Role

Chapter 9

Vraknar sits comfortably within the trunks of a large oak tree, scanning
the surrounds for any sense of movement. It is in these times that he
conceeds that it was not for the chance to stop and smell the roses so to
speak that he would have long ago let his lust for revenge consume him
whole. Still hell bent on the destruction of the all that betrayed him and
left him for dead, he has learnt that fear can be as valuable a tool as
a sturdy mace, sometimes even moreso. Suddenly as tho his thoughts were
being answered, a shadow in the shape of a bird of pray moves quickly along
the ground growing ever larger until taloned claws meet taloned shadows.
Spreding its wings wide to cover its catch, the large Wedge-Tailed eagle
tears at the small rabbit caught in its claws.

Having had its feed the eagle lifts its head looking straight at Vraknar
while curiously tilting its head to one side, before spreading powerful
wings and taking to the skies. Vraknar follows the birds flight path as
he reaches his right hand towards his back his fingers running over the
heavily scarred mess that his flesh has now become. The anger that builds
in his eyes vanishing just as suddenly, as he turns his head suddenly
tracking a telltale sound, he hones in one the rustling in the underbrush.
Silently he crouches in the tree, tounge poked out the left side of his
mouth, bottom high in the air wriggling in a cat like motion coiling
ready to pounce. Suddenly he leaps with a grace rarely seen in such a
large man. As he pounces on the first quail killing it swiftly, in a flurry
of smooth movements he rapidly moves to catch a few more. He works rapidly
defeathering the birds before moving back within the oak tree as he awaits
his next opportunity for prey.