07-31-2019, 12:25 PM
<link href='https://fonts.googleapis.com/css?family=Almendra+Display' rel='stylesheet' type='text/css'><style type="text/css">.sabrback{position: relative;z-index: 3;background: #3b2e12;width: 460px;box-shadow: 0 0 8px #000;border-radius: 90px 90px 0px 0px;}.sabrpic{position: relative;z-index: 5;border-radius: 90px 90px 0px 0px;}.sabrgrad{position: relative;z-index: 7;height: 140px;margin-top: -140px;background: rgba(59,46,18,0);
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XImageTransform.Microvita.gradient( startColorstr='#3b2e12', endColorstr='#3b2e12', GradientType=0 );}.sabrwords{position: relative;z-index: 9;background: #3b2e12;color: #a98b65;text-align: justify;padding: 20px;width: 380px;padding-bottom: 30px;}.sabrname{position: relative;z-index: 12;color: #a98b65;font: 110px 'Almendra Display', cursive;text-align: center;padding-right: 40px;margin-top: -50px;text-shadow: 8px 8px 8px #000;}.sabrquote{position: relative;z-index: 15;font: 32px 'Almendra Display', cursive;color: #a98b65;}</style><center><div class="sabrback"><img class="sabrpic" src="https://i.pinimg.com/564x/22/34/17/223417d8618d57f88d2885dc8eaed154.jpg"><div class="sabrgrad"></div><div class="sabrname">Sabrina</div><div class="sabrwords">
A leader who disappears, only to conveniently return when his title is challenged for. Sabrina was raised a diplomat, and therefor she was not a master of battle, but being a hellhound some of it came naturally.
The stag made her wait longer than she liked, arriving in his fox form that she hadn't known he possessed. He quickly shifts into his equine form, smart on him as she stood taller than him in both forms but equine would be a tougher battle. The bay mare does not waste time to shift herself into her canine form. She would have much better luck on the icy terrain with canine pads.
It was a risky move having the battle remain on the Isle, but she had grown so accustom to each and every groove. Her paws hardened under the jagged cool ground that she lived in, and though she thinks she is safe on the ice, a mishap in a battle is always looming overhead.
The equine wastes no time starting the battle, but she has no idea the teeth he bares or the spikes that prod from his hooves. She may be stupid, but she never truly feared another, being a spawn of the devil, and for that reason she stands her ground when he approaches. Though as he nears and his sharp teeth are bared and reaching for her leg her fighting instincts quickly jump in. She leaps away from him, but the suprise from his teeth had her moving slower than usual and for that he sheds some fur off her leg and a small streak of blood drips down. It wasn't enough to make her limp, but she can feel the cold as it clashes against the open wound.
Her adrenaline was now coursing through her veins, by the time she had regained her footing the black equine had already moved onto another attack, his hind legs outstretched reaching for the same spot as his bite had reached. Again she attempts to jump out of the way, her body completely lifted off the ground, but the length of his leg had the advantage. His blow hits right under her armpit, an unknown spike breaching past her skin causing her to gasp for air in shock.
When she collects herself her gaze quickly finds him moving away from her, her eyes narrow on him in annoyance. Perhaps she has underestimated this opponent, but still it was too late to turn away. The hound who was twice the size of the average wolf quickly runs after him, the ice beneath her worn down creating a more even ground. It didn't take too long to catch up, though perhaps it would have been faster had the wound in her armpit not lingered. She takes a risk by launching herself in the air, she comes in on him from the side and aims for sinking her sharp teeth into his back but she could easily have miscalculated her pounce and land on his hind end, or even grasping a leg if she had real bad luck.
</div><div class="sabrquote">Not Afraid To Bite</div></div></center>
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XImageTransform.Microvita.gradient( startColorstr='#3b2e12', endColorstr='#3b2e12', GradientType=0 );}.sabrwords{position: relative;z-index: 9;background: #3b2e12;color: #a98b65;text-align: justify;padding: 20px;width: 380px;padding-bottom: 30px;}.sabrname{position: relative;z-index: 12;color: #a98b65;font: 110px 'Almendra Display', cursive;text-align: center;padding-right: 40px;margin-top: -50px;text-shadow: 8px 8px 8px #000;}.sabrquote{position: relative;z-index: 15;font: 32px 'Almendra Display', cursive;color: #a98b65;}</style><center><div class="sabrback"><img class="sabrpic" src="https://i.pinimg.com/564x/22/34/17/223417d8618d57f88d2885dc8eaed154.jpg"><div class="sabrgrad"></div><div class="sabrname">Sabrina</div><div class="sabrwords">A leader who disappears, only to conveniently return when his title is challenged for. Sabrina was raised a diplomat, and therefor she was not a master of battle, but being a hellhound some of it came naturally.
The stag made her wait longer than she liked, arriving in his fox form that she hadn't known he possessed. He quickly shifts into his equine form, smart on him as she stood taller than him in both forms but equine would be a tougher battle. The bay mare does not waste time to shift herself into her canine form. She would have much better luck on the icy terrain with canine pads.
It was a risky move having the battle remain on the Isle, but she had grown so accustom to each and every groove. Her paws hardened under the jagged cool ground that she lived in, and though she thinks she is safe on the ice, a mishap in a battle is always looming overhead.
The equine wastes no time starting the battle, but she has no idea the teeth he bares or the spikes that prod from his hooves. She may be stupid, but she never truly feared another, being a spawn of the devil, and for that reason she stands her ground when he approaches. Though as he nears and his sharp teeth are bared and reaching for her leg her fighting instincts quickly jump in. She leaps away from him, but the suprise from his teeth had her moving slower than usual and for that he sheds some fur off her leg and a small streak of blood drips down. It wasn't enough to make her limp, but she can feel the cold as it clashes against the open wound.
Her adrenaline was now coursing through her veins, by the time she had regained her footing the black equine had already moved onto another attack, his hind legs outstretched reaching for the same spot as his bite had reached. Again she attempts to jump out of the way, her body completely lifted off the ground, but the length of his leg had the advantage. His blow hits right under her armpit, an unknown spike breaching past her skin causing her to gasp for air in shock.
When she collects herself her gaze quickly finds him moving away from her, her eyes narrow on him in annoyance. Perhaps she has underestimated this opponent, but still it was too late to turn away. The hound who was twice the size of the average wolf quickly runs after him, the ice beneath her worn down creating a more even ground. It didn't take too long to catch up, though perhaps it would have been faster had the wound in her armpit not lingered. She takes a risk by launching herself in the air, she comes in on him from the side and aims for sinking her sharp teeth into his back but she could easily have miscalculated her pounce and land on his hind end, or even grasping a leg if she had real bad luck.
</div><div class="sabrquote">Not Afraid To Bite</div></div></center>