11-09-2020, 10:07 PM
<link href="https://fonts.googleapis.com/css2?family=Merriweather&display=swap" rel="stylesheet"><style type="text/css">.barrow_container{position: relative;z-index: 1;width: 600px;background: #e7eff2;font: 11.5px 'Times new roman', sans-serif;line-height: 1.4;padding-top: 14px;border: 1px solid #61757e;box-shadow: 0 0 10px #61757e;}.barrow_container img {margin-top: -30px;width: 600px;}.barrow_container p{margin: 0;}.barrow_gradient {position: absolute;z-index: 5;bottom: 300px;width: 600px;height: 100px;background: -moz-linear-gradient(top, rgba(231,239,242,1) 0%, rgba(125,185,232,0) 100%);background: -webkit-linear-gradient(top, rgba(231,239,242,1) 0%,rgba(125,185,232,0) 100%);background: linear-gradient(to bottom, rgba(231,239,242,1) 0%,rgba(125,185,232,0) 100%);filter: progid
XImageTransform.Microsoft.gradient( startColorstr='#e7eff2', endColorstr='#007db9e8',GradientType=0 );}.barrow_message {position: relative;z-index: 10;background-color: #e7eff2;box-shadow: inset 0 0 0px #61757e;text-align: justify;width: 500px;padding: 25px 20px;color: #121212;}.barrow_name {position: absolute;bottom:10px;left:20px;text-align: center;z-index: 10;font: 36px 'Merriweather', serif;letter-spacing: 8px;text-transform: none;color: #fff;text-shadow: 0 0 6px #000;}.barrow_quote {z-index: 55;font-size: 12px;font-family: 'Merriweather', serif;letter-spacing: 5px;text-transform: none;color: #fff;text-shadow: 0px 0px 5px #000;padding-bottom: 10px;}</style><center><div class="barrow_container"><p class="barrow_quote">* * * * * * * * * * *</p><div class="barrow_message">The indiscernible creature appears to be in favor of his choice, which isn’t terribly surprising, Barrow supposes. Anything as spooky as the shape lingering in the shadows would surely <i>love</i> the opportunity to trick naïve youngsters drunk on the taste of their first adventure. He gulps down his growing concern. What was he thinking? Barrow looks to the others who picked a much more reasonable and much less insane answer of ‘treat.’ They all look normal; there is not a wild, crazy eye or drooling lip amongst any of them. So why had his own mouth formed the word ‘trick’ and practically shouted it like a damned fool?
His heart races as he awaits the gleaming guillotine to come down out of the shadows and lob his head clean off. Haha, what a trick that would be! And what a treat for the audience full of sane, self-preserving choosers, too!
<b><i>POOF</i></b>.
Barrow disappears and narrowly avoids a cardiac infarction.
<i>Thank god,</i> he thinks, when his eyes clear of smoke and he finds himself on a beach. He thinks he’s landed in Tephra, his volcanic home ringed partially by the crashing ocean. A comfort, that sound is. Good to be home. <i>Don’t think I have the constitution for adventuring, after all.</i> It would be embarrassing if he weren’t so relieved. His grandfather had dabbled in the affairs of power and powerful beings, but perhaps his genetic contribution had been only to pass down the color of his coat.
There is a lot to explore here instead, surely. Why, he’s only just started mapping out the lower trails just to the west of the volcano –
The red roan blinks, wondering if there are still trace amounts of smoke in his blue eyes, because the volcano is gone. <i>What in tarnation?</i> He feels the sand sliding under his feet, and that is right, but he realizes little else is. There are no palm trees swaying in the salty breeze. There isn’t the flush of color when he looks deeper into the land; no big and bright tropical flowers turn their faces to the sun. And the sun? What sun? The sky is a peppery grey that pushes down on him, crowds him. This isn’t Tephra – it is quite the opposite of that warm and happy place.
