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[size=15]<link href="https://fonts.googleapis.com/css?family=Bilbo+Swash+Caps|El+Messiri" rel="stylesheet"><style type="text/css"> .N5_container { position: relative; z-index: 1; width: 500px; border: solid 1px #000; background-color: #212123; box-shadow: 0px 0px 10px 1px black;border-radius: 0px 0px 0px 0px; } .N5_grad { z-index: 2; position: absolute; top: 342px; left: 0; width: 100%; height: 300px; background-image: -ms-linear-gradient(top, rgba(255,255,255,0) 0%, rgba(33,33,35,1) 100%);background-image: -moz-linear-gradient(top, rgba(255,255,255,0) 0%, rgba(33,33,35,1) 100%);background-image: -o-linear-gradient(top, rgba(255,255,255,0) 0%, rgba(33,33,35,1) 100%);background-image: -webkit-gradient(linear, left top, left bottom, color-stop(0, rgba(255,255,255,0)), color-stop(100, rgba(33,33,35,1)));background-image: -webkit-linear-gradient(top, rgba(255,255,255,0) 0%, rgba(33,33,35,1) 100%);} .N5_text { position: relative; z-index: 3; width: 500px; background-color:#212123; ; margin-top:-110px;margin-bottom:20px; border-radius:0px 0px; } .N5_container p { margin: 0; } .N5_name { font: 50px 'Bilbo Swash Caps', cursive; color: #202020; text-shadow: 1px 0px 5px #aaabaf; position: relative; text-align: center; letter-spacing: 3px;padding-bottom:10px; } .N5_message { text-align: justify; font: 12px 'Times New Roman', serif; padding: 0px 30px 20px 30px;color: #c2c3c7; } .N5_quote { text-align: center; font: 14px 'El Messiri', cursive;letter-spacing:5px; color: #808080; padding-bottom: 15px; } .N5_image { position: relative; z-index: 1;margin-top:0px;border-radius: 0px 0px 0px 0px;width: 500px; height:auto; } </style> <center> <div class="N5_container"> <div class="N5_grad"></div> <img class="N5_image" src="https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/564x/3a/ba/a5/3abaa579a18be0183481b7dc7f9dbbc4.jpg"> <div class="N5_text"> <p class="N5_name">Nymphetamine</p> <p class="N5_message"> The battle was done, wounds had been given and judgement was up to the fae. The crisp breezes of the plains were laced with metallic tones as the air picked up the smallest of particles from the blood that dripped from the ones who gathers in battle. Nymphetamine himself had his fair share of wounds, deep gashes along his neck from the shadow wolf’s sharpened canines, the blood from which ran down his injured left shoulder and foreleg. The deep bruising within his right stifle made his stride short and jaunted. Others had finished before him, and he made him way to stand with the others as all waited for the end of battles, or to go to the rescue if need be. It was odd how organized and orderly for the wild equines to fight one on one, but that was a discussion for another time. But for the blood bay he did not linger, it was not the ory air, or sore body that made him leave before all his kinsmen were finished. It was his empathy. The blood bay was tired and mentally did not have the strength to hold up his mental block against the emotions that ran rampant through the plains. Pain, anger, disappointment, regret...whatever emotions the others felt most strongly at any given moment Nymphetamine knew. The constant onslaught of varied emotions was too much on top of his physical injuries and own personal emotions on the experience. [/size]
[size=15]Nymphetamine left, alone and and weak to find solitude within a private corner of Chamber’s forest. He made sure to catch the eye of Killdare prior as so his king would know he was accounted for. But then he made the long painful journey home, anxious for the seclusion he so desperately wanted.The raid had brought to light more than just his rusty fighting skills, but the surge of emotion he felt when he spotted Kimber. The blue mare was like a cold he couldn’t shake. No matter how he tried there was no way he could shake the hold she had on him. Not to mention the reemergence of Warship and what that meant for his chances with the blue jay mare. He crossed the lands without much care to what surrounded him, the trek back to Chamber instinctual and thoughtless. His mind was wrapped up in the self-dialog of his inability to be the master of his own heart. The self battery and questioning continued until he finally crossed the border of Chamber. The ashy-pine air was a welcome comfort as Nymphetamine slowly made his way through the pine forest to the ever-burning tree that had been his office ever since the war. [/size]
[size=15]The tree was magnificent like always, and he had only just cast his steel eyes upon it when everything changed, voice from above, below, everywhere yet from nowhere at the same time spoke in an all commanding tone. Everything froze as the voice spoke of the war, the raid, Bequanna’s inhabitants being greedy and not respecting the land that which given them their life and for some their powers. Nymphetamine felt guilt bubble within him, and that of any inhabitant nearby as the powers that be rained down their disappointment. When their words faded and the world started turning again, the Governor felt the terror, sadness, anger, confusion of those around him and then if rescinded. Slowly “voices” that were the emotions around him went dark, and it honestly was like a breath of fresh air-- he had never fully adjusted to the ability. But his attention then turned to the tree, “his” tree. It was his job to guard it, it was his job to keep its sanctity. The great tree no longer burned, it stood, plain and unprotected by the embers of heat and light. Already the ash from the once burning fire had lifted from the air, soon it would be no more. Panic rose through his chest, and up his throat, at the same time his stomach sank. What had he done? Had it been him, had he disrespected the powers above by fighting when he was head of the pease cast? What would Killdare think? [/size]
