Like a Thorn to the Holy Ones {any}

[Siberian]

<link href='https://fonts.googleapis.com/css?family=Nothing+You+Could+Do' rel='stylesheet' type='text/css'><link href='https://fonts.googleapis.com/css?family=Jaldi' rel='stylesheet' type='text/css'> <style type="text/css"> .siber_container { position: relative; z-index: 1; background: #8C3310; width: 550px; border: 2px solid #200B01;border-radius: 00px 0 0 00px; box-shadow: 0px 0px 10px 1px #FFF; } .siber_container p { margin: 0; } .siber_image { position: relative; z-index: 4; width: 500px; border: solid 1px black; border-bottom: none; border-radius: 00px 0 0 0; margin-top: 25px; } .siber_gradient_top { position: absolute; z-index: 10; left: 25px; top: 435px; width: 500px; height: 300px;background-image: -ms-linear-gradient(top, rgba(255,255,255,0) 0%, rgba(191,110,78,1) 100%);background-image: -moz-linear-gradient(top, rgba(255,255,255,0) 0%, rgba(191,110,78,1) 100%);background-image: -o-linear-gradient(top, rgba(255,255,255,0) 0%, rgba(191,110,78,1) 100%); background-image: -webkit-gradient(linear, left top, left bottom, color-stop(0, rgba(255,255,255,0)), color-stop(100, rgba(191,110,78,1)));background-image: -webkit-linear-gradient(top, rgba(255,255,255,0) 0%, rgba(191,110,78,1) 100%); } .siber_text { position: relative; z-index: 4; width: 500px; background-color: #bf6e4e; margin-bottom: 25px; margin-top: -5px; border: solid 1px black; border-top: none; border-radius:0 0 0 00px;} .siber_message { width: 440px; height: 335px; padding-left:15px;overflow: scroll; position: relative; font: 12px 'Times New Roman', serif; text-align: justify; color: #000;border-radius:0 0 0 0px;} .siber_name { text-align:center; font: 60px 'Nothing You Could Do', cursive; color: #541D03; font-style: bold; letter-spacing: 3px; padding-top: 20px;} .siber_title { text-align:center; color: #401602; letter-spacing: 2px; font: 11px 'Jaldi', sans-serif; text-transform: uppercase; padding-bottom: 20px; } </style> <center> <div class="siber_container"> <img class="siber_image" src="https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/69/c0/d1/69c0d127669c96495dab09ce1c4272ba.jpg"> <div class="siber_gradient_top"></div> <div class="siber_text"><p class="siber_message">He doesn't know where he is, doesn't know the name of the force that had driven him (and the rest of the Chamberlings as well, to judge by the cacophony of panicked voices sounding all around him) forth from the forested kingdom.  He doesn't know if the earthquakes had completely destroyed his home, or consumed any of the few horses he felt close to.  Siberian does know one thing however, one very important thing:  the quiet voice at the back of his mind, the voice of his ursine counterpart, had fallen silent, not responding to any mental calls the stallion made to it.  And with its departure, it had gone hand in hand with his ability to shapeshift.  When the blind horse realizes this, panic immediately sets in, and he only barely manages to not begin rushing heedlessly through the alien landscape.  His ears pin back in fright, clouded eyes widen, but he forces himself to take it slow, tapping a hoof carefully along the unseen path in his best imitation of a white cane.   Voices swirl all about him, angry, frightened, lost.  He tries asking for help, for news, but the disaster has apparently not affected only the Chamber, and his words are lost in the verbal tumult.  A horse bumps into him, luckily not hard enough to knock the Budyonny off of his feet, and he manages to steady himself.  

He begins to notice that the ground seems to be rising beneath his careful hooves, and the air is becoming thinner.  He couldn't recall that there were any mountains in Beqanna; was it a result of whatever had happened?  At some point, he feels the ground leveling out into a summit, and he feels secure enough to come to a stop.  A wisp of familiar scent teases his nose, and he inhales deeply, aiming his head in the direction that it had come from.  Was it Nymph, his closest friend?  He follows after it like the beacon that it is, focusing only upon that smell and no other horse's, until it is strong enough to silently proclaim that he now stands in the presence of the blood bay.  Breathing out a great sigh of relief to have found something of home again, to not be alone anymore, he whickers a tired greeting to the necromancer.  Listening for the sound of the other stallion's breathing, he bumps his muzzle against the other's in a "broski" gesture.  Gradually calming, his senses inform him of another close by, a female with youthful voice and a scent reminiscent of Nymph's own....one of his offspring?  He definitely had a few scattered about, but only one had currently been in the Chamber before it all fell apart.   "Hello, Nymph, and....Siba? What has happened? "

</p><p class="siber_name">Siberian </p><p class="siber_title">The sexy grizzly boy of Beqanna</p> </div> </div> </center>