<link href='http://fonts.googleapis.com/css?family=Alegreya+SC' rel='stylesheet' type='text/css'><style type="text/css">.carnage_container{position:relative;z-index:1;width:460px;font:12px 'Times New Roman', serif;background:#040308 url('http://web.qx.net/zamora/stars-notdistorted.png');border-radius:300px 300px 0 0;border:1px solid #000;box-shadow:0 0 10px #000;}.carnage_container p{margin:0;}.carnage_container img{margin-bottom:-200px;border-radius:300px 300px 0 0;}.carnage_gradient{position:absolute;z-index:10;top:500px;left:15px;width:430px;height:100px;background:-moz-linear-gradient(top, rgba(118,118,118,0) 0%, rgba(76,76,76,0.8) 100%);background:-webkit-gradient(linear, left top, left bottom, color-stop(0%,rgba(118,118,118,0)), color-stop(100%,rgba(76,76,76,0.8)));background:-webkit-linear-gradient(top, rgba(118,118,118,0) 0%,rgba(76,76,76,0.8) 100%);background:-o-linear-gradient(top, rgba(118,118,118,0) 0%,rgba(76,76,76,0.8) 100%);background:-ms-linear-gradient(top, rgba(118,118,118,0) 0%,rgba(76,76,76,0.8) 100%);background:linear-gradient(to bottom, rgba(118,118,118,0) 0%,rgba(76,76,76,0.8) 100%);filter:progid
XImageTransform.Microsoft.gradient( startColorstr='#00767676', endColorstr='#cc4c4c4c',GradientType=0 );}.carnage_message{position:relative;z-index:10;width:400px;background:rgba(76,76,76,0.8);text-align:justify;padding:15px;color:#CCDDE6;}.carnage_quote{position:relative;z-index:15;text-align:center;top:-20px;font:18px 'Alegreya SC', serif;color:#B34747;text-shadow:1px 1px 4px #441211;}.carnage_name{position:relative;z-index:15;padding-top:10px;text-align:center;font:28px 'Alegreya SC', serif;color:#B34747;text-shadow:1px 1px 4px #441211;}</style><center><div class="carnage_container"><img src="http://i21.photobucket.com/albums/b278/ruinedecho/carnage_zpsf4jw8cbz.jpg"><div class="carnage_gradient"></div><div class="carnage_message"><p class="carnage_quote">and lord, I fashion dark gods too;</p>
The fairies loathe his presence on their mountain, which drives a particularly petty part of him to haunt it all the more. He does not do much, mostly just watches as they come, sniveling with their requests.
Today is no different - <i>should</i> be no different – but the path of the snake-boy catches his eye, and that’s all. There’s nothing else to it – he doesn’t know this horse, and any blood they share is tangential and too far diluted for him to be interested in that way, the way Warrick had piqued his interests.
But he is bored, their dark god, has been too well behaved on the mountain, and this is an easy enough creature to intercept.
So he does – one second the path before Vulgaris is clear, and then he crowds it. He appears not as his regular, corporeal form, but as mist, larger than usual, solidifying into an evanescent, equine form.
“Vulgaris,” he says, plucking the name from the boy’s mind, “you pretend to be so noble.”
He feels further, plucks memories like ripe fruit, turning them over in his hands. He bites.
“You think you’re worthy of powers, like her? You know you’re not. So many terrible things, so many…”
As if he’s one to judge.
“You’re no healer.”
He steps closer, and his body dissolves, mist all around the boy, enveloping him. His voice, though, still rings clear.
“You would do better to just forget it all, I think…”
And he, the kind, caring god that he is, helps. He wipes Vulgaris’s memory, clears him of the names and faces that haunt him, leaves a blank slate. He buries the memories like corpses in the recesses of the boy’s mind – to be recovered someday, or perhaps not.
The boy is staring now, slack-jawed, and Carnage remakes himself once more, a dark god made of little but fog and mist.
“Go, Vulgaris,” he says, “you are not wanted here.”
<p class="carnage_name">c a r n a g e</p></div></div></center>
@[vulgaris] im SORRY this took 100 years!!! please let me know if you want me to change anything <33
XImageTransform.Microsoft.gradient( startColorstr='#00767676', endColorstr='#cc4c4c4c',GradientType=0 );}.carnage_message{position:relative;z-index:10;width:400px;background:rgba(76,76,76,0.8);text-align:justify;padding:15px;color:#CCDDE6;}.carnage_quote{position:relative;z-index:15;text-align:center;top:-20px;font:18px 'Alegreya SC', serif;color:#B34747;text-shadow:1px 1px 4px #441211;}.carnage_name{position:relative;z-index:15;padding-top:10px;text-align:center;font:28px 'Alegreya SC', serif;color:#B34747;text-shadow:1px 1px 4px #441211;}</style><center><div class="carnage_container"><img src="http://i21.photobucket.com/albums/b278/ruinedecho/carnage_zpsf4jw8cbz.jpg"><div class="carnage_gradient"></div><div class="carnage_message"><p class="carnage_quote">and lord, I fashion dark gods too;</p>The fairies loathe his presence on their mountain, which drives a particularly petty part of him to haunt it all the more. He does not do much, mostly just watches as they come, sniveling with their requests.
Today is no different - <i>should</i> be no different – but the path of the snake-boy catches his eye, and that’s all. There’s nothing else to it – he doesn’t know this horse, and any blood they share is tangential and too far diluted for him to be interested in that way, the way Warrick had piqued his interests.
But he is bored, their dark god, has been too well behaved on the mountain, and this is an easy enough creature to intercept.
So he does – one second the path before Vulgaris is clear, and then he crowds it. He appears not as his regular, corporeal form, but as mist, larger than usual, solidifying into an evanescent, equine form.
“Vulgaris,” he says, plucking the name from the boy’s mind, “you pretend to be so noble.”
He feels further, plucks memories like ripe fruit, turning them over in his hands. He bites.
“You think you’re worthy of powers, like her? You know you’re not. So many terrible things, so many…”
As if he’s one to judge.
“You’re no healer.”
He steps closer, and his body dissolves, mist all around the boy, enveloping him. His voice, though, still rings clear.
“You would do better to just forget it all, I think…”
And he, the kind, caring god that he is, helps. He wipes Vulgaris’s memory, clears him of the names and faces that haunt him, leaves a blank slate. He buries the memories like corpses in the recesses of the boy’s mind – to be recovered someday, or perhaps not.
The boy is staring now, slack-jawed, and Carnage remakes himself once more, a dark god made of little but fog and mist.
“Go, Vulgaris,” he says, “you are not wanted here.”
<p class="carnage_name">c a r n a g e</p></div></div></center>
@[vulgaris] im SORRY this took 100 years!!! please let me know if you want me to change anything <33