Posts by amends u.

_FILLER

[fancypost bgcolor=; border: 0px solid red; font-family: arial; font-size: 9pt; letter-spacing: 1px; line-height: 93%; width: 430px]Cold gray light rippled over the floor of a cave so vast that its roof was lost in shadows. An endless screen of water fell across the entrance, its sound echoing from the rocks.

Near the back of the cavern crouched a frail white she-cat. Despite her age, her green eyes were clear and deep with wisdom as her gaze traveled over the skinny cats swarming the cave floor, restlessly pacing in front of the shimmering waterfall: the elders huddled together in the sleeping hollows; the kits mewling desperately, demanding food from their exhausted mothers.

“We can’t go on like this,” the old she-cat whispered to herself.

A few tail-lengths away, several kits squabbled over an eagle carcass. Its flesh had been stripped away the day before as soon as their mothers had caught it. A big ginger kit shouldered a smaller tabby away from the bone she was gnawing at.

“I need this!” he announced.

The tabby sprang up and nipped the end of the ginger kit’s tail. “We all need it, flea-brain!” she snapped as the ginger tom let out a yowl.
A gray-and-white elder, every one of her ribs showing through her pelt, tottered up to the kits and snatched the bone away.

“Hey!” the ginger kit protested.

The elder glared at him. “I caught prey for season after season,” she snarled. “Don’t you think I deserve one measly bone?” She turned and stalked off, the bone clamped firmly in her jaws.

The ginger kit stared after her for a heartbeat, then scampered, wailing, to his mother, who lay on a rock beside the cave wall. Instead of comforting him, his mother snapped something, angrily flicking her tail.

The old white she-cat was too far away to hear what the mother cat said, but she sighed.

Every cat is coming to the end of what they can bear, she thought.

She watched as the gray-and-white elder padded across the cave and dropped the eagle bone in front of an even older she-cat, who was crouching in a sleeping hollow with her nose resting on her front paws. Her dull gaze was fixed on the far wall of the cave.

“Here, Misty Water.” The gray-and-white elder nudged the bone closer to her with one paw. “Eat. It’s not much, but it might help.”

Misty Water’s indifferent gaze flickered over her friend and away again. “No, thanks, Silver Frost. I have no appetite, not since Broken Feather died.” Her voice throbbed with grief. “He would have lived, if there had been enough prey for him to eat.” She sighed. “Now I’m just waiting to join him.”

“Misty Water, you can’t—”

The white she-cat was distracted from the elders’ talk as a group of cats appeared at the entrance to the cave, shaking snow off their fur.

Several other cats sprang up and ran to meet them.

“Did you catch anything?” one of them called out eagerly.

“Yes, where’s your prey?” another demanded.

The leader of the newcomers shook his head sadly. “Sorry. There wasn’t enough to bring back.”

Hope melted from the cats in the cave like mist under strong sunlight. They glanced at one another, then trailed away, their heads drooping and their tails brushing the ground.

The white she-cat watched them, then turned her head as she realized that a cat was padding up to her. Though his muzzle was gray with age and his golden tabby fur thin and patchy, he walked with a confidence that showed he had once been a strong and noble cat.
“Half Moon,” he greeted the white she-cat, settling down beside her and wrapping his tail over his paws.

The white she-cat let out a faint mrrow of amusement. “You shouldn’t call me that, Lion’s Roar,” she protested. “I’ve been the Teller of the Pointed Stones for many seasons.”

The golden tabby tom sniffed. “I don’t care how long the others have called you Stoneteller. You’ll always be Half Moon to me.”

Half Moon made no response, except to reach out her tail and rest it on her old friend’s shoulder.

“I was born in this cave,” Lion’s Roar went on. “But my mother, Shy Fawn, told me about the time before we came here—when you lived beside a lake, sheltered beneath trees.”

Half Moon sighed faintly. “I am the only cat left who remembers the lake, and the journey we made to come here. But I have lived three times as many moons here in the mountains than I did beside the lake, and the endless rushing of the waterfall now echoes in my heart.” She paused, blinking, then asked, “Why are you telling me this now?”

Lion’s Roar hesitated before replying. “Hunger might kill us all before the sun shines again, and there’s no more room in the cave.” He stretched out one paw and brushed Half Moon’s shoulder fur. “Something must be done.”

Half Moon’s eyes stretched wide as she gazed at him. “But we can’t leave the mountains!” she protested, her voice breathless with shock. “Jay’s Wing promised; he made me the Teller of the Pointed Stones because this was our destined home.”

Lion’s Roar met her intense green gaze. “Are you sure Jay’s Wing was right?” he asked. “How could he know what was going to happen in the future?”

“He had to be right,” Half Moon murmured.

