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All that and a bag of bird seed...

A bag of bird seed filled with AWESOME!

Name:
Skandranon Rashkae
Fly proudly to your doom laughing, vain bird, the best of the best; more suitors than sense, more wealth than wisdom, sharp claws ready to dig your own funeral pit....

Name:: Skandranon Rashkae.
Series:: The Mage Wars trilogy by Mercedes Lackey and Larry Dixon.
Game:: multiversehaven.
Application:: Right here.
Scene List:: Right here.
Player:: aroihkin.
Status:: Active.
Same Player::
Priss Asagiri: burning_highway.
Astronema: astronema.
Ramirez: silver_admiral.
Amberdrake: empathic_healer.
Kunoichi: theplayoftheday.
Silverblade: empathic_silver.


He backwinged and landed, kicking up clods of dirt next to the wagon, and his head darted from side to side, looking for spotters. None yet, but that could change all too quickly. Two steps to the back of the wagon, then under it--no one ever guards the bottoms of things, only sides and doors--and he began prying at the wagon’s floorboards, next to the struts and axles, where the mud, water, and friction of traveling always rots the wood. He was curled up under the wagon completely, on his back, tail tucked between his legs, wings folded in against his ribs, hind claws holding the wingtips. He didn’t dare rip at the canvas of the wagon’s bonnet--past experience had shown that apparently flimsy defenses were often imbued with alarm-spells. His claws glowed faintly with the disruption-spell he was using, and the wood shriveled above where his claws slowly raked, silent from the sound-muffling of his cupped wings.

The enemy’s wagons traditionally had an aisle down the middle, and that was where Skandranon was working ... another four cuts, five, six, and he’d be able to pull the boards down under the blanket of a silence-spell. Then he’d get a look inside at their coveted prize.

He began mentally reciting the silence-spell, calling up the energy from inside himself and releasing it around the wagon. He was careful to mold it short of touching the wagon itself, building it up from the ground. The wagon’s defenses might yet be sensitive to the touch of just such a spell. It was hard to tell anymore, so many variables, so many new traps....

He hoped that the mages under Ma’ar’s command did not sweep the camp for magic at work. Things were going so well, so far. Skan reached up, claws digging firmly into the crossbrace, cracked through it, and the entire aisle section fell to the ground, inches in front of his beak....

...and Skandranon found himself face to face with a very upset, recently awakened Weaponsmaster, who was drawing something--surely a weapon--up from beneath his bedding. The weapon pointed at the gryphon and started changing.

Skan’s right claw shot out and struck the human’s scalp and squeezed, finding yielding flesh. His thumb pierced the man’s eye socket, and inside the envelope of silence, a gurgling scream faded into the wet sounds of Skan withdrawing his talons from the kill.


--starting on page 23; The Black Gryphon.
being sneaky, dancing, delicious bloody animals, dyheli, feathers, flying, flying some more, gryphons, hertasi, humans, hunting, kalad’a’in, kestra’chern, killing makaar, kyree, looking good, mage-sight, mages, preening, purring, sand, shiny things, tents, tervardi, trondi’irn, urtho, vanity where it's due, vrondi, warm rocks, wide doorways

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