<link href='https://fonts.googleapis.com/css?family=Herr+Von+Muellerhoff|PT+Sans+Narrow' rel='stylesheet' type='text/css'> <style type="text/css"> .luath_container { position: relative; z-index: 1; background: url('https://i.postimg.cc/CKVNVYbf/luath-bg.png'); width: 600px; min-height: 600px; border: solid 1px #000; box-shadow: 0px 0px 15px 1px #000; } .luath_container p { margin: 0; } .luath_image { position: relative; z-index: 5; width: 600px; } .luath_text { position: relative; z-index: 8; width: 520px; margin-top: 40px; margin-bottom: -200px; background: #000000b8; border: solid 10px #04010042; box-shadow: 0px 0px 15px 1px #000; } .luath_message { z-index: 8; position: relative; font: 12px 'Times New Roman', serif; text-align: justify; color: #54696d; padding: 30px; } .luath_name { position: absolute; z-index: 10; font: 150px 'Herr Von Muellerho[/font][/size][/color][color=#000000][size=small][font=Arial]ff', cursive; color: #54696d; bottom: 40px; right: 100px; opacity: 0.9; text-shadow: 0px 0px 20px #000; } .luath_quote { font: 11px 'PT Sans Narrow', sans-serif; text-transform: uppercase; background: #04010042; color: #54696d; padding: 20px; letter-spacing: 2px; } </style> <center> <div class="luath_container"> <div class="luath_text"> <p class="luath_quote">sing for me, and I would forgive you</p> <p class="luath_message">Dreams underwater are always filtered through a blue haze; he lies in the shallows tucked alongside some bright coral that gives him the most disguise he is likely to ever get. His blue and red is still striking, but in the shadows you would have to look for him. When the first threads of the dream come, he twitches but does not stir. The tang of blood in his mouth is familiar, his diet being mostly carnivorous, the ache of bruises less so but still something he knows from pitting himself against the larger creatures of the deep sea. They pass like particularly violent dreams - but satisfying ones. A successful hunt, the hum of battle under his skin…
But though he is physical creature of strong fighting instincts, the sharper cut of true pain against his skin cannot be brushed aside as the kiss of dark dreams. He has faced nothing in his life he could not beat or flee from, after all; his esteemed sire had vanquished any nightmare creatures he had taunted that he could not shake himself. It wakes him and he blinks, expecting to see the undulating, soothing blues of his beloved ocean and jolts into true awareness when he is instead confronted by the dry red dirt of the plains. The edges of the his vision darken and he realizes with a start that he’s not breathing – so used to the movement of water over his gills, he has to force himself to gasp for air, jump-starting his body’s instinct to breath in and out.
He’s contorted into a position that he never could have achieved if he had lain down with four legs, and it takes him a moment to untangle the unfamiliar hind limbs and struggle to his feet. It will take a few steps to reclaim his land-legs, because he has been in the water too long. More of a shock is that he can feel the wind through the hair all across his body: he has no scales, no sharp teeth! Those he has always retained, whether he chose to dwell in land or sea. Automatically, Luath hates it. He has been a wild, feral creature since the day he first fell from his mother’s womb, and he doesn’t like the idea of being <i>helpless</i>.
The boy doesn’t mind the smell of blood, though the sound of the wind is somewhat overwhelming after the quiet of the sea. He looks left, and wanders a few steps closer to the black monolith to peer into the carvings, taking a moment to realize it’s covered in horns. Turning around to the green stone to his right, the shape of wings is much easier to distinguish – or at least more familiar, the memories of many nights spent curled beneath his father’s ebony feathers after Brennen had dragged him out of the ocean and insisted on a good night’s sleep. Something draws him to approach one, and he abandons the black horns for the green wings with barely a second thought. Wings to him had always meant safety and security; he strides up to the pillar and caresses the shape of a feathered carving.
There’s a sound, a feeling, and he rocks back from the pillar, startled, and then gives a little yelp and a sideways hop when there’s the briefest feeling of tearing flesh, a millisecond of blinding pain, and then there’s giant wings protruding from <i>his</i> shoulders, blue-boned and red-membraned dragon wings that remind him starkly of the fins he seems to have lost. The boy takes a couple of wobbly steps and jumps up into the air, clumsily beating the appendages to lift himself a few feet from the ground and then falls heavily back to the red earth. Turning his head to blink at the wings, he is reminded suddenly of something Brennen had often said after telling Luath and his twin about his many adventures: <i> ‘There’s always a price with magic. A danger,’</i> he’d been firm about his expectations that they never approach a quest or magic challenge without their eyes wide open, especially stern when Luath had insisted he was going to have great adventures like Brennen. <i> ‘Luthe, you’re as likely to get hurt as get something you want. More people fail than succeed.’</i>.