Her mind flew back to the ceremony, so many seasons before, when Jay’s Wing had made her the Teller of the Pointed Stones. She shivered as she heard his voice again, full of love for her and grief that her destiny meant they could never be together. “Others will come after you, moon upon moon. Choose them well, train them well—trust the future of your Tribe to them.”

He would never have said that if he didn’t mean for us to stay here.

Half Moon let her gaze drift over the other cats: her cats, now thin and hungry. She shook her head sadly. Lion’s Roar was right: Something had to be done if they were to survive.

Gradually she realized that the cold gray light in the cave was brightening to a warm gold, as if the sun were rising beyond the screen of falling water—but Half Moon knew that night was falling.

At her side Lion’s Roar sat calmly washing his ears, while the other cats in the cave took no notice of the deepening golden blaze.
No cat sees it but me! What can it mean?

Bathed in the brilliant light, Half Moon remembered how, when she first became Healer, Jay’s Wing had said that her ancestors would guide her in the decisions she must make—that, sometimes, she would see strange things that meant more than they first appeared. She had never been directly aware of her ancestors, but she had learned to look out for the signs.

Possible meanings rushed through Half Moon’s mind, thick as snowflakes in a blizzard. Maybe the warm weather is going to come early. But how would that help, when there are so many of us? Then she wondered whether the sun was really shining somewhere else, where there was warmth and prey and shelter. But how would that help us, up here in the mountains?

The sunlight grew stronger and stronger, until Half Moon could barely stand to look into the rays. She relaxed as a new idea rose in her mind.

Maybe Lion’s Roar is right, and only some of us belong here. Maybe some of us should travel toward the place where the sun rises, to make a new home in the brightest light of all. Somewhere they will be safe, and well fed, with room to nurture generations of kits.
As Half Moon basked in the warmth of sunlight on her fur, she found the certainty she needed within herself. Some of her cats would remain, a small-enough group for the mountains to sustain, and the rest of her Tribe would journey toward the rising sun, to find a new home.

But I won’t leave the cave, she thought. I will see out the twilight of my days here, a whole lifetime away from where I was born. And then maybe . . . just maybe . . . I’ll find Jay’s Wing again.

_{ALLIGATOR SKY}

^trackingg..

^{THEY LOOK SO UGLY THEY'RE CUTE. But they'd be even better if they were large, imagine having a giant pug as a guard dog.}

^{TPBM likes Russian Bear Dogs.}

^{Imagine eating a life.
Imagine eating a life.}

^{already in school
Actually, my school is from January to October.}

^{Mmmm I don't think so. No.
TPBM has a fear of beards.}

_{A bit like ketchup w/ a bit of peanut butter and minced meat.
A bit like ketchup w/ a bit of peanut butter and minced meat.}

_{Because the center][/center codes in the basic fancypost just change the fancypost's alignment I'd recommend you remove them. c;}

^{'Ve never been good at purple but I'll give this a try.}

_{CECIL G. PALMER}

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[fancypost bgcolor=#501796; border: none; width: 180px; height: 200px; overflow: hidden; padding: 10px;][fancypost bgcolor=; border: none; width: 200px; height: 200px; padding: 0px; padding-right: 27px; overflow: auto][fancypost bgcolor=#501796; border: 0px solid black; color: #15022B; width: 180px; height: 200px; margin-top: 5px; overflow: auto; font-size: 12px; font-family: Tahoma; text-align: justify;]“Down there,” said Holly, pointing. “By the…”

She had been about to say tower, but her breath caught in her throat at the sight of the incredible roses that grew in thick curved bands, emanating from the exact point where Artemis had collapsed.

The Fowl Estate roses were something of a sensation, blooming as they did in a perfect spiral at the foot of the round tower, where no roses had been planted. Their unusual burnished orange petals made them visible from the other garden plots, and Juliet had been assigned the task of ensuring that none of the villagers helped themselves to as much as a single stem.

Because of recent little people rumors, the garden workers had taken to calling the flowers fairy roses, which was a better name for them than even they suspected.

Butler carried the enclosed clone in his arms, and he was suddenly reminded of a night years ago when he had carried someone else through a field, watching the tall grass swish in Artemis’s wake.

Except, that time I was carrying Holly.

Foaly interrupted his thought. “Butler, you must place the body in the roses. At the center of the spiral. Without life support we only have minutes before degeneration begins.”

Butler laid the clone gently inside the spiral, on a soft patch where there were no thorns to pierce it.

Holly knelt to open the tent’s zipper. She pulled the flaps apart, and inside lay Artemis’s new body in a hospital gown, its breath coming in short gasps, sweat sheening its forehead.

Foaly moved quickly around the clone, straightening its limbs, tilting its head back to clear the airways.

“These roses,” he said, “they are a sign. There’s magical residue here. I would bet this formation is pretty much the same shape as Bruin Fadda’s original rune.”

