07-16-2017, 02:48 PM
<center><link href="https://fonts.googleapis.com/css?family=Cinzel" rel="stylesheet"><div style="width: 550px; background: url('https://www.transparenttextures.com/patterns/black-lozenge.png'); background-position: top; background-repeat: repeat; background-color: #999;box-shadow: 0px 0px 20px #000000;border-radius: 100px 100px 0px 0px;"><div style="width: 540px; background: url('http://i.imgur.com/3WK1P4f.png'); padding-top: 10px; background-position: top; background-repeat: no-repeat; background-color: #171717; box-shadow: 0px 0px 20px #000000;border-radius: 100px 100px 0px 0px;"><div style="font-family: 'Times', serif; color: #595959; font-size: 12px; font-style: italic;text-align: center;line-height: 10pt; margin-top: 350px; text-shadow:1px 1px 7px #000;">Through despair and hope, Through faith and love. Till we find our place, on the path unwinding. </div><div style="width:500px; margin-bottom: 5px; margin-left: 10px; margin-right: 10px; padding: 10px;font-family: Times;color: #999;font-size: 12px; line-height: 140%; text-align: justify;border-right: 2px solid #5e5e5e;border-left: 2px solid #5e5e5e;border-radius: 20px 20px 0px 0px;">
He had ran from the darkness blindly. The unseen beast is far behind him, the Mountain before him and stillness surrounds him. Zenith had moved with the sole purpose of getting away from that creature, blind to the world around him.
But now, as his mind has steadies and his body stills, he sees he has a choice to make. The great ocean, roiling in its grey anger, causes a reaction in his body much like the dark growl earlier. His new vision lets him see each ripple atop the churning waves of energy and water, pulling a snarl from his lips. His stomach churns and his feline instincts make him look away, look to the mountain.
A storm is gathering, but a storm is something less foreign and therefore less terrifying. But this storm is not like others, it seems to have a heart at its center, a heart which glows with life. Before Zenith consciously make a decision he find himself padding towards the clouds and their heat, up a narrow path of slate and shale. He hates the sluggishness which still weighs him down, and especially at a time like this.
If I was my normal self I would not feel afraid, the lion consoles himself.
He tried not to think about what was going on, it didn't make sense and he needed to use all his energy for his body, not working out they why and how. Whatever was going on here was much bigger than him and he could only hope it would end as quickly and magically as it had began. So, as if he were in a battle, he stays in the moment, working off of instincts more than thoughts.
The orb seems to purr to him- beckon him. The muted scene captures his curiosity and in his interest slowly replaces his fear. His steps are heavy and purposeful and his sense remain sharp, nose and ears searching for what the fog may conceal from his dragon’s eye.
Into the mist.
</div><div style="font-family: 'Cinzel', serif; font-size: 30px; color: #999; line-height:30pt;margin-bottom: -8px; align:center; text-shadow: 1px 1px 20px #dfdfdf, 0px 0px 5px #2f2f2f; text-transform: uppercase;">ZENITH</div></center>
He had ran from the darkness blindly. The unseen beast is far behind him, the Mountain before him and stillness surrounds him. Zenith had moved with the sole purpose of getting away from that creature, blind to the world around him.
But now, as his mind has steadies and his body stills, he sees he has a choice to make. The great ocean, roiling in its grey anger, causes a reaction in his body much like the dark growl earlier. His new vision lets him see each ripple atop the churning waves of energy and water, pulling a snarl from his lips. His stomach churns and his feline instincts make him look away, look to the mountain.
A storm is gathering, but a storm is something less foreign and therefore less terrifying. But this storm is not like others, it seems to have a heart at its center, a heart which glows with life. Before Zenith consciously make a decision he find himself padding towards the clouds and their heat, up a narrow path of slate and shale. He hates the sluggishness which still weighs him down, and especially at a time like this.
If I was my normal self I would not feel afraid, the lion consoles himself.
He tried not to think about what was going on, it didn't make sense and he needed to use all his energy for his body, not working out they why and how. Whatever was going on here was much bigger than him and he could only hope it would end as quickly and magically as it had began. So, as if he were in a battle, he stays in the moment, working off of instincts more than thoughts.
The orb seems to purr to him- beckon him. The muted scene captures his curiosity and in his interest slowly replaces his fear. His steps are heavy and purposeful and his sense remain sharp, nose and ears searching for what the fog may conceal from his dragon’s eye.
Into the mist.
</div><div style="font-family: 'Cinzel', serif; font-size: 30px; color: #999; line-height:30pt;margin-bottom: -8px; align:center; text-shadow: 1px 1px 20px #dfdfdf, 0px 0px 5px #2f2f2f; text-transform: uppercase;">ZENITH</div></center>