09-04-2015, 02:03 PM
<style type="text/css">.belgarath_container{position:relative;z-index:1;width:500px;background:#4A5F7E;border:1px solid #000;box-shadow:0 0 10px #000;font:12px 'Times New Roman', serif;}.belgarath_container p{margin:0;}.belgarath_gradient{position:absolute;z-index:5;width:500px;height:60px;background:-moz-linear-gradient(top, rgba(74,95,126,1) 0%, rgba(74,95,126,0) 65%, rgba(74,95,126,0) 100%);background:-webkit-gradient(linear, left top, left bottom, color-stop(0%,rgba(74,95,126,1)), color-stop(65%,rgba(74,95,126,0)), color-stop(100%,rgba(74,95,126,0)));background:-webkit-linear-gradient(top, rgba(74,95,126,1) 0%,rgba(74,95,126,0) 65%,rgba(74,95,126,0) 100%);background:-o-linear-gradient(top, rgba(74,95,126,1) 0%,rgba(74,95,126,0) 65%,rgba(74,95,126,0) 100%);background:-ms-linear-gradient(top, rgba(74,95,126,1) 0%,rgba(74,95,126,0) 65%,rgba(74,95,126,0) 100%);background:linear-gradient(to bottom, rgba(74,95,126,1) 0%,rgba(74,95,126,0) 65%,rgba(74,95,126,0) 100%);filter:progid
XImageTransform.Microsoft.gradient( startColorstr='#4a5f7e', endColorstr='#004a5f7e',GradientType=0 );}.belgarath_message{text-align:justify;padding:10px 20px;color:#000;}.belgarath_name{text-align:center;text-transform:uppercase;color:#101F36;font-size:30px;text-shadow:0 1px 2px #fff;}</style><center><div class="belgarath_container"><p class="belgarath_message">If anyone hears someone coming up behind them, of course they’re going to turn around. <i>Especially</i> if they’re expecting a fight. Gryffen wasn’t <i>really</i> expecting Bel to continue to show him his ass, was he? Actually give him an advantage AND go easy on him? Ahahahahaha. No. Plus with a hard ground, he would hear the stallion coming - there is no grass to muffle Gryffen’s pounding hooves, for all that the wind may whip around them and distort some sound. Belgarath may be lazy in some regards, but he is vigilant when it counts - and so at some point, yes, he turned around to face Gryffen. Like a real soldier would.
There is a reason for the distance between them, a perfectly logical and diabolical reason <i>why</i> Belgarath has decided to ‘run away’ in a cowardly manner. Run away? Oh no, the fun is really going to get started now. Gryffen has found the blank spot in the ice road and with Belgarath heading once again to his original left, they are on an elongating diagonal. As the white stallion clears his head from the demon ice cloud, Bel takes a look over his shoulder at the stationary figure and is surprised to see that his second attack didn’t cause more damage. His face should be stinging with the fury of a hundred ice bees, shouldn’t it? Hmmm. Ok. The next attack wouldn’t be so mild.
He sees that Gryffen isn’t leaving the ice-free area, which means that he will not be chasing Bel, which means that he should probably stop moving away from him. Belgarath puts on the brakes and slows from a canter to a trot, wheeling around in a 180 degree turn to the left, until he is facing Gryffen again. Very well. Let’s make the fellow move. He can do this two ways, and after a moment’s thought, decides to nix the first idea and go with the second.
Trotting slowly back towards Gryffen, Belgarath eyes the bird cautiously. It was able to distract him the first time, and those talons and beak are sharp enough to draw blood. The cuts on the top of his head begin to sting in affirmation. It isn’t enough pain to be distracting, just annoying. It takes the the sky, and so before <i>it</i> can strike first, Belgarath does. Without any warning, several giant, razor-edged spikes of ice rise quickly from the ground under Gryffen and in his immediate vicinity. Ok, the ground might shake a little bit as frozen water splits the ground, but the Chamberling doesn’t know what’s going to happen. One erupts behind the stallion, pointing at a 45 degree angle towards his hindquarters. If Gryffen doesn’t move forward quickly, he might get a painful poke in the ass. Another rises towards his unprotected underbelly, straight up, as if to impale him. It won’t (much). But Gryffen doesn’t know that. Where will he go? Forward or to the side? Two more break the ground and rise at his sides - one on his immediate left (mid barrel area) and one on at the base of his right front leg. Bel is about to direct them where to go and at what angle when the raven he kinda sorta forgot about flies into his line of vision. They remain aimed towards Gryffen, at stifle height.
Fuck! Belgarath closes his eyes and yanks his head away from the bird when he feels a stabbing pain on the brow bone above it. He coats his head in a thin layer of the demonic ice, relying on the fact that because it is a part of him, it can’t hurt him. If the raven were real, the ice would probably seriously hurt the creature, maybe even more so than it would a horse. But as it isn’t, neither the agonizing cold of the ice nor its fear inducing qualities may affect it. It just bides Bel time to protect himself and open his eyes again. There is a scratch above his eye, but nothing too terrible. After growling in displeasure, Belgarath swings his head back to where it originally was, and gets pissed. His jaws snap after the constantly moving creature, just dying to get one of its fake tail feathers in his mouth. Of course that wouldn’t do anything. But still. The urge is there.
When the bird flies off and returns to its master, Belgrath reaches down into the earth, farther than the ice spikes and farther than the demon breath. He reaches and then he pulls - hard - breaking a sweat. Of course, he is very vulnerable at this point, being still and unprotected and concentrating on something else, but what he intends to bring back (and show off) will be worth it. Don’t mess with Belgarath. Finally, with a bellow and a half-rear on to his hind legs, three light light blue little creatures appear. They have a humanoid form with two arms and two legs and a head, but are short and squat and cackle with a mischievous laughter.