“You’re pinning your hopes on a flowerbed sprouting in the meadow?”

“No, of course not, Butler. Bruin Fadda’s magic was powerful, and someone with Artemis’s willpower could easily last a few months.”

Butler held his own skull. “What if this doesn’t work, Holly? What if I let Artemis die?”

Holly turned quickly and saw that Butler was emotionally stretched. He had been hiding behind denial for half a year and would blame himself forever if Artemis didn’t come back.

If this does not work, Butler may never recover, she realized.

“It will work!” she said. “Now, less talk and more resurrecting. How long do we have, Foaly?”

“The clone can survive for perhaps fifteen minutes away from the life support.”

Butler knew that the time for objections was past. He would do whatever was necessary to give this plan a chance to succeed.

“Very well, Holly,” he said, standing to attention. “What should I do?”

Holly squatted three feet from the clone, fingers wrapped around rose stems, oblivious to the thorns piercing her skin. “It is all done now. Either he appears, or we have lost him forever.”

I think we will have lost something of ourselves, too, thought Butler.

They waited, and nothing out of the ordinary happened. Birds sang, the hedgerow bustled, and the sound of a tractor engine drifted to them across the fields. Holly squatted and fretted, dragging flowers out by their roots. While she worried, Butler’s gaze rested on the clone’s face and he recalled times past spent with his principal.

There never was anyone like Artemis Fowl, he thought. Though he didn’t make my job any easier with all his shenanigans. Butler smiled. Artemis always had my back, even though he could barely reach it.

“Holly,” he said, gently. “He’s not coming…”

Then the wind changed, and suddenly Butler could smell the roses. Holly stumbled forward to her feet.

“Something’s happening. I think something is happening.”

The breeze scooped a few rose petals from the flowers and sent them spinning skyward. More and more petals broke free as the wind seemed to curve along the orange spiral, quickly stripping each flower. The petals rose like butterflies, flitting and shimmering, filling the sky, blocking the sun.

“Artemis!” Butler called. “Come to my voice.”

Has he done it? Is this Artemis Fowl’s greatest moment?

The petals swirled with a noise like a chorus of sighs and then suddenly dropped like stones. The clone had not moved.

Holly moved forward slowly, as though learning to use her legs, then dropped to her knees, clasping the clone’s hand.

“Artemis,” she said, the word like a prayer. “Artemis, please.”

Still nothing. Not even breath now.

Butler had no time for his usual impeccable manners and moved Holly aside. “Sorry, Captain. This is my area of expertise.”

He knelt over the pale clone and, with his palm, searched for a heartbeat. There was none.

Butler tilted the clone’s head back, pinched its nose, and breathed life deep into its lungs.

He felt a weak heartbeat under his hand.

Butler fell backward. “Holly. I think…I think it worked.”

Holly crawled through the carpet of petals.

“Artemis,” she said urgently. “Artemis, come back to us.”

Two more breaths passed, then several rapid jerky ones, then Artemis’s eyes opened. Both a startling blue. The eyes were initially wide with shock, then fluttered like the wings of a jarred moth.

“Be calm,” said Holly. “You are safe now.”

Artemis frowned, trying to focus. It was clear that his faculties had not totally returned, and he did not yet remember the people leaning over him.

“Stay back,” he said. “You don’t know what you’re dealing with.”

Holly took his hand. “We do know you, Artemis. And you know us. Try to remember.”

Artemis did try, concentrating until some of the clouds lifted.

“Y…you,” he said hesitantly. “You are my friends?”

Holly wept with sheer relief. “Yes,” she said. “We are your friends. Now we need to get you inside, before the locals arrive and see the recently deceased heir being escorted by fairies.”

Butler helped Artemis to his feet, on which he was obviously unsteady.

“Oh, go on, then,” said Foaly, offering his broad back. “Just this once.”

Butler lifted Artemis onto the centaur’s back and steadied him with a huge hand.

“You had me worried, Arty,” he said. “And your parents are devastated. Wait until they see you.”

As they walked across the fields, Holly pointed out areas of shared experience, hoping to jog the teen’s memory.

“Tell me,” Artemis said, his voice still weak. “How do I know you?”

And so Holly began her story: “It all started in Ho Chi Minh City one summer. It was sweltering by anyone’s standards. Needless to say, Artemis Fowl would not have been willing to put up with such discomfort if something extremely important had not been at stake. Important to the plan.…”
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Tell me if you want anything edited, it's not precisely very complicated but its code was very sensitive so it was hard to add things on. ;w;

_{The scroll bar's just invisible. If you want to keep the scroll bar visible use this code instead;}

^{The `lorem ipsum` text is used to fill out the space and see what the fancypost looks like when filled. You basically just put it where you'd write something down in the role-play. What do you mean by `how do I add more templates`?}