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A dozen tarns, from the sides, swept toward the seemingly patient, still thing, in the sky, quiet as though waiting, and arrows and Anango darts struck sparks and rang against it. - (Rebels of Gor, Chapter 44, Sentence #235)

The first tarn flew at the object, the tarnsman's lance couched. "No!" I wept. A burst of flame rushed forth from what seemed the maw of the thing and the bird and rider, in a flash of fire, were incinerated before our eyes, and, blackened and smoking, enridged for a moment with lingering fire, a scattering of remains tumbled to the valley below. A dozen tarns, from the sides, swept toward the seemingly patient, still thing, in the sky, quiet as though waiting, and arrows and Anango darts struck sparks and rang against it. "No," I cried, looking up, helplessly, from the outer parapet. "Get out! Escape! Go! Flee!" Lances shivered, and cast knives, quivas, caromed away. "Tajima!" I cried. - (Rebels of Gor)