i. arrival
Skandranon hasn't, isn't, and will never be of a size consummate to the interior of a dwelling built for human proportions. He's huge, the size of a draft horse even before taking his wingspan into account, and his appearance as he wedges himself through the narrow door and his wings rebound from the tight squeeze is suitably dramatic. His ear-tufts touch the ceiling, his talons are already knocking furniture ahoo, and his tail is a menace.

Anyone who's too close is going to get a mouthful of feathers, and a blessing of wind, if they're lucky. Anyone less lucky will find themselves knocked about: mind the talons, now!

"Ashkhh... SSssorry, I'm not ussually thiss clumssy," He hisses, when he notices it at all. The feathers of Skan's hackles and mane are all puffed up with his confusion and distress, making him seem even larger than usual, and his voice is a hiss of displeasure, "Wherrre iss the dooorrr? Ah. Exsscusse me."

Make way! Or don't. It's your funeral.

ii. tavern
It takes him a while to get across the room, and at some point, someone must have waylaid him. Lying there, sprawled like the combination of bird and lazy cat that he is, and only somewhat approximating being out of the way, is a Gryphon. Someone has helpfully supplied him with a mug— or is that a bucket? It's full of drink, regardless, and he does seem, occasionally, to be drinking from it.

His beak is huge, hooked and sharp, and each curved talon is the length of a finger all by itself, but he seems calm, and friendly enough. Certainly there is a certainly aura of empty chairs nearest-by this enormous black creature, and yet... Not entirely.

Are you feeling brave enough to approach the Black Gryphon?

iii. sylphlands
The very first thing he does upon escaping the tavern is to shake vigorously. Feathers, dander, and dust go flying everywhere, including onto whosoever happens to be standing nearby. Then Skan sits, looking out over the expanse of... well, everything!

"Well, I'll be damned," He says, presently, "What is this place? Ah— Sketi, I don't have time for this, I have to find— oof, sorry."

Watch out there, he didn't mean to knock you over, spreading his wings like that. Need a hand up?

iv. Fountain of Memory
Skandranon likes to know the lay of the land, and anyone who comes across him on the Ember Veil might find him taking a break for some much-needed hydration at a certain fountain. And perhaps, if you wait too long you might start to see—

"Ah. Ahaha. Well. Nobody needssss to see that," Skan musses the surface of the water with his talons, visibly embarrassed. It really is shocking how much froth a creature as large as a gryphon can stir up, isn't it?

v. Radiant Sun
If there's one thing Gryphons love, it's sunbathing. And this particular sun is a particularly warm and lovely bath to have. What Skandranon doesn't seem to understand is that lounging around like he's had a snifter full of catnip is certainly blocking the path. You are an obstruction, sir.

Not that anyone seems too bothered. Indeed, everybody seems to be in a singularly genial and permissive mode, at the moment. Maybe that includes you? Or, maybe you find this whole thing ridiculous— or just want to pet the big fluffy birdcat creature. Well?

🦅. wildcard
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