Brennen hadn’t said anything about what to do if you’d stumbled across a quest by accident, pulled in from a sound sleep and suddenly fundamentally changed from a water creature to an air creature. The famed warrior had always dove head deep into his experiences, fighting tooth and nail and on purpose. But, he’s always wondered what it would be like to fly like Brennen. Is it like swimming? Turning towards the expanse of dusty clay, he spreads the wings again and tries a running start this time, thundering across the flat ground back towards the black horn pillar and flapping the great heavy things until his feet leave the ground and then, he is flying, the pillars becoming rapidly miniature beneath him as he whoops his excitement.
</div> <div class="luath_name">luath</div> <img class="luath_image" src="https://i.postimg.cc/SRKdtrCT/luath.png"> </div> </center>
Ooc: he has no kingdom allegiance right now
But though he is physical creature of strong fighting instincts, the sharper cut of true pain against his skin cannot be brushed aside as the kiss of dark dreams. He has faced nothing in his life he could not beat or flee from, after all; his esteemed sire had vanquished any nightmare creatures he had taunted that he could not shake himself. It wakes him and he blinks, expecting to see the undulating, soothing blues of his beloved ocean and jolts into true awareness when he is instead confronted by the dry red dirt of the plains. The edges of the his vision darken and he realizes with a start that he’s not breathing – so used to the movement of water over his gills, he has to force himself to gasp for air, jump-starting his body’s instinct to breath in and out.
He’s contorted into a position that he never could have achieved if he had lain down with four legs, and it takes him a moment to untangle the unfamiliar hind limbs and struggle to his feet. It will take a few steps to reclaim his land-legs, because he has been in the water too long. More of a shock is that he can feel the wind through the hair all across his body: he has no scales, no sharp teeth! Those he has always retained, whether he chose to dwell in land or sea. Automatically, Luath hates it. He has been a wild, feral creature since the day he first fell from his mother’s womb, and he doesn’t like the idea of being <i>helpless</i>.
The boy doesn’t mind the smell of blood, though the sound of the wind is somewhat overwhelming after the quiet of the sea. He looks left, and wanders a few steps closer to the black monolith to peer into the carvings, taking a moment to realize it’s covered in horns. Turning around to the green stone to his right, the shape of wings is much easier to distinguish – or at least more familiar, the memories of many nights spent curled beneath his father’s ebony feathers after Brennen had dragged him out of the ocean and insisted on a good night’s sleep. Something draws him to approach one, and he abandons the black horns for the green wings with barely a second thought. Wings to him had always meant safety and security; he strides up to the pillar and caresses the shape of a feathered carving.
There’s a sound, a feeling, and he rocks back from the pillar, startled, and then gives a little yelp and a sideways hop when there’s the briefest feeling of tearing flesh, a millisecond of blinding pain, and then there’s giant wings protruding from <i>his</i> shoulders, blue-boned and red-membraned dragon wings that remind him starkly of the fins he seems to have lost. The boy takes a couple of wobbly steps and jumps up into the air, clumsily beating the appendages to lift himself a few feet from the ground and then falls heavily back to the red earth. Turning his head to blink at the wings, he is reminded suddenly of something Brennen had often said after telling Luath and his twin about his many adventures: <i> ‘There’s always a price with magic. A danger,’</i> he’d been firm about his expectations that they never approach a quest or magic challenge without their eyes wide open, especially stern when Luath had insisted he was going to have great adventures like Brennen. <i> ‘Luthe, you’re as likely to get hurt as get something you want. More people fail than succeed.’</i>.
Brennen hadn’t said anything about what to do if you’d stumbled across a quest by accident, pulled in from a sound sleep and suddenly fundamentally changed from a water creature to an air creature. The famed warrior had always dove head deep into his experiences, fighting tooth and nail and on purpose. But, he’s always wondered what it would be like to fly like Brennen. Is it like swimming? Turning towards the expanse of dusty clay, he spreads the wings again and tries a running start this time, thundering across the flat ground back towards the black horn pillar and flapping the great heavy things until his feet leave the ground and then, he is flying, the pillars becoming rapidly miniature beneath him as he whoops his excitement.
</div> <div class="luath_name">luath</div> <img class="luath_image" src="https://i.postimg.cc/SRKdtrCT/luath.png"> </div> </center>
Ooc: he has no kingdom allegiance right now