09-15-2017, 02:35 PM
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XImageTransform.Microsoft.gradient( startColorstr='#00101010', endColorstr='#a6101010',GradientType=0 );} .sin1words {text-align:justify; font: 10.5pt times new roman, sans-serif; color: #4b3c44; line-height: 14px; width: 600px;}</style><center><div class="sin1layout"><img class="sin1image" src="http://i.imgur.com/ZIROMHY.jpg"><table class="sin1table"><tr><td class="sin1words"> There is silence all around him.
He is alone in the dark, lonely hour of the night. The canopy of the forest above him shield the light of the moon and stars. He takes a quick breath in, tasting the scent and air. It growls at him, the hunger inside of him—he must hunt.
Tonight he will.
He moves forward, through the frosted shrubs and frozen ground, in his canine form. A creature of midnight black fur and scales with red and yellow glowing eyes. It is the shape he often stays in; the way he was meant to come into the world.
A message, an omen.
They made him into something chaotic and violent. Capable of more things than they might have thought him to be. He was a weaponry, a tool that was created to be used. His will was bent and formed to serve the dark. And he was a prime choice to have and use when needed as he lived by no moral code.
He simply listened and obeyed—wickedness was all that was required to have.
The pace of his movement had picked up some time ago. He twists around the trunks of trees and jumps over roots and plants that come into his path. The hunger is searching, calling out into the darkness for anything.
It wants to play; it wants to eat.
Most of all, the hunger wants to rip bone and flesh and eat.
Suddenly, the earth shakes beneath his paws.
The black hound draws to a halt, sniffing the air around him. The silence no longer feels peaceful as it once did. There is an eerie feeling, it crawls up his spine and makes his hair stand up. His ears flick here and there, searching and listening. The hunger draws in, beating and listening in the eerie silence.
He does not feel afraid though, there is something that quickly brings him to relax as the eerie silence consumes him.
Something telling him to not be afraid.
The ground shakes again beneath his paws.
It’s closer than ever now. A smell draws his red and yellow eyes into the distance, making out little in the forest covered by shadows.
The scent smells of burning flesh and sulphur are stronger than ever in an instance. Then suddenly there is a deep howl, just around the corner.
He whips to the way the howl comes—<i>No, it’s not there</i>.
Then there is a deep growl, several in fact. The black hound turns around quickly. His eyes quickly take in the forms of wolf-like creatures shaped and made out of molten lava.
He does draw back from the creatures of that are dark and frightening. There is something familiar in the way they are made, just as he is made. Something dark and chaotic creature them, just as he had been created. There is some untold relation between them almost, a brother some might call it.
But he simply finds them a comrade—a message and omen just as he is.
And he already knows what he must do, no words need to be spoken, no force of chasing him where he is called to be.
He follows them willingly.
They run together, like he is one of them, a servant to this unidentified thing that calls to him.
He is a servant always though, molded and thrown into the world to serve the dark only.
It is the hunger that drives him forward, the heart of a servant that guides him towards the lair.
<I>Come, and be transformed. </i>
It speaks to him, calling him out of the world of darkness and into the light.
He submits to the call. Not because he is afraid, but because the very will of him wants and desires to serve.
There is something maddening and powerful about this so called stranger.
He must know more.
Eventually, the pack arrives at the lair.
He does not stop in his tracks as they do, he eagerly enters into the lair that lays underground. The scent of the lair stinks with death and smells of dried blood. There are bones laying all around him. Some of them he steps on, snapping and breaking.
He doesn’t stop, not until he is in the heart of the lair.
“I came just as I was asked,” he says boldly, but not arrogantly.
