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Description

The day was nice, clear with few clouds, but significantly windy. The valley, though earthen and sliced through only by narrow river and stream channels, moved like an ocean of green as the breeze swept across grassland, toying it in one direction and then another. Wave after wave flickered. The trees, too, swayed under the force of the current, though their roots were steadfast and none toppled over.

The storm isn't enough to dissuade wildlife or Stryx from heading outside though. If anything, it makes the sky into a perfect playground which costs little effort to stay aloft.

Long tail feathers trail behind, whipped to and fro, mere ribbons that flicker and dance behind the large bird as it soars high above the landscape. On a day such as this one, he doesn't even have to flick his wings to stay airborne, though if he isn't careful it will determinedly try to send him off to Galyx only knows where, and every so often, corrections in his path need to be made in the ever-changing flow of the air streams.

His and his rider's flight are not entirely without purpose, liesurely and relaxing as it is. Light blue irises scan the landscape below, head tilted at a sideways angle and watching for movement that can't be accounted for by plants at the mercy of the breeze. There's a pang in his belly that only one thing will cure right now, that being food, and so he has to hunt.

Such a thing is no kind of difficult task for him, however, with the advantage of size and being in the air. He can see miles across the valley, and a healthy doe, abundant as they are, will make a good meal. There are some that he spots, but they are few and close to the thick trees, and will take more effort to successfully catch, so he passes them up and continues looking for prey that has strayed a little further from the safety of thick foliage.

Though it does take some time and patience, finally he spots something promising, shapes moving along the edge of a river much further out in the open. Their colors make them blend more easily with the muddy bank amongst the tall grass, but he has sharp eyes and finely honed predatory instincts.

With his prey spotted and singled out, he finally exerts the effort of flicking wings and positioning himself for a dive, as the wind favors keeping him high rather than allowing for an easy descent. But he has done this before, and he is a beast of the air. The angle and tension in his shoulders silently warns his rider of his intent, no need to vocalize between them, and he can feel fingers tighten in his mane, crouching low on his back in preparation for the dive he's about to make.

The wind roars and whistles around both of them as they dive, approaching the ground and swaying sea of grass with growing rapidity. The wind tries to sabotage their efforts and catch under partially folded wings, but he dilberately angles one wing more than the other, falling into a wide spiral towards earth. There's a sharp bugal of alarm as some of the deer see him incoming and a good two dozen or more scatter to all directions, leaping over the height of the grass with every bound then disappearing again, like dolphins breaching the water, only what drives their leaps is terror rather than joy and playfulness.

He zeroes in on three that are all fleeing together, knowing that he can catch at least one of them if they continue their course. One seperates while two stick together, sprinting for the trees, but by now its too late, and he easily manages to pluck one of the ground and into open air, ignoring its flailing in keening in fear. He has no need of finishing it off, talons dug deeply into its back and underbelly, and looks for a good place to land and enjoy his meal while it tires itself out and bleeds.

By the time he's decided on a slightly more elevated hill where he can easily see his surroundings for a good mile or so in all directions, the deer is has fallen still, heaving its last breaths. Only moments after he lands, a brown-gray head pokes up out of the tall grass, snarling and circling with hungry golden eyes. The wolf is entirely unwelcome, albeit brazen, and he's not about to give up his kill to it.

Feathers fluff and one clawed foot arches up showing his talons, baring teeth and the sharp points of his beak with a screech and eyes flashing dangerously in warning. Feathers fluffed and wings extended to make himself bigger. The wolf second-guesses whether or not its world it, backing off and showing its own fangs. Pacing slightly, its growls fall to little more than a murmur beneath the wind, ears flat and tail tucking before it finally decides to turn tail and run.

Satisfied and victorious, the royal corva turns attention back to his still-warm meal.

