Well, for the Magon, it's basically a stone centipede crossed with a serpent-drake, with a double-trumpet shaped crystal crest in the center of its forehead and a mouth like an insectoid lamprey:
The nearest [structure] was a sort of curved double-trumpet shape rising from one side of a six-foot-high dais, thirty feet across, carved in a spiral fashion with rippled indentations along it. I started for it, raising my bar and watching for the interior guard. No one came forward, no attackers, nothing. “Rokhaset? Where’s the welcome wagon?” “I admit my bewilderment, Clinton Slade. I cannot —” But at that moment, the dais began to uncurl. The crystalline shape sat at the crest of a head fully five feet long, armed with black-shining spines, cutting blades of blue stone, a crushing maw, and grasping talons. It gave voice to a grinding screech like the unoiled hinges of Hell and turned towards us. “Magon!” Rokhaset gasped. His shocked cry was echoed by his fellows, all of whom, the Nome King included, began backing away as fast as they could. “Figures.” I stared at the monstrous thing as it continued to uncoil. “They brought one here as a last-ditch defense.” The Magon shrieked again, and a steady humming began to emanate from it as it stalked towards us on many sets of legs.
The Maelkodan:
Before me stood the Maelkodan. The centauroid torso and head were just about my height; the body itself, perhaps three to four feet at the hip. It was twelve feet long, covered with iridescent scales in beautiful geometric patterns of green, black, red, silver, and gold. The legs, three-taloned affairs like a Jurassic Park raptor's (minus the one huge claw) moved smoothly, shifting back and forth nervously. The arms were edged, with wicked spikes at the elbows, and I could see the glitter of diamondlike teeth in the mouth. The head I couldn't focus on, without risking eye contact, but it seemed to be crested and fluted and spiked, as though wearing an elaborate helm.
Re: Why do *none* of these artists read the description of treecats?
The nearest [structure] was a sort of curved double-trumpet shape rising from one side of a six-foot-high dais, thirty feet across, carved in a spiral fashion with rippled indentations along it. I started for it, raising my bar and watching for the interior guard.
No one came forward, no attackers, nothing. “Rokhaset? Where’s the welcome wagon?”
“I admit my bewilderment, Clinton Slade. I cannot —”
But at that moment, the dais began to uncurl. The crystalline shape sat at the crest of a head fully five feet long, armed with black-shining spines, cutting blades of blue stone, a crushing maw, and grasping talons. It gave voice to a grinding screech like the unoiled hinges of Hell and turned towards us.
“Magon!” Rokhaset gasped. His shocked cry was echoed by his fellows, all of whom, the Nome King included, began backing away as fast as they could.
“Figures.” I stared at the monstrous thing as it continued to uncoil. “They brought one here as a last-ditch defense.”
The Magon shrieked again, and a steady humming began to emanate from it as it stalked towards us on many sets of legs.
The Maelkodan:
Before me stood the Maelkodan.
The centauroid torso and head were just about my height; the body itself, perhaps three to four feet at the hip. It was twelve feet long, covered with iridescent scales in beautiful geometric patterns of green, black, red, silver, and gold. The legs, three-taloned affairs like a Jurassic Park raptor's (minus the one huge claw) moved smoothly, shifting back and forth nervously. The arms were edged, with wicked spikes at the elbows, and I could see the glitter of diamondlike teeth in the mouth. The head I couldn't focus on, without risking eye contact, but it seemed to be crested and fluted and spiked, as though wearing an elaborate helm.