09-18-2015, 11:31 PM
<style type="text/css">credit{position:justified;bottom;text-align:left;font:12px 'times', serif;color: #441B05;font-style:light;opacity:.10}.template3_container {position: relative;z-index: 1;width: 494px; /*frame width, should be set to the image width*/height: 689px; /*frame height, should be set to the image height*/padding: 28px;background: #fff url('http://i254.photobucket.com/albums/hh84/schadowed/c300d31a-6886-4f35-a50d-24c62436e852.png') no-repeat; /*background backup color and image*/border: 2px solid #000;box-shadow:0 0 20px #DDD8BB;/*border size, style, and color*/}.template3_container p {margin: 0;}.template3_messagebox {position: relative;z-index: 10;width: 500px; /*message box width*/height:500px; /*message box height*/text-align: justify;background: rgba(254,255,253,0.10); /*message box background color*/font: 12px 'Times New Roman', serif; /*message font size and face*/padding: 8px 0;color: #DDD8BB; /*message font color*/visibility: hidden;}.template3_messagebox {visibility: visible;}.template3_message {height:380px; /*message scroll height*/overflow: auto;padding: 20px;}.template3_message::-webkit-scrollbar {width: 1px;background: transparent;}.rippleref_bottomborder{position:bottom:10px;text-align:center;font:35px 'Copperplate', fantasy;text-shadow: 1px 2px 4px #fff;color:;font-style:bold}.rippleref_bottomunder{position:center;bottom;text-align:center;font:14px 'Copperplate', fantasy;color: #E8E7C2;font-style:light;opacity:.70;text-shadow: 0px 0px 0px;}.template3_quote {text-align: center;font: 15px 'Copperplate', fantasy; /*quote font size and face*/font-style: light;opacity:.70;color: #E8E7C2; /*quote font color*/padding: 1px;padding-bottom:7px;}</style><center><div class="template3_container"><div class="template3_messagebox"><p class="template3_quote">the darkest nights produce the brightest stars</p><p class="template3_message">Only on the battlefield did Fennick feel a connection to his body. He did not have a soul, he was a soul. He had a body. But, in truth, Fennick had no real form, just a strange purple blob of goo that could be shaped into whatever his eyes could see. Most days, he chose to be himself as he saw in his mind’s eyes, a large black stallion. He could shift from memory, but he had limited success. He didn’t see it as a loss, not when the world was filled with such wonderful things. He did, however, take a moment to drink in his surroundings. Everything was a tool he could use, that he could become. The stallion smiled. Yes, he could work with this. Hell, he could even become Erebor, if he wanted.
<br>
At Erebor’s approach, Fennick felt jolts of adrenaline, like little shocks of lightening, race through his body. He also felt his power, popping and crackling within him. He was ready to attack, ready to change, ready for whatever Erebor could throw at him. He couldn’t help but feel that this was <i>his</i> moment, this was his chance to prove himself. He was a lousy diplomat, but this, this he could do.
<br>
Fennick met Erebor’s eyes. He didn’t know the full extent of the stallion’s power, only that it had something to do with heat. He did, however, expect a magical attack, rather than a physical one. Why else agree to use their traits? Fennick didn’t waste energy on words, he studied the other stallion’s expression, the shifting of his body, waiting for the first attack.
<br>
When the attack did come, it took Fennick a minute to realize it. He felt his eyes go dry, and this lips chap. Fennick jumped a little in surprised realization, but less than a second later he sprung into the air. The next time the opened his mouth a hawk’s scream came out. He felt his lungs fill with burning hot air, his eyes went so dry they couldn’t even water. Every breath was an agony, but soon he was high in the air, circling and dipping to try and stay out of Erebor’s range. He wasn’t sure what that range was, but it would need to be large to keep up with him.
<br>
Fennick knew he couldn’t spend much time in a delicate, living form, not when his opponent had the power to cook him from the inside out. No, he needed something that wasn’t made from delicate, liquid filled tissue. Inside his skull, hawk Fennick grinned. He knew just the thing.