AP: 16
Full Body +1
Colored +2
Shaded +1
Background +2
Simple Animation +1
Biorhythm +1
Rider +2
Hunting Bonus +2
Lit (858 words) +4

For

Description

The day was nice, clear with few clouds, but significantly windy. The valley, though earthen and sliced through only by narrow river and stream channels, moved like an ocean of green as the breeze swept across grassland, toying it in one direction and then another. Wave after wave flickered. The trees, too, swayed under the force of the current, though their roots were steadfast and none toppled over.

The storm isn't enough to dissuade wildlife or Stryx from heading outside though. If anything, it makes the sky into a perfect playground which costs little effort to stay aloft.

Long tail feathers trail behind, whipped to and fro, mere ribbons that flicker and dance behind the large bird as it soars high above the landscape. On a day such as this one, he doesn't even have to flick his wings to stay airborne, though if he isn't careful it will determinedly try to send him off to Galyx only knows where, and every so often, corrections in his path need to be made in the ever-changing flow of the air streams.

His and his rider's flight are not entirely without purpose, liesurely and relaxing as it is. Light blue irises scan the landscape below, head tilted at a sideways angle and watching for movement that can't be accounted for by plants at the mercy of the breeze. There's a pang in his belly that only one thing will cure right now, that being food, and so he has to hunt.

Such a thing is no kind of difficult task for him, however, with the advantage of size and being in the air. He can see miles across the valley, and a healthy doe, abundant as they are, will make a good meal. There are some that he spots, but they are few and close to the thick trees, and will take more effort to successfully catch, so he passes them up and continues looking for prey that has strayed a little further from the safety of thick foliage.

Though it does take some time and patience, finally he spots something promising, shapes moving along the edge of a river much further out in the open. Their colors make them blend more easily with the muddy bank amongst the tall grass, but he has sharp eyes and finely honed predatory instincts.

With his prey spotted and singled out, he finally exerts the effort of flicking wings and positioning himself for a dive, as the wind favors keeping him high rather than allowing for an easy descent. But he has done this before, and he is a beast of the air. The angle and tension in his shoulders silently warns his rider of his intent, no need to vocalize between them, and he can feel fingers tighten in his mane, crouching low on his back in preparation for the dive he's about to make.

The wind roars and whistles around both of them as they dive, approaching the ground and swaying sea of grass with growing rapidity. The wind tries to sabotage their efforts and catch under partially folded wings, but he dilberately angles one wing more than the other, falling into a wide spiral towards earth. There's a sharp bugal of alarm as some of the deer see him incoming and a good two dozen or more scatter to all directions, leaping over the height of the grass with every bound then disappearing again, like dolphins breaching the water, only what drives their leaps is terror rather than joy and playfulness.

He zeroes in on three that are all fleeing together, knowing that he can catch at least one of them if they continue their course. One seperates while two stick together, sprinting for the trees, but by now its too late, and he easily manages to pluck one of the ground and into open air, ignoring its flailing in keening in fear. He has no need of finishing it off, talons dug deeply into its back and underbelly, and looks for a good place to land and enjoy his meal while it tires itself out and bleeds.

By the time he's decided on a slightly more elevated hill where he can easily see his surroundings for a good mile or so in all directions, the deer is has fallen still, heaving its last breaths. Only moments after he lands, a brown-gray head pokes up out of the tall grass, snarling and circling with hungry golden eyes. The wolf is entirely unwelcome, albeit brazen, and he's not about to give up his kill to it.

Feathers fluff and one clawed foot arches up showing his talons, baring teeth and the sharp points of his beak with a screech and eyes flashing dangerously in warning. Feathers fluffed and wings extended to make himself bigger. The wolf second-guesses whether or not its world it, backing off and showing its own fangs. Pacing slightly, its growls fall to little more than a murmur beneath the wind, ears flat and tail tucking before it finally decides to turn tail and run.

Satisfied and victorious, the royal corva turns attention back to his still-warm meal.

AP: 16
Full Body +1
Colored +2
Shaded +1
Background +2
Simple Animation +1
Biorhythm +1
Rider +2
Hunting Bonus +2
Lit (858 words) +4

For