He is here to serve after all.</td></tr></table></div><font color=black size=2 face=garamond>character info: <a href="http://beqanna.com/forum/member.php?action=profile&uid=2047">here</a> | character reference: <a href="http://i.imgur.com/y0ghWp1.jpg">here</a></font></center>
XImageTransform.Microsoft.gradient( startColorstr='#00101010', endColorstr='#a6101010',GradientType=0 );} .sin1words {text-align:justify; font: 10.5pt times new roman, sans-serif; color: #4b3c44; line-height: 14px; width: 600px;}</style><center><div class="sin1layout"><img class="sin1image" src="http://i.imgur.com/ZIROMHY.jpg"><table class="sin1table"><tr><td class="sin1words"> There is silence all around him.He is alone in the dark, lonely hour of the night. The canopy of the forest above him shield the light of the moon and stars. He takes a quick breath in, tasting the scent and air. It growls at him, the hunger inside of him—he must hunt.
Tonight he will.
He moves forward, through the frosted shrubs and frozen ground, in his canine form. A creature of midnight black fur and scales with red and yellow glowing eyes. It is the shape he often stays in; the way he was meant to come into the world.
A message, an omen.
They made him into something chaotic and violent. Capable of more things than they might have thought him to be. He was a weaponry, a tool that was created to be used. His will was bent and formed to serve the dark. And he was a prime choice to have and use when needed as he lived by no moral code.
He simply listened and obeyed—wickedness was all that was required to have.
The pace of his movement had picked up some time ago. He twists around the trunks of trees and jumps over roots and plants that come into his path. The hunger is searching, calling out into the darkness for anything.
It wants to play; it wants to eat.
Most of all, the hunger wants to rip bone and flesh and eat.
Suddenly, the earth shakes beneath his paws.
The black hound draws to a halt, sniffing the air around him. The silence no longer feels peaceful as it once did. There is an eerie feeling, it crawls up his spine and makes his hair stand up. His ears flick here and there, searching and listening. The hunger draws in, beating and listening in the eerie silence.
He does not feel afraid though, there is something that quickly brings him to relax as the eerie silence consumes him.
Something telling him to not be afraid.
The ground shakes again beneath his paws.
It’s closer than ever now. A smell draws his red and yellow eyes into the distance, making out little in the forest covered by shadows.
The scent smells of burning flesh and sulphur are stronger than ever in an instance. Then suddenly there is a deep howl, just around the corner.
He whips to the way the howl comes—<i>No, it’s not there</i>.
Then there is a deep growl, several in fact. The black hound turns around quickly. His eyes quickly take in the forms of wolf-like creatures shaped and made out of molten lava.
He does draw back from the creatures of that are dark and frightening. There is something familiar in the way they are made, just as he is made. Something dark and chaotic creature them, just as he had been created. There is some untold relation between them almost, a brother some might call it.
But he simply finds them a comrade—a message and omen just as he is.
And he already knows what he must do, no words need to be spoken, no force of chasing him where he is called to be.
He follows them willingly.
They run together, like he is one of them, a servant to this unidentified thing that calls to him.
He is a servant always though, molded and thrown into the world to serve the dark only.
It is the hunger that drives him forward, the heart of a servant that guides him towards the lair.
<I>Come, and be transformed. </i>
It speaks to him, calling him out of the world of darkness and into the light.
He submits to the call. Not because he is afraid, but because the very will of him wants and desires to serve.
There is something maddening and powerful about this so called stranger.
He must know more.
Eventually, the pack arrives at the lair.
He does not stop in his tracks as they do, he eagerly enters into the lair that lays underground. The scent of the lair stinks with death and smells of dried blood. There are bones laying all around him. Some of them he steps on, snapping and breaking.
He doesn’t stop, not until he is in the heart of the lair.
“I came just as I was asked,” he says boldly, but not arrogantly.
He is here to serve after all.</td></tr></table></div><font color=black size=2 face=garamond>character info: <a href="http://beqanna.com/forum/member.php?action=profile&uid=2047">here</a> | character reference: <a href="http://i.imgur.com/y0ghWp1.jpg">here</a></font></center>
Profile | Detailed Bio | Character Reference
Most likely always in his hellhound form