This is what I look like right now, mostly. I've changed an awful lot. I don't even remember what I used to look like, at the beginning.
A moderately small gryphon, Kirrta stands a little less than one meter tall at the wingshoulder. There is a hairline crack in her sharp, hooked beak, so well healed that it's hard to see, unless the sunlight glints across it just right. Her eagle-like talons are black and glossy, freshly honed and kept at a razor sharpness.
Dark brown and rust feathers cover the front half of her body, and the wings, when spread, have dramatic black barring along their length. The left wing tends to droop when she is tired. If you should manage to catch her rousing, you might see that her throat, neck and shoulders are covered in scars, most fairly minor, but some were obviously very deep.
Her powerful feline hindquarters end in broad pads, the claws usually retracted, though a hint of the sharp daggers shows at each toe. Where her proud, long tail once waved there is now only a stub a featherwidth or two long. On her hip is a dark red chevron, marking her as Shkrill. Another Shkrill would know it also marks her as one of the Fort Crag gryphons.
Her eyes are a dark gold-red, staring out at the world under pronounced eye-ridges. When she speaks, her voice is raspy and hoarse.
Her throat feathers are sparse, many of them having been pulled out recently, to care for a wound, and not yet grown back in. The wound itself is a pair of smallish puckers now, one on either side of her throat. A similar wound is on her belly, but larger, and not healing as well. These can't be gryphon-induced wounds - they're too small.