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6485: Scavar

Scavar's face was covered in dirt, roots dangling loosely from his nasal horn before a swift shake discarded them, his head tipping to survey the absolute destruction that had come over this little patch of woodland. Today, he and two others had come out to truffle-hunt. It was a little treat, hard to find around here but not impossible. The issue was.. Scavar was a bit dim and had no clue just what he was looking for. When it came to his previous endeavors in the s...

Scavar's nose was buried in the sand, snuffling at a scent that had caught his attention just an hour or so ago. It was fading fast, and the headstrong bull wasn't too keen on allowing something this interesting to slip from him. His eyes narrowed, and his large form lumbered across golden sands, the shadow of the massive red rock arch stretching across the coast in the setting sun like a foreboding animal.Behind him was a trail that he'd left himself, scraping from that long nasa...

The Styracosaurus in question had been hanging around the Court for a few days now, long enough to familiarize himself with their scents and the colors of certain individuals. There had been one that had caught his eye — perhaps for the naturalistic appearance he sported, sandy brown with a dull, dusty red saddle, and thick black stripes along his midsection that cut the browns and whites in half.Today, Scavar had found it in himself to approach this interesting individual, his ...

Here, Whittaker thought he'd never see the day that Scavar's pride got him into real trouble. Styracosaurus were practically built to endure, sporting thick muscles and sturdy frills the likes of nothing else dwelling within the Kiama Islands. That was why he was so headstrong in the first place. That was also why he was the one tied to this tree, and Whittaker wasn't! When a midday stroll in search of mice lead the young Cryolophosaurus to his friend—Scava...