The young stallion snorts rudely and with an edge of panic in the sound. So this is the trick he himself asked for like a ninny. It is eerily silent and dark as he begins to walk the shoreline. He doesn’t know what else to do, where else to begin to find his way back to his real home. There’s no one here to ask, certainly. Maybe he’s the only one left alive in the world – it feels like it. With that cheery thought to keep him company, Barrow presses on. <b>“A trick’ll be nice,”</b> he mutters to himself with his head held low, <b>“who doesn’t love tricks?”</b>
And no sooner than the words have left him, seemingly brought on by the sound of his voice, the water to his left bubbles alive. It snakes around the sand by his ankles at first as he passes by overhead, harmlessly rushing back to meet with the ocean between footfalls. But after a few steps, the water coalesces into thick tentacle that rises up and up behind him, growing larger and no longer retreating. He doesn’t notice this latest trick at first, so intent on his aimless journey (and still cursing himself all the while). Eventually though, and in spite of the many shadows already crowding around him, he sees a shadow looming over his shoulder.
He turns, but it’s already too late.
The grey water crashes down on his back like a cold hammer. It pulls at him, too, even as he’s bucking and frantically trying to go forward again – this time at a quicker pace. But everything seems more sluggish here as well, or maybe it is just him. No, he is definitely slowing down. The ocean gathers itself for another assault, racing towards the shoreline where Barrow is running like on quicksand that keeps sliding out from under him. He wonders what horrors would befall him if the sea succeeded in dragging him under their depths. Surely sharks, big-toothed whales, and kelpies would enjoy a midnight snack to share. He doesn’t escape a second slap of hard water across his neck and turned cheek, but he sees something up ahead.
There are clear gates he sees that stand out of this otherwise murky place. They are nearly cloaked in billowing shadows, but they are still like a beacon to the bounding boy. Barrow senses another imminent watery attack and feels the phantom lashes of the previous ones. He doesn’t want to feel another. He lunges for the opening just as a wave rushes all the way up the beach behind him, relentless, trying to keep him from crossing back. But cross he does, leaving only a few red hairs plucked from his tail by the water behind. The creature is there, just ahead, but Barrow is too tired from the chase to tell him what he thought of the trick – and politely just where he could shove his treats.</b></b></div><p class="barrow_name">barrow</p><div class="barrow_gradient"></div><img src="https://i.postimg.cc/Dzt4LfmP/unsplash-jtbean.jpg"></div><a href="https://unsplash.com/photos/LNTI3wt81tw" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer" style="padding-top:10px;">photo by: jtbean</a></center>
XImageTransform.Microsoft.gradient( startColorstr='#e7eff2', endColorstr='#007db9e8',GradientType=0 );}.barrow_message {position: relative;z-index: 10;background-color: #e7eff2;box-shadow: inset 0 0 0px #61757e;text-align: justify;width: 500px;padding: 25px 20px;color: #121212;}.barrow_name {position: absolute;bottom:10px;left:20px;text-align: center;z-index: 10;font: 36px 'Merriweather', serif;letter-spacing: 8px;text-transform: none;color: #fff;text-shadow: 0 0 6px #000;}.barrow_quote {z-index: 55;font-size: 12px;font-family: 'Merriweather', serif;letter-spacing: 5px;text-transform: none;color: #fff;text-shadow: 0px 0px 5px #000;padding-bottom: 10px;}</style><center><div class="barrow_container"><p class="barrow_quote">* * * * * * * * * * *</p><div class="barrow_message">The indiscernible creature appears to be in favor of his choice, which isn’t terribly surprising, Barrow supposes. Anything as spooky as the shape lingering in the shadows would surely <i>love</i> the opportunity to trick naïve youngsters drunk on the taste of their first adventure. He gulps down his growing concern. What was he thinking? Barrow looks to the others who picked a much more reasonable and much less insane answer of ‘treat.’ They all look normal; there is not a wild, crazy eye or drooling lip amongst any of them. So why had his own mouth formed the word ‘trick’ and practically shouted it like a damned fool?His heart races as he awaits the gleaming guillotine to come down out of the shadows and lob his head clean off. Haha, what a trick that would be! And what a treat for the audience full of sane, self-preserving choosers, too!