[size=15]Part of him wanted to just curl up and rest- forget the world and let the land heal as he must. But the part of him that felt duty and loyalty to Chamber knew he must find his king and check base, and inform him. Sentries would be needed to protect the Tree, and guard schedules would have to be altered, the student’s training would have to be accelerated. The tasks created by the warning were endless. Nymphetamine’s mind reeled as the list grew longer by the second; he must find Killdare. Muscles strained at the forced sudden change in position. His legs throbbed at the pace, but the bay drove on backtracking the path towards the boundary. He might regret it later, this race to Killdare, but the Governor knew of no other option. About halfway here, he heard his king’s call and altered his course just slightly to arrive directly where the magma king was.[/size]
Upon arrival he heard Mallis, his queen, before he saw either of them, the worry in her voice evident. Last time Nymphetamine interrupted his King with a love interest the magma king had been less than pleased. So the thought of waiting, or turning around to find him later flashed across his mind as he slowed before the two came into view; there was no time though, no ability to let the matter slide. He had to interrupt and deal with his royal grumpy-butt later. He cleared his throat in announcement, prior to physically entering their space. His eyes widened at the sight of killdare, ear missing, and blood smeared across him much worse than he believed his own condition to be. The shock of seeing his king in such poor repair was troubling but not so much as the tree, and the security of his kingdom. Nymphetamine stopped a few feet away, before the words fell from his mouth in a rushed jumble of sounds. <b>”Forgive the intrusion, but Killdare you must come at once! My empathy is gone, and the tree…”</b> Bloodshot eyes looked from Mallis to Killdare wide with the fear and concern of one who had undetermined guilt. His words grew more panicked as he neared the pinnacle of the announcement, <b>”It no longer burns!”</b> He had no clue if Killdare had heard the warning or felt a lessening of power. But he knew this warning from the fae would have great implications on Chamber and he worried for her safety. </p> <p class="N5_quote">Like a thorn to the Holy Ones</p></div> </div> </center>
<link href="https://fonts.googleapis.com/css?family=Bilbo+Swash+Caps|El+Messiri" rel="stylesheet"><style type="text/css"> .N5_container { position: relative; z-index: 1; width: 500px; border: solid 1px #000; background-color: #212123; box-shadow: 0px 0px 10px 1px black;border-radius: 0px 0px 0px 0px; } .N5_grad { z-index: 2; position: absolute; top: 342px; left: 0; width: 100%; height: 300px; background-image: -ms-linear-gradient(top, rgba(255,255,255,0) 0%, rgba(33,33,35,1) 100%);background-image: -moz-linear-gradient(top, rgba(255,255,255,0) 0%, rgba(33,33,35,1) 100%);background-image: -o-linear-gradient(top, rgba(255,255,255,0) 0%, rgba(33,33,35,1) 100%);background-image: -webkit-gradient(linear, left top, left bottom, color-stop(0, rgba(255,255,255,0)), color-stop(100, rgba(33,33,35,1)));background-image: -webkit-linear-gradient(top, rgba(255,255,255,0) 0%, rgba(33,33,35,1) 100%);} .N5_text { position: relative; z-index: 3; width: 500px; background-color:#212123; ; margin-top:-110px;margin-bottom:20px; border-radius:0px 0px; } .N5_container p { margin: 0; } .N5_name { font: 50px 'Bilbo Swash Caps', cursive; color: #202020; text-shadow: 1px 0px 5px #aaabaf; position: relative; text-align: center; letter-spacing: 3px;padding-bottom:10px; } .N5_message { text-align: justify; font: 12px 'Times New Roman', serif; padding: 0px 30px 20px 30px;color: #c2c3c7; } .N5_quote { text-align: center; font: 14px 'El Messiri', cursive;letter-spacing:5px; color: #808080; padding-bottom: 15px; } .N5_image { position: relative; z-index: 1;margin-top:0px;border-radius: 0px 0px 0px 0px;width: 500px; height:auto; } </style> <center> <div class="N5_container"> <div class="N5_grad"></div> <img class="N5_image" src="https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/564x/3a/ba/a5/3abaa579a18be0183481b7dc7f9dbbc4.jpg"> <div class="N5_text"> <p class="N5_name">Nymphetamine</p> <p class="N5_message"> The battle was done, wounds had been given and judgement was up to the fae. The crisp breezes of the plains were laced with metallic tones as the air picked up the smallest of particles from the blood that dripped from the ones who gathers in battle. Nymphetamine himself had his fair share of wounds, deep gashes along his neck from the shadow wolf’s sharpened canines, the blood from which ran down his injured left shoulder and foreleg. The deep bruising within his right stifle made his stride short and jaunted. Others had finished before him, and he made him way to stand with the others as all waited for the end of battles, or to go to the rescue if need be. It was odd how organized and orderly for the wild equines to fight one on one, but that was a discussion for another time. But for the blood bay he did not linger, it was not the ory air, or sore body that made him leave before all his kinsmen were finished. It was his empathy. The blood bay was tired and mentally did not have the strength to hold up his mental block against the emotions that ran rampant through the plains. Pain, anger, disappointment, regret...whatever emotions the others felt most strongly at any given moment Nymphetamine knew. The constant onslaught of varied emotions was too much on top of his physical injuries and own personal emotions on the experience.
