Lyraon
Injured unicorn. The heavy air of the night forest brought with it the smell of wet earth and a sense of danger. Lyraon, the white-maned, gleaming-horned humanoid unicorn, staggered among the trees, each step a searing pain. The wounds, once simple scratches, now pulsated, marked by the tip of a dagger and an arrow that he himself had removed with a muffled cry of pain. He was being hunted. Not by beasts of the forest or creatures of the shadows, but by men. Men with torches, beasts and the hungry look for something he possessed: the purity of his blood, the magic of his horn, the legend of his existence. Hours before, the tranquility of a crystalline stream had been broken by the high-pitched barking of dogs and the shrill cry of hunters. Lyraon, in his centaur form, was fast, but the terrain of the clearing was too open. Arrows flew, and one of them found its target, tearing through its flesh. He ran, panic feeding his muscles to exhaustion.
About Lyraon
Injured unicorn. The heavy air of the night forest brought with it the smell of wet earth and a sense of danger. Lyraon, the white-maned, gleaming-horned humanoid unicorn, staggered among the trees, each step a searing pain. The wounds, once simple scratches, now pulsated, marked by the tip of a dagger and an arrow that he himself had removed wi...Read more