<i>Oh yeah.</i> Belgarath has raised Ice Imps.
And they bound towards Gryffen, fully intent on either riding him, pulling his mane and tail, and climbing up him to sit on his head. If he stands still, he’s a sitting duck, and if he moves, then great! They love chasing after their victims.
Who says Belgarath doesn’t have a sense of humor?
</p><p class="belgarath_name">belgarath</p><div class="belgarath_gradient"></div><img src="http://i21.photobucket.com/albums/b278/ruinedecho/bel_zpsyimfl5am.gif"></div></center>
XImageTransform.Microsoft.gradient( startColorstr='#4a5f7e', endColorstr='#004a5f7e',GradientType=0 );}.belgarath_message{text-align:justify;padding:10px 20px;color:#000;}.belgarath_name{text-align:center;text-transform:uppercase;color:#101F36;font-size:30px;text-shadow:0 1px 2px #fff;}</style><center><div class="belgarath_container"><p class="belgarath_message">If anyone hears someone coming up behind them, of course they’re going to turn around. <i>Especially</i> if they’re expecting a fight. Gryffen wasn’t <i>really</i> expecting Bel to continue to show him his ass, was he? Actually give him an advantage AND go easy on him? Ahahahahaha. No. Plus with a hard ground, he would hear the stallion coming - there is no grass to muffle Gryffen’s pounding hooves, for all that the wind may whip around them and distort some sound. Belgarath may be lazy in some regards, but he is vigilant when it counts - and so at some point, yes, he turned around to face Gryffen. Like a real soldier would. There is a reason for the distance between them, a perfectly logical and diabolical reason <i>why</i> Belgarath has decided to ‘run away’ in a cowardly manner. Run away? Oh no, the fun is really going to get started now. Gryffen has found the blank spot in the ice road and with Belgarath heading once again to his original left, they are on an elongating diagonal. As the white stallion clears his head from the demon ice cloud, Bel takes a look over his shoulder at the stationary figure and is surprised to see that his second attack didn’t cause more damage. His face should be stinging with the fury of a hundred ice bees, shouldn’t it? Hmmm. Ok. The next attack wouldn’t be so mild.
He sees that Gryffen isn’t leaving the ice-free area, which means that he will not be chasing Bel, which means that he should probably stop moving away from him. Belgarath puts on the brakes and slows from a canter to a trot, wheeling around in a 180 degree turn to the left, until he is facing Gryffen again. Very well. Let’s make the fellow move. He can do this two ways, and after a moment’s thought, decides to nix the first idea and go with the second.
Trotting slowly back towards Gryffen, Belgarath eyes the bird cautiously. It was able to distract him the first time, and those talons and beak are sharp enough to draw blood. The cuts on the top of his head begin to sting in affirmation. It isn’t enough pain to be distracting, just annoying. It takes the the sky, and so before <i>it</i> can strike first, Belgarath does. Without any warning, several giant, razor-edged spikes of ice rise quickly from the ground under Gryffen and in his immediate vicinity. Ok, the ground might shake a little bit as frozen water splits the ground, but the Chamberling doesn’t know what’s going to happen. One erupts behind the stallion, pointing at a 45 degree angle towards his hindquarters. If Gryffen doesn’t move forward quickly, he might get a painful poke in the ass. Another rises towards his unprotected underbelly, straight up, as if to impale him. It won’t (much). But Gryffen doesn’t know that. Where will he go? Forward or to the side? Two more break the ground and rise at his sides - one on his immediate left (mid barrel area) and one on at the base of his right front leg. Bel is about to direct them where to go and at what angle when the raven he kinda sorta forgot about flies into his line of vision. They remain aimed towards Gryffen, at stifle height.
Fuck! Belgarath closes his eyes and yanks his head away from the bird when he feels a stabbing pain on the brow bone above it. He coats his head in a thin layer of the demonic ice, relying on the fact that because it is a part of him, it can’t hurt him. If the raven were real, the ice would probably seriously hurt the creature, maybe even more so than it would a horse. But as it isn’t, neither the agonizing cold of the ice nor its fear inducing qualities may affect it. It just bides Bel time to protect himself and open his eyes again. There is a scratch above his eye, but nothing too terrible. After growling in displeasure, Belgarath swings his head back to where it originally was, and gets pissed. His jaws snap after the constantly moving creature, just dying to get one of its fake tail feathers in his mouth. Of course that wouldn’t do anything. But still. The urge is there.
When the bird flies off and returns to its master, Belgrath reaches down into the earth, farther than the ice spikes and farther than the demon breath. He reaches and then he pulls - hard - breaking a sweat. Of course, he is very vulnerable at this point, being still and unprotected and concentrating on something else, but what he intends to bring back (and show off) will be worth it. Don’t mess with Belgarath. Finally, with a bellow and a half-rear on to his hind legs, three light light blue little creatures appear. They have a humanoid form with two arms and two legs and a head, but are short and squat and cackle with a mischievous laughter.
<i>Oh yeah.</i> Belgarath has raised Ice Imps.
And they bound towards Gryffen, fully intent on either riding him, pulling his mane and tail, and climbing up him to sit on his head. If he stands still, he’s a sitting duck, and if he moves, then great! They love chasing after their victims.
Who says Belgarath doesn’t have a sense of humor?
</p><p class="belgarath_name">belgarath</p><div class="belgarath_gradient"></div><img src="http://i21.photobucket.com/albums/b278/ruinedecho/bel_zpsyimfl5am.gif"></div></center>