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Date Posted: 17:45:44 10/10/03 Fri
Author: Muscha
Subject: ± Divine Spirit ±

A quadroped draconian with the bodice of a siberian tiger makes her way past the border of the heated terra. Tiara stand is fattened with a thick layer of muscle. Pelt is of shaggy fur, thick flowing hoss mane is corded in a clan braid. Hued this banner be as the pyrite gold of sunshine. Clan braids are bound at the base of her neck with a thick red cord in a femmine bow. Crania is heavy, a box shaped skull, two saber-like fangs are drawn past healthy pink gums. Golden fur shows traces of silver from age, and yeilds to a six inch gash on her right haunch. Masive gargole wings span above, their stone appearence softened by a thin layer of the same fur that down her body. It's clear that her flight is limited, but it is just as clear what those wings are used for.

Hercularian highlander extends those iron wings to keep from getting too over-heated. Nares flare as single pillar is raised, a scent was caught on the light breeze. Over her own stench of persperation, it was hard to tell how she could smell a thing. But this scent was not her own, that was true. That of a brute, and the spawn of her cowardly enemy. Attention is adressed to the former, a wyrm. A great wyrm, with years and wisdom beyond her own. That was rare, for she bore the crest of the seer.

As a seer, she was scared witless by the overwelming mind prowess of the other. Fear, what was a seer who feered another. Thoughts are ejected as the ancient femme staggers across the burning lands, smoke begining to rise from her concrete wings. Her shaggy coat had adapted her for life in the snow, not sand. Infact, it had ruined her for the sand. But the last of her homeland's children were said to be here, and here, she would have to remain as well.

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