09-21-2015, 09:55 PM
<style type="text/css">.kushiel3_container {position: relative;z-index: 1;width: 494px; /*frame width, should be set to the image width*/height: 654px; /*frame height, should be set to the image height*/padding: 28px;background: #fff url('http://i254.photobucket.com/albums/hh84/schadowed/kushiel_1.png') no-repeat; /*background backup color and image*/border: 2px solid #000;box-shadow:0 0 20px #DDD8BB;/*border size, style, and color*/}.kushiel3_container p {margin: 0;}.kushiel3_messagebox {position: relative;top:50px;z-index: 50;width: 480px; /*message box width*/height:350px; /*message box height*/text-align: justify;background: rgba(254,255,253,0.30); /*message box background color*/font: 12px 'Times New Roman', serif; /*message font size and face*/padding: 2px 0;color: #301212; /*message font color*/visibility: hidden;}.kushiel3_messagebox {visibility: visible;}.kushiel3_message {height:330px; /*message scroll height*/overflow: auto;padding: 10px;}.kushiel3_message::-webkit-scrollbar {width: 1px;background: transparent;}</style><center><div class="kushiel3_container"><div class="kushiel3_messagebox"></p><p class="kushiel3_message">Kushiel felt like the kid who’s mom put a big heart on his lunch bag. Everyone was going to make fun of him. Except it was even worse than a heart on a lunch bag. His mom was going to <i>beat him up.</i> Kushiel scowled ferociously.
<br>
This was incredibly embarrassing.
<br>
But still, he had a little bit of pride, buried deep, deep beneath his usual bullshit. He wasn’t about to go crying to Warship and make him fight this battle for him. That would be even worse than receiving a sound ass whooping from his mother. Dragging Warship into this would be shameful. Otherwise, it was just normal, run of the mill mother son interaction. It was incredibly messed up, but at least he was used to it.
<br>
So, it was with a sour expression, that he presented himself on the battlefield. He fixed Gallows with what he hoped was a withering expression.<i><br>
“Fine, Ma. Let’s do this. All it’s going to prove is that your grown son can’t take a punch. That’s really more embarrassing for you than me.”</i> That was not true. It was <i>way</i> more embarrassing for Kushiel. By all accounts, he should have turned out to be a real scrapper. Where that destiny had gone awry was anyone’s guess.
<br>
But here he was, totally unprepared for battle. Feeling like an utter fool, Kushiel circled Gallows. He’d seen the warriors do that, and it seemed smart enough. He would try to catch her off guard. Or, failing in that, he thought a moving target would be a little harder to hit than a still one. She wouldn’t be expecting him to jump right into battle. Kushiel wasn’t much of a go getter. So, for the sake of trickery and deceit, that’s what he would do.
<br>
Mustering up as much strength as his untrained, flabby body could, Kushiel launched himself at Gallows, perpendicular to her left side. He would try to latch onto her poll, right behind her dastardly little ears. Perhaps, if he got a good enough grip, he could shake some sense into her. He couldn’t help but wincing slightly at the thought.
<br>
After all, blood tasted really bad.
<br>
Most likely, he would miss. He wasn’t much of a sportsman. But perhaps, if he did miss, he could rip out some of her mane instead. That would ruin her day. She had a nice mane, and it would be even better with a big chunk missing from it.
<br>
His attack completed, Kushiel scrambled backwards. He tried to spin to his left, and while he was ungraceful, he was motivated. The only thing he liked less than the taste of blood was the feeling of his own leaking from him. Better to get out of the way. He had no intention of kicking his mother in the face, he wasn’t that mad, but perhaps the threat would slow her down a little.
<br>
Maybe if he lost he would get a big scar. Would that impress Straia? Something told him that big scars were less impressive when they came from fighting with your mom. </p></center></div></div>
<br>
This was incredibly embarrassing.
<br>
But still, he had a little bit of pride, buried deep, deep beneath his usual bullshit. He wasn’t about to go crying to Warship and make him fight this battle for him. That would be even worse than receiving a sound ass whooping from his mother. Dragging Warship into this would be shameful. Otherwise, it was just normal, run of the mill mother son interaction. It was incredibly messed up, but at least he was used to it.
<br>
So, it was with a sour expression, that he presented himself on the battlefield. He fixed Gallows with what he hoped was a withering expression.<i><br>
“Fine, Ma. Let’s do this. All it’s going to prove is that your grown son can’t take a punch. That’s really more embarrassing for you than me.”</i> That was not true. It was <i>way</i> more embarrassing for Kushiel. By all accounts, he should have turned out to be a real scrapper. Where that destiny had gone awry was anyone’s guess.
<br>
But here he was, totally unprepared for battle. Feeling like an utter fool, Kushiel circled Gallows. He’d seen the warriors do that, and it seemed smart enough. He would try to catch her off guard. Or, failing in that, he thought a moving target would be a little harder to hit than a still one. She wouldn’t be expecting him to jump right into battle. Kushiel wasn’t much of a go getter. So, for the sake of trickery and deceit, that’s what he would do.
<br>
Mustering up as much strength as his untrained, flabby body could, Kushiel launched himself at Gallows, perpendicular to her left side. He would try to latch onto her poll, right behind her dastardly little ears. Perhaps, if he got a good enough grip, he could shake some sense into her. He couldn’t help but wincing slightly at the thought.
<br>
After all, blood tasted really bad.
<br>
Most likely, he would miss. He wasn’t much of a sportsman. But perhaps, if he did miss, he could rip out some of her mane instead. That would ruin her day. She had a nice mane, and it would be even better with a big chunk missing from it.
<br>
His attack completed, Kushiel scrambled backwards. He tried to spin to his left, and while he was ungraceful, he was motivated. The only thing he liked less than the taste of blood was the feeling of his own leaking from him. Better to get out of the way. He had no intention of kicking his mother in the face, he wasn’t that mad, but perhaps the threat would slow her down a little.
<br>
Maybe if he lost he would get a big scar. Would that impress Straia? Something told him that big scars were less impressive when they came from fighting with your mom. </p></center></div></div>