08-29-2015, 01:11 PM
<style type="text/css">.darebattle_container{position:relative;z-index:1;width:476px;height:550px;background:#000 url('http://i797.photobucket.com/albums/yy258/tbiter/darebattle_zpsifl2v7g4.jpg')}.darebattle_container p{margin:0;}.darebattle_messagebox{position:absolute;z-index:10;left:60px;top:110px;width:360px;height:260px;color:#4C331A;font:12px 'Times New Roman', serif;background: rgba(255,255,255,0.2);}.darebattle_message{text-align:justify;padding:10px;height:220px;overflow:auto;}.darebattle_message::-webkit-scrollbar{width:1px;background:transparent;}.darebattle_bottomborder{border-bottom: 3px solid#1E1E1E;width:280px;text-align:center;}.darebattle_topborder{position:absolute;bottom:20px;width:300px;right:20px;border-top:1px solid #000;text-align:center;}</style><center><div class="darebattle_container"><div class="darebattle_messagebox"><p class="darebattle_bottomborder">THE DRAGON'S IRE, MORE FIERCE THAN FIRE<BR></p><p class="darebattle_message">
And he went-because it was his duty.
And he went-because he was not afraid.
To send darkness into the light of men's hearts, such is the duty of the warrior.
He found the challenge plains with little incident, the packed earth reeking of blood and victories. The red clay was solidly compressed, likely left behind by some ancient river. Patterns of sediment swirled throughout the grounds, ripples of water it had not yet forgotten.
He approached them with clarity, with an undeniable sense of purpose. He took comfort in this shred of familiarity, in his acquaintance with competition. Yes, with those things he found solace, even as he came to stand opposite the bay female. He took her in briefly through glassy-green eyes, his mahogany wings grabbing gently at his own earthy hide. He was standing before her, facing her head-on. Tendrils of light lit their way against a shattered base, and it was then he knew his challenger was not ordinary. Even if her appearance had not led him to this knowledge, her scent surely would have. An illuminated greenhouse. Too much sun against the backdrop of the Jungle’s flora.
Killdare forgoes the usual song and dance, rushing the female overwhelmingly and immediately. He wanted to leave as little room as possible for prediction on his opponent’s part. No hints issued by way of visual cues. His body was an angry steam engine, a locomotive gaining speed as it chugged along. He was wary, of what lay beneath her fractured form, and rightly so. His breath rolled up from his diaphragm with rumbling huffs as he progressed. He would first use his size, his muscle and strength to bring her down. He lined up with her left side, targeting her breast and her shoulder. If the blow did not send her crashing into the earth, then perhaps it would at least leave her very sore.
He steeled himself for the assault, spreading his wings just enough to lift off the ground. He used his momentum to create a torpedo with his body, bracing himself for impact. Killdare did not want to be tripped up in his own handiwork, had no intentions to be sent careening across the plains from his own attack. Expansive slate tipped wings did not lift him, they gripped the sky and pulled the world down. The earthen bay broke the atmosphere with each thrust, catching the updraft after his attack. The climb was not perfect, it was slow, attributed to his mass and collision. Still, he persisted, reaching into the air. Once satisfied with the distance he curved around turning to face her again, holding himself suspended in the skies.
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And he went-because it was his duty.
And he went-because he was not afraid.
To send darkness into the light of men's hearts, such is the duty of the warrior.
He found the challenge plains with little incident, the packed earth reeking of blood and victories. The red clay was solidly compressed, likely left behind by some ancient river. Patterns of sediment swirled throughout the grounds, ripples of water it had not yet forgotten.
He approached them with clarity, with an undeniable sense of purpose. He took comfort in this shred of familiarity, in his acquaintance with competition. Yes, with those things he found solace, even as he came to stand opposite the bay female. He took her in briefly through glassy-green eyes, his mahogany wings grabbing gently at his own earthy hide. He was standing before her, facing her head-on. Tendrils of light lit their way against a shattered base, and it was then he knew his challenger was not ordinary. Even if her appearance had not led him to this knowledge, her scent surely would have. An illuminated greenhouse. Too much sun against the backdrop of the Jungle’s flora.
Killdare forgoes the usual song and dance, rushing the female overwhelmingly and immediately. He wanted to leave as little room as possible for prediction on his opponent’s part. No hints issued by way of visual cues. His body was an angry steam engine, a locomotive gaining speed as it chugged along. He was wary, of what lay beneath her fractured form, and rightly so. His breath rolled up from his diaphragm with rumbling huffs as he progressed. He would first use his size, his muscle and strength to bring her down. He lined up with her left side, targeting her breast and her shoulder. If the blow did not send her crashing into the earth, then perhaps it would at least leave her very sore.
He steeled himself for the assault, spreading his wings just enough to lift off the ground. He used his momentum to create a torpedo with his body, bracing himself for impact. Killdare did not want to be tripped up in his own handiwork, had no intentions to be sent careening across the plains from his own attack. Expansive slate tipped wings did not lift him, they gripped the sky and pulled the world down. The earthen bay broke the atmosphere with each thrust, catching the updraft after his attack. The climb was not perfect, it was slow, attributed to his mass and collision. Still, he persisted, reaching into the air. Once satisfied with the distance he curved around turning to face her again, holding himself suspended in the skies.
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