09-24-2019, 06:52 PM
<link href="https://fonts.googleapis.com/css?family=Josefin+Sans&display=swap" rel="stylesheet"><style type="text/css">.aedan_boy_container{position:relative;z-index:1;width: 550px;background: #1f3f65;font: 12px 'Times New Roman', serif;border: 1px solid #050e49;box-shadow: 0 0 10px #050e49;}.aedan_boy_container p{margin:0;}.aedan_boy_gradient {position: absolute;z-index: 5;top: 215px;width: 550px;height: 200px;background: -moz-linear-gradient(top, rgba(31,63,101,0) 0%, rgba(31,63,101,1) 100%);background: -webkit-linear-gradient(top, rgba(31,63,101,0) 0%,rgba(31,63,101,1) 100%);background: linear-gradient(to bottom, rgba(31,63,101,0) 0%,rgba(31,63,101,1) 100%);filter: progid
XImageTransform.Microsoft.gradient( startColorstr='#001f3f65', endColorstr='#1f3f65',GradientType=0 );}.aedan_boy_message {width: 500px;position: relative;z-index: 10;margin-top: -80px;text-align:justify;padding: 10px 0px;color: #D3E0D5;border-top: 1px solid #050e49;border-bottom: 1px solid #050e49;}.aedan_boy_name {font: 66px 'Josefin Sans', sans-serif;color: #1f3f65;text-shadow:0 0 6px #fff;text-align: center;padding-top: 30px;}.aedan_boy_quote {position: absolute;z-index: 15;font: 14px 'Josefin Sans', sans-serif;color: #208ea9;letter-spacing: 2px;text-shadow: 1px 1px 2px #050e49;}.aedan_boy_quotetop {top: 310px;right: 150px;}.aedan_boy_quotebottom {bottom: 75px;right: 180px;}</style><center><div class="aedan_boy_container"><img src="https://k.nickpic.host/rpZoqY.jpg" style="width:550px;"><div class="aedan_boy_gradient"></div><p class="aedan_boy_quote aedan_boy_quotetop">i have loved the stars too fondly</p><div class="aedan_boy_message">The darkness turns to pitch. Without the stars, his aura sputters out and he’s left with only the subtle glow of his own skin, not enough to see by. It takes a moment for his eyes to adjust, the wind seeming to blow the darkness away as if it is a thing that can be so easily removed. Yet Aedan finds himself blinking against the impossible brightness of the world around him now. The air is dry, arid, and he is no longer the boy in the wood. He is no longer in Beqanna at all.
There is a strange statue before him, the pale gold of sand with features that belong to both feline and human. He can’t place what the features belong to, can’t find a story in his memory to understand the creature before him as it awns awake and <i>demands</i> who had dared disturb the strange creature.
Aedan does not answer. Partly out of fear, and partly because he doubts the giant cat-like sculpture actually cares. It goes on, giving him a riddle. For a moment (or perhaps many long moments) the boy just stares, the words jumbling around in his brain unwilling to form into a coherent thought.
Finally he manages to break it down. What does he walk on? Dirt? No, it makes no noise and doesn’t live. Grass? It is a quiet thing when living and a bit crunchy when dead, but he’s not sure that’s right though at least it seems like a plausible answer to give. Better than silence. But he is the boy in the woods, and finally, the answer comes to him.
<font color=#208ea9> “Leaves,”</font> he says, thinking of the wood. <font color=#208ea9> “Fallen leaves crunch beneath your feet.”</font> On the tree, and even when he managed to pluck them off to eat them, green living leaves made no sound. But dead, dried and brown, they crunched and muttered and grumbled beneath his hooves.
All he can do is hope he’s right. The creature doesn’t seem like a thing to upset anymore with a false answer, but then again, what does a boy know of the world really? He could be so very wrong.
</div><p class="aedan_boy_quote aedan_boy_quotebottom">to be fearful of the night</p><p class="aedan_boy_name">aedan</p></div></center>
XImageTransform.Microsoft.gradient( startColorstr='#001f3f65', endColorstr='#1f3f65',GradientType=0 );}.aedan_boy_message {width: 500px;position: relative;z-index: 10;margin-top: -80px;text-align:justify;padding: 10px 0px;color: #D3E0D5;border-top: 1px solid #050e49;border-bottom: 1px solid #050e49;}.aedan_boy_name {font: 66px 'Josefin Sans', sans-serif;color: #1f3f65;text-shadow:0 0 6px #fff;text-align: center;padding-top: 30px;}.aedan_boy_quote {position: absolute;z-index: 15;font: 14px 'Josefin Sans', sans-serif;color: #208ea9;letter-spacing: 2px;text-shadow: 1px 1px 2px #050e49;}.aedan_boy_quotetop {top: 310px;right: 150px;}.aedan_boy_quotebottom {bottom: 75px;right: 180px;}</style><center><div class="aedan_boy_container"><img src="https://k.nickpic.host/rpZoqY.jpg" style="width:550px;"><div class="aedan_boy_gradient"></div><p class="aedan_boy_quote aedan_boy_quotetop">i have loved the stars too fondly</p><div class="aedan_boy_message">The darkness turns to pitch. Without the stars, his aura sputters out and he’s left with only the subtle glow of his own skin, not enough to see by. It takes a moment for his eyes to adjust, the wind seeming to blow the darkness away as if it is a thing that can be so easily removed. Yet Aedan finds himself blinking against the impossible brightness of the world around him now. The air is dry, arid, and he is no longer the boy in the wood. He is no longer in Beqanna at all. There is a strange statue before him, the pale gold of sand with features that belong to both feline and human. He can’t place what the features belong to, can’t find a story in his memory to understand the creature before him as it awns awake and <i>demands</i> who had dared disturb the strange creature.
Aedan does not answer. Partly out of fear, and partly because he doubts the giant cat-like sculpture actually cares. It goes on, giving him a riddle. For a moment (or perhaps many long moments) the boy just stares, the words jumbling around in his brain unwilling to form into a coherent thought.
Finally he manages to break it down. What does he walk on? Dirt? No, it makes no noise and doesn’t live. Grass? It is a quiet thing when living and a bit crunchy when dead, but he’s not sure that’s right though at least it seems like a plausible answer to give. Better than silence. But he is the boy in the woods, and finally, the answer comes to him.
<font color=#208ea9> “Leaves,”</font> he says, thinking of the wood. <font color=#208ea9> “Fallen leaves crunch beneath your feet.”</font> On the tree, and even when he managed to pluck them off to eat them, green living leaves made no sound. But dead, dried and brown, they crunched and muttered and grumbled beneath his hooves.
All he can do is hope he’s right. The creature doesn’t seem like a thing to upset anymore with a false answer, but then again, what does a boy know of the world really? He could be so very wrong.
</div><p class="aedan_boy_quote aedan_boy_quotebottom">to be fearful of the night</p><p class="aedan_boy_name">aedan</p></div></center>
Use of mild power playing is allowed; no injuries without permission