence, but he knows his time is ending. He sees it in the way his more loyal subjects avert their eyes, and his less loyal subjects turn to others for guidance. Challengers come and get averted, but for how long?
His end then, comes in the shape of a great-great-grandchild of his, an acid-spitting dragon of his own blood, whose name he doesn’t really remember any more. Brutus maybe; or maybe Leilan will only remember him as such. Not a shifter, but something dangerous. At first, he took him in - he was a promising boy. When he grows old however, when he sees what the ice king does with his land, what the dragon closes his eyes to or even participates in - in the end, the child-no-more is part of the conspiracy to unhand him.
And perhaps that was always the way it should be. The ice dragon glares and bares his teeth, but he knows it’s going to have to end sooner or later. He’s withstood challenges and spies, but his time ends when his own blood comes for him - his own blood by Breckin, even. By Arthas and Breckin; how lovely. And so he flies, because he can’t continue to die and come back - his huge wings carry him up and away, and one last time, his icy breath engulfs the flaming tree; it’s flame higher and bluer than it had been in years due to the feeding of new magical fuel. A reminder as he departs.
The dragon finds himself a lone ice cave in the middle of the northern sea to wait out his days - to… maybe not to die but to fade, knowing there is no other way for him to be truly gone from this world.
He is content though. He got old. He was always gonna lose his children’s respect; he knew what he gave up when he went for power. Had he not done it, he might have been nameless but more loved, but it’s something he’d never really know. Does he want to? Probably not.
The voice comes when he is alone and perhaps on the brink of actual death. This time he might actually die, he thinks. He hopes so, even.
Was it worth it?
He’d almost forgotten this was a dream, magically induced by Straia. As he jolts his head upwards, he hears nothing but the rush of the sea and the screams of the penguins and gulls that make up his meal on this place of ice.
Was it worth it?
”I lived, at least.” he muses aloud, knowing the voice will hear him. Then, he nods his head. ”Yes. Not to an outsider maybe. But for me, it was worth it.” He left behind a kingdom and a legacy that’d one day turn to myth and then be forgotten, like many of the old kingdoms from before the Reckoning were forgotten by now. Most who lived weren’t born in the old times, like he. Beqanna had probably reshaped again since he left for this hermit existence, too. Maybe even two or three times over. But what is time to an immortal?
He does have regrets, of course. He had really missed his daughters, his ex-wife. He never had expected any of Eurwen’s line to come for him - of his and Arthas’ line. Fate had weird twists like that, he supposes. It was likely that the kid had already grown and died by now, that the kingdom in the north was no longer something to be feared and respected - that his watch had ended and his power had been chopped to pieces. And he would be forgotten, but unlike his once-brother-in-name, he does not seek to live forever in stories, legacy, or myth.
He made a good story for himself, out of his life. He had not let his abilities and power gone to waste. He achieved what he came for and he knew the price. He did it anyway, because he wanted it more than he wanted to wander and do nothing noteworthy. He needed the change of pace. He needed to live.
He had done all that, and it was worth it. Even considering the price. Others might disagree, Straia might disagree. Honestly, he couldn’t even care.
”Don’t you know, Straia? I did this for myself.”</div></div></div></center>
<style> .leilancontainer {position:relative;z-index:1;width:600px;background-color:#bed9f7;border: 3px solid #a2b6d6;box-shadow: 0px 0px 3px 3px #191D21;} .leilanimage {position:relative;z-index:2;} .leilan-name {position:absolute;z-index:3;top:20px;left:60px;font-family:Allan;font-size:36pt;color:#918c8c;text-shadow:1px 1px 5px #342929;} .leilan-gradient {position:relative;z-index:4;width:600px;height:100px;margin-top:-83px;background: -moz-linear-gradient(top, rgba(190,217,247,0) 0%, rgba(190,217,247,0) 19%, rgba(190,217,247,1) 84%, rgba(190,217,247,1) 100%); background: -ms-linear-gradient(top, rgba(190,217,247,0) 0%, rgba(190,217,247,0) 19%, rgba(190,217,247,1) 84%, rgba(190,217,247,1) 100%); background: -webkit-linear-gradient(top, rgba(190,217,247,0) 0%,rgba(190,217,247,0) 19%,rgba(190,217,247,1) 84%,rgba(190,217,247,1) 100%); background: linear-gradient(to bottom, rgba(190,217,247,0) 0%,rgba(190,217,247,0) 19%,rgba(190,217,247,1) 84%,rgba(190,217,247,1) 100%);} .leilan-quote{position:absolute;z-index:4;top:954px;right:250px;width:350px;font-family:Annie Use Your Telescope;font-size:13pt;color:#342929;letter-spacing:1px;text-shadow:1px 1px 4px #083789;line-height:90%;} .leilan-textbox {position:relative;z-index:5;width:580px;background-color:rgba(26, 30, 34,0.7);} .leilan-text {position:relative;z-index:6;padding:15px;font-family:Abel;font-size:11pt;letter-spacing:1px;color:#bed9f7;}
</style>
<center><div class="leilancontainer"><img class="leilanimage" src="https://i.pinimg.com/originals/60/9b/7e/609b7e1531a75368283318eddc1edaf4.jpg"><div class="leilan-name">Leilan</div><div class="leilan-gradient"></div><div class="leilan-quote">a dragon who couldn't be hurt on the outside<br>could have so many ragged holes inside</div><div class="leilan-textbox"><div class="leilan-text">Leilan’s rule is… well, let’s say it’s as chaotic as his will - some days he likes to do good, others he likes to provoke people. He offers stability to the ones who ask it of him, leaving them on the Island Resort or in Ischia when it joins them through some sort of trade and a marriage (he doesn’t really remember). He offers insanity to those who insult him, because he likes the way they think, and offers life - and loot - to the ones who come to him for power. He outlasts several kings and queens on the mainland, keeping his own land neutral in name enough for a time being. Some of his subjects are restless, and he tells them they can do what they want outside his borders, just not in his name. Never are they officially his.