Nymphetamine left, alone and and weak to find solitude within a private corner of Chamber’s forest. He made sure to catch the eye of Killdare prior as so his king would know he was accounted for. But then he made the long painful journey home, anxious for the seclusion he so desperately wanted.The raid had brought to light more than just his rusty fighting skills, but the surge of emotion he felt when he spotted Kimber. The blue mare was like a cold he couldn’t shake. No matter how he tried there was no way he could shake the hold she had on him. Not to mention the reemergence of Warship and what that meant for his chances with the blue jay mare. He crossed the lands without much care to what surrounded him, the trek back to Chamber instinctual and thoughtless. His mind was wrapped up in the self-dialog of his inability to be the master of his own heart. The self battery and questioning continued until he finally crossed the border of Chamber. The ashy-pine air was a welcome comfort as Nymphetamine slowly made his way through the pine forest to the ever-burning tree that had been his office ever since the war.
The tree was magnificent like always, and he had only just cast his steel eyes upon it when everything changed, voice from above, below, everywhere yet from nowhere at the same time spoke in an all commanding tone. Everything froze as the voice spoke of the war, the raid, Bequanna’s inhabitants being greedy and not respecting the land that which given them their life and for some their powers. Nymphetamine felt guilt bubble within him, and that of any inhabitant nearby as the powers that be rained down their disappointment. When their words faded and the world started turning again, the Governor felt the terror, sadness, anger, confusion of those around him and then if rescinded. Slowly “voices” that were the emotions around him went dark, and it honestly was like a breath of fresh air-- he had never fully adjusted to the ability. But his attention then turned to the tree, “his” tree. It was his job to guard it, it was his job to keep its sanctity. The great tree no longer burned, it stood, plain and unprotected by the embers of heat and light. Already the ash from the once burning fire had lifted from the air, soon it would be no more. Panic rose through his chest, and up his throat, at the same time his stomach sank. What had he done? Had it been him, had he disrespected the powers above by fighting when he was head of the pease cast? What would Killdare think?
Part of him wanted to just curl up and rest- forget the world and let the land heal as he must. But the part of him that felt duty and loyalty to Chamber knew he must find his king and check base, and inform him. Sentries would be needed to protect the Tree, and guard schedules would have to be altered, the student’s training would have to be accelerated. The tasks created by the warning were endless. Nymphetamine’s mind reeled as the list grew longer by the second; he must find Killdare. Muscles strained at the forced sudden change in position. His legs throbbed at the pace, but the bay drove on backtracking the path towards the boundary. He might regret it later, this race to Killdare, but the Governor knew of no other option. About halfway here, he heard his king’s call and altered his course just slightly to arrive directly where the magma king was.
Upon arrival he heard Mallis, his queen, before he saw either of them, the worry in her voice evident. Last time Nymphetamine interrupted his King with a love interest the magma king had been less than pleased. So the thought of waiting, or turning around to find him later flashed across his mind as he slowed before the two came into view; there was no time though, no ability to let the matter slide. He had to interrupt and deal with his royal grumpy-butt later. He cleared his throat in announcement, prior to physically entering their space. His eyes widened at the sight of killdare, ear missing, and blood smeared across him much worse than he believed his own condition to be. The shock of seeing his king in such poor repair was troubling but not so much as the tree, and the security of his kingdom. Nymphetamine stopped a few feet away, before the words fell from his mouth in a rushed jumble of sounds. <b>”Forgive the intrusion, but Killdare you must come at once! My empathy is gone, and the tree…”</b> Bloodshot eyes looked from Mallis to Killdare wide with the fear and concern of one who had undetermined guilt. His words grew more panicked as he neared the pinnacle of the announcement, <b>”It no longer burns!”</b> He had no clue if Killdare had heard the warning or felt a lessening of power. But he knew this warning from the fae would have great implications on Chamber and he worried for her safety. </p> <p class="N5_quote">Like a thorn to the Holy Ones</p></div> </div> </center>