<b><i>POOF</i></b>.
Barrow disappears and narrowly avoids a cardiac infarction.
<i>Thank god,</i> he thinks, when his eyes clear of smoke and he finds himself on a beach. He thinks he’s landed in Tephra, his volcanic home ringed partially by the crashing ocean. A comfort, that sound is. Good to be home. <i>Don’t think I have the constitution for adventuring, after all.</i> It would be embarrassing if he weren’t so relieved. His grandfather had dabbled in the affairs of power and powerful beings, but perhaps his genetic contribution had been only to pass down the color of his coat.
There is a lot to explore here instead, surely. Why, he’s only just started mapping out the lower trails just to the west of the volcano –
The red roan blinks, wondering if there are still trace amounts of smoke in his blue eyes, because the volcano is gone. <i>What in tarnation?</i> He feels the sand sliding under his feet, and that is right, but he realizes little else is. There are no palm trees swaying in the salty breeze. There isn’t the flush of color when he looks deeper into the land; no big and bright tropical flowers turn their faces to the sun. And the sun? What sun? The sky is a peppery grey that pushes down on him, crowds him. This isn’t Tephra – it is quite the opposite of that warm and happy place.
The young stallion snorts rudely and with an edge of panic in the sound. So this is the trick he himself asked for like a ninny. It is eerily silent and dark as he begins to walk the shoreline. He doesn’t know what else to do, where else to begin to find his way back to his real home. There’s no one here to ask, certainly. Maybe he’s the only one left alive in the world – it feels like it. With that cheery thought to keep him company, Barrow presses on. <b>“A trick’ll be nice,”</b> he mutters to himself with his head held low, <b>“who doesn’t love tricks?”</b>
And no sooner than the words have left him, seemingly brought on by the sound of his voice, the water to his left bubbles alive. It snakes around the sand by his ankles at first as he passes by overhead, harmlessly rushing back to meet with the ocean between footfalls. But after a few steps, the water coalesces into thick tentacle that rises up and up behind him, growing larger and no longer retreating. He doesn’t notice this latest trick at first, so intent on his aimless journey (and still cursing himself all the while). Eventually though, and in spite of the many shadows already crowding around him, he sees a shadow looming over his shoulder.
He turns, but it’s already too late.
The grey water crashes down on his back like a cold hammer. It pulls at him, too, even as he’s bucking and frantically trying to go forward again – this time at a quicker pace. But everything seems more sluggish here as well, or maybe it is just him. No, he is definitely slowing down. The ocean gathers itself for another assault, racing towards the shoreline where Barrow is running like on quicksand that keeps sliding out from under him. He wonders what horrors would befall him if the sea succeeded in dragging him under their depths. Surely sharks, big-toothed whales, and kelpies would enjoy a midnight snack to share. He doesn’t escape a second slap of hard water across his neck and turned cheek, but he sees something up ahead.
There are clear gates he sees that stand out of this otherwise murky place. They are nearly cloaked in billowing shadows, but they are still like a beacon to the bounding boy. Barrow senses another imminent watery attack and feels the phantom lashes of the previous ones. He doesn’t want to feel another. He lunges for the opening just as a wave rushes all the way up the beach behind him, relentless, trying to keep him from crossing back. But cross he does, leaving only a few red hairs plucked from his tail by the water behind. The creature is there, just ahead, but Barrow is too tired from the chase to tell him what he thought of the trick – and politely just where he could shove his treats.</b></b></div><p class="barrow_name">barrow</p><div class="barrow_gradient"></div><img src="https://i.postimg.cc/Dzt4LfmP/unsplash-jtbean.jpg"></div><a href="https://unsplash.com/photos/LNTI3wt81tw" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer" style="padding-top:10px;">photo by: jtbean</a></center>