My Crow Management - Discussion - The Barrow-Downs Discussion Forum

12-12-2002, 08:48 PM

Name: Visk

Age: Four

Brief History: If there ever existed the most despicable crebain of the flock, Visk would be a likely candidate for the position. Average in size, with feathers that were always rather jagged ever since hatching, Visk found his path through plots and mindgames. Not the most physically impressive crebain, he has made it a habit to manipulate others to achieve his goals. Messy black feathers and extremely bloodshot eyes are his most identifiable features.

First Post: Visk lay between the two bodies of the larger crebain. He found that their bulks provided sufficient warmth and excellent cover from those he didn't want to notice him. Unblinking, he looked over the sleeping masses of the flock.

There was something in the air, he could sense it. His feathers itched. He had never felt this agitated before, even in his youth when he would steal from his brothers' shares of food. Twisting his head around, Visk picked away at his right wing with a wickedly curved beak.

Something caught his eye. Turning his head, he watched as the flock leader left. Visk pondered what the future held, narrowing his bloodshot eyes.

* * *

That alright?

12-12-2002, 08:48 PM	#11
anson chubb Guest Posts: n/a	Name: Visk Age: Four Brief History: If there ever existed the most despicable crebain of the flock, Visk would be a likely candidate for the position. Average in size, with feathers that were always rather jagged ever since hatching, Visk found his path through plots and mindgames. Not the most physically impressive crebain, he has made it a habit to manipulate others to achieve his goals. Messy black feathers and extremely bloodshot eyes are his most identifiable features. First Post: Visk lay between the two bodies of the larger crebain. He found that their bulks provided sufficient warmth and excellent cover from those he didn't want to notice him. Unblinking, he looked over the sleeping masses of the flock. There was something in the air, he could sense it. His feathers itched. He had never felt this agitated before, even in his youth when he would steal from his brothers' shares of food. Twisting his head around, Visk picked away at his right wing with a wickedly curved beak. Something caught his eye. Turning his head, he watched as the flock leader left. Visk pondered what the future held, narrowing his bloodshot eyes. * * * That alright?