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<td class="rwords">There air is becoming thinner. Survive—it is what the beast must do now. The hunger it has craved for so long, the animal rattling in its cage, slowly begins to disappear. It is the natural necessity, the earthly demand of the body to have oxygen if the creature is going to stay up here any longer in this place.
What is this place?
It searched across the rocky outcrop for answers. The creature zig-zagged around others that it marked as useless – their confusion of why and where they were here was helpless information. The only thing the red devil knew that it was on some sort of high up cliff—the Mountain is what it heard the others call it. Why here though? Why were they brought here?
The beast stands at the edge of the mountain. A tingling sensation slowly starts. It can feel the uncoiling, the darkness wrapped around its soul releasing its grip—it can breath. However, a strange euphoria grips onto it. It inhales deeply, suffocating. The beast pulls back instinctively, trembling slightly. The euphoria is quickly gone, as it had come.
Breathe—the beast inhales—the air feels like there is nothing left here. It turns its head quickly; hooves against hard surface draw its attention to another (a familiar face, yet distant memory that is clouded in the devil’s mind). The red creature flares it’s nostrils and takes in short, slow breaths.
<font color=6e210d> “Arrived?”</font> It questions at the irony in that. <font color=6e210d> “No, we were taken... brought here by something.”</font> The answer has not been found out yet. The devil has to find out why it is here—why they all have been brought here. <font color=6e210d> “Are we even still in Beqanna? It feels the same.”</font> It is not the same though. Something here, at the very edge of the mountain, pulls at all of them—the magic within seems to be drawn to it.
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<BR><table class="rtable" style="width: 550px; margin-top: 20px"><tr><td class="rname"><center>Rodrik</center></td></tr></table><table class="rtable" style="width: 550px; margin-top:11px; margin-right: 0px;"><tr><td class="rtitle"><I>angels banished from heaven have no choice but to become devils</I></div></td></tr></table></div><font color=black size=2 face=garamond>character info: <a href="http://www.boards2go.com/boards/board.cgi?action=read&id=1388523069.40866&user=shelbi">here</a> | character reference: <a href="http://i8.photobucket.com/albums/a47/strangeandunusual/references/RodrikforShelbi_zpsfdaa97ce.png">here</a> | image © <a href="http://uribaani.deviantart.com/">uribaani</a></font></center><link href='http://fonts.googleapis.com/css?family=Cinzel+Decorative' rel='stylesheet' type='text/css'>
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<td class="rwords">There air is becoming thinner. Survive—it is what the beast must do now. The hunger it has craved for so long, the animal rattling in its cage, slowly begins to disappear. It is the natural necessity, the earthly demand of the body to have oxygen if the creature is going to stay up here any longer in this place.
What is this place?
It searched across the rocky outcrop for answers. The creature zig-zagged around others that it marked as useless – their confusion of why and where they were here was helpless information. The only thing the red devil knew that it was on some sort of high up cliff—the Mountain is what it heard the others call it. Why here though? Why were they brought here?
The beast stands at the edge of the mountain. A tingling sensation slowly starts. It can feel the uncoiling, the darkness wrapped around its soul releasing its grip—it can breath. However, a strange euphoria grips onto it. It inhales deeply, suffocating. The beast pulls back instinctively, trembling slightly. The euphoria is quickly gone, as it had come.
Breathe—the beast inhales—the air feels like there is nothing left here. It turns its head quickly; hooves against hard surface draw its attention to another (a familiar face, yet distant memory that is clouded in the devil’s mind). The red creature flares it’s nostrils and takes in short, slow breaths.
<font color=6e210d> “Arrived?”</font> It questions at the irony in that. <font color=6e210d> “No, we were taken... brought here by something.”</font> The answer has not been found out yet. The devil has to find out why it is here—why they all have been brought here. <font color=6e210d> “Are we even still in Beqanna? It feels the same.”</font> It is not the same though. Something here, at the very edge of the mountain, pulls at all of them—the magic within seems to be drawn to it.
</td></tr></table>
<BR><table class="rtable" style="width: 550px; margin-top: 20px"><tr><td class="rname"><center>Rodrik</center></td></tr></table><table class="rtable" style="width: 550px; margin-top:11px; margin-right: 0px;"><tr><td class="rtitle"><I>angels banished from heaven have no choice but to become devils</I></div></td></tr></table></div><font color=black size=2 face=garamond>character info: <a href="http://www.boards2go.com/boards/board.cgi?action=read&id=1388523069.40866&user=shelbi">here</a> | character reference: <a href="http://i8.photobucket.com/albums/a47/strangeandunusual/references/RodrikforShelbi_zpsfdaa97ce.png">here</a> | image © <a href="http://uribaani.deviantart.com/">uribaani</a></font></center><link href='http://fonts.googleapis.com/css?family=Cinzel+Decorative' rel='stylesheet' type='text/css'>
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