Someone always dislikes him for some reason, either within his lands or on the outside. That has not changed, perhaps even worsened. He is rude more often than not, knowing he has the power to waylay their threats, and sometimes he knows just who to charm - he was always a clever boy indeed. Sometimes he gets bored, and he remembers what he did, way back when. Remembers the insane version of the lightning woman and the glorious creature she became when death brought her back.
Once, he gets stabbed in the back quite literally. From the shadows someone comes - perhaps, he thinks, they were related to Beryl in some way - and kills him. But the ice dragon is cursed with immortality, and he does far worse things to the spies in the night when he comes for them the next day.
For a time, there is fear and silence, but he knows his time is ending. He sees it in the way his more loyal subjects avert their eyes, and his less loyal subjects turn to others for guidance. Challengers come and get averted, but for how long?
His end then, comes in the shape of a great-great-grandchild of his, an acid-spitting dragon of his own blood, whose name he doesn’t really remember any more. Brutus maybe; or maybe Leilan will only remember him as such. Not a shifter, but something dangerous. At first, he took him in - he was a promising boy. When he grows old however, when he sees what the ice king does with his land, what the dragon closes his eyes to or even participates in - in the end, the child-no-more is part of the conspiracy to unhand him.
And perhaps that was always the way it should be. The ice dragon glares and bares his teeth, but he knows it’s going to have to end sooner or later. He’s withstood challenges and spies, but his time ends when his own blood comes for him - his own blood by Breckin, even. By Arthas and Breckin; how lovely. And so he flies, because he can’t continue to die and come back - his huge wings carry him up and away, and one last time, his icy breath engulfs the flaming tree; it’s flame higher and bluer than it had been in years due to the feeding of new magical fuel. A reminder as he departs.
The dragon finds himself a lone ice cave in the middle of the northern sea to wait out his days - to… maybe not to die but to fade, knowing there is no other way for him to be truly gone from this world.
He is content though. He got old. He was always gonna lose his children’s respect; he knew what he gave up when he went for power. Had he not done it, he might have been nameless but more loved, but it’s something he’d never really know. Does he want to? Probably not.
The voice comes when he is alone and perhaps on the brink of actual death. This time he might actually die, he thinks. He hopes so, even.
Was it worth it?
He’d almost forgotten this was a dream, magically induced by Straia. As he jolts his head upwards, he hears nothing but the rush of the sea and the screams of the penguins and gulls that make up his meal on this place of ice.
Was it worth it?
”I lived, at least.” he muses aloud, knowing the voice will hear him. Then, he nods his head. ”Yes. Not to an outsider maybe. But for me, it was worth it.” He left behind a kingdom and a legacy that’d one day turn to myth and then be forgotten, like many of the old kingdoms from before the Reckoning were forgotten by now. Most who lived weren’t born in the old times, like he. Beqanna had probably reshaped again since he left for this hermit existence, too. Maybe even two or three times over. But what is time to an immortal?
He does have regrets, of course. He had really missed his daughters, his ex-wife. He never had expected any of Eurwen’s line to come for him - of his and Arthas’ line. Fate had weird twists like that, he supposes. It was likely that the kid had already grown and died by now, that the kingdom in the north was no longer something to be feared and respected - that his watch had ended and his power had been chopped to pieces. And he would be forgotten, but unlike his once-brother-in-name, he does not seek to live forever in stories, legacy, or myth.
He made a good story for himself, out of his life. He had not let his abilities and power gone to waste. He achieved what he came for and he knew the price. He did it anyway, because he wanted it more than he wanted to wander and do nothing noteworthy. He needed the change of pace. He needed to live.
He had done all that, and it was worth it. Even considering the price. Others might disagree, Straia might disagree. Honestly, he couldn’t even care.
”Don’t you know, Straia? I did this for myself.”</div></div></div></center>
Two things I know I can make: pretty kids, and people mad.
| 