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Description
A picture I drew a while back and, like many, was shelved and forgotten as soon as I finished thew art folio. Going through a stage where I search back through these few recent years and unearth the few pictures I loved and were forgotten

The Manticore, lions body, mans head and tail of a scorpion (sometimes depicted with the wings of a bat, but I decided not to use that version). In my story I have been writing over the years the Manticore is one of the most fearsome predators and one of the few that can take down a Centaur. They are not made for long distance running they use their short bursts of speed to get close to their prey. From there they fling their tails and the barbs in them fly off to the target, each quill holds a poison that paralyzes the victim. All the Manticore has to do is follow where the prey has run to eventually find them helpless on the ground where he can enjoy his meal...

"Their words were accompanied by another cry, a low rattling roar ending with a high pitched screech-" "-the air had a rank sweet smell like that of rotting fruit and wet fur."

That's is when Centaurs know they must choose; to turn and fight or to run for their lives...

Description
A picture I drew a while back and, like many, was shelved and forgotten as soon as I finished thew art folio. Going through a stage where I search back through these few recent years and unearth the few pictures I loved and were forgotten

The Manticore, lions body, mans head and tail of a scorpion (sometimes depicted with the wings of a bat, but I decided not to use that version). In my story I have been writing over the years the Manticore is one of the most fearsome predators and one of the few that can take down a Centaur. They are not made for long distance running they use their short bursts of speed to get close to their prey. From there they fling their tails and the barbs in them fly off to the target, each quill holds a poison that paralyzes the victim. All the Manticore has to do is follow where the prey has run to eventually find them helpless on the ground where he can enjoy his meal...

"Their words were accompanied by another cry, a low rattling roar ending with a high pitched screech-" "-the air had a rank sweet smell like that of rotting fruit and wet fur."

That's is when Centaurs know they must choose; to turn and fight or to run for their lives...