<br>
Suddenly, with the grace only a bird could have, Fennick dove toward his opponent. He needed to be close enough to aim, but not close enough to get burned. Most importantly, it had to be a surprise. When he was about 30 feet away, Fennick shifted. Instead of a bird, he was now a horse sized stone hurtling towards the other stallion. He trusted Erebor could get out of his way, at least a little bit. He would however, have to move pretty quickly. Fennick was counting on Erebor to stand his ground until it was too late to to dodge him entirely. After all, why would he run from a little bird? He didn’t want to kill the other stallion, but he was left with few options. He needed momentum from the dive, and he couldn’t stay on the ground to get a running start, not when he was surrounded by burning hot air.
<br>
But hell, if Erebor was going to cook him like a fish, Fennick would try to squash him like a bug. Fair was fair. The only problem, with being a stone, was that he had no way of aiming himself. It was an all out blitz attack, all brute strength and power. He may be reminiscent of a caveman smacking his enemy over the head with a rock, but sometimes the old ways were the best ways. </p><center><div class="rippleref_bottomborder">Fennick<br><div class="rippleref_bottomunder">Whale and Rea's amorphous, ever-changing son</div></div></font></center></div></div></div></div></font></font>
<br>
At Erebor’s approach, Fennick felt jolts of adrenaline, like little shocks of lightening, race through his body. He also felt his power, popping and crackling within him. He was ready to attack, ready to change, ready for whatever Erebor could throw at him. He couldn’t help but feel that this was <i>his</i> moment, this was his chance to prove himself. He was a lousy diplomat, but this, this he could do.
<br>
Fennick met Erebor’s eyes. He didn’t know the full extent of the stallion’s power, only that it had something to do with heat. He did, however, expect a magical attack, rather than a physical one. Why else agree to use their traits? Fennick didn’t waste energy on words, he studied the other stallion’s expression, the shifting of his body, waiting for the first attack.
<br>
When the attack did come, it took Fennick a minute to realize it. He felt his eyes go dry, and this lips chap. Fennick jumped a little in surprised realization, but less than a second later he sprung into the air. The next time the opened his mouth a hawk’s scream came out. He felt his lungs fill with burning hot air, his eyes went so dry they couldn’t even water. Every breath was an agony, but soon he was high in the air, circling and dipping to try and stay out of Erebor’s range. He wasn’t sure what that range was, but it would need to be large to keep up with him.
<br>
Fennick knew he couldn’t spend much time in a delicate, living form, not when his opponent had the power to cook him from the inside out. No, he needed something that wasn’t made from delicate, liquid filled tissue. Inside his skull, hawk Fennick grinned. He knew just the thing.
<br>
Suddenly, with the grace only a bird could have, Fennick dove toward his opponent. He needed to be close enough to aim, but not close enough to get burned. Most importantly, it had to be a surprise. When he was about 30 feet away, Fennick shifted. Instead of a bird, he was now a horse sized stone hurtling towards the other stallion. He trusted Erebor could get out of his way, at least a little bit. He would however, have to move pretty quickly. Fennick was counting on Erebor to stand his ground until it was too late to to dodge him entirely. After all, why would he run from a little bird? He didn’t want to kill the other stallion, but he was left with few options. He needed momentum from the dive, and he couldn’t stay on the ground to get a running start, not when he was surrounded by burning hot air.
<br>
But hell, if Erebor was going to cook him like a fish, Fennick would try to squash him like a bug. Fair was fair. The only problem, with being a stone, was that he had no way of aiming himself. It was an all out blitz attack, all brute strength and power. He may be reminiscent of a caveman smacking his enemy over the head with a rock, but sometimes the old ways were the best ways. </p><center><div class="rippleref_bottomborder">Fennick<br><div class="rippleref_bottomunder">Whale and Rea's amorphous, ever-changing son</div></div></font></center></div></div></div></div></font></font>